Legitimate Uses for a Rarity Fleshlight

Chapters

Prologue | Strangeness in a Doll
Part I | Advice from a Friend
Part II | No Shame in a Mare Fleshlight
Part III | The Use of You
Epilogue | The Truth is My Love for Only You

Prologue | Strangeness in a Doll

Legitimate Uses for a Rarity Fleshlight
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She was everything to him, and in reverse, he was nothing to her. Yet Rarity loved Spike anyway. No matter his height and regardless of his size, the boy living within that encasement of scales, kind and sweet and dedicated and adorable. His life and essence. All that he was, he dedicated to her, detesting the word beautifuleach time he said it.

It'd come from honest frustrations and a shattered window. Rarity had been near the library during the explosion of glass and dull thuds across the grass. Worried at once, Rarity charged through the door, horn aglow, eyes narrowed only in the way she could seem to do it.

The dragon stood to the right of the door, heaving and panting, not having moved. Hunched, his eyes flicked up to hers, to the top of his socket, the height difference still great no matter the years. She'd asked him a single word, stuttering it multiple times, in that cute, baffled, and sophisticated way of a lady.

"Buh-uh-wha-why?"

Spike clenched a fist while shaking his head, eyes slowly closing, rage growing intense. He appeared to hold himself back. No lashing or shouting or anything of the sort. Few breaths. In and out. Each composed of the releasing of steam.

"I couldn't do it."

Rarity broke from the spell of confusion and regained the ability to blink. She sat on her haunches, needing to, fearing the en-route implications. "What can't you do, darling? Please, dear. Whatever is the matter?"

Spike stopped shaking his head, settling still for a second, that was, before sweeping his face upward again. He stared up at her, eyes opened and wide, each a brilliant green, enamoured with her reflection. "I've gone through all the dictionaries and checked out each thesaurus on the shelves. But not one of them. Not a single one!"

His shoulder slumped further as did his head. "Not a single one had a word that expressed your beauty."

Tension faded from her shoulders and her body lightened again. With love, carefully executed, she rose and stepped next to him. Covering a hoof over his shoulders, she drew him closer, against her belly and chest, locking him in. Thighs for his bottoms, a foreleg around his back, one hoof to softly smother his face into the white tuft of her chest.

"Silly boy." Rarity stroked the back of his head as she gazed down at him. "Are you still on about that? Unable to find adequate words to describe my beauty to you?" Upon feeling his face rub up and down into her coat, the feeling of his snout blissful, Rarity rested her muzzled on top of his head. "You haven't to still fret over this, my darling. Countless stallions have spoken with complexity beyond your reach. But there is a single statement, the sole reason why I choose you over them all."

Rarity released the hoof from his back, if only by inches, still desiring him close, but wanting him to speak up. In the space provided, he backed into the hug, looking up from before her chest. He smiled at her. "It's not what you say... but how you say it."

"Precisely." Rarity pulled him in again, this time, lowering to his frill. Blowing a warm breath, it flickered, delighting her. "And I've never heard another say I love you... quite like you." She kissed the frill, pinning it, whispering. "I love you, Spike."

He nuzzled her sprouting fluff. "And I love you, Rarity."

The hug continued, embrace deepening, without future regard. Both were grateful and lucky, keeping as they had, for none to stop by. Or worse. Twilight Sparkle appearing and seeing the sight. It was their secret, after all, kept for the sake of the mare.

But the mood changed. The closeness of the two was deepening into something more. Rarity didn't know the cause of the chase, of the tingly in her thighs, softness pushed in by the hardness of his scales, his bottom sinking into them. Or how his body shoved into her belly, covering inches of the curve to a place most sensitive of them all.

Spike must have felt the building of her heat, the coat of silk becoming frizzed, rough and wild, a delicious state she was rarely in. He pulled from her chest with snowy-tuft resting on his chin, his eyes set on her, a blush spanning below them, mouth parted and parched, thirsty, but not for water.

Rarity lowered her muzzle enough to wait, closing her eyes for a second, feeling naught seconds afterward. They'd been through enough for Spike to read the cues, much less the bravery and approval to commit to them. What was—

Her eyes opened in time to see him rising, tipping inches higher on his feet, to reach her lips. Shame drizzled waters onto her fires, attempting to damn her, but the heat won out. His little arms reached all the way up, almost like a child, cupping her cheeks, pulling them down.

Spike wasn't a child. He'd the years and skill and intelligence and life to be her equal. He was a proper adult, five years younger than her, everything she craved in a male. One problem. A single issue bearing many within tainted their relationship.

His size.

Rarity allowed her muzzle to be pulled down by his, allowing their lip-lock to deepen, eyes closing simultaneously. They kissed, lips meshing together, a sweet and soft suckle every few seconds, the delighted giggles and moans of a lady rising above the sounds of their love.

But the fault came again. One of his claws lowered from Rarity's muzzle, placing on the side of her frame, those devious digits riding throughout her coat. Ruffing the furs and scratching at the skin. Precision to her every sweet spot. The dots of her body he sunk the lowers, caressed the hardest, feeling for the wiggles of her spine, the throwing of her head, the moan sudden and unsurpassed.

Then his claw lowered to her hips, reaching for the flanks becoming him there, soft and round to the perfect curvature, fat without being massive. She begged for him there. Wiggling her rear into the floor. Not bouncing, but rising, dropping, each smaller than inches, still eliciting jiggles to her plushness.

His claws came short.

They reached her hips, and that was it. Spike's body shuffled toward her, pressing into her, pressing and sinking into the softness of her belly, that was, as much as slender pudge would allow. Even then, held by their locked lips, he was simply too small to reach around her body.

Rarity hated herself. She hated the sensual desire building in her neck as the fur inflamed. It demeaned a claw there, scratching around, nailing those sensitive spots—the ones that arched her hips. Another was called for her back, teasing and drawing circles, each loop reaching lower than previously. Until they found their way onto her ass, that jiggly sweetness of perfection, always so sensitive, the tightness of underwear worn, sometimes, for the exclusivity of stimulation.

To feel his claws grope around, squeezing and kneading, everything to the jittering of her hips. To smack herself, softly, against his abdomen and groin. Physical desires of what she wanted to acquire. Having him, feeling him, becoming filled by him.

It wouldn't happen. Dear Celestia it wouldn't. Not unless he hoarded or became older. Everything else was perfection perfected, but these simple details, the difference of size, it crushed the hollow portion of her soul. The craving of claws to roll over her flanks, spreading them wide, feeling around in-between.

But something did press into her.

Not small. Not Big.

But adequate.

And for a lady so highly regarded, private about her affections for the sake of her career, the mistake she made next could have been an easy bluster. In denying herself, she placed her forehooves on his shoulders, pushing the boy back, swiping him then to the ground.

From there, she towered over him, gently placing a hoof onto his chest, in which he kept pin. He moved and wiggled but never struggled, his meagre might a delight. In suppressing it, at least. Knowing she could do as she pleased to the hopeless boy, hopelessly in love with her.

Rarity then lowered herself, kissing down his chest, each scale flexing and tensing beneath her lips. It was her favourite kind of landscape to cover, feeling how the scales changed and moved, shifting in reflection to her efforts. Until reaching between his legs. The greatest possession of them all.

A lady should know not to give a blowjob with the front door open, but as the days came and went, she cared less and less for getting caught. No matter what the news or what the world would make of it, despite how it appeared, being filled by him was her desire.

Yet never was she filled.

"H-Hello there! Sorry and do excuse me." Rarity sputtered in place on the street, an umbrella clung in the curve of her foreleg. Rain pelted and the stallion was alone. Bulky and a hunk enjoying a smoke. A subtle beard seeing to five o'clock. "It's not of me to dare assumptions upon anyone. But I was informed a particular type gathered here. Someone who—"

"Fifty for the room and another for the service." The stallions pursed his lips and blew a smooth current of smoke. Slow and sexy unlike the failed attempts of the dragon. His was black and blocky and sometimes smelled of afternoon tacos. "Can reduce the room to twenty-five if this is an and out deal."

The stallion ceased his fascination with the underside of the bridge above, his puffy mane matted by the rain. His muzzle turned, slowly and delectable, his chin begging for a kiss. "Though you seem like the type to cuddle and talk afterward. In that case, it'll—"

"Discount it is." Rarity nodded and stepped toward him. "Ladies without make-up aren't seeking conversations meant to impress."

