Flash Sentry felt an eyebrow rise as the plony sat on the bar stool next to him.
"My usual," she told the bartender.
The bartender's levitation swirled, filling a pitcher with jet fuel. She placed the pitcher, a frosted mug, and a bowl of lime slices in front of the plony. "Be about two minutes on the fried plantains, Miss Prowler."
Flash raised a hoof at the bartender and shifted his eyes to his own empty beer. A flash of magic refilled the mug.
He took a sip and, properly fortified, turned to look at the plony. She had a nice, narrow waist, very large ECM pods, and beautiful orange-ish eyes behind a gold-tinted windscreen. "Prowler, was it?"
She looked at him, eyes running up-and-down his body as she poured a mug of JP-4 from the pitcher. "Indeed it was. You?"
"Flash Sentry," he said, ruffling his feathers politely. "Ponies call me Flash."
"Crystal Empire Guard?" she guessed, then dipped her refueling probe into the jet fuel and sucked down about a quarter of the mug.
"How'd you know?"
She raised a wing and pointed her nose at an ECM pod. "Your X-band carrier wave."
"Oh. You're a Marine?" he said, pointing to her well-streamlined butt.
"Nah, they retired me in 2019. Getting the markings sandblasted off hurts like Tartarus, though. I'm taking computer programming classes."
"Crystal U?"
"Open University Canterlot, online."
"Oh, that makes sense."
The bartender trotted up and dropped a large bowl of sizzling plantain slices in front of her. She squeezed the limes over them, then nosed the bowl towards Flash. "Y'want one?"
"Please!" Flash bobbled one and it burned his hoof. He popped it in his mouth and it burned the roof of his mouth, too, and he quickly washed it down with a large swig of beer. "Ow!"
She grinned and ate the remaining plantains while they chatted. After she finished her pitcher and he finished his mug, she looked at him and said, "Wanna fuck?"
"Yeah."
Flash was buzzed and stumbled on the last step, but got the door to his apartment open.
Luckily, he was a neat bachelor, and his apartment was tidy and smelled clean. Open windows brought in the fresh mountain air, and only a single unwashed bowl sat in the sink.
She swept her head slowly left-to-right, her nose and radar taking in his large studio apartment. She caught sight of his ham radio and dropped to a crouch, wings flaring, and snarled low in her throat. Her gatling gun spun up with an angry screech.
"Would you like me to turn it off?"
Prowler wiggled her butt slightly, then nodded her head, glaring at it. Flash grabbed the plug with his teeth and yanked.
Prowler came out of her crouch and smiled. "Thanks." The gatling gun spun back down with a fbbbrrrtttt.
He took a step toward her, then another step. She extended her neck until their muzzles just brushed against each other. Her metallic nose was hard, but pleasantly warm, and she smelled like lemons and jet fuel. Flash had dated enough unicorns that he had no trouble dodging the refueling probe that extended from the top of her snout.
She pressed her lips against his and the taste of lime juice stung the burns from the fried plantain. He nuzzled over, kissing her cheek and nibbling her jawline, and then her ear, which was warm and soft and fuzzy just like a non-plane pony's ear would have been.
Prowler purred happily and a shiver ran down her body. "Ooohhhhh.... Hey, hey Flash..."
"Mmmmmm-hmmmmm?"
"Nibble my refueling probe."
Flash bit down on her ear in surprise and she squeaked. He took a half step backward and forced a smile onto his face and cocked his head, looking at the probe. It throbbed with her heartbeat and seemed to be slightly bigger.
He was a bit unsure about that. Think of it like a giant clitoris, he said to himself, that's... on... her... head.
She sat down, her tail thwacking happily on the floor, and looked up at him, her eyes half-lidded and a smile on her face.
Okay, he thought. It's not a dick. It's a mare's refueling probe. He leaned over and brushed his lips against the probe. It was surprisingly soft, skin-like rather than metallic, and she squeaked and pounded a forehoof on the ground. Flash got a little bit of teeth into it and Prowler gasped.
The probe got noticeably more erect. He licked up it, from where it met her snout to the tip.
She giggled and with a puh-chunk puh-chunk sound deep in her chest, a tiny squirt of jet fuel coughed out of the tip of her probe and into his mouth.
Flash gagged and the spritz of jet fuel hit the burn on the roof of his mouth from the plantain. He exploded to his wings, zooming around his apartment and brushing his tongue with his forehooves before landing in the kitchen, turning on the cold water, and sticking his face directly under the faucet.
She tippy-hooved over to him. When flash withdrew his face from under the stream, Prowler said, "Sorry. But your mouth felt really good so I pre-came a little." She traced circles on the tile of his kitchen with a forehoof and looked downward.
"It's all right. I enjoy the taste of a shapely mare" —he winked at her— "but jet fuel isn't my usual diet."
Prowler kissed Flash again, then ducked down, beneath his belly. She turned her head sideways to avoid catching his kidney with the refueling probe and nuzzled his sheath. Her tongue—warm and wet, like a pony's, not metallic—probed out and pulled his right ball into her mouth. Flash closed his eyes and moaned, softly in the back of his throat. She nibbled gently and massaged him, her mouth warm and soft and wet and wonderful. His cock engorged as she used her tongue to press his ball out, scratching it against her upper teeth, and then pulled his other ball into her mouth.
