Velvet and You

It’s late at night. You can’t sleep. Your penis is hard, and you don’t know what to do about it. You aren’t used to having a penis, so you aren’t sure the proper protocol for this. Will it go down on its own? Will you have a boner for the rest of your afterlife until you get laid? Can you masturbate the problem away?

You’re confident a masturbation session would fix it, but even pondering it raises more issues. How do you even masturbate? How much mess should you expect? Is it rude to masturbate on a host’s couch? Is it rude to masturbate in the bathroom?

Unsettled, you roll to the side. You aren’t entirely even sure why you have a boner. You’ve always been into hot dudes, and you’re the only hot dude you’ve seen. All you can figure is that it had something to do with the weird cat game that Twilight Velvet had been playing with you. By the end of the night you had two bad hands; she didn’t care if you kept up the charade of normal petting. You had risked a shock once more, and got it immediately. Other than gripping the very base of her neck, you had pet the entirety of the top of her back, her sides, her chest floof, her underside neck, her chin, her face, and her ears. You even played it super risky and were tracing the spirals in her horn by the end. Not quite a standard cat pet, but it seemed to pacify her.

At the end, Velvet had simply finished her book. She closed it, stood up, thanked you for keeping her company and said that she was going to bed, with a recommendation for you to do the same. Then she left. No deep discussion. No words of wisdom. No heart to heart. Just an overly verbose “goodnight” and then she was gone.

You watch the pony clock, and figure it is something like three in the morning now. It’s been hours, you think. You aren’t sure that Velvet’s couch is a good long term solution for a sleeping arrangement. Maybe you should ask her for a bed? They have a large house, there’s probably a guest room or two in there. The main problem is almost certainly that the beds are too small. You’re also getting cabin fever.

Velvet is great and all, but you need to go outside. See the sun, run in the fresh air, find some saag to pour over rice. Anything. You’re basically in a new world. Why are you cooped up in a living room space?

The thought distracts you long enough to finally drift off to sleep, and you dreams are filled with cats. The strangest one is white, with purple streaks on it.

It’s afternoon. Both you and Velvet slept terribly late. You wonder if something kept her up, but you aren’t willing to ask. It’s not worth risking having to explain why you were up late. It’s weird enough that you have a dick, telling a pony lady about the problems you’re having with it seems a little much. Oddly, you’re comfortable with your discomfort. It means he’s further away, and these are really your thoughts.

She’s nervously looking towards the kitchen again as she sits on the couch. You know the phone is in there. You want to keep watching the show; Gumdrop Heart is about to find out that her father is actually Dill Bean, and not Royal Filigree like she’d thought her whole life, but it’s hard to focus when you keep thinking about Velvet.

You sigh, taking advantage of the commercial break on TV to ask her the question you’ve been putting off. “I’m guessing he didn’t come home last night?”

She looks up from her book, and for the first time since you’ve seen her she actually looks old and tired, exhausted to her bones. Her answer is flat and defeated, “No. He did not. I cried all night.”

Unsure of what to do at the awkward revelation, you reach for her.

She closes her eyes with a tired acceptance, and takes a deep breath as she turns her head away from you to hide her face. As you snake your arms round her body and pull her into a hug, her surprise is palpable. She softly laughs into your chest as she returns the hug. “I thought you were going to make me to remind you that I’m married again…”

You give her a light squeeze, “Maybe later. Right now you look like you could use a hug.” Hugs were a well known panacea in Pony culture, and were always welcome from a friend. The pony soap operas have taught you something useful at least.

She squeezes you back. “Thank you.”

After a few moments of relative quiet, she pulls herself out of the hug and smiles at you. Velvet looks like a new mare, all signs of her exhaustion are gone. “I needed that.”

You smile back, “Sorry. I’m still getting used to pony things.”

She nods, “You’ve been pretty good lately. I’d take you sightseeing if I felt comfortable leaving the house right now.” Her eyes dart to the kitchen.

You frown, “Have you heard from him at all? In the, what, three days I’ve been here?”

She shakes her head, “Not a word. He could be dead for all I know.”

You don’t know what to say, “I’m sorry.”

She rolls her eyes, “He’s done it before. It’s always when something big happens. The changelings, Sombra, The Long Night, Tirek, and so on. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Every time it happens I go from wandering the town and doing my job to immediately becoming a homebody. It’s not always just sitting on the couch. Sometimes I sew,” She nods to the throw with the hearts embroidered into it, “Sometimes I practice,” She nods to the trophies, “sometimes I craft,” a hoof points to the small ceramic figures of ponies being lovey, “And sometimes I loaf around and do nothing.” She gestures to the TV. “I’m used to this.”

The room takes on a new light. It’s still her sanctuary, but now you know why she needs it. You groan in frustration. “He could at least call.”

She grumps in acknowledgment, “Yes, he could. But I’m sure he has a list of priorities right now. He likes lists. He’s working his way down it. And at the very, very bottom is a penciled in ‘Call your wife.’”

You frown, “Yeah, that should be number one.”

She sighs, sinking back in the couch, “You know, I usually love how much he adheres to his checklists. He can’t get anything done without them.” A small smile creeps on her face.

You look at the TV, the show is back on. You look at Velvet. Something urges you to watch the TV, but you ignore it. It’s not his body anymore, and it needs to get used to you. “Tell me about him.”

Velvet looks at you in surprise, and then smiles as she leans forward from the couch. Her book is set down completely, and her voice has a tinge of excitement, “Oh! Where to start. He’s gorgeous, as you can see…”

Her eyes drift to one of the photos, and yours follow. Honestly he looks like any other pony stallion to you. Maybe if you meet him in person you’ll form an opinion, but as far as you can tell he’s got the same generic body shape most of them do. You try to find something to add, “Yeah, he’s got a nice shade of blue going on, doesn’t he?”

