It should be taking all of my composure to keep myself from breaking into a frantic sprint, but I find I am able to keep a steady pace without too much difficulty. My guards flank me on either side, mirroring my face with their own.
My student, Twilight Sparkle, is laid in bed, changeling venom coursing through her veins. The serum will slowly chip away at her gentleness, her compassion, her naïveté; until only a sadistic monster is left.
No, I reprimand myself, not a monster. We’re just now paying the price for labelling them as such in the past. Twilight Sparkle is… changing, would be the most appropriate term. Becoming something that is not human.
And, xenophobia be damned, that is something I cannot allow.
Silently, I walk the familiar path to Twilight’s old tower. It couldn’t have been an infirmary, no; for one, the less that news spread of Twilight’s condition, the better – but primarily, I want no-one, not even my medical staff, to know what I am about to do.
What I am about to do. The words twist in my head, forming some treacherous hybrid between ‘must’ and ‘want’. Both are true after a fashion, but they each seem to contradict the other, as though my own joys cannot be that of those I serve out of some perceived martyrdom. Had this opportunity rose under any other circumstances, would I have taken it? No, I would have cowered behind the veneer of Princesshood, and claimed it to be for the best that I not. That I should not, must not, or could not.
My introspection sees me to Twilight’s chambers with my stony gaze intact. I bid my escort to leave me, and - after some token protesting - they do so. I step into the tower.
The curtains are closed, casting the room in a murky, stuffy gloom. Only the thin rays of sunlight poking through the cracks betray the dust that was stirred up as the tower suddenly became occupied again. The medics who brought her here must have made off hastily, convinced that they could do no more for her. Could not, should not, or would not.
I pace the path to Twilight’s bed as I have done innumerable times before, barely making a sound with each step, and soon enough she comes into view. From a glance, it is a beautiful sight. The covers are moved down just enough that I can see her bare shoulders and collarbone. On this warm, muggy day, the bedsheets are thin enough that I can make out her profile from beneath them. Her shoulders are limp and her face still, but moving closer I can see the occasional twitch of an eyebrow, the sheen of sweat on her brow, and the shallow breathing that tells me her rest is not easy.
It has been so long, I suddenly realise, since I have seen her asleep. In days long gone, I would hold her in my arms to protect her from a thunderstorm, or to soothe her after a harrowing nightmare. Now, she is… changed. She is an adult. Her sleeping face still shows the concerns of her life - the problems, the dilemmas - things that she thrives on, surely - but things that separate her from the child I once knew, nonetheless.
If I am honest, I could watch her like this for some time; pretend that this is just another visit in the position of a teacher, a mentor, or simply a friend. I entertain the notion for just a moment before I move to her side and lower myself to sit on the bed next to her.
My breath catches as her eyes slowly open, and in that instant before her mind awakens, I see the instinct behind them. There’s fear, distrust, maybe even aggression… but in less than a second, they are hidden away. She tenses, and I can practically hear the voices screaming in her head. Her eyes screw closed, and she writhes weakly under her covers.
“P-Princess… get out…”
My first instinct is to get straight to business – a habit I suspect Twilight has always appreciated – but this is no ordinary visit. Time is not on my side, but I cannot rush. First, I need to establish a baseline.
“Do you know what is happening to you, Twilight?” I ask. My voice is calm, compassionate - but firm. Twilight’s only response is a mewling whine, freeing a hand from the bed sheets to hold against her forehead.
“Your biological makeup is changing,” I assert. “You are feeling the first instincts of what you are becoming.”
“Don’t say that…!”
“I must. This is not something you can hide from.” Twilight shrinks away from me, curling into the pillow and gripping her knees. I ache to comfort her, but I cannot. “This is unprecedented, Twilight: you are developing the physical characteristics of a changeling. In time, this may prove a boon to you, but in the meantime –” my voice becomes grave “– you must feed.”
By the last word, her breathing is shallow and uneven. For a few seconds, the only sound in the room is that of her strained gasps and muted sobs. Finally, I can take no more. I place a hand on her arm and squeeze, wishing I could somehow wring out her distress. Seconds pass at an agonising rate before she calms down enough to talk.
“I know,” she whispers. “But I can’t. I can’t do this to anyone.”
“You know how you can take love, then?”
“…Yes.”
“Then you know why I am here.”
She is still. Somehow it would have been more cathartic if she had reeled at the suggestion, but I think both of us realise that now is not the time for pretences of nobility.
“You're here… so I can feed off you.” It is not quite a question, but not quite a statement, either. “I- I don't know what to say.”
“Then don't,” I whisper. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
For a little while, she doesn't answer; struggling, perhaps, to determine which of her thoughts are her own. Then: “Could you… just lie next to me? Hold me?”
“Of course.” I reach down to remove my sandals, and place them beside the bed where they are joined by my regalia. I lie atop the covers and embrace her, wrapping an arm around her stomach while she rests her head on my shoulder.
