Alicorn Accidents (And How Not To Avoid Them, An Instructional Guide)

Twilight stared in utter shock. Her gaze first went to her lap where a pair of overly spunk-fattened cauldrons rested, then drifted upwards to observe the still erect and twitching tower of horsemeat. The gears in her brain struggled to turn, then hitched to a stop altogether.

Was she hallucinating? She blinked several times in the attempt to dispel the vision, then several more. Surely that was the answer. She must still be experiencing the aftereffects of a prolonged marathon like she'd just had. She had probably short-circuited her brain to no small degree during all of that.

And yet, nothing changed. The darkened silhouette of her shaft continued to bob in front of her, leaking the clearish pre that slithered up from her orbs' musky depths. It stood out in more contrast to the rest of the room thanks to the condom incident, making it glisten from the moonlight streaming in with a fine sheen of white.

The thing that struck her most in that moment was that, for some Celestia-forsaken reason she could not possibly comprehend, she was even hornier than she had been when she'd woken up. Her head felt foggier as well, and the detail was not lost on her that those two facts were directly related. Her nuts were even fuller, her cock even harder to the extent that it looked about an inch bigger, and the tingling centered between her legs had strikingly intensified.

Twilight was frightened. Ever since becoming an alicorn she had been more prey to her baser urges than ever, but all that had ever done was get on her nerves or profoundly mortify her. Now, she was actually getting a little scared of her own anatomy. Just how far could this go? Clearly masturbation wasn't working. It was actually making things worse.

Twilight took in a deep, long breath, flaring out her wings on the intake and slowly bringing them back to a folded position on the exhale. This situation was tricky, but she reminded herself that it was just a problem and that every problem she'd tackled had a solution. It was simply a matter of finding said solution and applying it. Scientifically, of course, disregarding the explciit details of said conundrum.

What Twilight needed to do... was research.

The kind of research she had in mind was admittedly the more hands-on approach, but it wouldn't be for the goal of achieving orgasm. In fact, she wanted to explicitly avoid that.

She glanced over at the time, and yet again she was taken aback for two equally surprising reasons. One was that she'd been getting herself off for about half an hour, and two was that she'd only been doing it for that long. In the midst of her convulsing body possessed by the throes of an inequine number of stupidly huge loads it had feltlike much longer.

Unfortunately that meant it was still too early for her to get up and enact some proper self-subject study. Her basic senses would have to do the lion's share of the work for the time being until she could get her hands on some non-biological equipment.

Twilight's hands trembled unassuredly as she reached for her crotch. She was only meant to inspect, document, and nothing else. She kept telling herself that, and it certainly was her intention to do so, but a part of her was nervous that any contact at all might trigger further deterioration of her... condition. Whether that's what it was or not she didn't much care, because it sure as Tartarus acted like one.

The second she did make contact she almost moaned. The barest and briefest of touches now sent waves throug her entire body, but she pressed on for the sake of getting to the bottom of this. She had to know more, and most pivotally she needed to fix it. She was Twilight Sparkle after all, the Princess of Friendship and Element of Magic who had beaten a whole menagerie of bad guys. Surely she could handle her own body.

Carrying at the forefront of her mind a great sense of potential danger outweighed solely by one of urgency, Twilight moved her shaft out of the way with tentative care. Her right hand followed shortly behind and slipped beneath her massive sack, hefting it up and cupping her testicle.

It was positively enormous. Just on its own it was, if Twilight were to wager, no smaller than a cantaloupe. With its twin in the picture, the whole set of them might rival the size of her own head. Twilight had always been a well-endowed mare, both prior to and after her ascension, but this was obscene.

Its size was definitely not for show either. The subtle ache at the core of her two tankards was enough of a tip-off to their contents, but she could also feel it. She could sense how bloated they both were by placing her palm against it, and that case was communicated inarguably by their weight. Lifting just one of them up made that clear. It wasn't strenuous, but it was by no means easy. Were she ignorant of the surrounding information she might think of it like hefting a gallon of milk, but she knew better that they held well over that.

