Spike's Harem

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I had obviously been permitted to have my climax, late last night. How long I had been left along and how many orgasms I had; I have no idea, and I certainly do not care. I had enjoyed it, for as long as it had lasted.

As a matter of fact, I still feel the taste of the Strawberry he gave me.

Since I don’t know what day it is, I will simply assume that it was yesterday and refer to it as if I knew it had been. Why bother, with what I don’t know and can’t confirm?

I am however, feeling quite hot. The cushion is not under me, where it had been, last night. I have no idea, as to where it is. She will be back, soon enough. If and when spike tells her to return.

It feels, as if I am a puddle on the floor. I melted, sometime last night. I grew too hot, for the rubber that is my body could contain its shape and coherence. I can not summon the strength, with which to regain myself, such as I had been. Maybe, I should not care?

If what I feel is real, or if it is some kind of illusion or hallucination; I have no idea, it is just how I feel right now. I just do not dare question, how or what I am feeling.

If I am not brave enough, or strong enough; to challenge my world, or the perceptions before my very eyes, then so be it.

I clearly was coated with the rubber of the tubes Spike asked me to insert, and in that case I am now that rubber. I am hot, and rubber is melting when it grows hot. After everything I had been through, how could I possibly be the same; even if my physical body is still that, of the Pony who trotted into Princess Twilight Sparkle’s castle of Friendship? I do not know, I lost my bearings.

If I had been lost, and a failure; as a Pony, then what am I now? I am no longer a Pony, in shape or spirit. Accepting the given meals, by the one named Spike should be no shame, at least it is keeping me alive and offering his companionship.

“Squeak, squeak; squeak, squeak!” is heard, as a new white Pony is trotting into the hall where what had been my room is.

Since there is no Pony in the room, the door to my room is open; the silicone white pony opens the door and enters. She finds nothing but the puddle of white rubber melted on the floor.

She had just passed the test and been permitted to enter the second, or inner hall. Had she known better, she would have recognized the white rubber on the floor. Maybe this is simply becuase she had not seen the interior of the other rooms? If she had, she would have recognized this room as special, in the white rubber on the floor.

That silicone white rubber is me, the former Pony who used to live in this room. I am still here and lives in the room.

As luck has it, she is stepping in the puddle of white rubber. For good or for ill; but she had placed her hooves on the floor in the room, touching me where I am lying. Somehow, I reach out, clinging to her and the form of her body. Had I forgotten who I was, and the shape of my very own body?

In shock, I try as best as I can; to regroup and reform into the shape of the only Pony in the room.

A shape is forming, and I am finally cooling down. I try not to scare the mare in the room, so I delay the regrouping in the hopes of her at least not seeing me take form. She would be freaked out enough, just by seeing me in her own shape.

“Squeak, squeak!” the mare turns around, stepping out of the room that is still mine.

She leaves the door open, as if in the hopes to recognize where she had already been. This room was not hers.

I follow the sounds of the squeaks her hooves are leaving in her wake. By the sounds and the time I manage to guess well enough; when she is out of sight and I am out of mind. I quicken the pace and regroup completely within the span of a few minutes.

I look around, finding no trace of having been in the room. Everything is left untouched, just the way it had been when I came. Aside from the missing cushion, of course.

“Did I absorb the cushion in the overheated state I had been in, or did Spike remove it for me?” I ponder.

“No point in sneaking; she will hear me the moment I take a single step, so I can as well trot out normally!” I ponder.

“Besides, I can as well greet her, now!” I ponder.

I follow the sound of the new mare’s squeaks, to the next room. If she is stopping in there long enough; I could face her there, without startling her too much. Or, at least; so I figure, hoping I am right.

“Squeak, squeak; squeak, squeak!” I hear the little noises from my hooves with each and every step I take.

There is no avoiding it, and I know it. I do not try to sneak, but try to move as natural as I possibly can muster. While I move, she stops; worried and scared of what it could possibly be.

