A Song of Diamonds and Fire
A Song of Diamonds and Fire
A Song of Diamonds and Fire
Raised high in the bright cloudless sky, the afternoon sun cast its scorching rays down on the parched desert sand below. A tumbleweed coasted in the breeze down a gentle slope, and a brown rattlesnake dug its fangs into a hapless rodent, injecting venom into its lunch as it watched the battle that raged nearby.
Spike the Dragon dug his feet into the stirrups of his saddle. His mount, whose name was Rarity, whinnied and stood on her hind legs as she bit down on the mouth harness, making her rider's black spike-studded trenchcoat flutter in the wind, yet leaving his fedora held firm upon his head. Once Rarity set her forelegs back down on the ground, Spike glared at the ruffians in front of him with a contemptuous scowl.
“Fall back, ye mangy mutts, before I leave thine exposed innards spilt upon the sand for the crows.”
Failing to heed his warning were four diamond dogs – one gray, one tan, one white, and one blue – who clutched at halberds whose crudely hewn rock tips were tied onto wooden poles with blood-soaked twine. The gray one cackled, then spat on the ground.
“Your precious Glimmer is ours, dragon! She will be sacrificed to the Fuck Lord, and there's nothing you can do about it! Bwahahahahaaaaa!”
Spike growled with an angry grimace. Out from the scabbard slung around his waist, he drew his katana, Bloodbath, whose shimmering crystalline blade was black as death and emitted an aura of darkness, and whose hilt was laced with veins that pulsed with the blood of starving zombies and thirsting demons. Spike released his screeching war-cry, waving Bloodbath high above his head as he unleashed a mighty kick at Rarity's sides with his spurs.
A blinding cloud of dust trailed behind Spike's mount as she charged at the slubberdegullions. The gray one widened his stance and pointed his halberd at Rarity to brace for impact. But although his footing was solid and his aim was true, Rarity weaved beside the awaiting rock point, then shoved him down by his shoulders and pinned him to the ground, making him lose his grip on the weapon.
As Rarity ripped open the gray one's throat with her teeth in a torrent of blood, the tan and white ones approached from both sides, the tan one to the right winding himself inward for a thrust and the white one to the left raising his halberd above his head for a downward cleft.
Spike chuckled. With lightning speed, he looked left. He squeezed Bloodbath's hilt with a vice-like grip and wound his blade to the side with muscle-corded arms and shoulders before unleashing a furious horizontal strike that sliced the diamond dog at the midsection, making both halves collapse in a beautiful fountain of blood and stinking guts as his flesh boiled underneath his hide.
Through flared nostrils, Spike filled his lungs with the hot air, then whipped his gaze right and discharged a roaring fire from his belly that engulfed the white diamond dog in searing heat. The bandit screamed in agony as his coat burned away in smoke, and his skin bubbled and charred with the intense heat. The blue dog let out a cloud-breaking squeal from a few yards away, dropping his halberd and sprinting away from the dragon warrior with all that he could muster.
Spike ceased his flame, leaving the once-white dog a black, cindered corpse beneath him. He wound his sword-arm back overhead, pointing his other arm at the fleeing degenerate to aim. Then, he loosed Bloodbath with a mighty throw, watching the black blade spin in the air as it approached its target. Bloodbath made a diagonal slice at the blue dog's cranium. The severed half of the brain fell from the head along with the sliced skull in a spray of blood as Bloodbath swung back to her owner. The blue dog fell over with a squeal as his flesh and guts boiled under his skin. She returned to Spike, who caught her by the hilt.
With his free hand, Spike pinched the rim of his fedora, then tipped it to the fallen blue dog as his lips widened to a grin. "Nothing personal, kids. Nothing personal."
Spike held the blade in front of Rarity's face. Rarity giggled, then licked the blade clean lustfully with her tongue. Spike got a boner, then sheathed the spotless blade back into its scabbard.
Rarity looked at Spike with her front teeth biting against her lower lip, the hair on her face dripping with diamond dog blood. “Are you turned on by that, dearie?”
Spike chuckled. “What if I am?”
“Well, we can't have you erect on the job, can we?” She lifted up her tail. “How about I start riding you now? I needed a good rutting anyway.”
Spike let an eager smile stretch across his face as he unhooked his feet from his stirrups and dismounted his mare. Once he swung himself to her side, he pushed Rarity down; she eagerly acquiesced by rolling on her back and spreading her legs. The sweet smell of Rarity's sex hit Spike's nostrils. The aroma made him slightly drunk with desire.
The engrossed dragon fell to his knees just above Rarity's hindquarters, losing himself in the sight of Rarity's moistened snatch and the pink nipples seated above them on firm, protruding busts. With his tongue sticking out slightly to the side, Spike placed his hands on Rarity's tits, letting the mounds of flesh sink soft and warm into his palms as he extended his thumbs downward to touch Rarity's upper labia. Rarity quivered as Spike rocked back and forth, letting his hands tickle her nipples and clit, and letting his throbbing cock radiate its heat to her sex. The moisture on her snatch grew with each cycle, until juices dripped from it. She placed her forehooves on Spike's shoulders and looked into his eyes with a sultry gaze.
