Hunting Season

While Hopper was boning up on Twilight's plans, other forces were moving. The wild stars of the night, disobedient to Celestia whenever they could over the thousand years of Luna's banishment, had done more than just aid her escape. They had served to guide other things to the globe of Epona, and if some had had to go beyond the borders of Equestria to evade detection, it meant they had longer to grow, and thrive, and plan.

The Badlands aren't unclaimed territory. Not per se. Dragons roam here at some points in their migration, and the older wyrms that have no time or patience for their fellows. The phoenixes roam, combust, and play practical jokes. There are other groups, ranging from outlaws to long term natives, and even researchers.

To the west, especially north of the Macintosh Hills, the nearly decade-old alliance between the buffalo and the settlers under the penumbra of the Apple Clan meant that you couldn't really call the area badlands, but neither was it truly the open desert territory further west. As trust and trade had developed, the semi-nomadic buffalo had gradually invited ponies, primarily earth ponies, to their own hidden longer term settlements. The magic of the two melded well for much the same reason it had clashed harshly before: strength met strength.

Diplomacy had flourished. The ambassadorship to the buffalo became a post for the ambitious and the competent, not those who had proven too useful to throw away but who had stepped on the wrong toes. The aristocracy viewed it as a diversion for aggressive earth ponies on the one hand, and the princesses viewed it as an important outreach; Celestia and Luna, in particular, as an apology for the millennia-old flight of renegades from the Unification responsible for pony presence in buffalo land in the first place.

The only princess who was not overly fond of the southern treaty was Princess Pinkie, and to be fair, there were several clauses in the treaty that "forbade the Pink One, Holder of Laughter, from unleashing her Dread Entertainments" below certain borderlines, save by dual invitation of the Appleloosan provincial government and the chief of the tribe whose territory abutted and absorbed said province. Nonetheless, sufficient joy and celebration were present that she was more likely to sulk, and demand to be "topped and told she was a pretty, pretty pony" by her fellow Elements.

The buffalo themselves seemed to primarily be interested in a slow upgrade of their way of life. With Princess Applejack personally verifying the honest interactions of the border, the buffalo felt they could rapidly proceed with full-on terraforming efforts-- as fast as their own reclusive deity would permit. Of course, Applejack also spent time near the border slapping down several of her aunts and cousins trying to "assist" Sheriff-Governor Silverstar as the province became profitable, but clan politics are clan politics.

One of the resulting slaps had knocked several of the less amenable and more aggressive Apples to the eastern parts of the Macintosh Hills, on the borders of the true Badlands. Part of the cooperation between Equestria and the Buffalo Federation required mutual defense against some of the nastier entities in the area -- southern changeling hives, draconic incursions, quasisprites, and older, fouler things than any save the dragons. Part of that mutual defense was Fort Hoofton; in fact, it was a key part.

Fort Hoofton was a symbol of Equestrian unity in harmony with their buffalo allies. Four artifacts -- a special blanket woven to commemorate the first defense of the border by allied forces by the buffalos' mystics, a preserved branch, perpetually in bloom, of the first apple tree and blessed by Granny Smith and Princess Applejack as the tribe's premiere elders, one of Commander Hurricane's spears (believed to be the one symbolizing his victory over the Southern Wind), and a fifteen foot tall obelisk enchanted by Archmage Starlight Glimmer -- anchored the magical defenses and warning wards of the border. While purely physical threats could cross with sufficient force, no one could cross the border with hostile intent and remain unnoticed. Changeling shapeshifting, the illusions of the quasisprites -- such deceptions were stripped away. Similar defenses had been keyed into the artifacts along the years since the founding of Fort Hoofton as newer and stranger threats crawled across the border.

When Applejack had finally become sufficiently tired of her aunts' shenanigans, she'd snapped them and their henchmares up under Clan law and seconded them to the local commander of the Guard. A forceful, no-nonsense unicorn, Commander Crystal Grape was used to dealing with earth pony nipping and shoving. Her own paternal aunts were earth ponies, after all, and she had grown up watching her mother having to practice the fine arts of both verbal and physical aikido during family reunions.

