Versus!

Chapters

Kissing Cousins: Applebloom vs Babs Seed
The Mares in the Moon: Celestia vs Luna
A Serious Battle - AJ vs Pinkie Pie
Chaos in the Caverns - Twilight vs Trixie
Earth and Sky - Celestia vs Toriel
The Girlhood Dream - Mayor Mare vs OC
Battle in the Bedroom - Octavia vs Twilight
Big Mac Muscle - Big Mac vs Shining Armor (Boxing)
Love and War - Scootaloo vs Rainbow Dash

Kissing Cousins: Applebloom vs Babs Seed

Author's Note

This bares repeating. I have mentioned it in the text and description, but want to mention here, too. ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS WORK ARE AT LEAST 18 YEARS OF AGE. Thank you.

Kissing Cousins: Applebloom vs Babs Seed

Bloom wasn’t sure about this. But she hadn’t really been sure about any of their attempts to get cutie marks. And while Babs may have had one, now, that didn’t mean that her cousin couldn’t help them. She was an official Cutie Mark Crusader Alumnus, which meant she had to keep helping the other Crusaders until everyone got a cutie mark. Or something like that. Bloom would work out more of the details later.

“And we’re absolutely sure there’s actually such thing as sexfightin’ cutie marks?”

“Nope!” Sweetie said happily, “Which means that you might be the first! You’d be the first pony to have a new cutie mark, wouldn’t that be great?”

“Yeah... Yeah, sure!” Applebloom grinned, “Yeah, that’d be excellent! Alright! First ever sexfighting cutie mark, GO!”

She turned back to look at her cousin. They were at that special age, where everyone tells you you’re old enough to have sex and vote and get drunk, but even you don’t quite believe it. And, despite all their efforts, they STILL didn’t have cutie marks. Talk about late bloomers. Even the people who’d joined Babs’s chapter before she officially left had mostly gotten theirs. But that hadn’t dampened the original Crusader’s enthusiasm for the attempt

The two young ponies were still clothed, though barely. The only thing either of them wore was a pair buttoned-up denim overalls and, at least in Bloom’s case, underwear because, hey, denim could chafe, ya know. They stood in the Apple Family Barn, in the makeshift ring the Crusaders had built in their attempts to get mixed martial arts cutie marks. The attempt had failed, but the body to body contact had given the group the idea for this new attempt.

She inched closer, her eyes locked with her muscle-packed cousin. She may not know much about fighting, but she at least could figure out that the bigger pony had an advantage. She’d need to be careful, and try to focus on her sexuality. Earth Ponies were the strongest type, but even amongst the naturally powerful, there were levels, and Babs was a step above the rest. The map of her muscles slid along her form with every step. Applebloom waited, letting her cousin come to her.

Finally, she did. The orange filly charged, and she stepped quickly to the side, sliding her foot out just enough to trip Babs forward. Babs stumbled over her outstretched leg, not going straight down, but flailing her arms out wildly. Applebloom let her stumble, and Babs caught herself on the ropes. After taking a second to admire her cousin’s muscle-packed back, Applebloom stepped up again, and slammed her knee into Babs’s lower back, sending the pain racking up her spine, before reach between her legs. Babs’s pussy might have been covered, at least for now, but Bloom knew a nice firm squeeze could at least get a girl going.

“H-hey, watch th-Ahhhhhhh...” Babs turned back, and as she did, Applebloom stepped forward and planted a powerful kiss on her lips, the objection dissolving into a moan as she massaged her mound through the denim, and Babs’s objections dissolved into an erotic kiss. Bloom may not have known everything there is to know about sexfights, but she and the others had gone for a making-out cutie-mark and agreed that while it clearly wasn’t any of their special talents, Bloom probably was the best of the three at it. Her eyes half-closed, and she pressed forward, the ropes tied around their improvised ring stretching out as she pushed the moaning Babs into them, turning the muscular girl into a panting pile. Her other hand reaching up to grab the back of the orange-pony’s red-maned head, forcing her tongue deeper into her quickly compliant throat. This was all going so well...

Suddenly, a heavy impact. Like being hit with an iron weight in the gut, and she exhaled into her cousin’s mouth. Then another, her stomach being pounded, the natural resiliency of her earth-pony body nothing next to the sheer force that her cousin was capable of exerting. Then the third strike, and this one came between her legs. Her own denim meshed into her pussy as Babs’s violent beating of her body continued. Two more, and despite it, she felt her lower lips starting to open and moisten as Babs’s strong thighs pounded into her. She finally opened her eyes, to see that her cousin had managed to turn around in the ropes. Face to face with her, kissing still, but beating her like an MMA fighter in a clinch. The next shot was between her legs as well, stunning, but continued with Babs rubbing her muscular thigh against her quickly-moistening pussy.

“Babs st-” She started in the kiss, but was cut off with another strike to her stomach. She collapsed against Babs’s chest, her body resting on the other filly’s, arms around her for support.

“Stoooop...” She repeated, unused to the physical beating she was taking since she’d gone for her Boxing Cutie Mark.

“Oh, ya want me to stop?” Babs asked, and laughed, “Well, why didn’t ya just say so in the first place.”

“‘Cause you wer-Nahhh!” She gasped out, as her cousin’s hand found its way through the sides of her overalls to grasp the soft cotton between her legs.

“Ya wear boxers, too?” Babs teased her, as she began to massage her dripping pussy with one hand. Her fingers pressing in, teasing her dripping pussy, grinding and pushing. Her breath starting to come heavier as she was molested through her clothing by her cousin. “Figured you was a boxers type. Farmgirl like you. But I bet Sweetie wears pretty lacy panties, don’t ya?”

“Knock it o-Ahhhh~” She gasped as those orange fingers slid fully into her, rubbing over her hot inner muscles.

“What’dja say?” Babs asked, “Didn’t catch it.

“I said...” She panted, “Knock it... OFF!” She raised an elbow to the side, catching Babs along the bridge of her nose, stunning her cousin. She stepped back as quick as she could, turned, and faced her muscular cousin. Babs was clearly the better fighter in close, and she’d let them get too grindy, got distracted in the kiss and just let her cousin molest her. She’d need to keep the focus up, because unlike some fights, you couldn’t win this kind without spending enough time in close to work over your opponent.

Once again, she waited. Letting Babs come to her. And after a few seconds, that’s just what happened, her powerful cousin giving a war-cry before charging in. She sidestepped her once-more, grabbing her around the neck like she was prepared to choke her. But rather than yank her back, she simply redirected her momentum, turning and running a couple steps to force Babs to headbutt the bare wooden turnbuckle, stunning her.

She kept close, this time Babs was pinned there. She reached in through the sides of her overalls, this time, and felt Babs’s soft pussy there. Her lips were still mostly closed, just starting to open, and Bloom rubbed her fingers along them to try to coax her flower to spread wider. She was satisfied to be met with a soft “Oooooooohhh...” By the power-packed pony. Hey, this was kinda fun, she pressed her harder into the turnbuckle.

“Mmmm, gotcha~” She taunted her panting cousin.

“No ya d-Ohohhhhhhhh~” Her cousin answered, the answer cut off by Bloom pinching her still opening petals. She rubbed herself on her cousin’s back, insulated from pure pleasure by the layers of denim and cotton. But there was something undeniably effecting about how she pressed in on her, her fingers not allowing the beautiful older pony to get a chance to catch her breath. She teased her arousal upward and upward, interrupting every few deep breaths with pinches and twists, until her powerful pussy was drooling on her fingers.

She kissed her cheek softly. “Aahhh gotcha, Cousin Babs... Ah’m gonna get mahself a cutie mark in cousin-conquerin!” She teased softly.

“That’s not even a th-ahh-aaAHHHH!” She interrupted the answer with a pinch to her squirming folds, keeping Babs in a state of arousal and submission in the corner. It was a delicate balancing act, but if she could continue it, Babs would be beaten easily. Every few breaths, she interrupted by pinching and twisting. The arousal wouldn’t let her cousin get enough oxygen to fight back.

One hand kept the work up in her pussy, and the other slowly drifted up her body. Yellow fingers traced over orange muscles, letting the panting pony in the corner squirm on her, at the inexorable approach of her fingers up that body. Each muscle felt like it was carved from rock, but as an instructor once told her, muscles mean nothing if you can’t breathe to use them. And she wasn’t letting her breathe to use them. As she moved from abs to chest, and cupped her round breast in her soft fingers, she relished in Babs’s squirming, trying to find a position where Bloom might give her a break, and let her breathe. But Applebloom had no intention of allowing her cousin that respite. Babs was too dangerous if Bloom let her rest for even a second. She cupped and massaged her breast, and softly kissed that muscular back, netting a low whimper in response.

“N-not... F-fightin... F-faaair...” Babs panted.

“Life’s not fair, cuz~” Bloom told her, and a pinch to her firm titflesh netted a low moan.

“Y-yeah?” Babs asked, “Then... Neither am I!” And stomped. And Earth Ponies can stomp hard. It took a couple seconds for Bloom to process it. At first, just the feel of her foot having pressure on it, before it blossomed into agony as she realized just how hard she’d been stomped on. She gasped and cried out, in too much pain to stop her cousin from twisting and smacking her in the face with an elbow. Spit flew from her mouth as she fell back, her grip on Bloom taking her down with her, and the two young ponies fell in a sprawling heap on the canvas mat.

Babs must have reacted first, because before Bloom could even think about a response, the buttons of her overalls were off, and her right breast was surrounded by a hot, wet mouth. Babs was fully on top of her, sucking her breast, bathing the flesh and nipple with her hot saliva and firm tongue. Girl had clearly done this before, and Bloom at first didn’t know how to keep up. The first to be rendered effectively topless in this fight, she bucked and squirmed under her cousin, before finally lighting on the idea of grabbing her head and yanking it from her breast, pulling Babs up to kiss her. The suction of her hot mouth pulled on Bloom’s breast for a second before she popped off, and Bloom forced them lip to lip once more.

Their mouths met once more, and once more, Bloom’s tongue took control. She slipped it into her sister’s mouth and started lapping at the agile muscle that had been so recently working her over. Her hips rolled against Babs’s, keeping her cousin still. She kept both hands on Babsy’s cheeks as she passionately worked over her mouth and tongue, keeping their still-fully-clothed cunts grinding near each-other and her firm, round breasts pressed up on the denim of her cousin’s overalls, to keep Babs from thinking too hard about how to get out of this.

Her cousin started scrabbling at the dirt, to try to pull away from the kiss, but Applebloom wasn’t going to give her a chance. Her tongue danced circles around Babs’s less skilled combatant. Babs seemed to be looking for something to grab off of the mat, or to pull herself away. But Applebloom was not giving her a chance to breathe, or to escape. Her tongue patted, tapped, pushed around Babs’s. She lapped and sucked at her, squished her flatter breasts, and held her on top of her. She could see Babs was starting to panic, which only gave her more heart. In a quick twist, she rolled her cousin so she was the one on top, and instantly felt those muscle-bound arms clutch at her back and body, as she held the other pony helpless beneath her force.

She wasn’t going to be able to kiss Babs unconscious. She knew some ponies were famous for the ability to do that, but she at least had her cousin panicking, and pressed the attack, seeing her cousin’s cheeks rapidly inflating and deflating, and the fear in her eyes as she realized how outmatched she was by Applebloom in the oral department. Finally, she pressed her hand to Babs’s forehead, and pushed herself up, arching her opponent’s head, and her own back as she rose.

Babs groaned on the ground as Bloom sat like a victorious conqueror already atop her cousin. She reached down with one hand to pull on Babs’s overall buttons as well, freeing her smaller yet firmer tits. She kept her hand on her cousin’s forehead, arching her, listening to the moans from her mouth, the saliva dripping from it.

She finally let go of her cousin’s head, groping herself with one hand, and looking down at the hot and powerful body she had so effectively rendered helpless.

“Now, cuz... Let’s see how those tits of yers fare!” She declared, and then slammed herself down, her big breasts pushing down wickedly on her cousin’s, mushrooming them out and making Babs groan and shudder, as if she’d had her own near-orgasm just from the impact.

She wrapped her arms around her cousin’s back and squeeeeezed in, adding a bearhug to the tit-crushing. She was met with another shudder, a satisfactory reaction to how she was punishing Babsy beneath her. Babs may have been a better fighter, sure, but it seemed like Bloom had picked up more than a few adequate sexual skills, skills that were being used to torment the the young woman beneath her. A bearhug from even the weakest earth-pony could still hurt like hell, so Bloom squeezing Babs and her tits into submission was far from easy. Not comfortable, either, but at least it felt good, as the shuddering of her opponent below her and the dampness she felt in Babs’s pussy that made even the denim soak through with juices demonstrated.

She continued to crush Babs’s breasts flat, hers remaining victoriously round as the other earth pony filled the air with high pants and moans. Babs’s body glistened with sweat as Applebloom crushed into her. The yellow pony felt the powerful mounds of muscle in her cousin’s form deform from her crushing, compressing muscle, bone, and tits in the vice of her arms. Babs couldn’t even speak anymore, just groaning and squirting more juices. The stench of sex and sweat from her covered mound spoke to the total domination Applebloom had rained down on her orange foe. A few odd syllables here and there, “Ahhhhhhppp....” and “Doooooohhhhn,” but mostly the bucks and squirms of a submissive bitch who realized she’d gotten in over her head when she accepted this challenge. Neither of them could have realized how good Bloom would be, that she, or anypony, could so easily steamroll this gorgeous musclepony... But Bloom had her eating out of her hand, and crying in her arms under the assault of her mouth and tits.

Her overalls were getting damper by the second... And Bloom smiled a wicked smile. Who knew sexfighting was this easy? All you needed to do was think of what was hot, and they melted like a summer snowman. She finally relented, giving her cousin a few moments to rest, as she stripped her of her overalls. Babs might have needed to get up and fight, but she also needed to let her arousal return to its previous levels, and that’s what Bloom was counting on to keep her down. If she didn't know better, she would have guessed that she'd already brought Babs to a shattering orgasm just based on the juices staining her cunt and thighs. Still, as she stripped first her opponent, then herself, she kept an eye out for any attacks.

With Babs already naked, and Bloom stripping down, only the last leg of her overalls still on, the attack finally came. But Applebloom was ready for it, arms wrapping around Babsy’s body, twisting, and slamming her onto her back. A gasp of arousal came from her cousin’s lips once again, as their bodies smashed together. This time, there was no confusion in the landing. There was only resignation in the musclepony’s eyes as Bloom climbed on her, ready to finish her off. Pinning her body to body, she stroked those diamond-hard nipples with her breasts, and relished the pained whimpers she got in response. Her thigh ground against Babs’s dripping pussy.

“Ya all mine...”

“Nnngggg... I know... just hurry up...” Babs was still squirming, but Bloom was pleased to see that not even she was still pretending that there was any chance this could go any way but the one it had.

“Mmm... Ah suppose ah cooouuuld...” She grinned, and kissed her cousin’s neck. “Ya know, ah could reach down, squeeeeeze and finger ya little pussy until ya came all over me... Ah could rub mah hot cunt on ya until ya flood the whole ring. Ah could even rub ya with mah hot, strong thigh muscles until ya gave up what ya got..”

Every suggestion got a hot whimper in reaction, combined with Babs's half-hearted struggles ceasing just long enough for her pussy to squirt more juices out.

“But Ah ain’t gonna do any of that... Ah’ll just let ya think about it.” She giggled, “Ah’ll let ya think about my pussy... And mah thigh... And mah fingers... Ah’ll let ya think about all the things Ah could do to ya... And then...” She giggled, “Ah’ll let ya think about my loooooooooooong tongue bathing your pussy, my eyes looking up at you between your legs,” Babs shuddered and bucked, “And then... Ah’ll let you beat yourself...”

“Y-ya won’t... F-fi...”

“Hey Babsy," She cut her cousin’s objection off, and dragged her tongue up Babs Seed’s cheek, her long tongue showing how good it could be, “Cum.”

And she did. A groaning, bucking, squirming mess as juices flooded out of the muscleslut’s cunt, making her spray juices on her powerful thigh, overwhelming and fucking her cousin into the cum-stained mats, the powerful pony reduced to a bucking wreck at Applebloom’s touch. Babs had no chance in this sexfight, Applebloom had crushed the fight and pride out of the powerful girl.

Finally she stood up, showing her glorious naked form, her arms spread to soak in the victory she had over her cousin.

“Hey! Bloom!” Sweetie’s voice snapped her back to reality, “Look at that! Your cutie mark is scissors too!”

The Mares in the Moon: Celestia vs Luna

Her sister was gone. And had been for quite some time. It had hurt Celestia to do that to her, send her away for so long. But she’d had no choice. Still, what little parts of Luna were still, well, Luna, were there. And she tried to find time to visit her sister, in her dreams, since she couldn’t go up to the moon on her own.

Royal Alicorns had the best traits of all types of ponies. The strength of the earth pony, the flight of the pegasus, and the magic of the unicorn. There was one other thing that they had, as well. All of the royal alicorns were herms, as well, with long, thick cocks, and tight, muscled cunts, both as strong as any normal pony’s. It made sexual battles like this one a sight to behold. In the past, in fact, they had been a sight to behold. The citizens of Equestria loved to get the chance to see their royal princesses in battle. But for almost a thousand years, it could only happen here, in Luna’s dreamscape.

For years, it had been all sorts of places. Cities, fields, anywhere Luna could think of. But tonight they stood on the dusty surface of the moon, as they had for over a century, every time Celestia had been able to visit. It was all that Luna knew, now. Or at least all that she cared for. Or perhaps just a way of pulling a joke on her. Very old creatures could hatch very old schemes, and a scheme to kinda tease her sister about living on the moon by making her think it was all she could think of was right up Luna’s playfully-cruel alley.

On Luna’s mental moon, there was air. And while it was cold, it wasn’t so cold that Tia was freezing. It was just chilly enough that her big nipples perked up stiff in the air. There was some light wind, blowing across a should-be-bare lunar plane, the shifting currents choosing to vortex right beneath her spread legs. She looked around her, waiting for her sister to make an entrance. Usually she showed up by now.

The vortex of air swirled faster between her legs, no longer merely eddies of gusting wind, now going from mildly tickling to actually quite arousing. And as the wind blew faster, from arousing, to quite intense. She let out a low groan as the swirling winds managed to spread her cunt and... In a second, a thick, hard cock was filling her! Dark hands grasped her round breasts, and she felt herself being squeezed against her sister’s body. Unusually, her breasts pressed up against Celestia’s shoulderblades. She looked down, and saw the hands on her breasts were a pitch black, and as her foe rolled her hips, that huge shaft dug all the way into her, large and powerful enough that it she felt as if her ab muscles were being spread apart by the size of the cock on her foe’s body. She groaned out, and felt her body being lifted from the force of the other alicorn’s thrust. She was being fucked, but not merely by Luna, but by the beast of a woman known as Nightmare Moon.

“Hello, ‘Sister~’” The monstrous woman mocked, “It’s been a while. Sorry Luna couldn’t come out to play.”

Celestia gasped, squeezing down on that cock as hard as she could. But she hadn’t expected it, hadn’t prepared, and so, the force she could exercise was limited. Instead, she reached up, to grab the back of the neck of her sister’s alter-ego. She gave her a small kiss. “I’m glad to hear it love... Because I’d hate for Luna to feel the beating you’re about to get!” She raised a heel into the other woman’s cunt. Her legs were strong - Her whole body was strong, she looked as much like a muscled bodybuilder as she did a caring princess, with bulging muscles coating every inch of her beautiful form. And her kick struck true, the other woman gasped out. And so she raised the other foot, and stomped on Nightmare Moon’s. She finished the assault by tossing her head back to headbutt her sister. Nightmare Moon stumbled away, and Celestia turned, her hand shooting out to wrap around the giant cock.

Luna was shorter than her sister. Nighmare Moon was taller, her muscles slightly smaller, but every bit as bulging and powerful as Celestia’s. She squeezed down on a cock the size of a can of cider, the muscles of her forearms bulging and shuddering, and she enjoyed the pain on Nightmare Moon’s face. Even if it was Luna playing games with her, Luna knew well not to take this body unless she wanted a true beatdown that would make other ponies squirm in fear of their princess. She jerked that cock, jerking a few drops of pre out roughly, then slapped her sister, turning her head and making her grunt out in pain.

Nightmare moon slapped her right back. The force of the blow sent her staggering, only stopped from going too far when a powerful hand gripped her cock, starting to jerk her right back. Both women tried to crush the other’s cock, as their hands slid across each-other’s throbbing shafts. Celestia could feel she was gaining some ground, her foe’s cock getting slick, when she was assaulted again. This time, by an obsidian fist smashing into her. She felt the huge muscles of her abs shrink from the assault, and coughed in pain. Another one, now into her neck, left her gasping for air and resting against her muscular sister’s body, too tired and out of breath to keep at it, forcing her to allow her sister free reign over her shaft. Nightmare Moon’s agile, equine lips pressed to her neck, starting to suckle at it in addition to the jerking, and Celestia groaned. Her arousal was growing, she would need to get herself under control if she was going to win this. Her sister’s hand continued rocketing up her arousal, her breath came heavier against Nightmare Moon’s chest. She had to pull away if she wanted to last, she had to regroup, and come out strong after her sister’s dark side. Pre flecked from the tip of her cock with each rough pull on the bulging shaft, establishing the younger but larger sister as the more powerful, as flex of fluid splashed on Nightmare Moon’s thighs.

She needed to escape, before more than pre was falling on her sister’s long and lovely legs. She jerked back, only to be stopped with a firm hand cupping her tightly muscled ass. She was slammed back to her sister’s body, and now they were melded together. Nightmare Moon continued working over the princess’s cum-filled cock. With the two of them this close together, Tia’s shaft was pressed up to Moony’s muscled abs. Cruel draconic eyes stared into hers, and Celestia knew that, at least for now, she was trapped against the black bodied, marked only by the moon on her flank, and, quickly, starlike flecks of pre on her stomach. Celestia’s primary task right now was to stop the stars from becoming a nebula splashed across her. Still not near orgasm, but needing to be concerned of that strength. Whatever she did, she would need to make sure it was quick and hard. Her arousal was growing dangerously fast. Their breasts mushroomed together as the dominant mare worked her over, making the royal cock her plaything. She gritted her teeth to try to outlast the pleasure that Nightmare Moon pumped into her. Her cock twitched against the other alicorn’s abs. Moony sneered, and Celestia groaned. The other alicorn seemed to be thinking of something, and Tia knew it would be nothing pleasant for her. Her sister’s dark side loved to do more than just beat the good alicorn, she wanted her humiliated. And if Moony was here, even in a dream, Celestia was in danger of a mentally shattering defeat, if not a deadly one. She had to escape.

She tried to strike, but Moony struck first. The hand on her cock dropped, only to smash her abs before she could savor the safety. She fell on the monster again, and felt those massive arms wrap around her back. In an instant, she was hiked up, her cock pressed to the black abdominal muscles, arms around her back. Her sister rolled her waist and hips like a belly dancer, and Tia’s cock rubbed on the dancing muscles. The hot rocks of her abs were an arousing and slightly frightening display. There was just enough give that they didn’t bleed, and the hard muscles had just enough covering from her sleek black coat to keep this arousing, not grating. Her shaft reached nearly to those round, black breasts.

“Mmm, enjoying, sister?” She asked, but a quick squeeze to drive the air out of Tia’s body prevented the white mare from answering, only able to give a groan of pain as the breath left her. Nightmare Moon laughed, lifted her up, and slammed her down... Still in the crushing bearhug, Nightmare Moon slammed Celestia down on her bulging cock! The ivory princess cried out as that cock dug deep in her cunt again, her muscles spreading around the rock-hard shaft. Her eyes rolled back and she gasped as she was filled up with that giant cock. She summoned all the strength that she could, hoping that it would be enough to at least slow her defeat, and SQUEEZED down with her hot core muscles.

