A Normal Date in Futaquestria

You roll over in bed, less than half awake, trying to escape the sunlight streaming through the window. Life in Futaquestria has made you a bit more of an early riser, but old habits die hard, and some mornings you still resist the rising of the sun.

As you roll over, your flopping arm rests against something firm. Sleepily, you wrap your fingers around it, trying to remember if you left anything in your bed that was… hard… warm… about as thick as your arm… and velvety smooth…

Your eyes finally open, and you find yourself looking into the perpetually lidded eyes of Maud Pie. A quick glance downward reveals that you’ve got your hand on her cock.

You’re certain that you didn’t go to bed with Maud Pie, which means she slipped in sometime during the night. Normally that would be alarming, but Maud Pie is such a subdued presence that it’s hard to be alarmed by her.

“By all means,” says Maud, “continue to touch me down there. I’ll be happy to provide you with a breakfast of thick mare seed.”

“What are you doing in my bed, Maud?”

“Not filling your mouth with a hot load of pony jizz,” says Maud. “But it’s within your power to change that. You’re off to a good start.”

You realize that your hand is still on her cock, idly stroking the soft gray skin stretched over the shaft. Futaquestria has done more than made you an early riser; it’s also conditioned you to be… receptive to the presence of marecocks.

“You know what I mean,” you say. You take your hand off her cock; you like the way it feels under your fingers, but right now you’d like to keep Maud’s mind on the conversation at hand.

“I have good news,” she says. “I just finished my rocktorate in rock science.”

“Oh,” you say, mirroring Maud’s expression as you parse her words. “It’s like a doctorate, but for rocks.”

Maud is silent for a moment. “Wow,” she finally says. “I get it. I can’t believe I studied there for years and didn’t get that extremely straightforward play on words until just this very second.”

You’re like ninetey-nine percent sure she’s being sarcastic. “Hey, congratulations, though,” you say.

“Thank you. But that’s not all. I’ve also decided to pursue my research at a Ponyville-adjacent location. As of now, I’m a local.”
“That’s awesome!” you say. “Maud, I know our date didn’t go exactly the way you wanted, but I like you a lot and I’m really glad you’re going to be sticking around.” You throw one arm around her, hugging her as best you can while the both of you are lying in bed. Despite your innocent intentions, your hug is a little more than just friendly - her cock is pressed between the two of you as you embrace, and her firm, slate-gray tits squish against your bare chest.

After you let Maud go, she just stares at you silently for a while. You keep thinking she’s about to say something - though there’s obviously no way to tell from her unchanging expression - but the silence goes on for a good fifteen or twenty seconds before you finally break it. “Maud? You okay over there?”

“I’m sorry,” says Maud. “I wasn’t expecting you to say you liked me. Or to give me a hug. Due to my lack of emotional preparation, I was briefly struck dumb as my heart metaphorically did a series of backflips.”

Now you’re the one who’s struck dumb. But rather than wade into choppy emotional waters, you seize on a more practical question. “Wait, wait a minute,” you say. “I think maybe I’m missing something, because I’m not sure how this timeline adds up. When you came into town, you were saying I should move away with you, but now you have your degree and you moved here?“

“Don’t worry about it!” chirps a voice from behind you. “The important thing is, it’s canon!”

You roll over and look behind you. Pinkie Pie is there, resting her chin on her hand. There’s barely enough room on the bed for all three of you, especially since Pinkie’s a plump mare with big round tits and a girthy pink cock.

“My sister is quite right,” says Maud. “Canon intervened in a very convenient way, and now I get to pursue my career while living near my sister and the handsome human.”

“I don’t think I understand,” you say.

“Don’t concern yourself with it,” says Maud. “Honestly, the less we talk about it, the better.”

You consider pressing the point, but Pinkie’s arm falls across your body and pulls you in for a hug. Being hugged by Pinkie Pie is an experience - your contact with Maud’s naked body seems chaste by comparison, once your face is buried in Pinkie’s cleavage and her thick cock is grinding softly against you. “Mmh, it took a lot of self-control not to join in when you hugged Maud,” she says, “But I could tell that was a moment just for the two of you. Now that it’s over, though… maybe the three of us could rise and shine together?”

