Race Against the Cock

by Drop_It_Like_Its_Clop

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Anthro, Princess Luna, Porn, Mystery, Fetish, Spike, Princess Celestia, Sex, Main 6, Profanity, Big Macintosh
Length: 71463

Twilight must find the source of the strange behaviour afflicting the town and end it before it consumes everything she knows

Twilight Sparkle awakens one night and immediately knows that something is wrong. She can't put her finger on what, but there's something off; everything feels different than before, like a small, imperceptible detail that she can't quite focus on, and yet can't ignore. Soon discovering that she isn't the only one affected by this change, whatever it is, she sets out to discover what is going on and just how she can stop it, and to restore Equestria to its normal and natural state.

A commission for DualReason set midway through Season 4, when alicorn Twilight and the Golden Oaks Library existed simultaneously. Now isn't that a blast from the past? Cover art by Chrysalisdraws on Derpibooru.

Edit: Featured on 04/03/2024. A huge thank you to the perverts who made that call.

Published 2020-12-01 17:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-10-09 05:05:08 UTC

Zero Hour

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."

Apple Sauce

Author's Note

This chapter contains lots of incest. Beginning to end. There's not really much more to say, other than that this chapter isn't technically vital if you're focused on the story, and want to avoid the incest parts. If you want sibling bonding, read on. If not, the next chapter will be far more to your tastes.

Apple Sauce

Of all the dreams he'd ever had, Big Mac couldn't recall having any that were particularly vivid. Some of them were more vibrant than others, but he was a simple stallion with simple interests, so 'strange' wasn't a word he often found himself using. In some dreams, he was a heroic adventurer, but they were usually generic and easily explained. In others, he was doing work for his ma and pa, sharing stories and lemonade with them on a warm summer evening, watching the sun set over the orchard. Either way, he knew when his dreams were dreams, and they never crossed into situations he couldn't explain.

This, though, was a situation he couldn't explain.

He was cuddling up to his sister, as they often did during their sleep. They'd never stopped sleeping in the same bed, and being the adults of the family and the ones responsible for keeping the farm in good order, they took comfort in one another, their bond remaining true and strong throughout their childhood and beyond. After their parents had passed, Applejack barely left his side, keeping him close for fear she'd lose him too. As they entered their teens, their nighttime routine had remained unchanged. His sister was the last pony he saw before he went to sleep, and the first he saw waking up.

He couldn't remember the last time they woke up in the middle of the night. Off the top of his head, it was during a storm in their early teens, and the younger mare was frightened. She shook him awake and had to be held, shaking against his toned body until she felt safe again, and they fell asleep again in one another's embrace, the stallion waiting until his sister's breathing had calmed before he allowed himself to close his eyes. He remembered how he'd felt then; determined, responsible, and protective.

Now he felt entirely different.

The orange mare in his grasp was murmuring softly, her back pressed against his chest, and her butt wiggling against his groin. Her movements almost seemed deliberate, the constant back-and-forth of her waist far too coordinated and repetitive to be a simple accident. Her tail, trapped between them, tickled his abs, the coarse hairs caressing his muscular torso while her rear rubbed insistently at his crotch and groin, grinding up and down, her softness toying with his sculpted thighs and the hardness between his legs.

Of all the things that he was utterly unfamiliar with - the thumping of his heart without exertion on his part, the greater intensity of their contact, the powerful energy thrumming through him - the one which he found both alarming and intriguing was just how hard his johnson felt. It was rigid, his sister's rear sliding over the appendage like she was playing with it, or polishing it, and for whatever reason, it felt good. It felt really good. He let out a shaky breath, the separation of their bodies by their pajama bottoms doing nothing to lessen the tender tingle resulting from her gyrations against him.

His hand moved down to his waistband of their own accord, pulling down on the fabric and struggling to fit it over the engorged splendour of his stallionhood. With some wiggling, he managed to let it spring free, slapping against Applejack's rear with a muffled whap, the impact coaxing a gasp from both ponies. The orange mare looked over her shoulder, her acute, searching expression making it clear he had her full attention. For a moment, the stallion wondered if he'd crossed a line, done something that would earn him a chewing out, but she bit her lower lip, and he felt her own pajama bottoms slide across the topside of his shaft. They locked eyes, their nightwear around their knees, and resumed their movements, the two gyrating in tandem.

Her buttocks were soft against his waist, two globes of machined perfection to massage his unyeilding muscle, and her thighs were the perfect balance between supple and firm against his length. Parting her legs slightly, she allowed him to slide snugly between them, indulging in the subtle flexes and ripples as she moved. Sandwiched between her two powerful pillars, Mac felt slickness against his shaft, too invigorated to care about what or why, basting in her juices and the strong heat radiating from her crotch. With every pass he made, he grew wetter, her fluids lubing his girth and messing her coat no doubt, but neither of them stopped. The fur of her coat brushed at his pole, her labia kissing the top of his shaft, the wet, hot sensations unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, or ever knew he could want. The contact was welcoming, inviting, and he wanted more than just the barest graze of their anatomy, and the anticipatory, affirming gleam in her eyes told her she wanted it just as much, if not more.

Pulling back, the stallion angled himself, pressing his tip against Applejack's spring, and pushed. There was a little resistance, but nowhere near enough to prevent his member parting her walls and gliding inside her. The mare gasped, her hands clapping to her muzzle to keep herself quiet as the stallion's appendage spread her passage wide, her walls clamping tightly around his intruding girth. Mac gritted his teeth as he pushed on, spearing into her until his hips came to rest on her buttocks. He didn't remain still, pulling back until his medial ring slipped from her confines, and thrust forward again, falling into a steady pattern.

Applejack's breathing came in huffs and pants, her exhalations synchronised almost perfectly to his penetration, and her inhalations coming as he withdrew. The stallion sped up, his rocking becoming more urgent, and the mare responded in kind, her breathing accelerating as he softly slapped against her rear, their bodies meeting with a cycling tap-tap-tap. Pressing his muzzle to her cheek, Mac let his lips peck at her, affectionately decorating her face with tender touches and doting licks while his tool mapped out her interior. Her hand cupped his neck and his cheek, holding and stroking him tenderly in unspoken approval and appreciation, expressing through touch what she couldn't through words or noises.

Mac let his own hand drift down his sister's side, his wide palm caressing her waist as it travelled to her hip to hold onto her, providing a more comfortable grasp and better leverage to move in short, moderated thrusts. He tried to control his pace, making sure there was a consistency with his motions, aiming to keep the general goodness of the situation on track. It was like eating a good meal, or celebrating cider season; he couldn't be greedy and overindulge, not when pacing himself - revelling in the sensation - was so much more gratifying, filling him with a rolling hum of deep pleasure.

The stallion had always functioned on what he knew, or what his instincts told him, and right now, he didn't know what he was doing. He'd never thought of interacting with other ponies in the way he was interacting with Applejack, but his instincts guided him, and he let them. His thoughts were sparse and fleeting, his mind occupied with the swirling wonder of their actions. Energy thrummed through him, a constant drive for more, and he listened, allowing himself to bask in how good it felt to be doing this with her, and not just physically; the lightness that spread through him, the fiery contentment, the climbing joy he usually associated with friendly competition or hard work, that was the most rewarding feeling. It not only felt good, it felt right, like he was supposed to be doing this. The thought of why he'd never wanted to do it before, or why the desire had only arisen now, never crossed his mind, and even if it had, he would've ignored it.

His breath ran hot over Applejack's neck and cheek, her own panting perodically caressing his muzzle as he walked his lips over her skin. The hushed huffs of breathing overcame the sound of their bodies mashing together, the drumming beat of his heart covering the quiet clap of his hips meeting her buttocks. To the stallion, every sound he made was powerful, throbbing, and he absently worried about waking the house. Would they hear the low grunts he uttered, or the roar of his desire? With how primed he was, his vigour rumbling ever more eagerly inside him with every passing second, it was hard to believe that nopony else could hear them.

As enraptured by their joining as he was, Mac still noticed the mare's grinding, her tush pushing insistently back against his groin, desperately trying to take more of his phallus into her snug confines, even as they expended all the room they had available. No matter how much they moved, how firmly they thrusted or pushed, they couldn't get any closer, and yet the ardent need wouldn't quiet down. He knew how she felt; he wanted more from this experience. He wanted to be deeper inside her, to feel more of her, even though she felt amazing already. Perhaps he wanted more of her because she felt so amazing. Whatever the case, he wanted more, and she did too.

With an impatient, gravelly snarl, he nudged the earth pony mare onto her front, rolling her over with his bodyweight, ignoring any objection she may have had, though he doubted she had a single complaint. Now atop her, the stallion adjusted his position, taking advantage of the new angle to slide a few more inches into the pony beneath him. He felt as well as heard her gasp, the deep intake of air pushing her back up towards his chest. Even though it was more of the same, it was still more, and that felt sweeter to the muscular stallion, his tool sheathed deeper in that irresistable silken channel.

His movements began again in their slow, deliberate earnest pattern, his lips dancing over Applejack's neck and shoulders, nipping softly here and there, while his waist resumed its staggered humping. His tip probed further inside her, spreading her walls and exploring parts of her body she'd never have been able to reach without his generous involvement, the unyeilding mass of his thickness bringing the feeling of being filled into vivid reality for her. At least, that was how he assumed it was for her, with how tightly her insides clung to him, her muscles squeezing demandingly around his length, and her stifled voice expressing her feelings in more strenuous puffs and whimpers. He tried to keep his own sounds to a minimum, letting his rumbles of pleasure roll around in his chest, hoping that refusing to let the excitement past his throat would keep the secrecy of their act.

Growing more confident with their position, and feeling his urges throbbing more hungrily, Mac quickened his pace, rolling his hips in wider rotations to plunge more deeply into Applejack's sodden delta. He applied some force to a bite against her shoulder, feeling the skin depress between his teeth just a tad, and heard his sister hiss as the sensation drew close to pain. Before it could, he released his grip, sweeping his tongue across the spot he'd marked, and kissed it, moving along to nip more softly at her neck. He explored, trusting his new instincts to tell him how much was too much, and what he needed to do. The orange pony beneath him writhed and squirmed in restrained yearning, the same craving that had sank its claws into him causing her to demand more, to seek greater satisfaction from the masculine paragon atop her.

Mac barely noticed her hand sink underneath her body, until the tips of her fingers brushed against the underside of his member, the simple contact sending a ripple up his stiffness. He tensed for a second, the additional stimulation catching him by surprise, before he renewed his determined thrusting, jabbing in jagged jerks which smoothed out into methodical, rhythmic cycle. The thought of Granny and Apple Bloom overhearing and coming to investigate sent a nervous trill through him, but his body ignored his concern and urged him onwards, the anxiety tempering his compulsion to ram away furiously.

Applejack turned her head to look at him as he pulled his chest away from her back and rested his hands either side of her, her questioning expression falling away as he slid into her again, gliding deep into her welcoming grip. It was easier to move like this, simply because sheer penetration he managed to achieve gave him an incentive to maximise the length of his strokes, keeping his speed slow and steady. When his nuts came to rest below her entrance, he felt her fingers still there, rubbing in circles and inadvertently brushing against his heavy orbs. He shuddered, anticipating the irregular contact she made with him every time he drew himself close.

The mare's breath quickened as he sawed into her, and after several minutes of his treatment, she lifted her rear up from the bed, her panting no longer a soft, breathy whimper, but a heavy huff. The flush on her cheeks was visible even in the darkness of the room, her coat doing nothing to disguise her vibrant reaction to their activities. Invigorated by the sight, he moved his hands to her waist, taking hold of her and forcing himself to exert some measure of control over his urges. With a breath to steady himself, he sped up again, pistoning powerfully into her.

Applejack let out a yip as he sank into her, turning to bury her face into the pillow and smother her much more open cries of pleasure. Grasping her hips to keep her steady, the stallion rocked himself back and forth, feeling the tingle as his medial ring squeezed between her inner lips with each pass. His testicles swung with the motion of his waist, tapping against her rapidly strumming digits as she insistnetly rubbed herself, the combination of what he was doing and what she was doing drawing a barrage of groans and oddly feminine vocalisations from the mare. Mac bit his tongue to stay silent, the odd snort making its way from his muzzle as he drove himself into her canal, held back from plowing her fully by the need to keep quiet, frustration building inside him at an equal rate to his passion, his sister's rising yells - however muffled - fueling his flame.

Even if he didn't know why, it was apparent to the stallion that Applejack was close to some sort of conclusion; her body trembled, her tail whipped frantically, and her voice rose in pitch, volume, and urgency, and she visibly became tenser and tenser. The components of her reaction intensified, becoming more pronounced with every passing second, until with a final squeal, she shoved her face deeper into the pillow and clasped it around her head with both hands.

Her muscles went wild, clamping down like a vice on Mac's malehood. His eyes widened in surprise, but he pushed on, struggling through the onset of tightness and the forceful massage it provided. Applejack bellowed, her legs quaking and her hips bucking seemingly at random, the sound of her explosive episode reduced somewhat by the pillows and the sheets. The stallion leaned into her, trying to quiet the noise somewhat, and held her close, his broad torso an immovable wall against her thrashing, his turgidity relentlessly squeezed from within her embrace as she rode out her bout.

It took half a minute for her spasms to stop, and even longer for her interior to stop toying with his shaft. In spite of how much he wanted to continue, to reach whatever completition this activity had, concern for his sister overrode all of that, and he stayed still, monitoring her. He could feel her heart beating strongly from the contact between them, and her back rose and fell against his chest from her steady, albeit accelerated, breathing. She was fine, by all counts, but he wanted to make sure.

"Git," the orange mare muttered, turning her head just enough so he could hear the words past the pillow. "Off." He hastened to obey, taking a deep breath in as he pulled away from her, his member retreating from her welcoming snugness. It was a mild night, but by comparison to being inside her, it felt mighty cold, the air against his uncovered flesh making him shiver.

"Are ya okay?" he asked, his deep rumble filling the room in spite of his efforts to remain quiet. He winced, wondering if the other two residents of the house had heard them. She hadn't exactly been quiet, and there was no telling how loud it could get if she didn't try to silence herself. His question received a nod, the mare pressing a finger to her lips and turning over, pulling her pyjama bottoms all the way off and tossing them to the side. Now naked from the waist down, she eased herself off the bed, touching her hooves as quietly as she could to the floor. Looking back at him, she gestured for him to follow, standing up and creeping towards the bedroom door. He hesitated, considering calling for her to stop for a second or two, before relenting and kicking off his own nightwear.

The pair of them made their way silently through the house, taking their time to sneak down the stairs and unlock the door without creating any additional noise. Mac figured they'd already caused enough of a ruckus, but the house was silent except for their booming heartbeats and nervous breaths. Closing the door silently behind them, Applejack grabbed Big Mac's hand and practically pulled him away from the house, the profile of the barn visible ahead of them in the generous glow of the moon.

The stallion felt his heart stammer a little, caught between being excited and anxious. He'd snuck out of the house with his sister when they were younger, just to play around in the fields or to try and catch mice, or to play in the early morning snow. It felt a lot like that - the same mischievous glee, the same dash of risk making it worthwile - and yet it felt like something entirely new too, something entirely unexplored. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that they were both outside naked.

When he thought of it like that, he realised just how different it all felt. Just how much it felt. The night's breeze, no more harsh or rowdy than usual, brushed more deeply against his coat, ruffling the hair and soothing his skin underneath. The crunch of his hooves against the soil sounded more crisp, more vivid, and he could make out the sounds of critters scurrying in the grass beyond the fence. The trees in the orchard had sharper definition, and he swore he could make out details he shouldn't have been able to, like the shade of the apples hanging from the branches, swaying lazily as though in some gentle current in a waterless sea. Even Applejack's palm, squeezed against his own, felt more expressive, somehow, like he could skim the outer wisps of her thoughts.

They soon reached the barn, Applejack heaving the door open with a groaning creek, pulling him inside, and closing the door behind them, secluding them with a laden metalic squeak and a wooden clunk. The light from outside was cut off, severing the outside world and leaving only the familiarity of the barn, the dry smell of straw and hay sitting still and omnipresent in the air, the shuffle of hooves on the floorboards disrupting the restfullness of the enclosed space. A lantern hung on a supporting beam cracked placcidly, throwing a potent orange glow around the room, and the two siblings turned to face each other, seeing each other in full light for the first time since they'd woken up.

"That was mighty strange," the mare started, her expression stoic as she opened the conversation. At her voice, a confused, throaty cluck issued from one of the enclosures to the side, which they both ignored. They had more important things to do than to assure their chickens that nothing was amiss.

"Eeyup," Mac agreed, nodding his head. He didn't have anything to add, and so stayed silent, the light scrape of clawed feet against the floor informing them that the inhabitants of the barn were fully awake. It looked like they'd have an audience.

"Ah have no idea what happened, but ah'll be damned if ah didn't like it." She started pacing swinging her arms by her side. The stallion cocked an eyebrow, surprised at her restlessness. She wasn't normally one to move about unless she needed to. "Whatever you did...whatever we did...it just worked."

"Ah don't know what happened."

"But ya know it felt good."

"Yeah, ah guess it did."

"And you're still standin' to attention like a royal guard at a highfalutin ceremony."

"Ah can't help it."

"Ah can."

He blinked at her words. "What do ya mean?"

"Back in the house, ah felt mighty hot, almost like ah was thirsty, or hungry, and whatever ya did, it wound me up tight an' made me...ah dunno. It felt like a release, whatever it was." The mare's gaze fell to the protruding anatomy from the stallion's crotch. "Ah'm guessin' ya feel the same right 'bout now? All tight an' tense an' wantin' somethin' to help release the steam in your pipes?" He didn't need to answer; his awkard shuffle and the bob of his penis gave her all the answer she needed. With his answer essentially given, she moved forward, drawn towards his substantial shape, its subtle twitches and shifts intriguing and exciting her, her attraction strengthening with every step she took.

"Are ya sure about this?" Mac asked as his sister's hands reached out to his anatomy. He stopped her, closing his sizable fists around her wrists to stop her touching him. "This ain't somethin' we've ever done before, an' ah ain't even sure it's somethin' we should be doin'."

"What sorta talk is that?" the mare huffed. "We ain't ponies who shy away from somethin' because it's new an' scary. Heck, half the times ah'm away with Twilight an' the girls, we're doin' somethin' dangerous an' outrageous. Why is this any different?" She tried to pull her arms from his grasp, to no avail.

"It just is," he insisted. "It ain't some end of the world scenario that requires reckless action, and what we're doin' don't feel exactly friendly. It's more like somethin' two ponies who love each other would do."

"Now ah know you're just talkin' baloney!" the blonde mare huffed. "Have ya ever seen or heard of any couple doin' what we're doin'? An' if we ain't supposed to be doin' it, why do we want to? It don't feel wrong to be doin' this, Big Mac." Her expression softened a little. "And 'sides, don't ya love me?"

"Of course ah do," he assured her. "But ya know what ah mean."

"Then show me ya love me."

He knew she was right. At least, she sounded right, and she wasn't one to back down in the face of adversity. He could argue with her all night, and she'd still insist. The thing was, he didn't want to argue with her, and it was only the itching anxiety at the back of his mind that made him object at all. He was totally on board with their new activity, and her resilience in the face of his concern quickly wore down his resistance.

"Eeyup," he agreed, his grip loosening on her wrists. "Ah will." Taking a deep breath, he felt a tickle at his nostrils, something subtle making itself known. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, other than that it was pleasant, and it reminded him of the time he spent holding his sister close. The comfort of that made him smile, and he let Applejack's arms free. "Ah guess you're right. Ah'm just worryin' 'bout nothin'."

"It's 'cause you're all tense an' pent up," she told him. "Look at how swollen your pecker is. No wonder you're all moody." She knelt down, eyeing his engorged phallus with a curious interest he couldn't recall seeing many times from her before. "How 'bout ah do somethin' 'bout it?"

Before the stallion could give an answer, her fingers had already wrapped themselves around his girth, the digits unable to touch around his circumference. Experimentally, she squeezed, just about able to touch her thumb to her fingertip with the moderate amount of give his flesh had, his shaft pulsing and growing firmer from the pressure. Apparently approving of her little test, she moved on to another, extending her tongue and dragging it up the rounded peak of his stick. While Mac dragged in a breath through his teeth, the contact sending a sharp, prickling down the top quarter of his staff, the orange mare took a second to assess the taste of his tip, her expression suggesting that, yes, he was very much an edible treat.

Applejack's lips bumped against his plateau a soft cushion ahead of her muzzle, before moving to ensnare his glans, following the shape of his schlong as her jaw widened and she took him into her mouth. A slow groan left the stallion's throat at the strange comfort, the advancing embrace of her maw warmly welcoming him. Somehow, it was intense and gentle at once, the feather-light pressure of her lips sending an expansive tingle through the skin she touched as she glided seemingly effortlessly down his pole. He watched as his dick disappeared into Applejack's mouth, his sister persisting in her obsessive curiosity towards his phallus, driven to pull it into her, to have it stuff her and fill her, to explore and experience it with all of her senses. She wanted to taste him, to have his flavour linger on her tastebuds so she could always enjoy his masculinity, no matter where she was.

Or was that what he wanted her to want?

The uninvited thought was brushed aside by the sway of her tongue against his undercarriage, curving to his cynlindrical shape as she tried to find a place for it to rest while she added more and more cock into her limited space. Her muscle twirled left and right, weaving aimlessly around his unyeilding pillar, every movement and touch painting lines of focused pleasure across his flesh. He swore he stiffened even more, pulsing and feeling a wet dribble creep through his pipe, but the mare pressed on, rolling her lips as though trying to crawl her way closer to his groin.

She'd nearly reached his medial ring, a good two-fifths of his stallionhood engulfed, when she ran out of room, his tip bumping into the top and bottom of her tract. The orange mare pressed forward more, compressing the cargo in her gob, but she'd managed all she could. Mac grunted, the humid embrace becoming a pinching discomfort as he was pushed against a passage too narrow to fit him, neither of their bodies malleable enough to fit. The mare gagged and pulled back.

"Are you alright?" he rumbled as the girl slid off him, thick strings of saliva bridging her to his monument. She coughed hoarsely, turning away and tensing, air caught in her throat. The drool thinned and snapped, dangling from each of their body parts that had been engaged in their experiment.

"Ah'm fine," she insisted, waving away his concern as she wiped her muzzle, smearing her spit over her coat. "Just a lot to f-" She paused to hiccup, suppressing a spasm that threatened to overtake her. "-fit in. You're pretty big, if it somehow escaped your notice." She cast her eyes to his penis again, now slathered in a messy serving of her slobber. Reaching out once more, she grasped it, feeling the weight of his substantial slab against her palm, and allowed herself to feel along its length, once more taking in just how firm and alive it felt. The gob-polish she'd adorned his pole with was cool by comparison to his simmering temperature, and made for easy travelling, her hands growing sticky, but managing to glide over his rigidity.

"Do ya reckon ah can taste you?" the stallion suggested, letting the mare have her feel of his tool while he spoke. "Ya seem t'like my taste, an' you've got a real nice smell 'bout ya tonight..." As if his words prompted a realisation from her, the blonde's nostrils flexed as she sniffed, and he received a huff of agreement, a snort from her billowing hot breath over his slickened shaft, cooling almost instantly as it came into contact with the liquid spread across his flesh. He let out of groan of his own, the sensation rolling through his body too slowly to be a shudder, but just as significant.

"Ah ain't mindin'," she answered, continuing her casual intimate massage. "But ah ain't stoppin' just so you can get your fill. You gotta find a way to make it work for both of us."

Applejack's offer hadn't long left her mouth before Mac reacted, being polite enough to allow her to finish her sentence before he grasped her shoulders and guided her onto her back, his broadness and weight alone compelling her to obey his direction. With her in place, he knelt down, knees resting either side of her head, and rested on his hands above her body, facing down towards her legs.

"Clever."

"Ah ain't blunt," he commented. "Ah've got smarts when it counts."

"Apparently, when it comes t'fun," she shot back, the smirk evident in her tone. The stallion dipped his hips and bumped her muzzle with his penis, feeling it tap her nose. The contact tingled sharply, and he swore he felt another dribble through his spire. "Alright, alright, ah hear what you're sayin'." She fell silent after that, save for the wet slicks as she opened her maw and worked to sate her own hunger.

Doing his best to ignore the tongue swiping along his tip - that amazing sliding wetness, with just enough roughness and pressure to send a trembling thrill through his pillar - the stallion wormed his head between the orange thighs blocking him from his goal. The muscle in his sister's legs was sturdy and built-up from years working the farm, and provided an ample, comforting embrace for his cheeks, but they weren't strong enough to stand against his determination, unable to bar him from Applejack's tantalising gulf. His neck worked to push her thighs out of his way, wiggling back and forth as he used his face to push downwards, the air growing thicker with that familiar scent, stronger with every inch he managed to advance.

He felt her, rather than saw her. The wetness against his upper lip was unmistakable, and he naturally sought out the source, his lips kissing the damp fur until he met sodden, tender flesh that he recognised as her entrance. His tongue swept over the matted coat, crudely cleaning the hair of its sour stain, seeking out the promising prize he knew lay in wait between her thighs. He slid and prodded blindly, guiding himself by touch and taste, feeling the texture change from unpalatable strands to juicy, pliant flesh, her nectar the most delectable flavour he could possibly conjour to mind.

Craning his neck further, Mac kissed along the vertical crevice, smooching down as far as he could comfortably reach. His chin brushed against Applejack's slippery petals, and he wormed the tip of his tongue between her netherlips, feeling a shiver run through her as he did so. He didn't care where he touched, so long as there was more of the fare mare's impossibly addictive flavour, more of her secretions to lick and lap and clean. As he wandered around her gate, her scent drifted through his nostrils, filling him with a mixture of hunger and satisfaction, a perfect balance of gratifying his efforts and enticing him to indulge further. The stallion didn't resist, probing with his tongue until he slipped inside, the powerful thighs clasped around his neck squeezing reactively, her taste the only thing stronger than her odour, pervading his senses and melding in a feast more welcoming and filling than any dinner he'd come home to after a hard day of work.

Applejack wasn't idle, if the relatively steady shift over his shaft was anything to go by. His hips moved of their own accord, tempted and drawn by the gentle ensconcement of his pride and its insistent lavishing, constantly swirling and sweeping and brushing across his rigidity, always changing direction and target. As he pressed down, packing more into her mouth, she lay her tongue flat against his surface, feeling and tasting the sheer girth and length he had to offer, and when he pulled back, driven to move, she swiped at every part of him she could reach, as though consumed by a desperate panic that he was leaving her. She was never left wanting, but her need to praise his piece spurred his loin's flexes and motivated him to feed her more of his schlong.

A rush of breath over his balls distracted the stallion, and with a resurging bout of strength, his sister rolled them both over, taking advantage of his lapse of focus to position herself atop him. Now in control, she scooted backwards, planting her groin on his face and grinding against his muzzle. Instinctively, Mac opened his maw and lapped hungrily at her valley, the position granting him better access to her sinfully sweet spring. His world was the thick, pervasive aroma of mare, the weight resting on his face, and the coareness of her coat against his muzzle as she rode back and forth. Down below, he was harder than concrete, the suckling and groping stirring a bubbling pleasure in his loins that grew hotter and more volatile with every passing second, his rod buzzing more and more intensely as Applejack sated her hunger with impatient urgency.

Like the mare had previously done, Mac heaved and turned them over onto their sides. Wasting no time, he buried his head between her legs and slurped noisily at her entrance, feeling the pressure against his member increase as he did so. From the feel of it, she was as riled up as he was, both of them basking in the inexplicably delicious source of their respective cravings. They rolled over again, and again, and again, their wrestling altering who was in charge, determining just how thoroughly they could work to sake their thirst. The intensity in his dong was still increasing, and a growing pressure inside him caught his attention, pushing past his immediate attention of his sister's syrupy secretions. His nuts - even as a pair of gentle hands fondled them experimentally - retracted towards his groin, seeming to grow tighter as the pressure built. His johnson swelled, pulsing as the heat and stimulation rose to a new height.

