Luna yelped as she slipped, the vertiginous pull of gravity abruptly exerting its hold over her; her wings snapped out on reflex, but it wouldn’t be enough to catch her.

This was something that could have had unfortunate consequences, given that most of the floors in the palace were made of smooth and unforgiving marble. Falling backward could result in injuries to one’s tailbone and pelvis. Falling forward was not much better, with injuries to the face if the angle was just right and there wasn’t enough done to blunt or divert the impact, actions which themselves could result in injury.

But in reality, she barely even fell at all, immediately landing upon the cushiness of the mass behind her. The alicorn sank into a mattress of her own flesh, blue and black hills rising around her. Nevertheless, her heart was pounding in her throat, her breath harsh and staggered, and her legs were trembling when she tried to stand once more. Her hooves settled on the floor, and in doing so she found a loose coating of liquid there. “What in Equestria…?” she muttered as she stood and regathered her bearings, and it became apparent what had happened.

There was a spill that was spreading across the floor, seeping along the intersection of corridors. It was not merely water, though, from some backed-up sink or a broken pipe somewhere in the castle. This was a creamy white fluid, its scent unmistakable, and there was equally no question as to what its source was.

“Celestia!” Luna shouted indignantly into the empty hall, her voice echoing.

And then, another sudden development: right in front of her there was a puff of smoke and magical particles. Having been expecting this, Luna was prepared to reach out and snatch the scroll that emerged from it before it fell. It was sealed with wax, but it was not the seal of the Sun Princess as ponies of Equestria had once known it. The emblem of a sun was sharing space with a pair of circles mashed together that was suggestive of cleavage. Not that Luna paid that much mind, quickly tearing the seal and unfurling the letter to read its contents.

So sorry, Sister. It would appear that one of the tributaries has spilled away from its expected course. Unfortunately, that brings it into your portions of the palace, and therefore it is quite outside my responsibility. So sorry for the inconvenience, but perhaps you can try sponging it up with your buttocks and letting your adherents lick you clean.

There was more that she didn’t bother reading. She snarled as she crumpled the scroll into a ball and threw it into the air, and a bolt of magic fired from her horn to immolate it into blue flames. “So she does not want anything to do with my side of the palace, then?” she growled under her breath. “Very well, then I will ensure that she never sets hoof in here again!”

And so Luna and her followers began the process of completely splitting the palace in two. Furnishings and debris were piled up in halls to cut them off from each other. Ponies who hadn’t chosen a side in the conflict voiced complaints about being unable to go about their daily business. Celestia didn’t lift a finger when word reached her of what her sister was doing; there was no need for her to stop her from handling all the work for them.

An unintended side effect of this, however, was corralling the flow of milk which had been trickling haphazardly through the corridors of the palace, turning it into a proper stream that poured out through the front gates and into the moat, then down the side of the mountain. Water began to run white all around the lands surrounding Mount Canter.

[center[= = = = =“No, please!”

“Can it, nighty!”

The guard in blue armor tried to shield himself from the ponies in gold all around him, but it was to little avail.

“You got a lotta nerve showing your sorry flank around here!” another shouted.

“You don’t understand, I didn’t come here to fight!” he cried.

“Ha, as if! You must be a spy for that fat-assed harlot! We’re going to show you for—”

“Stop.”

The commotion froze all at once, and the ponies turned to address their ruler.

Not that they could see her yet. Celestia was invariably preceded everywhere she went by the massive monoliths that were her mammaries, each one large enough to represent the volume of a single comfortably furnished room. The ponies saw nothing but swollen globes gliding across the floor toward them, milk freely gushing from the fat pastel yellow nipples that were wider across than any of them were tall. The breasts passed, and finally there was the pony they were attached to, gazing upon them with all her regal splendor. Celestia made some waving gestures with her hand and the crowd dispersed, leaving the battered night guard to stand alone, and he promptly prostrated himself before her.

“Child of the night.” As she spoke, her expression was serene, her tone gentle, but there was a clear severity indicating that a thin line was being tread at the moment. “What has brought you here?”

“P-Please, Princess, have mercy upon me,” he gasped, shaking as he clasped his hands together over his head, “I have come because I…b-because I wish to be part of your flock! I have suffered under Luna for far too long, I can’t go on without your blessed bosom!”

“There, there. Rise, my little pony.” He looked up and he saw Celestia holding her hand toward him. Her smile was as radiant as the sun, melting all of his worries away. He took her hand and she pulled him to his hooves. “Take freely of the bounty offered to you.” She nodded, and he tenderly placed himself against the side of her breast, sinking into the cushy girth.

“We are to be welcoming of all who come to us, my ponies,” she then said, addressing the remaining soldiers, who stood at attention. “Even those who have succumbed to the temptations of the moon are not beyond salvation.”