“I’d still like to feed you breakfast, if you’re hungry for cum,” says Maud. “My sister can have your butthole this time.”
Pinkie turns you around, still embracing you but now grinding her shaft into the crack of your butt. You barely ever take Twilight’s ring off lately, so even in the morning, your ass is still magically expanded, magically sensitive, and ready to receive. The thought of getting double-teamed by big-dicked sisters first thing in the morning is still a little weird to you, but by this time you already know that it’ll feel good. Plus, Maud’s cum will be a filling and satisfying breakfast, because -

“Hey, Twilight?”

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t really been hungry for a few days. Does the ring make it so that I can survive entirely on cum?”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Okay. Thought so.”

That was one of your shorter flashbacks. In any case, your new job at the spa had given you the opportunity to sample a variety of mares’ flavors - although your butt was a bigger attraction to most - and the subtle musk of Maud Pie’s cock is already starting to make your mouth water. “Okay,” you say, and you lower your head until it’s almost touching the tip of Maud’s stiff gray cock. You breathe in her scent for a moment, then drag your tongue across her slit, licking up the flow of precum that’s already staining your sheets.

The flavor of Maud’s cum is more pronounced than her musk, but it’s still mild - neither too salty or too sweet - making it a suitable breakfast food. You suspect that Pinkie’s cum is more of a dessert, given how much sugar the pudgy pony eats. You’ll still be getting plenty of Pinkie’s spunk, of course - it’ll just be going in your butt.

As you wrap your lips around Maud’s flared tip, Pinkie begins to wedge the head of her cock between the soft cheeks of your ass. You shudder as the wide head touches your pucker and groan as she penetrates you. As usual, there’s no discomfort, barely even any resistance as she pushes her fat shaft into you, widening your hole, spreading your cheeks. “Oh my gosh!” she squeals, “Maud, you were so right! His butthole is the threshold to an entire world of perfect sexual bliss!”

You suspect that was an exact quote, based on some poetic after-action report Maud had given her sister. “I’m glad you like it,” says Maud. “I’m pleased with his mouth as well. He seems to like the taste of my cock, and I’m sure he’ll love the big breakfast I’m going to feed him.” She places her hands on your shoulders and turns your body sideways, so that you’re perpendicular to the two girls. Maud gently pushes herself deeper, and you feel your throat widen, just as easily and painlessly as your butt. “His throat is quite good too,” says Maud, slowly pumping her hips. “Your body really is a miracle,” she says, caressing your face with a light touch of her fingers. “Not only are you wonderful to look at, you are capable of giving - and, I suspect, receiving - unparalleled pleasure in sexual congress. I think I speak for all the mares of Ponyville when I say it’s good to see you embracing your gift.”

“Totally!” said Pinkie Pie, still sliding herself deeper into your ass. “It feels so good to have my cock in your butt! I want everybody to be able to feel this!” She begins to thrust in and out of you, sliding her fat pink shaft along your soft inner walls, jolting your prostate each time a vein drags across it. Your cock, still enlarged from the treatment you got with Fleur, is rock hard and dripping pre, so sensitive that it feels like the slightest touch would set it off. But you know by now that you’ll be able to hold out a little longer: the magic of Twilights ring, in addition to a suite of other effects, helps to keep you from coming too early, ensuring that you “stay in the game” while a pony - or ponies - are penetrating you.

“Ooh, I can’t wait to cum inside you!” says Pinkie. “Stallions always get so big and squishy when me and Maud fill them up together! And you’re super cute when you’re cumflated!” She moves her hips faster, her ballsack slapping against your asscheeks with each thrust. “This’ll be your first load of Pinkie cum, so I wanna make it big! I want you to remember the way I filled you up… and if you ever want a free refill, you can swing by Sugarcube Corner anytime you like…”

“Yes,” says Maud. “And once I show you the way to my new home, you are just as welcome to come by. I could feed you your breakfast every morning, surrounded by the natural beauty of the caverns.” She’s sliding your cock down your throat now with long, powerful strokes; if your body wasn’t magically stretchy it would be a brutal throatfucking, but you’re able to enjoy every moment of it, lost in bliss, awaiting the quiver of rigid flesh that will signal her voluminous orgasm and the feeling of fullness she’ll give you.

