Race Against the Cock

"The intrepid explorer set out into the alien environment, the once-familiar town shrouded in mystery and half-hidden shadows. It should have been morning, the sun should have been high and uncontested in the big blue beautiful sky, but it wasn't! It was contested, with a contender! The moon, a big and shining beauty in its own right, challenged the reign of the burning, shimmering ball of shimmery hotness, staring down its rival and adversary, issuing a claim for the right to reign the exuberant domain! Beneath this cosmic battle, a lone wanderer began her quest, stepping out into a world caught between the unknown and the familiar, the ordinary and the extraordinary, the mundane and the exceptional, the-"

"Good morning, Pinkie."

"Good morning Mr and Mrs Cake!"

"Who were you talking to?"

"Nopony at all!" The pink mare turned around brightly to face the married couple, bouncing slightly on her hooves. "It just sounded fun, so I said it aloud!"

"Are you going somewhere?" Mr Cake asked, having known her too long to be surprised by her whacky explanations, and asking the more prominent question on his mind.

"Just for a walk," she explained. "I've been awake for a while and I'm feeling antsy, and my Pinkie Sense is telling me I should go to the town square. It might be something to do with the weird thing the sky's doing. Maybe Twilight will be there." She pointed a thumb at the window, drawing their attention to the odd dawny hues that should have long since passed by that point. The Cakes exchanged glances, silently deciding something between themselves, and nodded.

"Why don't you have the day off?" Mrs Cake suggested. "Just in case you're needed to save the day again. We'll let this all blow over before we open Sugarcube Corner again."

"Oakily dokily!" Pinkie accepted, opening the door. "I'll be back when I'm back! Stay safe and have fun you two!"

"We will," Mr Cake assured her, slipping his arm around his wife's chubby middle. "Make sure you do too."

"Pinkie Promise!" she called, stepping outside and-

-beginning her journey into an unknown world, the door to her comfortable life closing behind her. Of course, comfort was nothing compared to the call of adventure, except maybe surprise parties. Or regular parties. Or parties she'd forgotten about, making them surprise parties in a roundabout way. Kitted out with the neatest survival sweater and hi-tech spandex jogging bottoms she could muster on short notice, and looking cute in the process, she wound her way through the streets, diving into bushes to sneak past shambling creatures of the dawn.

"Good morning to you too, Pinkie."

"Good morning Cranky! How's Ponyville's best donkey?"

"Feelin' less good now. Just wanted some carrots from the market, but nopony's there."

"Thanks for the update!"

The information from the dazed survivor was invaluable, leading the courageously curious and categorically cute character towards the centre of the chaotic culmination. She voyaged virtuously through the verdant and vibrant vegetation and darted daringly over dirt paths, moving like a whisper on the wind through this new and dangerous territory. She didn't dare stray too far from the buildings of this all-too-peaceful town, knowing the dark dangers which could lay in wait for her in the deep thickets of the park and grassy places. Ponies wandered aimlessly, looking confused and frustrated, barely paying attention to her as she whizzed past. She was just that stealthy, leaping from bush to rooftop and jogging away whenever they tried to grab at her. Who knows how long that game of tag could've lasted? She didn't panic, though - she was fearless, and only knew of the word from those dictionaries Twilight kept buying her for her birthday! After ducking and dodging, weaving and jogging, walking and bouncing, the adventurer reached her long-awaited destination:

"...an empty square." She stopped, pouting at the lack of other ponies. The market wasn't far from here, and Cranky had told her nopony was about, but she'd assumed that would mean a mass congregation of ponies demanding answers from Mayor Mare. Perhaps they'd gone to Golden Oaks Library instead? Twilight was their go-to for Ponyville's not-so-rare weirdness these days, after all. She knew some ponies were up and about, but there was only one here, which is where she knew instinctively she was meant to be, and the rest of the town seemed abandoned, or asleep. That was really hard to believe; she'd been woken up by some big loud roar, and there ought to have been more than one lone stallion sitting on the rim of the town's water fountain, his-

"She stopped, taking a comically exaggerated double take at the quirky activity the pony was doing," the earth pony narrated, dropping into a ready stance like Daring Do might've. "It was Caramel, and today he was unassuming, wearing a button-down flannel shirt and some jeans - not a bad look, but hardly inspiring, especially if Rarity was the judge - but his behaviour was anything but unassuming. It was almost...assuming."

Deciding to get a closer look, she zipped over to a well-kept decorative bush and dove in head-first, landing with a rustle among the leaves and flowers and peering out from between the branches. From her inconspicuous position, she was able to more closely observe what was going on with Caramel. He looked as if he was deep in thought, or trying to hide that something was occupying him. He looked shifty, glancing from one side to the other while doing his best to look nonchalant, all while he stroked the front of his jeans, as if massaging his groin. Had he injured himself? Pulled a muscle? There was a bulge in his jeans, now she looked - was it swelling? Had he been stung?

The heroine's attempts to unravel the mystery were thrown into a lurch as a mare walked into view, stealing the pink pony's impeccable attention away. The newcomer would be recognisable to a blind pony, from the purple sweater and hat adorned with blue and yellow stars, the azure fur of her coat, and the straight, silky cornflower of her mane, the mean and grouchy magician was infamous around these parts. Caramel, pre-occupied with his discomfort, didn't notice the villainous mare's approach, to pre-occupied with the problem in his pants, until the would-be-tyrant opened her mouth and uttered a cruel, sneering question.

"What are you doing?"

"Uh, what?" Caramel asked, still pawing at his crotch.

"With your hand," Trixie elucidated. "What are you doing?"

"I was just scratching," the stallion told her, his hand stopping and drifting to his side, perching innocently on the stone of the fountain. "I've got a real bad itch today, dunno why."

"I imagine such prominent swelling would produce a rather painful itch," Trixie added, her eyes dancing over the unmissable strain against the stallion's denim. When Caramel muttered awkwardly that it wasn't so much painful as a nuisance, Trixie's muzzle stretched into a knowing, toothless grin. "Well, such a nuisance should be dealt with, then. Those jeans of yours look like they're restricting your swelling; take them off, give yourself room to breathe. Besides, it'll give you more room to scratch."

"I-I'm not sure that's a good idea," Caramel stammered, gulping as the unicorn mare stepped towards him, her eyes drilling into him. "M-maybe if I spoke to a doctor about this-"

"The Great and Medicinal Trixie can tell you that you have a very particular itch," the magician told him, smirking smugly at the obviously flustered stallion. "Scratching it won't help, will it?" Caramel's eyes widened at her words, and he looked around for a way out. "Will it?" she asked again, her tone turning demanding. When he shook his head, she giggled lowly, her wickedness underpinned by an excitement.

"H-how did-?" Caramel began, halting mid-sentence and suddenly sniffing at the air as the wind changed direction. Glancing down, his eyes widened again, and he looked up in realisation at the mare who'd accosted him. "You're itching too?"

It was the stallion's comment that knocked the realisation into Pinkie's head, too. From her hiding spot, she noticed for the first time since Trixie's appearance that the mare wasn't wearing anything between her hips and her thighs. Her sleeveless, backless sweater covered her front from her shoulders to her waist, with a sharp cut-out for her back that revealed everything to the base of her spine. Her leggings, in the same style as her sweater, rose up her svelte legs all the way to the top of her thighs, finishing with a golden stitch trim to give them a richer frame. As for her groin, however, she was bare, leaving her round, modest bottom to face the public unabashedly, and her front-half facing the incredulous stallion. The tent in his trousers seemed to rise further, if that was possible.