= = = = =

Later that same day, however…

“What do you mean, fired?!” Raven Inkwell exclaimed.

“It is simply as I told you,” Celestia replied plainly. Her expression was dour, but at this low angle, with her perched upon her throne and the unicorn below her, she appeared even sterner still. Her face could only be seen because she had allowed her breasts to be splayed to the sides like stage curtains.

“But…but why?!” she demanded, tears in her eyes. “I have done everything I could to serve you for years! Is that not enough for you?! Have I…n-not been loyal enough for you?!” As she said this, she grasped at her bare chest, wringing her petite breasts.

Celestia closed her eyes and breathed a long sigh. “I am sorry, Raven, but the fact of the matter is that I no longer believe you are suited for this position.”

Then her horn lit up with a golden glow and her breasts began to shift glacially. Raven Inkwell scarcely had the time to back up before she could be engulfed. She stared at the wall of bosom with her vision watering for several seconds before she turned and ran, splashing through the pools of milk that filled the audience chamber. She didn’t care where she was going, didn’t entirely look, only ran through the labyrinthine passages and rooms of the palace, through barricades and past ponies who yelled at her. She only stopped when she could no longer smell even the faintest whiff of the sweet dairy smell that was endemic of Celestia’s territories, and then she knelt on the floor and wept.

“What is the matter, little one?”

Raven Inkwell hesitated to look when she heard the voice speak to her, but look she did. There was a dark shape that blotted out the light of the setting sun, a hill that was rising up in the middle of a veranda overlooking the gardens.

The unicorn mare sputtered and sobbed like an old motor before she managed to reply, “C-Celestia…d-d-doesn’t want to see m-me anymore!”

The dark shape made a thoughtful hum. “I see. That is regrettable.” There was a clapping noise. “How about you come here and sit with me for a while?”

Slowly, she stood and walked over. She didn’t hesitate when the hulking mass resolved into the blues and blacks and starry mane of Princess Luna. She was too numb for that. She barely looked into her face, her impassive expression. The alicorn was sitting upon a bench, but there was absolutely no space left, it couldn’t even be seen. Instead she patted her thigh again, the slab of flesh offering more than enough space, to be slept on more than sat upon. Raven Inkwell perched upon her, a pale speck of a pony compared to the sprawling morass of ass all around her, and leaned into Luna’s embrace, nuzzling her cheek while she continued to sob quietly.

“I only ever wanted to help and…and she…!” she whispered.

“There, there, little one,” Luna replied, “you would be better off in the company of somepony who properly respects you.”

And she gently caressed the unicorn, running down her side until her hand rested upon the broad swell of her hip.

= = = = =

“Hmm.” Fancy Pants readjusted his monocle while he looked up. “Now what is this newest oddity?”

On the other side of the street from the rooftop café where he was having lunch, a billboard had just finished going up. It depicted a stylized night sky full of stars and nebulae and galaxies. Closer inspection, though, would make it clear how there were slight curves and bends in the canvas, suggestive of roundness. There was a distinctive crescent moon emblem in one corner of the board.

It happened that this billboard was right next to another one which depicted a pair of bulbous and suggestive suns rising over a white ocean.

“Deplorable,” declared a stallion from the next table over with a snort, “does Princess Luna really believe that she can waltz in and demand equal attention after being gone for a millennium?”

“Now, now, Jet Set, don’t be that way,” Fancy Pants chided mildly, keeping the tone of his voice level, “just because Luna has been out of the loop does not mean that she is without merit. She is a princess and alicorn herself, after all, logically putting her on equal standing with Celestia.”

“Ha!” Upper Crust stepped in for her husband with a haughty laugh. “As if that bottom-heavy buffoon could have any ideas of merit rattling about in her head! She and her cronies must be getting high off their own gas!” The two ponies began to guffaw together, as did a number of others who were sitting near them. Both wore tops that might have at one point been considered scandalous for the high society norms of Canterlot; an obscenely low-cut V-neck sweater for Jet Set, showing the fuzz on his pectorals, and a frilly crop top for Upper Crust, opening a window of considerable cleavage.

There was a shift of metal grinding on concrete beside Fancy Pants. Fleur de Lis was moving to stand. He reached out to touch her wrist. Slowly, she calmed and settled back into place. Her eyes glistened with an intent that could only be described as violent.

“You know—” The dapper white stallion leaned forward in his seat and flashed a congenial smile at the other pair. “—I can’t help noticing that the two of you don’t appear to have gone through an anointment yet.”

That got them to stop, confusion overtaking them. There was a flurry of silent micromovements as Upper Crust glanced toward Jet Set, expecting some answer, but he subtly shook his head. “No, but…we’re…scheduled for one tomorrow,” she replied with a grin of her own, fake and desperate.

