Big as Ian was, Solid Built was bigger. Nothing illustrated the point more to him than how he woke. There was no light for Ian, because he was completely under the covers of the bed. One of his arms was wrapped around Solid's powerful back thigh, and his head was pressed in against her belly.

Comfort and calm was all around Ian. In his ears Solid's heartbeat played a steady rhythm. The conscious parts of his mind recalled her requirements from the contract, and his own. Shifting just a fraction, he felt something bump against his chin, then his lips. When wet warmth touched his skin, all the adult and civilized parts of his mind shut off. Ian opened his mouth for Solid's inexplicably lactating teat and sucked.

The milk was rich, creamy, and surprisingly pleasant to taste. Ian's instincts were in full control, and the actions every baby (human or pony) knows took over. His mouth worked, suckling and pulling the milk, and Ian even closed his eyes and felt himself relax into an almost-dream.

When Ian awoke again, his mouth was still working, but his target had changed. Thoughts stirred, and he couldn't help but feel loved beyond measure by the mare letting him drink of her body. Nerves, anxiety, and social taboos seemed unable to penetrate the perfect morning, and it wasn't until the flow of milk stopped that Ian started to really wake up. Releasing the teat with his mouth, Ian started to move about, only for magic to gently take hold of him and pull him up from under the covers.

Solid licked the milk froth from Ian's lips. She didn't want to talk, not yet, and so made sure to nuzzle and fuss about Ian obsessively like a mare with her foal. The connection forged with the human might seem strange to any other pony, but for her it was everything she had ever wanted.

Ian heard a peal of laughter while Solid was licking along his jaw and up behind his cheek, and snapping his mouth closed revealed it to be his own. "You can stop if you want, I think you got all the milk…" Ian's mind was already adding the next word. "… mommy."

"Nonsense. No colt of mine is going out looking dirty. Maybe I need to give you a bath?" Solid's tongue snaked out and traced along Ian's chin, moving upwards and flicking off his nose.

"Mommy," once said the word seemed natural to Ian, "I think I can handle that—" His words were cut off as magic plucked him up, pulling him from the bed. "Mom!"

Though one of her legs still pestered her in the mornings, Solid had a foal to take care of. "Don't be like that, my colt." She walked with a little prance in her gait, legs expressing the happiness she felt. It was a stretch for her limited magic, but she managed to get the bath running while still holding Ian.

Being bathed by a mare as a grown adult should have felt odd, even demeaning; Ian couldn't actually feel anything but the love and happiness of being taken care of. Solid didn't ask him to move about, she just gently lifted his arms and legs as needed, scrubbing and cleaning her "colt" until she seemed content.

For his part, Ian felt nearly every touch of the brush as tickling, and was giggling, laughing, and snorting adorably. But the bath couldn't last forever, and soon the brushes departed. "All clean?" Ian looked up at Solid.

"You are squeaky-clean, little Ian." Solid lifted Ian up and dumped him on some towels. Swapping her magic's grip to the soft cloth, she began to fluff the towels over Ian, drying him off in short order. "You know I used to use a spell to dry off…" Trailing off, Solid Built felt Ian's hand slide up from her muzzle, along her cheek, and trace up her face to what was left of her horn.

Ian marveled, not for the first time, at the fortitude his mommy must have had to handle the scars being inflicted. The marks were deep in places, and in others it looked like her flesh had been sanded smooth. No fur grew from the flesh so marked, and Ian's fingers were not stopped until he reached her destroyed horn. "Does it hurt?"

"You can touch it." Solid didn't answer the question and both of them knew it. She held her head steady as his soft fingers touched the broken stump.

The transition from flesh to bone was unusual. Solid's fur gave way to the soft, velveteen covering of her hard horn. Ian traced his fingers around the base of her ruined horn, feeling out that point where the flesh melted into the protuberance. No unicorn had let him just explore them like this, let alone one injured as Solid was. Dragging his eyes away from the horn, Ian looked to Solid's eyes as he felt slowly upwards, fingers finding the edge of the shattered horn. "It hurts you." He pulled his fingers away.

"Only a little, but it reminds me of a much greater pain. You can keep feeling it if you—" Solid stopped. Both of Ian's arms were wrapped around her neck, and the mostly dry human was hugged tight against her.

"It's okay, Mommy." Ian pressed his face—and more importantly his nose—into Solid's mane and inhaled. The warm mare smell, the delicate mix of scents that was uniquely "Solid Built," poured into his olfactory sense. "Maybe another time."

