The Cider House Rules
Scootaroll didn’t look up from the TV screen when the door opened. “What kind of cider did you guys get?” he asked.
“Oh, we got something even better than cider!” said Apple Buck. Swishy Belle giggled.
Scoots narrowed his eyes, paused Ponynetta IV, and looked over the back of the couch at his friends. “No. Every time you say that, it’s something that is definitely not as good as cider!” The theremin. The do-it-yourself Antikythera mechanism kit. The complete novels of the Marquis de Saddles. The pet tarantula. The gang had their cutie marks for years, but the habit of experimentation died hard.
“How about sex toys!” said Swishy, holding up a bag with “Pony Play” printed on the front.
Scoots carefully laid down his controller. This could get ugly. “You two spent our cider money on your sex toys.”
“Naw, not just for us. We got you a fleshlight.” Apple Buck tossed a plastic cylinder the size of a soda bottle onto the couch next to Scootaroll. He unscrewed the cap on the end to find a realistically detailed foam anus waiting inside for him. He very carefully closed it and set it as far away on the couch from himself as possible.
“Aw, you know the only kind of cider we can only afford Smoke and Mirrors brand, and that stuff tastes like somepony pissed in the slops bucket,” said Buck.
“Anyway,” said Swishy, rubbing his cheek against his boyfriend’s, “you know you’re welcome in our bed any time.”
Scoots blew out through his nose. He always had a great time with those two, sure. They were his best friends. But they were in love with each other, and Scootaroll didn’t much enjoy being a third wheel. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
He instantly regretted rejecting the offer. His foalhood friends had grown up well. Buck might be old enough to drink now, but he still hadn’t come into his full growth. He was almost as big as his brother, but lean and lanky and tight-muscled. Swish, on the other hoof, could easily be taken for a mare, both in size and appearance — put him in a dress, and the only difference would be that he wore more makeup and had better styled hair than most of the fillies Scoots knew.
“We got all kinds ’a cool stuff, though,” said the big colt, scrambling over the back of the clubhouse couch. “We got one of those dildos you can stick to the wall, a couple of new butt plugs for Swishy ’cause he keeps wearing them out, some sex dice, anal beads, lots of lube…”
“Faust, that’s a lot of stuff for twenty bits. Were they having a sale?” Something peeking over the edge of the bag caught Scoots’ eye. Something that made his heart beat faster. “What’s that?” he said, poking the latex ring with his hoof.
Buck put down the unlabeled mason jar of clear goo he was holding. “That? Oh, that’s just a leash and collar. We were joking around with it, an’ the shop pony kept glaring at us, so we bought it ’cause we felt guilty.”
Scoots pushed his hoof through the collar and lifted it, letting it hang around his fetlock. “Ponies… ponies wear these?”
Swishy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, duh. My brother makes a designer line.”
Events and feelings came flashing back to Scoots. Horrible, wonderful memories from his orphanage days, when the older colts would put him in a collar, and make him do tricks for extra food and special privileges. It had never occurred to him that adult ponies did that sort of thing for fun.
Well. He was an adult now.
He could make his own choices.
“I need you to put this on me right now.”
Buck blinked. “Are you sure?”
Scoots was gnawing on the latch, trying to figure out the mechanism. “As sure as I’ve ever been about anything,” he said, pausing to wipe the drool from his lips.
Swish’s horn flickered, and the latch came open. “A lot of the best sex toys are made in Canterlot. By unicorns. So, lots of small moving parts.”
“Bunch of inconsiderate racists,” said Scoots, grinning as his friend levitated the collar around his neck and snapped it closed. He yelped when Swishy slapped him, more from surprise than pain — Swishy wasn’t very strong.
“I will not have my pet speaking to me in such a way!” Swishy said.
“Hold on, pal,” said Buck. “We gotta go over safewords and shit first.”
Scoots puffed out his cheek, trying to get a good look at the hoofmark glowing on it. “Blah blah, SSC. Blah blah blah, green, yellow, red. Shut up and talk dirty to me.” His cock had never been harder in his entire life.
“Swish?” said Buck, rubbing his bristly chin.
“Yes, Bucky?” said Swish.
“We got us one damn rebellious animal, here. Luckily, I know a thing or two about breakin’ in livestock.”
