Dibs on My Sister

Chapters

Dad's Miracle
Alone At Last
Roseluck's Miracle

Dad's Miracle

Dibs on My Sister

AJ Aficionado

It’d been a long and eventful night. One would think the novelty of throwing birthday parties for the family would have worn off for the earth mare Roseluck and her bat-pony husband Europa, proud parents of seventeen healthy foals. But much like their enthusiasm for bringing new pony life into the world, celebrating that new life was every bit as important.

After all, it’s not every day a colt turns eighteen.

He’d received presents of course, from everybat in his family and received good news too when Dad announced to the entire household that his son had been accepted to an apprenticeship with the Forest Brethren — diplomats and caretakers of all animal life in the country with the ability to communicate directly with them.

His favorite sister had shown up too, wearing the ‘special’ outfit Mom had bought for her. It was all he could do to hide his arousal, at one point tilting the table with his erection a full seven degrees as the two played hoofsie underneath it. Things might have flown out of the colony entirely if Mom hadn’t shot him a withering gaze. Mom wasn’t normally a mare you’d describe as fierce but her earth pony strength hadn’t dimmed with age and even getting struck with a rolled-up newspaper would feel like having a tree trunk land on your head.

Walking the winding wooden staircase of his ancient tree home with a small pile of wrapped gifts balanced carefully upon his unfurled webbed wings, he passed door after door where his siblings lived, finally reaching the very top of the trunk where he and his younger sister resided. Outside, the sky was growing purple, heralding the coming of the new day and a few hours of relaxation before bedtime for the Rose clan.

“Charon? Is that you?” Called a female voice from behind one of the closed doors.

He’d considered himself as stealthy a stallion as one could find in all Thestralslovakia, but his sister had auditory capabilities far beyond most; capabilities she’d inherited from their equally proficient mother. “Yeah, Phoebe, it’s me.” He shook his head chuckling. “Whatcha up to?”

“Why don’t you come on in and find out, big bro! Or are you too exhausted after turning eighteen?” she replied playfully.

Charon felt a welcome stirring in his loins from the long-promised and often fulfilled promise of promiscuity with his lithe and lovely sister. “Love to, but Dad wants to talk with me on the roof.”

A crack in the door opened, revealing a pair of glowing, jewel-bright, cobalt blue eyes. Stepping outside of the room to reveal herself, the colt-turned stallion could make out the rest of his sister. She was a light, blue-coated slender-framed thestral with a long, straight, spiked dark violet mane, draped over her head and neck like the early dawn just before the rise of the sun. Hardly much taller than a grade-school filly, the top of her mane didn’t even reach to his neck, even if her ears reached well over the top of his head. “Please. Charon! It’s been months since we’ve had the opportunity to be alone and my estrus is kicking my tail, so you can at least put your tongue in my mouth!”

“Whoa! Be careful what you say…” Charon looked over his shoulder, seeing only the empty winding hallway, lined with pictures of his family.

“Mom and Dad aren’t inside the house.” Phoebe’s ears rotated around the hallway like a Fennec fox scanning for prey in its sandy burrow. Charon knew better than to question her on the matter, having seen his sister in action before. Her impressively large sonic sponges had saved the pair a number of times from the discovery of their illicit relationship, at least in the precious few moments of alone time they could steal with each other in their crowded, noisy tree home.

“Those two must be loading supplies into the wagon before flying into town. We’re all alone and Dad can keep for at least a couple of minutes. You could mount me right now and have your way with me and no bat would be the wiser.” Phoebe ducked down and looked between her brother’s legs. “So don’t tell me you aren’t thinking about it… I could see your erection from space!”

Charon’s bathood had indeed dropped out of his sheath even as he tried to balance his bountiful birthday booty on his back. “That would be the creepiest thing anybat had ever done… staring at my dangly bits from outer space. Unless it was Luna; that would just be awesome.” He grinned dreamily at the thought of the Lunar Sovereign waving pom-poms and cheering him on while he walked around the house performing menial tasks.

Phoebe stuck her tongue out at him. “Well, you don’t quite merit Luna’s ears, big bro. Not even with your rugged handsomeness and impressive girth.” She struck a lonely, big-eyed orphan pose, throwing in a quivering pouty lip for effect. “And since you’re unworthy of her, I’m afraid you’re stuck with rutting your little sister into a sweating, panting, moaning heap on the floor.”

The pile of gift-wrapped boxes fell to the floor as Charon’s wings flared to rapt rigidness from sheer arousal. Her words registering on his overheated thoughts as sheer lust, he responded instinctively; the next he knew, he’d forced his tongue roughly into her mouth. Her sister gave a muffled growl as she pushed a startled Charon back slightly, and then drew up on her legs, pinning him to the far wall. Having gained the height advantage, she braced herself on his shoulders and the pair continued their fiery kiss.

“Mmm. Mmmmm!” Charon withdrew with a wet pop, sister’s saliva leaving a long trail down his neck as he began picking up his fallen presents. “Phoebe, seriously! I really need to go talk to Dad first or I’m going to forget about him! If he wants to talk to me alone, it must be very important!”

Or at least, he assumed it was important. One-on-one face time with parents was a rare treat with so many siblings. Mom and Dad had practically worked out a system by which their offspring could take care of themselves out of sheer necessity. “And if I don’t show up, he’s gonna come looking for me!”

Phoebe relented, but only slightly; the smell of her arousal hanging deliciously heavy in the air. “Okay, fine. Only for you, big brother. But don’t make me wait too long!” she giggled before turning back to her room, and flagging her tail to display herself, eliciting a half-choked urk!

With that virile vision ensconced firmly in his memory, he forced herself to turn away from her door, gathered up his discarded presents and lurched forward down the hall, trying to reel his pendulous stallion anchor back into the boat by sheer force of will. It was a nearly impossible battle to fight; the thumping of its head against the floor ringing inside his ears, seemingly intensifying with each step he took and leaving his father — to say nothing of the remaining family inside the household — certain to hear it.

“Please make this quick, Dad!” Charon whispered to himself as he took a few deep breaths and finally brought the motion on the ocean to a halt. Waiting until his stallionhood had retracted at least partway, he regarded the apparently blank stretch of wall in front of him with a tree-ringed knob sticking out of it like it was the mouth of a dragon, not so much because he feared a scolding from his father than that he might yet go fully erect again thinking of his sister in his presence.

“Enough, birthday colt. Let’s just get this over with…” He grabbed at the knob and pushed forward on the hidden door, cut so seamlessly along the rings of the mighty oak tree that you couldn’t even see the gap in the frame, and carefully tipped his wings up to clear the passage. Once inside, he tipped his birthday booty onto the bed.

Exhaling softly from being no longer laden — it wasn’t heavy, just somewhat awkward to carry, and his now-subsiding erection certainly hadn’t helped. Charon opened the balcony door, stepping out onto it. Every home built in the country was designed to be as accessible to flying creatures as possible and so each room had a special platform, free of railings to allow a bat pony to launch off easily.

Regardless, as he flew off, beating his wings with all his might, his dense, muscular earth pony frame he’d inherited from Mom made gaining altitude a tiring affair. Despite the effort — enough to make his already overheated body break a sweat — he did a lap of the roof, weaving through the mighty branches of the tall oak tree, savoring the breeze on his webbed, membrane wings before touching down silently on the roof — the sight of his smiling father looking back at him sitting atop the rough wooden surface. He did it for two reasons — one was to buy time for his erection to subside further, and once he got enough momentum going, use the wind to cool off and dry his perspiration.

A minute later, he was presentable enough. “Hello, son. Happy Birthday!” His Dad thrust his hoof into a box Charon easily recognized despite the near pitch-darkness of the shaded roof as an enchanted portable icebox, one designed to keep drinks cold on family outings. But it was being pressed into service now for a coming-of-age ceremony he’d been looking forward to for months as his father pulled out a glass bottle, proffering it in Charon’s direction. “As you’re now of age, I was going to get you wine, but Mom wanted to try you out on some pony-brewed beer.”

“Wow, thanks, Dad!” The colt had been waiting for years to get his first sip of alcohol and, having finally hit legal age, he saluted his sire and twisted the cap off with his hoof. His effort released the seal with a satisfying hiss — he’d had plenty of practice with bottles of soda pop — allowing him to take a swig.

And promptly make a face. Were he being charitable, he could best describe the taste as unsweetened liquid bread but more than likely the toxic brew he was imbibing would turn him into a Mareval supervillain. He felt his whole body cringe in horror, wondering if he was about to mutate into some hideous creature with an uncontrollable power. And would Phoebe even want him once he did?

“Not a good reaction, I see…” Dad replied with a measure of amusement and satisfaction at his sour look, reaching back into the cooler and pulling out another bottle. “So, you’ve got a thestral’s palate. Have to say, it’s impossible to tell with you foals… three out of your five older siblings responded better to beer than wine. They’re earth ponies at heart, I’d say! But you, apparently, got the earth pony body without the taste buds. So, try this wine cooler instead...”

He tried it and blinked, his frown melting into a pleased smile. “Much better…” he granted, thinking the alcoholic concoction felt and tasted so good it might turn him into a superhero instead. Sire and son then sat silently for some minutes, Charon waiting patiently as Dad savored his first swig of beer. For most ponies, even most fully bred bat ponies, a stallion might spend a bit of time dwelling in his first sip, but not him. Dad would masticate absolutely everything that went into his mouth, solid or liquid against the hard, grooved, chiropteran-like palate at the roof of his mouth like a megabat hanging in a tree with a chunk of plucked fruit.

If he ever tried to get drunk, he’d never make it! The teenage thestral thought to himself with a smirk as they opened their talk by discussing the finer points of talking to animals.

“When your mother and I got together, we had no idea if I’d pass on the gift of animal speaking to any of you foals since she doesn’t have any thestral ancestry, much less Speaker Magic. It’s a wonder I was allowed to even marry a non-thestral at all and retain my noble titles,” his dad mused between his third and fourth sip even as Charon had killed off his entire bottle, already wanting more of the warm feeling and sense of well-being it had given him.

“For the longest time, stallions with our abilities had to marry our own sisters to ensure the preservation of our talents…” He gave his son a wink and only the slightest of nods, causing Charon to freeze internally, the reference hitting a bit too close to home for his liking. “Though it's certainly arguable that our large numbers and high life-expectancy make government force unnecessary and the less-than-consensual aspect of this arrangement spooks our pony neighbors!”

Charon smiled sheepishly, finding himself suddenly very interested in a colony of bats attacking a nearby flowering tree for its hoard of nectarous blossoms. As was his custom with eating, Dad would prefer to chat idly before getting down to whatever it was, he actually wanted to talk to you about. So he didn’t immediately pursue the subject of his sister, preferring to let his son dwell on the uncomfortable topic he knew was coming.

“You’re going to enjoy being a Forest Brother, Charon. It’s the finest job you’ll ever love to hate.” Europa took another sip.

He smiled a bit more wanly. “Yeah, but squirrels... seriously!? I wish I could talk to bats and bears and chimeras like you.” It wasn’t what he’d been hoping for when he signed up, but the animals themselves could somehow comprehend one speaker better than another, regardless of how clearly they spoke. The squirrels had gotten on well with him while the native Thestralslovakian Dog-faced Fruit Bats — TDFFB's for short — just gave him the upside-down meerkat stare and said nothing, acting like he was completely beneath their notice and unworthy of their time or speech.

His dad gave his son a disapproving waggle with his free hoof. “Hey, don’t knock the squirrels! Without them, we’d all be speaking Aeric! Valuable resistance couriers who allowed the original Forest Brethren to learn of our griffon enemy’s every move. Squirrels will teach you everything about our forest if you’re willing to listen.”

