Hot Mess walked through the door of her shabby but comfortable two-bedroom house, slipping off her black stiletto slingbacks and picking them up with the fingers of one olive-skinned hand as she padded barefoot across the kitchen tiles, through the deep, plush living room carpet, on her way to the bedroom. Under her other arm, she carried a large box wrapped in plain brown paper.
Since puberty, Hot Mess had been the wet dream of every straight boy in a ten mile radius, and as she grew, she only got sexier. When she was eighteen, her long, toned legs, tight ass, and firm, perky breasts netted her a career as the most sought-after center spread model for car and bike magazines—a career she pursued with a passion, because cars and bikes were her obsession. Hot Mess' ridiculously sexy body was frequently smeared with oil, grease, and soot, her voluminous brown hair messy and unkempt. But no matter how dirty, grimy, and sweaty she was, Hot Mess could always rock a thin, tight tank top, tiny cutoff shorts, and stilettos, and her smoky stare and sultry smile sent many a wad of tissue to a cum-stained grave in a bedside wastebasket.
Now twenty-one years old and in popular demand by every gearhead and skin rag on the market, with talent scouts from studios both reputable and shady constantly blowing up her agent's phone, Hot Mess kept her life simple and straightforward. She'd never had a boyfriend because most guys acted really gross around her, and her idea of a perfect Saturday night was far removed from the red carpet so many wanted her to walk on: when she wasn't making obligatory public appearances for this thing or that, she'd be in the garage, half-naked (even in private, Hot Mess preferred to dress the way she did in magazines), underneath a car or bike, sweaty and covered in grease and oil, callusing her hands on wrenches and deafening herself with power tools.
Tonight, however, Hot Mess would be entertaining herself in a different way. She closed and locked her bedroom door, drew the shades and curtains, turned on a single, soft lamp by her bed, then tossed her shoes in her closet and dropped her parcel on the bed. Running a hand through her matted, stringy hair, she peeled off her sweaty tank top which was practically glued to her breasts, tossing it into the wicker basket by the closet, followed by her too-tight denim shorts and pale cotton panties. Now nude, she spread out an old, worn wool blanket on her bed, sat down, and unwrapped the package. After fiddling with the lid and rummaging through a nest of packing material, she retrieved her prize: a massive yellow dildo, blunted at the business end with a black ring around the shaft that joined black racing stripes running along the length. The word "MUSTANG" was printed down the shaft in sporty black lettering.
A slip of paper fell out of the box, landing neatly on the bed. In big, bold lettering, it said:
"Thank you for choosing BEANIS® for your personal gratification needs! Be sure to fill out our customer satisfaction survey at cs.beanis.biz!"
With a deep, throaty moan, Hot Mess spread her legs wide and pressed the tip of the bean-based horsecock against her flushed, eager pussy lips. In the dim light of the room, a silver stamp on the opposite end of the toy gleamed. It looked like some kind of severe, forbidding robot face. It went completely unnoticed by the beanis' new owner...
After a solid hour of pleasuring herself, Hot Mess brought her new toy up to her full, pouty lips, dragging her tongue along its length, licking it clean of the mix of beanis fluids and her own musk. As she brought the tip up to eye level, she saw something that made her pause.
A tiny silver-and-black face, peeking out from beneath the hood, glowing blue eyes wide and unblinking. A series of electronic beeps and whirs emanated from the beanis, which vibrated pleasantly in her hand. She jerked back as it began playing slow make-out music with a deep bass groove and deeper bass vocals.
She threw it to the other end of the bed, eyes wide. "What the hell?"
The beanis shuddered, then started unfolding, transforming from a toy horse cock into a two-foot-tall yellow-and-black robot covered in bean jizz, which looked up at her curiously. It issued a series of electronic tones. She blinked, mouth dropped open in shock. "What...are you?"
"Stop. Just...just stop."
The video paused. Sunset Shimmer pinched the bridge of her nose and turned slowly to stare frostily at Twilight Sparkle. "What. The actual. HELL. Twilight."
"It's a cross-promotion!" Twilight said excitedly. "We're getting to use the hottest property in Hollywood as a platform to promote Beanis! Isn't that—"
"HOW?" Sunset demanded, throwing one hand out at the screen. "How the hell did you even get approval for this?!"
Twilight looked away, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Certain...favors may have been exchanged...look, the important thing is, this is a bold new opportunity to put Beanis on the lips of a wider audience!"
"A wider..." Sunset floundered. "Look, Twilight, you can't just...TRANSFORMERS AND PORN DO NOT MIX!"
Twilight arched an eyebrow. "Really?"
Sunset sighed. "You know what I mean. It's...it's supposed to be selling toys to kids. This...THIS! This can't sell toys to kids! Or at least it shouldn't be selling toys to kids!" She dragged her hand down her face. "I mean, I expect this kind of stupidity from you—"
"Jar."
"—but how did this even, I mean...the toy company, the movie studio execs, nobody put the brakes on this?"
"Oh, they were all excited to be a part of it!" Twilight said cheerfully. "I even got to voice a character! I play Slipstream, the evil Decepticon who's disguised as a Tofussy!"