“I would love to see a demonstration. You know I find country ways fascinating,” purred Swish.
“Scootaroll. Come.” Apple Buck wrapped the leash around his hoof, stood up, and tugged at the collar. Scoots looked at the stern expression on his friend’s face, and he felt afraid. What had he gotten himself into? He longed for the leash, but he didn’t want pain. Scoots didn’t like pain. It hurt.
Buck tugged on the leash again, hard enough to make it dig into Scoots’ neck. Scoots took a deep breath. He could tap out any time. If he wanted to be a wimp. He got off the couch and stood in front of Buck.
“Good Scoots,” said Buck.
“Any time, pal,” said Scoots, smirking.
Buck reared up and smacked Scoots across the face. Scoots knew it was only a play slap, and that Buck could hit way harder than that. But mother of Faust, it stung.
“Ya’ will speak to your master respectfully, or you’re gonna get punished,” said Apple Buck, shaking his hoof at Scoots. “Understand?”
Scoots nodded.
“Actually, I think you’re getting punished no matter what,” said Swishy. “But it’ll hurt more if you don’t cooperate.” Swish had taken Scoots’ spot on the couch, sprawling on his back. His pink cock bobbed with his pulse over the sleek lines of his belly.
“Ya’ gotta show these animals who’s boss,” said Buck. “Scoots. My hooves ’re dirty. Clean ’em.”
Scootaroll lay on his belly on the floor, and sniffed at Buck’s hoof. Revolting. Apple Buck, like all of them, divided his time between college, paying work, and trying to get the CMC non-profit off the ground. Buck’s work was on his family farm. It was hot, heavy work, and Buck’s hooves were rough, smelly, and covered in dirt and bits of rotten apple. “Can I, like, get a rag, or something?”
Buck frowned. “Animals can’t talk, Scoots. Shut up an’ use your tongue for somethin’ better.”
Scoots glanced over at Swishy. Maybe he was gonna play good cop? Swishy grinned, and pulled a big wooden paddle out of the shopping bag. Had they bought the entire store? Well. Scoots wasn’t about to pussy out over hoof licking. He stuck out his tongue and ran it over the leathery wall of Buck’s left forehoof. “Good Scoots,” Buck rumbled, and transferred the leash to his mouth so he could offer him the sole of his right hoof. Scoots sniffed it and cringed. It smelled like a locker room.
Scoots ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of his friend’s hoof, tasting grime and old apples. He felt the warm rush of humiliation fill his heart. His cock pulsed against the rough wood floor. He ran his tongue over Buck’s frog. The big stallion shuddered.
“Oh, he’s a naughty pet, but he’s eager to please, isn’t he?” said Swishy.
“Mmm-hmmm,” said Buck. Scoots worshiped Buck’s hoof, carefully cleaning the place between the sole and the wall where gunk tended to accumulate. When Scoots was done with the right hoof, Buck offered him the left. Scoots looked up. He took in his friend’s approving expression, and the terrifying, drooling pillar of his cock, and felt pleased with himself. He tried to keep eye contact while he lapped at the sole of Buck’s other hoof.
“Oh your hooves are gleaming clean, Bucky. Do you mind if I have a turn?” said Swishy.
Buck nodded.
“Oh, but I just got a hooficure; my hooves are immaculate. It’s hardly fair to our pet to offer him clean hooves, now is it?”
Buck glances back at his haunches and grinned. Swishy took the hint and slunk over to his boyfriend’s muscular hindquarters. While Scoots finished cleaning Apple Buck’s hooves, the effeminate stallion was rubbing his balls and cock, until his hooves reeked of crotch sweat and pre-cum. Then he smooched Scoots on the nose and offered him a hoof.
“Be a dear?” said Swishy.
Even covered in sex juices, Swishy’s hooves were more pleasant to lick than Buck’s. The walls were smooth, the sole and frog were silky, and they smelled like lavender underneath Buck’s musk.
“Oh Buck. Swishy. You two are the best,” groaned Scoots. Buck tugged on his leash, making it dig into his trachea.
“Glurk!” said Scoots, tongue poking out.
“Animals can’t talk, dearest,” said Swishy. “Bucky, darling, I think our new pet needs a lesson in staying in character.”
Buck tossed the leash to his boyfriend. “Let’s spank him. Then fuck him.”