“Oh, I see, that is quite good news to hear,” Fancy Pants said, nodding his head. “I hope that the wait is not too unbearable for you two. I know that, were I in your horseshoes, I would be all too eager to get it done with as soon as possible. I could not stomach the idea of not being as close as I could to my matron princess.”

“Well why have you not gone through with one, then, Fancy?” Jet Set asserted accusingly, “Why not trot on over to the palace right now and give yourself over to Celestia? I’m sure she’d give special treatment to a pony of repute such as yourself.”

He scoffed. “Repute or no, it would not go over well for anypony were I to attempt that after already pledging myself to Luna.”

A collective gasp came up from among the patrons and workers of the café. Jet Set and Upper Crust bristled, but even after all this time they still wouldn’t dare speak out against somepony with the clout of Fancy Pants. A pony like him could move society purely through force of charisma, no matter what the prevailing opinion before his intervention had been.

Eventually, Jet Set managed to speak, “But…but how could you…betray Princess Celestia like that?!”

Fancy Pants only shook his head, turning up his nose and perfectly trimmed mustache. “A shame that you continue to think in such narrowminded terms. I have not ‘betrayed’ anypony. Celestia, and you, and your folk, are all free to do as you like, as am I. I remain a citizen of Canterlot and of Equestria, and I shall endeavor for the betterment of our society, as I always have. But…” He turned toward Fleur de Lis and locked their fingers together once more, and she returned the gesture, smiling with the silent mystique only she could be capable of. “It would be utterly foolish of me not to take the opportunity to indulge in my callipygian preferences.”

They chortled to each other. The onlookers could only stare dumbfounded.

“Now, if you will excuse us, I believe we must be off.”

They stood, in the process revealing what they had been wearing below their waists, and many ponies’ faces turned a shade of red. Fancy Pants was not, in fact, wearing pants at all; his vest was offset by a thong, a dauntingly large package nestled within its confines. There was a noticeable flare to his hips, leading down toward toned legs that were awfully shapely for a stallion. That was nothing compared to Fleur de Lis, though, whose long skirt draped over the broad slopes of her hips and rear, huge thighs like marble columns grinding against each other. There was nothing covering her groin, completely exposing the plump nether lips of her vulva, as well as the crescent moon that was painted above it.

“If you decide that you’re truly desperate, though,” Fancy Pants added while passing by Jet Set and Upper Crust’s table, “I heard that Prince Blueblood is going to see Princess Celestia today. Perhaps you could join him.”

They looked at each other warily, pondering indeed if they were that desperate.

= = = = =

“And you pledge to—”

“Yes, of course, all of that, I agree to all of it,” Blueblood snapped at the bespectacled stallion who had been dryly rattling off one item after another. “Can we please get on with this? Is there any point with all the mysticism? I have served Celestia loyally all my life, there’s no reason to doubt that now.”

Kibitz rolled his eyes and snapped the book he’d been reading from shut. He wore a red suit coat, though he had shorts in place of slacks; while it was the shadier part of the castle that had an outright aversion to garments covering the legs, long-sleeved pants had fallen out of favor entirely when so much of the building was flooded. “I am no fonder of it than you are, Prince Blueblood, but there are customs, as there always have been, and without adhering to those we will fall into chaos.” A moment later he added, “More chaos than we have already, at any rate.”

Blueblood sneered. “I would have expected it to be understood that I have more important matters to tend to than listening to pointless rules. Matters such as my meeting with the Princess.” He finished tying the sash around his front and patted down the cloth of the golden robe he had been given, and he grumbled, “What is even the point of wearing this? Won’t I be naked again anyway? If they’re so desperate to get more ponies to come here to join up, they could afford to streamline the process more.”

“Complain all you want, young Prince,” the butler admonished with a click of his tongue, “but I’ll have you know the princess and her flock are far more stringent about this ritual, and they shall be less than pleased if it is not followed to the letter. The slightest deviation will be enough to give suspicion that you may be an adherent of—” He leaned in closer to whisper. “—She Who Wallows in Shadow.”

“Can you not just say Princess Lu—”

Kibitz slapped a hand over Blueblood’s mouth. The two guards flanking the nearby gates glanced their way, fiery eyes staring intently through the slits of their visors.

“I hope you are aware that you are swimming with sharks, young Prince,” he hissed through his teeth.

After being freed, Blueblood scowled. “I shouldn’t have to pine for the days when a stallion had to sate his thirst for breasts with a trip down to The Goddess,” he muttered.

“You may soon find yourself drinking until you drown,” Kibitz muttered dryly. “Very well, I suppose you are as prepared as you are going to get. In you go.”

