Mission... Accomplished?

by Clopficsinthecomments

Rating: mature
Tags: Porn, Fetish, Bon-Bon, Adventure, Sex, Twilight Sparkle, Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Princess Luna
Length: 31927

Lyra and Bon Bon have been captured by a nefarious criminal gang in possession of a dangerous love-poison! Can they withstand the potent, mind-melting ruttıng of the two virile and massive bruiser hench-ponies long enough for help to arrive?

Bon Bon and Lyra have been captured.

Their mission was almost doomed from the start: Lyra Hearstrings had basically stumble-fumbled her way into Bon Bon's (AKA Agent Sweetie Drops) mission... and that unicorn was anything but subtle.

This was a dangerous mission too: chasing after a criminal gang that had not only stolen a mystical ape-creature out of the hooves of a heavily armed guard caravan... but which had also managed to snag an obscenely potent black-magic formula for a true, heart-changing, love poison.

Now both of the intrepid mares are in big trouble.

They've been tied up, helpless, as they are ogled by two of the biggest, strongest bruiser-henchponies Bon Bon had ever seen. The criminals are trapped like rats in their hideout, and they've decided that the only way to get out in one piece is to turn these two agents into willing lust-slaves, ready to vouch for them to the authorities.

Will Lyra and Bon Bon be able to withstand the potent effects of the love-poison in combination with the actions of the two virile, massive alpha-studs? Can they resist the soul-altering pleasures of being so thoroughly rutted long enough for the cavalry to arrive and rescue them?

Nope.

Warning!

Contains:
mind-altering / dubcon / large stallionhoods / anal / oral / MF / FF / slight cum inflation / mindbreakishness

and worst of all: a happy ending.

Editing by AJ A-fish-tornado
Cover-art by n0nny.

All ponies in my fics exist at the bottom of a massive gravity well and are over 10,000,000 years old in Earth years.

Published 2021-03-23 20:40:03 UTC
Last updated 2021-03-23 20:40:03 UTC

A rude awakening

“MMnnfh! Mhrlllf! Mnnghhh!”

Bon Bon’s eyes hurt.

She hadn’t lost consciousness, of that she was sure. But she’d gone suddenly from being in a dark, poorly-lit cell… to being bathed under a set of almost blindingly luminescent flood-lights. Normally a pony’s irises had enough time to adjust to a transition of light, but the time-skip meant that her optic nerves got a powerful blast of stimulation.

“Mmmmmf… glk…. Mrghh!”

Immediately Bon Bon’s other senses flooded back to her. Kinesthetically, she could tell that she was no longer flying through mid-air. Instead, she was bound. Tied to a chair tightly around her torso, fore-legs, and her hind-hooves. No wiggle room, whatsoever.

There was also something bumping against the back of her head, it almost felt like another pony’s mane, maybe even another pony’s head itself. It kept bumping into her too, rhythmically — as if the pony in question was being rocked back and forth in a chair, or was being constantly booped in the face.

Ugh, what’s that stink?

Her nose instantly picked up the smell of stallion musk. A thick, heavy smell, like the inside of a gym bag or a sweaty rag used by a farmhand after a long day’s work. The smell of sex. Manly sex.

She hated that smell.

“GllmnK! Gmnnn!”

And that strange noise, the one that sounded like a pony choking on their gag. What the hay was that?

Bon Bon worked her tongue around her muzzle, crinkling and moving her jaw. There was no gag on her — she wasn’t the one making those strange noises.

Her eyes finally adjusted, and her vision came rushing back to her… and it wasn’t good.

They’d set her up in front of a mirror, to make sure that she had a great view of the scene. She was tied up, of course… back to back with Lyra on a couple of tall-backed wooden chairs. She could tell from the knots and bindings that there was no way she’d be able to wriggle out of this one.

Not that she’d have the opportunity — they were surrounded on all sides by the four ponies she’d seen on her infiltration mission thus far. Standing off to one side, observing with a smirk, was the white-coated unicorn. Behind him, with an evil grin on her fang-filled face, as she held up a video-recording device to capture the action, was that thestral.

But those two were just in the background.

Right in front of her, was crunch… the huge bruiser pegasus that she’d been oh so close to knocking out with a kick. He was balancing his forelegs on a conveniently placed cross-bar… which brought Bon Bon’s face directly in front of his massive, long, erection.

Gah!

Behind her, Lyra was in a similar situation. Worse off, in fact.

The other bruiser, the earth-pony Trunch, was propped up on a similar support bar. His stallionhood was gargantuan. Nearly as shockingly long as the pegasus’s, but far stockier. Mimicking his huge bulk and throbbing muscles, the reddish-pink… monster… pulsed with veiny hardness, fully erect against the stud’s belly. It barely tapered as it approached his flare… where it once again blossomed out to a saucer-plate sized knob…

...which was partway into Lyra’s muzzle.

That was the strange choking, slurping groans that she was hearing! She could see Lyra’s face, tears forming at the edge of her eyes, her golden irises flashing up in panic to look at the earth-stallion, as her mouth struggled to open wide enough to take in any more of the huge stallioncock.

“H-hey! Stop th-” Lyra snarled, before she was booped in the nose by the pegasus’s flare, stunning her briefly before Crunch withdrew, leaving a sticky-clear strand of pre-ejaculate attached between the end of her nose and his drooling urethra.

“Now now now.” The white unicorn began to speak, grinning to himself. “Let’s not get too hasty here, Crunch. There’s no reason for us to not make this as enjoyable for our two guests as it will be for you!”

He trotted closer, flashing those sparkling white teeth as he menaced her with his cold stare.

“I do apologise for my hired help, I’m sure you’ve had the pleasure to work against far more competent goons throughout your storied career, Agent Drops.”

Bon Bon stiffened and blinked. Somehow the unicorn had figured out her name. That in itself was quite an accomplishment. There were only a very few ponies who could put her agent title against her face, and none that she could think of that were outside of the government itself.

“I’m so sorry, that’s rude of me. Using your name without introducing myself.” He held a hoof up to his chest. “My name is Quantum Freeze, I think you’ve had the pleasure of meeting our rather… oversized… friends, Truncheon and Clover Crunch. And this little bat-mare goes by Dusk Wing.” He nodded over his shoulder at the thestral, who waved back cheerfully with an adorable sincere smile unbefitting her nasty business. “There’s actually a fifth member of my crew, our chemist, who goes by the name of Blackheart.” He shrugged, shaking his head. “She was lucky enough to be out on errands before you and your little guard cordon descended on our hide-out, so I imagine she’s already high-tailed it out of town by now.”

“W-why are you telling me this?” Bon Bon growled.

“Ah yes, right to the point, hm? Why would I tell you all of this? There’s no reason to spill all the beans to an agent unless you intended to… well…” Quantum Freeze drew a hoof along the underside of his neck and stuck his tongue out. “Though I’m sure you’ve gotten your fair share of villain monologuing over your impressive past adventures.”

“If you hurt even a hair on the head of one of Celestia’s agents, or an innocent civilian like the pony-mare behind m-”

“Oh, you mean Lyra? Your roommate?” Quantum arched an eyebrow.

Bon Bon scowled. How did he know everything?

“...or Lyra… Luna will see to it that your sentence will be an eternity of night-terror, an unending sleep from which you’ll go mad with horror. Time flows differently in the dream-scape you know. A moment here can be an age there.” Bon Bon tried a bluff, hoping to maybe buy some time for her and Lyra.

“Eh, I doubt it.” Quantum shrugged. “I know a lot about time, you see… but besides that, I wonder if your Princesses have the stones for anything so savage. They seem to be much more about forgiveness these days.”

“There are some statues in Celestia’s gardens that might disagree with you about that.”

“Enough, I’m not going to be killing you or your little friend.” Quantum shrugged. “I told you all of that because I’m going to need you to convince the assault force currently sieging our base that we’ve turned into Crown’s witnesses: that we’re now informants working for you.”

Bon Bon blinked, her heart suddenly jumping with joy. “Well. If you do want to do the right thing and help us, we can talk — but get your bruiser’s stalli-”

“Oh no no, we wouldn’t actually be doing that. I’ve seen enough of my friends end up in weighted sacks at the bottom of Manehattan harbor for turning against the family. Hay, I put half of them there myself!”

Bon Bon felt her heart sink again. “I… I don’t understand. I’m not going to let you get out of here with that chemical, even if it means Lyra and I… don’t make it.”

“I know.” Quantum sighed, nodding. “Which is why what I’m actually going to do is make you two so reliant on us… so desperately needy for something only we have… that it’ll even break through that frustrating guard conditioning.”

“W-what?”

Quantum grinned and nodded to Crunch, who quickly unscrewed a bottle of the juice that Bon Bon had seen them administer to the human. He upended it at the thick, furry base of his huge erection… the hot trickle began to pour down his obscene length, coating his whole member in the splashing potion, which trickled off the end of his flare, some of it hitting Bon Bon’s snout.

The liquid was warm, almost hot. A hot tingling explosion rushed over Bon Bon’s nostrils, almost like it was a sparking firecracker of sensation. Everything inside her screamed in terror at the sense of potent magic constrained in the chemical, she desperately wanted to wipe her nose clean, but they were constrained by the ropes.

“I think getting you both incredibly addicted to dick will work just fine — don’t you?” Quantum smiled. “Kill two birds with one stone — reward my two bruisers here and take care of the little rut that your friend got them all worked up into… and make you two ready to tell any story I want when we go up that elevator in an hour or so.”

NO NO NO NO NO!

Bon Bon’s thoughts screeched , and she jerked back out of instinct. Immediately she bumped into Lyra’s head. There was little room to retreat.

“Mmmf!” A muffled groan came from Lyra’s still stuffed mouth.

“Now, we’re gonna play a little game.” Quantum smiled looking over to Dusk Wing, “I have it on good authority from my source that Agent Sweetie Drops here is a die-hard lesbian.”

“Oh really? One o’ dem loquat-lickers, huh?” Dusk clicked her tongue and shook her head, moving slightly to improve the framing of her recording. “Ponies these days are just going through such moral degradation, it’s shameful.”

“Yes. I’ve heard she’s never willingly looked at a cock — and busted more than one set of balls that came looking!” He pointed toward the mirror-reflection, directing Bon Bon’s gaze back to the wider scene. “Now, that mint slut? I have no idea where she stands. But I’m pretty sure she’s not addicted to dick… yet. Now this black-magic poison, which I’ve taken to calling Quantahol, has proven to really work some magic in a pony’s mind, body, and spirit.”

Bon Bon’s saw both Crunch and Trunch unscrew another bottle, each grinning to the other as they upended their potions onto their groins.

A fresh river of the liquid splashed into Bon Bon’s flinching face… but even worse, Bon Bon could see the liquid pouring into Lyra’s muzzle, directed there by the gargantuan stallionhood flaretip jammed partway into her mouth.

“See this stuff makes you super-addictable, permanently!” Quantum grinned, “So If my bruiser Trunch here pushes in just a little bit…” Quantum nodded at the bruiser, who slowly pushed his hips forward.

Lyra watched the huge, dome-like knob of his erection slowly start to press deeper into Lyra’s muzzle, spreading her jaw wider and wider to even attempt to permit the huge flare into her.

“Mmmglk! Glk… ghrkkk!” Lyra’s grunts became desperate swallows, as she struggled to breath air in.

“S-stop!” Bon Bon begged, cringing at the sight of her best friend and secret crush being made to gorge on such a grossly large stallionhood. She could feel the pressure of Trunch’s thrust against the back of her own head; she tried to let her head be pushed forward, to take some of the strain of the thrust and perhaps prevent Lyra from getting more of the mind-melting stallionhood into her muzzle…

But right there, right off of her nose… was Crunch’s equally obscenely large, dripping, dangerous stallionhood…

She couldn’t, she just couldn’t bring herself to move any closer to it! She could only whimper an even softer plea for them to stop, ashamed by the feel of force against the back of her skull that she was too cowardly to take herself… instead letting her beloved Lyra take it in the form of a face-fuck thrust.

But Quantum simply ignored Bon Bon’s plea, going on with his lecture instead. “The longer it’s in there, the more and more she’ll be getting addicted to some good, hard, dick.”

“Mmmmngh… mmn…” Bon Bon’s ears flickered back and forth — she couldn’t be sure: were Lyra’s moans changing? Was there already less resistance in those whimpers of hers?

“The deeper Trunch goes, the more effective the Quantihol will be — and if he really starts throat-swabbing her, or if he busts in there… well…” Quantum Freeze nonchalantly let his implication trail off. “Now, you can save her, Agent Drops — Or should I just call you Bon Bon? All you need to do is take a little of that pressure off of your friend there… just lean forward… let her take a little of Trunch’s tool out of her muzzle… as you take a bit of Crunch’s into yours.”

Bon Bon’s eyes almost crossed as she tried to focus on the dripping stallionhood just off the end of her nose. The big, pink flare was already almost touching her nose, drooling with a dangerous mixture of that black-mahic liquid and the bruiser’s pungent stallionjuice.

PIC GOES HERE: https://derpicdn.net/img/view/2017/6/13/1461000.gif

“Now Bon Bon, you have a choice, you see? You can lean forward, willingly get yourself addicted… or just leave your friend to her fate. The addictions from this spell are so much more effective if you choose to take it — but I promise you the mint-mare will lift her tail for a good, hard, rutting if you don’t.”

“Mmm… mm…”

Bon Bon grit her teeth, looking at her friend in the mirror. Deep down, she knew… she could already see that Lyra’s eyes weren’t as afraid, her ears not quite as folded back in alarm, and those moans were sounding more and more relaxed.

The addiction-spell was working.

Bon Bon swallowed hard, her mind filled with happy memories of the smiling and innocent Lyra. The Lyra that had always been by her side through her difficult transition into Ponyville as part of witness protection. Who had always been there to cheer her up with a personally made lyre-song on those dark days. Who could make her roll her eyes and chortle at some inane, goofy antics, day after day.

Her Lyra.

Bon Bon had to protect her!

She slid forward, feeling the pressure against the back of her head lessen, bit by bit, as she eased into Crunch’s stallionhood… until finally her nose came into contact with its drooling tip.

“Mm! Better hurry, bitch… you take much longer and I’m just gonna go wait my turn to use your little friend there.” Crunch gowled from above her, flexing his penis and making it rub against her nose.

Celestia it stank! Bon Bon flinched, the musky, potent stallion-smell invading her nostrils. That smell she’d detested all her life — one of the first clues that she was different from other mares.

She wanted to turn away, to pull back, anything to get away from him. But she couldn’t… she had to do this, for Lyra.

Bon Bon slowly parted her lips — sliding forward and taking the barest tip of the big pink dome into her mouth, allowing yet another half-inch or so of pressure to be transferred from Lyra’s blowjob.

BLEH!

The taste was awful. Powerful, sharp. Oakey like an aged whiskey, but grimy like some kind of ripened cheese, all mixed into one. She knew that gossipy mares loved the taste of their coltfriends and stallions but this was gagworthy…

Almost…

There was something else mixed in too. She could feel the sparkling energy of something buzzing over her taste buds, slowly infiltrating the delicate cilia of her tongue… almost like an aftertaste hiding behind the original punch.

It tickled… titillated.

It sort of reminded her of the first time she’d had a caramel apple. She loved caramel.

Bon Bon felt a hot rush of blood pound from her heart, making her cheeks flush and her head suddenly spin slightly.

N-no! Th-that’s… that’s the drug! Fight it Bonny!

She squeezed her eyes tightly, resisting the wave of caramel-like sensation that rushed her. She’d had some drug resistance training at the academy. Maybe she could overcome this?

“Mmm… Mmn…” Bon Bon’s eyes flashed over at the mirror — she could see that Trunch was pressing more and more of his fat flare into Lyra’s muzzle, now complete with almost comically expanded cheeks.

She had to hurry!

Bon Bon swallowed slightly again as she gently began to press forward further. She quickly realized her mistake — even the light mixture of whatever had touched her lips went buzzing down the back of her throat, bringing that weird buzzing energy with it as it went, a poignant aftertaste to the strong stallion-stink.

It warmed and comforted her gullet, almost like a sip of warm cocoa on a winter’s day.

She brought Crunch’s cock past her teeth. It was painful to have to open her jaw so wide — she’d licked coolers and other toys in her time with various fillyfooler friends, but nothing like this… she wanted to hate the sensation, the feeling of being used, of having her face turned into some kind of… pleasure-hole for a disgusting… stallion.

But it felt… limp.

Weak.

Almost like the raging outrage in her mind was being stirred up on purpose. By her own will. If she just relaxed, let go, maybe she wouldn’t even find it so-

NO! Fight it BON BON!

She blinked again, glancing over at the mirror. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, the whole flare of a stallion inside her mouth, as he grinned and looked down at her with cocky, masculine superiority.

This wasn’t her! This couldn’t be her! Could it?

Didn’t she hate that sight? That image glaring back from the mirror of her blowing some muscle-bound stud?

She tested herself, scanning her emotion for the boiling outrage she felt… or wanted to feel. It — it wasn’t that crazy, was it? She was doing this for her friend. Not because she wanted to do it! So what if the image was strange — heck, why shouldn’t she even be proud of just what she was doing… for her friend’s sake!

NO NO NO! IT’S SNEAKING IN, IT’S… D-doing… s-something? Is it really doing anything? Bon Bon’s train of thought was just so hard to maintain. Like pouring on that extra energy to sprint at the end of a long race — when everything was just screaming to relax and slow down… to let go…

N-no! It… I… W-well… I don’t like it! Ah… r-right! I hate the taste! Right?

Bon Bon seized on the sudden thought — she needed to prove to herself just how disgusting she found this whole blowjob to be. That taste. She knew she hated that, at least. Along with everything else… whatever all that else was.

But she’d have to remind herself of the taste. She’d need to get her tongue exposed to it, to really make it clear how much she disliked it.

She moved herself a little further forward — bringing more of Crunch into her mouth, making it easier for her to slide her long, pink tongue forward. It wasn’t easy: the fat flare gave little room to navigate in her increasingly stuffed muzzle.

“Mmn… that’s it baby, now you’re getting into it,” Crunch chuckled.

Bon Bon rolled her eyes, frowning internally. The idiot was misunderstanding — she was only licking him to confirm how much she hated having him in her muzzle.

She slid her tongue up against the flat of his flare.

Hot. Just as hot as the inside of a marehood.

Bon Bon always liked just how warm the body heat of another pony felt when she used her skilled tongue — it was nice to know that stallions felt the same way. At least something she could like about this.

N-no! F-f-ocus… the TASTE! The hated taste!

Bon Bon blinked again, remembering why she was now using her tongue, slowly tracing it along the slick, throbbing glans of Crunch’s flare.

Celestia, it was so strong — that powerful, bitter tang.

She’d heard mares talk about it at times when the wine was flowing and their talk would turn lurid and gossipy. Bon Bon would try to avoid gagging visibly when she’d hear them go on and on about their husbands’ or coltfriends’ unique flavors — even sharing tips and diets to change things.

How could any mare ever like… this? This… powerful, aromatic… assault?

She swirled her tongue again, underneath the glans of the flares fat, knobby edge, exploring the smooth junction where shaft suddenly gave way to the huge, girth bulb.

“Oh yeah, right there hun…”

It was more potent in here, Crunch’s… flavor. Its complex hormonal mix of sweat, juice and flesh. Here was where she’d really be able to recall that gross taste, the one that really disgusted her. The one that would prove to her that she still had her wits about her… that she still hated this… thing in her mouth.

She pressed her tongue against the cock harder, feeling the pulsing rhythm of the stallion’s heartbeat right through the vascular walls of his throbbing erection. It reminded her of how her marefriends would squirm and pulse and shake when she’d go down on them — she always loved that, the very biological feeling of being with something alive… this wasn’t so different.

No! It IS… isn’t it? Oh… G-goddesses, help me! The taste! Remember the taste!

Bon Bon desperately slid her tongue around the fat flare one more time, seeking out that rich, pungent taste she’d found moments earlier — but it was gone. She’d already lapped it all up.

She’d have to go back to the source — the drooling cockslit in the middle of the tip of his flare.

Bringing her tongue back there, she quickly found the drooling orifice. More than just trickling out that heady mix of stud-honey, it was pouring it in a constant stream. She slid her tongue against it, letting that unique flavor wash over her taste buds.

Damn! N-no… not the same!

It wasn’t quite as strong as it had been when it was mixed in with his sweat and musk around the ridge of his flare — this was fresh, from the source. Nor was it mixed in with the addiction-juice as the first hit had been… this trickle felt… milder… tolerable.

The warm, oaky splash of hormones didn’t shock or disgust her anymore. They were almost acceptable… piquant, even.

No no no! I need the stronger stuff, the stuff that’ll make me retch!

Bon Bon lapped desperately at the stud’s drooling tip, pulling back slightly so she could try to suckle his flare’s fat urethra like a straw, hoping to get a more voluminous flow of pre that would remind her of her hatred.

As she pulled back, she felt Lyra’s head push back against her.

