Author's Note

A Bad Lyre takes place after A Happy Ending?
This chapter brought to you by Max 8BIT as part of the Extra Chapter Challenge.

Anon and Metamora just wanted to take a nice trip back to Ponyville, to remember where it all started and possibly defile a certain patch of the Everfree Forest once more. When a mint-green menace threatens to derail their fun, it's a good thing their self-appointed bodyguard Pharynx is there to keep the peace.

[Bonus][Epilogue] A Bad Lyre

“AAAAANON!” Lyra Heartstrings screamed at you, “Fuck Me!”

Jesus fuck you just got back like literally yesterday. You did not have time for this.

“Vaporize or moon banishment?” Metamora asked, first staring lasers at the minty mare before looking towards you for approval.

“Easy,” Pharynx, of all creatures, said. Since when was he the voice of level-headed reason, “I’ll take care of it.”

Pharynx fragmented away from your group as you continued on your way back to the inn. You stared warily over your shoulder as he followed her away from your group. The sight of Metamora and Aphelion outpacing you enough that you now had a view of their backsides was enough to refocus your attention.

“What’s your name anyway?” Lyra asked you, trotting just as fast as you cared to keep pace.

“I’m Pharynx,” you responded curtly, “and you are?”

“Lyra Heartstrings,” she replied cheerily, “I like hands.”

“What was that about back there?” you asked, “Asking my Queen’s consort to breed you like some common whorse?”

“Wow, you’re a feisty ‘ling, aren’t you?” Lyra snapped back, still content to lead you… wherever she was headed.

“You’re one to talk,” you laughed, “Not but two minutes ago you would have let sir Anon rut you in the street!”

“Mmh, yeah,” she groaned, “Talk dirty to me…”

“What are you-” you started before deciding you didn’t know what to ask, and you certainly didn’t want to know the answer.

“What am I what?” she asked, “I’ve been clear about my ambitions, you’re the one following aimlessly.”

“I uh,” you paused. Why were you following her? “I have to make sure you’re not going to bother them again.”

“Right,” she scoffed, “You said you’d take care of me.”

“That’s not-” you quickly denied, watching the cruel smirk on her muzzle just grow wider.

“Oh is it not?” she laughed, waving her tail slightly more than professionally necessary, “Didn’t cross your mind that you could catch a piece of this flank?”

“That would be unbecoming conduct for a Changeling of my duty.”

“Ah, I’m sure you’d rather your conduct…” she smirked, “be cumming, right?”

“I see what you’re doing here,” you lied, “and it’s not going to work.”

“Oh?” she asked, feigning incredulity, “Whatever could I be planning?”

“Don’t get coy with me,” you commanded. You liked her tenacity, but you really wish that she wasn't so convincing.

“Oh, we’re here!” she declared, turning away from the road and toward a small house, “Well, Pharynx… are you going to come inside?”

If she kept this up, yes. In more ways than one. You silently followed her through the door, watching as she lazily flopped onto a convenient couch in the main room of her home.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she declared, “I’ll leave Anon and your Queen alone. I just want two small favors in return?”

“Two? What are they?”

“First, I want you to change into Anon…” she hesitated, “you… you can change into other creatures, that’s not just a rumor, right?”

You did find it endearing when ponies tried to be inoffensive. For all her quirks, she seemed a nice enough mare.

“Yes, we can,” you answered, “What about the second favor?”

“That’s the fun part,” she grinned, “After you turn into Anon, I want you to fuck me until I pass out, then keep going until I wake up again.”

“W-Why?” you asked, cursing the not-so-small part of you that didn’t immediately want to say no.

“Have you seen him?” she asked, “Can you imagine what he could do with those hands?”

A pair of translucent golden hands appeared in front of you as Lyra lost herself to her fantasy. They started to trace their way along her body, kneading, stroking, playing with her.

“I’ve, uh…” you started to admit, “given it a thought or two.”

“Then you understand why I need those hands. Come on, you give me this and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of forever and pump you full of all the love I can possibly manage.”

“I’m not saying no…”

“But?” she asked, reading between the lines.

“If you don’t make good on your promise to pump me full of love,” you started, preying on the still gray area of Changeling popular opinion, “I’ll devour the rest.”

Of course you never would. You made a promise to Metamora, to yourself, that you would only thrive on love given. But you needed to know how desparate she was.

“Deal.” she finally decided. There was no hesitation in her voice.

“Well then,” you started, concentrating as a green flame significantly altered your biology, “How do you want it?”

“Oh fuck!” she huffed, visibly shaking as she stared at your naked, now bipedal form.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” you demanded, still trying to pretend you knew how these hive-forsaken appendages managed to orchestrate any kind of balance. At least you perfectly matched that pretentious lilt of the smug bastard’s voice.

“H-H-Hands,” she elaborated, “g-grab me and… d-don’t give me a choice.”

“That sounds an awful lot like giving you a choice,” you nagged, “but I guess we have to start somewhere.”

You walked the few steps remaining between you, surprising yourself with how easy it actually was to walk on two legs. She shook as you towered over her, your hands inches away from her. You did as she asked, but instead of holding her down and doing her on the couch like you were sure she imagined, you hefted her into the air entirely, once again amazed by how effortlessly the mechanics of the human frame operated.

“W-Where are we going?”

