Property of the Queen

Your arrival on Epona, or more accurately in the Kingdom of Equestria, was not the least bit pleasant. One second you’re on the 9:21 commuter train home from work and then you’re passing through a blinding kalaedoscope of a tunnel of light and tumbling down in a grassy clearing with a mother of all headaches and a need to upchuck your last meal. Once the pain subsides enough for you to risk opening your eyes you notice how completely and undeniably screwed you are. You’re in a forest with only your tote bag, a flask of lukewarm coffee and your wits such as they are. And the angles of the shadows cast by the trees suggest the sun is either halfway to its zenith or halfway to dusk.

As the minutes pass you analyse the clearing for any sign of habitation, footprints, garbage or natural paths, and the shadows steadily become longer you can only conclude that you have a few hours until sunset. Scared out of your wits you try to rationalise which direction would most likely lead to civilisation. A distant howl makes the decision for you and you set off towards the setting sun and hopefully as far from the producer of said howl as possible.

The sky has turned orange and the shadows have become unnervingly long and pronounced by the time you find evidence of civilisation. A crumbling ruin of a castle sits on a vast pillar of rock surrounded by a ravine that may have once been the moat. But there’s a rope bridge providing passage from the forest to the castle. And it looks new.

Dehydrated, exhausted and in dire need of a piss you swiftly but carefully cross the bridge and enter the castle. It can at least shield you from the wind, rain and predators until morning. Then you intend to search for whichever settlement set up that rope bridge in the light of day. The doors won’t do much to keep the nasties of the night out. They’ve both rotted away on their hinges. Each is at least a foot thick and ten feet wide but the lower half of each has decayed to the point that you can just walk in effortlessly.

The entry hall would have no doubt been grand back when the place was new. Now everything smells of damp and mold and looks the part. The carpet releases a puff of dust (or spores) with every step on it so you make the effort to stay off it. It’s hard to tell if the moth eaten banners are in slightly better or slightly worse condition.

You look over your shoulder through the main doors and see night has finally fallen. You make your way up the marble staircase hoping to find a room you can sleep in for the night. Minutes pass and a hiss sends an icy bolt up your spine as you enter a hallway lined with plinths of rusting suits of armour and empty torch racks. Fighting the fear paralysing your joints, you inch your head around as much as you dare in attempt to identify the source of that hiss. Peering over your shoulder and illuminated by what moonlight penetrates the grime encrusted windows you see the head of the very last creature you would have expected to see tonight: a damned chicken.

The paralysis leaves you and you slump and let out a sigh of relief. Big mistake. Your sigh draws the chicken’s attention and its beady eyes glow an evil shade of red. The fear returns with interest.

The bird comes towards you and you see it’s not a bird at all. Whatever God saw fit to crap out this monstrosity was a sick bastard. The moonbeams illuminate the rest of the creature as it slithers towards its prey on the body of a boa constrictor. Even the crappy light cannot hide the fact that this abomination has enough muscle to crush your bones into a fine powder.

You stumble back on barely functioning legs and fall flat on your ass. A wet heat and the smell of ammonia makes its presence known in your crotch and inner thighs. A freezing cold and numbness creeps up your legs and arms. Your throat constricts and you can’t even manage to scream. All you can do is bring your arm in front of your face in a vain attempt to block the creatures gaze. The cold and numbness spreads up your torso and up your face. And as the monster gives a menacing hiss your world goes dark.

*

Your next conscious thought is to gulp for air as the sensation returns to your body. So starved for oxygen are you that you barely acknowledge the presence of the sterile white ceiling above you as you flop around like a beached fish. So much so that you don’t even notice that you’re lying on a hospital cot until you roll off it and the floor knocks what little air you had managed to gain out of your lungs. Your vision starts turning red as you lie there with pain shooting through your ribs and face and your bare ass exposed to the world.

A door crashes open and hurried footsteps rush towards you. You’re rolled onto your back and a pair of hands begin to pump your ribcage. Eventually your vision clears and your breathing stabilises as the owner of the hands comes into view. Your vision is filled with a bosom of astounding proportion covered, barely, by a thin, white toga. The material is so sheer that you think you can see the dark red silhouette of a nipple through it. The owner of the breasts helps you sit up and asks in a voice as smooth as silk and as enrapturing as a goddess’, “There now. Doesn’t that feel better?”

Your voice refuses to form a coherent sound so you can only manage to gulp and nod mutely. The voice titters at your shock. You try to maneuver your limbs to stand up but your arms are stiff and barely responsive and your feet cannot find purchase. You fall back on your rear end, the impact bringing the realisation that you are not wearing so much as a thread. You vainly try to cover your groin with your unresponsive limbs as the voice titters in amusement some more before scooping you up. For a few seconds your face is pressed into the underside of her left breast as she lifts and gently deposits back on the cot.