Lyra!

She’d nearly forgotten: her eyes darted to the side, looking at her friend. The big earth-pony stallion had stepped further forward, taking up the slack that Bon Bon had created for Lyra by letting Crunch into her mouth. Truncheon was going deeper and deeper into the unicorn’s mouth, his comically fat length stretching her jaw as he began to swab the back of her throat.

H-hang on!

Bon Bon swallowed nervously, bringing another flush of warmth to her gut as she imbibed a half-cup full of the highly addictive mix of stud-pre-ejaculate, her own drool, and the terrifyingly effective Quantihol.

Then she plunged forward.

“Oh damn, lady,” Crunch’s affirmative groan came from above her.

Bon Bon’s jaw muscles ached as the pegasus’s cock wrenched her mouth open with its width. His big flare bounced and grinded along the roof of her mouth, trapping her writhing tongue as it slid deeper and deeper into her.

It wasn’t easy, Bon Bon had to use some of the force from Trunch’s thrusts against Lyra, bumping through to the back of her head, to drive more stallion-cock into her completely stuffed mouth.

She felt the hot pink knob bump against the back of her throat, and nearly gagged. She’d never had something lodge itself back there, unless it was a piece of food, or a toothbrush that slipped off her back molars.

But this was a huge, dripping penis. It was nearly blocking her airway.

Her chest heaved once, twice, three times… before she was able to suppress the instinct, breathing through her nose.

Th-there… I stuffed as much as I could down my throat! I didn’t puke. I… I can do this!

Bon Bon felt a small glimmer of pride at her accomplishment. It all felt so odd, confusing — it was hard to keep her priorities straight. It felt like her thoughts were in a fog. Shifting, changing. Ephemeral. Hard to put a hoof on.

“Good girl, babe — that feels great.” Crunch was grinning down at her genuinely.

Bon Bon glared at him through teary, furious eyes. She knew, at least, that she didn’t like this asshole, didn’t need his praise.

She tried to focus her anger on his face, his features. That rugged, masculine jaw. That unkempt manestyle. That cocky grin.

F-focus… focus on what you want to do…! Which is…?

Bon Bon’s thoughts were hazy. It felt almost like she was drunk. The dripping warmth from Crunch’s potent stallionhood was spreading through her now, as if she’d had one too many gin and tonics.

The warmth was nice, though. Dulling. Almost pleasant. And it was coming from his dick.

She knew that her goal had something to do with that. That huge organ of his. She hated stallions — she still remembered that… but his dick? That wasn’t a stallion, that was just a thing.

She felt another push against the back of her head, and her eyes flicked again to the mirror.

Lyra’s throat was starting to bulge obscenely. Truncheon had started to thrust his huge cock down the mint-furred mare’s throat, straining it to the point that the ridge of his penis-flare could clearly be seen.

Damn! That’s it!

The thought quickly returned to her! What she needed to do — no, wanted to do: take more of the pegasus’s cock into her throat.

Bon Bon tried to slide forward. It made her almost start to cough: she’d never tried swallowing anything so large before — her natural inclination was that she was almost choking.

But it actually wasn’t so bad: it was almost… good.

That incredible taste was just pouring out of Crunch now. That warmth.

It felt like all of the sensory cells in her body were unfolding, opening, blooming for the first time to these new chemicals. These masculine chemicals. Little electrical storms sparking in the more primitive parts of her brain as long-shut pathways were wrenched open for the first time — pleasure centers designed to react to the testosterone-laden lust of a stud.

Bon Bon flinched as a familiar shudder overtook her.

She felt her pelvic floor tense and release, twice. Convulsing with powerful, unconscious strength.

Her marehood had just winked.

She never winked. Not even when she was in the throes of passion with a mare, her body was notoriously hard to excite. So much more of Bon Bon’s lovemaking was mental, emotional… not physical.

The waves of the spasm wracked up through her, like a stone thrown into a calm lagoon. As the shudder passed through each part of her, it left warm, happy nerves… receptive, open to more sensation.

She moaned into the cock jammed in her mouth, relaxing around it for the first time. Perhaps it wasn’t cock that she’d really hated all these years… maybe it was just the stallions attached to them?

This stallionhood certainly seemed — pleasant?

F-focus, Bon Bon… remember what you need to do!

Bon Bon grunted and began to push herself deeper onto the cock, spearing more of it against the back of her throat — she had to take as much pressure off Lyra as possible, to take as much of this rugged, delicious shaft into her throat.

She glanced over at her friend in the mirror — Lyra had both her hooves around Trunch’s powerful thighs now: at some point her hooves had come undone… and now she was pulling herself onto the huge erection. She was trying to get more of him!

You need to do that too! Hurry!

Bon Bon’s thoughts were clouded, hazy — it never occurred to her that if Lyra was pulling herself onto the shaft that it would require less effort from her… only that the desperate blowjob the unicorn mare was performing signalled a growing need for her to work even harder.

But the long, girthy penis was simply bashing against the back of her throat, too stiff and wide to make the turn and enter her esophagus.

Bon Bon whined around the cock, plaintively. She needed the big, hulking thing to get deeper into her throat, to start pouring its aphrodisiac nectar directly into her belly. But she couldn’t move her forehooves, they were still bound. She would never be able to get the leverage needed.

She looked up at Crunch, sternly.

Can’t you lend a hoof, jerk?

“Wew! There’s some fire in this lass’s eyes.” He grinned down at her. “Alright lady, you want more of me, I can tell…” He reached down and put one of his large forehooves on the side of Bon Bon’s head, gripping lightly with his underhoof and beginning to slowly leverage additional pressure.

Y-yessss….

Bon Bon groaned as the fat head finally slid past the back of her mouth, curving strangely to begin bulging out her throat. Everything felt hot, burning, strainingwith effort. All her jaw, neck, and throat muscles were sore. Her lungs were starting to burn with the need for more oxygen, her eyes watering as her gut rumbled with a suppressed gag reflex.

But he was in! She was deep-throating him!

“Shit, you’re a thirsty gal.” Crunch chuckled, brushing a stray strand of mane out of Bon Bon’s face as he looked down at her.

That was nice of him. She could see that he really liked looking into her eyes as he slid his hips back and forth, in small, half-inch gyrations.

Not that it mattered. His ‘niceness’. The only thing that mattered was his oversized horsecock. And Bon Bon was winning there — the thing felt like it was embedded so deep in her throat that it was halfway to her stomach!

And yet she could still see inches between her and Crunch’s pink medial ring… at which point his shaft expanded to ridiculously girthy proportions, like a tree-trunk on a mighty sequoia.

“Oh! Oh… fuck. I’ve never had a mare take me so deep.” The rumbling bass from Truncheon flicked Bon Bon’s ears sideways and drew her attention back to the mirror.

Lyra was pumping her face against the earth-pony’s cock. Pivoting and swirling her head, faster and faster. Obscene suckling and squelching sounds were increasing in tempo and volume as Lyra face-fucked herself onto the first third of the bruiser’s studly organ. A waterfall of liquid, likely a mixture of drool, and stallion-juice was trickling from out of the side of Lyra’s stretched lips… and a second waterfall had formed off the side of Lyra’s chair, coming from some other, unseen source. If Bon Bon didn’t have Crunch’s wonderfully potent stallion musk washing over her whole olfactory system, she suspected she might have recognized the source of that second trickle.

Lyra was getting hot.

Oh no! She’s beating me! That little minx! It’s not fair, she has her hooves!

Bon Bon’s eyebrows pinched in frustration. Lyra’s head wasn’t even touching the back of hers anymore — the minty mare was leaning into her blowjob… was leaving Bon Bon in the dust!

Bon Bon grunted, struggling. She tried to push her neck forward, to tilt and twist her head in the same way that Lyra was doing… to inhale more of the fat stallionhood inside her throat. But she simply couldn’t!

“Mmmgh!” She looked up again at her partner, Crunch. She desperately hoped that he might understand her — couldn’t he see that they were losing to the other two? He had to do something.

Crunch was smiling at her in that soft, grinning, cocky way. It wasn’t that Bon Bon disliked a stallion with confidence… particularly one with so impressive a set of genetics of which to be confident about. But she needed him to do something!

She grunted again, shrugging her shoulders and struggling against her bonds.

Crunch saw her movements and nodded, his grin getting wider.

Thank you! Help me to catch-up… help me to take more of your wonderful cock into me!

With a flick of a wing, Crunch released the slipknot holding Bon Bon’s hooves to the side of the chair she was bound to. In an instant, he had just unleashed what were likely the two deadliest weapons in the whole cave system: a S.M.I.L.E. agent’s left and right forehooves.

Yes! Yes! I’m free! Finally! And with these hooves, I can…

Bon Bon’s mind ached, pounding. She held up her two hooves at her sides, just in her peripheral vision. She felt strange again, confused… like she was forgetting something important. She knew her hooves could do something.

For some reason, the target of the bruiser in front of her seemed particularly noticeable. Like an illuminated target on the firing range, ready to be lit up with magical stun rounds. The way he was currently standing over her… his giant cock halfway into her throat… his big balls bouncing between his legs…

There were so many easy targets that would incapacitate him with a single strike.

Why was her mind even thinking these thoughts?

If she hit him — he’d fall down… his lovely stallionhood would pull out of her! She’d lose the delicious nectar that was making her feel oh so alive! The big erect cock might even shrink back into his sheathe… a tragedy! They’d never catch-up to Lyra and Trunch!

No… no! I wanted my hooves so I could grab him… like this!

Bon Bon reached forward, hooking her hooves around Crunch’s powerful, muscular hind-legs… then she pulled.

Shutting her eyes and doing her best to swallow, she started to stuff more of his long pegasus-cock down her esophagus. Bon Bon’s powerful, trained earth-pony muscles immediately slid the last remaining inches of throbbing pink upper-shaft down her gullet, bringing her nose booping against his fat medial ring.

It could go no further, the ring wouldn’t be able to slip past her teeth unless she dislocated her jaw… and even the the rapidly fattening base wouldn’t become any easier.

But she’d caught up!

*Glrk* *Slrp* Glk*

The heavy, slurping sounds drew her eye once again. Lyra was being furiously face-fucked now. Truncheon was helping by pulling with his blocky, muscular forelegs on every stroke, slamming his bulk forward and cramming his fat, black, medial ring so hard against Lyra’s nose that it left a small ripple in her wet nostril-flesh.

Not that Lyra seemed to mind — she was still pulling and twisting and drooling… slobbering all over the stallions merciless throat-assault.

“Uhn… Uh… shit!” Trunch’s mouth uttered something other than the animalistic sounds he’d been making this whole time as a paroxysm of pleasure shook his body. Bon Bon tried to keep her focus between her own inhaling, gulping self-induced mouth cock-shoves, to see just what was happening.

She watched his arms suddenly lock tight, powerful muscles bulging out from under his fur upon those that were already visible — these two really were true specimens of stallion-ly power… throwbacks to their ancient horse-ancestors. His wild mane flew about him, like feathers in a fust of wind, as he threw his head backward, baring his teeth and opening his mouth to start to roar at the ceiling of the mine.

“AaaaRRRGH!”

And as he did, she watched that huge, thick black horsecock of his throb. A pulse of thickening blood racing down it, somehow fattening its already impossibly wide girth. Bon Bon could see Lyra’s golden eyes flash open in sudden worry, as her friend’s muzzle was wrenched open by the sudden onslaught of more raw, unrestrainable cock.

“Aaaargh!”

A second cry — and Bon Bon saw the already ridiculous hoof-sized bump in her friend’s throat expand into something more like a melon. It looked like the mare had tried to swallow a buckball whole!

The worry in Lyra’s eyes was real now — there was no way such a huge obstruction, regardless of which pipe it had gone down, wasn’t occluding any oxygen that would be reaching the unicorn’s lungs. But all the unicorn could do was hold on to Trunch’s thighs for dear life.

His massive, heavy black balls shot up to his groin. Bon Bon could have sworn she almost saw a pulse like bulge sliding down his shaft-length. Like a garden hose when you first turn on the water. The bulge raced down his length, into Lyra’s mouth, down her throat…

And then Lyra’s eyes began to roll back in her skull.

Pulse after pulse shot into the unicorn, disappearing down her gullet. The only evidence left of their arrival was her friend’s adorable tummy starting to fatten and chubbify, pooching out away from her body as it was packed.

The brute was cumming.

Bon Bon blinked, as she suddenly had a brief flash of just what was happening. Her thoughts raced with a new flood of panic: cumming! Like the disgusting white, stinky, jelly fluid that she’d detested so much!

...

Bon Bon had tried stallions of course. During her university days, when she’d been exploratory, she finally settled on one rather polite dormitory friend, a bookish unicorn-colt with wire-rimmed spectacles.

She couldn’t even remember his name now.

Suffice it to say, his fumbling in the dark… his rather unimpressive package… his quickly exhausted stamina… all had simply helped confirm Bon Bon’s instincts: stallions just weren’t for her. It hadn’t been pleasant, but at least the experience had not been horrifying.

Until he’d ejaculated on her, at least.

She could still remember how he’d quickly withdrawn from her body as he approached his climax from bucking her, missionary style. Bon Bon had been laying there on her back, bored and a little bit weirded out by the strange experience, when he’d so quickly pulled out of her marehood, flared… and fired.

The weak, thin spurt had splattered up across her chest, and even across her face and into her mouth!

At that moment, with that pathetic, bitter offering sticking to her fur, the nose-crinkling smell of acorns assaulting her senses… the heavy weight of a sweaty, unwanted colt laying upon her… Bon Bon’d had to withhold a retch.

She hated cum.

…

And here was Lyra, nearly drowning in it.

She could see just how much her belly was filling, as muscle-wracking clench after muscle-wracking clench roiled through the Trunch.

“Hey Trunch, if ya kill the lady… we’re all gonna end up in the slammer, regardless.” The nasally thestral voice drifted in from off behind the bright lights. “Let her breathe, you idiot!”

“Arrghhh… fuck!” He swore, as he began to adjust himself, roughly pulling his tree-trunk of an organ up Lyra’s throat.

As the pulsing head was brought back up into Lyra’s mouth, one of the earth-pony’s heavy ejaculations spilled out from every corner of her lips, and even exploded out of her nostrils.

Heavy, pungent, thick strands of stallion-batter drooled from every part of Lyra’s mouth, overflowing with just one of the many ejaculatory shots Trunch had given her — it looked like she had tried to keep her muzzle over top of a firehose!

And he still wasn’t done!

As he withdrew, his overly-fat saucer-sized flare nearly jammed on Lyra’s teeth, only barely slipping out of the mare’s muzzle with difficulty.

At which point he proceeded to hose her face with a huge, spattering load.

The thick, creamy rope flashed out in a long strand, impacting Lyra’s mane, her face, her neck and chest… it was like he was firing one of those super-soakers all over her.

G-gross… I… I c-can’t…

Bon Bon felt her stomach doing flips. She couldn’t look away from the sight, and yet at the same time she knew that something felt just horrifyingly disgusting about it all.

And yet… It was so different from what she’d received all those years ago in that college dorm-room. This wasn’t some watery-trickle that would struggle to fill a tablespoon…

This was more than a pint of steaming, potent, smelly stallion-cum!

A little splash of Trunch’s finally, flinging rope over-arched Lyra’s mane, landing splatteringly across Bon Bon’s left ear.

Oh Goddesses!

She flicked it back and forth. It felt so… hot on her skin. Not just from the boiling body-heat that was Trunch’s rigid horsecock plumbing… but because her own body seemed to sparkle and excite with the feel.

And the smell!

The whole room just stank of Trunch’s rich, oaky musk. Like cigars and cinnamon, a real stallion’s smell. Bon Bon could feel it oozing through her fur, like a sticky fog attaching itself to every one of her mane strands, being absorbed by her pores.

A-and… I like it?

Where she expected to find disgust, nausea… where she wanted to feel those things… instead there was only a confusing contentment. A dull heat continued to build inside her. The added stink of raw, out-in-the-open stallion essence seemed to be telling her long-dormant reproductive instincts to awake, the power of the Quantihol overwriting all those other neural pathways that had for so long made her sexuality what it was.

She was ready to breed.

The engine of Bon Bon’s femininity was stirring within her, bubbling up like an ancient volcano tube roused by a tectonic tremor. Her lower gut was twisting and churning, deeper than her intestines — her sexual organs thrumming to life. She might have been a fillyfooler, an avowed dick-despiser… but with the help of the spell’s potent effects, her body was quickly reminding her that it was a mare, a female before any such silliness as a personal sexual preference came into play.

Biology overrode psychology.

And with the scent of very fertile studs hanging in the air… it wanted, needed relief.

Bon Bon reached forward, wrapping her hooves around Crunch’s firm, powerful buttocks and pulling herself deeper onto him — driving his long cock as deep into her throat as she could.

M-more, j-just a little more! I’m sure if I just get enough my body will calm down!

Bon Bon’s desperate mind wildly grasped at any reason to explain the nearly automatic impulses she was immediately succumbing to: spearing herself onto her stallion’s drooling length without hesitation, as naturally as she might breathe, or blink.

“Mmmmmmghh….” Bon Bon felt a low rumble bubble up from her gut, a groan of pleasure erupting from deep inside her, unbidden.

Was that me? Oh Goddesses, why does this feel so good?

Her stirring reproductive bio-machinery was bringing its full spectrum of hormonal powers online now, releasing all sorts of pleasure-hormones and adrenaline and serotonin into her already corrupted blood chemistry. Her pounding heart quickly brought the flood of mind-melting toxins to her already addled brain, washing it in a sea of ecstasy-inducing potency that overrode her last defenses.

Bon Bon felt a lightning bolt race down her spine, sending the short-hairs of her coat-hair standing on end. For a moment, she wondered if she’d been tasered as the pulse of nervous shock traced all the way out to her dock, sending her tail lashing back and forth against the chair back.

But then it hit her nethers.

Like the lightning bolt from a rogue thunderstorm off of the Everfree Forest, it quickly branched out into a thousand arching pathways, each one sparking out to a separate nervous centre that controlled some muscle or pleasure nerve-ending in her drooling, overheated marehood.

And then, she came.

It felt almost like a punch to the gut, it hit her so hard. Bon Bon was used to slow, methodical buildups. Sometimes it took her hours to work herself up the required crescendo to actually climax — most of her toys needed to have the ability to plug-in to a wired circuit: she could easily expend packages worth of batteries otherwise. Any partners she’d had over the years had needed to have a lot of patience… and tongue stamina.

This climax, though… it was so… sudden. Powerful. Violent.

“MghnnnaGHGHHHHHH!” Bon Bon’s rumbling groan became a muffled scream, the powerful exhortation barely stifled by the huge gag of stallionhood embedded in her throat. Her whole body wracked with pleasure, her spine contorting back and forth as she rode the waves of euphoric contractions that ferociously struck her.

Her diaphragm sucked in, her respiratory system stunned by the sudden intensity of all of her earth-pony muscles firing with chaotic intensity all at once. It was a vain attempt to supply her with more of the precious oxygen she needed to sustain her higher-order neurological functions, as her vision, thinking, and all of her other senses drifted back into a spotty blur of sensation. All the deep inhale managed to do was to suck in with even more intensity against the fat, long stalliondick almost reaching the bottom of her throat now, constricting against the rigid flesh even more tightly.

“Awww FUCK, bitch! I’m… FUCK!” Crunch suddenly snarled, his body stiffening as he reached down with a free hoof to clench Bon’s mane, almost as if to slow her from taking more of him into her.

Through her hazy, spotty vision, despite the fact her eyes seemed to be rolling euphorically in her sockets, Bon Bon had front-row tickets to the spectacle of Crunch’s orgasm. His big balls, which had been swinging low and proudly just moments before, were constricting. Racing up to clench against his groin.

The already rigid and plump stallion-base throbbed. A huge, heavy pulse of blood seemed to gush into the already terrifyingly large base, popping out huge veins as it raced in an almost garden-hose like bulge along his length, past his medial ring which popped out a further half-inch… and down into the part of his dick embedded in Bon Bon’s quivering throat.

She could feel the fattening penetrator pushing out against her delicate vocal chords, stretching them, straining them… until the pulse finally reached Crunch’s flare.

Suddenly Bon Bon was choking.

It felt like somepony had just unfolded a frisbee in her throat. The already huge knob of his stalliontip blossomed into a huge, erotic flower of masculine pride. The thick, knobby ridge of his cocktip buried itself deep into her throat, securing his cock for the huge dump of stallion-essence racing down it’s throbbing length.

“FUCK!” Crunch’s final exhortation came right as he climaxed.

The first pulse exploded out of Crunch like a can of whipped cream tossed into a bonfire. Bon Bon could only feel the sheer power of the hot, thick blast of his heavy stallion-load as it shot into her stomach.

Her belly instantly felt hot, and full. Like she was chugging one of Sugarcube Corner’s warm egg-nogg specials… faster than chugging even! It was just… sloshing into her!

