Hoofbeats

Chapters

Introduction to the World of Dildos
Not That Kind of Garden
Using a Rubber
Dear Sweet Celestia
Into the Nether
Staying Crunchy
Two Mares Talking About Stuff
Fruity Salad
We Need to Go Deeper
Getting Wood
Advances in Technodildonics
Standard Deviation
The Morning After
The Sun, Motherbucker, Do You Praise It?
Derpression
Two Stallions, and a Train
It's Going Down; I'm Yelling Timber
Head?
Dying for Dick

Introduction to the World of Dildos

Hoofbeats gazed at the figure she had crafted. Yes, she knew it was a phallus, but she never knew how beautiful it could be. She had not even been focused on the assignment. When you don’t know what to draw on someone’s face or graffiti on a bathroom wall, you draw a dick. When you’re bored in pottery class, you sculpt a dick. The logic was simple, but she was still stunned by what she had created, which was sheer anatomical perfection she had shaped with her own hooves.

“That shit looks like a dildo,” she heard from a classmate. Hoofbeats turned to comment, but noticed he was not looking at her sculpture. There, on her flank, had materialized an icon of an erect penis, whose buttercream color matched her mane and tail, perfectly complementing her powder blue coat.

She squealed in delight. Her cutie mark had finally come! After years of being the only student with a blank flank, she finally found her calling! She was overwhelmed with the joy that she would spend the rest of her life creating majestic works of art like this one.

The teacher, Mayflower, walked over to examine the situation, before letting out a gasp. Being an experienced educator, she shuffled Hoofbeats out into the hallway before the rest of the class noticed.

“Hoofbeats,” she said, “explain what happened.”

The filly replied, “I just got my cutie mark. Isn’t it great?” The teacher was unsure of how to react to this. She could give her a detention or send her to the principal’s office, but it was already clear that this could not be fixed so easily.

“We don’t tolerate vulgarity at this school,” she said sternly. “I can lend you a skirt for the rest of the school day, but I am going to schedule a talk with your parents to find a more long-term solution to this issue.”

Hoofbeats stomped her hoof. “I don’t see an issue! Stallions walk around naked all the time.”

Mayflower ignored this justification and handed her the standard Parent-Teacher Conference form.

“I want you to give this to your parents so they can speak with me tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she begrudgingly obliged.

The walk home was miserable. Hoofbeats was an optimistic pony and had convinced herself that her teacher’s attitude would be an isolated incident, but the taunts and laughter of the schoolfoals proved otherwise. Ponies for the most part were rarely judged by their cutie marks. There was, however, the occasional discrimination. For instance, a pony with a skull cutie mark has a high likelihood of being arrested even if his talent is a completely non-skeletal form of badassery. Hoofbeats quickly understood that society would look down upon a pony whose mark was inherently sexual.

She was in tears by the time she got to the front door. She rushed past the kitchen and straight upstairs to her bedroom. She reached under her pillow for a sparkly pink sketchbook. This was always where she turned in times of grief, as she found solace in pouring her emotions onto the paper. She was intending to draw something, but as she flipped through the pages, she began to notice a pattern. Sketch after sketch of detailed genitalia flashed before her eyes. She had rationalized this before, calling it a “study of muscular structure”, but only now did she realize just how common of a theme it was for her. She threw the book across the room and collapsed on the bed sobbing.
There was a light knock on the door and her mother peeked her head in. “Is everything alright, honey?”

“My life is ruined!” Hoofbeats wailed.

“Now, why do you say that?”

She gestured to her flank. “Take a look yourself!”

“Oh, sweetheart! Your cutie mark! I’m so proud of you!”

She hugged Hoofbeats gently, who recoiled. “Are you blind? That’s a dick!”

Her family had always been supportive. “I realize that. You know your father and I love you no matter what you decide to do with your life.”

“My teacher called it ‘vulgarity’! She wants me to cover it up. And the students all laughed at me. I’m a joke.”

Her mother comforted her. “Your talent is nothing to be ashamed of. Sexuality is about the expression of love and bringing joy to other ponies. Don’t you want to spread joy doing what you love?”

Hoofbeats had kind of expected this reaction from her mom. Her family was not exactly what you would call conservative. Her parents were from the “free love” generation, so they were ok with this sort of thing. Still, the rest of equinity was not likely to be so accepting.

“Ms. Mayflower wants to speak to you tomorrow.” She handed her mother the paper.

“Then we’ll see if we can set her straight.”

There was a lot of confidence behind that statement, but Hoofbeats knew tomorrow would be brutal. No amount of logic would be able to convince the educational system to be open and honest about sex. Still, her apprehension was matched by her excitement, because she now knew that the rest of her life would be filled with the kind of passion and beauty she had come to love.

Author's Note

I'd like to thank Raccoon, Brad, Mark, and of course Chad Warden.

Not That Kind of Garden

The next morning, Hoofbeats decided to wear pants to school. Her parents would have allowed her to go without them, but it would probably be better to wait until things were settled than to cause a ruckus. She adjusted her saddlebag, imagining a world in which she could have it embellished with her cutie mark like some of the other students in her class.

Every single student was staring at her when she entered the classroom. Her feelings were torn between wanting to slink away in shame and wanting to drop her pants for the world to see.

As she took her seat, the boy next to her leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Let me see it.”

She feigned ignorance, “See what?”

“You know,” he continued in a long, drawn out voice, “the diiiiick.”

“I’m not showing you,” she said.

The colt was persistent, poking and whispering throughout the lecture.

“You see that between your legs?” she retorted, “It looks like that, only bigger.”

That shut him up for the rest of the class.

At lunch, curious ponies crowded around. Everyone wanted to see the new cutie mark. The teacher looked on disapprovingly. Hoofbeats made eye contact with her and remembered yesterday’s conversation, while also noting how itchy these pants were. A sly smile crept across her face.

“Alright, everypony,” she announced, “I can’t show you at school, but I promise you’ll see it at my cutceñera!”

The room erupted in a loud cheer. She turned to the teacher, who raised an eyebrow. “You’re invited, too, if it’s not an ‘issue’.”

The Parent-Teacher Conference went pretty much exactly as expected. Hoofbeats wriggled in her seat and kicked her hooves while her elders engaged in their shouting match. Her parents put up a good fight, but in the end it was decided that she would be clothed for the remainder of the year. It was a disappointing loss for the entire family.

Her parents had hoped to collectively stew in their defeat on the walk home, but Hoofbeats kicked off conversation anyway.

“I invited a bunch of ponies to my cutceñera,” she casually mentioned.

Her father was surprised. “Do you really want to do that? Aren’t you a little old for that kind of party?”

“Oh Dad, we all know it’s not going to be that kind of party. Besides, it’s traditional.”

Her parents nodded in agreement and they discussed party plans as they continued their walk.

Hoofbeats had assumed that she would just read or draw when she got home, but instead she saw two wrapped gifts on the dining room table.

“Who are these for?” she asked?

“Silly pony,” her mother said, “they’re for you! Surprise!”

“But,” her father chimed in, “don’t open them until you look in the back yard.”

The pony eagerly galloped to the back yard, where she saw four neat rows of freshly planted little trees.

Hoofbeats was confused. “What are they?” she asked.

Her father answered, “They’re rubber tree plants. I spent all morning planting them just for you. Go ahead and open your presents.”

She tore the paper from the gifts. Inside, she found a book on how to process rubber, and a mastication machine, which crushes and grinds the dried latex collected from the plants into a fine paste so it can be molded. Most other ponies her age would have giggled at the word “mastication”, but Hoofbeats was more sensible than that.

With a grin, she hugged her parents tightly and whispered, “Thank you so much.”

Author's Note

This chapter came out a little short and kind of dull. I was going to combine it with the next chapter, but nah.

Using a Rubber

Over the next couple weeks, she familiarized herself with the rubber-making process. She learned how to pump the latex sap from the trees, often squirting the milky white liquid on her face. After properly mixing it, she would lay it out in the sun so it could get hard. Then she put the long pieces through the masticating machine. After mastication, the latex must be mixed with additional ingredients. It took Hoofbeats a few tries before she got the right distribution of ingredients to get the desired texture and viscosity, but she finally found a good mixture that was easy to work with.

After that, she took some time to figure out how to work the processed rubber between her hooves. She shaped it into a long cylinder, then firmly grasped it and rhythmically stroked the shaft. She was gentle, yet firm enough to have total control. Sometimes it got too dry, so she would lube up her hooves with a soft oil, or lightly run her moist tongue across its full length.

She worked day and night perfecting her craft, and of course testing the merchandise, until she had enough acceptable samples to display and share at her cuteceñera.

When the day finally came, she and her parents went to great lengths to convey that sexuality was welcome in this household. They worked together to make several party decorations. There was a string of paper dicks that hung from the ceiling, along with brightly colored streamers and balloons. They covered the wall with a large backdrop with silhouettes of ponies partying and having a good time. The table was covered in a fancy tablecloth with a centerpiece of long mushrooms instead of flowers. They baked a penis-shaped cake with cream filling, so it would squirt when they cut into it, as well as other phallic treats like carrots and spicy peter peppers. And, of course, Hoofbeats' creations were put front and center for the partygoers to see.

Mid-morning, guests began arriving. Some of them were wearing frilly dresses, while others were dressed in fun or sexy costumes. A couple ponies showed up wearing those popular human masks. Hoofbeats rolled her eyes at this, because wearing a giant rubber mask does not actually make you clever or funny. She herself decided to forgo a cuteceñera dress in favor of a formal vest, so she could show off her cutie mark.

Her parents remained absent throughout most of the party, so she could spend time with her friends, and potentially engage in more adult activities, without making it awkward. However, despite the lack of parents and overall theme, the festivity remained surprisingly mild.

There were little foals' games like a piñata and pin the dick on the donkey. Afterwards they ate the cake and put on music for dancing. Hoofbeats tried to liven the mood by violently thrusting her cock-flank to the beat. However, it seemed like it was, in fact, that kind of party. Then to everyone's surprise, in came an unexpected guest, Brightray.

Brightray was a purple earth pony with a long, brown mane that she kept tied up in a tight bun. She wore a long, white dress and a matching bonnet, which she hid under, unsuccessfully trying to conceal her identity. She had a reputation for being very religious. Her family belonged to the fundamentalist group called Church of the Sun. The church worshiped Celestia and enforced a strict set of guidelines, allegedly devised by the princess herself.

Brightray slowly scooted her way around the edge of the room. She timidly tapped Hoofbeats on the shoulder.

