Fast Times At Canterlot High
“Hello, Lyra! Just got back from the market, I hope you like cookie crumble mint - huh?”
Bon-Bon’s intended gift - all cheesecloth-wrapped ten pounds of it - wobbled dangerously in her clutches as she took in the new state of her dining room. Even though the white light of the sun had faded orange since she’d left, the room she shared most often with Lyra Heartstrings… well, it was like night and day.
Rather than the canopy light overhead, only the midday light and Lyra’s horn light lit up the room. Shadow gripped at every other corner of the room, which had also had the various heavy dressers and chairs pulled out from the walls. The only reason Bon-Bon hadn’t asked where they’d gone - or how her marefriend had even pulled them through the narrow doorways, horn or no - was due to the look on Lyra’s face.
Even with a table separating them, Bon-Bon had seen the look once before - well, twice. The closest moment at that time was after their fourth date, oh so long ago. Shooting the shit over cider and limes had been a great recall to an earlier, less complicated time. Before Bon-Bon had made her stupid claim that she could both drink and drill Lyra under the table. What followed was the most cum-spattered, sweat-thickened night of passion in Bon-Bon’s life. One that Bon-Bon was surprised she didn’t get heatstroke from.
But what could have garnered that determined look from Lyra this time? Setting the cake on the lip of the table between them, Bon-Bon longed to find out.
“Lyra?”
“Yes, Bonny?” Even Lyra’s voice was a touch too cheery. Something was definitely wrong - she never faked this much emotion around Bon-Bon.
Plus she knew Bon-Bon hated nicknames. Especially aft-
The realization almost mad Bon-Bon trip in her mud-caked heels - another stupid oversight for her, considering where she’d been. “L-lyra...” she began, her voice a wobbling wreck from the clipped cadence it held before. “If this was about that day, I swear I was-”
“Oh what day could that be?” Now Bon-Bon could actually tell just why Lyra’s voice was so strained. The anger in it was clearly restrained with every thrum of her tongue. Bon-Bon suddenly found herself missing the week of near-silence from the minty unicorn. “After all, Bonny, we’re both in this together. Life, and love, and all that.” The words life and love fell from Lyra’s lips like botflies. “Unless there’s something you think that I’ve done wrong?”
“I swear, Lyra, I thought we agreed to at least handle it on our own time! You even seemed to be okay at first with knowin-”
“Knowing?!” Bon-Bon had to leap to save the cake after Lyra’s quick stand nearly sent the table it was on tumbling into her knees. With Frosting pooling into her chin and her cottony chest, she could only wince in her crouched pose as Lyra exploded above her.
“I-”
“-Knowing of a decade you spent nearly getting yourself killed! Upturning entire kingdoms! Of learning to lie for a living - to Ponyville! To me!” Lyra’s tears were blossoming red-raw crescents into the bottom of her eyes, making Bon-Bon’s heart sink even more. “And for what?!”
Even with a week to prepare for this question, Bon-Bon had no answer. Her own jaw trembled as she scrambled for an answer. “I-I hated it too, Lyra. That’s what I swore I’d never pull up those shades again. Not unless-”
“For flock’s sake, Bon-Bon, I’ve never been so scared in my life!” Lyra’s balled-up hands brought forth a resounding crack as they slammed into the table From splintered wood or bone, Bon-Bon didn’t know. ”I wanted to slip rings on those fingers of yours, Bon-Bon. I’d always dreamed of having those and soothing my nightmares! H-holding me like they held so many confections of yours you molded!” Another bitter slam of palms into the table later, it was Bon-Bon wincing this time instead of Lyra. “And now - Goodness, how much blood was on them?”
“Not a drop!” Frosting and bread splattered into the rose-colored rug as Bon-Bon stood her own ground. All thought of dessert and dignity was lost - now that Bon-Bon saw what she was about to lose in the heartbroken eyes of Lyra. “I swear, Lyra - S.M.I.L.E. is gone. And you’re the only pony who's ever brought a smile to my maw.”
“Am I?” Lyra’s body twisted and turned, looking as if she wanted to bolt from the room. Yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
“Yes. Always.” Bon-Bon could have cried.
A sniffle from Lyra answered her. “How many others?”
“W-what?”
“How many? Other! Mares?!” Each word dropped from Lyra’s bared lips, as harsh and impactful as the scars in the walls around them, lengthened with each pulse of Lyra’s horn. “I know I’m not the only one! How do I even know you’re telling me the truth right now?” A solitary tear almost seemed to fizzle as it trailed down a minty cheek, turned red with fury and fatigue. “Tell me, Agent Drops!”