He smiled enough to show some teeth. Each was white and glinting. "I think I may like you. Another ten from the services price."

Since when did studs work the street?

It didn't take long to reach the room. Maybe they owned the place, or perhaps it's because none knew it existed at all, but passing through the archway beneath the bridge hid a staircase going down and marked by a door. Three taps, a whispered word, then they were in.

Upon entering, however, the block of stone revealed to be a cavity within the structure. They walked across a narrow and wooden archway that opened into a center. Down below a flight of steps, tables and stools littered the ground, stallions and mares alike, sharing drinks all around. Had she come to the wrong place?

Now is not the time to lose yourself. Coming here was to prove a point. No words or frail philosophy. Rarity followed behind the stallion while watching his hips, firm in their sway, a mark of a true stallion. Whatever happens here proves what you feel about your Spikey. Not that he would approve of any of this in the slightest. Or maybe he would? Maybe if explained?

Rarity shook her head. This wasn't making sense. None of this was. Accepting that dragon's feelings... it'd been the most beautiful and horrible time of her life. She loved him. That much was certain. Nearly enough to risk being seen not only with a dragon, but one appearing no taller than a kid.

Would this be her fate? To be fulfilled as a pony from the small dragon but, in needing to be pleasured, rutted, other stallions would be her choice? Relying on toys and tools and not on her lover? Did that render her shallow?

"This door here." The stallion in front stopped, glancing back from over his shoulder. His hoof laid on the door, many set in a line, the purpose obvious. The wood creaked immediately as he pushed, the small room appearing. "Will this work for you?"

Oh darling. I wish I knew the answer.

"I see no problem with it, dear." Rarity braved the first step inward, finding the place lit from candles. Scented in lilac. Useless against lingering stink of sex. "Suppose it'll be on this bed here?"

"Take a seat when you're ready." The stallion entered behind and pulled the door shut, extra pressure afterward, ensuring it slid across its wall. Rarity gulped as she took a seat on the bed. It didn't sink beneath her weight. Not shabby. "I'll get a tease going for you to enjoy."

Rarity wanted to enjoy it. She wanted to be throwing her hooves over his body, feeling the broadness of his chest, hooves set on clenching abs, feeling them peek and harden. How she wanted him to weigh her down! To clamber atop and drop, cock thrust into her snatch, a hoof pinned to her back, preventing movement.

She craved it all.

Yet desired none of it.

The stallion had come to the opposite side of the room, stepping onto a box, elevating his frame. He turned, slightly, revealing his under barrel. Tense and hard and stiff. His cock was already unsheathed, large despite still being flaccid, a juicy shade of ebony.

And yet it did nothing. Even when his hoof came over and stroked himself slowly, lathering pre as it came over his length... it evoked nothing within her. Sure. Her heart fluttered at the sight, impressed with the growing mass. But she desired it as much as one does junk food.

"I'm... s-sorry sir, but I don't think I'll be able to go with this." Before he could stop touching himself, Rarity had already summoned a pouch of bits onto the bed. "You are, um, exactly everything I wanted. But this doesn't appear to be what I need at all. Though... do be sure to finish even without my account."

The next flash saw to a room of a confused and horny and richer stallion.

How could she be so perfect? It was a question Spike never found the answer to regardless of each attempt. He always came to a new answer, not the answer, but a answer nonetheless. In everything she did. Strength or flaw. He loved them all. Even in her failings, there was something to admire.

"Think this should be the last stack for the day," Spike said from folded fabrics towering in his arms. He walked to the table and set them down, rubbing his claws together once he was done. "Going to head back and finish some chores for Twilight. Catch you before afternoon tomorrow?"

He was close to the door before her voice called. "J-Just a second now! Could you wait before leaving?"

Rarity's voice had come from upstairs, as did the sounds of magic and items flying through the air, the cacophony continuing and continuing before ceasing. Spike arched an eyebrow. Seconds later, however, hoofsteps came from the staircase.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting, darling." Rarity appeared down the steps, pulling the corners of the dragon's lips into a smile. He never realized so until seconds afterward. "Afraid a last-minute project had captured me in the 'zone' as it twere. You said you were off home?"

"Probably buy some ice cream on the way," Spike replied. "Longer I stay out, the more Twilight will get done by herself."

Rarity titillated her head. "Won't she be more upset with you because of that?"

“Not if I get two ice creams.” Spike shrugged. "You'd be surprised at the trouble I've skipped because of a coffee or tea at the right time."

Rarity narrowed her eyes. "Just a second. Is that why at certain engagements, beyond late, you come with flowers and a tea freshly made from the store."

"Does it work?"

Rarity seemed to think about that. "Sadly, it appears so."

"Think it will keep working now that you know?"

“It depends.” Spike watched her as she strode toward him, lowering her muzzle until they were cheek to cheek, a nuzzle they met equally. “Keep bringing me gifts and I'll let you know how I feel.” Her muzzle pulled up seconds later. “Although... it'll be a few days until we see each other again.”

Spike blinked. “Why's that? Heavy workload? You know I—“

“Sudden arrangements in Canterlot from a desperate friend.” Rarity dropped her shoulders lightly. “The mixers should be entertaining for the social laddering experience. But the rest I fear will be terribly dreadful.”

“That sucks.”

“Indeed. It very much does the 'sucking' as you phrase it.”

“Sometimes, my tongue feels inadequate to your tongue.”

“Nothing to worry about, Spikey.” Rarity grinned. “There's plenty yours can do to make up for it.”

Both grinned at that.

“But flirtations aside.” Rarity's horn lit a soft blue, and the same glow appeared on her back, something levitating from it. “There is a gift I want to give you. For both all your hard work and the days I'll be away. I'm sure you'll find... great use for it.”

Out from her back floated a doll, a small one at that, it being a plushie. “You may find it familiar to a certain somepony you love.”

Spike held out his claws as it gently landed on his palms. He gazed it over, finding all the details matching the mare before her. From coat to mane, each curative of its swirls exact, same with the feeling of essence it exuded. “I-I'm... not sure what to say about this, Rarity.”

“Don't be so modest! I know that—“

“I'm not sure if this is narcissism or—“

Her hoof covered his mouth while she rolled her eyes. “Oh hush! I know how much you love me.” She pulled back her hoof. “Trust me. The moment I can get you back on the stand, I'll be crafting a little Spike plushie to cuddle with at night... not much of a difference from the real thing, if you must know the truth.”

His claws slowly crept over the doll's neck, pressing a digit into it, finding the resistance... awfully strong. Rarity choked for a moment, coughing out a breath. He withdrew his claw at once, not thinking twice.

“But I thought it would be rather nice for you to have something of me while I'm gone.” Rarity backed away from him. “I would just like to let you know... that you're someone special to me, Spike. What you carry is imbued with my very soul. Everything you do to it, I shall know, for I'll be feeling it myself.”

Spike blinked at her words, but chose to nod anyway, trusting in the mare regardless of when she spoke in the metaphor. But even then, a thought chained his heart, yanking his chin down. “Even when you're at those mixers alone?”

“Silly boy... weren't you listening? You'll be with me using that doll.”

“Except actually being there.”

“Given time, you will come, but until then, we must keep to our ways.” Rarity was able to smile at him. “That doll is more than what appears on the surface. If you love me, you'll use it tonight. Alone.”

Spike wasn't sure what to say or to do and, in situations like these, he nodded and smiled, deciding to trust in the mare. He strode over to claim his kiss, the final one for a few days. His arm wrapped around the barrel of the doll and, if he cared to look at the mare's chest... would have seen her chest-fluff somehow pressed down.

Part I | Advice from a Friend

~ I ~

Words from a Friend

What was he supposed to do with the plushie? Spike didn't know the answer to that question as he walked home, with it tucked underneath his right arm, oddly comforted by its softness. It had been nothing like the dolls he'd played with before. Not that he played with dolls before, per se.

But what was around, was around, when living in Canterlot.

It's like her to enjoy what a mirror has to show, he reflected as he walked him, doing his best to avoid the stares of the mares walking by. Little turns of the heads and the settling eyes. They widened in surprise. Others cooed. Those knowing better were just confused. But to go out and make a doll exactly like her? Perfect accuracy?

