“So this is how you beat me at my own game, huh.”
Applejack shuffled through the doorway to Carousel Boutique and stared disdainfully at the bottle in her hoof. The bottle’s label was soaked with Applejack’s sweat, the glass cool to the touch, and for a second Applejack considered popping the top off and draining it in one swallow. Betrayal or not, a little bit of alcohol might take the edge off of the summer heat wave.
Rarity sighed. “Dear, this isn’t ‘beating you.’ There shouldn’t be a monopoly on selling liquor, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to offer ponies a little variety.”
Applejack’s nostrils flared. “You’re eatin’ up my profits with this frou-frou junk. What kind of a name for a beer is ‘Dragon’s Milk,’ anyway?”
A faint blush bloomed on Rarity’s cheeks. “A rather accurate name, actually.”
“Horse apples. Next thing I know, you’re gonna spoil my appetite with some kind of saucy story full of make-believe nonsense about milking Spike or whatnot, ain’t you?”
“Not Spike, dear. But yes, there is a story behind it—”
“Don’t wanna hear it.”
“Of course you do.”
“What makes you say that?”
Rarity tucked a lock of her mane behind her ear. “Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have stormed out here in hundred-degree weather to complain. I’m not going to assume I know exactly what you want, of course, but…”
Applejack set the bottle down, tugged back the brim of her hat and wiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead. Lips pursed and brow scrunched up in a glare, she picked up the bottle again, staring silently at the label’s logo.
“Fine.” Applejack sighed. “I don’t want no long-winded history, though. Jes’...tell me how you do it.”
Rarity grinned. “Of course.”
************************************
Ember sat on a wooden chair in a little room behind Rarity’s display area, idly mulling over how ridiculous wearing clothing made her feel.
A pity that, at this time of year, going without clothing made her feel even more ridiculous.
What was she supposed to do, skulk in the shadows? Dragon Lords didn’t skulk. Ever. And even if it meant she had to be bound up like a posy pink mummy and put on a dress frillier then a doily straightjacket, it wasn’t like she had any other options but skulking or going home. And embarrassing as this part of the ordeal was, it paid much, much more than going home would. And though she’d be loath to admit it to anydra—anypony but Rarity, it was also immeasurably more satisfying.
The doorknob rattled. “Dear? Are you in there?”
“Yeah. Come on in.” Ember tried to keep any hint of excitement or anxiousness out of her voice as the door swung wide. Couldn’t let herself appear too slavish, after all. That wasn’t what Dragon Lords did.
The equipment preceded Rarity, which was never a bad thing - it gave Ember a chance to keep her face as neutral as possible. Ember leaned back and feigned boredom as a familiar cart rolled into the room, carrying a familiar tank connected to two familiar hoses with familiar pumps at the end of each one. Even the dagger-like letter opener taped to the side of the tank did little to break the dull appearance of the whole getup, and it helped Ember realize that this was all just business, just a necessary service and nothing more.
Then Rarity walked through the door, pushing the cart ahead of her, and the bottom dropped out of Ember’s stomach.
She’d seen Rarity wearing different clothing, of course; practically every time they had gone through this particular procedure, Rarity had been wearing some kind of dress. Trying costumes out on herself was probably just a thing that dressmakers did in Ponyville, and—whatever, really. It wasn’t any of Ember’s business, and it wasn’t like she cared.
But she cared about the school girl - school filly outfit that Rarity was wearing. She cared about the form-fitting white shirt, the sensible black tie, the plaid miniskirt, the horn rimmed glasses, even the thigh-high stockings. No, wait, especially the thigh-high stockings.
Ember cared about them quite a lot.
“Now, Ember, I’ve made a point of settling my affairs earlier this afternoon.” Rarity said. “We don’t need to worry about being rushed for time today.”
Ember’s heart raced.
“Ember?”
“Oh! Sorry!” Ember jerked her gaze up from the stockings toward Rarity’s face. The mare was smirking at her. Smirking. At her.
