Hell Is Other Lunas

by Incandesca

Rating: mature
Tags: Anthro, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Other, Princess Luna, Porn, Fetish, Profanity, Violence, Crossover, Sex
Length: 12809

Dreamwalking can carry great risk. At the borders of unreality, a pony might stumble upon something - or someone - from an entirely different place. Luna learns this firsthand when he trips headfirst into Hell. Oh, and some big hellhound titties too.

Dreamwalking is a skill. It takes time, effort, and great power to learn, let alone master.

It also carries with it some great risks.

The Prince of the Night knows this well, but he isn't perfect. One night crossing the borders of unreality, he stumbles through to the other side. Turns out? He's literally in Hell, and it's there he'll meet a stranger with a rather familiar name.

Includes: Male/Female, Femboy, Hyper, Orgasm Denial, Cum Inflation, Domination and Degradation

This is my entry for the Furry Foray Festival Contest 2023.

If you enjoy this story and would like to receive one of your own, consider getting a commission!

Published 2023-04-01 18:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-04-01 18:00:00 UTC

Or... Loonas?

The illustrious Prince of the Night awoke as he always did - at the sun's last light.

Except...

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

Towering above him, tenting the sheets enough to form a proper camping shelter, was his stallionhood.

Luna grumbled. Often was it not he woke with a case of morning wood - or in this case evening, such as it might be - but when he did that wood was nearer to the likes of a great Everfree oak. Being an alicorn afforded such exceptional endowments, not to mention the exceptional libido to match. So far as he saw, it was a royal pain in his royal hindquarters.

"Damn thee, cursed foul thing," he groused. Rolling over on his side, the beastly tool swung along with him and pried the sheets right off his bed. Cool air grazed his midnight fur, but he was fortunate to be just as comfortable in lower temperatures as in cozy warmth.

Seething the entire way, Luna's teal magic untangled the sheets from his body, then tossed them to the bed. He wasn't like Celestia, in that regard. They had maids for a reason, and they could take care of cleaning duties.

Only, it didn't cross his mind that those maids might very well get a whiff of his powerful regal scent, soaked into overday by the pre and sweat seeping off his cock, and be sent straight into the depths of heat. But Luna was a holder of the philosophy that so long as it was out of sight, it was out of mind. Evidently, this included some poor, thick-thighed maiden forced to marinate in his eventide musk, squashing her cushiony legs together in a terrible attempt at sating a yawning, infinite hunger to be bred by her well-hung prince.

What was frustratingly very much in sight, however, was his egregiously large horseprick. Standing at a mindboggling three feet, thicker than his bicep, a deeper blue than his coat and mapped with branching veins, it was impossible to ignore. Anypony would have swooned over it, taken it deep into the stretchy confines of their holes if they could manage it without shattering into a million mindfucked little pieces, but Luna?

Luna despised it.

Far as he was concerned, both it and the pendulous, head-sized cumvats which hung low below it could go right down to the Underworld.

It had come from Nightmare Moon, and anything that befouled warlock created was good as dirt to him. Sure, he'd always been of the male persuasion, but once upon a time he had a reasonably proportioned set of genitalia, and a fair, manageable sex drive as it suited. He knew it was left behind to him as a mocking gesture, or why else would the creature have gifted him a cock so large without the body to match.

"Hmph."

Standing at a humbling height of five foot not, any sense of power he projected came singly from the crown atop his head. All be damned, his shortest maid was taller than he, and most other mares dwarfed him in comparison.

Still, he did his best to maintain a regal, princely aura about him. He had a handsome, if cutely feminine face that all the girls wished to smooch, and his slender limbs almost waved about as like an elegant ribbon. Before, in an older time, he even wielded a beautiful longsword.

After his possession, that was traded for a two-handed greatsword between his legs.

The effect he tried to hold, however, was somewhat lessened by the fact his body resembled that of a pear.

Not that anyone would have dared to point that out.

If nothing else, he supposed, his preposterously prodigious princely posterior provided plenty of padding wherever he sat. Assuming said seat didn't immediately give way beneath his moon-sized flanks, he would never want for a comfortable cushion.

During those thousand years on the Moon, it had certainly made for an easier time sitting on the lunar surface. He could have done without the gray-white dust that stuck to it as a result, but as he had come to learn, beggars cannot be choosers.

Sighing, Luna stepped over to his wardrobe. Much like the rest of his chambers, it was a grand affair, larger so that he might feel smaller than he already was. It was lovely, truly, designed by hand with intricate metals, jewels, expensive woods, and stones. His dresser, in particular, reached nearly flush to the ceiling, made from Everfree oak the color of dark chocolate, firm and solid and framed with spooling curls of silver. He took hold of the two knobs, both inlaid with amethyst, sapphire, and emerald, and threw open the great gates to his dressings.

He chose a one-piece doublet woven from spider silk and gossamer, which shimmered with stars and twinkling moonlight every way he turned. Ample breathing room exposed the upper half of his slim chest, and long sleeves flowed to brush at his knuckles. Below his shapely waist, around his hips, hung low a sort of tabard or loincloth to his front and back, but exposed his cutie marks. This had the unintended side effect of allowing any passerby to gawk at his jiggling, ink-blotted assflesh, but he paid it no mind.

