The Depths of Oblivion

War enveloped Equestria. The land was torn apart, civilizations smashed, its inhabitants scattered to all corners. The mysterious creatures descended from seemingly nowhere, unlike anything the planet had ever seen. Dubbed the Eldritch, thousands upon thousands fell practically overnight, and more soon followed, as the world was reduced to a barren wasteland.

Skirmishes erupted all over. The invaders captured those who weren't slain, and so the survivors were driven underground, most forming small cells of resistance as they attempted to eke out an existence against a shared threat. Entire races were driven to extinction, not helped by the distrust between species which made them slow to unite and rally until it was far too late.

The surface was now trapped somewhere between day and night, the sun and moon trapped in mid rise and fall respectively. Stained the color of sickly blood, the skies burned with an appropriately Apocalyptic flair.

Gloom closed in over the labyrinthine caverns, casting silhouettes which crawled over the rocky surfaces. Small lamps burned atop a table where a small team met. Most of the hideout was empty, functional even, crates, sacks, and treasure chests used to mostly store armaments. They couldn't stay in one place too long, driven into a nomadic lifestyle to survive.

“Trixie still doesn't trust you,” stated the anthropomorphic unicorn who tossed back her mane. Her voice echoed through the caverns. Swathed in a leotard, short cape, fingerless gloves which came to her upper arms, and likewise heeled boots that rose to her upper thighs, her theatrical look was completely by a wide-brimmed cone hat topped by star decorations like the rest of her flashy ensemble. “For all we know, you're the one who called those monsters here to begin with!”

“Oh please, Miss Lulamoon.” He scoffed at her remark, rolling his eyes at another squabble over his loyalty. “As if I'd stoop so low as to summon these...things in my pursuit of conquest when I am capable of doing so myself.”

He'd removed his silver armor, and a crimson cloak lined in white trimming, leaving his muscular chest bared. A loin cloth fell over his dark skin and coat. One piece he never removed unless necessary was a crown, dark curls falling over it, framing a jagged scarlet horn. The shadows which suffused their lair seemed to converge around the former tyrant.

“Nonsense. You'll never be one of us,” she reminded him with pursed lips as they stared across the table.

“You have little choice. Your beloved Princesses are all lost. And I'm one of the last hopes you have. Ironic, isn't it?” He simply shrugged his shoulders, a sphere of blackish purple energies manifesting above his palm, crackling with a radiance similar to his horn. The air swirled around it with a muted crackle. “Even if I aligned myself with them, it wouldn't be long until they tried to take me out of the picture, knowing how much of a threat I'd be to them. Just face the facts! You need me, like it or not.”

“Hmph! Mere parlor tricks. The Great and Powerful Trixie-”

“Enough.” Another soldier, Fleur de Lis, wandered in with a sway of her ample hips. She removed her white armor, throwing back her soft pink mane. Her curves nicely filled out her form-fitting costume, practically a second skin. “I don't believe even Sombra would be foolish enough to betray us now. Those abominations are a threat to all of us.”

She settled her ample bottom down into an empty chair. The flames reflected off their shadowy faces. There were so few of them left. “We have to stage a rescue mission. It's risky, I know, but imagine the consequences otherwise?”

Sombra closed his palm and snuffed out the dark arts he'd called upon.

A quiet settled over them. By now there could be a few hundred left at most. The aliens culled their numbers, never offering any demands or so much as communicating with them, simply sweeping from one area to the next and leaving a grisly trail of death in their wake. Most of the dead were stripped completely clean, like they'd been reduced to spare parts for experimentation.

“If only I were more of a fighter,” said Fancy Pants whose finely-tailored clothes were now a ragged, frayed mess. He adjusted his monocle. “However, I sadly must leave that to my better half.” He laid his hand atop hers and shared a smile.