Europa went on to give a brief overview of the Pony-Griffon war that raged on at the height of Equestria’s medieval period from the perspective of Thestralslovakia, but completely unlike how they taught it in school. Rather than telling it from the perspective of how the thestrals reacted to the havoc and devastation brought upon their forests, he told the story from the animal kingdom’s point of view.

Chief among the tale was how and when the different species decided to collaborate with the thestrals in the face of a common threat. How the creation of the Wielkoponiska Nature Preserve inside the Everfree Forest served as the hub for the resistance with a population of over ten thousand thestral partisans and Equestrian special forces — an impassable, impenetrable salient near the Griffon Empire’s sole supply line feeding their attack on Canterlot that sapped their strength and perhaps even doomed them to defeat.

Though not as populous now with the war and associated enmity towards all things griffon long since ended, it still boasted a present population of over three thousand thestrals. It was the only significant settlement of any sapient species to exist in the Everfree, and it was only made possible by being able to speak to the wild and normally hostile forest animals.

Charon hung on to his every word, but as dear old Dad finished his bottle and slapped it down on the roof next to him, he knew the time had come…

He steeled himself, trying to choke back the renewed erection that threatened to burst forth again from his loins. He had assumed that such a difficult discussion topic would prevent such a reaction, but just thinking of his sister's overwhelming libido overrode his anxiety and threatened to send him surging to attention again.

If his father noticed his sudden squirming, he gave no immediate indication. “In fairness, you should give beer another chance sometime, Charon. I grant it does take some getting used to, but I did. Once you come to like it, you’ll look forward to it, especially after a workout.” Dad gave his massive wings a stretch and grunted. “But as you can probably guess, we aren’t here to listen to war stories.” The elder folded his wings back up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Tomorrow, as you well know, is the first day of the Callisto’s Call.”

Charon sighed heavily, his six inches of partially exposed stallion meat suddenly shrinking back to three. “And my sister is going to start looking for mates…”

His dad nodded. The Callisto’s Call was every thestral colt’s rite of passage, with the sole exception of those with the gift of animal speech. They were granted a special exemption due to their connection with the natural world.

On the seventeenth year of a colt’s life, during the start of the first new moon of the summer, each was gifted his own weapon he’d trained with in adolescence, and then set out to hunt and kill a wild beast in one of the nature preserves that made up the majority of the country’s landmass. The following morning, successful hunters would present their kill to the fillies of the town or city, aged sixteen to nineteen, and propose marriage to the one they most desired.

If they accepted the adolescent’s offering — the more exotic and dangerous the beast, the more worthy the kill in her eyes — she would then gift him bread and fruit in return. Bread cost a lot of money in Thestralslovakia due to limited grain supply in the hilly, arboreal terrain that made up the vast majority of the country. Likewise, the choice of fruit was important, as imported mangos were far more expensive, and thus prized. It was entirely possible to gauge a filly’s wealth and social status entirely by looking at the meal she offered.

And Phoebe was quite well-connected, coming as she did from a rather renowned family with connections in government. A family with a bloodline that meant many of its members could talk to animals, even if most of them weren’t particularly excited about having to deal with an earth pony in their family tree. That and Phoebe herself couldn't speak to any animal if she tried.

Still, it wasn’t as if he could blame a potential suitor for desiring her. She had everything a colt looked for in a thestral mare. She was an excellent cook, her earth pony blood meant she could grow produce that full-blooded thestral farmers could only dream of while still looking as pureblooded a thestral as they come. And she was built for speed — her small, sleek and streamlined body was mated to a pair of luxuriously large wings that allowed her to cut through the air like an arrow let loose from a compound bow.

Even pegasi had to acknowledge both her swiftness and grace when the weather teams came into town to challenge the locals to a race. Most importantly of all, she had uncommonly large ears, inherited from her mother — an irresistible draw for the Moon worshippers as Luna’s auricles as well as those of all the Goddesses of the Lunar pantheon were revered as the mark of deity. They streamed behind Phoebe like the war banners Maregolian officers carried into battle atop their backs as she soared through the sky.

And the prospect of her being married off wasn’t even the worst news as far as Charon was concerned. While the original stated intent of the hunt was for two thestrals to find love, old laws were repealed to keep non-participants from visiting the hunters where they camped and also pruned certain discriminatory action measures against dishonor. The outcome of which was hookups for casual sex at the hunt was becoming more and more common.

One particular fan of this change was Phoebe’s mom, who wasted no time in regaling her daughter with tales of sexual conquests achieved at the Hunt in her youth back when doing so was still highly illegal and would get you permanently banned from entering the country.

The most likely outcome for Phoebe from the above factors was an endless parade of unworthy stallions, pumping her with their seed and then dumping her without a second thought in a bid to honor her mother’s misguided wishes. Even Charon’s dad, who was never a supporter of the Hunt and considered it a bygone relic of a more brutal age, couldn’t stomach the tawdry spectacle in store for her daughter and the youth of Thestralslovakia unless parliament reversed course. As for Charon himself, the mere consideration of his soulmate being passed around like gnawed carrion among vultures brought bile to his throat.

Europa mopped his forehead and neck with a napkin. It had been a very warm and sticky night, and to see his dad so sweaty, Charon had the sudden thought that maybe he’d been overly-cautious in trying to hide his own persperation. “Yes, son. mates," Dad replied. "Your Mom is very… insistent… that her daughter has every chance to express her sexuality freely.” He placed his head in his hooves and drew them slowly across his face as if contemplating his impending execution.

Charon bowed his head and ears. “There’s really nothing you can do, Dad?”

“Could I work out one miracle? Sure. But two? Not a chance in the Twisting Nether. Roseluck, your mother, was quite the wild one when she was your age… Got started young and had very many partners.” Dad looked up at his son, his eyes wary and fearful. “Understand, son, that I’m not insecure about my standing with Roseluck or judgemental of the choices she made long before she knew me, but there’s this... insatiable hunger in those chartreuse eyes of hers. A hunger that remains even long after she settled down with me.

Charon was greeted with the mental image of a small group of fully erect earth stallion construction workers, eyes locked on his dear mother and she gazed back on them with hooded eyes. At that moment, he thought he felt his mother's thrill of being cornered and taken advantage of. And he banished the thought soon after, cursing his imagination and the sudden surge of arousal that accompanied it.

“I know how it sounds, but there’s something primal and unbound that lurks within your mother’s core… And I can see it in Phoebe’s eyes too, son. She has carried that same restless spirit within her ever since her first estrus. May Luna have mercy upon us all should she act on her passions.”

His father fell silent, leaving the teenaged thestral alone with his thoughts. Dad had never been so upfront with him about his relationship with Mom. They always seemed to get along well and agree on everything. If Dad ever raised his voice, which was a rare occurrence indeed, it was to get one of the foals in line or scold them for some wrongdoing. It made Charon’s head hurt to even think of the two of them discussing his sister’s growing lust for sexual attention. Parents just shouldn’t even know about that stuff!

“You worked a miracle?” Charon finally spoke.

“Indeed. When Roseluck and I got married, before we had any foals, we agreed that our sons should be raised up according to my wishes and the traditions of Luna’s children, while our daughters would be raised according to her values and those of the United Pony Tribes of Equestria.

“It was a simple arrangement, but with a dangerous flaw. Roseluck would allow all of our daughters to run free as soon as they hit puberty and bring ruin upon us all. So, with all the diplomatic skill I could muster, I further convinced Rose to allow all of you foals to remain celibate until you turned sixteen — the age of consent — so as not to bring shame upon them in the eyes of Thestral society. I’m not quite sure the message set in with you and Phoebe, though...” Dad gave a dry laugh as Charon wished evermore to be back inside the house, wrapped up in bed with his amorous sister instead of being teased for wanting to do it.

“Aw come on, Dad…” His squirming re-intensified as another several inches of his organ wormed its way out of his sheath. Did he really have to rub it in the face the last time he’d found evidence of their crimes? Though he’d warned them to make it less obvious what they were up to in the future and hadn’t run to Mom to turn them in, he still knew, and now they were going to talk about it directly.

But if that was the ransom Charon would have to pay to see his sister one last time while she was solely his, then so be it. “Look, if we’re gonna talk about this, can I at least have another drink?”

Grinning, Europa reached into the cooler and grabbed another wine cooler. “I suppose one more won’t hurt. Here you go!”

“Thank you.” Charon accepted the drink and thanked the Moon above that he was at least being well-compensated for his lost bedroom time, twisting the cap off with another hiss of escaping vapor.

“Don’t mention it, son! In fact, I wish to thank you…”

Charon coughed, half of his mouthful of wine cooler going down the wrong pipe. “You, what!?”

“I want to thank you, Charon…” his father reiterated. “You have proven yourself more than worthy of taking your sister’s hoof in marriage. Seeing the love between you two grow over the last six years has brought me a profound sense of satisfaction I simply cannot put into words.”

Charon’s bottle trembled in his hoof as stared into his father’s eyes, brimming with something like pride, unwilling to allow himself to accept it. “But Dad… H-How can you think that? Mom would kill us if she found out!” If not sooner!

Dad leaned back against the trunk of the tree, giving a satisfied groan as he flexed his powerful wing-arms. “Am I to believe that you think you’ve been carrying on your secret relationship for all these years, and your own Dad wasn’t on your team the entire time? Come on. I’ve been doing all I can to give you two lovebats some space so you could continue developing as a couple — at great risk of losing face with your mom, I might add!”

“But Mom nearly thumped me the last time she caught us making out!” Charon pleaded, gesticulating wildly. “How can you be so calm about this? How are you not fearing for our sanity or future right now?”

Dad rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Like I said… Because I know true love when I see it. And just maybe because your dad thinks Mom gets it wrong every now and then. Don’t tell her I said that, though or I'm the one who has to pay!”

Charon remained silent, waiting respectfully for his sire to continue; the anxiety slowly beginning to ebb away. He knew his son’s deepest, darkest secret and yet did not hate him, even going out of his way to smooth the way for him. That counted for something, even if he wasn’t sure what that something was.

“Since it's clear you haven't been told before how romantic relationships with your family work in our world, let me take a moment to explain it all to you. First, what you must understand is that your mother… is a Pony. Ponies come from a very different culture; one that emphasizes unity and harmony between the races that comprise it. It’s a lot to explain but to put it briefly, it has to do with their long, violent history of civil war and ethnic conflict and the desire to see it finally end. They are xenophilic to a fault, always wanting to spread their cultural influence outward to bind others to them. What they didn’t outright conquer and consume, they brought into an alliance.

That’s how they became masters of this continent… including Thestralslovakia.” Europa made a sweep with his mighty wings toward the sky. “We can’t begrudge it. It was their destiny to expand to ultimately survive or wipe themselves out. And we now live in the Pax Equestriana that followed.”

Charon couldn’t help but find it odd to think of his own mother as a different race, much less a conquerer when she’d pass out cold after losing a rosebush over the winter. But the thought was lost as his father went on.

“To a pony, inbreeding is considered the ultimate taboo: a return to a darker time when tribal affiliation determined loyalty and everypony suffered as a result.” Europa fell silent to take another drink, noisily slopping it around inside his mouth. “Understandable in its historical context like tribal hatred but now a dangerous liability.”

Charon scratched his head, carefully considering Europa’s words. “So, Mom thinks if I marry my sister, we’ll start to hate ponies like her?”

