Sexy Ghost Pony Adventure

She didn't entirely know how, or why, but Marina was no longer alone. As a matter of fact, she had never really been alone, she had discovered, because it turned out that even if she had passed on... Moonbeam had never left her.

They had always shared such a connection, such a deep, strange love. And while Marina had hated herself that maybe it was the emotional feedings that had finally taken their toll, that, like a vampire, Marina had drained her willing victim dry, never taking into account the damage that Moonbeam had already suffered from excessive feedings.

Except maybe that very same thing, and the love they had felt for one another, the love that Moonbeam had always given willingly and had never been bought, or coerced, or stolen, had helped forge a deeper bond and connection that had extended beyond Moonbeam's death.

At first Marina had thought she was crazy: she'd heard wordless whispers in her ears, saw flashes of blurry images in her mind, her eyes chased after things she could swear she saw, but had never really been there. She thought she woke up to things in different positions, or found a blanket over her when she was sure she'd just curled up on the couch, or sometimes something seemed to grasp her, and help pull her to bed, instead of leaving her there on the floor, crying her eyes out.

But that was all normal, considering what she was going through, wasn't it?

No, she didn't think there really was a normal, and of course she didn't talk to anyone about it, anyway. She just did her best to smile, and stay quiet. She couldn't bring herself to talk about Moonbeam with other ponies, not yet.

Something had cajoled her into leaving the house for a little while, though, spending time helping out Octavia's research. And it had been good for her: Octavia had given her a new set of prosthetic limbs that were able to slightly change their shape and completely change their appearance. An incredible technology that moved with her more fluidly than even her most-advanced set of prosthetic limbs had been capable of.

She remembered standing there, in front of the mirror in the labs, changing through different forms as rapidly as she could: not very fast for a Changeling, but to the ponies it looked impressive. Until finally she'd changed to an old form she'd been familiar with both inside and out, and she had stood for a time, staring at the reflection of Moonbeam, part of her already cursing herself for letting her stupid self blindly morph into this of all forms...

She looked at herself in the mirror, and she looked at Moonbeam, and Moonbeam seemed to give her that old, wry smile, and that look. Love, tinted by the faintest hint of exasperation.

Moonbeam touched the mirror, and Marina silently placed her hoof against the reflection's, breathing quietly for a moment before she allowed her glamour to vanish, leaving her a naked Changeling, staring at the unchanged shape in the mirror. Her prosthetic limbs gleamed faintly, still the beautiful blue that Moonbeam's smooth coat had been...

A blink, and Moonbeam had been gone, and Marina had just been looking at herself, staring for a few moments before she took a shuddering breath and evened herself out.

But that had lingered with her. And she had felt strange all day afterwards, although Octavia had been polite enough to only give her little nudges now and then, instead of trying to drag anything out of her. She had appreciated that.

She remembered laying in bed, hugging herself with those metal limbs that felt so warm. That felt like hers, and like they weren't; they felt the strangest, smallest bit like someone else was trying to embrace her, like something else wanted to offer her comfort.

She had clung to that feeling, and carried it with her until it had been time for her to go back home.

Home. The home she had shared with Moonbeam, a place where she just wanted to close herself up inside and never come out. A dusty prison-sanctuary.

She really had let the place become a mess.

She took some time to do some light cleaning, dusting off the glass, rearranging some of the baubles, washing the dishes that had piled up in the sink. Not that there were many: Moonbeam had been accustomed to a solitary life, and even after Marina had moved in with her, she hadn't changed her ways very much. Cupboards had always been full of quick meals and prepackaged goods, and of course worried friends had stopped by with treats and meals that she had heated up – if she found the strength to do so, anyway – and then simply eaten out of their containers.

It had felt good to clean up, to take the dust off all the little glass ornaments that decorated the house and the front of the shop, each and every one lighting up with a faint luminescence under her touch that felt like Moonbeam. There were bits and pieces of her all across their home, warm, and loving, and just waiting for her to stumble across them: how had Marina allowed herself to be blind to that?