He wanted to feel weird about it. To be estranged about the whole gift of a plushie representing the mare he loved most of all. But despite his apprehension, his mind was calm, body relaxed, comforted by the item.

How far did she go in the details anyway?

Looking down and underneath his arm, he ran a claw through the mane of the toy—yanking it back on contact. What the heck? His digits tried again, this time, feeling the silk of violet strands between his gaps. Luscious and smooth. He was bound to caress the hair as if on a mare. The scalp even shifted within his imagination.

But he stopped himself. There was something damning about ruining those rolls that countless mornings were spent on maintaining. He was even mindful of the pressure of his arm against it. Releasing its hold slightly, the white barrel lost some of its compression, no longer lightly squeezed.

Am I seriously taking care of a doll now? Guess these past few weeks really have been playing on my mind. But he found himself smiling. Even as he walked home, alone, set to be that way for maybe weeks at a time. The journey felt damning, less cold, when the doll in his arms warmed him up. Heh. Guess my days of being the villain to Twilight's dolls are over.

Getting home wasn't much of an issue, that was until Spike actually got home. The creak and opening of the door revealed the alicorn standing behind it. Standing straight, legs tall, eyes pissed. She was looking down at him. Like most mares, literal and metaphorical, they looked down at him.

"You were supposed to be home an hour ago."

Spike cocked his head while entering the castle. "So, you spent an hour waiting around?"

Twilight narrowed her eyes and dipped her muzzle. "You really think I'd spend an hour standing, waiting for you?"

"If it was to give me trouble and a lecture?" Spike slowly nodded as he closed the door behind him, waiting for its click before speaking again. "Yeah. I think I do."

Silence stole the scene seconds longer. That was until the mare tucked her lips inward, nodding as well—but only twice. "Yeah, okay. Write me down for thirty minutes."

Spike's head recoiled as he squinted. "Thirty, really?"

"Your worst bout of tardiness is usually thirty minutes!" Twilight exclaimed while pelting the floor with the shifting of her hooves. Click and clack and click. Over and over. Tick and tack and tick. "That's when I started to wait. Ten minutes went by, and then I left. But surely you wouldn't be another ten minutes."

Spike approached underneath her, still holding the plushie underneath his right arm, expression remotely bearing life. "Let me guess. The next twenty minutes was a sunk cost fallacy for the first ten minutes?"

Twilight rolled her head. "Okay! So usually you bring coffee when you're late."

"Crud." Spike bit his tongue and turned his head aside. "Knew I forgot something."

But Twilight sat on her haunches, winding her foreleg in the air. "The later you are, the more extravagant the coffee and treat. But sometimes when you come home, I'm doing something and, since you want to bypass trouble, you don't come finding me."

The world clicked inside of Spike's mind. "I usually wait until you find me. That way, I'm adjusted to being home and can make the lie of being here earlier than I was."

The hoof clicked as Twilight tapped a hoof against it. “Exactly. It's smart on your part. Problem is, I would care, maybe, if this hadn't devolved into a game. But because it has, I know there's a drink on the line."

Spike exhaled from the weight of the truth. "By the time we do the usual song and dance, I still use the drink to get out of it, only when I do..."

"It's lukewarm by then," Twilight finished for him. They were meant for each other within the scope of life-long friends. Except a strange version of it. But most life-long friends are strange when you think about it. "There's still some whipped cream, but then it's melted into the drink. It's still sweet... but lacks the punch of having it warm."

Spike slumped and hunched forward. "Now I just feel bad for not getting you anything."

"Hmmm..." Twilight gazed down at him from above, doing her best to impersonate a judge, stroking her chin the whole while. After a final, concluding him—she smiled. Her foreleg wrapped around him at once and pulled him into a hug. "You're forgiven. You're not usually late, and when you are, you've made up for it."

Spike smiled from within the tuft of her coat, nuzzling her chest, enjoying the softness for a different reason. The doll was pinned between him and Twilight's belly. His arm wrapped around her in his best attempt of a hug. "So why give me trouble with the conversation?"

"Because nopony thinks about useless stuff as much as we do," Twilight said with a laugh, stroking the top of his head. "Besides! How often do we get to speak like a comic team, huh? Don't give me a face. I know you enjoy those situations too."

Spike only smiled even more. "You know you're my best friend, right?"

"I'm well aware." Twilight chuckled. "But what do you think Rarity's going to think about an assertion like that, huh?"

His shoulders slumped against her body. Little tingles shivered throughout her frame. Without words or needing anything more, both of her forelegs wrapped around him, not tightly, but enough to let him know they were there. "I'm sorry. Did something happen?"

Spike wiped his snout across her chest, delighting the mare for she giggled afterward, holding him tighter. He chuckled as well, feeling happy... despite his sad face. "Rarity's gone to Canterlot for a week. Photo and waving kinda stuff. The kind of pictures she'd like taken of her."

"The ones where she's alone?"

"Single mares are more popular than taken ones." He sighed into the purple fluff, the breath pushing some of it up. "That's what she says, at least. And I'm okay with it. Just... don't know how long I'll keep being okay with it."

"Oh, Spike... you're still such a boy, aren't you?" Twilight laid her muzzle over his head, draping over the slope of its back. She rubbed her chin, left and right, hugging him dearly. "You told me how willing you were to do everything for her. Storm any castle and ascend any tower. But that's not how life works. Saving your love... means more than danger."

Spike lowered his head as he listened.

"Sometimes that means staying with her at the boutique, without saying a word, allowing her to work through the night—but keeping her from being alone." Twilight's hooves were soft on his back, searching around, crossing over tensions, releasing and relaxing after a few strokes. "You've grown in every way Rarity needs you. I... I know you don't like to hear it, Spike. But the images of her seeing you..."

"Painted into a bad spot for more than one reason? Checked that one off the mental list a while ago." Spike found himself nodding, sad and sore, and persisting despite them. "I know what it meant to be with her. I'll keep doing my best so we keep that way. But that... that doesn't mean a dragon can't be disappointed every now and again."

"Wouldn't have left you smothered your face into my chest fluff otherwise." The field of purple pulled away as Spike pulled his face away. His gaze travelled up to her muzzle. "But what do you have in your arm there?"

The doll clung to his claw still. Smiling, he backed out of the hug to hold it up. Twilight peered down at it.

"Rarity worried I would miss her more than usual on this next trip," Spike went on as he held up the toy. Strangeness washed over him as he did. It wasn't often for a male to have a doll, much less holding one before a mare. But if a mare was the one that gave it to him, then that made it okay, right? "So that's why this was made. Rarity said, somehow, it would connect us. Couldn't outright refuse it, y'know?"

Twilight hadn't said anything. No jokes or whims or anything of the sort. Only intent curiosity fashioned only to sudden obsessions. Suppressing the urge to hide the doll behind his back, the dragon watched as Twilight's horn started to glow.

"Do you know if she did anything to this doll?" Twilight asked upon dipping her muzzle. Her horn tapped its tip onto the snout of the plushie—which wrinkled, subtly, in response. "Because I'm getting a faint..."

Then it stopped. Magic and the glow of her horn. Twilight zipped back in place, retaining a couple of steps. There was a mad blush across her face as her wings came to flare ever so slightly. Her chest fluffed, even more, rising and dropping so suddenly.

Spike came to shake his head. "W-What's wrong? Is everything okay, Twilight?"

Why was she suddenly hyperventilating? It wasn't often Twilight smiled enough to show teeth as her eyes then shut. "N-Nothing's wrong, Spike! Nothing's wrong at all! Just, uh, h-had a sense of magic coming from your... gift, is all!"

"Thought something was different about it." He turned the plushie around in his claws, both settling over its rump. He held its front to his face... to a good feeling in his palms. "Rarity's personal projects usually feel special. But something about this one—I don't know. It just feels like something a little bit more, y'know?"

But Twilight wasn't looking at him. Her eyes darted left and right, keeping on him for seconds at a time. What made her sweat? Each time her gaze settled, it did so on his claws, the digits wrapped and sinking into the plumpness of those flanks. Each squishy like a marshmallow.

Twilight coughed and kept looking aside. "So beyond feeling an... essence to the doll, do you know feel anything else?"

