Tinged

by Non Uberis

Rating: mature
Tags: Princess Celestia, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Anthro, Princess Luna, Original Character, Porn, Philomena, Fetish, Horror, Crossover, Sex, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 5668

A shade of purple overtakes ponies and instills them with lascivious impulses.

An ordinary night is interrupted by a foreign entity entering Equestria and seeking out Celestia and Luna, distorting their bodies and their minds.

Contains the following: anthro, corruption, bimbofication, expansion, hyper, fat, multi, lips, mild body horror, intersex, sex, incest, and Non.

Thumbnail art by Marauder6272, colored by myself.

This story is a prequel to Stains.

Published 2020-10-11 21:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-10-11 21:10:01 UTC

Pretty

Celestia’s ears twitched as she looked up from her reading. She moved slowly and deliberately, making as little sound as possible. She glanced around herself with wary eyes, as if her bedroom had suddenly become a hostile environment. The luxuriant surroundings, the ornate furniture standing in front of walls painted rich purple and gilded tapestries that hung over them, were cast in a dull, tawny glow by the lamp which stood on her bedside table. In the far corner of the room, the phoenix Philomena slumbered on her perch, her fiery feathers glimmering faintly like embers. Surely, she too would have stirred from her calm if there had been something out of place.

“I must be hearing things,” she murmured to herself, shaking her head with a wry smirk. She allowed herself to ease into the cushy embrace of her bed once more, sinking back against the plush pillows. The quilted blankets were pulled up over her stomach, leaving her upper torso exposed to the air, save for the silky golden cloth that was around her snow-white fur. Her flowing rainbow mane settled around her, bright and shimmering in the dull light, a phantasmal curtain of hair. Her eyelids lowered as she focused on the words printed onto the pages once more, determined to absorb the contents of Stage Acting for Fillies as quickly as possible.

“Such a silly thing…” she whispered as her thoughts turned back inward, the sharp edge of her awareness dulling.

But she could still hear the sound clearly, ringing in her ears, even though her mind was unconsciously placing less importance upon it. It had been a low sound, lurking at the farther end of audibility, and it had come so suddenly and vanished just as quickly that it seemed like a mirage of noise. It could have come from elsewhere in the palace, echoing up through the halls and stairways, but she had heard it clearly as if it had been from somepony standing right beside her bed. Being a centuries-old alicorn, the Princess was attuned to magic more proficiently than all but the most studious of ponies. Had she been just a little more aware, she might have recognized the threat in time.

It came in through the ceiling, permeating through the physical barriers as if they didn’t exist—or, more likely, its own existence was what was questionable. It was a shadowy, hazy thing, practically invisible to the naked eye, rippling in the air like a heat distortion, but its nature was far greater than what could be visibly identified, billowing out beyond, greater than the room could have contained. It was a thing that did not belong in Equestria. It arced through the air like a falling star, albeit with a course that was slow and ponderous, and it swerved in the direction of the prone figure on the bed once she was visible.

The front of the ephemeral mass fixed upon her—what seemed like a head or might have been a hand. Once she was fully engrossed in her reading again, it made that same sound.

It said, “Pretty.”

The shadow fell upon her, sinking through bedsheets and nightgown and into her, gone without a trace.

The bedroom was quiet and still once more. Celestia continued to be engrossed in her lessons on stage presence. Somewhere in the distance there was the shattering crash of something fragile and expensive falling over.

Only then did Philomena open her eyes, the phoenix stretching her bright, fiery wings. The room seemed much the same to her now as it had been when she fell asleep an hour ago. She could have squawked and prompted the pony to come over and scratch the back of her neck in that way she always did so well, but seeing her busy with reading made the bird suppose that it would be better to leave her be, and she closed her eyes again.

Celestia let her book fall, carelessly—the pages flipped together, losing the space where she had been reading. Her violet gaze passed around the room, slowly taking in the furnishings and fixtures. It was not done with the same kind of alertness she had displayed earlier, rather as if the surroundings were completely unfamiliar to her, a chamber she had never been in before. Then she glanced downward at herself. The slender white limbs tensed and flexed before pulling down on the blankets that had been drawn over her chest. At this angle, she stared straight down the valley between her breasts to the flat of her stomach, through the golden gauze of her nightgown.

