Dolly's Late Night Maintenance Check

by Scout Feather

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Porn, Fetish, Sex
Length: 2541

A Plane Pone with the size, personality and wonder of an adorable little filly needs to be refueled. Foalcon.

You are a Pony Engineer working at an Airstrip and residence to a number of Plane Ponies--a rare fusion of magical energy and machinery designed for maximum flight efficiency and air superiority--including your charge, a top-secret project that you've come to know as Dolly. For all her technological wonder, efficiency and maneuverability, Dolly is really just an adorable little filly who's eager to be best friends with you.

Dolly is about to get refueled.

Based on a greetext I wrote for the /mlp/ Plane Pone threads. Contains Foalcon.

Published 2019-04-24 14:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-04-24 14:50:01 UTC

Dolly's Refueling

Author's Note

On /mlp/ there used to be threads about a unique species of Pony called 'Plane Pones'. These were 'ponifications', as it were, of various military and civilian aircraft. The characters and setting for this story are based in this universe.

Dolly's Refueling

You were an earth pony stallion worker at an airport. An engineer of sorts, you work on a variety of top secret projects, known unofficially as 'Plones', throughout the day, keeping them in shape and making sure they stick to training regimes, diets and the like.

Your Boss had given you a personal project as of late: you're to be in charge of one of the new lightweight models and make sure she meets expectations for the higher ups. This was a big project and they needed to be impressed. A lot was at stake.

This Plone is a cute little thing, carrying approximately the size and temperament of a small Equestrian filly. The idea was she would be able to make longer trips on less fuel, be more agile and more maneuverable. It was still a prototype model, so at the moment she was the only one of her kind.

Her classification was D-01137, but you have come to nickname her Dolly to make her feel more at home, and to help encourage her development. She's tough and determined to perform well. You admire her spunky attitude and enthusiasm. Conversely, she clings to every word you say and is always a good filly for you. The mutual respect makes your job far easier.

You were fast coming up on the deadline for your first performance review and everything was at stake. Would they can the project? Cut budgets? Or change you onto something else entirely? The pressure was on and you both felt it. So you found yourself working overtime with Dolly more and more often. She's always tired out by the end, but never complains.

Tonight had been no different.

You return to her specialized hangar after dinner when it's already almost dark. Most of your colleagues have gone home for the day to their own families and the airstrip was largely quiet save for the few scarce take-offs and landings.

Dolly's hangar consists of a working area with many kinds of tools and a small specialized lift that fits her hooves and keeps her upright so that you can work on her undercarriage and fuel compartments during maintenance. On the far side is her 'recharging' area which mostly contains a small bed for sleeping, a shelf full of flight manuals and books, a TV with several cartoon channels, and a small sofa. You'd spared no expense in outfitting this place for her, requesting many budget extensions and risking your neck many times to your bosses. You don't care, it was worth it to see her cute face light up when she saw them. You don't have kids, but you suppose this little Plone has come pretty close. The way she looks up to you and follows your instruction fills you with pride.

She's sitting on the sofa and watching cartoons right now. She sees you walk in and shut the door behind you, and starts to get up at once, a smile stretching across her face, her eyes lighting up and scanning your features to try and read your emotions.

"More training tonight?" She pipes up, her voice sparkly and carefree. You simply shake your head and beckoned her over to the lift, noticing some cookie crumbs left over where she'd previously been sitting.

"Just some diagnostics tonight. Have you been sticking to your diet requirements, Dolly?" You ask with a voice that sounded more stern than you'd intended. Her ear flicks, something she always does when she's lying.

"Uh, y-yeah..." She fibs, shifting her gaze away from you as she moves over. You guide her hooves into the correct placement. The lift is basically a small cushioned bench that her chest rests on, and two adjacent downward-curved bars with slots and straps for her rear hooves. Her forehooves fit into a larger strap keeping them together. You give her a wink as you finish strapping her in, and start running tests.