“See something you like, dear?” Rarity cooed.
“N-no. Nothing.” Ember crossed her arms. “Nothing at all.”
Rarity giggled. “Oooooh! Somedragon’s got a school filly fetish, don’t they?”
“Shut up.” Ember’s face flushed.
“Darling, it’s nothing to be ashamed of! I’ve spent weeks trying to find something that would appeal to you, and it’s such a relief to find something you love.”
“I don’t.” Ember mumbled. “I don’t love it.”
“Oh?” Rarity continued pushing the cart towards Ember, but there was definitely a saunter in her step, a sway in her flanks, and Ember gritted her teeth as she tried to think of anything but how amazing her hindquarters must have looked. The temptation to tear off Rarity’s skirt was strong—heck, the temptation to tear off every last bit of Rarity’s clothing was strong—and Ember felt her face go bright red as Rarity peeled the tape off of the letter opener and plucked it off of the tank.
“It’s a shame you don’t love it, Ember. Ingredients make the drink, of course, but a recipe made with love tastes ten times better than one that isn’t. Just ask Pinkie Pie.”
Ember’s jaw went slack as Rarity adjusted her glasses and walked over to Ember. Rearing up slightly, the mare rested one hoof on the top of Ember’s chair and held the letter opener at the dragon’s side. Ember’s dress was frilly enough to disguise the set of laces that held it together, and a casual observer might have thought that Rarity was simply attacking the dragon in a rather unusual way. In reality, Rarity was making quick work of the laces, and it was mere seconds until Ember’s dress fluttered down to the floor.
Ember’s chest ached. The corset beneath her dress seemed tighter than ever before, and she moaned as she hunched forward in her chair. Rarity brought the letter opener to the laces on the corset’s back, and Ember tried to calm herself down as Rarity cut through the strings one by one. Ember needed to ignore the pounding in her chest, needed to keep her eyes off of Rarity’s body, needed to distract herself from the warmth between her legs…
With one quick jerk, Rarity cut through half of the corset strings at once, and Ember’s breasts practically exploded out of her clothing.
It’s just a dragon thing, Ember told herself as her massive bust bounced free of its constraints, nipples perked and begging for attention. I just need to worry about the breast thing for a few months, and then I can go back home. No sweat.
“Doesn’t that feel better?” Rarity cooed as she pulled back, barely suppressing a giggle as she stared at Ember’s oversized chest. “My! I keep forgetting how big you are.”
Ember gulped. “They’re...they’re not that big.”
“Sweetheart, they’re the largest breasts I’ve seen on anypony, ever. By orders of magnitude. There’s no need to be so modest, dear, it’s almost unlike you to…”
Rarity faltered.
“Ember?” Rarity began again. “I’m sorry for teasing you. I didn’t think you’d like my outfit so much.”
“Mmm.” Ember bit her lip and tried to stare at the floor in front of her feet. The fact that her humongous melons got in the way didn’t make her feel any less embarrassed.
“I want you to enjoy this, darling. Not that your milk isn’t popular, but your mood comes out in the taste. If you don’t mind a brief smattering of conjecture, I suspect that today’s batch will be the best that anypony will have ever tasted.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.” Rarity reached out and stroked Ember’s cheek, before her hoof slid down in a delicate line past Ember’s clavicle. Tough scales gave way to the silken swell of Ember’s massive breast, and the dragon moaned as Rarity’s trickling caress arced outward with Ember’s bust and came to rest on her tender areola.
Ember shivered. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed the procedure before, but this was something else entirely. “W-wait, Rarity, give me a moment!”
But Rarity didn’t. Instead, she traced a slow, sensual circle around Ember’s swollen nipple.
Ember moaned, grabbing the sides of her chair and pushing her chest out as Rarity continued to trace circle after circle. The dragon’s legs spread as Rarity rubbed, and the soft pink of her pussy bared itself as a single, dribbling tear of amber milk leaked out of Ember’s perk. Tail lashing in delight and smoke wafting up from her nostrils, Ember brought one shaking claw up to support Rarity’s head as the pony pulled her hoof away and leaned closer, closer, until her ivory mouth lingered inches from Ember’s milk-swollen breast.
