"Hey, mom."
Cloudy Skies took a deep breath as she closed the door behind her. Their apartment smelled of booze already. Mom had been drinking--heavily--as long as Cloudy could remember; and every night, it smelled like this. Worse, some nights it smelled like stallion sweat too.
"Honey..." Mom looked especially drunk tonight; her soft pink fur was streaked with mascara stains and salt. "They laid me off," she whimpered. "They don't need me anymore. Nopony needs me anymore. I--I don't know how we're gonna pay the bills."
Cloudy knew how they'd pay the bills. She knew what her mom had been doing, on and off again, for spare beer money. Her mom was an older mare, but she was still good-looking, and Cloudy wasn't stupid enough to believe every stud who came in here was a 'coltfriend'.
Cloudy knew exactly how that business worked. Well, enough to get started, anyway.
When her mom had finally dozed off--in a pile of beer bottles--Cloudy slipped off to her room, carefully opened the window, and climbed out. She didn't want to open the front door, primarily because Mom had gone and slept on the couch again, and she didn't want to answer any awkward questions. She wasn't quite sure how to get a stud's attention, but--well, it couldn't be that hard. She'd just stand outside a bar, and watch, and wait for some jerk to stare at her ass. Preferably some drunk bastard who still had bits in his bags.
And so she waited--just outside the Prancing Pony, a bar that had opened a little while after the Elements saved the town. It was some kinda franchise location. Hope Hollow might have a lot of grown stallions and mares, all thirsty and bored, but it still wasn't important enough to have a real tavern--just the cheap imitation, just like the cheap imitation beers and the cheap imitation hay and the cheap imitation blanket in her cheap imitation room. Maybe the stud will invite her to his place, and then she'll get to lay on a blanket that was made from real fucking fabric, even if only for ten minutes or so.
She had positioned her body just so--her forelegs pointed down the alley, her hindquarters almost but not quite presented to the street. Her coat was light enough that it stood out like a spotlight in the dark, and she had used the bow her mom had bought her to tie her tail near the base--she had seen some mares wearing ribbons that way, to make their tails hang higher.
An hour passed, then two. Or maybe it just felt like that. Nobody was coming out of the bar yet. Did she pick a bad time? Maybe the bar was closed. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe all the hookers in town set things up by phone, or by mail, or something. She had heard the term 'mail-order bride' once, and she wondered if that was just a euphemism for a prostitute.
It was at this point that it finally sank in: tonight, she was a prostitute. Not just a prostitute, but an underage one. It is, perhaps, a mercy that the first client showed up before she could really think about what that meant.
She could tell right away that he was interested. He was staring--openly. Hungrily. His steps were unsteady; he shuffled back and forth like a ship settling into dock. She prayed under her breath that he wasn't gonna be seasick in the middle of the act. Luna's the right princess to pray to for this line of work, right? Maybe Cadance...no, that's too charitable. There's no love in this job.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey yourself."
Fuck it, she thought to herself. Might as well get to the point. "Two hundred."
"Shit, two hundred? You're crazy."
"Yeah? You know what you're looking at." She hesitated, for a moment. "...I'm a virgin."
He cocked his head--stumbling for a moment--he must've had some strong drinks. "...One seventy-five, and it's a deal."
She scowled. 175 was just short of enough, but maybe she could get a second client. Where did she learn to think of them as clients? "Fine. Where you wanna do it?"
"Nopony else in the alley, right?" He stepped closer. She could smell the liquor on his breath--and orange juice, too. Maybe a mixed drink, or something. It reminded her of mom--and of the stallions she brought home.
"Aight." She trotted a little ways into the alley, just far enough that they could step behind a dumpster and stay hidden. He sat against the wall, spreading his hindlegs--and displaying his package. The drink had left him semi-stiff. "You want me to...?"
He nodded, and she leaned toward it, sniffing. It smelled like sweat, and the scent made her breath stop in her throat--and it reminded her, again, of the stallions Mom had brought home--of the noises they made when they thought little Cloudy had already gone off to bed. She felt something dripping down her hindlegs. "Fuck," she muttered.
"Big enough for ya?" he said, grinning stupidly. She swallowed a few choice insults, and gave it a lick. It tasted just as salty and musky as it smelled--it made her head spin. It was a heady flavor, thick and impossible to ignore. His length twitched a little, growing just a bit larger.
She started to experiment--running her tongue along the length of it, then around the tip. The tip turned out to be a good choice--he was getting nice and hard, maybe even too hard. She couldn't imagine how that much dick could fit into her.
"All right," she muttered. And then she remembered--she hadn't gotten the money yet. She remembered the one time Mom had forgotten to ask for money upfront--she had heard the argument through two closed doors. "Pay up. 100 now, the rest when we're done."
He grumbled, and she flinched--and then his hoof reached into his saddlebags and tugged out a pair of 50-bit notes. She cursed under her breath again--she hadn't brought her bags. He chuckled, and leaned over her--briefly pressing his package against her face--tucking the money into her tail ribbon, like she was some kind of stripper.
"Turn around, cutie."
She nodded, and shuffled around under him--gasping softly as she felt him press against her rump. Images flashed in her head, unwanted and unwarranted--vague memories of walking in on her mom and some stranger. Was this how they did it?