“I'm ready, darling~.”
Without struggle, Spike let Rarity flip him over on his back and hover her marehood over his awaiting phallus. A magical aura lit on both Rarity's horn and Spike's cock; his aim was straight and true as Rarity descended on him, becoming one with him in an act of passion amidst a mess of ruined corpses.
Spike began thrusting his fuck-rod in Rarity with rhythmic motions, in synthesis with Rarity's bouncing up and down on him. The heat and suction of Rarity's contracting vaginal walls made Spike moan with a rush of pleasure. Rarity likewise moaned; her cheeks flushed with a blazing pigment almost as red as the blood that stained her face. Spike clenched his teeth and squeezed Rarity's voluptuous flanks as another pleasured rush hit him.
The two lovers increased the vigor of their passion, the faster and harder strokes complimenting their ascending joy. Spike felt his pleasure approaching its peak as the juices in his loins began to stir.
Spike looked into Rarity's eyes and shouted, “I'm gonna cum!”
“Do it! Cum in Little Miss Rarity!"
With one last thrust, he held himself into his lover as deep as he could go, then let out his war-cry as he unloaded his seed deep within his lover's folds. Then, he sighed, letting himself fall flat on the ground. His veins tingled with cool relaxation; his cock went limp and began to slink back into its sheath. Rarity fell on top of Spike with a sigh. She leaned her smiling face into Spike's ear to whisper.
"That was..."
"Good?"
Rarity's smile went flat. "Mediocre. I had to fake most of my pleasure." She paused. “I forget. What were we doing again?”
Spike blinked. “Saving Starlight from being killed by a diamond dog blood cult.”
Rarity giggled. “Oh. Right. Damsel gets caught by the villain, the hero goes to save the damsel, the hero kills the villain in a valiant duel to the death and saves the damsel, the damsel repays hero with her cunt and hoof in marriage, blah blah blah. We all know what's gonna happen.”
Spike chuckled, then ruffled Rarity's blood-spattered mane with his hand. “Yeah. Too bad her mane looks like it was dressed by a five-year old with Down's. Otherwise, she'd be a solid ten.”
“Like me?”
Spike chuckled again, then kissed Rarity in the cheek. “Yeah. Like you.”
A lit torch clutched in Spike’s hand lit the way for Rarity as she carried her rider down a dank and dim cavern. The pitter-patter of liquid faecal matter dripping down conical rock formations echoed down the halls. Spike shot glances at his surroundings with glazed eyes, then let out a hearty yawn.
“This is boring.”
Rarity nodded. “I agree, darling.” She paused. “You want to rut me again to pass the time?”
Spike groaned. “I’d like to, but we have to save Shimmer from that cult.”
“You mean Glimmer.”
“Oh. Right. I always get those two confused.”
“And I as well, darling. And I as well.”
Spike nodded. “Why are we bothering with this, anyway? I don’t remember Twilight caring at all. Or anypony else for that matter.”
Rarity sighed. “Because the local retard population likes to dress her mane.”
Spike spat on the ground. “I could be doing something useful with my time instead of this crap. Stupid retards. We should throw ‘em all in gas chambers. And the autistics.” He paused, then muttered, “Like there’s a difference.”
Rarity nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Just then, they heard an eerie chanting reverberate from the darker end of the cavern. Not loudly or clearly enough to discern the words, but audible nonetheless. Spike tightened his leg muscles, then gave a firm kick to Rarity’s sides with his spurs. Rarity upped her trot to a gallop. The echoes of her hoofsteps could be heard from yards away.
A few minutes later, Spike was close enough to hear the chanting with crystal-clear clarity from just around the corner. “OOGAH OOGAH OOGAH CHAKA, OOGAH OOGAH OOGAH CHAKA, OOGAH OOGAH OOGAH CHAKA.” Spike took a breath, then withdrew Bloodbath from her scabbard as his mount whipped around the corner.
Starlight Glimmer laid quivering on her back, her four legs splayed and bound to four corners of a blood-spattered stone altar by rusty chains. Forming a semicircle around her front was six Diamond Dog shamans who donned satin red robes with satin purple lining. They, while still chanting, bowed down with such servile depth that their foreheads touched the grounds and their hindquarters were raised up in the air; they stood on prayer mats. At both her sides were six wall-mounted torches lit with green flames, and behind her stood a creature so foul that Spike, just for a moment, could not believe his eyes. There was a hairless humanoid, with a sickly green skin and not a patch of hair to be found, with its hands raised over Starlight. It wore a satin robe matching those of the shamans; around its neck, it wore the severed and shrunken heads of Lauren Faust and M.A. Larson attached onto a straw rope; its face was entirely featureless, save for a black, pus-oozing scar that stretched down its face in the form of a question mark. The abomination looked to Spike with nonexistent eyes, then let out a booming baritone laugh through its nonexistent mouth.