This wasn’t anything like that weak, watery little trickle she’d had in her college days — Crunch’s orgasm was thick. Like batter. And it didn’t stop… his first pulse had continued for seconds, filling her belly.

Oh Goddesses, help me. Goddesses, why does it feel so… right?

And she was craving every drop of him! Even though his spurting, blasting tip was far below any taste buds, somehow Bon Bon felt she could taste him. Rich, powerful, testosterone laden studliness.

It was like his ejaculatory fluid was some kind of overpowering, mutant virus. The masculine, erotic virules invading all of the cells of her body, making her boil with need as the growing warmth of his cum-fuel spread out in hot tendrils from her rapidly bulging stomach.

And she wanted more of it!

Bon Bon felt the second bulge race down Crunch’s stallionhood, even thicker and more terrifying than the last — it rocketed out of his tip, surging over the trickle of his first shot. Somehow it seemed to be even more potent than the first.

Bon Bon felt her eyes bulge as her belly quickly began to feel overly stuffed. She hadn’t felt her stomach pushing out against her body like this, not since her last hearth’s warming eve dinner.

“Aww… fuck yeah, take it you fuckin’ guardswhorse!” Crunch’s hooves pulled insistently at the back of her head with each new throb of hot, sloshing stallion-cum.

Crunch’s ejaculation was coming fast and furious now, blast after blast as his throbbing releases increased in frequency.

Bon Bon could feel herself overflowing, could feel the level of churning stallion-batter in her belly quickly rising to the top of what her poor little stomach could contain — it burned as it surged up to her throat, like a bad heartburn… it began to choke off her air.

She could do nothing but convulse, her coughing and hacking completely gagged by the thick, spurting flare embedded deep in her trachea.

“Don’t fuckin’ choke her, ya moron.” The nasally Manehattan twang of Dusk Wing floated in from the outskirts.

“Shit.”

Bon Bon felt a surge of discomfort, hidden under the never ending storm-ocean of pleasure as Crunch’s big flare was plumbed out of her throat, straining the muscles and vocal chords as it went.

For a moment, she wondered if it could even get out of her mouth — it jammed there behind her teeth, filling her maw with a fresh splatter of crunch’s seed as he wrested it out from her already strained jaw.

Finally, he was out of her.

A rush of stallion-cream followed the bruiser’s exit as her body expelled the heavy excesses that it simply could not contain. The thick, creamy horse-cum poured from Bon Bon’s mouth and nostrils. She thought she’d been able to guess at the taste before, but actually experiencing it was completely different.

It seemed like it should be disgusting, vile. A bitter, acrid taste of slimy snot-like consistency, just as she’d remembered it from all those years ago….

But that sensation was dim, tiny... like a forgotten memory that pops up momentarily in one’s cortex before fleetingly flashing away. Instead it was replaced by a wonderful, groan-inspiring deep richness that made her swish her tongue back and forth in her maw, trying to re-experience the sheer pleasure of her stud’s taste.

“Fuckin’ fuck.” Crunch groaned, directing the last few spurts of his orgasm over her face.

His final few ejaculations were sticky… almost glue-like. Heavy, ropes of gelatin consistency that marked her mane and trailed down across her snout, painting her with obscene white stripes, before finally abating.

Bon Bon hummed in pleasure, despite herself. For some reason it just felt so… wonderful to be drenched in the stink of her stud’s sexual fluids. Crunch reached forward to wipe off his throbbing and retracting flare with a lock of her mane… and she didn’t mind.

What was wrong with her? Could she fix it?

“Good job, my little broodmare.” Crunch grinned, holding his hoof under Bon Bon’s chin and lifting her up so he could stare deeply into her eyes.

Another ripple of pleasure raced through her — a pulse of throbbing fire as her marehood winked involuntarily at her powerful stud’s compliment and dominating gaze. She’d made him happy with her; that was good, right?

Did she want to fix it?

Author's Note

Author’s Note: A+ work on the narration. It gets the idea of resistance and gradually succumbing to mind control very well. The scene is dark and yet not unbearably so. It’s surprisingly respectful given how brutal chapter 1 of the previous story was. It reminds me very much of how Firesight handles this sort of scene in Unleash The Magic: Nightmare Night.

Good stuff!

AJ Aficionado, Editor

Breaking Lyra

“C’mon now, let’s get to the main event already.” Dusk Wing groaned, shifting her video recorder from one hoof to the other. “My arm’s gettin’ tired and what we’ve got so far wouldn’t even hit the top ten on PornStable.”

Lyra moaned, and reached up to brush the soft strands of her mane. She’d only just caught her breath watching Bon Bon finish off the pegasus-bruiser, and now this bratty little thestral was ushering her off the chair and onto her shaky hooves, hustling her over to a nearby table.

It was hard to even walk over there - all of her muscles felt… woozy. In a good way — ever since her orgasm in the human’s cage everything had just been a blur of blinding, white-hot pleasure for her.

She’d been scared of course, especially when that massive, ancient horse-sized flare had been pushed into her mouth… but very quickly she’d found herself losing herself to it. In only a few strokes, Trunch’s massive earth-pony cock had suddenly taken on an almost mythic perfection in her mind and body.

Every element of it dwarfed the memories of the limited partners she’d had over her life — Lyra had never been a size-queen… in point of fact her favorite coltfriend had actually been the smallest. She’d liked to pretend that his shorter, thinner endowment was similar to what she imagined the average human’s nethers to be like.

She’d even turned down one of Rarity’s blind dates when the fashionista had clandestinely whispered that he was ‘hung like an apple-farmer’. Lyra had never understood why some mares liked walking with an ache for a week… Lyra could tell how ‘lucky’ Roseluck had been simply by how wide her penguin-like gait was the morning following one of her dates.

Not for Lyra, thank you very much... small-sized colts were perfectly fine for her, thank you.

But not anymore.

The huge, hulking body of the earth-pony had hinted at just how… blessed Trunch was down below. But nothing could have prepared Lyra for the sheer log that was the monstrously large stallionhood hanging from Trunch’s belly.

Inches and inches of thick, throbbing-black cock shaft, all tipped by a terrifying dome head. It actually was bigger than her leg!

Lyra thought she was going to die.

And she had — died and gone to heaven.

The painful discomfort had so easily given way to new sensations, new ecstasies. She’d never thought she’d love to be stretched like that. To be violated — face fucked by a ginormous stud. But she did.

And the gift of Trunch’s thick semen, splattering all over her body was even better. She usually preferred her dates (rare as they were — and even rarer those that managed to make it into her bedroom) to leave their condoms on, and she certainly expected them to take care of their own clean-up.

She’d always found stallion-semen to be a bit icky. Smelling way too strong and being a bit too sticky for her tastes.

But this… this stud-seed. She wanted to bathe in it.

Lyra had looked on with jealousy at her friend as she’d engulfed the whole of her partner’s heavy load. Not only did Crunch look like he was a bit more of a prodigious producer, but his less thick size allowed him to actually pour most of his offering into Bon Bon, unlike her own experience, which had been mostly over her face. Lyra’s tongue had managed to lap up a good amount of the thick frosting — forget about finding it off-putting: she couldn’t get enough of it!

Even now, the messy remains that she’d been unable to reach with her long, hungry tongue felt great on her fur… better than any fancy facial-mask she’d ever received at Lotus and Aloe’s spa. It was like her body was just naturally inclined to be coated in the goopy mess of stallionly virility!

“Oh-kay, you’re the boss.” The deep gruff voice of Trunch rumbled like a freight train over Lyra — he even sounded amazing! “Up we go filly!”

“Eep!” Lyra squeaked, as Trunch scooped her up from behind, lifting her up off her shaky muscles and putting the upper half of her body on the wide table. There was a little flutter of pleasure at being so roughly pony-handled by her big, strong stud. The sheer bulk of his muscular forearms seemed to hold enough power to do anything to her. Lift her, squeeze her… pin her down and rut her senseless.

“Ah!” A second chirp of uncertainty escaped her as she reached out with her rear legs, only to find that even extending the tippy-toes of her hooves she couldn’t quite reach the smoothed rock floor of the mine. The table was quite high, leaving her lower half freely suspended in the air. Glancing over her shoulder though, she could see that it was the perfect height for Trunch to throw his big heavy hooves up on either side of her, and buck the everfreeing horseapples out of her.

Goddesses, I’m so hot right now! Why won’t he hurry up? Why won’t he rut me?

“Hurry up, why won’t you rut the little slutty ‘corn?” Dusk’s nasally whine echoed Lyra’s thoughts.

“Don’t you cranky me, batty,” Trunch grunted as he trotted to the side of the table. To Lyra’s dismay it was a side that was orthogonal to her, meaning she wasn’t going to get that big, steaming shaft anytime soon. “I ain’t ready yet.”

Trunch lifted himself up to a standing position, placing his two hooves on the table… before letting his heavy, semi-hard, log of a horsecock flop down across the tabletop.

*THWUMP*

It even sounded bucking huge!

Lyra’s eyes almost crossed over as they stared at the massive sausage just off of her snout. The gigantic black stallionhood wasn’t rigidly full like it had been when it exploded all over her, but it was still plump and throbbing in its semi-erect state.

“Hah, what use is a couple inches more width if you can’t even get it up, chump?” Crunch needled from back near the chairs. He was triumphantly waggling his flagpole, still rigidly hard despite the drenching he’d just given to Bon Bon. “I pumped out twice as much as you and I’m still ready to rock.”

“Quality takes time, feather-licker.” Trunch growled back. “Don’t get too jealous you won’t ever be me.”

“Why would I wanna be you? Only pay-mare that will even let you take her to the hay is Loose-lip Lusty… and she didn’t get that name ‘cuz she squeals to the Guard, if you didn’t know.”

“Buck off, it ain’t like the working-fillies are lining up for you either, ‘gut-spear’.” Trunch huffed.

“Yeah, but at least they let me hose ‘em down. My quantity and stamina are famous. What can they even do with you? Take a picture?”

“Oh, they got lots of other fun things to do with me. Ever heard of log-riding?”

“Like the timber-ponies do?”

“Heh, figures you wouldn’t know.”

“Would you both shut the buck up?” Dusk’s shout was high-pitched, almost a scree. “And would you hurry up and get hard already? What’s a girl gotta do to get some quality hoof-rubbin’ material around here?”

Lyra glanced over at the thestral. She hadn’t noticed it before, but the small bat-teen definitely did look like she was getting a little too into her cameramare role. Her dark wings were extended away from her body, quivering with that pulsing tension that had betrayed many an embarrassingly aroused winged pony. Her tail swished back and forth, high up in the air: it was hard to detect amongst the powerful overtone scents of male sexual fog... but there was another female aroma there, mixed in with those of Bon Bon’s and Lyra’s own fragrance.

Dusk chewed her lip, one of her sharp fangs pressing against the supple flesh of her mouth as she seemed to consider something, then strode forward.

“Oh, what are you doi- ah!” Trunch grunted, as the bat-filly reached out with one of her wings and wrapped it around the heavily-flopped upper shaft of the bruiser's cock, starting to slowly pump the fleshy pole up and down.

“I’ll do it my-fucking-self if I have to…” Dusk swore. Lyra could see, both from the lack of venom in her voice and the way her slit-eyes were laser-locked onto the object of her desire that the little teen wasn’t that upset at the task she’d suddenly taken on.

“Damn Dusky — I thought you told me you’d never fu-”

“I’m not,” Dusk snarled, showing both her teeth as she glared up at Trunch. “What are ya’ kiddin’ me? You seen my hips? You see yer’ buckin’ dick? You think I wanna hobble around in a wheelchair the resta the week?” She opened her mouth, spitting a wet splatter of drool onto Trunch’s cock, letting the last of the salivary lubricant drip off of her long tongue into the blurring movement of wing on penis before continuing. “I’m just gettin’ you hard again… maybe scratchin’ a bit of my own itch while I’m at it — you two fuckers have fogged the whole mine up with this stank.”

Lyra groaned as she watched the thestrals wingtips move along Trunch’s shaft. Her shaft. The flicker in her gut of jealousy seemed to come out of nowhere — only an hour ago she’d been terrified, horrified seeing the big bruiser-pony looming over her… but now that she’d really seen him in all his glory, smelled it, tasted it.

She’d earned the right to call that beautifully huge thing between his legs hers, hadn’t she?

“Mmm, yeah that’s nice Dusky…” Trunch grunted, shifting forward and sliding even more of his dark reddish-black sex-sausage onto the table.

“Hey! Am I gonna get a wingjob too? Even a freaky bat-wingjob would be cool coming from snarky fang-face.” Crunch grinned, waggling his hips and letting his pink stallionhead lightly slap against Bon Bon’s huffing face.

“Tch.” Dusk flipped up one of her free forelegs, giving him the high-hoof before she focused back in on her prey.

Lyra watched as her cock was being stolen right out from under her nose — she could see the blood pulsing back into the thick shaft from the teen’s ministrations. The heavy, arm-thick log of cockflesh jumped and bumped against the cool slate table as each new heavy rush of hot blood pumped from Trunch’s heart back into his loins.

“Shit — this fuckin’... thing is just a mare-wrecker.” Dusk mumbled under her breath, staring at the hoof-sized cockhead as her wing-stroke speed slowed, as she inspected the massive, knobbed ridge more closely. “It’s drenchin’ me just thinkin’ about it ruinin’...” Dusk leaned in, letting her breath wash over Trunch’s tip, “...this whorse’s…” she let her long, pointy tongue unfurl from her mouth and almost drape over the glans, “...too-tight, unicorn-snatch…” The bat’s bright slit-eyed pupils flashed over to glare at Lyra, a teasing mixture of jealousy and challenge there.

The flicker of jealousy in Lyra’s gut fanned into a furious inferno. She was about to steal her stud! Steal the cock that had Lyra questioning every adult decision she’d made that had not led her to finding such a prodigious producer of virility and locking him into her room for months. The bat was about to steal the stallionhood that was supposed to pump her full of more of that ecstasy-inducing batter, in every hole… stuffing her with his lust and filling her with foals!

No!

Lyra’s woozy muscles found a surge of adrenaline pour into them, driven by the biological fury of her competitive feminine womb, which had sensed a threat to the newly discovered ur-male it had chosen to provide the genetic material for her progeny. Her mint-green rear hooves kicked out, catching the edge of the table leg and giving her the leverage that she’d been missing to throw herself forward into the arena of oral competition. At the same time, she threw her forehooves forward in a swim-like motion, trying to grab onto anything that she could latch onto to pull herself more easily to the target area.

That something happened to be the back of a very surprised thestral’s head.

All at once, Lyra and Dusk’s faces came together, with the massive, pulsing, melon-sized cockhead mashed between them.

Lyra’s tongue delighted as it once again acquainted itself with Trunch’s Goddess-blessed taste, swirling her fat pink oral muscle all over his fat knob to slurp up any newly released fluids. But there was a new taste, a new texture she was running into: the thinner, writhing-pink tongue belonging to Dusk Wing.

The thestral teen was still trapped in a state of surprise, all of Lyra’s weight behind her messy mane pulling her against the stallion-cock and into Lyra’s face in some kind of obscene Prench-kiss cock-meat sandwich. She was still stunned, her hooves and wings outstretched in shock, slow to move to extract herself from the strange lip-lock she’d found herself in.

Lyra followed the curving outline of Dusk’s tongue, intrigued by the strange taste and the afterhint of Trunch that remained there. She was a rival, sure… but if she had any of her stud’s essence in her mouth, Lyra wouldn’t hesitate to go in to recapture it! Sliding quickly, Lyra’s tongue found its way to the thestral’s outer teeth, sliding along their dangerously sharp yet exotically foreign surface, before slipping into her mouth entirely.

Hmmm…. Mmmm!

Lyra’s golden eyes flared wide, a new wave of that wonderful realization starting to wash through her, just like it had when she’d first gotten Trunch’s once-terrifying cock-taste in her mouth.

Mares are actually… pretty sexy too!

A whole flood of new feeling thumped in Lyra’s chest. It wasn’t that she’d never had those feelings before… she’d just been kind of… oblivious to them. But now... all those beautiful mares she’d admired… all those passing offers of casual cooler-buddy frolicking… all those hot marebutt plots! Damn!

Why did I never realize just how hot mares were?

The potent Quantihol quickly started to set new targets in Lyra’s mind, even as the thestral-mare finally managed to jam her hooves against the unicorn’s chest and push away, giving her the force needed to leverage herself off of the crazy horse-lady.

“Pah!” Dusk Wing gasped shoving Lyra off of her.

Lyra’s eyes flicked over to Bon Bon, still recovering from her face-painting. Suddenly, all of those subtle cues… all those hints… Bon Bon really wanted her!

“Fuck fuck FUCK!” Dusk cursed, pawing at her tongue and spitting.

And Lyra loved her, too! Goddesses above and below, she’d always thought her roommate was stunningly beautiful: how had she never put two and two together? How had she never realized that the two of them could make such beautiful bedroom-music together? Sweeter than any music she could ever make with her harp.

“It GOT IN MY MOUTH!” Dusk was spitting and hacking, thrashing as she jumped around behind the table, “For sure it did, FUCK FUCK!”

“Calm down!” Quantum huffed, grasping her with a powerful kinetic field. “You probably didn’t get much, just slip on a blindfold and keep your damn mouth shut for once.”

Dusk emitted a strange, scared chirp as she whirled and snatched a blindfold from a nearby pile of… bedroom accouterments. Her hooves scrambled as she scrabbled to put the mask over her eyes, which she was currently holding pinched shut.

“Or you can just open ‘em, join the fun, Dusky.” Trunch chuckled.

“Buck yeah, be good to finally put you in your place: under my belly.” Crunch agreed.

“Shut the fuck up!” Dusk screeched, “I have no intention of bein’ a cock-silly addict, least of all to you two, ya’ fuckin’ fifth-leg havin’ motherbuckers.” She snapped the eyemask down over her face, blocking out any potential visions from invading.

“Aww, c’mon Dusky… how are you gonna operate your camera if you can’t see?” Trunch teased, as he flexed his nethers, causing his huge, once-again rigid stallionhood to arch slightly off of the table in front of Lyra’s muzzle. “Plus you already went through the trouble of gettin’ me hard again, just give in… flip them blinds up.”

Dusk flipped up her wing in a very insulting manner, and stuck her tongue out. “Fuck you.” Lyra watched as she deftly snagged the camera from where she’d dropped it on the floor, hoisting it back instantly and snapping it perfectly on the scene unfolding in front of her. “Bats are perfectly fine at operating without vision, idiot.”

Dusk turned to Quantum, quickly directing her nasally whine to him. “What the buck do I do boss? Ain’t there some kind of cure? Don’t this thing wear off?”

Quantum grunted and shook his head. “It doesn’t wear off, that’s the point. As to a cure, or an antidote… I could only ask Blackheart about it.”

“Where the fuck is that lazy bitch?” Dusk snarled, spitting onto the floor.

“Outside. If she’s even half as cautious as she seems she probably saw the cordon they’ve likely put around our place — I bet she’s halfway to Manehattan by now.”

“Treacherous bitch! She should have her kneecaps busted for this!”

“No, it’s just smart,” Quantum grunted. “In any case, I don’t need half my team fucking the other half in some sort of addicted chaotic orgy — go get some of those gags and masks from the other room.”

“I am so fucked…” Dusk Wing huffed, then turned and opened her mouth slightly, ears pricked forward in a far higher posture of alertness than they had been at any time before. Lyra could almost swear she could hear the tiniest of high-pitched tones, like a slight ringing in her ears… but it quickly diminished as Dusk moved off down the hallway.

“Well, I ain’t waitin’...” Trunch grunted, stepping himself down from the table. His whole penis slowly rose from the cold surface, like a massive meat-spaceship slowly lifting from the surface of Equus. Steaming, sticky drips of his pre-juice stayed attached between his shaft and the table, as the whole hulk of horseflesh pivoted away from Lyra’s vision.

Lyra felt her nethers quiver, an unbidden wink slipping her lovebud out from between her lips and leaving a fresh coat of her own slick honey in anticipation of where her stud was heading next.

“Neither am I,” Crunch grunted, patting Bon Bon’s cheeks with his rigid pink penis once again, as if to rouse her from her stupor. “C’mon already…” Tired of waiting, he simply flicked one of his wings, spilling Bon Bon from the chair she was still lollingly lounging in. She managed to catch herself on all fours, her head staring back at the pegasus who’d just dislodged her. But she wasn’t looking back with anger…

It was devotion.

Lyra licked her own lips, seeing the sheer bubbling admiration glinting in Bon Bon’s blue eyes. It was so cute to see her best friend in such a state!

The once-stolid secret agent was purring as she flicked her tail back against Crunch’s groin, trying to slide the side of her hip against his crotch.

“C’mon c’mon, horny little whorse… over to the table.” Crunch chuckled, ushering her with a wing.

*CLUMP CLUMP*

Two huge, heavy hooves slammed down on either side of Lyra’s head, quickly bringing her focus back to herself. It was the first time she’d seen Trunch’s hooves up close to get a sense of the size of them. They were like two boulders — heavy, massive and sturdy. She was surprised they hadn’t shattered the rocky surface of the table. Lyra’s own forehooves looked tiny next to them, like a newborn comparing its hoof breadth with its proud parents.