Velvet’s smile turns into a dreamy sigh, “Oh, stars, yes! His colors are just perfect. And that hair, those hooves, and that chin!” She gives a soft animal growl of approval, “I mean, Rawr, right? He’s just amazing!”

You smile back, and she continues on. You do manage to pay attention, but something becomes clear the longer you listen. This pony, Twilight Velvet, is absolutely head over heels (head over tail now?) in love with Night Light. Her voice drips with admiration, and even her posture changes as she describes every little detail about him. How he likes late nights, how he’s so romantic, how he’s such a good father, and it keeps going.

Your eyes flicker to the TV, and with disappointment you notice that Gumdrop Heart is running into the woods. You’ll have to catch up later. For now, you focus on Velvet and listen to her. Her face is lit with joy as she continues talking about her husband and his seemingly infinite virtues. You’ve burst a pipe, and now have no way to close it until the water runs out.

As she keeps on, you add little details, agree with her here and there, and generally are a good friend. She needs this, and you know it. As it goes on, you feel your body growing restless. This isn’t how He acts. He wants to be mean. He wants to watch TV. You force Him down. He’s you now, He needs to accept this.

Smiling, you and Velvet talk through the afternoon until the room is lit in an amber glow by the setting sun.

The phone never rings.

It’s evening now. Velvet made some sort of salad for dinner. You had to pick out a few of the flowers, but everything else was delicious. She’s sitting next to you reading, and the broadcast on the TV has just ended for the night.

She’s looking better, far more relaxed than she was in the morning. Sighing, you awkwardly tap your knee with your hand. His body is antsy. It needs to do something. You miss your cats. Gingerly, you reach to Velvet’s head.

She stops your hand with her magic, grabbing it fully in a pleasantly warm and tingly field of telekinesis. Her eyes flicker to yours with a hint of disgust. “Are we doing this, again?”

You guiltily smile, “I, uh, miss my cats.”

The tingle fades and her eyes bore deeper into yours. “I am not your cat.”

You keep your hand out as you slowly reach forward. Something about the way she says it hurts, but you don’t really mind. She’s just reminding you, “I know.”

Velvet’s eyes drift to your slowly moving hand and she bites her lip in thought. She doesn’t stop you when your hand touches her mane. As you gently stroke her head, she sighs. Her eyes are locked on yours again and her voice is timid and she speaks with an uncharacteristic nervousness, “Just… not my horn and not my face.” She pauses, her eyes glinting in the dim light as they follow down your long arm, “and do not grab my neck.”

Your smile starts easy, but quickly turns into a smirk as your mind settles on something, “No promises.”

She huffs, but doesn’t stop you. “… just don’t forget that I’m a married mare.”

It’s a tacit agreement. You are going to break the rules and she knows it. The thought excites you, even though it shouldn’t. Something about being actively mean to her makes your heart race in a strange way. As your hand strokes down her hair, she nervously begins to read her book.

Her mane is still luxurious, and you gently run it through your fingers as you lightly pull your hand down her neck and onto her back. This time you give her a full length pet, trailing from her head to the start of her tail. She shivers as you do it, but doesn’t say anything.

Minutes pass where you gently pat her head, then run your hand down the length of her back, and pull it off when you bump the little tail nub she has. She shivers the first few times, but after a while the full pet is a familiar sensation for both of you. Your cats would lift their tales and stick their butts up in the air when you did this. Velvet does not, though it’s not hard for you to guess why.

She’s a married mare, after all.

Chuckling, you reach up with your bad hand while you pet her with your good one. It’s a little awkward to reach across her body as you pet her head, but you manage to keep one hand on her head as your other runs down her back. When your fingers inevitably dip below her ear to her cheek, a low grunt of complaint surfaces from her chest and her shoulders tighten. Her tail swishes in complaint. You slowly pull your fingers back in response, but the second time you reach down her growl is quieter. After the third time, her nonverbal complaints stop and she’s fully relaxed. She doesn’t even look up in consideration for the fourth and fifth times.

You both already knew that you were going to do this.

Quickly, you reclaim the territories from the no-mans land. Her forehead, the base of her horn, her jaw, and a little on the side of her neck. She doesn’t really fight for them, and they aren’t completely against the three rules of “no face, no horn, and no neck-grab”. Your hands taunt her like they belong there.

She isn’t aggressively seeking contact like she had been at the end of last night, but it’s still early. Carefully, you test one of the actual off limits zones by trailing a finger up her horn. She momentarily freezes, but there’s no other response. After a few strokes, it’s as much your territory as the needy little spot behind her ear. The finger on her jaw moves to her chin, and she shivers once. The second time, there’s no shiver.

There’s no battle this time. Aside from her subdued body language, it’s almost like you just picked up where you left off last night.

There’s one more thing missing, though. One lock that you actually need the key for. The strange victory you only got once yesterday, but seemed to be secret for turning her into a cat. You worry that she might zap you again, but you aren’t going to let that stop you from trying.

Cautiously, you move one hand back to her head and let the other do a full pet. Both are completely in the safe zone, but you’re still nervous. You wonder if she can tell. Can she hear your increased breathing? Can she feel the slight shake in your hands as you pet her? Maybe she can smell your excitement…

Or maybe she has no idea. She’s absorbed in her book merely letting you do what you want with your territories. You lean forward and quietly whisper to her as you’re petting her, “Velvet?”

She looks up from her book, seemingly blinking awake as she’s distracted by you, “Hmm?”

You smile darkly as you enact your plan, “Aren’t you going to meow for me?”