As she was about to let it drop and move her investigation along, the sack suddenly tensed. The royal skin grew taut around each swollen sphere and made them look that much larger. That wasn't what blinded Twilight's attentions though, but it was the sensation that came with it. Remaining in her grip, they loudly churned and she could make out plain as a cloudless Ponyville day the palpable roiling of viscous liquid within. It didn't feel all that dissimilar from putting her hand against a washing machine when she thought about it.

It wasn't a thought to last.

The climax hit with as much power as it did without warning. Still holding her mast in one hand, Twilight's tent pole lurched forwards and brought her hips with it. Her balls seized madly, bouncing and throbbing in as perverse a manner as her spunkhose.

And spunkhose was precisely the correct name for it. Between her howls, the reason for her keg's churning became evident. Her wide pricktip made a single half-pulse, and rocketing up from the bottomless pools of her nutsack came a fat streamer of steaming spooge. It arched high into the air, high enough that it splattered across her ceiling, and then rained down upon her in sheets. The thorough whitewash of her room carried on for what was incalculable seconds to Twilight's abruptly shattered psyche, and once the spout tapered off it was immediately succeeded by ANOTHER.

Twilight's expression was that of a fuck-hungry madmare. Her eyes were lidded, crossing to focus on the jizz-spurting point that encompassed all she cared about. Her mouth was split into a maniac's grin, drooling at the sides and only breaking to give bliss-fueled vocalizations. All the while she jerked her hands up and down the monolithic length of her cumpump, never once slowing down motions so fast they became a blur.

This was pure nirvana. She wanted it, and she couldn't for the life of her explain why it was she'd denied it to herself for so long. All she needed to be happy in life was to keep cumming, thrusting, and moaning, so that's exactly what she did.

Her orgasm lasted for minutes on end. Each sloppy ejaculation was never less than a yard in length and five seconds in duration. One after they other they unleashed, some adding to the mess on the ceiling while others fell to gravity and moistly slapped wherever they fell.

Through the sensations that came from relieving such incredible pressure, Twilight was gone. Her brain matter was rendered like slurry, making her face and movements that of a wild animal's in heat. For how long she remained in that state she could speculate with even less accuracy than her previous attempt to run through her whole stock of condoms. Time and thought was meaningless here beyond that which it abstractly took to make her gush again and again.

During her fever, something tiny but frantic caught her attention. She was still Twilight Sparkle, the scientist and the leader. It took all the effort and willpower her colder, logical side could muster to make itself known, but it succeeded. Briefly, Twilight regained her lucidity.

And ironically, that would be her downfall.

Her first mistake was casting a spell. Magic was an inherent trait for all Equestrians, but it was without question stronger in some than others. Twilight fell into the former category. No longer just a unicorn, she possessed what was debatably the most power a pony could have, already so potent in the unicorn classification and now with the addition of the other tribes.

That she was aware of. What she was not privy to was that, in addition to each of the three magics being tethered to their respective tribes, those magics had just as much of an influence over sexual prowess as anything else. The stereotype of the durable earth pony who could give or take for hours, the fast and fluid motions of a pegasus, and the methodical but blindingly intense sex a unicorn could provide were all generally true and existed with explanations that went past sociology. Of course, Twilight had all three, and she had just activated the last one without realizing.

Her second and far more grave error was twofold. The foremost was invoking the arcane in her current state of mind, and the last was directing it at her already addled self. The spell wasn't a complex weave, basic enough that most unicorns could pull it off, but that was presuming normal mental faculties. She may have grasped at sobriety in passing, but it was as fleeting as it was colored by her emotions

The purpose of the spell was simple. At its lowest form it would merely diminish, but at Twilight's it should have wholly eliminated sense of touch to wherever aimed. In this instance, she had intended for it to hit only her sexual organs.

Instead, it blossomed from there to every nerve in her body. She had drawn too much mana and overdone it. Worse still was that, in her frantic scrambling to put it together, she had done it wrong. Rather than nullify sensation, it did the exact opposite.

Twilight screamed, for that was all she could manage. Tears rolled down her cheeks like rivers, born from a mix of pure joy and unadulterated terror. She had made a grievous misstep, and she threw everything she had to reverse it. She tried a spell, then another, and another. Some hit and others did not, and they were all paltry in comparison now that she'd taken so much of her magic reserve. Even if she had the energy for another spell of that magnitude, her mind would likely fail in the attempt to wield it.