In the span of a few seconds, the pressure spilled over, a tidal wave crashing over his brain and forcing him to close his eyes, grunting as the intensity trippled, overwhelming his thoughts. His hips thrust forwards forcefully, driven by an instinctive need to have his dick buried somewhere snug and wet. His cock throbbed, pulsing in time with the muscles throughout his core, his legs and buttocks tightening and squeezing rhythmically. A wet rush coincided with the pumping, the stallion feeling thick spurts leaving his pipe, each shot sending heavenly feedback through his body, radiating outwards from his groin. Applejack's palm pressed against his abdomen, pushing against the tensed musculature with increasing desperation, until he finally pulled back, shakily retracting his still-pulsing stallionhood.

The blonde's coughing and spluttering registered to Mac through a haze, his face flushed and a pounding in his ears from the rigour of his unexpected reaction. His stomach and thighs still felt taut, as though he'd just undergone an accelerated gym session, and as he raised himself to his knees, he felt them tremble slightly. Not enough to set him off balance, but enough for him to notice. Standing up, he turned his attention to his sister, concern overtaking his rattled elation.

"Are y'okay?" he huffed, his breathing rougher than usual. It had been a workout and a half; maybe he needed to do it more often. Glancing down, he watched as Applejack hacked and coughed, holding a fist to her chest. After several coughs, she wiped her muzzle, then looked up at him.

"Ya coulda warned me!" she croaked, coughing again to clear her throat.

"Ah didn't know what was gonna happen," he defended, wincing at her glare. "Ah still don't know what happened."

"Neither do ah, but ah got a throatful of somethin' thick an' gooey." Watering green eyes peered up at him. "This here stuff. Look." She reached for his pole, wrapping her hand around it and lifting it upwards. He breathed in at the contact, her touch electric, and looked to see what she was showing him, and blinked in surprise. His tip seemed like it had grown moderately, as though it had expanded around the edges and swollen to become less flat, and his hole looked - and felt, now he thought about it, the sensation noticeable through the general frazzled status of his shaft - dilated, with a creamy ooze dribbling from it. That must've been the spurts he felt, and a nervous guilt swept over him as he recounted just how much it felt was being pushed out of him, volley after volley.

"Uh, whoops?" he offered, sheepishly grinning. "My bad?"

"Yeah, ah'll say," she huffed, glaring at him for a second or two longer before extending her tongue and swiping the dribble left behind on the uneven plateau. He gawked, the sight pulling a final squeeze from his shaft, which deposited another drop of the substance onto Applejack's tongue. Pulling her tongue back into her mouth, she swallowed, looking up at him with the same look of disapproval, as though she hadn't just cleaned his mess from him. "Warn me next time, wontcha?"

"Eeyup," he promised, still awestruck by her display of casual and unabashed dedication. Accepting his promise with a nod, she stood up and made her way over to a bucket near one of the beams, one they kept full of water for a variety of purposes. They'd filled it not even a few hours ago, before they headed to bed, before their unexpected midnight awakening. The country mare strode over to it and bent at the waist, dipping her hand into the bucket and scooping palmfuls of cool water to her mouth, swishing it from cheek to cheek and gargling it for a second or two before swallowing. Pulling her pajama top over her head, she slung it over her shoulder like a towel. "Ya want some?"

As she continued to drink, splashing some water over her face while she was there, Mac was taken in by the sight of her. Bent over as she was, the stallion had the perfect view of her ass, and it magnetised his gaze like nothing had before. He'd seen buttocks of all descriptions, and he'd seen mares naked before - he'd bathed with his sister more times than he could count - but this was the first time he'd been unable to look away, his focus centred on the toned globes. Like him, her body had become honed through physical effort, reflecting her work ethic, and this new attraction he felt highlighted to him just how amazing she looked. Her blonde tail nonchalantly kept her genitals covered, somehow making the prospect of gaining access to her even more appealing, like the desire to unwrap a gift on Hearth's Warming Day. He licked his lips, stepping forward, his penis still stalwartly erect.

The orange mare either didn't hear him approach, or didn't care enough to react. It was the decsisive brushing aside of her tail that caught her notice, followed by the firm hands against her buttocks that caused her to react. She let out a soft huff as Mac spread her cheeks, exposing her nethers to the air, and drinking in the beauty of her exposure as greedily as she'd been gulping water seconds prior. His vision passed over her tight butthole, a wrinkle of skin among her coat, and a fleeting curiosity gripped him before he moved on. Her furrow sat just below her untouched anus, sleek and shimmering with juices, the excess of which darkened the fur on her inner thighs. Her outer lips were parted, revealing the slickness of her passage, the flesh inside flushed red.

He'd been inside her before, but now he could see the process, it was mesmerising. His cockhead pushed past the meek protest of her gateway, parting her walls with ease and gliding down her canal, shaping it with his presence. He watched as his tool disappeared into her box, sliding smoothly between her lips as she clung to his cock, spreading her confines to accommodate his size. Like before, she managed to take all of him, their position giving him more reach and her a better angle to fit his length, the stallion observing his entry until his groin connected with hers, blocking his view. Pulling out again, he was welcomed with the emergence of his glistening shaft, coated in her abundant fluids as proof of his dive.

It took several complete sets before the stallion became accustomed to the sight - Applejack grunting at him to do more than just stare - before the stallion gave up his wonder for indulgence, throwing his weight forward and properly plowing his partner, the impact against her rear producing a soft clap and cushioning his collision. Realising he had a lot of leniency in how rough he could be, Mac gripped her waist firmly and thrust away, trying to find a workable pace and strength. It was different, now that he was on his hooves, rather than his knees; his balance wasn't the same, nor was his height, position compared to the mare's, or distance between their bodies. It was as new as anything else he'd tried tonight, but he was determined to get it right, to figure out what he should be doing.

It didn't take long for him to learn, and within a few minutes, he managed to piston rhythmically, falling into a workable speed that had his sister huffing and moaning, his treatment obviously doing as much for her as it was for him. If her silky insides felt good just from touch, then movement upped that to amazing. It lacked the teasing flick of her tongue, or the padded seal of her lips, or the deliberate, clenching grip of her throat, but her loins were hotter and wetter, and the tightness was consistent along all of his pride. It was like a perfect massage, the sort of pressure a professional would apply, except no professional offered a service like this. Of course, his sister had never experienced this before either, making her a novice just like him, and he wondered how much practice she'd need become a professional. The thought cast a ruffle of delight through him, and the stallion delivered a rougher thrust into her, grunting in tandem with the other earth pony.

Applejack gripped the strut with her hands, balancing herself while the muscled labourer pounded her from behind. Her fingers clenched, gripping the wood as his ramming shoved her forward, the shocks translating to bolts of sharp pleasure that rippled up her body. Each crash of his waist against her butt sent it jiggling, the force visible as her spheres flattened momentarily, moving on a delay to the rest of her taut, toned physique. It was a captivating view on its own, heightening the auditory delight of her vocal praises and involuntary babbles, and the more static attractiveness of her mane draped over her lightly muscled back. She looked beautiful in a whole new way; her strength and power not at all diluted from how he knew her, but somehow making her submission more meaningful.

As if picking up on his subconcious thoughts, the orange mare bucked back into the stallion, shoving him out of her and raising herself upright. Spinning around before he grabbed her again, Applejack pressed her body to his, sandwiching his spire between their trim bellies. Her movements - slow twists left and right, rolling his shaft between their toned abdomens - were a stark contrast to her fiery expression. She looked at him ravenously, her face brimming with a fury that lacked vitriol, as though she was frustrated at what she didn't have rather than what he'd been doing. Her hands sought out his shoulders, her upwards stretch adding another direction to her toying, and when she saw him react, she continued, shimmying herself to stimulate his appendage. Mac found himself compelled to join in, complimenting her motions with his opposing As they moved left and right, up and down, her eyes never left his, the two of them almost daring the other to break first.

In spite of the pangs of pleasure she was inflicting on him, his body urging him to stay and let her work him over, it wasn't enough, and he grabbed needily at the smaller pony's rear. His fingers sunk an inch or so into her globes before they met firm muscle, and he groped, squeezing her cheeks possessively and lifting her up. The mare gripped his shoulders more tightly as she was hoisted into the air, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to secure herself, her rump coming to rest on his sturdy trunk. Adjusting his grip, Mac kept her aloft with one hand, his other dipping down to guide his shaft to its desired destination. The angle made it more difficult than their previous , but they persisted, quitting not even a passing thought in their minds. The mare braced her legs tighter and used her grip to push herself up, squeezing her brother's waist as she tried to match her position to the bluntness of his shaft.

The second they were aligned, the blonde mare let herself slide down, pulling the two of them together with a tug of her calves against his back and sinking onto his length in a single deft drop. The plat of their contact broke the seal on their held breath, and the two of them let out a soft groan from the penetration, his girth shaping her walls to its cylindrical form. Glancing down towards their joined genitals, Mac saw a gentle bulge interrupting the normally flat plain of Applejack's tummy. Grasping her ass in his hands to support her, Mac lifted the mare up a little, watching in awe as the bulge receded in time with the withdrawal of his dick, and re-emereged as he let her back down. It was one thing to feel himself inside another pony, but to see just how far he reached was something else entirely. He remained transfixed, lifting the mare up and down on his pride, watching her belly bulge each time from his repeated insertion.

An orange hand swept up to the point where Applejack's midriff deformed over and over, blocking Mac's view of the magnificent sight. The stallion looked up at his sister with a twinge of disappointment, her expression taken over by curious enjoyment. He could just about feel her palm pressing down on him, the pressure apparent even if he couldn't actually feel the physical contact with her skin. The demonstration of his significance made him even more determined, and he put more effort into lifting her, thrusting her up and letting gravity pull her down, bouncing her on his staff. The familiar feeling of gliding through her slick tunnel returned, the speed stimulating his rigidity just as his impulsive hammering had before.

Letting the mare drop onto him at the apex of his lift began to grow stale, the fall and its resulting buzz lessening into a tingle that didn't carry the same reward for his actions. Mac shifted his right hand to Applejack's waist, the small change in grip not affecting his ability to her throw her around at will, and yanked her down as she reached the peak of his lift. The impact of their groins against one another was harder, a whap resounding just before they grunted, the sound spurring him to repeat the action. He lifted her up, pulled her down, let her clap against his body, and used the bounce to toss her back up. Their huffs and groans grew in sync, their holds tightening as the slamming became more frantic and their pleasure heightened.

The legs around his waist clamped harder and firmer, becoming vice-tight while her fingers dug sharply at his skin. She leaned closer and closer into him, her breasts flattening as she pressed them against his chest, her breath billowing in scorching flurries across his neck. It was like his heavy pounding was winding her up like a clock, her body tensing as he powered more and more energy into her, until she she reached her limit and clinched him from every angle; her fingers, legs, marehood, arms. She shuddered in his grasp, holding him tight and squeezing him furiously, her voice breaking as she cried out, suttering as the tension snapped inside her, lashing her body with spasms. He held her close, his dick docked in her convulsing confines.

Her release lasted several long seconds, and her recovery double that, and for all of it Mac stood stalwartly still, holding his sister close and keeping her safe and comfortable. When her breathing steadied itself and she lifted her head, he smiled down at her, already anticipating more boisterous play.

He didn't expect her to kiss him.

Her advances were moderate and smooth, her lips linking with his and her tongue sailing along the tops of his teeth. He was slow to react, shocked by her forwardness, and didn't make any effort to stop the startling intrusion. Her organ was cool from the water she'd drank, and she tasted clean and fresh, delicious in its purity and neutrality. He tepidly touched his tongue with hers, following her lead before she pulled back.

"Should we have done that?" he asked. "Is this goin' too far? What we've done already is one thing, but-"

"Shut up," she grumbled. "Just shut up, Mac. Ah'm gonna kiss ya if ah want, and ah want to. It all fits together. Ah can feel it." A palm planed up his neck to his cheek. "Ah'm gonna kiss ya, and you're gonna continue doin' what you were doin'."

"Ah don't know if ah can do that while you're kissin' me," he informed her, aware of their height difference, even - or especially - with him elevating her.

"Just angle ya hips."

"Ah don't know if-"

"Big MacIntosh, find a way or so help me," the blonde mare chided. "Churn my butter! Grind your mortar in my pestle! Knock my orchard like it's bucking season, just-!"

Her barked demands spoke to his bubbling interest, adding heat until it spilled over and took control. He grappled her lips with his, aggressively instigating a kiss while he walked them towards the edge of the barn. A hefty thump and a jolt informed him that he'd reached it, the rattle it produced irrelevant to him. Applejack grunted, but didn't give any complaint to him having slammed her into the wall. It looked as though she was too consumed by her hunger to care about carelessness.

With his quarry supported partly by the boards behind her, the stallion diverted more of his attention and energy to fulfilling their needs. Instead of bouncing her on his trunk, he thrust up into her, flexing his waist back and forth as he worked out just how to shove himself into the static mare by how each movement felt and how she reacted. At first, it was stiff and jerky, his eratic jabbing failing to achieve much consistency with how deep he reached or which parts of her he connected with, and the lack of progress translated to frustration for the stallion. Trying to visualise where he was in relation to her, he tugged her hips, manipulating her lower half to better receive him and angling himself correspondingly.

The next stroke sank into her fully and smoothly, pulling a grunt of satisfaction from him and a groan from his pleased mare, the vibrations travelling through their kiss. Mac fell into a pattern, letting his body work like a machine while he ensnared Applejack in a passionate embrace, his tongue batting hers and twirling playfully, exploring her mouth without concern or constraint. She toyed with him, giving him as good as she got, but he was more determined, more driven by desire and need that seemed to draw from a deep well inside him.

He acclerated his pace gradually, focusing on maintaining his rhythm and keeping his strokes measured and even before speeding up. Each plunge stuffed her full, enabling him to revel in the supple swadling of her interior, the increasing swiftness at which he returned into her making up for the reduction of time he spent inside her. Her walls welcomed him back each time, clinging imploringly with each exit he made, his rod kissed and caressed from every which way. With her back to the wall, she didn't have anywhere to move, and her body took the full brunt of his increasingly heavy pounding.

The mare's tongue faltered, her kiss becoming more sloppy as she tried to make up for her failing dexterity with enthusiasm, before even that became too much for her to manage. Her lips pressed against his firmly one last time before she broke the kiss to allow herself to breathe more easily, and immediately her muffled moans became yelps and whoops, providing a grand concert for anypony who was inside or near the barn. She didn't care anymore, he knew, because he didn't care anymore. He was too taken in by the noises she made, how he was making her feel too intense for her to be able to suppress her exclamations, and how perfectly she fit his turgidity.

His hips rolled in mechanical, implacable rotations, heavy and hard against her groin, each strike sending another ripple through her voice. Glancing down towards her stomach, the farmer observed as his repeated hammering rose her tummy just below her ribcage, the bump less pronounced than it had been when she'd been leaning back and he'd been putting more pressure against her levee, but still a visible swell. As slight as it was, it was still envigorating, and he pumped into her with a renewed hunger, the distending of her midriff from his unceasing pounding fueling his satisfaction and his drive. Just as she'd demanded from him, he churned her passage with a harsh vigour, looking for the bulge each time that signified he'd met his goal.

Applejack's peak rolled over her in a swift wave, her body curling into his as it had before, and she screamed out his name, shouting whatever words were available when she needed to let out another wail. Her entrance pinched at his shaft, but he ignored it, looking the blonde beauty in the eyes as she quivered and quaked, nodding as she huffed and dug her fingers into his shoulder and scrached at his back; she didn't want him to stop. She wanted him to buck her like she was a ripe apple tree, until she had nothing left to spill. He was more than happy to oblige, planting a hand flat against the wooden plank next to her head and grunting as he fought through her constrictive vaginal clutch.

Mac watched her freckled face throughout their bout, noting her expressions and the ways her visage morphed from one set to another; overwhelmed, nirvanic, expectant, overjoyed. He watched as her eyes stayed closed and her mouth parted so she could huff out regular breathy whines and whimpers. He watched as she bit her lip and struggled to constrain her throaty grunts and growls, her eyes screwed up tightly. He watched as her gorgeous green gaze met his, her eyelids closed halfway and her lips just barely parted, the rush of breath on his chin and the rapid guttral groans betraying her feelings as she took his package stoically.

She fell into the throes of her body-wracking shock again, crying out as she was subjected to the inescapable jolts and crashing intensity. She kissed him desperately, failing to properly co-ordinated her movements and instead pecking at his cheek and chin. He continued to pound her, taking her unspoken request to heart. She muttered hoarsely in his ear, beggining him to send her to that unbeatable high yet again, pleading with him to batter her box, to drill her mercillessly. He listened, his mouth seeking out hers so they could kiss again, lips brushing crudely against one another's, until their teeth bumped, and they winced, pulling back.

Applejack peaked again and again, her reaction always visceral and loud, even as her voice became coarse with the amount she was using it, and every time she'd recovered, she was more tired, her energy slightly more sapped. Mac was in the same position, feeling his bar glowing from use. His muscles were taut from holding both of their weight, as well as the cycling motions that were bringing both of them the astounding level of pleasure they were experiencing. He recognised the rising tide - it was the same gradual swell that he'd felt before, gurgling faintly deep in his core, but rapidly rising, and deceptively fast, too. His tip was sensitive, each light brush against the flat causing his entire pole to pulse and flex. Between his legs, the familiar ache that wasn't quite an ache was growing, a tension that urged him to keep going, to release whatever load he was carrying. His breathing transitioned from shallow gulps to throaty grunts, a pressure winding in his core that just kept spooling, until-

The release was like an eruption. His apples pulled towards him, and his pipe pulsed and swelled, squeezing powerfully as the roaring rush swept through his body and crashed over his mind. He pushed against the orange mare hard, shoving her against the barn wall, his body flat against hers, sheathed as deep as he could manage inside her. It didn't feel like he was deep enough, his body reflexively jerking against her crotch as he shook and writhed, words and noises indistinguishable from his perspective. Mac felt the surge hasten through him, barreling along his tube and ejecting forcefully from his end. The first jet was thick and plentiful, the strain of pushing its volume climbing down his glutes and up to his abs, followed by an abrupt and fleeting break before the next onslaught of tension.

The burgeoning throb squeezed out the next steaming gush, the spurt rocketing from his member to splatter against the farm mare's insides and paint her chamber in its pearly hue. Convulsions rolled over him like a wave, reverberating from one end of his body to the other, his muscles clenching as the sensation passed through them. Cream poured from his dong in intermittent bursts, a stream of what felt like pints of his essence flowing forth to flood the orange mare in his arms, his supply seeming endless. Through the sparkling fog that inhibited his senses, he could feel his sister's leg twitching against his waist, jerking in time to the wet splashes of his deposits, pooling in her depths to fill what little space his rod wasn't already filling. He could scarcely believe he had this much to give as he pumped a lifetime of unused syrup into her, the mare readily accepting his gift.

The swirl battering his mind began to slow, and, realising how wobbly his legs were, the stallion backpeddeled towards a bale of hay, letting himself slump backwards onto it as soon as his calves made contact. Sandwiched between the dry prickle of the hay at his back and the supple weight of another pony on his torso, Mac relaxed, the tumultuousness receding and leaving him out of breath and damp with sweat. It felt good. It felt right. Latent tingles ran through his muscles, and the most rigid part of him pulsed again, still held in the most tender part of her. He considered getting up to grab a cider - a suitable end to whatever workout they'd just done - but his sister's embrace set his mind against that. Wrapping his arms around her more securely, he held her against him.

"That was pretty good," she said, her voice gritty next to his ear.

"Eeyup," he agreed, squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

"Ah reckon we should do it again sometime."

"Eeyup." Silence followed, filled only by their deep breathing and the curious clucking of the chickens. It was a peaceful rest from their previous activity, their chests moving with one another, their hearts beating in tandem, a slow dance the both of them could enjoy in tranquility.

Applejack began grinding against him, slowly swiveling her hips. Mac didn't stop her, letting the country mare tease his pecker.

"Ah ain't tired."

"Enope." Already, he could feel the return of his drive, the brief pause from their fierce jostling recuperating his want and his ability. He didn't know if he'd ever grow tired of this new exercise, mentally or physically. At least, not for long.

"Ah fancy a ride."

"Eeyup." He felt a smile tug at the corner of his muzzle as she raised herself up, seperating their matted coats, and looked down at him with a self-assured confidence he knew all too well. "Giddy up."

Nighttime Dreams

The last time Spike had turned into a mindless beast and grown to a gargantuan size, he'd been easy to track. Stopping him had been a great difficulty, but finding him had been a piece of cake, and now, wandering through the streets in the unsettling cross between day and night, Twilight thought back to that time and wished he was just a little easier to find. She didn't miss the mayhem he'd caused, but she sure missed the reliable trail that led to him. As it was, she wasn't sure he'd cause any less mayhem this time around, so the increased difficulty in finding him was already a net loss compared to the previous experience.

There were some footprints in the dirt that she could just about make out if she squinted, too undisturbed to be anything other than recent, and too large and bestial to be anything equine, which aided her for a few minutes. Before long, however, they disappeared into the grass, and the purple alicorn was left glancing around aimlessly, unable to pick up the trail. Sighing, she tried walking in the direction she thought they led, hoping to come across something that realigned her direction.

To her surprise, it didn't take long for her to come across somepony else. The first thing that alerted her was the noise of what sounded like a mare in pain, prompting her to hurry towards the source. Her view of the mare was blocked by a wagon laden with milk bottles, glinting with droplets of condensation, but the cargo informed her of who exactly it was, and sure enough, when she rounded the wooden vehicle, she was greeted with the sight of the town's blue-maned milkmare. Slumped against her cart, the straps of the harness loose around her waist, she glanced up as the alicorn stepped hurriedly beside her, her arm drawing to a sudden and suspicious halt.

"Good morning, Princess Twilight!" she greeted enthusiastically, beaming brightly at the purple princess. "It's rare to see you up this early! Not that it isn't good to see you, just a surprise, is all. Would you like your milk to go?"

"No thank you, Milky," Twilight answered, her eyes drawn to the ruffled state of the cheery pony. Even as the curvaceous earth pony spoke, her countenance genuinely bright and upbeat, there was an underlying strain to her face, her breathing a little more labored than it ought to be, and her posture seemed off, somehow. "It sounded like you were hurt. Are you okay? Why are you sitting down?"

"I'm not hurt, no," Milky assured her, chuckling softly. "I've got an itch, and it's giving me a bit of trouble. It's nothing I can't handle, though, don't you worry. I'll be back on my rounds in no time at all." She tried to straighten up, letting out an involuntary huff as she moved.

"An itch?" Twilight pressed, eyes raking up and down analytically. "Is it...severe?" The hesitation she received told her that her hunch was right. "Is it somewhere it shouldn't be? Somewhere you've never had to scratch before?" Again, Milky hesitated, and chuckled nervously.

"I-I don't want to burden you with my problems," she stammered. "But, if, say, I was hypothetically having this problem, would you happen to know anything about how to deal with it? I've been scratching for a while, and it's barely dealing with the issue." She blushed, the vibrant red tinging her daisy-yellow cheeks.

"I'm afraid not," Twilight lamented, sighing. "If you try...um...scratching, it might go away. I think. I wish I could be more helpful." Glancing around, she peered into the darkness. "Has anypony else looked as though they were suffering the same sort of itch?"

"I can't say I've met too many ponies on my night rounds," Milky explained, fidgeting in place. "But I did hear some strange noises coming from some of the houses when I dropped off their milk. I didn't think much of it - it's not my place to snoop - but now you've mentioned it, it definitely seems suspicious. Maybe they were feeling the same way I do." As she pursed her lips thoughtfully, her hand, stuck down her white milkmare pants, began to move, the shape visible to the observing purple pony. "And there was that big fella who barrelled past me while I was taking a break. He seemed to be in a hurry, but I don't think he was a pony."

"He?" Twilight asked, her ears perking up at the mention. "Tall and broad? Muscular? Tail?" At the flurry of nods, the princess pressed on. "Which way did he go? How long ago?"

"He ran right past me, heading that way," she replied, pointing ahead. "He might've been running to the town center but that's just my guess. As for how long ago, oh, I'd have to say...five...ten minutes ago? Maybe fifteen?"

"Thank you!" the purple mare uttered gratefully, her urgency kicked back into full gear. "I'll come back and help you when I get this situation under control!"

"Of course," Milky called out after her as she jogged away. "Take care of yourself now, Twilight!" With her piece said, she let her head loll back against the wood of her cart, her wrist rotating more powerfully under her work clothes. Once again, the drawn-out moans and groans grew louder, becoming more prominent as the beleagured earth pony surrendered to her condition. The noises faded behind Twilight as she moved towards the center of the town, leaving the poor pony to deal with her troubles on her own. She needed to find Spike.

Hurrying through the deserted town, a flurry of thoughts fluttered through her mind. Where was he running to? What was his plan? Was he being driven by greed again, or was there some other motivation to his aggressive, possessive bout? If the situation wasn't dire, she might've enjoyed the mystery, puzzling over his behavior and trying to draw conclusions from her observations, like a particularly enthused anthropologist, but currently, it was driving her crazy with worry. If it weren't for the motivation to protect her friends and her community, she'd have started panicking a long time ago. Instead, she tried to claw desperately at the clues, wondering what he could be doing, where he could be heading.

He'd claimed to be hungry, so perhaps he was heading to the market? No, that couldn't be it; the food was packed away at night, and besides, he'd said he wanted her specifically. Did that mean he was looking for prey? The thought horrified her, but that didn't add up either. He hadn't eaten her, and she doubt he'd ever do anything so violent and brutal, even in his growth state. Instead, he'd done something else to her; he'd physically imposed himself, pinning her down and using her in ways she couldn't begin to describe. He'd clearly enjoyed it, sought the activity out, and she could understand why, even if the realisation made her face burn with the return of that shameful enjoyment. She'd never felt anything so intense as that mental explosion, that big buildup and release of tension and energy. It had been inhibiting, and yet freeing. Maybe that's what he wanted; he wanted ponies to give him that release. Yet, he had the entire town, and he'd passed by Milky Way, who was suffering just as she had been when Spike had been drawn to her. It couldn't just be random ponies. Perhaps he was seeking his friends.

Her eyes widened in terrified realisation, and she stopped in her tracks, scant seconds before a beastly, barbaric roar tore through the night, shattering the silence like a blast of thunder, with a deepness to rivial the bass of such. The air vibrated around her, rippling from the concussion of the bellow, and the fur on her arms stood up in shock. Before it had wound down, she was already sprinting towards its source. She didn't need to check to know where it was coming from.

"Rarity!" she shouted, spotting the busted door from the other side of the street. Upstairs, one of the windows was illuminated from within. In the blink of an eye, she barged her way into the boutique, weaving between the toppled mannequins and turning sharply to bound up the stairs, two at a time. "Rarity!" The mess wasn't too severe, which hopefully meant he wasn't feral - he couldn't have hurt her. He simply couldn't... "Rarity!"

Like the front door, the bedroom was open wide, privacy ignored in the dragon's pursuit of his goals. Even so, hurtling into the room at full-pelt was like smacking into a brick wall face-first. The room stank of some thick, cloying odor, pungent and seemingly onmnipresent. The air was humid, so infused with the reek that it seemed to be a physical presence, pressing hotly into her nose, caressing her head and seeping into her clothes and fur. When she breathed in, as she had to, she could feel it being drawn up her nasal, heavy and pervasive...and so, so desirable. She shook her head, refusing to let it fog up. Demanding her senses obey her, and not her desires, she refocused on the calamity before her.

