Author's Note

Day 5: Witch

Swirls of brilliant colour, violet, blue and deep green, filled Tootsie’s vision as a gust of wind nearly swept her up, spinning all around her tiny, fragile body, brushing her mane and tail in all sorts of directions. It seemed to narrow in on one place, directing its current right into her nether region beneath her tail. A sudden feeling came over her now; like a rough summer’s heat that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you tried. A deep itch formed, one that she knew a hoof couldn’t scratch, and her belly tightened with a brand new sensation.

Just the same as the powerful magical aura had been there, circling all around and under her, it was gone. Tootsie was left to stand again, a fair bit worse for wear and frazzled. Her body felt heavy and her mind was cloudy and distracted.

“This is my curse unto you, foolish girl,” said a voice, light and raspy, coming from nowhere in particular but everywhere at once. It was like the forest itself was speaking to her through the many vines and underbrush that surrounded her.

“For your insolent trespass in my domain, I give you this one and only punishment...” the voice trailed off as Tootsie Flute found herself right on all four hooves again, placed carelessly into the grass of the small open meadow. From behind the thick moss that had collected on the boughs of an old oak a mare stepped into view. She looked as old as the tree, decrepit and grey, with withered limbs and a wispy mane. Hazy eyes peered out from under a black, pointed hat that sat askew on her small head. Her body was covered by a long black cloak covered with patches and holes.

“Your body will grow old and grey in a matter of hours, your youth will be stolen from you such as was mine. No longer will you play and flit about with your peers, instead you shall be left to live out your feeble days in a dusty retirement home with ponies who’d rather sleep than play!” the old mare rattled on as she crept closer and closer, those old eyes full of hatred and spite.

“N-no! Please! I’m sorry I wandered into your forest ma’am! I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to find my ball and I got lost and--”

“Silence! Such disrespect! I’ll have no more of it, child. This is the curse I have bestowed upon you to better teach you some manners. You will live the rest of your days old and tired, or you will do as I say.” The old mare’s pursed lips turned into a sinister grin. Tootsie, afraid to speak, clamped her mouth shut and nodded fervently.

“Good. Just what I thought,” she hummed and clicked her tongue as she peered down at Tootsie. “Then to lift this curse I give you this one and only cure, my one mercy to you: you must bed the next stallion you see as he would a wife, though no matrimony this will provide. He must plant his seed within you, no skipping out or finding shortcuts. Only the seed of his loins will grant you release from your fate.” The old witch took a step back, regarded Tootsie one final time, then disappeared into the creeping mist with a cackling laugh.

“Heeheehee! You shall surely fail!”

Tootsie Flute finally broke free of the scary forest with daylight to spare. She had returned without her lost soccer ball but that was a matter for later. Her mind was still reliving the encounter with the Witch of the Forest and everything she’d been told. Was it a dream? Was the witch bluffing? Tootsie, who fully understood the task that had been laid out before her, still found herself in disbelief. All the same, she wasn’t about to test such a powerful entity.

The poor filly was so lost in thought and troubling herself while she walked that she hadn’t noticed how close to Ponyville she’d gotten, or concerned herself with any precautions as to how she was going to get home in the first place without running into anyone. This only added to her misfortune, as the kind, generous, and woefully married Davenport stopped in front of her and gave her an odd look.

“Something on your mind, kiddo?” He waved a hoof in front of her as she walked past. She knew who he was, of course, as her mother occasionally stopped in his shop on Saturday shopping trips.

The realization of what had just transpired and the contract that had just been sealed hit Tootsie like a ton of bricks. She stopped in her tracks and broke into a cold sweat, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks as she stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Whoa there, you look like you just saw a ghost!” he joked, laughing lightheartedly. Not seeing her reciprocate the feeling, he fell quiet and cocked his head. “Erm...you okay?”

Tootsie shook her head clear of the millions of thoughts that were buzzing around and took a breath to calm her racing heart, but she wasn’t sure anything would calm her now. I mean, she could have picked any other stallion, maybe even a colt might have worked, but him? Now? Oh gods, she really had to do this!

She immediately realized that her window for this wasn’t going to be open long. If she messed this up there was no going back. And judging by the look of the streets there wasn’t anypony around, either. She took a big, shuddering gulp of air and focused her gaze on his.