Europa swallowed, placing his bottle between his hind legs near his groin — Charon politely not calling attention to his father’s exposed bathood, coiled up on the roof like a slumbering snake, if not completely ignoring it. It was so unlike his own, much thinner and tube-shaped with a diminutive glans, though just as impressive in length as his. And certainly, up to the challenge of siring foals, given his sixteen siblings! Left unasked was why it'd fallen out of his sheath in the first place. He isn't getting turned on talking about his daughter, surely. Charon wondered to himself. That would just be... weird. He has Mom after all.

“Not quite as literally as you’ve stated it, but true in a sense," Europa finally replied after a significant pause.

Europa made another sweep of the surrounding forest with his wings. "All creatures possess a collective memory that is difficult to articulate with precision. We all intuitively grasp those things which will harm us and assist us. Consider the Thestral race as a contrary example to that of the ponies. We have lived surrounded by natural barriers for thousands of years, safe from most threats but surrounded by larger and more powerful tribes distinctly different in both appearance and temperament.

Even when one grew large enough to conquer us, we endured by sticking together and sleeping together. Our conquerors could never remove us entirely from our forests for our refusal to see ourselves as part of them, culturally or genetically. And so we grew apart from the outside world while regional rivals rose and fell around us. While ponies overcame annihilation by being xenophilic, forming a cohesive identity from disparate parts, we survived by becoming xenophobic, seeing our forest home as an island and the outside world a threat.”

It was odd to hear a secondhoof account of what his neighbors and countrybats thought about so important a topic to him but being homeschooled his entire life and having few friends, his breadth of knowledge was confined to his schoolbooks and whatever the rest of his family found important. The traditional nature of his upbringing wasn’t much help either; Charon strongly suspected the only reason he was being told any of this now was because he was of age.

Now, it was all starting to make sense. “So inbreeding isn’t taboo to thestrals, is it?”

“It is to some who’ve become Equestrianized over the centuries, and it’s not something you talk about with ponies or thestrals who are sensitive about the topic for fear of offense, certainly. But not to most, Charon. And not to me, even if I am nothing more than a sweet-tooth pony lover who married your mother.” He rolled his eyes at the phrase.

Charon cringed at the use of the phrase ‘sweet-tooth’, a deceptively playful way of addressing thestrals who forsake their heritage by marrying ponies, treating it as a dangerous and degenerate fetish.

Even growing up largely isolated from the world around him, evidence of the thestral's tendency towards tribalism was everywhere in how they spoke about the other races: in print media, snippets of conversation picked up while walking about in town, and in discourse with some of Dad's animal-speaking coworkers. It was an unavoidable fact that thestrals regarded ponies as misguided and naive — their presence tolerated only out of the inherent decency and politeness afforded the superior character of thestrals. And that said nothing of the more radical opinions of other thestrals who saw the ponies and their ideas as subversive and dangerous.

When Charon's own father had been referred to as 'sweet tooth' by a political rival of his grandfather, an important politician, in the news, his dad went on to explain to him what it meant. Seeing his obvious disgust at the mistreatment, Dad was quick to point out that popular opinion had softened from outright persecution to passive-aggressive sniping, for the most part. Still, the elite in both the religious and civil authorities, especially old-line noble families like theirs, made it a point of arranging marriages amongst their circles and in many cases even allowed for incestual pairings to retain their desirable physical features and mystical talents. Not to do so would be 'wrong'. Unnatural, like the offspring such mixed relations produced.

His father noticed his reaction. "That phrase still holds power over you, Charon. I can see it in your eyes, even now after many years. Do not resent the label ‘sweet-tooth’, my son, or the thestrals who use it. It’s all just harmless words now, and words have no power but what we allow them. At the end of the day, we are one colony under the Night, free to marry whomever we please.”

All well for Dad to say but he’s a ‘proper’ thestral, Charon couldn’t help but think to himself. “I guess you’re right Dad. Still, the idea that I was born wrong is kinda bringing me down. I’m not really a thestral or a pony, am I? So, is that what other thestrals really think of me? That I was born wrong?”

Dad studied his son pensively, forehooves pressed together before speaking. “To some, Charon but not all. If it makes you feel any differently, there are thestrals that still hold a grudge against other thestrals based on national borders that ceased to exist two thousand years ago. A bit of a waste of time, if you ask me, holding ill-will towards those who’ve never harmed you or even met you. You’ll never get universal positivity from others, wherever you live or whoever your parents are. To demand such respect makes you no better than those who’d curse your name for being born… ‘wrong’.”

“Dad?”

Charon couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw a look of disgust come over his father’s face before he dismissed the thought with a carefree wave. “Forgive me, I just got lost in old memories… Put that out of your mind for now. That is a discussion for another time. My original point was that I knew where things between you and Phoebe were destined to end the day you both got your cutie mark.”

Far from being a pleasant memory, his wings flared up in anger and frustration. “I wanted to tell everybat what had happened but I couldn’t!” Charon gave an angry snort. “I wanted to tell all the world… and I couldn’t…” he deflated just as quickly as he’d gotten upset. "I can't win, Dad. Not with thestrals who think I was born wrong or with my own Mom..."

Europa stood up, walked over to his son and embraced him, massaging his son’s back with a comforting wing. “I know, son. I know. Let it all out. It's okay...”

Charon sobbed and blinked tears from his eyes. All the frustration from so many years of hiding his feelings can welling up from inside him, unwanted emotions long-buried leaking into his sire's coat as he finally allowed himself to grieve for the first time in the presence of somebat who understood his pain. It was comforting somehow, the negative feelings draining away with each sob, replaced by Dad's encouragement and support.

“Remember five years ago? I stayed with her every single day she was sick. It was like the Goddesses had conspired to see her die… one illness after another. I'll never forget the suffering she went through — we all went through! Then she’d been bed-ridden for so long, she developed that fungal infection on her wing!” Charon could still remember the foul-smelling green slime, like the bottom of a warm creek that coated her underwing. It had to be sprayed down with a special potion five times a day before it cleared up. It was a task Charon took upon himself to perform as Mom had other sick foals to comfort that year and no wings to speed up the process.

“I still remember her night terrors as well. The only thing that seemed to make her feel better was having you sleeping next to her.” Europa’s gaze met his son’s as he finished speaking. “But as your father, I can’t say I was excited about exposing you to her bouts of illness. You took a great risk with your health!”

“I know, but I don’t care. I’d do it again, Dad…”

The two males released their embrace, Charon feeling somehow much better with himself, even if the world seemed as bleak as ever.

Dad smiled. “I know you would, Charon. There was something between you two even before you both were christened with the edelweiss on your flanks. You’ve borne an adult’s burden for longer than you had any right, and you’ve one last battle to claim your sister’s heart — the decisive one.”

His wings slumped at the statement. “But she’s leaving, Dad… It’s over.” Charon turned his face to Moon, gazing mournfully on his Sovereign Luna's former prison, feeling no greater liberty than she'd had.

Dad picked his bottle off the roof and saluted his son with it. “Not if you too can pull off a miracle…”

“But if even your miracle couldn’t work…”

“Then both of ours can!” Dad finished for him. “Mom and I are headed into Horsawa for a day on the town. I’ve let her know that you and Phoebe are simply too sleepy to join us after your important night. I may have also prevaricated a bit by mentioning Phoebe's newfound excitement for the coming Callisto's Call event and how much she loves her special outfit to ease her paranoia of leaving the two of you home alone. You’re going to have the house all to yourself.”

Charon felt a rising sense of anticipation and perhaps even... hope? “All to myself?” His excitement surged again along with the blood to his shaft. It drew his father’s eyes, who gave it an approving—and perhaps even slightly envious—nod.

“All to yourself,” he confirmed, his expression turning wistful; for just a moment, his hoof migrated down to his own bathood and made a stroking motion.

Wait—is he turned on by the idea of me and Phoebe getting it on? Charon suddenly wondered. But before the question could be considered, an alarm rang, the sound emanating from his dad’s direction, causing Charon to jump back in surprise.

“Oh, shoot! Sorry, son, I have to get going…” his dad pulled out a small timer from his wingpit. “Mom makes me carry this blasted thing around because she says I’m always late for everything! Well, she’s not wrong. But for tonight, Phoebe is all yours! I’m going to wind the time up for you to let you know when we’re coming back. I’ll keep her attention for a bit. In the meantime, you have four hours to talk your sister into staying with us and finishing up any, erm… extracurricular assignments you two may have going on.”

“But… but what do I do, Dad? How do I stop her from leaving us?” Charon pleaded, but Dad was already beating his wings to go airborne.

“Simple. Just offer her a better deal than what she’ll be getting!” He gave a bat-like shriek and jumped off the roof, disappearing briefly from sight before soaring over the roof to give his son one final exhortation before dropping the kitchen timer into his waiting hoof.

“Don’t let me down, son!” he shouted back before flapping off into the night.

Charon cupped the hard plastic timekeeper in his hoof, feeling the weight of its significance before deciding against going back inside. Mindlessly, he tucked the timer under his wing as he stepped toward the door leading out to the hall and to the room where his destiny lay, alone and needy.

He hesitated, an itching at the back of his mind, stopped him. He had forgotten something important. Looking around the room and seeing nothing significant, his search brought him to look down at his flank, seeing the ornate white mountain flower glowing dimly in the wan moonlight. This was it. This was the thing he was forgetting!

This flower meant everything to their relationship, their shared symbol of love.

If he was going to fulfill his duty to both the family and himself, he would need to bring her flowers. Their flowers. He turned back to the window, resolving on flying down to the greenhouse at once and giving his sister a pleasant surprise.

Single-mindedly focused on his new task, he stepped out to the balcony and throwing caution to the wind, extended his wings and launched himself off the balcony, flapping off towards the yard.

Author's Note

Edited 4/11/2021

Edited again on 8/25/2021

Alone At Last

Mother loved to retell the story every year on her marriage anniversary of how she’d come across the edelweiss; the time she and her two friends, Aunt Daisy and Aunt Lily went climbing the Foal Mountains of Southwestern Thestralslovakia to obtain a specimen for breeding. Any thestral could have obtained it easily, but without the magic of the earth ponies, it wouldn’t yield or propagate its fabled healing properties.

And so, despite the steepness of the slopes and dangerous winds that blow down from the summit periodically, the three experienced climbers began their ascent. With their prize in sight, perched precariously on a nearby outcropping of rock, the winds unleashed a minor rockfall that by sheer bad luck knocked loose the spike securing them to the face of the cliff. Mom was their anchor that day and for over an hour, she bore the weight of the three while waiting for help to arrive. She had a special crystal that allowed her to call for help, mandatory for all climbers in case of this very event, saving their lives but the winds intensified and it was impossible for the other rescuers to reach them from the air.

Except for Father, his noted talent for flying allowing him to approach through the gale.

He not only secured their climbing spike, saving their lives, but he also helped Mom secure the flower and the two fell in love.

But that’s not where the story of the edelweiss ended...

*****

“Charon… you made me wait for so long!” The needy voice came to him through the bedroom door just as he arrived before it.

He entered without knocking. For what was the point when she could track any living creature moving about inside their home? “I thought these flowers might make it worth your wait…” He gestured towards the flower-filled vase balanced on his left wing.

Phoebe chirruped happily. “Aw, you still love me! Even now as a proper stallion...” Her cerulean eyes sparkled by the dim amber light of a dozen lamps lining the small but highly decorated interior space.

