Cautiously the researcher traipsed into the forbidden catacombs, in search of still yet even more manuscript. Maybe something to explain why there were zombies all of a sudden, or whether or not the doctor (whatever kind of zyatrist he might have been) actually Lt. Col. Biscuit.

Could a motivated zombie crank out a ~~stunning masterwork~~ words on a page ~~that make sense~~? Maybe. Give enough zombies enough typewriters and

there on the floor, strewn about as if there had been a struggle, a sheaf of papers, crumpled and tattered and torn and one of them has a bootprint on it.

The Wizard of Whitetail Woods II: The Lost Chapters
Chapter ♣: Perchance to Dream
Adi Limbic Surat

Night fell on the Mareiott hotel and also on the surrounding woods. The zombies shuffled back to their homes to make dinner or whatever it is that zombies do when they’re not trying to get into a hotel to eat brains.

Way out in the forest, the McGuffin was still un-found, and KitKat was wishing that her contract had included a daily rate rather than just a flat rate for services to be rendered. Still, the Wizard had provided room and board, and she was taking full advantage of that.

As well she should be. The Wizard wouldn’t have Brazilianed himself, even if he’d thought of it.

He’d gotten a little too interested Six Shades of Grey and at least the blanket on his bed was providing cover but KitKat knew fell well what he was doing under there with his hand.

“What have I told you about saving energy for when you need it? You’re gonna wear out your snausage.”

“I’m just casting a sleeping spell,” the Wizard protested.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I know a sleeping spell that doesn’t require any mana to cast.”

“You do? But you’re a plain pony.”

“We have our ways, hoofed down from generation to generation of wise mare.” KitKat got out of bed and padded over to the Wizard’s bed. “It kinda takes effect all at once, so make sure you’re comfortable.”

The wizard nodded, set the book aside, and wiggled his head around on the pillow, like a dog circling its bed.

“Now close your eyes.”

The wizard obliged.

“You’re going to feel a light pressure.” KitKat set her hoof on his forehead and felt for his aura and for bone thickness. Once she was satisfied, she rapped him between the eyes with her shod hoof.

The sound it made was not unlike the sound a coconut makes when you hit it with a hammer. With one tok, the Wizard was asleep.

Maybe it wasn’t the most magical sleep spell, but it was really effective. A nice little nap tap, let nature take its course from there. He’d wake up in the morning with a small lump, maybe, but otherwise be no worse for the wear.

Sadly, KitKat didn’t know how to use the spell on herself. It was possible, she knew that, but getting the force just right was tricky. It was better to use a different method of sleep: a little bit of Special K was the perfect thing to relax her.

The Red Berries kind, which had freeze-dried strawberries that softened in the milk. It was loaded with iron and potassium and malt flavors.

When she’d finished, she washed out the spoon and bowl in the bathroom sink, put the cereal back in its place on top of the dresser, and settled into bed, circling the mattress several times to find the softest spot before going down, rolling over to stretch her back, then sliding under the covers.

Within a few minutes, she was snoring almost as loudly as the wizard.

And a few minutes after that, she started dreaming.

🍆💦

Morning found our two intrepid adventurers both in their beds; the night had passed uneventfully.

The Wizard was the first to wake, and since he’d closed his eyes before being clubbed to sleep, he had no idea that was how KitKat had done it. He just assumed a bit of residual soreness and muzziness was a result of her spell (which, to be fair, it was).

He had had the usual dreams and woke up with the usual morning wood. Rather than get out of bed right away, he took one of his spellbooks out of KitKat’s saddlebags—she didn’t lock them, which was quite the oversight. What she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her.

What provided additional fodder for his fap was KitKat moaning in her sleep. Not moans of distress, that wouldn’t have got his libido going (he wasn’t into BDSM [or KMFDM]). No, these were pleasured moans with occasional phrases tossed into the mix, things like ‘Oh yes,’ and ‘right there,’ and ‘deeper.’

She eventually fell silent and dozed off again, only to wake a few minutes later.

“Did you have a pleasant dream?” The Wizard asked lecherously.

She was still too asleep to process if lecherously was even a word, so she just nodded.

“Was it a wet dream?”

“Yes, and you were in it.” KitKat wrinkled her muzzle and trudged off to the bathroom, bits of the dream still playing at her memory.

The Wizard both regretted asking and was intrigued by this turn of events. And he was wise enough to know when not to ask any further questions, so he instead turned his focus back to the spellbook and returned to ‘studying’.

🛶💦

It was just as well that he hadn’t asked.

Like normal healthy mares going through puberty, KitKat had had her fair share of erotic dreams, had woken up with her tail wet, all the usual things. Luckily she had an older sister to confide in, who assured her that it was a normal part of growing up and prepared her for her first estrus which happened soon after.

Ever since meeting the Wizard and seeing his wand, she’d completely lost interest in anything sexual. Even her dreaming mind wouldn’t hook her up with the Wizard, not even if his stupid bell-ended kielbasa were replaced with a proper horsecock.

No, her wet dream had involved water, and her using said water to solve her Wizard problem once and for all. She’d led him down to a pond, kicked his knee to make him fall over, then just held his head under the water until he stopped struggling.

And a few minutes more, just to make sure.

Once she was sure, she’d dragged him back out of the water—there was no point in polluting a perfectly good pony—made a fire to burn his bathrobe and sticky spellbooks, and then just gone home.

It was a pleasant dream, a happy dream, and one that she would play back in her mind during their rough patches together.

Dreaming about murdering her employer was probably not proper pony behavior, she didn’t know. It didn’t feel pony-like; most of her dreams were of frolicking among the daisies or galloping across endless plains or getting absolutely railed by Tempeh and maybe Tofu, too. All day long, ending with a soul-shattering orgasm and the good pain everywhere.

(Not that she was thinking about that at the moment; the most vaguely sexual thought she could muster was a memory of eating a delicious butter cookie.)

She washed her hooves and splashed some cold water on her face, decided if it came to it the bathtub was deep enough to drown a Wizard in, and then returned to the hotel room proper. Their quarantine was over, and if they were quick, there would be time for a continental breakfast and a departure before the zombies returned.

Author's Note

Tempeh’s the Feather Bangs of the comics:

Tofu’s not as hot, but a good second.