Race Against the Cock

Twilight Sparkle didn't know why she was suddenly awake and alert. Mere seconds before, she'd been enjoying a deep and happy sleep, dreaming peacefully about nothing in particular, and then she was looking up at the ceiling of her bedroom, blinking in confusion. It was too dark for her to see the clock on her wall clearly, but she managed to make out that the hour hand was somewhere between midnight and one o'clock, something that a quick glance outside at the stars seemed to verify. Why was she awake, then, and not in the slightest sleepy?

It could've been a delayed reaction to the midnight chime of the Ponyville clock tower, she reasoned; perhaps she'd heard it, and had slowly woken up over the course of minutes, and was only now noticing? The hypothesis didn't satisfy her, and she tried to look at what else could've brought about her state. Maybe she'd heard a noise and been startled? But she didn't feel startled, just awake and ready. Ready for what, she wasn't sure, but she could easily get out of bed and start her day right now. As she pondered her situation a little longer, she realised that she wasn't just energised, but hot, her temperature rising ever so slightly as the minutes dragged by until it and its effects were undeniable.

Was she ill?

The mare sat up, resting the back of her hand against one cheek, and then the other. She was flushed, she could tell from the touch, and the gentle gnawing of agitation, a pent-up nervousness, was growing stronger in her. Sighing, the purple pony began making a list of the things she'd need to do - she'd have to distance herself from her friends, she'd need to bring a box of tissues to her bedside drawer, she'd need to ensure she was sufficiently stocked up on soup - before she realised that she felt damper than usual. Was she sweating? Did she have a fever? That was the last thing she needed.

But why wasn't she sweating all over? A fever didn't localise in the way she was currently experiencing. The only place she was sweating was between her legs, which meant...had she wet the bed? The princess' face glowed in awkward embarrassment, ashamed at such a prospect. She was the Princess of Friendship, the youngest alicorn in Equestria, and a public figure to the ponies of the land. She shouldn't - she couldn't - be regressing towards infancy! Lifting up the bedsheets, she dipped a hand down towards her crotch, her shame burning brighter as her fingertips brushed over her pajama bottoms and felt the wetness soaked through the fabric. Something wasn't right, though. It felt different, somehow, like she wasn't just wet, but hot. Far hotter than her face. Cautiously, she moved her hand under the waistband of her pajama bottoms, sliding down towards her privates.

The barest contact with her lower region pulled a gasp and a shudder from her, and she felt her muscles contract in response. She was right - it was far hotter down there than it should be! Moreover, the fur of her coat was slick with fluid, but it wasn't watery like she'd expected; it was slightly thicker, sticking to her digits as she brushed along. Confused, the mare ignited her horn and flicked on the lamp, throwing the room into brightness. Throwing away her blankets, she pulled her pajama bottoms over her hips and down to her hooves, kicking the damp garment off onto the floor so she could more freely inspect herself.

The purple of her fur was darkened by the liquid that had seeped into it, her groin a noticeably different shade to the rest of her lavender body. She parted her legs and drew her knees up, leaning down to see just what was happening, nose wrinkling as an unfamiliar smell assailed her nostrils. It wasn't body odour - it was sharper, more pungent - but it was definitely her emitting it, and she wasn't sweating, as far as she could tell. Her hands hovered over her crotch, feeling the swelter radiating from in between her legs. Her vulva looked swollen, inflamed, and her vaginal lips seemed puffier than they ever had before, parted from one another. Cautiously, and with no small amount of concern, she dragged her fingers softly up her slick groove.

Without anything separating her from her nethers, the alicorn was exposed fully to the sensation of the state she was in. It was far more intense than when she'd touched herself through the cotton of her nightwear, her buttocks and thighs clenching tight and her hips instinctively following the path of her appendages. A shiver ran through her, the electric frazzle echoing up her spine and sparking all her nerves along the way. As her muscles squeezed, she felt another surge of wetness making its way out of her, and watched as dollop trickled from her and rolled thickly down her groin. Twilight gasped, sweeping the escaping drop up with her fingers and holding her soiled digits closer to her face for inspection.

The liquid was definitely thicker than water, turning stringy as she rolled her fingers about and pushed them closer apart and further together. A nagging thought, more of an inquisitive desire than a conscious idea, prickled at the back of her brain, growing sharper and more demanding until she couldn't ignore it. Bringing her fingers to her maw, Twilight slipped the dirtied digits past her lips and suckled, letting her tongue twirl around to lap at the moisture. It didn't taste bad at all; sour and pungent, as she'd already observed from the smell, but not unpleasant. In fact, for whatever reason, doing what she'd just done - tasting herself, she realised - sent a small glow of delight through her.

Her fingers left her mouth with a small 'pop', leaving the alicorn to lick her lips. Just how much of this was she producing? Making a decision took only a few seconds, after which she lowered her hands once again and slid them down her soaked flesh, holding back little trembles as her body reacted to the contact. Feeling around delicately with her fingertips, the mare came across a hole she'd never paid attention to before, and which she swore had never been as dilated as this. She kept going, guided largely by her instincts, anticipating a twinge of pain or the firm resistance of an orifice she was never meant to explore, but it never came. Her passage happily accepted her extremities, the slickness afforded by her fluids lubricating her journey. The brief thought of why she was so well lubricated passed through her mind, and was swiftly drowned out by the building throbs and thrums of pleasure as she touched at parts her body she'd never given thought to, awakening nerves that had lain dormant her entire life.