"Oh, hey," Hoofbeats said, "I wasn't expecting you here."

Brightray sighed and said, "I was hoping I could speak to you in private."

Hoofbeats led her outside and they sat down in the shade of her little grove.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

Brightray answered nervously, "Well, my parents don't know I'm here. They would kill me."

From what Hoofbeats had heard about Church of the Sun, she was almost tempted to take that statement literally.

The mare continued, "I'm not supposed to think about masturbation or sex or anything like that. They say a proper lady protects her purity and saves herself for marriage. But, the thing is, I've been having all these changes and strange urges. I tried asking my parents and my pastor, but nopony will talk to me about it. I was just hoping you could answer some of my questions."

"I can do better than that," Hoofbeats replied, "I can show you."

Author's Note

I didn't use a proofreader this time, so help me out if you see spelling or grammar errors. Maybe a little critical advice from more seasoned writers wouldn't hurt. Trust me, I can take it.

Dear Sweet Celestia

Brightray followed her friend up the stairs and into the bedroom. Once they were in, she closed and locked the door behind them. She removed her bonnet and let her long, brown hair fall to the floor. She lay down on the bed and began unlacing her dress.

Hoofbeats gave her a confused look. “Um, what are you doing?” she said.

Brightray thought it was obvious. “I’m taking my clothes off so we can get started. I’ll admit I was nervous at first, but I figured if I just let it happen then I would start to enjoy myself.”

Hoofbeats facehooved so hard.

“No, that’s not what I meant at all. I have some books up here I wanted to show you.”

“Oh,” Brightray said, embarrassed, “It looked like you were leading into something there. I thought we were going to have sex.”

“No,” Hoofbeats replied, “Why would I do that? It’s clear that you have no formal sex education, so I was going to go over the basics like STD’s and the reproductive process. I wasn’t going to just drop you into this like some sort of antechinus. Besides, I’m not sure if you noticed, but I really like dicks.”

Brightray lowered her head. “You know, for a second there, I thought that… that someone would actually want me.”

“No, it’s not that. I’m just not gay like you.”

The pony’s eyes widened. “I’m gay!?”

The facehoofing intensified.

“You desire sex with other ponies of the same gender. That is the most basic definition of gay.”

“Do you think Celestia will send me to Tartarus?”

“I honestly don’t think Celestia gives a shit. We get evil villains and giant monsters attacking Equestria weekly. She has bigger things on her plate right now. Also, I don’t think any sort of benevolent leader would send good ponies to Tartarus. Anyway, go ahead and sit down so I can show you these books.”

“That’s not actually something I need. I’m not completely ignorant, you know.”

Hoofbeats was surprised by how surprised she was at that. “Alright fine, what do you want from me?”

“I told you already. I have these urges. Like, sexual type urges. I wanted to know why I feel this way and if it was normal to act on them."

Hoofbeats just shrugged. “Eh, it’s just puberty. As far as acting on it, yeah, that’s normal. I can give you a dildo if you’re worried about age-of-consent laws."

“Consent laws don’t matter if I can’t even get a coltfriend.” She paused and sighed, “Or a marefriend.”

Hoofbeats responded, “I think the reason people don’t pay you any attention is because you look and act so withdrawn. Maybe I can make you over and then you’ll feel better about yourself.”

“Are you sure that will work?”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

She pulled a dress out of her closet and instructed Brightray to put it on. It was a slimming and sexy dress that sparkled with red sequins. She pinned her hair up in a fancy, braided updo. Then came the makeup. She encircled her eyes with a black eyeliner, and colored in her eyelids with a dark purple eye shadow, and used some mascara to make her lashes look longer. She carefully applied a layer of lip primer, followed by the lipstick, lip liner, and lip plumper, before covering the rest of her face with some foundation, concealer, and blush.

Brightray looked in the mirror. She had never seen herself like this before. She smiled and said, “I look amazing.”

“Yeah, but you’d look even better without all that shit on your face.”

“What do you mea—" Her sentence was cut short when Hoofbeats dumped a bucket of water on her head.

“What was that for!?”

“I thought something looked wrong and I kept trying to fix it, but I think you’re beautiful just the way you are.”

She thought about this as she wiped her face with a towel. “You planned this whole makeover thing just to deliver that sappy spiel, didn’t you?”

“I might have. That doesn’t make it any less true. Just go out there au naturale and see how things work out.”

“Actually, I think I’m going to go home. It’s getting late and my parents don’t know I’m out.”

“I thought we were having fun.”

“I’m sorry. I… I’ll just go. I wouldn’t want to overstep my boundaries,” she said as she rushed out the door.

Hoofbeats found it strange that she would have gone through with the sex but was uncomfortable with being called beautiful.
That mare was a mess. A big, gay mess.

Author's Note

This was a good opportunity to troll cloppers and spread awareness of the amazing antechinus. This was inspired by a real incident where I was thinking if I was interested in girls, which was immediately stopped in its tracks by "OMG dicks are just the best!".
Anyway, I still haven't decided exactly how racy I want this story to be, so there may or may not be sex scenes in the future.

Into the Nether

After her ultimately disappointing alone time with Brightray, Hoofbeats left her room to rejoin the party. She saw her mom waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.

“Your friend sure left in a hurry,” she said, “Did you go a little too far?”

“Apparently,” Hoofbeats responded.

“That’s too bad. Well, anyway, I know I said I would stay out of your way, but I found this stallion you really need to meet.”

She gestured to her left, where there stood a tall unicorn, levitating a pen and a scroll.

“He’s a little old for me.”

“It’s not like that. This is Rug Burn. He publishes a mail-order catalogue of sex toys. I was telling him about your dildos; how they get all the way back there and really stimulate my—”

“Mom, could you not?”

The stallion leaned over. “Is this making you uncomfortable?” he said.

“No, you’re fine,” Hoofbeats responded, “I just don’t need to hear about my mother masturbating.”

Her mom started backing away. “Alright, I know when I’m not wanted,” she said as she left the room.

Rug Burn turned to the young pony. “You must be Hoofbeats. I’m Mr. Burn, in charge of the Nethertease catalogue. I was hoping to talk to you and maybe add your products to our stock.”

“Of course. That would be great!”

He walked over to the table where the samples were displayed. “Mind if I handle the merchandise?”

“Go right ahead.”

He picked up one of the samples and felt it between his hooves, bending it back and forth and eyeing the detailed curves. “Hmmm… good quality,” he said, “but how durable are they?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t pushed them to the breaking point. I have done a few strength tests though, and I can assure you they can take a beating.”

“Where do you get your materials?”

Hoofbeats gestured to the backyard. “I grow my own rubber right here and process everything from scratch.”

Rug Burn thought about it for a second. “That doesn’t sound very conducive to mass production.”

“Working full time, I could make about ten a day. I doubt the buyers will outpace that, especially from a new brand. If I manage to establish myself, I can bring in more artists later on.”

“I like your style. If you can produce five hundred units of a single model by August, we’ll run them in our September issue. If ponies like them, we can work out a long-term sales contract.”

“Sounds good.”

They shook hooves on it and Mr. Burn went to his cart to get some forms and waivers. Hoofbeats managed to evade giving Nethertease full licensing rights, but ceded 30% of revenue. In the end, it was a fair deal for both parties.

Hoofbeats was certainly proud of herself. She was so excited that she wanted to get started right away, so she went outside to pump the latex. As she scanned her little garden, she bit her lip. Her trees were still very young and quite small. If she wanted enough latex for such a large workload, she would have to order from an outside source. She sighed. It would take a full three months for a shipment from Ponyville to reach her. The only closer rubber tree plantation was in the Church of the Sun commune. There was some difficult bargaining to be done.

Author's Note

Sorry about the long wait for a relatively boring chapter. I was visiting family, and I'm not going to be writing about pony dildos in front of me mum.

Staying Crunchy

Over the course of the following day, Hoofbeats considered a number of different tactics for negotiating with the church. She knew they would take issue with her products, but it couldn’t hurt to give it a try. However, no matter how hard she thought, every potential scenario ended in failure. She decided to turn to a professional.

Hoofbeats’ father was a practical bank manager named Shag Carpet. He always knew what to say, and she knew he could handle the situation much better than she ever could by herself. After further thought, she surmised that he must have dealt with the church before, considering how quickly he got the rubber trees set up.

He was sitting on a lounge chair in the living room, smoking a pipe and reading hoofball stats in the newspaper, in typical cartoon-dad fashion. You can rest assured that he had the proper accompanying moustache. Hoofbeats walked into the room.

“Dad?” she said

He looked up from his newspaper and adjusted his inerrantly paternal glasses. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Well, I signed a marketing agreement with Nethertease, and the only way I’m going to have enough raw material to ship by August is if I buy from Church of the Sun. I just don’t know if I can get them to go against their values for me.”

Shag Carpet chuckled. “The funny thing about a cult,” he said, “is that most members don’t know it’s a scam.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It is?”

“Yeah, and if you want anything done, you have to go right to the top. The rubber workers won’t do business outside of their religion, but for a price you can get whatever you need from the leader.”

“Will you go with me and talk to him?”

“Of course.”

So, off they went. For the trip, Hoofbeats wore a long dress to cover her cutie mark. She noticed that most other ponies in the commune were also clothed. There were a few who weren’t and she noticed they all had interesting genitalia. She had heard some ponies still got circumcised, but she hadn’t seen it until now. She made careful note of their appearance, for future artistic endeavors.

The leader and founder of Church of the Sun was a steadfast stallion by the name of Corn Flake. He had a penchant for being in control, because it was comforting to him that his congregation was kept well in line. He was at his desk, putting the finishing touches on his weekly schedule, when his secretary buzzed him on the intercom.

“Mr. Carpet is here to see you,” she said.

Corn Flake smiled. He liked Shag Carpet because of the exorbitant price he was willing to pay last time for the rubber trees. “Send him in,” he said.

He and his daughter entered the office and were greeted by a warm hoofshake.

“Shaggy, it’s good to see you again! How is the balloon business?”

“It’s doing really well,” he replied, “We recently got a pretty large order, and we don’t have the resources to handle it ourselves. We’re going to need a couple hundred pounds of raw latex.”

“That’s a lot of balloons. You must have found a distributor. Would you like to set up a long-term contract?”

Hoofbeats and her father exchanged a concerned look. They needed an excuse to make this a one-time deal without sounding suspicious.