Spike shook his head. "What are you trying to get from me here? I might bring it back to bed and cuddle it a bit." He shrugged and sighed at the same time. "It's really soft and plush and warm. The hair on it is really nice. Something about having it close to me, I dunno, it makes me feel good."

"Good... as in happy?"

"Sort of happy?" He hugged the doll to his chest—relishing in the contact. It felt as if she was there with him now, hugging him with her compression of softness, warming him with her body, delighting him with the brushing of her coat. "Just makes the time without her go by easier. We're kinda intimate. I really miss that when we're gone."

"Intimate..."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yes. Intimate in the way you're thinking.” He exhaled while cupping the back of the doll's head into a claw. "And also just being close. Hugs and sitting side by side on the couch. I might have gotten used as a teddy bear a few nights."

It might have taken her a few moments to come back from her shock, but confidence faded back into Twilight's face. The slow smile crossing her face was met with the beaming of her eyes. That, and an energetic nod. "But at least the tables are turned, at least for now, huh?"

"Guess you could say something like that."

Spike wanted to say more. To let the mare know of his woes. Twilight wasn't quite a sister—but something close about it. Holding the miniature Rarity in his arms, he wanted to express not the power, but the satisfaction he felt.

It felt strange to be caressing the doll. Without meaning to, his claw started from the top of its head and worked down its back, tightening across its back, a delightful squeeze. Something was nice about the rump. Cupping it didn't feel strange. It wobbled, coming to jiggle by efforts alone. It seemed to fill out, flattening when pressed into, an unusual detail he found himself enjoying.

"I think both of us have had long enough days," Twilight began as she started to the side, casting him a look from over her shoulder. "Why don't both of us call it an early night? Have yourself a few hours to enjoy your gift."

Spike wanted to speak out, but stopped once the mare winked, giving a cute chorus of giggles. She strode forward without another word, a sway to her hips, slow and contained, appealing to the eye. He watched as she left, entering the hallway and turning the corner, leaving him alone again.

"My... aren't you a naughty one?" Rarity whispered to herself while splayed back on the bed, enjoying all the tickles coursing across her body. Something invisible was tight around her back and its weight resting into her belly, pushing it down, sinking into it. "Feeling over my body with a single arm. When did you get so big, Spikey?"

Her frame wiggled on the bed, her body above the sheets, allowing herself the night to enjoy herself. Tossing a glance to a door, she grinned at remembering to have it locked. Windows closed and blinds drawn. Few candles were lit across the room, scented, a mixture of rich perfumes.

"O-Oh! Muhmmm!” Rarity shuffled her hips at feeling the invisible claw creep snake into her scalp. She cherishedthe sensation. Feeling his sharp digits moving through her hair, little swipes to work across her strands. Brushes be damned. His fingers brought a new meaning to delight. "Always been one for a mare with nice hair, haven't you? Run your claw through my scalp. Do it as much as you like, my darling."

And so he did. Somewhere else in the world, her little dragon was using her provided toy, treating it as if it were herself. And he wasn't wrong to do so. Back in that castle and inside his locked room, he was lying on that small frame of a bed, keeping that plushie standing on his belly.

Rarity could tell. The bottom of her hooves felt like they were pressing into something hard but flexible. Shifting in softness betraying him. What did her little lover do in all of this? Stroke his claw through the doll's mane, delicately scratching at her scalp, earning little coos without knowing.

"Just like that! You've enjoyed my appearance most when it's straight out of the shower, do you not?" His digits stroked through the curls of her mane, daring to invade on what took hours to maintain. He was soft about it, applying pressure, just enough, to straighten her strands. "If I didn't have a world to impress, I would wear my hair down. I'd do it all the time. Anything to make you enjoy me more."

It wasn't long before the invisible strokes trailed all throughout her mane. Rarity had backed herself onto the pile of pillows, drinking in all the touches, little scratches and small caresses. She loved watching purple strands fall over her face, draping across her neck, coming to collect on her back.

Better, however, were the digits pressing into her spine. Starting from the top and following the lane downward, rubbing over every ball, relaxing the muscles tensed from the previous teasing. It worked downward and downward, settling over her flanks, the fatness of roundness impressing from being pressed upon. She squealed and kicked her legs—that was the contact, the raw force she needed!

And then, given a few seconds, there was a pressure of her tail. No... it can't be. Is he already daring to examine so soon? Rarity knew that boys, all boys, are bound to check underneath the tail. Even dolls wearing skirts will see a colt looking up in curiosity. But her lover tended not to be so vain. Maybe because it was her he was so daring so early. N-Not that I mind. Better he found the purpose to my gift sooner than later.

Rarity lifted her rump from the bed, arching her hips to keep it there, feeling the force pull on her tail. Held back, the slope of her crotch was exposed, the thickness of her fuzzy vulva exposed, the lips parted only slightly.

She licked her lips, waiting, hoping the boy would also lose his shame early.

Part II | No Shame in a Mare Fleshlight

~ Part II ~

No Shame in a Mare Fleshlight

Spike hadn't been sure of the changes to his body. Why did fire flush beneath his scales, warming him, from the inside out? It was a heat. The kind evoked by an exclusive mare. The tingly feeling of brushing his body into her coat. Faint scents warmly burning wispy lilac and delicious strawberries into his snout.

Was he starting to go crazy from horniness? No, that wasn't the case. Maybe he was a lost cause when it came to sex but, in keeping himself in check—that was never an issue. But beads of sweat raced across his tiny body as he laid back on his bed. It was massive to him, of course, but could hardly fit a mare.

A failed attempt of sex had proved that one to humiliating degrees.

The dragon crawled back on the bed, enough to lay back on the hill of pillows behind him. He reclined, slightly elevated, with eyes half-lidded and an open mouth unable to keep close. Warm breaths washed over his tongue. Just what the hay was going on?

The scent. It was of her. The mixture and combination couldn't belong to another. It was an invisible trail leading back to her. He arched himself forward in a curl, stuffing his face into white fluff of the doll's chest—inhaling. Longingly and deeply. Filling him, intoxicating him, lungs without air and only of her.

It was the little details that teased him. The plushie was a miniature version of that perfection of a snowy mare. The fluff of Rarity's coat matted up from his touch, stands, still silky, tickling across his snout. He dug in deeper, sinking into the patch of softness, impressing on the chest.

Something he could never do, to the same extent, in reality.

It... filled him on not being useless here. No longer was he the boy lost to the whims of inadequacy and insecurity. He could dive his face into the mare's chest, sniffing her scent, feeling her neck wiggling in delight. To be held, locked, and devoured in the ways she desired.

Something was spouting from in-between his legs. It wasn't a response he was expecting nor care much for. Spike pressed his lips to the coat, kissing and sniffing, seconds of break only to snip on the skin—lightly.

Did the doll have a vibration function? The dragon tossed it to the drunkenness of his mind as his kisses worked up her neck, tugging places with nips, delicately careful in the contours of his fangs. Always he was blowing. Warm and sensual air. Allowing it to wash over the doll's coat. Feeling it stand up in response.

"You've wanted this for a while... haven't you?" He whispered the words upon reaching her muzzle, his face never further than an inch. He covered her cheek with another kiss, exhaling steam again. Her mane softly blew back from his breath. "Wanting someone to hold you, caresses you... love you. I-I, I... I could never be the guy enough for you."

He tilted his forehead until feeling the small and softer one of the doll's flattening into his own. Scared by the strangeness, he breathed through his snout, fighting himself. Keeping like this, it comforted him—even though it shouldn't.

"Pressing foreheads with a doll of a mare I can never satisfy..." Spike chuckled in the fashion joined by tears—but those, as was in his life, tended to be a no-show. He stifled a sob, repressing the sadness rising. "Sometimes I wonder if a hoard would be worth it after all. You wouldn't be held back... with this body of a kid." He blew airs of anguish to free the tension within his body. "But then I'd still be a dragon. And you would still have to appear single. I'm able to p-please you, that I know... but I know how much pleasure I've been keeping back from you."

Spike couldn't take it anymore. In shaking his head—the same of the doll in proxy—he wrapped his arms over the Rarity's neck. Holding it close to himself, he hugged it, tightly, squishing her softness inside its hold. It felt so good to squeeze her like this. Able to do it all over her body.

