Suddenly, everything got bigger. Mistress Celestia didn't bother standing to show off. She just Flexed.

The capital was required, as was the latest set of helpless orgasms. FLEX was all Dashie could think as Celestia's huge arm came up, elbow extended out, palm up-- the fist that Dashie's still spasming slit wanted so badly abruptly formed. Squeezed, and then, fist up and then over to the sky, Flexed. One hundred and ten inches of bicep bulged. Dashie didn't have that much muscle mass in her whole body.

And it wasn't alone. As the arm curled up and further strength flared, definition like Twilight's favorite dictionary series came out in stark relief. Dashie didn't even think of herself as having strength at all in this context. But I can be the awesomest wet noodle Dashie there is!

Uncountable mass of tricep towered, or did something like tower when it was on the other side, but it was something that started with T and that was all Dash could think of.

Tower, and climax. Except it was less the word 'climax' and more a constant sort of meditation on the concept until even her very feathertips were cumming.

"Yes," Mistress Celestia confirmed when Dashie could think about anything but the pure pleasure of seeing her mistress buff out. "You are weak. And I suppose it's true, if I gave these wimpy little colt-cheeks both the five swats you owe me, my little fucktoy, you'd probably be too broken to be of use. I suppose."

Dashie breathed out. Her Princess would never break her, she knew. Even if her Mistress might push the edge…

WHAP! "ONE! THANKYOUMISTRESSMAYIHAVEANOTHER!" Dashie screamed out, her asscheeks suddenly on fire, the both of them!

"It's a good thing you're so coltish," came the horny, hungry purr of her mistress' voice through the haze in Dashie's brain. Her poor, skinny 51-inch hips, nothing like the mouthwatering majesty of her mistress, were still rutting wildly like Dashie was getting the fisting she could never possibly deserve.

"Rhf, mrmsf?" Dashie couldn't manage the words, she couldn't.

WHAP! "TWO! THANKYOUMISTRESSMAYIHAVEANOTHER!" Dashie squealed out, tears running down her muzzle's cheeks as femmecum squirted between her nether lips. Those words, she could manage. Somehow still having enough fluids to cum for each renewed assault on ass and cutie-mark, that she could do.

"You wouldn't survive the five each I should give you, especially given how much you're enjoying them, my disobedient little fucktoy."

Dashie quailed, not even able to approximate words now.

WHAP! "THREE! THANKYOUMISTRESSMAYIHAVEANOTHER!" Dashie sang out. Sang, truly. No matter that her ass was stinging so much she was certain she could see the red glow int he back of her head-- no mirror required. She could feel not just every fingerprint, not just the broad palm, but every whorl of her mistress' fingerprint, every crease in the muscles of that mighty hand.

"But you are a skinny little bitch, it's true," Mistress Celestia purred. "Maybe I could use you as a dildo or something after you freeze with fear… Mmm, a vibrator," she said with a deep throated laugh as Dashie kept squirming. If her mistress wanted to cram her into her cunt, if her Princess thought it was safe, Dashie would willingly do anything now.

Including take another broad-handed spanking. Mistress Celestia's hand whistled back to Dashie's ass, the speed and strength of its passage enough to set the superheated air steaming off.

"FOUR! THANKYOUMISTRESSMAYIHAVEANOTHER!" The errrr trailed off into almost minotaur-cow-moos, but Dashie made it all the way through without losing more than the space between words. She was allowed that.

Despite the inconvenient truth that fourteen or fifteen inches from the tip of her slit-pounding middle finger to the base of her stern palm didn't quite make it from hip to hip on poor, abused Dashie-butt, it was long enough to go from rainbow to rainbow, cutie mark to cutie mark.

Dashie was pretty sure she'd be cumming anyway from her mistress' discipline, but that just made her all the weaker before the gigazon she'd begged to beat her.

Dashie did not know what she was asking for!

"Say it," ordered Mistress Celestia, ruthless as ever. "Say it, and I'll let the marks on both cheeks from a single swat count the five each I should administer."