It wasn’t enough. It was like trying to grasp onto a rock with a slippery glove. She felt the muscles in her sister’s arms slide up her back higher, to get maximum leverage, and then Nightmare Moon showed her what a squeeze could really feel like. She was pressed up to a body carved out of pure volcanic stone. The muscles in the arms squishing the life out of the sun princess were digging diamond-shaped imprints into her back, a fitting shape, considering how hard they were, crushing anything that stood in their way. Her ribs compressed in Nightmare Moon’s cruel grasp, a tiny fraction of an inch more and they’d snap. Celestia tried to fight back, by spreading her white wings against the black pillars crushing her, but there was no way to move. There was no way to fight that kind of strength. Nor was there any way for her to fight the cock that was buried so deep in her it felt like it might come out her throat. Nightmare Moon began a quick, rough rhythm of lifting and dropping, taking Celestia into the air, and dropping her down to the hilt of her shaft. Her cunt scrambled to grip at the cock, but only found its muscles easily overridden. Once more, she felt the compression beginning, threatening to take her ribs out, now. It might not carry over into the waking world, though one could be surprised what the body will do to emulate its dreams. That wouldn’t matter, though, because the threat of a beating at the hands of nightmare moon was just as scary as its after-effects. Desperate to save herself from being squeezed into paste, she flexed her wing muscles harder. She had to save her ribs from being shattered in that grasp. White wings fought black arms to protect the princess’s body.

Inevitably, the arms won. She was strong, but she didn’t have a fraction of the leverage or muscle-power necessary to fight Nightmare Moon like this. It had been a last hope for protection, and it had only made things worse. Now not only were her ribs broken, but her wings as well, cut into by the mechanical vice of her own sister’s arms. She coughed once more, blood dripping from her mouth, a result of the internal damage her sister forced on her with her sadistic squeezing. Nightmare Moon’s shaft continued to dig into her, and despite all her efforts, her pussy was responding, dripping sexual juices as her sister resumed the task of bouncing her, lifting her, and dropping her down to the hilt of that cock. These lifts and drops were even harder on the poor princess, for now, each one of them forced her to suffer the torment of her shattered wings being ground to dust in Nightmare Moon’s arms, of her ribs being pounded once more despite having already ceased to fight the force being inflicted on them. She considered herself a mare of honor. In fights with normal ponies, even unicorns, she would never dream of using her magical powers. A body-to-body contest was only worthy as long as only bodies were doing the contesting. Others could fight magical duels. Now, though, Celestia had no choice, if she wanted to avoid her body breaking down. She only hoped that Luna had been kind enough to allow her to still draw sun from sunlight reflecting off the moon. Staring into the sun, the only pony capable of doing so without risking blindness, Celestia focused on drawing its power. Her horn began to glow.

She closed her eyes, taking in the power of the sun. Trying to focus only on that, to draw as much of the energy as she could. The warmth filled her body, driving out and calming the pain that her sister had inflicted. She was so focused on this, that she didn’t even notice the hand gripping onto her horn until it was almost too late. But notice she did, as Nightmare Moon’s black hand gripped her horn, and twisted. She forced out all the power into Nightmare Moon, making her sister gasp out in a mix of pain and pleasure. Magic didn’t much care if you were a masochist. If a spell said that it felt like pleasurable fire, it did. And she knew that Moony right now felt like she’d slammed her fist into an inferno of ecstasy. Nightmare Moon’s hand shot away from her horn, and a second later, Celestia felt herself dropped in a heap of snow-white muscle on the ground. She looked up at her target, the blue inner muscles of Nightmare Moon’s hot, dark cunt. They were both massive bitches, powerful women who the average stallion would run and hide from if he knew they were coming after him. That is, if he didn’t cum himself thinking of the hot, dark hole that Celestia was looking up at.

Celestia didn’t have much choice. She wasn’t going to be able to sit this one out, to try to wait for a better chance. Nightmare Moon was in erotic pain from her horn burning her hand, and Celestia had to capitalize. She thrust forward, sheathing her horn in the dripping blue cunt of her dark sister. Nightmare Moon gasped in pleasure, Celestia did the same. The horn of an alicorn was an incredibly erotic thing, it felt like the perfect dildo if you wanted it to. When doing magic, it warmed and vibrated. But it was every bit as sensitive as a thick cock, if not more so. And those inner muscles were built to milk cocks.

Celestia was in no place to appreciate that fact, though. She had more important things to think about. Like winning this match against her wicked bitch of a sister. She concentrated, as she had before, and sent another pure blast of magic right up into Luna’s pussy. It felt incredible for both of them, but judging by the “Gayayyayyaaaaaaa!” coming from above her, Luna clearly was getting the worse of it. She pulled back, and thrust again, and blasted the magic once more. Drops of pre-cum fell on her back and her neck. She reared her head back, focused, and blasted a third time. Obsidian muscles spasmed in pleasure over her, and feminine juices flooded over her head and back. She had Nightmare Moon on the run, here. Or at least, she had her struggling. She couldn’t see the look on her face from down here, she could only look at her carved calves, and the way the muscles twitched. She had to hope that was enough, and pulled back.

Nightmare Moon fell to her back, Celestia’s pleasure had done even better than she hoped. Her pussy may not have been spasming with cum, but it was spasming nonetheless, its owner groaning like a wounded animal. Tia looked up at her, on her hands and knees, panting. Fortunately, at least now, her sister was as tired as she was, or close to it. Both big, beautiful bodies, one snow-white and one coal-black, heaved as the pair of princesses recovered from that last attack. Celestia managed to get back first, and lunged forward, burying her muzzle between those gorgeous thighs, and lapping at it. Her broad equine tongue rolled up against Nightmare Moon’s clenching cunt, tasting the slick juices that slipped from her inner muscles. The blue walls tasted no different than any other mare’s, but the inner muscles that Nightmare Moon possessed made the experience more like that of licking a rock after a rainstorm, than pleasuring a princess. She sealed around the other royal cunt with her agile lips, and started to suckle like she would a cock. She pulled at her cunt, suckling the flesh into her mouth. Nightmare Moon arched her back, and cried out in ecstasy. Celestia had had many years to learn every inch of a mare’s body, and the millenia-old-mare gave no quarter to her equally old, but less experienced, opponent. The flesh of Moony’s folds pressed to Tia’s mouth, her outer lips dripping, it was less like the normal act of cunnilingus, and more like making out with a woman who had just finished the act. The juices drooled into Celestia’s mouth, and she lapped more, licking out what she could. She looked up from between her legs, looking up over the landscape of her muscled body, to try to get a handle on how horny she’d made Nightmare through her lapping. How much strength was still left in that body.

Despite the rolling of hips and the heaving of her chest in pleasure, Nightmare Moon was looking down at her with a confident, if lust-drenched smile. Their eyes locked, and in an instant, Celestia was wrapped up between those tree-trunk like thighs. The striations of nightmare moon’s calf dug into the back of her neck, forcing her muzzle deeper into the wet pussy of the dark princess. She gasped, releasing Moony’s flesh, and a second after, she felt Nightmare Moon’s inner hole clench in on her. The muscles lining her walls pulled her tongue deeper into the dark blue pussy of the midnight mare. She tried to pull her head back, but Moony’s calf was an iron restraint, forcing her to just lie there and take it, as her head was squeezed up close. Cunnilingus with another horny mare was erotically dangerous, the scent of her pussy could drive any cock wild, and Celestia’s was no exception as it pressed on the dark moonrock. She squirmed, but there was no release, and no respite. She could barely breathe, and the little she could only filled her lungs with the juices, making her shaft dampen the fine moon dust with alicorn pre. She sealed her lips, and began to suckle again, trying to pull the flesh of nightmare moon’s pussy into her mouth so she could once again chew down on it, but those muscled walls were flexing and milking her tongue as if it was a stallion’s aching cock, and it was her duty to relieve it of its creamy tension.

The sensation was overwhelming. Even her tongue was being fucked. Unconsciously, she began to grind her cock up against the dust of the moon. To her shock, her cock was soon enveloped by a hot, dripping hole. Every bit as hot and powerful as the cunt squeezing on her cock. She looked up at Nightmare Moon, who just laughed at the poor alicorn princess, who was now stuck fucking the moon with her dripping cock, as a magically created cunt suckled on her creamy shaft.

“What’s the matter, sister?” Nightmare Moon taunted her, “Did you forget that I have the power here? If I want your cock to squirt out, it will. You’re powerless to stop that, and if you think a magical blast can change it, you’re as stupid as you are weak. I’m the mistress of dreams, bitch, if I want you to get fucked by the moon, you’re getting fucked by the moon.” She laughed, and wrenched her hips.

Celestia screamed in pain, agony shooting through her body starting at her neck. Her muscles turned against her will, manipulated by the massive mare clenching her between muscled thighs. The created cunt suckling on her shaft did nothing to make things easier, wetly suckling on an aroused cock, Celestia could barely contain herself. She was struggling just to keep from seeding the moon, but worse, the clenching cunt kept her from rolling with the attacks, and as those powerful hips twisted once again, Celestia cried out, her neck muscles on the verge of tearing at their mistreatment by Moony’s powerful thighs.

Finally, desperately, she bit down on the flesh trapped in her mouth. The musclemare cried out in erotic torment, as she chewed on the powerful flesh. Blood seeped from her injured pussy, and the lunar fuckhole surrounding her cock spasmed like it was cumming for her. Celestia could see that the two were related, raised her hips, and thrust. Her cock pumped into the moon, and juices splashed on her muzzle. She chewed and thrust, being given two different cunts to work with, and her dark bitch of an opponent was reeling from her two-pronged assault. Finally, the legs around her head unwrapped, and Nightmare Moon tried to slip away. She kept her cunt clenched between her teeth as long as she could, before releasing the bloody, battered hole from her grasp. Nightmare Moon backed off, and Celestia ground herself on the cunt her foe had created in the moon, allowing it to pleasure her, payment for her continuing to pleasure her wicked sister, before extracting herself from its lustful grasp. Finally, sweat dripping from both their bodies, juices drooling from hungry cunts, pre falling from powerful cocks, the two mares faced each-other. Celestia hoped she looked stronger than she truly was, for all she had struck back, she still suffered from broken bones and battered muscles, while her sadistic enemy stared her down. Not all the blood dripping from Celestia’s lips came from Nightmare Moon’s torn pussy. This game was as much mental as it was physical. She feigned confidence, raising her hands above her head, as much as it burned her aching body to do so, she pressed them on the back of her head.

“You think I’m scared of you, sister?” She asked, and looked between her legs. “Go on. Suck my cock. I won’t stop you.”

Nightmare Moon watched her suspiciously, but after a few seconds, gave a confident smile, approaching, and looking Celestia in the eye. The pitch-black princess approached slowly, and the two fuckwarriors stared each-other down. Nightmare Moon was bigger, stronger, taller, and looked in perfect shape, while Celestia’s white flesh was marred by purple bruises. Moony watched for any hint of fear, but there was none from the white alicorn. Celestia was unsure, certainly. But she knew this was it, and dared the black mare to do her worst. Finally, Nightmare moon sank to her knees.

Celestia kept her face as passionless as a statue, as Nightmare Moon dragged her longue tongue up her thick cock. Despite her best efforts, a glob of pre formed at the tip. The dark mare sealed her lips around it, and sucked. Tia gasped at the teasing of her sensitive tip. Nightmare Moon laughed. Gritting her teeth, Celestia grabbed the pitch-black mare by the back of the head, and slammed forward, forcing her foe to deep-throat her before she was ready.

Nightmare Moon gasped and gagged as Tia rammed her cock into her full throat. Juices fell from Moony’s mouth as she tried to expel the unwanted invader, but Celestia held her firm, choking her foe on her thick bitchbreaker. She coughed and spluttered, saliva falling wildly from her mouth. Tia held firm, it was working. She was choking the black mare on her cock, choking the musclebound bitch. Cum churned in her balls, eager to spurt down the cruel bitch’s throat, but she gritted her teeth and held on as black hands pushed weakly on snow-white thighs.

“Ohh... Oh god, yes, choke on it” she panted, the pleasure partially overtaking her, but only partially. She pounded Nightmare Moon’s muzzle with her hips, humping the midnight mare as she struggled to keep her own orgasm in check. The splutters and spasms of her sister’s tight, wet throat around her cock, the humiliation of the larger woman looking up at her as she was forced to choke on a gargantuan shaft, didn’t make that easy. Red-hot lightning strikes of pain shot through her tormented body, as broken bones ground together from the struggles to keep the wicked mare under control. It was all she could do not to scream in pain, but there was time left. She needed to not just make Moony choke, she needed to make her break. Her opponent’s pulls, attempts to slip away from the thick royal shaft, grew faster and harder, as Celestia cut off her air with her cock.

Soon, the desperate pulls of trying to get off, grew weaker. More rapid, but less strong. Quicker, but unscientific, as the lack of air got to the wicked woman’s head. Celestia finally let her off, letting the dark-coated mare pull away, and fall to her hands and knees, drooling both pre and her own saliva after Celestia’s assault of her mouth. It had been hard not to just give up and cum right there, that gagging, dripping mouth was a tempting place to unload a lot of seed. Moony’s chest heaved as she spluttered, and Celestia fell on her, almost literally. Her muscled arms wrapped around the thick, powerful torso of the wicked woman, her black head near Celestia’s hip. She gave a single, vicious squeeze and lift to Nightmare Moon’s dark midsection, driving any air still remaining from her lungs, then reached down to grip that hard cock, and jerk it. It was as stiff a pillar as her own, her fighting back had been effective, though the splintered bones of her back and body attested still to her sister’s earlier brutality. But Moony’s pre-dripping cock had just as much falling from its tip as her own did. The battle, as difficult as it was, was within reach. She needed to keep herself under control, keep her orgasm from staining her opponent, and Nightmare Moon had to do the same. It was, despite the early assault, a dead heat, as Celestia roughly jerked the full length of the wicked mare’s shaft.

They had fought long and hard, and for both overworked mares, mistakes were coming. Perhaps Nightmare Moon should have been able to get herself under control and milk those balls dry, rather than gagging on her powerful shaft. Perhaps, but now, Celestia was the one who’d made a mistake, taking advantage of the situation too eagerly, forgetting to secure the position. Nightmare Moon’s fist smashed between her legs, battering her balls and cunt, and making the princess scream with erotic agony at being sexually battered. A twist of the midsection, and Nightmare Moon’s head slammed her cutie mark like a club. The cutie mark was a sensitive target, the magical energies all pooled in one place on a pony’s flank, and it hurt like hell to be smacked in it. She collapsed on Midnight Moon’s back, arms still draped around her torso, as the dark mare grasped her shaft and started jerking it between her legs. A low moan escaped Celestia’s lips, held back as long as it could, but finally forced out by the pleasure. She was too exhausted to deny how good it felt, despite her shattered ribs and wings, to feel those dark and strong hands massage her cock. She was too tired even to try to escape from the non-hold, she had to just take what she was given for a few seconds, let her twisted sister pump pleasure into her shaft, tease the cum to spurt from her cock.

“I... Hate you...” She panted lowly, as Nightmare Moon milked at her.

“I know.”

A rock-hard shoulder drove into Celestia’s waist, and she was thrown from Nightmare Moon’s back, to the ground. Her damaged wing-bones crunched and shattered under the weight of her muscles crunching down on them. She screamed out in agony, and her sister rose above her like a vision of torment. She was too tired, and in too much pain, to escape. Nightmare Moon raised her foot, and Celestia gritted her teeth, preparing for the attack. Moony stomped on her shaft, compressing the powerful cock beneath her full weight, leaning on Celestia’s waist. Pre juices dripped from nightmare moon’s cock and cunt, but Celestia’s shaft was jumping and bucking, flexing, the princess knew she was going to lose control, soon, unless she could do something about her dark sister grinding in on her shaft. Nightmare Moon slid her foot along Celestia’s cock, leaning forward, her hands on one knee as she dominated her. It was utterly humiliating, the earlier brutality had broken her body, and now her sadistic sister wanted to break her spirit as well, by forcing her to stain her foot with her juices. It was working, her balls bounced, and pumped cum into the shaft of her cock. It was all she could do now not to submit her cum and pride to her cruel sister. But she gritted her teeth and held on, desperate to preserve her cum and pride, even as her cum-filled cock twitched against the foot that milked it. Her head rolled back and she moaned low as she contemplated her situation, and how to escape.

“What’s the matter, sister? Are you... Struggling?” Lust drenched Nightmare Moon’s voice as well as Celestia’s as she taunted her. “Are you aware of... How useless... Your resistance is?” She sounded confident, but her voice was cut off by loud panting. Not that it mattered, as Celestia was about to blow. In one last, desperate assault, she raised her foot to her sadistic sister, slamming it into her cunt! She booted her hard from the ground, and was met with a gratifying gasp, as the musclemare fell to the ground. Celestia was in little position to capitalize, rolling onto her side, and staring at the form of her midnight black opponent. Even freed of her attack, her cock was twitching, and she was nearly cumming even without the contact. She reached between her legs and clutched her bucking shaft, her knees drawn up protectively, her hips pumping without control. But the sadistic bitch got off on feeling pain as well as giving it, a mean little masochist who deserved all the pain she got off on. Celestia’s whimpers as she struggled not to cum, the pleasure in her straining cock drowning out the agony her beating had given her, were likely making things at least horribly erotic. For now, though, Celestia was too paralyzed by fighting to prevent an orgasm that had already started from bursting forth, bucking her hips and biting her teeth, to fight more. She prayed with all she had that her sister was as tired as she was, as her cheek rested on the ground, dark eyes glaring at her.

“You’re already cumming, sister... You powerless bitch.”

“Sh-shut up...” She gasped out through clenched teeth.

“You’re fooling... Yourself if you... Think you c-”

The white princess snarled, and a blast of golden magic shot from her horn, smashing her sister across the face. Harder than she’d expected, the black mare’s head rocked to the side, and when she looked back her face was swollen. Celestia enveloped herself in an envelope of her own magic, prepared for the attack. When Moony leaped at her, snarling like a furious beast, Celestia used her own telekinesis to counter. She slid downwards, her broken wings raking the ground, mangled on the lunar surface, so she could position her head perfectly. As Moony’s thick cock came down, her open mouth was under it, to take it to the hilt like a sword-swallower. It expanded between her lips, the powerful shaft swelling in her. She suckled hard, enveloping it with her throat-muscles swallowing, and bathing it with her saliva and tongue. Nightmare moon cried out like she’d been shot, grabbing her head and pushing at it, but Celestia held on like a lamprey, magically binding them together so her oral assault could continue, and both hands were free to hold back the creamy tide. The pre got saltier, the bitch was about to blow.

Finally, Nightmare Moon happened on a solution, and grabbed Tia’s magic-enveloped horn. The white mare gasped, the pleasure almost short-circuited her mind. Instantly, she used the last blast of magic she had to knock Nightmare Moon to the side. Both mares fell away from each-other. Celestia rolled, her cock clenched tight in one hand, like she could crush back down the flow. She saw Moony was doing the same, her draconic eyes blazing as they glared at each-other.

“You... Bitch... You’ve... Gah...” She didn’t need to say too much. Celestia knew exactly what she’d done. The bitch was in the same state, cum filling her shaft. She growled at her. It was time for the pair of them to finish this. A wordless agreement reach, they leaped at each-other, arms outstretched.

Tia went high. Moony went low. Moony won, her mouth wrapped around that huge cock, stopping the other alicorn dead in her tracks. No longer protected by her hands, her huge cock was easy prey to the skilled mouth of the other princess. Celestia grabbed her ears, the rest of her body out of her control, she fucked her face, head rolled back. Tears fell from her eyes, as she struggled to hold back an already started orgasm in the face of one of the most skilled cocksuckers in the world. It was a fool’s errand, but she did it all the same, praying that the one or two extra seconds she could buy would be the difference between a victory and defeat. She doubted it, weeping as she pleaded softly

“Cum... Just cum... Just cum...” Her efforts to hold back were being battered away by the second, with each thrust she gave into that hungry mouth. Still, she held back, until Moony seemed to spontaneously hit upon the answer. She practically screamed around her cock, and Celestia’s shaft gave in. Tormented for too long, it gave up what it had been trying to store in its balls for so long, and shot a burst of seed so deep into the wicked woman’s mouth that the cum rolled out the side and down her cheeks. She had held back longer than any mortal could, longer than most immortals could. Her fight was over, and she just ground her foes face to her shaft, enjoying what she could of the orgasm. Her cum spurted more and more, pumping out what her sister had wanted so badly. She held Luna’s face to her hips, smothering her with her womanly form, as she gave up what she’d been holding back so long. On and on her orgasm went, splashing out on her hips, waterfalling off Nightmare Moon’s chin, onto the ground. She still held her by the ears, even after she came, even as her muscles began to relax, as if doing so would keep the match from being over, save her from the defeat, until she felt Moony’s hand on her hips, and remembered what she was doing.

She fell back, exhausted and crying, her cum all over her lower body. She couldn’t bring herself to even look at her conqueror, as she stared into the sky. She felt a strong arm wrap around her chest, a warm body press to her side.

“Fine... You win... Do what you want.”

“Actually...” The voice was higher, and she turned to see her younger sister, cum dripping from her lips, “I came a couple seconds before. Why did you think I screamed like that?”

Celestia laughed, “You did? I thought.”

“Well, you thought wrong. And unlike my evil side, I’m gonna be honest about it.” Her isster snuggled up close to her. “Soo.... What do you want of me?”

Tia gave a girlish laugh, though not too much of one, as even that hurt her broken ribs. Her sister winced. “Sorry...”

Tia shook her head. “It’s fine. And I think I’ve gotten all I could want of you.” She nuzzled her nose, feeling her own cum dripping from Luna’s muzzle. Luna laughed. “I’ll see you soon, Sister.”

Tia nodded, “Will you?” She asked.

“Of course. Time to wake up.”

The massive mare rolled over in bed. The pain was gone, but the memory of it still made her tread delicately, as she rolled to her side, eyes squinched shut, as if shutting them tighter would make herself go back to sleep. After a second or so of that, something fell, and bounced off her cheek. She gave a groan that, maybe, had been intended in some way to form words, but had ultimately been just a random sound, as she grabbed it.

It was a scroll. Great. It took a couple tries to undo the seal, and when she finally did, she was met with illegible scribbling. She shook her head, trying to get enough clarity to read the words on the page. It took some time, before she finally made them out.

“My Dearest Teacher,

My continuing studies of pony magic have led me to discover that we are on the brink of disaster.”

“Only time Susan Fourmanes was any good,” she mumbled not sure if the joke landed or, indeed, was accurate.

“For you see, the mythical Mare in the Moon is, in fact, Nightmare Moon, and she’s about to return to Equestria, and bring with her eternal night! Something must be done to make sure this terrible prophecy does not come true.

I await your quick response.

Your Faithful Student,

Twilight Sparkle.”

She grumbled, grabbed a pencil and paper, and scratched out an answer. After a few false starts, she finally settled on.

“Dear Spike,

Tell Twilight to stop fucking around and get out of my mane. How about this. Help them set up the thing in the nudist colony. Ponyville. Whatever. Girl needs to get laid. Or at least make some friends. But, you know. Make it sound all fancy. Too tired. Going back to sleep.

Your Princess,

~Princess Celestia”

There. Oughta fix that. She looked out the window, and smiled.

“See you soon, sister.”

Author's Note

This one was written while I was feeling, like, super sick. So I am aware it's not up to the standard you could expect. Still, I wanted to get it all finished up for the buyer. So enjoy.

A Serious Battle - AJ vs Pinkie Pie

“FIIIIIIILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS~!” Pinkie Pie’s voice echoed with a classic stadium reverb despite the weather-beaten wood that made up the walls and high roof of Applejack’s barn, and AJ could almost swear she could hear the sound of a crowd cheering. She had long ago stopped questioning how Pinkie managed to make things work out, she just accepted it, “Tonight, it is my pleasure, honor, joy, and most of all, honjoysure to present to you... Fighting out of the red corner, the Sweet Scientist of Sugarcube Corner. She is the reigning, defending, self-proclaimed nude boxing champion of Ponyville.... PINKAMINA DIANE “PINKIE” PIE!”

Pinkie took out a little handpuppet with a Pinkie Pie T-shirt and mouthed “Yay, she’s my hero!” Applejack chuckled at the theatrics.

“Yaknow, Pinkie, ya don’t need a ring entrance for a casual match.”

“Aww, but AJ, it makes it feel special!” She beamed at her, tossing the hand puppet to the side, and patting her gloves together, “Besides, it’s my first title defense! It’s gotta be good, don’t ya think?”