It's a few minutes before either of us does anything; a few moments in which I feel the warmth of her body against my own, the rising and falling of her chest under my hand, and the scent of her hair. She seems to relax in my grip; her breathing becomes steadier and deeper, and the tension in her shoulders gradually fades away.
I think… I think I am ready.
“Can I tell you something, Twilight?” I whisper. She murmurs an affirmative. “I have –” I bite my lip, urging the words to come out “– admired you, for some time now, in ways that I have not felt in quite a while.”
“...You're just saying-”
“No!” I exclaim, with more force than I had intended. “No, Twilight, listen to me.” I take a deep breath, and set myself. “There will forever be things that I must hide. The Princess will forever be held back if Celestia is always getting in the way, but… I have desires, just as anyone does. I know what your instincts are telling you to do, and the thought of it–” I shudder as my confession spills out, “–is… affecting me.”
I dare a look into Twilight’s eyes, and see them filled with confusion. How betrayed must she feel, to learn now, of all times, that her infallible mentor was a mere mortal all this time? But then her gaze drifts further south, and I have all the confirmation I need.
I cup a breast in my hand, groping myself through the material, silently biding her to watch. I slide it beneath my gown and take my rising nipple between my thumb and fore-finger, rolling it back and forth before pinching gently, and hissing at the feel.
“Do you like what you see, Twilight?” I ask, voice laden with as much lust as I can project.
“I…” She stammers. I fill the silence with a breathy exhale - the barest ghost of a moan, and wait for her response. “Yes… I do.”
A smile comes to my lips. “How long?”
Twilight recoils, eyes wide and breath caught. My smile turns into a gratified smirk, as I revel in having my suspicions confirmed.
“P-Princess, I-”
“Call me Celestia, Twilight. The situation calls for a little more intimacy than usual, I feel.” I bite back a moan as a fresh thrill runs through me. “I had hoped that one day, you might not need to address me as such, but- oh…”
I can’t hold back any longer. In one motion, my gown is undone and discarded to the foot of the bed. I replace one hand on my breasts and, plunging the other between my legs, I stroke myself through the fabric of my underwear, in plain view of my student. Before long, my motions are producing wet schlicking sounds. I chance a look back, and see her staring, unable to look away even as I make eye contact. Keeping her gaze, I raise my hand to my mouth and wrap my lips around them, taking in the taste of my own arousal, watching the fire in her eyes light before me. Then, to seal the deal, I raise one knee upwards, giving Twilight a furtive view of my vagina.
Her gasp tells me that my show has had the desired effect. With some regret, I cease my motions, and breathe deeply.
“Tell me, Twilight. What do you want to do to me?”
That snaps her out of it. Twilight’s gaze flickers to her crotch, then to mine, before returning to my eyes, laden with shame. I slowly move the covers aside - lingering for just a moment on her bare chest - before my gaze rests on her crotch.
Just above her vagina is… well, it almost defies description. It’s a fleshy shaft with a thick base that tapers into a thin nozzle, and all along its length are ribs angled in such a way that inserting it would be far easier than removing it. It’s the same colour as Twilight’s skin, but the tone becomes paler towards the tip as the skin stretches against it. From the size of its opening, its function is obvious; and equally clear, I realise with a shudder, is that it is completely erect.
“It’s an ovipositor,” Twilight confirms. “It’s meant for… depositing eggs.” Through what is clearly a great effort, she looks me in the eyes. “I want to put it in you, Celestia. I want to lay inside you, and feed on you, and-” She struggles for breath as the words come uneasily out. “-I want to…”
I can tell that she is broken. I can feel the turmoil in her heart just to admit those things - to say them out loud and in some way realise that she cannot hide from them anymore. But I must convince her to let that shame go. I’m so close now…
I wrap my hand, still moist with my own juices, around her member. She shivers at the touch, and her eyes snap closed as I begin to make slow, gentle motions up and down.
“Tell me more,” I press.
It’s a few moments before she responds. “I don’t know how I know, but… I know that I can do it. I can imagine pushing eggs out of it, and… looking someone in the eyes and just- just reaching into their mind, and” - her voice quivers as she starts to gasp - “having them do…anything… I… say.”
There it is. For just a moment, that voice became something else; something more wanting, more wicked… but just as soon as she hears it, Twilight grabs my wrist with her hand.
“Celestia,” she squeaks, “I can barely hold it. I don't want to hurt you...”
“Hurt me?” I echo. An insidious little voice in the back of my mind retorts that, no matter what she becomes, Twilight Sparkle could not hope to so much as bruise me - but a cold front washes over me when I realise that this is not about physical strength. This is about my mind; and now, next to Twilight, I am very vulnerable indeed.
“Please… tell me that it’s… okay.”