So she said it. What was her pride, now? Just a few moments, and one more epic, humiliating spankgasm, and it'd be done.

Just to be sure she got it right the first time, she made sure to force herself to think like the person she really was, not the fucktoy she was playing. If Celestia never truly got to cum, with such weak lovers as a fellow alicorn like Rainbow Dash, then Rainbow Dash could break some of her own bliss to obey. "I didn't know what I was asking for, mistress! I'm so sorry, I didn't know!"

WHAP-CRACK!

"FIVE! THANKYOUMISTRESSMAYIHAVEANOTHER!" Dashie sang all the sweeter, tears flowing widely, ass definitely so cherry it was glowing in the mirror, and her pussy doing its best Neighara Falls impression. "I didn't know," she moaned again… and then gave the only gift she could that was truly thanks for the domination unequaled she'd received.

"I'll know what I'm asking for when you say I'm ready, Mistress," Dashie whispered. "I promise, I"ll know, and I'll practice for it… Ooof!"

Dashie's world went from sweat and pain and cum to… jiggle. She was suddenly surrounded by so much soft boob that not a bit of her, not a feather, not a toe, not a flailing hand escaped. She was completely ensconced in the Grandest Cleavage in the Land.

(Even if Luna's was still the dreamiest)

The soft squish of ever-milky, sloshing Solar Rack was all around Dashie. She didn't know why she wasn't choking; perhaps the earth pony strength her alicorn-ness granted, perhaps some mercy of her mistress' golden magic she couldn't see. After all, just opening her eyes only changed the faint glow of external light from coming through blue eyelids to bouncing off micrometer-close white tit-hide.

This elysium, too, was lost to her; far too few millennia later (or was it only a few minutes? Dashie certainly couldn't tell), her mistress plucked her up out of her cleavage yet again. "The right answer, my dear little fucktoy," Mistress Celestia promised.

The most muscular of equine giantesses hummed softly as she considered Dashie. Dashie, for her part, considered shutting up-- probably the best answer until her mistress was done. Instead, she just reveled in the touch.

As she pondered answers and rewards, Mistress Celestia slowly continued her exploration of her impertinent pet. The front, now, her hand tracing little patterns like runes of pleasure across the top of Dashie's pitiful D-cup and D-grade tits. Gasping, Dashie followed the unspoken lead as Celestia guided her towards the immense breasts in which she'd so recently been trapped. No new instructions followed.

Still, she didn't need instruction. Dashie's arms went wide, taut muscles pulling against the sting of healing, and she cuddled the immense breast close-- like it was her new best friend. Brushing her face close against the lovely melon-mountain, Dashie exhaled slowly through her nose, then inhaled deeply in return.

It wasn't exactly like a muzzle-kiss, but the insane rush of aphrodisiac musk more than made up the difference. Dashie wailed with pleasure and worry alike as the immediate and immodest orgasm struck, bouncing her against the huge breast, but when the lovely expanse wasn't removed, Dashie went back to cuddling and squirming her writhing body full over the hefty knocker.

Her own city-breaking strength barely dimpled that seemingly squooshy mass, so she gave it her all, hugging herself to this preciousest of bestest boob buds. Dashie didn't quite understand how all that wobbly weight would both squish about her and yet only go so far. Clearly, her new best friend had some special tricks.

Her best special friend, too-- kisses and licks all over, thirsty sucking of smooth white hide against her lips. As though she could earn the nipple by lewd lipwork alone. Her trembling palms rubbed through the beanbag-sized, milk-stuffed mega-tit, she even tried to get her knees and thighs and feet into the introduction of Dash to Boob.

The long, happy rumble from her mistress-- well, sent through that broad war-maretriarch's chest and ultra-pecs, it first started by ringing Dashie's whole body like a bell. The huge rack defied gravity and merely amazonian passengers alike, bouncing and bobbing with preternatural perk. Indeed, as the rumble cascaded, Dashie was knocked around on Mistress Celestia's milk-filled knocker like a very strange lifeboat in a storm.