The towering drake was looking at her, his eyes beady and piercing, his purple scales glistening in the lamplight from the varnish of sweat. His breathing was the loudest and throatiest in the room, deep drags in and hot growls out, and his chest rose as his body greedily pulled in great lungfuls of air. As she'd seen before, his male organ was protruding horizontally, throbbing in time with his heartbeat, its fleshy surface slathered with his own creamy produce. Thick dollops dropped to the floor in wet splats every few seconds, joining the pool of thick fluid he'd deposited. It was when her eyes drifted to the bed that she realised just how much of a mess the room was. In the light, it was obvious that every surface was splashed with substantial amounts of the sticky substance Spike had made, from the floor to the walls and even the ceiling - the ceiling! The furniture was stained in his gunk, and the normally flawless sheets and fabrics that adorned the room was saturated in ivory goo. She gawked as the epicenter of this mess became apparent to her, the sight too chaotic for her to recognise at first, until her brain managed to comprehend the image in front of her.

The unicorn she'd come to save was even whiter than usual, her features caked in goop. Her nightwear, usually pristine and stylistic, lay like torn rags around her, discarded and ruined. The mare was exposed, her bosom and crotch open to the naked eye, but so layered in slop that making out any sliver of pink skin was nigh impossible. Even so, she could see the rapid rise and fall of her friend's chest, which meant she was breathing, gasping in what oxygen she could between the strings bridging her open mouth.

"...Rarity?" Twilight asked, nervously. "Please tell me you're okay!" To her shock, the unicorn began giggling, her voice raspy as she convulsed and cackled. Her hand shakily swept over her face, gathering a huge handful of the viscous fluid coating her, and loudly slopped it onto the bedsheets beside her. She continued to laugh, rising and falling in bursts of energy every few seconds. Gawking, the purple mare blinked several times, the experience far beyond anything she'd expected. Her confusion and surprise coalesced into disapproval, and she turned her gaze to Spike, scowling. "You're in big trouble, mister."

"No," the titan growled, baring his teeth. "Spike hungry. Spike want."

"You're coming home with me, right now." Twilight stood her ground, narrowing her eyes. She kept her nervousness to herself; she needed to stop him.

"No!"

"Yes."

"No!" The drake began to stomp towards her, snarling fiercely, his breath hot even from a distance. For a second, the alicorn's heart skipped a beat, and she froze, fearing what he'd do to her. Then the moment passed, and she channeled her magic through her horn.

"Yes!" she insisted, raising her voice as she focused on his limbs. A brilliant rasperry aura flashed into existence, coiling around the muscle-bound legs of the almighty drake, sealing the two steely pillars and causing the dragon to tumble forward, thrown off-balance by his own momentum. Throwing out his hands, he caught himself, thumping loudly to the floor and sending a small rumble through the building. Before he could move, more vivid ethereal coils ensconced his wrists, binding him to the floor, pulling him onto his front. He yanked, trying to break the spell, but the magic held him firm. His tail cracked like a whip, smashing a chunk of wood from a chest of drawers, and that was sealed in magic too, clamped down harmlessly. His body tensed, muscles rising as he heaved, but he couldn't move. The alicorn gritted her teeth, feeling the strain in her horn as he fought with her, but she persisted. He may have had the muscle, but she had the magic, and in that arena, he had no hope of defeating her.

"Oh my," the unicorn chattered off to the side, giggling in a meandering pitch. "He does sound magnifique when he struggles. Our little Spikey Wikey has really grown into a tough, strong..." She petered off, leaving her sentence unfinished.

"Are you okay, Rarity?" Twilight asked, turning what attention she could to the sullied mare. "Are you hurt?"

"Hurt?" came the reply. "No, of course not! Well, I suppose I might be a little sore, but with such a dashing, romantic gesture, one can accept the few innevitable consequences."

"Romantic? What do...Nevermind. What happened? What did he do to you?"

With a blissful sigh, the mare pulled herself up into a sitting position, wiping her eyes clean and beaming a soiled smile at the alicorn. "I was awoken by a dreadful racket downstairs, like some ruffian was attempting to break into my beloved boutique. At first, I ignored it, believing it to be Opal or some creature making a noise outside, but when I heard the stairs creaking, I knew it couldn't be anything other than an intruder. I turned on the lamp and went to check, but before I could, the door burst open and in strode the most dashing knight I've ever laid eyes upon."

"Do you mean Spike?" Twilight asked, wondering how this story lined up with the scene before her. "Spike broke into your home?"

"Saying broke in is such a nasty turn of phrase, darling. I see it more as an unorthodox entry."

"He broke your door down, and he..." She gestured around the room. "...caused this. What is this, anyway? What did he do?"

Her question earned another simper from the caked mare, and she fell backwards theatrically onto the sheets, a squish resulting from the impact of her body against the marshy fabric. "He was everything the novels said; brazen, brash, bold, strong, and handsome. He thrust open my door and took me in his arms, cradling me close. I was afraid, but he looked at me with such noble confidence. Don't be afraid, he said. I'm here to protect you, my fair lady. No harm will befall you. Tonight, I am your protector. Your shining knight. Your prince."

"Spike said that?" Twilight asked, incredulously. From the floor, the constrained beast growled and snarled, writhing angrily against his entrapment. "This one here? He said that to you?"

"Not in those words, no," Rarity admitted, starting to sit up again. "Not in any words, actually. But it was his intention. Anypony could've seen it. The most powerful expressions of love are not spoken words, darling. Honestly, I thought you loved those novels I gifted you!" She huffed in moderate offense, attempting and failing to flick her mane out of her face. "It was the way he moved, the way he held me close, the way he refused to let go. The subtlety of physical affection, darling."

"And the mess was part of this physical affection?"

"It must've been," the soiled unicorn agreed, glancing around as nonchalantly as she could manage. "Whatever happened next, it was the most thrilling moment of my life! My heart raced, I felt things I can't put into words, and I was brought to the cusp of fainting!"

"Fainting?" Twilight pressed. "That's not good! Spike shouldn't be making you faint!"

"Twilight, darling, fainting merely shows that one is overwhelmed, and being overwhelmed by romance is not something to be rejected."

The mulberry mare looked her friend up and down, trying to determine what was wrong with her. Had she been brainwashed? Replaced by a convincing actor? A changeling, maybe? No, that didn't make sense, and not least of all because Spike hadn't had enough time to fetch a changeling during his escape. She shook her head and tried another approach.

"You hate getting dirty, Rarity," she reminded the prim pony. "You hate having your beautiful ensembles ruined, and just look at how messy the room is! How messy you are! How long are you going to have to wash your mane?"

"I am surprised at you," Rarity gasped. "Looking a gift horse in the mouth? This is a gift from him to me, and look how much there is!" She gestured to the sea of white, pointing to the abundance to prove her conviction. Twilight frowned, noticing just how much there was - she hadn't had to deal with that much when Spike had used her. If this was a gift, as Rarity said, or at the least, showed how much he liked a pony, did that mean he didn't care for her as much as he cared for Rarity? She shook her head, annoyed at herself for entertaining the ridiculous idea.

"Even if it is a gift, he should ask you first," she answered. "And come during the day, when you're not sleeping. This whole escapade has been disruptive to me, and I'd like to go home now. Are you okay to clean up here?"

"Alone?" Rarity asked. "I was rather hoping a certain dashing drake might stay behind to help little old moi with such a task, and maybe-"

Twilight sighed, rubbing her head. The conversation was going nowhere, and a dull presence in her head was growing denser as the infatuated mare continued on with her insistence of how ideal the situation was. This wasn't normal, no matter what she said; Spike was an aggressive animal, the night hadn't ended yet, the milk mare had failed to make her rounds, and now Rarity was insisting she'd been visited by a charming suitor. Everypony was acting strange, herself included, and she needed to figure out what was going on. First, she needed to make sure Spike couldn't rampage through the town. If only she could focus. A yawn pulled at her mouth, and she felt herself sagging.

With a start, she opened her eyes. What was that? She'd been falling asleep, for no particular reason. The dullness in her head was growing, her mind slowing as everything became heavier. She tried to fight it, her eyes drooping in spite of her lack of willingness. She had a job to do, and that...that....

She jerked her head up again, startled out of a near sleep. Something was wrong. Very wrong. As if sensing her weakness, the drake shoved against the magic restraints, managing to move from his original position. Twilight strengthened her hold over him, the aura flaring brightly, but it soon began to fade again, dispersing in time with her dwindling willpower. She focused, the brightness of her magic the only color she managed to make out while darkness closed in around her vision. She couldn't afford to lose him again, not when she'd just caught him! Sweat beaded on her brow, and she winced as her knee thudded against the floor. She shook, her body straining with the effort of maintaining her magic, her will pitted against the dragon's, their muscles tensed and their teeth gritted.

"Twilight?" It was Rarity's voice, travelling to her from a continent away. It sounded muffled, almost an echo, and she tried to turn to face the mare. She couldn't see clearly enough to make out her friend. "Twilight! Twilight!"

"Twilight!"

Her eyes shot open, and the mare blinked at the space around her. She wasn't in Rarity's bedroom anymore, and her fatigue was completely gone. She looked around, trying to get her bearings, her eyes struggling to adjust to the new environment. She couldn't see any walls, or any particular landmarks at all; the furtherest field of her vision was a blur or smear, and she couldn't guage distance. There was nothing to mark where she was or how far any point was away from her - not that there was anything to judge distance to, though. The landscape, if it could be called that, consisted of various shades of blue, from blunt and passive further afield to more luminscent around her hooves, almost like a mist or a bleary gleam, though she couldn't view it as such. Whenever she peered, it lost form, becoming nothing but transient colours, ethereal and ephemeral.

Don't forget

The phrase was whispered delicately, so much so that Twilight wondered if her mind was playing tricks on her.

Is the list complete?

A second voice made its way into her head, coming from nowhere, and yet as clear as day. The words registered to her, but she couldn't figure out their source. She didn't even recall hearing it, just understanding it.

We need to be up early tomorrow. Don't sleep in.

Twisting left and right, the mare tried to make sense of the voices, her hooves moving noiselessly along the incorporeal ground. Picking a direction that looked like it might lead somewhere, she started forward, the flutter of whispers growing more persistent.

"Hello?" she called out. "Is somepony there?"

I don't want to be late, but the alligator's in the way

Why is the guitar blue? I needed a laundry hamper, not a sandwich.

Whatever was being said, it wasn't being said to her, Twilight realised. She was merely privy to the conversations, or whatever they were supposed to be. A myriad of voices piles atop one another, each individual one poured into her brain to be recognised before being shoved aside by the next, ecclectic and esoteric in their content and delivery.

More muffins! More! More!

You've just brought a sword to a hug fight, buster!

Well, without a pillow, I need something else to rest on, so...

You're feeling it too, aren't you?

A kiss? I don't see why not...

Twilight's pace increased to a jog, her heart thudding louder in her chest, the pounding in her ears the only noise she knew to be real in this featureless prison. Without the clomping of her hooves against the ground, she didn't feel like she was making any progress, her legs working without any sort of feedback, and yet she ran, faster and faster, the voices following effortlessly.

I don't know, but it feels right...

C-careful, it's tender!

Why does it feel so good? Why does it feel so right?

K-keep going...

I'm not stopping until we're both passed out!

"Hello!" Twilight called out. "Anypony! Where are you? Where are we?!" She covered her ears, the barrier making no difference to the sounds inside her head.

Twilight

Twilight Sparkle

Twilight!

"Twilight!"

The unicorn looked up, her eyes springing open as a voice, a real voice, called out her name. She hadn't realized she'd scrunched her eyes tightly, trying in vain to keep the noises out, but the sound of her own name banished her other concerns. In the distance - at least, some distance away - she spied another figure, tall and slender, and her heart lifted with hope. There was somepony else here after all, and somepony who knew her! Her resolve returned to her, and she ran towards the other creature, the voices quietening as she drew closer. There was no gallopping clop against the floor, not even the muffled thud of hooves against grass, but she could see her target looming through the shifting air of this reality.

Like hitting the surface of a lake, Twilight felt a cold resistance wash around her and she skidded to a halt, shocked at the sudden sensation. She felt normal immediately afterwards, but there was no denying she'd passed through something. That was when she realised the voices had stopped, the accompanying noise from which she'd been unable to escape moments previously now gone. With a sigh of relief, she looked up, a smile stretching her muzzle as she spied the figure who'd called out for her.

"Princess Luna!" she breathed, hurrying towards the tall blue mare, happy beyond words to see somepony she could trust and rely upon. If there was anypony who could give her answers and help her in solving this budding crisis, it was another alicorn, especially one with so many years of experience.

"Hello, Twilight," the regal princess greeted, retaining an air of majesty that put Twilight at ease, the weight of worry lifting from her shoulders. "I'm sorry for calling you into my realm so suddenly and without warning, but I fear this is urgent."

"Your realm? This is all a dream?" Twilight asked, glancing around. A thought occured to her, and she frowned as the unexpected . "You can pull ponies into a dream at any time without them doing anything?"

"This is a gestalt of collective unconsciousness," Luna explained, gesturing to the shifting hues of the immaterial space around them. "We are all bound together by hopes, dreams, ambitions, and emotions. Adopting the night as my domain has granted me the power to interact with this connection between ponies and stabilize it, forming a hub, of sorts. From there, I can access the dreams of my subjects and watch over them. Yes, because the connection is exactly that - a connection between us - it also means I can draw my subject's minds to me. I reserve this for the most urgent of situations, however, such as now."

"The voices," Twilight said, her unease taking hold again. "When I arrived here, I heard ponies talking. It was a jumbled mess, like random thoughts tossed out into the open air. It was like they were inside my head. Is that normal?"

"Creating a connection between minds will mean that thoughts will cross over, intertwine, and be experienced by others," Luna informed the smaller mare. "Usually, each pony's mind is sealed off to the world, their thoughts entirely their own. In their dreams, their thoughts remain their own, unconscious or otherwise, until somepony else enters. When something is experienced by all ponies on a deep and powerful level, the barriers break down. Out in the causeway of unconsciousness, the bridge between dreams, all thoughts mingle and meld."

"Why aren't we hearing them now?" the mulberry mare asked hesitantly. "And what caused the barriers between minds to break down in the first place? What experience was so powerful that everypony in Equestria felt-" She stopped, eyes widening. "You know about the hex?"

"Hex?" the Princess of the Night repeated. "I do not know of a hex. I know of the event to which you are undoutedly referring, but I know not of its origins, or much other than its perfidious effects on my loyal subjects. I have know since the signs emerged in their dreams, and in this place. The...manifestations...of its effects are as daunting as its effects in the material world, but it does allow for a clear warning."

"Manifestations? Effects? What-?" She frowned at Luna's dour expression, the blue princess looking over Twilight's head to something behind her. Turning, the younger alicorn's eyes widened, and she shrieked, jumping back a full two meters. "Wh-what are those?!"

"Manifestations," Luna repeated, eyeing the slithering mass of appendages as they wobbled and swayed, remaining tens of meters away from them. "The monstrous form to represent your so-called 'hex'. In our minds, it looks as such."

"Th-that's the hex?!" Twilight asked, grimacing. On the one hand, they were creepy and apparently predatory; Fluttershy might've had a soft spot for things that crawled and snuck, but it was easy to see them as dangerous for almost anypony else. On the other hand, they looked like stalks or vines, the sort found in the Everfree Forest. If that was all this hex was, or how it appeared when forced into a physical form, it could be defeated with little more than the combined effort of the Elements, or the power of friendship and unity. It would be a tough task, but not insurmountable, as she'd first thought. "Why isn't it attacking us?"

"For the same reason you no longer hear the voices," Luna replied, directing Twilight's view to where the stalks had halted. Just in front of them, a haze, like an influx of heat, seperated them from the two princesses. "This is my domain, and I rule here. I am immune to whatsoever it may seek to throw at me, and any who cross the threshold of my power are as safe as I." She stood up straighter, adopting a more regal stance, and began walking. "Come, Twilight. I must explain what I know, so that we can stop this...hex."

"Where did it come from?" Twilight asked, unable to peel her eyes away from the horde of manifestations as they wiggled at her. She backed away, following Luna's voice. "When did it happen?" A few seconds of silence followed, the soundless plodding of hooves lending an eerie disconnect to the experience.

"It is important to know that this is not some new enemy," came the response, after the measured silence. "Tonight is an unfortunate return. The disorder you are seeing tonight is something we have witnessed before. When I was young, a mere filly, Celestia encountered it for herself, and succeeded in vanquishing it from the world, bringing harmony to the land. I know not how, and by the time I matured to the age she had been when she had encountered the threat, it had vanished entirely from Equestria. I never needed to know the details, and so I never asked. It was always my sister's brilliance, as far as I knew. Another example of why she deserved to be the ruler of the day."

Twilight turned to face Luna, frowning at the news. Even as she walked, she cast glances behind herself, hesitant to let the manifestations out of her sight for long. She didn't trust them, protected by Luna's might or not. "Why now?"

"Again, I know not," the Princess of the Night stated. "Perhaps it was recalled. Perhaps it was replicated. I would need to know more of what this hex or plague truly is, and as I said, I only know of it second hand."

A swirling shimmer caught Twilight's attention, and her eyes were drawn to the source. As Luna spoke, a portrait formed in the air next to them, keeping pace with their walk, taking shape into a vivid, detailed scene. It wasn't just an image, though; she could see past the foreground, the various elements of the environment possessing a proper distance from one another, like the scene was cast directly from reality. Everything inside, however, was still, like a photgraph of an exciting slice of a day. The smaller alicorn was transfixed, watching the images shift as she listened to Luna's words.

"The harmony created by the unity of the three tribes had allowed for great productivity, for a time," the blue alicorn spoke. "There was co-operation, prosperity, love..." The portrait took the shape of an idylic scene, earth pony foals flitting about in the fields while pegasi foals flapped in the air just above them. Adults dug furrows into the earth with hoes, laughing as they worked, their spirits as warm as the sun beaming down on them. "It was everything we hear and venerate within Hearth's Warming songs. But as time passed, the land was tainted with jealousy, envy, anger. Disharmony seeped into the hearts of Equestria's inhabitants, and the land of joy became one of suspicion and arbitrary hatred."

The portrait morphed into a new scene, one where two stallions glowered at one another, pointing accusingly, rage baked into their expressions. A mare stood between them, concern lining her face as she extended her arms, acting as a barrier between their unheard argument.

"Where once lay friendship and trust, paranoia and contempt held sway. Communities of inseperable peers were now infested with deceit and deception, and divided into self-serving cliques. It was not always visible, nor consistent, but it was always pervasive and persistent, emerging from the same causes and manifesting in the same way. The noble soul of Equestria was marred by this illness."

Once again, the portrait shifted form, revealing the interior of a small, austere hut, an earth pony stallion pushing open the crude wooden door and striding inside, his face a mixture of confusion and discomfort. The object of his attention was another two ponies, a plain earth pony mare and a pegasus stallion, the former laying back on a straw bed, her roughspin tunic pulled up to her hips and her legs slung over the pegasus' shoulders. Her face was red, and her mouth hung open, her eyes rolled back in a look of bliss, the pegasus' visage an iron mask of concentration and focus. Twilight recognised the position from her first encounter with Spike, when he'd shoved his anatomy inside her. Had she looked like the mare, she wondered? The emotions present on her face certainly seemed to match what she'd felt.

"It could not continue," Luna narrated. "There was too much disruption, too much disharmony between ponies who should be, and were, friends. The pernicious, perfidious presence that had corrupted the hearts of ponies could be allowed to remain no longer. Through careful observation and dedicated study, Celestia determined and isolated the cause of this sickness, and removed it from society entirely. I was aware of it only in terms of peripheral understanding, and the information given to me by my sister. Shortly after, we ascended to the throne, and our rule was one over an Equestria that did not know the horror of this chaos." The portrait changed to a timelapse of a green plain in Equestria, the sun circling through the sky and cycling out with the moon a thousand times over, and then a thousand times more. A house sprung into existence on a hill overlooking a forest, and as the night became day and day became night, more houses emerged, trees grew in organized lines, and the town she recognized as Ponyville swelled into its present state. "Hundreds of generations, safe and secure from this knowledge. Until tonight, we have kept the peace." Luna stopped, turning to look at Twilight somberly. "It must be stopped again. It is our duty to our subjects."

It was a staggering story, and one which meant an incredible amount of responsibility. Not just a monster, a beast, or some ancient evil from Equestria's past; this was deeper, more dangerous than some singular threat like Nightmare Moon or Chrysalis. There was no list of foes. There was just the duty she had to protecting her ponies from whatever it was controlling them. She felt the resolution swell up inside her, aided by her previous experiences of confronting threats to Equestria and its society.

"I'm ready," the mulberry alicorn stated. "What do we need to do, princess?"

"I must stay here," the taller alicorn informed her. "It is my task to watch over my subjects and ensure their dreams are purified and safe. If ponies are confined to their dreams, they cannot wake and succumb to the false desires this illness installs in their hearts. When asleep, their bodies cannot be turned against them, and I can protect their minds. This is what I can and must do, but it is merely a preventative measure. You must be the one to find a solution, and only my sister can help you with such a feat."

Twilight tried to listen, but the insistent whisperings she'd heard before had returned, subtly enough that she didn't realise they were there at first. She rubbed her ears, turning around to look towards the manifestations. She peered into the distance, trying to make out their shape in the odd darkness of this realm.

"Why only-" The question she was going to ask was cut short when a shout of alarm issued from behind her, followed by a whoosh of air. Spinning around, she discovered the other alicorn was gone, leaving her alone. "Princess Luna?" Snapping her head left and right, she tried to catch sight of the mare, spinning on the spot as without achieving anything. "Princess? Where are you?"

A stiffled scream of defiance reached her, and Twilight looked in the direction it had come from, gasping as she saw where the princess had gone. The stalks that had been harassing Twilight since her arrival in this strange realm had finally slipped past Luna's defences when her attention was divided, ensnaring her and hoisting her up into the sky. There was one for each limb, and another for her prominent horn, ensuring there was no escape. Gritting her teeth in determination, Twilight concentrated the magic in her own horn, readying a powerful beam to slice the unwelcome assailants and free her friend and peer.

She didn't get the chance. A sudden tightness gripped her leg and yanked, sending her sprawling. A yelp escaped her at the fall, expecting to hit hard ground, but the impact never came. Instead, she was left dangling, her free leg soon wrapped in a bind of its own, followed in due course by her arms, her horn, and a thick winding grip around her midriff. She tried to wriggle, struggling against the unyielding clutches, but they didn't so much as budge. She was lifted smoothly to a point which - she presumed was higher than the ground - brought her level with the other abductee, a preview of what was to happen. Twilight kept pulling and twisting, but nothing came of it. She could only watch.

The objects were easy to make out up close, when she could see them without any way to avoid them. They were slender purple stalks, prehensile and flexible, if their coiling presence was any indication, and they moved with a startling agility and fluidity. They really were almost like vines, she realised; the way they ensnared her and the other alicorn, the creeping slither and speedy lashing that were familiar from her experiences within the Everfree Forest, and the way they moved as one, as though some great consciousness controlled all of them. Their grip was absolute, but comfortable, and no matter how hard she pulled, they never squeezed so tight as to hurt her, just hold her.

Princess Luna's clothes were torn, each fragmant picked off and discarded into the void, and as Twilight turned her full attention to the other alicorn, the manifestations plucked the last remants free from Luna's body, leaving the respectable, dignified mare in a very undignified position. Having only ever seen the Princess of the Night in formal regalia, which emphasised her poise and grace, and highlighted all of the assets of her feminine form, seeing the dark blue mare stripped of everything and held spread wide was gobsmacking. Even when imprisoned by Chrysalis, the princesses had been bound in full attire, offered that small mercy; this was absolute, removing any veil of privacy or respect.

With her limbs restrained and her magic nullified by the muzzling of her horn, there was nothing Luna could do to stop the manifestations encroachment, their skulking, predatory wiggle unabated. One snaked its way up the blue mare's flat belly, sliding through the valley of her cleavage and curling towards the dark protrusions of the princess' nipples, which slowly but surely hardened in response to the contact. Luna let out a disapproving vocalisation between a huff and a moan, and yet, even with the resistant writhing, there was no denying the undertone of enjoyment to her tone. As if sensing this, the vine circled around one of the mare's perky buds and tugged it lightly, forcing a louder moan from the mare, albeit through clenched lips.

Twilight was so enraptured by the sight of something toying with an Equestrian princess in such a strange, alien manner, that she nearly missed the second manifestation positioning itself at Luna's crotch, her mind taking several seconds to process the fact that the purple tentacle was gracefully stroking up and down, flicking its tapered end against the bare, exposed flesh of the princess' vulva. Her eyes widened, this demonstration even more unfathomable than the brazen play with the princess' mammaries, and with such a shocking, appalling sight, she could do nothing but watch, and wonder why it seemed so smooth. Surely it shouldn't be this smooth and easy? Before she could ponder the thought too long, the vine lowered itself into a resting position, and - with a full-length wiggle that shook rapidly along its tubular body - plunged deep into one of the most powerful ponies in the land.

Luna's cry was throaty and loud, the alicorn unable to suppress the feeling of being so roughly penetrated. Her gasp transitioned into a feminine whine, and she closed her eyes, her mouth agape as the length in her began to move, withdrawing before thumping back into her, the resilience of the vines suspending her the only thing to stop the force shunting her back with every thrust. It was mesmerizing, in a startling sort of way, witnessing something so unprecedented and so unnatural occur right in front of her.

A sharp tug Twilight yanked from her hypnotic state, and she gasped as her clothes were torn from her. They came away easily, ripping like paper at the direction of the vines, their tendrils grasping and pulling at her attire until her garments were scattered shreds. She moved as much as she could, trying to frustrate their efforts, hoping to keep her underwear out of the reach of the grasping limbs, but they merely tightened and forced her compliance, halting her enough to ripp her panties and bra, leaving her fully exposed. As they had done with Luna, the purple lengths slithered up her body, smooth and comfortable against her skin, yet moving with sinister purpose and intentions. Her breathing hitched, the apprehension of what was about to happen sending a shiver through her body.

Her hesitancy remained as the first of the vines pressed against her mons, its smooth, warm surface gliding between her labial lips. The same warmth and wetness that had woken her up began to stir in her again, her body tingling with the same confused, senseless need that had slowly encapsulated her when she was exposed to Spike's presence. Their touch was soft and gentle, yet with every brush against her skin or flesh, she grew warmer, as if flushing from the contact. Her heart thumped, beating powerfully in her chest, and she began to pant, whimpering in a mixture of anxiety and interested anticipation. Her rational mind wanted to escape, to free Princess Luna and defeat these monstrosities, but her instinct was conflicted; did she want to leave? Were they so hideous? Maybe she needed to stop worrying, to submit to their caresses and touches, their exploration of her teets and loins. Something thin pressed curiously against her anus-

"Leave her alone!" Luna commanded, projecting her voice over the fleshy slaps that filled the air around her. Her tone was firm, the slight waver to her voice insignificant over the strength of her demand. "You are here for me, not her! I have much more to give!" The presence around Twilight shrank, the excess vines pulling away and leaning towards the other alicorn. "Yes, you know what I can offer. If-" Her words were silenced as a thick vine shot forward and burried itself into the blue mare's maw, beginning its rigorous pumping as the one between her legs had done. A third dipped lower, sneaking behind the vaginally-occupied vine, and wormed its way out of sight, pulling a sharp whine from Luna, her back arching.

As enthralling as the sight was - and more than a little exciting, as shameful as it was to admit - it couldn't disguise the sensations between Twilight's own legs. The tip of the vine toying with her had begun to flick at the sensitive bud atop her vulva, waving left and right to brush against it insistently, as though knowing that such a movement would send pulses of pleasure through the mare. Twilight panted, her hips shaking from the pangs that spread through her, the needy itch that she'd managed to sate in her bedroom returning in time with the swishes against the bundle of nerves. Everything felt hot, and she needed relief, which was something escape wouldn't give.

There was scarcely a second between the cessation of the grinding and flicking before a brand new sensation rocked her. The thinness of the vine sought out her entrance and rammed forward, several inches burrowing into her hidden passage in a split second. She shrieked, her walls clutching the intruder as it filled her, stretching her to fit itself, and a rush rippled throughout her body. Her back arched, her nerves igniting as the shock travelled up her body and back down, bouncing from synapse to synapse and richoeting down every limb to the tips of each of her digits. The first thrust alone - the very first - had left her gobsmacked and speechless, save for the delighted cry ripped from her lungs, her body tingling from the inside out.