“Ya know self-proclaimed means it’s not a real title, right?”

“Well it’s real to me, AJ!” Pinkie hopped a little in excitement, “How about you, what’s yours like?”

AJ leaned against the woven ropes and shook her head, “‘Fraid Ah don’t got one of those. Ah mostly spend mah boxing time, well... Boxin’.” She grinned, “Don’t need anything else for it.”

“Not even clothes!” Pinkie added, and she was right on that. For reasons that had partly to do with the fun of the bout, and mostly to do with the fact that the temperatures in the Apple barn in summer could reach well over 100 degrees even before you started exercising, the pair of mares had chosen to box in the nude.

“Well, easier to hit the punchin’ bags when you can see ‘em~” AJ smiled.

“Ooh, that was a funny one AJ!” Pinkie smiled, “Don’t worry, I can come up with an announcement for ya!”

“That really ain’t gonna be nece-”

“AND NOW, FIGHTING OUT OF THE BLUE CORNER... The Awesome Attacker of Sweet Apple Acres, the holder of the Element of Honesty, and six time Equestria-wide and ten time Apple Family Applebucking champion... The Challenger... APPLEJACK APPLE!”

Applejack rolled her eyes, “You done there, Pink?”

Pinkie nodded, stepping into the center, gloves out to touch gloves. AJ sighed, the point was boxing not replicating a big-fight feel, but if that’s what it took to get to the part where they got to have some fun, she’d do it. Stepping back, she looked Pinkie in the eye.

“You ready, sugarcube?”

Pinkie nodded, gloves up, hopping from foot to foot. “Alright, I want a good clean fight!” She declared, “No dirty boxing, no hitting below the belt, even if ya don’t have one! If I order you two to break, you have to b-AAHH~!”

AJ had had about enough of Pinkie’s little performance. She was fine with it up to a point, but when they were staring each-other down and the other mare was wide open, she wasn’t going to turn down the possible advantage. She’d already nodded, so as far as AJ was concerned, the heavy blow to the pink mare’s abs had been fair game. Pinkie leaned forward, clutching the spot that the heavy gloves had struck. “H-hey!” She said, “I was still ex-OOF~!”

“Ya nodded, Pink, that means ya ready!” She stepped in. Pinkie’s left hand covered her abs, so AJ stepped in and through a left hook right at the breast, forcing the pink mare to either block it and expose herself lower, or take the shot. Either through calculation or a slow reaction time, the pink mare elected to go with the latter, and AJ’s glove caught the side of her breast, sinking into pink flesh.

“Nngggg~!” Pinkie moaned, and AJ wasted no time, following the left hook with a right straight to catch the other breast. The shot hit clean, right on the nipple, sending the pink mare staggering backwards, gasping in pain, until her back hit the ropes.

AJ chased her, starting to throw a flurry of blows at the head. Pinkie raised her hands to deflect the shot, and she was good enough to deflect a couple, but others ended up catching glancing blows.

“What an attack!” Pinkie yelled, “Pinkie’s backed up into the corner, and this farmgirl is all over her! I’ve never seen such an - Ooof! - Aggressive start to the m-AH!-atch!”

AJ glared at Pinkie, “You gonna do this all match?” She asked, a hint of frustration in her voice.

“But Pinkie’s unorthodox style seems to be getting into her opponent’s head!” The pink mare barely raised a hand to block a hard shot, despite her commentary, to AJ’s surprise. It looked like she’d need to fight smart despite the trolling. Either way, AJ had a plan, starting out with a couple feints to draw Pinkie’s defense out of position, trying to prepare a heavy blow.

“The pink punisher is on defense now, but AJ is clearly getting frustrated!” Left feint “This mare is an expert at mindgames!” Jab to the shoulder, “It’s hard to keep control when she’s in your head like this!” Feint again, “And it looks like Pinkie’s easily dealing with her attacks!” Jab to the shoulder again. “Her defense is a rock, turtle-like, completely impervious!” Feint, “And AJ is punching herself out against it!” The jab was blocked, and AJ grinned, “She’s losing her cool now!” Left feint, “Will AJ be able to keep her focus long enough t-” AJ replaced the low jab with a haymaker that put all the weight of her powerful back and shoulders behind it. The blow rocked AJ’s hand almost as much as it did Pinkie’s head, and with a sudden ‘WHUFFF’ of exhaling air, Pinkie collapsed to the ground, her legs seeming to give out from under her completely.

“Yes,” AJ answered, “Ah can. Ya might want to focus a little more on my fists and less on the commentary.”

Pinkie didn’t respond, lying flat on the ground. AJ smiled, standing over her and starting her count.

“One... Two... Three..” Pinkie’s arms shook as she tried to get her gloves on the ground, but that was a long way from reaching her feet, “Four... Five... Si-”

“SHORYUUUUUKEN!” Pinkie cried out, fist up, somehow leaping from prone to a flying uppercut in less than a millisecond. The blow blasted against Applejack’s chest, between her breasts. With the force of the blow, Applejack could have sworn she’d been cut open, but had just been the burn of leather on flesh.

“What the hell was that?!” AJ asked, eyes narrowing, “Ya can’t uppercut from the ground!”

“Well YOU can’t interrupt the referee!” Pinkie answered.

“You’re not the-GAH!” AJ tried to object, but Pinkie interrupted, sending a straight to her face, which AJ only barely parried.

“Pinkie got her like Ryu got Sagat!” Pinkie answered, stepping in, throwing a few jabs that AJ was able to get her hands up for. “She better be able to capitalize, AJ looks angry!”

AJ didn’t just LOOK angry, she WAS angry. Or at least as angry as anyone can be about Pinkie acting like Pinkie, which was admittedly not particularly angry. Still, the pink pony’s trolling WAS ticking her off.

“That’s a double-edged sword, though! AJ could use it to her advantage. If she can channel that, she might well hit a one-shot knockout. In boxing, angry can mean powerful...”

“AHHHH~!” This time, the gasp hadn’t come from Pinkie. AJ tried another interrupting hook, but the mare was better at multitasking than most, and the shot had whiffed in the air. She had barely had time to register the miss when she felt a rock-solid uppercut smash her chin, knocking her head back like her spine was spring-loaded.

“Buuuut it can also mean sloppy!” While AJ was still trying to get her head back on straight, Pinkie stepped forward again, and before the orange mare could respond, that glove was rocketing towards her face. The impact was perfect, it was a miracle AJ still had teeth. The orange earth pony stumbled backwards, thankful that the ropes caught her before she fell out of the ring and hit the ground. Her guard was down, and even if it was only for a moment and against a distracted opponent, she knew she was in trouble.

Pinkie, however had other priorities. “AJ should keep her head in the game before it gets knocked off~” She teased, winking over her gloves, stepping forward, bouncing from foot to foot.

“Of course, that’s if she’s still in the match after this~” The pink pony teased, stepping up, her stance relaxed. She began shadowboxing at AJ, taunting more than going for the finishing blow. “After all, she’s the one in the ropes now! And I think she’s learned that a bit of chatter doesn’t stop her foe from focusing on the match. If she tries another interruption, she has to know it’ll get punished now~!”

The shadowboxing continued, Pinkie’s fists stopping just before they impacted Applejack’s flesh. She had masterful control of her hands, she might even be good at this if she put in the focus, but instead she was letting AJ recover. She was getting her breath back, narrowing her eyes, but the pink mare seemed too wrapped up in her fantasies of being a world champion to even notice what was happening.

“Pinkie’s got her on the ropes. And look at that!” The chatty mare exclaimed, smiling at her newly regained (and unwittingly endangered) control of the fight, “It looks like she’s warming up the famous Sugarcube Corner Cross!”

Some boxers telegraphed their attacks, but Pinkie was the only one AJ’d ever seen declare them. With that announcement, AJ knew when she saw her left shoulder drop that a cross was coming... And it was going to be heavy, giving plenty of time for a counter.

As Pinkie began to swing with her left, AJ ducked just a bit to the side, and threw an overhand left of her own. The blow struck high, and flush to Pinkie’s face. It may not have crumpled her, but she was so focused on the attack she’d had no preparation for the counter. Pinkie reeled back a step or two, stumbling towards the center of the ring, before falling to her knees, then forward again, balancing on her gloves.

AJ stepped forward, looking down but keeping enough distance to avoid another sudden uppercut. “Next time ya go to finish me off, Pink, ya might want to call the shot AFTER it hits.” She started the count, arms folded as she looked down at her panting friend. “One. Two.”

“Ya know, AJ...” Pinkie raised her head, meeting her eyes. “I’m starting to think you want me to take this fight more seriously.”

“Wonder what gave ya that impression.” AJ said flatly. There was nothing that said the element of honesty couldn’t use sarcasm to convey the truth. “Four. Five.”

Pinkie staggered up to her feet, gloves down for a moment. “Sorry Jackie, I didn’t wanna annoy you. I just thought it’d add a bit of fun!”

AJ smiled, “It’s fine, Pink. I was just hoping for a bit more intensity is all.”

Pinkie nodded, “I gotcha, AJ, I know I’m over the top sometimes.” She smiled, shaking herself out, “I promise, no more commentary.”

AJ smiled, “Thanks Pink.” She rolled her shoulders, warming herself up a bit. With a few seconds to breathe, the silly behavior HAD been pretty funny... And after all, Pinkie WAS her friend. Expecting her to be serious was like expecting an earth pony sprout wings. Her expression softened, “Ah hope it ain’t upsettin’ or anything, but Ah would like to be serious for now. We can always do stuff your way later.”

“Not at all!” Pinkie beamed. “My way is whatever way my friends have the most fun with. If you want me to be serious, I’d be a pretty lousy friend if I ignored that.” Her muscles tensed to guard the next set of attacks. “If that’s what you want, it’s what I want.”

AJ nodded, “Thanks Pinkie, it is what Ah want.” She raised her guard as well, “Ready~?”

“Ready!” Pinkie agreed.

“Good,” the farm pony tensed a little, readying an attack, “Let’s go~”

She let a couple seconds pass, making sure Pinkie wasn’t about to start another one of her announcements, but she was far from it. Her eyes were narrowed, almost unblinking, her stance loose, her head down behind her gloves. She almost looked intimidating. AJ stepped forward with a smile, throwing a low punch at her midsection...

...It was around that point that AJ began to realize she’d made a mistake. With an almost imperceptible adjustment, Pinkie brushed the shot to the side with one hand and threw a counter at her muzzle with the other. The blow hit flush, shaking AJ just enough for Pinkie to take a step back, out of range for another body blow. For a moment, AJ thought she’d got lucky, Pinkie was at perfect range for one of her heavy head hooks... But when she threw it, she caught nothing but air. The pink pony stepped back again, back into range, and AJ threw with her left instead of her right... And again the blow whiffed. She might as well have been doing some shadowboxing herself. Pinkie barely made a sound, and as light as her steps were, she couldn’t have been any quieter if she’d been imaginary. When the pink mare’s head bobbed into view once more, she was just a half-step back. Out of range for the hook... But not out a straight. AJ threw the next shot from her right with all the force she could muster...

Pinkie didn’t even dodge this time, simply swaying her head to her right. Her comments about getting thrown off might have had a point, AJ had thrown that blow with everything she had... So much she felt herself fall a little off-balance when she did. As she felt her body lurch forward, her defenses wide open, she had just enough time to see the pastel-blue glove on Pinkie’s right hand coming up under her chin before her world burst into stars.

AJ hadn’t felt this weightless since the last time she was in cloudsdale. She didn’t just lose her balance, as far as her body was concerned, the ground spontaneously ceased to exist, sending her careening into a formless void, legs numb and arms flailing, until the void suddenly reformed beneath her back and head. The world seemed to bend and twist like one of Discord’s maddest pranks, before it resolved itself back into the ceiling of her barn, a familiar vision only slightly marred by the sight of the ropes that surrounded the ring.

A voice came from far away, like the speaker was under water, slowly nearing as she struggled to make out the words.

“Tree... Floor...”

That wasn’t right. What was that about? The voice slowly resolved until she could recognize it as Pinkie’s.

“Drive...”

She reached up to grab the rope, grateful she didn’t need too much grip strength thanks to the friction of the oversized leather glove she wore...

“Six.”

At least that one she was sure what was said. She rolled herself to her knees, pulling herself on the rope, up to her knees, panting and trying to reorient herself after whatever had knocked her flat like that.

“Seven. Eight.”

WAIT. Gloves. Ropes. Counting. Pinkie. This was a boxing match! She pulled herself back to her feet, leaning on the ropes for balance, raising her hand as Pinkie counted.

“Nine”

“Ah’m up! Ah’m up!”

Pinkie stopped the count, and tilted her head, looking at AJ. “You sure about that?” She asked.

Honesty made AJ pause for a second, but stubbornness won out. “Ah’m sure. Ah’m on mah feet.”

“Ya gotta be able to stand free though!” Pinkie gestured at her.

Okay, AJ would admit the ropes helped. She stepped forward, raising her gloves once again. “Alright, there, see?” She asked, “Ah’m standing.”

“Do ya need a moment?”

AJ took a second, shaking the cobwebs from her head and sweat from her body before answering. “Nah,” She answered, “Ah’m ready.” She said, starting to raise her hands.

Apparently the word ‘Ready’ was all Pinkie was waiting for. The last syllable had barely left her lips when she darted forward. AJ’s hands instinctively shot up to cover her face... Only to realize too late her face wasn’t where the blow was headed. She ‘Whoof’’d and leaned forward from the impact, Pinkie’s glove dug into her abs, but was driven up with enough force to catch her ribcage as well. She felt the air leave her lungs, but didn’t even have time for her instincts to tell her to panic - Or appreciate how close her face now was to the pink mare’s full chest - Before she felt a shot catch her under the chin.

She’d barely got her balance back when it left her again. The blow sent her stumbling back, and only the turnbuckle stopped her from stumbling from the ring and giving Pinkie a convincing knockout win. As far as ‘standing freely’ went, that wasn’t even on the table, and she leaned back on the corner post to avoid collapsing as her opponent stepped forward, a look in her eyes of so much focus and intensity that AJ’s long-dormant prey instincts sent her tail twitching.

Despite her attempts at guarding her body, the prospect of blocking her blows was about as likely as a lotto win. Pinkie’s fists struck her abs like cannonballs. She didn’t even have the balance left in her legs for that to make her body bend forward. The shots crushed into her, and sent her back harder into the post, crushing her large back muscles to it hard enough for her to finally realize why official rings had them padded. The fact that hers was wood and not metal was no comfort, and though impact was softer, the material only made it worse, as the blows set her back to grinding on the post like a cheap stripper, and picking up splinters like... Well, like a stripper who used fifteen year repurposed barn supports as her stripping pole. Pinkie’s punches struck her midsection time and time again, until her abs were more battered than a stampede trail and deeper purple than Twilight’s flank.

AJ’s eyes met Pinkie’s, which were unblinking, a look of total focus as she rained blows into her midsection. Once she was sure the abs were battered and breath unlikely to return anytime soon, Pinkie moved up higher. Now those fists speedbagged her breasts, bouncing them around and crushing the flesh like foam dodgeballs. She could only let out a low groan, which got no response from Pinkie, who seemed to be thinking of nothing except continuing her punishment of AJ’s body. Droplets fell audibly from her breasts to the mat with every impact, and AJ couldn’t bring herself to look down to see if the liquid that soaked her body was sweat or if the bashing had kick-started her lactating. She could only groan as shot after shot battered into her body.

It seemed like hours before Pinkie finished the assault and stepped back, raising her hands back up to the guard. AJ’s entire body ached, and only her pride let her raise her gloves once more rather than give. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw a look of appreciation and respect in the pink mare’s eyes, but it quickly passed, and returned to her businesslike boxer’s stare. Unsure of her next move but refusing to give in, she took a step out of the corner. As she did, she saw Pinkie’s shoulder drop again. AJ didn’t need an announcement to know what was coming next... And didn’t have a chance of reacting in time if she got one. With no illusions of being able to counter or parry, AJ just tried to prepare herself for the blow. Her foe’s fist began to fly forward and-

-BANG!-

Nothingness.

And then somethingness. In fact, everythingness, all at once. AJ opened her eyes, and stared at the ceiling. She was in her barn. Naked, as far as she could tell. On her back. Something in the back of her mind was telling her that she was supposed to be feeling something, but she couldn’t remember what. A pair of pinkies kneeled beside her, speaking in unison.

“You okay, AJ?”

She nodded.

“How many Pinkies do you see?”

She thought for a moment. “...Two?”

“Good!” One pinkie nodded to the other, “Alright, she’s fine, you can get an ice cream sandwich on the way back to the mirror pool!”

“Thanks, me, glad to help!” The second pinkie hopped away.

AJ groaned, racking her brain for an explanation, though knowing better than to expect one when Pinkie was involved. The room spun, her body ached, her arms fought her attempts to lift them, like there was some weight holding them down. She focused, trying to pull the pieces together...

Finally, she remembered what it was she was supposed to feel. Pain, and it came on all at once, making her gasp, and her back arch. “Ahhhhh~!” She cried out as the sensations rushed into her.

“You might not wanna move, Jackie!”

“Ah’m fine, Ah’m fine.” She looked down over her body. Mostly fine. She seemed to have had her torso replaced with that of Thunderlane’s. At least Thunderlane had nice breasts. She positioned her arms, and pushed off, finally able to see the heavy gloves on her fists. Boxing gloves.

It all came back to her, and she put her arms out to stop her from falling backwards, sitting propped up on her gloves, and turned her head to pinkie.

“Wow, Pink. Ya really kicked mah ass there.”

“Yep!” Pinkie smiled, “I took it serious, like you said!” She grinned wide, but at AJ’s lack of a return smile (brought on more by pain in her facial muscles from the hook punch than any real anger) a look of concern fell across her face. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

She had a look of a wounded puppy, and pain or not, AJ couldn’t help smiling at that. “Sure was, Pinkie.” She answered. The other mare looked like she’d just learned a pregnancy test had shown false positive.

“Good!”

“Just one thing,” AJ continued.

“Anything ya like, Jackie!” Pinkie leaned forward eagerly.

“Next time I tell ya to take somethin’ serious?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Don’t.”

“Alright~” Pinkie acknowledged with a musical tone to her voice, and AJ fell back, staring at the ceiling. And then at the floor, as Pinkie scooped her up onto her back to take her to Redheart for a checkup and some rest. Tia might not be taking friendship letters anymore, but she might well right one anyway. She had, after all, learned an important lesson.

Sometimes, when someone’s a self-proclaimed champ... It’s because most people knew better than to challenge them.

Chaos in the Caverns - Twilight vs Trixie

Author's Note

Another Vs commission, from the buyer who brought you "Applejack vs Pinkie Pie"

Chaos in the Caverns - Twilight vs Trixie

The crystal caverns beneath Canterlot Castle were, to the minds of most, little more than a historical curiosity. Any schoolfoal had probably been present one time or another, walked through the mines and through the hollowed-out rock corridors, and heard a few stock stories of the lives that had once been lived miles below the high-rise apartments and great mansions of today’s Equestrian elite. Old faded photographs of stallions and mares, faces covered in pink-purple dust, showed glimpses into the creation of some of Equestria’s most iconic monuments. Some even showed fillies or colts, younger than the ones on the school trip, proudly grinning into the camera along with their parents.

A local tour guide would walk them through the halls, past century old equipment and glass cases containing recreations of the four-to-a-room sleeping quarters or small, single-room schoolhouses, where wood mannequins in period dress froze in the act of carrying out daily business. They would hear about the sheer scale of the project, the thousands of ponies who had lived and died below the ground, and foals who never saw the sun until adulthood. The caves held deep shadows, despite the best efforts of the sun’s princess, who took regular trips below ground to visit, taking glowing orbs of captured sunlight and seeking to make the time belowground as pleasant as she could, even picking up a pickaxe herself if her duties allowed.

They would hear the stories, see the recreations of daily life, and even hold period accurate recreations of the equipment or try on the clothes. Although, few really bothered to think about what life was like in the tunnels. To most of Equestria, the old mines were divided into two parts: living quarters and workspace.

It didn’t occur to them to think about the implications of an entire underground city. Part of the reason the workforce was so massive had been the insistence of Equestria’s two princesses that no pony be expected to work more than 6 hours in a day, and that they must be permitted to recover for two days. Anyone who doubted how important the project had been in Equestria’s history need only look at their calendars to see its effect, and the two days still referred to the way they had been in the caves. The day of the sun, and the day of the moon. Or, as more commonly pronounced after years of speech, “Sunday,” and “Monday.” The more attentive or depending on your point of view, insufferable students, would point out that the last work day would be dedicated to preparing the other five day’s products by crushing the massive gems, “The Day of Shattering,” or subjected to the rigors of speech, “Saturday.”

What even the most attentive ones, bothered to consider was what would be DONE on the days gifted by the Sun and the Moon. Where the ponies would relax. An entire industry had grown up in the mines, made up not of miners, but of shopkeepers, manecutters, restaurateurs, personal trainers, professional lovers, and all the other ponies who found work providing for others the things they could not, would not, or simply at that particular moment were uninterested in, providing for themselves.

It was in one of these old caves, that had centuries ago been a personal gym, that Twilight and Trixie stood. Unicorn magic had been used to restore rotted wood and tattered canvas to a fully functional boxing ring. In order to ensure the battle would be kept to their bodies, the gloves were not the traditional leather, but solidified magic, so that all their spell work had to go into maintaining the gloves, rather than acquiring an unearned advantage.

Twilight Sparkle had read up the rules of boxing in preparation for the match and insisted on everything being perfect. The match might be private, but the decision to make it boxing had not been an entirely idle one. It was one of Equestria’s oldest sports, and what better place for two of Equestria’s greatest magic users to engage in it than in Equestria’s oldest boxing ring? She wanted it to be perfect, appropriate to the occasion, and so her gloves had a little less strong of an aura. Trixie herself had an annoyed look on her face, as a mystic replica referee explained the rules.

“No hitting below the belt, no kidney shots, no thumbing eyes or anything else, I want a good clean match, understood?” The effort of maintaining both gloves and an illusion kept the voice far away. Twilight nodded, and her horn glowed a bit brighter as the ref turned his face to Trixie. “Understood?”

Trixie rolled her purple eyes, “Yes, I understand.”

The ref vanished, her gloves solidified, and Twilight nodded, “Good because I wasn’t going to be able to keep that up.” She extended her gloves for the blue unicorn to touch, a show of respect to begin the match.

Trixie looked down at the glowing gloves... And decided not to bother with the niceties, throwing an overhand straight punch to Twilight’s face instead, and relishing a little in the very brief look of surprise as the glove sailed over the lowered gloves and rocked into the purple mare’s muzzle.

Twilight reeled back from the blow, surprised by the sudden strike, and the display of poor sportsmanship from the blue mare. They’d AGREED to the match, after all, if Trixie just wanted to hurt her she could jump her while she was out for a walk. Her confusion at the attack came from more than the rocking of her head and the stars in front of her eyes, as she shook off the shock and stared back over her gloves. Trixie flashed her a winning smile.

“Don’t do that,” Twilight glared.

“Do what?” Trixie asked, “I’m sorry, did I miss the part where I wasn’t allowed to punch in boxing?”

“It’s not fair,” Twilight explained.

“I’m sorry, Twilight. In that case, you’re the one who missed the part where you expect Trixie to play fair,” she raised her hands to her face, “Trixie doesn’t fight fairly, she fights victoriously. You can keep your honor, but you’ll give me a victory.”

Twilight’s face flushed in frustration at her opponent’s words. It wasn’t that they were untrue, exactly, it was just another reminder of exactly why she wanted to get into such a brutal battle with the other mare to begin with. She stepped forward, and Trixie instinctively raised her gloves. It was what Twilight had been looking for, and she struck like a snake, driving her glove into the sky-blue mare’s soft breast.

“AHHHH~!” Trixie cried out as the magic-made leather sunk deep into her chest, sending her stumbling backward from the blow, a slight hint of pleasure in her slack jaw in addition to the agony.

