What Happens in Las Pegasus Stays in Las Pegasus
Object Permanence
Admiral Biscuit
For Anonpencil
Hayseed Turnip Truck trotted happily around some of the shadier back alleyways of Las Pegasus. He was a stallion on a mission—he'd heard from a fairly reliable source that Las Pegasus catered to pretty much everypony's wants, and thus far he could attest to that. He'd gone and seen Ponet Fantastique, Sprigfield and Roy Horn; he'd eaten at every buffet in Las Pegasus; and he hadn't managed to spend all his bits in the casino. Somehow, he still had some left.
So he'd decided to use the rest of them for one last fun experience, and thus it was that he was wandering through some of the shadier back alleyways of Las Pegasus. He was looking for a mare.
His friend had told him that there were brothels in Las Pegasus, and he hadn't believed him at first. Sometimes ponies liked to play tricks on him, and while it was kind of mean, in the end everypony had a good laugh.
Hayseed had, unfortunately, gotten himself nearly completely lost in the narrow, twisting alleyways, and if asked, he would not have been able to find his way back to his hotel. Luckily for him, though, he rounded one more corner, and there was a slender mare standing under a rather out of place lamppost. She was wearing striped socks on all four hooves, and a short little wisp of a skirt that didn't really cover much of anything. Her tail was tucked up in a loose bun, almost like a rabbit tail, while her mane flowed mostly free, with only a pair of silver clips holding her bangs back.
Her ears turned towards the sound of his hoofsteps, and she watched him with interest as he got closer. “Ya looking for a good time, stud?” Her voice was smooth like honey, and he could smell the tantalizing odor of jasmine.
Words failed him, as they often did, and he simply nodded at her.
“Thought so. Ya had the look of a stallion that needs a good roll in the hay.” She sidled up close to him, her muzzle close enough to his that they could almost kiss. His heart was racing in his chest, both from excitement and nervousness.
Down below, not quite covered by his stained t-shirt, Hayseed's little stallion was also preparing for what might happen next.
“Just down the alleyway there,” she said, pointing with a hoof. “Then turn left and go about a block. It's called the Calico Palace. You can't miss it.”
“Ah, thanks, miss,” he finally managed to stammer out, although since she'd taken flight almost a full minute prior, it was quite unlikely that she could have heard him.
Down the alleyway and turn left were simple enough instructions for a foal to follow, and Hayseed didn't have any difficulty, either.
The sign proudly had the words “Calico Palace” arched like a rainbow over a painting of two ponies having sex. If that alone didn't make it obvious enough what the purpose of the establishment was, their front windows had helpful little cards, not unlike a menu, which listed all the different things you could buy, and what the cost for each was.
Standing out in the main street with an erection was somewhat embarrassing, although if passers-by had been gawking, Hayseed probably wouldn't have noticed, since he was studying the illustrated cards with the same intensity of a student cramming for a final exam. A cold breeze down below was what finally drew his attention back to his condition, and he hastened for the front door.
Inside, the customer lounge was not unlike the hotel where he was staying, although the carpet was shaggier, the potted plants were bigger, and there were large photographs of all the prostitutes the brothel had to offer showing their stuff for the camerapony.
Hayseed decided to turn away from the wall showing the stallions; he was always a little bit intimidated when he was inside a nice building. Plus, looking at stallions he couldn't possibly measure up to made him feel slightly inadequate.
Fortunately, the other walls had plenty to offer, and he finally had decided on several mares he was interested in. Admittedly, that was all of them.
Up at the desk—which was also much like the one at the hotel, although with more velvet—a lithe pegasus smiled as he approached, and her smile hardly faltered at all as he fumbled his way through a description of what he wanted.
She glanced down at a book and he couldn't help but notice the cute little way her muzzle scrunched up as she studied it. Finally, she reached into a pigeonhole and tugged out a silver tag with a room number on it.
After she'd set it on the counter, she instructed him to go back to room fourteen and knock, and when the mare answered the door to give her the tag.
With minor trepidation but more importantly a raging hard-on, Hayseed went back to the room in question. He wasn't sure what to expect; thus far all his sexual experiences had mainly involved his forehoof.
He knocked nervously on the door, and a moment later an earth pony mare with a reddish-brown coat and a dark mane and tail answered. He eagerly gave her the token, and she let him into her room.