“Twilight,” I purr, “it’s okay. Give in for me.”
That does it. It’s barely a moment before I am on my back beneath her. My hair is splayed out in a halo around my head, my arms raised aside it, fixed beneath her hands. She is breathing heavily now, eyes wide open, gaze demented and feral.
There’s one last moment of hesitation, and then:
“Stay still,” she growls.
The words resonate in my head with a perfect clarity. It’s not even an instruction, it’s… a suggestion. I can feel my arms and legs; I could move them just as easily as ever, but… I’ve no inclination to. It’s like I’ve been lying in this pose for hours and could for hours more…
“Say you obey.”
“I obey.” And the words are glorious to speak. There’s just a moment of silence before she removes her hold on my arms and sits back. I follow her with my eyes, and realise that her expression has changed. Her trepidation is gone; her face is a mix of fascination and delighted relief. I’ve seen that expression before, but to be its subject…
I am no longer her princess. Now, I am the object of her experiment.
She takes her eyes off mine, free now to drink in my body at her leisure. Almost absent-mindedly, she draws her hand over my chest, taking in the texture of my skin, tracing the profile of my breasts with her fingers. She gently pushes the flat of her hand against them, seeing my mounds lift and turn at her touch. Then she moves further down, drawing a path with her fingertips all the way down to my crotch. She crawls back and lays flat. Her head must be just inches from my clitoris now... but yet I’ve no desire to raise my head and check. I let out a contented sigh and close my eyes.
For just a moment, there’s nothing. Then, the tiniest sensation of a single finger flicking through me, as though scooping up a sample of my juices… enough to entice, but not enough to send shocks through me. It should be agonising… but I am still calm.
I hear the smacking of lips, then… a single finger, slowly, slowly entering me, pushing steadily inwards until I can feel the knuckle against my skin. Then it rotates and curls, clinically feeling out my insides while I lay perfectly still.
She hesitates again, and I realise that Twilight likely has no idea what to do. I could probably speak up, but I don’t for fear of somehow breaking the mood, and instead silently will her to be more adventurous. To indulge her desires rather than her curiosities.
She does. The finger slides out only to enter again, more quickly this time, accompanied by her thumb rubbing against my nub. The sensation sends a chill down my spine, and I gasp - only to realise that Twilight has done so at the same time as me.
There it is, I realise. She’s had her first taste of nectar…
Sure enough, Twilight repeats the action, each push sending new tingles through my body. Before long, she’s settled into a rhythm, and every time the sensations increase, I can feel her becoming bolder in turn. I want to writhe from the pleasure, but I can’t… not until-
“You may move,” she asserts, as she drives into me with yet more determination. And just like that, my back is arched off the bed, my fists are clenched into balls and my toes are curled.
“Speak.”
“S’good!” I exclaim. “Mo-ore!”
An instant later, she presses her face onto my slit and wraps her arms around my legs. Then her tongue is upon me, lapping away and- oh, gods! My mind goes blank. There’s nothing but the feel of her tongue pushing into my folds, the sucking of her lips against my own, and my entire body tensed like an elastic band about to snap. There’s nothing I can think about but how close it is, how close I am, and then-!
The release is as though every strain in my body is suddenly pulled out through my legs to be lapped up by that incredible tongue. I probably screamed something, but I’m deaf to my own cries. There’s nothing but climax – a great, bright fullness that lingers for a few glorious seconds – and all the while, I can feel some strange stuff draining out of me. I idly notice that I cannot quite keep track of time – have I been lying here an instant or a minute? – but the thought is discarded as quickly as it comes. I don’t need to worry anymore; not as long as my fai- my… Twilight, is here.
There is a weight next to me. A hand places itself upon my shoulder. A voice whispers in my ear.
“Can you hear me?” I hum in contentment. “Are you okay?”
There’s hesitation, but not quite panic. A delicious current of authority runs in the words she speaks. I lazily nod my head.
“Celestia… I’m going to put it inside you now.” She pauses, waiting for some objection. I give none. Twilight rises and positions herself at my feet, kneeling over me. “Get on your knees.”
Suddenly, all the lethargy in my body is irrelevant. I push myself up and position myself on all fours, facing away from Twilight, presenting myself to her.
Then, without any fanfare, she begins to enter me. The tip is barely wider than a thumb – but as it pushes into me, sliding effortlessly against the grip of my walls, I feel its warmth inside me. It’s a sensation that completely arrests my attention, wanting nothing more than to just dwell on it. Then I feel the first bulge, and a shock runs through me as Twilight pushes on, not slowing down in the slightest. I can feel that one point, moving deeper into me; and before I’ve adjusted to it, the second one enters me.