“Why you li-AHHH!” Trixie gasped again as Twilight stepped in once more, and began to pepper her with blows. The blue mare was clearly skilled enough in combat to deflect at least a significant minority of the strikes, but unlike Twilight, she hadn’t bothered learning the proper technique or strategy for the fight. Twilight, though, had come prepared, she’d learned how to properly execute feints and slip guards, to make sure that her opponent, however skilled she may be in a standard brawl, would be helpless against the flurry of jabs and quick strikes. Some of the blows were being dodged or deflected, but she’d spent enough time on a speed bag that even if half her shots missed, more than enough would get through that it didn’t matter. Trixie was reeling, reacting rather than acting, and making sure that happened was the essence of the sweet science, a name that, as much as Twily was enjoying bashing her rival around, really should probably have been applied to the creation of artificial sugars rather than the ability to slam a glove into another pony’s body.

Light gasps and groans came along with the low smacks as her gloves crushed into Trixie’s form. Making them out of magic rather than leather was a little more psychological exertion, but it was worth it to feel the ripples of flesh against her fist, the way tense abs would be beaten loose, and the other woman’s skin slowly grew slicker and slicker from sweat. Both mares in the ring could see that Twilight was in control, and Trixie, if she wanted a chance, would have to find a way to stop the assault. Twilight’s blows came too fast to be given a proper response, or really any response at all, other than the gasps and attempts to back away. Twilight was the superior boxer.

Trixie, though, was still the superior cheater. She might not have been able to bob and weave like Marehammed Ali, but she could certainly bend rules like Mike Trotson. Rather than retreat, the sham showpony stepped forward, her hoof crushing right at the bend of Twilight’s ankle, jolting pain through her body. Twilight cried out and instinctively stumbled closer to Trixie from the shock, only to feel a heavy blow slam into the side of her head like swung cinder block. Already off balance, the purple pony fell to the ground, the weight graciously lifted from her leg just a second too late to avoid the inherent agony of falling to the side with your foot held in one place, twisting her ankle with her bodyweight, then being freed to collapse flat on the mat, a high ringing sound in her ears.

The ringing evolved into laughter as she tried to recover, holding her gloves on the ground and bringing herself up to one knee.

“Oh, dear, was that my fault~?” Trixie asked, laughter in her voice as Twilight tried to shake off the blow, shaking out her short purple mane, and watching sparks fall to the ground. A unicorn or alicorn could maintain her horn’s effects for a few minutes even if knocked unconscious, and both of these mares were good enough to know the necessary tricks. Despite that, it was hard to do anything with your ears ringing and the world rocking like a boat, and a few sparks hitting the mat was a miracle considering the alternative.

Trixie must have known there was no way Twilight would go down for good so early in the match since she wasn’t even bothering to count while Twilight tried to force herself back to her feet. Her ankle ached from the attempt to support her weight, but Twilight was recovering and had her eyes set on the smug mare.

“That was cheating,” she said simply, “You stepped on my ankle and hit around my back.”

“Oh, was it?” Trixie asked, “I’m sorry, Twilight, I was just trying to get close enough for a good hook, I didn’t mean to put my foot there. You can hardly blame me for the punch, though, you’re the one who leaned in, and I stepped back as soon as I realized what I’d done.”

They both knew it was a lie, but Twilight could hardly prove it, and everything Trixie said had enough of a semblance of truth that she couldn’t justify bringing this long-awaited battle to an early end. She simply shook her head and tested her weight on the ankle again. “You won’t mind, then,” she smiled, “if I tape the ankle back up? To make things fair. You know,” her eyes narrowed, “if you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

Only someone as acquainted with the blue magic-mare as Twilight was would have been able to detect the slight flare of her nostrils at a ruse being prevented and having no way to get the goal. It was only a flash of her true feelings, though, and her voice soon returned to its normal, sickly sweet tone.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Twilight,” Trixie answered, “I would be heartbroken to think that I had gained such an unearned advantage.” Her tone, though, told a much different story. Twilight nodded, and her horn glowed a little more, and the glow of her gloves faded slightly as old first-aid kit being restored and having its bandages removed and wrapped around Twilight’s ankle, giving her the support she would need to nullify the pain. She didn’t take her eyes off her opponent for even a second, wrapping herself without looking.

“One little point though,” Trixie’s voice was upbeat once more, “I just wanted to remind you of an old saying. It IS only cheating if you get caught, so no ref,” she gave a wicked smile, “no rules.”
She stepped in, delivering a heavy overhand blow between the eyes as Twilight finished wrapping the bandage. She reacted in time for the block, but the necessary energy wasn’t there, and she felt Trixie’s glove slip through her hands like a shark through the ocean before smashing into her face and sending her stumbling again, this time fortunately capable of supporting herself, but still forced to take a few steps back by the blow.

“Sorry, I didn’t see anything,” Twilight heard a voice behind her, and whipped around, to see a shimmering image of a referee standing behind her, “I’m just an illuuuuuusion!”

Trixie laughed at her little joke. Twilight fumed. This unworthy excuse of a unicorn was going too far, now. She was sick of it. She had wanted to give her a good chance to settle their differences, and now Trixie was treating it like a game, and even worse, a game with no rules. There was nothing worse than a game with no rules. The unicorn’s incessant laughter continued behind her, and it was probably only because she found Twilight’s shocked reaction so darn funny that Trixie had not yet taken advantage of standing behind her opponent. If Trixie wasn’t going to get the fight going again, then, Twilight would have to.

She whipped around, her mane flying around her head so for a second she looked like a flying saucer, twisting with her hips and using the full force of her body, from waist to arms, to send her right fist slamming into Trixie’s midsection. It dug into those midday blue abdominal muscles the way that the earlier blow had bashed into her breasts. The feel of it, though, was so much more pleasant and appealing. It didn’t rock Trixie away from her, it made her bend forward, which meant she could feel the exhale of the other fighter’s hot breath on her cheek, and the spit that came from her mouth splashing on her cheek like a mark of victory.

Even more satisfying than that was the follow-up haymaker left hook to the cheek. The faux-leather thudded against her, and she felt her flesh deform from the blow before Trixie was knocked, stumbling to the side.

Unlike Trixie, Twilight had no intention of letting her opponent recover and taunting. This was a fight now, after all, and one she would win. Not only that, it was one that she would win without cheating, without bending even a single rule or requiring her opponent to believe some made-up story about clumsy missteps during attacks. The strained muscles in her ankle made it felt like the whole foot had been dipped in molten lava, but the bandages let her set it and step forward with a follow-up attack.

She threw a quick jab to the face, connected, and Trixie raised her hands for the next. Twilight responded by throwing one low instead, making the other pony lower her guard to her gut, letting Twilight throw her shot into the chin again. High, low, high, low, blows peppered the blue pony’s body until she was starting to look as purple as Twilight. The other girl may have been good, but Twilight was skilled, taking her apart like an AI set to easy. Her fists backed Trixie up until her back was flush against the magically reconstructed ropes, and there was nothing she could do about it except try to guess where the next blow would come from. None of these were knockout blows, but then again, they didn’t have to be. There was no need to try to force the issue. As long as Trixie was under her control, she could end the match any time she wanted.

The theory of boxing may not have been something that Trixie was particularly well educated on, but you didn’t need to read combat textbooks to understand that when you were pinned to the ropes and being peppered with blows, you had no choice but to get out. Unfortunately for Trixie, if you didn’t know very much about boxing, you had very little chance of “getting out” from a controlled situation. You were more likely to lose your cool, and that’s exactly what was happening. First she raised her knee, clearly trying to hit a low blow, but Twilight didn’t even have to lower her eyes for that, the slight change in the position of Trixie’s shoulders told her what was coming, and let her shift her leg to block the blow, and punish the attack by slipping a hook punch past Trixie’s guard and into her cheek.

It may not have rocked her to the ground, but the impact the blow had was obvious from the very second Trixie’s head rolled to the side and saliva sloshed from her lips and splashed on the ground. She continued to try to punch her way out, but there wasn’t a hint of even the cleverness that came from cheating, just straight punches or pull away blows that didn’t have the force behind them to bother Twilight even if one of them could connect, and considering the caliber of opponent Trixie was proving, that seemed unlikely to occur. The careless straights and flailing hooks would have been lucky to hit even a stationary opponent, much less make contact with a skilled boxer.

Then again, even blind squirrels sometimes found nuts and stopped clocks are right twice a day. A heavy blow that got its force more from a lucky coincidence between the movement of the body and the positioning of the opponent than it did from any actual skill on Trixie’s part still managed to connect, rocking into Twilight’s side during an overhand left and making her grunt from the sudden impact. It was hardly a decisive strike, but boxing matches could end on lucky blows, even unscientific ones, and as Trixie’s eyes rolled and her heavy breasts bounced like she was on a trampoline with every strike, Twilight figured the time had come to put an end to the torture, put enough space between them to prepare the strike, and throw the knockout blow.

She took a step back and looked for an opening. It came faster than even she could have asked for. Trixie seemed at this point not to have even realized Twilight’s nonstop assault had ended and tried a driving full force straight that might have at least connected if Twilight had been stone statuary, and several inches closer than she was now. Unfortunately for Trixie, the purple pony was neither of those. As the momentum carried her glowing gloved fist further from any form of defensive position, Twilight twisted her head to the side like a snake, stepped forward under the arm, and put every ounce of muscle she had behind a hook to Trixie’s cheek.

The blow connected with a sound that echoed like the mining equipment that had been used to hollow out the cave and Trixie’s body fell to the ground. She looked like a marionette whose puppeteer had spontaneously dropped the strings, her eyes rolled, and her tongue lolled from her mouth as she collapsed to the ground. Twilight stepped back, giving her opponent room to rise if she was able. She wouldn’t stand for this match being called anything but equitable in how it ended. Trixie could complain, but Twilight wouldn’t give her an excuse for the loss.

“One. Two.”

Trixie’s arm only twitched as Twilight counted her down.

“Three. Four.”

Now Trixie seemed to at least have remembered where she was, and a gloved hand reached up, wrapping around the rope. The blue pony began trying to drag herself to her feet, hands clutching tight and biceps flexing as she used everything she had to try to rise, and still looked like she was only half sure of how her body worked.

“Five. Six.”

Trixie looked like a cheap knockoff of the popular “Veterinarian Simulator” video game that had become popular for comedy video makers to play and laugh at their own inability to perform simple surgical procedures, or perhaps something more like its spiritual predecessor QLOP, where gamers would try and fail to guide an Equestria Games runner even five feet down the track. Whichever comparison you preferred, any serious programmer who made an AI with so little control of its limbs would likely have swiftly found themselves without a job.

“Seven. Eight.”

With one great heave that would likely have left Equestria’s greatest medical minds scrambling for their textbooks to figure out what muscle group had been used to do it, Trixie somehow found her way back to her feet, though admittedly it would likely be too generous to claim she had managed to stand straight. It was more the way that a colt balanced an old Star Horse action figure, having managed to somehow find a pose, however awkward that kept the center of balance above the legs. It certainly didn’t count as capable of defending herself, so Twilight had no choice but to keep counting.

“Nine. Te-”

Somehow, Trixie had managed to raise her guard once again. Twilight gave her long enough that she could ensure the raised gloves were not simply some sort of lucky pose assumed from the random flailing of the stunned magician, but they stayed up, which meant Trixie stayed in the fight, at least on a technicality. As soon as she could be sure, and probably even sooner than Trixie was, Twilight stepped in and sent another crushing blow into Trixie’s belly. She sunk deep into ab flesh once more, feeling the rush of power that came from crushing down on normally almost armor-like muscles, before following the blow up with a wild uppercut that slammed into Trixie’s chin, leaving Twilight thankful for the gloves that saved her from cutting a finger on the jaw, and knocking Trixie’s head back and spit from her lips so she looked like an ornamental water fountain made by a particularly perverted designer.

As her own saliva fell back on the blue mare’s face, she reeled and stumbled into the ropes, which caved under her weight, falling back, then, following Hoofton’s Third Law of Motion, snapped back into place and sent Trixie stumbling forward like a ball out of a slingshot.

There was no need to be concerned about carefully placed counter-punching this time. Trixie wouldn’t have been able to throw a punch that could connect with a brick wall, much less a trained fighter, and her head was wide open with her arms at her side flailing for balance. Twilight tensed her thighs and hips, coiled like a spring, and then struck out with a blow that rocked across Trixie’s face.

The feel of her rival’s vulnerable blue flesh on her skin was, quite honestly, the most incredible feeling Twilight had ever been blessed to experience. It was like sinking her hoof into liquid joy, if liquid joy was hard, covered in hair, and went “OOF!” when you touched it. The previous punch had sent Trixie down like a dropped marionette, but the force Twilight put behind this blow, from her shoulders on down, meant that Trixie looked more like one thrown aside in frustration.

Both feet left the ground as Trixie fell, head to the side and arms straight down, the sort of obvious knockout that typically can only be found in comic books, with eyes rolling back in her so far that it looked like an artist had simply forgotten to put color there. She landed on the mat with a heavy thud, and Twilight began the count.

“One. Two.”

Trixie was face down, her calf-muscles twitched, but there was nothing that even resembled trying to stand.

“Three. Four.”

Saliva, sweat, and the tiniest bit of blood pooled under Trixie’s head, and she remained motionless like a statue.

Twilight counted to ten and then, almost out of curiosity, kept going. She was at thirty when she decided to stop. She let her gloves vanish and conjured a piece of paper out of the air, writing a few words down on the paper, and leaving it on her back for Trixie to read when she woke up.

“No ref, no rules. No honor, no rematch.”

And then, on the back, “P.S. No chance.”

Earth and Sky - Celestia vs Toriel

Author's Note

A commission for my loving fiancee, give it a look!

Earth and Sky - Celestia vs Toriel

It was possibly the most anticipated matchup in the history of the inter-universal wrestling league. The two women involved were two of the most powerful and well-respected erotic grapplers in the history of the business. Both had been champions on their own, multiple times, and both had cut a swath through every challenger who came to them, leaving a parade of unconscious opponents coated with their own sweat and cum. Thousands of articles have been written in magazines around the world predicting what the result of a battle like this one would be. And yet, somehow, they had never been one on one in the ring.

Never, that was, until today. Today, the audience was going to get what they had waited for years. A one on one match between two of the largest, most beautiful, most powerful women that the world of erotic wrestling had ever seen. In one corner would be Celestia, the ruler of the equine nation of Equestria. A goddess incarnate, baring all the best attributes of all her people. The wings of a pegasus, the magic of a unicorn, and the raw power of an earth pony, combined with millennia of skill to make one of the most powerful wrestlers the world had ever, and would ever see.

In the other corner would be Toriel, the queen of the Underground. Where Celestia’s people had thrived, hers had fallen. While she had bonded with all her people, Toriel had lived in isolation in her home for years. In so many ways, she was the polar opposite of Celestia... But in bottomless compassion and love for her people, she was her match. And skill, in muscle, in raw talent? Well, that was what the world had come here to find out.

The preliminary bouts had finished, and the ring had been wiped down once again. All that remained was for the combatants to enter.

The well-known opening notes of Equestria’s national anthem played, and the alabaster princess came forward.

“THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL!”

The ring announcer struggled to make his voice heard over the excited cheering of the white-hot crowd. Eventually, he stopped, this was one warrior who needed no introduction. Her body glistened as she walked to the ring, her wrestling leotard with her cutie mark on the front pressed so tight to her body that it may well have been body paint. If anyone could have doubted her power, or her role as a solar goddess, the grace and power in her movements would have removed all doubt. In the bright lights of the arena, her body shined like the sun itself, and as she leaned back in the corner and slowly dragged her tongue over her lips while she eyed the entranceway, waiting for her opponent, it was clear that staring too long at her form could be just as dangerous... At least to anyone who hoped to satisfy their lover the next night. It was like every bit of all the heat, power, and eroticism that existed throughout her sun and love soaked world had been brought together and given a physical form. Celestia, the Sun Goddess of Equestria, waited in her corner for her opponent. She was a compassionate woman and a merciful ruler, But the mercy would have to come after the match.
“And now, making her way to the ring...” The announcer started but trailed off. There wasn’t a person in the arena who didn’t know who was coming, and his input was not necessary. The people had come to see a clash of the mightiest, most awe-inspiring, and most beautiful women that the erotic wrestling world had ever seen. The pomp and circumstance of announcements might have been appreciated in most matchups, but not this one. The small amount of mental input needed to register the announcement would mean some amount of concentration not dedicated to watching the gorgeous women in the ring, a tradeoff none in the audience would be willing to make.

With her own well- known entrance music playing, Toriel began to make her way to the ring. Though her movements and face betrayed the same power and intensity as Celestia's, her body told the story of the difference between the two. Celestia had grown strong in battle, defending and leading, and her body made her look like a statue built to inspire her people. She was gorgeous. Toriel was powerful. Her build was a little more practical, more a weightlifter than a bodybuilder, but that was hardly the same as saying either was unattractive. Both warriors had an awesome mix of power and beauty, from their rippling shoulder muscles to their full, round breasts, down over packed abs, across thick hips and round asses, and all down their full thighs and calves.

When she took her position in the corner, the two women’s eyes met, and they didn’t break eye contact as the ref gave one last check for weapons, patting the pair down, hands running over smooth thighs and thick bodies, along the abs visible through their singlets, up the curves of their bodies to their breasts. It was clear that the zebra referee was having a bit more fun with the task than was strictly necessary, but the two women neither rejected it nor leaned into the affection. Like star crossed lovers across the room, they only had eyes for each other.

They didn’t even look at the ref as they were brought into the center of the ring. They didn’t need to pay attention as the rules were explained. They’d heard them a million times, and the only thing they were interested in tonight was testing muscle against muscle, and proving once and for all which of the two mighty warriors was superior. When the ref was done, you could have heard a pin drop in the arena. The audience was as eager as the combatants were for the battle to begin.

Silently, Toriel raised her hands, challenging Celestia to test her power. Celestia nodded, raised her own, and clasped them together. Muscles like ivory mountains bulged out against their bodies, against smooth equine fur and coarse caprine hair. They leaned on each other, muscles rippling in their tight-fitting leotards, pushing out against Celestia’s royal pink and gold, and Toriel’s deep purple with her royal sigil on the front, across her massive breasts.

For a moment, they seemed to be perfect matches for each other, neither woman capable of an advantage... But soon, the slightest of tremors could be seen along Celestia’s bulging bicep. Toriel pressed harder, exploiting the advantage, and Celestia’s arms began to bend. She looked as shocked as anyone else as the goat MILF overwhelmed her, forcing her arms back, and then leaning in to force her foe downward. Celestia fought with the might of the goddess she was, but couldn’t overpower her, and felt her body being pushed down until one knee touched the mat.

Despite the advantage and her shock at Toriel’s tectonic strength, she stared up defiantly. A princess bent the knee for no woman. With pure muscle power no longer on the table as a tactic, she would show her the true difference between them. Her horn began to shimmer, and with it, her whole body was engulfed in a golden glow. Her status as the goddess of the sun was undeniable, the rays of the sun seeming to shine from her body, and she set her leg and pushed backward. It wasn’t easy, but slowly, she managed to position her feet and start to rise once more. Now it was Toriel’s turn to be shocked. She may have had more muscle, but she no longer had more power. Now, it was Celestia’s turn to shine, most literally.

As the princess reached her full height and set her feet, starting to push the deposed queen backwards, every Equestrian in the crowd roared out an excited cheer. Celestia seemed to draw strength from their celebration, moving one foot forward, then the next, and slowly pushing her rival back. Toriel grunted, furrowed her brow, braced her legs and lowered her head to overpower Celestia, but there was nothing the monster queen could muster that could shine with the intensity of the midsummer sun. Slowly, Celestia forced her back.

“You are... Strong...” Toriel shook her head again, trying to stop her forced retreat, but given no choice but to take another step, “I’ll admit that... But only... When you use magic... Do you really want this... Decided through spellcasting?”

Celestia chuckled in response, “Oh, Toriel,” she laughed, “Why would I lie like that? I don’t need my magic to defeat you. I may struggle to match your muscle...” She clutched her hands tighter and her biceps bulged out even farther, making Toriel recoil from her force, “But this isn’t a weightlifting contest either, is it? You have muscle and I have magic, but our competition is not over anatomy. Grappling is a test of skill. And in that case, well...” She grabbed her hands tighter, and gave a sudden jerk, forcing Toriel to stumble forward. As Toriel stumbled, she pushed out her leg to trip her to the ground, then twisted and pushed down, getting behind and landing atop Toriel, smoothly straddling her back in a single movement, and landing hard, forcing Toriel’s muscles down beneath her weight, “In that case, I think you’ll find that neither brute force nor parlor tricks can match the might of Equestria’s sun.”

Saying that, she threw her arms around Toriel’s neck, and pulled her back, crushing the other woman’s throat to her chest. Toriel gagged in her grip, reaching up for her biceps, but found herself utterly unable to pull them free. Celestia’s magic empowered muscles crushed down on her neck, cutting away her breath and rendering the mighty woman utterly helpless in the face of her pure power. Never before in her life had she been subjected to such a crushing hold...

...And never before in her life, had she had such an easy way to escape one. The glowing aura nearly blinded her eyes, but it also told her what she needed to do. Rather than simply try to pull herself free, she set one foot, and rolled over, throwing herself to the side, and rolled Celestia onto her back. Now she was the one on top, even if for now, she was still the one suffering in the hold. Celestia may no longer have been able to crank her backward to crush harder, but it didn’t give her any extra oxygen. It wasn’t oxygen, though, that she needed; just her hands free and her foe unable to escape.

She reached her arm back and grasped onto Celestia’s glowing horn. Like a sidewalk in summer, it was hot, almost painful to the touch, but if you can’t handle heat, you should get out of the kitchen, and Toriel was, of course, a famously excellent cook. She gripped the horn tightly, like she would a stud’s shaft, and began to pump along it.

The Princess’s eyes shot open and she gasped at the sensation of that hand pumping along her horn. She immediately threw her head back, or at least tried to, but she was already being held down and there was nowhere for it to go. Her grip on Toriel’s throat loosened, then retightened, loosened again, then clutched close once more, no longer as wicked but still crushing.

Uneven, too, though, as Toriel pumped her hand over that horn. As soon as she felt the grip on her throat loosen enough, she kicked off her feet and slid upward, letting her get a better grip on her horn, the powerful princess having her muzzle buried in massive back muscles. A trapezial smother may have been less traditional than the breast, but if you had enough of a body and leaned back far enough onto a pinned princess, it was just as effective. Celestia had to fight for a few seconds before she could turn her head far enough away from her foe to draw breath once more, and reach down, wrapping her arms tight around Tori’s ribs and trying to crush her in a bearhug.

“What’s... Wrong?..” Toriel taunted, her breath uneven from the grip but her voice confident, “Horn... Too sensitive?” She asked, and laughed, “Don’t they get more sensitive when you use them? I’ll lay off the attack if you’ll lay off the magic.”

“Ahhh... N-no...” Celestia panted, squirming and clutching Toriel tight, hoping to draw a submission victory before she could be taken too far by those powerful hands.

“Come on, Celestia, no magic!” Toriel taunted, and the glow started to shimmer like a rainbow, her mystic aura being distorted by the assault, “I don’t decide when this ends, you do!”

“I won’t... Ahhhh... G-give you... The satisfaction!” Her voice was growing high, her eyes clenched shut as she fought to control herself, but one only needed to watch the aura to see how badly the hornjob was affecting the pony princess. The rainbow glow had been filled with glitters, and they now seemed to spark, the colors themselves going from shining like mist in the sun to rolling like slick oil on a hot day.

“Oh, I expect you to satisfy me tonight, either way, ~” Toriel laughed, “It’s just a matter of when, and whether you get humiliated with your horn before or after the bell!”

“AHHH~!” Celestia cried out, and her shoulders and neck bucked in the air like a man overwhelmed with pre-orgasmic pleasure pumping into his lover’s pussy, “N-never!”

“Say it!” Toriel said, “Two words, ‘No Magic,’ just say them, and you won’t have to submit to a hornjob!”

“I!” Celestia cried out, shaking her head back and forth, trying to deny the pleasure and at the same time trying to throw off Toriel’s grip, but there was no chance of either occurring, “I w-won’t!”

“Then shoot off like a firework!” Toriel clutched tighter and her hand pumped faster, the little lights in her aura seeming to explode into sparks, more coming out of her horn like a roman candle.

“OH GODDESS!” Celestia cried out, “OH GODDESS NO!”