Her eyes lock with yours, and then go wide. Your quarter second distraction works. As you do the full body pet, you stop at the scruff and firmly grab her. Her book falls to the floor, bouncing once and then laying shut. You give her scruff a squeeze and her legs kick out from underneath her, then go limp. Velvet’s surprised eyes are locked with yours.

You pick her up again, and she can’t do anything about it. As you pick her up with one hand, you use the other to settle her in your lap, like she’s a cat. Like she’s your cat.

She can’t turn her head, but her eyes follow you like you’re the only thing in the world. You like the feeling, though it’s odd how she’s forced to watch you with a side eye because you settled her lengthwise across your lap. You aren’t going to turn her facing you, there isn’t enough room on your lap, and you aren’t going to let her go just yet.

You don’t know what’s going to happen when you do let her go. Will she be furious? Will she run off to the bathroom again? In the back of your mind, you’re worried that the grip will cause her to brown note on the couch, but you shrug it off deciding not to think about that.

You hold onto her, slowly petting her in your lap with one hand and holding her firmly with the other. She doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, doesn’t even try to talk this time. It’s like she’s completely and utterly pacified. You close your eyes, and she’s your cat. Perhaps cruelly, you take your time.

As you pet her, sometimes she shivers. Her whole body twitches, ever so slightly when your hand runs from her horn to her tail. The sensation of having her completely at your mercy makes you shiver as well. This doesn’t entirely feel like innocently petting one of your kitties. Something is happening inside of you, and you like it.

You like it a lot.

He likes it, too. Your mind and body are in harmony as you extend the same little bit of selfish cruelty that you did yesterday, but perhaps with a different motivation. Yesterday you just wanted her to be your cat. In this moment she is, but you want her to do more. “Velvet, I’m not letting you go until you meow for me.”

She hiccups.

Your hand digs deeper into her back as you stroke her, almost scratching down her length as your grip slightly tightens around her neck scruff. She lets out a strange sound, like a soft, high pitch squeal. It almost sounds like a meow, but you can’t make it out. It was too animalistic, and not cat-enough for your satisfaction.

You lean down. “Close. But this time, I want to hear you actually meow.”

Her eyes are watering. You wonder if this hurts her. Her breathing is shallow, and her mouth is moving, but you can’t hear anything. You keep slowly petting her. Running your hand through her luxurious hair. After some time, you take your full body pet and run it through her tail, lifting it up in the air as you admire how well she takes care of it. It’s not just beautiful, it’s sleek and well groomed.

As you hold it up to admire it, you mess up the stripes with your fiddling. The clear white and purple lengths get muddied into a pale purple mess that you scrunch up. You give it a gentle tug as you twirl some of the strands around your fingers.

Velvet suddenly shivers once violently, and her back legs quiver. As you hold her tail, the base flickers left, then right, then left. You remember how your cats would flick their tails when they were pet sometimes, and the sight puts a nostalgic smile on your face.

She takes a deep breath, and a long drawn out noise fills the house. It’s her voice, and she says one slow word that starts off clear and precise but then trails off into a warbling nothing, “MeooOowWwWww…”

You let go of her tail, and it flops gracelessly back between her still quivering legs. Still holding her scruff, you take your now free hand and grab her by the chin, turning her to face you proper. Her eyes are still wide, though wet with tears, and she still can’t look away from you. Her mouth is slack, but drool stains her lips and chin. Her face is flushed in pink hues, and you see her tongue shivering in her mouth.

You lean down to get close to her, and let her know that you’re satisfied, “That’s a good pussy cat.”

She shivers, and you gently relax the grip on her neck scruff. As you let go, she starts to breathe normal, and then heavily. She stays silently watching you, lounged across your lap as her breathing rapidly increases. Tears well up in her eyes, and then are blinked down her cheek.

You watch her curiously as you slowly pet her with full pets. She doesn’t move, just watches you with heavy breathing. You slip a hand under her chin and softly scratch her there. He eyes flutter, and she leans into it before she violently shakes her head. Suddenly, Velvet rolls off of your lap and scrambles to the floor. She looks at you over her shoulder, makes to say something, then bites her lip.

She runs to the bathroom without saying what she wanted to.

Pony brown note. You shrug, wondering how much longer you could have risked holding her. You held her captive a hell of a lot longer than last time. Now that she’s gone, you have time to think.

Your body is shaking as well. Adrenaline courses through you, and you don’t know why. Even your breath is fast and shallow. Uncomfortably, you realize you have an erection. God, you hate that thing. It kind of hurts in your pants, being bent forward like that. As you look down to inspect yourself, you put your hands in your pants and shuffle it around so it’s pointing up in your pants instead of bent forward.

That feels so much better.

Laying back in the couch, your dick finally somewhat comfortable, you drape both arms across the couch back and tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling.

Why are you doing this? You like Velvet. You don’t want to embarrass or hurt her. Something about her makes you want to do these things to her, and you don’t understand it. You can excuse, and even understand the petting. Even the “bad” petting. But you just crossed a line, a line you already knew about from yesterday. You don’t know why you keep pressing her.

She’s a married mare. The thought rings through your mind. It’s what she would say if she was in the right head space, but she seems as torn up about this as you. You aren’t sure why “The Grip” has such an effect on you, but you’re pretty sure it’s because it has a big effect on her. Yesterday it turned some sort of key in her behavior. After “The Grip” she really felt like a cat. Like your cat.

You don’t know what her being married has to do with any of this, but she says that any time you compliment her or do something out of the bounds of normal. A thought rings through your mind, and you’re not sure it’s yours. You should respect that. She loves Night Light, actually truly loves him. The thought makes you weirdly cold and slightly frustrated. Are you feeling guilty? Whatever this thing you’re doing is, it’s something weird, and it’s something that he might be upset about.