"The Great and Precognitive Trixie doesn't have time for games," the unicorn quipped, planting her hands firmly on the stallion's knees. "She has tried to scratch this itch away for the last hour, and has f-" She balked, and tried again. "She has f-". Again, the word stuck in her throat. Gritting her teeth, she finally forced out, "failed." Gagging at the word, she continued her explanation. "Nothing has worked, and she thought that an early morning walk would cool down the parts of her which feel like they're burning. You clearly had the same idea. Now, a being as infinitely wise as Trixie can tell when there's something else that needs to be tried. You have the itch, Trixie has the itch, and something deep inside Trixie is telling her that helping you will help her. You might not be as smart and knowledgable as the Great and Worldly Trixie, but can you sense it too?"

"W-well, you do smell..." He let out a pleased sigh. "...wonderful, and in a way I've never experienced before. It's like...smelling food when you're hungry."

"The Great and Stoic Trixie would have slapped you for a comment like that, in different circumstances," she told him. "But...you're right. Something is different. The smells on the wind are different. So, take those jeans off, and let's work out what to do with ourselves."

Watching the foul witch weave her wicked spell was both mesmerising and gut-wrenching, the hapless male succumbing to the banal evil of selfish self-serving greed that sustained the vile unicorn trickstress. With impatient plucks and picks, the two unbuckled the belt and unzipped the jeans, yanking the denim downwards so enthusiastically that they were flung clean from Caramel's legs. Pinkie watched in awe and horrified curiosity as the sweet and modest stallion was made to disrobe for some sinister and unknown purpose, his underwear pitched in the eternal, pervasive night of this new world. They had to struggle to remove the stubborn fabric, the last line of resistance between normality and the mare's fiendish desires. It was a microcosm of the overall battle between good and evil, and Pinkie quietly cheered on the brave cotton boxers holding the line against both the magician's insistence and the demanding pulls from its owner. Sadly, it was a losing battle, and with a final tug, they were forced down the stallion's legs, leaving Caramel fully naked below the waist.

"Crikey," Pinkie uttered, her accent spontaneously and inexplicably changing as she witnessed what had been causing the bulge. She'd seen stallions naked before, and while she'd had her fair share of curiosity when she was younger, she'd soon lost interest and moved on to more interesting things worthy of her attention, like parties and making sure her friends were happy. She had, however, never seen a stallionhood looking so rigid and large before. It was bigger in every way, both longer and thicker than what she'd ever witnessed previously, probably comparable to her forearm in both measurements. Maybe the circumference of a soda can, or a bit bigger. It was hard to judge, and she knew Twilight would be flabbergasted by her imprecision.

The maleficent magician looked down at her mollified victim, the compliant stallion sitting pantless on the stone altar of her schemes while she observed the artefact she had uncovered. The stallion possessed a mighty wand, something the devious witch clearly wanted for herself, if her hand clutching at the protrusion was anything to go by. Would she try to claim it for herself, taking his power and making herself an even mightier witch of wickedness? Alas, the mischievous mare was even more meg- meglom...mean than anypony would've thought, as she unbuttoned the stallion's shirt and pulled it off of him, stripping him of dignity for her mysterious ritual! She rubbed at his bared chest, undoubtedly taking a sick pride in her newfound ownership of her captive.

"The Great and Artistic Trixie has an aesthetic appreciation for healthy stallions," the unicorn told the stallion defensively, huffing and summoning haughtiness into her voice to hide the underlying embarrassment. The expression on Caramel's face that had prompted her revelation didn't budge at the information, but when she stood one hoof on the rim of the stone basin and lowered her crotch to his towering anatomy, his face adopted a look of surprise, and subsequently, as she rested more and more of her weight onto it, it morphed to curious trepidation. After some wiggling, his visage transformed to intrigued anticipation, the stallion glancing between Trixie's face and her groin as she adjusted herself and kept trying to do whatever it was her intuition was pushing her towards. Finally, after her efforts paid off and the mare was able to fit the engorged organ inside herself, the stallion's expression shifted to one of awed shock, his shoulders locking and his eyes widening to comical proportions.

The mare's intentions were laid bare as she took Caramel's tool inside herself! Whatever dark magic she must've used to fit such a massive object into such a small space was terrifying, especially with a front-seat view of the whole spectacle, but it must've been nothing compared to the terror Caramel himself was facing! Even as she looked on, the stallion let out whimpers and groans of distress and horror! His stallion stick vanished from view as Trixie engulfed it, sinking onto his baguette uncompromisingly until she was sitting on his lap - but with a penis inside of her! How was such a thing possible, unless the greatest forces of evil were involved?

"T-tight!" Caramel groaned, his hands snapping out to grab at Trixie's waist, before sinking down to the mare's rump. Pinkie could see his fingers pressing against the roundness of the unicorn's buttocks, squeezing the booty like it was dough in a bakery. "H-how did you get me to fit?"

"The Great and Powerful Trixie has many gifts," Trixie grunted, her words strained even as she boasted. "N-now behold as she cures you of your m-malady!" The magician rose upward, lifting with her knees and allowing the encapsulated appendage to slide from the snug grip in which it had been held, the sight of it emerging reminding the peeping pony just how much the azure mare had had to fit inside her. The going was slow and uneven, but for every miniscule amount she removed from herself, the unicorn shivered and sighed, panting audibly from what must've been a substantial exertion on her part. Pinkie was no stranger to workout routines and exercises, and Dashie usually made the sorts of noises that both Caramel and Trixie were making, though the prismatic pegasus was usually far more restrained.

And then Trixie slid onto him again, the action pushing even more of a reaction from the two. The stallion's grip on Trixie's behind tightened, the fingertips squeezing harder against the handful of booty in his grasp, and the unicorn braced herself more firmly against his chest, her hands flat against his pectorals to support her weight and steady her. It was no surprise that plugging herself with the stallion's newfound trunk was so tough, or that the two reacted more when she was sinking down onto his anatomy, but Trixie's breath still grew more intense as she rose and fell, any and all movement apparently causing her to feel something worthy of making noise. Trixie sped up, her ups and downs changing from deliberate directions into bouncing, the fleshy impact of skin against skin rising in volume as the mare let her bodyweight drop harder and heavier against the stallion, but it was almost drowned out by the increasing groans, grunts, and moans of the pair.

The display was captivating, the gradually increasing energy of the performance stirring something in Pinkie, a tingling that demanded more and more of her attention. What had at first appeared shocking and deranged had became more and more intriguing, and it honestly looked less like bullying and more like fun. Pinkie wondered if she'd been comically wrong about the magician and her intentions for the stallion, until the interest burrowed deeper and took root in her loins, and her introspection turned to curious confusion. At first she began to wiggle, shifting and grinding her legs together to try and stave off the itch, but as it blossomed and her subconscious movements resulted in her being jabbed by the branches of the bush, she couldn't ignore it any longer. The bush was too small to accommodate her wiggling, she wasn't comfortable cooped up as she was, and as more and more ponies stopped to observe the bizarre act that was occurring in the middle of the town square, she had less and less reason to hide. In fact, all she really needed was a conveniently-timed distraction that would ensure she'd be able to slip out of her hiding spot without looking like a creepy stalker.