There was a rustling as she shed herself from the blankets, not speaking a word. Slowly she pulled her legs out from the warm, smothering embrace, hanging over the edge of the mattress before bending down to the floor. She stood, only to stumble momentarily when she took a step forward, hoof trembling and threatening to buckle underneath her weight, but that moment passed quickly. A great multicolored curtain drifted partially into her field of view as her mane fell into place—its weight a curious thing, definitely present but not quite pulling down on her as much as its volume would suggest—and she looked back over her shoulder to see the similar shape of her tail, draped over the tops of her buttocks. She shook her hips and the assemblage swayed about vigorously. She had never thought about how strange an elder alicorn’s hair was. Never thought about how curiously enticing it was.

The steady clopping of her hoofsteps carried across the room, pacing aimlessly at first until her eyes settled upon a gilded mirror that stood in one corner beside a dresser. She came closer and gazed upon her reflection—the glassy surface was tall enough to encompass her entire stature, horn included, nearly seven feet high. She squinted as she looked at herself, as if she didn’t recognize her own appearance, but it might have just been the room’s lack of light making it difficult to see.

“Hmm.” It was a thoughtful murmur, low in her throat. Celestia usually had a regal, confident air about her, as would be appropriate for one who ruled over an entire country, standing tall and stoic whenever possible so as to make her royal nature clear. As she stood in front of the mirror now, though, it was with the utmost of casualness, her arms hanging loose, her legs spread slightly, and she would cock her head from one side to the other as she looked at herself. She evaluated herself with lurid interest, immersed in her reflection.

“Was I always so…beautiful?” she asked aloud. She felt the outline of her shape, fingers tracing gently along her skin, pinpricks rustling the white fur. Trim shoulders and slender neck leading up to delicate cheeks and muzzle. Flat stomach framed by concave sides, pert breasts forming a canopy above, their shape distinct through the thin film of cloth. Softly sloping hips flowing seamlessly into voluminous thighs, with the inward curve of her pelvis in between, the oh-so-slight bulge of her vulva against the cloth.

“Mmm…” The murmur turned into passionate crooning as she writhed, knocking her knees together, pulling fingers through her hair. There are prominent points tenting her gown at the far ends of her breasts. There was a disturbance: a shock of violet manifested among the rainbow colors, spreading along a stripe of green like a drop of blood in a pool of water until it had changed completely. “But can I not be so much more?”

One hand cupped fervently at the side of her chest, and a rolling cry of yearning delight rose up from her throat as the breast quite abruptly inflated. The generous handful of white flesh was suddenly oozing around her fingers, its heft pressing down on her palm, and promptly ripping through her gown in one fell swoop.

The sharp tearing noise roused Philomena once more. She blinked confusedly, seeing Celestia no longer in bed but standing, back turned to her.

The alicorn moaned, guttural, ravenous, as she squeezed and kneaded the doughy lump as if it was an oversized stress ball, larger than her head. Her free hand blindly reached for the other breast, and it too immediately expanded to match the first, shredding through what was left of the gown’s upper half and leaving the tattered remains to flutter down her back, unveiling her wings. Magic danced around her horn, but the telltale golden aura of sunlight was tinged by sparks of purple. She giggled in foalish delight as she heaved the two globes in her palms, squeezing them together into a single mass.

Her mirth was interrupted by alarmed squawks and a flapping of wings as Philomena came flying over to her. The phoenix flitted by her face, embers dancing from her feathers. She would normally perch on Celestia’s shoulders, but she was hesitant to get close. This Celestia was different.

“Oh, Phi-Phi…mmm…” The mare turned her attention toward the fiery bird, and she licked lips which were suddenly noticeably more pronounced, plump mounds that framed her mouth, painted a glossy deep shade of indigo. Another surge of color flushed through her ethereal hair, pink cooling into lavender. Flecks of black swam in the sclera of her hungering eyes.