"B-Before you said yes... I envisioned and trained for all the ways to make you happy... of all the things I would need to do... to spend nights at the Boutique, without saying a word, letting you work in the dark without being alone." He shook his head again, his chin rolling over the top of her mane, spreading her hair around her head. "But once you were done, you... wanted someone to take to bed."

He smiled in a way untrue to the gesture. "I did everything I could, but... you needed something a little bit more than me, didn't you? If I'd been a stallion. Maybe a little bigger. Someone to hold you close or pin you down..." He chuckled and rolled his eyes at the absurdity of his words. "I'd never thought of that. The mind just never wandered there. Thinking the great and perfect Rarity would crave to be pinned down and railed hard? That line felt disgusting to say aloud."

He shook his head again, rubbing his head harder into her scalp, enjoying the silk of the strands, the feeling of her scalp. It was like she was here, listening and being there. No judgment or accusing him of wrongness. Just her body and her soul, what he needed most of all, there to help him express his inability to appease and be worthy of them both.

"You gave me this doll, and here I am, showing it my soul." He clung it to his chest a final time, the last comfort needed before his vileness could take place. Sometimes expression or explanation, if there was even a difference between the two, was needed before committing such acts. To be understood for terribleness.

Sometimes being misunderstood, regardless of pain or crime, is the worst of them all.

"I really do love you, Rarity," Spike said, never knowing, the subconscious moving of the doll. Its small and plush arms reached around his sides, barely able to cross over them, but hugging back the same. The situation reversed, but their love, done precisely the same. "And if you ever found out what I'm going to do to his doll, you'd think of me as the biggest creep of them all."

He lowered the doll back onto the plane of his chest, coming to lean forward again, kissing the toy on the lips. They were soft and sunk from his mounting pressure. But he needed it. To express and drain this love from his veins. His eyes closed as if that hid the shame, better allowing him to enact what had started building inside.

His claws reached over the sides of her body, cupping her barrel in-between his palm, still as careful if it were the real thing. His body wiggled to the sensation that raged through him. Belly tensing and hips shifting. Writhing in joy damning stillness.

Spike pulled back, panting his every breath, a set of cute fangs that tugged his lower lip. His spines became dishevelled as his chest rose and dipped, his head bobbing the same. There was so much burning alive within him, fuelled from the doll's sensations. But there was so little of it. He craved so much more of exactly that.

"I-Is this... is this how you feel, Rarity?" Spike asked with a draped tongue, allowing his claws to press in and out on her barrel, sandwiching into a squeeze before letting it free. Doing it again and again, repeatedly. It built into a rhythm, each grip, digits rolling over before clamping inward, the kneading beyond appeasing. "Being so worked up by something so little? Just wanting more of exactly that... and nothing else?"

Could it be true and simple? This was Rarity's feelings for him? Loving the package he came, every inch and each scale; her desire only more of it? Spike wiggled at the passion, the curl of his claw sliding further. Softness transitioned into firmness. The kind of broadness only mares like Rarity had.

How did she manage to get the ass on the doll so plump and malleable? The tiny tush welled beneath his digits, sinking into marshmallow as billowed into him, rising on the sides—tingling his spine. It felt so good, a little too real. He worked at it.

How he worked at it.

Rarity struggled to hold the moans growling in her throat, to not yip and yell from the nips ascending her body. She guessed the rise of the tail a mere fluke. Worries of the night not warming up, however, ceased on feeling the kisses across her body.

She laid propped on a mountain of pillows, coming to pant like her lover, tongue dolled between her lips. It was an unsavoury look of a lady. Sometimes, however, in breaking the moulds we so tightly keep is where the greatest gushing of pleasure is released.

Rarity continued to exhale little fogs of steam as her brilliant eyes cast down on her chest. From there, she saw the visuals joining the actions. Circles on her coat, held and pressed down, patches dampening from a kiss. This force carried upward, spots covered by nothing, left somehow with love.

What a dirty slut she was. Those were the words she never dared to speak to the world, of others nor herself... except in times like these. How she rolled side to side when his claws wrapped around her barrel, his palm squeezing her sides, those digits covering lanes across her belly, broad lines of flattened fur.

Every squeeze evoked a gasp. Rolling her head back, she released them freely, enjoying the treatment of a doll. That's what she was to him, right? Nothing more than a toy to be played with. The curves and femininity of her body rendered into playthings for his claws. She delighted in his digits stroking across her back, tip and tap and tip, drawing circles in her expanse.

Until something caught her ass.

Rarity gasped and squealed and muttered his name behind bitten lips. Rocking her hips in need, she begged to be pleased. Finally having those delicious claws follow the thick curves of her flanks, cupping their softness into his palm, allowing them to squish from tightening his grip.

Not all mares were sensitive when it came to the derriere. But Rarity was a different animal entirely. Once more, her hind legs arched her bottom into the air, allowing her flanks to drop ever slightly—before cupped in the air from the force. Spikey's claws were wrapped around the supple cheeks of the doll, holding and cupping, rolling over the fatness with the strokes of his digits.

The dirty little boy that was locked inside his room, hiding from the world much like her, playing with a doll gifted only to be cuddled. He was touching and kneading and squeezing it. Grabbing the ass of a plushie, rolling it between digits, pressing into its softness, feeling the plushness fill out into the gaps in-between.

He certainly knows how to play with a girl’s bottom, don't you, Spikey? Stroking the rump of a doll not knowing you're playing with my naughty butt. Do you like it? How soft and squishy and easy to move it is? Couldn't you imagine your cock snug between the snowy valley between them?

Now that was another idea getting her off. One of her hooves was searching over her belly, careful to stroke the places where Spike's claws no longer were. His words lingered in the ear. The sweetest and most painful ones she'd ever heard. Tonight would be as much for her as it would be for him.

She would finally fuck him the way he deserved.

But what shame was there in taking pleasure to the expert massage being done to her ass? To the digits sinking into her plushness and wiggling around, evoking the jiggling of her fatness, allowing the globes to wobble in the air? Sometimes they clapped together, a delicate smack of deliciousness to the ears. Fuck she had a fat ass. One she didn't know how badly she needed to be played with.

With her hindquarters still propped into the air, the mare rolled lowered herself from the stack of pillows. Once her head rested against the bottom one, she moved on its surface, getting a view from in-between her legs. Those flanks were still being played with, a sudden assault of sensations occurring.

The giant and invisible claw rested on her rump, its digits draped over her cheeks, sinking naturally into their surface. Then swinging and tapping. The bored tapping of fingers against a table while enduring boredom. Each strike was soft and quick and sinking into her tush far deeper than they should. The repeating and building pressure was intense, while the wobbles of her flanks firmly swung into each other.

Until one of the digits reached too much inward, sinking into the crevice between the cheeks, the divot clenching upon the intrusion. Rarity smacked her bottom into the bed, thumping it so again and again, riding the feeling of a slender pillar wedged deeply into the crack of her rump, clenched and held into that lane, suckling on its feeling.

How must have it felt to Spike? For the flanks of the doll to react as though on a real mare? She'd been sure the sensations would feel the same, so his arousal was certain. But to cover her body with ease. His digit had swiped into the cleft of her rump, caught by its soft walls, the muscles beneath her flanks keeping firm. His claw tried wiggling out, but each smack of her ass onto the bed locked her flanks tighter together.

Oh you keep that digit right where it belongs and you do not allow for it to leave! Rarity was still thumping her ass against the bed, the other digits draped over her flanks, both of them sunk into as they gushed as much as they could on the sides. He was pressing against them to free his finger from the soft hold of her clinging crevice. Keep wiggling it around! Try escaping the hug of my rump! It feels soooooo good, Spike. Better than you can imagine.

That was until change. Slamming her bottom into the sheets a final time, the mare laid back in sweat, panting, head forced to roll in the same place. There was still a claw wrapped around her barrel, evident from how squeezed in her sides would, causing her softness to be gushing in the space it could. With a delicious pop, the digits escaping the hugging walls of her rear, her flanks wobbling as it pulled out from in-between them.

The mare enjoyed her respite for a few seconds more, her rump teased with the pleasure it'd been craving. There was still the taste for more. To have it cupped and squeezed into oblivion. To be held up and pushed down on it. But half of the fun was not knowing what came next. Her Spikey was having his blind fun across town, enacting pleasures to himself, unaware each one affected her.