At that moment, there was a cry of surprise from Trixie as Caramel lunged up and toppled her backwards, sending her sprawling onto her back across the wide rim of the fountain's basin. Taking this as her cue, Pinkie slipped out of her hiding spot, managing to zip speedily to the back of the growing gaggle of ponies without drawing any attention to herself, and therefore preventing herself from looking like a creepy stalker. Slaloming her way to the front of the gathering, she found herself with a far better and closer view of what was happening, without the obstruction of leaves that had previously marred her appreciation of the unexpected encounter.

Caramel had shifted atop the mare, using his newfound position to slam down from above. It looked aggressive and feral, like some bizarre style of wrestling, and with that observation, Pinkie became enthralled in a whole new way. Rather than feeling pure curiosity and confusion, she was excited, eager to see who could win in this battle of tangled limbs and determination. Bouncing slightly on her hooves, she leaned in, watching with the same degree of rapidly building interest and captivation as she would a race, or a sporting match. Once that connection had been made in her mind, it didn't take her long to start cheering and slipping into her habitual role of the impromptu commentator.

"Trixie made a strong start, but Caramel turned the whole thing around - literally!" Pinkie announced, briefly describing the course of the game for those who hadn't been present for its beginning. She wasn't talking to anypony in particular, more expressing herself out loud, but as almost always happened when Pinkie let her inner monologue flow, that meant everypony was listening. It wasn't her fault she was naturally so performative and drew disparate ponies into enthralled crowds, after all. "He's slamming down onto her like she's a stubborn piece of dough on a counter, or a trampoline with that extra springiness in it that means you can just drop all your weight and bounce all the way back onto your hooves - don't pretend you don't do it too, everypony! - and he's really laying into the unicorn. Is there a way back from this for Trixie?"

The verbal exposition of his actions to a growing crowd slowed Caramel's pace a little, both he and the unicorn he was thrusting down onto turning to look at the sea of faces ogling them incessantly. If their sudden and boisterous activity wasn't being conducted in a very public place, it would've been fair to say that the attention from the crowd was invasive. Despite the pressure of being watched, Caramel maintained a respectable focus, faltering only slightly in his movements as he became incredibly aware of a veritable audience appraising his actions. He continued to throw his hips down, thudding clumsily and heavily against the mare, his thrusts and jerks doing something more than just crushing and hitting the mare if her groans and grunts were anything to go by; they sounded like noises of pleasure rather than discomfort or dislike.

For all his discipline, though, Trixie wanted more than he was giving. With a sudden flare of her horn and a sweep of her legs, the stallion found himself tipped off-balance and flipped all the way onto his back, the magician straddling him once again. He gave a masculine yelp as he was spun, his arms flailing for purchase and instead splashing into the fountain, sending the water up and over the two of them like a spontaneous and momentary rainfall. Trixie took this in her stride - or ignored it entirely in pursuit of what she really wanted - and lifted herself halfway off his anatomy before dropping down harshly. The earth pony gasped, the sensation etching itself onto his face for a moment before the unicorn repeated her lift and drop, pacing herself so that her climbs and falls became a swift, smooth bounce, almost as if she was treating the stallion the way he'd treated her moments earlier. It certainly had the same effect, or close enough; his noises were throatier and deeper, more like growls and grunts, while hers were squeaks and squeals and gasps, but they were both unmistakably involuntary sounds of enjoyment.

"What a technique!" Pinkie cheered. "A good 'ole spin and role, and now Trixie is the one on top, slamming down like she's trying to break a bag of ice. In this mixed sporting tournament, Trixie's stagecraft has given her the edge she needs, and she's demonstrating a rodeo capability nopony knew she had! She's reclaimed her position at the top, and now she's barrelling to victory!"

"The G-Great and T-Talented Trixie, has m-many hidden skills," the unicorn boasted as she rode the supine stallion. As if spurred on by the commentary and the presence of an attentive audience, the blue mare bounced faster, the impact of her body against the stallion's audible to the first few rows of ponies, the vocalisations of the duo unable to cover the fleshy slap of their wilful colliding.

"I'll say!" Pinkie agreed, stepping closer and leaning towards the focal point of the pair's ritual. Peering between their legs from a relatively safe distance, she remarked, "From this humble spectator's perspective, she could win a hotdog eating contest so easily! It's like she's gulping down a sausage, and not those deliciously smooth ones you usually pack into a bun; she's swallowing down a humongous weiner! Over and over and over again! Ride that pony and guzzle that weiner!" She whooped and started chanting the contestant's names, alternating between Trixie and Caramel and waving the crowd to join in, supporting their chosen participant.

The sporting chants hadn't been going for long before Caramel's voice rose over the lot of them, signalling something significant that nopony really understood, other than that it was significant. The stallion's head stretched back, his face contorted into an expression of concerted effort and strain, and he let loose a series of abrupt grunts and bellows through scrunched eyelids and an almost pained sneer over his face. The crowd fell silent as his body went rigid, unsure of what his sudden onset of strain entailed. It looked and sounded like he'd suffered a severe cramp, lifted one final rep at the gym, and received the best news of his life all at once, and as his exclamations lessened into stuttered groans and manly sighs, a wave of awe swept over the gathered assorted ponies. Only Pinkie was able to see the stallion's appendage throbbing and pulsing, looking almost like a throat swallowing, and the sight of it sent a swell of warm, giggly delight through her body that she couldn't explain.

"I-I think I'm done," Caramel said at last, breathing heavily and quickly, his face melting into a picture of bliss.

"Done?" Trixie asked, incredulously. "What do you mean, done? What did you do?"

"I don't know," the stallion told her, her scowl contrasting his obvious contentment. "It felt l-like there was a p-pressure that kept growing, and th-then it...uh, flooded over?" He shrugged as best as he could, his cheeks glowing red and his coat bristling with sweat. "It f-felt really good, but...now I don't n-need to keep going."

"The nerve!" Trixie huffed. "The Great and Flustered Trixie did not feel this pressure you speak of, nor does she feel 'done'. We are-"

"What did it feel like?" Pinkie interrupted, eyes wide with unbridled glee. "Tell me tell me tell me!"

"Um...like a really good massage," the earth pony attempted. "Or when there's water trapped in your ear after you go swimming, and you finally feel it dribble out. But, a lot more sensitive, and sudden, and it's like something hot and sticky squirted out of me."

"Oooh," Pinkie cooed. "Like syrup? Hot fudge?"

"Uh..."

"Did you squirt caramel into her from your dangle?"

Trixie scoffed in disbelief and disdain, clearly unhappy with the conversation and the turn of events, and muttering something about deserving better than the lunatics with whom she'd been dumped. While the earth pony stallion was trying to figure out Pinkie's peculiar question and the unicorn was busy grumbling about wanting her own spillover like Caramel had enjoyed, the pink mare glanced at the gathered ponies, and saw what had resulted from the intense bout of playfighting they'd witnessed. Some stallions, like Caramel had done, were rubbing themselves through their trousers, massaging similar bulges and strains. Others, bolder and obviously encouraged by the public games, had dropped their lower clothing entirely, and were openly running their hands along their bloated, swollen genitals, as if trying to massage relief into the affected appendage. She spotted a mare curiously brushing over the distended penis of the stallion next to her, whose eyes were closed as he enjoyed her gentle, novice touch.

"-shall not rest until I receive my relief," Trixie continued, lifting herself off Caramel with a small wince, his anatomy exiting her pocket and flopping against his belly. "If this pony cannot satiate Trixie's hot itch, then somepony else will have to do so! You! Are you brave and skillful enough to attempt to duel the Great- WOOAH! HEY!"