She needs to test the batch, the last rational part of Ember’s brain reminded her. That’s all this is. She just needs to make sure that your product is ready, nothing more.
But when Rarity’s delicate lips wrapped around Ember’s perfect bump, the dragon knew that it was way, way more than just that. There wasn’t any other explanation for the flitting of her tongue, the lingering tickle of warmth on warmth, the way her eyelids drooped as her lips pulled mouthful after mouthful of milk from Ember’s engorged bosom. Ember found herself nearly paralyzed with delight as wave after wave of euphoria rattled through her, skull to spine, and the dragon found herself unable to do anything but close her eyes and draw in shuddering breaths as Rarity gulped down greedy mouthfuls of milk.
Then Rarity playfully nipped Ember’s teat, and the dragon almost came right then and there.
Claws digging furrows into the underside of the chair and tail drubbing loudly against the floor, Ember howled in delight. She couldn’t help but dribble - not just milk from her massive bust, but a warm, musky trickle from her sex. She needed to take a break, and she needed to take a break now, or else she was going to ruin Rarity’s perfectly good chair when she—
“Having fun, darling?”
Ember opened her eyes and saw Rarity staring up at her, mane askew and shirt ruffled.
“Y...Yeah. I. I really am.” Ember huffed, red in the face.
“Strong vanilla undercurrent. Sweeter than normal, less bitter. Pleasant oak finish.” Rarity tucked a strand of mane behind one ear and readjusted her tie. “You’ve absolutely outdone yourself today, dear.”
“It’s just, y’know. Just body stuff.” Ember slumped back against the chair. “It’s not like I’m actually doing anything.”
Rarity cupped Ember’s cheek. “Ember. You trusted Spike enough to tell him about this little, ah…“quirk” of dragon biology. You trusted his opinion enough to talk with me about such things. You volunteered yourself to let me help you with...”
“A huge mating season problem?”
“Both of them.”
Ember grinned. “See, it’s saying stuff like this that makes me glad you’re helping me out. Instead of, like, anypony else.”
Rarity grinned back. “I prefer to think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“I mean, you can have all the profits if you want. I’m just happy I get a bit of relief from all this.”
Rarity turned away from Ember. Her horn glowed, and the pumps slithered out into the air, before fastening themselves rather snugly onto Ember’s breasts. On any other pony, they would have covered everything handsomely; but on the dragon’s massive tits, they seemed almost perversely revealing. “Sorry, dear. I’m a businesspony, not a petty criminal. You could always fund a clinic if you were worried about putting the bits to good use. Or a distillery.”
“Heh.” Ember sighed as the pumps whirred to life. Before today, she would have been relieved to finally get the milk out of her. And getting some of the weight off her chest wouldn’t be a bad thing today, either. But she couldn’t deny that today had been much, much nicer than she had expected, and it was almost a shame—
“Besides,” Rarity cut in. “I haven’t fully relieved you, yet, have I?”
Ember gulped. “I. Uh. I don’t think i know what you mean.”
“Of course you do.” Rarity smirked. “Be a dear and spread your legs for me, would you?”
Ember’s face flushed crimson. “You can’t be serious.”
“I assure you, I can. And I am.” Rarity placed her hoof on Ember’s thigh, and without any further coaxing the dragon spread her legs as wide as she could, pussy practically quivering in anticipation.
“I can’t take it.” Ember squeaked, gasping as Rarity ducked her head beneath Ember’s melons. Rarity’s breath fogged the last few bits of Ember’s pussy that weren’t already fermenting in her juices; the unicorn’s lips hovered just inches from Ember’s nether lips, and the dragon silently begged every higher power in the world for Rarity to push her head just a little bit closer.
“Of course you can,” Rarity replied, and probed Ember’s slit with her tongue.
