Author's Note
...I really hate Spike.
Nope, that's all.
Wait, I can Eggsplain!
After an hour of foraging through the woods, after an hour of digging through volcanic stone and ash, it’s finally breakfast time. With a trembling hand, you raise the deep purple-red egg above the frying pan, loving how warm and inviting it feels in your palms. Twilight may live in a library, but you’re glad she has a kitchen too, otherwise living here would be a nightmare of raw veggies and vegan bullshit. These…these beauties are anything by vegan. They’re big, bigger than an ostrich egg or any eggs you’ve ever seen personally, and always some delectable color like blue with orange spots or pink or bright yellow. And you’ve come to find that they’re the most delicious things you’ve ever tasted.
You know it’s wrong, considering who you live with, but damn it you can’t help yourself anymore. After months of choking down lemongrass and daisy sandwiches, your carnivore brain has started to rage against the rest of you, and you’ve found yourself eyeing pony flanks with intents other than romantic lust. You recognize where the different cuts of meat would be, where a good T-bone would come from. Your mouth waters as you watch sometimes, and Rainbow Dash didn’t hesitate to slap you as you eyed the supple rump of her pretty little date only a few days ago.
This isn’t meat, sure, but it’s close. What’s more, and maybe worse, is that you know most of these are probably fertile eggs. So there could be a little meat in them after all. In the end, you know you’ll keep searching for them, cooking them, and wolfing them down. To keep yourself sane.
Even if they are dragon eggs.
You’ve just cracked the gooey center into the pan and begun adding bits of peppers and onions, when the door flies open. Smiling, with Spike poised and giggling like a schoolgirl on her back, in walks Twilight Sparkle. You feel color drain from your face as a few morsels of onion tumble out of your fingers onto her kitchen floor. What is she doing here? She was supposed to be out with Pinkie and the Cakes for another few hours! You thought you had time. You’re not prepared for this. You freeze, unable to speak or move as she comes closer to you, chirping a pleasant greeting.
“Good morning Anon, nice to see you up and about so early. What are you-“
She stops in place as she sees your expression. Her face sours as she looks down into the pan, then spots the still visible shell of the egg sitting near your elbow on the table. The pan continues to sizzle as she looks from you, to the shell, then the omelet over and over again. Spike too has caught on that something is amiss, but his little dragon brain hasn’t caught up with Twilight yet. He glances at the pan, then at his pony mistress in bewilderment.
“Twilight?” he asks, voice uncertain.
“Spike,” she says coldly. Each word is its own pointed sentence. “Go upstairs. Stay there till I come get you.”
“But-“
“Now.”
Spike sighs, not happy to be left out of whatever is going on, and trudges up the stairs to the bedroom. There’s a click of the door, and in a whirlwind, Twilight descends on you with eyes narrowed and voice growling.
“Anon, what in the world are you doing!?”
“I’m sorry!” you blurt out, stepping back from the charging, yelling pony.
“Dragon eggs? I know food here isn’t like the stuff you had back home, but really? DRAGON EGGS!?”
“I’m sorry!” you say again.
There doesn’t seem to be anything else to say right now. Your back hits the wall of the kitchen and there’s a clatter as pots and pans fall off of hooks onto the ground. Twilight closes the distance between you and pushes her hooves into your shoulders, pinning you there. She brings her face very close to yours, and you can see the anger in her eyes, her flushed cheeks. The pressure on your shoulders is nearly painful now.
God damn it, not now boner.
You swallow hard and force yourself not to think about how in any other circumstance this would be pretty hot. But no, being killed by a sparkly purple horse isn’t hot. And that may well happen right now.
“Explain yourself,” she hisses into your face, her breath smelling inexplicably and intoxicatingly like lilacs.
You search for words and find none. Through it all, you can smell the intoxicating aroma of your omelet being almost finished on the stove. It’s all too much, and you break.
“I’m sorry Twilight!,” you cry. “But they’re delicious! I wasn’t meant to just eat grass and hay and shit, I was meant to have meat and eggs and…protein!”
She steps back with a little gasp, a look of distaste on her face. You continue to ramble on, unable to stop yourself.
“I had one once and now I can’t get enough! They’re seriously the best food ever in the history of everything. I can’t stop, I won’t, you can’t make me! You’d understand if only you tried some!”
The thought dawns on you like a ray of hope. You stop wailing and focus your gaze on Twilight. She suddenly looks nauseated and pale at your words, and now she’s the one to take a step back as you come towards her. You turn off the heat on the stove and grab a fork from the counter. With a loving hand, you scoop out one bite of seasoned, steaming egg and approach Twilight.
“Anon…what are you doing?”
“Just one bite, then you’ll understand.”
“What?!”
“Just one, that’s all I ask.”
“Anon no!”
“I promise Twilight, it’ll all make sense soon.”