Charon’s eyes panned across the feminine expanse of purple and pink painted stars against a backdrop of the royal, blue-painted wall as he advanced to her bedside. Both walls and ceiling bore posters displaying thestrals flying against a starry sky in V-wing formation over hills, cheering crowds, and into battle carrying an assortment of weapons ranging from bladed 'hoofstrikers', blacked-out longbows for stealth sniping, leg-mounted crossbows for medium-range suppressive fire and bandoliers each holding a different type of explosive gem. Each was dressed in tight leather flight suits of black and purple — a jagged bolt of yellow crisscrossing their legs and neck. They were members of Her Majesty of the Night's elite special forces unit, The Shadowbolts.

Phoebe had been quite keen on ensuring her brother not only could identify each weapon and gem by sight but the history of each and its role on the battlefield as well as the detailed lore surrounding the Shadowbolts themselves despite his having no real interest in the subject. But that didn't mean that each of her lessons wasn't enjoyable when seeing her face light up with joy upon passing one of her 'exams'.

The sex afterwards was great too, when circumstances allowed and unfriendly ears weren't listening.

Phoebe lay on her back in bed, wrapped up in a single sheet covering her whole body like a batty burrito with only everything above the neck exposed.

“Oh, sister... “He placed the vase, filled with their favorite flowers down on her nightstand before looking taking in the full picture of Phoebe’s lovely face: Her prominent fangs, blue and purple color palette, and long, exquisitely sensitive ears, and thanked the Moon above that such a creature could stand among the mortal races, accepting him as an equal. “Never have I loved you more so than today.”

She smiled in return. “Oh, Charon, you’re so sweet…”

Charon began to make out a small but noticeable movement as he drew closer to where she lay beneath the sheets, pulled almost furtight against her lithe form.

He knelt to kiss her, slowly caressing her tongue and teeth, savoring the taste of his one true love.

His partner.

And by some cruel trick of fate, his sister.

A familiar smell wafted under the stallion’s nose as they tasted one another, her heady, blueberry-scented arousal mixed with something else…

With great reluctance, his tongue withdrew from hers with a gentle pop.

“Are you wearing… vanilla?” Charon felt a wave of anticipation grip his very core as she smiled suggestively back at him and gave her pinnae a wiggle.

“About half a bottle of extract… all over my ears.” Phoebe bit her lip as the vigorous motion beneath her sheet intensified bringing with it a stronger aura of freshly baked blueberry muffins. “Don’t tell Mom but… I might have asked Dad about how Mom liked to… you know… Mmphf! ... get him hot and ready to go with her. Is it… Is it working for you?”

He couldn’t reply except for suddenly drooling tongue and frantically sniffing nose. The sight of her nearest ear consumed his conscious mind, standing proud and perky more than a foot over her withers from its base; a tapered spire of supple folded blue skin and cartilage reaching towards the heavens to challenge the Goddesses themselves.

His ancient thestral particularism now fully in command of his faculties, he began to thoroughly examine the perfect symmetry of her helical and antihelical folds; not a single aberration in its thickness or curvature as if they were sculpted by the hooves of Goddess Callisto herself.

His mouth watered and his breathing grew shallow as his eyes, now fully adapted to the semi-darkness of the dim crystal-lit room began to make out still more details: The cleanliness of her ears from a recent bath, the sheen of vanilla on the bare blue skin reflecting dully off the room’s limited light and, upon closer examination, the darker blue freckles sprinkled across its surface that extended into the coat of hair covering the back of her ear.

He’d thought he’d explored every glorious inch of his sister’s body and knew all there was to know about it, only to be proven entirely wrong.

“So I take it the vanilla is helping?” Phoebe’s voice broke into the stallion’s fevered examination. He might have found it rude, but in his sex-and-sister-obsessed state, it was mere background noise as the promise of aural pleasures drew his face closer and closer to her sonic tunnel.

Unable to contain the aching need any longer, Charon pounced on top of her, giving her a look of his manic fixation before taking aim and burying her tongue deep into her right ear, the slurping and schlorping sound of wet, wriggling flesh pressing against her cochlear folds filling the room as she squirmed beneath him.

“EeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEEEEEEE~! She screeched out as she alternated between giggling and moaning, screeching and laughing, as if the insanity of pure passion Charon was experiencing had infected her as well. She tried to form words with her mouth but all that came out were reduced to the savage disjoined syllables of a prehistoric cave-bat pony.

Charon once again felt the full weight of his erection plop down against the sheets and extend, carving a wet furrow into the linen as it pressed firmly against her sister’s belly — the oozing from its tip leaving a trail across the sheet covering his wonderful and perfect sister. He was still buried nose-deep in her massive auricle; the taste of pure vanilla extract stinging at the tip of his elongated tongue, mingled with the tartness of the light wax coating surrounding her concha.

A minute later, he ceased his assault, having extracted every last drop of his vanilla reward. “By the moon above, sister… that was wonderful!”

“Holy Tartarus, Charon! If you would have kept going, I would have flooded the entire room!”

“Hold that thought…” saying nothing further, he licked his lips and then continued the aural assault on her other ear.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Eee! Eee! EeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeEeE!”

Charon pressed down with his full weight on top of her to keep her from thrashing; all the better to extract the heavenly ambrosia from her bountiful blossom, not that her ear would last long against the practiced swipes of his long and coiled thestral tongue. Spreadeagled on top of his sister, there was nothing to stop the nectar of the goddesses from being efficiently and relentlessly harvested as Phoebe’s screeching and giggling laughter only intensified. He kissed and nibbled the inner helix all the way up the pointed tip of her ears before wrapping his tongue twice around the aural shaft and licking his way back down to the bottom before lapping up the pool of pure extract that formed at the base, wasting nothing.

“Charon! I’m coming! Come-EEEEEEEEEEEEENG!”

Charon felt his sister tense up beneath him before letting loose a mighty screech that left his ears ringing, her orgasm and the promised flood of fluid bursting forth in waves that went on and on for nearly a full minute — her voice growing ever hoarser until, at last, she fell silent save for the sound of her ragged breathing.

Having finished his snack, Charon gave her ear-tips the lightest peck of his lips before he felt his lost sanity completely return to him. Suddenly realizing he was smashing his poor sister with his earth pony bulk, he stood up and looked down at her panting but otherwise unmoving form. “Wow! I really need to thank Dad for giving you that advice… Phoebe, my mind went places… I think I’ve communicated with the divine!” She didn’t reply, but judging by the weird, twisted smile on his sister’s face, so had she! It looked like something of a mix of happiness, fatigue, and that feeling you’d get after stuffing your face with too much delicious kishka at Grandpa Merlot’s house, knowing you’d regret it later but not caring in the least.

“Are… you okay, Pheebs?”

“Eeeeeeee…” Phoebe just managed. She looked up lazily at her brother before her eyes found focus and she looked down at her sheet with a gasp. As she’d predicted, it was soaked clean through; Charon could see her blue, puffy entrance, winking aggressively, as clearly as if the sheet were an open window.

“By the moon above, Charon, I really did need that…” She unwound herself from the fragrant sheet and tossed it to the floor with a dramatic flourish.

“Then let me give you even more!” At long last, he had an unobstructed view of her taut, athletic stomach, her diminutive blue-capped teats, her puffy tailhole and Charon’s pride and joy — her large apertured love-roost; a mighty blue mound of skin surrounding tantalizing folds of moist pink and fragrant flesh, still grasping weakly for an unseen stallion’s meat. It pulsed slightly, the large knob of her filly clit poking out over two full inches from beneath her urethra, daring him to take the plunge into her yawning, fathomless depths.

A present fit for a King but one worth waiting for. Charon thought to himself as his mouth began to water anew.

Phoebe cooed at him needily, pulling his attention from the enticing darkened depths of her inner core and back to her eyes of deepest night sky azure. “I’d been touching myself trying to come for the last hour… I thought of everything I could... the last time we slept together… What you were going to do to me when you showed up… but none of it helped!” she told him.

“Shh… It’s alright, Pheebs. I knew you were pent up really bad but I had no idea you couldn’t come at all! By Luna’s Moon, sister, you should have said something to me so I could make more time with you…”

“That’s my Charon. Always thinking of me first…” Phoebe gave a theatrical sigh as she wrapped her hind legs around her brother’s back.

“Hey! I mean it was my magical healing flowers that broke your fever!” Charon traced a hoof through her violet locks and around her ear, admiring the effortlessly sexy look she was capable of even with her mane all out of sorts.

Her expression turned almost pensive for a moment, staring into his slitted eyes with her own. “Mom looked like she was going to pass out again when she realized she was going to have to take care of two of her foals with the flu… You admirable dummy!” She pawed playfully at his chest, the highest part of her towering brother she could reach as he bent down to give her a nip on the tip of her ear.

“Hey, It was the most fun I’d ever had in quarantine! A week of room service and pleasant company with my little sister… Who could say no to that?” Charon’s smile evaporated seeing the look of growing seriousness on his sister’s face. Okay, maybe reminding her of the worst time in her entire life during foreplay wasn’t the canniest move...

“Yeah, it was really fun having you wiping fungus off my wings…” Phoebe shuddered at horror at the thought. “I never should have lived to see fourteen, much less sixteen. Look at me, Charon… I barely look a day older than thirteen… Sometimes I must agree with Mom and ask, why would you ever want to be with this?”

Charon thought that she was exaggerating quite a lot in describing herself as thirteen, though she was much smaller than typical sixteen-year-olds owing to her seemingly endless bouts of foalhood illness. But she was much healthier now and, while she’d never be as large as other mares, she’d proved hardier than most.

Charon feigned a look of overblown indignation. “You… You’re not telling me there’s anything wrong with my sexual preferences, is there? What do you think I am, some kind of pervert?”

That broke the spell as Phoebe laughed and rubbed his ticklish belly, causing his legs to buckle and spear her in the chest with his masculine meat. Laughing even harder for it, Charon couldn’t help but join in as he wrapped his sister up in his legs and flipped her over into his belly with a loud groan of the boxsprings so that the pair were now facing the ceiling. Still uncontrollably erect in the presence of his beloved, his bathood unfurled above the pair of them like the lightning rod atop their home.

Having settled in after a quiet moment of snuggling together, Phoebe spoke up. “I think both of us are a bit out of our tree, Charon. But you know? I think Dad is right. We… we really do belong together. The more I think about it, the truer it becomes...” she offered, watching him as if expecting a reaction.

“What…?” Charon froze as he processed the implications of that statement, reaching the only conclusion possible. “Now, wait a minute! Phoebe, did you listen in on our conversation earlier?”

Her ears swiveled like sensors on top of a Guardspony patrol post. “Of course, I did, brother! What would you have done with the ultra-sensitive hearing abilities you’d had since birth? It’s not like I can turn them off!” Phoebe replied in a maddeningly matter-of-fact tone. “I’m living for any moment when my impossibly large ears can be put to good use. Do you know what it’s like to have to hear everything going on in this tree whether you want to or not?”

Oh, fantastic! Way to drop this on me out of nowhere. And now she thinks I’m keeping things from her! Charon groused internally. “I swear I was going to tell you everything, Pheebs...”

“Or let the sister you loved go run off to sleep with every single colt within a hundred miles after sleeping with her one last time? Charon, you should have talked to me sooner!”

Charon winced as her verbal slap struck home. “You’re right Pheebs… I should have asked.” The colt allowed a bit of frustration he was feeling to register on his voice. “And you could have let Mom down gently when she tried to push you out of the roost to go stallion-chasing!”

“Gah!” Phoebe rolled off her brother to the edge of the bed, shooting her brother an angry look. “Well, maybe I happened to be placed on the spot when my mom, who views incest as the ultimate evil, wanted to know when her sweet little daughter was going to do the right thing and start hitching up… okay?” She turned away and looked down at the floor sighing deeply. “What was I supposed to do, Charon? Say ‘sorry, Mom, I’m already in love with my brother!’”