Philomena shrieked and wheeled away.

“Aw, little Phi-Phi, what’s wrong?” This nickname was one that had never been used before, but the lilting, husky tone in which she spoke wasn’t the way an owner should address their pet. “Do you want to get a feel for yourself? They’re ripe and juicy!” She heaved the pert globes upward in her hands and grinned.

The bird trilled defiantly at her, still fluttering out of reach, decidedly certain now that something dreadfully wrong had befallen her master.

“Don’t be so bashful, it only takes a little hug!” It seemed as though Celestia’s arms were tugging in Philomena’s direction as she staggered forward, but they remained rigidly in place around her breasts, hauling them in her grasp like they were melons. Her fingers were particularly engrossed with touching at her nipples, teasing the tender goosebumped flesh that made up the areoles, which was in the process of swelling, bulging outward.

The mare staggered forward, her hips gyrating in an unnatural manner that threw the path of her legs into drunken stumbling. It didn’t take much effort for the phoenix to remain out of reach, flitting as an actual flame would. She was still shaken enough, though, and worried for the state of the princess, that she was taken aback when two inexplicable free hands suddenly came lunging toward her. The fingers groped at her tail feathers before she slipped out of the way with a squawk.

“Well, well…would you look at that?” Celestia cooed as the hands, seemingly of their own volition, sought out her midsection, caressing between her stomach and groin. The hands were attached to arms that in turn were attached to her sides, just below her original pair of limbs. There was a low moan deep in her throat as she ground her lips together, and in doing so they only inflated further, now enough to greatly alter the shape of her muzzle with their protruding rotundity. “The more, the merrier, then!”

She slapped her hands against the sides of her hips with a thunderous clap, followed by another rip as the rest of her nightgown fell apart, unable to contain the girth of her legs. The breadth of her hips and thighs had instantly increased, more than doubled, flaring out dramatically from her waist, the slender legs turned into thick, tapering pillars which supported her form. A sigh of hot air rushed from her lungs.

Philomena had already fled. The phoenix flew across the room to one of its windows, pressing against a pane of glass until it slid outward, allowing her passage into the cool night air. She could still hear Celestia’s labored breath echoing behind her.

She knew that she had to get help from somepony. She had to tell Luna. She couldn’t think of any other pony who might have a chance of being able to reverse something that had taken ahold of Celestia herself. The darker of the two princesses frightened Philomena at times, so often being strict and severe, but that made her all the more hopeful that she would have a solution.

Like a flaming arrow she soared across the midnight sky, over the high roofs and parapets of the Canterlot palace. Luna’s tower was impossible to miss, taller than any of the others, with a balcony where a telescope stood, a favorite spot to while away the hours of the night. The door was open, fortunate for the phoenix as it allowed her easy entrance. The room inside was dark, suffused by dull blue tones in the shadow. Polished metal statues stood near the doorways, positioned in such a way that the moonlight caught on them, refracting silver beams across the floor and walls.

But the first thing she heard, before she could have the opportunity to break out into a distressed song and draw attention to the present dilemma, was enough to make her blood run cold, and the warmth went out of her feathers all at once.

“Ohhh…” The long, crooning note resounded in the dark chamber. The voice was immediately recognizable as Princess Luna, the deep, commanding tone, but it bore that same lilting, aroused, terrible cadence that Philomena had heard in Celestia’s speech.

The phoenix saw her standing in front of a desk, peering into a vanity mirror that was placed upon it. (On the floor nearby was a scattering of pottery fragments, the remains of a vase that had been sitting on the counter; this was the source of the shattering noise that had risen up earlier.) Her hips swayed gently from one side to the other, her thighs grinding together down to the knees, and she had her arms held up, clearly cupping at her chest. Her flowing mane and tail were different, still dotted by the twinkling stars of midnight but now dark purple in color instead of blue. What’s more, her cutie mark was changed as well, the black splotches turned creamy white, the crescent moons a pale blue color.