Before the magician could finish issuing her challenge to the audience, Pinkie grasped the unicorn around the hips and hoisted her over her shoulder, holding onto the wiggling showmare with a hand firmly grasping a soft, malleable butt cheek. Turning to the assembled crowd, Pinkie exposed the magician's rear to the townsponies, pulling the pert buttock to the side to better show off the pocket between Trixie's legs, which had until recently comfortably sheathed an engorged stallionhood.

"Fillies and gentlecolts," she called out, expertly holding Trixie still over her shoulder as if she'd been trained as a firefighter and brandishing her free hand for flair. "In this exciting new game, Trixie takes the lead by outlasting Caramel! She showed she had the talk, she had the walk, and she fit in his entire stalk! Who here feels they have the skill - nay, the talent - to bring to the table at the hopes of beating Trixie Lulamoon? This task is varied, bringing together rodeo, weiner guzzling, wrestling, gym, and so much more!" As if punctuating Pinkie's pitch, a viscous white substance oozed slowly from the unicorn's newly explored passage, seeping over the outer lips and crawling down the fur of her coat. "Is that...icing sugar? Oooh, super scrumptious! Maybe I'll make Trixie spill over, and-"

"I'll do it," an even, confident voice spoke out, cutting the energetic earth pony off mid-sentence. From the crowd, a stallion walked forward, already pulling his shirt over his head and exposing his enviable musculature, drawing the attention away from the main attraction temporarily. "I've got what it takes to make her spill."

"Oakily dokily," Pinkie agreed, dropping Trixie daintily onto her hooves and stepping aside so the dark grey earth pony could unceremoniously grab the unicorn by the jaw and pull her into a heavy kiss, forcing their lips together as she was seated on the fountain's rim once again. The action drew a murmur of surprise from the crowd, and Pinkie herself found her jaw dropping at the unexpected display of romance. "Wowzie! It looks like the ponies here today are really getting into this game! I've heard of emotions running high during matches, but I've never seen buckball turn into a date before!" There were a few laughs from the crowd, but something else seemed to have settled over them; the kiss - as out of place as it seemed - had stirred an energy in the observing ponies, and the pink mare herself had to admit there was something to it. Sure it didn't make any sense to think about, and if she'd described it to a stranger who wasn't watching, it would've confused the pants off them, but seeing it done was a whole other matter. A quick glance back at the audience revealed that some of the more daring observers had replicated the out-of-place romance in front of them, letting their lips graze across another's experimentally, and curiously letting themselves fall into a displaced display of affection while they continued fondling, rubbing, and stroking each other.

Pinkie's itch returned, hotter and more fierce than before.

Trixie's eyes were closed when Pinkie turned back to face the performing duo, her body relaxed and limp as the stallion gripped her jaw in what would have been an alarming display of disrespect, had it occurred at any other time; now, for no particular reason, intuition told her that it was right, that both she and the stallion were right to treat each other this way, and that if it were her in that position, Pinkie would want him to treat her just the same way. She had no idea why, but she should be treated like that, she realised. It looked a lot like friendship, or something close to it, now that hardening penises being shoved into stretchy orifices had spontaneously become the latest crazy Ponyville trend. If Trixie's expression as the kiss ended was anything to go by - cheeks humming red in a blush, her eyes lidded in what was unmistakably approval and appreciation, her lips a little parted, and the stallion's thumb and forefinger still clutching her - she was in total agreement with Pinkie's assessment. Everything felt different now, in some inexplicable way, and it was like she and everypony instinctively knew how to react to it.

The burning itch couldn't be ignored any longer, not with what was happening in front of her, and Pinkie's hand wandered down to her spandex bottoms and slithered under the waistband. Driven by instinct and guided by the performance put on by the others, she travelled underneath her panties, the barest lift of the cotton letting out a waft of heat like she'd just opened an oven door. The fur of her crotch was drenched, and her panties were soaked with the fluids she'd been producing - which, in hindsight, made sense, given how much liquid every other mare was making. She wasn't a biologist, but as a baker and all-around party pony, she knew firsthand that mouths watered when presented even the idea of some tasty treat, and it wasn't a huge stretch to believe that this was something similar.

She bit her bottom lip as her fingers grazed over her delicate lady bits, feeling the bare and naked skin greet her fingertips as she traced her way around the source of her burn. Circling her orifice, she explored the experience, testing how it felt when she touched herself, teasing and tapping and tracing shapes across her slippery slope. It was new, and her downstairs was far more receptive to touch that it had been at any other point in her life, but she wasn't quite reaching that itch; it persisted, unaffected by her casual fumbling, the gentle flicker of tactile sweetness serving only to whet her appetite for even more of what she'd gone in search for. She knew what she needed to do - the sign was right in front of her.

Without warning, the stallion pushed the magician away, shoving her onto her back and pushing her legs apart to expose her entrance. Fiddling with his trousers, the musclebound male shoved his clothing out of the way, fetching his natural tool from uncomfortable confines of the fabric - it reminded Pinkie of a tent pole, now she put a bit more thought into it, and if underwear could be considered a tent - and gazing down at the wet ellipse of the showmare's previously unremarkable genitals. Rather than the slow, careful penetration that she'd been privy to before, Pinkie saw the stallion bring the flat end of his phallus to Trixie's hole and shove his hips forward, snuffing out the party pony's view as he attached himself to Trixie at the crotch.

The blue unicorn yelped at the swiftness with which she was filled up again, but made no complaint against the roughness with which she was being treated, her legs instead reaching around the stallion's torso and seizing him, like she had him caught in a crab's pincer. Pinkie managed to scamper around the side to get a better view in time for the stallion to start moving, pulling back in a great withdrawal of his hips and dragging his anatomy out of the unicorn's body, all the way to the very edge of his phallus, before jamming the whole rod back inside. With Trixie staying still and the stallion doing all of the dancing this time, it was so much more apparent just how much was being stuffed into the stagemare, and Pinkie felt delight run through her as she watched the impressive ramming and receiving. She knew Trixie was a performer and used all sorts of gimmicks to fake awe-inspiring displays for audiences, but this couldn't be falsified; the entirety of Ponyville couldn't be in on it, after all, and unlike the retractable blades used for sword-swallowing or movie sets to imitate plunging the implement deep into a pony, she was certain that penises didn't do that, and certainly not in this case. Once again, she just knew that Trixie was genuinely taking every inch of the thick appendage, and that it was amazing.

Underneath her jogging bottoms - which were developing a pretty noticeable dark patch at the crotch - Pinkie found her entrance after a little searching, one which promised levels of sublime bliss and ecstasy. Curling her finger, she eased it into the crevice and pushed deeper, passing into a layer of herself she'd never knew existed, nor knew she even ought to know. It was about what she expected - far hotter than her skin, as slick with her crotch fluid as her mouth was with saliva, and about as soft as the insides of her cheeks, too. She even poked around her mouth with her tongue to compare the texture, feeling her insides with two different appendages and seeing what felt like what. Her first observation that her mouth wasn't as sensitive, nor did it hug her tongue the way her nether regions did; small flickers of joy radiated through her pelvis as she brushed against her walls, the contact sending little embers across her nerves like she'd disturbed a smoldering fire. It was good, definitely progress, but it wasn't quite enough. It took no imagination or motivation to press another finger to her spring, sliding it in beside the first and immediately heightening the experience her first was bringing her. Letting out a contented mmm, she stroked her way inward, eyes and ears glued to the couple performing in front of her.