She could feel the love in the air. It renewed her strength, and helped her feel strong again.

She went to bed that night, and wrapped herself in her limbs, and it felt like Moonbeam was there, holding her, sharing love and strength with her.

In the morning, she awoke and found her limbs had changed color again, reflecting Moonbeam's coat. She studied a prosthetic leg as she rested in bed, tilting it back and forth in front of her face before she murmured: “I just wish you were really here. That there were more than just... traces of you. It's selfish, I know, but... I miss you. I love you. I wish we had more time, so I could say all the things I was always too afraid to...”

I'm right here, Moonbeam's voice said in her mind, tender, and kind; the loving mare, hidden under the hard face she always put on.

“I know, but... I wish you were here, though, really-”

“I'm right here.” Moonbeam's voice said, as if she was speaking right into her ear, and Marina flinched as she looked sharply up.

But there was nothing there.
It had sounded so real, though, that for a moment she had dared to hope...

“I'm right here.” said Moonbeam, in that quiet way Marina she had only ever shown when they were alone, and comfortable, and ready to be vulnerable with one another.
She felt hooves on her shoulders, and Marina breathed out and closed her eyes, trembling for a moment as her whole body tensed, her head tilting back a bit before those hooves squeezed down, sending tingles through her body as phantasmal warmth trailed along her body, stroked down her forelegs.

She bit her lip, then felt her head tilted her back; she felt tingling spread along her lips, a sensation like softness brushing over them. She pushed back against it, nuzzling into it, feeling air, and yet something beneath, something more; there was nothing physical there, but when she moved against it, those sensations increased, as long as she didn't push so hard she disrupted them completely.

It was impossible to describe. It was like contact with a cloud, it was like trying to kiss sunlight. She trembled as she felt her nerves light up, even where she no longer had feeling in her body, but the fact she could somehow feel that ghostly tingling as something ephemeral stroked down her legs, as if they had never been lost...
She heard a breath; she caught it in her mouth, tasted sweetness.

Her eyes fluttered, then slowly opened, and she gazed with tenderness at the strangely-expected phantom of Moonbeam that lingered over her, trembling a little before she whispered: “I missed you, so much.”

The phantasm smiled at her, then reached up and touched her face, cradling it gently for a moment before she spoke to her, in a voice that echoed in Marina's mind: “I've been here the whole time, you idiot. I never left.”

Marina laughed a bit, bowing her head with a faint blush, and Moonbeam continued: “But I couldn't reach you, I couldn't speak to you. You only ever seemed to hear the echoes of what I did, but it was exhausting, trying to get you to notice me. I felt like... mist, never able to touch you, or get close to you.”

One of her hooves stroked up Marina's face, while the other rested on her shoulder, pulled herself closer: Marina realized only now that Moonbeam was floating, gravity meaningless to her, resting in the air with fearless grace.

She leaned up, helplessly trying to nuzzle into her, and there was that sensation again, like contact with a cloud; their faces pressed together for a bare moment, their hooves stroked against one-another's bodies, and Marina trembled before she compulsively tried to grip, but that was too strong, and her hoof passed harmlessly through Moonbeam's body as the phantasm smiled down at her wryly, with that old mix of exasperation and love, chiding gently: “Careful.”

“Sorry.” Marina smiled awkwardly, shifting back to sit up on the couch, looking up at her with love and need and the faintest hint of pain, and Moonbeam hovered over her before she silently touched down to the surface of the couch, resting her hooves on Marina's chest and guiding her down. It was like being pressed into by a whispering wind, but Marina felt more than just the contact, she felt Moonbeam's intent, and her body responded naturally to that; as naturally as it had to Moonbeam's physical hooves.