“Ready to cum, sis?” says Pinkie. “I’m gonna sprint for the finish line! Try and keep up!” Pinkie speeds up in an instant, jackhammering your butthole with the uncanny speed that she occasionally exhibits. Your body shakes from the impact of her hips, your cock slapping against your chest.

And then Maud picks up the pace too, her hips pistoning as she fucks your throat. “Spitroasting stallions is a proud Pie sister tradition,” says Maud. “Pinkie and I make a good team, don’t you think?” They do make a good team - their hips work together in a powerful rhythm, their cocks plunging deep inside you, touching every wet, dark, sensitive corner of your throat and your ass. “I’m going to cum soon,” says Maud. “Don’t worry, I’ll pull back after a bit so you get to taste your big breakfast of marecum.”

“Ah!” shouts Pinkie. While Maud expresses herself through the content of her words, Pinkie Pie relies much more on tone - and in this way, her voice better communicates the fact that she’s close to coming. “Ah, ah, I’m gonna cum! Oh fuck, I’m coming!” And she blows like a firehose of thick sweet cream, making your butthole even wider as cum pumps its way through her shaft. The first jet of marecum makes your belly bloat like a three-course dinner. The next one makes you look like you’re nine or ten months pregnant. And it keeps on coming.

Unable to hold out against the rhythmic pumping of Pinkie’s cock against your prostate, you cum, blowing a massive load onto your bedsheets. You still don’t measure up to dickmare loads, but your enlarged cock and balls still serve up a lot of human spunk.

And speaking of being served, Maud finally makes good on her promise of breakfast. She rams every inch of her cock down your throat, slapping your chin with her fat gray ballsack, and shoots her load down into your belly. You bulge out in all directions, your body wobbling as the sisters fill you up from both ends, each one firing off heavy loads from balls that seem limitless.

Actually, you know for a fact that dickmares can cum endlessly - Lyra demonstrated that the first time you met her - but usually they just shoot a few gallons, just enough to give a stallion a big sloshing belly full of mare seed. And before too long, the throbbing of the two cocks inside you become a little less intense and a little less frequent. Maud pulls her cock back so that the tip is just inside your lips, and her slit spills a mouthful of marecum. You don’t have much time to savor it, since the next one is sure to come soon, but you can appreciate the flavor - it’s richer and thicker than her pre. You swallow it, then you gulp down mouthful after mouthful until Maud’s cock is empty.

As their dicks go limp, Pinkie and Maud cuddle up to you. Pinkie gropes and kisses your bloated body, delighted by the cumflated blob she’s turned you into. Maud just lies still, holding her body against yours.

“This was so much fun!” says Pinkie, springing up from the bed. “I’m so glad Maud invited me along. Can you stand up okay?”

After a short rest, you’re back to just having a round, cum-filled belly, and you’re able to rise from the bed without too much trouble. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you say. “I better get showered and report to the spa.”

“And I gotta get to my shift at Sugarcube Corner,” says Pinkie.

“And I have to get back to my cave before the rocks miss me too much,” says Maud. “I hope I’ll see you again soon.”
“One last thing,” says Pinkie. “My Pinkie Sense tells me that a certain DJ pony might want to talk to you! So if you happen to see her… go say hi!”

“Uh, sure,” you say. You head for the shower, and the Pie sisters head for the front door.

By the time you’re out of the shower, your body is pretty much back to normal. You get dressed and open the front door - and something outside catches your attention.

There’s a community bulletin board within sight of your front door. You never paid much attention to it during your months of seclusion, although you occasionally saw new notices appear. But now a local celebrity is standing in front it it, looking down thoughtfully at a sheet of orange paper in her hand. She’s a white unicorn with electric blue hair and a cutie mark that’s… ah, shit. Two eighth notes? Is that what that symbol is?

She also has a cock dangling down to her knees, limp but tantalizingly long and thick. Her body is slim, and her teardrop tits are on the small side for Futaquestrian mares - perhaps a C cup if she ever had occasion to wear a bra. She’s beautiful, she’s famous, and she’s cool - she'd have been intimidating back on earth. But being admired by dickmares has made you more confident - and besides, Pinkie seemed to think the two of you had something to discuss.