The breasts are still dominating your field of vision but at your elevation you can finally observe the face of your rescuer. Her eyes are a deep blue and framed by long, curling and elegant eyelashes. Silky, ebony locks frame her cherubic face and bright red lips. Her skin is a light shade of peach and glows with health and a beauty unmatched by any other you’ve seen in your life. From her fringe stands a horn, easily fifteen inches long and spiralling and tapering to a narrow point. Triangular ears poke out of her hair on either side of a crown with an opal as large as your thumb. From behind her shoulders peek a set of powerful, feathered wings the same shade as her skin. This woman, if that is the appropriate word, is the single most beautiful being you have seen and likely will ever see in your life.

A moment of deafening silence that seems to last for ever is broken when you finally manage to croak, “Who are you?”

“I,” she begins, smiling in amusement at your captivation as if it’s the reaction she elicits from absolutely everyone, “am Aphrodise.” She leans in for emphasis, treating you to a closer look at her canyon of cleavage and the maternal yet somehow predatory smile on her lips. “Queen Aphrodise the First of the Kingdom of Equestria.”

Rapid footsteps echo through the open door, heralding the arrival of a dishevelled nurse. The newcomer has her pink fringe pasted to her porcelain white forehead with sweat and her bun is frayed and loose.
“Oh, your Highness.” She says upon seeing Aphrodise and trying to regain some control over her hair. “I was unaware of your presence.”

“I’m not the one who needs your attention right now, Head Nurse.” Aphrodise turns as she addresses the nurse.

You were so captivated by Aphrodise's face and bust that you didn’t see what she was like lower down. Even with the restricted movement of your neck she’s turned just enough for you to see the image of a blossoming, pink rose on her hip. A voluminous tail sprouts just above her prodigious buttocks bound in an array of ivory white beads. Shifting your vision higher you see her hair is similarly bound all the way down her back.

As the nurse approaches your cot and measures your pulse the truth is hammered home: next to the nurse, and probably next to you as well, Aphrodise is absolutely titanic. If the Head Nurse’s hands are about the same size as yours, maybe a little smaller, and she barely stands as high as Aphrodise's bust, then Aphrodise must be somewhere around nine or ten feet tall. Holy damn.

As the nurse measures your pulse against her wristwatch your eyes creep back over to the Amazonian Queen. And enough of your senses have returned for you to realise you’ve popped a boner. Aphrodise notices your erection and titters again behind her polished fingernails. The nurse notices too with much less amusement. All you can do is grimace apologetically.

The nurse sweeps the cot’s sheets back over your prone form before addressing you. Her scowl has faded but not by much.

“Do you know where you are?” She asks.

“Somewhere in the kingdom of Equestria I guess.”

She continues, unamused. “Do you know which town you’re in?”

“Nnno.” You say hesitantly.

The questioning continues in a similar manner for the next few minutes: do you know the current year, do you know what the current capital of Equestria is, who rediscovered the elements of Harmony, who is the current Kaiser of Griyphios, etcetera.
The nurse goes quiet for a moment after the last question and jots something on the notepad she fishes out of her pocket.

“What is your diagnosis Head Nurse?” Aphrodise asks at last.

“Hard to say for certain.” The nurse says with her brow furrowed. “I took a considerable risk prescribing such a large dose of Petrificus potion. The muscle fatigue is to be expected during recovery but considering this is the first time the potion was given to a human I would expect there would be a longer recovery period than if the patient had been a healthy stallion. I would like to keep the patient under observation for another two days to cover the chances of any relapse.”

“Is he stable enough to transport?”

“Transport? You want to take him back to Ca-” The nurse catches herself when Aphrodise raises an eyebrow. The movement is barely perceptible but it’s enough to make the nurse backpedal. “Y-yes. He can be moved but he'll still need time to recuperate. Even in minute amounts, many of the herbs in the potion have debilitating effects on pony physiology and we can expect he’ll experience many of the common after effects as well.”

“Um, excuse me.” Both sets of eyes return to you. “Don’t I get a say in this?” You try to prop yourself on your elbow but Aphrodise steps forward and presses you back down on the cot.

“Just lie still.” she says. “Before you fall off again.”

You decide not to resist. “I’d like some ans-” You’re cut off by a fit of coughing and awareness of just how dry your throat is. “I’d like some water please.”