If it had planned to wait to move until she was lucid enough to maximize the effect it had, it was unclear. Receding to the tip in a slow, smooth drag, it shoved itself into her canal once more, roughly making room for its girth, the penetration sending another jolt of intense pleasure through the captive mare, expelling a grunt from her. If it hadn't been for the vines holding her, she probably would've been knocked back a foot, at least, but it was clear from what was happening that there was a purpose to her usage; they had designs on her. The next few thrusts were the same, and the few after that the same, but maybe a little faster. If there was an increase in speed, it was exponential, each one minimally quicker, making it hard to notice. Far more importantly, though, was how good it felt, the satisfaction of being filled with something that had no hesitation, no caution, just pure, instinctual desire. It was exactly what she needed, and it seemed to know exactly what that was. It was as if this creature, or collection of creatures, was designed for her - for this, whatever this was.

In the moments Twilight managed to gather enough sense to look around, she saw the scenery around them shifting, altering between places she knew whenever she looked away for too long. The Golden Oaks Library, the vines emerging from floating books and the spaces in shelves where those books had been housed. Eyes closed, pleasure, eyes open. Her old classroom in Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, where Princess Luna was laid across the desk, papers flung onto the floor to make room. Blurry vision from the intensity of a particularly strong thrust, and then they were in an unrealistically large broom closet, the clang of a metal bucket accompanying their stifled moans and the fleshy slapping. Was this affecting her mind? The kitchen in Sugarcube Corner, a bag of flour toppling from a cupboard and exploding, filling the air. Reading her mind? The tower she lived in during her time in Canterlot, her naked body pressed against the window, exposing her for the city to see as she was mercilessly used. What was this? Was she being conditioned by using her memories to create a favorable sentiment towards subservience?

The minutes bled together into a blissful amalgam, her body numbing to everything except the sharp sparks and waves of stimulation, and the growing hotness, which rose from a background glow to something unignorable that threatened to dampen the wonderful feeling of her determined violator. The repeated pumping produced a sloppy, slick sound, something fitting that seemed to compliment the stuffing of her route just perfectly. She was so slick that the process was effortless, the vine able to sink into her until she had no more room to fill, its form still seeking more of her interior to claim even as that reality became apparent. Unlike Spike's member, which was firmer than a steel beam and harder than diamond to the touch, the vine was flexible and light, allowing it to undulate inside her in tiny wiggles, adding a little bit extra to the mindless experience. It was still tough enough to satisfy the odd new urge, but the way it flicked against the deepest wall of her anatomy, as though licking her, was something strange and highly, inexplicably electrifying.

A tension was building in her, the pleasure coalescing into something stronger and more significant, something she recognised from last time. It was powerful, innevitable, and she gasped as it drew nearer. Her muscle tensed, her body began to tremble, and she tried her hardest to stifle her moans; she bit her lip, stilled her vocal chords, and generally did her best to retain some of her dignity. It was all fruitless - she couldn't stop herself from crying out any more than she could avoid hurtling from the peak of pleasure that the vine was rocketing her towards, and, when she reached that peak, there was a moment of focus, of startling vertigo, before she plumetted.

The explosion was intense, as it had been last time, the compacted sensations surging from her core to saturate the rest of her. Her mind blanked, overwhelmed by the howling storm, feeling as though she were falling from an impossible height, the rush and the excitement far greater than any deadly drop. She writhed, shaking and flailing her limbs sporadically, her erratic movements counteracted by the hold of the living restraints suspending her.

Her ears roared with the beat of her heart, her breathing rapid and uncontrolled, and her hips rolled of their own volition, the mare only becoming aware of it when lucidity returned to her and she looked down. The feisty appendage was still hammering at her hole, plundering her insides with abandon, and though she was more numb to it, she felt the beginning of the cycle again, her body already accumulating the pleasure of such unexpectedly wonderful abuse. Glancing at the other alicorn, she witnessed what she imagined she herself had looked like, the blue pony grunting and groaning past the obtruction lodged in her throat, her body trembling as she dealt with the feelings forced upon her. The vines thickened, each of them pulsing, and with a final plunge, they stilled, rhytmically contracting for several seconds before withdrawing. Luna coughed, viscous white spilling from her mouth and oozing from her nethers.

That shouldn't have pushed Twilight towards the dizzying heights of release. What had happened to Luna was vile, degrading, disgusting - yet she couldn't help but experience a swell of giddiness at the occurence, wanting to feel it just as her peer had. Glancing down at the pounding vine, her voice a staccato of whines, squeals, and moans, she saw and felt it thicken, a series of bulges travelling along its length like golf balls down a hosepipe, far too big for what it should be. The contractions kept it going, drawing closer to the end of the vine, and closer to her. The pressure in her rose, the friction building into a searing blaze, the anticipation stacking, until the length drew back and rammed as deep as possible into her.

The momentous mass reached her entrance, stretching her slightly as it pushed past her elastic walls, and she felt a hot splash as it erupted inside her with such force that some spurted messily around the stalk, spattering her legs white. The alluring burn sent her tumbling over the edge again, and she shuddered and yelped as the current zipped through her nervous system again, assailing her with vibrant bursts and pulses. She was still being filled, the fluid pouring into her interior and flooding every nook and cranny. She was so full, and so, so satisfied. When she clenched down, she squeezed out some of the goop, feeling it ooze past the vine's girth and flow down her legs.

She didn't know if she closed her eyes or if her mind was too occupied processing the feeling rushing through her to let her see, but her vision returned at some point, along with feeling in her limbs. She wasn't bound anymore, and she was apparently laying on the ground. The transition had been seemless, and after several moments trying to control her breathing, she groaned and rolled herself onto her side, pushing herself up.

"Are you okay?"

It was Luna. Twilight looked up at the concerned expression frowning down at her, the tall woman hunched over her, fully clothed. Noticing the disparity between them, Twilight blushed and covered herself, attempting to preserve any dignity she could help to salvage from this situation.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered. "Very confused, but fine. Also very naked, but since I don't have any extra clothes, I'll just have to keep being fine."

"Your form in this domain is exactly as you wish it to be," Luna replied, offering a hand to the smaller mare. "If you wish to be clean and clothed, then you shall be. I suggest opting to banish the semen before reclothing yourself."

"Semen?" the purple mare asked as she took Luna's hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her hooves, pondering Luna's words.

"The ejaculate," Luna spoke, realising as she did that it didn't clarify anything. "The thick white substance excreted by the manifestations, as well as - I have no doubt - ponies in the waking world by now. It is a symptom of our predicament, and I expect we shall be seeing a lot more of it unless we can halt this turn of events. But first..." She waited patiently for the smaller alicorn to make herself decent.

Trusting the princess, Twilight closed her eyes, visualised herself as she had been when she found herself in this strange place, and tried to believe that was how she looked. Several seconds passed, and nothing seemed to change, but when she opened her eyes again and inspected herself, she was fully dressed, and looked respectable again. She sighed a breath of relief, feeling better already.

"Come," the Princess of the Night directed, beginning to walk away. Surprised at the sudden progression, but having no other option, Twilight followed. "We must act, for we have far less time than I believed. You need to seek out Celestia and have her repulse this incursion, as she did millennia ago."

"Why me? You're her sister, and I'm just-"

"A princess," Luna reminded the other mare. "You have the authority, capability, and duty towards Equestria that I do. We are not of separate status, you and I. However, my duty is here, among my subjects, in a domain that is my duty exclusively. I cannot abandon that. Even drawing you here to inform you of the situation was a gamble, and one that was costly. I am sorry for what it cost you." A forlorn flash crossed Luna's visage for a moment.

"I-it's okay, really," Twilight managed, feeling awkward. "It wasn't that bad." At her words, the regret on Luna's face was replaced by disappointed resignation.

"Of course," the blue mare said. "The phenomenon alters ponies' perception, makes them susceptible to its whims. You wouldn't be too concerned, not in the moment. Much like the others. I shouldn't have expected you to be less affected."

"The others?"

Instead of answering, Luna waved her arm, translucent images appearing around her in the swirling fog. There were variations, no two images identical, but all were life-sized apparitions of two or more ponies engaging in some phyiscal activity that looked so alien, and yet she recognised as the weird predatory behaviour Spike had thrust upon her. There were mares underneath males, mares atop males, males pistoning against mares from behind, hands and tongues and mouths and muzzles locked and roaming in ways that she hadn't had the imagination to conjure up before this very moment. Hundreds of them, stretching away into the distance, colours clashing as she switched from one to another, watching on in awe. Two mares, one aquamarine and the other applegreen gray, ground their crotches against one another, moving in a choatic synchronization. An orange earth pony bounced on the lap of a muscular red stallion laying on a bale of hay, the two grunting throughout their activity. A gray pegasus stallion alternated between kissing two pegasi females, his hands occupied between their legs, his large phallus grasped in their hands as they tried to massage him, working clumsily amidst the spontaneous affection.

"As I said, everypony is affected," Luna reiterated, dismissing the visual cacophony. "It is dangerous. The most damaging effects of this shall not be felt for some time, but already, it is distracting ponies from their lives, stopping them from focusing on work and doing what is necessary to keep their own wellbeing, as well as that of the kingdom's, on track. They are too enamored with the new feelings, the innate desire to obey their new instincts and subconscious. It will be the end of Equestria if it continues."

"And Princess Celestia can stop it?" Twilight asked, aghast at the true scope of this threat. If this was what had happened to Spike, to Rarity, to Milky Way, to her, then the thought of it being so widespread as to affect the entire kingdom and its very rulers was utterly horrifying. It had changed a savy business owner into a hedonist, a loyal sidekick into a feral beast, and a hardworking night-shift worker into somepony driven wild by an inescapable, crawling need - if that was the fate for Equestria as a whole, it was unthinkable.

"She must," Luna declared. "I will keep as many of our subjects in a restful sleep as I can muster, ensuring that they do not cause havoc. You must make haste to Canterlot and aid my sister in repelling this vile incursion." As she spoke, a window opened up next to the blue princess, revealing a mare crawling through a desert, sweating profusely, panting like a dog. With a flick of magic from Luna's horn, the sand transmuted into water, and the mare was left splashing in the shallows on all fours, a smile broadening on her face. Behind her, a small wave took form into a shape similar to a tongue, which splashed against her loins, pulling a whimper from its target. Rather than loosing shape, it lapped against the mare's nethers again, flicking up and down in smooth, steady strokes, leaving her in a state of delighted contentment. "I must quench their thirst, relieve the heat burning within them."

The window closed, and beside it, another opened, within which was a mare running through a forest. Behind her, a timberwolf pursued, noticeably lacking the fangs and claws for which they were known. Instead, swinging obscenely beneath it was a humungous member, firmly erect. It was gaining ground, closing in on the fleeing pony. With another flare of her horn, the mare stepped on a patch of leaves, which gave way, sending her tumbling into a pit. She screamed, but was caught by a mass of tentacles, which grasped her and kept her safe.

"I must ensure my subjects remain satiated and in good hands," Luna continued, the tentacles shining the same shimmering cobalt as her aura. One of them that wasn't holding the mare's limbs curled up and carassed the mare's cheek soothingly, allowing her to relax. She responded positively, smiling and closing her eyes. "I must ensure they are cared for, made to feel safe and comfortable. This is my task, one I must endeavor to continue while you embark upon yours."

"I understand," Twilight assured, watching on as the mare was slowly stripped of her articles of clothing, a familiar awe taking hold of her. A touch of concern arose in her as Luna stepped closer, eyes fixated on the tentacles, one of which turned towards the alicorn. She decided against questioning Luna's actions, figuring she couldn't be corrupted so easily. She was just ensuring the dreaming mare was safe, right? "I won't fail you." A resolve began to take hold again, and she balled her fists in determination.

"All of Equestria rests on your success," Luna replied, reaching into the window. As she did, her arm became incorporeal, a mere shimmer of dots and sparkles. "You will find that the world is strange, and you must be aware of the dangers that it imposes. Do not succumb to the temptation, but..." She paused for a moment, focusing on spreading the mare's labia, allowing one of the tentacles to slide into the pink inner confines of the mare. "...remain open to new experiences."

"I understand," Twilight repeated, nodding and attempting to ignore the feminine moans from within the window. "I'll bring your message to Princess Celestia, and together, we'll banish this affliction once again. Equestria will return to harmony."

"I pray that it does." She closed one window and opened another, peering into yet a different strange dream. "Return to the waking world. I shall return to my duty. Good luck, Princess Twilight."

As she had done before, Twilight closed her eyes, her consciousness drawing in around her like a blanket, receding and receding until the sensations around her disappeared, and she was left floating in nothingness, a collection of thoughts and memories. These, too, began to drift apart, her derparture from the dream complete. Slowly, surely, her thoughts coalseced again, pulling back together, and sensation returned to her body. It was time.

Waking up was far easier and more immediate than falling asleep had been, and she didn't feel drowsy or require a small period of reflection like she did when she was normally roused from her slumber. She was back in Rarity's bedroom, resting on the floor, and she couldn't hear anypony else. Sitting up, she glanced around, met with the sight of a clean room. The bed was stripped down, the walls, floor, and ceiling were immaculate, and the white unicorn was absent. She stood herself up, glancing around. Spike was gone, of course. She didn't know what she had expected, but the situation had changed anyway, and he was now the least of her concerns. Equestria was at stake, and one roaming dragon was nothing compared to the stability of the kingdom. At least he was friendly...in a way.

She met Rarity downstairs, the unicorn emerging from the laundry room as the alicorn entered the floor of the shop. The purple curls of her mane were scaggly and unkempt, and were still infused with the remains of Spike's enthusiastic offering, as was her coat. She looked crusty and almost groggy, though the sight of the purple pony perked her right up.

"Darling," she greeted. "Are you quite alright? You fell asleep rather suddenly, and Spike bolted out the door and ran into the streets. I was rather hoping he'd help me clean up, but it appears he hasn't quite nailed down the proper etiquette for courting a lady." She tutted and shook her head. "He is young, I suppose. There is still time for him to learn."

"I'm fine," Twilight answered, her mind too preoccupied to engage with the whimsical nature of the fashionista's musing. "I've got to go, though. Princess Celestia needs to see me in Canterlot, urgently."

"Right now?" Rarity asked. "So late? Very well, but I simply cannot go in this state. I shall need to shower before we seek an audience with the princess."

"You won't be coming," Twilight informed her. "I need to leave now, and it's something I have to do alone. I'll come back as soon as I can. Until then, stay here, stay safe, and make sure the others are okay."

The fashionista seemed unsure, but nodded, clearly trusting that the alicorn had her reasons. The time when the two would second-guess one another had long passed, and both knew to trust when the other was making a decision on a basis to which they themselves were not privy. Stepping forward, she extended her arms to embrace the alicorn, but was stopped when the taller mare wrinkled her nose and leaned back.

"Yes, well," she murmured, chuckling sheepishly as she stepped back, glancing down at her crusted fur. "Perhaps after you return, I'll be in a better state to give you ample encouragement."

"I'm sure you will," Twilight replied, offering a smile. "Stay safe."

"And you too, darling. Whatever it is you're doing, make sure you come back in one piece." With a final dainty smile, she turned and began her walk up the stairs, limping a little, as though sore. Twilight watched her go, eyes following the swaying rump of her friend until it disappeared. With a deep, steadying breath, she exited the boutique into the unnatural dawn.

The streets weren't as quiet now. There was definitely movement, ponies milling about and trying to determine for themselves what was going on. She felt conflicted for a moment, wondering if she ought to stay and help them, but the reality of the situation stopped her. She couldn't do anything against this, not by herself, and the longer she delayed, the longer the hex's effects would ravage Equestria. With a heavy heart, she crouched, unflaring her wings behind her, and leapt into the air, flapping with all the grace and might she could muster. It was hard to leave home behind, but it was necessary.

From the air, everything was quiet, save for the whistle of the wind past her, and the beat of her wings against the wind, but she couldn't console herself with the peace. Eyes fixed on the silhouette of Canterlot in the distance, she drove herself onward, determined to reach the mountain city, ignoring the stillness around her, and accompanied only by the sounds of her flight and the singular goal of finding Celestia.

Pink Prose

"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!

Canterlot Curiosities

Author's Note

This chapter contains sibling incest. It's not subtle, and it pervades the second half of the entire chapter. Skip to the end and read upwards from there if it really bothers you, although this chapter in its entirety is pretty important for the story. Regardless of what you choose to do, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Canterlot Curiosities

In spite of the entire situation, the cool air against her wings and coat really did relax Twilight. At least, she made herself relax. She had no idea what lay ahead, but if Princess Celestia could deal with it, there was no need to get herself worked up and make a fool of herself in front of her beloved mentor. If Princess Celestia found herself in over her head, then Twilight would need to be that vital support, somepony everypony else could rely on. Either way, she needed to be calm and collected for what lay ahead, regardless of what it was. She had done so before, and she could do so again. Sure, the last time that happened, her friends were by her side, but-

She banished those thoughts from her head, focusing on the brush of wind through her feathers and fur, the gentle caress against her skin. The wan but steadily brightening sunlight offered a small amount of warmth to her, and she chose to embrace that. She was strong and capable, she knew. Princess Luna believed in her, Rarity believed in her, and everypony - her friends, the ponies of Equestria, everypony - was counting on her. The worries didn't fade from her head, but the motivation she drew muted that selfish mewling. The flight gave her time to think, but it also gave her time to immunise herself against her fears and doubts. She drew on that strength as the mountainside city took up more and more of her vision, the emerging sun allowing her sharp eyes to make out the orderly lattice of roads and the meandering, wandering ponies who occupied them.

Even from her altitude, she could make out the indicators of the hex on the citizens; aimless walking, most leaning against a wall or standing in the middle of the street until another came up to them to interact. In any other context, on any other day, it might've looked like a normal, desirable social gathering, the sort that enriched the lives of all of the subjects of the kingdom. Twilight knew better, though. The parks had become congregation grounds for the affected denizens, clothes being shed and bodies pressed together, with more amassing from the streets and alleys like sediment flowing along a stream. Individuals joined a throng or became the nucleus as other pressed in. As she descended, making out more and more of what lay below, few bothered to look up, and none of them engaged with her. One stallion's eyes lingered on her as she swooped overhead, but his muzzle was swiftly grabbed by a mare, who pulled him into a deep, intimate kiss.

The gate to the castle was shut, and its drawbridge raised, barring access to anypony who wasn't a pegasus, or in Twilight's case, an alicorn. She'd expected some resistance, a challenge or a warning, but she was able to glide into the grounds without so much as a distant shout, bleeding off her excess momentum and carrying onward into a trot. The grass beneath her hooves gave way to paving, and she steeled herself as she moved with purpose towards the door set between the two curving stairwells. In this compound, surrounded by great stone walls and towering spires of pearlescent white and smooth, polished grey, and glimmering gold, she ought to have felt safe. It seemed impregnable, an obstinate, proud fortress, a courtyard in its own right - but it was too quiet for something so confident and imposing, and she herself had simply flapped in. The mare glanced upward at the tower, her intended destination, and tried not to let her mind wander to the worst; was Princess Celestia even here? Was she safe? Was...were the balcony windows shattered? It was hard to see from the ground, but it looked as if sunlight was gleaming on partial panes of jagged, fractured glass, a scattered web of cracks littering the surface, and in several places glass looked to be missing entirely.

"Halt!" a firm voice commanded, startling the princess from her nervous observations. Two guards stood in front of the great door to the castle - a cross between a gatehouse and a tower, she absentmindedly noticed. Their sharpened short spears were crossed at the blades to physically bar the way. "Nopony is permitted to enter the Royal Castle. I'm sorry, but you have to leave, your majesty."

"I need to speak to Celestia," Twilight spoke, taken aback by the challenge. There were few times she had been refused entry by the Royal Guard, and ever since she had ascended to alicornhood, their already friendly demeanour to her had soared to a reverence that she only found moderately disconcerting. If they were preventing her from entering the castle, that could only mean Princess Celestia herself had given the order. "There's a plague-"

"We know, your highness," the same guard replied, her tone professional and stern. "We have been given our orders, and we are not to permit anypony entry except specifically ordered by a direct superior."

As she processed those words, the strangeness of the situation came into sharp focus for her; she hadn't quite realised what was wrong with the scene, beyond her unexpected lack of authority, because it had been so brazenly staring her in the face, full-frontal and unapologetically obvious, but her brain caught up with her eyes, and she blinked. While their spearheads were crossed in a barring action, glittering in what must by now surely be the midday sun, only one of the two guardpony's was stood stiffly at attention as was expected. The other fidgeted and shuffled, her knees bending and her hooves clopping as she scuffed and grazed the paving stones, her empty hand clenching and unclenching in barely restrained restlessness. She kept lifting her hand from her hip and moving it toward her groin, but hastily forced it back down to her side again.

"I was asked by Princess Luna to come here," Twilight pressed, keeping an eye on the second guard's mannerisms. Uncharacteristic ill-discipline wasn't the only thing standing out about this mare; she was oddly light on armour, having foregone her cuirass and the majority of the underlayer. She still wore her sleeves, the braces, the spaulders, the helm, the leggings and the greaves, but the only protection afforded to her torso was the - quite literal - breastplates hugging her mammaries. The mare's smoke-grey coat was far more visible than it otherwise would've been, showing off a very trim tummy and the enviable curve of her slim waist and wide hips. Even the skirt looked too short, but that was wholly mitigated by how much it showed off the equally delightful toned thighs-

"I have to see Celestia," Twilight emphasised, shaking her thoughts from the alarmingly alluring shapeliness of the distracted guard. "I've been given instructions from Princess Luna herself."

"I don't disbelieve you," the other guard answered, remaining impassive. She was dressed the same as her colleague, Twilight noticed, but didn't exhibit any of the same symptoms. "But the only pony I'm authorised to accept alterations to my standing orders is the Captain of the Guard himself. Nopony enters while we're at our post, and we're at our post until we're told differently."

"Even though one of you is clearly sick?" the alicorn asked. The guard - her coat was almost the same colour as the alicorn's brother's - glanced sideways at the smoke-grey guardpony, who had stuffed her hand past her belt and was rummaging around under her skirt, eyes and knees squeezed together. With a silent sigh, the white guard refocused her attention on the purple princess.

"Duty comes first, your highness," she intoned, placing a hand on her hip. "Nopony is permitted to come inside, unless by direct order."

"I have to insist-"

The doors creaked open behind the guards, pulled sharply inward by somepony inside the building. Both guards snapped to attention, the distracted mare removing her now-slippery fingers from her skirt, and a figure stepped out, this one covering the gilded cuirass of the Royal Guard with a simple blue tabard adorned with a stiched sun set high on the chest. He stopped mid-step when he saw the alicorn. "Twilight?"

"Shining Armor," the princess breathed. "I need to see Celestia. It's about this plague."

"You shouldn't be here," her brother responded, resuming his stride towards her. "Celestia's dealing with the issue, and she already has all the help she needs."

"Dealing with the issue?" Twilight asked, incredulously. "There are ponies in the city who are stuck in some sort of trance. They barely reacted to me as I came here, and some of your own guards are sick." The smoke-grey guardmare gulped at those words, her damp fingers twitching a little. "Where is she? Where does she need me to be? I can help if you tell me what she's doing and what else needs to be done."

"The castle is off-limits," he reiterated. "She gave us specific orders to not let anypony in, and that if you turned up, you were to be kept to the library."

"The library?" For a moment, a thrill shot through her, excitement bubbling up at the prospect of being sent to one of the most beloved places from her childhood. It quickly died down again; her instinct to see instructions to go to the library as a reward for accomplishments or good behaviour, as used to be the case in her childhood, was quickly overruled by the oddity of the instruction in this context. "Why would she want me to stay in the library?"

"She didn't explain why, but those are your options. You can leave, or you can stay in the library, and that's it. You're not going to sneak your way around, and you're not-"

It wasn't exactly a shockwave which hit her, being far too gentle for that, but it was hard to describe as anything else. Some wave passed through her, like the heat rolling from an opened carriage door on a boiling summer's day. It seeped into her, permeating her skin and suffusing through her body, rushing up and down her limbs and settling around her groin. Her cheeks flushed, her shoulders slumped, and her head momentarily felt heavier and dizzier, as if she'd stood up too fast, or had sat in a hot room for far too long. It passed as quickly as it had arrived, and in its wake, she swore she heard a bellow, or a gratified moan amplified beyond anypony's ability to produce it without losing the integrity of its expression. Maybe her dizzy spell had simply made her believe she heard it.

The others felt it too. The smoke-grey mare collapsed to her knees, whimpering and panting heavily, her spear clattering to the ground beside her. Shining and the other guard's expressions wrinkled, but they remained upright until the effect faded, spotting an opportunity, Twilight shimmied between them, heading towards the castle doors. Behind her, Shining's voice made its way to her.

"Up on your hooves. Head back to the barracks, get yourself sorted, and send whoever's best rested to take up your post. Now, Twi- Twilight? Twilight! Hey, wait up!"

The clacking of running hoofsteps followed her into the hallway, but she didn't slow or look back. Her mind was awash with what Shining had told her - you were to be kept to the library. Why there, of all places? What could be so important it required her to be relegated to a single room? Was it so she would have enough books to read while she awaited her unspecified appointment?

"Wait a minute," she muttered to herself, coming to a halt and causing Shining to veer around her. "That has to be it. The answer must be in the library!" She set off again, striding past her brother and walking at a swifter pace towards the castle's sanctum of tomes.

"Stop running off!" Shining called after her, resuming his stuttering chase. "You're not allowed to wander the castle alone!"

"I'm not wandering; I'm heading straight for the library. The answer has to be there!"

"What answer?"

"The solution to this epidemic! Why else would Celestia send me to a library?"

"She's not the only pony who knows you're a bookworm. It's how I used to keep you occupied if I came back from a shift tired and you wanted to play, I'm sure she's doing the same."

"Oh ha ha. More than anypony else, Celestia knows just how many conflicts I've helped solved through research and study, and she just so happened to tell me to go to the library? The library in the heart of the capital of ponykind? She's telling me to find a way to fix this. I just know it."

Whether or not Shining Armor agreed with her reasoning, her explanation was sufficient to stop him questioning her further as they pushed open the gold-painted doors and stepped inside a place that was all-too-familiar for the purple pony. It had always been quiet, as was standard for any library of repute, but this time, the silence came from a complete absence; there was no quiet clop of hooves, no muted flap of wings, no rustle of paper being shuffled or pages turned, and no squeak or wheels or a clatter of a trolley being wheeled between shelves. It felt wrong to have a centre of learning and knowledge so uninhabited. In the past, she might've expected to enjoy having it all to herself, to be in a space where there was no minute noise evidencing another creature's existence, but now she found herself amidst the great loneliness, it was crushing. The second she walked in, the creak of the door reverberated like a gunshot, the meek noise amplified as if the room itself was angry at the disturbance. Had it always been this big? This expansive? This...hostile?

"It has to be here somewhere," she asserted, taking a breath and glancing around at the shelves set into the walls. "If we split up, maybe we'll be able to find it quicker."

"Find what, exactly?" Shining asked. "I don't know what you're looking for, how will I know if I've found it?"

"Look for books about plagues, curses, hexes," the alicorn listed, running her eyes over the titles. She knew these already - she'd read the majority of them - and none of them held any relevant information on whatever this was. "Illnesses, epidemics, prophecies..."

"That's a huge variety of topics."

"I know, but we don't even know what this is yet. That's why we're at the library, doing research."

"I think you're enjoying this just a little too much."

Twilight briefly giggled. "There are worse things I've had to do to save the day. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy this was where I ended up."

"Right...I'll search over here, then."