“Um, M-mister Davenport, sir? I was just t-thinking about you, actually.”

“Oh, really?” The stallion blinked, a mixture of surprised and amused.

“Uh-huh. And how you’re always nice to me and my Mom when we come around.”

“Well, a happy customer is just good business!” He chuckled to himself.

“No, I mean...it’s different, right? You’re extra nice to me, giving me candy and always taking an interest. It’s very sweet of you.”

“I am? I mean, of course. You’re always so well behaved in my shop, so I suppose it’s a behaviour worth rewarding.”

Tootsie was getting frustrated. How could she make him bed her? She had no experience with this sort of thing, and thinking about it only made her more flustered. Thankfully, Davenport wasn’t in a hurry to leave the conversation, either.

“So what’s this about? I told your mother I can’t give any discounts, and buttering me up won’t help…” He peered down at her intently.

“N-no, Mister Davenport! My Mom doesn’t know I’m here, actually.”

“She doesn’t?”

“Nope. I’m here by myself.” She took a step closer and tried to flutter her eyelashes at him, listing her head to one side and swishing her tail in a way she’d seen mares do when they were wooing a stallion. Did that stuff even work?

“By yourself…” Davenport repeated, similarly tilting his head, his eyes looking her over. He was deep in thought, thinking about something before he seemed to shake it out of his mind.

“Well I suspect your mother will be waiting for you,” he said.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” She blurted, taking another step forward. The distance between them was sparse now, she could feel his hot breath. He smelled like he’d been drinking.

Silence lingered between them for an awkwardly long amount of time. Tootsie had already begun to reconsider her efforts, the beginnings of a plan to run away so her friends wouldn't have to see her shrivelled and pale, playing bingo at the nursing home. Davenport stared at her, his gaze wandering back and forth, and something finally seemed to click. He turned around abruptly and headed back into his house. For a moment Tootsie was sure that was it and her life was doomed. Then he turned around and looked at her.

“Well? Are you coming in?”

She scurried ahead in an instant, nearly knocking him over as she raced into his house and out of the street, away from prying eyes. He chuckled to himself as he followed her into the living room. Pictures on the wall of him with his wife suddenly brought her back to her grim reality. He must have seen her looking at them, as he dismissed it quickly.

“Mrs. Davenport is in Canterlot visiting her sister,” he said dryly, “so what was this about thanking me?”

Tootsie gravitated to the sofa and climbed up next to him, finding comfort in the fact that they were at the same level now, eye-to-eye. This was it, her one and only shot to lift the curse. She gulped and pushed back her fears, knowing what she had to do. She put a hoof on his thigh and leaned closer.

“I just wanted to say I like you, Mr. Davenport.” She whispered. “Like...like-like, like a lot sorta like. Like a liking like that isn’t just like...liking.” She clumsy fumbled with her lack of vocabulary, trying to find a way to make it happen.

Amused, Davenport laughed heartily. He threw his head back and let out a huge belly-laugh. Tootsie blushed and scrunched her muzzle. When he’d finished, he put a hoof on her head and ruffled her mane, leaning into her.

“If you’d wanted to see my cock, you only had to ask, sweetie.” He whispered, nibbling her ear.

Tootsie breathed a sigh of relief and gasped in shock nearly at the same time. It was both her luck that he was so willing and her misfortune that Davenport was clearly some kind of Filly-Fiddler. She tried to remind herself of why she was here.

“Mmm. I want more than that, Mr. Davenport.” She whispered back, squirming as his hoof drifted to the small of her back, stroking her soft fur and reaching for her cutie marks.

“Please,” he smirked, “call me Daddy.”

Tootsie bit her tongue and decided to just play along. His hoof found her rump and gave it a squeeze. The gasp of surprise she let out was genuine. He grabbed her tail by the dock and yanked on it.

“Ohh...d-daddy…” She hissed through her teeth, eyes clenching shut.

“Are you a virgin?” He asked. She only nodded in return.

Tootsie found herself turned around, pushed up against the back of the sofa, her tail flipped over her back, and a hoof between her legs spreading them apart, widening her stance. She barely had a chance to start breathing rapidly before she felt his muzzle washing hot breath across her nethers and his tongue roll across her hungry, puffy slit.