“It is too late, dragon. The ritual is almost complete. Now, all I have to do is this.”
The chanting in the chamber intensified. The horrific figure bent down, then from behind the altar, it picked up a gargantuan chainsaw that it held in both hands. The chainsaw roared with a simple flick of a switch; the figure wasted no time before pressing the whirring blades down on Starlight’s groin. The helpless mare screamed as the chainsaw eviscerated her private area, then the places above that when the figure eased it vertically along her body. Blood and viscera spilled out of her as she was rended by the blades of the chainsaw. First it split her uterus; then shredded her intestines; then made her stomach burst with half-digested hay; then tore apart her beating heart with the cracking of the breaking ribcage; then ruined her larynx, cutting her shrill screams short; then, finally, severed her head, leaving her rived tongue and brains falling out of the separated halves of her skull. Starlight was dead. The chanting ceased.
The figure flipped the switch on its chainsaw again, then threw its deactivated chainsaw aside with manic laughter.
Spike groaned, shaking his head. “Dammit! Now I’m going to have that purple bitch give me another one of her lectures on how I can’t do anything right. Wanted to avoid that.” He paused, then looked to the figure. “Wasn’t something supposed to happen just now?”
The figure shrugged. “That ritual was supposed to summon the Fuck Lord Smooze from Tartarus so he could take over this entire universe and turn it into a cesspool of debauchery and sin.” It chuckled. “I guess that thing I read in that book was a hoax after all. Who’d a thought, huh?”
Spike sighed. “All that for nothing, huh? Pfft. I don’t care. Can you fight?”
The figure nodded. “Yeah? Why do you ask?”
Spike pointed Bloodbath at the green abomination. “I want you dead.”
The figure put a hand in one fold of its robe. “Huh. Why would that be?”
“Because you’re really fucking ugly.”
The figure laughed. “Same to you, pal.” With a schwing, the figure pulled a flaming crimson bastard sword out of a scabbard in its robe. It widened its stance and held the bone-hewn hilt of its sword with a two-handed grip. “Longswords versus katanas.” Without looking away from Spike, the figure made a swift horizontal cut in the direction of its acolytes. A trail of fire from the sword reached out and engulfed them in flames, and after several long moments of anguished wailing, they fell to the ground as smoldering corpses. “Dismount, you little shit. I’d hate to see a bruise on that fucktoy of yours.”
Spike unhooked his feet from his stirrups, then swung himself off his mount. Once his feet landed firm on the ground, he raised Bloodbath up high over his head, then unleashed his war-cry as he charged the figure.
The dragon tightened every muscle in his body, winding his entire form up for a single downward cleft on the beast that would slice it open from its sternum down to whatever it had in lieu of balls. The figure turned itself slightly sideways, holding the hilt down and the flaming blade slightly upward to meet the attack.
In short order, Spike was close enough. He let loose all the power he’d gathered in the downward strike on the figure’s gullet. But with a near-effortless parry by the figure, the edge of Bloodbath met the edge of the figure’s bastard sword. It shattered on impact; the crystalline blackness broke in two with a stygian explosion; Spike shook and flew back with the force, and the fedora on his head flew off him, landing limp on the floor. His studded trenchcoat evaporated in the air, and in a flash of light, the two halves of Bloodbath transformed to two halves of a pink rubber dildo.
The figure pointed its sword at Spike, and laughed. “Looks like longswords win, you stupid shit.” It switched the grip on its sword to a one-handed one, then pointed its free hand at Spike, who found himself frozen in place and lifted up in the air. The figure pointed to the altar; Spike was slammed against it, then was bent over it, his tail lifted up and his nose forced to suffer the fetid stench of Starlight’s mangled innards.
With a cackle, the figure removed its robe, exposing its naked body which brandished an erect ape phallus with the girth of its thigh and the length of its arm. Spike screamed at the sight of the cock, the cool air brushing his butthole making him feel more than a little vulnerable.
The figure gripped the base of Spike’s tail and pulled upwards, then shouted, “Prepare! Your anus!”
Spike looked to Rarity with pleading eyes. “Rarity! Help me, please!”
Rarity giggled, then waved a dismissive hoof. “I think we should just be friends from now on, darling.”
Spike watched as Rarity turned her back on her, then trotted away with a smile on her face and not a care in the world. Then, he let out a throat-rending squeal as he felt the figure’s behemoth of a cock force itself into his rectum with unholy force. The figure laughed, holding the edge of its flaming bastard sword just above his neck as it pushed its cock deeper and deeper into him with every thrust. Spike sobbed. The tears flowing from his eyes ran down his cheeks and to the altar, where they mixed with the pool of Starlight’s blood. In the recesses of his mind, Spike wondered whether he’d come into a nightmare, or if he’d just awoken from a dream.