His hoofsteps moved away, leaving her alone to peruse the titles lining the shelves. As soon as he left, the emptiness pressed in around her, filling the absence her brother had occupied. She knew that didn't make sense - a vacuum couldn't fill a vacuum, that was an impossibility - but her rationality didn't help her as her meandering gaze walked up the books and further toward the ceiling, her neck craning back further and further. It couldn't be looking at her; the room didn't have a consciousness, any sentience or sapience to register her process, nevermind any sensory organs to observe her, but that instinct of being afloat among something greater than herself itched and itched.

The alicorn ran her fingers along the spines, seeking to replace the creeping, oppressive sensation emanating from around her with a sensation far more tactile. When that didn't quite cut it, she pulled several volumes from the shelf, opening them and skimming through the contents. She already knew there wouldn't be anything helpful in them, but the addition of visual stimulus to the comforting smoothness of the pages as she turned them mitigated the pressing discomfort. Replacing them one by one, she moved across, thumbing through the pages of the thickest texts in vain hope.

"There's something here with your name on it!"

Her singular focus shifted, immediately transferring from the words in front of her to the sound of her brother's voice. She returned the books to the shelf, instinctively sliding them back into their appropriate spots and trotting in the direction Shining's alert had come from, her hooves clacking uncomfortably loud on the floor as she hurried onward. It was only seconds until she reached him, no longer than a quarter of a minute, but the journey felt more like a hike in the inexplicably vast space. He was waiting for her by the main desk, and as she approached, he handed her a piece of parchment he'd been reading.

"I found it on the desk," he explained, passing it into her hands, along with a key. "It's for you. You'll probably be able to make sense out of it."

Letting her eyes drift down the parchment, it only took the purple mare a few seconds to recognise her mentor's handwriting, though it was scribbled with a hastiness that she hadn't seen before. It was as if it had been scratched with the final seconds of a deadline harassing the scribe, blotches of ink dripped from where the quill had been dipped and used hurriedly, some words crossed through and others noticeably untidy. The further down the parchment the writing went, the less cohesive it became, with the final few words being barely legible. The unease of a sightless observation, which had started to fade when Shining had called out to her, redoubled.

Twilight,

I am so sorry. Please forgive me for what you are about to learn. This key unlocks the restricted sex section. At the end of the third aisle from the entrance is a hidden door. It opens if you ask nicely with this key, just insert it into my tight the crack on the left. Cock Look on the first shelf to the left of the centre table, small white diary. Do not cum come all over a thick hard after me. I am sorry I've been such a naughty mare please forgive me I'll do anything for thisss sss jizzzzz issss

"It looks like Celestia's handwriting," Twilight spoke at last, having re-read it several times. Turning over the parchment revealed nothing further, and she turned her attention to the key.

"What did she mean about being sorry?" Shining asked. "What did she want you to forgive her for?"

"I don't know," the mare admitted, looking towards the padlocked gate she knew sat at the far side of the library. "Hiding information from me, maybe? Keeping secrets she thinks I'll be disappointed about when I discover them? She's left this key for me, and instructions on how to use it, but if this really is her writing...I've never seen her write like this before. Is this the answer we're looking for? Would it be in the restricted section?"

"We can find out," the stallion pointed out. "We have a key, directions, and no other leads."

"And if this is a trap?"

"Why would there be traps in the library? Who would be setting traps in this part of the castle?"

"Changelings, perhaps? Somepony impersonating Celestia to lure me, another princess, into a dark and shadowy part of the castle? If I'm the target, of course they'd set a trap in the library."

"Nothing is going to hurt my little sister." His tone sharpened into a protective growl as he said that, and she felt a warm wave of relief enshroud her. With a smile and a nod, she folded the parchment and stuffed it into a pocket, and started in the direction of the gate, the unicorn at her side. It didn't take them long to reach the gate, the key held between Twilight's thumb and forefinger ready.

"I'm glad you're here," she said, offering him a smile. "It's good to have someone I can count on with me." He reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze, then cheekily ruffled her mane.

"Whenever you need me, Twilight."

She scoffed, but only half-heartedly pulled away. Taking a breath, she inserted the key, turned it, and winced as a chunky metallic click emanated from the padlock. The gate opened without complaint, granting them entry into a space that, on any other day, Twilight would've been excited beyond measure to access. Twilight counted the aisles - one, two, three - and followed the cryptic directions, walking to the stone wall at the very end. If she hadn't been told what to look for, it would've been very easily missed, just an unobtrusive, unremarkable crack at waist-height on the left of the wall. Crouching down, she slid the key in, feeling it slot into the mechanism hidden inside, and twisted. It was stiff, and she persisted for several seconds, the metal uncomfortably biting into her skin until, with a click, she succeeded, and after a moment, a low rumble passed through the floor and the grating of stone met her ears. Standing up, Twilight watched as the wall slid upward, revealing a passage on the other side.

"Another section of the library?" Twilight voiced aloud, stepping into the hallway beyond. The passage was lined with bookshelves, though these were far more sparsely adorned than the main chamber, holding only a few books. A short distance away, a decorative stone archway led into a rotunda, smaller in size but similar in design to the restricted section. "What's so secret that it needs to be hidden away from the restricted section?"

She looked at the few books on the shelves, their titles revealing no overlapping theme or topic to her - Cellular Biology, Genealogy of the Ancient Pony Tribes, 101 Dirty Jokes. She tried to find a common link, or to see which one of the writings might have caused Celestia to divulge the existence of this hidden chamber to her, but there was nothing. The books were novel, but she had no idea why they were stored in a secret chamber within the restricted section, which was itself reserved for far more powerful and dangerous knowledge; by comparison, these were mundane, notwithstanding their esoteric and eclectic nature. If not for the instructions leading her here, she wouldn't have been sure she was even in the right place, for all the clues it held. She turned to face Shining, his protracted silence registering to her as she caught him looking down the passageway, eyes fixated on something, his face a mask of awe.

Her question - "What are you staring at?" - became redundant as soon as she asked it, turning her gaze to the archway. It was impossible to miss, but her fixation on finding answers had caused her to dismiss it as merely a decoration when she'd first laid eyes on it. It was, in reality, a decoration, but unlike any she'd ever seen before. It was a marble sculpture of two ponies, a mare and a stallion, and the details on their bodies remained as sharp and defined as the day the grandiose statue had been carved. The stallion was stood, back arched so much he was practically bent at the waist, grasping the mare's upper thighs to support her weight, while her legs were wound around his torso and her ankles crossed behind his back. She held herself up with her palms pressed on her pedestal, her half-handstand working in conjunction with his hold to keep her vertical.

In itself, it might've been a public monument for a sports stadium, embodying the peak physical grace of a pair of athletes in the physically demanding rigour of their event, or perhaps at a theatre immortalising the beauty of a dancer or actor in the throes of performance, if it hadn't been for the nudity. The stallion's penis hung down to his knees, long and thick and oddly alluring, and the mare's full, round breasts hung down towards her shoulders, no less suitable for having been pulled by gravity into a whole new shape and perspective. Twilight had read about the traditions of ancient pegasi who engaged in naked sports like wrestling and sprinting, but this was unlike any sport that she had ever researched. The stallion's face was hidden between the mare's thighs, his muzzle presumably resting against her loins, and from the parted lips and closed eyes presented in her beautiful, artificial visage, whatever he was doing was satisfactorily pleasurable to her.

"This might be it," the alicorn spoke at last, breaking the silence into which she'd lapsed. Shining nodded wordlessly, and followed as his sister resumed their walk. The unicorn didn't look away from the marble mare as they passed under the exotic architecture, his head turning to face the fat teardrop breasts, the softness of the toned arms and belly, the slimness of her torso, the feminine curve of the waist that would make Rarity herself stop and admire the accomplishment. She understood why; she couldn't keep their bodies out of her view, and she found herself tracking the tight, dense musculature of the stallion, the hardness of his calves and quads and his rigid six-pack seeming to exceed the stone from which she observed it. It was perfect, an enthralling masterpiece of masonry, and it captured perfectly the proportions of a highly athletic stallion. No, not a stallion - this was an ideal, the epitome of what a pony could be, ought to be, in whichever society valued...this. She wasn't sure what 'this' even was, but she understood it, somehow, related to it, maybe even yearned for it? Why? Was it the beautiful detail? The artistry? Was that why she could envision the activity these two ponies were engaged in, which this one still moment represented? The actions they would take, the way their bodies would move, the noises they would make and the way the stallion would smell-

Twilight blushed, a dark red blossoming onto her cheeks, and she tried to shut her eyes to the visually invasive display. She didn't quite manage it, cracking open an eye as she passed under the arch, where the stallion cradled the mare's middle, his face lowered to her groin as if he were drinking from a spring. His glans was nearly at eye-level to her, and if she stretched upward, she could probably reach it with her lips. She shook the thought from her head - shivering as it left her - and pressed on to the table at the centre of the room. Reaching into her pocket, she retrieved the parchment and smoothed it out, insistently dragging her thoughts to the matter at hand.

"First shelf on the left of the centre table," she read, turning towards that direction. "Small white diary..." Stepping forward, she roamed her vision across the densely-packed layers of tomes, scrolls, and paper, clearing each level with a deftness that soon earned her a result. As promised, a pearlescent leather book, half the height or less of the others around it, sat wedged neatly into a corner, and after some wiggling, the alicorn managed to recover it. Marching over to the table again with a triumphant remark to herself, she laid it down and thumbed to the first page.

"I guess I was right," Shining opined, his attention diverted from the archway by her voice. "Celestia really did send you to the library for your bookworm skills, huh?"

His jibe fell mostly on deaf ears, with a brief roll of her eyes and a shake of her head, and his gaze fell once again on the larger-than-life stone mare while the alicorn read the familiar neat handwriting laid across the paper. The minutes progressed in near absolute silence, interrupted by the regular intervals of the rustle of paper as Twilight turned a page. It must've been ten minutes - though with both ponies engrossed in their own objects of fascination, neither of them could have given a precise answer if pressed - before both ponies turned to look at one another, an uncanny instinct the two had honed over their formulative years.

"Found something?" the unicorn guessed. "What does it say? Does it say anything about this plague?"

"It does, and doesn't," Twilight responded, frowning at the diary. "If I'm understanding this correctly..." Pausing for a moment, she smoothed out the scroll and looked from the scribbled instructions to the shelf where she'd located the diary. "The diary, the shelf - it's everything Celestia described, so what she wrote must mean what I think it means."

"That's good, right?"

"Well, we know what it is, at least. Or, we mostly do."

"And that means you can work out how to stop it, right?"

Twilight winced, her eyes running across the pages again. "I think that's the problem. We're thinking about this being a hex or a curse or a plague which needs to be stopped, but from Celestia's writings, stopping it was what caused this."

"I know you got better grades in school than me, but it almost sounded like you said 'stopping this plague caused this plague', and we both know that doesn't make sense."

The alicorn stepped closer to her brother, pointing to an entry for him. "Here; ...I desperately hope that I'm worrying over nothing, that I am merely exercising due dilligence, but I cannot help but fear what will happen should this banishment elapse as all the others have. I tell myself that it is different, that this was a slicing of an ailment from the world like the plucking of a splinter from skin and that the absence would heal on its own and the world would accommodate this, but about how much have I already been wrong? In recent years, Nightmare Moon and Discord escaped from their supposedly impervious prisons, and the Crystal Empire returned to the material plane. I thought at the time it was a malady that needed treating, but I can no longer see it that way. Perhaps time has healed those wounds that made me feel its treatment was necessary, but when I read my entries in this diary, I feel the same disgust and indignity for the mistreatment so many suffered as I did millennia ago. I have been wrong or misguided about so many things, and I am worried that my rash actions may come back and leave my subjects at the mercy of something for which they have no way of preparing. What is worse, their innocence, their ignorance of whatever chaos and torment they may have to endure, is of my own making, and the blame lays solely at my hooves."

"What...?"

"This isn't an unnatural plague at all; millennia ago, Celestia banished something native to Equestria, and now it's returned."

"But...if it's something that's meant to be a part of ponykind, why would it be affecting us like this? When magic returned to Equestria, it rejuvinated us. Nopony was incapacitated by everything righting itself."

"Not for magic, no," Twilight agreed. "But this isn't magic, something enhancing us. This is a natural part of how ponies work. Think of it like your immune system; you build up a resistance to winter bugs, and by the time you're a teenager, you feel fine. What if you were taken away and sealed away from all those germs and viruses for years, and then returned outside? You'd feel sicker than you ever had before, right?"

"So this plague is just, what? Feedback from something returning to us?"

"Like a torrent caused by a collapsing dam."

Shining fell into silence, his expression grim and pensive. After several long, solemn seconds, he asked, "Do we know what it is that was...'removed' from us?"

"That's more complicated," she admitted. "It's something that nopony in over a millennium has ever experienced, and Celestia was very thorough in censoring information about its existence, according to her own admissions."

"Why? What could be so awful about ponykind that it needed to be yanked from us and banished for eternity?"

"Apparently it caused conflict and threatened harmony. There are several entries detailing how early in her reign, Celestia witnessed ponies treating each other in attrocious ways because of this instinct. She saw how prevelent and persistent it was, and her fear that Luna would be subjected to the same treatment led her to vanquish it. In her mind, it was no different to Starswirl banishing the Sirens to another realm, or any other feat which we regard today as necessary. The diary also mentions a book which explains some of the more mechanical details, which ought to be nearby, because this is the only place in Equestria where these texts still exist...aha!"

Striding over to the shelf, her vision clamped onto a red book, she pulled it swiftly from its resting place, blew some of the dust from the cover, and tilted it towards him. "A History of Sex," she shared. "I don't know much about the what's, why's, when's, how's, or who's, but this right here explains everything we could need to know."

"What's 'sex'?" Shining asked, tilting his head. "You don't mean whether a pony is a stallion or mare, do you?"

"It's an activity," the alicorn answered, sitting down on the floor in the absence of chairs. "An activity caused by this instinct. It's almost like wrestling." At his questioning look, an eyebrow raised, she averted her eyes, sheepishly. "I did it this morning. At least, going by what the diary says, and how everypony else has been acting, I think that's what I did this morning. It relieves the symptoms you feel."

"So sex is like scratching an itch?" the unicorn posited, sinking down next to his sister to sit beside her. She nodded, having already cracked open the book and become engrossed in the lost knowledge housed in its pages. The rustle of demin attracted his eyes to her grating thighs. "What's it like?"

"It's..." Twilight paused, continuing to rub her thighs together as if they were beset by a particularly incorrigible irritation. With a noise halfway between a grunt and a sigh, she reached one hand down, flicked the button holding her shorts together, and tugged them down, along with her panties. "It's like this."

Two things had been niggling at the alicorn since she'd woken up that morning; a yearning for answers, and the growling hunger spreading through her loins. She'd managed to suppress the latter in pursuit of the former, postponing it for later consideration (although, she had to admit to herself, the release she received from Spike and from the manifestations inside the dreamscape had dampened the urgency of it), but right now, it had drawn to the forefront of her attention even with her hunger for knowledge. Balancing the book on her leg and brushing through the pages with the delicate fingers of one hand, she slid her other hand down to trace her fingers just as smoothly across her mons.

The mare focused on the book, improvising her exploration of her nethers based on how it felt, but she could feel Shining's attentive eyes on her motions. It was the first time since that morning that she'd closely examine her own marehood, but unlike then, there wasn't the same level of confusion or anxious uncertainty. Now, rather than the immediate concern of figuring out just what was going on, she indulged her curiosity, feeding her desire to learn properly. Shining watched as she started her slow investigation of her privates, her fingertips brushing across her surprisingly sodden labial lips tentatively, both far softer and more sensitive to contact than she thought they would be. They were engorged, fuller, and were spread like the petals of an open flower. Just a day ago, the thought that her anatomy was inviting something in to pollinate her would have repulsed her, but now, it felt right, as if that were the purpose of it. Now, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"Sex is touching your crotch?" the stallion asked, sounding equal parts baffled and intrigued. He pulled off his gloves and set them aside, fiddling with his couters and rerebraces and sliding them from his arms, followed in short order by his spaulders. An arm, conciously or otherwise, rested between his own legs, a hand resting against his groin.

"It's more than just touching," Twilight informed him, progressing from grazing the periphery to running her hands down the cleft of her vulva. She was soaked, as wet as she'd been when she woke up that morning, if not even wetter, and her fingers were drenched in her own produce after a few circuits of her valley. Coming to the hole which she'd only started to explore before she'd been interrupted that morning, she slipped a finger inside, easing a second next to it after a few probing plunges. "It's between at least two ponies-" Her mind flashed to the interaction between her and Spike, and the tentacles in the dreamscape, and she corrected herself. "-at least two creatures, and it usually involves a male and a female using their genitals to pleasure one another." The stallion's head turned toward the sculpted arch under which they'd walked, and when he turned back to her, she saw the connection he'd made in his head spreading across his visage.

"Here," he offered, sliding his vambraces off his arms and reaching across himself with his right hand to emulate the position of hers. "Let me help so you can read."

The acceptance came easily; Twilight withdrew her fingers from herself and let her brother replace the absence. Her slender digits were slick with copious amounts of her effluence as they emerged from her hole, and a brief glance at the sheen was all the thought the purple mare gave to the matter before she stuck them both in her mouth, suckling them clean. A tang hit her as her tongue swirled around her appendages, a pleasantly soft sour flavour that quickly flattened over her tastebuds and joined the rest of her saliva as she swallowed, leaving her feeling oddly proud with what she'd just done, like a child who'd gotten away with sneaking cookies from the jar. Wiping her fingers dry on her arm, she held the book more securely, and returned to scrolling rapidly through the pages.

Shining wasn't as distracting as she'd - latently, admittedly - fretted he might be, at least not at first. His touch was clumsy, his fingers meandering and walking across her flesh and scuffing through her fur, until he finally felt out her entrance. He prodded a few times, dipping down a tentative digit to survey and prospect, and clearly emboldened by her earlier performance, curled his two middle fingers inward, pushing them into her. He didn't stop at the first knuckle, nor second, her passageway eagerly accepting his advance, until the natural limits of his joints prevented him from twisting enough to push any deeper, and he resorted to stroking at her interior as his pinky and forefinger framed her vulva. Caressed inside and at her groin, his palm making occasional contact with her hood, his efforts started to take root, and she let out a minute sigh.

She didn't realise she was letting out regular audible exhales, even as soft as they were, until his anatomy was removed from hers, and the steady supply of pleasure ceased, leaving her wanting. Glancing at him, she witnessed him raise his soiled fingers to his muzzle, sniff at them, and give them an experimental lick. His eyes widened in surprise, and following her earlier example, he stuck them in his maw, suckling greedily. When he was done, Shining pulled his tabard over his head, unbuckled his cuirass and and lifted it from his torso, and shoved both aside almost carelessly, followed immediately by his greaves and attachments at his waist. She soon realised why he'd doffed the armour as he crawled around in front of her, lowering himself nearly prostrate between her legs. Looking up at her in a wordless question, his eyes flitting to the statue-arch, he waited for her to say something. She gave a nod, unwilling for him to truly stop.

The unicorn's approach was a battle between anxious uncertainty and novel excitement, the joyful apprehension in his eyes and the subtle trembling of his breathing weaving in and around the slow, hesitant closing of the distance. His breath billowed over her exposed region and warmed her through, his exhalations coming into contact with her fluids and suffusing into her moistness, the liquid amplifying the heat. Twilight tried to focus solely on the book - that was the purpose of Shining taking over, after all - but even as she scanned line after line and flicked to the next page, her instincts compelled her to glance at the stallion in between her legs, his lips making contact with her crotch, followed by the slow, careful drag of what was unmistakably a tongue up her slit. She bit her bottom lip as the tender tickle moved through her, the gentle, languid climb doing more to tease her than any of the prior experience she'd had that day. Another followed, minisculely more confident, and then another, until the cautious draw became a comfortable lapping.

"Centuries ago, sex was a normal practice among ponies," Twilight announced. She hadn't been asked a question, nor had she finished reading, but the effects of Shining's licking were making themselves known both on her mind and her body; her thoughts wandered away from the reading material, and her hips were gyrating in slow, unrequested circles. She knew if she didn't say something to focus herself, she'd fall into this completely depraved distraction, which was the opposite of why she'd accepted her brother's offer to sate her symptoms. "It looks as if it was chaotic, causing strife among ponykind and breaking down harmonious relationships. Celestia wanted to get rid of these relationship problems, and so she cast a spell to stop sex. It was something about conflict arising from love and romance, and babies, of all things." She let out a snort, which petered into a soft moan. "I-It looks complicated. I can see why she wanted to get rid of it all. B-But now, th-the spell has worn off, l-like with Luna's banishment."

"The stork delivers babies," Shining uttered, his words muffled against her crotch. The vibrations of his speech stimulated her beyond what his tongue and lips offered, the gentle tingle of his touch becoming a thrum that travelled deeper through her groin. "Ponies have babies all the time, without sex, and they've been having them for thousands of years. What does sex have to do with it at all?"

"Celestia's magic makes them for the stork, b-but it doesn't say who did it before her, th-though. I-I would have th-thought Star Swirl the Bearded, b-but it looks as if Celestia created the pr-process. Th-That d-doesn't m-make any sense. H-How did-?"

The alicorn's words caught in her throat when a sharp shot of pleasure rocketed through her. Her brother's tongue had passed over the apex of her marehood and ground against a hardened part of her which was drastically more sensitive than the rest of her soft, inflamed genitals, almost like a nipple reacting to the cold. At her gasp, his gaze flicked to her, and she nodded, silently urging him to repeat his movement. Following her direction, the unicorn slurped at the newfound nub, pinpointing the part of her causing her reaction and setting his attention solely on that part of her, leaving her whimpering and gasping and struggling to read through fluttering eyes. Her attention was divided now, unmistakably so, and she skimmed the book with an uncharacteristic haphazardness as the stallion's hands supported her thighs and his fingers compressed her supple flesh, his thumb caressing her skin and her fur.

"St-stop," she huffed at last, forcing the words out. "Stop!"

"What's wrong?" Shining asked, pulling back and frowning at her. His tongue flashed out to lick at his lips, which were coated in her vaginal juices. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she assured him, pushing herself up onto her knees. "There's a lot more to sex than just cunnilingus."

"Cunning what?"

"Cunnilingus. The book says that's what you were doing to me. It's 'oral stimulation of a vagina', and 'typically involves using the lips and tongue on the vulva and clitoris', which is apparently what that hard bump you were licking at is called. It's usually hidden behind the 'clitoral hood', but it hardens when a mare becomes 'sexually aroused'." The unicorn blinked and nodded with the same expression he used to give when she explained something intellectually complicated to him as a child. "Anyway, oral sex is only one aspect of sex, and there are others which involve you a lot more. You should be able to do sex too, Shining. Let me show you."

He didn't object or obstruct her as her hands moved to his loins, grabbing the bulge tenting his trousers, the firmness beyond the soft fabric sending her heart fluttering. The stallion pulled his top upward, rushing it over his head and tossing it aside so he didn't miss the sight of his sister's groping. After a few self-indulgent squeezes and caresses, the purple mare unbuckled his belt, cast it aside, and dragged the trousers down Shining's hips and under his buttocks with some assistance from the stallion. If he had any reservations about her exposing his genitals, he didn't show it, his own hands joining her effort to untagle the fabric from around the burgeoning trunk. Together, they pulled, wiggling the garment down, his phallus straining until, like a caterpault let loose, it was freed and it sprung upward, slapping against his belly with a heavy PLAP!

"This happened while I was doing the cunny...cunning...the licking," Shining explained, lifting his legs so Twilight could remove his trousers entirely. "This is part of sex, right?"

"The book calls it an 'erection'," she responded, grasping the base of his phallus. "When a stallion experiences sexual arousal, additional blood rushes to the penis and makes it hard and stiff."

"Blood?" the stallion repeated, grimacing. "I'm swollen because my tackle's filled up with blood?"

"It's no different to your muscles or your lungs, or any other organ," the alicorn told him, caressing his male anatomy with her thumb. She could feel his pulse beneath the surface, a fact that captivated her interest both instinctually and intellectually. "What do you think happens when you do training drills or any other sort of exercise?"

"My blood usually goes elsewhere," he retorted. "Never to my junk."

The alicorn let his childish complaints go, her interest invested in the new state of his phallus. She'd inadverently seen it before on him and some other stallions, when it was in the normal soft and dangling state penises always were, but this was the first time she'd seen something so familiar transformed in such a way, and had the opportunity to handle it to her heart's content. Spike's shaft had been inside her before she could do more than take in its basic appearance, the tentacles had been entirely alien, and the illustrations and images she'd seen in the time since had been distant and non-interactable, but this was something she could examine and play with and use to indulge her growing desires. Her fingers encircled his girth to the best of her ability, her palm pressed against his hot skin, and she ran her grip upward, feeling the stallionhood throb and tremble in her grasp. Beneath his erection, two plump, round testicles hung, each the approximate size of eggs. They hadn't changed at all, but while before she'd never felt the need to know their anatomical name, nevermind pay them any visual attention, now she admired the sight of them, knowing they produced and contained the mysterious sticky gunk that had been all-too-present in her day so far.

It had to be a foot and a half in length and easily eight inches in circumference, going by the amount her hand could fit around, and its smooth pink surface was criss-crossed with veins like rivers on a topographical map. She brushed happily over his medial ring, drew her fingers around his glans, following the circuit of his corona and wandering onto the smooth, not-quite flat plateau of his crown. The round, dilated hole of his urethral opening was oozing what the book called 'pre-ejaculate', and she shamelessly coated her fingertips in it, basking in the feeling of that lukewarm liquid clinging to her. Conscious that there was a pony with his own wants and needs present, Twilight kept her fixation restrained and crawled forward after a reasonable amount of time on her tactile expedition. Settling between his legs, facing away from him, she leaned forward, continuing to pump his phallus at a strange but exciting angle. Not seeing him as she stimulated him, with her own loins exposed to him, thrilled her in a way she couldn't explain, nor cared to try to.

"Do you want to touch?" she invited, her tail flagged for his viewing pleasure and access. She didn't need to ask twice, or even add to her suggestion, before Shining sat up, reaching forward and caressing her sodden marehood. Two fingers slipped over her inner lips, gliding across the flesh and dipping slightly into her vagina.

"Like this?" he asked.

"Deeper!" she urged, groaning happily as the digits sunk further past her entrance, her breathing picking up as his knuckles came to rest against her exterior and the appendages inside her brushed at her walls. He withdrew slightly, then slid in again, penetrating her in soft, slow movements. Another finger was pressed against the first two, gliding into her with ease and providing a pleasant additional stretch to her asking muscles. She worked his erection, and he fingered her entrance, the two feeding one another's appetite and responses. It was good, but it wasn't enough.

"I need more," Twilight declared, straightening up. "Lay back down, and let me do the work, okay?" His fingers exited her as he complied, her passageway once again left empty. That was a temporary problem, she knew, as she brought his stallionhood to bear, his tip grazing her crotch and pressing between her netherlips. With his crown nestled against her orifice, her labia kissing the broad head of his erection, she savoured the moment, the feeling of him against her, before she lowered herself, letting her weight down. The pressure increased, his broadness exceeding her opening's ability to take him at first. She persisted, holding Shining's stiffness upright and wiggling to encourage him inside, her muscles relaxing and gradually stretching around the blunt end of the object of her desire, making steady horizontal progress. The more she stretched, the more intense the feeling of him became, her body becoming more and more aware of the true size of him, which only made her want it more.

The success was all the sweeter for its difficulty. With Spike and the tentacles, the shape of the insertions had provided for their penetration, spreading her apart and gaining access by innevitability. With Shining, there was no assistance, nothing helping her slide him inside save for her own determination and the swirling, beating demand of her growing hunger. When her lips spread around his tip, engulfing his glans and allowing her to embrace his shaft properly, the stretch translated into its own reward, like the satisfaction from the strain of early morning exercise. She was already soaking, lubricated with her self-produced fluids, and taking inch after inch of his penis in a steady glide was easier than trying to fit his crown, even with his substantial length. It was only when she felt the ridge of his medial ring press against her vaginal entrance that she paused for a moment, letting out a pleased whimper.