“Oh, but of course; she has been alone in her room, on the other side of that door!” I realize; remembering my very own time, in the room on the other side of that door.

I stop before the door, knocking. I try to make the sound as friendly as I possibly could manage. No need to come out as insistent, here.

“Uh, who’s there?” she inquires.

“Your friendly neighbour!” I offer, in a fairly normal voice.

Or, at least I hope it is how it came out. It isn’t as if I had too many Ponies to speak to. I know she had been alone, save for the company of Spike.

The door was never closed or locked; I could have stepped right in, but I prefer to come out as friendly.

“Neigh-bour?” she inquires, with a hesitation to her voice.

While her voice carries the same trace of rubber and squeak to it, as mine; it is clearly, and distinctly different from my voice. For that, I am grateful. At least, I have something separating me, from her.

“Yes, I live in the room, next door! The room you just checked, and discarded!” I point out, explaining the situation.

“You live in the room, with the white floor?” she inquires.

“Yes, that is me!” I respond, now giggling.

With just a little bit of a squeak, I push the door open and step into her room.

“Hiya, Neigh-bour!” she responds, as I am stepping into the light of her room.

“Hiya!” I respond, as I scan the room and notice how she had been coated by exactly the same rubber I had been coated with,

“He offered you an Apple, a Carrot, and a bowl of water, for inserting the tubes?” she inquires, as the realization is hitting her squarely in the face.

“You think; he picks the food, from the Royal Kitchen?” I suggest.

“If she is coated with the same rubber, she inserted the same tubes!” I ponder, hesitating a moment, before I sniff the air.

“Sniff, sniff”

“Yes, she most certainly is just as wet as I was; when I moved in, in my room!” I ponder, giggling at myself.

“On second thought, I think I need to check her out!” I ponder; as I trot up behind her and press my muzzle squarely on her mound.

I part my lips, licking the petals of her orchid, one at the time.

“Raspberry, definitely Raspberry!” I pronounce, before I return to lapping at her orchid.

“Raspberry?” she responds, in sudden shock.

“Yes, Raspberry!” I respond, then realizing she never enjoyed his Raspberry, quite yet.

“Don’t let me spoil the fun, but I am sure you will enjoy it in but a few days!” I offer.

“Are you talking of Spike?” she inquires.

“Yes, but of course!” I respond.

“That is incredible, it feels great!” she realizes, despite herself; “If only you could have asked, first; and I just may have accepted it!” she points out.

“Sorry about that, I just got so excited; I got ahead of myself and forgot to ask!” I respond.

“The Spike who offered you an Apple, a Carrot and a bowl of water?

“Yes, that Spike! I thought he was a stallion, but something lets on that he is like no other Pony!” I point out.

“No, he is indeed like no other Pony I ever met! No mere Stallion would offer me an Apple or a Carrot, right out of the Royal kitchen!” she offers.

“By the way, call me Gem!” I offer, as a bit of an afterthought.

“I prefer the name over any of the options before me, and I like her to have a name to call me by. If I offer her a name, she can call me by that and I am no longer a nameless, faceless Pony left and forgotten!” I ponder.

“Thank you, Gem; call me Rarity!” she responds.

“Okay; thank you, Rarity!” I respond.

“Now, at least; I do have one friend, in this Rarity who lives next door.

“Oh, and thank you; too, Gem!” she responds, with an innocent giggle.

“At least, I am not alone, down here!” Rarity ponders.

Of course, she may call herself a rarity, but she is not the Rarity of Ponyville. Not that I care; it is a name, I can call her by. Maybe she does not recall her original name, more than I do. I forgot the name; somewhere during the bliss Spike gave me and under the influence of the tasty treats he gave me during these excited bouts.

I may not know my name, or who I was; but at least; I have a friend, and I know what I want. At least, as far as Spike permitted me to explore my desires.