Ember threw her head back and roared as she came. Flames billowed from her jaws as she squirted over and over and over again, flooding Rarity’s mouth, dribbling over the sides of the chair and dripping onto the floor below. Ember’s vagina winked and spread wide, and — despite the steady gush of fluids that squirted out of her — Ember felt Rarity push even deeper, nuzzling the dragon’s clit with her delicate muzzle, tongue lapping at Ember’s warm, wet walls.
“O-oh...oh, fuck me…” Ember whimpered. It wasn’t a command, but Rarity evidently took it as one as she nuzzled, licked and rubbed Ember’s little nub. Each and every time, Ember’s muscles spasmed just a little, juices spurting free, brain riding shot after shot of endorphins into pure, orgasmic bliss. By the time Rarity pulled her muzzle away, Ember couldn’t even remember what time it was - only that she’d give practically anything for Rarity to lap at her pearl again.
“Cinnamon.” Rarity coughed, licking her lips.
“Huh?”
“Cinnamon. Hint of cherry. Kick to the back of my throat like a bad-tempered burro. My word, are dragons entirely delicious?”
“Wait, you were…” Ember blinked, blurred vision slowly registering the exultant look on the unicorn’s face. “...you were drinking it?”
“Not to start, dear! I hadn’t the foggiest what your, ah...delight tasted like. I simply wanted to reward a good friend for a job well done. But now that I’ve gone and had a bit of a taste, well - I certainly think we’ll have to ease the stress in your nethers, too, won’t we?”
Ember paused, chest heaving with labored breaths, pumps churning away on her tremendous breasts, the scent of her jizz hanging in the air as it continued to trickle down onto the floor.
“...We’re friends?” She finally probed.
“We don’t have to be! We could continue to be “Business Associates,” if you preferred. But I’d rather that the two of us deepen our relationship together. After all, it’d be rather hard to coax your...need...out of you in an emotionally absent relationship. And wouldn’t it be more fun if us girls got to know each other better? Swap interests, talk about boys, learn about our respective high societies? If you’ll allow me to indulge us, of course.”
“You want to keep diving my oyster?” Ember gasped, her massive tits bouncing freely as she sat up. “Really?”
“Only if you wish-”
“Absolutely. Please. As much as you like. Drink whatever you want to, drain whatever you want out of it, just keep doing...keep doing that.” Ember blushed. “You have no idea how good that feels.”
“I might have some idea.” Rarity pushed her forelegs up onto the chair and leaned in to nuzzle Ember’s cheek. “But trust me when I say that it feels better with two ponies who care about each other. Or a pony and a dragon, in this case.”
“I mean…” Ember’s blush darkened. “I’m...kind of not used to having friends. I kind of suck at it.”
“All’s the more reason to start practicing now, dear.” Rarity adjusted her tie, rump jiggling slightly as she smoothed out a wrinkle in her skirt. “And we don’t have to jump into the whole thing all at once. We can start off slowly! Work our way outwards from the things we know we enjoy.”
Ember blinked. Then the implication of Rarity’s words dawned on her, and she grinned as she leaned back and spread her legs once more. “I haven’t done that thing with the tongue before, you know. Not with anydragon, much less a pony. I can’t promise I’ll do well.”
“You will, don’t worry. I promise I’ll help you.” Rarity traced her hoof down the top of Ember’s chest, perching it comfortably on the dragon’s pillowy melons. “We’ll have all sorts of things to learn together, think up all sorts of ways to have fun with each other. Which reminds me - I think I’ll need to get a third pump. Different design, of course - we wouldn’t want *any* of your fluids to go to waste, after all.”
************************************
Applejack froze, jaw dropped, words stuck tight in her throat. A breeze kicked up outside the boutique, then simmered down again, and Applejack continued to stare open-mouthed at Rarity. With an exasperated sigh, Rarity finally plucked the bottle from Applejack’s hoof, popped the top off the bottle and took a healthy drink.
“Mmm.” Rarity grinned. “Not quite as nice as it is fresh from the tap, but certainly refreshing.”