“You are going right here on this table,” you declared, setting her down on the higher surface, “And I am going to rut you into it until either it breaks, or you do.”

She was vibrating with what you would have assumed was panic if you couldn’t read her emotions, taste her excitement. You leaned over her, bracing her against the table with one hand as the other roamed her body. You stroked along her neck, traced the rise of her chest and then the slender curve of her barrel, continued down toward her small teats and hesitating ever so slightly before finally teasing the fur around her marehood.

“F-Fuck, you tease!” she groaned, trying to wiggle into your touch despite your other hand holding her firmly in place.

“Oh, you’ve got to earn these hands,” you decided, flicking a thumb across the tip of her moistening slit.

“Y-Yes Master!” she answered without hesitation. You felt the absurd tool that your form had gifted you starting to stir. She was definitely a talented provocateur.

"That’s right,” you grinned, “You belong to me, you candy-colored slut.”

“F-fuck, you’re really getting into this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’m about to be,” you teased, gently stroking your meat to attention, “are you ready?”

“I thought…” she trailed off, a note of disappointment, “…hands?”

“See that’s the great thing about these,” you waved your fingers. You brought one hand down to her slit and plied at the side of her glistening marehood with your thumb, “while Anon Jr. is occupied, these are free to… wander.”

Between the pleasure of direct contact, the excitement of what was about to happen, and the subversion of her expectations, all Lyra could manage was a surprised whimper and a deep, tremoring shudder.

You pressed slightly harder with your thumb, spreading her open just wide enough that your entry would be a breeze. Lining up the anatomical impossibility between your legs, you pressed forward, sinking slowly into her. She was tight, but you had a secret weapon. As you started to meet resistance, you grabbed each of her legs with one hand and pulled her forward onto you.

“A-Anon!” she squeaked, her insides coiling around their alien invader. You drank deep of the honeyed fountain of her love, feeling her fill you with sustenance just as you filled her with each calculated thrust. You felt her legs tense every time you pulled her down onto you until finally you had sheathed yourself within her depths.

“F-Fuck, t-touch me more!” she screamed, wiggling her legs as if to free them from your grasp. You obliged, leaning over her and cupping the back of her head with one hand. The other hand wandered over her chest, idly drawing shapes along her silken, minty fur. When you finally found that second hand wandering closer towards her legs, you took your time to admire her small, perky teats.

“These are cute,” you declared, gently circling a nipple with your first finger. You cupped your palm against the warm mound, squeezing ever so gently as she shuddered in ecstasy. Finally, you let up for a moment, only to place that same nipple between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it just a bit, “…And so sensitive too.”

“C-Come on…” she whined, “H-Hold me down and fuck me like an animal!”

“Fair enough,” you decided, shifting your stance. You grabbed her sides just ahead of her flanks and squeezed. While Anon’s hands weren’t massive, they gave you more than enough leverage to secure a predatory hold on your willing prey. As you squeezed gently, you felt the power in that embrace, understood why Anon was such a monster in the bedroom. You could do anything to her that you wanted, she was little more than a warm sleeve when you could manipulate her so easily with those spindly appendages.

Picking her up seemed like a good idea, your tactic shifting from thrusting forward to hefting her up and letting gravity push her back down on you. By this time you could barely think through the haze of her cloying lust, you just needed more. You needed to breed, you needed to cum.

But she beat you to it. One particularly fierce thrust found her throwing her hooves around you as she howled like a timberwolf. She panted heavily as a fresh river of steaming marecum soaked your dick and dribbled down your legs.

“Oh Celestia’s Sun above! A-Anon!” she all but sang, “That was just what I needed.”

“We’re not quite finished,” you quipped, roughly laying her back down on the table. You pulled out, smearing her teats and stomach with her juices as you loosely thrust outside of her, “But we can take a break if you need it.”

“Come on champ,” she winked, holding her hindlegs apart with her front hooves, “A promise is a promise.”

“That’s my girl,” you murmured, cramming yourself back inside her still-slick passage.

You kept going and going, impressed by the human’s stamina. But eventually, even a human would succumb to the climactic culmination of such an event. With one last potent thrust, you felt yourself let go, firing everything you had into the poor mare.

“Oh fuck, oh Pharynx!” Lyra screamed, wrapping her hooves around you as best she could.

“Shit!” you grunted through clenched teeth, feeling yourself pulse within her. After your spurts came to an end, you slumped over her.

“That was…” she quietly acknowledged, “…magic.”

“Pharynx, though?” you asked, “Not Anon?”

“Shit, I’m sorry…” Lyra apologized, “I know you’re in character and I… I got a little carried away.”

“Of all the things you do not have to apologize for,” you started, “this one takes the cake. What stallion would be upset that you couldn’t help yourself from screaming their name during sex?”

“But this was supposed to be…”

“Uncomplicated?” you finished, “It still is. This wasn’t about feelings or true love or any of that crap, this was an honest rutting for no other reason. A damn good one at that.”

“T-Thank you Pharynx,” Lyra sighed, her breathing slowing down and a cute weariness falling over her eyes, “I’m glad you understand. Maybe next time we don’t need a disguise… you were kinda cute yourself.”

“Huh?” you asked. She was already sleeping.

No disguise? Cute? …Aphelion is not gonna like hearing about that.