But that made it all the better as a result.

That was until something warm, long, hard and throbbing settled on her tummy. Rearing her head into the air, the mare gazed down at her stomach, seeing it sink into the squish of her tummy.

The feeling of a cock, thick and wide, aching and throbbing, across her belly and chest, pinning it down. Spike the dragon, that little guy who owned her body and heart, was pinning her body down, the bed creaking from the weight, with his dick alone.

Rarity had never squealed so loud in her life, much less wrapping her hooves around the hunk of cock, feeling its faint outline, the whole of her barrel and the length of her forelegs to capture its girth, its surface heated like cement warmed by sunlight.

What did that mean on the other side? Had the dragon enough playing with the doll's ass and was now fully erect? What postion was he in? Did he lie on his back and hold the toy over his growing dick, pinning down its underside, it sandwiched between her and his belly?

Or had he entirely lost himself to lust? Letting the doll rest on the best as he crawled over it, his cock throbbing in the air upon hovering over her. Did he then drop himself onto her splayed underside, spreading his thighs and lowering his back, entering an arch, all to pin his dick onto the doll?

There was only one certainty.

The sensation was divine regardless of his position.

Part III | The Use of You

~ Part III ~

The Use of You

Spike had noticed something off about the toy, a sensation born from earlier, daring his digits to the snowy plumpness once more. They welled against him, wobbling as he split her narrow valley—revealing the wetness within.

He swallowed at the sight and leaned back, unable to think, the throbbing of his exposed member cold against the air. He was burning, the softness of plush furs running across his length. It wasn't enough to please him, but holding the bottom of her barrel against the underside of his shaft—the tip of his prick poking at her chin—rendered him in a state he was unable to leave.

Rarity had made this doll herself. Its form composed and detailed from her hooves. This would be their way of braving the long days foreign of the other. But now? This doll allowed them to hug, together, even alone. The need for sensual stimulus—touching hooves and wrapped arms and hugs deepening into nightly snuggles—was quelled by the doll.

And when he needed to fuck?

Rarity had given him the closest thing of her—beyond jerking off—to help. Long had been the days of the internal debate, chances of him finding a mare very slim, the wrapping of talons around tender meat not bringing him the high he hoped to achieve.

But the rule of thumb is buying a fleshlight is announcing the quitting of attaining access between a mare's legs. This does not apply in reverse. But there is one caveat to this fact. If a mare gives a stallion—or dragon—a fleshlight to use for if she's not around.

Then that is perfectly okay by society.

Spike, for his part, was panting. Daring to bring a digit to the dock of her tail, he pressed back on it, the whole lifting, his thumbs having parted the supple cheeks. Within the divot was Rarity's pussy, not big... but enough for his total length.

"And you want a measurement of my dick WHY again?"

"Darling! Such language! A lady may endure the slang of 'cock' during the times of unladiness—but never such a word as that!" An easily read lie from the height of her voice to the hollow need to swing her hoof. Anything to aid acquiring her desires. "Studying your member is required for crafting not only outfits for yourself, but THINK of all the designs I can make for your kind!"

“Right. Let me guess. I have to be hard?"

“Quite certainly.”

"And for what purpose does an outfit rely on the hardness of a dragon."

"Hush! Or else I will be forced to cast a pin at you." She shook her head and tried her approach again. "Surely we have reached the point in which our privacies aren't private to one another."

"It's not exactly that I'm worried about."

The mare smiled as comforting as she could. "I hope you know a lady never shames her love for reasons such as those. I love you. Nothing in the world can make me feel differently about that. But.. there's something about this you've yet to consider."

“That is?”

"How I plan to get you hard."

Maybe it was blinking in from the past, all of this devised from the mare who loved him, regardless of anything physical that he lost his shame. This doll was made to pleasure himself with. It's smell and sensation made sure of that. And if that's Rarity's desire of him... he would forgo is woe.

From the four hooves of cotton resting on his belly, his claws set on its tush alone, facing him, pulling the weighty flanks apart... the pussy within gaped outward. Covered in white fuzz and as supple as the real thing, no clit popped out. Only the pocket leading inward to blackness.

He didn't feel the need to investigate beyond that.

Rather he posed a digit into its opening, feeling the bulging lips spread from his mass, stretching to accompany the figures. It flexed rather easily. He swirled the talon around, pushing out the sides of the vulva he came around, circling in deeper. He'd played with pussy before. But one was always self-conscious with a mare on the line.

His claws had been the saving grace of their relationship. Being able to knead her flanks and massage her cunt with his delicate touches. She'd scream and squirm and sometimes back her ass into his face, pinning him, ensuring his claws never left the depths of her pussy.

Another time had been eating her out. Spike's tongue went to where it felt right, judging how the white hooves flicked around him. Rarity would be in the distance, looming almost, panting into the air. She loved pinning his body, dropping herself or using her rump to get what she wanted. He didn't mind the dynamic.

Even though both of them craved for it to change, sometimes, every now and again.

Spike then dipped his digit into the depths of the plushie—fighting the illusion of the doll subtly arching back its head—and shivered in response. It clenched! Miniature walls pinning around his talon, undulating into it, suckling and clenching, urging it within from its movement. Heat licked across him with the doll's slickness.

Just how much effort did she put into a toy?

Spike didn't know what he was doing, only his horny and hardness, letting his claws go free. He'd been thirsty. His sweaty little face craving something since the starting of the contact. One of his claws clenched around the dock of the doll's tail, yanking it from his belly. Not enough to pull a hair but to demonstrate strength.

His other claw reached between his legs, digits tapping across the slender hardness, reaching the lightly-red spire different from the rest. He gripped his cock, not hard at all, just enough to feel some force. Lightly he pumped himself. Little titillation to keep him in check.

Until bringing the hindquarters of the doll over his mouth. He let it rest there, the doughy flanks resting on his lips. He narrowed them in the cervices between, feeling the heated surface of the pussy. How could it be so hot and wet and soft and not be the real thing? It drugged him as it did on days when Rarity's musk beckoned him back to the bedroom after breaking for a glass of water.

Spike moaned on feeling her lips settle upon his own. Warm on the surface like cookies out from the oven. Pressing into them released more of the same heat. Suckling on the spot, easily taken between his lips... it made him crave to do half of this to the mare this was based upon.

While he worked at the entrance—squirts of warmed honey were his reward—his tongue slithered to its opening. It didn't make sense to please a doll. But the idea of shoving his cock inside, without any showering of love, felt disrespectful to the mare of its inspiration.

The taste should have been disgusting. Far from the truth. Spike's tongue unfurled inside, spreading the walls to adjust for his size, all of this for a tongue. Rarity wasn't a loose mare in the slightest. But given the size of Spike, it was still roomy for them both, pleasure gained—but never at their craved heights.

But there was delight in shoving his tongue into her cunt, feeling the walls within forced to spread, clamping and clenching around him, needing something thick and with girth. The undulation within was scary due to its realism. But licking around, flicking at the places familiar in memory, gushed streams of cream from the pony.

Spike kept pumping his cock as he ate out the pussy of a toy, squeezing his base harder as her walls did the same. Sometimes he stroked himself, up and down and around, teasing into higher need for release. He'd never ached so much, throbbed so hard, put deadly on edge.

And unlike the mare who could suck and fuck and a million ways of getting him off.

Now he had a tight little pussy to demolish with his throbbing cock.

Rarity was going to leave marks across her foreleg from biting her wrist, deepening her teeth every few seconds, thumping her derriere forward and back like a slut out of luck. Going with the pulling of her dock, she rolled onto her front, sticking out her rump, feeling her tail arch into the air.

Shame would creep in a rising blush if someone were to open her door. Someone barging in, the frequent charging of Sweetie Belle. Her heavy ass stuck high from an invisible force holding it up—nearly lifting her hind legs from the bed—with her flanks spread far apart, revealing the pussy nestled in-between.

Her mounds, a creamy white, delicious to the eye as if demanding to be licked. The pinkness of her clit was a hot contrast to the rest. Within her slit, those lips were pulled aside by thick digits. She squirmed with a moan. It'd been a while the last Rarity whimpered in bed.