Her thoughts were yanked off the rails by a sudden prodding at her tailhole. "Wha--not there! I just told you I'm a virgin, jackass!"
"...wait, so you don't want me to do anal?"
"No! What the fuck, dude."
"Well, if you insist..."
"I insist that you pull out," she said, as he adjusted--pressing his tip against her fillyhood. "Asshole." She bit her lip.
He grunted--and started sliding in. She winced. "Hey--take it slow!"
"I'm fuckin' paying for you, aren't I?" he growled, as he wrapped his forelegs over her shoulders and tugged her back. She cried out--he was too big, she's gonna split in half--her legs shook as he sank inch after inch into her. Her hoof couldn't possibly go this deep. Maybe that was a good thing.
On second thought, though--as he finally bottomed out in her, as her body shook around him, as he drew back out for the second thrust--once she got past the way he stretched her out, she could almost enjoy it. He groaned as he sank into her again--and it went far easier the second time. She bit off a moan.
"There you go, slut." He nipped at her ear--she squeaked, and when the third thrust came, she wasn't ready for it. She moaned. "That's what I thought. You're learning pretty quick for a virgin."
She bit down on her lip until she could almost taste blood. He was moving faster, now--she tried to count the thrusts, but it was pointless. She tried to shut his voice out of her head, but he had already pinned her thoughts to the wall--slut. Was she a slut now? What did that even mean? Why did it make her heart thump in her chest, just like it did when one of mom's coltfriends asked--
"Wanna join in?"
Cloudy's heart was thudding in her chest. She could see her mom, lying on the bed, her hindlegs in the air--still panting, barely even aware of what the stallion had just said. She could see him, too--one of the tallest studs Cloudy had ever seen. She could see the muscles in his forelegs, tensing and relaxing as he breathed, and his cock was hanging at just about her eye level. It was swinging gently, still dripping.
"I--I--" She stepped back, swallowing. "I'll come back later!" she shouted, slamming the door in his face and galloping back down the hall.
She careened into the bathroom, panting softly. She had been trying to get Mom to come look at the toilet--it wasn't refilling, which wasn't the worst problem, but it was a problem that Cloudy didn't know how to solve on her own. More importantly, it was no longer the focus of Cloudy's attention.
"FUCK me!" Cloudy jumped as her mom's voice pierced the wall. She didn't realize the bathroom shared a wall with Mom's bedroom.
"You're damn right I'll fuck you," the stallion growled. Despite herself, Cloudy pressed her ear to the wall--morbidly curious.
"Oh, goddesses--"
"I'll fucking ruin you!"
She had heard enough, but they kept going. She turned on the sink, then the shower--and finally, their voices were drowned out by the water soaking into her fur.
So why couldn't she get it out of her head? Why did she still feel so dirty?
"He--he asked me to join in," she mumbled to herself. "I'm a--I'm a filly! And he wanted to--"
She glanced at the wall--the only thing standing between her and the bedroom. "To fuck me." She let the word roll around on her tongue. Mom had been very clear with her during The Talk. She had heard Mom having her flings before, sure, but it was always strictly something that happened after Cloudy had gone to bed.
"You're MINE!" The stallion's voice rose above the sound of the water, and Cloudy shivered. She tried to calm down--closed her eyes, and took deep breaths--but still, she saw it in her mind's eye:
His shaft, dripping wet, throbbing and veiny, swinging enticingly right in front of her.
Her hoof was between her legs before she knew what she was doing.
"Oh Goddesses, fuck me!" her mom screamed.
"Fuck me," she whispered, sinking to the shower floor.
"At least you know what you're good for, bitch!"
"I..."
"Pin me down!"
"Oh, fuck--" He could pin her down, couldn't he? He was strong enough--
"I'll pump you full of foals!"
"Oh, fuck--" He'll pump her full of foals. Pin her down, and fuck her--she squealed as her juices mixed with the water, as she pictured his seed--
Dripping down her thighs. Cloudy snapped out of her reverie, gasping softly. The stud on top of her groaned, pulling out of her with a wet pop. She felt sticky. Too goddess-damned sticky.
"Wha--I told you to pull out!" she screamed.
"Whoa--hey, easy, easy! Not my fuckin' problem."
"I'll make it your fucking problem, you son of a bitch! I'll call the cops--"
"Moon's crotchtits! Fine! Fuck!" He fumbled with his saddlebags, and pulled out a wallet, tossing it at her. "Take it! Just don't call the cops, for fuck's sake. I ain't goin' back."
She blinked slowly. As she counted the bills, he stumbled away. There must've been a solid 300 bits in there, not counting the 100 he had given her earlier. Lucky for him, though, there wasn't any ID.
Come to think of it, she couldn't quite remember what his face looked like. In fact, she hadn't really looked at his face at all. She had spent the whole thing trying not to look him in the eye...
Maybe it was for the best. If she recognized him later, it'd only be awkward for everyone involved. Besides, she got her bits and then some.
As she trotted out of the alley, looking for a discreet place to wash up, she tilted her head. The bells of the town's cathedral had started to toll, ringing ominously through the night.
"What the hell? Who's at the church at one in the morning?" she muttered, as she trotted out through the fog.