You sidle up beside her. She's a bit taller than you, but you get her attention easily enough. She looks over at you and gives you a friendly smile - but then she turns back to the orange sheet of paper in her hands. It's two sheets of paper, actually, and she keeps flipping between them, looking up at the bulletin board, and then looking back down at her papers.

The top sheet of paper looks like a flyer for a rave, with this mare - DJ-PON-3 - spinning. The bottom sheet, while you can only see it briefly each time she lifts the top sheet, appears slightly different.

She just keeps looking between the sheets and the board, back and forth, back and forth. You get the feeling that you should say something. “Uh… it looks like… you're trying to decide between two flyers for your show,” you say. This breaks her reverie, and she turns to you and nods. “Can I help?” you ask. She nods again.

She holds up the top sheet, and you look it over.

DJ-PON-3
The Underground
TONIGHT
SUNSET to SUNRISE

“This one’s okay,” you say. “Gets the point across.”

She nods, and pulls away the top sheet, showing you the one underneath.

DJ-PON-3 ft. The Human
The Underground
TONIGHT
SUNSET to SUNRISE

Be there when the human discovers Ponyville's nightlife
Show him a good time
Dance til dawn with Equestria’s most exotic stallion

You blink at the flyer, then look up at the DJ’s smiling face. “Is this… your way of propositioning me?”

She nods.

“And your idea of a date is… putting me on a dance floor and surrounding me with mares?”

She nods emphatically.

“Shit,” you say. It's an intimidating prospect, and yet… your dick made up its mind in no time at all. Its support for this idea is unambiguous. The DJ pony can see it too; she stares down at the tent in your jeans and grins.

“Yeah, I guess I'm doing it,” you say, sighing with resignation. “But if it's too much for me, I'm bowing out early.”

She nods, taking on a sympathetic expression.

You hand the flyers back to her. “Heh, this was a cute way to ask me out. Your civilian name is Vinyl Scratch, right? I've seen you around… you, uh… you can't talk or whatever?”

“No, I can talk,” she says softly. Her voice is high-pitched, with a slight rasp. It's cute.

“Oh,” you say. “That’s weird. Not talking is your whole gimmick, but you dropped it almost immediately?”

Vinyl frowns. Something about what you just said didn’t sit well with her, and you start backtracking. “Maybe ‘gimmick’ isn’t the word I’m looking for,” you say, and she nods encouragingly. “Maybe… keeping silent most of the time is just the way you’re most comfortable interacting with the world around you.” She nods again, moving one hand in a small circle in a gesture you think means “keep going.”

“And… if you’re happy, and the people around you are happy, then there’s no reason for me to pass judgment on how you live your life?” She continues gesturing, and you dig deeper. “And… maybe the fact that I interpret unusual behavior as a ‘gimmick’ is a product of growing up in a culture that favors conformity over personal fulfillment?”

She keeps gesturing, prompting you to keep going, but after a moment of thought you just shrug. “Uh, sorry,” you say. “I think that’s all the introspection I’ve got for now.” She gives you an understanding nod and a thumbs up.

“So I don’t actually know where this “Underground” club is,” you say. “I’ll be done with work around five, can you come and get me sometime after that?”

“I’ll pick you up at eight, hot stuff,” says Vinyl Scratch. She pins up the second flyer - the one that advertises your presence at the rave - and walks off, swaying her tail happily.

“Hm,” you say, to no one. “I guess ‘I’ll pick you up at eight’ would be a little tricky to express in gestures.”

Your day of work a the spa is fairly uneventful. There are no high-profile clients today - although Fleur’s rave review is already bringing in bookings from Canterlot - so you mostly spend the day chatting with spa patrons and sucking the occasional marecock. Your role in the spa is somewhat nebulous; Aloe and Lotus assure you that your mere presence is worth what they’re paying you, but you’d rather contribute something than just sit idle. So you’ve been picking up the basics of massage and a few other treatments.

It’s not exactly your job to sexually pleasure the female customers - neither Aloe nor Lotus has ever told you to - but it ends up happening pretty frequently. You’re flattered by the attention they give you, and you’re no longer intimidated by big hard marecocks. All the mares in Ponyville are… well, they’re really sweet. They want to make you feel good. Back in your days of seclusion, all their sexual attention seemed… predatory, you guess?