Then again, you’ve always been a selfish person. So maybe that’s not your thought. Maybe that’s his. Groaning, you put your hands over your face. Why is this a thing? Why does it feel sort of wrong, and why should you care?

After a few minutes of you contemplating what you should do, a noise gets your attention. You look up.

It’s Velvet. She’s fixed her mane and tail again. She smells of lavender, and her hooves are shiny. She looks at you, and her look is flat, almost disappointed as she coldly stares at you. She’s calm and composed.

You don’t say anything, you just keep laying back in the couch, watching her. She steps forward, smoothly and gracefully. You prepare to be chastised. She looks like she’s going to tear you a new one, and maybe you deserve it. Looking at her more closely, you don’t see anger exactly. Instead, there’s nothing on her face but an uneasy serenity.

She climbs on the couch, and stands up on it. You’re pretty sure that’s not appropriate in pony culture, but it puts her almost at head height with you. Maybe she just wants to be eye height with you when she tears you a new one. Confused, you have to lean back as she steps over your lap, then turns and sits down on it, facing you. She’s right in your face, and you still can’t read her.

She’s either beyond pissed, or she’s cracked somehow. She glances from you and looks at the kitchen, where the phone is. Then she looks back. She’s an inch from your face. She puts her hooves over your shoulder, and the inch between disappears as she presses her chest against yours. You feel her legs adjust, and you realize that she’s straddling you, her back end resting solidly in your lap and her tail cascading off the couch between your legs.

Her voice is quiet and calm when she speaks, and her breath is hot and moist as you breath it in, “I’m a married mare.”

Somehow, the familiar words make you shiver. You take your hands from behind the couch and slide them under her forearms. It’s easy to reach her back from here. You have full access to her neck, her head, her tail, her horn, anything you want. You take a deep breath, watching as she rises and falls with your chest.

Her statement wasn’t a question, but you answer anyways, “I don’t care.”

Her calm, eyes flutter and she presses her face into you. Her lips press against yours, surprising you with how soft they are. They slightly stick, and they’re warm and sweet as she pulls away. Her breath is heavy, and blows from her snout like it’s heat from a fire.

You’re surprised by the kiss, but you don’t let it stop you. You never had experience with this sort of thing before you died, so you aren’t sure what to do.

Velvet’s voice is low, and something about it makes your heart skip a beat, “I know.”

She knows. Of course she knows. You’ve been ignoring her boundaries since you got here. Whether that’s you or him, it doesn’t matter. It’s the “you” that Velvet’s been living with. And now she’s here, in your lap and with her hooves draped over your shoulders.

Curiously, you begin to pet her. One hand on each side as you firmly, but gently run down the length of her body. You don’t go over the top, but down her sides. Your fingers dig through her fur as they run across her cutie mark. Something about that act feels taboo. Cutie marks are sacred. You’ve never seen a pony muss up another’s cutie mark, even in the most risque TV soap.

Velvet shudders, then leans in for another kiss.

You dig your fingers in, grasping at the flesh under her flanks as she plants another hot kiss on your lips. Your noses touch, and you both shiver.

Your greedy hands fully mess up her shiny coat, and she grinds against you. Suddenly, you’re very aware of the cock that you tucked up earlier. It’s hard, rock hard, and something soft and warm is rubbing it as she continues to press into you.

You’re confused, but you can work with this. “This is nice, Velvet.”

She leans forward, whispering in your ear, “Here’s the rules, Mister. Tonight, you pet me. I’ll meow for you. I’ll purr. I’ll even lick you when you do a good job.” Her tongue slips behind your ear, and…

Holy shit is that new. Your breath sucks in, and your dick gives a twitch as a warm rush floods your body.

Her voice is low and sweet. “I’ll be your pussy cat.” She pulls back, and glares at you intensely, “But I’m still married. You can have my neck, you can play with my tail, you can snuggle and even kiss me. I’ll be a good cat, but nothing more.”

You furrow your brow.

She glares at you, “Anything under my tail is off limits. And I mean it this time.” She gives you a quick, angry kiss. Her lips are hot and hard. “If you try to push it, if you try to trick me or distract me, or…” She gives you another hot kiss, this time slightly biting your lip. The pain is quick but sharp, it fades as her lips leave yours, “Force me,” her breath is heavy as her half lidded eyes glance over her shoulder, toward the kitchen. She gets a far away look as she tells you her rules, “Then I’m not going to do anything.”

You freeze. That’s not what you expected to hear.

She shivers as she relaxes down, settling her head under your chin as she speaks quietly into your chest. Her voice sounds defeated and she’s looking at the kitchen from the crook of your neck, “I wont stop you at all. I’m needy, lonely, and desperate. I’ll let you do anything you want to me as long as you touch me.”

That doesn’t feel much like a threat; it feels like an offer. You gulp, your hands trailing lower down her back to the base of her tail. Her confession bounces around in your brain as you play with her soft tail. You’d been thinking like she’s a pet cat. She’s been thinking like this was a sex thing. Deep down, maybe you knew that. The thrill you got when she meowed for you was far from innocent.

Your cock throbs between your bodies, held back from her hot underbelly by your pants. Velvet isn’t looking at you. She’s resting her head in the crook of your neck, pressing slightly into it. You feel her breathe, and slightly squirm.

He wants to fuck her. He wants to wrap that cute little GILF who is so full of love around his cock and make her scream. You gulp. You do, too. As you try to imagine it, you realize that you haven’t seen under her tail. You don’t even know what to imagine. All the ponies on the soaps, even the dirtier ones, kept their tails just barely covering everything. Velvet’s never been close to exposing herself to you. Even when she was irritated and swishing her tail, she always kept the base covered.