"Let's get you dressed." Solid's smile couldn't get any wider as she used her magic to float Ian's washed and dried clothing (cutesy of Screech sneaking in late at night) over. "I think Click Clack said she wanted to play with you next. She often has strange ideas, but I think you will find them fun."

"I wouldn't have signed if I didn't." Ian began pulling his clean and soft clothes back on, opting to do without shoes since he would likely be back in another of the mare's rooms shortly.

"You head down, mommy is going to take a bath. Let Chatter know I will be down in a few hours." Solid eyed the big bath still full of water, and was literally holding herself back from it by the barest thread of willpower.

"Okay Mommy." Ian took pleasure in the look of delight that flushed over Solid's face, he could even see her blush around the furless edges of those old scars. Part of him swelled up inside, tickled pink that he had made Solid so happy.

Walking out of the room, Ian's feet felt the hardwood floor under him with a unique newness. He inhaled deeply, clearing his nose of Solid's scent, only to pick up a lot more. The whirring, clicking voice of Click Clack came from the taproom below.

"When my bonded mate comes down, we may start."

The words intrigued Ian, and he made his way to the stairs and started padding down them. "Click what are…" His voice trailed off. The bar was almost full, all different creatures populating it. Ian spotted some diamond dogs, a minotaur, a group of very focused-looking earth ponies, as well as the mysterious pony who had sold Solid the potion and talisman. What startled him most, was every single patron in the taproom was female.

"And here he is." Click's precise words were no less understandable for being accompanied by mechanical sounds, and looking up at Ian she smiled widely. "My stallion, it was agreed that I had rights to your fluids." Her eyes wandered down from his, tracing his body and focusing on his groin. "I am going to auction the rights to some right now."

"Wait!" Ian was dumbfounded. "But that… I don't—" He staggered and leaned against the bar. An ache of need poured through his body, and Ian was forced to realize that the mechanical pony literally had control over his libido. "Please, Click, I'll do whatever you want!"

Click Clack reached one hoof up, tubes and levers actuating openly to move the joints of her leg. She cupped Ian's jaw. "My stallion, you will behave as I ask?" He nodded wordlessly. "Good boy."

Ian was a little cowed by the possessiveness of Click, but something about what she had planned was hitting his switches. The growing erection in his pants was only partly the talisman's fault. The rest of the arousal came at the sure knowledge that he had given control of himself to Click, not only with the contract, but also with magic.

"Ten bits!" The minotaur's deep voice stirred the crowd up. More bids came in, raising the amount in one bit increments.

"I have thirty bits from the two griffonesses in the corner. Taking bids in fives now." Click's words flowed, and she didn't let up on Ian. "Who wants to see what they are bidding for?"

The roar of approval washed over Ian, and despite his wanting to fight and struggle, he knew Click had the final say. Raising his arms, he let Click yank his shirt upwards and off.

"This stallion has already planted seed in one mare today. Solid Built, the owner of this establishment, is trying to cool off after he drilled her all night. She carries his foal." Click watched limbs shoot into the air and she started counting them. "Thirty-five, forty, forty-five, fifty."

Ian's skin felt on fire, and the scents of the excited females were slamming into his senses, stealing his control. He found himself taking a few steps towards the nearest female apart from Click, one of the diamond dogs. "She… she will do, Click…"

"No, Ian." Click turned off the talisman, dunking Ian into a metaphysical bucket of cold water. "You will buck who I say." Locking eyes with Ian, Click stared him down until he looked away. "Ladies, let's get serious. The bid stands at fifty, I will be taking bids of twenty bits or more only."

The diamond dog who Ian had been crawling towards lifted a paw. "Seventy for him to give me pups."

"Ninety." A hippogriff mare at the bar lifted a talon.

"One fifty." The cloaked figure at the bar was familiar to Ian, but a mystery as to her real form. Terry was the "pony" who had sold Solid the potion, and the creature was looking directly at Ian. "I will have you, if for just a night."

Groans ran around the bar. Excitement dropped to new lows as each of the bidders considered the amount too much for them to pay for a roll in the hay. Sensing she was losing potential customers, Click brought her forehooves together, arcing a jolt of electricity across them that grabbed all attention back to herself. "Next month, same day." She smiled as each of the ponies brightened. Turning to her mate, Click tapped at Ian's pants. "Off with those, you won't need them for Terry."

Ian felt a tingling, a gentle stroke of his libido. He realized it was Click playing with the talisman. Looking up at Click, Ian realized just how much this was turning him on, though he would not admit it out loud. "T-T-Terry? But we can go—"

"Terror Waves, please." Terror turned and walked over to Ian. "No need for nicknames here." She flicked back her hood, revealing a head that would have made any fine pony scream in panic. Terror had a vaguely pony-shaped head, but where normal—if larger than a human's—eyes should be, two huge orbs bulged from her head. Down from there and her snout was wider than a pony's, her every spoken word revealing row after row of sharp, pointed, and serrated teeth. She showed them off. "Like what you see?"

