The First and Only Chapter
“Ugh, my head,” Vinyl Scratch groaned as she woke up, lazily blinking her eyes. “What happ— what the buck!” The first thing she noticed was that she was stark naked, from head to toe. That alone wasn’t all that unusual; her clothes had a habit of disappearing after a night at the club. What was unusual were the rough ropes that bit into her skin at her ankles, thighs, midsection, and shoulders. They lashed her firmly to the hard wooden chair she sat on, leaving little room for movement. “Hey! Lemme go!” she yelled as she squirmed as best she could, testing her bonds. They held fast, making her attempts futile and leaving her out of breath after a few fruitless minutes of struggling and hollering.
Panting, she looked around the darkened room she found herself trapped in. It looked like a storeroom of some kind, for some kind of bakery. Bags labeled “flour” and “sugar” were piled haphazardly around and the shelves housed different pans and baking forms. A thin beam of light snuck under the door on the far end of the space, crawling across the worn wooden floor and leaving her just enough illumination to make out her predicament.
Frustrated with trying to slip loose, Vinyl focused on her magic. She channeled it up through her horn and she felt the familiar warmth spread through its spirals. Try as she might though, the magic would not spread beyond her body. “C’mon, stupid magic,” she muttered as she screwed her eyes shut and pushed with her mind hard as she could. Several moments of fierce effort later, all she had to show for her efforts was a headache that had redoubled its vice-like grip on her skull.
The door creaked open, flooding the room with more light. Blinded, Vinyl averted her gaze, blinking the stars out of her eyes. “Who’s there?” she demanded. “I’m not scared of you!”
To her surprise, bubbly giggling answered her. “I hope you’re not scared of me, Viny-Winy,” her unseen captor replied. “You’re my favoritest DJ pony ever and I’d never ever ever ever ever hurt you. That’s four evers, which is like forever.”
Viny’s eyes finally started to adjust to the light and she was able to face the other pony. She was a mare, an earth pony, who was bright pink from mane to tail and everything in between. A huge smile tugged at the edges of her lips and mirth sparkled in her ocean-blue eyes. Massive breasts strained at the lacy fabric of the baker’s apron she wore and the short pink fur of her face was smudged with icing. “P—Pinkie? Is that you?” she asked the mare.
“Of course it is, silly filly,” Pinkie agreed as she slowly sauntered towards Vinyl, her sizable hips swaying with every step.
“Oh, thank Celestia,” Vinyl sighed as relief flooded her veins. “I was starting to get worried, Pinks.”
“Don’t worry, Scratchy-Watchy. I just need your help making super tasty yummy treats for all the ponies here in Ponyville and I knew you were just the one for the job!”
“Uh, what kinda help are you talking about, Pinkie?” Vinyl asked, shifting uncertainly in her seat.
Pinkie reached behind her and undid the knot holding her apron shut, allowing it to fall off of her and reveal her enormous mounds. Vinyl gasped at the sight, fixated on the swollen nipples that leaked a trail of white liquid down her chest and stomach. “To make the bestest cakes and cupcakes and brownies and doughnuts and muffins, you need the bestest milk!” She cupped one of her moist breasts in her hands and squeezed, sending out a wider stream of milk to splash on the ground. “I usually use my own; its sweet and delicious and perfect for baking!” She stopped smiling and a pout replaced it. “But I have so many orders that I just don’t have enough. But it’s okay, because I have a super-duper idea; I’ll just use some of your milk!”
“Pinkie Pie, I don’t know if you noticed, but my breasts don’t make milk like yours,” Vinyl objected.
“Hehe,” Pinkie giggle-snorted. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” She pinched Vinyl’s nipples firmly between her fingers, tugging upwards until her breasts were pointing at the ceiling. After a pointed few seconds, she released her grip so that gravity brought them flopping back to their normal position. To Vinyl’s shock, she could feel liquid sloshing around inside her orbs.
“Pinkie, what the hay? What did you do?” Vinyl demanded.
“I just made sure you’d have plenty of milk for me, silly,” Pinkie answered. “In fact, you should be just about ready to give me enough for my next batch.” She walked around behind Vinyl, where the bound mare couldn’t see. When she came back into view, she held a pair of clear plastic cups connected to long, narrow tubes. She pressed them into the supple flesh of Vinyl’s breasts, covering her areolas and nipples.
“Pinks, what are—“ Vinyl began to ask, but was interrupted by a sudden mechanical noise like a compressor activating. “Ooh, buck me!” she exclaimed as a fierce pressure grabbed hold of her breasts, pulling the soft tissue firmly into the cups. The compressor assumed a rhythm like demented breathing, in-and-out. On one cycle it squeezed, determined to force her creamy bounty out of her nipples. On the next it released, giving her a brief second of respite before compressing again.