Their foals would be big.

Lyra grinned, contentment coming over her at the thought of the strong, robust genetics she was about to propagate. It was like a whole new consciousness had been activated in her mental core, powered by a circuit hard-wired right into her womb.

And if his hooves are that big…

*Thwap!*

“Ahhn!” Lyra couldn’t hold out the sultry moan of surprise as she felt the hot, heavy, wet weight slap down against her back.

Trunch had let his huge stallionhood fall onto her spine.

It reminded her of the time during winter-wrap up when she’d had to carry wooden logs without the use of magic. Trunch was that massive and huge! But unlike the log, covered in wet snow and grating bark… this log was smooth, sticky-hot, and throbbing with life.

Lyra curved her spine, trying to adjust to its size and shape. The thing reached almost up to her shoulder blades! And it would be wide enough to rest on both at the same time! A shiver at the scary-exciting thought of just how impossibly deep and wide Trunch could break her open rippled through Lyra, painting the thin fur over her spine with the drooling wetness coating Trunch’s pride.

“Oopsie daisy…” Lyra’s eyes flashed forward briefly, catching sight of Crunch similarly lifting Bon Bon up onto the table, at the edge across from her. The two were close now, their faces only separated by a couple of hooflengths.

“L-lyra…?” Bon Bon’s blue eyes seemed out of focus, one of her irises partially twisting into a heart-like shape.

“Mmmhmm… Bon-ah!” Lyra’s response was cut off as she felt the heavy weight begin to drag slowly back down her back, as her stud shifted his hips and mass over top of her, repositioning himself.

A wet snail trail of his copious, burbling, heated fluids was left in the furrow of her spine and lower back as his gigantic cockhead bounced down every vertebra with tantalizing reminders of sheer mass.

Lyra felt the pull of her damp, drenched tail hairs as Trunch pulled further back, needing to adjust his forehooves to get more room. He easily flattened her excited, rigidly erect dock… though her tail quickly sprang back up into a fully flagged position as his tip finally began to slowly slide down her plot.

Oh! Oh GODDESSES! He’s huge!

The wet kiss of cocktip against the flat of her under-dock felt like someone was pressing a warm, wet, melon against her backside; he was so large. She squirmed uncomfortably as the fat knob slid over her tight green ponut, a ridiculously impossible notion with their contrasting sizes… Lyra hoped he wouldn’t stop there… she needed him inside her marehood. Needed to try at least!

And then he had aligned himself.

The embrace of hot, winking-pink marehood against the drooling, throb of stallionhead was more passionate than any kiss-scene of a Las Pegasus produced love-flick.

“Ah!” Both Trunch and Lyra groaned as one, his low rumble echoing through her.

The press of his hot, boiling hoof-sized hunk of cockflesh against her marehood, already winking as wide as it could to expose every bit of its hot, hidden interior pinkness sent a second shiver through Lyra’s body.

He’s SO much bigger than me!

His massiveness entirely engulfed her tight little pussy — it was like holding a buckball over a sink drain and hoping somehow you’d be able to fit it into the far narrower aperture. By Celestia’s mercy, Lyra could feel Trunch’s width against each of her hipbones… at the same time!

Forget about whether her plot would be able to accept this massive hunk of a stud-stallion… she wasn’t sure if her skeletal structure would be able to accommodate him!

But that wasn’t stopping Trunch.

A hot, heavy blast of air from his nostrils washed down over Lyra’s head as he exhaled a heavy snort… and then pushed.

“AHhhhhn!” Lyra moaned, instinctively trying to shift her hips under the sudden onslaught of pressure, but quickly finding that she had no room to maneuver against the barricade of the table. She was pinned, sandwiched between the unmoving heavy furniture… and the behemoth-sized prod of meat thrusting against her marehood.

At first Trunch’s head simply smushed up against her backside, the knurly knobs of his coronal ridge pressing as much against her glutes as against her dripping sex — but… as she felt another clenching wink of her vagina blow a grasping kiss at the invader, the dome-shaped protuberance of the center of his head slid into the wet furrow of her steaming pussy.

“Ohhh!” Lyra’s head tilted up in response, as she felt the hot, burbling tip at the very exterior of her marehood. “Mmmn!”

She’d never felt anything like this before, not with even her most memorable partners… even those that had come highly recommended from her friend Roseluck. Lyra felt like she had such clarity of perception from every fibre in her sex — a granularity of sensation that nearly overwhelmed her mind.

It was almost like she could taste the hot squirts of pre-ejaculate that Trunch’s splurting urethra was slopping into her, adding to the waterfall of lubrication that would not be nearly enough to ease the impossible connection they were attempting.

A second thrust, harder, longer and more insistent.

“Ah ah… AH!” Lyra’s yelps came as she felt the strain of her marehood being stretched open. With Trunch’s tip plowing the way forward, guiding the quickly blossoming flare into its boiling target, it was now a simple matter of the force of his spearing stallioncock against the remaining tension of her tight, grasping fillybits.

Quickly, Lyra felt her slick pink inner labia pressed out to their uttermost. Her stud’s thickness now began to spread and stretch her plump outer-lips, unrolling them further and further as more and more of him pushed into her.

But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough!

This must be what foalbirth feels like! Oh, I’ll have so many of my stud’s foals!

The sting of her powerful vaginal floor muscles being taken to their limits… and beyond… was intermixed with the sheer, blinding pleasure of being entirely and completely overwhelmed by the raw masculine presence of her lover.

The Quantihol’s effect had awoken ancient, thrumming biological drives in the unicorn mare ™genetic instructions that had lain dormant since the days when ponies had been horses on the ancient plains of Equus. These powerful sexual selection imperatives had only a single, overpowering message: stronger, bigger, harder makes stronger, bigger, better foals.

Lyra’s mind was entirely awash with the raw need to take her stud’s horsecock.

“Mmmngh!” Despite the strain, Lyra pressed back against Trunch’s thrust, arching her rump upward and pushing her hips to add more force to the already intensely pressured conjunction of stallion and mare.

A powerful whinny filled the room, as Trunch snorted and stomped with one of his forehooves, before bucking forward with his lower body. The sheer power of his lungs and diaphragm letting out such a tremendous, feral roar assaulted Lyra. Her whole body shook with the force of his half shout… and she felt her body thrum in response.

He’s so… strong… so big… so… sexy!

A bolt of pleasure screamed out of Lyra’s brain, firing through her in both directions — one sending a shower of greenish-golden sparks from her horn… the other racing down her spine and sending muscles all over her body into riotous convulsions as she orgasmed.

And her desperate marehood opened just a fraction more.

OOF!

He was in her.

His massive, melon-sized, cockhead was in her!

It was only the head of his huge, fat log of a cock, and yet Lyra felt more full than she’d have ever imagined possible. Her marehood was stretched to its utmost, the hot, dark-pink walls of her opening canal pressed wide by the dark-red cockflesh embedded in it, as squirts of their combined juices ran out of her in gossamer streams of the end of her extended, fat, clit.

She could feel the wedge of cock inside her, pressing against her pelvic structure, re-arranging her guts, forming a wide bulge in the mons-pubis just below her crotchteats as he small body did everything in its power to admit the oversized male.

But Trunch wasn’t happy to just dip his tip… he was burying his bone.

“Ahnn… f-f… fughhh…” Lyra’s words were dying on the tip of her sloppy, uncoordinated tongue. She didn’t have enough spare mental cycles for speech processing with the sheer sensation as Trunch began to slide inch after inch of his meat into her body.

With the thick cockhead in, there was little to stop his spearlike follow-up thrust.

The huge wall of sheer stallionhood plowed through her insides, wrenching open parts of Lyra that had never been touched before by any stallion or toy.

Seven inches, eight… nine…

Lyra’s head lashed left and right as the trickle of magic spurting from her horn finally died down. Aside from the thrilling pleasure of her deep vaginal tunnel being wrenched apart, she could feel her body stretching and shifting, nearly splitting as the bulge of Trunch’s studliness went deeper and deeper into her.

Every vein, every bump, every knob of his pulsing, thick meat left its unerasable mark in the wet, soft folds of her vaginal wall… like some kind of strange, erotic scanning device.

Ten inches, eleven… fourteen and still counting.

“Ooof!” Lyra half-coughed, as a sudden buck from Trunch drove three inches of pure, pulsing, penis into her in a moment, driving the air from her lungs.

There was so much of him inside her now, deep inside her core. It felt like he’d taken over, invaded, replaced her essence. This stud had claimed her very centre, spiritually and physically.

“Ahnn!” Lyra squeaked her ears folding back as the fat knob reached a now deepwater mark inside her, brushing against that hidden, almost legendary gate that only the ‘luckiest’ of mares ever had occasion to mention when tittering with their friends.

Her cervix.

The gateway to her womb, to the very core of her feminine essence. Trunch was knocking against it with all the force of a locomotive pushing against a container car, battering it with sheer power.

Dimly, Lyra’s mind recalled some highschool biology, sex-ed classes that had made the mares giggle and the colts blush. Her teacher had mentioned how it was certainly possible for a colt to reach his filly’s uterus in certain positions… but that it was quite unlikely…. Needing a rather prodigious genetic blessing for Celestia to be possible. But if it did happen, the teacher had noted, with a wry grin, the equine body actually could permit a stallionhood into the womb for direct access… for the very lucky mare.

Lyra wasn’t sure if she felt lucky in that moment, more a mixture of terrified and excited.

Trunch’s huge cockhead had barely slipped past her out marehood, how would it ever make it past her cervix?

It seemed impossible. But Trunch was certainly trying…

And some strange, desperate part of Lyra wanted him to succeed.

“Fuck filly, you’ve taken more of me than any mare since I was a blank-flank,” Trunch’s throaty growl rolled down over her from above.

Lyra looked up to see the bruiser smirking down at her with admiration, “Last time I buried my bone to my ring, I was a fresh-faced grade school colt.” Lyra’s eyes twinkled back up at her lover’s praise. She could feel the huge bump of flesh pressing against her fully strained marehood: she’d assumed that it was his hilt, not the donut-like medial ring that separated a stallion’s upper two-thirds from the thick, expansive tree-trunk of their cockbase.

“You’re a sexy little minx, ain’tcha?”

He leaned his head down, opening his mouth and letting his big tongue loll out of his mouth. For a moment, Lyra was struck again by just how much bigger the stallion was than her, it seemed almost as if he could have enclosed his open mouth around her whole head. Instead, his huge tongue laid a massive, languid lick across her face.

The stink of his breath, the heavy drool of his love-lick, the warm wet embrace of his tongue against her muzzle. It was so… grossly erotic. Coating her in his saliva.

Lyra shivered, clenching and writhing around his huge dick.

“Fuck! Brave little bitch, huh?” Trunch grimaced, eyes fluttering at the sensations being transmitted through to his cock. “Well, you got me all fired up with the memory of hilting my grade-school principal… I think I wanna feel a mare’s ass against my hips again… what do you think, babe?” Trunch rocked his hips forward with his question, pushing once again against Lyra’s cervix.

Lyra’s big eyes were lost in Trunch’s dominant, powerful male gaze. She wanted more than anything to please him, to get that praise from him again, another kiss, another lick… and more of that massive, stallionly dick.

She nodded.

“Good girl.”

Trunch thrusted.

Author's Note

I’m sure Dusk getting the horny potion in her mouth isn’t going to wind up really fucking her later. I’m sure of it! THis right here is my favorite chapter by far. I am madly in hate-love for Dusk Wing.

Amazing interplay between the goons and their capo. The humor was definitely on-point and I found myself pretty turned on the entire time!

Aj Aficionado, Editor

Breaking Bon Bon

“AhHHHHH!”

Bon Bon’s ears flicked forward as Lyra’s head was thrown back, golden sparks from her horn firing back into the earth-bruiser pony’s chest as he laid into her with aviolent buck.

She’d had a front-row view to Lyra’s deep, hard rutting. The whole thing had been taking place right off the end of her nose, she was only inches from her roommate’s face… but Lyra had been so far gone that she’d barely noticed her. Instead, her eyes would continually flick up at her lover, twinkling and sparkling for him in ways that Bon Bon had always wished she’d look at her.

But these thoughts had difficulty forming in Bon Bon’s mind.

She’d only just recovered herself from the copious, overflowing, orgasm she’d shared with Crunch. One moment she’d been filled to the very brim while sitting in that chair, and when next her consciousness had returned from its semi-autonomic state, she was propped up on this table, her friend getting the horseapples rutted out of her… and Crunch right behind Bon Bon’s rump.

“Mmmf…”

Bon Bon’s eye quivered as she felt a heavy, wet prod against her marehood. She glanced in the mirror to get a view of what it was… Crunch’s tongue.

Y-yes… yes.

Her mind weakly hummed its approval. Her pussy was aching so badly, ever since ingesting all of that potent stallion essence. It felt needy, sore, desperate… empty.

Bon Bon had never been the type of filly-fooler who found she needed toys to fill herself, but Goddesses above and below had that ever changed. It was so clear to her now, so crystal clear… her marehood needed to be filled, the only way it could be satisfied.

She needed cock and a whole lot of it.

Crunch’s tongue roughly pressed against her, followed by an almost rude spit of saliva over her hot, winking, pink nethers. Completely unnecessary too, as she was already pouring a hot mess of steamy marecum in dribbling drips to the mine floor below.

Crunch’s tongue pushed in, penetrating her roughly and swirling left and right clumsily, before quickly withdrawing, “Fuck me, tighter than a preteen schoolfilly!”

Bon Bon moaned, the dim shock of considering that her lover might have first-hoof experience with an innocent filly quickly washed away... the modern world’s rules, taboos and morals easily overcome by the ancient engine of sexual selection the Quantihol had stirred to life deep within her: he was her stud. Of course, he would be sowing his genetic material wherever able! She was just lucky to have him now, to have claimed him against all those other hussies.

“Ready, you rug-muncher?”

Crunch’s tongue snaked out again, flicking back and forth against Bon Bon’s lovenub. His awkward movements against her fat clit were too bold, without any subtlety. He battered the bulb of pleasure back and forth like a boxing-bag.

Bon Bon had lain with world-class cunnilinguists. Mares who were renowned amongst the lurid Canterlonian noble social circles. Mares who could take her as high as Luna’s moon for hours of unending pleasure.

And all those experiences died and fell a distant second to the haphazard and hurried clumsy flicks of Crunch’s amateur oral licks merely because he was so perfectly, hugely, male.

Her stallion.

Bon Bon groaned out, the clenching desperation from her gut exploding up her throat with a raspy creaking sigh, as she was rocked by an orgasm after only a moment of Crunch’s ministrations.

An orgasm like she’d never had before from a mare’s mouth, sending her marehood into a series of winking convulsions, grasping again and again at the air, flashing open and shut again and again in preparation for the stallionhood it demanded.

“That’s it, now Poppa Crunch is gonna fix that filly-foolin’ cunt of yours… show you what you’ve been missing.” Crunch stood up, flexing his pelvic muscles to make his long, hard stallionhood slap up against his belly as he clambered up onto the table. He stroked a wing along Bon Bon’s left side, up to her sweaty mane, licking her ear as he whispered. “Would you like Daddy to fix you, filly?”

The disgusting words slid past Bon Bon’s ears. Some dim, distant, melting part of her mind considered lashing out at such repugnant thinking… but before it could even form a thought it was gone, churned back up into the frothing boil of erotic satisfaction that bubbled through her grey matter.

“Mmm… mmhmm…” Bon Bon groaned, wriggling her plot. Anything to get this stud of hers inside her.

Now.

“That’s a good little filly,” Crunch chortled, putting one of his hooves square in between Bon Bon’s shoulder blades, and the other on the back of her head, pushing her face down into the tabletop. “Now, spread those hinds for daddy.”

Bon Bon did her best to comply, though her rear hooves were basically on their tippy-toes. She shifted her legs wider, quickly losing contact with the ground and finding herself hovering in mid-air. But her stud didn’t care — he slid his hips into position, pushing her legs even wider with his own, spreading her plot bare.

“Please…!” Bon Bon groaned, hiking her tail as high as it would go, arching her hips agonizingly backward… she needed him.

Crunch had good aim, and good timing: there was no slow, deliberate press against her. He speared his way into her.

Bon felt a pinch of pain and then an unbelievably wide stretch of her marehood as the pegasus’s big pink cock thrust up and into her body.

The nerves in her pussy wall barely had time to react, each inch of her private, pink tunnel being violently strained far beyond any width they’d been asked to accommodate before. Inch after inch of throbbing, pulsingly thick bruiser-cock slid into her squelching marehood, as her tight lips shuddered and squeezed in chaotic convulsions.

This wasn’t like any penetrative experience she’d had in her life. Be it the fumbling few disappointing experiences she’d had with stallions, the languid and lascivious strap-on nights she’d entertained with fillyfriends, or even the odd time she’d play with a piece of recreational silicone… Bon Bon’s body was used to taking small things… slowly.

This… this was a power-fuck by an alpha-stud.

An overly well-endowed stud.

His huge stallioncock dwarfed even the largest of coolers in her toybox, a gag gift that she’d never even considered using. And he had casually bucked half of it into her body in one uncaring, simple thrust.

Bon Bon’s body ached and shifted, her insides twisting and bulging as a new ridge protruded up through her lower abdomen, between her teats, and partway to her bellybutton… an outward bump of displaced marebody, driven by Crunch’s fat cock.

All at once, she felt that explosive shudder ripple through her again, a delayed reaction to the sudden injection of pure, stud-testosterone that she’d been so desperate to receive. Bon Bon grit her teeth together, biting down hard at the pain-pleasure mix of the contraction that fired all of her sexual muscles at once, clenching against Crunch’s pussy-stuffing cock in swirling, milking grasps.

“Damn, fucking tight little filly,” Crunch snarled, bucking into the grasps of Bon Bon’s pussy. “Don’t know if yer’ enjoyin’ this, but I sure as hell am!”

She was enjoying it!

Her clenching grasps had made her marehood thrum into a wink, one which seemed to never end. This had made her big, fat clitoris strain out from its usual hiding spot, standing at attention at the mouth of her gaping, stretched marehood.

One of her fillyfriends had joked that Bon Bon had the biggest lovenub she’d ever seen… but it liked to hide, deep within the thick folds of her nether lips.

It wasn’t hiding now.

The throbbing pinkish-red bundle of ultra-concentrated pleasure nerves was grinding against Crunch’s cock, bouncing along the outer surfaces of veins and bumps as he slid more and more and more into her writhing body, each friction-filled touch flooding her nethers with pleasure.

“Ahnnnh!!!” Bon Bon heard herself scream into the table, unaware of having even started to open her mouth. It was like she had to release some of the roiling, magmatic energy building up deep inside her, lest it consume her from the inside out, the flicker of a flame too bright for its container.

He surged into her, deeper and deeper. Plowing through her, spreading her.

In only the briefest flicker of her heartbeat he was at her womb, his throbbing-pink head slammed up against her deep, hidden vault.

The touch set Bon Bon off once again, a secondary explosion of pleasure that detonated with the ferocity of a firebomb.

She used to hate the touch of anything against her cervix — she often chose toys and strapons that were deliberately on the short side. Any accidental contact usually brought with it an unpleasant cinch of painful discomfort, often followed by a very quick end to whatever erotic activity was underway.

But not now.

The kiss of Crunch’s cockhead against her womb felt like a key sliding into a well-oiled hole: clacking and clunking with clumsy impact, yes… but oh so right.

It was like the final bastion of her femininity was finally being assaulted. The castle keep, deep within her fortress of closed and controlled emotional spirituality… being battered to pieces by this battering ram of male power.

“Gnhh… y-yeshhh!” Bon Bon’s grunting acclamation was half lost into the table, her face still mushed into it by Crunch’s heavy, pressing hoof.

“You like that, filly?” Crunch laughed, starting to withdraw slightly.

Bon Bon moaned, disappointed at the slight removal of Crunch’s wonderfully filling stallionhood. Her marehood clasped to his thick pink shaft, tight enough to create a sucking force within her that pulled at her cervix.

“You want your big. Bad. Daddy. Don’t you?” Each staccato delivery of his vapid sex-talk was accompanied by a vicious thrust of his long, stiff rod. Slamming against her womb with all the momentum the short, three-inch withdrawals would allow him to muster.

“Y-yesh… yesssh!” Bon Bon moaned back, desperate that her stud would hear her answer.

“You gotta let me in then, filly,” Crunch growled. Bon Bon felt his heavy forehoof ungrasp her mane, releasing her from being pressed callously into the table. It dragged along her back sharply, leaving a fire trail of pressure in its wake as it slid down to her ample flank and hooked in against her hipbone. “Just relax and let Poppa in, babe.”

His pounding was coming with more force now, the muscles in his hindlegs joined by the strength in his forearms pulling back against her lower body. She could feel the tight gateway to her inner-womb slowly stretching open, parting with agonizing slowness.