The back-and-forth of the stallion grew repetitive enough that it became a pattern, and from there, it was an easy task to keep doing it, but faster. Like a true fitness fanatic, he strove to up his game, to reach new levels of accomplishment, and it was obvious for everypony to see - or at least, it was obvious to Pinkie, who watched on with eager admiration, fixated on the sharp jerks of the male's hips and the disappearance and reemergence of his bar. The way he worked with a focus and fixation made his hobby apparent, transferring his discipline and skills over to this new, unprecedented sport. His body looked right for this, the ripple of muscle beneath his skin and fur looking like something that should happen when this strange dancing duel occurred, the solidity of him slapping satisfyingly against the softer body of the mare he was winning against - or was it winning with? Trixie certainly didn't mind either way, her expression liquid as she was jostled and put through what looked like an immensely potent, tension-releasing, core-cleansing massage in the form of a vigorous workout, her voice erupting from her throat in loud groans, squeaks, and ragged pants and huffs. Sometimes words bubbled forth, spilling out in a shaky tone, but they were mismatched and vague expressions of something powerful that was far more easily conveyed by the way her face screwed up and relaxed into various portraits of pleasure, the way her legs tightened and she rolled her head around, and the mere frequency and volume of her vocalisations.

The jagged rocking shunted Trixie back and forth, even as she stayed in place, held by the pincer-grip of her legs around the stallion stuffing her and the hands holding her waist, but while she was able to refrain from being shoved into the fountain, her bust was far too prominent to avoid jiggling and bouncing in the confines of her sweater. The dual masses were clearly left unsupported by a brassiere, which wouldn't have been noticeable if they weren't bounding up and down with every heavy push the stallion made, his strength sending the soft mounds wobbling as her body refused to budge and left the pillowy pair to absorb the shock of his flurried pistoning. Pinkie's eyes were drawn to them, keenly noticing the defined peaks of what could only be the unicorn's nipples indenting the sweater, and found herself cooing happily at the sight. They must've been so sensitive, rubbing against the cotton as Trixie's breasts rolled in time to the vigorous and uncoordinated dance, exposed and amplifying the sensation of what was already obviously an intense workout.

It was Trixie's hand moving down to her groin that interrupted Pinkie's admiration of the wobbling swells, distracting the pink pony as the limb moved with purpose to the place where she was joined with the stallion, and pressed her fingers against the top of her vulva. Groaning louder, Trixie rubbed, circling and shaking her hand like some parody of disk jockeying, all while her back arched and her body tensed, tightening and pulling inward. The unicorn's free hand reached for her chest, grasping at one of her boobs and squeezing it through the sweater, kneading urgently like it was some sort of stress ball. Both ponies were frantic in their movements, the stallion jerking backward and forwards with his hips, and Trixie rubbing and grasping desperately at herself while she lay back and endured the fierce and ferocious workout.

With a gasp and a squeal, a sharp shock ran through Trixie - at least, that's what it looked like, if the way her legs pincered even tighter around the stallion, her back arched high and fast enough for her to have to hold herself up on her head, and her arms spasmed as she sputtered out a high-pitched volley, her voice careening between notes like a musical scale played in a random order. Whatever she was feeling looked as if it was bouncing around inside her, causing the unicorn's body to tighten again and again, broken by brief bouts of relaxation from where it must've eased off. It looked like what Caramel had experienced, even if his finish had been a lot more restrained in how his body moved compared to Trixie's. Still, that loudness, that exclamation, all of it was undeniably the peak that Trixie had been expecting.

Pinkie led the crowd in a cheer, whooping for Trixie and the muscular stallion who'd given her the spillover just as he'd promised, the collective voice of the crowd following the party pony's in celebrating a round well-played by both sides. Leaning over Trixie, she took in the look of exertion on the blue mare's face and listened to how she panted, a sign of what must've been an intense bout of cardio for the stagemare. The way her chest rose and fell was nothing to be scoffed at, either, the sight of this result - the persistent echo of a labourious, rewarding game - feeding Pinkie's giddiness.

"How did it feel?" she asked, rocking back and forth on her hooves, her hand pumping nonchalantly underneath her jogging bottoms. "Did it feel like a pressure that flooded over? Was it just like Caramel said?"

"It wasn't like a p-pressure," Trixie huffed, the flush of her face glowing through her blue fur. "It was like a t-tension, like a cramp where it concentrates in one place and becomes intense, but it wasn't bad. It was...it was great. And then it broke and shone, or surged, or...it spread, okay? I'm a stagepony, not a poet."

"Oooh, so like a friendship explosion?" Pinkie asked, gasping and feeling a new wave of excitement grow inside her. It was yet another reason to encourage and explore this wonderful new activity. "Like being electrocuted by sugar?"

"Electrocuted by sugar?" Trixie repeated, frowning. "What in Tartarus is wrong with- actually, no, don't answer that."

"If you ladies are done," the stallion spoke up, interrupting their back-and-forth. "I'd like to get back to this."

"She spilled over," Pinkie pointed out joyfully, standing up and stepping closer to the chiseled hunk. "Good work. If you need to finish, I'm totally up for it."

"Can't I just...keep going?"

"Yes," Trixie spoke up, glowering at the pink pony. "You should keep going."

"What?" Pinkie asked, spinning in place to gawk at the unicorn. "But you spilled over. Caramel was done in one round."

"The Great and Durable Trixie is not some simple earth pony stallion. She is a performer who stays until the show has run its course."

"But-"

"And more importantly, she wants to keep going."

"But-"

Pinkie's objections fell by the wayside as the stallion shifted, pulling Trixie's right leg up to his shoulder and turning her sideways on the rim of the fountain, her other leg hanging off the side. With her position altered, Trixie tried to stabilise herself, but the athlete's thrusts began anew, sudden and hefty, and the unicorn's body was shunted in place, her arms slipping and leaving her torso to fall against the stone as she scrabbled weakly with her arms for purchase. Her face took on the expression of deep, base enjoyment again, like she was enjoying the potent sweetness of treacle for the first time, or the burn of a delicious soup to sate her hunger, or the wonders of a scrumptious dessert at the end of a meal that filled the remainder of that asking space in her belly. Her voice rose to the occasion too, huffing and moaning and panting as she was jostled on the stonework.

The vigorous movement shoved her back and forth in short shoves, and where her bust was pressed against the surface, her sweater was pulled down, exposing her breast over the course of a flurry of tiny tugs against the fabric. The asymmetry of it - her right booby flopping out and jiggling from the slamming, while her left remained safely and snuggly confined - looked appropriately chaotic and messy for this sort of activity, like how working up a sweat was a sign of a good workout, and the sight of it looked and felt right to Pinkie. She bit her bottom lip, the itch in her own groin growing hotter and wetter as the stallion rammed himself hard and fast into Trixie's crevice, her legs spread to expose her crotch to the audience so everypony could see just how much was was taking into such a small space. It looked invigorating, and it was almost hypnotising, pulling them towards the encounter in the hopes that they could experience it themselves.

The display, as aggressive and apparently natural as it was, was working Pinkie up, and the motion of her hand wasn't sufficient anymore to sate her need. Taking her lead from the pair playing in front of her, as well as the crowd around her, the pink pony pulled down her bottoms and underwear, shimmying the spandex out of the way and admiring the way it felt compressing the flesh of her glutes as the elastic passed down her like a wave. Normally, it wouldn't have meant anything, but today had brought a whole new awareness and appreciation for her body, the curves and softness and wiggling jiggling layers of moderate fat she had around certain parts of her. It felt right to flaunt it, now. With clear access to her nethers, the earth pony sat down on the grass, spread her legs apart, and probed her playzone, easily sliding in her ring and index fingers. From what she'd seen with Trixie, rubbing the outside of herself felt good too, and a wordless voice told her to try it, so she did. With two fingers working her running culvert, her palm ground over her vulva, mashing happily against her lower lips and a hard little spot higher up. It did feel good - good enough to send a hot shiver through her, and urge her onwards.

