Legitimate Uses for a Rarity 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.