“Mmm…such a saucy little pony,” she murmured, breathing heavily all the while, “I bet you’d love if I stuck this in you.”

This was enough for Philomena. She should have flown right away, but some instinctual rage rose up within her, yearning to combat this threat. With an angry crow she made her presence known and then shot forward.

Luna turned toward her. Her eyes were dark pools. Plump purplish lips framed her smiling mouth. Her horn was aglow with moonlight and scattered enigmatic sparks before Philomena could think to veer away, and an invisible grasp had seized her, stopped abruptly in place.

“Oh look, if it isn’t little Phi-Phi, so far from home,” the mare whispered to the red bird, bringing her closer despite her rebellious, frightened cries. One hand reached out, finger stroking at the underside of her beak and down her throat. “Did Tia bore you? That’s fine, Lulu is here to satisfy you.”

Philomena didn’t want to respond. She didn’t want to look either, but even her head was locked in place, forced to stare ahead. The more she saw of Luna’s body, the more horrified she became.

The blue alicorn was a fair deal chunkier than she had ever remembered. Her figure was doughier around the edges, bulging outward, thick thighs and buttocks forming a shelf all around her waist. She had a very distinct paunch, spilling out from her abdomen, deep creases formed where the flesh bulged over itself, a cavernous divot in place of the navel.

Her breasts were larger as well, but she also now had four of them. A lower pair perched heavily on top of the slope of her gut, and a second pair was stacked upon those, each of the swollen globes the size of watermelons. Their mass, rising up and out from how they pressed against each other, was enough to obscure her sternum and shoulders.

But the most pressing and distressing change was between her legs. The flab that rolled over her waistline wasn’t enough to hide the thick length of flesh that protruded from her groin. It was a deep purple color, lined with veins, a ring around the center and the tip bulbous and flared. The penis bobbed faintly as it throbbed, hanging around her knees and nearly as thick as her legs. Underneath that was a burgeoning sac filled by two swollen orbs, balls the size of grapefruit that almost appeared to spasm and vibrate.

“You must be so cold on a night like this,” Luna said as the bird was pulled closer still, “I’ve got plenty of warm places to put you.” A thick tongue snaked out from between her glossy lips, which grew increasingly more swollen as it licked at them, eclipsing her muzzle. Her cock throbbed emphatically as she prodded at her again.

With as much willpower as she could muster, Philomena lunged forward and nipped at the finger. The puncture drew blood, welling up thick and murky, but even though the magical aura dissipated and she was freed, the reaction from Luna was not to gasp in pain but to give out a dull moan. “Oh…naughty Phi-Phi,” she scolded in a daze, as if half asleep, “Tia’s going to punish you.”

Philomena didn’t even want to think about Celestia at this point. The thought of seeing her again was enough to terrify her, and now there was even less that could be done to solve this crisis that was upon them. She would have to find assistance elsewhere. She had to escape.

The phoenix had hardly even begun to fly away when there was a loud thump from the balcony. Heavy hoofsteps came stomping into the room as a figure filled the doorway, pushing aside the curtains. She knew that it had to be Celestia, but she had become worse. So much worse.

The billowing mane that surrounded her and the tail flowing out behind were now fully comprised of hues of purple and lilac and lavender. The bright colors of her sun cutie mark had been replaced by cold blues. The sclera of her eyes were smoky black. The pupils were turned into vivid red hearts, like a cartoon character stricken with lovesickness.

These facial features were mostly obscured, though, behind the sheer girth of her lips. The fleshy, glossy mounds had swollen dramatically, even larger than Luna’s, so bloated that, while viewed from the front, her muzzle and cheeks were hidden, the eyes just barely able to peer luridly over the cresting peak. They wobbled grotesquely, like water balloons with some indescribable pertness, as she came hobbling forward. The unwieldy weight seemed to prompt her head to sway uncertainly from one side to the other, craning on a noticeably longer neck. Her expression was inscrutable, buried behind the wall; only the hunger in her eyes was certain.