"Oh yeah," the alicorn sighed, wiggling her hips and lowering herself further again. The ring encircling his malehood passed her entrance easily enough, sending a tingle through her it spread her that bit wider to gain entry and brushed against her soft, sensitive walls. The voyage was swift, and her tush soon came to rest against the firm pelvis beneath her, the fur of her brother's coat offering a contrast of softness to his unyeilding body. Turning her head and looking over her shoulder, she was met with a wide-eyed look of awe from the unicorn, his mouth agape at the experience. Smiling at the sight, she put a hunch into practice and tensed her core muscles, squeezing his erection in her interior grip and watching with delight as his face contorted into a visage of unbearable ecstasy. "All the way in," she told him, enjoying making the superfluous statement. "I managed to fit every inch of your big, throbbing, tackle into me. How does it feel?" She rotated her hips, drawing slow, wide circles against his pelvis, her body, his reactions, and the book's description working in tandem to direct her.

"Ngh!" he grunted, clenching his eyes and his jaw shut. "K-Keep going!"

The mare didn't need to be told twice. Giggling softly, Twilight lifted herself up, only a few inches, before lowering herself down again, her lips kissing Shining's base before she reversed direction once more. With each ascent, she drew further away from his loins, retracting more of his stallionhood from herself, and giving herself more of him to slip back onto on her way down. As the distance of her rises and falls increased, and she became steadier and more confident, her speed increased as well, accelerating from a tepid shift to a moderate cyclical ride. It was harder to clench her womanhood around him while moving, so she focused on the vertical aspect of her efforts. Shining panted, huffed, grunted, groaned, his voice pushing her onward, encouraging her as sure as if he'd been speaking heartfelt words of encouragement to her. She wanted, needed, to hear more, to feel that melodious praise, and so she worked harder, her glutes and calves striving to lift her up over and over. She began to drop, letting her butt slap against the unicorn's groin, the impact its own source of pleasure as she impaled herself on his tool and drove herself down harder to feel that deep touch against parts of her that yearned for more. It was an incessant itch, her bouncing growing more frantic as she sought to scratch it, her own moans and squeaks and whimpers joining and then outperforming the stallion's own.

"I feel so full!" she exclaimed, shutting her eyes to better sink into the joyous thrums of pleasure, wilfully sacrificing one sense to empower another. His hardness was addictive, each drop and impact hooking her further into the craving for inexplicable, irrational indulgence. Her hands ran through her mane, the additional sensation adding a degree of stimulation she didn't know she wanted until her hair slipped through her fingers, caressing her in turn as she took simple pleasure in its presence. She ignored the complaints of her legs, the way she trembled slightly from the exertion, and just let the mindless cycle happen. Was this how it felt to claim a mare, like Spike had done to her? It was in reverse, sure, and she was still being penetrated, but the power she held over Shining, the unrestrained gratification of her base and animalistic impulses, it was rapturous.

Shining sat up suddenly and without warning, pressing himself flat against her back and reaching around to grab at one of her breasts, which had previously been jiggling and slapping against her own chest. His hands closed in around her mammary, fingers digging in greedily and squashing her supple flesh, his grip firm and strong, pulling from her lips a sharp "AHH!" It was harder to move with his adjustment, so she gyrated instead, rolling her hips back and forth and taking advantage of her relatively static position to flex and flare her inner muscles again, earning her a grunt from her brother. He squeezed harder, removing all give from her boob, until he was just holding her with aggressive need. 'Lust', the book called it. She resolved to use that word more. It made so much sense, seeing it - feeling it - in action like this. His grip loosened, and he lay back, resuming his supine position. Sensing he wanted more, Twilight bounced quicker, keeping her riding shallow and quick.

"C'mon, big bro," she urged, flicking her mane out of the way as she coaxed him towards taking over. It felt right somehow, her arms lifted to her head, playing with her hair. She felt more attractive doing it, particularly given her current activity. "Give me everything you have!" Taking control was fun, but it seemed the stallion had an impulse he desperately wanted to follow, and her own experience with being on the receiving end left her knowing that was just as fun, if not moreso. It felt more natural, too.

Her train of thought was interrupted when the unicorn's hand clasped her tail and yanked, firmly, sending a shock through the small of her back and up her body. She gasped loudly, squeaking out an "eep!" as the sharpness jolted through her. Her marehood clenched around him, her tunnel squeezing tightly around his iron-hard member and receiving a hot electric swell as his unyeilding organ resisted her soft flesh. She was shoved forward and had to catch herself with her hands, the stallion reminding her that he was in fact the highest ranking member of the Royal Guard as he swung his legs out from under her, knelt behind her, and yanked her tail again, hard. She squeaked again, gasping as his pull persisted. She bit her bottom lip, eyes widening and drool starting to dribble down her chin as the intense feedback in her lower back and loins redoubled. Her arms trembled, her upper body slowly closing distance with the floor, until her bust came to rest on the book that had started this entire ordeal. She had half a mind to move it out the way, but she didn't get the chance before Shining unceremoiously shunted his entire waist forward, burying his density in her waiting, wanting passage.

There was no patience or learning curve to her brothers thrusts, merely the mindless pounding of a male with a ravenous need. It wasn't as aggressive as Spike's bestial plunges, but it carried the same sentiment, and arose from the same desire, and that was more than enough. His pelvis slapped into her ass, the fleshy plapping of skin-on-skin filling the room as he took over and did as she'd requested. This time, it was her moans and nonverbal praises which began louder and more present, her declarations of pleasure readily forthcoming as Shining used the position and the angle to drive himself as deep as he could into her, driven by hot-blooded instinct and guided by the way she felt and sounded. She raised her hips, wanting to pull him in closer, and he leaned over her, planting his hands either side of her to support his new centre of gravity. His thrusts became much deeper with that change, and her exclamations became ever more nonsensical, just sounds that - although gibberish - communicated the depths of ecstasy to which she was being driven. She felt like she was leaking, dripping juices from her crotch onto the floor, though it was hard to tell what was what in this state.

"This sex-hex feels great," the stallion grunted, his pelvis slamming against her buttocks. "You say it's relief from...ugh!...from the hex? I think I'm about to be cured!" His words took a few seconds to process with the mare's addled mind, his increasing speed only rattling the thoughts in her head further, and it was only when he slowed down to adjust his position that she was able to piece together what was happening.

"Don't stop!" she blurted, her mouth producing the words without her concious input. "You're about to finish! The book calls that a 'climax', caused by stimulation to the genitals. It's something anypony can experience. Keep going! I want one too!"

The stallion rose to his hooves, lifting the mare by her hips so she was at crotch height, her back at a near 70 degrees decline. She lifted her legs to compensate, holding herself up as best as she could, but she was undone by the first thrust. Shining's shaft sank deep into her, filling her utterly and leaving no room for seperation between them, as if he'd become a whole part of her.

"Oh yeah!" she cried out, throwing her head back, her eyes snapping shut as his end tapped at the terminus of her vagina. "Agh, k-keep going!" It was a pointless request; he had no intention of stopping, his stumbling caused only by the necessity of adjusting and the inexperience with this activity. He withdrew until his tip tugged at her entrance - his 'glans' having 'flared', according to the book's lost wisdom - and slammed all the way back in once again, the glide of hot, hard meat against her velvety flesh like the strike of a match with the same rush of heat and satisfaction, his tip striking against her like a hammer against an anvil, her nerves sparking at his rough touch. Her hooves slipped as he pounded her, her legs parting with every successive slap against her butt, until she was doing the splits and the stallion had to adjust himself to account for the drop of her crotch. Out the corner of her eye, she saw him place his hand against the wall, supporting himself as he leaned forward and resumed his thrusts, his other hand gripping her leg to steady her.

Her brother's grunts became guttural, his growls and groans picking up in intensity and frequency with each passing second. In her core, Twilight felt the familiar coiling of pressure, the tightening and squeezing that preceded what she now knew was an orgasm, but it was clear she wasn't going to reach her release before Shining did. He was approaching his own finish far too fast, his rolling hips transitioning into rapid jerking as his own excitement built and threatened to spill over, and she was left to enjoy the hot ravaging and the cold of the floor against her breasts. Without warning, she felt fingers that weren't her own at her pelvis, and she latently realised she couldn't feel Shining's grip on her leg anymore. She gasped as his fingers brushed at the zenith of her vulva, seeking blindly until he passed over her clitoris, at which point his fingers brushed and stroked and strummed her nub, running in a walking cycle against her exposed, swollen pleasure-centre. She let out a loud grunt, her mouth falling open and her tongue lolling out, as she was rocketed towards the precipice of her own release.

They finished together. At least, it was probably simultaneous. Several things happened at once, at least in Twilight's perception, and she registered them in parallel as her mind hurtled into a whirling cacophony of stimulation and wonderful chaos. The pressure in her lower stomach spread through her body, warmth surging from her core to her limbs, her muscles tightening as it passed, her nerves letting off cracks and flashes of pleasure. Her mind was awash with soaring diziness, euphoria coursing through her body as the tension spread and refocused, returned and released again. She shook, trembling around the throbbing, pulsing malehood embedded deep in her, a steel rod which refused to yield to her contractions, yet flexed and swelled and spurted a welcome goopey mess into its natural resting place, Shining bellowing as his own body was wracked by the sensations of climax. The deposit was scalding, boiling, yet it didn't hurt her, and she welcomed the increasingly normal touch of its hot pooling. She felt wetness spray from her own crotch, spattering against Shining and splashing back against her, the floor drenched in the end result of their passionate play.

"D-Did I do it right?" the stallion asked after they'd wound down, pulling out slowly and carefully from her stretched hole. Despite his caution, she was tender, and the exit made her wince and groan as his flared end popped free, the alicorn's body protesting at the absence of his insert. Twilight pulled her legs in, sinking down into a prone position, her rear only slightly propped up. Even with her womanly parts ablaze, she could still feel the hot, wet ooze of his semen drooling from her interior, thickly seeping into a puddle beneath her. She should have cared about that, making such a gross mess in a library of all places, but she didn't, not at that moment. Taking several long seconds to pant and let out a jumbled murmur of pleasure, she controlled her breathing enough to formulate a response.

"I don't think it's a hex at all," she mumbled, reiterating her earlier point. "Everything that's been written, the hidden cache of knowledge, the way it all just works..." She let out a sigh as Shining pulled her into a cuddle, her sweaty body relaxing at his touch. "It's just a lifetime foregoing natural release."

"Celestia hasn't climaxed in over a millennium," Shining surmised. "Maybe that's why we can't get her out of her room."

"It must be torture for her, if this is how it's affecting everypony else. Could you imagine-" His words slapped her from her dazed state all of a sudden, like a swingball that had run its full course and smacked her in a blind spot on its way around. Her eyes shot open, and she sat bolt upright, her fatigue vanishing in an instant. "Celestia is here? I have to see her!" She jumped to her hooves, wobbling more than usual, but finding stability and steadiness in the accessibility of her goal. Haphazardly and swiftly throwing on her underwear and her overgarments in quick succession, she grabbed the book and strode towards the library proper, stopping to pocket the diary.

"Twi, wait!" the unicorn objected behind her. His protests fell on deaf ears, and he stumbled as he tried to dress himself to follow her, tripping over his underwear in his haste. "She's in no condition! Wait!" He cursed as he tried to gather up his other apparel, burdened with a greater amount than his sister had on her.

Twilight was familiar with the route to the princess' bedchambers, but this was the first time she'd dared to visit, something she'd never have considered doing without being explicitly requested had the situation been any different. As close as she considered herself to be to the senior diarch, she still considered the private quarters of a sovereign to be their own, and with as much respect as she had for Equestria's reigning princess, she'd never had reason to even approach the room. Today was far from normal, however, and with every step, she pushed back the discomfort that came from ascending the staircase to her mentor's bedchambers, justifying to herself the necessity of speaking to the alicorn given the seriousness of the situation. There was so much to discuss, so much she had to ask from somepony she'd always been able to turn towards in times of doubt or struggle, and surely Celestia would understand, wouldn't she? Shining Armor had said that she had to be confined to the library, so how would the solar princess react to being interrupted? Was she doing the right thing? Her stride slowed marginally, and a brief crack appeared in her resolve.

The roiling wall blew away her doubts, heat seeping into her skin as the wave passed through her, stumbling her. As she grabbed the bannister for support, a muffled cry rang through the halls, echoing from the stone. It was the same as she'd heard when she'd arrived at the castle, but louder and clearer now she was inside. It reminded her of spike's bellow, the way he yelled out upon reaching - what she now knew was - climax, but this one sounded less guttural, less bassy and masculine. It sounded a lot more feminine, more of a wail than a roar. In that moment, she steeled herself, resolute, and clomped onward, ignoring the burn flaring up in her loins once again. She couldn't afford to be selfish nor afraid right now, not when the very pony she'd come to see, the one who she still held out hope for wisdom and knowledge about the situation she found herself in, was approachable. Even better than books was the author, and if she'd had the ability to talk to Starswirl the Bearded, to reach back through time and pull him into the present, she'd do so in an instant in favour of pouring over his texts. With her resolve fortified, she pushed down the growing itch of her arousal, each step towards the princess' chamber a pitched battle between her discipline and her desire. By the time she reached the double doors - a voyage that felt as much of a trek as flying to the city had, and felt about as long - she was aflame with need, but her stubborness held out.

"Princess Celestia?" Twilight called as she threw open the doors. "I need to talk to-"

Without the barrier between her and the room, the full weight of the depraved goings-on hit her like a brick. The stench was the most immediate, but the noise and the sight were just as potent and prominent. The room reeked of what could only be described as bodies, with the scent of sweat and genital effusions hanging thick and swirling invisibly in the air. The reason for this was obvious, with a disorganised huddle of naked, exhausted guards sitting at the far side of the room, their penises in various states of turgidity and slathered in a mixture of female and male secretions, while some were stood unsteadily on their hooves in a swaying line leading to the bed. A few were stroking their stallionhoods, either masturbating or attempting to coax and maintain their erections after what seemed to be a prolonged shift of activity, waiting for their turn. None of them seemed concerned on the state of the room, with singed curtains and carpets, scattered furniture, or the shattered and blasted-out glass, the empty window panes now containing nothing to shut the room off from the open air. A faint breeze flowed into the room, ventillating some of the titillating stink that had settled like a fog.

"Yes oh yes oh YES OH YES!" Celestia hollered, her voice rising in both pitch and volume as she bounced atop a supine guard, furiously riding the writhing stallion, his own groans washed away amidst the alicorn's frantic yelling. "Cum for me, cum inside your princess!" Her hips were a blur, her weight slamming down mercilessly on the smaller pony's groin in a wild flail of gyrations and rolls and hops, desperation plaguing her actions. Her breasts didn't jiggle so much as flung themselves through the air, clapping together or slapping against her torso in what would've been a momentous sound but for the whirlwind of vocalisations and the agonised screaming of the beleagured bed frame and bedsprings. Celestia's wailing reached its crescendo, the guard arching his back as the forceful demand of his ruler compelled his climax, his face contorting into a painting of blissful strain. Rising up once more, the alicorn revealed the guard's member as she slid up most of the way, inadvertently showing Twilight the throbbing, veiny glory of the well-endowed servant, the rod pulsing as it pushed thick gushes of goo into the alicorn, exactly as she'd asked. Finally, she slammed down, right as the guard grabbed her ankles and thrusted brutally upward.

The scream was deafening, a seismic wail that made Twilight's vision wobble. A second later, the room was illuminated in a sudden bright flare, almost too bright to witness directly, as Celestia's wings, mane, and eyes glowed and shone more purely than any natural light, save for perhaps the sun itself. The conjoined equines thrashed, the white mare's hands snapping to her thigh and to her cheek, turning her face away and twisting her back to try and deal with the visible titanic flood of sensations coursing through her. Her crown was hurled from her head, the clatter as it hit the floor lost among the screeching and wailing and veritible storm of sound and light, and the gorget around her throat fractured as if constructed from cheap ceramics, splitting in two like a snapping elastic band and flinging fragments of gold across the room. Barely visible beyond the flaring light of Celestia's eyes, the mare's jaw was held open in a thoughtless exhalation, drool forming strings from her extended tongue which broke and splatted against the bed and the guard beneath her. Her own juices, spraying from her marehood, sizzled and evaporated as she produced them, leaving the stallion's semen to spurt from her overfilled and spasming vagina.

The broiling wave of heat lashed at the young alicorn again, driving her to her knees momentarily, and she doubled over as the petulant wail of arousal assailed her mind. She felt her own nethers grip at nothing, yearning to be filled again, and her underwear clung to her lower lips, caked in oozing stallion cream. When she looked up, forcing herself to take in the situation, she saw the guards flush and grow stiff again, their malehoods rapidly reaching full tumescence from whatever state they'd been at before. Forcing herself to her hooves, Twilight plodded forward laboriously, ignoring her trembling, unstable legs, and reached the bed, just in time for Celestia to dismount her latest stallion and usher him away, her frazzled mane fading back to its usual cerulean and heliotropic hues.

"P-Princess," she voiced weakly, her eyes widening as the white alicorn's head snapped around. Rather than the gentle strength she was so used to, all Twilight could see was a voracious hunger in those light magenta eyes, the eons of wisdom and refined authority absent and replaced with ferocity and mania. "Princess, I-I n-need to speak-"

Even in her feral state, the eldest alicorn of Equestria was powerful in her abilities, and Twilight didn't have a chance to react to the golden glow along her mentor's horn, nor fight back as her clothes were stripped from her, torn and ripped and yanked from her body, patches blackening and curling away where the intensity of the alicorn's magical focus burned them. Hoisted effortlessly onto the bed in the golden telekenetic grasp and dumped on her back, as naked as every other pony in the room, the purple mare was left defenceless as Celestia turned onto her front, spread Twilight's legs, and dove between her thighs, lips meeting lips and tongue lashing out in a flurry of motion.

"Mmm," Celestia hummed, snorting hot breaths across the smaller mare's vulva. "Delicious, tasty cum. Such a ripe pussy, so freshly fucked. I want it all." The words were murmured and muttered, muffled against Twilight's groin without a pause in the noisy slurping and slobbering. There was barely time to process what was happening, each movement of the diarch's dexterous muscle sending a new flare and flash of sensations through her pelvis for her brain to interpret, all of it happening so quickly she lagged behind in her comprehension. Flicks upward, left, right, down, slurp, drag, draw, wetness either from her own body or from Celestia's saliva, muscles squeezing and clenching, hotness radiating from every point of contact and brush against sensitive skin and flesh already rubbed raw by relentless pounding, and corresponding to every burst and swell of pleasure came an involuntary whimper and whine from her throat.

A gasp was pulled from Twilight's lips as Celestia slid her tongue inside, burrowing into her semen-saturated passage and waggling deeper. The stimulation was constant and ceaseless, any pause or respite entirely absent from the endless quest for satisfaction, and the purple mare could barely make out Celestia raking her tongue downward, drawing out the ejaculate and noisily slurping it into her mouth. She was afloat in a tempest, her mind and body battered from every angle, lurching in response to the change of direction and style of Celestia's heavy encroachment; the tongue brushed and touched at her marehood, lips pressed against her mound and sealed around her clitoris, hands stroked urgently along her belly and thighs, fingers grasping and scratching down her skin. Nowhere was safe from the animalistic assault, and no matter how she wiggled or writhed or squirmed, that pervasive pleasure persisted.

Twilight's climax was quick, both in how long it took for Celestia to drive her towards it, and how swiftly it crashed down around her. The older alicorn's lips sealed around Twilight's oversensitive nub, her tongue lashed at it hungrily, and the tension coiling in the purple pony's belly condensed and released within seconds, the warbling rush surging up her body and down her limbs. Her loins contracted, her legs clamping around Celestia's head as her vagina squeezed tightly, pushing out Shining's ejaculation from her womanhood, and the white mare lapped and licked as it oozed out, sending sharp throbs and flares through Twilight's crotch and lower belly. Her hands shot down, grabbing hold of the first things she came across, and pushed and pulled to stop the stimulation, her body protesting at the sheer amount of attention it was receiving.

"C-Celestia!" she whined, her back arching. "P-Please, i-it's me, T-Twilight!"

"Twilight?" came the familiar voice of the kingdom's ruler, much softer and more tender than it had been in the last several minutes. The licking slowed to a crawl and then stopped entirely. Small tremors continued to plague Twilight's lower half, but the worst of it ceased, allowing her to glance down. Her grip had found Celestia's ear and horn, her fists clenching the anatomy of the eldest alicorn so tightly it ought to have been causing the mare acute pain. Instead, the alicorn's eyes were fixated on her own, filled with disquietening realisation and widening in shock. Letting go immediately, the purple mare shuffled backward, putting distance between her nethers and the other princess' damp maw.

"I received your note in the library," the purple alicorn explained, beginning her conversation with as much clarity as she could through the distracting swelter of her mind's post-orgasm sluggishness. "I found the hidden chamber, and read your diary. I...I think I understand."

"I'm sorry." The words were awash with sorrow, the strength of the simple sentence piercing Twilight's heart painfully. "I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted anypony to experience this. I just wanted the trouble to stop, and I was foolish enough to think that I could cut past the complexities of equine nature and strip the world of something so fundamental. All of this is my fault, and now..." Celestia looked around, remorse painting her countenance as she took in the sight of her naked guards and the state of her room. "...I never wanted you to see me like this. I'd hoped you'd stay away, that I could recover before I had to address you and your concerns in person, as selfish as that was. I'm just so sorry."

"It's okay," Twilight spoke up, forcing herself to say the words. She reached out a hand to cup Celestia's cheek, tentatively caressing her mentor. "We can fix this. You know what this is, and we can all learn. We have the texts you kept hidden, and with your help, we can-" She hesitated. What could they do, exactly? Banish it again? Push the problem further down the road for another generation to deal with, just as blind and ignorant as they were today? Celestia clearly saw what thoughts were going through Twilight's mind, because she shook her head emphatically.

"No," the princess stated, firmly, and in that moment, the decisive ruler Twilight knew was back. "We cannot try this again. It was a mistake the first time, and while I cannot undo what I have done, I can at least learn from my error. You must do the same. I am only sorry that you have had to suffer for my arrogance. I am sorry everypony had to suffer for the decisions I made so long ago."

"Then what do we do?"

There was silence for several seconds, filled with the heavy beating of Twilight's heart, and the wet slicking of hands sliding over penises, before Celestia answered, "We must endure it. Lust must be allowed to return fully, to resettle into its natural place in the natural affairs of the world. All creatures must be allowed to regain their libidos, and integrate that aspect back into their lives, as we once did. It will take time, and there will be growing pains, but it is the only way forward. In time, Equestria, and the world, shall rise from this calamity of my own making stronger and wiser. Until then, we need to ensure society continues with as little possible disruption, and has guidance when it emerges from this frenzy."

"Equestria needs its princesses," Twilight deduced, wincing as she looked at her mentor's face. Already, the white mare's eyes were glossing over, and Twilight had to move her legs to avoid Celestia's wandering hands, which jerked back in startled realisation. Next to the bed, the guards were trying their best to not look impatient at all the talking, striving to remain professional even in the unprofessional circumstances in which they found themselves. "You have nothing to worry about - I will ensure your subjects...our subjects...are protected and guided."

"Good," Celestia answered, sighing and licking her lips. "They need to be dominated- to be guided, and I will not be in a fit state for some time. As soon as I stop needing a good dicking- as soon as I recover, I will reach out to you." A final shadow of remorse passed over her face before her visage took on another lustful expression. "I am so, so sorry, Princess Twilight. I hope you can forgive me for not eating your pussy- for forcing you to bear a burden you didn't deserve to carry. You deserve so much cum- so much more than to be cleaning up my creampies- my messes my messy snatch, oh fuck I need you to finger my pussy and eat me out like-"

"You don't need my forgiveness," Twilight interrupted gently, sliding from the bed and avoiding Celestia's reaching hands. The nearest guard gave her an appreciative nod and stepped up to take her place. "Take all the time you need. Equestria is in safe hands, and it'll be waiting for your return." Making herself turn away, she stepped out of the bedchamber, pausing briefly to recover the fallen book, and leaving the mentor she'd trusted all her life. A masculine grunt and a feminine whine saw her off, her exit serenaded by the steady, repetitive slap of flesh-on-flesh once again.

Shining Armor was waiting for her outside, frowning at her. His armour was still well-maintained, and if she hadn't been there herself, she wouldn't have believed he'd hastily doffed it for a passionate and vigorous session of sex, given how everypony else looked.

"That sounded..." he started, his sentence running off.

"It wasn't what I'd hoped," Twilight admitted. "I thought she'd have some plan, some way to just make everything right again, but even when I had her in the one moment where she was lucid, there was just regret and pain and resignation." She let out a weary sigh, and started down the stairs. "She confirmed what I think I already knew; libido - a creature's sex drive - is natural. Celestia suppressed it because it caused complications in relationships between ponies. It's like anger, or jealousy, or any other negative emotion, and now it's come back. We have to let it settle and learn to live with it."

"Even if all the bad things associated with it come back?"

"Even with all that, yes. Just think about how your anger can motivate you to take action to protect those you love, or right a wrong. Think about how envy is a byproduct of desire. We can't just deprive ponies of that without stripping them of all the good that comes with it, and even if we could, is that right? Do ponies deserve to be shaped into a perfect society by a ruler?"

"I guess not. It's just chaos at the moment, and I'm saying that as somepony who has to deal with chaos on a semi-regular basis."

"All the more reason to not mess with it in the future."

"Yeah, lesson learned, I guess." The silence between them lasted until they reached the corridor leading towards the library. "What now?"

"Now, we deal with this mess. Celestia is being tended to-" A billowing wave of heat and arousal passed through them, much weaker at this distance, and the pair merely gave a soft murmur as their fur warmed. "-by her handpicked guards. I need to speak to Princess Luna and inform her about everything that's going on, then return to Ponyville to make sure everypony there is safe." She looked down the hall to the library. "I'm taking the books with me. There's no purpose in keeping them secret any more, and their contents will be useful for figuring out everything about sex when we have time. After all this blows over, I'll devote a lot of time to reading and understanding them. Maybe I'll reprint them, and provide copies for everypony to read. Maybe I'll be able to conduct my own research into the topic, and publish my own theses." She looked intrigued at the idea for a moment, before shaking herself from the fantasy.

"I'd better stay here," Shining told her. "If Princess Celestia really is being looked after, then my duty is to those under my command. I'll make sure they're all comfortable, and dealing with the hex...reflux...thing-"

"Biological urges."

"Yeah, biological urges. I'll make sure they're okay. Do you want me to pass on any message to Cadance?"

"Just that I want her to stay safe."

"Right." He opened his arms for a hug, then paused. "Should I get you some clothes, or...?"

"Oh, right." The purple mare glanced down at her body, awkwardly and belatedly covering herself up. "If it's not too much trouble, just something simple?"

"I'll check in with the mares when I visit the barracks," Shining promised her. "I'm sure they'll be happy to lend something to the Princess of Friendship. I'll be fifteen minutes?"

"I'll meet you in the library," she responded, embracing him in a quick hug. "Thanks for everything, Shiny."

"Don't mention it. We'll probably both be busy for a while after this, so make sure you write, okay? I want to know how your research is going."

"You know I'll bore you with all the details." They shared a smile, then started down their seperate ways. "Fifteen minutes!" He gave her a thumbs-up as he strode away, leaving her to return to the library alone. As she turned away from him, her face fell into a concerned frown. Away from him, the weight of her responsibilities closed in around her, and she had nothing to distract herself.

"I hope my friends are okay," she muttered, worry creeping into her heart. "Please let Ponyville be safe."