Aphrodise smiles that motherly smile and slides her arm under your shoulders. Sitting you up, she rests your head on her breast while her horn begins to glow a gentle green. A crystal pitcher and two glasses materialise suspended in the air. Aphrodise plucks one of the glasses down and the pitcher tips its contents in. She brings the glass to your lips and you obediently and gratefully suck the clear fluid of life down. “Feeling better now?” She asks, her tone kind with a trace of knowing mocking.

You nod but ask “One more please.” Partly out of diabolical thirst and fatigue, partly out of a desire to keep your cheek on her boob for as long as you can. She indulges you, her smile suggesting not so subtly that she’s completely aware of your ulterior motive. You swallow the second serve of water as she pours a third into the second glass. Now hydrated, you watch from your position on Aphrodise's chest pillow as she scrutinises her own glass, suspended in a green glow matching the one produced by her horn. Pressing the index finger of her free hand to the glass, you watch astounded as the crystal clear liquid changes to a deep red. The faint smell of alcohol makes its presence known. Holy shit. This woman just performed a miracle right in front of your eyes.

“Lovely.” She comments after a sip of wine. The pitcher and your empty glass vanish as easily as they appeared while Aphrodise suspends her own glass in the air. “Oh I’m sure you’ll see far more impressive feats in the future.” She says coyly at your look of amazement.

She gently lifts your head off her bosom and lies you back down on the cot. “And now I believe you were going to ask for some answers, yes?” She asks.

“Yeeeaaah.” You begin uneasily. “For one, what was that?” You gesture at the glass of whine hovering statically next to Aphrodise.

“Commoror.” She says simply. “A simple motion cancelling spell.” She elaborates when your confusion doesn’t change.

“A spell.” You repeat. “A magic spell.”
Aphrodise just mutely smiles in a patronisingly sweet way.
“Right. Then where am I right now?”

“You’re in Ponyville General Hospital.” The nurse speaks up. Aphrodise has such a presence in the room you had almost forgotten about her. “I am Redheart, the Head Nurse. Ponyville is a small farming town some twenty miles south west of the former capital, Canterlot.”

“Well then.” After that bombshell you would need to lie down if you weren’t already. “How did I get here?”

“You were found in the old Castle of the Sisters in the Everfree forest by some locals. You’ve just been released from a cockatrice petrification.” Redheart answers.

“The castle.” You try to dredge up the memory of that night. You remember leaving work and boarding the late train home, then rag dolling across the open clearing and choosing a direction and hiking through the forest, chasing the remainder of the day. You memory starts getting hazier once you discover the ruined castle. Some parts like the level of dust and mold in the banners and carpets are vividly detailed but all you can recall after entering the hall with the armour is a pair of red eyes inching towards you and a paralysing fear. You’re not sure but you think you wet yourself at the time.

Speaking of which. “What happened to my clothes?” You ask.

Redheart looks a bit uneasy when she answers. “You were naked when you were brought in. And that was two days ago.”

“Two days. Damn.” The memory of the eyes lingers and you bring your hand to your temple.

“Do you remember the cockatrice?” Aphrodise asks.

“I don’t know. And I don’t want to.” You realise as the pain spikes with your attempt to recall the creature’s appearance.

“That’s an understandable reaction. Most ponies wouldn’t bounce back so soon after their first encounter with a cockatrice.” Redheart says.

“Ponies.” You repeat. At this point it’s obvious that neither of these women are human despite the many similarities.

“Yes. We are ponies.” Aphrodise states. “Specifically, I am an Alicorn. And Nurse Redheart is an Earth pony. And you are a human.”

“And how many-” You begin but Aphrodise already has the answer.

“Only two. Both stallions. Or rather both men. And you are one of them.” Aphrodise says plainly, as if you had asked her the time of day rather than the total population of humans in the nation.

“Only two?” You repeat. Jesus.

“You’ve had quite a few revelations to swallow in a short period but we’ll have no shortage of time for more questions after you’ve rested and recovered.” Aphrodise says with a trace of impatience in her voice that says the time for talking is indeed over. “I’ll be escorting you back to Olympium where you can recover from your ordeal in my palace.”

“Olympium? I thought you were going to send him to Canterlot for further treatment.” Redheart pipes up with indignation.

“He will receive all the care he will need under my watchful eye in my home, Head Nurse.” Aphrodise replies with a hint more impatience at the challenge. “While I have no doubt Ponyville General can provide more than adequate care, Palace Olympium is simply better.” She is obviously a woman, no, a mare, who is accustomed to getting what she wants. And if Redheart’s reaction is any indication, she tends to get it. She honestly scares you a bit.