If there was ever a time that Bon-Bon knew how dead that name was to her, it was in how it ran like a dagger of ice into her heart. Now it was Bon-Bon who wanted to be under the table now. Anywhere but directly across those soul-penetrating jade eyes.
However, it was in that shattering of the ex-agent’s pride that one final option bared itself to her. One that the fear of their relationship only being defined by desire had kept her from relating.
Right now, though? It was do or die.
“Because we’ve met before!”
Lyra’s jaw dropped. “I’m s-sorry, what?”
Bon-Bon almost choked on the wad of saliva she forced down her creamy throat. “Y-yes. When I’d been on one of my assignments. When… when you were at the CSGU.”
“You’re serious?” For once in this argument, the blush on Lyra’s cheeks was from cherub-like wonder, rather than anger. “But that's impossible! The only time I was ever on campus was for classes and-“ Then Lyra’s palm clasped over her maw, her horn lighting up again. If it was possible, the room was thrown more intro inky blackness, due to every curtain in the room slamming shut.
Bon-Bon was a bit more willing to divulge. After all, such a climactic day had lodged herself firmly in her mind. “Mage Meadowbrook’s Day.”
It was only three words, and yet Lyra’s hands knuckled into her chin and the frills of her mini-skirt like it was that fourth date all over again. “Oh…” Lyra’s mood one-eightied almost immediately. “You know, I don’t actually remember those times too too well.”
“I know.” In several swift steps, Bon-Bon made her way to Lyra again. “Would you like me to talk about them, then?”
Lyra nodded, her lower lip between her teeth now. Bon-Bon couldn’t blame her; even the thought of this day had gotten her through many a trying time, in more ways than one.
But right now, all that mattered was how it started. How it all truly started for them.
Taking the seat next to her conflicted marefriend, Bon-Bon slowly closed her hand around Lyra’s, hoping it wouldn't be snatched away. Good news; it wasn’t. Bad news; Lyra still looked like she wanted to leg it, if her balancing on the balls of her feet were any indication.
Which meant it was storytime.
Canterlot/Nine Years Ago, Mage Meadowbrook’s Day
Green.
Agent Sweetie Drops didn’t know which shade of it in Canterlot’s Anthropology Hall was getting to her more: the gaudish one draping the halls or the one staining her face due to nausea. By Luna’s flowing folds, was this how everypony celebrated Mage Meadowbrook’s Day?
Well, no. Some apparently celebrated this day with far more dastardly indulgences of green.
Like envy.
And the second Agent Drops found that priceless-bug-poaching Professor Neighsay, she’d let him know just how icily her agency looked upon such criminality.
Still though, it was stuff like this that made Agent Drops long for the glassed surroundings of S.M.I.L.E. HQ. At least then, all the things that gained her ire were behind the walls instead of humping them.
… well, and doing an amazing job showing how easily it was to knead the rumps of some of these unicorn mares. And how hot that bed-head could look.
Wait, was that one of those cheerleader ponies vacuuming off Hoity’s dick? Good fuck, the feeling of that mouth on some mare’s loins would probably be…
...exhilarating.
Suddenly, those short shorts clinging to Agent Drops's hips felt too damp for words. Of course she'd had the bright idea to go as Daring Do, midriff-showing attire and all. Of course she’d pay for it now, as her legs crossed over to keep half the frat party from seeing her trickling desire.
At least it was slimming on her creamy curves, right?
Another pony bumped into her in the crowded, neon-light-flooded hall, nearly jostling the mask off of her face as well. After making sure it was well-secured - as well as the teal wig over it - Sweetie Drops wove through the crowds again. She also scolded herself for being so caught up in her own mind. These ponies around her were innocent - and she was talking of them like it was some troublesome flyder!
Besides, her inner pony sighed, No way I get a positive ID if I’m just standing here, mulling over the target before she even found it.
“...aaaaand five limes! Told you I’ve got a goo-hic!-good hand for this!” Sweetie Drops’ ears bristled at the chirpy sound, shot out from the room nearby. “Pay up, Professor!”
...Professor?!
Sweetie Drops couldn’t lunge through that door fast enough.
The decor - or lack thereof - of the room was the first thing she noticed. Save for a ping-pong table and several keg-filled shelves - their original contents heaped in corners like book towers - the room was free of the eye-straining lights. That did not mean it wasn’t well-lit though. Or well-reinforced, as the sensual sounds of the pony-thick ballroom faded to murmurs the second the oaken door slid shut.
In fact, the only loud thing in this room surrounded the sex-dripping mare a table away from Sweetie Drops. From her vibrant mint-green fur, to the magenta shirt plastered to her generous chest like a second sheen of sweat, everything about her seemed to light up the room. With every fruit she sunk into the racked pyramid of plastic cups before her, the whoops of the ponies around her rose - and so did the flurry of clothes thrown at her painted toes.