Hoofbeats spoke up. “We’ll be getting all future orders from Ponyville. If it’s good enough for Pinkie Pie, it’s good enough for me.”

Corn Flake couldn’t counter that without contradicting his church’s established views on the Elements of Harmony.

“Alright, I suppose that’s fine if that’s the route you want to go. But don’t expect any discount from me if I get no brand loyalty. I’ll charge twenty bits per Scootaliter and no less.”

“That’s outrageous!” Hoofbeats exclaimed.

The stallion shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

“We’ll take it,” said Shag Carpet. He turned to his daughter. “It’s ok. It’s just one payment and we’ll recover the loss easily.”

So the deal was done. After some parting formalities, the ponies started to leave. As Hoofbeats stood up, her dress snagged on the wheel of her chair. She pulled on the skirt to free it, but accidentally popped a seam, leaving a long gash down the side and exposing her cutie mark.

Corn Flake looked her up and down. “Balloons, huh? What kind of business have I really been supporting?”

“It doesn’t matter as long as you get your profit,” Hoofbeats said.

“I have an important obligation to help unenlightened ponies find peace in the teachings of Celestia. I refuse to let my good reputation be tainted by associating myself with depraved ponies who spread the filth of inordinate desires.”

“Yeah, well fuck you too.”

Hoofbeats and Shag Carpet stomped out angrily.

Corn Flake scowled. He didn’t know what they were up to, but he needed to get rid of it before it became a problem.

Author's Note

"Profit is simply a by-product we've learned to live with."
X-S Tech

I kind of wanted to be subtle about Corn Flake's name without explicitly stating the reference, but I don't think very many people are in the know, so here I go: J. H. Kellogg was extremely religious and invented Corn Flakes as an anti-masturbatory aide. Check it out http://mentalfloss.com/article/32042/corn-flakes-were-invented-part-anti-masturbation-crusade .
Anyway, sorry for focusing so much on the business side. Sexiness coming soon, I promise.

Two Mares Talking About Stuff

After the incident, Hoofbeats swallowed her pride and wrote a letter to Rug Burn. She explained that she had over-estimated the supplies she had available and she would not be able to produce five hundred units before the agreed-upon deadline. She then requested a time extension and pre-emptively thanked him for his time. She slipped the letter into her mailbox the following morning, and trotted off to school.

The journey to school was a relaxing one, and it allowed her to focus on her thoughts. She recalled what a hardass Corn Flake was and she imagined how miserable it must be to live under his rule. She had been avoiding Brightray for the past few days, but she decided today she would make amends.

She found Brightray at lunch, sitting with her religious friends. Hoofbeats was appropriately beskirted, but there were still whispers throughout the group as she approached the table.

“Brightray,” she said to the very embarrassed mare, “I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day.”

Brightray nodded and said, “Ok, but we’ll go outside and talk in private.”

Once they were alone together, Hoofbeats initiated the conversation. “I just wanted to make things better between us. I know you’re going through a lot right now.”

“Are you saying you want to apologize?” Brightray asked.

Hoofbeats was stunned. “I’ll be honest; I’m not sure what I did wrong.”

“I hate it when people give me that ‘you’re beautiful and perfect just the way you are’ crap. If everything was perfect, I would be happy. I turned to you for help, and you seem to think that if I just suck it up and love myself, then all my problems will magically go away. You don’t understand how I feel.”

Hoofbeats pondered this for a moment. “I’m sorry; I misunderstood. You’re not good at expressing what you want.”

“I don’t even know what I want.”

Hoofbeats remembered an applicable quote from the great philosopher Hay Cart.
“Give her the dick.”

She looked her friend right in the eye and said, “You need a good dicking.”

“What?”

“The dick. You need it.”

Brightray gave a skeptical and confused look. “So, am I gay or not? Make up your mind.”

“Oh, nopony can really know but you. What I meant was I can give you one of my toys and you can do it yourself to take the edge off.”

The pony squirmed awkwardly. “I’m not sure. I don’t know how.”

Hoofbeats groaned. “Really? Are we really gonna…You know what? Fine. I don’t even care anymore. Come to my house after school and I’ll teach you.”

“Like, for real this time?”

“I’m just going to talk you through it. Don’t get your hopes up for a relationship or anything. I told you before I’m not into mares.”

“It’s a deal then.”

They shook hooves on it and Brightray turned to leave. On her way inside, she called back to Hoofbeats, “If my friends ask, I was proselytizing.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Author's Note

This is my shortest chapter so far, and the shittiest. I was going to include the next part as well, but it's not written yet and I haven't posted in a long time, and I guess I just want to put something up there to let you know I'm still active. I've just not been writing as much.

I feel bad posting such an insubstantial chapter, but I'd also feel bad not posting anything and making internet people wait longer for an update. I'm sorry. :fluttershyouch:

Oo oo oo! And comments! I love comments! I want to know what you think, positive or negative.

Fruity Salad

Brightray tried her best to stay calm while her friend went to get one of her pleasure sticks. Hoofbeats had only been making a single model, so the choice of toy came down to color preference.

“Hey,” she called from the closet, “what color do you want?”

Brightray shrugged. “Uh… I guess white is best.”

“That’s racist. You’re getting blue.”

Holding a blue dildo, Hoofbeats came out of the closet (literally). She instructed Brightray, “Just lie down and get comfortable.”

Brightray lay down on the bed and relaxed her muscles.

“Are you going to watch?” she asked.

“No,” Hoofbeats replied, “I’m going to turn this way and just tell you what to do.” She switched to a more smooth, gentle voice and continued. “Now imagine the perfect sexual encounter. Your partner is standing before you. They’re amazing.”

“Ok,” Brightray said, “I’m picturing a handsome unicorn prince. He’s brave and valiant, and his coat is ivory white.”

There was a long pause. Hoofbeats urged her, “Go on. Tell me more. What does the prince do?”

“He comes up and mounts me –“

“No, start over. Build a narrative.”

“Alright, he approaches me and tells me how his wife is always busy and she doesn’t have time for him anymore, and he’s been admiring my body, and he just wants me so badly. He’s like, ‘Oh, Brightray, you make me so horny,’ and I’m like, ‘I can be your sexy baby all day.’”

She hesitated again and Hoofbeats took over the story. “So, he’s looking at you and his cock starts swelling. He’s throbbing with anticipation.”

Cutting the fantasy short, Brightray sat up and said, “I’m having a hard time getting in the zone. I don’t think I really like this character very much.”

“Try something different then.”

“I’m thinking of a farm pony. He’s the strong, silent type, and he’s got bulging muscles from working so hard. So he’s really big and sweaty and dirty.”

Hoofbeats nodded. “Ok, this is a very different direction. What else?”

“Well, he’s kind of shy, so he’s going to be a little embarrassed when I flirt with him. I ask him if we can go back to the barn and have a roll in the hay, but he’s like, ‘I don’t know; you have to get me warmed up first.’”

“You mean like a blow job?”

“Ew, no.”

“Look, this clearly isn’t working for you,” Hoofbeats said, turning around, “You need to think of a female.”

“No, that’s wrong. I don’t want to be a lesbian.”

“You can’t just choose not to be a lesbian. That’s not how it works.”

“Well, I just did. Deal with it.”

“Ok, so his dick is thick and veiny and –“

Brightray recoiled. “Alright fine! I’m gay! Are you happy now?”

“It’s a start. Think of the most beautiful mare you can imagine.”

“The most beautiful mare? That would be… no! I can’t do it!”

Hoofbeats put a reassuring hoof on her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid,” she said, “This is completely normal.”

“What will my family think? My friends? The church?”

“Don’t listen to what anyone else thinks. What’s important is that you listen to your heart.”

“You’re regurgitating fairy tales again. This is what drove me away the first time.”

“All I’m saying is that you need to be honest with yourself. Isn’t honesty one of the Elements of Harmony, or was that the Element of Heterosexual Monogamy? Just do you, and I mean that in the most literal sense right now.”

“You don’t understand at all! I am going to be rejected by everyone I love,” Brightray said, while her eyes teared up, “I just can’t be this way.”

Hoofbeats moved forward and embraced her friend in a warm hug.

“Come with me,” she said, “Let’s go on a little walk.”

She strapped on a saddlebag and guided Brightray down the stairs and out the front door. As they trotted along at a leisurely pace, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“Just the farmer’s market. I need to pick up something.”

When they reached the end of the street, they saw a friendly-looking old mare watering her roses. Hoofbeats smiled and waved.

“Hello, Mrs. Honeycomb!” she called, cheerfully.

“Go to Tartarus, slut!”

Brightray’s jaw dropped at the insult, but Hoofbeats kept walking with her head held high.

Later, along another road, a cart pulled up alongside the two. A unicorn stallion stuck his head out the window and said, “Very nice. How much?”

Hoofbeats turned her nose up at him. “More than you could ever afford, asshole.”

The journey continued with more insults being hurled at every turn.
“Faggot!”
“Whore!”
“Tranny!”

When they reached the farmer’s market, they approached a green mare peddling her fruits and vegetables.

“Hello, I’d like a large cucumber,” Hoofbeats said as she placed her bits on the counter.

The merchant looked her up and down with a grimace.

Hoofbeats spoke up, “What? I’m making a salad.”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it?” she said, sarcastically.

She handed over the cucumber without exchanging any polite words and the two ponies left.

“Do you know why I brought you on this little venture?” Hoofbeats asked.

Brightray guessed, “We’re making a salad?”

“No, well maybe later, but that’s not the point. Look around you. All these ponies giving me rude looks and cheeky insults all because of my cutie mark. They’re all making ignorant assumptions and judge me without even knowing me.”

“But it doesn’t seem to bother you.”

“Oh, it absolutely bothers me. I try to keep a strong face, but it cuts like a knife every time. What I’m trying to say is that this is a part of who I am. It hurts to be rejected by others, but I’ll never be truly happy if I reject myself.”

Brightray shuffled her feet. “It’s a little more complicated in my situation.”

“Is it? Or are you just being difficult?”

“You have a family who supports your sexuality. I don’t have that.”

“Then don’t tell them yet. Right now, you just need to accept it in your own mind.”

“I think I can do that,” Brightray sighed.

“Good. We’ll table this for now, but come back to me when you’re ready to take the next step.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Author's Note

Awww, did I pull the rug out from under your widdle feet again? Where else will you ever find pony erotica?

My own sexuality is pretty vanilla, so I'm having a hard time getting into Brightray's midset. If you've been in a similar situation to hers, I would love to hear about your experience.