But just like your dismissal of Vinyl’s silence as a ‘gimmick,’ maybe that’s just an artifact of the world you grew up in.

Vinyl Scratch knocks on your door just before eight, when the sun is just over the horizon. You answer the door in a butt-hugging pair of black pants, turning your body sideways to give Vinyl a look at the outline of your expanded rump. She pulls her tinted glasses down for an unobscured view, and her cock - already hard - spits a glob of pre onto the ground.

“Hey, Vinyl,” you say. “So where’s the Underground?”

She points a finger downward.

“I suppose I walked right into that one,” you say. “You were joking, right? There’s not a club directly underneath my house?” She shakes her head. “Okay,” you say. “Lead the way, Vinyl.”

She first leads the way to ponyville’s party supply store, a place you’ve passed on occasion and entered only once. The storefront is unassuming, with the name “Ponyville Party Supply” painted in a colorful balloony font on the sign above the door. But the first and only time you entered, you realized that Futaquestrians don’t draw a hard line between “party” and “orgy.” So the same store that sells balloons and streamers sells handcuffs, sex swings, and condoms - the latter of which you’ve never actually seen used, but which are available for purchase in a variety of sizes.

But Vinyl just goes straight for the cooler full of energy drinks, silently regarding the selection with great seriousness. You read the labels along with her - just like on Earth, it seems like they’re named and packaged to be attention-grabbing. There’s one called Tartarus Energy, one called Thaumic Shock… and a very eye-catching one just called “Cock” that comes in a bottle shaped like a pony penis.

It takes her a while to make her decision, and you figure that if anyone’s going to break the silence, it’ll have to be you. “So do you have a favorite, or…”

Vinyl draws in a breath, as if preparing to speak, but just sighs with an ambiguous expression on her face. You get the impression that asking her to name her “favorite” energy drink is like asking a sommelier to name their “favorite” wine. She’s trying to pick the right energy drink for this night, which means finding the perfect balance of… electrolytes. And taurine. Or whatever.

You’re not sure you can offer much input, so you sidestep over to a nearby shelf where small packets hold individual servings of… something. The names of the various products are sort of inscrutable, but one in particular gets your attention. This product, whatever it is, is called Wyld Stallyn.

You pick up the packet and dangle it in front of Vinyl Scratch’s face. “Hey, check it out!” you say. “There’s this movie, back where I’m from, called Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure… and, uh…” You cut off your explanation when you see the change in Vinyl’s expression. She’s very excited about whatever Wyld Stallyn is. Her mouth has opened in a gleeful smile, and she’s practically bouncing up and down, making her tits and cock jiggle.

“Uh… so what is this?” you ask. “I just picked it up because of the name.”

Vinyl goes back to being thoughtful, furrowing her brow as she considers your question. A couple of times she opens her mouth, then closes it again, as if she can’t make up her about about whether to use her voice. Finally, she seems to get an idea, and she opens her right hand, tapping her thumb and forefinger and then opening them in a reverse “L” shape. A rectangle of blue light appears in the empty space, a sort of magical hologram you’ve come to think of as the Futaquestrian smartphone. You’ve noticed ponies using that enchantment ever since you started to come out of seclusion, and you’d been meaning to sit down with Twilight sometime and ask some questions about the state of magical “technology” in this world. But she’s been out of town this week, so you’ve had to wait.

Vinyl taps at the hologram for a moment, and then… hands it to you. You hadn’t realized that was possible, but the luminous blue rectangle floats above your palm once she sets it in your hand. There’s an image of Twilight Sparkle in full princess regalia on the “screen,” and as you stare down at it, Twilight’s voice begins to emanate from it.

“Hello?” she says. “Vinyl Scratch? I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of time to talk, but… what’s up?”

“It’s me,” you say, leaning down over the screen. “Vinyl just handed me her phone.”

“Her what?”

“She just projected a magical blue hologram and transferred it to my hand.”

“Okay,” said Twilight, clearly relieved that you’re now talking sense. “Great to hear from you! So, same question. What’s up?”