Toriel sensed the little victory was near, and her hand somehow moved faster, assaulting her horn, as it turned to a sparkler display “Say it!”

“AAHHH~!” Tia finally cried out, releasing her grip as she did. “NO MAGIC NO MAGIC!”

Toriel was satisfied, and rolled away from Celestia, rising to her feet behind her. Celestia rolled to her hands and knees, panting on the ground, head down as she recovered. In the aftermath of the attack, her horn glowed like molten metal, and steam rose from between the ridges and junks of ice fell to the mat as excess and uncontrolled magic first conjured water, then changed its state just as quickly. More droplets conjured around the horn, soaking her hair and staining her cheeks like tears.

“Ahhh... Ahhhh, goddess, I-AAHHHHH~!”

Toriel may have let her recover, but it was still a match. She yanked on Celestia’s mane and jerked her head backward, delivering a body-shaking spank to her ass, and leaning in to address her opponent.

Her words were dark and mocking, like a conqueror taunting the lord of a fallen land. “Be glad I’m still giving your horn a break,” she practically hissed the taunt out, adjusting her grip on Celestia’s soaked hair and pulling back harder, “I don’t want your people to lose too much faith in their protector~” She laughed, and then slipped the bottom part of the leotard to the side and plunged her fingers into Celestia’s dripping pussy, pumping a few times with the index and middle, then adding the ring, until her entire hand up to the wrist pistoned the princess’s plump pussy.

Until, suddenly, it didn’t. It wasn’t a single pump deep and grind, it wasn’t a change of pace. Instead, one second Toriel’s hand had been plunging at a heavy and powerful rhythm, and then the next, it simply... Was not. It was as if the monster queen had simply forgotten what they were meant to be doing.

Even Toriel herself looked confused by the turn of events, staring down at her hand, halfway into Celestia’s pussy, with a look of confusion, like she’d forgotten what that strange thing on the end of her arm even was. Then, slowly, the labial lips rippled, and Toriel’s hand seemed to be slowly sucked back into the muscular marehole, like a lost traveler being swallowed by quicksand.

Only Celestia seemed to understand completely what was happening, and she chuckled darkly as she felt Toriel squirm behind her, “You know, my dear... I am a princess from a world of EQUINES. You really shouldn’t expect to overwhelm me with size. There’s nothing you can put in me that would compare to the stallions I’ve taken.” She looked back, laughter in her eyes as she stared down the shocked queen, “This isn’t destructive. It’s nice. A bit small, but... Nice.” She laughed and began to pump her hips back slowly on Toriel’s forearm, “Just need a bit more technique. Let me help~” She started to roll her hips back faster, taking Toriel’s arm like a lover’s shaft, not only unaffected by the size but seemingly reveling in it. Then she started throwing her hips back faster, fucking herself aggressively on Toriel’s hand, “Ah, I’m glad I’m not fighting your husband if you expect this to overwhelm me!”

It was more of a psychological attack than it was the truth, however insulting, but sexual battles were not won on physicality alone. Celestia’s hips moved faster, beginning to roll back and pump her wrist, fucking herself harder than Toriel had taken her mere moments ago. Tori was being overwhelmed and she knew it, Celestia’s hips pumped and pounded back on her with the force of a freight train. That muscular ass was admired around Equestria, and while some few ponies made comments about excessive cake consumption, those stallions who had had her on her hands and knees knew better than to question the power of Tia’s hips, thighs, and glutes.

Somehow being outfucked through the arm, the pony princess had given Toriel no choice but to yank her arm back, pulling her hand from Celestia’s clutching depths. The princess laughed and turned her head, watching her opponent with an almost condescending smile. “Leaving so soon, Tori? But I was just getting started.” Celestia threw her mane back and stood proudly, head forward like a showpony but watching Toriel from the side of her eye, “You’re welcome to try again if you like. There’s nothing you have that I can’t take~”

Toriel held her pussy-soaked forearm. She was used to overwhelming people with muscle power, but she’d never dealt with that specific method of testing strength. She was strong, but Celestia’s sexual power seemed to be a match, if not more for her muscle. Still, she shook her head, “No,” she answered, “Just nothing too big.”

With that, she leapt forward, baring Tia to the ground with her weight, positioning her thigh between her legs and her cameltoe against Celestia’s glutes, humping her hard, her powerful thigh pushing down against the equine’s thick clit and lush lower lips, “Like you said, this isn’t a contest of anatomy~” She wrapped her arms around Celestia’s neck to pull her head tight and hold her helpless while she rutted her.

Celestia, of course, was used to wild stallions and skilled mares, to erotic goddesses and powerful studs, but she’d never had to deal with this sort of attack. It wasn’t an assault of erotic force or sensual skill, it was just pure forceful pumps. It was like Toriel had seen that she couldn’t match Celestia’s sensuality and had found a way to channel her superior muscle into pure sex. With those ripped thighs grinding over her, Celestia was experiencing just a brief taste of the helplessness she inflicted on those who challenged her sexual skill. She’d been fucked by cocks, clits, horns, hands, and anything in between, but this was the first time she’d ever had to contend with a thigh, and she was clearly unprepared.

She needed to escape the hold before Toriel’s leg accomplished what the most powerful stallion shafts had failed and conquered Celestia’s cunt. She kicked her legs and set her hands, grabbed onto a rope for leverage and forced herself to her feet. She was standing, now, with Toriel still clutching her, but no longer able to bring her muscular sex skills to bare. She rushed backward, slamming Tori’s back into the padded turnbuckle, stunning and dislodging the other woman. She turned around to see a look of near shock on Toriel’s face.

“Ahhh... That was impressive, Toriel, but you have as much chance of out-sexing me as you do of moving Mt. Ebott. As a human once said, if you strike at a king, you must kill him. But in sexual skill, I am more than a mere monarch,” She reached out and grabbed at Toriel’s titanic tits, fingers sinking into the flesh and rubbing over her, “I am a goddess. That means...” She forced herself forward, pulling down at the v-neck arch of the leotard and letting her fingers sink into Torie’s bountiful breast-flesh, palms pressed to her protruding nipples. She kneaded those breasts like bread and whispered, lips inches away from her foe’s, “Immortal.”

She drove her body forward and met Toriel’s lips with an overwhelming kiss. Her thick oral muscle forced its way deep into the caprine woman’s mouth, pushing aside her lips and overpowering its rival, pushing and forcing it to the side and top of the mouth with the same power and ease that Toriel had used to force Celestia to her knees. Toriel moaned in her mouth and writhed against her body, raising her hands to Celestia’s chest to try to push her away.

The ivory princess was not to be denied. She easily forced Toriel’s hands away from her breasts, then lowered her own down to the middle of her rival monarch’s back. She pulled herself tight and began to pump her hips, rutting like a dog on its master’s leg, less from arousal or even to pleasure the other woman, and more to simply grind in her helplessness, that she could be so easily made into nothing more nor less than a toy of pleasure for the princess to play with. In carnal contests, Celestia was unrivaled in all the multiverse’s sexfighting leagues and had stood proud atop her home universe for millennia.

And then, she pulled back from Toriel’s mouth and raised her into the air with her mighty arms, bringing her broad breasts to her lips. She opened her mouth and suckled strongly on them, dragging her tongue over Toriel’s nipples, and sucking slowly over her most sensitive spot. Toriel’s back arched, her breasts clearly a rare weak point in the facade of an unconquerable queen.

She tried to raise her hand to Celestia’s head and push her away, but Celestia was not to be dissuaded from her attack. She clutched tighter, crushing Toriel in her bearhug, working over her breasts with centuries worth of sexual skill. If she’d had the presence of mind, Toriel might have thought to pull close and smother her rival, but there was no way she or any other woman would be able to think to counter like that when Celestia was slathering her tits with her slick tongue. Instead, she just moaned, and her legs shook, body bucking as the princess worked her towards an orgasm without even touching her tight and sensitive cunt.

Her back suddenly arched, and she let out a long and low cry, femmecum pouring from her pussy and running in rivulets down her thighs. Celestia had what she wanted, but she wasn’t going to give the other woman even a moment’s respite. She pulled her tighter, lifted her into the air, then popped her hips and turned, slamming her down hard on her back.

The combined weight of both women slammed into the canvas mat, the ring rocked from the impact and Toriel seemed temporarily stunned by the force of her body hitting the ground, and then Celestia’s massive, muscle-packed form crashing down on top of her. Celestia didn’t give her any time to rest, grabbing onto her legs, and rolling backward. The referee fell to his knees and slammed his hand on the mat.

ONE!

TWO!

Toriel’s hips bucked and she threw Celestia off. But while her power may have been returning, Tia still had her wits about her while Tori was fighting to recover. The princess scrambled back on her, laying atop her like a lover, and clutched her cheeks in her hands.

“You shouldn’t have kicked out of my pin, Toriel,” The ivory princess practically purred the words, grinding her hips against Toriel’s. The other woman stared back up at her, her lower lips and leotard stained with her thick feminine cum.

Tia leaned in and dragged her tongue along Toriel’s cheek to taunt her. She shuddered and closed her eyes, letting Celestia lick her like a child dealing with an overeager dog. She shuddered as Celestia spoke, “I’m going to make you regret that~”

Toriel looked back at the other woman, gasping out her answer, “And I,” she answered, “Will make you regret releasing my breasts!”

Her arms shot up and clutched around Celestia’s body, squeezing her back down to her chest. Their breasts were pressed flat to each-other, pushing out like mushroom heads, bodies pressed so tight it was like Toriel thought if she pulled hard enough they would meld into one unconquerable woman. Her breasts may have been sensitive, but it was easier to handle a tit-crush than a tongue, and Celestia’s mouth was well away from her chest. She may have been stunned after the slam, but muscle memory could make up for the daze.

She didn’t have all her combative wits about her, but there was one thing she could always do, and that was squeeze. Her biceps bulged as she held the other woman helpless on her. Even while stunned, she could still bearhug and reposition her thigh between Celestia’s legs as well. The pony princess must have been enjoying the match much more than she had let on, her lower lips were soaked and she struggled at the touch of Toriel’s thigh. Keeping her for trapped was child’s play for the skilled grappler, and Celestia’s struggles may as well have been like trying to push a boulder from her back. Indeed, considering the sheer strength of her opponent, the boulder may have been easier. With Celestia's sensitive slit so thoroughly soaked, Toriel simply rolled her thigh thrice, pumping her muscles on the princess’s pulsing pussy.

“AHHHHHH~!” Celestia arched her back and cried out in overwhelming pleasure as the orgasm crashed over her body like a wild wave on an already rocking boat. Her juices gushed from her cunt and over Toriel’s thigh, and her whole body seized and shook in the goatish grappler’s grasp.

Toriel, though, had no intention of letting the moment go to waste. With Celestia temporarily immobilized in orgasm, she bucked up her hips and rolled her over onto her back. While the pony princess still quaked in orgasm, the monster queen grasped her cheeks, raised her head, and slammed it down on the mat, adding a stunning blow to forces that overpowered her opponent.

She straddled her hips like she was sitting in her lap, grabbed tighter, and repeated the motion, dragging Celestia almost all the way up to a full sitting position, then shoving her back down. One time, then two, then three, ensuring by the time the pleasure ended, Celestia would still be too stunned to respond. Once she was convinced her opponent would be unable to mount a comeback against her assault, Toriel scrambled up her body and planted her thick lower lips against Celestia’s face. She dropped her hips and pushed down hard, smothering the other woman in her own soaked slit, grinding cunt-juices on her cheek, over her lips, and more importantly, forcing her head and shoulders to the ground, cutting off her air and closing off her ears with massive thigh muscles so she wouldn’t even be able to hear the referee’s count.

The zebra slid to the ground and slapped the mat once more.

ONE!

TWO!

Now it was Celestia who, somehow, managed to pull together the strength to escape the pinning predicament. With all the power she could muster, she managed to raise a shoulder from the ground. Toriel adjusted her knee to press down on the shoulder and drove her back down. The count resumed.

ONE!

TWO!

Once more, Tia’s mighty shoulder rose from the canvas, breaking the count again. The caprine queen looked as surprised and impressed as any in the audience at the royal mare’s resilience. She slapped her foe across the face, spread her thighs until that muzzle was practically fucked all the way into her dripping cunt, and tried the pin again.

ONE!

TWO!

“AHHHHH~!” Celestia’s shoulder was brought from the mat, but this time it was not under her own power. Her lips, pressed close to the cameltoe, had pulled aside the leotard and found the then dominant woman’s sensitive clit. She’d sucked, Toriel’s thighs clasped tight on her head, and the goat babe’s body bucked, dragging Tia off the ground as she fell to her side. The referee was forced to stop the count, but this time Toriel was too busy trying to deal with the sudden onslaught of pleasure to attempt another pin. Celestia ate cunt like the multiverse’s most sought after lesbian lover, and it felt like a great glowing orb was growing deep in her gut, behind her awesome abdominal muscles, pure unpolished pleasure preparing to overwhelm her. It was less like licking and more like Celestia was pumping pure pleasure into her body. It was impossible to determine any one place that the princess’s body tongue was pressed, it felt more like Toriel’s entire body had been turned into an erogenous zone until even the hands that clutched her thighs seemed to be perfectly designed tools of erotic assault.

She reached down with her hand to try to clutch onto Tia’s mane, pull her either closer or off and she didn’t know which would be more likely to spare her pussy or even which she would choose if she did.

Celestia rolled her onto her back, and what few neurons Tori could still dedicate to the progression of the match warned her that the powerful princess was preparing a powerbomb. Her suspicions were confirmed as she felt Tia starting to rise to her feet, pulling Toriel’s hips up into the air, and soon suspending her shoulders as well. It was as much an instinctive tensing of the muscles in her pre-orgasmic state as it was an intentional counter that allowed Toriel to wrap her rippling thighs around Celestia’s head and pull tight with crushing force.

Of course, intentional or not, it was at least effective, and in the face of the overwhelming pressure wrought by Tori’s tree trunk thighs, Celestia stumbled and shook until she was forced to kneel once more to avoid collapsing. They were in the position they had returned to where they were at the start of the match, Tia on one knee in the face of Toriel’s pure physical force and unmatched muscles, and Toriel bearing down on her with all she had. Before, it had been a simple preview of the epic battle about to take place. Now, though, it had become a race to force the other woman to give in before your own body gave out.

Though Tori’s tree-trunk thighs clutched tight, Tia’s tongue twisted to torment her twitching tunnel. The two women’s massive bodies shuddered, but both knew that, for now, Celestia had the advantage. To win this battle, Tori would have to hold on against Tia’s tongue until the powerful pony princess’s strength faded and her body fell to the ground. She would need to maintain total control, both of herself and her opponent until a woman with the power of the sun had every ounce of strength drained between crushing thighs. Celestia could slip up, but as long as she was still conscious to recover, the battle could be rejoined. She could lose control for perhaps even a full minute before passing out between those massive muscles. Tori needed to dominate until her foe fell to the ground.

Celestia, meanwhile, would only need to maintain control for three seconds to claim a victory. If Tori faded for less time than it would take to read a restaurant menu, her opponent would walk out as champion. And not only that, Celestia’s ability to keep going was dependent as much on her positioning and practice as her physicality. For Toriel, it was simply biology. Celestia’s tongue assaulted her slit, drove down through her depths, and circled softly over her sensitive nub. Whether goat or pony, a woman’s body was built to breed. Whether cock or cunt, the pleasure of sexual stimulation was no mere coincidence, but a biologically ingrained incentive to continue the line. No matter how mighty, no queen or conqueror could claim to be a match for that most ancient of biological imperatives. Sooner or later, Toriel would lose control of her body, gush an orgasm over the princess’s muzzle, and be too caught up in her pleasure to lift her shoulders for the three seconds it would take the princess to claim her prize.

It happened sooner. Toriel lasted an impressive minute, longer than any other woman to face the full force of Tia’s oral assault, but eventually, the combined might of Celestia’s tongue and thousands of centuries of evolutionary instinct crushed the queen’s will, and she came. Her body shook and writhed, and Celestia acted quickly, reaching out and grabbing Toriel’s shoulders, pinning them to the mat and simply hoping the referee would notice and begin the count immediately.

He had seen what was coming, and as soon as both shoulders touched the mat, his hand slapped down.

ONE!

TWO!

TH-

With only inches before the zebra’s palm touched the canvas, Toriel managed to kick out. Even she could hardly be sure how she had done it, if she had recovered enough strength to force her body straight and free herself, or if an orgasmic spasm had simply been strong enough to dislodge her foe. One way or another, she bucked into the air, and sent Celestia sprawling off of her, rolling onto her front, and holding between her legs like a flopping footballer, juices still gushing from her pussy. She was still sensitive, still overworked, given a small reprieve thanks to how recent her orgasm was, but she knew that this was a battle of sex vs muscle, and right now, sex was winning. Both women were erotically skilled and physically impressive, but now it was late enough in the game that their relative strengths and weaknesses had been made clear. Tori had the superior muscles and Celestia the superior sexuality. Though Tori had found ways to work Tia’s sex over with her muscles, and Celestia had managed to weaken Toriel’s body with her sexual skill, it was clear that the winner would not be the woman who managed to leverage her skill into the other’s arena, but the one who managed to find a way to break through and fight the other woman on her own terms, and beat her. Toriel would need to outfuck her, or Celestia would need to find one single, crushing physical attack to combine with her sexuality put an end to her rival’s resistance.

It was Celestia who managed to take the first step towards that goal. As Toriel tried to regain her wits, she felt the princess’s ivory arms wrap around her midsection and pull up. She was lifted bodily from the ground, and soon found herself held upside down, dangling from Tia’s arms in a sort of reverse bearhug position. Toriel had managed to wrap her arms around her foe and add sex to an awesome bearhug earlier in the match. Now it was Celestia’s turn to try, and, as befitted such powerful rivals, she sought not only to match the feat, but one up her, as she tried to crush the air from Toriel’s body and, at the same time, drive her tongue deep and overpower the other woman with pleasure once more.

Toriel’s body shuddered and her thighs squeezed tight on Tia’s head. It was a brutal headscissor hold, easily capable of crushing any opponent’s will to dust. Still, Tori would need to do more than just squeeze her head, she would need to outlast the princess and bring her to the ground. It was a replay of the contest they’d been in just moments ago, only now Toriel’s pussy was dripping and oversensitive, and Celestia could stun her at any time by prematurely ending the bearhug and turning it to a brutal piledriver. They both knew how this contest would go, and now Celestia worked her opponent’s cunt as if she didn’t even notice the thighs pulsing against her skull, even laughing as if Toriel’s naivety in thinking this could save her was a joke.

For a woman with the might of Toriel, it was insulting to be crushed tight, bearhugged so hard you could barely breathe, and on top of it have the only response to one of your most infamous attacks be mild laughter instead of screams. She would need to admit, though, that Celestia was not unjustified in her response. She would need to find another way. Her thighs, mighty as they were, would not be enough.

She reached around behind her back until she felt the flowing strands of the alicorn’s tail, and pulled hard. It elicited a shocked jump from the princess, clearly unused to such an impudent attack, so she did it again, and got a slight gasp. Perhaps there was a level of masochism in the alicorn she had not been aware of. She tried again, straining her own muscles to tug the tail and spank Celestia with the other hand. She was met with an obvious and startled jump, but also a low moan that confirmed her suspicions. She knew what she had to do. She raised Tia’s tail, exposing her ass, and then rather than a slap, drove in what was practically a punch to the butt, but with a thumb extended to drive right into her opponent’s asshole. Celestia seemed to jump at the penetration, and Toriel immediately took advantage. With mighty core muscles that put even the mightiest of history’s heroes to shame, she brought herself all the way up, performing an inverted sit-up while hanging from Celestia’s shoulders and anchoring herself with an overpowering grip on her opponent’s head with her thighs.

Celestia looked up at her seemingly in shock, as Toriel balanced on her shoulders. A more agile woman might have tried to roll herself all the way back and fling her foe to the ground, but while Toriel had the core strength to accomplish that, she knew that this late in the match it would simply be an unnecessary risk. Instead, she held Celestia’s head and leaned forward, forcing the other woman to overbalance

Celestia slammed to the ground beneath the great goat with a thud, the back of her head smashing against the canvas. The weight of a mighty goddess of muscle came crashing down on Celestia’s muzzle, and she was, if only for a moment, stunned. Toriel knew full well she didn’t have too long to take advantage of this moment. She leaned back, settling her mighty rump on Celestia’s chest, and leaned in, delivering another facesitting pin, but now safely out of range of that wicked tongue, and with her opponent temporarily dazed by the blow to the back of the head, it was unlikely she would ever get another chance quite as good as this one. She gestured to the referee to begin his count, and counted along, nodding her head as he did, confident she had finally found her victory.

ONE!

TWO!

TH-

“OOF!”

To her shock, Toriel felt Tia’s mighty muscles tense against her ass, and shove. She fell forward, almost a full foot, as the powerful woman forced her away. She landed on her front, on her hands and knees, and looked back along her body at the woman who had, somehow, once again mustered the necessary force to escape defeat. Toriel had been sure that no woman could have kicked out of that. Perhaps not. She had failed to consider she was fighting a goddess.

Even goddesses, though, have their limits. Celestia’s chest rose and fell, her left arm loose at her sight and her right flopped across her chest. Sweat and miscellaneous other liquids covered her body, and her coat even seemed to resemble those of her much-maligned early period statues, as the exertion, exhaustion, and extreme arousal had the blood pumping through her so hard her body had taken on a faint near pink hue.

Toriel pounded the ground in frustration, mind racing, wondering how she could put the other woman away. She growled out at Tia, the question unasked and yet answered, when the pony princess shook her head.

‘No,’ she said, wordlessly through the simple slow action, ‘You can’t.’

Toriel would not accept a no. She had to find an answer. As she searched desperately for the solution, one came to her, the same one that she had come upon earlier on the match.

“You want my sex,” she growled low, like a beast about to pounce, “Then you can have it!”

She backed up, too fast for Celestia to even react in her state much less respond to the attack, and grabbed onto the pony princess’s horn. If it would take finding a way to gain an erotic advantage on the sensual goddess to win, then that’s what Toriel would have to do. Celestia tried to back away, but Tori clutched her cunt muscles tight, looped her lower legs under Celestia’s chin, and pulled her back in, forcing her into a combination of headscissors and cuntlock that immobilized the princess, if only for a second.

A second was enough. After all, it only took three to win a match, and Toriel had a plan that would keep Tia down for longer than that. She braced herself against the ground, and thrust back, hilting the horn inside her. Celestia barely had time to realize what was coming, before Toriel tensed every single muscle in her body... And SQUEEZED.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH~!”

The magic attacks from Tia were over, but her horn was not off-limits, and even when not spellcasting, it was still sensitive. It was like her willpower had been ambushed. All her focus had gone into defending her pussy from erotic attacks, and Toriel had snuck around the back, found a weak point in her defenses, and crushed it. Her eyes rolled back, her pussy gushed juices, and her horn started to spark and shoot magic bolts into the other woman’s body.

Pure, mystically charged orgasmic pleasure pumped through Toriel, until it felt like the deepest and most sensitive spot of her pussy not only had spread over her entire body but beyond it as well. The slight vibrations of the referee’s hand slapping the mat that reverberated on her palms and knees felt like a perfect sex machine designed by the most ingenious succubi of the circle of lust and affixed to the shaft of a man who had been teased to the edge for days. Her whole body shook and she bit her lip until even that felt like a glorious blowjob, but still stood tall as the pinfall was counted. Whether it was arrogance or foolishness or sheer stubbornness, she was determined not to give this woman another orgasm.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

*DING DING DING!*

The bell sounded, and Toriel flopped off of her opponent and onto the ground. Their encounter had been just as much of an epic clash of titans as anyone, even the powerful women themselves, could have dared hope. She had no idea how she had managed to get through that last shower of magic without losing control and cumming, and even now she felt like she was still on the edge. She looked back at her fallen opponent, and saw her simply lying back, staring at the ceiling, as if it was taking her a while to truly process what had happened and come to grips with her surroundings. Toriel didn’t need the recovery time, but she, too, paused before rising. She had won, at long last, after a battle of sex and muscle, she had won and proved herself the better battler. Quite frankly, after how close to the edge Tia and her tongue had pushed her, she was going to need to go home, throw Asgore into bed, and ride him until Asriel had a whole baseball team of new family members. God, that had been hard, but she had done it.