We Need to Go Deeper

Hoofbeats collapsed on her bed, mentally exhausted from the day’s excursion. She grimaced at how much she hated almost everypony she encountered that day. She eyed the still-unused blue dildo next to her and sighed as she took it in her hooves.

Hoofbeats had a funny relationship with the word “fuck”. She enjoyed swearing because it was a cathartic way to express herself and because it was off-putting to people she didn’t like. On the other hoof, she hated when it was used to describe lovemaking. To her, any sexual act (even a solo one) was meant to be a special, emotional experience. “Fuck” just sounded so abrupt and impersonal. However, what happened next could only be described as a fucking.

Her desire was very different from the delicate and narrative-based masturbation she had planned for Brightray. Mostly, she just wanted to pound away all the bad thoughts. She lay on her back and lowered the toy down to her muff. Without hesitation, she plunged it deep into herself until the rubber testicles pressed against her labia. She let out a quick gasp from the shock of taking in the full length at once. It hurt but she loved it. All the stress of the world’s judgement-- none of that mattered now. She closed her eyes and imagined all the horrible things she would do to her enemies as she pulled it out and thrusted down again.

The adrenaline from her raw, passionate hate filled her even more than the dildo, as she continued pumping harder and faster. It felt so good to release all her emotion like this. She imagined herself laughing as she trampled the faces of those who grovelled before her. But what really made her feel powerful, even more than physical sadism, was the notion of the prudes who mocked her being exposed in their hypocrisy when they bought her product and used it in secrecy to pleasure themselves.

“You don’t like masturbation, Corn Flake?” she thought, “Well, I’m going to jack off to you jacking off to me, just to spite you.”
Hoofbeats groaned in delectation at the idea of Corn Flake’s shame as he lost control of his impulses and forfeited all his values, because damn she is one sexy beast! At this moment, she was a sex goddess, punishing the unworthy by taunting them with her unattainable beauty. She glanced at the mirror across the room and pridefully whipped her hair back. She pictured her sex toy empire towering over his unsullied commune like a mighty penis ready to penetrate equine society in every area. Hoofbeats was unstoppable.

She reached down with her front left hoof and started massaging her clitoris with a vibrating motion. It took her a long time to master that technique. She assumed it would be easier for a unicorn or a pegasus. She wondered if maybe she could incorporate it into a design later. A deliciously sharp pleasure coursed through her veins, and a bead of sweat rolled down her forehead.

She was so close to finishing that her hooves trembled and clenched, but she dare not slow down or stop for anything. Her mind was high and her thoughts blurred together to form bizarre and surreal images. Still, she would not stop. She bit her lip, and finally her vulva squeezed tightly around the toy, and she let out a deep breath she had not realized she was holding in before collapsing on the bed.

She just lay there breathless for a minute, with the dildo still inside of her, watching her chest heaving up and down. There was a lingering tingle in her legs. After a while, she slowly removed the toy and rolled over. She felt exhausted, but thoroughly satisfied. Totally relaxed, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Author's Note

Fucking finally I uploaded this chapter. How many months has it been? Jesus Christ.
Anyway, here's your clop material. It was hard as hell to write, and life got in the way.

Edit: Rereading this much later, I realize I might be a little violent.

Getting Wood

She read the letter again.

“Miss Hoofbeats,
We received your notice about your supply delay and wanted to inform you that we do, in fact, have a partnership with a producer with an extensive supply of rubber. Please send us a description of your needs and we’ll have it shipped by dragon in time for your product to appear in our September catalogue.
Best Wishes,
Rug Burn
Nethertease Head of Product Acquisition.”

Hoofbeats smiled. Having a good shipment of rubber coming in would leave her with a lot of free time she would have otherwise spent harvesting her trees. This was the perfect opportunity to take the time to develop her new kind of vibrator.

Earth ponies are not completely exempt from magic usage. In fact, there are some feats only they can perform. For instance, only earth ponies can grow magical fruits, like zap apples and beans, because they have a special connection with the land. For this reason, Hoofbeats decided to look to nature for inspiration for her creation. Pony technology, even thaumic, was leagues away from any sort of portable battery, however she was sure she could find a plant that did the job. She was honestly surprised nopony had researched this yet, but then she remembered the lack of experts in her field. Perhaps, she reasoned, it was not part of normal pony psychology to look to deeply into these things.

A cursory research session uncovered the obvious: all plants move on their own. A search for what she knew as rapid plant movement revealed a few very educational things. First off, squirting cucumbers are a real thing that actually exist (but they’re too small and sensitive to be of any real use). Secondly, nearly everything else in that category was equally useless. She had almost given up to go find a unicorn for help, when she came across an interesting book on vegetative fauna. Perusing it out of sheer curiosity, she came across this quote:

“When a fragment of a timberwolf is broken off, it will vibrate briefly before reassembling itself.”

She considered that timberwolf wood would make a great ingredient to add to her rubber mix if it continued to vibrate when separated from the rest of the body, but Hoofbeats didn’t know for sure if this was a good idea. It seemed very iffy from a moral standpoint.

“While they appear bestial in nature, timberwolves actually possess no brain or central nervous system.”

That settled it! Hoofbeats decided that if she could dismantle a timberwolf and use the pieces in her dildos, she would have the perfect signature product. With that in mind, she began to pack her bags to head out into the woods. She had never hunted before, let alone timberwolves, so she was a little unsure of what to bring, but she had a plan.

First, she used a few belts to create a holster around her waist, into which she slid a sharp axe. She threw her saddlebags on over that, and packed about ten Scootameters of rope. Then she threw in some matches and a can of hairspray, so she could just torch everything in case of an emergency. On her way to the forest, she stopped at a griffon market to pick up her final supply, a couple of fish she could use as bait.

She walked along the path into the dark woods. Once she was sure she was deep enough, she diverged into thicker brush to set up her encampment. Her idea was to build a bear trap like the kind bison would use to protect their tribes in the Old West. She began by digging a hoof-sized hole in the ground and filling it with murky water to conceal its depth. For the next step, she put in two sets of wooden stakes, one set inside the hole and one around the outer edge, planted at an angle such that they would fold in on themselves if pressure was applied. She lay a loop of rope loosely around the top layer of stakes, and tied the other end to a tree. If a timberwolf stepped into the trap, the rope would tighten, and the bonus snare from the wooden stakes would cause it to struggle enough to ensure a tight knot.

She found a nice bush to hide in, and waited…

Author's Note

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NsIojj4PzAo
About a minute in.

Advances in Technodildonics

It was a beautiful day in the commune, as Celestia’s sun rose in the east. Brightray woke up early to get a head start on her weekend chores. She came from a large family, and lots of little children meant lots of work. She let out a yawn and hazily wandered into the kitchen. Her siblings crowded the house, some of them running rampantly. Living in this house her whole life, she hardly even noticed anymore. She didn’t eat breakfast, but some of her brothers and sisters did, so she started on the dishes.

There was a knock at the door. Brightray dried her hooves and went to answer it. When she opened the door, she was shocked to see her pastor, Corn Flake, standing in front of her.

“Oh, hello, sir,” she said, timidly, “Come in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll go get my parents.”

“Actually,” he replied, “I would like to talk to you. Is there a room where we can speak privately?”

Her mind raced as she tried to calculate how many of her recent transgressions had happened outside her own mind. She honestly wasn’t sure. She gulped and led him to the back porch, which was not only a secluded place to talk, but also was an open space which offered her multiple escape routes if things got ugly. She wasn’t sure running away would accomplish anything, but it was a comforting thought nonetheless.

“Now,” said Corn Flake, “let’s talk about your friend Hoofbeats.”

Brightray clenched her jaw.

He continued, “You and she were seen walking together in the farmers’ market the other day. I assume you must be friends from school.”

“We’re acquaintances,” There was no point in denying so little so early on.

“A shame what happened to her, isn’t it? I’d hate for her to lead you down the same path of darkness. However, it does put you in a convenient position to help me with something. You see, Hoofbeats had approached me some time ago regarding a troubling business venture.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” questioned Brightray.

“You must understand, my dear, that as a religious leader it is my duty to protect the community from harmful influences. I believe she could very well become a problem in the near future. I want you to find out what she’s up to and report back to me so we can put a stop to it.”

She responded, “I’m sure it’s benign at the worst. It seems to me that the power of Celestia is enough to withstand the perversions of a single mare.”

Corn Flake feigned a sigh, “Your faith is admirable, but not all of Celestia’s children are so strong. Remove the bad apples, lest they spoil the bunch.”

Brightray nodded in acknowledgement. She knew she must obey the edicts of the church, lest her immortal soul be tainted. She shortly headed off to Hoofbeats’ house to begin her mission.

Back at la casa de kielbasa, Hoofbeats greeted her with a friendly pat on the back.

“I’m glad you came. I’ve got to show you what I picked up.”

She brought something out of her room and passed it over to Brightray.

Brightray was puzzled. “Is this a jawbone? Why is it shaking?”

Hoofbeats answered, “It’s trying to reassemble with the rest of the Timberwolf.”

“What in Tartarus? Why do you have this!?”

“You know how it is, you live by the dick, you die by the dick. The point is, imagine this,” she stared wide-eyed into hers, “but in your vagina.”

Brightray shuddered and dropped the jaw. “That’s disgusting!”

This was met with an apathetic shrug. “Maybe it is now, but I can process this into my merchandise. I’m just thinking it might make a good signature product, and I’ve got some time before my rubber shipment comes in so I’m free to experiment a little. Just remember, anything is a dildo if you’re brave enough.”

Brightray was even more confused. “Why do you need this? Can’t you just get unicorn enchantments?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m just dead tired of the unicorns stealing all our manufacturing jobs. Secondly, this should make a longer lasting product, because the spellforms of equine enchantments are degraded by the flow of the planet’s natural thaumosphere.”

“What?”

Hoofbeats rolled her eyes and spoke slowly, “Unicorn magic wears off. Didn’t they teach you this in school?”

“Actually, my parents signed a waiver saying I didn’t have to take Magical Science because it contradicts the teachings of Celestia,” she recited.

“Well this will last as long as the Timberwolf is alive, which should be several years. My friend, imagine the possibilities with this thing! Help me grind it into sawdust and we can mess around with it together and see what we can make.”

They used a belt sander to grind the wood. They sieved and reprocessed it until it was a fine dust. Carefully, they did their best to collect the shaking powder into a mason jar and sealed the lid. The jar trembled in their hooves, and they wrapped it in a towel and set it aside.