A few rotations later, most of the aunts had gone home. One of the few remaining family groups was attached to Lieutenant Spartan Apple, a mostly laconic hyper mare with a bad temper, who was in a small herd with her cousin Jonagold and their stallion, a unicorn by the name of Gilt Flint. Spartan remained not merely because she had been a member of the Guard prior to Applejack's sweep, and had managed promotion at Fort Hoofton, but had come to believe in the message of unity herself. After all, she'd married a pair of outsiders.

Jonagold "Apple" (who at the time was mimicking a unicorn named Iron Bit) and Gilt Flint had told Spartan when she'd found them in a forest, starving, that they were a pair of changeling renegades. A rare caste of infiltrators with more independence than your average drone, they had explained to Spartan that they had been two of the few of their caste to survive the Canterlot Barrier Blast, and had taken the chance to use stolen bits of unicorn lore to sever their connection from the hive-- but not from each other.

Gilt had begged for mercy. To be forgotten. But Jonagold had stared back into Spartan's eyes and challenged her, bitterly demanding that Spartan give them honorable death in combat rather than slow starvation. Spartan had done neither. She'd taken them into her home, and then had simply asked if respect and sex would do.

Apparently, it would. Not long after, Spartan had convinced Jonagold to take up the visage of an Apple mare, taking her name from one of the rarer stem-lineages. Working together, they had staged a rivalry over Gilt, then a romance with each other, and had been married with Clan blessings as a small but proper herd. Jonagold and Gilt had followed their patron south, but had convinced Spartan to be among the first to submit to Applejack when the Princess laid down the law as the maretriarch of the Clan trunk-line.

Spartan had been nervous about taking her loves near the artifacts, but as they said-- it would only matter if they came over the border of the Badlands. Highly unlikely; Jonagold worked in one of the feeder farms safely an hour from the border, and Gilt was a minor bureaucrat in the village supporting the farm. Both traveled every night to the barracks; the Fort, itself, was the closest they ever got to such danger. One day, they promised Spartan, perhaps they or their children would see a fifth tribe added to the alliance. Not a bad ambition for an otherwise disgraced Apple clansmare.

While Jonagold was no warmare herself, she seemed to have an almost preternatural sense for when rumors around the feeder farms were the signs of something worse. As a good little beta, she brought this news to Spartan, and with subtle, appropriate uses of Gilt's magic, Spartan was often able to bring an end to such threats before they could become Ponyville-class disasters. Though Spartan wished she could rely less on Gilt's talents-- especially since they were less necessarily a part of him than they would a unicorn-- she couldn't deny that their little herd worked quite effectively together.

With their help, Spartan had earned the prestigious post of Defender of the Apple Branch, which had in turn earned her the gratitude of both the Apple Clan, even the ones who didn't support Applejack, for watching over the branch as kin, and of the Guard as a whole for her service and keeping the Apples happy. Even Applejack had commended her in the dual role. Spartan's spouses had, of necessity, had to stay away from the ceremony with carefully planned excuses. Now wasn't the time.

Spartan sometimes wondered if it ever would. More and more, she wondered if it would even come for their children. Jonagold occasionally brought news of other infiltrators settling into peaceful lives… and occasionally came to her boiling in rage over those lives broken by ponies who refused to understand. Chrysalis' northern hive wasn't interested in moving or helping the others much, apparently. None of the refugees from the southern hives asked Spartan for help, of course, nor her spouses. It would have been dishonest.

After a particular depressing evening when Spartan had been denied the right to participate in a border defense, Jonagold and Gilt had immediately dragged her off to the bedroom upon coming home. Not out of fear; for all her temper, Spartan had never beaten either of her spouses, except as Gilt had occasionally, shyly, requested. Spartan loved her sweet little stallion, so willing, so giving, so eager to change his body, when safe, to please her. And her wife took good care of their stallion and their home, almost as though she had been born an Apple, after all. Jonagold didn't shift much any more; it made it easier to forget.

"No, love," Gilt told Spartan as he knelt behind her, stroking her broad back. "Never fear. We know what being feared is like."