“Okie dokie loki! I’ll be back in a bit to check on you, Vinyl-Winyl,” Pinkie said, apparently satisfied with her handiwork. With an affectionate peck of her lips against Vinyl’s, she turned and flounced away.
“Pinkie, wait!” Vinyl cried, but she only got a glimpse of Pinkie’s rotund ass as she slipped through the door. With Pinkie gone, she was left to the mercy of the milking machine. The sensation was mercilessly regular and perfectly consistent. It was neither rough nor gentle, merely insistent. Vinyl wriggled helplessly in the ropes that restrained her, but the cups stayed firmly anchored to her no matter what she did. It wasn’t painful or hurtful and a part of her had to admit that she liked it.
With a gasp, she felt the first spurt of her milky burden be pulled from her breasts, sucked out through her nipples and whisked away down the clear tubes. “Nggh,” she moaned as the first drops were joined by the second, then the thirds. Soon, a constant stream of creamy fluid was being eased out of her. The constant pressure was like invisible fingers kneading her breasts, lovingly caressing their curves and stretching her nubs to their limits.
She could feel her juices leaking out of her, pooling on the wooden surface of the chair. The unceasing stimulation of her chest had lit a fire in her nethers, burning low and slow. She whimpered quietly, desperately wishing she was free to touch herself.
Overwhelmed, she closed her eyes tightly and tried not to focus on how horny she was getting. The machine continued, not knowing or caring how desperately close she was to climax. It ignored her moans of pleasure and desperate squirming. It pursued its goal to milk her dry with single-minded attention without regard for her pleasure or how she felt about being handled this way.
It would never run out of energy or get tired. It would keep milking her until Pinkie came back to turn it off. What if she never did come back? Would she be trapped her, forced to endure the milking forever? The thought made her shudder.
Worse yet, the mere thought of being trapped like this had thrown fuel on the fire of her lust, causing it to flare to intolerable levels. Suddenly, the need for release was the only thing that mattered. Futilely, she tried to grind her soaking marehood into the chair, but it was useless. She couldn’t move enough for it to do anything to get her off. She groaned in dismay, when the sound of the door opening reached her ears.
“Pinkie!” she cried. “Makmecummakemecummakemecummakemecum!”
Unconcerned, Pinkie Pie made her way over to Vinyl’s restrained form. As if in silent response to Vinyl’s plea, she bent over to take a delicate lick along her horn. Vinyl’s muscles froze in response and a loud moan escaped her lips. With a series of wet glurks, the spiraled surface of her horn disappeared into Pinkie’s mouth.
Pinkie’s warm, wet tongue began to explore its prize, trailing along its patterns and surface. She worked slowly and horrifyingly gently, as if she knew the secret and private buttons to press in order to pleasure her captive. Vinyl struggled helplessly in her bonds, arching her neck to try and bring more of her sensitive horn to Pinkie’s attention.
Her orgasm began slowly, barely more than a warm tingle in her stomach that started to spread slowly. She hardly noticed it at first, being distracted by the overwhelming sensations of milking and hornjob. It grew stronger, though, and soon Vinyl was squealing and begging for it to stop as much as she had begged for it to start.
Pinkie kept it alive, though, strategically suckling on her horn to keep the shuddering waves of pleasure from dying altogether. Every time she thought she was spent, Pinkie coaxed her into giving just a bit more. The combination of lewd noises from Pinkie’s sucking and the milking machine filled her ears and forced even more fluid from her, both milk and cum. She felt drained and empty, but her captor apparently had other ideas as she continued to tease her.
An eternity later, Pinke broke away from Vinyl’s throbbing horn, leaving it coated in her saliva. She walked around to face the bound mare, delicately cupping her breasts in pink-furred hands. “Do your wittle titties have any more milky for Pinkie?” she cooed, hefting them appraisingly. They felt lighter than before, with no trace of fluid filling them up. “Don’t worry, though, silly filly. They’ll be nice and full again before you can say ‘a hop, a skip, and a jump.’ “ She giggled to herself again, switching off the suction on the machine and removing the cups from Vinyl’s tender nipples.
Vinyl raised her head weakly, but couldn’t seem to make her mouth work. The world was starting to go black at the edges and the last thing she knew was a sugary-sweet kiss from Pinkie.
For the second time in recent memory, Vinyl stirred awake. This time, she was wrapped safely in her blankets and snuggled warmly into bed. She rolled over and was caught off-guard by a huge cupcake with pink icing and lots of sprinkles. Beside it was a note that looked like it was written in colorful crayon: “Thanks for all the help with my baking. Love, Pinkie.”
Curiously, Vinyl grabbed it and took a bite. It was delicious, creamy and moist beyond belief. “You’re welcome, Pinkie,” she said with a smile. “Anything for my favorite baker.”
Author's Note
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