“None of us are born warriors.” Inky Rose twirled one of her braids which fell over her shoulder and drooped over her spiderweb dress. Her voice was a slow, almost musical drawl. “Sombra is the closest, and he's always been a schemer first.”

“Those with the most cunning and ruthlessness are fit to rule. A 'schemer' I may be, but without me, you rabble would be lost at what to do when the Eldritch strike with another invasion fleet. So best not to forget who is trying to save you lot.”

“Now wait a moment-” Fleur rose to her feet, but her husband gently squeezed her arm and shook his head. Glaring at the former tyrant, she heaved, and he shot back a malicious smile, his fangs bared in a vampiric manner.

For a moment none dared speak. Then Inky said, “So about that rescue idea. It sounds more like a suicide mission.”

“It's a desperate gamble, admittedly.” Trixie kicked her boots up on the table. “But what else can we do?”

His fist banged on top of the table and nearly overturned a lantern, demanding the party's attention; a stern glare in his eye as he looked to each and everyone gathered. “Have I been ignored this whole time? How many times must I tell you until you get it through your dense skulls! All you need do is allow me to lead and under my command, we'll be saving far more lives than we lose. Blame me for those sacrificed if you must, but I'll be damned if I lose my mind and will to those abominations!”

“No way.” Fleur scrunched up her snout. “I will never follow-”

“Please, help us.” Fancy pursed his lips and lowered his pride. Like all of them, he was so tired, driven by desperation. He'd do whatever it took to save the remnants of his homeland. And if that meant making a deal with the devil and bowing before him? So be it. Whatever the consequences were down the line, he'd pay them if it meant his loved ones might be saved.

“I'm one of the few fliers left,” said Inky. “So I can scout ahead.”

“Rescue as many as you can,” urged Fancy who lowered his head in defeat. “Otherwise, we'll likely go extinct.”

“I mean...should it come to that, we may have to copulate with each other to replenish our lost numbers. It has been quite a while since I had a couple of concubines~” A sly grin spread across his muzzle. He couldn't help but darkly chuckle at how flustered and annoyed Fleur looked; as if trying to hide her voluptuous curves from his prying eyes.

It was true their population dwindled daily, with scant few studs remaining between a populace that had already heavily skewed female. Most entered into small herds around a chosen stallion. Of course he refused to share is wife with any others, not that Fleur would let herself be passed around anyhow, her vanity still intact even after she'd taken up the role of a warrior.

“Come to think of it...it might be better if we start the process immediately. What do you say, Fancy Pants~?” He cooed thoughtfully. “Care to share your wife with me for the night? A rather small condition for my services, admittedly.”

“What?! You perverted scum!” Fleur practically threw the table over, proving far stronger than she looked.

“I cannot ask that of her,” murmured Fancy who looked haggard.

“Hmm...what a shame. Well, if you're all so keen in dying amongst yourselves then be my guest. I can clearly see my prowess and gifts are not wanted, so it's best I be going. I wish you all luck. You're going to need as much as you can get~” And with that he rose from his seat to reach for his cape and armor to set his way out of the room.

Knowing he was by far the most powerful amongst them, especially when it came to magic, he had them by the proverbial balls and ovaries. There was a slight chance Fleur could take him in a fair duel, but since when did he care about honor? No, they were dependent on him, a fact he planned to ruthlessly exploit at every opportunity.

“Wait!” He paused at Fleur's desperate plea. She huffed, turning so that the others couldn't see her eyes watering. “I...I'll do it, damn you to Tartarus.” She balled up her fists, which shook at her sides. “I know my husband will forgive me.”

“There's nothing to forgive,” assured Fancy who closed his eyes.

“One more addition. Fancy, I want you to watch while I claim her.” He laughed, watching them shudder.

“As you wish.” The words were almost inaudible. “I'll not let you harm her.”