The Forbidden Diary

I am not sure if I should write a date for this, given the purpose of this diary. I am not sure why I am writing this down at all, other than a sense that this should not all be forgotten. It was necessary, I know, but removing such a significant part of nature feels wholly uncomfortable. Perhaps this is for my own peace of mind. Starswirl did teach us to write down our thoughts for clarity and reflection, after all. Part of the process is erasing it from the greater knowledge of all society, lest all of the hard work and sacrifices that I made that we all made are undone. I have torn the offending pages from our old journal, scoured every offending item from their words, and ensured it only exists in its cleanest, purest form. While it no longer officially exists, I cannot bring myself to erase everything of it from existence. I will rewrite the offending entries, strictly copied, into this diary, and update it should I need to ever again. Given my work here, perhaps I will need to make several updates in the future. That is something only time can tell.

15th September 4 E.E.
Count Purplehoof approached me at the festival while Starswirl left to discuss something important with the Pillars, and I cannot help but think he was waiting until I was alone. He showered me with praise, told me how amazing and spectacular the festivity was, and when I told him that the unicorns deserved the praise and credit for their generosity in inviting all of the members of pony society to celebrate, he said that the alicorns represented the unity of ponykind, and that I was the correct recipient of his gratitude. I could not find a way to leave without being rude, and so I stayed and listened as he talked about how proud he was to have lived through the redefining of an era, how the two beautiful princesses who ruled over this magnificent kingdom were so wise and graceful and beautiful - yes, he really emphasised that - and how honoured he was to have met us. He also completely unsubtlety mentioned his son, who he reminded me was young and unmarried. I really am grateful for the lessons the Pillars gave me on etiquette, because I really did not want to have to thank him and act as if I were flattered at his social posturing, but I believed I played my part convincingly enough. I made an attempt to draw the conversation back to the new calendar, and how strange it still was for the years to be marked as the 'Equestrian Era' and how gorgeous this new city truly was, but he always found his way back to shallow compliments about my youth and potential solutions for my lack of a husband. I was beyond grateful when Starswirl returned and took me way to socialise with other noobles. I did not leave his side for the rest of the night.

18th September 4 E.E.
I found myself in an argument with Starswirl today. I felt bad immediately afterward, but I was so upset at how little was being done about ponies like Count Purplehoof. I raised what had happened at what the unicorns are calling 'The Grand Galopping Gala', and he sighed and offered his sympathy. I told him that the count was trying to maneuverer his family into greater social status, and he told me that he knew, but that simply engaging in conversation wasn't a matter which warranted upsetting a new nation. At first I thought that he did not understand, that he believed the count was simply being friendly, but when I tried to clarify, Starswirl said that he knew exactly what the count was like as a pony, and that he had no love for the stallion. I thought at this stage he would let me know what was to be done, but I was told that I would face worse ponies during my time as the leading princess of the kingdom, and that I had to learn the diplomatic way to resolve conflicts between my subjects. I felt indignant, and I said some things I regret, which led to him chastising me for losing my temper. I know I need to be in control, but I have seen the way the count - and the others - look at mares, and the way they talk sometimes feels like something that should not exist in the society we are creating together. Perhaps it is a problem I can resolve one day, a part of my destiny? For now, I will apologise to Starswirl. I cannott afford to be at odds with a stallion who truly is my friend and ally, amidst a number of stallions who most certainly are not.

5th October 4 E.E.
Luna and I played in the woods today. It was a nice change from the usual responsibilities of being a princess, and with Starswirl busy, I wanted to do something I knew both she and I would enjoy. The shower of falling reds and oranges were beautiful, and we had a wonderful time. Luna jumped into the piles we collected and we laughed, but as I took a moment to rest, my mind drifted back to what I had been seeing in Canterlot, where the nobility congregate now. As much as Starswirl tells me to not let my mind be consumed by rumour and hearsay, I cannot ignore the things I hear, especially not when Count Purplehoof is involved. Some of the staff seem as uncomfortable around him as I feel, and though they strongly denied him having done anything, I saw the way he looked at them, and the way they reacted within their compelled stoicism. The mares who work there undoubtedly feel coerced by the fragility of their social status compared to his (as do the stallions no doubt, but his treatment of them is far less intrusive and personal). Luna asked what I was thinking about, since I had apparently been gazing into the distance, and when my eyes fell on her, I felt a deep sense of sadness and unease. Purplehoof had approached me the moment I turned eighteen, taking the time to seek me out and offer his congratulations, and his behaviour has not slowed in the months and weeks since. My sister is young and innocent, sweetly naïve and unfamiliar with that which, in all honesty, I myself was not entirely aware until a few months ago. In four years, she will be as old as I am now. Would Purplehoof pursue her too, seeking a hand for his son? If not him, then other suitors, undoubtedly. All of the creeping and secluding and unwanted attention beyond that she already has to endure, inevitably waiting for her. In that moment, her face was so bright and pure, her mane drizzled with wet leaves, and I found myself growing angry and resolute. I could not explain to her what exactly I was thinking, or why I knew, so I offered her something less complicated and still mostly truthful; I said I believed that some of our subjects were ill, and I was worried about them. I told her I wanted to save them, and to keep everypony safe from this sickness spreading. She hugged me, and told me I would definitely be able to help the kingdom, because I was the most amazing princess she knew, but that she would help if I let her. I hugged her tighter, and resolved that I would not let anything happen to her. I will not allow anypony, any creature, anything, to harm Luna.

19th December 4 E.E.
If my writing is shaky, it is because I am seething with rage. Earlier today, I attended Canterlot to inspect the arrangements for the Hearth's Warming celebrations. When I approached the castle, I came across a mare sobbing and whimpering in the street, sat against a wall with a small bundle - a meagre collection of personal belongings, I soon discovered - by her hooves. I stopped to ask what was wrong, and through sobs and attempts to assure me that she was fine and that I need not pay her any attention, she finally divulged that she had been a servant in the castle until that morning, in which she had lived. It had been discovered that she was pregnant, and since she was young and unmarried, she had been dismissed for an unacceptable standard of behaviour, and compelled to leave the castle - without food or shelter to return to. I asked if the father could support her, even if this was an uncomfortable proposition for her, but she was reluctant to discuss the matter, and implied that the father was the reason she had been dismissed. I admit I made some direct and rather blunt enquiries, through which I deduced that the mystery father was in fact Count Purplehoof himself. This morbid, disgraceful news chilled me to my core, yet even as I felt the icy grip of revulsion creep and freeze in my stomach and heart, I found myself readily accepting this revelation, as though it were so obvious as to have been inevitable. Worse, still, this mare was not the only maid to have been pressured for additional services beyond her contracted employment, though she was seemingly the only one to have suffered such severe consequences for having done so. There was no way I could leave her alone at winter in such a dire predicament, but convincing her to accept my offer of lodging at our castle until she was able to seek employment and shelter of her own was a struggle beyond what I'd anticipated. She urged me to not be seen helping her, lest my social status suffer. That sickened me, and I very nearly dragged her back to our castle by force. The greatest provocation for my rage was the reaction I received from Starswirl, who chastised me for inviting a pony into the castle so sporadically, telling me that it was irresponsible and naive. I was furious with him, and I still am, even if he has done more than anypony else to ensure she has settled in and has everything she needs. How could he ignore the situation? How could such a wise unicorn simply ignoring the suffering of another like that? I appreciate he has personally seen that she has received food, water, a bath, and even had Mage Meadowbrook attend on such short notice to provide pre-natal care and examinations. We couldn't hide her presence from Luna, who asked who the mare was and why we were making such a fuss about her. My heart burned as I told her that the mare was sick, and she would be staying with us until she felt better. I didn't want to lie to my dear sister, but how was I to tell her what had really happened? It is a close enough tale as I feel comfortable telling, though it is not without its problems. Luna wishes to go and help the mare, to find any way she can to assist her, or at least stay with her and provide companionship throughout her "illness". Luna is too pure and kind for her own good, and it breaks my heart to see such an innocent mare attempting to grapple with cruel truths about which she can know nothing. She is the best out of all of us, and I must not let anything happen to Luna. I will not let anything happen to her.

26th December 4 E.E.
If I must reflect critically as I have been taught, extracting positive elements in which I performed optimally, and negative elements which are prime candidates for improvement, I will say that I have become adept at my discipline and self-control, maintaining an appropriate regal facade in my behaviour and countenance for the duration of the Hearth's Warming ceremony. I performed my duties without fault, despite the provocation that was the presence of that despicable, cretinous creature polite society knows as Count Purplehoof. The only negative I shall extract from the evening was that I harboured deep and vivid ambitions of removing him from the castle, or perhaps even Equestria itself, by swift and aerial means. Despite my highly volatile view of the wretched stallion, I maintained a noble aura and personality throughout the evening, even when engaging with the object of my contempt. He had the nerve, the gall, to broach the topic of marriage once again, the meaning behind his words as clear as a crystal for everypony within earshot despite his embarrassingly deluded belief in his own subtlety. I came close to abandoning my standards when he raised the issue of succession and ensuring an heir to the throne, and specified how improper it would be to do so outside the bounds of wedlock. I was sure my teeth would chip and shatter with how hard I clenched my jaw, struggling to relax my muscles against such wanton provocation. If I had been eating at that moment, I would have undoutedly bitten through the steel of my cutlery. Mercifully, Starswirl's lessons and my own practice prevented my face burning red in rage, or my feelings exploding from me in a great fiery burst. I smiled, and suggested that if that were the case, perhaps it would be best if he and I were not seen together as often for fear of ruining our respective reputations by encouraging rumours, to which he either feigned ignorance, or revealed the depths of his sincere mental ineptitude. I reminded him that social propriety was paramount, and that any suggestion that either of us would attempt for a foal outside of wedlock - or not attempt but receive one anyway - would be a ghastly consequence of his continued presence around me. I believe he understood the underlying message, as he bowed and left immediately. I did not reveal to anypony else my feelings about the stallions of the aristocracy, preserving my sentiments for this diary. There is wisdom in not undermining the peace hard-fought and hard-won between the tribes of ponykind, and I do not doubt for a moment that this nascent nation requires the careful balance of trust and community to allow harmony to weave itself into the fabric of our country, but there is an underlying rot which I cannot believe ought to be allowed to persist. If such a rot takes hold, will this become a part of our country too? How can a land dedicated to harmony, peace, and justice permit such vile stains to exist not only within its borders, but within the very highest echelons of its esteemed foundations? Will one value not be corroded by tolerance of its opposite, of the antithesis being cemented through permissiveness until it becomes convention and custom? I do not know the answer, but I am certain it is not this. There must be something I can do. As the ruler of this kingdom, it is my duty to my subjects to root out all threats to my people.

10th January 5 E.E.
I was unaware of just how deep this malignance was rooted. While attending Canterlot Castle today, I found myself wandering through the kitchen to fetch some goods for Luna and myself, when I heard a noise from one of the pantries. I had believed myself to be alone, but there was definitely a noise, however faint, coming from behind the door. I approached quietly, and after listening for several seconds, I came to the conclusion that another mare employed by the castle was being coerced into a carnal act for the benefit of one of the nobles. Providing for my prior experience, I came to the immediate conclusion that it was Count Purplehoof behind the door, and that belief filled me with a great anger. He had already imposed greatly on a mare's life without any care for her wellbeing or even the decency of recognition and meagre support, and here he was repeating his attrocity before his previous victim had even given birth! I admit I was guided by rage and indignity, and I threw open the door, fully intending to confront this vile stallion, but what I found was not at all what I had envisaged in my head. I had previously believed that the cruelty among the aristocracy and nobility had flowed in one direction, from stallions to mares, yet what I saw proved to me how wrong I had been. None other than Countess Rosewood leaning against the shelves, receiving rather vigourous attention from a young stallion who looked to be kitchen staff, both of whom jumped as the door was thrown open and hastily adjusted their garments. I had, until that point, been very sympathetic towards Countess Rosewood, believing her to have been the victim of Purplehoof's infidelity, but as she blustered some half-cooked excuse about the circumstances and smoothed her dress, I realised that the disgraceful behaviour ran through their marriage like canker through a tree. My shock had cooled my anger like heated steel dropped in water, but when Rosewood began to blame the stallion, accusing him of having forced her to partake in the activity in which I caught them engaging, my irritation grew beyond my capacity for tolerance. Neither my words nor my tone were in keeping with proper princess decorum, and I recognise I shall need to be mindful of this in the future, but in that moment, I was candid, and told Countess Rosewood that she was to cease her lying, her adultery, and would compensate the stallion handsomely for the trouble through which she dragged him. I also informed her that she would not disparage my name to anypony else for my decision, and that she would do no further damage to the staff of the castle, either by coercion or by way of implicit threat to their station or status, or by offering explicitly or implicitly any reward for engaging in sordid acts. She was clearly appalled by my declaration, but it was also clear that she dared not challenge me. I was briefly satisfied once I had strode away and let my fury subside, relishing in putting an end to her lecherous behaviour, but that was quickly dwarfed by the realisation that it had taken my authority to halt her nefarious predation, and that it would have continued had I happened to not be in the correct place at the correct time such as I was. Indeed, they clearly expected to uninterrupted, given that the door was not locked and the location of their rendezvous was far from innocuous in most circumstances. I am unsure exactly how open this secret is in the circles of aristocracy, and though I dread to discover more, I know I must. Problems cannot be solved by ignoring them, nor insisting on shying away from uncomfortable truths.

28th January 5 E.E.
I appear to have once again underestimated the breadth of the issue afflicting Equestria, though I dread to believe I am correct. I pray that this is merely an outlier, a mere unfortunate coincidence, but I am forcing myself to entertain the prospect that it is not. As I pledged when I encountered Countess Rosewood, I will not shy away from the vile nature of wrongdoing in whichever form it manifests. Earlier today, while presiding over the petitions and appeals brought before the court, three ponies made their complaint to me, which consisted of a truly sordid affair. The first stallion, who was the chief complainant, was the husband of the mare, and claimed that their three children were not his, but a product of infidelity with their neighbour. The mare and the second stallion denied this, and insisted that it was a mistake, that there had been nothing between them, but their claims were all there truly was. I had no way of determining who was in the right, yet as princess of the realm, it was my sworn duty to adjudicate such issues. The only solution I foresaw was to become creative, and so I did exactly that; I told my subjects that I possessed a method of determining the truth, and asked them each in turn to clearly state their claims. After they had done so, I announced that alicorns could determine the ancestory of a pony due to our connection to all three races, and that it would be simple to learn who was correct in this petition. This was, of course, nonsense, but thus far, all three were insisting that their mutually contradictory statements were indisputable fact, and I had no means in my repetoire to dislodge the deceiver from their position. It was after this information had been stated, and I asked for the final time if there were any adjustments or confessions the respective parties wished to make before testing was conducted, that all three withdrew their complaints immediately. When pressed for the reason, the second stallion and the mare finally cracked and admitted bashfully that they had been having a long-term affair, and that they believed the foals to be not of her husband's loins. I anticipated uproar, and so made to have the parties separated, but before I could, a further explanation from the mare revealed that the repeated failed attempts to conceive children with her husband in the preceding years had left her to believe that he was unable to sire any offspring at all. This had the unanticipated effect of procuring a disbelieving shout from another petitioner, who made in vulgar terms an inquiry about who the father of her own foal could possibly be if not the husband. From there, a number of affairs were revealed, and I called for the guards to reassert order as the gathered crowd threatened to erupt into a brawl, with several already grappling and leaping to attack those who had aggrieved them. By my estimation, once all had returned to calm, and the ungracious matter of entitlements and restitution had been settled, no less than a fifth of the entire town had been engaged in adultery. As I have already written, this may be a fluke, a mere happenchance, and I sincerely hope it is so. If not, however, and I must ponder this prospect with serious consideration, then the promiscuity and sexual impropriety of my subjects is far greater than I had anticipated. Indeed, it appears to be more prevelant among the commoners than the aristocracy, which deeply troubles me. I had thought that this failure of character had been a trait of those who had been born to a life of ease, a product of their environment and upbringing, and perhaps the freedom from the harsher constraints of life which beleagured every other social class. I was apparently mistaken, and gravely so, for it seems that what I had believed to be a small matter capable of surgical removal from our society is instead a pestilence which walks among each and every pony. If this is a social contagion, then it is one which afflicts my entire kingdom, and one which will not be purged so easily.

20th February 5 E.E.
The days I spent travelling confirmed my suspicions, and the truth I learned was grave. I informed Starswirl of what I had accomplished, and he appeared pleased with how I had handled my subject's conflicts and conternations and what my encounters had taught me. I did not mention the severity of the issue, much as I did not tell him the true purpose of my tour when I sought his approval for it at the beginning of this month. I still owe Mage Meadowbrook my thanks for her support in swaying Starswirl to agree to allow me to wander and adjudicate those who needed the assurance of royal judgement, though while they are themselves assured by my actions, I have to carry with me the burden of the truth about the nature of my subjects. The first stop of my tour, a small village, had one case of adultery, and the second had three. The most pernicious settlement had no fewer than fifty eight such examples, at least which I was able to extract from confessions and deductions. Although no other place was as steeped in that degeneracy, not a single location was free from its enervation. There was not a single character to blame, either; mares lied to their husbands, stallions deceived their wives, and strangers fought over the affections they believed to be their entitlement from another, real or imagined. Perhaps most worringly, the justice sought by those wronged by the selfishness and short-sightedness of other ponies was exacting and extreme, and I found myself as a shield against cruelty I could not permit, but could not condemn without sympathy. A wandering pony who had borne children of multiple mares of a town had been imprisoned by the vengeful husbands, and the demands they made for his punishment were beyond that which I could allow. The negotiation for his continued health and wellbeing was long and arduous, and this was by far the most taxing of conundrums I have had to face during my reign thus far. I did not wish to argue for his release, or to provide a defence for his entitlement to a reasonable life, but my duty and my obligation to righteousness compelled me to do so. It took many, many hours to reach a resolution which satisfied enough ponies to allow for the wrongdoer's safety and a means of ensuring his restitution. On my return to the Everfree Castle, I considered what the future might hold for those ponies, as even with my intervention, the damage had already been done. The relationships had been torn apart, the social fabric had been stained, and life was forever changed, even if I had given them whatever they'd have wanted. For all my authority, my actions were unable to mend the harm already caused by a pony's selfishness and greed, and the weakness of those complicit in his disgraceful schemes. My train of thought took a darker turn when I considered the role of power in this matter; I have come to the realisation that ponies are fundamentally the same, regardless of their social standing, both for good and for ill. Everypony has the hopes of a better future, the drive to protect and preserve that which is theirs, and the ambitious climb towards that which they want, and this is true of the most lowly commoner to the most high lord. Circumstances may dictate the manner and means in which we engage with the world, and informs us of our options and choices in any given situation, which is where we draw the distinction between farmer and noble. A distinction which has been obvious to me for a long time is how I am treated by my subjects, for as the aristocrats greet me with due respect and politeness, the common folk regard me with awe and reverence, prostrating themselves before me whenever I walk among them. If, then, all ponies share the same triumphs and vices, what am I to assume about the desires of a farmer towards me? The elite of Canterlot are quite apparent in their interest in me, whether for social manoeuvring or for far more base reasons, but those who see themselves as far beneath me, are they merely hiding their true thoughts? If I were not the Solar Princess and Alicorn Diarch of the Kingdom of Equestria, would their manners be maintained? From what I have seen in how they treat their contemporaries and peers, I cannot assume so.

20th March 5 E.E.
I took Starswirl for granted. For all of my complaints about his inaction, his refusal to engage with the problems I brought to him, his irritation at my expressions of frustration, I did not fully know or understand just how much he truly took his guardianship of us seriously. Whether it was Starswirl's presence or actions he took to which I was not privy, I do not know, but the effects of his absence are undeniable. When the Pillars first disappeared, suddenly and without warning, there was a brief respite as the aristocracy assessed the situation, but it did not take long for them to descend like vultures once they were certain that the change was permanent. Whether or not their concerns were genuine, all of the nobles' approaches came with the same facade, the same excuse; the absence of the Pillars was of great concern to the kingdom, and it would be wise for the Princesses to work more closely with the esteemed and trustworthy members of the higher classes. Some were likely sincere, but most wanted power, and yet still some wanted to take advantage of two isolated and naive mares. I have become far more assertive in my rejections of the advances of prying stallions, and I have found a way to combine etiquette with biting rebuttals which I find is most effective in halting inappropriate behaviour in its tracks. What infuriates me is not, however, the way that these ponies approach me, but how they approach my sister. Luna is still young, still unaware of just how rotten the hearts of some of these supposedly upstanding ponies truly are, and I feel burning disgust whenever one strives to seperate her from me to talk in private, or approaches and lavishes her with slimey compliments and conceited, self-serving compassion. She may not understand truly what is happening yet, but she is growing tired of it, and she has mentioned on more than one occasion how Count Purplehoof has made her feel uncomfortable. I think she knows that Starswirl is not likely to return, and though she does not ask for him any more, I know she misses him as much as I do. When Starswirl was here, everything seemed in hand, and though he did not give me what I wanted at all times, I never felt as if there were any risk of failure or harm. When If I see him again, I owe him more gratitude than I can ever express, even with my countless years of life. For now, however, the responsibility of running the kingdom has fallen squarely to me, and Luna is no longer my little sister, but my charge, too. I shall protect her, as Starswirl protected us, and I shall educate her, as Starswirl educated us. This is my duty now, and I shall not falter. The promise I made to keep Luna safe is now more important than ever, and nopony else can bear the burden of that important task. I will find a way to keep Luna safe from these predators, no matter the cost, and no matter what it takes to fix this intolerable state of affairs.

7th May 5 E.E.
The restricted section of the library truly does hold a vast array of arcane wisdom. I have been informed that this is merely the beginning of the restricted section, and that as the years progress, more and more texts will be added as I see fit. I can see why some of this information is considered necessary to restrict from common knowledge; there is powerful magic contained within the scrolls, some of which is far easier to use than comfort suggests it ought to be, given its potency. In the wrong hands, chaos could easily sweep the land. That was not why I attended the restricted section, though it did give me pause. My search was not immediately or directly successful, not in the sense that I hoped it would be, but I came across fragments of that which I sought, and with much study and thought, I believe I have a solution. It is uncertain, but my studies and my micro-experiments have given me confidence in my hypothesis. My attempt would not be an entirely new spell, not with the multitudes of components from which I would construct it, yet its purpose and effect would be utterly novel. Banishment, as a framework for my spell, is common among other aspects of magic, from a pure vanquishing spell to the variety of magicks which utilise it in their design, but none have the scope nor the target nor the ambition of my objective. This discovery of a resolution has heartened me, though it is not without some doubt, to which Mage Meadowbrook would undoutedly tell me is natural and expected of a young mare in a position of power and responsibility, and Mistmane would suggest is an indication that I am considering my options carefully. I already know what Starswirl would say; a young princess must be wise and sure of herself, for she bears the burden of her subjects and her kingdom. I have considered this matter long and hard, and I am certain of what must be done, even if the thought of doing so offers some small measure of apprehension. To refuse to act would be irresponsible, negligent, and least of all cowardly in the face of what persists. Whatever meagre doubts I have, they are insubstantial when held against the sickness that I have witnessed gripping Equestria. No, I cannot neglect my responsibility to my subjects. The mare I discovered on the streets of Canterlot - now a mother to a gorgeous yet unwanted foal - deserved better. The stallion under the employ of Countess Rosewood deserved better. The spurned spouses and abused commoners, the vulernable and the frightened and the lonely, all of them deserve better. This problem will continue forever if I do not apprehend it, and now I have a solution, I cannot falter at the mere presence of doubts. Anxiety is expected when pioneering any novelty, when exploring any untouched frontier. There are many who came before me who have embarkened on unmapped courses which held far greater and more unknown dangers than anything to which I can claim to be imperiled, and they held far lower a station than I. If I am to be a princess, the Princess of the Sun, a ruler of this new nation, I must be firm in my convictions and lead without wavering. I cannot and will not abandon my subjects to the whims of cruelty and chaos thrust upon them by nature. This is not about me, but about them; for those I have witnessed suffering, those I have not, and those who may yet suffer if I do not act. Mostly, as selfish as it may be, this is for Luna. I have made a promise on her behalf, and I am so close to achieving it. For my dearest sister, no price is too great.

20th May 5 E.E.
I am not certain what I had expected from the spell, but I suppose I had anticipated a great disturbance or climactic eruption. Needless to say, that did not occur. Indeed, I would describe it more as a tugging disappearance, like water swirling down a drain and vanishing softly. There was no great ripping from my very being, no explosion of colour or feeling, no rush of heat or of cold, no great sensation at all. There was no flash or shadow, and for a while I wondered if it had had any effect whatsoever, or whether I had merely imagined an effect out of anticipation. I investigated myself to determine if it had worked, and as far as I can tell, it has. I thought of my encounters with my lover, of how we touched and toyed, and the memories, as vivid as they were, caused no effect upon my body. I was thoroughly disinterested, much as I was with my tutoriship in mathematics. I tried touching myself, playing with my body in ways I have before, but I could not compel myself to arousal, no matter what I tried, neither in body nor in mind. My marehood was unresponsive to my fingers' dance, whether soft or rough, and the activity was a chore for me, even when I attempted to engage in practices that have brought me to ectasy in the near past. I struggled to remember why I even enjoyed them, outside of the knowledge that I had in fact been enamoured with such erotic practices. This, I would hazard, is a sign that I have succeeded, though I cannot say to what extent this is the case. Had my spell resulted in a great cacophony, a fantastical explosion which eclipsed the sun and moon, I would have known that I had had some great effect, but alas, I am restricted to my own observations for now. In the coming days and weeks, I shall see if my libido truly suppressed, or whether this is a temporary effect, and whether this is isolated to me, or whether the scale of my ambition has been realised. Perhaps the greatest spells are too great for us to witness, much as an ant cannot comprehend the machinations of a court, which itself is more sweeping and significant than any material construction. Perhaps spells, too, have no visual clues, just wide-reaching ripples through society? All I can do now is wait and see.

21st June 5 E.E.
It has been a month and a day since I cast my concocted magic, and I can now say with certainty that I have succeeded utterly. I have not once had any lustful thought or inclination since the casting, and I have had to remind myself to think about such matters for the purpose of determining whether or not they occur to me at all. To my greatest pleasure, I believe that I am far from the only pony to be experiencing this wonderful absence, to such an extent that I would even dare to suggest that I have truly banished the root of all sinful behaviour from Equestria. Compared to the previous months, in which either myself or Luna would be harrangued and harassed by lascivious pursuers, there has been a complete decline of such behaviour. I have noticed with no small amount of satisfaction that the elite of Canterlot who could barely keep their intentions or hands to themselves are conspicuously more introverted, which they themselves appear to have noticed. I do not wish to make a habit of feeling glee at the confusion of those around me, but such prevailing concerns coming from those who have previously disturbed my sister is indeed something I have found enjoyable to witness. I am sure both Countess Rosewood and Count Purplehoof have noticed my exuberence when engaging with them, a sentiment they do not return when we engage in our interlocution, which is suspiciously far less frequent now. It may be my imagination, but I believe I have seen their beleagured expressions lengthen and deepen over this past month from what I deduce must be long and heated arguments. It was not my intent, but halting their deplorable dynamic with those they considered beneath them has apparently laid bare their passionless marriage, which I find is at least some small measure of vengence for the poor servants who suffered the indignity of their carnality. I must confess, ever since their predatory inclinations have been censured, I have become far more amenable to interactions with the court. Perhaps, in removing one pleasure, I have made room for another? I had feared I might miss the drive of lust, like one appreciates the allure of sugar and cakes, yet that has not been the case. I do not mourn its absence at all, nor yearn for its return. I had anticipated a period of craving, a natural bodily reaction to such absolute deprivation, which of course I had calculated in my planning and considered a necessary sacrifice, yet my magic has reached far beyond the symptoms and vanquished the very core of the problem. Perhaps I underestimated my capability, or perhaps I failed to consider precisely what was being banished. Regardless, the results are perfect, and I am overjoyed at the state of affairs. Luna has noticed my excitement, and has inquired as to why my demeanour has become so positive in recent weeks. Despite having to bend the truth, I honestly informed her that I had isolated and removed a sickness from Equestria which had been eluding me for the past year, the very same which had afflicted the young mare who had stayed at our castle in the winter. There was no way she could have understood the scale of my accomplishment, yet she was ecstatic, and so, so proud of me. That joyous expression of her shall be burned into my mind for eternity. I think we shall go foraging in the woods later. It feels as if it has been so long since I have been able to spend time with her with truly nothing to fear nor fret about. Truly, everything I have done, all of the hard work necessary to create my spell, has been rendered worthwhile by her reaction, as ignorant as it may be.