And then she felt it. That single-digit penetrating her depths, filling her pussy and spreading her tightness. Clenching down on Spike milked the pleasure of his hardness, fighting to keep him within. Every undulation a shiver throughout her frame. Rarity needed to be fucked.

Until his tongue came. Long and vast and massive and plowing inside Rarity's cave. Reaching deeper than hooves and rubbing greater than toys, it flicked in all the sensitive places, earning a kick from a leg and a flick of an ear. Her body was spasming, rocking in place, screaming into her hoof in having her pussy explore from an absent tongue.

Her little Spikey, across town at this very hour, eating out a toy. He was probably touching himself. Always did whenever he went. She snaked a hoof across her belly, feeling it sink and rise, gracing over her clit. This was what she left for herself.

Rarity tugged her bottom lip inward, biting. Her hoof drew circles in the fluff of her belly, warming the sensitive skin. She always liked to tease herself. Now with the dragon searching her pussy for the golden grail, she could enjoy herself, gasping as the edge of her hoof brushed against that wonderful ball.

She stroked herself silly in waiting.

Spike had never felt more awkward in his life, but since he lived an awkward life, felt this par for the course. He sat on his knees with the plushie beneath him, the mass of his cock hovering over its frame. His claws pressed on the bedding to its sides, the creeks of springs taking his weight.

This would be a new experience for sure.

He slapped his cock onto the back of the mare. Slowly drawing himself back, there was enjoyment in seeing her sink—even if only slightly—from the weight. That was until his underside decided the curve of her flanks, his member sliding in-between, hugged from warmed-marshmallows.

They even pinched his dick with their softness.

He kept going down until his tip caught on something. His head squeezed between the mounds and sunk into her slit. Tight. Clenched fists had nothing on this. Warm air petered from her snatch. Bearing his heavyweight, its slickness coated him in her juices. Just a few inches more. Then he would be sucked and hugged and clenched upon from utter softness warmly baked.

And that's precisely what he did.

Wrapping his claws on the sides of the plushie's barrel, the dragon slid himself inside, weakly moaning as he did so—stifling rolling his eyes. They blinked, one fluttering in a close. Spike's expression had never looked so drunk on pleasure before in his life.

He could feel the insides of the doll spreading, ever slowly, to accompany his girth. Parts of him worried about the doll tearing from his entry. It'd been the reason for the slowness to begin with. But those heated walls broadened before him. The fatness of his cock pushing out the walls, forcing them further all to adjust for him.

It got him off. It really did. To finally be the one too big for her. He continued forward and forward until his thighs and crotch met the mare's backside. Upon bottoming in, he rolled his head around in glee. The tightness of the pussy around his dick was hugging heat and softness over his hardness. Undulating and massaging over every inch and each iota of skin. The tingly sensations flicked his hip, again and again, building into a rhythm.

The rhythm of sex.

Spike kept his claws wrapped on the doll on pulling out, waiting a few seconds, appreciating how the pussy sucked on his tip in a vice-grip to draw him back in. To surprise the doll, he did exactly that. Pushing and shoving himself inside, the cushioning of the padded ass welling across and against his crotch.

Another moan to another clench around his cock.

Hitting a plushie from behind should have brought him shame, but it did nothing of the sort, allowing a rhythm of thrusts that built into the passion of sex. The plushie leaned forward and back to the force of his movements and her insides enduring the momentum of his cock. Tight on entering, squeezed on bottoming-in, clenched to prevent him from leaving.

Spike couldn't help but lean himself forward into an arc, allowing furious thrust into a doll like a dog in heat. He humped and fucked, squeezing the sides of the plushie, shoving his cock, in and out, speeds quicker than ever possible in reality.

The aching killed. It billowed inside his hardness, expanding, little scratches from inside begging to get out. How much longer could he repress it? His penis throbbing and growing and massages by wet and heated and sloppy softness wrapped and hugging and squeezing around him.

He fell forward. Smothering the doll underneath the weight of his body, it'd been a dream of them both. The mare craved to be pinned and smothered by the weight of a hunk, every inch of her delightfully pushed down upon. Only freedom came from her rear—fucked-in by gigantic hips and a fat cock forcing her cunt to stretch to its limit. Every nerve, pressed and rubbed and stroked, hardness pounding harder, dishing her tongue to fly out from her mouth.

His chin fell over the muzzle of the doll, its softness now compressed beneath his chest, its hips struck up as he plowed himself inside. He'd never felt more like a reptile before in his life. Humping and fucking and rolling his head. Never had he seen such growth from his hips; everything else was still as to grant it greater power.

As the pleasure grew, the dragon's tongue lolled out from his mouth, resting like a carpet on the bed. It was lazy against his chin, and his eyes searching the ceiling yet looking for nothing. He was close to cumming. Cock blotted in repressed arousal as to explode in a beautiful assortment of differently feeling pleasures.

Wanting to be special, he changed tactics, flopping onto his back without a missed thrust. Legs spread, the doll rested on his crotch, its expression different. The buttons for eyes seemed bigger with a tinge of wet fur beneath them. Despite a proper face, it felt happy, looking at him, lovingly.

Rarity had been waiting for the day of having her pussy filled with the fattest cock of them all. Not like the stallions beefy and identical. What she craved was that of a dragon, slender and tapering, enough girth aided by form to do her over.

There was something special about dragon cocks she couldn't get over. Despite lacking the size and scale of a stallion, they were developed with bumps and ridges to enhance pleasure. Frills soft and long and silky sprouted from the sides, an added tickle to the forces, itching in the crevices. The bumps at the top allowed for a different feeling upon every thrust; the ridges on the bottom were rubber scratching in all the right spots.

Catching her look in the mirror revealed a foolish reflection. Her body was splayed over the bed, four limbs pulled and pinned in four directions, the softness of her frame compressing into a squished marshmallow. Everything about her was flattened and matted. Her plush cheeks, kneaded and squeezed from gigantic claws—now pinned and smothered, completely, from enormous hips she could not see.

But that didn't stop the mare from being used as a mere toy. That would still happen without a doubt. But an invisible cock wasn't going to fuck her like a slut without her returning some of the favours. She flicked herself back, during each thrust, the massive force sliding quicker inside of her.

There was a jolt to her body, one raising her inches, that was, before the force atop kept her down. Delightful was the fight in needing to squirm from the cock fucking her, rising only for the span of his body, keeping her pinned, forcing her to writhe in pleasure.

Fucked and slammed into. Perhaps being a toy had its rewards? Every completion jolted her body, forward and back, lax strands of mane scattered over the place. Draped over her neck and settled across the bed.

Until it changed.

The pressure lifted and she did the same, suddenly brought to sitting, feeling a mass within. Gazing across the white forest of her chest, her belly bulged, ever so slightly, with the outline of him. The invisible rendered visible as the two joined together.

There was a moral in that, somewhere.

After all he's done, I suppose the same will be repaid.

Rarity giggled while covering her mouth with a hoof. This had been done before to mutual failure. Pleasing her never worked except in the ways surrounding the sex itself. Pleasuring him was just as hard. Even allowing the heavy weight of her flanks to nestle on his crotch, her pussy devouring his cock while her folds rested upon him—the space, due to the difference of size, rendering it hard for either to feel a thing.

But now? She could barely lowered herself on him. There was still the feeling of her flanks flatted over the firm grounding between his thighs. Her little dragon was lying on his back, his claws clasped over her sides, held like a doll.

Rarity didn't mind this at all, rocking her hips forward and back, milking the mass inside her snatch. Rolling to feel it around, how those frills covered the sides of her walls, flicking, every now again—to the release of a whimper.

No matter what happened, she would take it, the ridges and the bumps, squeezing and tingeing around that which was spreading her full. Never had she been fucked so hard before. And she'd been craving it longer than she knew.

Spike was fighting to cease from finishing. Lying on his back with his claws holding the doll, he raised and dropped it, a constant pump that squeezed him hard, his dick expanding constricted from the tight places. It spasmed, needing release, and the height of the symphony was to begin.

The dragon's head rolled over the expanse of the pillow, one side to another, the fabric shuffling beneath his scales. It was hard to not choke and moan and growl out a name belonging to one alone. Teeth grinding and lips pressing. Release was near.