She sucked it, nibbling and playing with her tongue, then switched to his other ball, then back again. Tingles ran up his spine, his wings flaring and tail flagging. His cock throbbed, rock hard and cold in the breeze from from window, thumping against the underside of his belly with every heartbeat.
With a slurp, she pulled her head back and his left ball popped out of her mouth, both balls hanging pendulous, swollen, and damp beneath his burgeoning erection. The fuzz on his ballsack absolutely dripped with her saliva.
"I dun wanna get pregnant," she said, "but I hate condoms."
"What?"
She touched her nose radome to his balls and with a high-pitched whine, all of her saliva evaporated off his scrotum. "There, no pregnancy."
"What?"
"For at least six months, in case I decide to see you again."
"What?!"
"Bed."
"Wh—yeah, okay. Yeah."
She licked him once more, from in between his balls and up the length of his shaft. He gasped, eyes widening, mouth dropping open. His ears went as erect as his cock.
Prowler broke contact just before her tongue got to the sensitivity of his tip before standing and taking a step. Looking over her shoulder at him, making bedroom eyes and batting her eyelashes, she sashayed over across his apartment to the bed. She wiggled her rump and swished her tail at him, wings anhedraled down with a sexy demureness.
Flash watched her cross the room and the then hop to land her forequarters and belly on the bed. She winced and flexed a foreleg.
"You okay?" Flash asked, walking over to stand next to her. He pointed a feather at her leg.
"I crashed years ago and broke this landing gear," she said, rubbing her cheek against her left foreleg, just above the knee. "I'm fine now. Just a sting."
"Oh."
"Are we fucking?" she asked, and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
"Yes." He took a step to the side, until he was standing just behind her.
Flash leaned down.
Flash looked up.
Beneath her tail was smooth metal and her tailhook.
"Uh, well, umm, I, do you have, uuh, fuckable bits?"
The tailhook slapped forward, from its stowed position under her tail until it was flat against the underside of her belly, the motion as sudden as a mousetrap. Flash flinched back a half-step.
A high-pitched whirrrrrrrr sound filled the apartment and two of the sheet metal plates underneath her tail slowly withdrew, opening like bomb-bay doors. The smell of a horny mare's sopping wet vulva hit Flash's nose as soon as the door cracked open, and over the next twenty seconds, the whirrrrr continued steadily, exposing more and more of her. Black fluffy fur surrounded darker black labia, the labia glistening and the fur sopping wet. Her anus throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
Flash stared at the slowly revealed treasures, licking his lips, his mouth watering, and taking greedy, deep breaths through his nose of her wonderful, estrusy smell.
With a thonk the bomb bay doors stowed deep inside her, the whirring stopped, and bright running lights inside the bomb bay clicked on, illuminating her pussy.
Her clit extended, a blinking red warning light.
She settled her chest and chin onto the bed and spread her hind legs wide on the floor. "Climb aboard!"
Flash shook himself. This was—this was getting weird. But he could do this. His erection hung below him, his balls engorged and as blue as his mane. He had to do this.
He hopped up, planting his forehooves on her horizontal stabilizers and leaning his body to the left of her vertical stabilizer, then shuffled his rear hooves forward until the tip of his cock brush fluffy soft pubic fur.
She was shaped funny. A pony's vulva was in between her thighs and easy to angle into, fucking horizontally, but the plony's vulva was on her underside and he would need to fuck upward. He got his spine torqued into position and pressed his tip against her.
Flash looked down and the blinking red light of her warning clit pulsed against his cock.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Getting bored in this holding pattern, slowpoke."
Flash thrusted. She gasped happily and the bright headlights on the leading edges of her wings blinked on and back off. Flash's eyes sparkled and he squinched his eyelids shut for a second.
Her pussy was a little on the cool side—she still felt good, but much cooler than a pegasus or earth pony, and about as cool as a unicorn's—and something about the feel seemed... odd. Not bad, but certainly odd. Something with her juices was off.
Prowler kneaded the bed with her forelegs and clenched around him with her pussy. Flash's eyes widened and he pulled out, stroking back down her channel, and the headlights blinked again.
He looked at himself, and his cock was covered with an amber-colored slickness.
Of course her pussy juices were motor oil. Because why wouldn't they be?
The tip of his cock in her channel, her clit blinking red and her bomb bay lights shining bright white on her pussy and his shaft, motor oil smeared on his dick, Flash took a second to re-evaluate the life choices that had led him up to this moment.
Then he shrugged and hilted back in. She gasped, her headlights blinked, and she clenched around him once more.
Okay. Okay, this was weird, but it was feeling good. He wasn't even going to try to hold back and last a long time, he would just pop his load inside her and try to get her out the door, then take a shower with grease-cutting dish soap.
He pulled out and slammed in, hard.
"Approach vector green!" Prowler said. "Keep it in the glide path."
"What?"