“I'm here, but my body no longer is. But I can touch you. I can feel you. I can... see you, maybe similar to the way you could always see my emotions. We're connected.” Moonbeam said softly, as she straddled Marina, stroking her hooves along her chest, and Marina trembled at the weightless weight, the tickle and sizzle of something intangible stroking across her form. “That's because of you, Marina. The connection we shared.”

“But I... I made you sick. I-” Marina was silenced by a hoof to her mouth, Moonbeam giving her a stern look that made the Changeling quail a little.

“No. I don't want to hear that. I don't know or care why I got sick... but I do know that because of our connection, because of what I gave to you, I'm still here. I'm still here...” Moonbeam stroked silently down one of Marina's mechanical limbs, and oh, Marina felt it like it was flesh and blood, felt the tingle and the surreal flex of muscle that no longer existed, the twinge of supple flesh...

They looked at each other silently for a few moments, and then Moonbeam leaned down, and kissed her, and it was indescribable: countless sensations all at once, made of ether and memory. She grasped helplessly at the living shadow, and for a moment, she squeezed too hard, threatening to rip the soft fabric of that void, but...

Her flex lightened, her hooves loosened, her touch hesitated, and became gentle; and in the softness of that embrace, she felt her lover again, that much clearer than when she had tried to cling into the phantasm. She didn't simply hold the ghost with her forelegs; she helped shape its vessel, supported it, cradled it, instead of crushing it.
The kiss broke, and Marina gave a low moan as kisses trailed down her neck. She tilted her head back, felt Moonbeam's hooves move across her body, sending incredible tingles through her form; it was like Moonbeam touched the deepest parts of her, made her whole body flare with heat, and there was no denying her desire or the heat of the moment.

And they both could feel that connection, that desire, mutual emotion flaring through their conjoined spirit: this was what love was supposed to be, at its best and purest. Physical desire, joined with an intimate knowing of the other.
Hooves moved down, across her body, and Marina flushed in pleasure as she felt something touch her, stroking over her groin, rubbing down to her sex. Her body flexed as heat flared through her loins, and the strangest of tingles seared along her labia, making her groan out; her whole body sizzled with pleasure, her hips rocking, her body quivering as her breath quickened.

She could feel Moonbeam's emotions, Moonbeam's intentions, and it made her horn spark and her mind sizzle; her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt ecstasy spreading through her body, felt her sex flare with fire, felt like something hot and electric was sliding into her, filling up her passage without spreading her walls, making her feel so full and tight even as her vagina clenched around nothing, as her clitoris burned with heat as it stood stiffly out with every wink of her blossomed sex.

“O-Oh... Moonbeam...” Marina groaned as she rocked her hips, flushed and excited, already almost delirious with pleasure as she gasped out: “Going to... oh, I'm going to...”

She arched her back, helplessly thrust her hips as she gave a low moan of pleasure, her body pulsing with ecstasy as she bucked herself against the incredible sensations thrumming through her form. She whimpered with need as her hips rocked, her eyes only half-focused, clutching at the ghost that was over her, ruling her, filling her with such delight and ecstasy and hunger and love...

She cried out as her hips rocked again, again, again, the sizzling, tingling, unfathomable pleasure driving her over the edge. The sensations were too much, the pressure of love and desire burning through her pushing her far over the edge and making her whole body quake with ecstasy as she spasmed beneath the phantasm, flushing as her body flexed and vented its nectar, her vagina clenching powerfully against the sensations burning through it, the unknown force filling it, her sweet juices bursting from her body to splatter across the couch cushions.

Moonbeam groaned with her, the shade leaning down into her, seeming to feed off that deluge of emotion and desire, light of pleasure pulsing through her phantasmal form. As Marina's pleasure slowly faded, and those sensations vanished with it, Moonbeam's own form solidified a little more, those ghostly flashes fading little-by-little until, finally, they both settled.

“Been a while.” Moonbeam said softly, teasing her, and Marina flushed and licked her lips, a bit embarrassed, but in the best of ways as she nodded almost meekly.