Except that once. The time you lifted her tail to play with it while you held her neck. You hadn’t thought about that angle when it happened, but now you realize that you could have seen anything. There was no way she had been covered down there. Maybe that was the moment for her? Maybe that little exposure was the pony equivalent to pulling down her panties? You had her trapped and helpless, and you just wantonly exposed her to the world. You shiver, remembering your past life. Yeah, some big dumb brute doing that to you would have made old you fucking melt.

Now that you understand what you've actually done to her, the new you is melting at the thought of it, too. Well, hardening at least. You rub up her spine with one hand, fluffing her fur the wrong way and messing it up as you slowly trail your hand to her neck, then sliding into her mane to grasp her scalp with the flat of your palm.

Your dick feels heat burning through your clothes. Her need practically pulses through the thin fabric of your pants in waves of tingling heat. She’s not just hot down there, she's quivering – grinding her far too soft flesh against your all too hard self. Her head feels warm under your palm, and you nervously lick your lips. She’s also hot on top. All of her is burning up. Slowly, your lower hand grasps the little fleshy nub at the base of her tail; you think it’s called a dock. Your fingers curl around it, and the back of your knuckles feel the heat radiating directly from underneath, like they’re too close to a candle.

She squirms. Her dock wiggles in your hand as she tries to shift her tail, but you’re stronger. You hold it still until she stops wriggling it. She squeaks under your chin, her mouth open and pressed against your neck now. It’s not quite a kiss, but it’s also not clearly not a kiss. You press her head into your neck with your palm. She breathes on you, then you feel her tongue. It’s wet, and hot.

She had said that she’d lick you if you did a good job. You seem to be doing a good job.

You pull the dock to the side, looking down her back as you force her to expose herself again – this time with intent. The tail base shifts, but the tip stays between your knees dangling off the couch. Her dock twitches and struggles as she fights to keep herself covered. You can’t see underneath, the angle she’s at doesn’t allow for it, but she’s exposed and you both know it.

Velvet’s licking tongue turns into a nervous nibble. The bite isn’t painful, nor is it firm, but it’s there. You can’t tell if she’s chastising you, or if this is a nervous biting reaction. Either way, it’s as close as she gets to complaining. You hold her tail to the side until she relaxes. Your hand stays firm as she wriggles. Until she lets go of the bite, and her tail stops quivering. She shivers as you move it back, and her mouth turns from a sharp biting thing into a warm, soft wet thing again. Her tongue feels even hotter than before as it soothes the place she bit.

You chuckle low as you pull her tail to the other side. She tenses, her body suddenly hard as she momentarily fights you. The struggling is shorter this time, she’s fighting herself more than you. She’s exposed again, this time breathing heavily into your neck as she relaxes into it.

It doesn’t take long. After only a few minutes, it’s obvious to both of you what's happened. You’ve claimed more territory; more of her. She doesn’t fight you over it anymore. Her tail dock is yours, and it’s conquered. As you toy with your new tail, you start to pet her again with your other hand, re-exploring all the territory that you own now that the newest battle is over.

Her horn tingles as you rub it. Her neck is burning. Her mouth opens for your hand as you bring it close, and her tongue is longer than you thought. You linger there, surprised at the sensuality of having your hand sucked. Your cock aches, desperate to replace your finger and He screams in your mind but you shush him. This is your body, and you’re going to do this your way.

Curiously, you push your fingers deeper in her mouth. She opens wide, and lets you. You feel the inside of her jaw, where her teeth sink into her gums, across the rough roof of her mouth, and even the delicate soft pallet near the back. Her spit soaks you, and she makes a slight choking sound when you get too far back towards her throat, but doesn’t complain or move away. Carefully, you pull your hand out.

That was new and unexpected territory, but it’s yours now. You didn’t even have to conquer it, she surrendered it. Gifted it even.

You grab her by the chin with your drool covered hand, and lift her face up and out to look at you. She’s blushing fiercely, and when your eyes meet, hers flutter. Her face is inscrutable. She clearly likes this, but there’s more going on behind her unusually timid eyes.

You push her tail fully to the side, as far as her little dock will bend. She winces slightly, but doesn’t complain. The tip drags across your knee, and now rests outside of your lap. Nervously, she glances away from you, down and to the side for a moment before she looks back.

Your grip on her dock loosens, but she doesn’t move it back. Slowly, you let go, keeping your loose fist curled around it but testing what she does. The tail stays over your knee.

She bites her lip, clearly thinking hard on something, then she quietly begs one more time in a soft whisper, “Not under…" Her voice quivers as she repeats herself, "I said not under...”

She’s not looking at you when she says it. She’s looking toward the kitchen. Her eyes are desperate and full of longing. She blinks. Is she hoping the phone rings?

It doesn’t. There’s a moment of silence, then she looks back at you. You don’t respond to her little request. It isn't actually for you anyways. She tries again, this time looking at your eyes, "Please don't..."

She's talking at you, but the words are obviously for herself. As you watch her face, you extend your middle finger downward, and firmly press it towards her flesh. You feel something hot and hard, with little rough ridges nestled immediately under her tail. Her eyes go wide in surprise, as though she honestly didn't expect you to touch her there. After an eye locked moment of stunned silence, she reacts with a twitch of her whole body.

Her head jerks upward and her lower body flees from your invading touch by pressing into your abdomen as she attempts to move away from your hand, but you still hold her firmly by the tail. She moves quickly, looking over her shoulder and down at her tail, then back up at you with wide, now fearful eyes.