The thought hit her that she had to do something, and she was more than a bit surprised she could still think at all. Finally, she recognized she required help. She couldn't solve this on her own and recent events made that so obvious it hurt. She needed someone else to fix her, but who?

A word popped into Twilight's head.

Drained. She needed to be drained. No, more specifically than that, with how many buckets of slag she was turning out she needed to be milked

Milked, yes. She liked that word. Milked. It floated around in her consciousness momentarily before taking form, coalescing into an obsession. It rolled about in the confines of her skull and about her tongue, fat and lazy, but it felt right. Milked, milked, milked. She needed to be milked. The question was apparent then. Who would milk her?

Aha! The light bulb went off in Twilight's head. That was who. Of course it would be her. Who else could it possibly be? It made so much sense, at least to a mind so savagely mulched as Twilight's.

Applejack. She could milk her, right? AJ was a friend after all, and didn't friends help each other out no matter what? She was also strong, and with all that farm work she most assuredly had some strong hands too. She also raised cattle, so she must have experience with milking as well.

Twilight drooled a little. Her orgasm had waned, but that hadn't improved her cognizance to any notable measure. In the afterglow, the nature of her perception had been merely altered from wild and frenzied to sluggish and dull. Present throughout was an ache for more, similar to but stronger than the one in her junk from before except everywhere now. It had the effect of further blunting her mental acuity, and that certainly wasn't being done any favors by fantasizing about her friend.

And what a friend to fantasize about. Applejack was an attractive mare, or at least Twilight thought so. Of all her companions Rarity was easily the most traditionally beautiful, but when it came to the freckled farmer there was a kind of rugged simplicity and country charm she was compelled by. As the kind of Equestrian who worked out in the fields, Applejack had steadily but surely built up an impressive musculature which despite its firmness melded flawlessly into the plentiful, fertile curves that Apple Family gals were known for.

AJ knew it too. She was proud of her well-earned figure and she made that understood by wearing the sorts of clothes that were simultaneously practical for hard labor and designed to show off. It wasn't exactly rare to find her out in the summer heat, wearing a white tank top and denim shorts that put delicious helpings of toned orange flesh on display, whether that was her biceps and midriff or her melon-crushing thighs. All that, and she had usually worked up a sweat that made the whole homegrown package shimmer in the daylight.

Oh yes, Applejack would be the one to milk her. There wasn't anypony in the world who could do as good a job at milking her as AJ could. But that brought to mind another question. Applejack knew how to milk cows, and if Twilight was the one being milked...

Was she a cow too?

Suddenly, the resonant arcana in Twilight's physical form changed shape. Sensing her desires and crackling with unspent energies, it needed a place to go and a greater purpose to serve. Alicorn magic was not well understood by academia, and in the inexperienced hands of a young mare who had no idea just how different it was from the unicorn magic she was used to, it was unpredictable. If Twilight wanted to be a cow? Well, then Twilight's magic would make her one.

"Ungh!"

The first consequence of misused magics struck her like a bolt. Twilight's back arched as she grit her teeth, and without hesitation her hands shot from where she'd begun idly massaging her length to grasping at her breasts. They would be the first to change among others.

The feeling of clutching digits at her chest was indescribable. It was as if the same sensations she felt in her cock and balls had moved upwards into her tits, taking with them pain and pleasure alike. Her immediate instinct was to start squeezing and fondling them, but the currents running to her brain and wreaking havoc therein locked her limbs into place. She was unable to will her body's movement, but somehow she was acutely aware of what happened next.

It started with a faint pressure. It was profoundly subtle, but as seconds passed like minutes it began to grow in spread, budding from the depths of her bust and rising up to fill it. As the pressure swelled into being, so too did her breasts swell larger. It was slow for a short time, but before long it made itself undeniable. Soon, the pressure in her chest became an ache, and the primal idea that she needed to relieve them in some fashion passed her mind.