Since the witch had placed the curse on her, Tootsie’s entire body had felt strange. There was a deep, primal itch that resonated from her core, begging to be scratched. As his tongue traced its way in little circles around her fillyhood entrance and began to worm its way inside, she found a new kind of relief beginning to form while that strange heat only grew and grew, bubbling up from inside.

She moaned then, the cushion of the sofa quickly forgotten as she threw her head back and squirmed insistently. Impressed, the stallion grunted approval as his tongue quickly found it’s way to the end of her depths. Her cunny walls clenched tightly and squeezed him roughly as more and more juices dripped onto his tongue.

He pulled back with a wet smack and a lick of his lips. He chuckled again, not too dissimilar to how he had before, taking to memory her fruity taste. The filly stood still as a statue, her eyes glazed over as she panted for breath, clouded mind trying to make sense of these new wonderful sensations.

What she didn’t know is that the witch had imbued her with a powerful aphrodisiac, one that would increase the rate of her arousal and make her pleasure tenfold. She was not only producing more lubrication but she was stretchier, too. Which was a good thing for what followed.

Davenport clambered up onto the sofa unceremoniously. The aphrodisiac had been transported to him through the juices he’d hungrily lapped up and now his mind was deep in the fog of a stallion hungry to rut. He planted his big forehooves on the back of the sofa and lined himself up against Tootsie’s cushiony rear, nestling his fat, drooling tip right against her virgin flower.

With neither a word of warning or a hoof to guide her he rammed himself forward, fuelled by lust and a marriage that had been dry for years. Tootsie squealed as she felt penetrated, extended, stretched, and filled in an instant. Her eyes felt like they would pop out from how wide they were open, and she gritted her teeth. While she took his girth in stride she was still wonderfully tight, squeezing and throbbing around him.

Immediately he found pace to pull back and ram himself back inside. His thrusts found rhythm and his balls began to slap against her rear with complete disregard for her comfort. Tootsie Flute was shoved powerfully against the back of the sofa, her head bent to the side to look back at him, watching as his adult cock rammed her again and again, pressing up inside to her deepest depths.

That itch she’d never felt before, the heat rising in her tummy, the tingles that started in her hooves and went all the way to her ears; everything reached a beautiful crescendo and the highest degree of pleasurable sensations she’d ever experienced began to rapid-fire through her nerves and in her brain. Her tongue hung from her mouth lazily, a moan left her throat that wouldn’t be trapped, and her vision was nearly white.

Davenport was especially rough with his thrusts for only a moment, his hips slapping her rear and his cock stretching her belly for that short period of bliss when the head of his member started to swell, stretch and plug her nice and full. Thick, virile stallion seed started to explode into her. Hot, sticky stuff that splattered her walls and drove her sensory receptors into overdrive. Spurt after spurt of cum filled her until her belly felt full and stretched, and even still more dribbled out of her, down her legs and onto the sofa in a little puddle. She found herself adding to it as she, too, began to squirt and spasm, her little body jerking and wriggling about on his thick male hood. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she moaned unrestricted.

“Oh gooooosh! Fill me up with the seed of your loins!” She squealed, burying her face in his musky neck.

He stopped thrusting, spent and panting and nuzzling her back while his stallionhood deflated and left her stretched fillyhood. Only after he’d caught his breath and the world had finally stopped seeming so hazy did her words process.

“My...what?”

Somewhere deep in the Everfree Forest, an old witch was beside herself with laughter. The pointed cap had been cast aside on a stool by the cauldron and her cape hung up by the door. She sipped lemon tea and watched her latest target through her crystal ball. Not always did she prey on ponies who inadvertently crossed her way while she was picking flowers for her home remedies, but this was one she couldn’t resist. Of course her threat of a curse had never been real, but there was nothing a little magical gust of wind and some fondling couldn’t conjure in a young foal’s mind, and this one had been particularly gullible and easy to fool. It was a pity she didn’t tack on a few extra stallions to that number. That was always something for next time. She imagined she could really make things around Ponyville more interesting if there were filly orgies every weekend. Now that would be a sight for her old eyes to see!