But it did tell Dashie she was at least moo-ving in the right direction. Sort of. Hopefully. Squooshy, experience with her old best friend's double-Zs aside, Dashie knew she had no experience with the proper adoration of a tit like this.

Among other things, Celestia's ten-foot-eight frame was such that just a single perfectly-shaped tit outmassed the outrageously curvaceous Fluttershy-that-had-been. Taken together, the enormous mammary mountains still outmassed the Princess of Kindness. Even with Fluttershy now a seven-feet-tall amazon as well, and her already prodigious rack upgraded by the apotheosis.

No, there was no comparison. Just acres and acres of blessed bossmare boob to adore. Dashie barely stopped herself from squeezing her thighs across some of that elysium of soft titflesh, but thought the better of it. Not without Mistress' permission! she thought stoutly. No more than she'd dare suckle from that crinkly pink paradise at the apex of Mt. Booblestia.

If permission to worship at that dawn-rosy altar, that lovely nub was denied Dashie for the moment, she'd just have to make do. She made did, with pressing needy kisses and full body squeezes all over, hoping to earn with effort what her lack of expertise could not. Her mouth drooled as much as her slit as she contemplated just the one huge nipple of the High Princess's princess-sized pair, as big as a water jug brought out for a hot day, and easily a thousand times as thirst-quenching.

While Dashie did her duty and then some, Celestia played with her pretty pet. Mid-mammary embrace, there was a sudden sensation between her sensitive wingbases. Pressure, a steady, stroking force, made of even Dashie's championship wings' putty, the super-sensitive and super-taut muscles relaxing in a moment. As reactive as hornbases-- or nipples-- Dashie felt the vast strength applied to them with delicate and complete care.

If she hadn't had a duty to her New Friend Boob, she'd have melted off in a puddle of femmecum and floppiness.

It was hard for her to maintain that duty, but she did. As her mistress' touch worked slowly around one wing, then the other, Dashie chose to imagine the pulses of pleasure, body-energy, and relaxation as commands. She reacted; this jolt below the shoulderblade told her to rub and fondle at hand-sized increments of mega-melon here; a caress around the outside of her left wingbase told her to rub her own poor itsy-bitsy Ds, less than a twentieth the size all over the front.

She was pressed, moved by just the soft-finger massage. Squirming and snuggling over a seemingly endless mountain of Tit. Maybe Dashie might have preferred to really concentrate on this patch or that, but the fingertips brushing lightly over her back drove her on relentlessly.

Of course, these fingers were easily more than half the length of Dashie's whole hand. Bigger than her forearms. A sudden thought made Dash lift her rump and spread her thighs, knees pressing lightly into the superior breast-flesh beneath. Fingers bigger'n'my first boyfriend's dick. 'Course, he was a normal...

Those strong white-hided fingers drew up between Dashie's shoulders, and firmly sent her towards the wagon wheel-vastness of Celestia's closest areola. Permission. At last. Dashie's whole neck seemed so frail compared to the single finger stroking up it, forcing her head down onto that darker, barer flesh.

Dashie flew to the command. Or rather, stayed steadfastly stuck to Celestia's mighty quad-Z rack. She certainly wasn't going anywhere. Panting, her jaw seemingly stuck on open, lips above and below stuck on 'permanent drool,' she kissed and nuzzled and even hesitantly stroked her horn, like she might in a full-submission crouching bow.

Shudders struck Dashie again, but that one finger kept her tight to the vast breast. Besides, the shudders alone, not to mention microclimax groans, the clit-stiffening musk-- every result of her areola-kissing crusade told her she was being such a good bitch.

Of course, so did her mistress. "That's my good bitch," cooed Mistress Celestia. "So good I think I shall help you service your debt. Give you the strength to make good your bravado in this, at least, before I take the interest out of you."

"M-mistress C-celestia," Dashie trembled, spacing each syllable with continued kisses on just the broad bareness and not looking towards the center. "Are you offering your Dashie-bitch a-a-a dash of the good stuff?"