By the time Sweetie Drops edged her way to that unicorn mare’s end of the table, her blush made her look like a cherry sundae. Especially from the flurry of erect dicks and dripping slits her impeccable aim had generated.
“H-hello...” Sweetie Drops began, her normally curt tone suddenly squeaky and meek. “I’m a bit new to this party, and I couldn’t help but notice you.”
A trimmed eyebrow rose and that mare took in Agent Drops from the corner of her eye, only obscured by the crimson necktie wrapped around her head. “Join the club, sport.” she chirped, her smile rising a little. “Name’s Lyra.”
“Oh.” At least Sweetie had a name now. “So, Lyra… is this a club?”
“Awww - so cute, too,” Lyra said. “But yeah. Say hi to the CSGU Hoofball League.”
Sweetie was soon being hailed - quite haphazardly but the crowd nearby, slowly waving back to them. “Sorry, it’s also my first time celebrating Mage Meadowbrook’s Day, and I’m not usually used to such…”
“Everything?”
“Everything.” Sweetie gratefully nodded at the cup of green ale Lyra passed her. “I didn’t even think a Pillar of Equestria would get so many so… rowdy.”
“Why not?” Another fruit-shot from Lyra, and one of the cups splashed as the lime inside it rocked its cradle. “She’s a saint, and a discoverer! She was Daring before Daring was cool! So yeah, of course each of her days is all about discovery of every pleasure we can find.”
“And... green. Lots of it.” Sweetie added. Indeed, emerald banners and clovers festooned the corners of this room too.
Lyra clapped her hands in glee. “Learning already, sweet! Shame you weren’t here earlier - we’d got those boys naked faster.”
And suddenly, Sweetie remembered she and her new friend were the most clothed ponies in the room. Back to blushing she went. “I doubt that.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, sport.” Lyra’s tongue clicked merrily. “You’ve got the body to keep me focused.”
Sweetie’s tongue ran over her lips, suddenly dry again despite the ale. “A-actually, I was here because I was concerned about the professor. Y’know, the one you got some money from?”
“Oh, him?” asked Lyra. “He should be coming up for air soon.“ Seeing her new buddy’s eyes linger dangerously over her mostly nude fanbase, Lyra snapped her fingers to get that attention back on her eyes, then offered a hand forward. “Well, you know my name - what’s yours?”
Sweetie shook the hand. “I’m… well, Daring.”
Lyra burst out in laughter. “Damn right you are.”
Sweetie finally felt okay enough to laugh along with Lyra. Small wonder that half this room hung on her every word and finger-flick. “Actually, my real name is Dipper Dot.” And so her identity away from home was further established.
Of course, it didn’t settle Agent Drops’ stomach any. It was one of many reasons she was losing her smile about S.M.I.L.E. - the secrecy was leaving its shadow on her heart.
One day, I’m picking a name and sticking with it, she mentally vowed.
“Aww, that name’s sweet!” Lyra said. “Don’t know why you don’t drop it more often.”
… of course, going with the flow could work for me too. “Um, Lyra?” Sweetie asked, trying to get back on track. “The professor?”
“Sure thing, Dip. Gimme a sec to find him.”
Lyra’s gaze scanned over the room, over and over, her eyes showing no sign of sluggishness from the beer slicking her lips. Eventually, she saw a figure stir, just behind the silver kegs of Percheron Beer, slightly bowing the table they were stacked on.
Sweetie could never stand the stuff, herself.
Lyra’s voice, however - by Celestia, Sweetie’d love to hear it every day and twice on Sunday. And speaking of… “Whoop - found him!”
Sweet followed the bouncing partygoer, though with far more steel in her step. Already she was sliding one of her hands down to her harness-gripped hip. A stun pistol holstered into it that looked too flashy to be real was humming with very real power as she gripped it.
Inebriated or not, Neighsay was a formidable unicorn. And Sweetie didn’t get where she was by leaving anything to chance.
No, you got here after you didn’t question why mission command was snickering after your briefing! She scolded herself. A wolf whistle brought her out of her revelry, and was swiftly answered with a flipped bird.
Then Sweetie got daring and popped that slim digit past her plump lips. The second she heard that brash stallion faint - and heard him bring down the cup pyramid upon him - Sweetie let a smirk cross her maw.
Her eyes then returned to Lyra, who was helping to pull her target out from under the stereo. But the second she saw the mane behind that stallion - blond instead of raven-maned - her heart sank. Whoever that pony was, it was not Neighsay - even if he was as given to traveling cloaks and manure-munching grins as the target was.
“Wake wakey, teach!” Lyra cried. “Got a mare that wants to see you-uuumph!”