Charon looked down at his shrinking erection sadly, having returned to base for the night after an apparently failed mission. “Sorry…”

Phoebe said nothing but after a moment’s silence returned to lay atop her brother, facing the ceiling.

The two remained silent, Charon rubbing her exposed belly as he slipped into his own thoughts as the minutes ticked by. He knew his sister well enough to guess she was doing the same and that interrupting the moment would only anger Phoebe further. She was Daddy's girl to the very last and would speak only when she was ready.

And so he nuzzled and caressed her soft belly fur, until the tension between them finally broke with a gentle nicker for her sister.

"I'm sorry too, Charon," she finally said.

He hugged her tight around the middle, eyes misting with emotion. He was the luckiest colt to ever live and he knew it.

“Charon, I want to be with you, I really do! But what in Tartarus are we supposed to do about Mom? I love her, but you know she’s not going to accept this!”

“I know…” Charon had been thinking of that very question for quite some time, even before the talk with his sire. But no matter how he looked at it, there wasn’t any other way around it but to tell her his intention to marry Phoebe, and then wait for — and hopefully wait out — the inevitable meltdown. But before that night there was always the little pony inside his head reminding him that Phoebe was quite content to have sex with somepony or somebat else. Why else would she entertain the idea of going to watch the hunt at all?

Why couldn’t Dad have just said something to him sooner? Maybe he thought it was up to him to decide what was best. Yeah, that was exactly the sort of thing Dad would do, wait until he was eighteen to drop this news on him from a staggering height.

That was it. He was eighteen now! Charon knew exactly what he had to do.

“We do nothing, Pheebs. We’re both technically adults now. Let Mom judge us as she will, but this is our decision to be together!” He squeezed her into another tight hug with all four legs. “Phoebe, please turn over so I can propose to you properly…”

“No! I like the ceiling. It’s prett-EEEEeeeeeee!” her voice escalated back into a primal shriek and Charon started tickling her mercilessly. “Gah! I surrender! I was just trying to lighten the mood some…” She turned over, the pair now belly to belly.

“Consider it lightened.” Brother and sister then gazed silently into each other’s eyes before Charon took her front-right hoof in both of his forehooves, wishing he had a night-blooming flower or crystal to present to her to make it proper. “Phoebe, daughter of Europa of the noble house of Horszawa and Roseluck, scion of the Dureingo herd, will you marry me?”

Charon’s mind began to swim, considering all the possible disastrous replies she could make; even weirdly wondering if he’d identified his mother’s herd properly or if he should have gone with ‘Estado Libre y Soberano de Dureingo’ out of respect before shoving the irrelevant aside out his head entirely.

“Through good times and bad, sickness and war, you are my stallion, Charon of my own house, and I…” Charon gasped as his sister backed her open entrance up against his awakened erection, rubbing her swollen lips gently against his eager, throbbing shaft, “...am your mare.”

“I love you, Phoebe.” He kissed her hoof, his vivid imagination now being put to good use on the myriad ways he could please his bride to be.

“I love you, Charon. We can exchange thumb rings another time. Now make me the mother of your foals!”

Before he could reply, Phoebe plunged her tongue deep into the side of an unprepared Charon’s mouth, who heard the scratch-on-wood of a pair of wing-thumbs hooking into the bedframe below them, wrapping her voluminous wings around the pair of them like a tent.

Their coiled tongues separated like retreating serpents before the first winter’s snow as Charon brought a gentle hoof to his sister’s chest. “As much as I love kissing you, sis. There’s something far more enjoyable I’d like to do with you first.”

“Awww, but I like kissing you! You colts are all the same, just wanting to get to the pumping!” Phoebe teased, her lidded eyes and haughty grin letting Charon know he had permission to do just about anything.

Knowing the only ‘colt’ she’d been sleeping with was him, he teased her back in kind. “All you fillies are the same, too. You all end up looking like Phoebe… not that I’m complaining!”

“I guess you got me there! So what’s your plan, brother? Are we both going to brag about what an amazing catch I am or do I start forcing that mare-splitting log of yours into my inner crèche?” Phoebe’s expression grew fierce, baring her fangs like a huntress on the prowl.

He bared his fangs at her in turn. “How about you be a good little sister and let your big brother groom your big, beautiful wings instead? Now submit for inspection!” he ordered slightly imperiously.

“Oooooo! Great idea!” Phoebe detached herself from the bed and stood up, wings held rigidly at her sides and fully extended; the clawed tips of her long fingers flexing slightly with obvious anticipation. Her long meaty underarms, once so thin and frail, had doubled in thickness in the last two years, evidence of her nightly endurance conditioning flights since becoming healthy. Her wing membrane, once translucent and pale, had thickened as well; red blood vessels fanned out in stark contrast across her bare skin palette of blue in streaks like forked lightning from her arms in the center to the fringes at the leading and trailing edge.

All five digits, connected one to the other at the wrist near the tips of her wings were capped by a long, hooked “thumb” thestrals used to grasp at things, and Charon quickly noted that all were in excellent condition with no visible fractures. Her vast quadrupedal wingpits, much thicker than those of their mere four-limbed bat cousins, possessed no tail membrane, creating an open gap for her rump and a ‘trouser’ pocket of loose skin on her haunches. Rather, they were attached to her body on both flanks from her hip, mere inches above her cutie mark, to just above her forelegs. It took more wing surface to keep the thestrals in the sky than their feathered pegasi counterparts, but Phoebe’s were more than up to the task — evolutionary overkill only matched by her amazing ears.

“Not bad, Phoebe. You’ve taken good care of your flappers since our last interlude. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if you could cross the Equestrian/Thestralslovakian frontier and make it all the way to Ponyville in a single jump at this point.”

“Oh stop charming me, brother! You’re making me blush… Maybe once I’m eighteen, though and have had more time to train.” Phoebe began flapping her wings with a loud fwup fwup fwup fwup, bathing her brother in a strong, cooling draft until she was effortlessly hovering in place; no mean feat for a sixteen-year-old female thestral so heavily reliant on her glide surface to maintain buoyancy under what could be considered normal circumstances.

Seemingly satisfied with her display, she set back down on all fours as lightly as a feather, wings once more held out at her side for her brother’s intimate examination. “Maybe you can help condition me more once we’re married and living alone?”

“I’d love that,” Charon answered, knowing that such fine genetics were nearly impossible to find.

And such genetics had to be propagated at all costs.

He climbed out of bed, circling her as she stood at attention. “There’s only one thing I’d fix… Your wings are a bit dry from your last bath. How about I oil those up for you?”

“Actual preening? Aw! You’re a hopeless romantic, Charon!” She gasped gently as he licked her tough, leathery wingpit, breaking open small pockets of her natural lubricating skin oil, coating his muzzle.

Repeating the process until he couldn’t open his eyes for the sheer quantity of clear, scentless lipid smeared across his face, he began to lick purposefully if blindly, pressing his face hard into her stretchy membrane skin, releasing more lubrication. Phoebe hummed serenely as he licked, trying to stand still as he put every inch of his tongue to expert use.

She couldn’t help but moan and move sensuously as he started working from one end of her left wing to the other, one finger at a time. Her wings would not tear or even come close from his ministrations, as tough as boar’s hide if much softer and alluring to the touch. Cleansing inch by inch, his face forming a semi-translucent mask of his face and tongue as he was pressed against the stretchy surface, his sister was reduced to a cooing puddle as her wings trembled at his touch and the smell of blueberries began to fill the room ever stronger.

“Feels so good… please, Charon, don’t stop! And don’t ever change!” Phoebe whispered breathlessly as Charon started sucking at her thumb claw. From there, he moved on to each of her fingers in turn, taking pains to oil the tops of her wings as well, preening small streaks of her trademark blue coat not present on the lower wing in the process. These he combed through with his teeth, gently nibbling away at the tangles so the oil could achieve an even coat.

No effort could be spared. No amount of attention was too great for his sister, his lover and future wife, and the sole desire of his heart.

His face sopping, Phoebe hoofed over the pillowcase for him to wipe his face off. “You were magnificent, Charon! They’re so strong and supple now! I feel like I could fly to the moon on these wings!”

“Mmmm…” Charon licked his lips and sniffed the air around him after casting off the saturated pillowcase into the same corner of the room as the saturated bedsheet, making a mental note to get it cleaned before their mother could find it. “I’ve been missing the most obvious part of you to groom, Princess… Care to let your big brother have a little something from your pantry?” His voice reverberated with a deeper depth and huskiness betraying an excess of testosterone flooding through his body, engorging his enormous apples and aging him by at least ten years.

“As spoken by King Oberon, so let it be done, my Prince!” Her wings and knees bowed low in a curtsy, she spread her legs and presented her dripping tunnel to her princely brother.

An invitation he was only too happy to accept, so long as he could avoid taking a direct hit from her powerful flagging prehensile tail, which was swishing in involuntary anticipation, and a good way to wind up badly injured. “At your command, my Princess!”

Charon could only barely consider himself a thestral for his difficulty flying; his large muscular earth pony build and overall preference for all things related to solid ground reflected this perfectly. But his tongue never failed to impress her sister.

“Hurry up, Charon! The wait is killing meeeeeEEE!”

Lying prone on his belly to avoid sister’s perky tail swings, he cupped her petite derrière in his hooves — firm yet supple like a pegasus’ backside. Layers of shapely muscle with just the barest layer of fat topped by luxuriously soft skin and fur.

It certainly wasn’t the prize that Dad had sought after and secured twenty long years ago — two rippling mounds of soft, squishy earth mare cushion to sustain endless hours of penetration without ever getting sore. A rump optimized for maximum comfort from one lucky stud mounting her from behind and shoving his wide, mare-splitting meat into their mother from a dominant angle while letting his apples drive themself into her repeatedly with a wet thwack.

Charon had been curious and the door to his parent’s room hadn’t been fully closed. What would anybat else have done but look in on the action? He hadn’t regretted a single thing he’d seen that day, from the tender way both parents spoke to one another during the act or the absolute sincerity of their fiery, passionate lovemaking. Even to this day, the sound of his mother’s maresong brought the colt to full erection within seconds and served as his only port in a sea of imposed abstinence for many a long, lonely night growing up.

Besides, his mom hadn’t scolded him for doing so and considering how good her hearing was, it was inevitable that she’d know he was there. And the colt could swear he could see his dear mother smiling just a bit wider during dinner the night after.

So while Charon could see the attraction, especially with such a breathtaking beauty as Mom who’d leave notes on the calendar reminding Dad to clear his schedule for hours to accommodate her demands for intense and immediate anal penetration — Both Mom and Dad had been very forthcoming in describing the details of their sexual relationship with the family, to a mixture of titillation and chagrin — he still thought he was getting the better end of the deal with Phoebe’s tight, unassuming firmness, particularly when suspended upside-down and operating blind.

Charon opened his maw to gaping, allowing his long, slender chiropteran tongue to unfurl itself like a banner out of his mouth. It allowed the sensitive surface to both smell and taste her pheromones on the air surrounding her moist and dripping entrance, to say nothing of letting his heated breath tease her throbbing clitoris.

“You really are just like Dad, you know that? Always taking your time!” Phoebe snorted and whinnied, her forehoof pawing at the ground anxiously and her tail whooshing overhead like a dive-bombing bird-of-prey. “Hurry or the family will come home and catch us!”