"You're lucky I like puns, my little fucktoy," came the deep, body-shaking, boob-quaking growl. Only the force of that one pressing finger, and the lesser action of Dashie's entire bod and every limb clenching against the ultra-sized mammary after that snarl, and nothing could keep Dashie from a swift series of screaming cries.

Her pussy paid as much tribute to her mistress' voice as her questing hands and lips paid her mistress' tit, as was only proper.

As Celestia was wont to do, she managed to overwhelm those climaxes with just a single word: "Yes."

Dashie felt extraordinarily lucky, both for the offer, and for the loving chuckle that bounced boob and subbie alike. Both told her that her mistress found her squeals of pleasure more than adequate homage to the honor of the offer. Because nursing at the perpetually-lactating Solar Tit wasn't just an act of sexuality and nourishment together. It was a sign of Celestia's trust in both Dashie's heart and Dashie's will.

Celestia's milk was the sweetest, richest, creamiest taste imaginable, everyone knew that, though only a few knew why. Even the cows married to Auros, God of the Minotaurs (and adoptive uncle of the princesses) were said to envy it. But as Dashie and so few others knew-- even Daring Do only had vague suspicions-- Celestia's milk had a few other qualities than mere nourishment.

Power. It gave so much energy, the Perfection of the Sun, ever warm and ever Transmuting the drinker to Perfect more of their own power. Only the most heroic of ponies (in ways loud and quiet) were worthy of that.

Pleasure. Perhaps not as directly as Celestia's addictive pheromones, but gulping down even a mouthful would get a stud jizzing his pants and a mare drenching her thighs. Only those who touched Celestia's heart could have a chance to show such wroth

But that adjective for her musk-- addictive-- applied if anything even more to Celestia's breastmilk then it did her pussyjuice. And the last time she'd taken her eye off her milk-fed favorites for even a little while… was the Burning Times, recorded in bloodstained and ashen altars upon steppe pyramids deep in haunted jungles.

So that was a reward-- that Celestia believed that Rainbow Dash had shown herself tough enough for that… I might even catch up to Rarity at the gym, that cheater!

The thought made Dashie squirm and cream and warm up right to her toes. Just like Mistress Celestia wanted it to

But silence followed, and Dashie was worried, stunned for a moment, then realized: My brain has to be up to the challenge even more than my poor bod. Coughing, she shook her head clear of orgasmic dizziness and gave a short, whimpering cry, followed by, "Oooh, yes, please mistress!"

The response wasn't verbal, but it was, very abruptly, oral. If Mistress Celestia's single pointer finger could play Dashie like a puppet, well. Having her head gently cupped in one hand, and her butt gently groped in the other meant Dashie might as well be nothing more substantial than a shadow.

All seven feet of lithe, athletic amazon princess Rainbow Dash was held up before her mistress' chest, and a moment of reality struck. "B-b-big… So big…"

She'd known that, of course, intellectually. But to be faced with a nipple half the mass of her own head-- inches away, not just across the mat as a part of an intimidatingly gorgeous whole-- that was something different. Dashie swallowed heavily, and tried to remind herself she could do this. Fuck, filly! she screamed at herself. You went down on Bulk when you were still a normal!

All wistful memory, or envy of her old friend Gilda's marriage to Bulk, was wiped out of her as another growl shook Dashie, boob, and local reality all in one. Mistress Celestia's horniness would have put a minotaur longhorn convention to shame. "Open wide and receive your Mistress' favor!" The command shook Dashie, and through Dashie, and..

What else could she do but, trembling, eyes firmly shut, open her maw as wide as manageable? Hypers and alicorns especially of any sex could distend their bodies when the mating magic flowed wildly-- and sometimes other times-- just like the fist of any hyper or the cock of a hyper or futa stud would make a partner stretch in turn. What Bulk's dick had given her-- along with a couple nice creams that now felt like the distant memory of a wingstiffie, Dashie could now do herself, when required.

It barely worked. The instant Dashie's mouth opened twice the size of her own fist and barely more than half that of the nip in question, Celestia decided that Dashie would do some receiving. Now.