Suddenly, Lyra was stuck to Sweetie as the S.M.I.L.E. agent dragged her back to her table. Thankfully, the other partygoers were too busy getting drunker - well, if that was possible - to alert that snoozing teacher. “That is not who I’m looking for,” Sweetie hissed into Lyra’s ear.
“Ooooh, happy to knooooow,” sang Lyra, grinding her rump against Sweetie’s crotch. “That a sponge in your pocket or are you happy to see meeee?”
Desperately fighting to ignore the heat building in her loins, Sweetie ends on. “I -oh!- I meant Professor Neighsay! Did he cu-come here tonight?”
“Oh, sure,” Lyra tapped her chin in though. Her hips were still in motion against her fellow mare’s mound, but her words came through loud and clear. “Dunno what it is about the non-adjuncts here, but they’re so suck-ass at bets.”
“Wait. You got something from him?”
Lyra stood up at long last, letting Sweetie breath a sigh of relief, then pointed to the tie atop her temple. “Among other things.” Flipping up a golden coin before Sweetie’s wide eyes, Lyra’s smile finally dropped. “Don’t get too giddy, Dip; coin’s as fake as his smile.”
“Figures.”
Slipping the coin into her mountainous cleavage, Lyra batted her eyelashes at her red-cheeked marefriend. “I can tell everything you’ve gotis real, though.”
Sweetie could only nod, not trusting her voice until Lyra sank the final lime on her countertop into the tip of the cup pyramid. “S’a shame I missed it, then.” Sweetie sighed, her mission apparently quashed. “Apparently he has quite the habit of stiffing ponies all around Canterlot.”
Like the ponies at the Canterlot Museum that thief was supposed to deliver a million-bit bug to, she didn’t add.
“Good news, then; he apparently got into some deep shitafterwards.”
Sweetie almost choked on her saliva. “R-really?”
“Canterlot PD sandwich marched him outta the dorm five minutes ago.” A brief chuckle spilled from Lyra’s lips, as soaked with liquor as it was with mirth. “Gotta say, I don’t know what I’d do without this...” Sweetie stiffened at the feel of Lyra's tail, its tip soaked with wine and a different type of perfume as it wagged sensually under the agent’s snout. “But it seems Neighsay might soon.”
“H-huh?” Now it was Sweetie’s turn to wonder, lost as her mind was in the feel of that minty tail-tip now nuzzling her neck.
That wonder turned to horror with lightning speed when Lyra added, “‘Cuz the stallions who whisked him away said they’re gonna get rid of a tail on him.”
Despite Lyra's slurred chuckles beside her, Sweetie’s eyes shrank into dots. Get rid of a tail? Nothing in that statement meant the tail Professor Neighsay was tucking between his legs as he fled.
It most likely meant… her.
And confirmation struck as subtle as a cannonball into Sweetie's mind the second she saw two burly stallions descending the steps to her location.
“Your dorm - please please please tell me you have one.” she whispered to Lyra.
“That quick to propose? Shit, never been happier to be scammed in my life.” Lyra was too oblivious to see just why Sweetie’s head was on a swivel. “Third floor, to the right of the bathro-oh!”
Before Lyra could coo another word - or the agent-hunting dirty cops could hear them - Sweetie Drops was gone, pulling a bewildered Lyra with her. Soon, the two of them were ducking and weaving through the thickets of drunken ponies that filled the frat house well beyond any reasonable capacity. It was of little impediment; even with the buzzed and bewildered unicorn almost like dead-weight on her arms, Agent Drops slipped through the crowds like quicksilver.
It took several minutes for Sweetie’s effortless escape to reach that third floor, devoid of partygoers - and more importantly, curious ears. A less experienced agent would’ve aimed to de-ass from the property with the quickness. But Sweetie knew all about force multipliers in this line of work - if there were two of them inside, three times as many were waiting outside. Laying low until those thugs cleared the coast was imperative.
Right after she and Lyra stumbled into the room, the snap of the door sank them both in shadow again, only broken by the rays of Celestia’s moon. It allowed the mare a moment to breathe and regain her composure before turning to address the mare she’d literally dragged into her dilemma.
“Sorry about this, I really am!” she babbled, stumbled for an excuse as Lyra drew up to her feet. Unfortunately, the shadows gave Sweetie no hint as to her new friend’s mood, and she had so little time to calm it. “I swear, I’ll be out of your hair if you don’t want me a-glmph.”
Whatever excuse Sweetie was planning to marshal was suppressed as Lyra’s lips mashed into hers. Immediately the heady taste of booze and honeysuckle accompanying the other mare’s tongue as it slipped past the S.M.I.L.E. agent’s own.