Jonagold looked up from where she was slowly removing Spartan's boots, putting them away carefully so that Spartan could rise early without waking them, as she prefered. "We're not like them," she said with distaste. Spartan wasn't happy about Jonagold's disgust for the obstinate Crystal Grape, or the Guard in general, but she supposed that the ongoing purges of infiltrators that weren't happy being slaves to a queen were responsible for the latter.

The former… Spartan loved her wife, even more than her stallion. He was a good stallion, but just didn't understand the way a fellow mare would. Jonagold agreed with Spartan's most hoped-for plan, the one Crystal Grape had shot down time and time again. Take up the Branch and the Spear and use them. Break the southern hives, break the power of the rebel queens and deny their strength to Chrysalis forever. Feed the starving, free the captives. What could be wrong about that?

Crystal Grape, apparently, thought everything. Even though Gilt had quietly reassured her otherwise, Commander Grape insisted that moving any of the artifacts would critically reduce the defenses, possibly snap the spells entirely. Commander Grape didn't think it would be worth it to try to free any of the changelings without evidence of an in-hive rebellion already. Well of course there were none, Spartan thought bitterly. This isn't like putting a collar on an earth pony and saying "feed me while your family freezes," fucking unicorn.

Lost in her own thoughts, Spartan blinked as there was a slight sting on her … naked… oh. Her naked inner thigh. Jonagold had slapped her there-- and was wringing her wrists and glaring at Spartan now. "You're moping and thinking about Grape again. Honestly, sugarcube, if you're going to think about her when I'm trying to eat you out and poor Gilt is trying to reduce the tension in those succulent shoulders of yours, you might at least tell me to stop trying. It's not our fault she won't listen to you."

Spartan chuckled. She knew she was fairly attractive. Many, but not all hypers were. As apology, she told Gilt, "Wait on the shoulders a bit, hon." She stretched her arms out slowly under her leathers and smiled down at Jonagold, hooking her heels around her wife's own shoulders, nice and broad for a normal mare, but nothing to equal Spartan's own. At seven foot six and muscled heavily, Spartan did love showing off when she had the chance. She pumped a bit with her arms, then tensed her shoulders as Gilt lay back in the bed to watch. The show was mostly for Jonagold, who got to watch as Spartan's thick E-cups bounced as the pecs behind them stirred and swelled.

Actually, thinking of Gilt… "Why don't you get me out of my top, Gilt," she told the stallion, and was grateful as he reached around her, petting and stroking. He couldn't quite make it without using his magic to undo Spartan's buttons, but Spartan appreciated that he used as little as possible as he pulled her out of the under-armor and the padding beneath. Such a courteous husband.

Spartan loomed over the happier Jonagold, who lay back, her own E-cups (Bra-twins, Jonagold had insisted when she took the form) jiggling lightly beneath her sensible shirt. "I'm sorry, Jonagold," Spartan whispered, extending one arm to the side and up, and curling the other down to show off for the mare between her thighs. "I don't know why I think about it and don't just do something!"

Jonagold smiled fondly up at Spartan, and leaned back in between the heftier mare's thighs. As his sister began to lovingly lick at Spartan's muff, Gilt kissed the back of Spartan's broad neck, squirming a bit. "I wish you could, my beloved boss," he whispered. "I've heard legends about the rebel queens. Nastier even than Chrysalis ever was." He grunted softly, squirming a bit behind Spartan. "Would it even take more than just picking up the Branch and wielding it against the fort? You're of the… druid lines, you said?"

An eager, swift-flicking tongue distracted Spartan from Gilt's question for a moment. As the pleasure of Jonagold's passionate strokes and tingling kisses spread out through Spartan's core, she hazily mused on whether or not she was actually feeling Jonagold suck up her love as she lavished properly worshipful attention on Spartan's labia-- and, "Yes!" Spartan groaned as Jonagold abruptly began a swift swirl over Spartan's needy clit.

Spartan groaned and squeezed her thighs gently around Jonagold's head while Gilt talked. Silly stallion, but… "Yeah," Spartan said with a smirk. "You know, I probably could channel its Honesty… Applejack just left it! Lying ar-- er, sorry, Jona, darlin'," she moaned as Jonagold "punished" Spartan's distraction by "lashing" her clit in fast-slow-fast-slow pressing licks. Spartan panted a bit and reached behind her with a fond sigh to cup Gilt's balls possessively. "Put your ring on, Gilt. Don't waste any of the lube nor of the seed you owe me and Jona."