Sunset blinked. "You willingly voiced a Tofussy?"
"Well, yeah! I mean, my character gets blown to bits at the end of the movie, so..."
"Of course she does," Sunset muttered flatly. She shook her head. "Look, this...this can't possibly ever see the light of day. You know that, right? I mean, we're looking at class action lawsuits from parent groups, Congressional hearings, this is gonna cause a huge scandal that'll bankrupt Beanis Inc. and take some pretty substantial companies down with it!" She threw her hands out desperately. "You'll be working ten jobs until you're eighty to pay off the judgments against you! Everybody associated with Beanis will be dragged through the mud and left unable to work anywhere EVER! I'll have to go back to Equestria because I won't be able to live in this world anymore and I like my cable TV and my motorbike and my tits! Don't take my tits away from me, Twilight!"
"You don't have to worry about your tits, Sunset," a new voice intruded. Both girls turned to see Spike the Dog pad into the room, holding several envelopes tied together with twine. "Just found out this whole thing is a sham."
"Spike? What...what do you mean?" Twilight asked.
"Also, what are you even doing here?" Sunset wondered.
"I'm the mailroom clerk," Spike said. "What, you never noticed me?"
"Umm...no actually," Sunset said, blinking in bewilderment.
"Huh. Well, anyway...something about this whole thing seemed off to me, so I asked Rarity to do some digging." He tossed the letters he was carrying to Twilight. "Seems you haven't been working with Paramount and Hasbro, you've been working with Fairamount and Hasbean."
Twilight blinked. "Huh? But—"
"And here we go," Sunset said, facepalming.
"They ran a pretty good con on you according to Rarity," Spike said, "but the contracts you signed are all legal. They trace back to the right companies, there's no mention of Hasbro or Paramount, and they've even got fair use parody covered in the contract. This whole thing's legal, but it's not going to be what you think it is. It's a cheap, sleazy direct-to-video porn thing." Spike grunted and scratched behind his ear. "You humans and your obsession with mating," he added as he started licking his wiener.
"Our obsession with mating bought you that Cavalier King Charles Spaniel you've been sniffing around," Twilight said archly.
"Eh, I'm bored with her already," Spike said dismissively before trotting out of the room.
"Ugh," Twilight groaned as she sorted through her mail. "I don't get it! How did they trick me?"
"You're kidding, right?" Sunset said tiredly. "What part of 'run this shit by your budget officer' do you still not get?" Sighing, she picked up the remote and started the video again. "So, how much are we out on this trashy porno?"
"It's not a trashy porno, it's a quality movie!" Twilight snapped. "And, well..." She turned her toes inward. "We're...actually not out anything on this. I guess...maybe I should've been suspicious when Mr. Flim and Mr. Flam said this whole thing would be a tax writeoff..."
The big, loud motorcycle roared beneath Hot Mess as she guided it down the torn-up street with one hand; her other hand was wrapped firmly around Bumblebeanis' girth. She dodged potholes, debris, and laser blasts with ease, her bare thighs gripped tightly to the bike's leather saddle while her breasts bounced and jiggled against the thin ash grey tank top she wore, her nipples protruding through the sweat-drenched cotton. Her messy brown hair streamed out behind her in the wind, and her stormy eyes were focused tightly on her target: a bright purple feminine robot whose torso was mostly comprised of a lavender-colored Tofussy. Her arms and legs were a darker purple, as was her head, and the broad metallic feathers of the wings spreading from her shoulders were a midnight blue that gleamed in the streetlights. Glowing purple eyes glared wickedly at Hot Mess as she aimed long, thin cannons mounted on her arms at her pursuer, firing blast after blast that tore up asphalt and sent up showers of sparks.
"Give it up, human!" the Decepticunt yelled. "You'll never stop—"
She cut off with a strangled cry of surprise as Hot Mess hit the ramp on the back of a truck and gained air. Gunning her bike pointlessly in midair, she jumped off the saddle and plunged Bumblebeanis deep into the beangina that sat like an open, gaping wound in the center of Slipstream's abdomen. A loud explosion of plasma grenades went off.
Slipstream had only a moment to widen her glowing eyes in surprise before her entire head was blasted into low Earth orbit.
The bike landed heavily. Somehow, Hot Mess landed perfectly in the saddle, turning the bike into a hard skid and killing the engine. Bumblebeanis stood proudly and heroically in her hand, covered in soot and carbon scoring.
"Shoulda covered that up, bitch," Hot Mess said contemptuously, chest heaving as she panted from exertion. After a moment, she tucked Bumblebeanis into the bike's shotgun boot and kicked it around, gunning it to life with a roar. "Come on, stud. Let's go home and fix you up."
Bumblebeanis made a series of agreeable beeps and warbles as they rode off into the night.
"I want her," Sunset said breathily.
"Huh?" Twilight asked, blinking.
"Working for us, I mean," Sunset said. "We could make so much money off a girl like that..."
"Yeah," Twilight agreed with a breathy sigh, fanning herself.