Dashie squealed-- or tried to. Her maw was stretched out around a nipple with the girth of a hyper stud's cock, if only the length of a regular stud's. Her vocal chords could vibrate, but as the nipple distended her, stretched her, she was sealed tight over that invading nub. All she could do was pleasure it a little more in her orgasmic screams.

Mistress Celestia's whole arm came up behind Dashie, not to hold her fast in place, but the better to bob her back and forth. With just a slight flex of Celestia's sadly hidden but supremely massive pecs, the milk-sloshing mammary mass pushed forward. Flex-flex-flex; push-push-push.

Fuck-fuck-fuck. Dashie's face was in for a real pounding, throat stretched, lips used for her mistress pleasure at her mistress' pace, her tongue swirling along almost instinctively.

One benefit of being facefucked by a pony-sized breast was that you didn't have to fuck around with waiting for the main splooge. The second Mistress Celestia rammed her slightly leaky nub into Dashie's defenseless mouth, that sweetest of treats, that most heavenly of drinks, the Milk of the Sun poured right down Dashie's throat. If she hadn't been cumming already, the first taste of that heady lactation would have done the trick.

Nope… done anyway, was Dashie's last coherent thought. As splurt after splurt of thick whiteness was sent right over her tongue, straight back and down into her rapidly-swelling tummy, Celestia's ever-potent milk sent signals further south and way back north. Dashie's brain and clit slapped her prior climaxes aside without a thought; nursegasms a thousandfold more electrifying were on their way.

Dashie shuddered, and did her best to fellate the immense nipple swabbing her throat anyway. With her body locked in place, only her limbs were free. She used them, too. Active, participating submission was her weapon in the war to prove herself to the giantess ravishing her as easily as Dashie might smash a warship.

The salle shook. Case after case of sparring weapons built to survive the clash of titans began to vibrate-- one rack of blunt polearms, long disused, actually had part of its reinforcements snap off. Not from the force of Celestia's boob-fucks-you pounding of Dashie's face; as lusty as the huge princess was, she was still a consummately skilled lover, and gave Dashie more use than thrust.

No. Between the grand and pleasure-biased sensitivity of the largest pair of alicorn breasts in the world, Dashie's flailing and nipple-fellating contributions, and her own millennia-honed mistressy of the masturbatory arts, Mistress Celestia was, in fact, getting close to something like relief.

Between bellowing near-squeals of pleasure, the gigazon high princess' horn flashed, and subtle ripples of flexed muscles and misty earth-magic accompanied a quick telepathic verification. I'm so close, Rainbow Dash, came Dashie's mistress, her mind almost…

… begging? …

That impossibility aside, her mistress plowed on with the thought as she plowed Dash's willing face like a latex fuck-doll. I need to use you roughly, my little pony. I need to cum, you've got me so close!

Dashie could feel the 'close'. It wasn't just the thickening of the alchemically charged protein in the milk, saturating like the cum of a really pleasured hyper stud. It wasn't just the desperate message, or quickening cries of pleasure she could barely hear from beneath the slap-slap-slap of her nipple-stuffed face.

No, there was a presence, something building. In body language, in fucking, in tone-- the very incarnate power of either of the two oldest alicorns made even the least climaxes that a mere mistress of the courtesan arts could manage after a few hours' work feel and be perceived like a porn star's show-climax. Dashie had been honored to give microclimaxes, and even miniclimaxes to her mistress; she knew the difference, and how the air itself seemed to quiver.

Well, right now, the entire pocket dimension salle wasn't so much quivering as shaking like a stud with a magically animated vibrator up the ass, and an orgasm-cancelling cockring in front. The world wanted Celestia to cum, was ready for Celestia to cum. But that would risk poor Dashie ending up at least as battered as when she'd gone flying moments ago.

You are my Princess of Princesses, Rainbow Dash insisted, her true self flaring beneath the subbie scene-persona. I am your fist in the sky, your lightning at the call. I trust you to wield me like your own spear. Use me, Princess Celestia. Mistress and beloved.