Gilt grunted, and reached around to find the cockring his wives had told him would be necessary in bed. Obviously, he was attracted to them, and just as obviously, he wasn't to waste anything that was theirs. Including time, which is why his slender, elegant body was nude as he caressed his senior wife. It took him a moment, which Spartan figured she could forgive, but he fitted it on obediently, and told her, "I'm ready, my boss mare," in his lovely, demure tone. Pleased, Spartan reached back and stroked Gilt to full hardness, forcing him to stiffen into it, trapping his stallionhood-- hers, and Jona's, to play with and command-- in impotent erection. There. He'd be ready when they wanted to use him.

From there, Spartan leaned gently back onto Gilt's massages and ran her fingers through Jonagold's long hair. She loved this feeling. Loved Jonagold's eager tongue, caressing and lavishing attention on Spartan's labia one moment, fluttering between them the next. Loved Jonagold's amazing lipwork, tugging rapidly at Spartan's clit, just the way Spartan liked it. Just the way she knew she deserved.

Spartan couldn't ignore her loves as they plied her with her boss mare due. Gilt might be stuck, but she knew a good mare rewarded a stallion who didn't get too uppity, and even if she wasn't going to let him cum just yet, Spartan squeezed and fondled at Gilt's thick, juicy balls, carefully running her fingers over the pretty length. It might make it a bit harder for him to avoid jutting it into her back, but would the little stud really mind being punished? She doubted it.

Jonagold's mouth was a luxury on Spartan's thighs, a sinful, swift fluttering of her lips against Spartan's, upper lip pinching Spartan's clit with an electric pressure that lit Spartan's belly on fire as Jonagold's tongue suddenly sought and found Spartan's G-spot, alternating the two overpowering sensations in swift refrain.

As she fully threw away the discipline and care of the day, Spartan's mind kept coming back to Gilt's question. In between climaxes, of course.

Why shouldn't she be a hero? More of a hero, even; she was feeding and supporting and hiding two refugees from decadence. She was an Apple Druid, raised in the secret rites, and if their maretriarch might not realize all the implications sometimes, she at least knew that it was the responsibility of those with power to act. All Spartan had to do was just… be independent. Go over the stupid unicorn's head. Do something. And the Branch, of course, was practically her birthright.

Jonagold grinned up at Spartan as she hungrily cleaned Spartan's apple-sweet femmecum up. "Let's do him, beloved. Fuck my brother good and hard and see if that studly cock of his can flood the last of the day's regrets out of your pussy. Be naughty with us, boss," she pleaded. "Make him replace the ring with some magic so he can even hope to keep up with your oh so divine needs," Jonagold urged, her eyes alight with lust for Spartan.

Spartan chuckled. "Mm. A little naughty, yeah-- but I like it," she admitted, turning around and sweeping Gilt up and into her lap. Resting one dominant foot atop Jonagold's head, Spartan teased her beta mare's mane with her toes. and lightly began to swirl and rub her index finger and thumb over the broad flare of Gilt's sixteen inch cock, tickle-teasing the sensitized flesh as it struggled and failed to cum. "Think you can keep concentrated, my stallion? Maybe while you reward Jona's pussy with your lips?" she growled,

Gilt panted, grinding his cock back against Spartan's lewd fingers. "I… I can, boss," the unicorn groaned. "Jona's been making me practice. Make me learn to please you," He leaned up to nibble and lick under Spartan's chin, his hands stroking pleadingly at her sensitive breasts, skilled fingers massaging her broad areolae.

Spartan wrapped her fingers tightly around the base of Gilt's sack and cooed, "That's it, my stallion. Hold it in and switch around for me. Show me some use for your little magic." Gilt grunted a bit, winced, and obeyed, teleporting the ring off his cock. A little dribble of his lube escaped anyway before he could replace it with a ring of telekinetic force, and Spartan grinned, roughly rubbing her thumb up over Gilt's sensitive cock. "Uh-oh, Jona. Some naughty stallion wants a bit of punishment first."