“Well, I’m on a date with Vinyl at the moment,” you say. “She’s gonna take me to her club. We’re picking up some supplies, and she got really excited and called you up when I showed her a package of something called ‘Wyld Stallyn.’ With two ‘Y’s.”

“Are you gonna take Wyld Stallyn?!” asked Twilight, suddenly sounding as excited as Vinyl had been.

“Not unless I know what it is,” you say. “What exactly is Wyld Stallyn?”

“It’s a party drug!” says Twilight cheerfully.

“A party drug,” you repeat flatly. “And they just...sell it in stores?”

“Sure!” says Twilight. “That's where you sell things!”

Okay, Twilight got you pretty good with that one. But she genuinely doesn't seem to understand the source of your confusion. “Uh, where I'm from, recreational drugs are generally… illicit.”

“Illicit?” asks Twilight. “Why would… no, no, wait, let me guess!” She makes some thoughtful noises. “Okay, so… without magic, you don't have a way to reliably counter negative side effects, addiction, or overdose. Am I close?”

“Yeah, that's part of it,” you say. “So this thing is safe because of magic?”

“Yes,” says Twilight. “It's enchanted to only give you as much of a dose as you can handle. The pill itself is actually mostly a delivery mechanism for a spell, although I think Wyld Stallyn has some non-magical components as well. Oh, and actually, there should be two pills in the package. The smaller one’s the counterspell, so you can just take that if you're not having a good time.”

“Wow,” you say. “Magic is pretty cool.”

“Speaking as someone who dedicated my entire life to the study of magic,” says Twilight, “I tend to agree.”

“Okay, so what does it do?”

Twilight chuckled. “Well, it’s designed for stallions who want to ’go wild’ in the presence of mares. It’ll make you… eager to please, I guess?”

“I’m not sure if I need it,” you say. “I’m already becoming kind of a slut.”

Twilight laughs. Vinyl seems to find it funny too. “You might be a slut by Earth standards,” says Twilight, “But if you take Wyld Stallyn, you’re gonna start liking dicks a lot. Back in Canterlot, my girlfriends and I once spent the night with a colt who’d taken it, and… he tired us all out. You’re going to make a lot of friends if you take it.”

“All right, enough with the peer pressure,” you say. The thing about peer pressure, though... it works. Despite the rocky start the two of you had, you do trust Twilight now. Plus, your dick likes the idea of you becoming totally marecock-obsessed for one night, and you’ve already been thinking with your dick today. Might as well keep that streak going.

“Yeah, I think I’ll try it,” you say. Vinyl squeals, bouncing and grinning again.

“That’s great!” says Twilight, but then a long sigh comes through the phone. “So you’re going to try out Wyld Stallyn during the week when I just happen to be halfway across Equestria on diplomatic business. On the last night before I come back home.”

“...Sorry?”

“No, it’s okay,” says Twilight. “Have fun.”

“Talk to you later,” you say, and hand the phone back to Vinyl. She closes the connection and collapses the hologram.

Vinyl seems to have made up her mind about the energy drinks. She grabs one for each of you, takes the Wyld Stallyn packet from your hand, and pays for the lot of it. She hands you your drink - a lemon-lime Tartarus Energy - and you take your first sip. It’s fine.

The entrance to the Underground club is fairly well hidden, tucked in a narrow space between two buildings. Even if you’d been social and outgoing during your first few months in Ponyville, you might never have noticed it. Tonight, it’s more conspicuous than usual: there’s a line of ponies, mostly mares, leading into the narrow alleyway.

Vinyl points to the line from a distance, but holds you back when you try to approach. Rather than joining the line, or skipping past it, the two of you enter the building on the north side of the alleyway and make your way down a set of stairs to the Underground’s employee entrance.

The club’s aesthetic is “reinforced bunker.” Very possibly, the club was once an actual bunker: its construction is solid stone, with metal bars visible through crumbled portions of the walls. Multicolored crystals cling to the walls and ceiling, dominating the space above the DJ booth. And something about the way they’re arranged makes it look like they broke through the walls at some point, growing over the inside of the bunker like a fungus. The thought is a little unsettling, but apparently the ponies of Ponyville consider this a safe place to dance and drink, so what the hell do you know?