The noble stallion shook off his indignation and walked forward. He may have been wearing a bathrobe, but he still had to maintain some sense of dignity and poise. The busywork that had gone into getting to this point had been a hassle, but he remained hopeful that the end result would be worth it. Even if the princesses had gone off their rockers in a big way, it was clear that society in Canterlot, maybe even all of Equestria, was moving in a new direction, and it was vitally important that he was at the head of this change before it started sweeping up ponies by storm. The nobles of Canterlot had largely scoffed in disgust at this rise in degeneracy, up until Fancy Pants, being the frivolous charlatan that he was, showed support for it. He had thrown his hat into Luna’s ring, however, which meant that there was still room for somepony to become the public face of Celestia’s top-heavy rule.

While the doors began to open, there was a particular image dancing in the back of Blueblood’s mind. Shadowy rooms, incense burners, ponies dressed in concealing robes, incoherent mutterings. He had seen it all before in the underbelly of Canterlot’s political sphere.

Instead, the doors opened and almost immediately he found himself nearly blinded. He cried out and shut his eyes, but it felt like the light had trapped itself in his eyeballs and was burning them up from within. Behind him, Kibitz mused, “You see, if you hadn’t cut me off early I might have been able to warn you about this.”

“You still could’ve—!”

But a hand patted him forcefully on the back, unceremoniously shoving him forward. “You’d best be quick now, otherwise they may think you’re averse to the light, and that would be a terrible omen.”

Blueblood growled but made no reply. Blindly, he staggered forward into the bloom. He tried holding an arm up over his face to shield his eyes, but it was to little effect, the brightness still searing his retinas when he tried to open again. It was as if the light did not have a source; it was like a material substance, suffusing the very air itself. There were distant voices all around him, a susurrus of sound, gasping and crooning. The smell of milk grew all the stronger, making it no surprise what he must be stepping through when he felt the floor become wet under his hooves.

When he was finally able to look, he wasn’t sure that he could see the breasts, which he thought was patently absurd given how enormous they were. The brightness and saturation of color in the room was intense, everything resplendent with illumination, even his own hand in front of his face like a blurry, indistinct mass, and the mountainous mounds were no different, their white so bright and pure that it was like the sun itself. He could scarcely identify where they began and ended, only vaguely able to differentiate the bare skin of the nipples, though it was absolutely certain that they were utterly gargantuan, bigger than boulders, broader than boulevards. There were smaller shapes of different colors gathered around them, other ponies, surely, who in comparison seemed utterly microscopic, but Blueblood scarcely paid them mind, utterly entranced by the sprawling mass of bosom. The idea that there could be a pony attached to these things was simply absurd.

The stallion was barely even paying attention when, behind him, Kibitz cleared his throat and announced, “Presenting Prince Blueblood, Heir of House Blueblood. He has come of his own volition to join the Mysteries of the Sun and to provide worship and service to Princess Celestia.”

There were calls of assent all around the chamber. He heard no word from Celestia herself. Through the valley between the two peaks, he could discern the vibrant rainbow hues of her mane, billowing and rippling, but he could not identify her face. There was a corona of golden light behind her, a heavenly glow.

“Thus shall he now partake of the princess’s divine nectar, that sacred ambrosia which shall act as the catalyst for his anointment.” Kibitz handed Blueblood a broad bowl (after prodding his shoulder with it). “Go on, then.”

He began to trudge forward on tottering legs, but then his head whipped about as he looked from one breast to the other. “Which one do I choose?”

“It does not truly matter.” Then Kibitz leaned in conspiratorially to whisper, “Though I have heard that there is a schism forming among the Followers of the Left Breast; they believe that theirs is the true faith, as their idol is closer to the princess’s heart.” He groaned under his breath. “I swear, some ponies just can’t enjoy a perfectly good thing.”

After weighing his inscrutable options, Blueblood trudged toward the right breast (perhaps misunderstanding the distinction between his and Celestia’s left and right). The milk around his hooves became murkier the closer he got, splashing around him. It seemed to gush unabatedly at a constant rate from the nipple, an opening that surely could’ve swallowed him up were it not for the incessant leaking. He held out the bowl toward the spilling fountain and it promptly filled; the contents were like liquid sunlight, tinged faintly with gold.

“I…I pledge myself to…Princess Celestia,” he said in a feverish trance, the words spilling from him unbidden even though he thought he couldn’t remember them at all, “to her pure light and to her magnificent mammaries.”

He held the bowl to his lips and tilted back, welcoming the milk into his mouth. It was intoxicatingly sweet; he had thought it was a lot to drink, surely a quart, maybe even half a gallon, and yet he had finished it before he knew what was happening. The emptied container slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor with a splash. It rested heavily in his stomach, but that was an afterthought next to the buzzing in his brain and the tingling that was spreading from his loins up along his spine.

