It was getting unbearable. Ever since the fight against the Storm King, and the magically-charged lightning that'd struck you in the middle of it, things had been different. Like, different sex different.

"Hey, Soarin, you know that thing all the stallions keep talking about when they think us mares aren't listening?" Spitfire's voice was low, practically a purr as she walked up behind you.

Your mind raced. The Lightning Rods as the clique of stallions in the Wonderbolts called themselves, often gossiped about the mares. A million and one things raced to the fore, but only one made it as far as your throat. "A-About orgies in the showers? Y-Yeah?" It still sounded odd—you sound odd—with your voice a few tones higher. Your nervous stutter did nothing to remove the illusion of softness from you.

Full of all the machismo being commander of the Wonderbolts brought, Spitfire swaggered up behind you and and looked under your instinctively-raised tail. You could feel her eyes locked on the jewels—vulva and anus—that lay under your dock. "They're true."

She moved too fast, but fluid at the same time. Her lips kissed against the bottom of your vulva and she sucked your winking clit into her mouth. Opening your mouth—your body on automatic—you moaned loudly enough for even the stallions in the adjoining shower block to hear. It's like she—

"Hey! Soarin!" Spitfire's voice cut through your fantasy.

Blinking rapidly, you looked around the shower block only to find Spitfire was the only other mare there. Your heart speeds up again.

"Look, I get this is hard for you. I don't think anypony fully understands what it's like to be turned into a mare, but you gotta get yourself under control. You're leaking, and that moan didn't sound like you were thinkin' about the weather." She turned her shower off and turned. For a moment you caught a glimpse of heaven before it was hidden under her tail. "We've got practice in ten."

It was getting worse. You couldn't stop thinking about the mares of the Wonderbolts all servicing you, eating out your sopping (and it always seems sopping) mess of a slit. Every time you look sideways at one of them you can't help but catch a glimpse under their tail—then the fantasies start.

What you didn't know is there's a tradition among the Wonderbolt mares for just this situation, and it was about to play out. When heat strikes, a Wonderbolt cannot be left wanting.

"Hey." His voice was deep, lower than any stallion you'd ever heard before. The locker room was empty except for you—and now him. He looked nothing like a Wonderbolt. A bat pony standing almost as tall and solid as a Royal Guard stud, but his coat was dark and his slit eyes were locked on you from under his stylized helmet. "Commander Spitfire told Commander Night Wing she has a mare with a problem."

Your mind raced. What was going on? What did he mean? Damn he was hot.

The last thought had hit you out of the blue. Stallions were never hot. Well, they'd never been hot before. You couldn't help but trace the lines of his armor against his strong body. Behind you—under your traitorously raised tail—you could feel moisture start to bead along your vulva.

Lifting his nose, the stallion sniffed the air. A smile spread across his lips and exposed his fangs. "Yeah, you're the right one. Turn around, little filly, and let me see what I have to work with."

The words hung heavy in your thoughts. You're a Wonderbolt! You're a stallion! You shouldn't just be turning around like you are and flicking your tail out of the way of his hungry eyes.

A new smell hits the air. It's unlike anything you've ever smelled before. The musky scent is like a stallion taken to eleven. You realize too late that it's him—the bat pony. He's making that smell because you're so damn horny that you're making him horny too.

Your fantasies were nothing compared to this. His breath brushed your aching lips first, and then his firm tongue pressed to the crease over your clit and glides upward. You could have been gagged and choked, and you still would have moaned.

"That's my girl. Keep that up. Nopony can hear a Night Guard carrying out his duty."

A cold wind seemed to blow around the locker room. The light dimmed and the sounds of the outside world ceased. Living Darkness was something the Night Guard were known for. It was how they swept into a battle and dominated, and apparently how they could sneak into the Wonderbolts and bang their cute mares.

The second lick of his broad tongue stole your senses, and the third made even the darkness around you shimmy and fall from your attention. And he didn't stop. It was so easy to lose count. Each lap he took seemed to press a little more firmly at your crease until he started punctuating each stroke with a thrust of his tongue that had you making all kinds of happy, hungry noises.

Brushing his fangs against your gender flesh, you felt yourself shiver as he stretched his tongue deeper still. For a moment pressure built, but then it eased as he pushed a little deeper. In the back of your mind a little voice screamed that he took your cherry, but it was hard to care about that.

His tongue withdrew and so did his lips. You felt empty and weak. Then a hefty weight landed on your croup and every instinct told you to run, flee, and get to safety. Yet your forelegs were locked and your back ones held his weight.

"For a first-time mare, you're awfully sure of yourself. Why don't you back your little furnace onto my shaft?"

The thought of it was so horribly good that you couldn't do anything else. Struggling to keep yourself up under his mass, you carefully slide one hoof back, then the other, slowly pushing him further up your back until you feel him pressed against your left cheek.

"Close. Let me help." He shifted his hips with the first two words, and then the third punctuated his thrust. Nothing could have prepared you for so much prime stallion cock. It felt like it was as thick around as your leg and as if it reached all the way to your neck. He didn't stop or slow, he kept pushing with repeating thrusts until his hips met your ass.

You'd never felt this full before. Not a sound came from your throat because it felt like he'd driven all the air from you. You had been empty all your life—but now you're full.

Shifting himself a little, the mighty stallion pulled back and thrust forward, then continued again and again. The friction of his thrusts took over your body. You couldn't think of a single other thing except for his huge shaft shoving into you repeatedly.

When his breath hit the back of your neck, and his fangs closed on the ruff of skin and mane there, you felt him yank you backwards with each thrust. Each body-stuffing thrust was better than the last. You couldn't count them, not after you got above one.

Now your voice came back. Each withdraw gave you time to breathe—each thrust gave you time to moan. Your ears flattened back as he drove himself against your weakening cervix again and again. You'd been with mares as a stallion, you knew this drove them wild—now was not an exception.

Then, one thrust came that seemed special. He grabbed your shoulders with his wings and pulled you back—impaled you utterly on his shaft—and filled you in a new way. It was like a volcano of hot bat spunk. He blasted your body and after the first wash of his seed into your womb you felt it seem to fill every part of you. Your brain could focus on nothing else but how he was filling you with heat and quenching your fire at the same time.

It should have ended, but he seemed prepared to treat your womb as a balloon. You stretched around the mass of hot semen he flooded you with, and it wasn't until you thought you'd burst that he finally let go with his wings and teeth. "Good filly."

The daze of being fucked so well still made it hard to think. Even after the bat pony had left—and taken his silencing magic with him—you stood in the middle of the locker room with your tail raised.

"Hey, Soarin? I see you got your visit. How do you feel now?" Spitfire sounded so casual about seeing you like this.

Wait, visit? What had the bat said?

"W-What…?" Words didn't work right and your voice sounded like you were in shellshock after a hard fucking. Probably because you were.

"Yeah. They're pretty intense. Also infertile with other ponies. That's why we have such a good deal with them. Go have a shower and come out in ten. We've got flying to do."

You turned and watched Spitfire walking for the door. Her tail was slightly raised and you could see a glistening line of moisture along her slit. "Hey, Cap? That musk—?"

"Yeah, it gets to all of us, Soarin. Let me know if you need another visit."

Author's Note

Oh, and if you want to see the inspiration for this, it's on Derpibooru here 2162925.

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