The squish of her fingers against her sodden flesh barely reached her; blood drummed in her ears loudly, her hips wiggled as she tried to reach deeper, explore further, discover more. She needed more. She didn't know what she needed more of, only that there was something she was lacking, something she had to have. Something better, something more satisfying, something more significant.

Even as caught up as she was, Twilight couldn't miss the heavy steps of someone coming up the stairs. She froze, eyes widening as the sounds drew closer. Removing her fingers from herself, she wiped them clean hurriedly on her thigh, pulling the beedsheets up to cover her modesty and flicking off the bedroom light, just in time for the door to open below. She lay in silence, listening to the interloper pass the threshold into her room in dense steps, the thud against the floor heavier than any normal pony.

"Twilight?"

The alicorn breathed in at the utterance of her name. All the creatures that knew her, that could be in her home so early in the morning, and who sounded like that - only Spike matched those traits. The only person it could be was her trusty assistant, and yet, the voice she'd just heard sounded nothing like the youthful drake she'd raised, the high pitch of his chipper tone completely absent. This voice belonged to an adult; deep, throaty, masculine, a dash of gravel in its rumble.

"Twilight?" the voice called again, closer this time. The floorboards creaked as the creature ascended the stairs, his weight leaning heavily on the wooden structure that was perfectly sturdy for ponies. "Are you there, Twilight?" The figure was drawing closer, near enough on the landing where her bed rested by now, and she had to answer.

"Spike?" she asked, her voice cracking anxiously, and her heart pounding furiously in her chest. "Is that you? Is something wrong?" The thunderous drumming of her heart sounded, to her, as loud as the slow plods of the stranger, both of which were far too persistent for her comfort. Steeling herself, she focused her magic and turned on the lamp again, casting some much-needed illumination against the repressive darkness, and with the shadows cast away, the other person in her room was fully revealed to her. Twilight's jaw dropped.

If she'd thought being able to see who was calling her name would clear away any confusion, getting her wish shattered any illusion of that; the creature before her was nothing like Spike, but the striking familiarity made it abundantly clear that it was in fact her cherished assistant. He wasn't a chubby-faced, pint-sized teen, the only traits that remained of her companion being his purple scales and green spines. His tail was longer, coiling and swaying with the grace and dexterity of a cat's, a constrained, focused energy in every slight movement. He was tall, at least six foot, but possibly taller - he was definitely taller than her - and his body had grown proportionately. His torso was slim and muscled, with the sort of sculpted pectorals she'd expect to see on professional athletes, and broad shoulders for his well-built arms. Far from being gangly, it was apparent just how firmly built he was; his biceps and triceps bulged with the barest of movements, so taut and thick she doubted that she could fit her hands around them, which she certainly wanted to try. His narrow waistline led down to calves as thick as the trunks of some smaller trees she'd seen, and both them and his calves looked as though they'd been chiseled from marble; beautifully smooth and eye-catching, and impossibly hard.

His most eye-catching feature was obviously his penis, though.

Twilight had seen penises before, being innocently exposed to them during baths with Shining Armor as a child, and occasionally when someone was changing and she happened to witness them. They were a part of the wonderful diversity of life, a natural feature differentiating males from females as much as horns differentiated unicorns from earth ponies. It was something she had accepted a long time ago as just a part of life, save for the brief period she'd considered specialising in anthropology, when the variety between anatomy of various species had prickled her interest. At all times, no matter when she'd interacted with them - visually or with a diagram from medical textbooks - penises had always, always, been wiggly, fleshy tubes, soft and no bigger than her hand from wrist to fingertip.

Spike was the first creature, pony or otherwise, to shatter her understanding of genitalia. She had seen him before, when he was half her height, getting dressed for some event or another, and it had been more or less as she had expected. A different shape to her brother's and father's, but she chalked that up to species, and it had been just as flaccid and unimposing as any other male. The creature standing before her now did not share those qualities; the anatomy between his legs was rigid and sizable, at least a foot long, maybe even longer than a foot and a half, and was raised away from the floor, jutting straight out from his body and curved just a little towards his belly.

"Spike?" the alicorn whispered, her voice hushed and laden with shock. "Is that you?" She gulped as a pair of sharp pistachio eyes zeroed in on her.

"Yeah, it's me," the drake answered, his voice coming out as a rumble. "I woke up feeling weird, and I started growing, and now I'm like this, and I still feel weird."

"Whatever it is, I can help." Focusing on a problem, that was good. She could focus on finding a solution to a friend's troubles, take her mind off the niggling between her legs. She'd become apt at aiding others since she came to Ponyville, and living up to her role as an authority figure, somepony that all other creatures could rely on, was the perfect way to relax her anxious mind. "What's wrong? What are you feeling?"

"Really full of energy," Spike told her readily, pacing back and forth as he spoke. "I want to run or swim or climb or do...something! Anything!" He growled, huffing and expelling a puff of smoke. "It's frustrating, being stuck inside with nothing to do! It's like trying to avoid scratching an itch, but the itch keeps getting worse, and you're stuck writhing about, just so you don't scratch even though you should just deal with it!" He growled more loudly, more smoke pouring from his nostrils. After a couple of seconds, he looked at the awed mare. "And I'm angry, too. Sorry."