There were other sounds—more orgasmic cheering, more instructions from Kibitz—but Blueblood scarcely registered any of that. He felt the blood pumping through him, pulsing and throbbing, as he walked dully forward, around and into the crevasse between the two breasts. It was rapidly growing hotter, intense warmth radiating from the luminous globes. He stumbled and nearly tripped on the steps leading up to the throne where Celestia sat, the space growing narrower all the while, walls of flesh closing in on him.

The alicorn’s face resolved into clarity before him. She was smiling gently, enigmatically, a glimmer in her eyes. He had seen her plenty of times before, when it was purely a matter of politics, yet this moment was different. Never before had he been so struck by her beauty. The breasts didn’t even have anything to do with it. Or so he thought, anyway.

“So you finally came to me, Blueblood,” she mused with a soft chuckle. “I knew that you would have the sense in you to be on the right side.”

He thought he responded, but he couldn’t remember what he said. He had to assume that it was said with the usual suave charm and bravado that he always demonstrated, surely not a gibbering mess.

“I hope that you are prepared to serve the sun to the fullest of your capabilities.”

He nodded, any thoughts that he had once had of how this would advance his personal career having receded into the depths of his subconscious mind.

“Then come to me and accept your anointment.”

Blueblood shed the robe he had been wearing, promptly forgetting its existence while it pooled around his hooves. He was already profoundly erect.

The stallion did not approach her as much as find himself pulled in, lust drawing on him like magnetism. It was an insignificant detail, though; once contact was made, the walls fell away and all his inhibitions left him. He nestled into the cleft between the enormous globes, where they met with Celestia’s chest, surrounding him on all sides, their heat pouring into him. Her legs clasped around his waist and he found the point of entry between them, hot moisture stifling his length, at the same time that her lips found his, locking the two of them together, intertwined. The softness of her hips as he grasped them for purchase before beginning to thrust was an afterthought compared to everything else.

Blueblood felt the gravity of the situation fully dawning on him as sweat began to mat his coat. He was standing over her, he was penetrating her, and yet invariably she was the one holding all the power. She was squeezing him, wringing the life out of him as much as his seed, her kisses aggressive and forceful, and he was obligated to return them in kind, stifling even his own ability to breathe. He felt as if he were tilting forward, into her, into her cleavage, and even though he felt the hard bone of her collar and sternum and ribcage, it was like the yielding softness was unending, flesh like quicksand. The colors in his vision were running together, and he could no longer even identify where his body ended and Celestia began.

He was screaming as the heat and arousal filled his brain, the light encompassing everything, seeping into him. There were further maddening cries filling the room, and ripples spread through the walls of breast meat—ponies were thronging around them, groping, thrusting, and there was plenty of room for all of them. But the only voice that he really heard was Celestia, crooning, moaning, almost laughing, forming an unearthly song that deepened the haze over his thoughts. She was grasping at his chest, which felt like it was burning up on the inside, yet she did not hesitate to thrust her hands into the inferno, squeezing and tugging.

He couldn’t grasp what she was pulling on, but it was making his dick harder than ever, so he had no reason to complain.

And then Blueblood came, a welcome release from the tension within. When Celestia came moments later, however, he felt like a fist was closing around him. She curled in, nuzzling at his mane, and buried his face against her chest. Just briefly, he was able to close his eyes, and the light was gone, a small mercy given the prevailing sensation of being crushed and suffocated and immolated. He was burning away as he contracted, spending every last drop within him.

It was over as quickly as it had begun. Her hands finally let go of him, and at the same time the grasp of flesh slackened. He thought he was standing but his legs gave out on him immediately and he collapsed to the floor of the dais. The strands of his mane that hung loose over his eyes were like filaments of golden sunlight. A face came into view behind them, blurry and out of focus, wreathed in flames.

“What do you think, Kibitz?” Celestia’s voice was distant in both its volume and affect, a haze clouding her.

“Still conscious,” the stallion replied gruffly. His countenance didn’t seem particularly perturbed at all. “Just in need of a little pinch.”

He reached out and pinched Blueblood’s chest. The prince gasped, a sound that started distressed and morphed into arousal. His hands shot to the sensitive region, thoughts of indignation bubbling at the back of his brain.

That lasted all of a few seconds before he registered the softness and warmth that were seeping through him. The texture was unmistakable, the smooth outer coat of fur, the skin, the flesh, pliant and pleasing. It was the kind of softness that one simply could not resist squeezing. And yet, when his fingers dug in, as if kneading clay, it was not a mare who moaned. The moan came erupting from his own mouth.

Blueblood looked down and saw his breasts cupped in his hands, mounds heaped upon his chest, globes that must have been the size of his skull, if not greater. He could see them clearly in spite of the bloom that pervaded his senses. They were undeniably his, pale fur and pert peach nipples. He felt the blood pumping through him, the air in his lungs, and the fire burning through him, pumping like a bellows each time he groped at himself. It was so wrong and it was everything he had never known he wanted.