“Oh, don't take it so personally. It's for the best if our species is to continue. Besides, Fancy, you're free to join in anytime! I just hope you won't mind how much...looser your wife may feel once I've finished inside her.” With a malevolent cackle Sombra strutted over to his prize, wrapping a hand around her waist from behind to draw her close, the other curled around her chin and cheeks. He turned her head to face him, relishing her tear-stricken face, the way her mascara ran.

She wanting to thrash in his powerful grasp, quivering when he pulled her along the tunnels, into a section which would give them some privacy but likewise allow them to hear every detail. Not to mention their silhouettes that would dance over the roughly-carved stonework. With slumped shoulders, Fancy followed them in, his chest sucking in a gasp.

The space was empty save for a bunch of blankets and a pillow placed on the floor. Sombra's hand brushed through her tresses, breathing in the scent of her sweet perfume. She trembled, caught somewhere between rage and fear, the latter because she wanted to fight back but knew better than to do so. Not when so much was at stake. He traced lower, down her sides.

“Mmm, such marvelous foal-bearing hips. I can only imagine how often you've put them to good use, Fancy~” He growled playfully, his palm rubbing over her flank before roughly landing a firm spank, watching her flesh jiggle. “I wonder how long it'll take until you're properly molded for my shape, as if I've claimed you for my own!”

Fleur snarled at him. “No one owns me!” Her voice was haughty, imperious even. “You could never understand what my husband and I have! I may have agreed to let you lay hands on me, but I never promised I'd pretend to like it!”

“Ha! So many others have said they'd never enjoy sleeping with me. And yet I can tell from how you tremble from my touch, and how wet you smell, that you're dying for a taste! Make no mistake, I will breed you like a broodmare...and you're going to enjoy every last moment of it. All mares desperately want a strong stallion to conquer them, deep down. It's in your nature to submit to the strongest, and I doubt a flamboyant fop like Fancy could ever compare to a true King! Now...” He denuded her with his blazing eyes, licking his chops. “Strip for me. And take it slow. I want to relish every inch of skin you show me.”

Fleur trembled and took a couple steps back. Slowly, she lid the top of her costume over her shoulders, baring them. She peeled it down further, pausing at her shapely breasts, her cleavage peeking out. Her perky tits bounced out, topped by wide pastel pink nipples, her cheeks burning red as her mouth twisted further into a snarl while he openly leered at her.

He caressed her nipples with his index fingers, watching them spring erect under his touch. She hissed as he traced around her sensitive areola, admiring the visible veins under her soft, fatty titflesh. Leaning forward, he kissed her buds, nipping and nibbling on them, which forced a low moan from between clenched teeth. “See? You've started to realize your place already.”

“Fuck you!”

“My, how unlady-like. Now, continue.” Hot tears ran down her cheeks, and she slid down her garments further, exposing her thin midsection, supple yet with a touch of athletic muscles. “You keep yourself in top shape. Truly, a diamond polished to perfection. Such loveliness is wasted on Fancy Pants.” His hands traced circles around her titties, mashing them greedily.

“He's a thousand times the stallion you could ever hope to be! You have to rape mares because none want you, not when they know what you're truly like!” She traced the costume over her hips, ever-so-slowly, until the top patch of her soft pink pubes which matched her mane were unveiled. Gradually she let her covering pool at her ankles, leaving herself fully exposed.

The cleft of her snatch was rather tight and prim. From her velvety lips he could see pussy meat which matched the color of her nipples peek out, glistening and moist, brought to arousal by his touches and her humiliation despite her denial.

When he'd ruled over the Crystal Empire, he'd claimed first rights over any mare who wished to be married, a tax he demanded. He'd defile the simpering wenches before their seething husbands, proving unmatched his sexual prowess.

“Turn around.” She spun on her heel, practically a pirouette, her buttocks smooth and shapely, topped by dimples of venus. “You're divine perfection personified.” He landed a heavy swat on an asscheek. She cried out, branded by a red hand print that marked her as his property. “Made to bear my offspring. It's the sole reason you were born. To have me claim your womb. Now, bend over, in preparation to receive me.” Hesitating a moment, she did so, sticking out her heart-shaped bottom.