For much of her life, Twilight had been jealous of the ample cleavage around her, whether it was her mother or mentor, friends or strangers. That had all changed when she ascended, and it was a welcome blessing no matter the difficulties posed by her increased libido. She had gone literally overnight from a petite-chested, twiggy beanpole of a mare to a buxom bookworm babe. Along with sporting a rack that rivalled Fluttershy's, the other lacking parts of her build morphed dramatically. Her narrow hips had widened, her skinny thighs touched one another for the first time in her life, and that was to say nothing of her brand spankable new bubble butt she could bounce a bit off of. There had been a minor hassle getting her wardrobe replaced, but Rarity's assistance had made the problem a trifle.

Very quickly, Twilight was beginning to worry if she could find any normal bra that could hold her breasts back now. They grew in spurts, burgeoning forth and outwards with bountiful wobbling flesh after each pause. As soon as they would settle back into place, they would surge again and ripple like water balloons.

No, not water balloons she realized. Milk jugs.
The slosh from the most recent climb in cup size was what alerted her. As if on an intrinsic level, she just knew they had milk inside them.

She wasn't allowed to process her realization as another hypothetical bra snapped before her eyes. They scaled the mountain of normal classifications in less than a minute. She'd begun with breasts each the size of dodgeballs, then basketballs, bigger than her head, and by the time they stopped expanding and jiggling and frothing with cream they had graduated to eclipse watermelons. Her nipples alone were huge, as wide as bottlecaps that jut out an inch from areolas thicker than soda cans.

At the plump peaks settled atop mountains of titmeat, twin beads of white began to form. The sight of them made Twilight quake, that same feeling of fullness and too much pressure inside her heaving udders more than she could bear. And that's exactly what they were too. They were udders, no longer an average pair of ungodly masssive lovepillows.

Yet another jolt brought her under the transformation's mercy. The energy sought another subconscious wish it could grant, and it executed it gladly. They were udders indeed, but the magic twisting Twilight into something else knew they could reach so much closer to that ideal.

To her confusion, she felt the same tingling that had signaled her impending explosion in bra size, except now focused right below her knockers. That confusion was cleared up soon enough, making way for both horror and considerable arousal. The tingling coalesced into two distinct masses, and from there they took on tangibility. She couldn't see them past her shirt-ripping shelf until they rose to level out with the original, but she instantly grasped what they were.

She now had a set of four boobs. Each were equally as mammoth in scale as the other, and each bloated with not a drop less of warm, fresh breastmilk.

Her mind reeled at her new reality. What could she possibly say to that? What was she even supposed to think, let alone do? She made attempts to pry some sort of processing from her brain, but they al fell flat on their face. So instead, she went on autopilot and did what her subconscious told her to. She was finding it easier to let go of the effort that thinking demanded as time went on, and why not? It felt better when she just let things stay their course.

She remembered the word. Two words, actually. First was milked, and then cow. She was a cow, and she needed to be milked, as much below as above.

Twilight's limbs unlocked, and the first thing she did was bring them to the new top of her plush expanse. The most fleeting graze elicited a shuddering groan, and it carried louder and extended when fingertips met teat. Each point of contact was like electricity, and when her digits pinched and tugged the ripe nozzles it felt just as good or better than touching her cock.

Her reward for doing so came in the form of milk and relief, spraying out into the air with more quantity at every subsequent pull. A dopey smile spread her lips, and she parted them with tongue outstretch to taste her treat. It was the perfect temperature and texture, smooth and creamy for common consumption. Now that she'd sampled herself, she couldn't resist pulling one tit into her mouth to greedily suckle on the purple rosebud and in a heartbeat it flooded her cheeks. She moaned and sealed her lips tighter, gulping the fluid down in thirsty swallows.

Twilight didn't know what or why this was happening, but she couldn't care less by this point. All she wanted was more. More milk, more pleasure, more sensation. She dimly recognized it was alarming and still a problem, but the rational Twilight's voice was given less and less priority amid the mounting lust.

Her engorged nipple popped free from her maw with a gasp. An errant squirt hit her cheek in the process, so she darted to scoop it into her belly. She would have continued feeding on her own life-giving juices, but something else had drawn her desires.