Over the next couple days, the pair worked to process a small amount of rubber and mix the sawdust into it. They found that the mixture would not hold its shape, as the extra ingredient made the material crumbly, with the additional obstacle of the constant shaking. Instead of shaping it by hoof as usual, Hoofbeats made a plaster mold for the toy. She decided a mold would probably be best for all her products from now on, which was a little disappointing. She enjoyed the sculpting the most and it let her give each penis a life of its own through its beautiful little abnormalities. However, for marketing purposes it was important for the product to have uniformity and be quick to make. She comforted herself with the fact that the demand for creative control would keep giving her ideas for new models.

Once the test model was dry, Hoofbeats gently filed away the seam from the mold and smoothed the shaft.

It was an alluring specimen. The surface did not have the same wrinkles and veins that a hoof-molded one would, but the shape was a more minimalist cylinder which was slightly curved, giving it a sleek, futuristic appearance. What would have been the default white rubber had been discolored into a medium brown color, and had almost a particle board look to it. The new material felt firm and hard, more so than the virgin rubber. They could see it shiver with anticipation. Hoofbeats pressed it to her face to feel the dynamic wriggling and buzzing.

“Mmmmm…” she moaned lightly, “That’s some good shit, if I do say so myself.”

She passed it to Brightray, who fondled it between her hooves. She lifted her head and her eyes met her friend’s.

“Now we just need to test it.”

Author's Note

BOOM! New chapter!

Standard Deviation

"I think you should be the one to test it," Hoofbeats said to her friend.

"Me? Are you sure?" Brightray asked, "I don’t know anything about quality or-"

Hoofbeats cut her off. "You deserve it. The past couple of weeks have been stressful, and you've been a good friend to me."

"But, we tried already. It didn't work."

"It'll be ok. I can see you slowly changing and I think you might be ready to open up."

Brightray lowered her voice to a whisper even though there was nopony around. "You mean... open up about the gay stuff?"

"Just sexuality in general. Besides, I recently filed as an LLC, so as long as I'm representing my business interests I'm technically a genderless corporation, and that can't be gay unless I go downtown and start humping the local McPones, and I wouldn't do that because I want to invent adult Happy Meals."

Brightray scoffed at the notion. "You don't just get licensing deals with McPones; not unless you're peddling Szechuan sauce."

"Says who? Big Mac did it, and so did Princess McFlurryheart, both based on their connections. Shit, I don't think either of them even speak. I just have to be up the right asses."

"I feel like this conversation's gone off on a tangent"

"Well, call me your derivative because this tangent's going right up against those curves.”

This was somewhat advanced stuff for their vague and unspecified age group, but Brightray felt a warm tingle inside of her and she realized that it's surprisingly easy to get Pavloved into a calculus fetish. The idea that infinitely minute values could measure a closed area was fascinating. She shook her head and held up the phallus. It seemed to shake more in her hooves than in Hoofbeats'. Perhaps she herself was shaking, but then she thought maybe she was holding it wrong. Maybe a dick needed to be held in just the right way, like a cat.

"Come on, stop cradling it!” Hoofbeats said sharply, "Are we doing this or not?"

"I, uhh..." she fumbled with her grip, and the other mare snatched the vibrator away.

"Just get your flower-flanked ass in the bedroom."

They trotted upstairs and Brightray spread herself on the bed like the world's most awkward starfish. Hoofbeats winced at the sight of her open slit. The pink folds of flesh reminded her of this ham sandwich she saw once in Griffonstone. She wasn't sure if she was more disgusted by the idea of childbirth or lunchmeat, but clearly vaginas were not her preference. Both ponies secretly took comfort in the fact that she was indeed a genderless LLC, so this was totally no homo, bro. She moved some pillows and repositioned herself to make the area more accessible.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Nervous."

"Let's just, uhhh, maybe don't be so stiff. Try to relax."

Brightray untensed a little. She went from looking like a stiff dead pony to a freshly dead pony.

"So, let's not make this complicated. I don't want to get into any fantasies or anything. Let's just make you feel good."

Hoofbeats took the vibrator and pressed it gently against her friend's virgin clit. She winced and pulled back.

"Wait, I wasn't ready." She tensed up again. "Ok, now maybe."

She repeated the action. Brightray retreated again with a squeak.

"Do you want it or not?" she asked.

"Maybe. I don't know. I didn't expect it to feel like that."

"Like this?" She pressed it up against her again.

There was another squeal.

"Yeah! Please don't do that again," she said, as she spread her legs wider and inched closer.

"Wait, I'm getting mixed messages. Do you like it or not?"

"Nooo, dooon't," she answered in a seemingly sarcastic tone.

"Do we need a safe word or something? Are you trying to do a bit right now or is it really too much for you? Because, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not be doing this, and I especially don’t want to get into anything tsundere."

"No, no. Sorry. I'm not play acting. It's just really sensitive and I don't know if I can take it. Like, I really want it to keep going but everytime it touches me it's almost too much."

"Maybe this was a bad idea. I literally don't have a baseline with you. I don't know if the magic is strong or you're just completely untouched."

A voice rang in from the other room, “HAVE YOU TRIED SHOVING IT UP HER ASS!?”

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, MOM, STAY OUT OF THIS!”

Brightray interjected, “What if we just took it slow? Like if you started by just touching it?”

Hoofbeats gritted her teeth and put down the dick. She slowly reached over and started rubbing around the general area without looking at it.

“Wow, that’s… you’re really just not into this, are you?”

“No, I’m into it,” Hoofbeats lied, “I really want to help you.”

“Then why are you a meter away?”

“It’s just… Ok, at this point can we just admit we aren’t sexually compatible? I’ve been half-heartedly trying for your sake, but this is something you will have to just explore on your own.”

Brightray let out a resigned sign, because that which does not fit will not ship. However, that won’t stop two mares from engaging in a little platonic cuddling. Hoofbeats laid next to her and put a friendly hoof around her shoulder. They lay together for a brief while, just feeling each other’s warmth and breathing. After Brightray was asleep, she slipped out of the room to wash off the dildo. It hadn’t been used internally yet, and she was thinking it was acceptable to save it for someone else later. Also, she kind of had to pee.

Author's Note

So, I've decided this is more of a sex comedy and a coming-of-age story than a clopfic, so I made this scene more realistic than sexy. It closely mirrors an experience of my own, actually.

Don't be butthurt; you have lots of erotica options available to you, like this one https://www.fimfiction.net/story/388937/help-me-doctor-dick .

The Morning After

The next morning, Brightray hoofed it over to Corn Flake's office in the Church of the Sun. She rapped on the door timidly.

"Come in," called a voice from within.

She slinked inside, and Corn Flake turned his office chair around to make eye contact with her.]

"Well?" he asked with a glare.

"Well, I've been spending time with Hoofbeats as you requested." She paused for an uncomfortably long period of time.
Corn Flake's impatience began to show on his face.

"And?" He motioned for her to continue.

"Her business is in, um, adult-type toys. You know, the kind used for... self-defilement." She of course knew the correct words by now, but she didn’t want it to show. She still had an untainted record as far as the church was concerned, and she aimed to keep it that way.

"You're sure? You saw them?"

"Yes, sir."

"And did you partake?"

Brightray kept a good chunk of the truth to herself. She had decided beforehand she wouldn't tell him of the timberwolf project, or her own sexual explorations.

"No, sir," she responded, "I only saw her making them."

He raised an eyebrow. "To what end? Is this wickedness self-contained, or does she spread it to other ponies?"

"She intends to sell them. She's to be in a catalogue of some sort. They're showing her toys in September."

He spun his chair away from her to think. The gears turned in his head for a brief couple of minutes before he turned back around.
"My dear, I'm proud of you for rejecting the tempting pleasures of the flesh. I know this must all be difficult for a delicate flower such as yourself. You’re lucky to be educated about Celestia’s gifts of purity. I guess your friend doesn’t have that kind of deterrent in her life. It’s a shame really. She’s destined to fail without it,” he said, planting a seed in Brightray’s mind.

“She couldn't come to our church, could she? I mean, with her cutie mark and all."

Corn Flake grinned. “What an interesting idea. Perhaps I could allow you to bring her just once, or do you think Celestia's grace can't help her now?"

Brightray quietly nodded. A "no" would be heresy.

He continued, "If you truly believe, then it shall be done. Extend an invitation to Ms. Hoofbeats for this Sunday's sermon. I'll make sure we are ready for her."

She met Hoofbeats at school the next day. She was easy to find in the crowded hallway because she was one of the few non-religious kids who wore clothes. Smartass as she was, she sported a sexy schoolgirl uniform. Yesterday, it was a Hawaiian shirt, and she would flash her cutie mark at people and say she was a "tourist trap".

She tapped her shoulder and cleared her throat.

Hoofbeats spun around. Instead of a greeting, she led with, "Holy shit, she wears the bonnet to school."

Brightray blushed and pulled the bonnet tighter on her head, "Stop it. You're wearing clothes."

"Only because I'm required to, but I feel like there's a lawsuit in there somewhere. Do you think that would make for good publicity?"

"I don't know. You've been wearing clothes for weeks now. I think it might be too late to sue."

"A government founded on the threat of wendigos is far more concerned with mandating harmony than the reputation of the public school system, but I see your point. By the time I have the time and money for a lawsuit, the statute of limitations might have run out. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

Brightray redirected the subject, "Anyway, the reason why I sought you out was because I was going to invite you to my church." She handed her friend a pamphlet.

Hoofbeats grimaced. "Ugh. Why?"

She shuffled her feet. She had been deceptive to her family and her church lately, and she could rationalize that with some mental gymnastics, but saving a soul was something she felt had to be done right, so she couldn't disregard the Element of Honesty.

"I spoke to Corn Flake. I told him some stuff. Not all of it, but some. Well, we were concerned about your immortal soul. I think Celestia might send you to Tartarus."

Hoofbeats broke out laughing. "My immortal soul? You realize we're horses, right? And Celestia is also a horse? We're not these godlike ethereal beings that traverse realms. Celestia doesn't condemn ponies. You can't condemn a horse. It's a horse. That's a horse."

"You see unicorns bend the laws of physics every day, yet you deny ponies are above the other animals?"

"We're not the only ones. According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. What I'm saying is that the importance we assign to our own species is nothing more than a circle-jerk."

Ironically, Hoofbeats thought of herself as above other ponies, and she lived in her own kind of echo-chamber by dismissing the viewpoints of others, a condition which affects both the religious and non-religious alike.