Her palms rested on the walls. Taking a moment to admire her wet flower, and her puckered ring of her anus, colored the same as the rest of her naughty bits he turned back to Fancy and mockingly chuckled. “Oh? Looks like your husband's enjoying this, too.” He nodded at Fancy's tented pants, his face stricken with the same guilt and shame his wife endured.

He undid his loin cloth, which fell away. Precum oozed out, dripped down between her full moon, smearing her anus as the viscous fluid came to rest and stick atop it, lubing her up. “Ohhh~!” He crowed while smacking his large stallionhood between her firm buttcheeks. “So you haven't even allowed him a chance to claim every inch of you? Do you truly love him so little?”

“We've been working up to it,” explained Fleur rather defensively. She bitterly regretted her hesitation now.

“Perhaps you'll give me the honors of being the first stud to use this thick ass of yours! Or would you rather I make you fat with my foals here and now?” To prove it was no idle threat, he rubbed his cock down until he was roughly grinding his rod against her puffy wet pussy, the tip just about ready to push through. “Your choice, Fleur. Should I claim your ass...or your cunt?”

“A-ass,” she sputtered through trembling lips. Much as she hated to offer him her anal virginity, at least maybe her marehood would remain reserved for her husband. But to him the fact he even offered her a choice was his attempt at mercy.

“Very well, my sweet.” Squeezing out fresh tears, she tensed up when his tip pressed against her sphincter, spreading it open when he entered her. Fingers dug into her rump, her sphincter unbelievably warm and tight, barely able to take him. If she'd explored her back entrance with fingers or toys, it certainly hadn't been often. She sobbed openly.

Casually he spanked her, and toyed with her hanging milkjugs, looking over his shoulder at a pallid Fancy who stood by helpless while he claimed his wife. Her derriere jiggled each time he rocked into her, brutally impaling her until he managed to work himself balls deep. He took her mane between his gritted teeth, pulling on it while he mercilessly fucked her.

Her inner thighs were matted, her pussy winking and dripping with need, reflexively reacting with a primal need to be bred. By now Fancy's pants were sticky, not having much time lately to make love with his wife with all his work, and she likewise burned to her loins with need that Sombra now took it upon himself to fulfill. By now he'd beaten her ass raw, red marks all over it.

He released her mane with a laugh. “You both love this, don't you? Admit it.” Again-and-again he skewered her backside. Their shadows were cast over the walls outside, the onlookers able to watch him dominating his playtoy. She whinnied and cried out, whimpering when she lost it, her nethers quaking until her knees almost buckled while she squirted all over his crotch.

She and Fancy had been saving themselves for their next union, worked up to the point where it hadn't taken much to push them over the edge. And they couldn't resist their physical reactions, left unresolved until he'd so graciously stepped in.

She absolutely drenched him, and Fancy bit his lower lip, ejaculating into his pants. She was still constricting around Sombra's cock, milking it for all it was worth, when he sheathed himself all the way a final time, and sprayed into her hot canal.

A part of him wanted to fill her uterus with his virile seed, but perhaps he'd do so later. Much as he hated to admit it, she was the best soldier they had, and he'd need her support to infiltrate the enemy camp. He squeezed out the last drops, pulled from her now gaping asshole, and watched his spunk ooze out, landing a final humiliating slap on her well-used butt.

She sank to her knees and blubbered. “S-satisfied, you devil?” She clung to her lover, who ran to her and held her, rocking her softly in his arms. Burying her face in his chest, she'd never been so thoroughly disgraced in her life, reduced to nothing but another victim despite how hard she'd tried to reinvent herself as one of the resistance's most renowned soldiers.

“We've fulfilled our end of the bargain,” noted Fancy. “If you've no more business with us, leave us be.”