He was already hard again when he started writhing and wailing, as if convulsing, grasping feverishly at himself, bucking wildly at the air.

“I believe he will serve us quite well,” Celestia murmured dreamily, smiling.

“Hmm, yes,” Kibitz muttered while levitating the gibbering stallion and dragging him along, “I believe there is room on the outer quadrant of the right breast.”

“See to it, then, if you please.” The alicorn was still wracked with throes of stimulation, and she reached as far as she could to encompass as much of the breasts before her as she could. It was an infinitesimal piece, but she had many dear ponies who were so eager to assist her.

= = = = =

“How have you felt, Raven?” Luna asked.

Raven Inkwell paused with the cup held to her lips, the fragrance of the tea wafting toward her nostrils. The smell was almost an afterthought in the presence of the moon herself. “About…what?” she asked in confusion.

“I believe she means in regard to your gift, dear,” Fancy Pants interjected, sitting across from her.

And there was a pinch on her thigh that made her yelp, flushing red. Fleur de Lis smirked at her and giggled.

The bespectacled mare still couldn’t believe that she was casually sitting alongside one of the princesses of Equestria and two of the most elite ponies in Canterlot. She had worked for Celestia for years, but she had never been granted the opportunity to be this candid with those of higher rank than her. They were important, she was a mere secretary.

She gasped when there was another nudge, hard in her ribs, and she turned the other way. Luna was still staring at her expectantly, sternly. She wondered if the alicorn had sensed her doubt—it wouldn’t have surprised her. She had needed to be reminded multiple times already that there was no need to fret about these matters. Fancy Pants would assert that status in the world outside meant nothing; while they were here, they were all united by a common interest.

Here, in the night.

She felt herself hesitant to look Luna in the eye, but she didn’t especially want to look anywhere else either. She didn’t want to look at the indistinct black expanse that was the floor. She didn’t want to look at the starry expanse that was cast about overhead, stars and constellations and nebulae and galaxies swirling about. It was an impossible thing; it was beautiful and eerie and unsettling all at once.

She loved Luna, and she understood that Luna loved her in turn. After so long being in the shadow of the other alicorn, though, Raven Inkwell found she still struggled with accepting the gloom and mystique of her new boss.

At least there was ass.

But Luna was still staring, still waiting.

“I’ve…felt good,” Raven Inkwell finally managed to say. She shifted, pulling on her legs, trying to bring her knees up to her chest, a self-conscious impulse. There was a fair deal more resistance than she was used to, however; that tended to happen when one’s thighs had tripled in girth. The voluptuous, curvaceous limbs were so out of place compared to her slim and plain torso. It felt strange to her every time she saw them. The plushness of her rear was further at the back of her mind—out of sight, out of mind, being behind her—but she could be thankful for how it made it effortless for her to be comfortable wherever she sat.

There was a bray of laughter. “Good?” Fancy Pants repeated incredulously, “Is that all you can think to say?”

“Um…” She felt her cheeks go hot as her blush deepened.

“Surely you’ve had some thrill from gallivanting about free from the restraints of clothing. Not even the bravest of us has been so brazen—you should consider that an accomplishment.”

Fleur de Lis placed a hand upon her again, gentle this time, reassuring. It was a gesture almost inconsequential when they were already sitting hip-to-hip with each other, cushy flesh pressing together.

All the more Raven Inkwell wanted to hide herself, however counter-productive that might be. While many of Luna’s followers had taken to wearing skimpy clothes for their legs and loins, if not nothing at all, she had grown uncomfortable wearing any clothes beyond her glasses. There were ponies who bristled at the sight of her and her bare chest, but she had the blessing of the princess behind her (emphasis on behind). It was strange to her that, among their lot, exposed buttocks and genitals were perfectly accepted, but breasts were just as taboo as ever, if not more so.

“I, ah…haven’t really…gone out that much,” she admitted embarrassedly.

“Raven.” Luna’s voice commanded everypony’s attention. “You disappoint me.”

There was a sinking so profound that the unicorn thought her heart had tumbled out of her. “Wh-wh-what?” she stammered.

“Did I stutter?” The alicorn’s mouth was set in a thin line and her eyes were narrowed. “I have done so much for you, and you have squandered all the new opportunities that have been presented to you.”

“P-Princess!” She was starting to surge to her hooves, pulled by desperation. “Please, I-I didn’t mean to—”

Magic enveloped her, pushing her back down, bouncing momentarily on her rear, cushioning the impact, and when she tried to speak again she found her lips glued shut.