Before Sweetie could even process the situation, she fisted her gloved hands into Lyra’s shirt hem and pulled her in, gluing their bodies as close as their lips were. On any other night, in any other state, she would’ve pushed her assailant away from her. And possibly spin-kicked the smirk off their face for good measure, too. But the volcanic twinge of arousal in her shorts-clad loins drove her to reciprocate with an impassioned moan.
Besides, this was a far more desirable way to end her night. Whether it was standing over a beaten Neighsay or clopping it to pictures of Coloratura spreads in her lean-to, the options before were slim. Now the only slim thing here was the hourglassed mare twisting around her fingers as Lyra literally took her breath away.
She could feel Lyra’s deceptively heavy breasts squishing delightfully against her own barely-buttoned melons, Adding to the feel was Lyra’s spirits-soaked shirt, its two-toned expanse providing an intoxicating musk. Just the weight of those massive mammaries against her own was enough to drive all thoughts of escape from Sweetie’s head.
The tsunami of raging collegiate hormones from that lower floor had done a number on her self-control; these heaving tits were finishing that job.
Sliding her crafty hands down Lyra’s bare waist and flaring hips, firmly gripping the pair of curvy, panty-clad asscheeks that her clearly horny fuckbuddy had been waggling in the face of every mare and stallion within five feet of her. It was a wonder worthy of S.M.I.L.E. investigation how the mare hadn’t singlehandedly turned the Anthropology Hall into an all-out unrestrained orgy. Even the thought of such an event with Lyra as the fucked-silly focus made Sweetie’s thirsting clit throb needily.
Regardless, the agent found herself crumbling beneath the attentions of the randy college girl who was attacking Sweetie’s tongue like it owed Lyra her cafeteria money.
“Mmh, you...smck...really are a...gasp...daring mare, aren’t cha?” Lyra asked between their pauses for air, her bare knee rising up to grind against Sweetie’s hopelessly-soaked shorts. The material stuck to her curvy hips like glue, the tightness leaving nothing to the imagination. Her painfully obvious, wantonly clenching folds trickled constantly beneath the fabric.
Of course, Sweetie couldn’t conceal her riotously insistent arousal, disguise or no disguise.
“As much as I love makin’ a cute mare like you flood herself just from kissing, I really need to feel you throbbing in me,” Lyra admitted, biting her lip as her eyes traced the fine curves of the Daring costume the other mare was sporting. “Matter of fact...how do you feel about me casting a spell on you? Nothin’ permanent, of course. And I promise you’ll loooove it~!”
Sweetie’s mind raced briefly at the possible implications. If it was something that could potentially compromise her cover or incapacitate her, she really shouldn’t be doing it, but her hindbrain was warring with her conscious thought in a battle that it was swiftly winning.
Especially when Lyra turned around, plopped her front half on her bed sideways, and tugged her panties to the side with one hand.
“Whaddya say, cutie?” purred the minty mare. “Ready to rail me into this bed like the slut I toootally am?”
As entranced as Sweetie was by the winking, clenching petals that beckoned for her oral attentions, it took her a moment to realize the phrasing of Lyra’s question. “...Rail you? But…where’s your strap… on...?”
Then she felt the telltale tingle of magical might building at her crotch. Soon, her eyes rolled into her head at the sudden surge of pressure she felt blossom in her core - like a caged beast thrashing about for its release, which was an increasingly apt metaphor for the twitching, burgeoning maremeat that strained the fabric of her shorts to the point of desperation.
“Oooooh…” Sweetie groaned, half in realization and half in a state of complete ecstasy. Even for her, the sensations of a real, twitching, stallionhood just above her drenched slit was thrilling. “How did you…” she breathed.
“I’ll kiss and tell later, Dip. Spell’s a little sorority secret - but what it’s gonna cum inside isn’t.” Lyra crooked her finger toward her fuckbuddy. “Now come over here and give Lyra some lovin’, you daring Dot...”
The presenting mare was utterly irresistible to Sweetie’s newfound testosterone-fueled instincts. Sweetie fumbled with the button of her shorts for only a moment before finally unseating the offending fastener.
Which then vanished in a blur as her prodigious, magically-endowed length to spring free.
Sweetie gawked down at her titanic tool, blinking blearily as her addled mind attempted to compute the sheer scale of the horsemeat weighing down her waist. It could’ve almost reached down to her knee and had a similarly-impressive girth, looking like one of the empty soda cans scattering the downstairs floors from drunken frat house concoctions.
“Oh buck yeah!” Lyra whooped, eyes dilating as she stared at the fat bead of pre collecting on Sweetie’s tip. When the other pony’s eyes shot to hers questioningly, she blushed and averted her eyes. “I...might be a teensy bit of a size addict?”