Recovering his personal property, Sombra didn't even bother to redress when he left, his stallionhood still wetted. He smirked at the rest of them, Trixie smoldering, Inky neutral, but forced to avert her eyes when he passed. Yet from the way she curled her wings about her he'd no doubt she desired him too, the gothic beauty no doubt drawn to his dark and threatening presence.

He'd tuck that information away for later. Perhaps Trixie's sniping was repressed sexual tension, too. All these poor mares with no worthy stallion to put them in their place. Something he'd have to rectify once he returned triumphant. Navigating the maze of passages, he headed to his own chosen abode, a bland hollow unfit for one of his noble stature.

Settling his backside onto the cool stone, his thoughts turned to these supposed inter-dimensional invaders. So little was know about the Eldritch. They were know to mutilate themselves, sometimes replacing their flesh with bits of bone and machinery, and the rare times anyone had heard them speak, their words were unintelligible and seemed to infect the brains of the listeners.

Supposedly over time their voices could drive one mad. He'd no desire to find out. He'd keep his end of the deal. Break into the chosen camp, which was helpfully marked on a map in the main room, free the captives, and return them. And after that? Perhaps he'd find a chance to seize power along the way, once both sides whittled one-another down.

Yet for now there was little choice but to play along against a common foe.

“S-Sombra?” He'd started to drift into a meditative state, a way to recharge his magic, but raised his head at the musical lilt. Inky Rose hovered before him, hands clasped before her, the cobweb-patterned transparent dress shifting when she moved over her otherwise nude figure. It was easy to make out the details from the lamp glowing near her. “May I speak with you?”

"Of course," he chuckled as he turned his body to face her; his eyes locked with hers briefly before lowing down to eat up her elegant figure clad in her see through dress. "I take it you enjoyed the show Fluer de Lis and I put on. Perhaps... You've enjoyed it so much so, you want to participate in the next act... Am I correct~?" Though it was obvious he was; given how her thighs clung together as if to mask her arousal from him.

Inky nodded, dark makeup around her eyes ending in black crocodile tears which streaked below. A necklace with an ankh rested between her well-sculpted breasts. “I overheard, and...you're right. It's natural for a mare to serve the strongest stallion, who might protect her, and make certain she develops the best potential offspring. There is no shame in that.”

She undid the top of her garments, and let them cascade away, leaving herself completely vulnerable before him. Her cheeks colored as she sucked in a sharp breath that expanded bared tits with rings piercing her perky nipples, her sex already shiny, moist pubes sticking to her partially yielding labia.

Her voice lowered to a hushed, almost desperate plea. “Fancy is an organizer, but he lacks what it takes to save us. And if it means becoming your concubine to save our kind, it is a price I shall gladly pay. I offer myself as tribute to you.”

Smiling at his latest perk, he beckoned the first member of his herd over, certain more driven to desperation would follow.

*****

Sulfurous clouds swirled a sickly yellow above the Badlands. The dragons had put up one of the fiercest fights against the Eldritch, and had they not been so driven by pride and accepted an alliance from the other races, they might have prevailed. Instead thousands were butchered on both sides, the aliens smashing whatever eggs they found.

Most believed the drakes were extinct, but a small number had banded together with other survivors, and returned to this hellish realm to recuperate. Molten pools ran through the fissures, spat by volcanoes that framed the horizon, spewing blackish-gray clouds. Heat made the air swirl, choking fumes leaving a heavy miasma of vapors that snaked about.

The bleached skeletons of the fallen were scattered about, buried under clouds of ash and dust, which whirled in the air.

With a weary sigh Spike sat on a throne carved from the skull of an ancient dragon. He'd grown into a muscular hulk, like his kind not bothering with armor since his scales protected him naturally, and likewise seeing little use for clothing, wearing a scant loin cloth and no more. He lounged back, surrounded by the tusks of a beast he'd slain, drinking wine from a goblet from a smaller skull. It burned him pleasantly down to his belly, worked tirelessly to perfection.