She seemed to call out “Phi-Phi” when she caught sight of the flustered phoenix, but her words were muffled almost to the point of inaudibility, the lips too heavy and swollen to fully part from each other without concerted effort, rendering the syllables wet and soggy with saliva (and in that moment it looked as if they had only inflated further still, however slightly).

The princess tottered forward with another awkward step, and there was a moan buried deep in her chest. She had a wide gait, her legs spread far apart—and her hips jutted farther still to either side of her—but her knees were turned inward as she nonetheless squeezed them together with as much force as she could muster. Her vulva filled the space between the swollen limbs, labia bulging outward from her crotch, the pinkish inner meat within winking at the open air. There were splatters on the floor, viscous fluid drooling from her nethers, dribbling down the insides of her thighs and calves.

Her arms—all four of them—still seemed thoroughly engrossed with feeling up her own body. The newly grown lower pair kept its hands firmly glued to her sides, kneading deeply into the burgeoning flab of her thighs that flared out in either direction, seeping in between her fingers. The upper pair was doing the same for her breasts, which seemed relatively minor compared to the rest of her, merely overripe white melons, but they compensated with their nipples, which had swollen almost as dramatically as her groin, the areoles grown from raised mounds into bulging extensions of hairless mauve, just as engorged as the breasts they sprouted from.

Philomena cartwheeled through the air and out of the way as Celestia approached. She looked back toward Luna, who was also shambling closer on unsteady hooves. The moon princess also had her gaze fixated upon the fiery bird, seemingly not having noticed her sister’s arrival yet. She was visibly expanding, filling with fat, accumulating rapidly under the surface of her skin, pushing into the range of obesity and showing no signs of stopping soon. The folds lining her sides bulged over each other while her stomach oozed out in front, a lava flow slowly creeping down her front, the definition of her legs became swallowed up by lard, and her four breasts most of all grew out of control, the double stack spilling out over the top of her midsection. Her neck might have been longer as well, but it was harder to discern, swaddled by spare tires that rose up to her chin and cheeks. Her cock surged and throbbed as it protruded from beneath the canopy of her belly, a spongy purple spire foaming at its tip with bubbles of pre, and her testicles were steadily hanging closer and closer to the floor.

“Oh Phi-Phi, you wound us so,” the blue mare whispered in a seductive plea that came out more muffled than she likely intended, “do you not wish to accept this hospitality? Please, welcome our affection!” Lids closed over her eyes (the pupils now changed into hearts as well) as she puckered her lips, though for as swollen as they were already the only noticeable difference was the addition of wet sucking and squelching sounds, and held out doughy arms that weren’t nearly long enough to reach beyond her bosom.

And before the phoenix’ eyes there was another terrible transformation. Luna’s nipples, all four of them—fat and bulging already, even if not nearly to the same extent as Celestia’s—quivered tremulously of their own accord. She nearly forgot to continue flapping her wings as she watched their shape change, teats flattening against the areoles while the outline against the blue fur shifted, the round shape warping. The opening turned from a narrow point into a horizontal slit that stretched to either side until the tender patches of skin had been fully divided into upper and lower halves. The goosebumped purple changed hue, shifting closer to blue, as well as its texture, smoothing out as the light caught it with a glossy sheen over the swollen contours. The horrible realization set in immediately before a thick red tongue emerged from one of the newly formed pairs of lips, and they proceeded to add to the cacophony of hungering wet suction.

The rising revulsion proved enough distraction to keep Philomena from fleeing when Luna started forward abruptly into another lunge, almost throwing herself. The wall of furred meat came surging ahead, a rushing glacier of dark blue, and she squawked as she scarcely turned around before the valley of cleavage enveloped her. The gross smacking, reverberating within the mare’s mammaries, filled her ears as she was held captive audience for Celestia, who had also started to trudge forward, closing the gap between them. There was a collision, flesh meeting flesh, bloated bosoms, nipples swollen and warped, sprawling gut and thighs, and the engorged, hungering groin and phallus.