“Ah’m gonna be sick.” Applejack stammered.
“Oh, hush! Leave the theatrics to me, dear. You’re absolutely terrible at them.” Rarity took another sip. “You know, I don’t think I’ve been entirely sober for months. It’s going to be a bit of a shame when I come down, and I don’t even want to think about the hangover.”
“This is all...it’s all...private stuff.” Applejack sputtered. “An’ you’ve got ponies drinkin’ it.”
“Exactly as labelled on the bottle. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t believe in lying to anypony, and if they want to believe that I’m speaking in metaphor or hyperbole - that’s their own business. Are you sure you don’t want a drink, dear?”
“Why in tarnation do you think I’d-”
A bell tinkled as the Carousel Boutique door opened again.
“Rarity!” Ember squealed, practically bouncing as she passed through the doorway and flitted within kissing distance of the Diva. Gone was her form-squeezing corset; in its place were wraps that, while adequately concealing the lewdest bits of her anatomy, left none of Ember’s curves to the slightest bit of Applejack’s imagination. Without the slightest hesitation, the dragon hoisted Rarity off the ground and wrapped her in a boob-squishing hug.
“Darling! It’s so good to see you again!” Rarity beamed. “I hope the company won’t be a problem? Applejack came here to talk about how delightful you were.”
“Oh?” Ember giggled, eyeing Applejack hungrily. “Is she going to join us?”
“I ain’t-”
“Not today, I don’t think.” Rarity interrupted. “She’s still getting accustomed to our recipe. Well - what did you want to do today, dear?”
“Tea!” Ember replied as she set Rarity down. “We could try some of that blend that you said you’d think I’d absolutely love. Then I can help you model stuff again, or we could catch a movie together, or whatever you wanted!”
Rarity quirked a playful eyebrow. “Including conducting business?”
“Especially conducting business.” Ember growled, half-playfully and half-hungrily. “Right now?”
“Of course. Applejack, dear? We’ll talk about this some other time. Do take care on the walk back, won’t you?” Rarity winked as she offered Applejack the bottle again, and Applejack - more out of reflex than any willing assent - took it.
Applejack shook her head in disbelief as Rarity and Ember’s shapely bodies strolled off towards the Carousel Boutique’s back room. Either it was the longest con she’d ever seen - and she’d tangled with Flim and Flam more than once - or the stuff going into the bottles was unimaginably vulgar, and vile, and absolutely filthy.
And, apparently, immensely popular.
Applejack stared and stared at the bottle, mind struggling to process Rarity’s anecdote. None of it made any kind of sense, common or otherwise. Least of all everypony else’s desire to drink it: How on earth could dragon’s milk be such a hot commodity, given where it came from? Was it addictive? Was it exotic? Was Rarity that good at marketing?
Frustration built in Applejack’s gut like the contents of a shaken soda bottle; and curiosity bubbled like a pot of stew in her skull. The two built and built, twisting in on each other until Applejack came to the obvious conclusion: She’d drink it. She’d drink the whole thing, remember exactly how awful it tasted and tell the two of them to their face about how how disgusting the whole deal was. And even if she wasn’t curious, it’d be the honest thing to do - and she couldn’t very well give the most honest criticism of it if she didn’t know exactly how awful it was.
So Applejack tilted her head back, crammed the lip of the bottle in her mouth and gulped.
Oak.
Applejack took another swallow.
Vanilla.
A third swallow.
Cream.
A fourth, a fifth, more, more - and each and every swallow brought out more flavor, more depth, until Applejack abruptly realized that the bottle was bone-dry. She coughed, wheezed, set the bottle down, face blushing red, questions whirling about her brain like leaves in a breeze.
How was it fair?
How was it that squeezing milk from a dragon’s tits could taste so good?
How was it even possible?
And worst of all: What on earth should she do with all her cider apples now?
After all, even she couldn’t deny that Dragon’s Milk had utterly beaten her at her own game.