The family… but he had hours, surely. Dad said they were going all the way into town. But he really ought to give Phoebe a taste of what he had in store for her, just a touch of the fire burning in his belly…

He started to lick, a long swipe starting from mid-belly, up the gap between her teats, and across the length of her marehood, before stopping atop the soft mound of what he’d heard his older brother term ‘ponut’ flesh beneath her tail.

He wasn’t sure where they’d gotten that term if not from some illicit Neighponese comics they sometimes passed around, but he felt her entire body jolt off the bed like she’d just received an electric shock, sending her pronking a few inches into the air before landing with an “eep!” and a groan of mattress springs.

Her reaction to his first caress only encouraged him further. And yet… “Before I give you my seed, my beautiful and wonderful sister, I must examine where you will store it!”

“Do it, Charon! For the sake of our f-foal Ah-AHH!”

Wrapping his lips around her labia, he stuck his tongue deep into her nethers, slipping and sliding across her most intimate erogenous zone that started at her very prominent clitoris and extended further inside. Hooves firmly gripped on her rump, he could track his progress like an expert safecracker listening with bated breath for the true gate to click, seeking the key to unlocking the treasures within.

Her reaction told him he was well on his way to earning them. Phoebe’s maresong echoed in the confined space of her bedroom, the taste and touch of her ringed inner walls tortured him with the promise of more. His erection throbbed, his apples beginning to ache slightly as the deprivation lingered on. He knew well that if he let it go too long, he would get even sorer, but this was not for him; this was for Phoebe.

Just like his father always did for his mother, this was about seeing to the mother of his future foals first.

“This is too much, Charon! I’m going to drown you if you stay in there!” she told him shakily as he continued his oral stimulation; her voice several octaves higher than normal.

“But what a way to go…” her brother replied with a muffled voice and a reassuring tap on her rump as the slurping between her legs continued.

With every delicious inch, he traced and tasted ever closer to her core. Up and up, he slid his tongue across her slick and bumpy staircase until it leveled off and at last the true gate was found: a tight ring behind which her love roost was kept as Phoebe moaned her encouragement, enticing his entrance to her most sacred space. His forked tongue tickled and teased at her entrance, as his sister began to screech every profanity she’d ever heard and a few Charon was sure she’d just made up until finally, almost impossibly, his slithering pink infiltrator pushed right through the cervical gate and into her inner crèche!

“Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck MEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Charon felt her entrance tighten, and the first warm welcome gush of marecum hit him full in the face, followed by a second and a third, and then a fourth. Phoebe wriggled and flapped wildly as he retreated from her overheated foal factory, holding onto her through the first five waves of her orgasm ripping through her, sending fresh surges of her purest blueberry essence forth which he lapped up greedily.

After nearly a minute, the sensual storm over her finally broke. Collapsing to the abused bed, she lay still, barrel heaving as she sought to catch her breath. He kissed her edelweiss and patted her flank before loudly burping his approval, the belch catching him by surprise and causing him to hurriedly raise a hoof to his muzzle. “Whew! Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to completely empty you out…”

“You liar!” She cooed back to him before pouncing him in an affectional tackle. “Now open your mouth and let me have some of that!”

“Uhh, sorry, sis, but you’re going to have to go in and get it. I accidentally swallowed most of it…” Charon admitted, sheepishly. To his surprise and delight, Phoebe loved the taste of her own essence even more than he did, and he knew he’d have to fork over all of it the next time.

“Then the rest of it is mine!”

The two play-wrestled for a while, Charon taking it easy on her knowing Phoebe would need just a few moments to recharge. She had inherited many qualities from her mother, but among them was being an insatiable beast in bed who could rut for hours upon hours without tire. Their first time having sex was back when Charon was fourteen and Phoebe was beginning her first heat cycle. It involved the two of them locked together in an erotic embrace for twelve hours inside of an empty cave, not long after the two of them had learned how mating worked and, not even knowing that there were taboos associated with sex between siblings, just had to try it out.

They’d been nearly caught more times than either of them could count. But it’d all been worth it.

He’d taken her virginity, leaving her first blood behind. It was an adventure that started with the pair of them getting their hooves on a birth control potion and marked the beginning of their tradition as forbidden lovers. From there, it was a constant search for privacy to express their deepening bonds through physical contact and secure more birth control with their allowance. His mom had no interest whatsoever in keeping any around the house, saying it was her life’s duty to produce as many offspring as possible, leading the pair to slip off during trips into town to score as many vials of the stuff as they could without word getting out — an unenviable task for two minors in a small, traditional hunting village near the Everfree.

Because even animals would occasionally gossip.

But the nearby animals were not such a threat, giving thestral dwellings a respectful distance unless invited as they’d agreed to do.

Phoebe was no pushover, her wings powerful and small frame difficult to pin down but Charon’s endurance and weight advantage was telling in the long run and the latter soon found himself on top, poised to strike at her most vulnerable and sensitive weak point. Eying her ears once more, fully dilated in the presence of his heart’s desire, he made to bury his muzzle into her auricle again for another taste.

But the colt had telegraphed his move, and Phoebe managed to get one of her wing thumbs in around the back of Charon’s neck, kneeling him down and going to work, licking greedily with her forked tongue on his right ear before whispering sweetly into it. “How do you like it, huh?”

“Please, stop! You’re going to make me waste my load!” His voice nearly as high-pitched as her sisters had been and fighting off the uncontrollable urge to laugh that accompanied the sound of eager slurping in his ear, his knees wobbled from the intense stimulation, fighting a valiant but slowly losing battle to hold off his orgasm.

Thankfully, she stopped, giggling. “You’re even more sensitive there than I am!”

“By the Night, how mares can survive any length of that without gushing is beyond me!” With a dribble of precum, he managed to contain his erection one last time, mentally consoling ‘Little Charon for once again calling him into battle too soon. The next time will be the real thing, I swear it!

“I think we’ll need to try once you’re done putting a bat in me, Charon!” She stole a quick kiss before lashing her tail to the low-hanging dangle beam’ over her bed, shimmying her way to the center of the room with her thumbs so they could both hang freely and flap off when they were done without falling and breaking their necks.

Luna bless the convenience of Thestral housing and its many, many perks, especially well-constructed dangle beams designed for those who preferred sleeping upside down to the usual pony way. They were also great for exercise and he would certainly get a good workout today! But he would make sure she was ready...

“Wait…”

Phoebe released her thumb claws, allowing the full weight of her body to fall on her tail. Her ears descending past her cascading mane almost all the way to the floor. A clear inch of space was all she had to spare. “It’s not perfect but we’ve done it here plenty of times. What’s wrong?

“Nothing’s wrong, Pheebs. I just… you haven’t had any Moon Tea tonight, right?” The birth control potion, made from zebra alchemy, was a must-use for any couple seeking to avoid early parenthood and widely available even in traditional Thestralslovakia.

Phoebe shook her head, rendering him as serious an expression as her upside-down form and gravity-skewed scramble of mane would allow. “I was planning on taking some… until I heard your conversation with Dad. I knew you were going to ask me tonight… and you were going to want to make a foal with me.”

His knees went weak from the suggestion. She was right, and yet… “Are you sure? You know that once we’ve committed to this, there’s no turning back?” Charon asked in semi-casual seriousness even as held his breath.

Phoebe giggled and gestured for him to join her in the dangle beam with a free wing. A leathery whiplike slap of prehensile tail against the smooth wood it was wrapped around and the groaning of said beam soon followed. “I know you’re the stallion, and that you have to ask. But I was ready for this as soon as you walked in!” she told him, causing his breath to catch anew — she really meant it!

“Somehow, it’s like everything we’ve done together was always leading up to this. Ever since that night we saw Mom and Dad kissing and you came up to me with the idea of trying it out ourselves, I never stopped feeling like we were a couple. This will just make it official.”

The gentle scrape of a pair of claws and creaking wood was heard as Charon navigated their limbs until he could comfortably spoon with his smaller sister. “Phoebe, you were eight at the time!” He chuckled, unable to resist taking a swipe at the back of her ear with his tongue.

“And you were ten! I swear, Charon, you are still a dorky ten-year-old to this day!” The pair shared a laugh. “But it’s true. I dunno how to say this without it sounding dumb but… you became something more than a brother without ever having stopped being my brother. And I know I’m going to have to explain this to Mom and she’s never going to buy it but… I don’t care. You’re my stallion, Charon. And you always will be.”

His heart all but melted at her declaration. “You know I had to ask… but I trust you, Pheebs.” He gently stroked her belly fur as she purred — a catlike, throaty vibration only one who has lived up close and personally with a colony of bats could attest to hearing. If he hadn’t lived with her his entire life, he would swear she was fully thestral down to the twentieth generation.

“For me, it really was the way we got our cutie marks. There was never a doubt after that. Every part of me told me it was wrong to feel this way, but if I was ever going to be honest with myself, I would never be happy with another mare. You and I are just the perfect fit.”

Charon felt her wings flutter stiffly against his, as if in arousal. “Do you really mean that? If I went off to the Hunt and started rutting everybat there... you’d go your whole life without a mate?”

“Yes,” Charon replied evenly. “I truly believe I would.”

Phoebe turned her head to nuzzle and lick her lover’s protecting wings. “Pretty lucky I came along then, huh?”

“You have no idea.” Charon’s bathood dropped out of its sheath again, semi-rigid and hanging just over her awaiting entrance. Charon pressed his abdomen forward, adjusting their positions on the fly while probing blindly into her belly. While quite good at seeing in the dark, thestral eyes didn’t allow one to see through solid objects.

So he poked and shifted his hips and poked again, until after what seemed like an interminable number of tries (but he’d reflect later was probably only three), the thick protruding head of his hardness pressed itself against warm, pink, blueberry-scented paradise and almost instantly pushed in, causing both to shiver. He gave a soft hiss as he slowly drove more and more of himself inside of her by lifting their combined body weight with his abs to shorten the distance between them.

She leaned back into him, her back popping slightly as she squeaked and moaned. “Umph! You’ve grown even thicker since last time!” She spoke through gritted teeth as she thrashed her wings about. “I know you want me now but just… be gentle!”

Despite her words and his own overwhelming arousal, Charon couldn’t help but chuckle. “Phoebe… how you can fit me at all, I’ll never know.”

She oohed softly as she swallowed another three inches of throbbing stallion meat as thick around as a foal’s leg. “Th-thank mom that I’m… Ngh! … Stretchy! Nnnnggeh!”

“Phoebe!” he immediately stopped moving.

“I’m alright. I just… too long since last time.” She groaned with frustration. “I’m stuck on that darn, fat ring of yours!”

Charon winced at his sister’s use of profanity, but gave her chest fluff a reassuring tickle. “I think ‘Little Charon’ came from an earth pony. It’s supposed to keep me from going all the way in by design.”

“Well, it’s never stopped me before and you are one-half bat pony, so we…” she thrust herself back into him, ”... keep… go-EEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeng!”

His inner tube of a medial ring finally broke the impasse, hilting himself all the way to his blushing pink applesack, now soaked with his lover’s nectar which gushed freely over his groin.

Phoebe gasped and moaned, her barrel rising and falling before clopping her hooves, and giving a little cheer. “I did it! Brother, I am going to pay you back for every wonderful waking moment I have spent with you! Now hold my hooves, you stud!”

It was at that moment Charon was sure that no matter what happened between him and his family, Phoebe was by his side for the rest of their lives. He reached around her back and the pair clutched each other’s hooves tight and mercilessly as began rocking back and forth on his hips, the pair swinging like the trunk of a sapling in a high breeze as he thrust himself into her quivering pink incubator.