Her cock. It stood tall and proud as ever, just as needy as her new fuckudders. Through typical means she could only focus on one at a time, but she had a solution in mind to fix that. Still panting, she refrained from touching herself for long enough to let her dick soften. It was a tough act to follow, but she knew the result would be worth it.

Once flexible, she didn't wait a second more to bend the log toward herself. Gravity took over when she let go, and there was a resounding meaty whap as a column of horseprick snuggled itself between a squishy row of quad-teats. The great tower's fall sent off a shockwave through her tits, making the prodigious breastflesh ripple like water and buzz with borderline orgiastic intensity. Her mouth opened in a gratified cry, and was then stuffed by a flare that Twilight began to nurse with enthusiasm. In short order she was guzzling a steady drizzle of musky pre-nut and furiously working her tits by way of milking and squeezing alike, titfucking herself into a blissful emptiness.

While she grossly indulged herself, the changes didn't stop. If anything they appeared to accelerate. Her cowtits had only been one among so many other vital modifications, and the magic was driven to see each carried out to the bovine end.

In her current frame of mind, Twilight could only sense these further warpings of herself in abstraction, but the significance of them compounded in her mind. For every step she went through, the by now well-established idea that she was a cow was reinforced as it inched nearer to fact over fiction.

Following but a stone's throw behind the staggering growth of her breasts was that of her flesh in all the right places a sultry mare should desire. All at once they slammed outwards, gaining speed and mass of curvaceous fat and muscle beneath to make her appear as the creature of wanton sexuality she was fast becoming. Her substantial thighs filled in more, leaving it so that no gap between them existed even at the knees, luscious and juicy. Her hips broadened with them, looking to be stretched outwards as well as pushed from the inside to gain a new width that could make doorframes creak. Last but not least was her ass, maintaining pace with her other assets to ensure an excess of cushion for the pushin'. The way they swelled and wobbled was identical to the way her bosom had, and once it jiggled into a stable position the cheeks hung over in a vast shelf of ghetto booty that would put Pinkie's to shame. All said and done, Twilight was now the proud owner of miles of supple lavender, coming together to form a figure that made her look like a pornstar's wet dream.

Next impacting was a set of decidedly non-pony features. If Twilight was to meet her true potential as a cowmare, she needed to do more than imitate the part. Careless as to the signs of equinity they overwrote, a prickling tickled at various points across her that signaled incoming additions and changes alike. Her horns were the first to appear but the last to finish forming, starting as bumpy protrusions that gradually took root to make a cute pair of nubs. Beside them were her ears. Usually perky and upright, they first lengthened and then folded under themselves as they grew to large to be supported. Then there was her tail, colored shades of pink and purples cut in a straight line at the end. The dock extended outwards, and with every inch it took against her tail the more of her hairs were incorporated into it as short fur matching the rest of her coat. Once it traveled to nearly consuming the whole thing like a lit fuse it stopped, allowing a tuft of hair with the same attributes as before to swish about. Her face, fluted spire, and feathered wings made sure she was still recognizably a pony, but she had taken on an undoubtedly more bovine look.

The final aspects of Twilight's cowification were purely aesthetic and additive in nature rather than transformative and functional, but they served the ultimate goal of making the once-pony as much of a hung heifer as possible all the same. The sweeping renovations to her biology was one important piece of the puzzle, but so was crafting the fantasy into fruition.

When she had gone to bed that evening, as per usual since she'd started shredding her panties or pajamas in the middle of the night, Twilight had tucked beneath the covers without a centimeter of cloth above her save the covers themselves. As a cowgirl, the spell decided this simply would not do. From nowhere it conjured fabric as tangible as anything else, glowing with the magenta aura telltale of its casters magic. They appeared into thin air like a mummy's unwound dressings, one by one from top to bottom until they had wrapped themselves around, wedged between, or strained to hold. It was all black and white, blotches and spots on a background reminiscent of actual dairy livestock.

Fingerless evening gloves adorned her arms. Thigh highs clung so close to her legs that ample thighmeat poured over the edge. Knickers that were for all intents string but for the minute patch of cowprint visible towards the front flossed her cumbuckets and flanks, and two matching micro-bikini tops bravely held off pounds of imposing breastfat, doing nary a thing to conceal her nipples alone.