The stallion's jagged jerks became stronger, faster, his hips starting to blur as he rammed his rod more and more urgently into the magician's box, his jaw clenching and his teeth bared as something rose inside him. He began to groan, a near-growl taking hold of his voice as the sensation inside him grew more and more intense, evidenced by the tensing of his legs and the frantic, barely-coordinated thrusting, and within moments, he grunted out a loud, unabashed cry, his movements falling into an arrhythmic humping. He let out a few aggressive desperate jerks, throwing his hips forward like he was trying to manually shove in an object that was just too big for the hole. The party pony looked on happily as his testicles did that cute little lift, and his pole pulsed like Caramel's had.

"And it looks like the final whistle has been called!" Pinkie commentated, standing up with surprising finesse given her state of half undress. "Some might say it's a tie, some might say it's a decisive win, but I think we can all agree that both of amazing contenders were absolute sports! In fact, I'd say they both won, but that's just me." She paused what she was saying to fully take in the sight of the stallion pulling out of Trixie, his log withdrawing her like a dog backing out of a burrow, and the resulting exposure of her white-glazed interior. Trixie looked like a mess, in the best possible way, and Pinkie wanted in on the exercise that made her look like that. "But now it's time for a substitute, and in steps-"

"Tagging in," another voice interrupted, as a broad stallion who Pinkie recognised as a handyman (she remembered him helping fix up Sugarcube Corner at one point) pushed past. He'd taken the time to shed his clothes fully, leaving him stark naked as he tapped hands with the gymgoer as they passed each other, and moved between Trixie's legs. The mare had rolled onto her back, and on seeing the new contender approach, she'd lifted both legs and bent her knees, leaving her looking like she was in a yoga pose. Her hands supported her thighs, helping keep her in position, her fingers decorating her supple flesh with creases where she applied pressure.

"Hey, why don't we switch it up a bit?" Pinkie suggested, her frown at the preparation of yet another game without her breaking through the facade of her smile. "Trixie's been on the pitch for the past three rounds. Wouldn't it be fair to let another mare participate?"

"Huh?" the stallion asked, looking back over his shoulder to talk address her. "Oh, well, I would, but-" He nodded down at Trixie, who was fixated on the stallion's engorged endowment as it rested atop her mound. "-she's already warmed up, you know? Less chance of injury, and all that. How about later, Pinkie?" Before he could receive an answer, he turned his attention back to the blue magician and carefully pulled back, dragging his underside between the unicorn's lower lips, and then pushed back. He failed to enter her, and ended up gliding across her entrance instead, back to where he'd started. Trying again, he pulled back, pushed forward, and repeated, starting to saw his hips in an effort to park his piece in hers.

"Don't take it personally," the magician snarked, smirking in Pinkie's direction. "Trixie has had years of experience in captivating ponies. It's no wonder he wants me."

"I've had years of experiences in entertaining ponies too!" she rebuffed, frowning and crossing her arms.

"I don't doubt it, but then this entire situation speaks for itself, doesn't it? Equal skill, and yet it's three-nil."

"Hey!" Pinkie objected, pouting petulantly at the question of her party prowess, and readying a full barrage of righteous ire. She wasn't given a chance to expand on her annoyance, as the stallion leaned forward, pushing Trixie's legs back even further, and used his hand to place his ram in position at Trixie's gateway. Now nearly atop her, and her body bent at the waist, he was at the perfect angle to simply throw the weight of his lower half down, and he sank into the unicorn's cavern as easily as if he'd fell. It was a singular movement, smooth and inexorable, and with it, he was entirely sheathed within the arrogant showmare, obstructing Pinkie's vision of her nemesis. The pounding began in earnest a couple of seconds later, looking like the most aggressive attempt to churn butter that Pinkie had ever seen. Or maybe a supersized mortar and pestle? Or maybe it was the weirdest way she'd ever seen to whisk up a thick batch of mega whipped cream?

"S-so deeep!" Trixie wailed in between grunts. "Wh-where does i-it go?!"

Hearing the mare's struggled questions and untrammelled joy put a dampener on Pinkie's mood; it wasn't that she didn't want other ponies to have fun - even Trixie - but the magician had already had her fair share, and now she was just being greedy. Pinkie felt she deserved at least some attention, and right now, she was being deprived. Even the sight of the stallion's bouncing brown balls (like some quirky game of tennis or ping pong, Pinkie thought) and the fleshy slap of the wrestling going on in front of her didn't do enough to sate her want. It should be her playing party-pong, but she was left high and dry while Trixie was hogging all of the fun! Well, if she wasn't going to share willingly, Pinkie would have to take matters into her own hands, and with how many ponies in the crowd were in various states of undress, it looked like she had no shortage of options.

"Did somepony say cashier to till number two?" the baker asked, kicking her jogging bottoms fully off her legs and tossing them away with a hoof. Now utterly naked below the waist, she bent forward and lifted her tail, showing off her prominent posterior in all its glory, an act which would've been bizarre before today. Now, though, it seemed right; it felt right, some part of her instinct telling her that this was the right thing to do, and that everypony would love it. It was how she went about planning parties, conducting her songs, dances, and fun-raising activities, so she trusted it to carry her through this novelty too. With a casual sway of her hips, she shook her booty from side to side, showing off the softness of her rounded rear, the plumpness jiggling in a way that was inexplicably pleasant for her, and innately pleasant for her viewers. "Who wants to go first?"

Casting a glance over her shoulder, the mare caught sight of a number of stallions polishing their poles, some assisted by mares, who were themselves brushing between their own legs. There were heads turned towards her, stallions and mares alike gazing at the party pony with a voracious hunger in their eyes, something with which Pinkie was immensely familiar from a hefty amount of time working in a bakery. More than one of them licked their lips, but nopony moved towards her as she'd expected. Putting her hands on her legs, Pinkie shook her hips more enticingly, bouncing her knees to make her buttocks jiggle and wobble in a way Trixie's just couldn't.

"Come on, don't be shy! I've got all the same parts as she does...except better." With a more fervent shake and sway, her hips working in circles and exposing her cleft in flashes and blinks, she outright asked, "Who wants to party with Pinkie?"

"Spike want."

That brought the mare's head around to face the source of the speech, her neck twisting so she could look over the other shoulder. At first, what she saw didn't register, and she watched in surprise and confusion as a tall, hulking lizard creature stomped towards her, easily a head taller than the stallions of the gathered audience. The crowd moved out of its path, like a school of fish avoiding an incoming predator. Like many of the townsponies, the newcomer was naked, its purple scales a shining a dull matte in the half-light, and though its maleness was shaped very differently, it was every bit as hard, thick, and long as the stallion's she'd been coaxing.

"Spike want," it repeated, its tone a low, gravelly growl, and Pinkie realised with a start what she was seeing.

"Spike?" she asked, her eagerness to partake in the new sport entirely forgotten for a moment. "How did you end up all dragon-y? I mean, I know you're a dragon, but even more dragon-y? Have you seen Twilight? What's with-"

"Spike want."