Swishy gasped, leash handle hanging off his muzzle. “You mean I don’t get to be on the bottom?”
Buck rolled his eyes. “If you’re a dom, ya’ gotta top. It’s the rules.”
“Really. Who made these rules?” He led Scoots over to one of the crates they used to use as desks when they were smaller. Now the rough wooden box fit neatly under Scoots’ lean belly. “Bucky, could you be a peach and bring me a paddle? And one of the butt plugs. I need something up my ass, even if it isn’t you.”
Scootaroll’s heart pounded. He’d never been spanked for fun before. In fact he hadn’t been spanked since the orphanage, before Ponyville, and before he’d even met the other Conquerors. What would it even be like?
With a sudden smack, a sharp pain lanced through his right buttock. Scoots screamed. That was what it would be like.
“Oh, you little sissy,” said Swishy, “I hardly touched you! What will you do when Bucky has his turn with the paddle?”
“Fuck, go easy on me, I’m new at this!” said Scoots.
“How many times do we gotta tell ya’ animals don’t talk?” said Buck, after tying the leash to a coat hook. “I tell you what, force is the only language dumb beasts understand. Let ’im have it, Swish.”
The paddle made whistling sounds as it cut through the air. Scoots had thought that nothing could hurt more than the first slap, but every blow made his ass more raw and sensitive. Scootaroll’s bottom was lean and tight — a pleasure for all to behold, Scoots felt, but not well padded at all. The paddle pushed the hard muscle of his ass against the bones of his hips, making him feel bruised. Brutalized. The pain made hot tears roll down his cheeks, adding shame and humiliation to the pain.
“You okay there, pal?” said Apple Buck, leaning over him.
Scootaroll glared up at his friend, and kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t falling for any tricks.
“You can talk. Out of character for a sec. I don’t like to see you crying.”
“Green, good buddy.” Scoots held up a hoof. Apple Buck bumped it.
“Cool. You take a break, though. My boyfriend’s ass needs some loving.” He hefted a rubber butt plug as big as a flower vase.
Scoots closed his eyes, listening to his best friends moan and giggle. He hurt. The pain still glowed in his haunches, accompanied by a warm, pleasant high that was almost like the feeling he got after a really good orgasm. Pain was okay, it turned out. He already liked the sore feeling he got after Buck fucked him with that monster cock of his, so maybe he should have known. But still. Pain. All his life he’d avoided it. But if you embraced it, it was okay! Who would have guessed?
“All right. All set!” said Swishy, waddling over to give Scoots a wet, sloppy kiss. He turned around to show Scoots the massive base of the butt plug flush with his round cheeks. “Do you like it, Scoots?”
Scoots barked and panted.
Swishy laughed. He scuffled Scootaroll behind the ears. “You’re starting to get it! Yes you are! Yes you are!”
Buck grunted around the paddle in his mouth.
“Don’t forget to use your safeword if it gets to be too much. Bucky is just… oh.” Swishy flopped his forehooves, unable to find words to express his boyfriend’s magnificence. Scoots grunted in reply.
Bucky swung his neck, and brought the paddle down. Not on Scoot’s rump cheek, like Swishy had, but on his flank. On his cutie mark.
“No!” screamed Scoots.
Buck ignored him, and swatted him on the other flank. Scoots wailed. “Not on the cutie mark! No!”
Swishy cradled Scoots’ head in one hoof, and kissed him on the cheek where he’d been slapped earlier. “He can’t spank them off, dearest pet. Don’t be such a sissy. Also? Animals can’t bucking talk. Please try to get it right.”
“My aim ain’t the best,” said Buck, removing the paddle from his mouth for a moment. “Don’t wanna hit you in the balls or the ponut; we’re gonna need those soon.”
Scoots gritted his teeth as Apple Buck resumed his assault. Swishy kissed him through the whole thing. The cool, tickling pleasure of the effeminate stallion tongue dancing across his lips contrasted with Buck’s cruel assault on his ass. His cutie marks felt raw. They would be sore for days. Red. Swollen. Maybe bruised. And he’d worked so hard to get them. He sobbed into Swishy’s mouth.
“I think he’s had enough, Bucky love,” said Swishy.