She felt ephemeral hooves stroke down her chest, before she groaned quietly as she felt... a tingling. She felt desire press at her: not her own, but Moonbeam's, and it made her almost embarrassed before she gasped a little as she felt those sensations not just touch her, but reach through her glamour, and the Changeling's body flexed as it slowly shed its disguise, staring up with a mix of surprise and strange delight at Moonbeam as her mask was peeled away, the Changeling beneath looking up at the mare who had captured her heart as she whispered: “But I'm not done with you yet.”

Moonbeam stroked down her body, gripped into her, and Marina felt a hoof touch her sheath, stroke upwards, and her penis took little urging to begin to grow; a heat, a tingling warmth surrounded her shaft, and Marina gritted her teeth, the pleasure of her female orgasm still rumbling through her body, her hips rocking, putty in the intangible grasp of the mare floating over her as she moaned out: “M-Moonbeam...”

“Don't worry about me... I can feel everything just fine through you...” Moonbeam stroked over her chest, her own breathing rough and heavy as she shifted, her ghostly body flexing as her hoof moved up and down that length, teased it, toyed with it, as Marina's cock came quickly to full hardness, that heavy erection throbbing with need, her testicles sizzling with warmth and pleasure that flowed down from her length.

Her body flexed and shuddered before she felt Moonbeam shift on her: it wasn't like weight pressing down against her, but like air pressure; she felt her shaft swallowed, gripped, by a sensation of heat, felt something clench her shaft, then pull against it, tingling tickling across her cock, and the sudden absence, the cold air that assaulted her member almost as stimulating as when the wall of heat pushed down her length and swallowed her cock whole again inside its vise.

She groaned, her head lolling back, mouth gaping open, her body shuddering, shaking under the feeling of something else taking control. Moonbeam was in full power here: even without any physical touch, any ability to truly push or press on her, it wasn't just the tingling, the sizzling that made Marina so helpless: it was the assault of emotions, it was the power of memories that mixed in among the phantom sensations, that all these feelings and their connection brought back. She remembered the first time and the last time and every time in between they'd had sex like this, every thrust, every penetration, every thrill of pleasure all at once: she remembered every time Moonbeam had taken control, and how well she had done it. She remembered every night of passion and caught glimpses of shards of memory from those countless times before.

Moonbeam's taste filled her mouth, her scent filled her nose; her body shook as she felt her hooves, heard her moans echo through her mind. Marina thrust helplessly, a happy tool under Moonbeam's desire, clenching into the couch beneath her as her hooves curled and her whole body shook with passion.
It wasn't long: she thrust, and thrust, and thrust, until her cock stiffened, her body shook, and she cried out, mixing with the moans of Moonbeam as she orgasmed: she felt a wash of heat along her sex, felt the invisible, touchless nectar of her lover spill across her cock, and was barely aware as her load squirted into the air, unfettered by the ghost, spraying through her intangible lover to splatter down across her own body and legs and the floor beside her.

And then she lay there on her back, her cock throbbing on her body, her breathing hard and heavy, feeling Moonbeam on her chest, laying over her, feeling her wonderful weight. She reached up and touched her face, almost solid for a moment, and Moonbeam smiled at her before she said quietly: “I need to rest for a bit. But I'm never far now...”

Moonbeam reached up, touched her face, and drew her into a kiss; their mouths worked together for a moment, and then parted, and Marina watched as Moonbeam faded from sight, becoming motes that split apart, and slid themselves into Marina's prosthetic limbs.

The vessels that had been built to contain her energy. Well, it looked like they could hold more than that.
Marina smiled as she lifted a leg, watched it turn to Moonbeam's old coat color, and she laughed a little before she whispered: “I'm really going to have to thank Octavia again. I bet she never imagined that...”

She quieted, then reached down and touched the sticky mess on her chest. But then she only smiled faintly, silently resting back for a moment and letting herself breathe.

This was going to take some getting used to. But that was fine.

She and Moonbeam were together, and that was all that mattered.