Pinkie was sharply reminded what she was here for when the much bigger, much buffer, and much more single-minded drake than she remembered reached her, his guttural declaration heightening the roughness of his grab. His fingers pressed down against her buttocks, the sharpness of his claws absorbed by the thickness of her natural padding as he compressed her supple cheeks down and spread them wide, exposing her crotch and letting the cool morning air brush at her warm, soaked inner flesh. She didn't have long to shiver at the difference in temperature, though, as Spike's spire sped to her entrance, the head touching her sodden gateway with an ease that seemed remarkable.

And then he shoved.

Pinkie's eyes rolled back as the speartip sailed down her passage, leading the mighty shaft into her depths and filling what felt like the entirety of her insides with its rigid presence. The single shunt was all it took to impale her, every centimetre of the appendage passing into her in that simple movement, but the friction of the girth of it grazing her walls as it entered lingered, like a burn after letting go of a hot plate; her passageway had obeyed his command to move, stretching to accommodate his size like he had a right of way. The heat of it, the pressure of it, the beautiful ache of being spread wide by something she couldn't stop or push out if she'd wanted to, it all came together in a wonderful sensation that felt like going through every stage of a meal at once, from the mouth-watering tingliness of hunger to the smell and sight of the food arriving, to the first bite, to the heavy satisfaction of being full. Her cave, a part of her she hadn't even knew existed until today, was filled to the brim, the space occupied by the beast's beast, and it felt right.

It was then that time resumed its normal pace, and like the fuse on her party canon had reached its end, Pinkie let out a huff of breath she'd sucked in while she was being stuffed full. Her mouth was hanging open, and she had to refocus her vision. Watching didn't do it justice; she half-believed it was a trick at first, some stagework and illusion for the crowd, because there was no way something that big could really fit in a mare's body, but after having felt it enter her and push her insides aside, she knew with absolute certainty that it was genuine. Magic, maybe. Magical, definitely. Authentic? Absolutely. She could almost forgive Trixie for hoarding the game for herself, given how spectacular it was - Pinkie was hungry for more already, and she was worried that somepony would try and steal Spike away to play - but then again, there was still party etiquette, and depriving her of this new experience was a downright party sin.

She felt she was justified in almost forgiving Trixie.

The presence in her pulled back, and the earth pony was once again exposed to the delight of the drake's anatomy grinding hotly against her wanting walls, the slide from her pocket a different sort of relief from the stretch of him pushing inside her, but equally joyful as his flesh ground against hers, like rock and flint striking and producing sparks. With how swiftly he did it, the overall sensation was almost like yanking off a band aid, but on the opposite end of the pain-pleasure spectrum, and she let out a stifled whimper at the sharpness of it. Spike's fingers let go of her rear, her butt springing back to full roundness as he moved up to hold onto her waist, his grip tightening in a hold that was both predatory and comforting, and then he began to move her. The mare couldn't resist his direction, her entire body pulled back so she could sink onto his piece, her slippery portal ensconcing his length from tip to base in an instant.

It didn't feel like Spike was making any real effort; he pushed her forwards, then yanked her back, each bodily command leaving her no choice but requiring very little of his actual strength. He could easily toss her around, a fact which filled her with a giddy warmth as she was made to move how he wanted her to, the simplicity of simple enjoying a game rather than having to direct it sitting well with the exuberant party organiser. The dragon was confident, in control, and he knew what he was doing, and that knowledge pushed her to relax and become one with the pleasure, enjoying her newfound position as a very new type of passive masseuse. Her interior clung to him, her muscles clamping down whenever he moved her away from him and off his tool, and the tighter she gripped, the more intense the response of her nerves when he rubbed against her. Not that she had to do much at all, given how thick his piece was.

A masculine grunt drew her attention to the fountain, where Trixie was still being slammed from above on the rim. The down-pound had drawn to a close with the stallion sheathed in his blue partner, his glutes and butt squeezing tight as his twins climbed towards his groin. Several seconds passed before he let out a sigh and relaxed, then lifted his hips and withdrew his equipment from the magician's natural toolbox, once again treating Pinkie to a view of the reddened flesh inside the clenching cave, the contractions doing nothing to seal up the mesmerising view. He was still dripping, dribbling the remains of the frosting he'd spewed inside the lucky showmare, and as he stepped down and walked away to let yet another guy take his place, drops and flecks spilled onto the ground.

"A-And T-Trixie l-lasts another r-round!" Pinkie cheered, her commentary stuttered between flashes and sparks as the dragon behind her continued his dominance over her body. "W-Will we ever f-find a worth con-...ahhhh...contender to-" She gasped as the drake sped up, her lower half subjected to the grating delight of the dragon dashing her den and her vision subjected to motion blur. "-to claim v-victory? St-step up, t-test your mettle, a-a-and play to wiiiinnn!" The rising tension in her groin and the tingle in her extremities rose her pitch, and she shuddered as the electric buildup only continued, slowly filling every part of her. Spike didn't show any sign of noticing, but it hardly mattered; what he was doing was amazing, and if it only got better, why would she need him to do anything else? He could just continue working her on his rod, using her like an object for his pleasure, and she'd continue to feel hotter, and tighter, and more overwhelmed, and more and more and more-

With a snap and a flash in her mind, the tension in her groin turned hot and flowed, while the tingling in her limbs buzzed and shot through her like a charge going to earth. Her spine glowed as the lightning ran up it, bounced off her skull, and shot back down, igniting the liquid rush in her crotch. Involuntarily, her muscles clenched, her passageway constricting like a vice around the drake's delving dong, her flesh turning red-hot as it pressed hard against the immovable sturdiness of the phallus spreading her apart. The pleasure came in pulses, each wave making her tighten, and each contraction of her party passage leaving her entire groin area glowing with the intensity of trying too hard to greedily pull every ounce of euphoria and tactile wonder from him. She shook, squeaking and groaning as the waves rolled over her, floating as best as she could as those waves crashed down atop her, redoubled, and returned. It really did feel like a spill, she mused with the part of her brain that wasn't yet jelly, or crackling with electric delight.

"W-Wowzie!" she whooped as soon as she could muster her thoughts again, her mind and body co-operating to function enough to at least communicate. "That was super fun! It was all like, whoosh, bang, zap! And then- WOAH!"

Spike cut her off with a deep, aggressive thrust, no longer moving her body, but drawing back his own and driving his pleasure-piece into her party cave. When he'd been physically directing her, his presence had felt like the boundary of a room, something solid that marked the edge of play of a game, but now he was the one in motion, it couldn't be that any more. It was still solid, as if that wasn't obvious from the carved, sculpted stone that was his entire body, but now when he made contact, it felt like a slap, a hit that sent a shockwave through her body from butt to mane, a ripple travelling along the layer of fat that kept her shapely. The impact didn't hurt, but she definitely felt it, like a bullseye snowball throw; it was fun and harmless, but it still stunned her and left a lingering aftereffect.

If there was any doubt at all before that Spike was a primal beast, that was put to bed as he lay into her, pistoning his length into her and letting her big bouncy booty cushion her from the momentum of his dense, heavy groin. He was a machine, his movements fast and hard and unyielding, battering her bottom and filling the town square with the weighty slaps of scaled groin against fatty flesh. Her interior was aflame, the sparks that came from the friction of the back-and-forth rubbing intensified by a thousand just from the speed and the relentlessness of it, as if he were stuck on maximum setting and couldn't stop until his battery died. The heat spread, and the tension began to build, the static buzz returning to her limbs once again.