"I'm here to help," the purple princess assured him, staying as collected as she could for his sake. When the drake walked, his muscles rippled, his calves and thighs creasing and dimpling, and showing off just how dense and firm they truly were. His tone resonated through her, captivating her attention in a way it never had before. It was a strange combination of alluring and overwhelming, something she had never associated with Spike before. "Have you been collecting items again?"

"Greed growth?" the dragon summarised, still walking this way and that. "I thought so too, what with this new body-" He flexed an arm, causing a bicep to bulge proudly, which sent an unexpected shiver through the mare. "-but I haven't been hoarding anything, and it doesn't feel the same. I don't want to steal anything; I want to wrestle, and eat."

"Eat?"

"I'm really hungry," he confessed. "Or maybe not? The best way to describe it is hunger, but I don't feel like I need food."

"Then what do you need?" Twilight inquired, her curiosity climbing.

"Not items, if that's what you're worried about," he assured her. "I want something, I think. Something..." He breathed in deeply to sigh, but blinked as something drew his attention, and he began sniffing. "Something like that," he finished.

"Like what?"

"Can't you smell it? It's delicious." Spike's sniffing intensified, and the drake followed his nose as it directed him around the room. Twilight watched with concerned eyes, tracking the dragon's progress as he plodded across her floor, intently tracing whatever his mysterious smell was to its eventual source in sharp, jerking movements, his head flicking left, right, up, down. Round and round he went, until, eventually, he crouched down and pressed his nose against something on the ground. Peering down, Twilight gasped.

Spike had her pajama bottoms clenched in his claws, smothering his snout with the fabric. Even as he stood up, the drake didn't pull away, snuffling noisily as he inhaled over and over, longingly breathing in the scent of her nightwear. Breathing in her scent, she realised with a sudden flush.

"What are you doing?" she asked, panic rising in her chest. His face was mashed into the groin of the garment, his nose flush against where her crotch would be if she were wearing them.

"They smell so good," came the moderately muffled reply. "Did you wash these with lavender detergent? No, wait...raspberry? Blueberry?" He finally pulled back from the clothing, eyes flicking between her and the piece in his hands. She felt him scrutinising her, his gaze running over every inch of her not covered by her duvet. "Why aren't you wearing these?" he questioned at last. All Twilight could do was stutter and stammer, her rational mind shutting down as she tried to come up with an answer that didn't expose her precarious position. She noticed his eyes move down to the duvet, and she squeaked.

"Spike wait!" she weakly protested as his claw reached for the covers. She could've stopped him - she should've stopped him - but in that moment, she couldn't find a compelling reason to not let him see her fully, to expose her to his unrestricted gaze. Her grip was weak, and after a couple of tugs, the drake yanked them down, tearing the duvet from her grasp and tossing it to the floor, as she had done for her pajamas that he was still holding. She thought about bringing her knees together, covering herself at least a little, but once again, there was a complete absence of motivation, and even, at the back of her mind, a thrill at being so unprotected. Blushing, Twilight averted her eyes while the dragon appraised her body.

It was evident he was peering shamelessly at her; she could feel his piercing gaze practically searing a trail as it walked over her body, leaving none of her unobserved. Now that he knew the source of that tantalising aroma that had enraptured him, his tentative sniffing had grown more coarse and heavy, the drake blatantly inhaling her scent like he was drinking down a delicious, irresistable nectar. She swore she heard him lick his lips, the smack sounding distinctly moist. Was he salivating?

Chancing a look at her voyeuristic companion, the alicorn found him staring between her legs, eyes fixated on her soaked nethers. A claw was wrapped around his engorged anatomy, tugging urgently in sharp pulls as he fed himself on the sight and smell of her. It was as shocking as it was strangely captivating, and Twilight stared for several long seconds as Spike massaged his tumescence, before eventually sitting up and closing her legs.

"Something's not right," she told him, sounding far more confident than she felt. "You're acting strangely, and there's clearly something out of the ordinary with both of us. Let's go downstairs, make some hot cocoa, and-".

"Stay."

The command was sudden and firm, compelling the alicorn to fall silent and halt any movement she might've been going to make. The dragon had broken from his trance, the deprivation of the sight he'd been enjoying stirring him into action. Twilight didn't move as the tall, muscular male moved towards her, standing aside the bed and running his eyes up her legs, admiring the shape of them.

"We should really focus on fixing this," Twilight tried, though it was clear, even to her, that she wasn't the one in charge any more. "If we go downstairs, I'll search every book we have until we find something."

"Don't need books," the dragon dismissed, not taking his eyes off her body. "Know what need." His expressions had noticeably become laconic, and his voice had devolved from gravelly into an outright growl. "Need you."

"Need...me? I'm right here, Spike."

"I know." The way he said those two words sent minute tremors through the alicorn, the confidence with which he addressed her promising - maybe even threatening - more. "Hungry."