She’s biting her bottom lip hard, and her body is pressed tightly into you. Your finger loses purchase at the sudden jolt that runs through her, but your fist is still gripped around her tail. She’s breathing heavily through her snout, and her eyes look a little wild as they flicker from over her shoulder to you, back and forth rapidly. Clearly she's contemplating something after her little jump.

You smirk in amusement at her antics while her eyebrows furrow in concentration. She un-bites her bottom lip only to bite the top one, then takes a deep breath. She's shaking.

You snake your hand from her chin to the bottom of her horn, and grasp her firmly as you apply pressure downward, holding her in place. Her eyes lock onto yours again, her nervous flickering stopping. She's come to some sort of decision, and now she’s holding her breath.

You wonder if she's going to fry you as your finger finds purchase once again, and you give a gentle tap to her puckered flesh.

Her reaction is to press into you, but your abdomen is unyielding. She tries to push upwards, but she’s held down by your firm hand. There’s nowhere for her to escape to as her entire body rams into you ineffectively. Even her dock shivers in your grasp, but you re-tighten your fist to remind her that it’s your dock right now, not hers.

Velvet stares at you, seemingly terrified but blushing profusely and making no move to stop you. She’s perfectly still, doesn’t say anything or make any movements. She’s waiting for you, so you do it again.

This time you tap harder.

She lurches again, her body already smoothly compressed into yours and unable to really move. She closes her eyes, screwing them shut and then opening them again. She almost looks like she’s in pain, but you know you’re not hurting her.

Her voice is desperate and breathy, but it’s impossible to tell what exactly she’s begging for in the jumble of words that slip from her lips, “Mister… don’t… I can’t… not… It’s not… I told you not... you’re under… my tail.”

She's still fighting with herself, so you decide to help her decide. Instead of holding her by the horn, you slip your hand down to her neck. Slowly, you apply pressure at the base, starting the grip. You keep it steady instead of instantly squeezing like you did before. You want to give her plenty of opportunity before it happens. She won’t have any excuses. This isn’t tricking her, it isn’t beating her, and you aren’t forcing her—yet. She could stop this at any time, and you need her to understand that.

She feels it, and shakes her head in denial as she bites a lip. She doesn’t struggle to get away, or light her horn to zap you. She doesn’t even growl. If anything, it feels like she’s pressing her neck into your grip, though it may just be her moving away from the invading finger underneath her tail. She looks at you one more time, tears forming on her face as she whispers, more to herself than to you, “I… I’m a married mare.”

“I don’t think that matters, does it?” Your answer is cruel, and giving it makes your heart race. She makes it seem like its your fault, but you’re in this together. You remind her of that as you fully squeeze her neck in your grip.

She goes limp over your body, her tail pushes all the way to the side. Her breathing is rapid and shallow. You smush her now limp body into your chest with your grip, relishing how her squishy skin feels on you. Her smooth downy fur underneath her body must feel luxurious. Maybe you’ll take your shirt off later to feel her fur against your skin.

Your finger presses again. This time, her asshole isn’t hard. It’s loose and soft. You let go of her tail, and move your whole hand down, exploring her properly.

Velvet squeaks, and squirms as you grope her. She's not as loud as her last meow, but it’s easily the most she’s squirmed while in “The Grip”. Her smooth flanks come to a valley under her tail, and nestled in the valley is a ring of hot flesh. You know enough about anatomy to know that it’s her asshole. You poke at it, feeling and grasping around it. It’s kind of squishy now, not firm, but it’s still hot.

You gingerly put a finger inside. The tip goes in easy, and you stretch it from side to side, playing with her pliant, hot inner flesh.

You’ve conquered more territory, and Velvet shivers uncontrollably against you. She’s mumbling something quietly, but either she can’t form words or she’s too quiet for you to understand. You watch her lips as she keeps moving them around her quivering tongue. She’s drooling, and her eyes are locked on yours. Is she trying to tell you something?

You curl your finger, relishing the hot, stretchy flesh. Her asshole is dry, but forgiving. Maybe you are hurting her. You slowly pull your finger out, and there is a wet sucking sound. Velvet blinks, and some tears fall down her cheeks.

Slowly, you pull her face to yours as you press the soft flesh around her asshole. It’s fur less, unlike the rest of her. Her skin is warm and stretchy, and as you poke it you relish the squishiness of it. She’s soft here, too. Every part of this pony is amazingly soft.

Her open mouth meets yours, and you taste her. Her spit is flavored like wild berries. Her mouth is larger than yours, and her tongue is huge. It’s wide and flat, filling the bottom of her mouth with its quivering mass. Yours presses into it, and you breathe into her. She has no choice but accept it.

She already had her chance to stop this; now it's too late.

Her eyes are shimmering and wet. She’s not sobbing, but the trickle of moisture down her cheek is apparent. You press above her asshole and under her dock, digging slightly into her soft skin with your fingers. It probably does hurt her a little, but not much.

She shivers, and her tail shakes over your leg.

You pull out of the weird kiss to look at her. She’s looking back, her eyes focused on you through the wet shine. You’re sure that you're all she can see.

“I cannot begin to describe how cute and how hot you are, Velvet.”

Her already red face flushes. You pull her away from your head, wondering what happened to your cute little kitty. This isn’t the kitty cat at all. This is something else. Still, it’s something you want.

Velvet doesn’t respond when you move your hand from under her tail to under her mouth. You start wiping up her drool, wetting your fingers with the surprisingly thick spit. It’s not quite enough.