With a sudden lunge you leap out and catch the pony’s tail as she turns to gallop away. She shrieks and turns to look at you with fear and confusion in her eyes. You leap again, catching her around the neck and tackling her to the floor. You don’t have much time, her horn is starting to glow purple and she’ll magically vanish from your grasp soon. As she opens her mouth to scream again, you forcefully shove the bite of egg into her mouth then clamp her muzzle shut with both hands, using your bodyweight to hold the rest of her down.
Again, you tell your boner to be quiet. Damn you for having power exchange fetishes…though maybe you’ll be able to convince her to try this later with more intent? Stop, force-feeding now, power exchange later.
Wait, force-feeding isn’t your fetish right? …is it? God damn it boner, why…
Twilight screams internally and thrashes a moment as you keep her mouth forced shut, but then goes utterly still. You look down into her face and watch as her eyes dilate till most of the whites are gone. She swallows and a shudder runs all the way down her body.
“Twilight?” you ask hesitantly as you release her nose.
She twitches and opens her mouth, panting. My god, you’ve broken her. But no, she’s trying to say something. You lean close as her mouth works, trying to catch the sounds she’s making.
“E…egggggs…” she hisses.
“What?”
“EGGGGGGSSSSSS!”
The shriek is so loud that it nearly bursts your eardrums. In a flash she leaps up, knocking you over, and bolts to the frying pan. With a crazed laugh she plunges her head down into it, singeing her fur on the still-hot metal.
She…she likes it? No, she loves it! You knew it, dragon eggs are irresistible! No one can hate them, no matter where they come from! A grin of relief washes over you.
“Hey, leave some for me!” you cry as you scramble back into the kitchen.
Twilight begins forcefully shoving eggs into her own mouth, then into yours. You feel the gooshy fluffiness of the eggs rippling over your gums, down your throat. You swallow hard as she shoves another bite into your mouth, flecks of it dotting her cheeks and yours. She moans mid bite and crams some egg into her own salavating mouth at the same time she rams another into yours. You feel yourself moan too as you lick at her hoof thankfully, gulping it all down.
...well damn it, looks like force-feeding really is your fetish now.
——
An hour later the two of you lie on the floor, bits of omelet still flecking your mouths and chins. Twilight burps contentedly and you sigh out an eggy breath. Sexual afterglow was never like this before, and you're not even a little sorry. You pat one of her wonderful, generous hooves lovingly.
“Twi?” you say dreamily.
“Hm?”
“I told you you’d understand.”
She nods, chuckling to herself.
“Yeah, I get it,” she murmurs. “Eggs are the greatest food ever in all of Equestria, and it’s so wrong but I just don’t care anymore. Now you just need to take it one step further.”
You don’t like the way she cackles after that sentence. One step further? What could she mean by that? You shake your head at her quizzically.
“Well,” she says slowly, a wild grin slowly spreading on her face. “Dragon eggs are fertilized when we get them, right?”
“Right.”
“So these are really just the smallest form of baby dragons, right?”
“R-right?”
“So…” she chuckles as she rises to her feet. Her eyes have become dilated again with the hunger, and you see a twitch in her face and shoulder. “Logic dictates that baby dragons probably taste even better once they’ve hatched.”
Wat. No...she isn't saying what you think she's saying. It couldn't be.
“Twilight, you don’t mean…”
But with a laugh she’s already bolting towards the stairs. You clamber to your feet, the egg weighing heavy in your stomach, and rush after her.
“Wait!” you scream.
“Oh Spiiiike,” she calls out in a sing-song voice. “My little helpeeeer…I need to talk to yooooou.”
You see her almost skipping as she enters the bedroom. Before you can go in, the door slams in a glitter of magical purple behind her. You slam your fist on the door as you hear a deranged laugh from inside, then the clatter of furniture and a tiny plaintive shriek.
You sink down against the door, clasping your face in your hands. What have you done? This isn’t what you wanted, all you wanted was breakfast! There’s another scrabble of movement from inside. You pound a fist lamely on the door again, knowing there’s nothing you can do. Suddenly, the egg taste in your mouth is the worst thing you’ve ever experienced. You shudder as another scream echoes from the bedroom.
Then there’s a silence. A terrible, endless silence.
You can’t muffle a sob as you realize this is all your fault. You gag, your breakfast threatening to rise and pour out of your traitorous carnivorous body, and you hold your stomach with both arms, sinking down against the wall with back heaving.
“Don’t cry Anon,” you hear Twilight call out urgently from inside. "Everything's ok."
For a moment, you feel a spark of hope. Maybe you didn’t hear what you thought you did. Maybe it’s just The Itis making you see things and hear things. You look up towards the door and chance a hopeful smile. It opens a crack and you see one dilated eye press to the opening.
Your smile falls. A small spatter of blood arcs below on the cheek in a sweeping, small-claw-print smear. Your stomach tightens, and the acid rises.
"I won't keep it all to myself," she says. "After all, friends share, right?”
It feels like you vomit forever.
-End-