Twilight shivered in what should've been fear; in any other situation, a visceral, carnal predator emphasising his appetite towards while he towered over her would be absolutely terrifying. She should've been scared witless, but she was far from it. Instead, she felt a myriad of other things, perhaps most surprising among them being understanding. She too felt some urgent hunger, a seemingly unquenchable yearning for something rich and plentiful, though maybe not as enraging as Spike's. Her situation left her wanting comfort and contact, and it seemed his left him wanting access and indulgence; two sides of the same coin, almost, like generosity and gratitude. It almost seemed - to the rational part of the pony's mind that wasn't swamped in a thick swirl of confused desires - that their reactions complimented each other, like it was supposed to work this way.

Perhaps that was why, when the drake's claws pushed their way between her thighs, she didn't resist, but spread her legs for him. Perhaps it was why she whimpered and bit her lip as he touched her dew-drenched loins and steered his fingers into her opening, feeling his way inside until three of his appendages were sunk as far as his reach would let him. And perhaps it was why, when he used his free hand to grab her shoulder and turn her onto her front, laying flat against the bedsheets, she complied without a trace of resistance.

His fingers were thick, about twice the circumference of hers as they both knew from childhood curiosity, and taking three of them up to the knuckles was no small feat. Her hole hugged the intruders tightly, squeezing them as they stretched her passage, leaving the tense feeling lingering while his presence occupied almost all of her attention. They were swimming in her juices, slathered in her natural lubricant as soon as they entered her, and with her body reacting by clenching down whenever his digits moved even slightly, whatever couldn't coat the extremities was pushed out in drops, left to roll down her labia and drip down to soak any fur that wasn't utterly saturated. The mild tickles of oozing lubricant trailing down her body was secondary to Twilight, her focus stuck on the flexing and the curling of the dragon's claws and the restrained, exploratory way they probed and stroked, brushed and scraped delicately. The tingle that each caress sent though her lower body was unbeatable, coaxing her hips to rock back and forth and pulling a series of moans and gasps from her.

The withdrawal from her tunnel was both sudden and unwanted, and the mare whined at the cold emptiness with which she was left. She felt his claws grip her buttocks and squeeze harshly, compressing her soft, well-rounded cheeks until her tush had no more sponginess left to give, and the drake's clawtips pressed against her flesh. Before she could say anything, her cheeks were pulled apart, a quiver passing through her as cool air lapped softly at her exposed vulva. She felt herself contract, the muscles in her loins clenching against the exposure to the elements like cat against a bath; showy, yet futile. She would've looked around, cast a glance back at the man who was toying with her body, but she wasn't given enough time to challenge his actions before a touch against her lower lips diverted her attention.

At first Twilight assumed Spike had returned his delectable digits to her southern passage; the contact was from something thin and firm, like a fingertip, but the presence of both his hands on her heiny disproved that assessment. The presence drifted over her slit, dragging across her sodden skin, before settling at the entrance to her body, nestling momentarily at the gate to her depths. She lifted her rear slightly, nonverbally begging for his attention. It wasn't fair that his body lay just out of reach, teasing her so cruelly. Like a foal on Hearth's Warming Day, she knew she was going to receive something, and she wanted it now.

Only when the firmness pushed into her, gliding up her slick, silken tract, did Twilight realise just what Spike was inserting into her. His glans - a wedge that penetrated her undisturbed confines with ease - sailed down her tunnel, parting her walls to make way for the mass of his malehood. The reach of his thrust was definitely noticeable, leaving a warm glow from its presence, but it was the girth that really captivated the mare's attention. As he slid in, inches of unfamiliar flesh pushed against her walls, spreading her wide and amplifying the intesity of being stretched beyond even that of having his fingers inside her, which, up until that moment, had been her only experience. She'd seen just how sizable the drake was when he'd walked it, and knew that his insertion would only require her to accomodate a diameter of between three and five inches, but it felt so much larger when she was having the object introduced to her; an amazing tightness grew in her loins, a sensation not unlike performing the splits but deeper inside her, which kept growing. No matter how far it felt she was being pulled apart, how much it seemed to increase, it never crossed the line into pain, or exceeded her comfort. If anything, her desire for more - and her ability to take it - expanded as the clarity of his presence grew, even while her body had finished making room for the dragon.

With the cacophony of sensations from the initial penetration, the meeting of Spike's crotch with her buttocks was a secondary consideration, something which only passed through her mind because it meant that he'd finished sliding into her. It felt right, having the hardness of his scales against the cushion of her rear; a perfect accompaniement to their joining, and to the unyielding rod inside her. Sure, she wanted more, to be stuffed even fuller, and to have the dragon do whatever he needed to make her feel ecstatic, but for now, she was content, like a pony after their first few bites of a meal. Her hunger was satiated, for the time being, and she savoured the feelings coursing through her body in the momentary pause.

Grabbing either side of her waist, Spike held the alicorn in place, using the leverage to pull back, dragging his nubby phallus from her delta. Stopping shortly before he exited her entirely, he rocked forwards again, shoving the lube-slicked shaft back into its rightful place. Twilight bit her lip as the drake's firmness rubbed insistently against her insides, the rocking from the scaled boy drawing his member over the inexplicably sensitive flesh of her passage. Spots that had no reason to be that receptive sparked whenever he touched against them, muscles contracted and clenched as the drake stirred them to life with his movements and presence, and her heart thumped as the male made use of her body in a way that nopony else ever had. She had no idea what he was doing - she wasn't even sure he knew what he was doing - but she didn't care. Not really. She was far too taken with the encroachment, the beautiful pleasure of it, and the vivid sensations it sent through her, subtlety and bluntness coalescing into a simple greatness that she embraced wholeheartedly.