Secreted away in his volcano hideout, rather than rejoin the battle, he'd chosen the long game, hoping that if they stayed low long enough his nearly extinct species might be saved. Unfortunately, he was the sole surviving male, with Ember and Smolder the remaining females; and while a number of mares flocked to his side, they could only bear him Kirin. Not to mention this was a rather uncomfortable area for ponies, who were forced to rely on the spellcraft of unicorns just to breathe the air.

His closest allies approached with their latest report. “There's been some activity around the northern region,” said Twilight Sparkle, like all the mares here swathed in a scant tied top that wrapped around her breasts, and a similar lower half, the costumes resembling a tribal bikini. “I spouted Fleur de Lis, but dared not approach and risk giving away our position.”

“You made the right decision,” he replied with a toothy grin.

Twilight beamed at his praise, flexing her wings. “Should we hunt them down?”

“I'm not sure that's wise,” stated Ember who went bare save for a string of chains with gemstones that covered her ample breasts and her labia. She stood by Smolder who dressed the same, both of them insecure about their place by his side ever since he'd formed his own herd, and having taken potions from Twilight which gave them a few mammal qualities which they knew their leader appreciated. Their newly formed nipples peeked under the glittering stones, their bosoms now rather soft and pliable, and most curious of all they both had manes as well now. “Most ponies are weak. If we're discovered to save a few-”

“It could be a disaster,” finished Smolder. “Still...” She studied the Bloodstone Scepter placed near his throne, which he'd claimed as their new Dragon Lord, Ember convinced whichever dragon looked the strongest would be most likely to maintain order; she'd direct him from behind the scenes as his adviser. “We'll comply with whatever you wish!” She bowed.

Sunset Shimmer, who'd hung near the back until now, looked around her when his mates lowered themselves, and quickly fell into step. She lowered her eyes to the floor, bosom heaving under her scant top. “Should we service you now, Lord?”

Claws scratched across bone while he considered. In truth he could tell they were all exhausted after their latest trip, and much as he desired them, he wished to give them a proper rest. He only hoped they wouldn't take it as an insult.

“That's not necessary.” He waved them back to their feet. He'd never been the most well-spoken, nor did he have much time or patience for polite pleasantries; he left that to those who cared like Twilight and Rarity. Still, he knew dragons in particular respected ritual, and had to obey certain social mores. “Keep tracking them, from a distance. Let's see what they're up to.”

“More importantly, you must attend to the rest of the herd.” Twilight laid her cheek upon his well-chiseled chest and sighed, drawn close by a claw. “You know how lonely Rarity gets. And you have to check on the rest of the breeders. Fluttershy, Tree Hugger, Sweetie Belle, Autumn Blaze-” His mind wandered to orgies held between them all, the one ritual he loved; a mating union. She was still rattling off names, a plethora of loyal females ready to make certain some remnant of their lines thrived.

In truth he barely had time for them all. Guilt gnawed at him, unable to show each of them the adoration they deserved, but like him they understood their roles and rarely complained. It was a more barbaric era now. For some it might have been paradise. He was fortunate in his position, privileged even. But he never forgot all the responsibilities that burdened him.

Nor how much had been lost to reach this point. Turning his back so they couldn't see the single tear on his cheek, he nodded, promising to pay a visit to the Pleasure Gardens; a place cultivated and maintained by magic. He sometimes wondered if Tree Hugger's presence somehow helped it survive, the earth mare's natural green thumb making it lush and verdant like her.

Whatever the case was, they were able to somehow draw fresh water from the earth there, growing fruits and vegetables rich and fat with nutrients. Sustenance they'd need since those who weren't able to fight or scout were called upon for the good of society to carry his spawn. Already he'd put the next generation in a few of their wombs, and more would soon follow.

Nevertheless all it would take was a single mistake, and what they'd sacrificed so much for would come undone.