The club is empty now, aside from the bartender and a few servers who have nothing to do at the moment. Vinyl takes you to the DJ booth, a raised platform flanked by speakers. There’s a semicircular control panel in front of where Vinyl Scratch stands, and little of it is familiar to you. There is a turntable, but nothing else you recognize as capable of playing music.

Vinyl takes the packet of Wyld Stallyn from between her tits, rips it open, and takes out one of the pills. She hands the over packet, with the smaller counterspell still inside, and you pocket it. Then she places the pill between her teeth, grins, and leans down to kiss you, pushing the pill into your mouth with her tongue. You swallow the pill and lean into the kiss, waiting for the drug to kick in.

You’re having a perfectly good time while you wait, though. For someone who rarely uses her tongue to speak, she’s a pretty skillful tongue-wrestler. She wraps her arms around you and promptly goes for a butt-grope, lifting and squishing the temptingly large cheeks the magic ring gives you. You return the favor, running your hands over her cutie mark and gently pinching the base of her tail. Her cock, twelve inches of thick ivory-white meat, digs into your chest, staining your shirt with a flow of pre that only seems to get stronger.

You bounce on the balls of your feet, rhythmically moving your body against hers, using your chest to stroke the shaft of her cock. You reach a hand up, between your bodies, to grab her dick, and then your other hand joins it, pumping up and down with precum-slicked fingers. But soon even that isn’t enough, and you pull back from the kiss, kneeling to take the head of Vinyl’s cock in your mouth.

You have never tasted anything as delicious as Vinyl’s pre, never smelled a fragrance that compares to her musk. And as your tongue massages her cumvein, milking more creamy pre from her slit, you realize that the drug is making you feel this way. This lucid thought dims the effect a bit, and you put one hand to your pocket, feeling the packet with the little pill inside. Pretty soon, the club will open up, filling with ponies. Mostly mares. Mares with cocks. And they’ll all see you like this.

The thought scares you a little, but you can’t really think of a reason why you shouldn’t “go wild.” Opening up sexually has enriched your life since you’ve come to Futaquestria. You know yourself better. You know what you want. You’ve found a way to share happiness with the people around you, and you’re sick of feeling guilty about it.

So instead of taking the counterspell pill out of your pocket, you unzip your pants, then unbutton them, then pull them off entirely. You pop your lips off of Vinyl’s cock and turn yourself around, pressing your bubble butt against her hips so that her cock is nestled in your crack. Then you start to bounce your ass against her, feeling warm, thick pre spilling onto your cheeks.

Moaning, Vinyl reaches past your to press a button on her console. Bass-heavy music bursts from the speakers on either side of you, and you move your body to the beat, stroking her cock with rapid movements of your squishy ass cheeks. The crystals all around you start to glow, casting their colors on the wall in rhythm with the music. Vinyl reaches down to grab her cock, and she slips it into your cheeks, bringing it right up to your pucker.

And then the club’s doors open, bringing in a flood of pony flesh, a multicolor throng that immediately sets its eyes on you, just in time to see you get penetrated. There’s no mic you can see, but somehow your moans carry throughout the club, audible alongside the pumping music.

And the crowd fucking loves it. Mares who have whispered about you and flirted with you are now watching you get fucked. You’re still standing upright, speared on Vinyl’s thrusting cock, and you can see all of them staring, getting hard, some of them stroking themselves or getting ready to fuck.

And - you swear this isn’t just the Wyld Stallyn talking - it’s awesome.

You lean forward, putting your hands on Vinyl’s console for balance, being careful not to touch anything that seems like it would affect the music. The club is filling up - some patrons are starting to dance, some are finding seats, others are ordering drinks - but no matter what they’re doing, nearly all of them keep their eyes on you. Watching you get your ass pounded by the beautiful DJ’s marecock. Watching your dick slap against your chest as your body shakes. Listening to your moans mingle with the music.

You see Lyra and Bon Bon enter the club, and Lyra points excitedly at you, shaking Bon Bon by the shoulder. Lyra’s cock spits a thick jet of pre a foot in the air at the sight of you, and continues to gurgle a stream of pre onto the stone floor. But she doesn’t lose control and launch into an endless orgasm the way she did when you first met - so it looks like she’s still making good progress.