“I’ll be taking my leave now.” Aphrodise says with finality as she sweeps you off the cot, sheet and all, and carries you bridal style out of the hospital room. After her display you decide to offer no resistance or protest the absence of clothes.
Redheart can only offer you an expression that looks like a combination of sympathy and envy. With your head finding a now familiar spot between her elbow and breast, Aphrodise says over her shoulder to Redheart now alone in the room, “Keep up the good work Head Nurse.” In her sweetly mocking tone.

*

Aphrodise carries you suspended in her arms as if you weigh no more than an infant. Maybe you do. The breast you're resting on bounces slightly with every step she takes and you feel every jiggle through your cheek. Your dick still hasn't died down either.

A grand coach, looking right out of a classic Disney Princess movie, waits at the main entrance. Four winged ponies, all clad in gleaming gold ceremonial armour, wait at every corner. Aphrodise steps right in and takes her seat.

“To Olympium, please.” She says as she settles you on her lap, swaddled with the sheets. Now with your butt resting on her thighs and your head resting on her breast like a pillow, the coach smoothly drives forwards and shortly the sounds of crunching gravel vanish. As if you’ve taken off like a plane. Then again maybe it has. This voluptuous Amazon created two glasses and a jug of fine crystal from seemingly nowhere just minutes ago and then performed a trick worthy of Jesus of Nazareth. Flying wooden carriages doesn’t seem like a huge leap after all that.

And what a carriage it is. Aphrodise's shoulders and face still take up most of your field of vision but the back of her seat, the walls and ceiling look to be covered with a fine, deep purple fabric and made of a dense and well polished, dark brown wood. Your eyes fall on the glass of wine still floating next to your host. She notices where your gaze lies and grips the glass again as if she had forgotten about it. She takes another sip. You have to say she makes it look delicious.

“I can be so absent minded sometimes.” She says as she smacks her lips. “I’ve given you my name but you’ve not given me yours. How improper.” She says in her jokingly mocking way.

“Sebastian. Sebastian Weissman.” You say.

“And where are you from, Mister Weissman?” She asks.

“Leederville. In Western Australia.”

Aphrodise makes a ponderous sound before speaking again. “I must admit that I have never heard of such a city or a town. And unless I miss my mark, I can safely say you have never heard of Equestria nor any of its settlements either.”

“That’s true.” You say simply.

“Then I must also say that, my dear Sebastian, you are an extremely long way from home.”

“That looks to be the case.” You respond evenly, trying to hide the tremble in your voice at the spoken truth you were dreading.

Aphrodise picks up on it regardless. She takes another sip of wine and swirls it around in her mouth before swallowing. “Letting someone as vulnerable as you have alcohol would be a grave mistake. But I do have something that would be more beneficial for you.”

Your eyes dart around the carriage but you can’t see a basket or anything containing any food on the opposite seat. Your attention returns to Aphrodise as she lifts your head off her breast and lets you rest on the arm of her seat. She adjusts your legs so that you’re sitting comfortably across her lap and have your head resting on her arm. It’s not nearly as soft as her boob was but it’s about as comfortable.

Speaking of her boob. Her nipple is tenting the toga and is such a deep red that you can definitely pick out where the peachy skin of her breast ends and the areola begins. Without any warning or fanfare she gently pushes her free fingers into the strap of fabric and moves it aside to free her breast entirely.

She doesn’t mean to...

She begins squeezing gently and guides her nipple toward your lips.

She does.

“Open wide.” She says, gently and teasingly.

You hesitate but decide she really won’t like being disobeyed. Partly out of fear and partly because your dick still hasn’t decided to call it a day, you open your mouth.
Aphrodise plops her nipple, easily an inch long and as thick around as your thumb, in and you form an airtight seal with your lips.

“Now suckle like a good little baby.” She commands.

You do. And in just a few seconds your mouth fills with sweet, warm breast milk. It has a rich, soothing flavour and relaxes every muscle in your body the moment you swallow and pull in another draught. Well almost every muscle. Your dick is standing straight up like a flagpole and is hard as a rock. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed. The titter confirms it.

“Oh ho. Is that for me?” The sheets around your legs rustle and you feel her take a gentle, velvety grip of your mast and balls with her fingers. Her hand is easily large enough to caress your scrotum with her fingers and rub the head of your penis with her palm.

“So polite and proper. Standing to attention and saluting like this.” She titters again. “It’s almost enough to make me forgive you for not introducing yourself first.”

You feel your balls start to boil with her massage. She notices too and takes her palm off your head and tightens her fingers on your scrotum. Just by a fraction, enough to reinforce that she is in control without being painful.

“All in good time.” She says. “It wouldn’t do to injure yourself even further now would it?”