“P-puhleese...please…” Bon Bon whined, her eyes having trouble focusing. Goddesses, she wished she could simply relax and let him in, wished she had some conscious control over those muscles.

“Bad, bad filly.”

*SMACK*

A hard, stinging strike flashed out against her left flank, with enough force to bruise. Crunch had swung his heavy huff with ungentle speed.

The roiling impact of pain-pleasure landed like a boulder thrown into a pond, heavy ripples crashing out in all directions, sending her nerves and muscles into a cacophony of mad reaction, twitching and spasming in confused waves, uncertain whether to tense or relax.

And he slipped in.

All at once, another five inches of steel-hard, steaming-pink stallioncock thrust into her.

Bon Bon felt a stretching sting in her marehood, as her lips let Crunch’s donut-sized medial ring punch into her, the final third of his huge stallionhood opening her even more than before — his thick, girthy cock-base taking her smaller body to its utmost limits.

“AHhhN! F-Fuh… FUCK!” Bon Bon’s head and necked arched backward, ripping up off the table in reaction to the sensation.

“Mmm! Yeah filly, fuck… good girl!” Crunch snarled, pushing harder with his lower body, spearing his long, heavy cock into Bon Bon, grinding her stomach into the tabletop.

“S-suh… Celestia!” Bon Bon moaned into the ceiling, begging to her deity in this moment of overwhelming pleasure. Crunch was inside her womb. His fat, pink stallionhead thrusting back and forth in her deepest, most sacred depth.

Her head bobbed and wobbled, bouncing loosely on its tired, drunken sinews. Her eyes whirled drunkenly, her pupils dilated into heart-shapes of different sizes. Through the haze she could see Lyra across from her, in a similar state — unable to control herself, eyes askew and tongue lolling.

Fluids spilling from both sets of lips.

“Yeah, filly — fuck I think I’m actually going to hilt you!” Crunch yelped, an excited giddiness in his voice.

Good! Bon Bon’s mind surged with happiness at the thought of pleasing her lover, her stallion. I want all of him. Every inch!

Another inch, and another, each pistoning thrust of Crunch’s hips pushing more and more of his meat into her. She could feel his heavy tip against the far end of her womb now, pressing against the back wall, driving her whole reproductive system up her body.

Already it was getting hard to keep drawing the deep, shuddering breaths that had accompanied her moaning grunts — Crunch’s thrusts were slamming against the underside of her diaphragm, making every other breath miss its catch, sucking precious wind from her respiratory tract and leaving her dizzy with lack of oxygen.

And then she felt it.

Her lover’s hips against her.

The wet kiss of her soaking marehood against his groin.

He had hilted.

“Ahnnnn...!” Bon Bon’s mouth parted again in a long, low, triumphant wail. Her body, still an unending tempest of orgasm since Crunch’s insertion, peaked anew.

Despite the feeling of impossible, total, complete fullness, Bon Bon’s plot emptied itself — hot streams of sloshing, squirting marecum splattering out, washing down Crunch’s legs in a messy geyser of obscene sounding splatters as she unloaded every bit of steaming love-lubrication.

“Shit, babe!” Crunch paused in his thrusts, leaving his member completely embedded in her. “Amazing!” He patted her flank.

Crunch nodded across the table at his partner. “Brother, I can’t fuckin’ believe it… she took me. All of me! Bud, I ain’t hilted a mare since I was a colt at the Cloudsdale orphanage!”

Bon Bon saw the head-shaking grin returned by Trunch, who simply gestured at the mirror with his chin. “Same — I ain’t hilted her yet. But she took my buckin’ ring. My ring!”

Bon Bon could see Lyra’s plot — it looked like she’d been skewered by some kind of bizarre, fleshy tree-trunk. Trunch’s visible massive cockbase was an ebony black, the mottled portion which shifted to a darkish red buried deep within Lyra’s body.

The unicorn’s marehood lips were almost invisible, they’d been strained so wide, her flanks and hips were being wrenched open by the gargantuan love wedge.

It was larger than a foal’s head! As large as a watermelon!

And he was still working more into her!

Somewhere, deep inside her, a strange pride bubbled. She and Lyra were servicing these feral stallions in the primitive ways of old — ways that would have made their ancestral matrons proud.

Bon Bon steeled herself, trying to call some command back into her muscles, squeezing and rippling her stretched, extended vaginal tunnel… doing all she could to milk her snorting, dominant stallion, to be the ideal receptacle for his precious genetic gift.

She strained her neck forward, an unconscious reaction to her attempt to elongate herself for Crunch, as if stretching her head forward would somehow make her throbbing reproductive tube, from lips to the uterine back wall, longer.

Immediately she felt her nose bump against something, and her eyes flicked forward, struggling to focus on the point just in front of them through the hazy blur of pleasure and wobbling pupils.

It was Lyra!

At about the same time, Lyra’s eyes caught hers. Even despite the tremendous fucking she was receiving, the sheer surges of pleasure that spilled over the unicorn’s ability to think, Bon Bon could still see the flashes of that beautiful spirit, that goofy soul, in those golden, heart-shaped pupils.

Goddesses I love her. So much!

Bon Bon’s heart thumped in her chest. Her whole being was already an open vessel, an object to be filled with flesh, fluid and love. There was still room in her heart for her desperate, secret crush… alongside the strong, powerful presence of her devotion to her stud’s cock,

Could she now, at this impossible moment, actually attempt to finally show her affection… her secret love… to the unicorn? After all those aborted attempts? All those silent, underhoofed hints that fell on her deaf ears?

Another thumping thrust rammed into her, this one with enough pumping backforce to swing Crunch’s heavy pink balls swinging up to strike the insides of her dangling legs. Bon Bon’s mind registered the weight of them, those two heavy eggs filled with the precious material that would spawn their perfect foals,

A second thrust brought them swinging back again, like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.

Crunch was finding his rhythm, increasing in speed and force. Wet smacks of his soaked groin against her hips were filling the room as he hammered her rear, violently bumping her forward.

And just like that, her snout was thrust up against Lyra’s.

After all this time, all those months… all that worrying and fretting and anxiety. It was the pounding thrusts of a dominant, brute of a powerful, masculine stallion that achieved for her what she’d been too scared to attempt.

Bon Bon watched Lyra’s eyes flare wide at the contact, the heart pupils jerking front and center in a moment of clarity, clearly seeing her. The taste of the mint-green unicorn’s lip was frosted with the salty, musky tang of Trunch’s semen, distinct and yet just as delectably intoxicating as Crunch’s effusion… and yet it was so perfect on Bon Bon’s lips, more perfect than even her wildest imaginations could have conceived.

She groaned in time with Lyra, as their lips began to open at the same time.

Bon Bon felt a thump of excitement in her heart so potent that it pulsed the unending spurt of orgasmic pleasure reverberating through her to a new high — Lyra wanted to kiss her back!

In so many scenarios she’d envisioned the beautiful, aloof lyre-player turning away from her in disgust, a friendship ruined, her dreams scattered like the shards of a cider-bottle thrown down a dark alleyway.

But the unicorn was smiling, the edges of her mouth curling up with drunken joy at their first kiss. It was so sweet, the tickle of Lyra’s breath against her nose, the sliding wetness of lip over lip.

It was only made sweeter by the stretching, straining pleasure of hard, huge, stallionmeat fucking her. Such a perfect combination of her true heart’s desire with the true body’s biological needs, a gushing ecstasy of soul-fulfillment that made her spirit fill to bursting.

Right on cue, Trunch unleashed a particularly sharp thrust of his own, in conjunction with a frightening snarl of focused aggression. Bon Bon couldn’t see if he’d somehow managed to drive the impossible final inch of his trunk into her, or if the sheer, jamming friction of his width against Lyra’s skeletal structure had proved too much, but the humping assault flung Lyra forward, deeper into the pair’s shared kiss.

Suddenly their tongues were dancing with each other, struggling to taste and feel and find a position in the hot, languid embrace of their open muzzles. Bon Bon’s eyes alternated between open and shut, melting into the passionate release of the kiss and letting her vision fade into a sea of dark, overwhelming sensation… before a sharp thrust of white-hot, stallion-driven pleasure would flicker her eyes into full, wide-open brightness, spinning and swirling with the nerve-popping firestorm in her mind.

The crackle of Lyra’s horn against Bon Bon’s forehead only added to the surreal, overwhelming fuck-embrace. Magic scents like the acrid scent of gunpowder mixed with the welcome stink of hot, foggy, stallion-mare sex as golden energy flickered against her sweaty mane.

The pulse of warm, golden energy slipped into her — like dumping a bucket of soapy water into an overfilled bath: creating an explosion of sloshing bubbles from the new mixture of liquids. It was almost like the giddy, goofy, oh-so-horny energetic nature of her crush was inside her… as much a part of her as the thrusting stallionhood punching against her womb.

With the surge of magical energy, Bon Bon felt Lyra’s presence more intensely than ever — she could feel Lyra’s pulses of excitement, of pleasure, of sheer rut-madness. When she flicked her tongue against the underside of Lyra’s, it almost felt like she had two tongues, the feedback of horn-magic binding the two mares together.

A new surge of straining, stretching pleasure washed over Bon Bon like a warm shower downpour. She could feel just how impossibly, irreversibly opened Lyra’s marehood was — a perfect, magical empathy of femininity as real as if Trunch’s stallionhood were in her.

It was not as deep as Crunch’s spearing, deep shaft… but it was oh-so-much thicker. Together, both the magical and real sensations combined into a singular, complete overload of stallionhood-acceptance that would have been impossible to achieve by either mare with the constraints of their physiological reality.

She wondered if Lyra was receiving the same sensations from her — if the two had merged into one, indistinguishable mess of broken-in mare… unable to extricate themselves from one another as their minds and bodies became slaves to the raw unending pleasure their stallions were pouring into them.

“MnNNfFff…!!” Lyra groaned into her throat.

Or was it Bon Bon groaning into Lyra?

Such distinctions scarcely mattered now.

The two mares were melting into one another, distinctions blurring through the connected conduits of mouth and horn.

The giddy, goofy energy of Lyra coursed through Bon Bon’s body and mind, as her stern and sardonic energy was welcomed in kind by Lyra.

The sensations, the pleasure, the raw magic-spiritual flow would surge up and down with dizzying intensity, like the electrocardiogram of a sprinting pegasus athlete, each peak coming with the powerful thrust of the stallions pounding their tight mare bodies.

At first, it was chaotic, Crunch pounding away with a haphazard, sprinting cadence… while Trunch favored a slow, grinding, metronomic series of heavy hip-thrusts. This left the mares lost in a thrashing sea of chaotic white-water, waves of pleasure crashing from all directions. The moment it seemed they’d be able to catch their breath from the withdrawal of a stretching push of Trunch’s trunk… Crunch’s womb-jabbing thud-thrust would send a new cascade of thumping, breath-stealing ecstasy into them.

Their tongues writhed and clattered against each other, just as randomly. Sometimes clearing the way for one of them to steal a precious breath of air, sometimes interrupting that gasp and leaving them dizzy from partial-asphyxiation.

Slowly, their studs found their rhythm.

Crunch slowed. Trunch sped up.

The two were see-sawing in and out of them now with a determined, powerful beat… like the time-measure of some kind of booming, erotic symphony of squelches and splatters.

Lyra and Bon Bon found their rhythms too: Bon Bon dominating and pinning Lyra’s tongue as Crunch’s long cock speared them both, using the pleasure-spike of pressure against her womb to ratchet up her adrenaline and let her attack Lyra’s squirmy pink oral muscle… before Trunch’s huge, stretching, trunk would begin its breath-stealing thrust… and Lyra’s clever little tongue would take the upper-hoof, darting along the insides of Bon Bon’s teeth and mouth while the earth-mare shuddered under the feeling of fullness conveyed through Lyra’s sparking, sputtering horn.

Bon Bon wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that wondrous, pleasure-spiking, crescendo of flesh. The moment that one thrust ended, despite her best efforts, it was impossible to keep it in a tally. Her mind had long ago lost the ability to make any sense of the overwhelmed and over-excited neural flows pouring into its memory banks.

Time was losing its meaning.

Bon Bon was having trouble even existing in the moment.

Thrust after thrust, pounding push after pounding push.

Only the burning ache of her over-taxed muscles, quivering with lactic acid from having been kept pinned in an orgasmic state for so long, gave any indication of the length of the steamy, rut-session.

Dimly, deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew that this was irregular for the average stallion. Setting aside her disappointing experience in her college dorm, and the quickshot-colt who had lasted about as long as two-shakes of a cupcake baker’s tail, she knew that most stallions were good for maybe a minute of rutting. Two if the mare was lucky.

It just wasn’t in the biology of a modern equestrian pony to have an extended coital excursion. Evolution didn’t want any mucking around: colts needed to dump their genetic payload and dismount.

But that was all thrown to the wind now — Lyra and her were being absolutely fucked.

That screeching, feminine biological need in her gut was begging, crying out for the release of the long-awaited stud-batter… driving her mad with impatience even as she was pinned to the stratospheric heights of rut-pleasure.

“F-fuck!” The heavy grunt snarled from Trunch’s grimacing lips, a bass rumble that shook through the humid, heavy air. “I’m g-gonna… fuuuuck!”

The gargantuan earth-pony bruiser’s thrusts became erratic, disjointed. He pounded Lyra’s backside with sudden violence, showing just how much of his herculean strength he had been holding back. Lyra’s face smashed into hers, hard enough to make it feel like she’d been struck with a hoof-slap.

Bon Bon could see Lyra’s heart-shaped eyes go strikingly wide with fear, her breath catching in her throat as she started to ride out the orgasm of her stallion.

Through the crackling horn-connection, Bon Bon felt a terrifying surge of width, a pulsed expansion of Trunch’s rigid cock-trunk as his body triggered its unstoppable orgasmic cascade, unlocking any final muscular barriers that were preventing the final flooding of his hot stallion-blood into his overly huge cock.

For a moment it felt like Lyra was about to burst. Her lithe, slender unicorn body torn in two by the wedge of cockflesh throbbing to new, horrifyingly-wide girthiness inside her. Bon Bon felt the flush of fear from her lover’s horn as she gave up, resigning herself to being rent apart by the stallionhood, her marehood and depths taken far beyond their limits.

Then Trunch flared.

The huge, knobby flower blossomed inside Lyra’s womb, going from a melon-sized ball to a dinner-plate-wide hunk of pulsing-red cockhead-flesh. The bulge in her littlegreen tummy pooled outward into a lumpy, bumpy hump.

Bon Bon watched her friend’s eyes flicker, felt the spurting energy of her horn crackle and sputter as she nearly passed out, submitting her fate to be that of a mere stallion-cock sleeve.

“F-F-FUUCccKkCK!” The screaming, whinnying roar brought mining dust shaking off the ceiling.

Bon Bon watched with wonder as Lyra’s eyes shot back to full, sparkling openness. Deliriously quivering in their sockets as a wide, ridiculous smile stretched across the mare’s muzzle. Her horn-connection streamed back into full, magic-spewing life… conveying her sensations more potently than ever before.

Trunch was unloading into her!

Through Lyra, Bon Bon could feel the huge, pulsing dollops of stallion-seed splattering into the unicorn’s womb. Steaming, sloshing-thick cream swirling and churning as the fertile seed raced up from the grunt’s massive orchidal grapefruits, surged down his heavy black-red pipe, and raged out of his wide cock-slit as if somepony had broken the stopper off a town fire-hydrant.

And the relief!

It was as if each cell of Lyra’s uterus was a parched, thirsty arid acre of desiccated farmland… and Trunch’s slurry of frothing-semen was the first deluge of the monsoon season… nay, was the flood of the nearby irrigation canal into the field… turning the once dry, sucking soil into a messy,happy and fertile-mud pit.

Thrum after thrum of pure pleasure wracked the happy unicorn, the healing salve of fertile ejaculatory fluid slaking the furious biological thirst to bear the strong, healthy foals of her stud. Clench after clench rippled through her body, milking sucks that pulled the spurting log of horseflesh deeper and deeper into her, every muscle participating in the powerful winks that tried to coax every drop of stallion-batter, trying to wring her lover completely dry and eke out every last sperm cell from his heavy, black balls.

The waves of pleasure reverberated into Bon Bon as well, making her coat hairs stand on end, the crackling unicorn-magic energy acting like static electricity. But the thaumic-pleasure was not merely staying at the surface layer… it roiled into Bon Bon’s flesh, shuddering into her body.

“MNnnngh!” Bon Bon’s moan echoed out into her lover’s mouth — the intensity of her orgasm taking on a new, more fulfilling tone — one in which her fervent need to be bred was being tantalizingly, teasingly, oh-so-slightly satisfied.

This hint of what-could-be triggered her body to take the next step: it knew what it needed to do to experience that uber-orgasm wracking Lyra itself.

“AH! F-f-fuck! Inside!” Bon Bon’s mouth broke free of Lyra’s muzzle with a loud pop, her head thrashing left and right. Then her pussy began to milk.

She’d never known that her body was capable of this, that there was some biological coding deep inside her that could pulse in jerking squeezes up her entire length, tightening and relaxing with perfect timing that pulled at Crunch’s long, stiff, pink length with as much skill as an Appleloosan milkmare.

“Grargh! Holy buckin’ shit!” Crunch’s face grit with focus, and his hooves dug more tightly into Bon Bon’s flanks as he endured the sudden activation of the demanding vaginal suckling.

With a heavy clatter of his hooves, he fell forward, fully covering Bon Bon and bringing his panting, teeth-gritting face next to hers, even as he continued pounding her with unending, ultimate cock-strokes.

“Crazy… B-bitch!” His snarl was as ferocious as his pounding rhythm.

“G-give it to ME!” Bon Bon groaned back, punctuating her demand with a powerful clench against her stud’s cockbase. She couldn’t believe how hoarse her voice was, aching and dripping with desire like she was a two-bit back alley slut enduring her second heat.

A sharp, painful, pinch stung her neck. It felt like a wasp sting, except that it was hot… and wet.

He bit me!

Bon Bon’s left-rear leg kicked out wildly against the feel of the love-nip, whiffing as it missed her rut-stud, narrowly avoiding crushing his knee in the wild bucking kick of passion.

Locked onto the nape of her neck, Crunch’s next thrust was harder, fiercer, deeper than any before… pushing so hard against her insides Bon Bon wondering if the rearrangement of her guts would ever return to normal… if she even wanted it to.

And then he held himself there.

Bon Bon felt her milking clenches tense as all her overcharged awareness heightening further… like the heady anticipation of excitement a pony felt when cresting the top of a rollercoaster hill. She knew what was coming…

Coming…

Her marehood lips felt it first.

A heavy strain as the pink pegasus cock grew by a half-inch in girth as red-hot, inflating blood boiled up his shaft… growing every slender vein and medial ring and fleshy-knob to new, dizzying sizes.

Pulse after pulse followed the first, each ballooning his size inside her, a raucous kick-start of the ejaculatory sequence ınto full gear, akın to a dıesel engıne turning over wıth heavy, choking grunts… before roaring to life.

Her gut shifted and groaned as the blossoming flower of Crunch’s flare dug into every surface of her womb, nubby spikes of red-pink ridge-bumps digging in with friction to firmly embed him into her thirsty uterus.

She felt that first bulging pulse of her alpha stud’s seed surge into her, the wide stretch of stretching cock-base pressing up against her throbbing lovebud with its sheer size, before slipping into her hot, tight interior.

The milking clench of her pussy-walls gripped just behind the surging cock-pulse, timed perfectly to clench behind the wave of boiling stallion-genetic-payload racing up the huge pink bruiser’s shaft as it raced deeper and deeper into her well-stretched love-tunnel…

Before exploding into her womb!

“Suh-S-elehstiaAAAaaaaAaannnh~!” Bon Bon’s nearly indistinguishable, slurred moan of the Princess’s holy name reverberated off of the slate walls of the cave, lasting as long as her breeding-stud’s orgasm.

That first ejaculatory pulse alone had annihilated Bon Bon’s consciousness. She’d been teetering on the edge of sanity, a punch-drunk boxer staggering about the ring, waiting for the knockout hoofstrike to send her to the mat.

Crunch’s spattering explosion landed like she’d been punched out of the stadium.

The effect of the Quantihol, the heightened magical conduit with Lyra, the seemingly unending orgasms of pure, biological pleasure… it all combined into a dangerously potent peak of dopamine, oxytocin and magical pleasure-thaums… powerful enough to even damage.

The pulse was more potent than some of the hardest and deadliest street drugs, more addictive by far.

At that moment, all that was Bon Bon was reduced to nothing more than a receptacle for pleasure and biological purpose. She was nothing more than the vessel for her spasming, spurting marehood and its genetic foundry to produce more foals, to satisfy that cellular-deep desire to reproduce.

What did Bon Bon, secret S.M.I.L.E. agent, friend, earth-pony,even matter against this cosmic perfection of being so fundamentally bucked?