Mesmerized by the monster, Ian looked deep into her eyes and saw hunger and intelligence there. Something about her stirred a reaction in him that was a mix of disgust, interest, and arousal—the latter mostly being from the amulet.

"He will like what he sees more when you pay." Click held up a hoof, and a thick, gray tentacle reached up from under Terror's cloak to deposit a bag of bits on Click's hoof. "You are a respected merchant, Terry, so I won't count it."

Ian fell to his hands and knees, pleasure and embarrassment now warring in him now, looked at Terror and saw an odd beauty in her form. She was a monster, but she was built to be an amazing one. Sharp teeth that seemed ready to grab and never let go. Eyes that could track through the deepest, darkest waters. A sudden urge overwhelmed Ian to see what was under her cloak.

"Ian, take your pants off." Click gave the finer control she had established with the talisman a slight flick, and watched his body involuntarily hump. "Be good, Ian."

It was a game, Ian realized. Click was playing, but it was a game played for keeps, and he had already promised her he would always lose. "Y-Y-Yes, Click." His hands reached to his jeans, unfastening his belt, fly, and pulling the last vestige of modesty away. As his hands worked the pants off, Terror removed her cloak.

Everyone in the bar stopped and stared. Terror's tail was thick, the same pallid gray as the rest of her, and had what looked like a row of fins top and bottom, all the way to the end. Terror's body was sleek, thin, resembling a long eel from her neck down to her tail. Springing from her body was hundreds of tentacles; some were like the one that had passed Click her bits, others were much thinner. Her body revealed that, like the other mares of the inn, she had seen a rough life: scratches, marks, even the stump of a missing tentacle showed this.

Ian was harder than ever, and he couldn't blame Click's use of the talisman for all of it. His eyes were glued to Terror's tentacles, watching them move, watching them adjust and pass of her weight to another.

"Do you hate that your mare is making you do this?" Terror misinterpreted Ian's look completely. She studied the robotic mare next, but saw a silly grin on her face. "What?"

"I turned the talisman off once he took his pants off." Click leaned down and nuzzled Ian's cheek. Gesturing at Ian's rock hard erection, Click gave a sputtering clanking noise that was her laughter. "That is all for you, Terry."

"What?" Terror's huge eyes turned back to Ian, looking at his penis first, then up to his eyes. "No creature has ever looked upon me with anything but horror and disgust!" She couldn't not notice Ian's eyes move to her lips, looking down into the cavernous trap that was her mouth. "You… you really aren't afraid?"

With a shrug, Ian stood back up. "Afraid? Sure." He made a point of examining her, tracing her body from her fangs to her tail. "You could probably rip me apart with your tentacles, tear the leftover bits up with your teeth, and I would barely hurt you. But you didn't pay for that."

Click saw the shock register on Terror's face, then it slipped to something else—lust. "Here, have some help." Click turned the talisman to the maximum she had managed to experiment, and left it there.

The world narrowed around Ian, his body suddenly ached with the need for relief. He couldn't see or think of anything but Terror. Reaching out a hand, Ian stroked the puffy, gray flesh of her back. She was smooth, with a thin film of something slimy. Encouraged by her lack of protests, he stepped closer and brought his other hand to her back. Stroking along her spine, he felt myriad fins and spikes along the way to her tail.

Terror felt a burning need inside her. She had never encountered another of her kind, but in this creature she could make more of her own. She undulated her back, pressing her body against his searching hands.

A single small tentacle reached up and coiled around the wrist of Ian's stationary hand. Urging, tugging, it pulled his limb down, gathering his fingers into the squirming mass of her underside. She studied Ian's face all the while, seeing lust and amazement.

Each of Ian's fingers was coiled up by a tentacle, and each tentacle remained there for barely a moment, giving his digits a squeeze before releasing. It dawned on him, through the haze of his lust, that she was exploring him in her own way. He ran his free hand around her body and under her tail. In turn, Ian felt a tentacle coil around his penis, and he lost nearly all his focus.

"This sensitive already?" Terror was smiling for the first time since she moved to Canterlot—ignoring the few moments she gouged a customer of their bits, of course. She liked hearing the little sounds of animalistic pleasure that the human spilled when she worked a tentacle around his shaft. "Maybe I should just take what I have paid for?"