"I helped you make that vibrator," Brightray responded, "It's kind of like 'You showed me yours and I'll show you mine.' Besides, I don't think you really have a social life outside of school and it would be nice to see you get out of the house every once in a while."

"What? I totally have a social life. I hang out with the cool kids. Like... they're not popular or anything but they are cool to hang out with because they're passionate about their interests."

"So, nerds?"

"Yeah, I guess that about sums it up. But at least they let me sleep in on the weekend."

"Please, do it for me. Corn Flake doesn't think you can be saved."

Hoofbeats considered herself a wise pony for seeing through such a transparent reverse-psychology lure into a trap. But wise ponies avoid conflict. They cut toxic people out of their lives and move on. In this sense, Hoofbeats was not a wise pony. She was cursed with the insatiable curiosity that plagues the sentient, and liked to stick her nose where it did not belong. On top of that, the idea of having a proper nemesis gave her a heightened sense of grandeur.

"Fine, I'll go," she said, "I suppose it's important to see what I'm up against, in like a cultural sense."
She snatched the pamphlet away and began to walk off.

"You have the address, right?" Brightay called after her.

"It's the mega-church off of Mane Street."

"No, it's the mega-church on Phoenix Street. Not the one by the convenience store but the other one."

"Ok, got it."

Author's Note

I feel like I’ve let this story get away from me. My fanfiction about dildos has become more about religion than it has about dicks, and for that I deeply apologize.

I have portrayed religion as a negative thing, which is a way I feel to some extent, but I want to move away from the bashing while still keeping Corn Flake as the primary villain. I’ve put these two lifestyles at odds with each other, but in the end the moral should not be “religion is bad”, but rather that masturbation, sexual activity, homosexuality, and even being a little deviant, are completely compatible with the existence of a higher being. Also, I don’t want any of the negative parallels to be a blanket statement on all religion, but rather the hypocites and extremists who hurt the image of the group as a whole.

I don’t really want Hoofbeats to be this Mary Sue who teaches a bunch of prudes that her way is the answer. She is a flawed character and I would like to see her grow along with Brightray.

The Sun, Motherbucker, Do You Praise It?

Hoofbeats woke up early Sunday morning. She let out a long yawn and wiped the rheum from her eyes. She was not used to getting up early on a weekend, or a weekday for that matter, but she was secretly excited about the prospect of walking right into Corn Flake’s trap and tearing it apart. She took a small bag, wherein she packed some mints, some reading material if she got bored, and the Timberwolf vibrator, in case of emergency. She wrapped it tightly in fabric, so it would not vibrate through the bag. Then she walked the few blocks to the church.

The giant chapel loomed before her ominously. The enclosed, dark structure didn’t seem reminiscent of the warmth and brightness of the sun at all. The place was bustling with a diverse crowd of ponies from the same race and socioeconomic background. Except for her bag, she wore no clothes to this affair, and openly brandished her dildo mark, which was met with stares. She caught Brightray in the rabble and trotted up next to her.

“Get out of here!” an old lady yelled at her.

“Not too cheery, is it?” she commented.

Brightray replied, “Mrs. Jenkins? Oh, she’s just like that with everyone. Probably can’t even see your cutie mark.”

“Damn millennials,” the woman muttered, even though all the millennials were pushing thirty.

They made their way to a pew near the front with Brightray’s family. A hush fell over the crowd as Corn Flake approached the podium.

“Free Bird!” Hoofbeats almost yelled, but she bit her lip instead.

“Good morning,” he said to the congregation, “Let us open in prayer.” Everypony closed their eyes and bowed their heads except for Hoofbeats.

“Dearest Celestia,” he prayed, “we praise your name this day. Please guide us with your holy sunlight, for we are but poor sinners and we do not know de wae. Shine your light into the darkness. I ask you to please bless this day and keep us safe in the long night. Amen.”

“Amen,” the congregation said in unison. Then they all stood and sang a hymn to Celestia. Unlike normal spontaneous musical numbers, Hoofbeats did not magically know all the words, but she knew that old trick where if you mouth the word “watermelon” repeatedly, it looks like you are singing along.

She noticed that “watermelon” has the same mouth movements as “motherfucker”, but she didn’t switch words because that’s just what they would be expecting.

And now you’re saying “watermelon motherfucker” to yourself.

After the song, once everypony was seated and silent, the sermon had officially begun. Corn Flake cleared his throat.

“Today, I would like to speak to you about the Element of Generosity. Generosity is an act of service toward another which requires a sacrifice. When you give a gift of your time, money, and yourself, you forego your own desires for the good of the many. Then, when you are in need, your good friends will come to your aid and repay your charity.

“But woe be unto they who forego Generosity in favor of their own self-pleasure. This offsets the natural balance of Harmony and those who selfishly please themselves are the agents of Discord!”

“More like dick sword, amirite?” Hoofbeats whispered.

“Shut up,” Brightray mouthed and nudged her.

The sermon continued like this, explaining that a love of the self was the opposite of Generosity and an affront to Celestia. After that spiel, the ushers passed around a collection plate and everypony put some bits in for their weekly tithe. The ponies around Hoofbeats noticed she did not donate and scowled at her. She commented that she had not made any money yet, which generated some judgemental murmurs.

Then with the gusto of a circus ringleader, Corn Flake announced, “And now, brothers and sisters, I would like to take a brief respite from our regular program to introduce somepony. Hoofbeats, would you please stand up?”

Hoofbeats stood up and waved.

“The reason I call attention to this young mare is that she has come to our family as a repentant sinner in need of salvation.”

“Nah, I’m good. Also, not cool to single a pony out like that.”

“Apologies, dear, I assumed you would not mind the attention.”

Brightray feared confrontation and slid down in her seat.

Corn Flake continued, “Tell me, please, do you praise the all-loving benevolence of Celestia?”

“I prefer Luna, actually. I’m a Lunist, a Lunatic?”

“Is that why you reject the light?”

“Uh, no. I get lots of sunlight. Gotta get that Vitamin D. Wink.” She actually said "wink" out loud.

Brightray was completely beneath the pew at this point.

“I am not speaking about literal sunlight. I’m talking about the harmonious light of piety. You lead a life of carnal sin and you wish to spread it to these innocent ponies.”

“As if they aren’t already jacking off.”

“Actually,” Corn Flake motioned to his assembly, “you will see that we are a pure and proud group, which is why it is my duty to inform them of your malicious intent to sell sexual paraphernalia out of our town.”

The crowd gasped. Some ponies clutched their pearls.

He continued, “It was Thomas Equinas who first said that masturbation is a practice opposed to the pattern set for us by nature. We are meant to go forth and multiply. Not doing so taints the conscience of the whole of Equestria.”

Hoofbeats felt powerful, and she imagined her taint consuming the world.

“So this is your plan then?” she asked, “Calling me out in front of everypony? You know what I call that? Free advertising. You don’t seem to understand the level of cognitive dissonance here. Your little followers will nod and agree now, but oh I will get orders.”

However, the looks she received betrayed no disingenuity.

“Why did you bring her here?” one pony shouted, “One bad apple spoils the bunch!”

“She says we’re no better than mere sheep!” said another. Actually, if she were to make a speciesist comment, she would call them asses, because they reminded her of Westburro Baptists.

Ponies crowded around her confrontatively. She backed up slowly but she was surrounded on all sides. A stallion shoved her to the ground. She pulled the dildo out of her bag and started swinging it. She threw it at the crowd. The area cleared and she made her escape through the gap. The toy rolled under the seats and Brightray hastily scooped it up and tucked it in her own bag. Hoofbeats ran home while a crowd of angry ponies shouted at her. Brightray crawled out and scooted toward Corn Flake.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, “I didn’t know she was this far gone.”

The leader replied, “It’s ok, child. It will all work out for the best, just like last time.”

“Last time?”

“Prince Blueblood. He was a sinner too, and we straightened him out. You just need to have faith.”

For Brightray, this was more confusing than comforting. How could the church have shamed Celestia’s own family like they did to Hoofbeats today? She left that day a little less faithful than before.

Author's Note

"Squishy turtles" also has similar lip movements to "watermelon" or "motherfucker". That's been my calming mantra for quite a while now because it has all the right sounds and it works its way from the back of the mouth to the front and it just feels really good to say.
Squishy turtles.

Derpression

Hoofbeats slept in Monday morning because fuck school. Fuck people. Fuck getting up and showering.

She had barricaded her door to prevent anypony from getting in. She could not, however, barricade the ceiling. Suddenly and unexpectedly, a blue-gray pegasus crashed through the thatched straw roof so that half her body protruded into the bedroom. Startled, Hoofbeats jumped out of bed. The pegasus pulled out a clipboard, looked at it with one eye and let her other eye wander around the room. She squinted really hard so that she could read the order.

“I have a delivery for Miss Hoofbeats,” she said.

“Um, yeah, I’m Hoofbeats,” said Hoofbeats.

“Ok, sign here please.” She handed the earth pony the clipboard. “I’ll just bring these crates down to the front.”

“No need,” was the reply, “You can just drop them in here I guess.”

So the mailmare clumsily carried several heavy wooden crates in through the premade hole in the ceiling.

“Sorry it’s a little late,” said the pony, “I know they said your rubber would be delivered by dragon, but I sort of lied on my resume about that.” She frowned. “I’m a bad dragon.”

As she flew off, she threw in one extra comment. “By the way, great cutie mark! I love bananas!”

After she left, she flopped back onto her bed and stared blankly. Even a visit from a canon character was not enough to cheer her up although the tag might rake in those sweet views. She sighed. Being the crafty pony in the family, she would probably have to fix the ceiling and that fourth wall she just broke, and on top of all that she would have to open up all those boxes and process her rubber and make her merchandise. But she already made the effort to talk to someone today, wasn’t that enough?

A cheery stallion flew above her roof. “LOL, Dickbutt!” he said.

She held up a hoof at him in an attempt at some unknown gesture buried deep within her subconscious. He shrugged and flew off.

She couldn’t understand what it was exactly that upset her so much about yesterday. It went exactly as she expected, and she had stood her ground. She should feel satisfied but instead she felt all gloomy and nauseous. Perhaps it was the confirmation that she was really alone in this town. (Plus her family but they don’t count.) Maybe it was the stress of knowing that now she was a social outcast and she’d still have to try to run a public business.

She did some quick math in her head. She had to make 500 dildos in ten months. That’s fifty a month, about two a day, plus school. She shook her head. “It just can’t be done,” she thought, “Not if I have to get out of bed.”