“Er-EEEEEEeeeeeee!” she cried out, the room filling with the plap-plap-plapping of Charon’s soaking, plump testicles smacking wetly against her athletic rear, the creaking and groaning of the beam above them, the flapping of her wings, her ears erratically flipping and flopping with a loud smack and the orgiastic song of sisterly appreciation.

How had his life come to this? What chaos had made his adorable filly sister the most irresistible force in all of nature? And how had such beauty, the likes of which hadn’t been seen since ages past, been reduced to a whimpering mess before his masculine advances? He was screwing his own sister! He should feel like a monster, keeping her to himself and denying her to other bats.

Somewhere, a worthy hunter who single-hoofedly slew a hydra and dragged its carcass back into camp would find the most beautiful and single mare across all the land had not shown up to accept his offering.

It was like there was a hole in the universe, one that Charon himself had created.

And he couldn’t feel prouder for it as he thrust into her with increasing vigor, ready to claim and fertilize her very creche for the first time!

As usual, her sister reached climax first, shrieking her enjoyment into the empty house. “Brother… I am yours!”

Charon felt her orgasm ripple over his bathood, that familiar vice-like grip began to milk him until he felt his legs, one by one, begin to relax as the pressure on his balls crescendoed. His jaw slackened, eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he heard the voice of Aphrodite, speaking his name to the cosmos with a mighty voice.

And with that, he bucked his hips and roared, searing bolts of sticky stallion fire launched at high speed as if from a Guardspony ballista as one orgasm and then another consumed him. In those moments, his entire world was limited to her; his sole purpose in life to impregnate his beloved Phoebe — never mind the fact that it was a full year of abstinence coming to an abrupt and very productive end.

He rode his orgasm to its conclusion, the multiple waves of pure passion and pleasure finally slowing and eventually ceasing. When his apples had fully emptied themselves and there was no chance to take back what they had done, he finally hung limp, barely able to hold onto her even as his orgasm seemed reluctant to leave the embrace of his sister’s marehood.

“Charon…” she called back in pure bliss.

“Phoebe…” he barely managed back in equal joy.

“I want to see your face…” Phoebe spoke in barely a whisper.

“Stay right there…” Charon reached up for the beam with his thumbs again, grunting. His body didn’t seem to want to do anything at the moment. Taking care not to bump into Phoebe, he finally regained control of his muscles as he climbed around her and dropped down on the other side, facing her. “Better?”

“Mmm. Better.”

Wrapped up in each other’s wings like a leathery hammock, Charon felt his eyes begin to droop. Silence fell across the room, punctuated only by the sound of Phoebe’s rhythmic breathing. Behind the door leading to Phoebe’s personal balcony, heat from the morning sun crept over the trees and into the room.

“Sweet dreams, sister…” the stallion muttered before falling asleep.

“And to you as well, brother…”

Charon’s nose twitched, smelling blueberries, his eyes slowly opening soon after.

They were still suspended from the ceiling, their tails locked firmly into place. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out and couldn’t see the clock from where he was. But he could still feel and see Phoebe, purring softly in her sleep.

Memories returned to him quickly. He’d come inside of her… and she was now likely conceived with their unborn baby. Embarrassingly, he’d also come very very quickly, an unfortunate side-effect of being sexless for an extended time; the pair too busy with everything from household duties to schooling to carry on their illicit affair.

But however long it’d been, it’d been long enough to make Charon feel like a new stallion. He was already rock-rigid from Phoebe’s inviting aroma and, having shed this premature load while also staving off a potentially painful ache in his apples, he was ready to do better and have her shattering glass with pure maresong.

He positioned himself behind her and lined the two of them up rutting once more, prodding her entrance when he felt her wings stiffen and flap erratically against his belly.

“You never leave a job half-done, do you?” Phoebe all but cooed, rhetorically. “You lasted an entire minute inside of me, but that wasn’t enough for a perfectionist like you!”

“Perfection can only deserve perfection, Pheebs…” He gave her sister’s ear a hard nibble. “I am going to make you experience pleasures you never thought conceivable. What we did earlier was just practice…” He stole a lick to her ear before growling deeply into it. “Now that I have claimed your egg, sister... I am going to truly rut you!

“Oh, Charon, yes!” Phoebe cried out rapturously as he drove himself to the hilt inside her, unknowing or caring about the approach of her family returning from their day trip.

Roseluck's Miracle

Roseluck’s head tilted, eyes sagging heavily as the coach containing herself and the family — five colts and seven fillies ranging from ages five to fifteen, two filly toddlers and a single filly baby, presently nursing at Mama’s Milk Bar, as her older foals jokingly called it — rocked side to side as it flew through the air. A wicked crosswind was making her husband and two sons pulling it work extra hard to stay on course, to say nothing of making the earth pony, and the four among her progeny who were born wingless, queasy.

The family had enjoyed the performative dancing at the Horsawa aviary, gone shopping at the Poniska Arkadia and stopped to get mango ice cream. To Roseluck’s great surprise, it had all gone off without a hitch, marred by not a single major disaster or even a minor one.

It was an unusual occurrence in her experience, and one that left her less grateful than strangely suspicious — no leaking diapers, no deafening screeching during the performance and only minor disagreements from the foals, who had happily slurped down their ice cream and been on their best behavior the entire time.

It’s never this easy. Okay, so what’s the deal? What are the goddesses planning to spring on me? She couldn’t help but cast her eyes upward towards the heavens. In fairness, she knew more of her foals had grown out of such stages — it certainly helps take the load off when some of your offspring have grown to maturity!

That said, there was still so much riding on her back from caring for so many foals. She didn’t regret it; she loved each and every one of them more than she ever thought possible. But that didn’t change the fact that she hadn’t had all that much fun and hadn’t in many years. Alas, such was the cost — and honored privilege — of being Mom to seventeen beautiful and healthy foals.

Enough. I’m probably just being ridiculous, she decided, reminding herself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. It had been a banner day, so now all that was left to cap it off was a good day’s rest…

The whistling of the wind quieted as the coach set down on its wheels, coming to a complete stop in front of their home.

The moment she exited, Roseluck’s ears perked, picking up a sound nopony or nobat else seemed to. And she knew instantly and instinctively that something had gone horribly awry.

Her suspicions already aroused; Rose was still a mother first. She directed the family into small unit detachments, assigning them to manage their baggage and secure the wagon such that the gusty winds wouldn’t send the latter careening off into the woods. Satisfied, she passed off her youngest baby to her fifteen-year-old daughter and squad leader, and then waylaid Europa as he unstrapped himself from his harness.

“Europa, I can hear something ringing on the side of our house!” She watched his reaction carefully as she spoke.

The look on the stallion’s face was one of shock and horror followed by casual disregard and skepticism. A sure sign that things had indeed gone wrong and her husband was somehow responsible. “A ringing... like a bell?”

“Like a kitchen timer!” She bolted off in the direction of the sound before Europa could stop her, and there, resting inside a bush outside her beloved son Charon’s window, was a familiar wind-up timer her husband had been assigned to remind him of both the duty he had to his wife to arrive when he needs to and the duty, he had to his family to remove dinner from the oven before it burned to ashes.

Europa cursed under his breath as she gave the little gadget a thorough examination, twisting the dial all the way to silence it. Etched in red permanent marker at its base in tight, tidy print was the name, 'Europa'.

“Europa…” Roseluck scowled as her husband gave her his most ingratiating smile. “This is your timer…”

“Hah! Well, what do ya know! Looks like I dropped it before we left for town…” He gave his scalp a vigorous scratch, a known nervous tic of his that only deepened Roseluck’s suspicion.

“And it went off at exactly the time we were due back! What do you suppose the odds were for this little… coincidence?” Rose continued dismantling her husband’s failing facade of prevarication and lies with her gaze as he twisted like a twig in the grip of a tornado.

Europa’s wings twitched nervously, furtively glancing up at the treehouse. “Um, can’t say I know for sure, but I should really go fly up there straight away and see if those two are alright!” He spread his wings to take flight.

“Stop.” Roseluck held up a hoof like a Manehatten beat cop directing traffic, speaking in a tone Europa knew better than to disobey. "You’ve already tried to tip them off with a timer, so I will not just let you fly up there to cover up for their... crimes. Now be quiet for a minute and don’t move!”

Before he could offer another protest, Rose’s ears began to rotate left to right and right to left until they focused on one point on the trunk of the tree. “They’re in Phoebe’s room… and they don’t know we’re here yet.” Rose took pride in knowing her daughter and rival — the only mare she knew with such acute auditory sensing capabilities — had been caught unawares and was now at her mercy.

Europa swallowed hard. “And, uh, how might you know that... um, dear?”

“Fly me up to that balcony right now and then get the family inside but give me ten minutes in there alone.” Roseluck emphasized the part about ‘right now’ by stomping her hoof hard enough to make the ground tremble beneath Europa’s hooves.

"I will... fly up to the balcony." Europa lowered his head, his eyes facing the indentation in the grass which saw the full fury of Roseluck's front hooves and for a moment, he remained there — head bowed in repose.

"Good!" Rose cleared her throat, feeling slightly awkward as Europa's head remain hung. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Europa raised his head, his defeated expression replaced by one of... Rose would have to call it 'defiance'. "I will fly you up there under one condition, Rose."

Rose took a step back at her now uncharacteristically uncooperative husband, her eyebrows furrowing and gave a loud snort. "Conditions? Europa, you went behind my back and against my wishes and tried to hook up our own foals! You need to make this right and fly me up there!"

"Let me speak, Rose!" Europa snapped back. Rose cringed slightly and relented.

What has gotten into her husband? Rose knew she was in the right and Europa had never ever prolonged an argument he'd knew he lost in the eighteen years they'd been married. "Okay, fine! Honestly, I can't believe you're resisting at this point after being caught hooves in the cookie jar but go ahead... I'm listening!" She all but forced the last two words through her teeth.

"Rose, I will answer for what I've done wrong, both before you and the Goddesses for not being honest with you. I'm sorry." Rose allowed a bit of her to subside at his genuinely remorseful declaration. "I will fly you up there as promised but I don't want you to barge in there and interrupt them."

Rose looked back at her husband as if he'd completely lost his mind.

"Watch them enjoy each other's bodies for just a moment and consider carefully if you want to tear asunder this couple Harmony has seen fit to join together." Europa reared up on his hooves and make a dramatic snapping gesture with his hooves.

"You're... a-actually serious, aren't you?" Roseluck couldn't help but admire her foolish husband's gift for saying just the right thing. Curse him! "You want me to not only accept what's going on up in that bedroom but consider the merits of it like I'm examining concept package art design for a box of Fancy Lad's Snack Cakes?"

"I want you to consider that what our son and daughter have found in each other might be more natural than you're allowing it..." Europa jabbed a hoof in the direction of the house. "...and it's beautiful!"

Roseluck fell back on her haunches and took a deep breath. "You're asking a lot. I'd almost say too much, even for the love of my life to request!" The earth mare gave an anxious whine as she realized in all this time they'd been talking, the worst thing imaginable was still going on above their heads and she was allowing it to happen. And yet...

"I accept your conditions... my love," Rose bowed her head, returning Europa's earlier gesture. "I make no promises I won't tear the door off the hinges but I will at least consider things before I do it."

Europa smiled, albeit with a hint of what looked like cautious optimism. "I'll settle for that, dear. Let's get you up there!"

The sound grew louder as the pair circled the house; Europa’s legs wrapped tightly around his wife’s barrel. It was a sound Roseluck knew all too well. The sound of slippery wetness, of bodies in vigorous motion. Of a mare doing what she was born to do with a well-hung and well-practiced lover.