“Oh, Tia, sister…” Luna’s guttural rumbling also vibrated through her flesh, the waves coursing into Philomena as she struggled to extricate herself from the living quagmire. “I didn’t notice that you were so…luscious.”

A moan, almost more of a growl, which might not have even been intended as coherent speech, emanated from Celestia. Luna’s vision, looking up at her sister at this angle, was half-filled by the soft blue mounds of her lips rising up before her eyes, but Celestia’s face was entirely hidden behind the blueish wall of her own obtrusive mouth, only the tip of her horn and the rolling curtain of her mane visible behind it.

There was a sizeable distance between the two of them, both of their bodies jutting ahead of themselves for a combined span of a fair few feet, but the pliant bulk compressed as they came together. Celestia finally released her probing hands from herself in exchange for groping greedily at Luna, one arm for each breast, and the kissing nipples gummed at her where they could find purchase. The phoenix’ amorphous prison was turning into a trash compactor, threatening to swallow her up as the blue walls rose up higher, and overhead the gleaming pairs of lips were craning closer to each other. Somewhere underneath, Luna’s member, like a dog sniffing out a trail, was prodding toward Celestia’s bulbous nethers, which in turn was quivering rhythmically, as if breathing.

Philomena squalled fervently, her majestic phoenix song reduced to the shrill cries of a mere cockerel, crawling and clawing her way out desperately. Embers danced around her as she flapped, pumping her wings, and at long last she popped free, her tailfeathers slipping out of the way before the princesses met in the sloppiest of kisses, the air filled with sucks and pops as they worked over each other. One might have suspected Celestia to simply engulf Luna, swallow her head whole, but the exchange was surprisingly equal.

There were furious popping noises, albeit these of a more curious tone, the popping of displaced air, while Philomena flew out the balcony window, in search of assistance elsewhere. The flared tip nosing at Celestia’s protruding womb was joined by two identical purple lengths, bobbing ominously like hypnotized snakes. The sac which had already come to rest against the floor suddenly was tightened by the presence of additional matter, forming into a spongy, lumpy mattress which rested between her legs and came to rest underneath her buttocks. Her legs were already spread far apart, now it seemed like they would struggle to budge at all from the six balls that were crammed around her undercarriage, but still she managed to buck her hips forward when she finally began her assault on the royal fortress.

But at that same moment, Celestia gaped open. The vertical slit between her legs spread apart, pink innards flaring in the air. The edges of the opening also changed as they furled ever further outward, rippling in a manner much like Luna’s nipples had, the fur shrinking inward to show skin painted a glossy sheen. The genital labia had turned into a pair of lips all their own, smothering all three of her sister’s cocks while simultaneously inflating to fill the space between her legs and the floor, conforming to the surroundings.

The corrupted princesses crooned in muffled unison as Luna engaged her threefold penetration of Celestia’s suckling vulva. They contracted in orgasm almost immediately, and the load of six bean bag testes came into the white mare all at once, her stomach bulging out in front of her immediately, while their combined excess cum spread across the floor of Luna’s bedroom, a puddle of sticky white drool from her overgrown vagina-maw. Their eyes rolled back in their heads, quivering, the heart-shaped pupils appearing to pulsate, but they continued to squeeze and grope and fuck with no less urgency.

= = = = =

“Yes, yes, thank you all very much,” Twilight Sparkle announced with scarcely contained pride, standing behind a podium on the front steps of Ponyville town hall. There was an exaggeratedly large trophy standing next to her, nearly as tall as she was—she likely could have clambered into the bowl at the top and her slight, trim form would have been completely hidden. “I am pleased beyond words to have been awarded the title of Most Diligent Note-Taker!”

A crowd of ponies was gathered in front of her, cheering wildly in spite of the niche mundanity of this apparent achievement. Some waved banners and signs that read “Twilight roolz!” or “I love notes!”

“Now I don’t mean to brag,” the bookish mare said with a single snort of laughter, putting a hand on her chest as a cheeky grin stretched across her cheeks, “but I’d like to think this was inevitable, I’ve been working to better my talents for years now.”