She grabbed the ropes and pulled herself to her feet, raising a hand in victory and basking in the wild cheers of the audience. The referee approached, took the other hand and raised that as well, officially indicating the victor to all, though even Toriel would admit she was only the victor on the official match card. The real winner of the bout had been anyone in the stands who had been fortunate enough to bear witness to such an epic bout, to appreciate such massive and beautiful bodies instead of having to try to fight with them, and take in the weight and power of each move. Fortunately for Toriel, Magicasts did run replay, and she could take it all in to her heart’s content and at her leisure. Tomorrow, the day after, the day after that... It would all depend on how long it would take before she was finished riding her husband into the bed.

As she stood, she felt the pleasure growing deep inside her once more, like a light yet growing glow, a warm, pleasant feeling that she knew would burst over into an orgasm eventually. Perhaps it was the strain of their battle that had brought her this close, perhaps it was the roaring of the crowd, but somehow, she was still being pleasured even with her opponent lying on her back and staring dumbly at the lights, so exhausted and rocked by the orgasm she couldn’t speak. Even so, Celestia had a smile on her face, glad to have finally had their match. It felt good, really good, so good it seemed like...

She looked down and saw the telltale orange glow at her cleft that told her that, with their match over, Celestia had decided to use her magic once more. The pleasure built in her body and she groaned, raising her eyes, and seeing the ivory mare standing in front of her. It took a few moments to realize what she was seeing, and she saw the playful smile on Celestia’s face. The pony princess was, after all, something of a playful trickster, and right now, Toriel was certainly feeling played with. Then she saw over the woman’s shoulder that Celestia still lay on the ground, counting lights. It explained how she was able to stand so tall after being rocked so hard. Toriel would have been impressed by the trick if she wasn’t too busy shaking in near-orgasm.

“Oh, you little...” Toriel grunted.

The projection of Celestia leaned in and whispered in her ear. “See you for the rematch.”

Suddenly, the pleasurable spark around Toriel’s pussy grew to a raging inferno, and in seconds, her eyes rolled back, thighs quaked, and feminine cum suddenly gushed from her pussy and coated her thighs. Her eyes rolled back and she came, falling to the ground. To the audience, it looked like she’d suddenly cum, so overwhelmed by the eroticism of the moment that she couldn’t control herself. As Toriel’s hips bucked on the ground, their cheers grew louder, and Toriel couldn’t even bring herself to be annoyed at Tia’s trick. After all, if it was so close she was rolling on the mat in orgasm, there would HAVE to be a rematch. Hopefully more than one, even.

She could hardly wait.

The Girlhood Dream - Mayor Mare vs OC

Sketcha, or simply Sketch as most called her, could barely sit still on the bed as she awaited the coming of her opponent. Mayor Mare was more than just an exciting erotic opponent to be in the ring with, she was one of the all-time greats, a legend of sexual wrestling, and the opportunity to have a match with her was one that came along few times, and came to few ponies, especially now that the Mayor had retired formally from the hobby. She still followed it, though, and Sketch had done well in the ring, overwhelming opponents male and female with her pure erotic skills and impressive muscles. She felt like an eager fangirl awaiting a visit from her hero, and to a certain extent she was, it was just that once she saw her hero, she was going to get in bed with her and rut her until she came like a freight train. And likely after that, the first to orgasm would lose, after all, but there would still be some time for a little bit of post-match celebrating.

She had to hold back a gasp of joy when the mayor stepped in and she saw her for the first time in person, and so close. She wore only a thong, a pair of high silk socks, and large green pasties over her nipples that, at least technically, meant she was clothed. The Mayor let her overcoat drop, and Sketch saw that she wore the same, the thong riding up her pussy and creating an impressively sized cameltoe. She may have been older, her muscles a little less cut and a bit heavier around the midsection, but that was how Sketch liked it.

“Well?” The Mayor asked, in a businesslike tone that almost managed to hide her arousal at the moment, “What are we waiting for?”

Sketch stood up, and saw she was actually perhaps a few inches taller than the older woman, even if they fought at the same official weight.

“I was just waiting for you to be ready,” Sketch answered, before adding, “And admiring the view, of course.”

The Mayor chuckled, “Of course,” she answered, “But don’t take too long. Or else the extent of the view is going to be my breasts in your face until you pass out.”

Sketch was sure she was shaking in excitement just being addressed so hotly and so aggressively, by one of the legends of the sport. She managed to calm herself, and nodded, stepping in, and offering her hands to the Mayor to lock up.

“Let’s begin, then,” she said.

The Mayor chuckled, “Not like that~” she answered simply as she stepped in, and let their big, beautiful breasts press together. Sketch saw what she wanted, and pressed back, her bountiful breasts mushrooming out, bodies pulling nice and close together, pressed so close she could feel the Mayor’s heartbeat through her chest.

They kissed, and Sketch let her tongue slip deep into the Mayor’s mouth. It was warm, wet, and filled with broad oral muscle. Of course, what else would one expect, it was a mouth! But it felt heavenly to her, incredible. It only felt more incredible as the Mayor started to kiss back, and Sketch felt the erotic skill the other woman was so well known for. She couldn’t just kiss if she wanted to win, and she wouldn’t just kiss if she had one of her idols in her arms. She broke the kiss, a strand of saliva dripping out of their mouths, hanging low like a precarious rope bridge, then breaking. The Mayor looked up at her with bedroom eyes, like a woman eager to have her partner ravage her, and Sketch, for her part, would not dream of disappointing her. She leaned in, bending her opponent backward like a ballroom dancer, and brought her lips to the other woman’s neck, kissing passionately, dominantly, trying to make her feel the same helplessness she made all her other opponents feel, like they were being controlled by a superior sensual force.

Of course, this woman was not like all of her other opponents. The Mayor was something special, she moaned, yes, rolled her hips, did all the things you would expect a woman being pleasured to do. But Sketch had sexfought for long enough to know that this wasn’t quite the same as normal. The moans were satisfied, but not helpless, less like a woman ravaged by a beast, more like one enjoying a massage at the twin’s parlor. In sex-wrestling, even an aroused response can be a form of dirty-talk, a form of insult to the other’s skill, a message saying ‘What you’re doing feels good, but I hope you know we’re still supposed to be competing, and this won’t overwhelm me.’

Sketch would have been disappointed if it had. After all, she hadn’t dreamed of a match like this for years only to find her opponent to be an easily exhausted pushover. If anything, the idea would have been an insult. The Mayor she knew, the one known as the Mayor of Mayhem in her day, would never have accepted the fight if she thought she would be taken down by this. She had retired on top, not because she couldn’t win anymore, just because she felt that she was not quite as good, and would not want an opponent given less than her at her best.

With that in mind, Sketch was even more flattered to get a private match, that she had done so well the Mayor would give her a fight even past her prime. She would hate to disappoint by giving her any less than her best, so she pulled the Mayor up, until she was only bent a little, and began to rub her hand over her pendulous breast, then reaching in and tearing away the pasty on the nipple to the sound of the ripping of removed adhesive and the low gasp of a pleasured woman. She slowly pumped her hand forward as she made out with the mayor’s neck, massaging her breast, pulling back just a little to whisper in her ear.

“You’re not what you used to be~” Dirty-talk was necessary in sexfights, and she was sure the Mayor understood that while the words may have been true, the sentiment wasn’t, and Sketch was loving every second of this competition.

“Nor are champions,” the Mayor answered, “If you can earn titles with such simple tactics,” she spoke with what Sketch hoped was a similar intent.

Sketch opened her mouth to respond and then gasped as the Mayor’s arms clutched around her body and started to squeeze. She had gone by the Mayor of Mayhem, but the Mayor of Muscles may have been a more accurate title, considering her famed ability to wrap her arms around her opponents and squeeze any semblance of fight out of them. Sketch fought for breath as the Mayor pulsed her biceps in on her sides, and crushed the Zebra’s massive tits to her own, a dominant hold letting her opponent know who was in charge. Sketch couldn’t help feeling almost lesser as a woman, feeling her breasts crushed like that, her body utterly controlled in her opponent’s grasp.

“It’s nice to be back in competition,” the Mayor chuckled, “but I hope that you plan on doing more than a little light kissing. I’ve not been in the ring for years and I’m still not pent up enough for that little teasing play to be enough. I hope you don’t consider that fucking, back in my day that wouldn’t have even been foreplay.” Then she stopped, and fixed Sketch with a confident smile.

“Here,” the Mayor continued, “Why don’t I show you how I used to do this. Up you go!”

She suddenly lifted, and Sketch felt her feet leave the soft carpeted floor. Suddenly she wasn’t just caught in a crushingly tight erotic embrace, she was having her whole body controlled, and there was no way to run. Her breasts were pressed to the mayor’s muzzle, and she tried to reach her arms around to grab the back of the Mayor’s head and push it close to smother her.

She might as well have simply ASKED the Mayor to stop breathing, for all the good it did in the fight. That saliva-soaked mouth opened, and her thick lips closed around the pasty, her soaked oral muscle dragging along it. She used her broad, sopping wet tongue to rub up and down along her pasty like a paintbrush. After a few seconds of licking and sucking, Sketch felt like her breasts had been soaking in a hot tub for an hour, slick with saliva and even, she was sure, milk dripping from the nipple. Between her powerful suction and slathering tongue, the Mayor had at some point stripped the pasty from her breast even if Sketch wasn’t quite sure when, leaving Sketch’s thick nipple as an open target for the other woman’s oral assault. Not since her first day at a training school had she felt so completely controlled by an opponent.

Sketch’s breasts were every bit as sensitive as her pussy was, and she felt her orgasm growing rapidly between her legs. She wasn’t sure how any woman could have handled the Mayor in her prime, considering the talent she had years after retiring out of a belief she could no longer go like she used to. Quite frankly, Sketch almost wondered if that had all been a ruse, and she was simply waiting for the waters to be restocked before going back to hunting fish in a barrel. The suspicion was backed up as Sketch was easily grabbed and forced back against the wall, her broad and beautiful back pinned flat against the wall of the hotel, so that there was nowhere to go and she couldn’t even try to lean back and escape the Mayor’s mouth! She was trapped, pinned, helpless in the face of the other woman, her tit feeling more like it belonged to her opponent than it did to Sketch right now.

The Mayor pulled her lips from Sketch’s breasts with a loud Pop, and milk and saliva dripped down her chin. She met the Zebra’s eyes with a challenging stare, daring her to fight back, to prove she was every bit the champion she claimed to be.

“Is this all you have for me, Sketch? I’m a wrestler, not a call-girl, I didn’t expect to come here just to get you off.”

Once she said it, she dove back on, wrapping her lips around Sketch’s breast and sucking with all her might. Sketch’s mighty hips bucked against the mayor’s body, pumping into her, arousal almost overwhelming her. Her orgasm was growing close, almost too close, and she needed to stop it before the mayor carried her away to that same island of breathless pleasure she left all her opponents on. Knowing she needed a desperation move to escape from her situation, she tried to reach up, grab the back of the Mayor’s head, and pull tighter, to smother the other woman with her breasts.

As she did, she kicked her legs up, and wrapped them around the Mayor’s body, squeezing tight with her thigh muscles, crushing her with all the power she had. She began to pump her hips as she did, knowing in doing that could make the scissors hold that much more painful, knowing the force of her body would make it that much harder to hold out while being squeezed in thigh muscle, that much harder to regain her bearings and keep up the battle. It was an effective technique, one that Sketch had used many times on her other opponents, interrupting an erotic attack with power and pain, and forcing them to lose control of their bodies just enough that Sketch could force them away and plan her next move.

It worked well on most of her opponents. This was not most of her opponents. This was a woman who had stood astride the world of erotic wrestling for well over a decade, a woman who had been beaten at times but NEVER forced to total submission, a woman who was not just the best fighter of her day, but perhaps the best fighter of her century. She pulled away from the wall, twisted her hips, turned around, and slammed Sketch hard on her back, pinning them both down under the awesome combined weight of the two mares.

Sketch was finally freed from the hold, and the Mayor crawled up her body until their barely-covered pussies meshed together as one. She shuddered as she felt the weight of the other woman on top of her, the juices dripping onto her tiny thong. It would feel good, no, it would feel incredible to just lie back and let the pleasure of the moment roll over her, to know that she was being worked over by one of her idols, a woman she had patterned her career on. Of course, if she did that, she would hardly be patterning her career on the Mayor, would she? The Mayor never let anyone roll over her, dominate her, never just lay back and took it. The mayor made you fight for every inch, and Sketch was determined to do the same.

She felt the tan woman grab her arms and lean in on her, pressing her down with her might and muscle. Then a pair of tree-trunk-like legs wrapped around her own and spread her out in a grapevine. The Mayor leaned in, breasts pressing into Sketch’s face, practically smothering her under mountains of titflesh. Not quite smothering yet, but doing something that could be just as hard to handle. The Mayor twisted her shoulders, sending her breasts smashing into Sketch’s face.

It was like a wake-up call, a reminder that she was a warrior. She couldn’t just sit here, pinned and grapevined, and be crushed. The rather literal slap in the face put the fight back into her. She couldn’t use her arms, she couldn’t use her legs, but fortunately, Equines had evolved a little bit of a fifth tool, for slapping away flies, and while she couldn’t use it to lift or grind, she COULD get an opponent hot, excite her even in the most overwhelming of situations, as long as she got a good shot.

She flicked her tail up, and the thick appendage and its long hairs slapped against the Mayor’s pussy. It was clear that, despite her years of competition, this was one technique the veteran grappler was not familiar with, she seemed to jump a little bit, her thong getting wetter, in response.

Sketch knew she had to act fast to take advantage, and while the Mayor was twitching just slightly, she freed an arm, reached up, and grabbed a handful of the grey, if dyed, hair. She pulled, and in pulling, didn’t just force Mayor Mare to bend back, she used that as leverage to pull herself up in a sit-up, so she could latch her lips onto Mayor Mare’s neck, and make out with it once more!

The Mayor moaned, and Sketch felt in total control as she suckled on her neck and rolled her hips. The roll was enough, even, to move the big woman from grinding right on her cunt up to her belly, and that meant that there was plenty of room for Sketch herself to reach her other hand up and slap at the breasts that pushed into her own. Mayor Mare groaned, and Sketch grinned, rubbing over that breast, and delivering another slap. It got the same reaction, and she was starting to feel she had her, partly from the way that the Mayor’s voice grew higher and higher with every strike, and partly from the increasing wetness against her ample belly.

“Wanna see a fun trick~?” She asked, teasingly, her hand trailing down from the Mayor’s breast, around to her back and along the curve of her spine. The older woman’s ass was an incredible thing to feel; thick, full, firm, and just plain gorgeous to put her hands on. She felt the other woman shudder as she slipped her hands down a little more, and dug her fingers into the elastic of the thong. She slowly pulled back, stretching the elastic tight against her opponent’s body, pressing it up to her thick clit, and making the tan mare squirm under the attack. The tighter it stretched, the more her opponent gasped, before... SNAP! She pulled it right away, and she felt the Mayor shudder as the fabric ripped against her pussy, nearly soaking Sketch’s body right there.

Nearly, but unfortunately for Sketch, it was not a first to NEARLY cum loses match and the mayor recovered, looking down at the zebra with a confident smile, and she spreading her legs to maintain her balance, stretched her out in a grapevine more, and held the zebra helpless.

“That wasn’t a bad trick,” the Mayor laughed, “But mine is better~” And she reached back, grabbed Sketch’s thong, and ran her thumb along it. The Zebra groaned as she did, shaking a little bit as the Mayor ran her hand over her body, her sensitive clit, and then pinched down. It was either luck or perfect placement that let her pinch just close enough to the clit to make her feel it, but not enough to make it hurt, as she pulled the thong backward.

Sketch shuddered, already close to soaking her thong from the way she was being so expertly worked over, and dreading what would happen when the Mayor was able to dig her skilled fingers in deep and just work over her pussy. She didn’t need to worry about that, it turned out when the Mayor released her thong, and it snapped back on her cunt, feeling like a hard and open hand slap against the pussy.

Unfortunately for her, the reason that she wouldn’t need to worry about it was that the move very nearly ended the match right there, making the Zebra buck and shake under her erotic attention. She bit her lip and used every trick she had to keep from cumming, tensing every muscle in her body... And thus, unable to watch the Mayor or try to stop her as she scrambled up her and placed her soaked pussy right on the Zebra’s muzzle.

Not having the thong to ‘protect’ her turned out to work to the Mayor’s advantage, as she was able to push in harder than she would otherwise, and make sure the flesh of her cunt sealed the Zebra’s nostrils and mouth. She shook as she was subjected to a pussy smother, trying to grab the Mayor’s hips on instinct and force her off, but there was just too much power and weight in the woman on top of her to accomplish it. She was trapped beneath a mass of pussyflesh and girly juices. Sketch spluttered, trying to take in a breath, but it was no easy thing to do when a woman like the famed Mayor of Mayhem had her pussy buried against your muzzle, and opening your mouth just meant getting more filled with cuntflesh and more reminded of just how fucking good and how fucking DANGEROUS the woman you were trying to bed was, at least dangerous in bed, if not in other ways.

“What's... Mmm... Wrong~?" The Mayor's voice was high, but with the slight rasp that let Sketch know that there was more pleasure in her than she cared to admit, she was closer to cumming than she was acting. If the Zebra could just hold out a little bit longer, she would be able to beat her!

It wouldn't need to be too long, either. She drove her muzzle forward and started twisting and licking her tongue around the Mayor's sensitive pussy. The great, dominant woman's body began to gasp, and Sketch felt her thighs start to quake on either side of her head.

Quake, and then... Crush. Suddenly, she was no longer eating out a gasping, aroused woman. The quaking was ended by clutching her thighs around Sketch’s head, squeezing in on her skull, and pulsing so close and so powerfully that it felt like she had put her head in a cider press. Even at this age, the Mayor's muscles were not to be underestimated.

Nor, as it turned out, were her erotic combat instincts, as she leaned back, and slapped the flat of her hand on Sketch's bouncing breasts. She had noticed how much pleasure the zebra felt from them, how nipple contact had nearly lead her to gush a gallon of juices on the ground and was exploiting it effectively with a powerful, flat-palmed strike that felt more like a spank to the tits than it did a hot and teasing little slap.

A less talented woman would have been dislodged just by the bucking of the zebra's body, but the Mayor was one of the most talented there was, and she rode out the riding and flailing, feeling Sketch shake and twist but never once letting her have a chance to breathe or recover, just reel from the tit-spank.

“Oh, you like your breasts being bullied, do you Sketch~?" The Mayor chuckled, teasing a finger around the areola that left the Zebra shaking in pleasure, “I'm so glad to hear that. I still hold the league's record for inflicting the most tit-based submissions you know. Here... Why don't I show you my technique~?"

The Mayor leaned back, balanced her hands on the Zebra's body, and leaned down to push all of her weight against Sketch's too-sensitive tits. She had to bite her lip (and a bit of the Mayor’s pussyflesh) to avoid cumming right there. The result of the cunt-nip was that the Mayor’s thighs just tightened around her head even more, crushing in like she was being buried under the trunks of felled oaks, all rippling striated muscle, and unbreakable force.

She was close, they both knew it, and any second now she would be cumming. At this point, as horribly sensitive as her nipples were, even the lightest press of flesh to her pussy, even through the thong, would probably send her over. The breasts were the more sensitive and effective method of control, but they were giving Sketch a few moments more to survive, to try to find a way out of the crushing trap that was the Mayor’s massive thighs.

As she rolled, though, she felt a sudden twitch and gasp when her muzzled rubbed over the other equine’s sensitive clit. She wasn’t the only one nearing the edge, and she would be able to find a way to win if she could just get the Mayor off of her, and get free reign of that cunt!

She couldn’t do it from here, that much was clear, she was being held down, and while it would take a little bit of pussy-slapping to make her cum in the next five seconds, the continued working of her breasts would ensure the result would be the same in the next fifteen. The Mayor had very little reason to release her hold, to pull back on her attack, Sketch would have to make her do it herself.

A risky move that would typically get her scolded by her coach, she slipped her lips slightly up to deliver a long suckle to the Mayor’s clit. A trick like that on an unpredictable opponent could lead to the crush getting tight enough to back out, the assault increasing in desperation, all manner of things that would have made it a bad tactical decision. Sketch didn’t have time for a good one, though, and quite frankly any decision would be worse than lying back and accepting the inevitable. The Mayor would rather be a conquest than a coward, and so would Sketch!

The gamble paid off, too, with a flick of the Mayor’s hips, and Sketch’s trained fighter instincts let her capitalize before anything else happened. She suddenly shoved up from under the Mayor and sent the other woman rolling off her, and Sketch rolled onto her hands and knees, in part to recover and in part to defend her cunt.

The Mayor was quick, and she rolled up as well, quickly getting to her hands and knees, and likely on her way to her feet. Sketch couldn’t allow that to happen, and leaped, taking the muscle-bound woman’s back, and wrapped an arm around her neck, trying to use her thigh to grind over the Mayor’s clit.

Perhaps if the Mayor had been as close as she was, she would have succeeded, too. Unfortunately, she was just that few inches farther from orgasm that it made a difference. Even as she was wrapping her arms around her, the Mayor’s shoulders were already shaking, and her arm lifting. Sketch couldn’t settle herself on the back, and with a twitch of the Mayor’s hips, she was dislodged. She fell to her back, beneath her opponent’s body, looking up at those hot hanging tits. Before she could do anything else, she felt the Mayor’s hand grab her, and pull her up to those breasts. Her nostrils and muzzle were filled with thick titflesh, no matter how she tried to breathe, the air was stopped.

“Ahhhh, that’s fine, little Zebra, you did well,” the Mayor chuckled as she held her trapped, not letting her breathe, not letting her move, “I was impressed. In fact, I wanted to thank you.” Sketch heard her chuckle through the fog of the smother, “For teaching me a new move.”

With that, the Mayor snapped her long tail down, it slapped right against Sketch’s pussy. Close and worked over, and with an orgasm built-up form an entire match of mauled breasts, she bucked her hips and came. Juices poured from her pussy, splashing out down her thighs, staining the floor under them until the tan carpet looked like the deep brown of rich and fertile soil. It was an overwhelming orgasm, and only the breast that filled her mouth stopped her from letting out the loudest scream of her life. Her hips pumped, she moaned and shook, and her juices poured so fast and heavy she was half-expecting her thong to be washed away like a kayak in whitewater rapids.

She didn’t know how long the orgasm continued, but part way through, she did feel the Mayor’s arm tense, hold her to her breast tighter, and she knew even without hearing or seeing just from the scent of her sweat that the other woman was orgasming as well. Whether her groans on the thick breast had sent her opponent crashing over, or she had realized she’d won and brought herself off, Sketch couldn’t say. She just felt proud of having brought her to that point in their battle. Proud, a little light-headed from the lack of air, and overwhelmed by her orgasm, she could only shake through the pleasure. Finally, the orgasm stopped, and she collapsed to the ground, staring up at the ceiling.

The Mayor flopped heavily on her back, and Sketch groaned. The sound of her heavy body thumping ground was like the final bell to end their match. Sketch’s one regret from it was not the result, there was no shame in being brought to orgasm by an all-time great, it was just the fact their encounter was over. At least, of course, once the customary moments of celebration were over.

After a few seconds, Sketch got enough breath back to force out the words, “You want... To take your prize?”

The mayor kept panting a few seconds before answering “Yeah,” in a tone that implied it was all she could do to get the word out before taking another deep breath.

“What...” Sketch gasped after a few more breaths, “Do you want?”

The Mayor turned her head to the side and gave her a smile that was less like a mocking victor, less even like a powerful combatant, and more like an old friend excited to spend the day together.

In a voice far younger than her actual age, the Mayor asked, “Rematch~?”

Author's Note

Was supposed to upload something else today, but some idiot ruined my weekend. Instead, enjoy some lovely little lesbian grappling!

Battle in the Bedroom - Octavia vs Twilight

“Wow, Octavia, this is, uh, this is...” Twilight looked around, not entirely sure how to describe it, “This is really nice.”