The dragon's movements were uncoordinated, his tumescence sawing in and out of the pony's snug confines without grandeur or skill, but it was sufficient, and his behaviour made up for the shortfall of his ability. His claws clutching her waist like she was a prized possession, his low, barely-discernible grunts, his attitude towards her - all of it raised a willing passion in her, gratitude and approval that hummed deep in her core. She loved that he was so aggressively needy towards her, and that appreciation fueled her desire more than his sloppy, haphazard jerks, even if those weren't bad by any stretch. It may have been lackluster, but there was no denying how satisfying being stuffed full of meaty dragon dong truly was.

Spike's grip tightened, his claws depressing her skin and pricking a little at her, and the drake let out an elongated snarl, his need rising at least as quickly as hers. She felt him tug at her, pulling her body back to meet his thrusts, desperate to milk all of the pleasure and potential from their encounter as he could manage. The miniscule amount of extra pleasure, that little additional penetration, made Twilight gasp, and she tried to push herself back against him, wanting more than anything to have more of him inside her, but her reach was vastly hindered by her position. She tried raising herself to add leverage to her own rocking, but the hold on one side of her body released and a palm pushed her firmly down onto the bed, refusing her any change in her stance. In vain, she tried to bounce back towards him, to arch her back and to gyrate her hips, but nothing worked. She was at the dragon's mercy, her orifice a toy for his momentous pride. And still, even with all of that, with how good it was, with how much she shivered and whimpered, it wasn't enough. She wanted - she needed - more! She wanted him to impale her on that mighty spear of his, to cram every inch of his beautiful baton into her love cave, and she knew he had more to give.

Apparently Spike felt the same way, because he let go of her waist and pressed his palms flat against the bed, either side of her head, leaning above her. Before the purple mare could ask what he was doing, or even raise a sound in her throat, the drake rolled his hips again, sinking his length into her. Twilight gasped, her mouth and eyes widening as his package truly travelled deep into her body, reviving the sensations that had she'd experienced during the initial penetration. Her walls caressed his length as it passed, gliding down her canal for so much longer than it had any right to, and hitting every nerve he hadn't come across in his previous foray. After what felt like seconds, the tip of his penis tapped against a barrier inside her, jolting her as he came to rest, not quite fully sheathed. At least, she couldn't feel his groin against her butt yet, and she didn't have the motivation to turn her head and look when it was taking all of her effort to decide whether she wanted to slump onto the sheets and exhale or raise herself up and let out a fillyish squeal. In the end, she settled on screwing the bedsheet between her fingers and spluttering a confused staccato of breaths.

Pulling back once more, the beast atop her deprived her of his maleness in a smooth glide, in spite of her body's protests as she clenched around his retreating member, clinging to its surface. He didn't leave her wanting long, though, which was a mercy, because every half-second he wasn't inside her was torture to the mare; the turgid pole plunged back into its place, striking the end of her passage like a hammer against an anvil, the second jolt shaking her body as she adjusted to the novelty. The third thrust jabbed demandingly, stubbornly refusing to be contained by something as insubstantial as her anatomy, and Twilight, through the sparks along her nerves caused by his impact, sympathised fully with him. It wasn't fair that he was being denied access to her; he'd already come this far, and he'd already explored so much of her that had lain untouched forever, so why shouldn't he enjoy more of her? They both wanted it, and that's all that mattered. Why should biology get in the way of that?

Spike persisted, powering down into her with long, forceful strokes, withdrawing to the very head of his spire before ramming the full length back into her, always halted before his journey could be completed. Thump after thump, Twilight held on tight as she was hammered from above, enduring the voracious beat against her insides and the single-minded determination with which the predatory male pursued his goal. She marked each impact with a small squeak, throwing in some variety every now and then with a grunt or a huff as he battered her tunnel, molding her to better fit his shape. The intensity remained constant, a sharp pang that seemed to echo welcomingly through her body, like an ache after a workout, or a heaviness after a large meal; constant and satisfying, in spite of its moderate discomfort.

With so much determination on his end, and so much willingness on hers, it wasn't a great surprise to Twilight when Spike successfully surpassed her natural capacity. It was a shock - a strong, thrumming, jolting shock - but it wasn't a surprise, and certainly not one she would ever want to avoid. The brief burst of discomfort, as sudden and temporary as having a bucket of cold water dumped over her, was immediately surpassed by the sheer fullness she felt, and the weight of her partner's groin against her booty. She no longer knew if she had limits, if there was a point that would prove too much for her; all she wanted was more gratification, more pressure and pleasure and more of that beautiful piece of meat filling every crevice of her needy, desperate insides.

There was no halting the dragon's whims now; her body had wholly surrendered to the powerful predator, allowing him passage into her cavern, the only limit to his exploration being the size he could bring to task, and he was far from lacking in that department. He made full use of her, taking the time to slide all the way out to his tip before slamming all the way back in, his crotch ramming against her butt and shoving her against the mattress, clearly revelling in the velvety embrace of her tunnel pressing against every millimetre of his pride, every angle kissed by her soaked walls. Twilight could make out every bump, every ridge and vein and curve, every smooth patch of flesh on that delectable appendage of his, and from how he moved, it felt infinite. She knew, rationally, that he was pistoning into her, repeatedly stuffing her full of bestial turgidity, but the sensations he caused from his unrelenting battering eroded the rational part of her mind, leaving the constant friction and endless gliding to occupy her awareness.