“Princess Twilight!” A pony at the front of the crowd called to her, wearing a stereotypical news reporter’s cap and suit and holding a pad and pen. “Can you answer a few questions for your adoring fans?”

“Oh, gosh, I never would have thought I’d have fans,” the purple pony replied, laughing again, as if the veritable ocean that filled the town streets to watch her hadn’t been proof enough, “but I’d certainly be glad to do so!”

There was a tantalizing silence. Everything was suddenly, eerily still. The reporter opened his mouth. “CAW!”

She blinked as her smile faltered. “…What?”

The entire crowd erupted into a cacophony of bird calls.

Twilight Sparkle opened her eyes. She was not standing at the town hall, she was lying in bed, the blankets pulled up to her shoulders. It was dark, a blue-black pall settled over everything in her bedroom.

That is, except for a blinding fiery light that was inches away from her, jumping up and down on her stomach while squawking and trilling irately.

“Ah, ah, w-what, stop!” she cried desperately, throwing the blankets up as she brought her arms over her tired eyes, “What’s happening?!”

But the furious cawing didn’t stop. Something tapped against her—sharp, but not quite forceful enough to cause pain, only an annoyance that prompted her to remove her arms no matter how bright the light was.

Her vision adjusted quickly, and the incoherent glowing mass resolved into a wispy shape of reds and oranges, like a fire that was sitting upon her and not burning. A moment later the bleariness of slumber left her as well, and the vague shape turned into a familiar bird, a phoenix.

“Ph—…Philomena?” she murmured, squinting, and only then did the frantic din cease. “What’re you doing here? Did you…did you fly here by yourself? Canterlot is miles away!”

The phoenix chirped back, but her voice was weaker now. It seemed that the momentary lapse had been just enough to cut off her rush of endorphins, and exhaustion was settling in over her rapidly.

“Oh gosh…it must be something serious,” she murmured. She cast the blankets off of herself, moving sluggishly as her limbs fought to regain control of themselves. She wore a lavender nightgown over her purple fur, draped so as to innocuously obscure much of the shape of her demure form. “Let’s go see Spike, he should be able to translate for you,” she said while sidling out from the bed’s embrace, hooves settling on the ground. Philomena hopped up onto her shoulder in response to her footing shifting; she was evidently too tired to fly.

Twilight Sparkle stepped out into the circular hallway that ran around the outside of the palace’s central chamber. It was darker here, but Philomena served to provide them with a moderate source of light. The journey didn’t take long either, only having to walk to the next door to the right to find Spike’s bedroom. She ran a hand through her mussed indigo mane, wanting to be as presentable as possible even for her number one assistant.

But the curious thing was that there was already an orange glow of light shining from underneath the door.

“That’s odd, is he already awake?” she thought aloud in a whisper, her brow furrowed. “What could he be doing at this hour?”

The phoenix on her shoulder trembled violently.

“Spike?” she called, “Are you—?”

She was reaching to knock on the door only to freeze, and her question fell short at the same time. She could hear a voice coming from the other side of the door—it was almost certainly Spike, but the tone didn’t sound right at all. The charmingly dorky voice was being used to express prolonged moans of arousal. Twilight Sparkle would hardly be so ignorant as to think that the dragon wouldn’t feel the need to pleasure himself on occasion, but something about this seemed far too intense.

And then she heard him speak, sultrily. “Aw, yeah, you like that don’t you…you naughty little slut.”

Philomena produced a long, shrill, warbling note that could only possibly be described as a scream.

= = = = =

“…Oh.”

Non looked at the hole in his bedroom wall. It wasn’t really a hole in the wall, though. It was a hole in the fabric of reality. On the other side he saw an abyss, roiling darkness, older than this world. And there was no sign of the fragment of his essence that had slipped into it.

“Mmm…I should probably figure out where that went,” he grumbled and sighed.

Author's Note

This is a rather old story, I did a few minor corrections. This was one of the earliest forms of Nonification content that I did and may be in need of mild retconning.

Probably just going to say that this is Non's leviathan form so as not to have a needless Pokemon tag.

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