10th September 5 E.E.
I have heard rumours muttered in the halls of Canterlot about infertility, and I cannot shake the dread it brings me. This could be coincidence or something as simple as a period of adjustment, but the scale of the musings and the tone of the whispers does not bode well. I have covertly appraised other settlements throughout the kingdom for similar sentiments, and have found an abundance of such concerns. There is no doubt to me - and I must be honest - that this is an entanglement of my design. I endeavoured solely to remove lust and its evils from Equestria, not to eliminate procreation, yet throughout the land, ponies are noticing their lack of ability to engage in the necessary act. When I devised my plan, the thought of what would happen when ponies wished to sire offspring naturally begot a simple answer; they would understand what was necessary and fulfil the act, much as ponies understand that they must sow and reap to obtain a harvest. Everything in life requires a process to accomplish, and we engage with such acts in order to achieve a desired outcome. Why would procreation be any different? Ought I explain to them what must be done? Surely they will see that they must simply go through with it, or else live without the succor of parenthood. It would be fruitless, I fear. I did not simply remove lust, but the biological process entirely. There is no reaction to sexual stimulation, as I discovered, nor the drive to engage in such base and primal activities. From what I understand, stallions cannot summon the vigour of their parts, much as a mare cannot summon the receptivity of hers, as I have witnessed firsthand from my own experimentation. Even if this were achievable, and the act were not a great and painful difficulty, would there be a desired result? How much effort would be required? Could we demand this of ponies? That is certainly not right. It seems as though my capability far exceeded my expectations, and these unforeseen consequences are a new frontier of problems that I must overcome. Perhaps there was something deeper than mere base feelings, or at the very least, some importance I did not appreciate or recognise. Why else would the marital relationships of the court - among them Count Purplehoof and Countess Rosewood - be so evidently strained, where before there was no indication whatsoever of any difficulty in their lives? I am sorely tempted to consider it a problem of their own making, an arrogance begot of a lack of responsibility and accountability, an inability to reflect inward and resolve their own relationship issues, but I cannot be a gracious ruler and ignore my own part in forcing these issues to the forefront. Their problems may be their own, but I have drawn to the surface the wider problems that had previously been covered with a balm, and now the boiling pustules of Equestria's social problems are flaring and unavoidably present. The importance of lust eluded me, a solution to a problem that previously did not exist, and one which I have now created. These norms cannot be taught, or imparted; they are were innate, and I have stripped that inherent function from my subjects. I must find a solution to this problem. It is my responsibility, and mine alone.

13th November 5 E.E.
This entry may have to remain brief, as my hands are still shaking. I will not deny I was scared, struggling to contain the fury of a multitude of creatures from across the world who demanded to speak to me. I feared violence if I refused them, both for myself and for the guards who were resolute in their defiance of the demands for entry. I granted them attendance, one at a time, and each carried the same message from their respective kingdoms and peoples; they were incapable of producing offspring, and had heard that the new princesses of Equestria had been responsible. I am not sure how they heard this information, yet it has spread throughout the known world, and even if it had been true, there would be no satiating the fury of a hundred species with mere denial. I drew upon Starswirl's teachings, and spoke in a manner I have found distasteful since he imparted upon me its morbid wisdom. Marechiavelli's literature may have been unpleasant, but it was necessary to avoid conflict and bloodshed, and so I informed the representatives that any retaliation against Equestria would doom their entire civilisation, and that extinction was not a suitable price for revenge. It was cold, and hard, and dispassionate, yet it gave them pause, which I needed to insist that I took full responsibility for this mistake, and would find a solution which I would share freely and willingly with the citizens of every civilisation. Some took more convincing than others, but by the end of the day, I had persuaded all of my visitors that it was in their interest to allow me time to devise a solution. My hands had stopped shaking by the twentieth visitor, yet they have started again as I climbed to my bedchamber, not out of fear, but the inescapable reality of what I have done. It is not merely ponies I have afflicted, but every creature in this world. Every sapient creature, every sentient being, every animal, potentially. This is unacceptable. By any other name and conducted by any other creature, it would be evil. I am not an evil mare, and I will not become one! I will not be the mare responsible for the world ceasing to exist out of hubris! I shall find a solution, and I shall fix this error. The process may be gone, and irretrievable, but it served a function, and the intelligence and wisdom of ponykind shall see that that function once again returns to the world. If I have to break myself to achieve it, I shall fix my mistake.

5th December 5 E.E.
It is done. I pushed myself further and harder than I did even in developping my banishing spell, and now I have a solution which has borne fruit. A sample of the prospective mother and father, be it a mane clipping, a feather, or a tuft of fur, can be combined and their vital essences extracted, which, in conjunction with various spells and compounds, allows for the development of an infant. My tests produced predictable and consistent results, and I have reached out to the known nations and peoples of the world to attend a conference where I shall share with them the resolution I have earnestly promised them, along with the terms to which they must acquiesce. Marechiavelli has made it clear that I must ensure I have leverage over those who wish to harm me and my subjects, and given their fury at my interference with their self-governance, as unintended as it may have been, there is good reason to believe I will need leverage. I shall inform them that with a receipt of a sample from the prospective mother and father, we shall bear the burden of producing infants and caring for them until their birth would naturally have occurred, at which stage they shall be delivered - again at our expense - to the donors. This shall, for all intents and purposes, be a reinstatement of the process of producing a child, with the additional benefit of avoiding the difficulties and struggles of pregnancy. Indeed, it is more certain, and more specific in its scope, allowing for a far greater outcome than if nature had been allowed to run its course. With the promise of a hands-off approach on the part of Equestria, and a pledge to honour our obligations to the signatories, there is no reason for the other nations to disagree, or to find fault. The only condition shall be that Equestria's sovereignty is respected, and that the process is allowed to remain classified as state secret belonging solely to the Kingdom of Equestria. I have no doubt that this shall be the most difficult point to sell to them, though they shall, ultimately, have no choice. I am a mare of my word, as I have shown, and my only demand is for peace in exchange for their species' continuation. It is not only a bulwark to all external threats, but a solution to any harm - their endeavour shall be their undoing, no matter how great their warriors or genrals. Their rememdy, should I fail to uphold my oath, will be the ire and incursion of the entire world, as expressed in the signing of the treaty to whom all shall bear witness at my conference. It is not unreasonable to protect my subjects and my kingdom, and requiring the other powers of the world to agree to peace in exchange for our utmost charity in such a laborious task is perfectly acceptable given the current circumstances. It may be unpleasant, but a ruler does not have the luxury of ruling in the world she desires, but the world she inhabits, and with the circumstances I have found myself in, all I seek is to remedy a grave oversight on my part, and to ensure peace and stability for my subjects. My regrets linger, and I cannot deny there was recklessness and a near-calamitous result to my efforts, but I believe that, ultimately, I have had a positive impact on this world. This new state of affairs, and my diplomatic and magical activities therein, have brought about perhaps the greatest peace this world has ever known or will ever know, such is its permanence. Countless species have been saved from extinction by my efforts, and with additional study, those who have become extinct may walk the world once more. Civilisations no longer need to fear famine or overpopulation, nor population collapse, because my work has provided a way forward, a means of controlling these messy and previously tenuous factors of life. The only risk I can see is that this information is the greatest danger that the world may ever encounter, and that means it cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. The process I have developped must be kept secret, passed on to the very select few who are worthy of bearing the great responsibility of curating every civilisation and species, not for selfish gain, but for the good of all. That selection process will require a new devising and a meticulously organised structure, and I must see to it at once. Much as how Canterlot library has a restricted section, Equestria must have a restricted organisation dedicated to its continuation. I fear there is much to be done, but I set out on this path with hope and belief in myself and my subjects. The noble intentions with which I have embarked shall prevail, and in greater glory than they began.

10th February 6 E.E.
This is the first entry written at first instance into this diary, and it marks an end to the way things were, in my mind at least. There are no more pages from Luna and I's shared diary to remove, no further information to extract and discard, no writing which must be erased. Every previous entry in this diary was once written in plain ink in a mundane and standard journal, albeit one of personal and sentimental value, beholden to any eyes which chose to gaze upon it. It may have been rude to do so, and perhaps even scandalous for all parties involved, but it would never have been a matter of utmost danger, as it is now. That diary, the one Luna and I still share, is now inoffensive and safe, without risk of offending the aristocracy or exposing the secrets I have established. This diary contains every thought that cannot be expressed publicly to those outside my chosen circle, to whom I am eternally grateful. There were more than I anticipated, though still few enough to be extraordinarily remarkable in their character. They understood, as I did, the threat that such knowledge as I have assessed must be kept hidden poses to this entire world, and they are unfaltering in their dedication to its safekeeping. They work tirelessly, assisting in the nurturing of the newly created infants, from inception to delivery, and have provided wonderful and ingenious schemes to ensure that this necessary procedure continues smoothly. Some have created instruments, items, tools, and chemicals for this purpose, while others have sped the means by which donations are received and children distributed to their rightful parents. Every day, they improve the production of griffon cubs, of pony foals, of kirins and breezies and every creature who requests our efforts, and every day, the world grows more bountiful. Publicly, I have given a royal decree for the study of nature and its creatures, encouraging and contributing to this ambitious exploration for knowledge for the betterment of Equestrian society and the world in which we live. I have received no fewer than eight requests to attend banquets in my honour, each invitation overflowing with exaltations of my wisdom and majesty, and while I cannot truly take full credit for this path upon which Equestria is placed, I must confess I am flattered by the admiration of my subjects. It is for them I strive, and to learn of their appreciation is heartwarming and invigorating, and reinforces my conviction whenever that swirling, flickering dimness of doubt whispers at the back of my mind. My subjects do not truly understand what I do for their sake, neither the nobility who offer their own patronage to such causes as I propose, nor the commoners who sing songs of my divinity and grace, and for all the beauty in their offerings, the partial knowledge from which their sentiment arises brings with it a feather-light cloak of discomfort. I can embrace their affections, accept their belief in me as a saviour for resolving the libido crises which shook the world briefly and acutely and their love for my contributions towards our great and prosperous country, even if this is my sworn duty as a princess and their ruler, but some of the actions I must undertake in my role is the harder sentiment with which I must contend. Without its existence, there is no purpose to the knowledge regarding libido or sexuality, save to risk embitterment and conflict. After sacrificing so much in pursuit of peace, I cannot risk conflict arising over this lost aspect of our being, and so with a heavy heart, I know I must remove that knowledge from the creatures of our world. It feels improper to discard books and scrolls in such a way, yet even as I do so, I meet no resistance. Already, ponykind is indifferent to the seizure and removal of tomes regarding sexual reproduction, their interest in that topic having departed with their lust. To most, they are merely relics of a bygone time, even if that time can be measured in months. There is no sentimental attachment to the bodily urges and acts which once constituted our deepest and most depraved of relationships, and I believe most have largely forgotten that they once enaged in such acts at all. Despite the ease of this adjustment and the painlessness of the transition from a lustful to a lustless society, I cannot help but feel melancholic for that which I have disposed so totally. In a few generations, perhaps even as few as three, if my plans continue at their current pace, all memories and knowledge of sex shall have vanished from the world, like a lingering spectre fully dissipating and passing into the beyond. When that time comes, I shall have left entirely behind a world into which I was born - that in itself sets me apart from this new world - and entered one which, although identical in many of its qualities, will be fundamentally different on a vital level. Nevertheless, that is the price of progress and stability, and my sentimental attachments are secondary to the needs and interests of my subjects. I would always on some level be aside and apart from the world over which I presided, both as an alicorn whose life spans epochs and as a ruler whose responsibilities span planetary bodies, and my attachment to the world in the sate it was at the time I entered it is perhaps the closest sentiment I share in common with my subjects. As they fade from the world and their attachments with them, I cannot allow my own attachments to anchor me to a past which does not meaningfully exist. My duty requires me to detach and let go, but that does not mean that I must be utterly destructive in my duties. All that must be done to secure this hard-won peace is to isolate the knowledge from the outside world, and so a vault of the forbidden subject would serve as suitable a soltion as mass burnings. This depository of knowledge will ubdoutedly serve my chosen circle well in their labours, since they have proven themselves to be trustworthy and loyal. I shall have a chamber constructed at once for this purpose.

3rd March 8 E.E.
It has been over two years since my last entry, which speaks wonders of the success of my schemes. There has been nothing to write about which could not be said in my diary with Luna, or recorded in publicly available accounts. The Entrusted - the chosen circle of ponies with whom I embarked upon this great endeavour - have perfected the infancy process, and preside over an increased membership of loyal and hard workers, in addition to the societies and institutions which have bounded into being for the noble pursuits of learning and discovery. There is no society which I can name which does not have at least one of my trusted disciples at its head, utilising each and every new discovery to improve our processes and objectives. We have moved beyond ensuring the continuation of ponies and griffons and dragons, but also all animal life. We are now stewards of this great world, and we meet that greatest of responsibilities with unfaltering conviction. I can still scarcely believe how much has improved since I pledged to keep Luna safe from the pernicious claws of lustful ponies; birth rates are measured and controlled, with records kept of every family in our realm. All their needs can be met, their suffering alleviated far more efficiently should it ever arise. The frequent flight of storks across the world has allowed for far better communication and diplomacy than I had ever envisiaged as a filly, and I believe that the Pillars themselves would be proud of my accomplishment in that field. I miss them still, but I take comfort in what I have achieved and accomplished in their name. Without them, Luna and I could never have become the mares we are today, and not a day passes where I am not grateful for their tender care and tutorship. Truthfully, Luna has been a pillar in her own right, a buttress and support without whom I would be a far lesser ruler. Without her, I never would have had the conviction to do what was right, and without that, we would not have this peace and prosperity which has consequently arose. That is, of course, not a universal fact; the loss of the Crystal Empire is a tragedy which cannot be understated, nor Luna's injury during the battle against Sombra. She has recovered quickly, as is expected, but I cannot help but fear for her wellbeing, even with the assurance of the royal physician and her colleagues. No pony ought to be exposed to dark magic like that, least of all my sister, and I can still see the moment she was struck with that awful beam, the black mist that shrouded her eyes, and feel that deep, icy terror gripping my heart. I must confess that I feel responsible for this outcome. If I had decided to petrify Sombra, as Luna and I did with Discord, would this have ended differently? If that corrupted king had been bound in stone, would the Crystal Empire still stand today? Would Luna have been hurt? I am not certain, but the possibilities scamper about inside my head, refusing to leave me alone. That was why I returned to this journal, and what I have seen has restored my hope and dampened those questions. What I have done, I have always done for the good of my subjects, and most of all, for Luna. My choices are, and always have been, motivated by her. Whatever I do, I know that I have done so in her interest. Knowing that, I can face any obstacle, and calm the doubts which arise intermittently to challenge my resolve.

22nd June 8 E.E.
Luna is gone. I have cried and cried, and I cannot cry any more. My staff know, but I do not care. I should care. I must be strong for my subjects, be the fearless, ceaseless ruler they deserve, but I could not stop the pain from bursting out of me. Now, I have no more to give, no more energy to weep or sob, and no more tears to wipe from my face. It is all my fault. I should have known this would happen. I should have stopped Sombra sooner, I should have been better, I should have known she would fall They shall have their dutiful princess. In short order, I shall learn to smile again, and I shall force that split across my face for their benefit. In time, I shall become accustomed to the absence and the agony of it. Right now, from this very moment, I shall perform every duty required of me. There shall be no break or respite for me, because there is no respite from duty. What is the point? I want to leave, to fly and fly until I discover some new world where this pain cannot follow. This is my burden, and it is well-deserved. There were innumerable signs, but I refused to listen. I was too arrogant, too assured, and what has happened to my dearest sister is the consequence of my actions. I played with fire, and now I must live with the burn I received. Everything I did, I believed I did for Luna. Was I doing it for me all along? Starswirl might have known, or maybe not, but he would have been wise enough to prevent me from my course. He was wise enough to do so. He cautioned me before he knew what I was attempting, and he was, as he always was, correct. It should be Luna standing here, and me trapped in some cold and lonely prison for my crimes. It should be, but it is not. I cannot work with what is not. That, I have learned the hard way. My subjects await.

31st October 950 E.E.
When I first learned of Ponyville's tradition of "Nightmare Night", I had to hide my disgust. It was not an insult to me, nor an attempt at mockery or caricature, and so I had no cause to interfere. Still, the memory of my sister's twisted, sneering face was sharp in my mind, and I ran cold with dread and dredged-up mourning. I couldn't help myself but examine out of a unpleasant curiosity what occurred on these nights, quietly observing the sleepy town and its perculiar custom, and as I did so, I noticed small, subtle details, easily dismissed as coincidence or an overactive imagination. I believe the Equestrian Society of Pony Psychology calls it "Apophenia", though the Equestrian Astrological Association confirmed my observations, so this can't be a product of pure imagination. Every Nightmare Night, the same constellation flickers, always in a particular order. There is no known reason why this happens, and it has not been recorded prior to my observation. I have consulted many tomes on magic from the libraries and archives, and with the notes I made by my side, I observed the stars again tonight. I am not sure how to react to what I have seen. Joyous? Terrified? Dispassionate? From what ponykind knows of magic, and the patterns present on this specific date, there is only one conclusion I can draw, and it seems both too awful and too serendipitous to be true. If Luna is to escape her imprisonment and return to Equestria, it will be on the longest day of the thousandth year of her banishment. If I had predicted this nine ceturies ago, it would have been obvious that my desires were overriding my reason, yet our comprehension of magic has developped in leaps and bounds since that time, and I am now confident to say that this is a very real and likely prospect. Still, it seems to be a gift to me, a chance to see Luna again and return to the loving days when we ruled side-by-side. I miss her more than I can write in words, and I want nothing more than for that to be true, but I have to consider what her return would truly mean. Firstly, there is the obvious issue of her corruption. When she was banished, it was in the form of Nightmare Moon, and I know that this will not have changed in her absence. If Luna returns, Nightmare Moon returns with her, and so does the threat she poses to the entire world. This must be resolved, and permanently. I shall not lose Luna a second time. To that end, I must study the Elements of Harmony further, learn what else they can do, and what must be done to utilise them to their fullest. I shall look to the great academies and schools to find those attuned to magic, and see if I can find a unicorn whose ability may unlock the Elements' greatest feats. The fate of Equestria may well rest on this. The second matter is equally distant and immediate, and I shall raise the issue with the Entrusted at our next meeting. If a pony may return from banishment of their own accord, does this mean that all banishments are temporary measures? It is a prospect which concerns me, given the foes which reside in various states of banishment, and it raises serious questions about the efficacy of Equestria's solution to existential threats. These issues must be addressed with urgent consideration, even if the resolution takes generations to accomplish. Perhaps a compilation of the observations I have made is in order? A book about predictions and prophecies would be a fine addition to my tower, and it has been a long time since I have written academically. If nothing else, it will help order my thoughts about this discovery, and allow me a way to process my options.

22nd June 1008 E.E.
A thousand years is still a long time, even for alicorns, but reuniting with Luna felt as if we had never been apart. I was afraid she would reject me, that she would become embittered or lash out in anger, but the vanquishing of Nightmare Moon and Luna's reformation utterly flushed her of her corruption and envy. She was renewed, reinvigorated, and completely unharmed, both in body and mind. For the first time in a millennium, I cried, and she cried with me. Twilight has brought me more joy and hope than she can ever realise, and I can't truly repay her that debt. Without her and her friends, Equestria would be a darker place, literally and figuratively. All of Equestria owes them a great debt. The Elements of Harmony are rightfully theirs now, both as possessions and sources of empowerment. Their relationship with the Tree's fruits are more symbiotic than Luna and I's relationship with them, and it was undoutedly for that reason that the Elements were so effective, why they worked when all I could manage was to bring to bear their raw power. The Pillars would be proud of this day, and I believe that they would approve of their successors' successors. I certainly do. Luna and I shared the day together, rekindling our sisterhood and making up for the lost years. She deserves the authority that I have returned to her, but I must admit that it will be a relief for me to halve my duties. It feels as though a great weight has been lifted from me, and I no longer feel oppressed by the encroaching dread that permeated every day. Perhaps I was wrong about the inevitability of the failure of banishments, and the danger that posed? I never wanted to send Luna away, and perhaps that was conveyed when I cast the banishment, giving Luna a means to return? I'm not sure, but I'm far too happy to ponder over what is now firmly in the past. For Luna and I, the only road is forward, and we will share that future together.

2nd June 1010 E.E.
The changelings should never have been able to attack Canterlot, but their arrival was co-ordinated, strategic, and overwhelming. The invasion required a population in excess of what our projections allowed, even with the most optimistic estimates. There were many within the Entrusted who believed the changelings were extinct following their departure from the Canterlot Accords one hundred and thirty eight years ago, with the only possible explanations for their continued existence being hibernation or a very cautious and isolated lifestyle. Their aggression was not in keeping with behaviours expected of a critically endangered species, not even as a desperate last-ditch effort to secure resources. These changelings were new, which means they were bred. Three possibilities exist, none of which bode well. The first is that the infant generation process has been discovered and replicated, almost certainly by espionage. If this is the case, the most likely culprit would be the changelings themselves. The second possibility is that the process has been provided to the changelings by a traitor, meaning that I would need to re-evaluate the entirety of the Entrusted and redetermine their loyalty and trustworthiness, which jeopardises the creation of all infant creatures. The third possibility is that the changelings have devised a means of circumventing the cessation of reproductive function, and have managed to develop another way to procreate. As demonstrated by their attempted invasion of Canterlot, uncontrolled repoduction would spell disaster for the rest of the world, who do not have the advantage of self-reliant reproduction. Although all of these possibilities are severe, my greatest fear is the third option, as it would explain why communication from the griffons and the hippogriffs have decreased in recent years. Previously, I had not thought of it as a major matter, but given the arrival of unexplained numbers of changelings, this may be a symptom of a much larger problem. Decisive action must be taken, but as with all things in leadership, the action must be directed and appropriate. I must investigate this situation and determine what course is best for Equestria. In addition to allowing me to decide which action to take, it will alleviate the worries that are prodding at me. Currently, I am fretting about the waning of the banishment I cast, as irrational as that may be. There is no proof that the banishment is fading, but the mass production of a changeling population without my knowledge cannot just be hand-waved away, and if in fact this is what is happening, a plan must be prepared. If the banishment is fading, then what would that mean for international relations, and Equestria's sovereignty? As we have already seen, a species outside of Equestria's benevolent restraints may simply decide to disregard our status as sapient beings and march to war, whether the victims be ponies or any other countless civilisations. We have not witnessed war in so many generations, and I have no desire to see it emerge for the first time under my rulership. Perhaps the banishment wasn't truly a banishment, but a suppression of all natural urges? Could that be the case? It certainly sounds more likely that our biology was suppressed rather than an aspect of our existence vanished into the ether, now that I consider it. I'm not sure, and I'm worrying again, creating scenarios in my head as if I don't have enough to focus on. I shall deal with this matter pragmatically and level-headedly, and not engage in flights of fancy.

30th July 1010 E.E.
I was brought urgent news that the Crystal Empire had returned this morning, and I immediately sent for Shining Armor, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, and the Element Bearers. I have had to prioritise the immediate concerns first, but with all of the pieces in play, I have time to consider the implications of its return. I have complete faith in my student and her friends, as I do in Cadence and Shining Armor, but my fears now lay in the near future. Whether or not the spell I cast a millennium ago was banishment or suppression is irrelevent. Every banishment and imprisonment has suffered the inevitable effects of entropy and collapsed, from Nightmare Moon to Discord and now to the Crystal Empire itself. In the best case scenario, the libido of every creature on this planet was indeed banished, and as with every other example of banishment, the citizens of our world have been spared the suffering that they would otherwise have endured, and instead thrived in the absence of whatever tyranny and cruelty would have existed. Even in this case, in which I banished rather than suppressed all libidos across the planet, there is an endpoint, a final moment in which containment is effective, before it collapses and that constrained entity is unleashed once more upon the world. I am faced with an inevitability I never thought - or wanted to think - I would have to face; lust will return to Equestria, and all its effects and impacts will preside again over the creatures of this planet. Unlike Nightmare Moon, unlike Discord, and unlike Sombra, what can the heroes of Equestria do to stand against it? There is no foe to fight, no evil to overcome, just the presence of a naturally occurring impulse. Perhaps, as with Discord, it could be struck down again in an identical manner, but then what? How long will it remain away before returning? I like to think that I have grown wiser in my many years of rule since I so recklessly dismissed a part of every creature's nature, and something within me is telling me that it would be wrong to repeat my previous action. There would be benefits, even, to allowing nature to take its course; the Entrusted would no longer need to work tirelessly to keep species alive, there would be no need to suppress and censor information about sex, and most importantly, my subjects would be free, liberated from the shackles that I have clamped so readily about their hooves and wrists. I have the chance to do the right thing. Twilight and her friends have shown me that we have come a long way, that there is hope and prospect for a harmonious kingdom beyond my established order. If I allow nature to take its course, I know she will find a way to offset the problems it will cause. We will have the best of both worlds, and I will no longer need to lie to my subjects to keep them safe. Still, I dread what that day will bring. It will be messy. If Twilight is to hope to succeed in stabilising Equestria, she will need to be better prepared, in a position of better authority and readiness, and for that, she must be taught and trained. I will further her education immediately, and impart on her everything she will need to deal with this mess I have created situation for which I am responsible.

1st July 1011 E.E.
It has happened far earlier than I had hoped, though not entirely unexpectedly. I was roused at the stroke of midnight not by any external source, without fatigue, and I knew what this meant. The feeling of parts of my body reawakening after a thousand years of disuse was not painful, but it was certainly odd, and disconcerting. It was almost as if a numb limb were returning to full function, passing through the absence of feeling to the buzzing sensation as operation returned, and finally to a slow, inexorable drip of heat, like sand falling steadily in a timer. I will call Shining Armor, I will order him to refuse anypony except Princess Twilight into the castle, who I will require to be brought to the library should she arrive. I shall leave the key to the forbidden chamber for her to find, and allow her to discover this truth which I have kept hidden for so many generations. I was going to have to tell her sooner or later, but I had been hoping it would be later, and that I would be able to tell her personally, in a calm and private environment. There's that hubris of mine again, always believing I had more control over a situation than I truly did, or at the very least, ignoring the uncomfortable truths. As scared as I am for my subjects, I can at least take consolation in that it will be much, much worse for me; the heat in my loins is growing at a staggering rate, and I can feel the flush on my face. Everypony in Equestria will be facing the feedback of their lifetime of neglected lust, but for most, that will be at most a few decades, and less for many more. I will have to deal with the hundreds upon hundreds of years of inactivity, the generations' worth of abstinence, and I have no doubt it will be agony. I wish this didn't have to happen, that I'd been wiser or found a better solution than I did, but I know I can't change that now. I pray that everypony remains safe, and that whatever punishment the comsos sees fit to inflict upon me remains centred on me, and not my subjects or my family. Luna is safe in her room, asleep, and I shall ensure she remains so, entrenched in her realm of dreams until the backlash has passed, safe and sound, as she always should have been. She has suffered enough, and even faced now with the full consequence of my hubris, I shall not let the hundreds of years of neglect ravish her, as they shall ravish me. She deserves better. They all deserve better than this. Twilight deserves better than this, but all I can offer her now is this diary. I will leave this for her, among the other tomes I once thought to hide away. She will need them all. Twilight, if you are reading this, I am so, so sorry. I will explain everything to you once this ordeal is finished, but for now, please read everything, and try to understand why I did what I did. I can only apologise for being such a foolish old mare, and hope for your forgiveness one day.