And it was. She knew Octavia was a fairly well-off mare, of course, the woman was a very successful cellist, after all, feted in the halls of Canterlot, but it had never really occurred to Twilight just how... Ahhh, well, just how ‘well-off’ well off could be in Canterlot terms. The grey mare may have never actually left Ponyville herself, but she certainly lived like a Canterlot pony, and her bedroom was the size of most Ponyvillian’s living rooms.

“I thought so; a nice place to do some less-than-nice things.”

That was the point, of course, lest Twilight forget. They weren’t just here to have fun (not that there was no fun to be had) they were also here to explore Twilight’s newfound love of boxing. She’d learned the art, the ‘sweet science’ as it was known (though Twilight found almost all sciences to be sweet) for her contest with Trixie. Somehow, despite all precautions she’d taken with their secrecy, word of the bout had somehow gotten out. Of course, when that happened, she had expected damage to her reputation or perhaps taunting. She hadn’t expected an invitation to a private bout with one of the more well-respected mares in Equestria. She hadn’t expected Octavia to be into that sort of thing, or even to be in particularly good shape.

Of course, she didn’t know why that was. It’s not like a cello was a particularly light or easy instrument to carry, after all. It was heavy, incredibly so, and the ability that Octavia had to keep playing for what seemed like hours meant she had a good amount of stamina as well.

Nevertheless, it was strange, seeing her standing there, clad only in boxing gloves, just like Twilight was. She hadn’t expected her to be such an athlete, but here she was, in a ring, in her bedroom, with a body that looked like it was carved out of solid granite. Twilight walked to the center of the ring, holding her gloves out, offering the traditional touch of respect. It was nice, after her bout with Trixie, that Octavia met it, too.

“Thanks,” Twilight smiled.

“For what?” Octavia responded.

Good question. Twilight scrambled for an answer before finally offering “not cheating?”

Octavia gave a confident smile, “Twilight, I would never cheat. Nor would I need to~”

It was a confident boast, but Twilight didn’t mind boasting, as long as it was backed up by skill in the ring as opposed to by cheating for a few cheap advantages. They stepped back, and raised their gloves, staring each other down.

It was a different feeling than the fight with Trixie. Trixie she’d known what she was doing, she’d read up on it, but, more importantly, knew her opponent probably HADN’T, and that made things easier. She couldn’t be too intimidated by an opponent who had no clue what she was doing. Octavia was a different matter, the smooth, relaxed movements of the grey mare let Twilight know that she did, in fact, know exactly what she was doing, and there was a good chance ‘what she was doing’ would soon include repeatedly punching the purple pony in the face.

They circled, Octavia bouncing lightly on her feet as they did, watching Twilight’s every move. She felt like prey for a more powerful creature, Octavia’s soft purple eyes following every minor twitch of her body. She stepped in and tried to throw a few light punches to Octavia’s face, but the grey mare dodged out of the way or caught them on her gloves. Then, just as Twilight was trying to throw another jab, she was rocked by a left straight to the face.

The pink glove caught her in the muzzle, and hard. She stumbled back, wary, her hands up, expecting a second blow. None came. Octavia just waited, gloves up, ready for another counter. Overly aggressive attacks were good for amateurs, but a highly trained opponent would rather wear you out. Twilight noted the demeanor before stepping in again, reading another blow.

The very second she drew her arm back, the glove thudded up under her breast, catching the full, heavy flesh as a cinderblock swung in a stocking. Twilight reeled back, hands out just a little bit on instinct for balance, and then Octavia struck. She wasn’t going to force anything, but she also wasn’t going to pass up such a golden opportunity. She followed the reeling mare, stepping in so fast Twilight couldn’t even see her feet move, and then unloading with a full-power straight to the muzzle. The purple princess was rocked by the blow, her eyes rolling a little in her head, not getting enough time to respond to one attack before another crushed into her body and knocked her a few steps back. She knew what was happening, just like she had with Trixie, Octavia was using her superior speed and skill to control the ring, to bully her back to the ropes and keep her from setting her feet to fight back.

Knowing what was happening, though, was a far cry from being able to STOP it. She was still reeling back, but she put out one leg back and locked to stop herself. No sooner had she done that, though, when she felt a crushing haymaker slam into her midsection, pounding against her untensed abs like a cannonball. Stopping so quick already had her instinctively starting a forward lean, which meant that the counterpunch was that much more brutal to receive, adding her own momentum to the blow that struck hard and sent saliva spraying from her lips that she kept drooling out as Octavia ground her gloves into Twily's wounded abs.

It felt like a good way to demean her. And it was. But it was more than that, too. It was a good way to keep her too distracted to focus on what Octy’s other glove was doing. While the purple alicorn was drooling and bent double from the blow, Octavia was readying the second shot, which screamed towards Twilight’s face. It was a crushing overhand, striking right below the horn, the glove even catching the sensitive appendage, and Twilight was sent reeling back from a blow again. She could only be thankful that the ropes were there to catch her since she wasn’t sure she would have caught herself.

Twilight would have been tempted to taunt her opponent in a position like that, but Octavia was all business. The cellist stepped in once more and continued to throw quick but hard blows at Twilight’s face. Even stunned Twilight had her wits about her enough to tell that she wasn’t going to be able to block them. Somehow Octavia managed to bring the punches as fast as jabs but as hard as haymakers, and it was all the purple pony could do to just raise her gloves and try to absorb the hits on the leather. She was lucky enough that it at least (mostly) worked, but the blows kept coming, hard and fast, to the point she could no longer even really SEE the shots, just feel the impact on her gloves and hear the low thud with every blow against the leather.

She wasn’t taking hits, but Octavia wasn’t tiring, either, and she didn’t want to wager that none of these rocket-power blows wouldn’t connect before the grey mare’s stamina gave out. She needed to throw a punch, she needed to do SOMETHING, and she blindly threw out a fist at the location that she could only HOPE Octavia’s face was. It was a wild, rocketing blow, one that would have gotten her laughed out of most training schools, but lucky for her, it was also right on the money. It only takes one good shot to rock an opponent, and good doesn’t always mean the same thing as pretty. The looping hook jarred her wrist on the impact, but she could tell it was hard enough to hazard a follow-up attack.

It was a lucky blow, but a lucky blow was still a blow, and she was going to need any advantage she could get. She stepped in once again, turning her unsteady sway into a part of the attack as she brought her lowered left fist up against the grey mare’s breast with a bruising uppercut. It was clear from the half-second that she had to look into Octavia’s eyes that the other woman was reeling from the blow. She wished she could take credit for it, but she was well aware it was just luck that she’d hit like that and no trained fighter would be out of the match for too long based on that type of blow. If she couldn’t follow it up, Octavia was going to be able to set her feet, and Twilight didn’t feel too confident about her chances if the other mare was able to refocus.

Knowing she had only a matter of a half-second or so to capitalize, Twilight stepped forward, throwing her entire shoulder and bodyweight into a second ducking uppercut that caught the concert cellist on the chin. Octavia’s head tilted back and her legs gave out, the grey mare looking like a marionette with its strings cut as she simply collapsed to the ground.

It was a good feeling, seeing her opponent go down like that, and she needed the break. Twilight bent over, panting for a second or so before starting the count. It felt nice to have knocked Octavia to the ground... At least for the half-second or so it took before the grey mare rose to her feet once more.

“OH SH-!” Twilight exclaimed as she saw Octavia rise, then her shoulder lower to prepare another punch. She tried to bring her gloves up in time to block the shot, but there was no chance of that happening. Octavia’s glove connected to the side of her head, and she stumbled, legs unbalanced, and the world starting to get foggy from the impact. She brought her hands to her face, partially to prevent whatever blow was going to come towards her next, but just as much to try to cover her eyes against seasickness. Closing your eyes was supposed to be helpful, she’d heard, and the whole world seemed to be rocking like the deck of a boat in a hurricane.

Now she was in trouble, and unlike Octavia, she didn’t have the experience of absorbing blows and recovering to protect her. Her knees were shaking, her arms heavy, her hands just barely up in front of her face. She looked through her forearms like they were the bars of a prison cell to see her approaching opponent, seemingly readying a blow that could easily knock her to the ground and take her out of the match completely. She couldn’t afford to take the punch in this condition, but she was just as unable to block. She would have to move her hands quick to intercept a heavy hook like Octavia was about to deliver, and at this point, she wasn’t entirely sure she could remember which arm was left and which right, much less move either in front of a cannon blast.

She didn’t have the reflexes to block, or the balance to evade. She was going to go down, one way or another, so she might as well save herself the trouble of being punched in the face beforehand. She just went to the ground, feeling the wind of Octavia’s hook punch blow her mane out of the way above her head. The ground rushed up to her, and her assumption about her reflexes was proven right when she found herself barely able to throw her hands out to avoid taking a knockout blow to the head from the mat, much less Octavia’s hand. Her head buried for a moment in her gloves, on her hands and knees, she gasped and panted out “I thought you... Had to wait... And say you were ready to keep... Ah, to keep going.”

“I punched you in the face, dear, I figured you could pick up the implication.”

She supposed that in the official rules that she’d seen, it had only required her to ‘clearly signal’ her intent to continue the fight, and it was hard to think of a more clear signal of her desire to keep going than a punch to the face. Those were rarely delivered as a kind of common greeting, and there wasn’t a much better way to say ‘I’m still fighting you’ than, well, fighting someone.

“One. Two. Three. Four.” Octavia began to count, and Twilight shook her head. Fine, if that was an acceptable way to continue, then...

“Six. Sev-AH~!” Twilight kicked off her back feet and rose from her hands and knees to throwing a heavy uppercut in one motion. It wasn’t a pretty attack and had it not been for the slight slowing of momentum that came from her fist striking Octavia’s face, it probably would have ended up as some sort of bizarre fish-flopping in the grey mare’s direction. As it was, once again, ‘Beginner’s Luck’ helped out and her fist connected with her opponent’s jaw. The heavy leather crushed into Octavia’s cheek, and once again, the grey mare stumbled, reeling away from the punch. The impact itself allowed Twilight the ability to regain her balance, but only by a little. Octavia, meanwhile, stumbled a step, but then caught herself, and just kept retreating. Twilight may have been mostly out of it, but she had enough knowledge of the fighting style to know a knockout counter would come as soon as she was in a position to deliver it. She didn’t have a choice but to follow up her blow before she had even set her feet. She as much stumbled after Octavia as she did follow up the punch with a second. She took a step, then two, chasing the retreating grey mare, and then threw herself forward once again, using her entire body weight and launching off her back feet for a powerful Supermare Punch.

Her glove connected once again, just like it had before with her uppercut, and Octavia’s had jerked back like her neck was on a spring. Both of them were unbalanced now, staggering, and the pair stumbled into the ropes as one. Twilight must have been stronger than she thought, or at the very least, the attacks were lucky and Octavia wasn’t prepared to be hit. The two mares were pressed together, body to body, breast flesh mushrooming out against breast flesh, body pushed flush to body, breaths coming slow but heavy.

Twilight felt Octavia’s muscles tense, knowing the other mare was trying to push her away. She also knew she couldn’t afford to let that happen. She latched on like a lamprey, pressed cheek to cheek like dancers, her arm around Octavia’s back.

“For someone who thanked me for the glove-touching, you certainly seem to like dirty boxing.”

Twilight panted, her head against Octavia’s cheek, “Don’t worry... I’ll dock myself points on my scorecard.”

Octavia chuckled at that, despite her clear lack of balance and orientation, she nevertheless had enough left in her to push out. She leaned forward, and her rocky muscles flexed as she pushed Twilight backward. The purple mare grunted, but she was tired, and quite frankly, not nearly in as good shape as Octavia. She felt herself pushed backwards. She couldn’t stop the push, but she could avoid being pushed away far enough that Octavia could get some range. She would just have to count on the grey mare being unable to really deliver her power-punches from the clinch range. Leaned upon Octavia, she was forced a step back, then to, but every step she took, she dragged the grey mare with her.

“Very... Persistent... Aren’t you.”

“Wouldn’t have... These wings... If I gave up easy,” Twilight answered, scenting Octavia’s sweat with every breath. The other mare was tired now. Octavia had peppered her with blows all battle. Twilight had only managed a few but, whether through luck or power, they’d been enough to bring Octavia to a dazed state that was, if not identical to Twilight’s, at the very least similar. A good hit could bring either of them down, she just had to find the right position. Her muscles burned as she tried to clutch close to Octavia.

“Let... Go...” Octavia growled, and Twilight could not only hear the frustration in her voice, but feel the tenseness in her muscles.

“If I do that... You’ll knock me out...”

“Of course...”

“You see why I’m reluctant...” The pair continued, bodies crushing close like sumo wrestlers, Octavia trying to force Twilight away, Twilight trying desperately to hold on. But her muscles were on fire, shaking, weakening, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she had to let go.

“Come on... Just... Take... Your hands... Off me...” Octavia grunted.

“You know what...” Twilight responded, “FINE!” With that, she released, the world, once stabilized by Octavia, resumed its storm-ridden ship tilting. With only one last chance, Twilight swung a hook at Octavia’s head with all the power she had and felt a satisfying thud as fist impacted temple. Twilight stumbled with the impact, even as Octavia collapsed to the ground, and was fortunate to fall into the ropes herself. She leaned in the corner, watching Octavia lie motionless on the ground.

“Okay... Okay... Right...” She shook her head after a few seconds, trying to clear the cobwebs, “Count.” She nodded as if confirming it to herself.

“One. Two.”

Octavia continued to lie on the ground, though Twilight could see some motion, a few twitches of arm and leg.

“Three. Four.”

The motions became more fluid, now, as Octavia’s wits returned to her. Twilight practically prayed to the princesses (well, the other ones) for the mercy of Octavia not regaining her strength enough to rise.

“Five. Six.”

Her prayers seemed to not be granted, as the grey mare pressed her gloves against the mat, and tried to force herself up to her feet.

“Seven. Eight.”

Her muscles tensed, shaking, struggling to manage the task of standing, while Octavia herself fought against her own eight, and finally managed to lift up one arm and pull another knee in front of her. Twilight could barely watch as the moment of truth came.

“Nine.”

Octavia’s head rose, she looked at Twilight and...

“Ten!”

Octavia collapsed onto her back. Twilight could scarcely believe it “I WON!” She exclaimed, “I WON I WON I WON!” She hopped in the air, the way she had as a filly when accepted into the Canterlot school...

And promptly remembered why she’d been leaning in the corner to stand. She stumbled and fell forward, her face buried in Octavia’s breasts. The grey mare lay spread-eagled on her back for a moment, before one arm flopped up and landed on the back of Twilight’s neck.

“You won. Good job.”

“ERRR WIRRR!” Twilight cried out again, somewhat muzzled by breastflesh.

“One bit of advice though...”

Twilight raised her head. “Mmmmm?”

“In the future... After the victory... Try to stay on your feet. Kind of... Takes something out of your celebration.”

Twilight nodded. That made sense. Good to know! With expert coaching like that, she could be a champion in no time!

Big Mac Muscle - Big Mac vs Shining Armor (Boxing)

Big Mac was no pushover. He was the biggest, strongest, and toughest pony in Ponyville, bar none. There wasn’t any argument about that in his mind, it wasn’t even a contest. It wasn’t even arrogance. Mac wasn’t the type of person who really ‘did’ arrogance, he did truth. Plain, simple, unadorned truth. And the plain, simple, unadorned truth was that no pony in Equestria, meaning NO pony in Equestria, was on his level. So when Shiny had objected to his statement that he was as tough as any of his guards, well, Macintosh did what seemed the only reasonable thing. He challenged him to meet him in the barn and settle it.

So here they were. In the barn, and getting ready to go. The two stallions had matching gloves, Mac wearing green and Shiny wearing blue. The ring was an old one, made back in the day when ropes would be real ropes, but it would serve their purposes.

In truth, Macintosh was a bit... If not nervous or apprehensive or even unsure, at the very least INTERESTED. He was a strong guy, but what Shiny had that he didn’t was training. Shining Armor had learned to box in the most high-quality gyms in Canterlot, while Macintosh, for all his skill, had never really been outside his hometown. He was sure he was the toughest, he’d met travelers from out of town who had challenged the local tough guy and ended up on their backs, but it would still be interesting to see if he really could match up to the best of the best. They’d stepped in the ring together, but Shiny was probably miles better than before anyway. He could spend his days training, while Mac’s days were taken up by farmwork. The difference between their professionalism was clear even in their gear, with Mac wearing ratty olive green gloves old enough to be his grandmother’s (and actually were, in fact,) while Shiny had a pair of the most modern, sleek gloves around, complete with matching mouthguard.

There was no need for a bell to signal the start of the fight, the pair of them were ready at the same time. They stepped up to the center, and lightly touched gloves, before starting to circle. Shiny moved with an impressive, almost exciting grace, the light seeming to glint off of his thighs and hips, and accentuating his tight abs and handsome stomach as well. It was too early to know for sure how he’d fight, but one thing was for certain, he definitely LOOKED like an intimidating opponent.

He moved like one, too. Light on his steps, and with his gloves up in front of his face, ready to catch any incoming punches.

ALMOST any incoming punches, anyway. Big and strong as the guard captain might have been, Mac was bigger and, he was fairly certain, stronger. He knew how to deal with people who could keep up a good guard. The trick wasn’t going around it, but, well... Through. He stepped in, and brought his whole shoulder into the blow, twisting his entire upper body around and throwing a heavy straight punch directly at the head.

Like punching through brick boards, the trick was to aim the punch for something on the other side of the target. In this case, that was Shining Armor’s face, and despite the well-held guard, it was clear the unicorn was not expecting such a literally head-on attack. Rather than bouncing off his gloves, Mac’s punch moved them out of the way like a bulldozer, and his fist impacted straight on into Shiny’s face, sending the other stud reeling backward from the blow.

Big guys tended not to be quick, but big guys tended not to be Big Mac, either. He may not have had the speed of a rainbooming pegasus, but he DID have plenty of quickness in his fighting style. He stepped in after Shiny, even as the unicorn reeled from his blow, and brought the same right hand up under Shiny’s chin with a heavy windmilling uppercut. He caught the stud on the jaw, slamming against it with enough force that it jarred his arm up to his shoulder on impact. He followed the attack up with a hook punch to the side of the head with his left, which sent Shiny stumbling away from him like a nerd bumped against by a jock in the hallway.

Mac didn’t even bother following the attack up. It hardly felt necessary, at this point, Shiny was tough but he was in control here, and he didn’t want to allow himself even a minor second of weakness. While the blue-haired unicorn shook his head, clearly trying to shake the cobwebs out of his head, Mac rubbed his right shoulder with the left glove, working out some of the tension from the impact of Shining’s face against his glove. As he did, of course, he kept his eyes on his opponent. Never want to look away during a fight, after all, even if your opponent was clearly dazed and several steps away. Fortunately, Shiny hardly seemed like he was about to make a blazing comeback at that very moment, at least.

“Wow,” the guard captain gasped, shaking his head a little, “Wow, uh... You really hit pretty hard.”

“Eeeyup,” Mac nodded.

“Alright,” Shiny shrugged, rolling his shoulders, “Let’s go!”

Shining Armor stepped forward, his gloves up. He was smart, that much Mac would have to admit, he wasn’t about to try to block him full-force again. Macintosh waited, letting Shining Armor step closer and set himself up, rather than trying to force something that wasn’t there.

Mac watched as the unicorn stayed just outside of his range, looking for the right place to strike. It was the right move, of course, at least if you wanted to avoid taking a punch that felt like a cannonball straight to the face. On the other hand, this match wasn’t going to end without Shining Armor throwing a punch or two, so he would have to get in range. All Mac would have to do was wait, and if there was one thing the red stallion was, it was patient.

Once again, Mac’s deceptive speed for his size came into play. While Shiny looked for an opening, Mac stood still, waiting for him to get just that half-step too close... And once he did, he stepped in like a lightning strike and threw a quick hammering straight right at the base of Shining Armor’s horn. On a lesser unicorn, it would have been a knockout blow. Even in Shining Armor’s case, it was enough to rock him, sending him stumbling away from the red stud.

Mac didn’t follow up, either. He was strong and fast for his size, but that didn’t mean he had infinite cardio. When you’re seven feet tall, there’s only so much cardio you can have, only so much your body can do to pump the blood through the veins, and he had no intention of making any unnecessary movements. With Shiny still reeling from the blows that he’d thrown, this was, as the old expression went, Big Mac’s fight to lose. He had no intention of losing it by overexerting himself.

That said, being too cautious could be a problem too. Shiny recovered faster than he’d expected and stepped back in, throwing rapid, hard punches against Mac’s chest and sides. He was a bit surprised by the speed, but as far as the power went, well... The fact that Shiny had been repeatedly smashed in the head by now showed. There was power in them, most guys would be reeling and backing away, but as hard as they were, Mac didn’t need to back off. He could absorb them, letting Shiny punch himself out... Before Mac decided to do the same.

While Shining Armor was busy beating his fists against the brick-shaded wall that was Mac’s chest, his head was wide open, and Mac was able to swing a forceful, crushing hook to the side of the unicorn’s head. It was a powerful blow, reverberating through the empty barn, and Shiny fell to the ground in an instant, collapsing into a helpless heap in front of Macintosh.

“One... Two...” Big Mac started the count, watching as Shiny struggled to his feet. He got to his hands and knees first, using that position to push himself up, even overbalancing and staggering back a little bit from the effort.

“You sure you don’t wanna stop?” Big Mac asked.

Shiny shook his head, “Hell no. If I can get to my hands and knees, I’m still in the fight!” The young guardsman smiled and stepped in again.

They say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result. If that was the case, well, then the one thing that you COULDN’T call Shining Armor was crazy. He stepped in, and Mac tried to step up and throw the same sort of crushing counter he had before, but Shiny ducked easily under the blow and rose up with a cross punch that hit Mac on the side of the head.

The blow may not have been as hard as the ones he was throwing (or the ones he took the few times he accidentally got between his sister’s hooves and the trees when she was bucking apples) but it sure didn’t tickle, either. The guardsman’s glove smashed against the side of his head, just behind the eye. That was the thing about being a trained fighter, even if you didn’t hit as hard, you knew where to throw the hits for maximum effect, and the blow was enough to send Mac reeling and make him hear ringing in his ears as he got knocked away. He saw a smile on Shining Armor’s face, a pretty good sign, it seemed, that the other fighter was feeling a fair bit more confident now that he’d struck a blow of his own. Mac would have felt confident if he could make a punch that light hurt that bad, too. He was going to need to be careful. It may have come more from technique than power, but a good shot from Shiny could take him out of the bout.

The situation had been reversed. Before, Macintosh had been the one controlling the ring and forcing Shiny to try to get in and get a hit that he could punish. Now it was the other way around, that hook had sent Macintosh stumbling away and left Shiny in control of the bout. Mac would have to be careful about how he got in. A boxing match was like a fighting game, in a way, the only thing you got out of getting overly aggressive and rushing in blind was being knocked out flat on your back. Get too aggressive, get punished.

While the situation had been switched in most ways, there was one very notable and relevant way it hadn’t. Big Mac still had a reach advantage. He and Shiny stepped in and both went for a haymaker straight at the same time, but while that attack could have stopped shiny in his tracks before he could touch Mac, Shiny trying to use it to push his opponent away and punish meant that Mac was able to connect as well. The two stud’s gloves smashed into each other's faces with an incredible force. Shining Armor was forced to back off by the pure impact of Mac’s glove.

Macintosh was not. He had plenty of stamina and endurance as well as pure muscle and size, so when Shiny hit him, he could brush it off. Yes, it was a dazer of a hit, but it wasn’t like he would be taken down by it, and after he’d seen what Shiny could do, he couldn’t LET himself be pulled out of position.

Rather than backing off, Mac stepped in and followed up his attack for the second time that match, throwing a low hook to the belly. Shiny, clearly, had not been expecting this level of aggression from the normally relaxed red stud and didn’t have his hands in position to block. Mac’s glove slammed into Shining Armor’s belly, crushing up against the abs, and pushing up under the lungs. He heard an audible ‘Whoof’ from the white-and-blue stud, and he knew his attack had worked to perfection. The air was completely driven from Shining Armor’s body on impact, and the guard captain was stopped in his tracks.