Her lip curled and ears laid back at the thought of the mare being her long-eared, breathtakingly gorgeous, pixie daughter and the well-hung stallion being her handsome, sweet-natured, perfect and innocent son. Whatever Europa thought about this, she could never give her blessing to such a thing.

Rose still couldn't help but feel just a little shame in laying an ambush for her own family but knew full well the foals would try to lie to their mother if they weren’t caught in the act, and Roseluck wasn’t willing to have to drag it out of them. Then they were going to get treated for this… unnatural fetish and live the rest of their lives happy with other ponies. Why Rose hadn’t dealt with this issue after all the past instances of catching them making out together or playing hoofsie under the table was beyond her.

Rose wondered where’d she’d gone so long so wrong with Little Phoebe, the scrappiest and most stout-hearted filly, she’d ever known. She was the very picture of a young thestral mare in her sexual prime wearing her gray leather racing suit while soaring fearlessly through the sky during her daily practice flights for the Shadowbolts racing team. Surely the prospect of meeting fit and attractive males during the Hunt was incentive enough to keep her on the true path?

Even beyond that, she'd had every opportunity to get to know the neighborhood colts once she stopped falling ill and could catch some action out of Europa’s watchful eye. Not enough to give her the reputation Rose has once basked in, of being the filly every colt wanted to know, but just enough to give her the basic experience she’d need to carry her into adulthood without being a complete novice.

Oh, if only they were still living in Equestria! Even after so many years in Thestralslovakia, Roseluck still had the resources and connections to get any filly tucked within a matter of hours, whether rain or shine or parasprite invasion. She had literally hundreds of stallions who owed her dozens of favors: pegasi, fellow earth ponies and thestrals if she were feeling up to travel. If she were really up for some excitement, Rose would pass her off to Tea Cup for Spring Vacation who was still very much the eligible bachelorette Rose used to be.

But she feared all that was lost now. As much as she wanted to blame Europa for her daughter’s terminally uneventful upbringing, Rose suspected that if she’d really taken the time to care for this confused young mare, she’d have been freed from this weird Thestralslovakian Puritanism and been with a hundred different partners by now. With those good looks and the ability to fly, the sky was quite literally the limit.

And don’t get her started on Charon.

He was the best of both races and cultures. His firm build carried the noblest markings of earth pony heritage and the thestral tradition of work ethic, family values and sacrifice to Princess and Province. Surely his devoted care for his sister was evidence of that, even if his motives were… less than harmonious. And while he wasn’t the best flyer in the colony, he made up for it in other areas. Solid, dependable, honest and versatile: That was her son, a master of all trades.

So as far as she was concerned, it could only be considered a crime against equinity itself that he wasn’t already spreading his seed across two nations. While the gender inequality wasn’t the alarming six-to-one ratio between females and males in Equestria, Thestralslovakia was still easily two-to-one, if not worse.

There were lonely mares everywhere he could be servicing, carrying on Roseluck’s legacy of spreading harmony through lovemaking before settling down and taking many wives. With such impressive endowment including two great, bulging, seed-producing apples such as his, he had the size and seed to satisfy a herd of three mares at least!

And what was he doing for marekind instead of his duty? Staying indoors and refusing to meet other age-mates from the village, insisting on caring for his brothers and sisters, especially Phoebe, even as Rose insisted, she could make time for him to strike out alone. The thought made Roseluck want to cry. Such a tragedy. Such a waste.

Her jaw set as they neared touchdown on the bedroom balcony. Not on my watch, you two. This ends now… for the sake of all ponykind and for Love itself!

Rose, set down noiselessly on the deck and looked inside. She'd made a promise to Europa, even if she didn't feel particularly inclined to honor an agreement with the stallion who'd only recently broken theirs. The pair were hanging from the dangle beam, facing the wall at an angle that gave the onlooker a glimpse of Charon's face. Her son had his impressive wings fully extended to his side like the statue of an old war hero in Horsawa square, and Roseluck couldn’t help but admit to herself Charon looked the part of a hero himself: strong, his face a mask of resolve and dedication as he drove his generous endowment repeatedly into her sister who wailed in the throes of pure passion with each vigorous thrust.

Phoebe’s long tongue dangled wetly near the rumpled surface and ruined sheets of the bed, writhing and dripping. Rose, unfortunately, couldn’t see Phoebe’s face from where she hid, but her vivid imagination conjured up the image of her glassy-eyed stare, jaw agape as their love juices mingled with their sweat, running freely down their back, chest and thighs.

Charon’s balls, as pink and shiny as they were on the day of his birth, were ruddy from slapping the back of her sister’s firm rump and looking quite a bit emptier than usual. To answer why, Roseluck’s eyes trailed down to the floor beneath them where a large puddle of viscous love jelly had pooled from the pair of slickened bodies suspended above.

His rose-red coat and emerald, green mane and tail were covered with sweat, giving Rose the impression the pair had been rutting for quite some time — hours, even. To watch him, she had to admit he was a true stud, born to breed. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he had been given proper freedom and expression to fulfill his destiny, and by Celestia, her princely son had seized the day!

Despite her ire, she couldn’t help but experience a motherly moment of pride at the sight of these two perfect physical specimens, the product of her own love and laboring womb, locked together in mutual admiration of the other as she bit her lips at the sight and smells of their no-longer-unrequited lust.

Rose had known and felt this kind of intense, forbidden taboo male attention before, Rose realized, placing herself in Phoebe's horseshoes as her high-pitched squeaks of pleasure radiated through wood and glass. It was large, striped and undeniably exotic.

And it only made the penetration so much hotter. She'd never forget the scent of tea on the air whenever they had sex, which Rose swore the zebras subsisted entirely on, or the feeling of being coveted by every zebra stallion she'd met.

Was that all just... a fetish? Rose remembered the hostility she got very soon after arriving in Detrot from other ponies who seemed to think the same way about what she was doing as Rose did about her two foals. It drove her far away from Detrot... all the way to Ponyville to escape the shame, abuse and even one instance of violence from a fellow pony.

Roseluck swallowed hard. Am I really the monster this time?

The longer she watched, the more rapt and amorously attentive she became. Forget who they were. Forget what their relationship to each other was. Forget her own feelings! For she knew well from her own enormous experience that the sight of two beautiful, fertile creatures having sex and expressing their love for life and each other in doing so was the highest art known to ponykind.

No... I'm not a monster! This isn't the same as what happened to me. Their future! I need to think long-term! I'm supposed to be the adult!

Roseluck’s right forehoof made a half-hearted move towards the door but gave up as soon as she’d resolved to do it. To see them there before her, in lust and very much in love… how was any of this wrong? “Mi Amore Cadenza, forgive me for where my heart has strayed…” Rose tore her eyes away from the incestuous scene unfolding before her, but could not avoid overhearing the rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh, her son’s oddly satisfying grunts of exertion, and Phoebe’s high-pitched shrieks occasionally interwoven with exhortations of Charon’s masculine prowess.

“Buck me… Buck me… Buck me… buckmebuckmebuckmebuckmebuckmebuckme!” Phoebe’s gasped mantra was raspy, spoken through vocal cords strained by obvious overuse. “Ahhhhhh~!”

Rose then heard the telltale splatter of excess cum join the growing puddle on the floor, bringing her attention back to the inside of the room. What possibility could she ignore the horrifying yet alluring disaster occurring before her? If he doesn’t stop… the shrinking rational part of her mind warned.

But he didn’t stop. Charon was an insatiable feral creature now, completely lost to his desire for Phoebe; the filly he used to tuck into bed and read stories to, tending lovingly and without rest when she was ill. He growled like a beast, bit her firmly on the scruff of the neck — to which Phoebe gave a euphoric “Yes!” — and hilted himself inside of her again and again and again…

Rose looked down and put a hoof over her mouth in horror as a slick, clear coating of precum graced the rough wooden balcony.

There was no denying what was now obvious to Roseluck, who dug her left forehoof into her marehood as she bit into her right to silence herself, now afraid of being discovered by them! Europa was right after all. This wasn’t an abomination but the work of Harmony! Charon loved her sister and she loved him right back! Their joy was a palpable aura, radiating out from the entire tree… into Roseluck’s very heart.

“My son and my daughter… truly in love! I’m so sorry I doubted you Europa… my stallion... Umph~! Ah! Ah! AHHHHHHHHHH!”Roseluck shuddered, eyes tearing up as her orgasm ripped out of her from both ends, splattering against the deck as she continued to squeal. There was a commotion inside the room as she just caught their heads whipping around. This was it. Her son and daughter knew everything.

And that only made it hotter.

“AHHHHHN~!” Roseluck’s renewed orgasm left her clutching the doorknob for support, lest she tumble off the balcony to her doom, only for it to open and send her spilling into the room in an overheated heap. The two teens looked down on their mother in shock, unable to move and speak, still locked at their hips in an erotic embrace.

Another orgasm, fueled by the smell of pheromones and sweat from the pool mere inches from her nose bubbled to the surface, Roseluck only having time to give her progeny an apologetic look before cumming hard enough to make her eyes cross, followed by a second and a third.

“H-h-hi, you two! UNN~! W-were back from… B-BUCK! Back from… town… AHHHHH NOT AGAIN!”

Gritting their teeth, the teenaged pair watched their mother scream one final time, cum coating the balcony in arching streams of spattered pearl, one after another, eyes crossed from the pleasure consuming her before slowly ebbing to a trickle, then a dribble, and finally... dead silence.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke. Dad reluctantly peeked his head in from the bedroom door, confusion and something like wonderment upon his visage as he beheld the unlikely scene.

"Eh heh..." Phoebe beat her wings in what Roseluck recognized as arousal. "Hi, Daddy~!"

Europa's only response was to gape in apparent awe as his bathood hit the floor with an audible thunk.

“Oh, uh… hi, Dad. I, uh, might’ve dropped the timer…” Charon admitted sheepishly and then cleared his throat. “Mom, does this mean Phoebe and I can get married?”

Finally shaking off her stupor, Roseluck raised her head and scowled. “Absolutely not!”

The three looked back at Rose, impending mutiny in their expressions.

“Hehehe… Kidding! Kidding!” Roseluck rolled over onto her side, basking in the afterglow. “Oh, come on, laugh, everypony! This is completely bucked up, but I don’t even care anymore!”

The three looked at each other nervously before reluctantly, they began to laugh.

Charon and Phoebe separated from each other and flapping their wings, dropped to the floor — Phoebe’s landing a graceful, almost whisper-quiet affair while Charon crashed down onto all fours like a circus elephant. He looked away grinning sheepishly as the room’s laughter turned towards him. He may not have had his sister’s talent for flight but his good sense of humor and willingness to take a joke was a major point in his favor, as Rose saw it.

“I look forward to your wedding!” Roseluck smiled warmly before closing her eyes and sprawling out onto the carpet like a huge, rose-themed cat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to sleep this off.”

The three laughed in earnest this time, Europa and Charon lifting Rose onto Europa’s back.

The laughter still echoing through the halls, the four made their way downstairs, Roseluck began drifting off to sleep.

Before drifting into slumber, her fleeting consciousness fading into blissful blackness, she thought of her handsome, powerfully built stud of a son, driving his sister to near insanity from sexual pleasure — Roseluck's heart skipping a beat. Phoebe's flirtatious salutation to her father and his non-verbal but easily understood response. And she knew, as soon as she woke up again, there was going to be a long, private and very candid discussion about the future of all four of them.

And with that, she passed out.

Author's Note

Thanks as always to Firesight and Silentwoodfire for the timely editing.

Thank you one and all for reading my story. <3 <3 <3

Edits applied to all chapters from 2/22/2021 to 2/28/2021.