“Lyra, if I put this inside you, I think you might die.” Sweetie responded in a deadpan, hefting her length by the base with one hand so that it bobbed imperiously between the two of them. She shuddered as her cocktip flexed, spattering a coating of pre onto her length that was more than most stallions spurted in a day.
“Pshaw. I’ve taken bigger,” Lyra responded coolly, though the trained agent could detect the hint of trepidation trickling into her voice. Sweetie didn’t bother calling the other mare out on it - it would’ve done nothing but kill the mood. And if she’d needed to get off before she’d gotten an erection long enough to shame Shining, then she was obsessed with orgasm now.
“Really hope that’s not the horn talking…” she groaned, shuffling further onto the bed.
“It’s fine, it’s fine! Now will you get over and stuff me like a donut, already?!” Lyra demanded, waggling her pert ass insistently.
With those minty mounds jiggling before her dilating eyes, Sweetie needed no further teasing. She dropped down and crawled forward on her hands and knees until her face was level with that needily-clenching pussy, the heady musk from those wet lips leaving Sweetie dizzy with need. Her nostrils flared as she brought her nose flush against the unicorn’s folds, going at her task with the gusto of a griffin.
Lyra swore loudly - and moaned longingly - as Sweetie buried her face muzzle-deep in those fluttering petals. Her eyes shot wide and her tongue lolled out as her focus zeroed in on the pleasure wracking her mind and body. Her horn sparked and fizzled with each lap Sweetie gave against her gash, providing a miniature fireworks display as vivid as the blue-and-red curls of Sweetie’s mane.
As wet and ready as Lyra already was, though, Sweetie didn’t need to use her oral talent for long before she found herself needing to come up for air, lips splattered with minty marecum and her prodigious length throbbing painfully as it jutted rigidly from her hips beneath her, feeling like a lead weight of fiery arousal attached directly to her brain.
“How in Tartarus do stallions deal with these flocking things...mmmh…” Sweetie growled lowly, pushing herself up and clambering onto Lyra’s back. Her hand gripped around the base of Lyra’s tail as she pulled upwards, drawing a desperate whinny from the minty mare’s throat. Soon, Lyra’s back straightened out from its amorous arch, letting her plush flanks press back into the firm caress of Sweetie’s hands. One of them caressed her harp-shaped cutie marks, while the other maintained its strong grip on her striped tail.
Without Lyra even needing to beg - or take in a breath - the earth mare’s hips surged forward, plunging the broad head of her throbbing maremeat forward. Right past Lyra’s drooling, lust-reddened entrance, it soon met vice-like muscle. Sweetie cursed under her breath and groaned from the intense and new sensation, biting her lip as she swatted Lyra’s ass with a resounding smack.
The sudden sting of pain caused the minty mare to clench reflexively around her intruding tool, and sent Sweetie’s eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Fuck, babe…” Sweetie huffed, wiggling her hips to grind against the ribbed edges of Lyra’s rippling tunnel as she steadily plumbed her way deeper into those eager depths.
“Oh sweet Celestia...those nerds got nothin’ on you, Dip…” Lyra huffed out between unsteady, pleasured gasps for air, running a hand down her belly to massage her aching love-nub even as it winked against the underside of Sweetie’s cock. She nearly had the wind knocked out of her as Sweetie finally bottomed out inside of her, the fat flare of her monolithic member pressing insistently against the barrier to Lyra’s deepest reaches.
The unicorn’s eyes rolled in their sockets as she felt her tummy bulge slightly against her arm from the sheer girth of the well-endowed mare now inside her. It made Lyra lose focus on her clitoral ministrations as any semblance of fine motor control was lost to a flood of endorphins.
“Auhhh...fuh...f-fuh…gwah...Swee-ah...” Lyra was mewling incoherently now, desperate for Sweetie to plow her through the pillows, but unable to voice her desires.
As inexperienced as Sweetie was with her new equipment, though, she didn’t need much prompting or guidance. Her initial retreat made Lyra’s walls clamp down upon her even harder, though the juices flooding her channel let her slide through regardless. The minty mare thought she’d start sobbing from the yawning emptiness that Sweetie’s departure left inside her. But then Sweetie’s hips snapped forth again, with Lyra’s concerns - and vocal chords - pummeled in the face of that fuckstick crashing into her.
Her cheeks rippled from the impact as a wet plap echoed through the small room, matched in volume only by Lyra’s joyous moans and squeals of absolute ecstasy.
Their lewd symphony quickly established a melody, Lyra’s whimpers and moans answered in kind by the feminine grunts of a futa mare in full rut, backed by smacks, squelches, and plaps.