Most of him, anyway. There was still a little bit of momentum in Shining Armor’s body and the captain of the Equestrian royal guard slumped forward against Macintosh’s body. His cheek pressed to Big Mac’s chest, and his arms fell down to his own sides, only loosely managing to clasp around Big Mac’s hips. Macintosh looked down at his opponent. In a typical boxing match, this would have been a clinch, a boxer using his opponent’s body to try to stop the momentum and recover some stamina. It wasn’t traditional boxing, though, and besides, Mac suspected if he stepped back, his opponent would simply collapse to the ground.

He didn’t want that, though. He was having too much fun. Sure, his power was turning it pretty one-sided, but it wasn’t often he got the chance to get in the ring with a guy who could take even one punch from him, much less several and keep going. He’d give Shiny a couple seconds to recover, get back on his feet so to speak before he got back to the battering.

After long enough that he probably at least got the oxygen back in his lungs, Mac pressed his hands to Shining Armor’s chest, and pushed, trying to get enough space between them to tee up a real heavy haymaker.

Shining Armor didn’t seem to have had enough time for it, though. As Mac pushed and took his small step backward, Shiny simply fell down to one knee, balancing on the other foot and hand, head down and gasping. With the two studs nude and covered in sweat, it would have been easy to mistake Shiny’s position for a far more subservient one than “Boxing Opponent.” Mac interrupted his planned attack, putting his hands on his hips and looking down at the white and blue boxer.

“Havin’ trouble there sh-OOOOOF!” Mac started to ask, but Shining Armor interrupted the question with an uppercut. He kicked off his back leg and launched his whole body in the air, putting every ounce of muscle from the biceps to the ball of the foot into delivering a crushing uppercut blow to Macintosh. There was a reason that the first rule of boxing was to always keep your guard up, and it went double in the less formal matches around Ponyville or Canterlot. Mac was knocked back by the blow, his ears ringing on impact.

Shiny smiled, back on his feet, and pounded his gloves together while Mac tried to deal with the results of the blow. “Learned that one from my sister,” Shiny gave him a roguish grin.

Mac was too dazed to argue as Shining Armor pushed on his chest and shoved him back. He still had the strength to stay on his feet for now, no dropping to his knees, but he was too dazed to protect himself much either. He could tell Shiny was using the distance and the separation to prepare for the same type of overpowering haymaker attack that Big Mac had been planning to pull out, and he was fairly certain that he wasn’t going to be able to get his gloves up in time to block it either.

Shiny didn’t give him much of a chance to recover from the situation, either. Mac knew he had to be on his last legs, but the last legs were still legs, and this particular set of legs was fast and well-equipped to follow up the attack.

Blocking wasn’t an option, but bashing was. Heavy counterpunches had worked for Mac so far, after all, and there was no need to fix a tractor that still ran. He couldn’t plan the attack too well, but he had the muscle to let strength substitute for technique, and he knew that at this point, there was no chance that Shiny was in a state where he could quickly adjust to an incoming blow. Mac dropped his shoulder and drove a second belly punch into Shining Armor’s abs.

It ended the same way it had the first time. Shiny suddenly went limp and collapsed. This time, Mac didn’t intend to allow the blue and white stud to use him as a crutch to keep standing either. As soon as he felt the exhale that came from the crushing blow, he stepped backward, and let Shiny fall to the mat, catching himself, if only barely, on his hands and knees.

Mac looked down at him. The panting, struggling unicorn presented an unexpected conundrum. On the one hand, his instincts as both a fighter and a guy who didn’t want to do TOO much damage to someone who was both Equestria’s first line of defense AND the older brother of one of his sister’s best friends. Even if an invasion of bugs or monsters didn’t get to Mac after that, he was pretty sure Applejack would, and she wouldn’t be polite enough to stand there and box. Or be unskilled enough to be this easy a win if she did.

On the other hand, Shiny had shown his willingness to take advantage of Macintosh’s kindness once already, and letting him get ready to get going again could lead to another crushing uppercut that would be the LAST thing Mac would benefit from at this point in the match. He decided to leave the decision in the hands of his opponent.

“You okay there?”

Shiny brought himself to both knees, hands on his hips and gasping for breath, “Yeah, oh yeah, for sure,” he nodded, “I’m fine, could go all night.”

Mac was skeptical. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had said that to him only to immediately be proven wrong. Then again, technically the main qualification amateurs like them used for whether or not someone was completely out was whether they said they were ready, and Shiny HAD said that if he wasn’t on his back, he wasn’t out.

He was skeptical, but Shiny knew Shiny best, and if he wanted to keep going, fine. Macintosh shrugged, stepped in, and drove a turning hook heavily into the side of the kneeling stallion’s head. The impact was loud enough to knock dust from the roof’s supports as Shining Armor collapsed down to the mat.

“One, Two, Three,” Macintosh started counting, watching Shining Armor to see if he was likely to be planning any sudden comeback attacks. It was pretty safe to say that, unless there was some great foreign martial art that involved rear leg muscle spasms, Shiny was pretty completely and convincingly KO’d.

“Four, five, six,” Mac continued, watching Shiny on the ground still. There wasn’t so much as an inch of movement, or at least none that he felt he could safely call voluntary. Drool was pooling under Shining Armor’s muzzle, and his head lay flat on the side like he was taking a long nap. Of course, Mac supposed, in a way he was. He’d be up and about soon, though, and hopefully not TOO pissed off about what had happened.

“Seven, eight, nine,” he kept the count and kept his eyes on the unconscious stallion. He was well convinced there would be no comebacks at this point, the unicorn was out like a light.

“Ten,” he ultimately concluded, and kneeled down behind Shiny, rolling the unicorn on his back. Shining Armor was dead weight, but it wasn’t exactly the world’s most difficult task to accomplish with Macintosh’s power taken into consideration. He took off his glove, pressed his fingers to Shining Armor’s neck to take his pulse.

He may have been dead weight, but he wasn’t a dead body. Stunned and knocked around a bit by the punches, but he would be fine soon enough. The rest of the body looked intact, slightly bruised but no serious damage or swelling on the inside or out that he could see, and Mac had, over his time, gotten pretty good at analyzing unconscious stallions who’d just been on the wrong end of a boxing match.

Still, it was only polite to give him a hand...

It had been a slow day at Ponyville Central Hospital. Of course in a rural community like this one, there were really only two types of day, the ones where things were slow and life was good, and the ones where some pony had had an unfortunate encounter with some farming equipment and everything was a matter of life and death. Nurse Redheart, naturally, preferred the first type. Especially on days when she was assigned to the ER.

A large shadow darkened the entrance door, and she saw a silhouette of someone standing outside, carrying another (clearly male, based on the bits of anatomy still in the silhouette) she could see in front of him like the classic Ponieta statue. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat, worried that the day was about to become suddenly, horribly interesting.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw who it was, the massive farm stallion, one glove still on, carrying an unconscious and mostly limp (except the best part) Shining Armor in his hands.

“Oh, it’s just you, Mac. You know where to put him, right?” She asked.

“Eeyup,” the red stallion answered, walking into the ward and depositing Shining Armor on his back on a bed, with Redheart following behind and enjoying the view (hey, flirting with patients may be a problem, but there was nothing wrong with flirting with the reason they were there.)

She looked over Shiny, shining a light in his eyes and measuring his reactions, “Eyes seem to be responding anyway... Nerves are alright. He’ll be fine. But you probably did most of that already, didn't you.”

“Eeyup.”

She smiled, filling out his chart, “Plenty of bruises I’m noticing,” she said as she wrote in the blank spaces.

“Eeyup.”

“More on you than him, too.” She added.

“Eeyup.”

“As usual.”

“Eeyup~” He sounded a bit more proud that time. She smiled warmly at him, then looked back to the patient, double-checking his responses and pulse.

“Heh, you got him good, I’ll say that,” she chuckled, “Think he might actually remember this time?”

Big Mac paused, and a look of concern came over him, “Think I oughta write him a note?”

She considered the question, and then laughed, “Nah, I gotta do SOMETHING. Besides,” she looked up at him, “I like the view when you do.”

Mac somehow blushed even redder, “Eeeyup...” He looked down and shuffled his feet.

“Alright,” she laughed and waved him off, “You can head home, I got him for now. See Tuesday.”

“Friday,” Mac answered, “AJ’s party’s on Friday.”

“Yeah,” she answered, “But the Wonderbolts are dropping by for a visit on Tuesday.”

Mac nodded, “Seeya Tuesday,” he turned to leave.

She smiled, “Oh, and Mac?” she asked.

“Eeyup?” He answered.

“Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out. Save that for Sugar Belle~”

“Eeyup~” He practically skipped out the door, and she got back to work. Sometimes, slow days could be nice.

Love and War - Scootaloo vs Rainbow Dash

Luna’s moon shone in the gym of the wonderbolt headquarters. It had long past sundown, in fact, it had technically become another day, midnight had passed. On any normal night, the whole place would be empty. Not tonight, though the single swinging light above the boxing ring in the center of the gym gave it a look somewhat resembling an abandoned warehouse or some other, dramatic set where dark and dirty deeds would go down. And with Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo at either corner of the ring, while the deeds to come may not be dark, there was a good chance that they would more than make up for them by with how ‘dirty’ they could be. Dash had been the subject of Scoot’s first sexual dreams, and she’d kept more than a few images of the older Wonderbolt, some licensed pinups, and some altered with the magical image-editing techniques of PhotoClop, both at her bedroom at home and then hidden under her mattress as a recruit. Now, as a full-fledged Wonderbolt herself, she was aching to get the real thing. She’d even got Spitfire to sign off on transferring her to Dash’s quarters to ‘save space.’

And while Dash had tried to maintain a certain level of decorum and professional distance, it wouldn’t do to fraternize or show favoritism to the recruits after all, only a blind mare would have been able to look at Scootaloo in her tight exercise outfits and not notice how attractive she had become. Still...

“Ya know it’s pretty unusual to ask to bunk with a superior officer.” The older Wonderbolt said, stretching in her corner, both mares clad in standard Wonderbolt exercise gear, tank tops and small sports shorts that were, somehow, no matter what size, always a little bit too tight.

“Well yeah~” Scootaloo grinned, pulling her gloves on tighter, “That’s why I’m boxing her first. Best way to get her in bed would be if she’s already asleep~”

“There’s a problem in your plan,” Dash grinned, “What if you lose~”

“A good plan doesn’t need to account for the impossible.”

“Cocky, aren’t you?”

“I learned from the best.”

“Well then,” Dash stepped forward, and the pair tapped gloves in the center of the ring, “Come show me what you learned.”

The glove press took only a second, a moment which would normally be punctuated by a stripe-clad referee explaining the rules, but both mares knew more than enough about boxing, and this match was to be a private affair.

“You’re gonna get whipped.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Scootaloo grinned, “But save that for later, I’m the dominatrix tonight~”

“You sure about that~?”

“We’re in the boxing ring. I’m always a dominatrix here~” Scoots answered.

“Then prove it!” Dash answered, taking a requisite step back... But immediately stepped forward, not wanting to give Scoots a moment’s break in the match. She came forward hard, throwing a flurry of blows at Scoots’s face, but Scoots was quick too, stepping back a little but always deflecting, making sure every blow was a glancing one that avoided a hard hit. Dash didn’t mind too much, of course, her jabs and quick shots were only intended to make sure she was in control, not so much watching the shots she was taking as watching her opponent’s hands, looking for the slightest opening and...

THERE! Scoots’s glove was lowered, and she stepped forward, looking to throw a hook to the cheek, knock her across the jaw... But the shot whiffed, her glove caught nothing, and in a second... She realized why

“OOOOOOOF~!” She cried out as she felt Scoots’s heavy glove slam up between her legs, catching her cunt with a powerful uppercut, making her cry out and clutch her aching cunt, slowly falling to her knees in front of the orange mare.

There were, of course, worse places to fall to one's knees than directly in front of Scootaloo. The purple-maned young mare had developed into a well-proportioned athlete, after all, and the likely mystically tight nature of their uniforms meant that Dash was staring right at a thick cameltoe pressed out against the athletic shorts. It would be a nice place for a stallion to put his shaft, or, for a unicorn, their horn. It almost made up for the pain that blossomed in Dash’s body after taking a direct uppercut from the girl who had been top of her class in the academy when it came to boxing.

“Cheap shot...” Dash winced out, looking up at her opponent.

“Oh, was it~?” Scoots asked, teasingly, “Whatcha gonna do, call the ref~?”

She had a point. There may have been rules to boxing, but scoots was obviously motivated to win, and like they say, it’s not cheating if you don’t get caught. So if there’s nobody there to catch you...

She felt Scoots grab her ears. It was hard to get a good grip with the gloves, but pony ears were large, and she felt herself pulled close to her cameltoe. The smell of the other mare’s arousal filled her nose as she felt Scootaloo hump her face a couple times, wetting it just a little with sweat, and leaving her a bit dazed. Then the other mare stepped back, and Dash recognized the stance, she was preparing to step in and deliver a knockout blow with her knee. Wings fluttering for additional speed, Scootaloo stepped up, and...

*SMACK!*

“GAAHHHH~!”

The thing about a knee strike was it involved lifting one’s leg... And the thing about lifting was leg... Especially when one’s pants were so tight they presented a puffy cameltoe... Was it gave an opponent a perfect target.

Scootaloo was stopped in her tracks by the blow and collapsed, clutching her own cunt. The momentum brought her forward, and had she been a weaker mare, would have bowled Dash onto her back in a pile of sweaty pony muscle and sex. As it was, Dash still had to struggle to keep her up, but only for a second, as it turned into something of a kneeling clinch, the two pressed together for just a moment, until Scootaloo pulled her head back to look Dash in the eye.

“Nngg... Now who’s cheap~?” she taunted.

“All’s fair in love and war~” Dash answered with a grin.

“Oh yeah~?” Scootaloo replied, “Which one is this?”

The question stopped the blue mare in her tracks, her mouth half opened. It was harder to answer than she would have expected. Of course, a Wonderbolt would never skip out on exploiting a possible opening in an opponent’s defenses, and Scootaloo dived in, grabbing Dash’s head and kissing her passionately. Dash moaned, suddenly feeling like she’d drunk too much cider as Scoots’s tongue danced around hers. She had to remember to keep control! She might like the girl, but she wasn’t gonna lose for anyone!

She drove her fist square into Scoots’s belly, and got a satisfying ‘Oof~’ from the orange-coated cutie. She didn’t let up, her right hand beginning to repeatedly piston the other pegasus’s breadbasket. Her tongue went limp and Dash pulled away from the kiss, letting Scoots’s head rest on her shoulder and firing repeated pistoning blows until she felt her foe begin to drool.

“Not sure,” she answered, “But if it’s war... I win~!” She proclaimed, leaning back, and then delivering a heavy hook punch to Scoots’s cheek, sending her sprawling on her back.

Dash quickly hopped up to her feet, using wingflutters to get there even faster, and began to count, perhaps just a little fast out of eagerness to win, and get back to her bunk to relive the moment of being pressed up to Scoots’s body. As an officer she couldn’t admit it, but the girl was getting her hot!

“ONE! TWO! THREE! FOU-”
To her dismay (or so she told herself,) Scoots was back on her feet, the count stopped short. Not that Dash would give her a moment to rest, back to boxing normally and she was back to her old strategy, delivering the flurry of blows that Scoots blocked, manipulating the other pony towards the corner, and watching out for an opening.

She saw it again, and tried the hook once more, but Scoots ducked. She raised her knee to try to avoid letting her get low enough for a low blow without being knocked in the chin... But Scoots didn’t go that low. This time.

“OOOF~!” Dash moaned, as she felt a fist smash into her once again, this time in her abs. She leaned forward over the glove, but it wasn’t normally doubling over, since she felt Scoots press in close afterwards, and felt her arms wrap around her body. A long tongue slowly dragged up her neck, making her shudder in arousal, as gloved hands reached down for her ass and pulled her mound to mound, both mares able to feel the other’s arousal in the moment.

“Come on, Dash~” Scoots teased her, grinding her thigh over Dash’s pussy, making the older wonderbolt quake with arousal, “You know you want it.”

Oh god, she did, that much couldn’t be denied. Scoots had turned from the cute but annoying fangirl who had dogged her steps and tried, inefficiently, to copy every move Dash made, into the sort of woman could only dream about having. If it weren’t for their ranks... She swallowed, her mouth was growing dry with arousal, her skin sensitive and feeling Scootaloo’s hot breath on her. Still, there was always one thing she could count on, even in her most aroused state.

“Oh, fuck, I do...” She panted, “Just... Not quite...” She panted, “Enough to stare at the lights for it!” She yelled out, and pushed Scootaloo off of her, getting a bit of space. Just a bit, but an elite flyer from an early age, Dash only needed a bit to pick up speed. Her wings beat against the air to propel her forward, and she stepped in, leaping and flying just a bit to deliver a heavy Supermare punch right to Scoots’s muzzle!

She hadn’t given Scoots enough time to react to the shove, and she watched the look of surprise in the other mare’s eyes as the punch square landed with a satisfying thump. The blow drove Scootaloo to reel back from the shot, her back hitting the corner post, her eyes a little unfocused. The momentum carried Dash forward to, and if it weren’t for the post on one side, and Dash’s body on the other, she was sure the punch-drunk purple-haired mare would have hit the ground after that blow.

She hadn’t, but while their bodies were together and her opponent was stunned, Dashie might as well take advantage of the situation. She leaned in closer, cheek to cheek, their tank tops soaked through so they looked like they were wearing nothing at all.

“An officer shouldn’t be fraternizing with her subordinates~” Dashie grinned, whispering softly in Scoots’s ear, “But there’s no rule against lessons in unconventional warfare~” She teased as she hooked her thumbs into Scoots’s trunks, “So on that note I’ll j-AAHHHHH~!”

The pain from her cunt blossomed out again, as this time a knee had been driven directly up into her sensitive lower lips. And in a situation like this, this far into their erotically driven fight, ‘Sensitive’ was certainly the word for it. Her clit was engorged, and now it was crushed back to her body, she cried out as she sunk to her knees, her arms going down as well and in doing so, yanking Scootaloo’s trunks all the way off, placing her face to face with Scoots’s pussy, without an inch of fabric to keep that particular military secret classified.

Scootaloo had always had low wing power. But in order to live up to Dash’s example, she’d HAD to join the Wonderbolts. It wasn’t supposed to be possible, or at least nobody would have thought it was, but Scoots had made the effort, and she’d been able to fly as fast as any other mare by picking up a running start, and using her powerful legs to kick off the slightest hint of condensation that might become a cloud, giving her the weakest wings, but strongest legs, of any wonderbolt. This was something that, ideally, Dash would have kept in mind in the match, but she was so hypnotized by the beauty of Scoots’s dripping gash that she didn’t even notice the mare pulling her leg back, until she felt the knee impact her jaw, sending her sprawling out onto her back, wings flat on the floor, and arms spread out like an extra pair, staring up at the ceiling as Scootaloo, subject to a rare instance of own-goal pantsing, stumbled forward until she could kick the tight trunks that kept her legs together away, and stand tall, looking down at Rainbow Dash... And Rainbow Dash looking up at the recruit’s tight young pussy.

She lay on her back, as, smiling, Scoots began to count. She didn’t pay much attention to it too much, hey, she said she wasn’t gonna stare at the lights, right? Well she wasn’t staring at the lights, even if feminine juices gave a bit of a shine to the sight, so that would mean she wasn’t TECHNICALLY breaking her policy. Just bending it a bit, and as eager as she was right now, Dash wasn’t in the mood to skip out on doing anything ‘bendy’ with Scoots.

“Five... Six... Seven...” Scoots suddenly stopped, and Dash looked up in her eyes, a goofy smile plastered across her face.

“Uh, Dash? Why aren’t you getting up?”

Dash giggled, “Just admiring the view.”

“I’ll give you a closer look after I beat ya!” Scootaloo answered eagerly.

‘Beat me?’ A voice in the back of Dash’s head objected, ‘Hey, hold on, NOBODY beats me!’

Good point. Hot recruit or no, she still had her pride. Plus, what would Celestia say about her fraternizing with a probie? Well, okay, probably not much since she held regular orgies with the whole team and ‘princess’ outranked all of them, but it was the principal of the thing!

“Better idea...” Dash answered, “I’ll take that look now!”

She beat her wings on the ground for extra help in getting up, and practically dived forward and headbutted Scoots’s cunt, making the orange mare cry out! A glove was bad enough, but she was taking a full-blown Wonderbolt-speed pony headbutt to the cunt! Scoots yelled, and her eyes rolled back... But Dash didn’t pull back, instead reaching around Scoots’s body to hold her still and bring her up in the air, her thick oral muscle dancing across Scoots’s pussy so fast she began to wonder if you could make a sonic rainboom with your tongue.

And Scoots was WET, too. Wet and, quite clearly, close. She didn’t even get an attempt at a coherent vocal response out, and all Dash could hear was a loud

“Fuck... Fuck... FUUUUUUUUUUCK~!” As two seconds after the oral assault began, she felt Scootaloo gush on her face, female juices splashing out, and the thighs that were wrapped around her head suddenly stiffening, every muscle in Scoots’s body tensing.

EVERY muscle.

Including the thighs.

Oh.

Whoops.

She realized her mistake. She’d just brought scootaloo to orgasm mid-air, with the cute girl sitting on her shoulders, legs pressed to her head, and now the strongest thighs in equestria not belonging to a professional applebucker were tensed and squeezed tight around Dash’s head as she quaked in orgasm. And good as it felt to pleasure someone like that, there was another word for the situation one is in when there’s a pair of powerful thighs pushed against their head and crushing close.

Headscissors.

Dash had, effectively, forced Scootaloo to give her the tightest headscissors any Equestrian could experience. And with that cunt gushing juices out, she wouldn’t even be able to take a deep breath. She shuddered, spluttering out and fighting for a breath, but it wouldn’t come, and the pressure just grew. That cunt grew hotter, wetter, and the hold tighter, and Dash felt her beautiful sky-blue face turning purple from the strain. Stars as bright as Luna’s moon flashed in front of her eyes, and she slowly faded out.

She awoke in her bunk. She’d gotten used to the bunks as a regular bolt, and had had one of the double-deckers moved into her room once she’d reached officer status, when she’d found the double bed officers were given for their private quarters a little too large and fluffy. She looked to her side, hoping to see the orange pony curled up to her, but the room seemed empty, and she gave a heavy sigh, swinging her legs out onto the ground. She must have been drunk or something. She only had vivid dreams like that when she was drunk. Same with sleeping on the bottom, honestly, that only happened if she

“Damn...” She shuddered, then slowly stood up, getting out of bed and taking a step towards her closet, “Just a dream.”

“Guess so~” She gasped, and turned around, seeing Scootaloo kneeling on the top bed, grinning at her, “But it must have been pretty realistic for me to still be here!”

Dash grinned up at her. Aha, there she was! So she WAS rooming with her! Excellent! I mean, fraternization, but whatever. She began to laugh...

But her grin quickly turned to a look of annoyance, as she glared up at Scoots.

“HEY!” She objected “I get the top bunk!”

“You sure~?” Scoots answered, and jumped from the bed... Landing not on the ground, but instead launching a tackle at Dashie, sending the mare to her back again. The two nude pegasi pressed close, and Dash felt those strong thighs spread her legs, and that puffy cunt press close to hers. “Wanna fight for it? Looking forward to try a real rutting fight with ya~”

“Not like this!” She objected.

“Why not?”

“Grapevined... And I didn’t get off... You’d... Nng... Rut me into submission if we start now!” The blue mare objected.

The mare on top of her laughed, “Good point...” She smirked, “Not a reason for me to stop, but... Good point.” She giggled, and pressed their bodies closer, her tits squishing Dashie’s, “Don’t worry, Dash, I know you don’t look at the lights for anyone.” She licked her lips, “So just look into my eyes... And let go~”

With that, the younger woman began pumping her hips heavily against Dash’s, cunts clashing, and making the blue pegasus moan, back arching as she looked up at the younger Bolt taking her. Her legs spread by what now felt like the strongest pair of thighs in Equestria, she groaned as she looked into those purple eyes and felt the other mare just rut her into the ground.

She might call it a contest, but this was hardly a fair fight. Then again, like they say, all’s fair in love and war.

And Dash DEFINITELY knew which one this was.