Even as every sensation overloaded, as everything collapsed into a black hole of pleasure, her neurons choking and stalling like a crashing computer with the electrical storm of Crunch’s orgasm, some minute nerve streams came into sharp focus.

She could feel the boiling churn of thick, creamy stallion-gravy as it swirled and sloshed inside her. The heavy, fire-hydrant like stream geysering from Crunch’s spasming cock-slit quickly filling her womb.

Her uterine wall could taste the slurry of potent, masculine material. The churn of bubbling semen from the rugged, stallion-ly stud containing enough testosterone in a drop to send a schoolcolt ınto early puberty.

As quickly as her stallion’s first load finally began to trickle-off, becoming a light eking dribble, the second splattering explosion poured forth, overtaking the last vestiges of the first ejaculatory-blast.

Bon Bon could see his heavy pink balls clenching, shooting up to smack his underside, pulsing and quivering with intensity as they dumped out the precious seed contained within.

“UHnnnnNNGNnnnnnHNNHhnnn~!” Bon Bon’s follow on moans rose and fell in intensity with the pulsing spurts of her breeding-mate’s shots, as the sheer force of their expulsion blasted against her uterine wall. She didn’t care that she sounded like some kind of broken machine, damaged by the sloshing squirts of her marehood being completely stuffed with rich, creamy stallion batter.

Her stud really was the more prodigious of the two when it came to quantity of semen — where Trunch was a ruptured water main of ejaculatory volume, Crunch was an emergency dam overflow valve.

Pulse after pulse of potent stallion-seed shot into her, each lasting seconds and seemingly overshadowing the amount of the previous. It wasn’t even possible to compare this sumptuous semen offering to that of the pathetic dribble of that young stallion from her college days… it would be like comparing a cup of water poured over your head to a jacuzzi with the jets on full blast.

“GRrRRRAGh…!” Crunch’s growl into her neck, still nipping her, was feral and wild. Almost unhinged.

By the time her stud’s fourth steaming shot began to pack her womb, Bon Bon was beginning to feel stuffed. The sensation was akin to wolfing down the entirety of a hearth-swarming banquet. Her belly began to strain, expand, to stretch her cream-colored belly fur, her muscular and trained agent body starting to become plump and pudgy as she expanded.

Quickly, the pushy expansion overtook the knobby cockflare-bulge protruding through her skin, replacing it with the appearance of a gravid mare, perhaps months into a pregnancy.

And he still wasn’t done.

More and more shots… eight… nine… ten…

She stopped counting after ten.

It was hard to count when your belly-button had just popped from an innie to an outie because your belly was starting to lift you off a table from sheer cum-stuffedness.

“Sh-SHIT!” Crunch unclenched his love bite, swearing in happy satisfaction at his accomplishment up at the ceiling of the mine, he let out a final, deep, glowing sigh as the last splatter of cum dripped into the churning magma-pocket of Bon Bon’s womb. “Fuckin’ ruined this cunt, damn!”

Bon Bon heard him chuckle as he almost tenderly massaged her backside. For some reason, this gesture touched her, made her feel so loved. This was her stud, proud of her for taking his fat, steaming load… for letting her womb be used as his foal factory.

“‘Yer a good little bitch!” He grunted, poking and prodding at her backside with his hoof. “I have no idea how you were able to take all of that, shit. Hope you don’t mind raisin’ my foals solo.” He stared down at her with those big, eyes, set above his square, masculine chin.

Bon Bon’s heart fluttered and a big grin spread across her face. Her stud was talking about their foals! Her hopes and dreams swirled, a mixture of cocks, cum and babies… washing away anything that had been there before.

“Mmm...mmmhmm…” She hummed, nodding with dewy, heart-shaped eyes.

“‘Cuz sure as fuck after you vouch for us to get us outta here, I’m droppin’ you like a hot skillet, babe.”

*Ker-PLOP!*

A wet, sticky POP filled the room. Crunch’s stallionhood had softened, just enough to break the plug-like seal of Bon Bon’s tight-marehood against his thick base. Try as her body might to retain the precious genetic fluid, the sheer pressure of the churning cum was far too much… it began to schlorp out of her in messy, obscene sprays.

N-no! I need it… every drop!

“...even if you got the nastiest little snatch I ever destroyed. Damn, babe!” Crunch laughed again, looking down at her with wonder as he started to slide his drooping, softening pink stallionhood out of her body, its incredible length and girth eased out by the lubricating flow of draining cum, slowly deflating Bon Bon’s body.

“Nnnnggh….”

“Huh… what?” Crunch leaned in closer.

Bon Bon groaned again, her eyes wild and lips rubbing against each other. She wanted nothing more than to reassure her stud, to let him know that she hadn’t meant to let him slide out, hadn’t meant to let the precious material escape!

If only she could…Bon Bon, leaned and turned at the same time, suddenly finding herself nearly touching Crunch’s face.

Kiss him!

She opened her lips, and closed her eyes, jerking forward to steal a kiss from her beloved stallion.

Instead, she felt the thump of a hoof against her face, knocking her away and pulling the rest of Crunch’s semi-flaccid stallionhood out of her like a plumbing snake, dredging out a great gout of steaming cum as she rolled over on the table.

“Holy SHIT!” Crunch spat and rubbed at his mouth. “Fuck fuck fuck! She almost kissed me, Celestia-damn it! That was buckin’ close! Shit!”

He pranced around like a colt with his hooves on fire, pawing at his tongue and spitting.

“Calm down and shut-up you baby.” Trunch growled as he removed the last of his own softening cock-log from Lyra, the whole heavy weight of it slapping wetly to the floor beneath him without the hydraulic pressure of his raging erection to keep it stiff against his belly. “I was watching, she didn’t touch you.”

“Fuck, but if she did… fuck! I ain’t gonna suck no dick.”

“That’s not how it works, Crunch.” A sigh came from Quantum, who Bon Bon could see had retired to a nearby wall, smoking a cigarette to pass the time as his two bruisers rutted the hell out of these two mares. “But you almost fucked up pretty bad… Speaking of fucking up really bad, where the hell is Dusk with those gags?”

“I’m here, boss,” Dusk grunted, trotting back into the room. “It’s fuckin’ hard trying to use echo-screes to search through boxes, especially boxes filled with adult toys. For the record, you two assholes are disgustin’, clean your shit.”

The bat-teen tossed a strange assortment of leather straps, masks, gags and more onto the slate table.

“I never wanna wrap my hoofsy blindly around a sticky pocket-marehood again, fuck.” Dusk wiped a hoof pointedly against her side. “Gross.”

“Aw fuck yes, this is the shit I’m talking about!” Crunch nickered aloud, holding up the harness. “I never thought I’d get to use this gear.”

Bon Bon watched Dusk Wing stick her tongue out with disgust, her eyes flicking underneath Crunch’s body and then back up. “Sheesh, you’re springing a chubby just from touchin’ the leather? Fuckin’ perv’.”

“Don’t judge a stallion’s fetishes, kiddo. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Eh, I never been really into that bondage shit either to be honest, Dusk,” Trunch grunted, reaching under himself and taking hold of his big, floppy stallionhood. Bon Bon still couldn’t believe just how heavy it looked, even without it being filled with stallion blood.

As he slung it over his forehoof, the whole thing drooping and laying out like a wet towel, huge drips of sticky semen, mixed with Lyra’s juice left long trails of sticky strands between his shaft and the floor below.

“Well I’m sure you like something,” Crunch grunted, as he began to shift and sort the various straps, buckles and buttons of his harnesses, before chuckling to himself and nodding over at his compatriot, “Yer’ probably one of those weird freaks that jacks it to little filly’s morning cartoon shows.”

“Naw,” Trunch huffed, stretching and groaning as he relaxed, letting the huge bulk of his cock flop with an audible thwump onto the table. Bon Bon could feel the rush of hot, stinking air displaced from the sheer bulk of the tremendous earth-pony’s red-black shaft. “I’ve actually always wanted to do a chick in the ass.”

In the plot!? In her plothole? That?

“Hey, nothing’s stoppin’ you. Chase your dreams, dude.” Crunch chuckled, as he started to cuff the groaning, semi-conscious Lyra with a set of his best bondage-cuffs.

“Yeah, somethin’s stoppin’ him, moron.” Dusk Wing snarled, showing her fangs. “He’s got about as much chance of fuckin’ a mare in her ponut as a semi-trailer has of driving through a mousehole. How’d you like it if I shoved a pineappleup your butt?”

“Don’t get jealous, Dusky.” Crunch chuckled. “Seriously, bud… this is probably the only chance you’ll ever get with that equipment. Go for it.”

“Shit… really?” Bon Bon felt a hoof prod her tired, aching buttocks, grabbing the cheeks and spreading them… then slipping between the sweaty, juice covered crack to grind against her squishy, sensitive tailhole. It made her quiver. “Can I boss?” Trunch sounded like an excited colt on Hearth’s WarmingDay.

“Just don’t kill her. She wants your dick so bad right now she’d take it in her ear if you asked… but it’ll be hard to make our case that we’re cooperating with them if we’ve paralyzed her from the waist down.” Quantum sighed, charging his horn. “You know what… here.”

Bon Bon felt a warm crackle of magical energy, and focused her eyes enough to see Quantum cast a strange, pink bolt of energy lance out in an arc… and stab right up against her ponut. A funny, hot sensation flooded up her rectum, deep into her gut, as if somepony had flushed her out with a wash of warm, soothing water… which then magically dissipated moments later.

“What was that?”

“Old spell from my days at the brothel.” Quantum grinned, “I was a bit of an ass man myself… that should clean things out and keep anything from… breaking. Keeps her stretchy… still: don’t fuckin’ hurt her.”

“OK OK, boss…”

“I mean it.” Quantum grunted, “Don’t break your toys, or I won’t give you any more.”

“Yes, boss.” Bon Bon felt herself lifted up bodily, gently. The big, earth-pony bruiser’s muscles felt like iron bound in furry leather as he held her under her armpits, like a foal might hold up her dolly. It was incredible just how strong this burly stallion truly was.

As easily as a leaf on the wind, she was lifted, tilted, rotated. In between each manipulation, Crunch slid a new strap and buckle into place. Some fit around her belly, some around her forearms, some up her wet, sweat-damp thighs. What had once been a spider-web of leather and brass suddenly became a recognizable harness set-up.

“There we go little filly.” Trunch grumble-chuckled, laying her down on the top of the table, “Now we just cinch this up a little bit…”

Bon Bon groaned as pressure started to come into the straps, pulled on with inch after agonizing inch, compressing her squirrely muscles, sparkling skin, and sticky fur as more tension compressed her body.

She was trapped in a strange position, thick leather straps encircling each of her thighs and securely fastening her to the end of the table, leaving her plot extended just far enough off the end of the ledge to keep it suspended in mid-air.

It was slightly uncomfortable, having to support her own weight as it dangled above the mine floor. Bon Bon had the urge to scooch backward, but the leather restraints kept her there firmly, spread-eagled on the slab. Face-up, belly-exposed to the mine ceiling, it gave her unpleasant memories of the dentist’s office, a place she’d never liked attending.

Powerless.

Her marehood was there for anypony to see, fattened and swollen from the serious rutting she’d just received, her lips pounded slightly with her heartbeat, its subtle throb sending small quantities of Crunch’s prodigious portion of sticky seed sliding from her to splatter onto the ground.

The second pair of braces went around her shoulders, locking her onto the other end of the table. For a moment, she wondered if she should sit up, push back against the locking down sensation…

But Trunch’s heavy hoof gently pressed against her shoulder, and his smile was so handsome, so cock-sure. Gentle and yet filled with power.

He was another powerful stud, another virile stallion.

Bon Bon’s nostrils flared and her eyes twinkled.

She’d do whatever he wanted.

She leaned back, and the buckles clicked more tightly into place, pulling her tightly against the table. Just like with the lower part of her body, now her shoulders were completely locked into place.

There was a shuffle and rustle of activity just below her, drawing her eyes to watch the activity as Lyra was maneuvered into place, lifted by Crunch and positioned so that the unicorn’s warm, slightly-pudgy belly lay flat against her own… though her hind-legs were straddling over Lyra’s head… putting Lyra’s lightly-panting muzzle between Bon Bon’s thighs.

The bruisers had assembled a strange short of fleshy-sandwich out of the two of them, belly-to-belly and ass-to-face… then locked them down with heavy bondage straps, pulling them tightly against one another.

All of Lyra’s weight was landing on her, crushing her into the table. Added to that was the pull of the tight bindings, smushing the two of them together in a hug the like of which neither would have attempted outside of this.

Heavy, clear drippings of marecum and Trunch’s frothy spatter dripped down from Lyra’s plot. They landed like hot, clear raindrops on Bon Bon’s face. At first, she flinched, trying to avoid the lascivioussprinkle, the detritus of lewd and erotic acts that had taken place only moments before.

But the smell.

The stink.

The combined musk of Lyra’s heated marehood, mixed in with the searing potency of an alpha-stud were like ambrosia. The rich, sticky drips fell too randomly far Bon Bon to catch them in her mouth every time, but she tried.

Like a filly catching snowflakes she stuck her mouth as wide as it would go, tongue darting out to try to snatch just one more drip of delicious nec-

*HNNRGHK!*

Skillfully, just as her mouth opened to its widest mark, Crunch slipped a ring gag into her muzzle. The hard bit of plastic jammed in deep against her back molars, clattering in and wedding her mouth wide open.

“There we go… no need to worry about those crazy kisses no more,” Crunch grunted, tapping the side of Bon Bon’s cheek placatingly. “Plus, I buckin’ love the look of a mare with her mouth gagged open!” His grin split his cheeks from ear to ear.

“Gnnahh…” Bon Bon’s soundless grunt slid from her mouth — she wasn’t even sure what she had tried to say: the gag had stolen her ability to even attempt intelligent speech. She’d been reduced to a strapped down, hunk of pleasure flesh, ready to service her hulking studs.

And she was OK with that!

“Heh, I guess I’ll gag this side too.” Trunch’s lower, bass-y rumble came from the other side of the table. “Don’t want the horn-head kissing me while I plow her friend’s asshole.”

He fiddled with the gag, trying to sort a small tangle of straps with his huge, clumsy hooves.

“Belay that.” Quantum’s growl filled the chamber. A smokey, shadow-magic hand raced over and snatched the gag from Crunch’s hooves, tossing it away into a far corner.

“B-boss?” Trunch mumbled, unsure what was going on.

“Watching all this has even got me a little worked up.” He sighed, walking closer to the under-assembly sex-sandwich as he reared up onto his hind-legs. “I think I need a quick little blowie to cool me off, I’m sure you don’t mind if we share, Crunch. Right?”

Crunch looked up from his end of the suspended unicorn.

“Spit roastin’ a leather-bound chick? Fuck no I don’t mind boss.”

“Wait, the boss is droppin’ his dick? And I don’t get to see it?” Dusk Wing whined harumphing as she crossed her arms, “That’s fuckin’ horseapples!”

Bon Bon caught a quick glimpse of the reserved unicorn-boss’s package. It was strange, like her eyes were magnetically drawn to his nethers. She never used to care about what hung between a stallion’s legs, but now she looked, eyes twinkling with all the rapacious greed of Celestia in a pastry shop.

The black stallionhood was reasonably sized. Large for sure, a good twelve or thirteen inches of solid, well-proportioned penis. Compared to the meat-logs that his henchmen were packing, he was diminutive, almost tiny.

Especially compared to Trunch.

Bon Bon didn’t care. Dick was dick. She felt her mouth start to water in anticipation, hopeful that she might get the chance to suckle that wonderful-looking dick as w-

Suddenly, Bon Bon’s vision was plunged into complete darkness, despite the fact her eyes were wide open.

“Eh, you ain’t missin’ much. No offense, boss. Pretty average,” Crunch grunted, as he bound the blindfold he’d just pulled across Bon Bon’s eyes even more tightly, securing it so that it would not be able to move.

“You buckin’ dumbasses don’t know horseapples about what a gal wants,” Dusk sniffed. “Don’t let a couple-a magically bimbo’d up guardsmare-whorses trick you into thinkin’ you hold a candle against a handsome fella like the boss… tell me: is it juicy? Thick? I bet it’s juicy.”

“I don’t know! I ain’t fuckin’ gonna look at it!” Crunch snapped back.

“Shut up, the both of you.” Quantum sighed, exasperated. “Dusk, stop thinking about my dick and keep your ears on the listen out for anything coming down that elevator shaft. Crunch, either get to it or shut up, I don’t care which.”

“You got it, boss.”

Sounds of wet squelches began to fill the air. At first it was just the wet sucking, splatters of marelips doing their utmost to wrap around a cock -- something Bon Bon’s ears had heard a lot of over the past hour. Quickly, it was joined by the sloppy gasps of a struggling mare, Lyra’s grunting moans were part desperation, part satisfaction… the noise of deep cock-suckling as Quantum started face-fucking her friend was unmistakable.

Little drips began to fall across her face, at first just random droplets… like the rain patters that ran just ahead the edge of an approaching thunderhead. Quickly, it turned into a heavy rope of steaming liquid, a mixture of marecum and sticky stallion-batter, laying down in lines across her face, as well as slinging right into her open mouth -- jammed to a full, yawning stretch by the ring-gag jammed against her back molars.

The fuck-froth being plunged out of Lyra’s well-fucked marehood was falling directly down from the debauched congress occurring just above her face, even if she couldn’t see it. It certainly explained the little fleshly taps that Bon Bon was sometimes feeling against her forehead: Crunch’s low-swinging balls were just grazing her face on some of his deeper power thrusts as he bucked the stuffing out of Lyra.

Oh! Buck!

A bolt of tension shot through Bon Bon as she felt the sudden kiss of hot, wide flesh against her tailhole. Her muscles tensed and flexed underneath the restraining leather buckles, unable to pull free or shift even an inch -- the wet meat pushing against her pucker remained firmly centered.

She’d never really considered her asshole sexually before. She’d always ascribed to the ‘exit only’ philosophy. Most of her fillyfooler friends felt the same way: there was plenty of time to be spent exploring a marehood with far better results than going spelunking.

The unavoidable messiness of the backdoor entrance was a turn-off too. Bon Bon did have one past lover who’d surprised her with a tongue that ‘went south’, slithering around her butthole and prodding its centre before she’d been stopped by a warning hoof-tap from Bon Bon. There’d been no kissing or continued cunnlingus after that little adventurous tongue-move… yuck.

But now… holy buck!

Feeling the huge, fat, bell-shaped cockhead squish against her tight, little donut of ass-muscle sent an electric tingle through her sensitive body. It felt like the puffy-ponut press-button was hardwired into her sexual circuitry, the sheer taboo of her heretofore virgin asshole being tested making her marehood and lovebud quiver and clench in sympathy.

It was so new, so foreign! Like taking the first hoofsteps off the train into an unvisited city: full of possibilities and excitement. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of being able to please her beloved breeding-studs by using her hot, tight asshole to squeeze the ever-bucking horseapples out of his flesh.

...but then Trunch started to push.

“Hold tight, filly.” Trunch’s deep, bassy hiss came from over near the sounds of the spirited face-fucking on the other side of the table. “‘Cuz I’m fuckin’ big… and yer’ fuckin’ tight.”

“Gahhnnnn!” Bon Bon started to squeal, her tongue trapped behind the ring-gag and unable to form comprehensible sounds, she only just managed to avoid a coughing choke as her groan allowed one of the slinging strands of sex-string being falling from above her to fall all the way to the back of her throat.

Bon Bon quickly realized that the wide press of flesh against her ponut was only the bulge of Trunch’s head-tip: merely the protruding nose of his saucer-sized flare was enough to be wider than her slender tailhole! As he began to press forward, Bon Bon felt the knobby edge of his head graze her asscheeks -- easily several inches larger than the furrow of her plot where her puffy asshole was nestled.

This was impossible!

Bon Bon squirmed again, that excitement being replaced with fear. Images flashed through her head of ponies impaled on spikes, like in gory horror films, except instead of a spike… she was run-through with a giant, meaty, red-black log of a horsecock!

With her eyes covered by the blindfold, all of her senses were exquisitely tuned to take in the pure feedback of her other senses. Smells, sounds, taste, were all taking a backseat at the moment though -- instead she was completely devoting every spare percentage of mental capacity to the sense of touch coming from her asshole.

The agonizing strain, each sphincter muscle ever-so-slowly giving way as her ponut unrolled like the end of a balloon being forced to accept a tomarehawk missile, the thick ring of tailhole flesh getting thinner and thinner as more of the steaming red cockbulb pushed into her with ever increasing force.

“Fuck me, I ain’t gonna fit.” Trunch grunted, concentration and strain in his voice.

“Push harder, the spell will work. Mmm!” Quantum’s snapped response was cut off by his own groan of pleasure.

“Grraggh!” Bon Bon felt Trunch’s growl right through the vibrations of his stallionhood, as he redoubled his efforts. A squeaking grind scraped through the air: the sound of the huge earth-pony’s hooves digging into the cave floor.