Then another. Then another. The sensation has me gasping as Twilight hilts herself, her skin meeting mine – and it strikes me how… full I am. How much of her there is, stretching against me with a pleasure that should be pain, and maybe it is, but my thoughts are too scattered to distinguish between them. There’s just… feeling. She pulls out, sending fresh ecstasy through until the first knot is just at my entrance, and pushes in again. Twilight emits a hiss of victory, and I join it with my own delighted moan. At the sound, she repeats the action, falling into a glorious cycle that has my head spinning at the sensations. There’s nothing but the feeling of her filling, stretching… fucking me. I never want it to stop, and to my delight she persists, continuously thrusting and retracting, sending waves of pleasure crashing over me again and again, drawing a joyous scream from me each time. She places her hands around my waist and starts pulling me towards her with every entry and pushing me away with every exit. It’s a glorious rhythm, and she moderates it perfectly, administering sweet bliss with every second, until:
“Celestia,” she gasps, “I’m close!”
“Yes!” I cry, “Do it!”
And all remnants of restraint leave her. Twilight begins ramming into me with as much force as she can muster. My tongue hangs out of my mouth as I pant, eyes rolling into the back of my head, calling my pleasure with each cycle. With a roar, Twilight hilts herself inside me, and her shaft gives a sharp twitch before it explodes inside me. In an instant, a hot liquid fills me, followed by innumerable lumps. My legs finally give out, and I collapse, Twilight falling on top of me, ovipositor still buried between my legs.
I can think only of the warmth. That glorious warmth that now sits inside me. The movement has stopped, but I can still feel her ejaculate within me, its heat spreading throughout me. I can feel the sheets creased beneath me. I can feel my limbs, utterly immobile and impossibly heavy. My eyes are open, but it’s impossible to make anything out. For a while, I merely… am.
⁂
After some time, my mind settles, and my thoughts re-arrange themselves. The afterglow is still coursing through me, but I cannot allow myself to bask in it. I need to know whether I was successful – whether I still have my student.
“Twi… light…” I whisper.
There’s movement, and she’s there beside me. It takes me a moment to recognise her expression; it’s the same, well-practised look of bemused superiority that I’ve used so often myself.
“Celestia… it’s funny,” she murmurs. “I never even dreamed of ruling over you. I dreamed about you, yes - but even in my own fantasy, I could never be above you. But now -” she lets out a nervous giggle “- I don’t even know what to do.
“There’s this part of me - I think I’ve always had it - that wants to see how far I can go. And there’s another that… doesn’t. I’m not sure which one is truly me… because Twilight Sparkle could never have done this. But I know someone who could…” Her gaze falls on me again. “How long have you wanted to make love to me, Celestia…?” My throat seizes up. Her eyes narrow. “Answer me.”
“S-since Discord…” I stammer.
“But what stopped you? You wanted it… you surely knew that I wanted it.” Her gaze flicks all over my body again. “Before, I’d have said that it wasn’t ‘right’... but I can make it right. You could make it right. It’s not a case of ‘who will let me?’. It’s… ‘who will stop me?’. So tell me… why?”
Just the breath in feels like I’m gulping down water. Under that gaze, a single word is all I can manage.
“Trust…”
She blinks. “What?”
“I… trust you…”
Her smile slips, and I know I’ve gotten through to her. I keep her gaze, saying nothing. Sure enough, bit by bit, the maniacal edge fades. Her face becomes solemn. No fear, no anxiety - just grim realisation, as some invisible weight settles on her shoulders. It’s a visage I’m all too familiar with.
It feels like the room just dropped a few degrees. Even the chirping of the birds from outside is long gone. There’s only the slight whistle of wind outside to fill the silence.
“You’ve… probably got a neat little speech all tucked away, haven’t you?” she finally asks.
I am silent. Not for the great fog in my mind - truthfully, the cold solemnity has all but banished it - but because I have no speech; no words that can wash her troubles away like they could before. Twilight sighs, and I can tell that she knows what I am thinking. Perhaps, in not so many words, she does.
”What do you do about it, Celestia?”
I ponder the question for a moment; it’s one I haven’t had to think about in a while. “Luna and I help each other, I suppose; keep each other in check. We only became rulers after we stopped Discord. Anytime we thought we could do what we wanted, we just thought about those times; about what it was like to be toyed with like that.” I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around her before finishing. “To be ruled by someone who didn’t care for you.”
I realise too late how far into maudlin I had slipped. Twilight is trembling in my arms, and her breaths are hurried and shallow.
“I- I’m s-”
“Don’t apologise,” I interrupt her. “You did nothing wrong.”
“I could have.”
I open my mouth to retort, but can’t quite find it in me to do so. I know all too well that power can corrupt - and Twilight herself can attest to the fear that I felt just moments ago, even if I want to deny it. But still…
“But what am I going to do? What are we going to do?”
“What we always do. Trust in our friends… and believe that we’ll do what’s best.”
She sighs. “Is that really all we can do?”
I smile.
“It’s worked for me so far.”