Five hours later, the need to go to the bathroom overrode the desire to stay in bed all day. She rolled out of bed and essentially melted down the stairs. She went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. There was a knock at the door and she heard her mom’s voice.

“Honey, are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” she replied shortly.

“So you’re going back to school tomorrow, right?”

Hoofbeats groaned. Her mom continued, “You don’t really care what those ponies think, do you?”

“I wouldn’t if they weren’t the only other ponies around here.” She washed her hooves and stepped out. “Not only that,” she continued, “but I can’t match expected production in under a year.”

“You just work after school and weekends and you will have extra work time during the summer. You can’t just give up without even trying.”

“Can’t I just drop out of school?”

“No, you can’t put all your hope into a business that hasn’t sold anything yet. I support you but you need a backup plan.”

Her heart sank. Ponies had a relatively high dropout rate, since there really is no need for generalized education after receiving your cutie mark. Words like that were usually reserved for garage band musicians and hoofball players. Ponies with dumb, childish dreams that Hoofbeats always looked down on. She began to realize that “dildo maverick” was probably also not a viable career option. She shook those thoughts out of her head and stomped upstairs.

She thought it might actually be therapeutic to get some work done, to feel the soft rubber, to let her hooves sculpt and immerse herself in her work. Then she remembered that the rubber had to be processed first, so she just stared angrily at the crates for a few minutes.

Eventually, she sighed and decided to turn on autopilot and just get the damn job done. She mixed and measured a few liters of the raw latex rubber and laid it out to dry on the roof. She sat there for a minute in the sun and considered maybe not fixing the roof and just having her own personal skylight. But she probably couldn’t bribe the entire weather team with sex because of the disproportionate female to male ratio in Equestria.

She got hungry and tried to eat part of the roof, but it tasted like roof. So she went down to the kitchen and ate an entire head of cabbage.

“Roof’s broke,” she said to her mom.

“Can you fix it?” was the reply.

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna.”

The rest of the day just kind of droned on like that. Hoofbeats processed a little bit more rubber, but other than that, it was just a depressing episode. Little did she know how helpful yesterday had actually been to her cause.

Author's Note

Alternate names considered for this chapter were "I Ship It" and "Oh, Doctor, Please Derp, Derp, Derper".

D-d-d-d-d-d-derper

Two Stallions, and a Train

Brightray did not sleep well that night. She tossed and turned constantly in her bed. A rift had been created, not just in her friendship but in her faith as well. She wasn't too concerned about how Hoofbeats was treated. No, that was pretty par for the course. It's funny how expert apologists can reconcile the most blatant conflicts and contradictions, but are blindsided by peripheral issues, which is why her thoughts kept returning to one nagging question:
What happened to Prince Blueblood?

She wanted to feel like it was irrelevant, that she could just take Corn Flake's word at face value, but the details didn't add up. Blueblood was a royal pony. What could the church have known about him that Celestia didn't, and wouldn't she correct his course herself if there was an issue?

Something is wrong.

She picked up a quill and began to write:
"Dear Princess Ce Blueblood,"
she wrote before immediately throwing the paper away. Even if it weren't for her garish hoofwriting and misdesignation, she was certain the Prince probably didn't read his own mail or respond to it, especially from mystery teenagers asking personal questions. She weighed her options and decided this merited a face-to-face conversation. A trip to Canterlot would take a full day and she didn't know how to find him or gain his private audience, but her faith was in crisis and her mind was made up. She threw a few essentials into her saddlebag, got dressed, and snuck out of the house, boarding the first available train to Canterlot.

The Friendship Express doesn't have very many stops except in large cities, so it was a pretty long walk to the train station. Equestria doesn't really have good funding for public transit because everyone is literally a horse, and the ruling class can teleport. That is why the train is usually filled only with the most desperate lower-class ponies that can't afford to live where they work, which unfortunately happens to also correlate with a higher probability of mental illness and a lower probability of attractiveness. You wouldn't expect ponies to ever be Florida bus-level creepy, but socioeconomic complications happen even on a train shaped like cupcakes. In fact, I think that's where clowns come from. Brightray of course didn't know any of this and allowed herself to make eye contact with some of the more rebarbative train lurkers. An old man started jacking off and nopony was fazed or even surprised. A chill went across her spine and every moment on the train made her a little more lesbian.

Eventually, the city of Canterlot loomed ahead, and its magical aura almost overpowered the scent of tobacco. The nervous little pony disembarked and took in her environment. The erect spires of the castle towered over the skyline. The gilded buildings reflected the sunlight, making the city seem to glow. Royal guards patrolled the streets and high-class ponies in elaborate fashions made Brightray feel out of place in her plain dress and bonnet.

She plodded in the direction of the castle. She was unsure of where she could find the Prince and she had a small-town high schooler's knowledge of the actual breadth of any real center of commerce, but while the statistics of equine poverty held true on the train, they are nothing compared to the powers of narrative causality.

With that bit of lampshading out of the way, Brightray saw a crowd of posh-looking ponies filing into a fancy building. Their outfits were bedazzled with grotesquely gaudy rhinestones, as was in fashion for the excessively rich. She figured she might not find Blueblood in there, but definitely somepony who knows him.

As she wandered from one pony to the next, she was approached by a unicorn stallion with a coat that could be called brown by a layman, but which a professional would recognize as moderate gamboge.

"My heavens!" he declared, "Just look at you! That dress, that bonnet, organic cotton! It's so rustically vintage that I could almost mistake it for authentic. Who is the designer?"

She shuffled her feet and replied, "Actually, I made this myself."

He held his front hooves up to his cheeks in a squee and he continued, "How did you get it to rustle like that while standing still? It's like a summer breeze follows you wherever you go."

"What? I didn't..." She looked behind her and indeed her skirt was fluttering as if there was a little wind. "How is...? Oh right, I forgot I still had this in here." She reached into her bag and pulled out a wrapped object.

The stallion raised an eyebrow and asked, "What is that?"

"It's nothing."

"Please, I do insist," he said, taking it with his unicorn magic. He unwrapped it and what he saw was the exquisitely carved wooden vibrator, smooth and sleek and full of energy.

"Oh my!" the stallion exclaimed, "It's been polished to perfection. I've never seen this kind of quality before!"

Brightray rolled her eyes. There was an opportunity here, but once again her problems became more about Hoofbeats than herself. "Yes," she groaned, "My friend makes these. She's taking preorders."

He did the squee face a second time. "I simply must have one!" The mare saw her opening and took it.

"I can give you her information if you can introduce me to Prince Blueblood."

He curled his lip. "So, all unicorns must know each other, huh? Is that how it is?"

"I just thought I'd ask," she muttered.

His sneer turned into a smile and he jabbed her with his elbow. "Ha! I'm just kidding! Of course I know him. I'm fucking famous."

Brightray felt embarrassed for not knowing who he was and she felt bad for asking, but she did anyway. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Trenderhoof, fashion journalist. Call me Trend."

They shook hooves and he continued, "Now come on. I'll get you into the show so you can talk to Blueblood."
He escorted her to the front of the line and the bouncer waved them in. Inside, was a glitzy catwalk with models showing off the very latest in fashion bullshit. The Prince had a front row seat from whence to silently judge them.

She slowly approached the Prince. He turned to her with his nose up and stated, "I know that garb. You're one of those religious freaks. You don't belong here." He grinned slyly, as if he'd been waiting to throw that back in someone's face for a long time.

"That's why I'm here actually," she replied.

"I already told you people, I'm not going to your conversion camp, and quit mailing those pamphlets to the castle. Rockhoof is getting weird ideas."

Trenderhoof showed him the vibrator. "She brought this as a peace offering, it would seem," he said.

Brightray explained, "Yeah, this isn't exactly a sanctioned visit."

"Yes, I know of these trinkets," the Prince said, taking it into his hooves. "A unicorn can only put so much life into one thing, especially if they mass produce it. I guarantee it will wear out within a week."

"No, no," she said. "No unicorns involved actually. An Earth pony made this. It's made from magical wood and I think it's still technically alive or something." She lifted her skirt to reveal her sunflower cutie mark. "I might just be a quaint country girl, but you can see I know my way around a plant."

Blueblood lifted an eyebrow.

She continued, "I'll let you have it, if you just tell me what happened."

He took a long sip from his drink and began, "You're a pathetic little thing and my time is valuable, but I suppose one of these would be worth it. Years ago, I lived around that area. It was a nice, quiet town until the church took over. Word got out that I was gay and -"

"Wait, you're gay!?"

"I... are you fucking serious right now?" he broke his royal composure, "Just sit down and listen. Damn. Anyway, word got around and Cornhole or whatever didn't like that at all. He said it was something about family values, like his single ass would know anything about that. He tried to convert me, but I didn't budge, so he wound up blackmailing me into leaving town. I bet he's pretty smug after that one."

"If everyone knew you were gay, how did he blackmail you?"

"Well, it wouldn't have worked as blackmail if it was something I was willing to share. There are many sins out there, trust me." He winked.

She was a little disappointed, but mostly satisfied with the answer.

"I'm... I'm gay," she stuttered, "I like vagina."

"Hmmmm..." he scratched his chin, "Gross. Have you smelled that shit? It's like peasant food almost."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Oh, like you would know. I will take this and be gone with you."

He clapped his hooves and a couple of large guards escorted Brightray from the building. She wasn't entirely sure what to take away from this experience.

The train was emptier on the way home and she had some time to reflect on what was said. Having been raised in a secluded area with a homogeneous population of straight ponies had led her to believe that it was normal and ideal to reject alternative lifestyles, lest they tear the fabric of civilized society, but maybe, just maybe, Equestria was hella gay.

Author's Note

I'm not dead, y'all.

I know the world is going crazy right now, with abortion rights being taken away in the states, and we're winding down from the impeachment, and we're all in quarantine for the COVID-19, but guys, I had to ride a bus.

It's Going Down; I'm Yelling Timber

We shift our focus now back to the commune. In the largest estate in the middle of town lived Corn Flake. He was pacing the empty halls convincing himself Sunday wasn't a disaster, muttering quietly, lonesomely. It could be said that he believed the things he preached, but on some deep level he knew there was a truth to what Hoofbeats said about cognitive dissonance.