At the downthrust of one of Spike's extended plunges, she felt him shift, leaning towards her and resting his rock-hewen chest against her back. His weight settled heavily on her, trapping her wings against her back, folded in neatly. She didn't mind; her pajama top was constricting their movement anyway, and having his comforting presence close was assuring. His snout made its way past her shoulder, heralded by the hot breath against her neck and the low, throaty rumbles of his breathing. The gusts brushed at her cheek, simultaneously terrifying and alluring with just how much power and strength they represented. His was big and strong, and everything about him made that apparent, from his stature and constitution to his voice and the concussive beating of his heart. With how close they were, she could feel the vibrations travelling from him to her, each thrum a reminder of just how small and weak she was by comparison.

"Mine," the dragon growled, resuming his movements once more. His groin rubbed against her plush cheeks, squishing the malleable flesh as he gyrated against her. For a few seconds, he rotated his hips, grinding his sturdy waist against her spongy body, the feeling not at all unwelcome for the mare, albeit far less intense than his previous actions. His movements grew stronger, faster, accelerating as he found his balance and positioning, and he transitioned from simply rolling his hips to thrusting. "My pony," he stated, his claws moving to clutch at her shoulder and hip, coaxing an intake of breath from the powerless princess. "My property."

Twilight didn't have time to fully let the indignant approval settle over her, as he increased his rhythm even more, slapping against her in short, jerky thrusts. The intensity of his jabbing penetration quickly overtook that of his prior lengthier probing, with a greater friction, and the rapidity inflaming her addled nerves. She squeaked as he thumped away mindlessly, ruthlessly pumping into her and letting her natural padding absorb the force of his unrestrained impact. Even with such a short distance between her butt and his groin at the apex of his plunge, the clap against her cushiony rear was fairly substantial, and a hot glow spread across her globes, coalescing into a vivid numbness. Each impact from his pelvis was sharp and lucid, with a buzz developing along the periphery of his strikes.

The pressure at the mare's shoulder released, replaced by a rifling through her lavender mane, and before she could process any of it, her head was yanked back. She gasped, holding back a yelp as her scalp twinged from the sudden jerk of her mane, pulling her forcefully backwards. Her gaze was pushed towards the ceiling, her neck curved as far as it was comfortable, her throat left exposed. It took her a couple of seconds to realise that Spike had wound her hair around his claw and had bunched it up, using the grip as an impromptu and convenient leash. If there was a time for fear, or for panic, now was it, yet she didn't feel endangered - at least, she didn't consciously acknowledge that she felt that way. The roughness of his manhandling and the unbroken hammering of his loins sent her head spinning, her body twitching and swiveling in the limited way it could from the sporadic sparks and crashes of pleasure. Distress was absent from her consideration entirely, nevermind an encroaching distraction.

Her head fell forward as the grip on her mane loosened, only for his fingers to reposition and grab the top of her head, tightening just enough to ensure he had complete control of her, reminding her through the pressure against her skull that he was the dominant animal in the room. Pressing her face against the mattress, Spike slowed his thrusting just a little, barely enough to register visually, but something which certainly felt significant to her imaptient urges, and leaned in closer to her. His breath ran hot against her face, blowing her fur lightly and warming her through. His strokes had become longer once more, the moderation affording him more control over his movements, and the variety allowing her to appreciate the way he moved inside her, the more thorough exploration of her insides. Her hindquarters wiggled, anticipation bubbling up in her even amidst the myriad of sensations she was already contending with, and she tried to lift her head towards him, hoping to prompt something more from him. Instead, she found she couldn't budge, and had to wait as he extended his tongue and dragged it deliberately up her cheek, pulling a surprised whimper of enjoyment from her, her eyes closing to bask in the unexpected action. Why did something so predatory and threatening feel so tender?

Spike's teeth nipping at her didn't feel quite as tender, and her eyes snapped open again, her fingers scrunching the duvet as the drake bit down relatively gently against her exposed skin. His teeth were sharp enough that she could feel them pricking at her, pressing down until it neared being painful, and when he let go and moved to the next patch of her neck, the affected part of her still felt raw and fresh. She felt the throbbing where his teeth had grazed, undoutedly leaving a mark in his wake, and the path he took was like a trail across her nerves. His attention switched from her left side to her right, back again, until her skin stung with the sweet satisfaction of his aggressive affection.

His maw finished its voyage on her shoulder, biting down with a snarl and licking the spot before he resumed his frantic pounding, switching his focus back to her lower region once more. Grasping her mane in his claws again, the dragon yanked her head back, ignoring her yelp and pummeling her helpless form. Even with his buildup, his persistence in getting her biology to accept his, her hole was still tight around his shaft, and the viscious pounding pushed her body to work harder, faster, to try to make sense of all of the things that were being done to it. Her receptors sparked and sent garbled messages to her brain, leaving her overloaded and overworked. All she knew was that everything he was doing back there felt amazing - the way he filled her and the way he pleasured her, the way he worked her and the way he took control of her, all of it pulsed and coursed through her, swirling and mixing into a mess of ecstasy. If there was a way to feel satiated by a full meal and to be exhilirated by a rollercoaster at the same time, this had to be comparable. If not, then it was the best activity she could ever hope to engage in, and nothing she could do - maybe not even reading - could ever hope to compete with it.