The hefty pair of tan orbs between Sweetie’s hindlegs began to clench as Sweetie’s thrusting continued, and the mare could feel an insistent pressure from within, dying to be released, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. A tensioned knot reaching the absolute limits of its material, until, in a single, cataclysmically intense moment…
It snaps.
Sweetie’s vision went white as absolute, spine-tingling euphoria washed over her, her hips instinctively bucking forward as far as Lyra’s depths could allow as Sweetie’s mighty shaft flared outward, staking its claim within Lyra’s womb as a fresh, hot supply of blood expanded its size even further.
The two of them shouted each other’s name to the heavens as their embrace deepened in the onset of climax. Lyra’s legs locked around her lower back as the first of countless loads splattered into her deepest reaches, each throb of her tool sending a new batch of thick, virile seed rocketing up her length.
Her pent-up, magically-endowed nuts visibly shrank from the sheer amount she released inside Lyra’s fluttering, eager tunnel, and a shudder rolled through both of them as the volume of her release caused Lyra’s swelling tummy to squish out between their tight embrace.
“H-haaahhh...ooooh…” Sweetie panted and moaned, her head rolling aimlessly on the bed sheets as her release completely overwhelmed her senses. She’d experienced many things as a S.M.I.L.E. agent before -- but blowing a massive pent-up load into some horny college filly had definitely not been one of them before.
“So...bucking...much…” Lyra purred, palming one hand against her bloated midsection as Sweetie’s release started to ebb. Her legs went slack against Sweetie’s back, allowing the dickmare to slip tiredly out of her even as her length continued to throb with want.
“Mmh, we can’t have you goin’ back to the party lookin’ like this, now, can we~? Every other filly in my dorm would end up gettin’ foaled by this thing...” Lyra purred, reaching down their bellies to stroke the base of Sweetie’s cum-glazed mare-wrecker. Moving to get a better angle, Lyra palmed one of Sweetie’s heavy earth-pony nuts as she reveled in its sheer weight. “And you can bet this fat cock of yours that I’m not gonna be wasting a drop, either…I want this bad boy alllll to myself...”
“Oooh, by the gods…” Sweetie swore, her hips bucking up into Lyra’s grip as she let her head loll backwards and reveled in the mare’s expertise.
“Never swallowed someone this big before...but there’s a first time for everything~” Lyra purred, planting a kiss on Sweetie’s broad flare and licking temptingly at the throbbing tip.
“Lyraaaa…” The desperate dickmare groaned, more than eager to bury herself in the other mare’s throat - evidently, Lyra was eager for it as well, if the way her lips popped around her flare and started to make their tight, hot, massaging journey down her length was any indication.
Lyra hummed and moaned into each surging, pulsing vein that squiggled its way down the exterior of Sweetie’s length. Every hot rush of blood that ran through it prompted Lyra to give it a teasing suckle - tempting the well-hung mare with bursts of sensation without allowing her to blow too early by overdoing it.
No wonder Sweetie had been able to lure so many stallions into capture with the promises of sexual favors -- if this was how it felt from their side whenever a mare sucked them off, then suddenly she couldn’t blame them for chasing every opportunity to feel this feeling!
A hot flush started to overtake the mare as she felt fiery prickles of ecstasy racing through her nerves, that familiar pressure beginning to build inside of her as her latest release approached with all of the inevitability and power of a tsunami.
The first shot sent Lyra’s eyes rolling into the back of her head as a swollen bulge raced its way up Bonnie’s length before splattering heavily into the unicorn’s eager maw, the horny fratmare moaning wantonly as Sweetie’s tool plastered her maw with its thick, rich payload.
Lyra was swiftly forced to come up for air, struggling to pull her lips off of the broad, knobbled flare plugging her lips even as the dickmare continued to fill her mouth with her seed.
A messy shplorp echoed around the room as Lyra was freed at last, the final sputters of Sweetie’s magical endowment plastering her face white. Even as it began to shrink and fizzle away in a cloud of topaz sparkles, Lyra sighed salaciously at the sight.
The two ponies were in a similar state of duress - the moment Lyra’s lips left Sweetie’s flare was also the moment she flopped face-down in the bedsheets, too exhausted to continue. Sweetie could already feel her vision hazing and darkening as she stared uncomprehendingly at the ceiling.
Her brain was unable to reconcile what she’d just experienced - and too awash in sexual hormones to care one way or the other.
Present Time
A less experienced mare would have wondered if Lyra wasn’t suffering intestinal distress from how she was twisting her legs in the seat. Bon-Bon, having long seen her in ways beyond just how to sway her - another grace she’d found after her S.M.I.L.E. dissolved - told her better.
