Legitimate Uses for a Rarity Fleshlight

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.