Without warning, the grip on her mane disappeared, the weight on her back lifted, and the presence inside her receded. For a scant few seconds, she felt alone, abandoned, her body aching for a return to the comforting chaos that the male's disjointed molestation brought her, until she was flipped onto her back, spun around in a whirl to face the ceiling, and left no choice but to gaze up at her gloriously nefarious captor. Now she could see his face, examine the way he looked at her - or rather through her, like she were nothing but an object - and fully understand the extent of his control over her. Before, she could feel it; there was absolute confidence to his motions, and the firmness with which he held and moved her made it clear he was in charge. Now, though, she could see the full picture. His eyes were piercing, and nearly glowed with possessive greed. His lips were curled, almost like a snarl, but without any malevolence motivating it. There was just raw, unbridled instict, a yearning need that she could relate to on some deep level, though she couldn't explain it. He looked at her with naked hunger and undisguised longing, and, like before, she felt a swell of pride at the notion. She wanted him to want her. She wanted to be ogled by greedy eyes and coveted like a valuable gem.

The dragon hoisted her legs up and swung her ankles over his shoulders, her hooves resting beside his head, and glared down at her. Locking eyes, he edged his hips forward, the now-familiar glans of his manhood glancing off her groin. The purple mare bit her bottom lip as he jabbed her vulva, unable in his eagerness to guide himself into her, leaving her wanting and impatient for that treasured state of bliss. His rigidity grazed over her lips with every missed thrust, gliding up and over her groin to grind infuriatingly against her furry pelvis, serving only to remind her just what she wasn't having stuffed inside her right this very second. Tearing her eyes away from the rugged visage above her with no small amount of determination, she was confronted with the sight of the drake's spire rising over the slope of her mound, glistening with a substantial coating of her juices. As she watched, it pulsed, bobbing gently in a steady rhythm, rising an inch before falling down to tap at her belly, the tip reaching beyond her navel. Instinctively, she licked her lips, barely able to keep herself from drooling at the delicious sight.

Clearly growing annoyed by the lack of progress, Spike reached down to his middle, his digits wrapping around his phallus to steady it while he pulled back, dragging his underside down her pubic region and returning the mess she'd left on him back to her, drying his pride on her coat. When his crown reached the precipice of her mons, his shaft dipped out of sight, brushing past her labia on the way down, gliding between her lips until he came to rest comfortably at her eager entrance, which remained dilated and welcoming for his prestigious pride. With no view of the monsterous scepter, Twilight returned her attention to the dragon looming over her, pulling her sight up to the focused, stubborn sneer etched on her partner's face, seeing the switch from frustration to dogged determination as he found his mark and thrust forward.

Even with the thorough usage of her body from the previous pounding, the sudden penetration sent a wave through her, the sensation rippling up from her waist to her brain, leaving her reeling. The alicorn's back arched, her muscles tensing in response to the rapid cramming of her marehood, and once more she was back in that indescribably magical place. When he moved, her nerves ran hot, sparking as inches of his firmness scraped past, leaving her no respite from the pervasive pleasure, until just his tip remained nestled inbetween her walls. His savage thrust sent a shockwave through her, the loud smack of his crotch against hers filling the room and the impact rolling up her body, and she knew that if he hadn't have been holding onto her, she'd have been shoved into the centre of the bed.

The drake snarled and yanked himself back, then threw his hips forward again, walloping powerfully against the alicorn's thighs and groin, which resonated through her body once more. His thrusts were powerful, focusing on smashing into her with unrestrained vigour, and pulling out slowly enough to build up his strength to ram her again. His pace increased, each slap against her quim coming quicker than the one before it, until his brutal battering morphed into a rapid rocking, the slaps against her only moderately less resounding, yet much sharper due to the speed at which her tunnel was stimulated. The clap of skin-on-skin underpinned their coupling, the noise like a beat to a song, with her whimpers and moans and his gruff huffing forming the melody. As his speed increased, so did their vocalisations, their bodies instinctively reacting to the sensations they were inflicting on one another. Twilight watched as Spike's face screwed up, becoming more and more tense as he plundered her cavern, his movements turning even more fervent and feral, until he sheathed himself into her fully, and his voice reached a crescendo.

The drake raised his head and howled, and inside her, Twilight felt his shaft pulse and swell, his member straining against her walls. Her eyes widened and she gasped as something hot and voluminous gushed into her unguarded depths, splashing messily against her insides. The unexpected introduction of so much heat, so much fluid, sent an equally unexpected thrill through her, so much more powerful that it had any right to be. For whatever reason, it felt right - so right, in fact, that her body tingled, a pressure that she hadn't realised had been collecting down at her stomach growing tighter and more potent, pulling inwards until it felt like she'd burst.

And then, she did.