“Spit.” Your command is simple, but you’re curious if she’ll be able to. The paralysis that “The Grip” puts her under doesn’t seem complete, she can overcome it if she tries. You briefly wonder if “The Grip” is a nerve thing, a brain thing, or some magic pony thing. Your dick twitches as you consider that it might be a “Velvet” thing. That thought is weirdly hot.

Her eyes dart to your hand, then at you. Her tongue lurches forward, and her lips move more erratically. It looks like she’s trying to pucker them. She barely manages, and a small squirt of drool oozes out. It coats your finger like honey.

You smirk, amused and strangely aroused at her struggling. “Let’s find out if that’s enough.”

Velvet looks back to your eyes as you carefully move your hand back to her butt. You don’t want to scrape off the spit by rubbing it in her fur. This time when you press into her asshole, her sphincter gently flexes around your finger and she exhales hotly into your face.

Your finger sinks in. First the tip goes in, and you give it a little swirl. She stretches easily. Then you push it deeper, and you’re at your knuckle. You give a little curl, sliding your finger against the slackened muscles. Velvet hiccups. You push it deeper, and it glides against the spit slickened walls. Quickly enough, your middle finger is fully inside, and your palm is resting against her dock. The rest of your fingers grab the soft flesh around her ass, and you squeeze.

She moans unintelligibly as you explore her insides. Slowly, you relax your grip on her neck. She’s shivering, and slumps down into you, pushing backwards into your violating grasp as her slack body slowly regains it’s function.

Her face is pressed into your neck. You feel her eyes closed, streaming wet tears as her mouth nibbles on you. She licks you in little, short bursts whenever your finger curls inside her. Her soft tongue scrapes your flesh, lavishing you with her warmth.

Suddenly, she shudders. She’s still for a moment and her sphincter tightens around your finger. It squeezes almost painfully and her tail flicks to the side under your palm, straining as far as it can. She mutters into your neck, at first a whisper, “No..”

You grab her by the horn, tilting her head back so you can see her face. She’s glassy eyed and her cheeks are red. Her slack eyes lock onto yours, and she squeezes your finger with her ass again. “No.”

This time she says it louder. It’s not for you. You’re not who she’s telling to stop. She's hardly been talking to you at all.

Her eyes flicker to the kitchen, then back to you, back to the kitchen for a moment, then settle on your own. Her pupils shrink and her mouth opens. This time she utters a loud, drawn out denial that lifts in timbre as it goes on. “Noooo...OoooOooo”

You keep fingering her asshole, molesting her ass as she rides out whatever you’re doing to her. She gyrates into you, and her asshole clenches and unclenches. She has a moment where she shakes her head, her eyes screwed tightly shut as she briefly denies what you’re doing with her in well spoken and coherent speech, “This isn’t happening!”

You smirk, using your firm grip on her horn to turn her head and force her to watch you again, “Yes it is, Pussy-Cat.”

She freezes when you tell her that. Her eyes shine for a moment and her horn grows noticeably hot under your hand. Her mouth gapes opens like a fish out of water, and you feel something warm trickle down over your pants. You hear her let out a forced, choked grunt as she squeezes your finger tight enough to almost hurt.

Velvet’s pupils get large again and she focuses far away. Then she shudders. Her legs kick, and she pulls you into her with her hooves, not that you let her close the distance. She heaves a hot breath, her uncomfortably warm horn locked in your grasp,

Slowly, she relaxes. Velvet forces stuttering breaths as her eyes re-focus on you. You keep fingering her asshole, feeling it loosen up as she relaxes into your molesting hand.

Her eyes are filled with tears. She tries to say it with her stuttering, breathless voice, but she can’t, “We just… I just…”

You don't have any problem saying it, “You just came, Pussy-Cat. Here I just wanted a kitty to pet…” You lean forward, whispering in her ear, “But you wanted to be a whore.”

She freezes, stiffening up as you keep slowly fingering her asshole. “This is wrong. I’m too old for you. I’m married. I told you not to…”

You cut her off. “You’re sexy as fuck, and we both like this, don’t we?”

She doesn’t say anything, she only lets her eyes drift to the side.

You squeeze her ass hard, curling the finger inside of her. She shivers and looks back to you.

“I asked if you liked it, Pussy-Cat. Tell me.” Your voice is suddenly cruel.

She shivers, and nods—afraid to say the words.

You smirk, taking your hand off her horn and sliding it down her neck. “Use your words, Pussy-Cat.”

She glares at you, obviously angry but also breathing heavier from your attention. “I do…”

You kiss her. This isn’t one sided anymore. She isn't paralyzed, she isn’t surprising you and it isn’t the exploratory peck she gave you earlier. Both of your mouths are open, and your tongues entwine. It’s still strange. Her mouth is larger, and her tongue is huge, but you make her feel you. You still command her lips with yours.

Your faces are mashed into each others as your finger keeps reminding her that her ass is your territory now. She pulls away, glances down over her back and shivers. She doesn’t look back at you, instead keeping her face shyly hidden to the side. Her voice is quiet as she speaks, she’s unsure, “I’ve never done anything like this.”

You chuckle in amusement. “You’ve never played with your ass?”

She glances up at you, blushing profusely, “He thinks it’s gross.”

You smile wide, “I sure as fuck don’t. You have the cutest little tush I’ve see. I just want to touch it, grab it, stretch it, and break it.”

She glances back, her eyes wider and a tinge of fear in her voice, “Break it?”

Your grin gets evil as you press your index finger in with your middle finger. She grunts, but flexes to allow it. Your second finger slides in with the other, and you feel her skin dragging with it. The spit lube isn’t holding out. You’re going to need more if you want to jam another finger in. She winces, but doesn’t complain.