It looked much like any hotel room might, although unlike his, her room had not only a hot tub easily big enough for two ponies, but he could also see through the Prench doors that it had a large balcony.
Hayseed hadn't really noticed that while he was studying her room, she was studying him. She didn't speak until he was finished looking around, though.
“First time, hon?”
His ears drooped, which was all the answer she needed.
“Aww, it's okay.” She brushed his cheek with her forehoof. “Everypony has a first time.” When she pulled her hoof back, she sniffed at it for a moment, then pointed toward the shower. “Do you want to freshen up first?”
“Well. . . .” he regarded the shower thoughtfully. “I'm not really used to showers. Prefer a washtub.”
“I can help,” she said.
“That don't cost extra, does it?”
“That's kinda our discretion,” she admitted. “But I'd be happy to do it. Because it's your first time, and you ought to be . . . nice.”
“Well, thank you kindly.” He tipped his stained trucker hat and stepped into the bathroom.
Hayseed had never had fantasies of sharing a shower with a mare before, so he had no preconceived notions of what might happen. Even if he had, they undoubtedly would have been broken. Her loofah and washcloths were softer than any bristle brush he'd ever used for bathing, and the scented soaps didn't burn his skin like the lye soap he occasionally used at home.
He should have been expecting what was going to happen when she washed under his belly, but he was lost in pleasure already, and never thought to give her warning. Luckily, she was nether surprised nor offended; instead, she just chuckled. “A little eager, aren't you?”
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I don't normally—“
She held up a hoof to his lips. They both knew that whatever he had been meaning to say next would have been a lie, and there was no point in uttering it.
“Uh, you've got a little bit of, um, on your ear.”
“It'll rinse off.” She wiped under his belly again: Hayseed had managed to mostly hit himself with his spunk.
‧ ‧ ‧
She dried him off and then led him to the Princess-sized bed that took up the bulk of the room. He didn't need to be told; he jumped up of his own accord and then proceeded to roll around on top of the smooth silk sheets. In his own life, he'd only known wool blankets. The hotel had cotton which he'd thought were the pinnacle of luxury; clearly, he'd been completely wrong.
Normally, she would have teased her clients, and put on a bit of a show to really get them in the mood. In Hayseed's case, there was no point—he was clearly in the mood, and she already knew from experience that he was a bit trigger happy.
He was lying on his back in the center of the bed, in a position which was undoubtedly comfortable for masturbation. Indeed, he'd already cradled his new erection in the crook of a hoof, and she could tell that he was consciously trying not to stroke it.
She preferred being on the bottom. That gave the stallion more control, and she was here for their pleasure, after all. As an added bonus, it made her days more interesting. She never knew what to expect when she got mounted—would he be slow or fast? Shallow strokes or deep? Was he a stallion that liked to hold himself inside, or did he take more pleasure from the thrusts? It gave her a feel for her clients, and let her adjust herself to their preferences.
Being on top . . . well, that was a lot like playing with one of her many dildos. She'd try to adjust to what was making them happy as best she could; try to give them an experience they'd never forget.
He was a first-timer.
She climbed on top of him, moving slowly and cautiously, trying to make him comfortable. Some stallions were intimidated by a mare on top of them, and indeed, Hayseed shrunk back a little bit as she carefully lowered herself down against his belly.
Getting everything lined up was old hat for her; unfortunately, Hayseed seemed disinclined to let go of his dick. He was trying to help, but he wasn't being very successful, and went off-target several times before she finally managed to wiggle at the same time as he twitched.
Hayseed had expected for sex with a mare to feel pretty much the same as when he jerked off, except that there would be a mare involved. He hadn't expected the slick wetness of her sex, nor had he expected the warmth. He froze as he felt the head of his cock press against her lips, unsure of what if anything he ought to do next.
That was just as well, because odds were good if he'd done anything, it would have been the wrong thing.
Just for a moment, the two of them stayed frozen at the edge of possibility, and then she pushed backwards, sliding herself onto his rigid cock.
She moved downwards in one smooth, continuous stroke, not stopping until she was pressed against the very root of his manhood.
Hayseed closed his eyes and moaned in ecstasy. Never had he imagined sex would feel like this; nothing in his experience came anywhere close to the amazing feeling of heat surrounding and gently squeezing his dick.