"You know you have to follow your diet regime if you want the training to be effective. You don't want them to send you away so that you never see me again, do you?" You try to sound softer, but it comes out harsly. She pouts and shakes her head. She adores you as much as you do her, and it pains you to have to scold her. As you run your visual checks, you tickle her belly lightly. Her responding giggle causes her to light up again, which makes you feel better, too. You can't bear to see her sad.

"How's your engine coolant levels, sweetie?" You ask nonchalantly as you trot around behind her, leaning in to check her intake ports. They were small and pert, virtually identical to a real mares part. You pry apart her vulva with a hoof to look inside. The synthetic flesh is pink and emanates warmth.

You'd thought this method of fuel intake a bit odd at first, but you've grown to appreciate the intimate moments it gives you. with some of your projects. It helps to bring the Engineer closer to his project.

"Um...I'm running a bit dry, sir." She admits, shifting her round tush from side to side, squirming in her seat. You swear her voice is a little shakey as she speaks.

You reach behind you and grab a hose connected to a nearby coolant tank that's used for refills. The nozzle at the end is round and almost phallus-shaped. As per protocol, you release a few drops of coolant from the hole at the tip to lubricate it, then bring the nozzle to Dolly's undercarriage and connect it to the coolant port in the form of a pert little rump hole under her tailfin.

Dolly squirms expectantly as you rub the tip around so it isn't too rough, then start working it in. You hear a tiny squeak as it enters the first inch into her, then you work it in deeper. She never complained, but you'd put in requests multiple times to have the size of the nozzle reduced, as it was initially designed for Plones not much bigger than you, making it ill-fitted to one of her sized. She always took it in stride though, like a real champ.

You give the lever a squeeze and watch as the coolant starts to flow into her internal tank. Dolly pants lightly, letting you know it's working and refueling her appropriately. There's little more you can do in the meantime but watch. Your eyes trail around her figure, admiring her toned body for a few moments as she continues taking the coolant. Considering its small size, her tank fills rather quickly and starts to overflow as you lose focus staring at her flanks. The excess coolant leaks out from from around the nozzle and drips down her thighs. You snap back to attention just in time to shut it off.

"T-that feels funny!" Dolly whines, looks back at you with red cheeks, squirming again.

"S-sorry!" You apologize profusely, giving her belly a rub for compensation. She seems to enjoy this and smiles again, letting out a soft coo. You always enjoy her smiles.

You put the nozzle away and and reach for a small electronic probe next. It's used for analyzing her interior components and measuring temperature levels. Using a hoof, you pry apart her vulva-like fuel intake port once again and rub the probe around the excess coolant that was still dripping down her thighs. Dolly squeaks as you press the cold metal probe into her, sinking it into the pink flesh. She squeezes it, and the tip of the metal ball is pulled into her.

The head of the probe is connected to a long stem, which in turn ends with a cable that runs to a computer on the wall. It lights up and makes beeping sounds as it initiates the test. You know this will only take a few minutes, watching as the bulb vibrates intensely to test her reaction and reflex time. You start to rub it around and pull it out of her, only to push it back into her flesh again.

Dolly lets out a sudden squeal and trembles lightly, her body tensing up. You draw out the bulb and press it against the small bulb near her entrance. She twitches and lets out a second squeal, thrashing about in her restraints. You still continue rubbing the prob back and forth, putting pressure against the small sensor that resembles a mare's clit. One final jolt and the Plone filly throws back her head and squeals.

Dolly squirts engine fluid all over the probe and your hoof as she winds down from the peak of the diagnostics test, panting for breath. The computer on the wall is all lights and beeps, indicating the test was finished and successful: everything was well within operating parameters. Dolly receives a pat to the head for being such a good filly, and once again she smiles.

Consequently, your shaft is now fully erect, throbbing against your underbelly. in preparation for what was coming next. The exhausted Dolly looks back at you, a sparkle in her eyes with the same expectation; she knows what's coming next.

"Time to refuel, sir?" She asks. You give a nod.

"I think my fuel dispenser needs lubricating first, Dolly." You don't want it to hurt, after all.