From over the field of his chest, the doll loomed over his crotch, feeling as though moving on its own. Little flicks to give him a taste of the need switch for more. The building of goodness built to the extreme, the pain pleasured at its climax, his full and bulged cock expanded to its limits. He ached and ached and the valve, blocking, slid out of the way.

Spike thrust into her entrance during every drop, feeling his ass rise and drop, thumping onto the bed, the base of his tail stuck beneath his weight. It wiggled and moved every time, finding a place to escape to. It thumped and slithered across the bed like a wild and panicking snake. That was until everything came to an end.

In the final and most laborious thrust up and into the doll, he slammed it down into him, splaying its legs over his crotch, the valley of her thighs pleasant to his eyes. He squeezed the toy as the burning arousal billowed inside his cock, racing outward, the volcano releasing its flames.

Spike wiggled his head back as his legs slid forward and pulled back, again and again, as his dick clenched before its spurts. Ropes of creamy strands, freckled with delicious dots, came in spurts inside the tightness of the doll. Every inch of the clenched wall lathered in the smooth and burning texture. He was hot, burning even. His cock singed the walls into a spicy heat in which they spasmed to.

Having arched his chest forward from the final spurt of milky delight, he held for the pleasure awash in his mind. Coursing and soothing down his limbs, muscles becoming relaxed, soreness quelled from temperature. He dropped back, dead—but pleasantly so.

From his panting and sweating face, the heavy eyelids started to drop, fluttering up with a fatal will. He smiled through his breathing, even in the haze of bliss, his focus was on the doll. It made him happy. Close to the mare far away. Could things ever be this way in reality?

At least he'd his fantasy.

But the doll kept impaled on the pillar of his cock, one sinking in inches to the passing seconds, freeing her from its massive size. Once it was mostly retracted, the doll's hooves stepped forward, shakily, stumbling on every step. There was a shudder to its hips as there was dripping from its behind.

The doll carried itself across the landscape of a dragon, now rendered into its proper size, not because of a change to him but because of her. It teased the plushie to be rendered like this for him. Reaching the cliff of the mountainous face, fast in slumber, now deeply peaceful.

Rarity laid a kiss upon the sprawling lips, indulging in how they covered her face, like those times she did the same to him. Once done, she beat a few steps backward. The rising and expanding surface of his chest was warm and smooth and hard, better than her bed. Curling herself together, she closed her eyes, aided to sleep by the gigantic breathing of the one she loved most of all.

Love isn't always acceptance.

Love is creating the means, for those in the engagement, to meet in the middle.

Epilogue | The Truth is My Love for Only You

~ Epilogue ~

The Truth is My Love for Only You

"Guess this is the part where I'm supposed to say goodbye and stuff."

"Indeed it is." Rarity dipped her head. "I must admit: I hate it. You always say it with a certain and genuine sadness none else can match." Her muzzle lowered to his face, both inches apart, eyes lost into the worlds of the other. "It feels terribly cheap each time I say it, but I love you, Spikey. Deeply and truly."

"I know you mean it."

"I mean it... but rarely do I prove it, do I?"

"Course you... I... I dunno..."

The two stood on the wooden expanse of the platform, a hut and station behind their sides. Chimes echoed from afar, the moments between shorter as the sounds were louder, a coming they both disliked.

"Spike... there is something a lady must confess. Tis not something one speaks of in a public setting, but—" Her head searched around to the whips of her lilac swirls "—I very much doubt we'd be heard right now." Her muzzle reached into the air again, looking down at him, the natural setting of their conversations. "That doll that was to be your gift. Surely, you've uncovered its secret?"

"...little sooner than I would have liked."

"Boys." Rarity swept a foreleg over his shoulders and pulled him close, upon sitting down, against the front of her barrel. As much as she enjoyed being pinned by him—having her softness hug and wash over his little body was the height of her greatest pleasure. "The good ones are always ashamed for the oftenness of their horniness. If only you knew of how hot a girl becomes on a daily basis... or perhaps you know that already."

His cute face rubbed upward on her chest, looking up from below, his cheeks consumed from sprouting white fluff. There were days she wished to be his blanket. In having him covered by her furs and fluffs and that kind of stuff. "W-What do you mean, Rarity?"

"There was another tale to that doll I was hoping to keep from your pretty frills, for a month or maybe a year—but it's breaking me inside to not confess the truth about it." She laid her chin on the top of his head, stroking its back as if making everything okay again. "The truth is that doll is connected to me. Magical infusion. It replicated the feeling of me to a 'T' as they like to say. What you did to it... affect me nearly the same."

Spike coughed as a warm blush washed over his face like a wave. "S-So... when I..."

"When you did a lot of wonderful things to that doll? Yes." She nodded to the forward and back rubbing of her chin against and across his scales. "Everything you did, I felt, now magnified. It was delightful and the mental pictures of you during the acts were stunning enough for me to finish more than once. But... there is a shame attached to that, I suppose."

Quick click. "I was bigger."

"Indeed you were." Rarity sighed and hugged him, every inch of them, pressed together, tightly. She absorbed his shudders from her statement. The hug wasn't to comfort him but to assuage her shame as well. Those volatile bodily reactions struggling to be maintained. "I came to learn a lesson recently. One that is the truth. Will you listen to it?"

"... there's nothing you can do that'll stop me from listening to you."

A kiss to his scalp. "You're the sweetest thing alive, and it's not from all the candy." She nuzzled and laid her cheek upon the spot, needing the comfort, the feeling of him. "Never allow anyone to say any differently. To them! A pebble I shall cast."

Spike giggled. "I like it when you talk funny."

"It's been a strange week, my love, a bizarre one indeed." She exhaled the weight of her dread and, in its place, the courage to speak the truth grew and grew. "Let it be known that I love you small. Holding and hugging you like this. This size difference between us is rather enjoyable."

She heard him exhale to a giggle of her own.

"But there has also been a craving in me... more as a mare than a lady to have something more. Not all the time, but sometimes, to be... pleased as I was that night." She stroked his head to be safe, feeling no shivers—glad for it. "I never want to lose you, my darling. Craving for someone bigger than you will never be the case. But I don't think I can ever suppress that need for bigger... can you forgive a mare for that?"

"I would have let you see someone else than hold you back."

"That... that statement means more to me... than you could know." Rarity choked on her bitter-sweetness for a few seconds longer. "But there is not another, regardless of form, I genuinely desire. Only for you to sometimes be bigger. Not because I want it all the time... because teasing and playing with you now is a delight I never expected myself to so much like."

Another chuckle of comfort from him.

"That's why... until the day you become bigger, I never want you to change, and I never want another to intrude upon our love. Lust matters as much as love even though its length is not the same. Surely you desire a smaller body to fill at times."

Another moment of silence. "L-Last night... was enjoyable. Really good."

"You want it... sometimes, but not all the time?"

He nodded into her coat. "Y-Yeah, actually. Being able to have that kind of fun is, well, fun. But I'd miss all those times you sat on my face."

Rarity cackled—it didn't happen often. "S-Spikey! Such vernacular! Were your words not so heart-warming and true, I might have been tempted to smack you!"

"So long as I could smack your butt afterward."

Talking like this was something she craved, not in public, of course, and not always. But dipping into this side of her, the twenty-percent of a relationship. It filled her differently. Or perhaps a different part of her? "Perhaps if you get on the train with me, both of your wishes will be fulfilled. In a private cart, perhaps?"

"W-What do you—"

"The doll, my Spikey." Rarity nuzzled him a final time before pulling away, rumbles vibrating the ground. In the curve behind rode in the train, billowing smoke out from its front, the crowd of ponies amassing to the sides. "It's not often we desire you to be the big one. But in using it, those times are fixed. Though perhaps dominating a fleshlight is rarely the height of masculinity, hmm?"

Spike laughed upon closing the distance between them, kissing her chest, for it was the height thing he could reach. Her muzzle above tilted, a loving expression upon it. She rubbed the back of his head. "So long as I can make both of us happy... I don't care what it means to be the usual male."

He pulled back with a chuckle. "But I've never been the usual anything in my life, have I?"

Rarity giggled. "We've never been usual in anything. Isn't that what you meant to say?"

She leaned down to kiss him, one deepened by the chiming of the train, beckoning them, side by side, to enter it together. None cared for how they appeared nor how they were perceived. Having the other was all that mattered in the absurdity of their lives.