To cap off the slutty ensemble and complete the pornographic trope were not clothes, but accessories that materialized into existence one after the other. Starting at the high point of the cow was a nametag clipped into her floppy right ear. The magic worked its way lower following short behind with a nose ring, then a cowbell clasped firmly on her neck, and as an ultimate touch to the masterpiece it ended with nipple piercings shaped like large square doorknockers, each and every gained part a shiny silver.

However, despite the extent of remodeling, the spell was not content to leave it there. Twilight had been changed inside and out on an anatomical level, but there was one more thing the wild mana had to do before it was quelled. There was one level deeper beyond the fur and skin and muscle and bone.

There was a single, isolated, vulnerable thing that Twilight's magic had yet to mold and violate: her mind.

Twilight herself was still too busy fucking her own milktanks and throat to take heed, but even once she did it would be too late. It was likely by that point she wouldn't even protest the idea of being so fundamentally altered., whether it made her a little dumber or as stupid as genuine cattle.

Indeed, Twilight would keep her language skills. But higher thinking? The mere notion of it was off the table so far as the spell was concerned. Twilight wanted to be a cow, and that meant she needed to be a slow, dumb herd animal. A fog settled over her brain, cradling it in its wispy embrace as the haze crept into every nook and cranny her mind had to offer leaving nothing untainted.

Her thoughts would become lazy, and in so doing her actions would match. The only thing that could ever stick with sharp detail in her head would be sex and milking and perhaps most importantly mooing. She would be dull, docile, and obedient. She would be sweet, affectionate, and almost innocent as much as her perverted form could manage. And above all, she would feel a simple joy and happiness in fulfilling her role and providing as much milk and cream as her body could give.

It was with that blissful picture in mind that Twilight came. Her entire body was brought with the experience, and it was no longer her pump alone that would show its love. Her four udders joined in on the action, shooting jets of dairy out along with her gulping hammerhead. She produced so much, more than she ever had before, and that made her basic bovine brain smile knowing she was doing a good job at being a cow.

After puffing up her cheeks in excess with plenty of spooge left to pour out the sides of her mouth, Twilight popped it free and let it spray into the air. Her now soaked bikini tops were adjusted next, moved to assure that her swollen hoses could do the same. From the point of her maw being freed she grinned, let her tongue flop out over her lower lip, and let out a low, loud "MmmmmMMMOOOOOOOooooo!" that didn't end until her climax had.

Just like all her previous however, it would end. Her volcanic eruption of jizz and fire hydrant rivers of milk waned until they had tapered off to idle dribbling. For her part, Twilight was an absolute mess. Her hair was frayed, once intelligent amethysts glassy and dim, and there was less purple on her body than white.

Giggling like a moron, Twilight brought her hands to her lips. Her tongue lashed out to clean the digits, gathering all the milk and marespunk that she could to feed her appetite. When she splayed them out she saw the gooey strands that connected them, and she thought they looked awful pretty. One by one her fingers were slid inside, lapped at, and released until there was nothing more to offer. She repeated the action by shovelings more from the other residue coating her for some time, and when she had sated herself with that her shaft was next to tongue bathe. She had to bend over to get most of it, but when it graced the cool outside anew it was glittering with spit.

She laid there for a while longer, allowing herself to bask in the warmth of her recent orgasm. Whenever she so much as twitched or breathed she would set off another wave of rippling that swept up all her curves, making her moan and moo without fail. It took a great deal of effort for her to think about what she had wanted to do in that state, but she was a smart cow. She just had to try.

At last her expression scrunched, then lit up with excitement. Applejack! That was what she wanted to do. She needed to be milked. Gosh she really was a smart cow.

Umming to herself jauntily, the busty bovine swung herself over the side of the bed and prepared to depart. Scanning the room now shining with the early morning rays she also remembered how big a mess she'd made. She knew there was a spell that could help tidy it all up, but she couldn't remember anymore what it was called or how to use it. Surely she could clean it up manually on her own later.

But for now? She needed a shower. She wanted to be fresh and spotless for her date with a certain apple farmer.