“Do you suppose that I welcomed you here for no reason other than to get you to ogle at my hindquarters?” Luna asked, interrogated. “This was for your benefit as much as mine—nay, I might say it was even more for you than I. I wanted my innermost circle to be satisfied with themselves. I wanted you to put your time under my sister behind you and have some fun, live your life to its fullest. You are stark naked, Raven, you cannot do that and still be a shrinking violet—I will not permit it.” After a few moments of keeping the prone unicorn leveled in her gaze, she turned to the other ponies. “What do you imagine would be an appropriate solution to this dilemma?”

“I think Fancy and I should have some fun with her,” Fleur de Lis promptly answered, sidling up beside her, squeezing together until their shoulders were touching.

Raven Inkwell made a stifled gasp and her whole face went red.

“Oh, that could be delightful,” Fancy Pants replied, smirking while he rubbed his chin, and the shaft in his lap twitched, “you could sit on her face while I rail her from behind. That would loosen her up right quick.”

She wanted to deny this claim, but the tingling in her loins only prompted her to squirm more.

“But I assume that you already have an idea in mind, Luna,” the stallion then said, turning back toward the alicorn.

“Yes.” And then Luna smirked. “Let us perform another anointment.”

Raven Inkwell’s eyes bugged out, and this time when she gasped out her alarmed reply the magic was no longer keeping her gagged. “Another?!”

“Oh.” Fancy Pants looked surprised, and for a moment bewildered, but then he quickly regained his good cheer and then some as he turned toward the unicorn mare. “Now that is quite the idea.”

“But…but I don’t deserve that!” Raven Inkwell insisted, glancing between the ponies. “I’m just…Raven, there’s nothing special about me! You should be the one to get that, Fancy, you’re the one who deserves it the most!”

“Raven.” Fleur de Lis had a thin, mischievous smile as she leaned closer to her. “Don’t you think it improper to say what Luna should or should not do?”

Her blush turned into a blanche. “I-I-I—!”

“And besides, if the princess herself has taken such an interest in you, then I would say that that makes you quite special,” Fancy Pants added in a more sincere manner.

Raven Inkwell pursed her lips shut all by herself. The cold of anxiety was seeping through her. She didn’t want to believe the words that had been spoken to her. But when she looked at the ponies all around her, she only saw warmth and support, no matter how much her doubts whispered to her. “…O-okay,” she finally replied, trying not to sob.

“That is the behavior we hope to see,” Luna said with a gentle smile. “Now, prepare yourself.”

The mare stood while the other two unicorns moved out of the way. She repositioned herself directly in front of Luna. Then Luna stood as well; the masses of blue and black behind her shifted but remained in mostly the same position. Her legs were luscious, increasingly thick from the heels up to the calves and thighs, as broad as tree trunks, but that was like a drop in the bucket compared to her rear. They had been sitting in its shadow all this time, a bulk as imposing as the edifice of an office building, taller than any of them or even its owner several times over.

Raven Inkwell laid upon the floor before her, and Luna advanced, pulling the mountains behind her. Her hands reached around her thighs and clasped at the undersides of the swollen girth, and she lifted; it seemed impossible, but the whole of the gargantuan mounds raised upward, parting from the ground.

Instinctively, she began to recite the words from her memory. “I…I pledge myself to serve and—”

“No, Raven,” Luna asserted, “you have already given your loyalty to me. This is for you. You must make a pledge for yourself.”

She blinked. The idea was practically foreign to her. “I pledge to…be…happy?”

“And how will you be happy?” The alicorn prodded at her both verbally and physically, one hoof tracing over the swell of her hip on the ground.

“I will…use the gifts which my princess has so graciously given to me…to live life to the fullest…by…um…”

Luna smirked down at her, and she began to make slow gyrations of her hips, swaying from one side to the other. It was a relatively slight motion, but it made the broad expanse of her rump move far more dramatically, twisting in broad arcs at the farthest reaches. Raven Inkwell felt her cheeks growing hotter, much like her loins.

“By…f-flaunting the girth of my v-voluminous rear, hips, and thighs, as my princess has taught me, to draw the eye of my ponies with my wiles, to f-f-fuck them—” She gasped sharply, her knees and thighs locking together.

“That is what we like to hear.”

Luna descended upon her. She was not gentle. It was like the crushing force of a meteor falling upon somepony, swallowing them up into the abyss. Even having experienced it before, Raven Inkwell was overwhelmed by the impact, a full-body blow that momentarily made her feel like she really had been crushed flat. She might have screamed, were her muzzle not buried in the hot cloying damp of the mare’s thighs. The flesh surrounded her, buried her, threatened to consume her—the alicorn could have closed her legs together completely and she would have been lost to the world.