She instinctively licks her lips as you walk around to her front. You stand on your hind hooves and put your forehooves on the bench next to her head, your stallionhood prodding at her nose and smearing a droplet of precum on her nose. Instantly you feel her hot breath on your shaft, bathing it in warmth. You are unable to hold back a shudder as she extends her tongue and starts lapping at it, cleaning off your pre.

She's always absolutely amazing at this, flattening her tongue and dragging it over the tip, then swirling it around in a circle. She does this for a few more moments beforemthe licking unceremoniously ends, only for your horsecock to be met with a hot and wet mouth, the filly gobbling you up hungrily.

She swallows you nearly back into her throat, starting to bob her head, tongue pressed against the base, and you can hear her breathing through her nose while she goes up and down, eager for more. So eager.

You realize now your cock is throbbing in her maw, dripping precum into her throat like a faucet. The greedy little thing just slurps it up and swallows it back eagerly, as if afraid of spilling a single drop like it was some precious liquid. With little else to do and little restraint to hold yourself back, you start humping into her maw, forcing her to take more, and she starts gagging, fighting back the reflex as best as she can as you start thrusting into her throat. You're nearly halfway in and she starts to tear up a little, just at the corners of her firmly shut eyes, but you know she'll be alright. She's done this before, after all.

You're close, and certainly don't want to waste what's about to come. Neither does she, for that matter. Dolly looks disappointed as you pull out of her muzzle, her saliva dripping down her chin, a hazy look in her eyes. You practically skip around to her flanks as quick as you can, mount her, and hook your forehooves around her sides.

You can feel her wiggling that tight butt--er, engine port--against your crotch in anticipation and it's all you can do to keep yourself from going full force just yet. You have to pace your breathing to stop your animalistic impulses. You feel around with your hard stallionhood carefully until you find the entrance to her fuel tank. Relaxing and with a deep breath to control yourself, you start to penetrate into her receptical and enter inside of her, taking your time so as not to damage her components.

It's certainly taking a stretching to accomadate you, squeezing around your member with a vicelike grip and producing more of the engine fluid to lubricate you and make it easier on her. Dolly is panting and moaning loudly, eager to be refilled by you, her best friend and mentor...But maybe not too quickly. You both want this to last a little while.

You start rolling your hips back and forth gently, pulling out your cock to just the head and thrusting back into her. Each thrust goes deeper than the one before, forcing her to gradually take more and more until you're filling her to the brim. Being a small prototype, she's agonizingly tight, and it feels like it's hugging your cock. It's pure heaven.

You begin picking up the pace as you shove nearly your entire dick into her hot, velvety insides in one abrupt push. The slow, gentle lover's pace is all but gone now. Your balls are slapping against her backside each time you thrust, and though Dolly is trying remarkably hard to keep a straight face and look unaffected, pretending like it's a routine thing, you can tell she's enjoying it, if her rapid shivers and twitches were anything to go by.

You lean down, arching your back as your thrusts become shorter and more erratic, and squeeze your forehooves around her barrel, clenching her in place. Your horsecock flares and locks the two of you together as you let out a loud, drawn-out moan.

"Get ready...to be...nnng...refueled!" You shout, giving a shallow buck to lodge yourself even deeper in her canal, dragging the flare along her walls and pressing deeply into her. So deep you thought you'd reached her absolute limit.

You pant lustfully into her ear and feel her squeeze as much as she can, letting out a cute little grunt as her fuel tank is completely filled with your hot, virile seed. Your head just keeps pumping more and more thick, sticky cum into her for a few more moments to such a degree that it's leaking out of her and onto the floor.

Once you've finally finished refueling her, you pull out, completely exhausted. Dolly is a mess, and looks ready to fall asleep. You quietly uhook the Plone Filly from the lift equipment. She would have rolled off and collapsed if you hadn't been there to catch her against your side. After cleaning up the excess fluid dripping out of her, you carry her over to her small bed in the corner and tuck her in, draping a small blanket around her, more for comfort than for warmth, and giving her a kiss on her cheek. She mumbles something under her breath as she instantly drifts off to sleep.

Satisfied your extensive testing is complete, you pack up the tools to put them away, and make your way home.

Working late with Dolly always leaves her tired by the end.

But she never complains.