He looked out on the tiny universe he had created. Ponies dressed in modest garments trod the clean streets, surrounded by monogamous straight friends with average nuclear families, not a single nightclub or muffin factory in sight. No temptation, no indecency, no delinquency. It was perfect. He knew it was manipulative, but were they not happier this way? Was the godhood of Celestia a lie? Maybe, but he wanted it to be true and that was enough. If the whole world could just be like this then maybe they could return to a simpler time, when relationships had value, when mares and stallions cared enough to make it work. Truly allowing ponies to make their own decisions would be the end of society as we know it.

Suddenly, he heard something that sounded like the snorting of a pug, if that pug was snorting underwater and the water was actually sulfur hexafluoride. It's not the best simile, but I stand by it. He turned his head to see a wooden figure stumbling across his lawn. It was a Timberwolf! He had never seen a Timberwolf this far into town before. They were usually skittish around ponies, unless somepony had been feeding them. This one, however, was injured. It was missing its lower jaw and shaking uncontrollably. It lowered its head to the ground to attempt to pick up a scent, while its tongue lolled out of its gaping maw and dragged on the ground behind its nose.

“Well,” thought Corn Flake, “This is certainly more interesting than self-reflection.”

He followed it, keeping his distance so it wouldn't see him, as it sniff-licked around town. Ponies hid inside their houses as it approached, but it wasn't interested in them. It was searching for something specific. It led him out of the gates of the commune and into the neighboring suburbs. It stopped in front of a two-story house with a damaged roof, not that the roof was a distinguishing feature; that happened often. Its ears straightened and it threw its head back in a howl, which came out as a scratchy gargle.

Hoofbeats was once again trying to pound out a violent orgasm, with a bigger shlong this time, when she heard the disgusting noise. She rolled over and kept going and tried to ignore it, but it happened again.

"Hey, shut up!" she yelled. It did not. Finally she stuck her head out of the roof to see what was going on.

A Timberwolf! The same Timberwolf! This was actually quite a fortuitous circumstance for her, because she needed more magical wood since she lost her masterpiece.

However, this pissed her off immensely. It wasn't enough that her session had been interrupted; it had to be something she was pretty much obligated to address immediately. She let out a loud, angry groan, slung her giant dildo over her shoulder, and went outside.

High on adrenaline and revenge fantasy, she faced the beast directly and shouted, "You want some more of this, you asshole? Well, I'll show you what I do with assholes!" She brandished the still-dripping cock and gave it a hard smack against the face. It recoiled and snarled the best it could. It lunged at her and she gave it another swift blow, to the ribs this time. It was much easier now that it had been weakened from their last confrontation, and it was still shaking, as it was still trying to reconnect with its missing piece.

She dashed a few Lunameters away toward her backyard, where she kept her tree harvesting equipment. It followed her and she led it to the glass mason jars she had been using for raw latex sap.

"Come at me!" she urged

It pounced, but she dodged and gave it a swift buck with her hindlegs, which dislodged some twigs.

"Bingo!" She quickly jarred the vibrating pieces before they could attach themselves back into the animal's chest. She held her weapon high and whacked it in the back, sending much of the ribcage clattering to the ground. She scooped those up in mason jars as well.

The wolf cowered before her and tried to turn tail and run, but it was far too valuable a resource for Hoofbeats to let escape. She savagely slammed the blunt testicle end of the dong into the creature's spine. It yelped and she scooped up some loose vertebrae. Another buck fully severed the back end from the front, and she was at last in the right position to knock its head clean off. She stomped on the remaining torso and limbs to pulverize them and store the small chunks individually.

Finally, she picked up the wolf's head and it whimpered at her. She had a suspicion that if she killed the head then the rest would stop shaking, and she didn't want that, so she buried it in the soil with its snout sticking out. She figured maybe with water, sunlight, and perhaps raw meat, she could keep it alive and grow her own personal supply of Timberwood, maybe even Timberpups.

She paused. Was she really going to become the kind of pony who grinds puppies into luxury sex toys? No, no, she wouldn't go that far, even if they were just plants. After all, she was the hero of her own story, and therefore morally superior and could do nothing wrong. She thought of this as she carried the jars of severed animal parts and penis mace up to the processing chamber.

Author's Note

I wanted to create a moral gray area here. Hoofbeats is the “hero” but she isn’t perfect. Also, I wanted to raise the danger factor here. Those of you who know me personally know that I have never once written a story where the protagonist survives at the end. This is just a fun pony story so I might not do that, but maybe I might. There have to be stakes. If you know the good guys always win then you won’t have any real concern for the character. Like, was I really supposed to mourn for everyone at the end of Infinity War? Yes, because I like sad endings and I pretend Endgame never happened.

(P.S. I love comments, even more than upvotes.)

Head?

Corn Flake held his hooves over his mouth for a long time. He could not believe what he just saw. Hoofbeats had literally just beaten a Timberwolf to death with a giant dick. No, not to death. It was alive and in pieces waiting to be processed into more giant dicks. For the first time, he was genuinely afraid of her. This went beyond his need for power and his hero complex about keeping the town pure. Hoofbeats could now be an honest-to-Celestia threat. If she was willing to subject some poor animal to this torture, what would she do to a pony?

He crept over to where she had buried the head. He dug it up and grabbed it in his forehooves. It snarled at him and he lept back and nearly shit himself. He was already on edge from being in this psychopath’s backyard and a jump scare didn’t help any. The stallion regained his composure and picked up the head.

He carried it back to his own house and reburied it in his own yard. He didn’t know what Hoofbeats had in mind for the Timberwolf’s head, but it couldn’t be good. He at least knew that he would give it the care it needed. It was all he could do for the poor creature.

He was in quite the bind over what to do next. If he just started telling people directly what Hoofbeats had beaten, he would sound crazy and his smear campaign would become apparent. If he showed people the Timberwolf head he was keeping, well that might be even worse. There also really wasn’t a police presence in this town because it was a cult. Technically, there was a department he could report this to because the Church of the Sun compound and the surrounding township were within the jurisdiction of Everfree County, but it’s prudent for Earth ponies to keep the cops (who are mostly unicorns and pegasi) out of their business, lest they wind up with seven warning shots in the back.

Corn Flake gritted his teeth and stomped his hoof. “You’re really doing this?” he muttered, “You’re really going to make me have to do actual heroics?” He stared into the wolf’s sad, shivering eyes poking out of the ground. “This has gone too far.”

A couple hours later, that afternoon, Hoofbeats noticed the Timberwolf’s head was missing. She picked up a jar of its ligneous ossein (or lumber lumbar, however you want to say it) and watched it shake itself to one direction. When she turned the jar, it moved again back to the same direction. Wherever the head had gone, it was trackable.

Using her makeshift compass, she made her way across town and into the commune, to a grand manor.

“Of. Fucking. Course,” she thought.

She pounded on the door. Corn Flake opened it slightly ajar and peeked out.

“Give me head,” she said, “I’m fully aware of the phrasing there and it was intentional and I’m not changing it. Now give me head.”

He closed the door in her face. This was not a time for sass. Here outside his door was a bonafide practitioner of dark magic. The games were over. Shit’s getting real, dawg.

It was around that time that Brightray returned to town from the train station to see this exchange. Hoofbeats was pacing around and yelling angrily in Corn Flake’s front lawn, spewing vile threats and profanities that to this day still give night terrors to the defenseless lawn flamingos.

Just as she was threatening that Corn Flake would “find his family with a Geiger counter,” Brightray grabbed her and held her still.

“Hey hey,” she said quietly, “Breathe. Calm down. There’s no need to scare ponies. I can’t let you go off the deep end and start a civil war here. We can resolve this. Tell me what happened”

Hoofbeats stammered, “He took- he took the Timberwolf head.”

“The what now?”

“The head. To the Timberwolf. I need it alive so the rest of the wood keeps vibrating. Don’t let him kill it. Don’t- don’t…”

“This is insane and I want no part in it,” Brightray said, “but I’ll talk to him for you.”

“Really?” Hoofbeats sobbed.

“Tomorrow. Right now, go home. By Celestia, this is stupid. Go home.”

Hoofbeats stomped off and kicked Corn Flake’s lawn ornaments on the way. Brightray waved at him and he squinted suspiciously through the window. Ian Flamingo never walked again.

Dying for Dick

Hoofbeats pushed the fish in front of the trap and crouched low in the bushes. Then came the wait. She watched patiently, rooted to the spot, one hour then the next, until night fell. Still she held her position, now alone in the dark.

Suddenly, a rustle!

Her ears perked up and her eyes transfixed on the trap. She leaned in with anticipation and gripped the axe at her waist. Then, her eyes widened when she heard the sound again and realized it was coming not from in front of her, but from behind. A cold breath ran down the back of her neck, and she spun around to find herself face-to-face with a pair of snarling jaws.

She swung at it, and the Timberwolf caught her axe by the handle in its mouth. She pulled against it, and the beast's mandible snapped, its lower jaw falling to the ground. The wolf recoiled, and Hoofbeats took the opportunity and pounced on the jaw bone. She could feel it begin to shudder beneath her body in an attempt to return to its rightful owner. The animal slashed at her and she leapt backwards, still gripping her wood. She managed to dodge the claw, but her hoof slipped into the trap and the rope pulled taut.

She knew that struggling would only worsen the situation, so she did her best to stay calm. The wolf crept towards her, its dripping tongue dangling from its exposed throat. Hoofbeats was too stubborn to release its jaw (the dream of tantalizing vibration for every groin was too delicious to let go), so she stuffed it into her saddlebag and buckled it tightly. The jaw continued to shake in her bag and made her whole body tremble. The wolf leapt at her and sunk its upper teeth into her flank. She bucked at it as hard as she could with her free hind leg. It flew backwards and hit its head against the tree. While it was still dazed, she quickly untied the rope and pulled her hoof out of the trap. It stumbled towards her and she bucked it again in the face.

She turned and ran, the bag shaking her every step. She made a mad dash through the forest worthy of a track star with Parkinson's. The wolf followed close behind and was quickly gaining ground. Hoofbeats made a sharp right turn. The wolf continued forward and had to stop and turn around in order to adjust its course. Timberwolves are swift and fierce predators, but, being plants, they aren't very bright. This put a little more distance between it and Hoofbeats. She continued running in a wide serpentine pattern, until she finally saw the light of civilization peeking in through the trees. She made a beeline for it, as fast as she could. She had to make it. She would not allow herself to die in the woods. Faster and faster she ran, until she finally crossed the threshold into town. The wolf followed, but it stopped short at the treeline. Hoofbeats panted and looked back at the wolf. It growled and backed off into the forest. She let out a sigh of relief that she and her prize were safe.