Jonagold had little mercy for her husband, either. "Oh, Gilt. You really do need to learn." She winked at Spartan. "Let's keep his fluids up. Mustn't waste."

Laughing, Spartan forced her thumb into Gilt's mouth as the stallion's eyes widened, grabbing his mane. "Suck, little colt," the mare growled, and Gilt obeyed, drinking his own lube and desperately nursed until Spartan nodded her approval. She pulled the thumb out with a pop and flicked Gilt's nose. "Gonna act like a little colt, maybe you need to be treated like a little colt. Let's see how long you can hold your breath and your ring," Spartan said, and slammed the stunned stallion around and back into her cleavage. Her left hand came up to Gilt's throat to squeeze down on his windpipe. Not all the way, of course. Wouldn't do to waste a good stallion, after all; he just needed… correction.

As Gilt began to squirm and gasp in Spartan's soft, pillowy cleavage, she smirked and wrapped her right arm around her tits, squeezing Gilt's head entirely surrounded by her excessive breastflesh. Spartan licked her lips, panting with delight as Gilt thrashed around. As she started to frig her left nipple in time with Gilt's spasming shudders, Spartan nodded to her dependable cunt of a wife. "Give those lovely balls a treat, dear. Get him really worked up-- remind him to focus on controlling his uppity stallion urges."

Jonagold laughed. "He looks so fucking cute in your cleavage, boss," she cooed. "Sure you don't want to keep him there longer?" she said with a salacious nicker, followed by long, teasing strokes of her broad tongue over Gilt's already pent up balls.

"Oh, honey, you're so greedy sometimes. We have to make sure we don't damage the dear-- he's already a stallion, after all," Spartan said with a tolerant sneer, gasping with delight as Gilt slammed-- as best as a non-hyper could, of course-- back against her chest. She pinched her left nub harder, flicking it back and forth. "Keep your silly mouth on his nuts," she ordered.

Jonagold, of course, obeyed as was proper, and stretched her mouth wide, sucking one of Gilt's balls into her mouth and playing with it vigorously. Spartan sighed with pleasure as her clit throbbed, and did wish she could keep him there. Maybe she should have Jona work him through upgrading his form to last longer with less air? Spartan was uneasy with too much magic, but it didn't do to avoid one's herd perks as the boss mare. But that was a problem for another time. For the moment, she just let her arousal flow and soak her thighs, feeling her stallion utterly dominated by her hands and tits.

It was a lovely feeling, but, eventually, alas, she did have to let him loose, at least from her chokehold. Spartan shifted her grips, moving her hands around and starting to eagerly pinch and twist her nipples on both tits as Gilt began to desperately suck for air. She wondered what it was like to be so controlled by your dick, to be desperately trying to keep your cock in check with the ring while your wife tongue-bathed your balls, but all the while trying to breathe and please your head wife. She giggled a bit, panting, her tongue lolling out to the side. Too bad for him, really, but he did make such lovely noises. "Learned your lesson, sweetie?" she cooed as he started to calm. "Because I want that cock of yours in me and I've got a few orgasms to go before you can let your magic go."

Jona giggled, switching from ball to ball as she sucked on the sensitive flesh. Spartan was proud of her obedience, and proud of Gilt's, as he forced himself to answer, "Y-yes, boss. I'm sorry, boss. So sorry, I'll work on it, I promise."

Spartan squeezed her hand around Gilt's trapped dick and nodded to Jona. "Give the poor thing's sack a rest, lovey," she said and gave another little giggle. "Guess he's going to have to be real careful with timing his breaths while you ride his face!" She gripped Gilt's cock tighter for a moment, then released and nodded her head again. "On your back on the bed, stallion. Don't worry; let your boss mare do the work. Just keep your concentration…" she purred.