So the second that tell-tale squish of Lyra’s juices echoed, she finally knew she was in the clear. Some gripes would be left, but they would handle it together - a together that Bon-Bon’s marefriend now knew was quite longer than even she’d dreamed. Some questions still remained, but the ex-agent, for once, felt they wouldn’t last long.
“Your fake name was Dipper Dot?” Lyra’s expression hung between laughter and lust. “And I didn’t even floss you out? Bon-Bon, that’s literally a snack cake name!”
“Never said I didn’t have some good humor about me.” Bon-Bon knelt to a knee, nestling her head in Lyra’s lap as she shivered. “But you were the first to make what I did fun. And I don’t just mean in that wonderfully large dorm room you had. You were the first to make me not see everypony as… a target.”
Lyra sucked in her lip. “Goodness… I really was, wasn’t I?” Another swallow of saliva followed. “Why did you never-”
“Tell you?” Bon-Bon asked. “I thought it was just you acting on instinct - you did leave after. But when I saw you again… really, Lyra, I was embarrassed for myself. Not because of you, but because it took me so long to realize you really liked me.”
“... and I never made the connection until now. I really was being a butt. Then and now.” Lyra’s laughter settled Bon-Bon’s gripped heart. “I wondered why you never told me about Neighsay being a bigger butt. Stole an expensive bug and all that, right?”
Bon-Bon nodded. “Second we caught up with him again, it’d apparently got stolen again - he wouldn’t say who. ‘Sides, it apparently birthed a clutch of hatchlings for the museum b’fore it left.” A raspy chuckle made Lyra’s thighs twitch. “In an air duct. So yeah, I think the museum’s fine with it staying free as a bird now.”
Lyra’s would have joined in with Bon-Bon’s laughing, but another point of her tirade that still gnawed at her. First things were first though. Or third. She was trying, was the point.
“Sorry about blowing up at you, then, Bon-Bon. Though…” It was showtime. “I did mean it when I said I was scared. Equestria’s only getting crazier and I don’t wanna lose you to it again.”
Silence reigned for a beat. Bon-Bon’s arms wound around Lyra’s waist, bringing her closer.
“You know I… I never used that spell again, after our little romp?” Lyra continued. “Just couldn’t without seeing your face. Somepony I.. had to try to work my way into. And who was willing to be so accommodating. So...” And her eyes mournfully turned to the nearly ruined cake, its green frosting still twinkling like the dew off a fir. “Generous.”
Bon-Bon nodded, but it took Lyra magically fixing and pulling over the cake to her with her glowing horn for her to return Bon-Bon’s smile.
“I was a hot mess, Bon-Bon. You can say it.” Bon-Bon’s eyebrow quirked up when Lyra’s smile finally turned mischievous. “And now, you can see it too.”
Before her cream-coated marefriend could stop her, Lyra lifted her top and smashed the cake into her well-endowed chest. Frosting flowed freely into the table and Bon-Bon’s gaping mouth, watching silently as the two greens intermingled lovingly on Lyra’s tits. Her bare nipples were buried and glistening.
And suddenly Bon-Bon remembered just what sweet scent was mixing with the frosting to tickle her snout. Looking down, she saw Lyra was just as commando down there too, her nimble thumb tugging down her skirt to show the other prize Bon-Bon had coming this new Mage Meadowbrook’s Day.
“So, Agent Drops…” Lyra offered. “What do you feel like dipping into today with your lovely, messy assistant?”
Bon-Bon, finally recognizing the role she’d regained, tightened her grip around Lyra. Soon her hands drifted to grip Lyra’s bountiful ass again, drawing a sultry coo from the looming unicorn. “How about that memory block around that magic cock? Certainly sounds like that case’s trail is about to get hotter.”
“We’ll work on your wordplay tomorrow,” tittered Lyra. “Just get up- holy f-fuck!”
Bon-Bon would have answered, but she was too busy licking a trail up Lyra’s heaving breast. Barely impeded by the rock-hard nipple tugging licentiously against her tongue, she swiftly moved to Lyra’s mouth, kissing her hungrily as she slumped back in her seat.
The second they broke from their rough lip-lock - and Lyra’s breaths settled down to normal - all she could shoot Bon-Bon was a crooked grin. “Never mind, Bon -ah!- your tongue’s fine as is.”
“And your lips -” A rapturous wail spilled from Lyra’s maw as a creamy hand pinched her clit. “-are even finer.”
With a flash of golden light, Casa Del Heartstrings was soon filled with the sounds of music. Y’know, if music consisted of wanton mewls and pleas to fuck harder. And the cracking of furniture and hearty giggles that proved there was always a way to go harder.
At least DJ PON-3 and Octavia wouldn’t be alone in that regard for once.