You shake your head as much as you can without releasing her teat and suck in another load of bosom juice. It’s making you feel heady and drowsy. But that was all part of her plan, wasn’t it?

“Good boy. Such a good little boy.” She croons. Equal parts nurturing and teasing.

Speaking of teasing. You don’t have the energy to buck your hips into her hand but you still feel precum building and leaking out.

“Oh here we are.” She says abruptly. Sure enough you feel the subtle impact as the coach touches down on solid ground again along with the crunch of gravel.

She slowly withdraws her hand from your crotch, making sure to rub her palm against your glans along the way. The carriage turns and grinds to a gentle halt.

You finally release her nipple and watch through hazy eyes as one last dollop of milk oozes out and hangs there. Aphrodise catches it on her finger before it drops off and makes a display of slurping it off followed by the precum smeared on her palm. She licks her lips in contentment.

“Well wasn’t that a lovely ride.” She says coyly. She gently gathers you back up before one of the winged ponies opens the door. Aphrodise steps out of the carriage with you back in her arms, your head back to its favourite spot on her breast.

“That was a wonderfully smooth ride Sergeant. I hope you are proud.”

“We are honoured by your praise, our Queen!” Four voices speak in perfect harmony. All the troops carrying the coach are female. From your vantage point, very female. Each has a smooth round face and a prominent bust. They all look to be around your height, maybe an inch above or below, but each bosom seems to border the line between realistic and disproportionate. Granted none of them can hope to compare to Aphrodise's twin peaks but that would be an unfair fight.

Each stands at sharp attention, two on each side of their Queen. Each bows as she walks past and you hear rattling footsteps as the last pair disappear from your view and the sound of the gravel crunching under the carriage wheels again.

The titanic oak doors swing inwards and Aphrodise is greeted by more castle staff. Maids and guards alike bow and utter “My Queen” as she approaches and passes.

Just before she turns a corner, you hear just on the edge of your hearing someone say “She’s caught another one.” Aphrodise's ear twitches and her eyes dart in the direction of the voice at the same time as a collective, sharp intake of breath. Her horn glows for a second and you hear the same voice give a strangled yelp before she continues on as if nothing happened.

You inwardly wonder who spoke out of turn and how they’re going to be disciplined. Aphrodise really didn’t like it when Redheart spoke back to her.

Soon enough another door flanked by two guards opens for her. These guards look nothing like the others. They wear hardly any armour save for greaves, bracers and shoulder plates and they each have a long, wickedly sharp horn poking through a hole in the tops of their helms in place of wings. They stand a clear foot taller than any of the other guards you’ve seen already and wear eggshell togas similar to their Queen. Each has a similarly larger bust than their smaller compatriots but once again they can never hope to compare to Aphrodise's bosom.

Aphrodise passes between them and the door closes behind her. Her horn glows again and you hear the rustling of sheets from a few feet away. She deposits you carefully onto what is perhaps the single softest bed you have ever encountered and will likely ever see again in your life. You look over to the opposite side and see the mattress and covers stretch away for another ten feet. This has to be Aphrodise's bed. She lives right in the lap of luxury every minute of her life. The mattress depresses around your waist as Aphrodise takes a seat next to you. She levitates the sheets from the hospital off you, leaving you in your birthday suit once more. You don’t even have the energy to try to cover yourself and you doubt Aphrodise wants that anyway. Your teased and neglected erection is still poking up despite everything that’s happened today.

"There are still a few things I need to see to before the sun sets, unfortunately." She says in a tone that might sound apologetic to someone who hasn’t spent the afternoon like putty in her hands. "Even I can only be in one place at a time. But before that, there’s something you need to finish." She frees her other breast, the one you haven’t nursed from, from her toga and then reaches behind your head and pulls you towards her. "You wouldn’t want to leave me uneven now, would you?"

You can’t even think of resisting. You just dumbly say “No” and obediently latch on and suckle again. Her milk is every bit as deliciously rich, creamy and warm as before. You stay where you are for several minutes, repeatedly sucking and swallowing before you release her nipple and flop back down on the plush pillows, your belly full of breast milk and your brain fuzzy and slow. You resist the urge to just drop off long enough to see Aphrodise lift her breast up to her mouth, swirl her tongue around her nipple and give herself one last powerful suck. You finally close your eyes as she drops her breast back and covers it up again. You think you see a small wet stain appear right over her nipple but you can’t be sure and you’re too sleepy to care. The last thing you experience before sleep finally claims you is Aphrodise licking one last drop of milk from the corner of your mouth and planting a kiss on your lips.

“Goodnight my sweet, little Sebastian.” Is the last thing you hear before you at last drop off into a deep, dreamless sleep.