Her Dashie-side didn't think these flowery declarations were sufficient YES for such a matter. So she sucked like her life depended on it. Like every helping lick, every vastly-stretched imitation of a kiss to the invading nipple could convince the sun to rise and the moon to fall.

Perhaps it could. Even Luna and Twilight seemed to find their jobs easier after a good enough fuck. And this was Celestia.

So Dashie gave her yes by body and stuffed mouth. Every lewd full-body caress she'd made moments before was just practice for this. Her hands came around, squeezing and fondling the heavy milksack until they came to her own smished tits. Her legs locked, pressed, and stroked, the better to stimulate Celestia's gigantic quad-Z monster-melon.

Her reward was use. Mistress Celestia was using Dashie like her own hands, stimulating her nipple just as forcefully as she might when pushing herself to bleed off the forever-edge of arousal unfulfilled. Just the arm held Dashie now, trusting the smaller princess to keep her head in the game. Mistress Celestia's other hand trailed down over the tensing eight-pack abs, like grinding continents clashing over her clenching core.

Dashie couldn't see this, of course. Her face was full of boob. But, somehow, she could see her Mistress' self-pleasure in her mind's eye. Saw her take that tension down to her source, following her rough, flowing aurora of a treasure trail to the hypnotic glow of her pubic mound. Saw that well-beloved clit tended to by the skilled instinct of a mistress of all things.

Dashie suspected that if she ever managed to remember this moment, she'd be able to take notes for her own little mare in the boat.

For the now (and always) it was her mistress' pleasure that came first. Still being jerked back and forth by her horny, nickering mistress, Dashie forced her tits up to the base of Celestia's nipple, fondling it into her cleavage. As her gullet was filled with more and more warm, gushing super-milk, Dashie groaned and gasped soundlessly, her feeble attempts to squeal around the nip pleasuring all the more.

The sense of Celestia's self-pleasuring filled Dashie's mind. The plunge of expert fingers into the beautiful sex filled up her vision, eyes closed or open. Filled her like the rapidly thrusting nipple was filling her mouth, like the splurting thickness of milk was inflating her belly.

In time with Celestia's skilled sex-stroking, Dashie used her stretched-tight but still dexterous lips to massage and stroke desperately over the fast-thrusting nip. The inspiration of her mistress' stained thighs, flush with orgasm-inducing marejuice drove her to more oral amatory heights.

Throwing herself fully into the duty of being her mistress' fucktoy-- her mistress' nipple's fucktoy-- Dashie's tongue made an almost flutterbat-level performance in slurping around the crinkly flesh, to pleasure the giant breast and gianter alicorn behind it. The massive forearm behind her bulged and rippled, interweaving muscles battering at her back.

Mistress Celestia pounded Dashie's face, but not just her little whorse throat. No, she bobbed Dashie hard over the ZZZZ mass, her coming climax triggering her Transmutation. In fact, as lust empowered her, her mammary glands went into superproduction. Dashie's whorse throat simply couldn't handle that much milk squirted into it at once, and Celestia's already titanic tits grew into quintuple Z, sextuple Z-- Dashie's body was in danger of being lost in the areola alone!

It was rough going. Orgasmic, yes, by milk and musk and body stimulation, but hard. Celestia would always protect her, but Dashie had given her consent to be taken to the very edge of safe. The battering force of Celestia's masturbation, of participating in the Sun's own self-fuck-- it was indeed slapping Dashie around just like she'd been done on the mat-- only longer.

She was being used like the fucktoy her mistress had named her, her participation little more than peripheral. But she was determined to periph the fuck out of the facefucking she was receiving!

A long, screaming roar, a warcry of orgasmic releases hit not long after. Dashie's last vision was of gorgeous pussy lips in full flush clenching, two white fingers rolling a more-gorgeous-still clit on its way. The smaller amazon's well-worked sex came again, harder than she'd ever thought possible-- and all without a single fingering, let alone fist or cock!

Her own stifled nip-blocked cries were lost all the further as that bellowing squeal and the grand-mistress level climax it represented slammed over and past her and through the salle. She thought she heard the one cracked case shatter.