Ian's eyes widened, and he let out a gasp of shock as Terror rushed at him. Tentacles reached for his body as she landed on him, and when he expected to fall sharply to the floor he found himself being suspended under the monster by her tentacles. He wanted to beg, to ask her to be gentle, but the way she worked over him, each tentacle making itself acquainted with his penis, he had no willpower to put a sentence together.

Terror had never had sex before, but her body was already making up for lost time. Pulling Ian up tight against her belly, she guided his shaft to where she knew her vent was.

Feeling almost like a toy, Ian shaft was slowly divested of tentacles moments before something hot and tight pressed to his tip. Her lips kissed him, and while they seemed burning hot, seemed nothing if not inviting. Ian didn't wait. Proving he was an active partner in the "deal," he bucked his hips.

Terror's eyes bugged, somehow, wider than normal. She gnashed her huge mouth at the air, her fangs clashing together. The feel of Ian shoving into her body overwhelmed every effort towards caution she had built over her lifetime. She pulled at him, and pushed a thin tentacle into his rear, impaling him as he did her.

The incentive invading his anus didn't distract Ian, and he wrapped his arms around Terry, lifting his legs and grabbing hold. He pulled, hefting himself up and into Terror, shoving his body deep into hers. The need burning inside was more than enough to encourage him to start humping, and he was rewarded with the strangest little squeaking sounds he had ever heard.

Undulating her body, Terror realized how tangled they were, and how much control Ian held over her. She hated it. She loved it. She closed her huge eyes, blocking the world out as the thick shape inside her kept drilling in and withdrawing. Lashing her tail in bliss, Terror opened her mouth and squeaked a little louder with each thrust, encouraging her "stallion" to greater efforts.

Ian's muscles started to burn at the effort to keep his pace up. When he outright faltered, Terror's grip tightened around him, lifting him up and assisting him. The crowd in the taproom was noise now, just a background that didn't matter in the least. His body worked quickly towards its limit, but he wanted to give Terror something special.

Even with the tentacle teasing around his ass, Ian fought the need for release, and started stroking up and under Terror's body, finding places that made her many limbs squirm wildly. He learned the places that made her writhe, and used his knowledge.

Terror trembled in place as Ian expertly began rubbing her in places she didn't even know were sensitive. She almost dropped him as he found one particular spot, nearly every tentacle squirming in delight. On his next thrust, her rising pleasure broke like a wave at the beach. Heat poured through her body, and Terror gnashed her teeth at the air as she squeezed Ian against her body tightly.

The sudden tightness and sounds Terror made were Ian's signal, and he relaxed into the release that had been building. It would have been a slow, warm climax, but the talisman slammed him with his pleasure, shoving him hard into a wild bucking action to deliver his magically potent seed into the monster above him. Ian grunted with each thunderous thrust he gave, his prostate pumping the rich ejaculate deep into Terror.

For the first time in her life, Terror's tentacles gave out under her and she fell onto Ian. The fall only served to drive his shaft more firmly into her clutching depths.

Ian was sprawled on a bed of Terror's tentacles. The first thing he could really think about—after the mind-blowing orgasm—was how light she was. Leaving one leg hooked around behind her, he rolled to his side and pinned the monstrous mare under him. The talisman was still screaming at him, using his libido as its voice, and all he could do was obey it. Rocking his hips, Ian began the dance again.

Terror squealed as Ian returned to action, and she tried to react weakly with her tentacles, but all the fight had literally been screwed out of her. Blinking her huge eyes, she looked up at Ian and, if not love, fell in lust with him.

Click circled around the pair, taking her place behind the bar again. "Now, can I help anypony?" She was able to ignore the wet, sucking sounds of fornication, the deep grunts and high-pitched squeals, but some of the patrons seemed a little distracted.

"Uh…" One of the diamond dogs was trapped, staring at Ian screwing the sea monster on the floor. "I… I um… next month, you said?"

"Yes. Next month another auction." Click saw pure hunger in the canine's looks at Ian, but Click honestly didn't care, she had picked up on Ian's kink, and she would not let him down in fulfilling it.

Author's Note

Fuel my writing on Ko-Fi!

Join me on Discord. Warning, said chat may contain NSFW material and should be considered adult in nature.

Awesome ponies who are already helping to keep me in keyboards and rum:
A.P.O.N.I.
Boulder
Canary in the Coal Mine
Daremo
Dio-Drogynous
Ian
Javarod
Jeffh4
Mary Rowland
Mephia
Nils
Sirion123

And special thanks to the following, for careful eyes and friendly words:
Cross Lament
Jeffh4
Vutava