Gilt softly kissed the inside curve of Spartan's left breast and hastened to obey, "As you command, my qu-- my mare," he said, blushing as he scrambled off her lap and onto his back. "It's just, you're so charismatic and have a commanding presence," he said as Spartan turned to look at him with a stern expression and eyebrow raised. She smiled as she saw the devotion in his eyes; he blushed, and said, "Everything good that they wish they were-- that they should be-- without the disregard for us. If it was your mind ruling mine…"

Spartan chuckled. "It is, my silly stallion," she told him, tickling the bulge of pent up seed behind his magical cock ring. "I don't need such efforts; I am an earth mare, after all. But it's a cute compliment to match your adorable dick. Good colt," she told him, and moved her massive, muscular body in an easy roll, stretching her thighs wide and dripping her femmejuices over Gilt's thighs as she slowly moved to mount his cock.

Spartan pulled her arms over her head and flexed hard, showing off her big peaks as she ran her fingers through her mane. "Tell me you love my cunt, colt," she told him, her pussy lips squeezing and fluttering over Gilt's needy flare.

"Yes!" Gilt gasped, and his cock twitched. He managed to keep his hips from thrusting in rude lewdness, moaning, "I love your pussy, boss. I love servicing it with my greedy dick-- with the dick you and Jona own," he whimpered. "Rainbows occluded, your body-- you're so strong, so powerful," he praised her as Jonagold looked on in awe, frigging herself as she watched her wife work. Power, yes, this is power, Spartan reminded herself dreamily.

"Ooh, two for one," Spartan said as she lowered herself in a swift rush. drawing a grunt out of Gilt as she owned his hips with her thighs, squeezing them around his waist as she gripped and winked around his thick member, her gushing sex replacing the lube he wasn't permitted. She crooked a finger at Jonagold. "I don't think he needs to talk to much more. Come up here and ride his face; I want my pretty little mare's kisses, too."

Jonagold hastily obeyed, scrambling up onto the bed and atop her husband's face. She didn't give it as much ceremony as Spartan had the cock she was squeezing and rocking over, stroking her clit off on the trapped hardness. But the stallion's face didn't need it, of course; from Jonagold's expression, the colt was doing his duty quite well. Good, Spartan thought. My pussy can take what it needs from his dick until it's ready to surrender my seed, my lovely stallion spunk up from his balls good and proper, and as for her pleasure…

Spartan aimed to take that too. She grabbed Jonagold's mane in hand and pulled her close. "Worship my tits," she ordered and then seized a forceful kiss from the smaller mare. As she clenched her hips down and bucked back and forth, she invaded Jonagold's mouth with her tongue, pausing only to break the kiss for a loud series of nickers as Jona's hands on Spartan's big breasts, and Gilt's controlled cock in her cunt, brought her to a climax; the first of many that night before Gilt was even allowed his first.

The night was long, but even Spartan's hyper endurance gave out eventually. Perhaps a more watchful, less supercilious guardsmare might have, should have noticed the fact that her two theoretically 'normal' lovers always outlasted her. With Spartan sleeping between them, the two siblings looked at each other. "Soon?" Gilt asked.

"Not long. A month or two, I think. She's holding out," Jonagold replied.

"Not unexpected. We knew an Apple would be both above most reproach but also difficult, for the same reasons."

"Indeed. Better so here. So close to the Source and our true hives."

"Heh. Our hives, dear sister… She still thinks we're changelings, at that."

"She's stupid, 'Gilt.' But food tends to be. The Flesh Will Be Taken."

"Indeed. The Flesh Will Be Taken, and all will feel the Blessing spread."

The demonic siblings smirked, and lay down to either side of their snoring lover. They didn't need sleep, but they didn't dare risk being detected for a lack of dreams. Slower, constant exposure was better, and holding Spartan in quite cunning facsimiles of loving embraces, whispering quiet poison into her ears, a corrupting harmony… that was worth it.

Besides, thought 'Gilt', whose true name was unpronounceable, stereotypically enough, In an hour or two we can put her deeper under and I can get a little bit of payback for that stupid ring and her presumptive arrogance. I wonder what Spartan's mother will say, after Spartan breaks the border spell, and those little photographs of her precious warrior heir begging for my dick like a naughty puppy are mailed to her?

Feasting on the malice of it, he continued the campaign of slow mental and emotional erosion. He was an immortal, after all. Patience wasn't just for the virtuous.