The pressure released, and waves coursed through her, heat and pleasure and intensity radiating from her groin and spreading through every part of her body, crashing against her nerves and her mind, rolling through her nervous system and spearing through her muscles like an electric current. Her body tensed, her legs clamping around Spike's head until she could feel the hardness of his scales against her even through the swirling cacophony assaulting her mind. Her head swam in an incomprehensible mess, and she joined Spike in crying out, adding her voice to his own shout, unable to make words and having to rely on nonsensical noises to express how she was feeling. She couldn't stay silent, not with the chaos her body was enduring; her abdomen squeezed and her nethers contracted, pulsing like she'd felt his own genitals do, as if she were trying to wring him dry like a particularly juicy fruit. From the sheer amount that seemed to be flowing into her, she was certainly doing a fine job of rinsing every drop from him that he could possibly offer, drawing more and more from him until she felt like there wasn't anywhere left inside her for the liquid to fill.

The mare hadn't come to her senses before the dragon heaved himself off her, yanking his maleness from her passage with a grunt and leaving her open and gaping. She let out a soft whimper at the roughness, her nethers more sensitive after the rush from the climax of their activity, but was too exhausted and not coherent enough to do anything about his exit. The wet schlorp was followed by the padding of his feet, which receded out of her room and down the stairs, until they'd faded completely. Panting and huffing, Twilight tried to catch her breath, forcing herself to steady her breathing even as her vision jittered and her mind wobbled. Bit by bit, she managed to ease herself into a more steady state, regaining enough faculties to sit herself up and take stock of the situation.

She was coated in sweat and her heart was pounding, which was to be expected. What she'd just done - whatever that was - was probably one of the most demanding physical tasks she'd ever undertaken, and she'd barely even done any work. Her body tingled and buzzed, muffling the feeling she had in her limbs, her legs in particular, and her buttocks and groin glowed as though hot. Looking down, she assessed the state the dragon had left her in, parting her legs to take a look. Her vulva was slick, oozing a thick white slime, undoutedly the substance Spike had pumped into her at the end of their encounter. Disgust and interest battled inside her as more of the substance drooled from her and slid thickly down her matted coat, dripping between her buttocks and glazing her anus before seeping into her tail. Letting out a frustrated sigh, the purple pony eased herself unsteadily onto her hooves, holding onto the bed the whole while. She was still trembling from her encounter with Spike, her body was frazzled, and aftershocks ocassionally caused a slight jolt in random parts of her. The mess that had seeped out of her onto the bed - and the trail that was leaking down her legs - was the least of her concerns.

As she made her way down the stairs and through the tree's interior in unsteady steps, concern overcame her confusion, and she began to walk herself through the events of the situation and place her thoughts in order, now that she had the state of mind to do so. Something had happened to Spike, causing him to grow more bestial and feral, and altered his body accordingly. Whatever had happened to him, whether a quirk of a dragon's natural biology or something far more sinsiter, had made him lose his mind and attack her. No, not attack, that word didn't fit. She thought back to what they'd done, and how he'd spoken to her. His words had been statements, assertions. He'd made a claim on her, told her that she was his, that he owned her. So far, that sounded like his previous greed-induced growth, albeit far more physical, and a lot more aggressive. Something she couldn't account for, though, was her reaction. Why had she been so complicit? Why had she been so willing? So eager?

Reaching the bathroom, Twilight pulled her pajama top up over her head and tossed it onto the floor, turned the taps on the shower, sending the water hissing into the bathtub, and stepped under the jet. The hot water soothed her, relaxing her muscles and washing away the sweat and mess she'd accumulated. Even with everything going on, it was too pleasant to avoid letting out a sigh of contentment, and the mare closed her eyes and allowed herself to wash herself down, sweeping her fingers through her fur, feathers, and mane. For a moment, it felt like the start of a regular day, and that brought her a minute amount of comfort. It couldn't last, but she revelled in it for a brief while before turning her attention back to the task at hand, running several thought experiments while she cleaned herself with the showerhead, directing it to her groin to swish away Spike's deposit. It took a while, flushing the mess from her body and leaving her coat and tail clean and presentable.

By the time she exited the shower, feeling fresh and steady once more, she was sure she had an idea about what was happening. Grabbing her towel, she rubbed herself down, taking the worst of the water off so she could cast a drying spell on herself. It had to be a curse; there wasn't any other way that Spike could transform into something so animalistic and predatory and have her act so uncharacteristically demure. It had to be magic, and malevolent at that. She needed to find Spike and bring him back, and then she could figure out what had happened and why. Igniting her horn, she focused her magic on herself, the glow running down her body and evaporating all the remaining droplets on her, leaving her dry and warm.

Back in her bedroom, she telekentically stripped the duvet and the bedsheets and folded them in on themselves, trying to avoid getting the mess on the floor as she stuffed them into the laundry basket, alongside her pajamas. A part of her, the scientific side of her brain, urged her to take a sample of the sticky substance and analyse it, but she knew she didn't have time to waste. That was another task for her when she returned, she lamented, as she dressed herself, picking some fresh panties, some jeans, and a casusal blouse. This was better, she assured herself, checking herself over as she prepared to leave, brushing her mane into shape. She had a goal, she was ready, and she had her wits about her this time. She was as prepared as she could hope to be for any task.

"I'm coming, Spike," she promised out loud as she headed down the stairs, aiming to comfort the drake as much as herself. "Don't do anything crazy before I get to you."