She looks at you, her face flushed and her ass filled with your fingers. Your dick throbs between you and she shivers. “This is weird… This is wrong. We can’t be doing this… I can’t be doing this!”

You kiss her again, this time she’s stiff and doesn’t kiss back. Maybe you pushed too far with that second finger. You slip from the kiss to her ear, where you whisper to her, “You just did and it was the sexiest thing in the world when you came. I can't see it, but I'm sure your cute little pussy is soaked from all the fun we just had.”

She flushes warm against your neck, and you pull the second finger out of her tight hole. She visibly relaxes when you do, and she moans back with a whine, “Why are you doing this to me?”

You return to slowly thrusting into her with your middle finger, easily sliding it all the way in. Her warm sphincter pressing tightly against the base of your finger with each thrust, and clenches it in rhythm with you. Her clenching asshole almost feels like a ring around your finger. She’s warm inside, and stretchy. There’s a surprising amount of give at your finger tip. As you curl and thrust your finger, you’re sure that you're moving her insides.

She groans into you, and you don’t answer her question. What are you supposed to say? She’s hot? She’s cute? She makes your dick tingle and you don’t know what to do about that? You have no morals? You never really have? Or have you?

You pause, suddenly uncomfortable, not with Velvet, but with yourself. Would you, the you before, really have fucked with a marriage bound in so much love? Your eyes flicker to a picture of Velvet and Night, standing on their hind legs back to back and smiling at the camera. They both have mischievous grins, like they’re two troublemakers. They look like they were made for each other.

The mare in the picture doesn’t look anything like the needy mare whose asshole you’re currently finger fucking. You grab her by her mane, close to her scalp, and roughly pull her head back. She winces, and moans at the same time as she blinks back some more tears. Pulling her hair probably hurts her like hell. It seems to turn her on more.

It used to turn you on. You always wished someone would pin you down, grab you by the hair and make you their slut. You growl angrily at her. She gets to live your dream. She’s lived some miraculous life of magic and wonder, and now she’s living your dream.

Angrily, you slam your finger roughly into her ass as you pull her hair. You’re not being loving. You’re pulling her up by her hair, lifting her off your body like some obscene finger puppet. She screams, kicking her legs and shifting her weight. She wraps her arms around your arm, supporting her weight to take some of it off her scalp.

She looks at you, tears streaming and her mouth open. She’s red faced, past the point of hiding anything. There’s nothing to hide. Everything you need to know you take in from a sparkle in her eyes.

She's afraid, and in pain. She's also never been this turned on before.

You don’t look at her lower half. You don’t care what her ass or pussy looks like. You watch her face as she cums again. She screams through grit teeth and you feel her squirt on your chest as she painfully rides out a grunting, screaming orgasm that neither of you were ready for. You’re hurting her, you're sure. You're also sure she doesn't mind right now.

The show doesn’t last long. It’s crude, it’s twisted, and it’s violently abrupt. You roughly set her back down, finally pulling your finger from her asshole with a loud squelch. She moans again, this time in relief. She’s still randomly kicking and quivering, still riding twitches from her orgasm. The room smells like sex and ass.

She never once blinked. The whites of her eyes are red now from the crying. Her face is streaked with drool and tears while her lower half is glistening and wet. You’re not much better. You shirt has a big wet splotch in the middle, and you pants are soaked as well.

Velvet's hair is a tangled, frizzled mess and it looks like she had sex. You suppose that’s about what happened. She sniffles. Her voice is cold and angry as she speaks into your chest, “Do I still look pretty to you, Mister?”.

You take your dirty hand and rub it through her cutie mark as she keeps her face hidden. She's still dripping on your lap, still soaking through your pants. You clean your ass-hand off on her mark, mussing it up in the process while she refuses to look. Your other hand grabs her chin, and you force her to face you. “You’re beautiful.”

She holds back a sob as her eyes sparkle. “You’re sick. I’m sick. You’re…” She pushes off your lap and then scrambles off the couch, stumbling as she falls off the side. You reach down and scoop her in your arm, grabbing her before she lands on her head.

You set her gently down, and she stumbles two steps away before she stops. She turns and looks at you, unsure of what to say. Her tail wrenches to the side as she stares, and your eyes wander. It’s the first time you’ve seen under her tail.

Her little puffy asshole is round, and red as sin. It looks irritated and you know exactly why. More telling is her sloppy slit. The dark fleshy patch is longer, slightly stretched and drooling. It doesn’t look like a human’s, but it’s clearly her pussy. Her legs are matted with her arousal, and even the underside of her tail is coated in a wet sheen. Her little hole is leaking something clear and sticky.

You’re eyes drift back up to hers, and she’s watching you intently. Suddenly she smirks, just slightly. The lightest hint of a smile, but it’s there. It’s a strange counterpoint to the rest of her. Her body is wrecked and ruined, teary eyed and fucked up, while her smirk is surprisingly playful. You raise an eyebrow, and her ghost of a smirk morphs into a concerned frown as she realizes what she's doing. She shakes her head in sudden disgust, slams her tail back between her legs, and takes another two steps.

Where she stops again. This time, she looks curiously at you, and slowly swishes her tail to the side. You look at her puffy underside again. She does look a little like a real horse down there, but not entirely. There’s something alien about the way her little asshole is so round, and about the visibility of her slit. There’s an alluring, unearthly and distinctly equine appeal that you’ve never thought about before.

Her tail swishes back, covering her again, and your eyes drift up to her face. She meets your eyes and blushes, then turns and gracefully walks away. As she walks, her tail swishes slightly, but no more hidden flesh is revealed.

Your dick is still rock hard, and now that she’s gone you look down at your wet splattered pants and shirt. You’re going to need to do something about all three of these things.