Bon Bon could feel the leather straps biting into her legs, taking the immense force being transmitted into her small body and tiny asshole from the sturdy battering ram of earth-pony cock. The pressure kept mounting and mounting, a screaming force of fuck-thrust all barely contained by the sheer physical limitations of her tailhole.

She squirmed and thrashed, like a fish trapped on a hook… desperate for relief from the impending penetration and all of that heavy potential energy pinpointed against her anus. But it was no use, the straps held her perfectly tight, unable to shift at all, unable to escape… unable to do anything more than groan and moan like a brain-damaged, blinded, pleasure-puppet.

“MnmnnnnnaAANNH! *glrk*” One of Crunch’s and Lyra’s liquid sprays fell perfectly down her esophagus as she moaned, making her catch her breath in an agonizing cough that shuddered her restraints.

And yet… despite the overwhelming, screaming sense of feeling.

She wasn’t in pain?

Bon Bon wasn’t sure what it could be: was it the spell that Quantum had cast up her anus? Was it the long-term, lingering effects of the Quantihol? Or was it just that her mind had been irretrievably re-wired, a slave to the pleasure sensations that it would interpret all incoming signals as…

Maybe this slutty cock-addiction was in her all along?

Whatever the case, she loved the mixture of pleasure-pain, the screaming intensity of stretching to take her stallion up her ass, as he pushed forward, slowly opening her pucker.

“Mnnnaaaghh…!”

Millimetre by millimetre, the folds of her squished out anal donut rolled outward wider and wider, burning, straining… but never actually being torn or injured somehow. Bon Bon didn’t know how to process the feeling -- the entry into an exit-hole of something so massively oversized made her feel more stuffed than a monarch at a cake-eating competition.

“Fuck it! Bite down, filly!” Trunch thundered, his two hooves clacking on the stone as he steadied himself to apply all of his massive strength at once.

Bite down? On what? Bon Bon’s mouth was jammed wide open with the ring bit -- there would be no biting down.

WHAM!

POP~!

Bon Bon gasped, lungs sucking at air as she was winded from the sheer kick of feeling that rocked her to her core… A huge, full-power hip-drive had done the trick…

Trunch’s gigantic cock-head had popped into her ass.

“Oh fuck yes!” Trunch crowed with triumph.

At first he wasn’t doing anything -- just leaving himself embedded inside her. Bon Bon’s whole anus was squeezing out of control, wrapping itself tightly against the stallion’s bell-end, molding it around his throbbing glans.

Unlike her marehood, Bon Bon had no control over the muscles and squeezes and clenches of her ass. Aside from her ponut, only the autonomic system controlled those peristaltic impulses… and that whole system was currently so haywire there was no way it could do anything but shudder in disjointed spasms against the gigantic intruder lodged in the forbidden cavity.

“So fuckin’ tight!” Trunch moaned, “So fuckin’ hot! Goddessdamn!”

Bon Bon squirmed against her restraints, as if she could somehow physically escape the flood of fullness pounding up from her asshole. It was in vain, of course, each little wriggle only serving to drive the edges of the thick leather straps more tightly into her aching muscles as she writhed like a worm on a fisherpony’s hook.

Fuck! It’s so… big! Lyra’s mind skittered inside the destroyed neurochemical landscape of her brain. But it feels… so good!

She felt her drooling, strained and stretched marehood, still tired and weak from the heavy drubbing it had just gotten from the pegasus rutting the hay out of Lyra above her, start to stir in response. Her tan laps plumped up again with a new rush of engorging blood, her gaping inner-lips drooled a new slick trickle of creamy-thick stallion batter, and her red lovenub stood stiffly upright.

And then Trunch started to thrust.

“MnnnnN!!!” She could only moan out mindlessly, as the earth-pony began to push deeper into her. His giant plow-head stretched open her alimentary tract, callously shoving her insides out of the way and parting for him… pushing up a big bulge in her lower belly between her teats and up to her stomach from the cock-bulge inside her.

Deeper and deeper, flooding her with more of the strange mix of stretching pain-pleasure… not as sharp and sparkling as the over-enhanced flood from her marehood… but deeper and more complex, more debauched and taboo.

I like it. I like it, a lot!

Maybe she wasn’t just a cock-addict… maybe she was an assmare, too. All along, buried under her cold, misandrist, filly-fooler exterior… she loved taking it up the ass from the biggest, burliest stallion-cock she’d ever heard of.

And if her ass could do this to her… if it wasn’t even about breeding any more… if it really was just about servicing her stud so completely, in every way he could ever want… she really was just a fuck-puppet… a meat-sock to give him pleasure.

And she was OK with that.

The sheer depths of that depravity, the completeness of her fall, the loss of her mental and spiritual agency… none of it even registered in Bon Bon’s psyche.

She was too deep into the pleasure.

“Annnghh….!”

The first anally-induced orgasm wracked through her body, compelling her to try to lift herself off the table to get more of Trunch’s fat, massive gift into her, only to run into the barrier of the restraints. Her muscles surged and bunched underneath the restraints… up and down in heavy clenching bulges, screaming with lactic acid as she used all of her power in wanton futility against her leather shackles, lost in the maelstrom of her orgasm.

“Awww, shit! I’m cumming!” Crunch’s voice above her just sounded like garbled nonsense in her ears, her mind once again overloaded and incapable of even basic auditory processing. The only thing she did notice was the increase of fluid pouring down on her from above, as the stallion’s pace quickened and the slinging strands of pussy-juice became thick with freshly deposited stallion-seed, squirting out from around the confines of his cock and splattering onto her open mouth.

PIC GOES HERE derpi booru.org/ 146 5894

“Goddessdamn, filly!” Trunch snarled at her, his girthy penis starting to pump back and forth in her anus now. His gigantic medial ring was beyond any magic or force -- it would never fit into Bon Bon’s tight little anal donut… and so he used that as the depth-marker to which he would plunge before reversing course, drawing out his huge, heavy head with such sucking back force it made Bon Bon think he was going to plunger the heart out of her chest.

And just as it seemed too withdrawn, just as his started to strain and stretch her sphincter with his huge head… from the inside… he would reverse with brutal violence, slamming back into her up to his ring, starting the cycle again.

“MNnnaaaghhH! MNaannGH! MN!” Bon Bon’s unending orgasmic wail from behind the gag was punctuated with shuddering losses of breath as her fuck-stud’s thrusts would reach their ultimate depth, suspending her in her orgasmic bliss. All this even as the back of her throat was filled with the sex-batter being brewed in her best friend’s womb before flowing back along her vaginal canal and Crunch’s shaft, then spilling down in steaming patters into her open, ring-gagged mouth.

And then Bon Bon felt it.

A thudding growth in her body, like someone was blowing up a beach ball inside her asshole, a blooming of such incredible new size and pressure that her eyes rolled back underneath her blindfold and she nearly passed out.

Trunch was flaring.

Somehow he made even the gargantuan pegasus-flare she’d barely managed only minutes before seem small by comparison. His girthy cock-log could support much more bloodflow… and that meant his head flowered to the size of a dinner plate…

...in her butt.

Half a heartbeat after the stretching expansion inside her reached it’s zenith, she felt the stinging stretch of a pulsing throb race up Crunch’s shaft, stiffly spreading her anus even further as his massive ejaculatory explosion neared his fully-flared tip.

She felt the first touches of the warm wetness, the prelude to having her ass completely flooded.

When it froze.

Everything.

Time.

Author's Note

This is just a tremendous amount of sex. Dear God, this is a whole lot of plap! I don’t have anything else to add to that just… holy shit, fam! The clop just cascades down my monitor like zalgo text.

AJ Aficionado, Editor

Rescue!

Quantum had heard the muffled, hypersonic screech of Dusk Wing mid-thrust.

The scree was cut-off, interrupted, snipped. And it made him halt immediately. Instantly, his attention shifted entirely back to his next actions, his surroundings… a hyper-awareness of readiness to spring into action.

All the sensation of his cock being sucked by a beautiful mare was completely segregated. Set aside as irrelevant.

In less than half a second, his mind raced, running through the possibilities.

He really hadn’t expected the guard to attempt a direct assault. The single point of entry being an elevator shaft made any tactical entry a suicide mission. The fatal funnel of fire, the potential for magical traps and physical explosives… and that was all without hostages thrown into the mix.

His plan had always been to break these two mares completely, then send them up the elevator shaft alone to negotiate their ‘supposed’ co-operative release. It would be a hard sell to convince the guard to let them up to the surface without a horn-restrictor, but with two agents making their case Quantum felt he had a good shot. Then all he would need was just a heartbeat of time above the surface -- a heartbeat to activate his time-spell and make his escape… solo of course.

But he hadn’t expected this. This was foolishness!

The only way the guard would even consider this assault would be if they had a flank-entry. A way to use the distraction of an attack down the main-shaft to draw focus away from the real threat…

Teleporters!

Quantum instantly fired his time-freeze spell, bringing the very fabric of space-time to a screeching halt. The four other ponies, all engaged in debauched, stretching, sweaty sex were snap-frozen in place. All the faces twisted in orgasmic-ecstasy as Trunch and Crunch were captured in the throes of semen-pumping ejaculations.

Quantum turned, pulling his shaft out of Lyra’s maw with a pop. His eyes widened, shocked.

Right behind him, horn charging with some kind of knock-out or capture spell, was the princess of magic herself, Twilight Sparkle.

A shiver ran through his body, as Quantum realized just how close he had come to complete disaster. The air was still rippling with the shudder of a post-teleport distortion. He whistled softly under his breath at the ability of the purple alicorn to not only do such a huge, distant teleport through solid slate.

Teleportation wasn’t just a question of sheer, raw power. The diminishing returns that came into play as a result of distance were exponential: even the most powerful of mages couldn’t handle more than a short hop. This required skill, delicate thaumcraft that warped and played with spacetime like a foal’s toy, able to extend that hop into something more.

And she wasn’t even phased by it: he could see that her horn was already crackling with the energy of a stored knockout spell. If he’d been even a blink’s worth of time slower on his quantum freeze, he’d already be knocked out and in hoofcuffs, he had no doubt.

He grinned, readying his own spell. A potent sleep spell that would put at least the princess out of commission. Then he’d have to slink out of the elevator shaft, maybe even have to make use of the entry team’s ropes to reach the surface, passing all of the frozen tactical soldiers on his way.

He knew his bubble of frozen time could get him at least to the edge of the warehouse, and he still had at least two or even three casts of the spell left. He’d be able to get out of here.

He looked over at his goons, briefly considering their chances for survival and finding them lacking. There was no way for him to haul them all out along with him: the strain would be too great to pull them into the secluded chrono-bubble, and he doubted he could haul even Dusk Wing up that elevator shaft, let alone the two bruisers, Trunch and Crunch.

They’d have to be left behind. Well, he could always hire a fresh batch once he’d escaped.

Chumps.

But they knew their job: keep their trap shut and wait for the family’s attorneys to catch up with them. Taking the fall might land them a stint in prison… maybe even Tartarus… for a few years, but they’d get out, eventually.

And in the meantime, Quantum could corner the market with the Love Poison.

He laughed to himself, trying to shake off the slight tug of dread he’d felt only moments earlier. “Almost, Princess… Almost…” He leaned forward with his charged sleep spell, ready to cast it, “Sweet dreams, Princess.”

“Thank you.”

The voice made Quantum jump. It had been whispered into his ear, just off his left side. With a bucking kick of fright and a twist, he whirled, seeing a second alicorn before him, clad in midnight blue fur, cold blue eyes gleaming with righteous fury.

The Princess of the Night.

Luna.

“Oh, I’m sorry. We thought you were addressing us.” Luna grinned while looking about her, “‘Tis many an age since we saw such mastery of the arcanum chronicum. You must have been a most devilishly tricky opponent to catch for guardsponies of this era.”

Quantum shrieked, instinctively firing his sleep spell at the alicorn. The alicorn who was somehow still moving in his frozen quantum field!

The spell fizzled without even touching her -- the Princess’s natural thaumic presence swatting away the bolt like it was a raindrop landing on a steaming locomotive.

Quantum’s heart was in his throat: he wouldn’t stand a chance against an alicorn, not if she were on the same time-plane as him. “H-how… how did you…”

“Oh, we sensed the time bubble as we phased in. The spell was penned by a student of ours, a few hundred seasons past.” Luna sighed, “Your version is… clumsy. No warding, no disguising. Foal’s play.”

“I… I demand a lawyer!” Quantum stammered, babbling the same plan that he had once considered to be the refuge of ‘chumps’, “I won’t say anything without an attorney present.”

Luna’s brows knitted, a frown forming on her features. “Ah, attorneys. Yes. How boring.” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Our sister gives far too much mercy to criminals, and far too little justice. You have done… and would have done… immeasurable harm to the innocent. And a barrister will see to it you have a comfortable cell and warm meals.” She stepped forward menacingly.

“Don’t come any closer! Stop! It’s the law!” Quantum shielded himself with his hooves.

“The law. For shame.” Luna rolled her eyes, “Trying to use it as a shield for the wicked, instead of a sword of the righteous. In my time we would have vaporized a scoundrel like you on the spot.”

“N-no! Don’t! You can’t!”

“Enough! At least scoundrels of ages past had sufficient honor to take their punishment.” Luna snarled, “Look at you, bawling for your rights like a newborn foal, ridiculously prancing about even as the stiff stallionbits you violated our ponies wag in the air.” Luna gestured at Quantum’s still-erect stallionhood, unchanged in the sphere of frozen time. “Still, we suppose we cannot summarily execute you, there is procedure to follow.”

“H-hah! Yes… YES! A lawyer, I want a lawyer. I’m not saying manure to you freak bat-fucker Princess until I have counsel.”

Luna’s eyes flashed, dark and deep… then glowed with inspiration. “Well, I believe I must… arrest you.”

The alicorn’s horn flicked on and off, a crack as brief and brilliant as a lightning flash. Quantum immediately felt something binding the base of his horn, constricting him, jamming all his spell-work in place permanently: like a horn-restrictor ring… except one that was magically applied.

“Wh-what?”

“Thou art arrested. You have the right to remain silent… any-”

“N-no… wait, I… I can’t stop my time-spell. Let me stop the spell first, how… how did you freeze me with the time bubble still active?”

“Sir,” Luna grinned, shaking her head, “Are you sure do not wish to hear me state your rights? Thou hast the right to remain silent, anything thou doest or say-”

“Shut up!” Quantum scrabbled at his horn, then turned back to Luna, “I can’t stop the time-freeze!”

Luna shrugged. “We saw nothing in this era’s procedures or laws about applying restraints to a pony casting quantum magic.” She looked up at the ceiling, tapping her chin as if musing. “We did consider that technically, you are entitled to a speedy trial… but technically time is not flowing. For the court, you will be presented as quickly as possible… for you on the other hoof.”

“You… you bitch.” Quantum felt a chill wash over him as he realized what she was about to do. “You’re gonna kill me!”

“Come now, despite your feeble use of time-magic, you must know the basics. You know it will have no effect on your body: your metabolism, your thaumic energy, your spirit… all will remain frozen at the same instant as you entered.”

“But not my mind!”

“No,” Luna giggled, her dark eyes glinting, “Not your mind. Perhaps this era can be crueler in its treatment of criminals after all, as long as the circumstances are right.” She grinned, “There truly are fates worse than death, as you shall soon experience for yourself.”

“You bitch! How… how long will you leave me in here?”

“Oh, long enough to reflect on your crimes.” Luna smiled. “Or until the thaumic field collapses, you know when that would be, don’t you?”

Quantum blinked, his mind racing… trying to remember any elements of the spell-work from when he’d discovered it, all those years ago in the dark, restricted areas of the Canterlot Royal Archives.

“Pah, you truly are a dilettante, using a spell haphazardly without respecting the industrious labor taken to create it.” Luna rolled her eyes, then went on, as if lecturing to a student, “...the upper boundary for the quantum limit is theoretical… it is either infinite, or it occurs at a point in which the bound subject’s energy dissipates via localized space-time expansion to a level indistinguishable from zero.” Luna’s grin sharpened, her canines showing. “In laypony’s terms, a few quadrillion years.”

“Please!” Quantum gulped, looking at the bubble edges. He could see them shrinking inwards, coming in from the outer bounds he had set them at, which encompassed the whole warehouse… tighter and tighter… until it was only a few feet around him, encompassing just him and Luna. He would not be able to move beyond that layer. “Please, you can’t do this!”

“Oh, we can. What remains to be seen is if you can learn something from all of this.” Luna let out a little sigh of satisfaction. “I daresay you’ll find plenty of time to reconsider your life. We would know...”

Quantum was shaking with fear, sweat bubbling out of every pore. He couldn’t even comprehend what was about to happen. An infinity of time, stuck in a tiny bubble? He wouldn’t even be able to starve, or die of thirst, or kill himself! Just… chrono-locked… forever! Free to think and think and think and think.

“But we have faith in mercy, like our Sister.” Luna smiled, “We think she might approve of… a thousand years. She seemed to like that number.”

“No! You can’t, you-”

And with that, Luna stepped back through the bubble… joining the rest of the frozen world outside.

Leaving him behind.

Forever.

Author's Note

Believe it or not, this almost ended with Luna fucking the poor devil for a thousand years. I vetoed the idea. I’m sure someone will be disappointed but that someone is not me. Equestria and Thestralslovakia need their protector of dreams. She’s got plenty of better ways to get laid, I say!

Ahh Twilight. She was useless from start to finish in this story. At least she took the time bullet for Best Princess. Would have been pretty tragic is she’d taken an actual bullet in executing this minor-piece sacrifice to checkmate Quantum Freeze.

AJ Aficionado, Editor

The Aftermath

“FREEZ-” Twilight’s shout died on her lips as the magical target she’d centered her tactical teleport on came into focus. The crackling knockout spell on her horn dying as the unicorn stallion in front of her twitched suddenly, his eyes rolling back and foam beginning to come out of his mouth, before he collapsed to the mine-floor in a heap. “W-what? What the hay just…”

“Ahem,” Luna’s voice drew Twilight’s ears in a flicker, the purple alicorn’s head quickly catching sight of the night Princess’s form standing triumphantly over the catatonic unicorn. Luna had teleported with her. “Princess Twilight, I’ve handled this one… I believe those two may still require your attention.” She nodded over at the grunting, straining collection of bodies. “...perhaps even all four. Remember the effects the love poison might have!”

Twilight whirled on the remaining conscious ponies in the room. Her nose rankled with the raw, fog-dense, stink of sex in the air. Twilight blushed, a deep crimson flooding across her face.

She’d read plenty of smutty books. She knew the anatomy of ponies inside and out too. Hay, she’d even held hooves with a stallion. She was a grown-up mare! Nothing should embarrass her!

And yet her eyes felt like they were burning with shame, like the very photons striking her retinae were shamefully poisoned with the taint of the excessive lewdness before her. She couldn’t help but cover one eye with a hoof, looking away so that she would only keep the debauched sight in her peripheral vision.

There were… huge stallionhoods… in every orifice! Every one!

And the juices!

She’d have to write a corrections letter to the encyclopedic references she’d studied -- these voluminous quantities must have been many, many standard deviations above what she recalled reading! They were literally waterfalling off of edges into pools on the ground.

“Twilight? Shall you arrest them? Or should we?” Luna asked, one of her eyebrows arching. She was looking at her with amusement.

“N-no! I’ve got this!” Twilight instantly snapped the two knockout spells out of her horn, impacting the two bruisers, both of whom were still groaning in mid-orgasmic thrusts, still blissfully unaware of the raid and their capture as they were struck. No-pony, not even Celestia herself could have shot those spells off so quickly and accurately.

Twilight grinned to herself with pride, blowing air out of her lips to cool the red-hot tip of her horn… before her cheeks once again turned just as red-hot as the thaumically-burning hornspell.

Her two huge captives fell bodily to the floor, unconscious. Both of them… disconnecting from their partners as they did so.

*POPPOP*

The strange sound effect came in rapid succession, like somepony had just pulled two suction cups off of a window at nearly the same time: the two huge flares had both sprung free from the tight, fleshy confines that had vacuum-sealed them moments before.

“Holy Princesses.” Twilight grunted, once again trying not to look… while ever so clearly looking...at the two massive, bobbing, stallionhoods that protruded up from her two arrestees, both now prone on the floor… “Those are… um… wow… sheesh…”

Twilight struggled to find words, eyes flicking to and from the two huge, still-spurting flagpoles. She felt like a little filly: embarrassed to look… but also too interested not to. She didn’t know they got this big!

And this… spurt-y.

The two fat stalliondicks continued to spurt out geyser after geyser of thick cream, adding to the mess of the sexual-wasteland that was underneath the table.

“Uh… so…” Twilight stammered, finally able to draw her eyes back to the mares still bound to the tabletop, “Girls!” She shouted, partly in genuine concern for their condition, partly in sheer relief that she had something to distract her from the shocking size of certain parts of the criminals littering the ground.