Lyra leads Bon Bon over to the edge of a booth, and the mint-green unicorn takes a seat, her cock sticking straight up. Bon Bon lowers herself onto her girlfriend’s cock, plugging up the stream of pre, bouncing on Lyra’s lap. Lyra reaches around Bon Bon’s body, stroking her stiff, cream-colored shaft with one hand and her tits with the other. Lyra leans to the side, keeping an eye on you; clearly she wants to see every second of you getting railed.

And getting railed feels great. Your mind and body are completely devoted to feeling what Vinyl is doing to you, and the pleasure blots out everything else, overwhelming your senses. I love getting fucked and I love marecock aren’t especially profound thoughts, but at the moment they loom large in your mind like great truths, world-shattering insights that you turn over in your head again and again.

The ballsack slapping against your ass gets bigger and heavier each time it makes contact, filling up with more and more marecum. “Cum in me…” you beg, and your words carry across the length and width of the club. “Gimme your load,” you groan, growing more insistent as your body’s hunger for mareseed becomes more keen. “Fill me up, Vinyl! I want you to bloat me with your cum!”

At the back of the club, you see Lyra’s eyes roll back in her head, and Bon Bon’s stomach starts to swell as her girlfriend cums inside her, pumping her with spunk at an impressive pace. Bon Bon’s body becomes bloated, and soon it’s too heavy and round to stay on their seat. The two of them fall forward, Bon Bon landing softly on her squishy belly, Lyra behind her, still coming her brains out. This is the first time you’re actually seen a mare get truly cumflated; most dickamre loads just give the recipient a pot belly. But Lyra, as is typical when you’re around, is a regular fountain of marecum. And it’s not just Bon Bon’s belly that gets big: her breasts balloon outward, growing so big and round that they touch the floor, even as she’s resting on her swollen stomach.

Vinyl thrusts herself hard into your ass, and when the first jet of marecum fires into your ass, your mind melts, conscious thought evaporating, the single word cum taking the place of everything your mind used to contain. The thought repeats and magnifies, harmonizes with itself, echoing out from your mind and into your body. Every nerve ending vibrates with joy, and your body, too full of pleasure, seeks explosive release. A cheer goes up from the crowd as you cum, shooting your load onto the enormous grey tits of a mare in the front row. As you watch, the mare lifts her breasts with both hands, licks your cum off her tits, and raises her head to smile as her eyes meet yours.

Well, one of her eyes meets yours, anyway.

The rest of your load doesn’t quite shoot far enough to hit the crowd, but it’s powerful, and it goes on and on. Vinyl, of course, shot more than your entire load with the first pump of her cock, and she’s nowhere near done. It becomes harder and harder to hold yourself upright as your stomach swells with Vinyl’s seed, and you almost lose your grip on the console. But Vinyl catches you by your forearms and holds you upright, raising your hands over your head as she fills you up with the last of her load.

With her cock still in your ass, Vinyl falls back into a chair, patting your bloated stomach. As your mind clears, you see fountains of marecum erupting all over the dance floor, shooting high into the air - and below, you see mares filling their partners, bloating the bellies of mares and stallions alike.

You’d love to join them, but being this full always takes you out of the action for a little while. Cumflation is fun and all, but you can’t exactly be a love machine if you’re too heavy to move. You lay a hand on your belly -

...And you can actually feel it shrinking.

Damn, you think. This must be one of the effects of Wyld Stallyn. When you get bloated with cum, it’s never clear to you where the cum goes when you shrink back to normal, but it always happens slowly enough that it doesn’t seem too weird. But now it’s shrinking so fast it’s actually kind of eerie.

But you know not to look a gift horse in the mouth. You pull yourself off of Vinyl’s cock with a schlick, bring your mouth up to her ear, and say “You mind if I hit the dance floor while you work?”

Vinyl just grins and slaps your butt, making you stumble in the direction of the crowd. That sounds like a green light to you, so you descend the stairs and wade into the throng, proudly bottomless, too horny and cock-hungry to feel an ounce of shame. The night is young, and there’s lots of fun to be had.