Then, it all went whiter than the tit-hide all about Dashie. Her senses were simply too full, fuller then her nine-months-with-nine-foals milk-stuffed belly. She almost resented the pocket dimension for containing the orgasmic cry. It should have been shared, blessing the world with Celestia's sun-- it should have put every bit of erectile tissue on Epona to full salute.

Slowly, Celestia's loving gift to her not-quite-peer princess ceased. Rainbow Dash's belly, distended like she'd been bred into a whole herd of foals and then let 'em take up long term residency post-pregnancy, jiggled and bounced as Celestia cuddled all of her blue body against Celestia's still far larger mega-mammary. Warmth, now, warmth suffused everything. Even Celestia's always-controlled face seemed more serene than ever; and Rainbow felt an amazing pride knowing she'd made a true contribution to her ultimate ruler's calm.

Suddenly, her biology and its thaumatic properties kicked into gear. Eyes widening, Rainbow tried to suppress a belch as her alicorn nature kicked in. But even as her stomach rapidly assimilated milk into calories and nutrients, she let out a long, rolling buUUUrrrp.

Far from displaying displeasure, Celestia giggled like a schoolcolt a fifth her size. "So cuuuute. Such a cute little tummy, too!" She tickled and fondled Rainbow Dash's still-giant belly. "Did Momma Sun's nursing prove too much to handle, babycakes?" she teased, licking her red lips lasciviously. "I so love watching a strong bitch's belly try and fail to conquer my cum."

A tender smile took over, and she stroked the back of her hand over the milk-filled bulge that pinned Rainbow down into Celestia's embrace. "And yet, I love this more." Celestia's own milk-taste was still on Rainbow breath-- the scent of it more potent and more present than Rainbow Dash's weaker pheromonic musk by far.

Celestia must have liked having a dash of Dash with her milk, though. She kissed Rainbow's lips fiercely, forcing her tongue into Rainbow's willing, submitting mouth and wrestling her tongue together. Rainbow couldn't measure the kiss; simply knowing it was over despite the lingering feel of Celestia on her lips when her larger lover purred and continued speaking. "Unlike one of my studs or mares who earned this honor, you're awake with me. Devouring it, but slowly. If it wasn't for the nourishment, I'd be afraid to ever do that to one of the cadre, my sweet little subbie. It once took one of my peggiesluts a week to get mobile again!'

Rainbow gave a hazy grin. "Hay, give me this on cupcakes and I'll--bBRrp!--" She blushed. "I'll out-devour Pi… I'll do good in contests."

She didn't want to summon Pinkie right now with a Challenge. This was her moment with Celestia, and she'd had the beatings and healings to prove it.

Giggling, Celestia tickled Rainbow Dash's belly, almost as big as the tit that had filled it still was! Hyper tits-- and divine breasts making divinely empowered milk out of raw realitystuff-- were so much fun. Pausing in the tickles, Celestia tapped her lips in rhythmic thought.

"Still," she said, looking at Rainbow. "You owe me, Rainbow Dash. I'd like your permission to force-start your assimilating of the milk. You can handle the addiction, and the empowerment will give you the strength to repay your boasts' failure and your boasted repayment."

Rainbow laughed and squirmed. "Do I gotta, this would make AJ turn so red she'll look like her brother!" She smiled. "You're the boss, but…"

A solitary, elegant eyebrow quirked up, the other in its resting curve as Celestia's stare hit Rainbow Dash's but.

Rainbow was about to comment, and then found she couldn't speak. Her brain finally caught up with her ears, finally remembered two and two make fucked. The threat of Mistress Celestia's ever-horny aggression, the trap of the pre-facefucking statements, rammed home like the fisting poor Dashie's twat still wasn't getting.

"Oh. Right. And the interest." Dashie swallowed heavily. "How much more interest would it cost me to run out and change my name to Icartus?"

Author's Note

An honored mentor was shocked that I didn't do a boob-fucks-face here. I'd been more focused on Celestia's butt, I suppose. You can direct whatever blame out into the ether for the engorging of this fic at them.

Any appreciation, I'll happily nab. :)