He felt a warm breath on his face, and then her lips were brushing against his in a gentle, loving kiss, before she moved, wiggling just a bit before lifting herself back up off his crotch.
New sensations assaulted his brain and he tried to sort them out, to categorize what they were, but he just couldn't. It was too much all at once, the heat of her body and her breath, the wetness of her sex, the feel of her coat moving against his and the smooth flesh around her teats brushing against him.
It was already too much, but Hayseed wanted to see, so he opened his eyes and first he looked up at her face. Her golden-brown eyes were locked on his face, and there was a faint smile at the corner of her muzzle.
He looked down, along his belly . . . and hers, as well. For a moment, he studied the curve of her barrel and the ruff of fur down the center, and he boldly lifted a hoof up to stroke at it. Then he looked a bit further down, to where her coat thinned and her teats stood out, and beyond that, behind her legs, where –
He couldn't really see any details, not from this angle, but she had stolen his dick!
Some of it still jutted up proudly, but not all of it. It was gone, and that had never happened when he was masturbating. It had always stayed right there where it belonged, tucked into the crook of his hoof as she stroked up and down.
He'd been warned. He'd been warned that they would try to con him in Las Pegasus, and he'd been careful of his bits. Careful of the games. He knew not to drink too much on the casino floor even if it was free, and he knew to never order room service, but he'd never in a million years expected to be betrayed by a whore.
He'd never expected that somepony would try to steal his dick.
But there was no arguing with the evidence before his eyes.
Hayseed couldn't help himself; he screamed. That did not have the desired effect—she stopped having sex with him, but she also slid all the way back down and there was nothing he could do but watch in horror as his entire dick vanished completely. He'd had the hope that he might be able to escape with at least half of it, but no more.
He shoved at her with his forehooves, trying to get her off, even though he knew deep down that it was too late. Her mouth was moving; she was making sounds, saying words, but they didn't register at all—the only thing he had a care for was the fate of his dick.
Hayseed closed his eyes and began weeping. It wasn't fair, not at all.
“What's wrong?” Her voice was soft and compassionate, but he knew it was a lie, and turned his head away from her. She'd seemed so nice . . . he should have known better.
He felt her get up off him and stretch out behind him. One foreleg gently touched his mane, offering comfort but he was having none of it.
“Did I hurt you?”
“You,” he began, and then sniffled. “You took my dick.”
“I—“ She fell silent then, and for a minute all that could be heard in the room was his soft sniffles.
He should have known. He'd seen other dicks here; there were a row of them neatly lined up behind the clerk in a little display case to keep them safe, no doubt. Prizes from the foolish country bumpkins who came to this place not knowing, not realizing that the price of sex was more than a hoofful of bits.
What would she take next? His tail? His ears? Were they even still there? He wasn't sure—he needed a mirror, but was afraid to open his eyes again because he knew that he'd want to look down and then he'd see the stump of his poor stallionhood.
“I didn't take anything,” she said softly. “Nothing which was not freely given.” But that was almost a whisper.
“You stole my dick,” he shouted, twisting his head towards her.
“It's—“
“You sat on me and took it away.”
“IT'S STILL THERE.” To illustrate her point, she reached a hoof over his barrel and stroked along his length.
Hayseed cautiously cracked his eyes open and looked down at himself, still wary of a trick.
But she hadn't been lying; it was still there. Slick with her juices, and a little bit more flaccid than it had been a minute ago, but nevertheless it was still present, exactly where it ought to be.
He smacked her hoof away. “I don't trust you.” He rolled carefully away from her, mindful of trying to keep himself away from her grasp. “You only put it back because you knew that I'd figured out that you stole it.”
“I didn't—”
“Don't think I didn't see them behind your clerk.” He slid off the bed and grabbed for his stained shirt. “I should have realized then.”
She rolled her eyes. “Those are dildos! They're made out of rubber. Some ponies like playing with dildos.”
“You aren't going to fool me any more.” He slipped his shirt on over his head—backwards, but he was hardly in the mood to fix it right now. “I ain't a dumb country bumpkin.”
“No, I guess not.” Her voice was resigned. “I . . . I'm sorry that it turned out this way.”
He grabbed his hat up off the floor and flipped it on top of his head. “You should be.”
Hayseed never looked back. He stormed out the door, his half-erect dick still swinging between his hind legs.