Her second spill was just as intense as the first, even if this time there was no way she could hold onto his pride as it pillaged her. He was just too insistent, too fast, too strong, and his penis continued to shove its way into her and spread her wide even while her body was doing its utmost to clutch at the rigidity sending her lurching through time and space. The rush was hot and sharp, fluid and electric, and she wasn't overly surprised when she felt a trickle run down her leg, dripping through her fur and settling in her coat - at least, she thought that was what had happened. It was hard to keep track of what was outside and what was inside while new colours revealed themselves to her, and she heard mysteries of the world whispered in her ear, if that whispering was screamed at full blast like she'd turned the volume up on her favourite song of all time.

The ravaging didn't stop, but the sensations reached an equilibrium with her sense of self-awareness, and so Pinkie was able to regain her composure enough to focus her vision. Trixie's new partner was imitating Spike, the unicorn bent over at the waist while he pumped into her from behind. It was a thrilling sight, and the noises they were both making were ticklishly good, but there was no way it could compare to the beating Pinkie was receiving. Her rump was numb, the blows feeling distant as they rapped against her doughy caboose, and even beyond the whack of Spike's strikes and the throaty sounds he made as he exerted himself, the pink mare's moans and groans rose up over the background noise to inform the entire town of just how much fun she was having, leaving little to the imagination. Every change in pitch and frequency broadcast the spikes and peaks in pleasure, the twinges that came from something being brushed in just the right way, or rubbed with just the right amount of pressure. As she sang for them, the townponies cheered, raising their voices and applause for the partiest pony of them all, and the one who could keep the game going longer than any other participant. Sure, Spike was the contender, but it took a real champion to stay in the game the way she was.

Trixie's partner groaned loudly and hilted, his hips letting out a few last jerks and his face contorting as he reached his limit and finished, depositing another batch into the magician. When he pulled out, leaving the unicorn empty, nopony else came to refill her deficit. Noticing the vaccancy, she turned around, and frowned in confusion and - though she would never admit it, Pinkie knew - awe at the sight of the dragon still going strong, and the crowd admiring the spectacle.

"How are you still going?" Trixie asked, to which Pinkie giggled - or at least tried to, given how hard she was being battered inside and out.

"N-Nopony o-out-p-parties th-th-the P-Pinkie Pie," she told the unicorn, grinning even as the dragon reduced her thought process to mush. "H-He's m-made m-me sp-sp-spill t-two times without-" Her words came to a sudden halt as the drake grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms back, allowing him rougher, quicker thrusts into her pocket, and the added domination over her giving her a boast that tipped her over the edge. She hadn't noticed the buzzing start again, but it was unmistakable as the pressure released and the rush coursed through her, leaving her shaking and shivering, her jaw dropping and her eyes rolling upward. She shamelessly gave herself over to the feelings as Trixie watched, letting out a long squeal and allowing her tongue to loll from her mouth.

"-th-three t-t-times," she updated, the dopey expression continuing to preside over her face even as the flow faded away. The jerky jabs of her dragonic partner felt more urgent and animalistic, and she didn't mind that one bit. She was the expert at cutting loose and having fun, and it seemed that the dragon's hidden talent was something very similar. He grunted and growled, stabbing sharply into her receptive trove, the length reaching her core and the thickness filling her perfectly, and making room when she wasn't quite wide enough for him. She was already stretched to fit him, but she still had to stretch wider, almost as if...

It took her a few moments to realise what that meant, which she put down to her mind being mulch. She guessed it made sense that if he worked as hard, fast, and unerringly as an electric whisk, that it stood to reason that he'd end up scrambling her brain.

Spike's growls reached a rapid crescendo, as did his jackhammering thrusts, and all of the parts of their playtime came together to produce a perfect end. His grip around her wrists became iron shackles, stopping her from launching forward as his final, brutal thrust smashed so hard against her that she felt the keen sting even past the numbness of the pounding she'd endured. His steel rod swelled, pulsed, and throbbed angrily, deep contractions working through his muscles like she'd felt happen with her, only this time, it meant something different. His pulsing phallus was hot, and getting hotter, and in a quick rush as he rammed as deep as he could into her warm, wet depths, Spike hit his spill.

Calling it a spill wasn't quite right, though. As Spike raised his head to the sky and roared, bellowing as the crash that came with the finish hit him, his throbbing pillar of meat didn't so much spill a sticky batch of frosting, but erupted, a torrent of his viscous juice spurting from his cream cannon with such force that she felt it spatter against the furtherest reaches of her interior and wash back. It clung to her insides, even as more jets burst from his tool and flooded what space remained unfilled by his pillar, until there was no more clean space inside her to hose down. With every rocketing shot, his meat pulsed and throbbed, ejecting more of his batter into her saturated chamber, the pressure of his trapped lake growing heavier with every passing second and every additional pump of thick, bubbling, achingly hot dragon deposit.

With his snarling dying down, Spike let go of Pinkie's arms, placed one hand against her bum, and push, dragging his snake from her burrow one last time. His departure was followed immediately by a stream of the resevoir he'd made, spilling messily from her gaping entrance and out over her groin, down her legs, and leaking in strings down onto the grass. Even with it being so thick that it should've oozed, there was just so much of it packed into her that once the dragon's organic plug was pulled free, fluid dynamics worked its magic, and gave the town a display the likes of which they'd never seen. As Pinkie dropped down onto the ground, thighs, calves, crotch, and inner workings drenched in Spike's slime, the townsponies let out a cheer and a thunderous applause. That did bring a smile to her face, even as she lay entombed in a stupour.

"Pinkie?" a voice asked, and the party mare opened her eyes, looking over her shoulder to see who had spoke. "Are you okay?"

"Indeedily," she chirped, greeting the stallion with a genuine but lethargic smile. "That was super-duper amazingtabulous!"

"Oh, good," he replied, adjusting his glasses. "In that case, do you mind if I play next?"

Pinkie was tired. She was run ragged from having fun with Spike, and she had been planning to simply have a nap on the floor, which felt immensely comfortable after such a rigorous game. Her privates were tender, her backside was a little raw, and she was coated in something she'd probably need to wash off sometime soonish. In all honesty, she would've preferred to just sit this out and let others have fun...but she couldn't. She knew what the stallion was missing, and she'd hated being deprived before Spike had taken the initiative. She was Ponyville's premier party pony, and she had to see her friends smile.

"Go nuts," she told him, rolling onto her back and spreading her legs. The warm gunk seeped from her marehood, drooling between her butt cheeks and running cheekily over her wrinkled ring. She giggled at the thought of it being a glazed donut. "But I'm pretty beat, so I'm gonna lay here, if that's okay." Reaching down for her stomach, she rubbed it in a slow circle, doting happily on the warm, fulfilled feeling still swirling there. As she looked around - Spike was gone already, probably to play with some other mares - she noticed Trixie doing the same, absentmindedly stroking her belly, where a party concoction was swirling. When she noticed Pinkie's eyes, she stopped, then offered a small, awkward smile. Pinkie beamed happily, giving the other mare a thumbs-up. Trixie blushed, then gasped as her breasts were grabbed from behind and a stallion stuck his stick between her thighs, already sawing in slow strokes.

As Pinkie's legs were grabbed by her newest teammate and held to his waist, the mare lifted her back to give him better access to her depths, muttering a happy little epilogue to herself.

And so the adventurer was sated, the danger found and quelled, and enemies turned into friends. From the fear of the unknown came a mighty treasure trove of fun, all because two daring mares dared to dream...daringly. All was well in the friendly town of Ponyville.

...but what about elsewhere?

Dun dun dun!