Apple Buck grunted in agreement. Swishy broke the kiss, leaving Scootaroll’s lips wet with drool, and walked around behind him. Scoots lifted his tail up and to the side, and bore down, opening his ass. Swishy pushed his nose under his dock and gave him a loving, tender rim job. He lavished the ponut with kisses inside and out. Scoots melted against the crate, forehooves limp in the floor, hind legs up on tippy-hoof. Then, when his asshole was glistening wet, Swish mounted him. He must’ve lubed up beforehand, because he slid right inside. The pleasure of being penetrated was almost unbearable, especially when combined with the blazing pain in his rump.
“Oh my Faust!” moaned Swish. “You feel so good, little pet!” His cock made wet squishing noises as it reamed him. Scoots felt it moving deep inside of him. He’d never quite gotten the prostate thing right, but he loved the feeling of being filled by another colt.
Buck chuckled. “Fucking the livestock. You’re a real country boy now, Swish.”
“Oh, behave,” said Swishy, batting at his boyfriend with a hoof. “But yes. Bestiality is better than I ever would have guessed. Especially with such a handsome young animal.”
“I want a turn,” said Buck.
“But I’m not done yet!” simpered Swishy.
“You take forever! My balls feel like they’re ready to pop!”
“Well,” said Swish, “I suppose he has another end.”
Scoots gulped. Swishy slid slowly out of his ass, leaving him feeling gaping and empty. Buck stepped up to take his place. Scoots shivered. He remembered their first fumbling experiments (“Cutie Mark Conquerors colt cuddlers!”), when Buck hadn’t been much bigger than Swish and him. Those days were long gone.
Taking Apple Buck was always an experience. He wasn’t hung like the legendary Applejack, but he was damn close. Scoots gritted his teeth, bearing down as hard as he could as he felt Buck’s hoof-wide flare push open his ponut. Massive hooves rested on his aching haunches, stroking them lovingly as he fed his gigantic hose into Scoot’s slim little ass. Scoots swore he could hear his hip bones creaking.
“Open wide, pet,” said Swishy. Scoots wrinkled up his nose. Swish had had the decency to give his dick a quick wipe-down before offering it to him, but it still stank. He closed his eyes and opened his lips anyway. He wanted to be a good pet.
Scootaroll was speared like a piece of meat at a gryphon barbecue. He rocked back and forth between the two other colts. Buck was buried in him up to the medial ring; as far as he’d ever gotten. Swish’s slimmer cock had no trouble fitting down Scoot’s throat; he was so deep that his balls were bouncing off Scoots’ chin. Scoots imagined their two flares touching inside of him — impossible, but that was what it felt like with them both inside of him. He listened to them kissing above him, felt the drool spattering on his back. He ground his dick against the rough box — he was desperate to come! But the pet goes last. The pet always goes last.
Swishy came first. He screamed, and then shot deep in Scoot’s throat. Buck bellowed, and his balls pulsed, shooting cum into him from the other end. Scoots shouted with delight, his voice muffled by Swishy’s shaft. He felt like a total slut — used, sweaty, gaping, stuffed with cum like a cream-filled donut. Hooves were on him, rolling him off the box and dragging him to the couch. The leash was gone. He gasped as he saw his two best friends’ handsome faces between his hind legs. Swishy sucked on his balls, while Buck bobbed on his flare. He could easily deep throat the smaller stallion, and he did, over and over, until Scoots’ balls started to boil over. Pleasure arched through him, cleansing every muscle in his body of tension. He felt his cum pumping onto his friend’s tongue, a massive load that threatened to overflow even his big face.
But the weren’t done. Swishy opened his mouth, and Scoots watched in amazement as Buck spat the whole load onto the pretty stallion’s waiting tongue, like something out of the nastiest kind of porn reel. Then Swish climbed up on the couch, straddled him, and began to kiss him. Scoots tasted his own cum in the other colt’s mouth; musky, salty, thinned with spit. He swallowed the whole thing, then kept kissing. Bucky, the typical male, curled up next to him and immediately started snoring.
“How do you feel?” asked Swishy Belle, cuddling up against his other side.
“Animals don’t talk,” said Scoots, who was starting to fall asleep himself.
Swishy kissed him. “We took the collar off, silly.”
“I love you. Both of you.”
“You can be our pet forever, if you want.”
Scoots said he thought that might be a good idea. Then he drifted off to sleep.