Twilight’s magic was the best in the business when it came to the type of skillful and high-speed manipulation required to undo all of the various buckles, belts, masks and gags that adorned the two mares. Twilight smiled proudly at herself, noticing that even Luna whistled softly at how the Princess of magic was able to pop the two ponies free of their bindings in under a second.

Twilight only just managed to stifle sticking her tongue out as she tossed the ‘well-frosted’ leather accoutrements. Even tangentially, through the telekinetic field, it made her feel… grimy.

“Girls! Are you OK?” Twilight asked, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. At least Bon Bon and Lyra would be able to see and speak again, freed of the S&M bindings that had adorned them. If only Twilight could have staged the raid sooner!

“Mmmm…. Y-yesh…”

“M-more…”

Twilight blinked, seeing the faces of the two mares. Her heart breaking in her chest. Neither really seemed to be all there -- both sets of eyes filled with heart-shaped irises, each dilated to different levels. Both mares groaned and writhed, their plots still shaking, grinding against the invisible stallions that they still so blatantly desired.

They’d been poisoned.

“Oh… oh no.” Tears began to form at the corners of Twilight's eyes.

“Princess Twilight!” Luna’s bark brought her back. “Despair not! ‘Tis not the same foul strain of poison that afflicted our Captain Stalwart in his padded cell. I sense a different… taste to this strain.” Luna trotted over, looking down at the two mewling, incoherent, batter-covered mares. “I believe they can be salvaged.”

Twilight blinked, looking down at the absolute mess of dripping, drooling gaping plotsides… whining, plaintive, begging mouths, and love-crazed gazes. “R-really?”

Luna nodded, assertively.

“But first, they must be cleaned.” Luna shook her head. “Preferably with a fire hose.”

Months later.

Bon Bon trotted down Ponyville’s main street, a noticeable spring in her hooves. The late-fall sun sparkled with a final, welcome radiance. A last gasp of warmth, a final afternoon of happy outdoor comfort before the start of the long dark.

Today is a good day!

It had been a tough summer for both her and Lyra.

After… ‘the incident’... the two had been in quite a sorry state. Even now, remembering the treatment facility, the padded cell under Canterlot castle, the psychiatrists and psychologists and neurologists and thaumatologists brought a shudder to Bon Bon, a little twinge of PTSD.

They were the very best on the planet, but being poked and prodded when you’re in such a state of wanton, rehabilitory addiction just adds trauma onto the burning, driving need.

Bon Bon had heard of addiction before -- whether chemical or magical... had heard of ponies losing everything for just ‘one more taste’ of their panaceaic bane. But she could never have imagined just how bad the reality was. Especially when that burning need was for dick.

And cum.

And rutting.

Bon Bon giggled, letting the little ripple of excitement spill through her neural pathways. Even thinking the words still brought sparkling bits of joy, so poignant she felt it through her cutiemark.

For a while, the experts had despaired that she and Lyra felt such a strong, burning pull toward even the concepts of sex. Even a full-power blast of the elements of harmony to cleanse them of the effects of Quantum’s diluted love poison was insufficient to purge the deep, thrumming chord within them… demanding sex.

The therapy had just made it worse. Physical, mental and magical sessions all left Bon Bon and Lyra feeling guilty, empty, awful. Their time at the Canterlonian detention facility was a nightmare.

Sure, there had been a few bright spots.

Seeing Celestia’s chosen punishments carried out on their assailants had been a closure, in a way. Seeing Trunch and Crunch teleported into the bowels of Tartarus had been strange: on the one hoof she still felt a slight pull, a tiny tug, of desire for her former lovers… especially for the equipment she knew they packed, under those orange jumpsuits… on the other hoof, knowing that they were both completely out of reach for the rest of their lives helped her to shut that door in her mind, and move on.

Nopony knew what had happened to Quantum. He was technically brain-dead, the medical examiner’s report showing that his cerebral expiration had occurred at nearly the exact moment Twilight had teleported into that mine to rescue them. Bon Bon suspected she wasn’t being told the whole story -- the stern glances from Celestia and Twilight directed toward Luna as Quantum was transported to a long-term hospice made the secret agent suspect that the night princess had found a way to exact some old-school justice on the fiend. In any case, another door shut.

Dusk Wing had been an almost comedic punishment. She’d been snatched by the tactical guard team at the elevator shaft, and the commander of that unit had been clever enough to keep the eyemask the teen-criminal had been wearing firmly in place, adding a dark hood of the kind used when they captured high-value terrorist targets to the mix as they transported the foul-mouthed brat back to Canterlot.

Oh sure, Celestia had made every effort with Dusk Wing to cure her of the Quantihol effects as well. Sometimes even using her as a guinea pig for higher-risk treatments before they would be attempted on Bon or Lyra. There had been hope that an ‘unactivated’ poisoning might be easier to cure.

Ultimately, when that proved not to be the case, and when Dusk Wing’s mafia attorneys filed an ill-advised petition of civil rights violations for being kept blindfolded for weeks, Luna had a rather delightfully devious schadenfreude idea about where to accommodate the legal request for Dusk Wing to be unblindfolded.

...in Captain Stalwart’s cell.

Bon Bon and Lyra had been permitted to watch through an observation window -- as if the spectacle were akin to an execution of old… except all around them were top-level scientists and researchers with the highest-level security clearances, each one excited to record the effects of an ancient dark magic poison.

Dusk had been pretty much shoved into the room, her hooves unbound for the first time, giving her access to her blindfold for the first time in over a month.

She’d shouted and screamed, trying to test whether she was actually alone. But Stalwart had been in the bathroom behind a closed door when she’d attempted to echolocate.

Ultimately, Dusk’s fatigue at not using her own eyes for so long overcame her… and she pulled her own blinders off just as Stalwart re-entered his living quarters, their eyes locking immediately.

Hours later, Celestia’d had to personally use a sleep spell on the pair -- apparently, the padded room was in danger of being irreparably damaged. Bon Bon never did hear whether that damage was from the copious sexual fluids staining the walls or the destruction of the bed and padding from the frenzied power-rutting: by that time the observation window had long been occluded by the guards-captain’s prodigious production potential.

Honestly, it might have just been that some ponies in Canterlot castle wanted to get some sleep. The padded cells did little to mute the seemingly unending high-pitched eeee’s that Stalwart was so expert at coaxing from the bat-teen in the unending cascade of pleasure he was inflicting on her.

It felt fitting, a punishment that destroyed the evil teenaged brat, transforming her into a devotee of Guardspony dick… while also doing much to assuage the plight of Stalwart, who’d been hit with the original, undiluted dark magic.

Bon Bon had heard that the pair had even been released recently. Stalwart’s condition was markedly improving with his little love-bat at his side, dampening the fierce addictive surges that hurt him so badly before… her presence even quieting the evil magic enough to allow vestiges of his old personality to rebuild. Apparently, he’d even reconnected with his wife and daughter.

Although they hadn’t decided to accept ‘Auntie Dusk-Wing’ into the family as part of a herd(understandably so, from the wife’s perspective), there was hope.

For her part, though she still had a foul mouth and a bad attitude, Dusk had a short leash that Stalwart could yank at pretty much any time: just a single flash of his junk would get the bratty thestral out of whatever mischief she was starting and on her knees in front of the Captain of the guard.

…

That just left Bon and Lyra.

It had been dark times for the pair, especially in the first month after their ‘rescue’. Although she knew now that the assembled teams of doctors and magical specialists and Princesses of love and magic and the lord of chaos had been trying to help her and her mint-colored roommate, it hadn’t always felt like that.

The bevy of tests and treatments were torturous, each one swallowing up days of frustratingly ineffective care... and sometimes even introducing disastrous side-effects from the supposed cures.

There were certainly more than a few nights in the throes of withdrawal, beset with catastrophic insomnia from the latest curative potion-regime they were being dosed with, that Lyra and her would have gladly traded their current situations for a chance to be strapped back onto that table in the mines and thoroughly dicked down.

That was really the problem: deep, deep inside -- they both didn’t really want to be cured.

It had taken a brilliant young doctor, who actually happened to be a resident at Ponyville General Hospital, who had finally come up with a brilliant and simple solution to their aches and woes.

Dr. Horse asked a simple question: if what they were craving so, so badly for that horrific month was some steaming, fat, stallion-pipe… why not give it to them?

Pretty much everypony around the roundtable had disagreed with him. The whole point was to try to wean the pair off their needs! What about neurochemistry? The intricate thaumotological limbic system? The intense neuro-psychological therapy?

In the end, Dr. Horse had simply shrugged -- treat the symptoms, if the cause is so elusive. If they would be happier with sex than without it, wasn’t that at least a trot in the right direction?

That first session with the doctor had been incredible.

Like a cool glass of water after a long day’s work on a dusty, desert field.

Lyra and Bon had had to take turns -- Dr. Horse was young, but even with his earth pony heritage, his stamina could only last for so long. Lyra had begged for the observing medical staff to allow a couple of the supervising guardstallions to join in, but scientific rigor had to be maintained: Dr. Horse was their primary care physician for this treatment.

Only he would be giving their… ‘injections’.

Bon Bon had helped Lyra to bridge those seemingly interminable gaps between treatments, introducing her friend to the pleasures that a mare could give to another mare.

She wasn’t sure if it was the result of the sloppy, quantihol laced cum-kisses the two had shared, or if it was some lingering part of her previous sexuality, but Bon Bon was happy to feel that burning flame of love in her bosom still roared with passion for her adorably goofy roommate.

And Lyra certainly reciprocated those feelings.

But even those sultry-sweating scissor-sessions were a mere side-dish, a weak twinkling star next to the full solar-storm fury of their burning need for a stallion’s meat and batter.

It was insatiable.

It was after Dr. Horse’s third course of ‘protein supplements’ that it seemed like his ‘treatment’ was proving fruitless, like squirting a super soaker at an Everfree forest fire… when suddenly, unexpectedly… their need began to lessen.

Session by session, Bon Bon and Lyra were needing less and less of the Doctor’s ‘medicine’. Eventually, they were even able to get by with only a single ‘injection’ a day! Then every other day!

By the time they were ready to be released into outpatient care, Lyra could go a whole week without breaking a sweat. Bon Bon could only manage four or five days, but she was catching up!

Now it had been months since their return home. Things had only gotten better and better, especially after the damnably sticky spring heat months had finally passed. Bon and Lyra still made regular trips up to Ponyville General Hospital for ‘sessions’ with Dr. Horse. He was of the opinion that it was still a bit too early to release them ‘into the wild’, so to speak. There was no telling how either mare might react to an ‘off-brand’ version of their medicine. He would joke that it was better to avoid the generic and stick with the pharmaceutical grade.

Their definitely had been times that Bon’d had to grab Lyra and physically restrain her from jumping a local stallion who’d accidentally dropped in front of her, and Lyra had saved her a few times with a telekinetic restraint spell (including one time she’d caught a glimpse of a very ‘relaxed’ Big Mac on the way to the market).

They’d kept each other honest, satiating themselves with ‘Meatless Mondays’ and ‘Taco Tuesdays’... (also Wet ‘n Wild Wednesdays, Thorough Thursdays, Freaky Fridays, Slow-pace Saturdays, and Lyra’s favorite: Strap-on Sundays)... tiding themselves over until their next session.

And one of those sessions was coming up.

Today.

Today is a good day!

The thought pinged through her head again, making her spring a little bit in her trot as she passed the Ponyville flower store.

“Hey marefriend!” Lyra’s goofy growl came from her left, the unicorn sliding out of the store, “Was just about to go looking for you!”

“Hey snuggle-butt,” Bon Bon giggled, sending a playful hip-check at Lyra as she joined her, mid-trot, “Well look at those! I guess you got enough for all three of us?” Bon Bon whistled, looking at the rather large bouquet of black orchids that Lyra was carrying in her saddlebags.

“Oh yeah! These are Zebrican love-orchids, main ingredient in zesper. Roseluck says they’ll keep a stallion hard for hours.” Lyra suddenly looked over her shoulder, back into the store, giving a little wave back to the red-maned florist.

“Figures she’d know.” Bon Bon laughed. “I hope you didn’t break the bank for them.”

“Oh gimme a break, Bon Bon.” Lyra rolled her eyes. “This is a special occasion! Dr. Horse is coming to make a house call… for the whole weekend! You heard him: wants to make sure we’re in good shape for the fall-heat season start, doesn’t want us relapsing.”

“Mmm-hmm... “ Bon wiggled her eyebrows, “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that ‘cum-belly’ I heard you mumbling about in your sleep now, would it?”

Lyra grinned, flicking her eyes right back and wiggling her own eyebrows, “Maybe. Just like I might have noticed you bought that ‘tailhole cleaning and lubrication’ kit from the pharmacy.”

Shoot, Lyra had seen her purchase… she’d wanted it to be a surprise.

“Don’t worry Bon, I don’t judge you for your sinfully dirty butt-fetish...” Lyra joked.

“You should try it,” Bon huffed, “You wouldn’t tease me about it if you did.”

“Maybe…” Lyra hummed. It was the closest Bon Bon had ever got the ponut-protecting pony to give the backdoor a whirl, “...who knows what we’ll get up to this weekend. Dr. Horse doesn’t know what he’s in for.”

“Speaking of... “ Bon Bon grinned, looking up the street and spying the Doctor, complete with travel suitcase, trotting toward their home.

“Well hellllloooooo Doctor!” Lyra cat-called, catching the young stallion’s eye.

“Ah, ladies, I was just on my way to see you. Are you both… uh… still good for your treatment this weekend?”

Bon Bon snuggled into Lyra’s shoulder, comforted by the feel of the mare snuggling back against her… before Lyra turned the snuggle into a nuzzle… and then slipped into to plant a deep, wet kiss on her lips.

Like she always did, Bon let Lyra’s enthusiasm dictate the kiss, happy to submit to the unicorn’s boundless energy, closing her eyes as she felt Lyra’s long tongue slide around her teeth, wrestling with hers.

“Oh… uh…” The doctor’s awkward mumble was accompanied by the soft, slipping sound of his penis dropping from his sheath… and then the wet slap of it rigidly standing to attention and striking his belly.

Bon Bon could sense what Lyra was about to do, moving in synchronization with her as they took up on either side of the somewhat-intimidated stallion, pressing in against him like two hunting-lionesses, working together as a team to down their quarry.

"We'll be waiting-" Lyra whispered into one ear.

"To share your cum-" Bon Bon took the other.

"With our tongues-"

"Again.

“Tonight."

Bon Bon giggled as the trio trotted toward the front door to her house. As far as the aftermath of ‘mission-failures’ went… this wasn’t bad at all.

CREDITS ROLL

Agent Sweetie Drops…………………Bon Bon

Lyra Heartstrings…………………As Herself

Quantum Freeze…………………As Himself

Dusk Wing…………………As Herself

Researcher Blackheart…………………As Herself

Stalwart Heart…………………As Himself

Truncheon…………………As Himself

Clover Crunch…………………As Himself

Princess Luna…………………As Herself

Twilight Sparkle…………………As Herself

Roseluck…………………As Herself

Merigold…………………As Herself

Pharmacist…………………Pill Popper

Dr. Horse…………………Time Turner

Guardspony #1…………………Spear Point

Guardspony #2…………………Lance A Lot

Guardspony #3…………………Diamond Edge

Guardspony #4…………………Buckle

Guardspony #5…………………Flash Point

Stunt Penis #1…………………Jet Stream

Stunt Penis #2…………………Big Mac

Stunt Penis #3…………………Troubleshoes (!)

Fade to black…

Author's Note

Author's Note: In the last story, I mentioned writing a sequel to the Mission Failed series. I definitely think Dusk Wing and Stalwart’s story needs to be told and intend to make that a reality once I’m ready to start writing again. I haven’t decided on all the details but third-person perspective from Stalwart’s POV makes the most sense. I think both of these characters have layers they haven’t shown us yet and I’m optimistic that these two can grow to love one another and not only Stalwart but Dusk Wing can find healing from all the bad shit that’s come their way.

AJ Aficionado, Editor

POST-Post Credits Scene?

POST POST CREDITS SCENE:

“Anon!”

Twilight’s scream echoed through the empty halls of the Castle of Friendship. The purple unicorn groaned and rubbed her forehead again as if her hoof pressure could somehow ward off the human-induced migraine she could feel starting at the base of her horn.

It couldn’t.

The Princess of Friendship was suppressing a minor stroke, her eyebrow twitching involuntarily again and again as she looked down at a completely empty freezer compartment. Every single one of her ice-cream sandwiches. All of them. Even the ones she’d deliberately hid inside the bag of frozen peas. She blinked hard, as if refreshing her vision might somehow change the sight before her eyes.

It didn’t.

“ANON, CELESTIA-DAMMIT, ANSWER ME!”

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?” An annoyed groan from the kitchen archway bounced back at her, snarky and petulant as it always was. “Why are you freaking out this time? I could hear you across the whole castle you know -- by the way, why do they call it the Castle of Friendship? You live here alone. You should call it the ‘Fortress of Solitude’.”

The human.

The bane of her existence these past months.

Sure it had started out exciting: a human on Equus. And one that was markedly different than the ones she’d encountered when she’d travelled across the portal on her own. A fantastic new source of knowledge and experimentation… and a new friend who would live with her in Ponyville!

All that hopeful excitement had evaporated fairly quickly.

Issue 1: The poor human had gone through many of the same withdrawal symptoms as the ponies who had been involved with the quantihol incident. For some sick, twisted reason Anon’s captors had dosed him to make him enamored of pony mares.

Very enamored.

Twilight wasn’t sure if the human was naturally horny or if it was just a side-effect of the drug. Whatever the reason, the creature was randier than a thestral-colt in a mango factory. Her one saving grace was that the strange monkey-man had an overpowering fetish for… older mares.

Older moms to be precise.

She couldn’t even count the number of times she’d had to magically restrain him or teleport him back into the castle because of inappropriate innuendo or… mountings… It had been a tough few months.

But that wasn’t the only problem.

Issue 2: Anon was a dick.

“Are you pissed that I ate your ice cream? Twi, I was doing you a favor.” Anon grinned, leaning one arm up against the doorway. “Have you looked at your ass in the mirror lately? EFF-AY-TEE. And not the ghetto booty them zebras are into either, just plain old pudgy.”

“ANON.” Twilight could feel her teeth strain under the pressure of her clenched jaw.

“Seriously, if I slapped that plot it would probably still be rippling next week, here let’s try...” The human held up one of his hands, open palmed and took a step toward her.

With a flash of her horn, Twilight telekinetically drove the wind out of the human with a gut punch, before slamming him into the wall. It only partially satisfied her annoyance.

“Shut up! That ice cream wasn’t for me. It was for my mom! Ice cream sandwiches are her favorite.” Twilight snarled, happy that the human’s gasping, winded breaths prevented him from responding. “Now I have to run out and buy more before her train shows up. And before you ask no. She’s not coming back here.”

Anon’s eyes took on a hurt, puppy-dog look, even as he writhed in breathless agony on the floor.

“No bucking way in Tartarus.” Twilight huffed, shaking her head. “I’m not bringing my mom within a hundred stride-lengths of you. We’re going to have tea at… actually, I’m not even going to tell you where we’re meeting up. I know what you’ll try.”

Twilight trotted past the incapacitated human, deliberately swatting him with her tail as she did.

“Stay here, and stay quiet.” Twilight called over her shoulder as she left the castle, slamming the door behind her.

…

A few minutes later, a knock on the front door was answered by the human.

“Oh hello there! You must be the creature Twilight tells me so little about! Is she around? I managed to catch the earlier train and hoped to surprise her before our scheduled brunch at Rarity’s!”

Anon’s grin grew three sizes as he looked down at the peppy unicorn mare, Twilight Velvet.

Twilight Sparkle’s mom.

END

Author's Note

Personally, I’m not a fan of the Anon stuff. But for those of you who are, I smell a setup for a future installment in this Post-Post-credit scene. Enjoy!

AJ Aficionado, Editor

^^^ Clops: FYI AJA doesn't read my 'Anon bangs...' series. This sets up the first (and as yet unwritten) encounter of human and MILF-pony that has now spawned FOUR clopfics. :)

Post-Credits Scene!

POST CREDITS SCENE:

The clickety clack of the Baltimare Express filled the dark train cabin. It was always her favorite part of the trip, when the tracks from the alpine region of Canterlot ran into the long, winding tunnel system that brought the racing locomotive through the outspur of the Appleachian mountain range.

The darkness always gave her a chance to think, to sit in darkness, to sit with her decisions.

Past, present and future.

A bump in the rails sent a shudder through the whole carriage, making the bag at her hooves clink and clatter.

She hissed and reached down, lifting the duffel-sized satchel onto the bench by her side and placing a couple of pillows around its outskirts to keep it lodged in place. She wasn’t sure what her plans for the future were, but the contents of this bag certainly factored into them.

She carefully unzipped the heavy bag’s zipper, grinning as the only source of light in the cabin reflected off of the stoppered vials of pure Quantihol.

Blackheart gulped to herself.

Who knows what her future held?

CUT TO BLACK