"Don't stop."
He didn't stop. Her vaginal motor oil smeared up and down his cock and dripped onto his balls and the floor. Her refueling probe spritzed on his bed. The scent of mare-in-heat and jet fuel filled the room, and he started rutting hard. She bit the sheets and spread her rear legs more, and he got an extra half-inch or so of depth. She was warming up, now, really hot and slick and wet around his shaft, and—
"I'm cumming!" Prowler shouted, and with a staccato series of thumps a half dozen chaff charges fired out of her flanks, filling Flash's apartment with swirling, flickering clouds of aluminum foil. "Yessss!"
Flash stopped pumping, staring at the tinsel-like mess filling his room. Strands of chaff hung from every surface and even from the light fixtures.
"Oh wow!" Prowler said. "That was great. I don't usually cum aluminum."
"Uh."
"I want you to do my ass now."
"Your—" he said, and faded a half step back, his cock popping out of her pussy.
She raised her left wing and one of the cargo pods popped open, dropping a blue plastic circle onto the bed. "Here, an IFF transponder so my defensive systems don't mistake your cock for an attack." Her hooves reached down and slid the blue ring down to the base of his cock.
"Your butt."
"Yes," Prowler said, and the rotating red strobe light on the top of her vertical stabilizer lit up and started spinning.
The chaff had surprised him enough he'd lost half his erection, but with the cock ring—IFF transponder—whatever—clamped at the base, holding the blood in got him hard again, and then harder, and after a few more seconds, the hardest he'd ever been in his life.
"Approach clearance granted on runway number two," she said, and raised her rump slightly.
Okay. Okay.
Flash could do this. He could buttfuck a plony. What was the wor—
No, let's not ask that question, not even rhetorically.
"Let me get some extra lube," he said, and stroked up into her pussy twice more, getting nice and sloppy with vaginal motor oil.
Then he pulled back out, tilted his head to look, and lined up his tip with the dark black pucker of her asshole.
"Stay on target," she said.
He pushed up, her anus resisting him for a moment, and then it relaxed and let him pop up and in. Flash pushed more, and then a little more, until his whole cock diappeared up into her bumhole and his balls—more engorged, bigger, and more sensitive than ever, thanks to the cock ring—thumped against her blinking clit.
She shivered and flared her wings up to a strong dihedral. The ram-air generator on her right ECM pod spun up. The metal fillings in his back teeth started to hurt and the telephone in Flash's kitchen sparked and smoked.
"So good..." Prowler whispered. "Commence bombing run."
Flash decided that meant start fucking so he started fucking.
He stroked out—he didn't look at his cock, if her vag lubricated with motor oil he just didn't even want to know about her butt—and back in. Then out, then in, settling into a rhythm.
It was... it was actually pretty good. The motor oil kept everything slick and smooth as he stroked, her tight ass giving excellent pressure on his tip and medial ring despite the lubrication. His own wings flared and his tail thrashed. He leaned more weight onto his forehooves, against her horizontal stabilizers, pressing her downward as he fucked upward.
They rutted for a while—he lost track of time, but her jammer pod also smoked out his television and his PlayStation—before his own climax built.
"You're getting bigger," Prowler said. "I love it. I've not—not—" more chaff cartridges fired, filling the room with another swirl of aluminum strips "—not had an assgasm before! So good!"
His own climax came, finally, and he slammed his hips straight up, deep into her, and felt his balls release and his cock spasm as he filled her butt with wad after wad of his hot cum. His cock throbbed with every blast and—
The cock ring broke, falling off his dick to the floor.
Her wings slammed down into the bed.
She opened her mouth wide and shrieked with a horrified klaxon sound.
All her running lights and strobes shut off.
"Negative IFF! Missile threat! Missile threat!"
She lifted a hind leg and bucked him across the room, knocking him out of her ass as his last wad came, shooting it to stick onto some of the chaff hanging from a ceiling-mounted can light.
Flash landed on his back.
"Missile countermeasures!" she yelled and instead of chaff, fired off a ripple of ten flares.
Flash covered his eyes as the flares lit the room with flashbulb-billiance. The smell of burning magnesium and smoldering carpet hit him and he curled up into a ball.
The flares burned out almost instantly, but the carpets and bedclothes smoked.
A single spark landed on his dick and lit the vaginal motor oil aflame.
Flash screamed and leapt to his hooves, running in circles around the room in panic, the rush of air fanning the flames.
Prowler pounced, tackling him, knocking him to his back. She planted her forelegs on his wings, pinning him to the floor.
"Help! Help! My dick's on fire!" Flash shouted.
Prowler bent her hinds legs, flagging her tail and squatting over him, and pissed on his cock—
Except it wasn't piss, it was a billowing cloud of carbon dioxide from her fire extinguisher system. Erupting out of her peehole.
Flash looked at himself as the billowing cloud of extinguisher dissipated. Blisters were rising on his cock and icy frost decorated the hair of his belly.
"Well," Prowler said, with a whirrrrrrr as she closed the bomb bay door over her pussy and butt, "That was great. I'd like to see you again sometime."