“You have offered yourself wholeheartedly to me, Raven.” Luna’s voice came from somewhere overhead, muffled. Raven Inkwell could scarcely see through the sliver between the tree trunk thighs, and above that she only saw the flat slab of the princess’s stomach and her breasts. “I could wring you dry, put you to work as a living washrag for my cheeks, smother you every day, but I wish for more than that. You deserve more than that. You shall reap the benefits of my blessing as any of my followers ought to.”

And then she began to press, earnestly forcing her bulk downward upon the unicorn smothered beneath her. Grinding down and side to side, the motions on the verge of reducing her to a smear on the darkened ground. Raven Inkwell wanted to whimper, and yet the stifled sound came out far more earnest, crooning in her throat. Her groin ached, but she couldn’t even begin to move her hands enough to reach there to pleasure herself. There was something she could reach, though; it was so close, she could smell it, the heady scent, mixed with sweat, feeding straight into her nostrils.

The prone mare leaned forward with her neck, forcing in as much as she could, and her muzzle found the source of the smell, and a part of the moisture. Their lips met, one pair horizontal and the other vertical, and she opened her mouth to welcome the juices inside, the bittersweet mixture with a faint hint of vanilla and mint. She groaned, a motion that led naturally into pressing in tighter rubbing her nose against the plush slit while her tongue probed inside, lapping at the supple folds. Luna began to hum a song of her own passion at the same time, crooning out long notes in time with the rhythm of her grinding, flexing with her pelvis to push upon the pony beneath her. Raven Inkwell couldn’t see them, but she assumed that Fancy Pants and Fleur de Lis were nearby, providing the princess with additional stimulation, as she herself had done for past anointments. There could never be too much. All glory to the princess and her moons.

Dimly, Raven Inkwell managed to look past Luna’s body and see the sky overhead, the projections of swirling stars. The lights danced around each other in ever more chaotic patterns, a blur of color that mimicked the maelstrom she felt within herself. For the first anointment, she had been so anxious, so worried that she would be a disappointment to her new mistress. Now, the display of the lights in the sky was so much clearer to her—she ought to act with the same freedom. She groaned, and she felt herself straining, her frame burgeoning, stretching, but it was hard to really be sure of anything, her whole body numb below the neck.

The exultation of Luna orgasming was little relief to her. It only meant that she had to perform all the more urgently in drinking the gush of fluid that came erupting from her vulva. Her tongue continued to work at the pliant inner walls even as the alicorn’s thighs squeezed, on the verge of crushing her skull. She already had so much pressure upon her, that much extra was of little concern. Only her energy could be exhausted, spent no matter how much she was ingesting, the intensity and heat of the moment sapping her strength.

When it was over, Luna leaned forward to look at her, and she reached between her legs to stroke at Raven Inkwell’s mane, tender and affectionate. She could only stare back in turn. “Let us see what you have become, my little pony,” she whispered.

The pressure eased, and Raven Inkwell found the strength to move, to emerge from beneath the monolithic mass like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. Her body appeared much unchanged at first, aside from her glasses being crooked and her dark mane coming undone, hanging askew all around her neck and shoulders. Then her hips emerged, sliding out and out and out, flaring ever wider. She gasped and grunted; she was dragging her buttocks over the ground, but the grinding of her nethers against Luna’s undercarriage was far more severe, each press sending a surge of lightning through her. She was still firmly entrenched in the throes of arousal, and even with the royal rump no longer crushing her she felt herself waning, too exhausted to sit or stand.

“My, my.” Fleur de Lis appeared, hovering over her. “Aren’t you quite the specimen now?”

Just that sight of another pony was enough to light a fire under Raven Inkwell, an urge that she had never known before, a carnality so intense that exhaustion no longer mattered. She threw herself into motion, heaving up and latching onto the other mare. Their thighs grappled with each other—Fleur de Lis kept up despite now being half her size—and they kissed twofold, muzzles locking together, plush vulvae nestling, drooling.

“Now, this,” Fancy Pants said, distantly, behind her, and she felt something prodding at her buttocks as hands groped at her flesh, spreading the swollen mounds apart, “this is a rump worthy of Luna’s name.”

And while Raven Inkwell made love twice over, sandwiched between two of the most affluent ponies of Canterlot, she felt Luna’s gaze upon her, silently approving of her actions.

She was going to be happy now.

Author's Note

The conflict between Celestia and Luna spiraling out of control goes hand in hand with my grasp on the plot. The intent with these stories was for them to be more on the short side, but then I really got into this idea and I allowed myself to go ham on how long the scenes were going and how many ideas were being explored. Still good I think, but an undeniable shift as the short comedy scenes shift back into my typical long-form content. Also mindfuckery, because that's unavoidable.

Did you think that the funny titty boob horse story would turn into commentary on cults and religious fanaticism? Because I sure didn't.

Lots of characters I didn't expect to write about.

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