The main difficulty now was bringing his unruly beast to heel, as it brushed aside the front half of his fine cloth. Easily he could have relieved himself, or else have called in a servant to handle the task for him, but he refused. He felt acknowledging it in any way other than bitter scorn was admitting defeat, showing weakness to the entity who once shared his body. So instead he cast a repression spell, and although it made the sexual ache that much worse, he bore it. He would consider pleasure over his duties the day the moon's rays entered the befouled depths of Tartarus.

Next to adorn was his regalia. First came his crown, settled securely atop his mane of running night sky. Second his bluish true silver bracelets, and finally his slippers.

From his perch at the palace towers, he saw his sister's golden sun kiss the land's edge. He set his moon to rise, pointed constellations this way and that, finger outstretched like a conductor's baton. When the tapestry of dusk was woven to satisfaction, he moved on.

Briefly, Luna thanked the heavens high above he had no need to hold court tonight and teleported to the gardens. There, tucked in a corner he had specially reserved, was an abundance of lavender. He plucked as many bushels as was necessary and promptly graced the palace halls.

Placing aside the pleasant aroma lavender produced, there was a more specific reason he brought these in. Few knew it besides him, but they possessed a special quality that eased the dreams of those in their presence. Whilst he could not be expected or even capable of extending this same effort to all the ponies of Equestria, he felt it his responsibility to protect at least those that dwelt within these castle walls in this way.

Along the way, as he hung the flowers, Luna came across many guardsponies. Several among their rank - more as the evening wore on - were those of his Night Guard, many of whom themselves were thestral. They all bowed their heads as he passed them, nothing more, and he did the same in return.

However, he would have been dishonest to say his gaze did not wander. Indeed, there were quite a few individuals who caught his teal eye. They each of them, much to Luna's sexual frustrations, boasted the sort of figures and assets which teased and tantalized. Even those who were of the skinny or svelte variety were appealing in their own way, making up for a lack of armor-straining cleavage, tabard-munching thighs, or doorframe-brushing hips with a slender, dancer-like elegance.

How he yearned for them. Worse, he knew the ones of his own employ he could ask, and doubtless, they'd provide for their beloved Father Night.

But he would not. He would restrain himself from participating in such debauched, degenerate depravities. He was better, higher, a more refined creature than one controlled by their lusts, and he repeated this to himself inwardly with every forceful squeeze of his fists, where his sharp nails would dig painfully into the flesh of his palms.

Oh, by the star's light, though. If he was able, lesser, he'd have them. He'd have them in every which way he could imagine. He would bend them over and spread their cheeks with his clutching, grasping hands to expose their puffy, drooling cunts. He'd bury himself hilt-deep, stretching out their wombs to improbable, absurd sizes. He'd stuff their assholes too, and their mouths. He'd paint them white, inside and out. Then he'd rope the Day Guard into it, violate Celestia's chosen, and inspire an orgy the likes of which might only have been witnessed millennia ago in ancient fertility festivals.

So many tits, so many cunts, and ripe, fertile wombs. So much cum, and so many moaning, sweaty bodies, all for Celestia to walk into. And he could, at last, confess his feelings, the forbidden love he held for his celestial sibling, pulling her in close, wrapping his wings around and exploring the sweet interior of the alicorn's mouth. Hands groping, fingers dancing, cock grinding, balls smothering, her and her sister-wife fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking-

"Your grace."

Soft, uncertain words freed the Prince from his stupor. As though a drunken man wakened, he shook his head and slurped the drool back into his mouth.

"Ahem, yes, I offer my apologies. I was merely... contemplating."

Turning, Luna saw the voice belonged to a mature-looking thestral, clad in the silvers, purples, and blacks of the Night Guard. They contrasted and complimented greatly her moon-white coat, and the lavender mane and tail which draped gracefully against her. Her eyes, meanwhile, were a most stunning gold, as to remind one of clinking coins and riches.

She also boasted the most bounteous pair of breasts Luna had ever seen on any creature, pony or dragon, save perhaps Celestia.

"Yes, uhm, thinking," the mare said, coughing. Sun's righteous fury, the obscene way those udders jiggled. "But there was, er, something else."

She pointed a metal-clad finger to a point below Luna's sight. He followed the guard's gesture, and was greeted by his manhood which had broken from the confines of his cloth and sheath, and presented its full grandeur with nothing left to the imagination. Towards the end of it, head flaring wide, drooled a steady line of pre-cum that stained the carpet below.

Luna snapped a second repression spell around the cursed thing. The pressure of it made him wince and clench his jaw tightly, but he summarily readjusted his modesty as soon as the length retreated.

"I give my thanks for bringing this... intrusion to my attention," Luna said. In spite of how embarrassed he felt, he managed to maintain composure in his tone. His face was immensely flush, ear tips alight with shame, but fortunately, his dark-furred complexion sealed away his true feelings.

"Do not mention it, my Prince. Believe me, when I tell you, I know the feeling well."

In contrast, Luna could see with perfect clarity the blush writ upon his guard's features. The pegasus, smiling small, bowed and retreated to her previous post.

The whole way back, her breasts bounced and wobbled.

It was all Luna could do not to stop her, reach out and grab them.

Grunting, teeth grit together, Luna continued on his way. Several more wings of the castle were decorated with the sleep-assisting flora, and after a series of three immensely long hallways, he was done. With that, he could begin his dreamwalk.

First, he located an open window from which he could leap. His wings spread, and with his knowledge of the palace layout, he aimed in a particular direction. There, below the shadow of his midnight span, was a private, lonely little balcony looking down upon a cliffside from which Canter Valley dwelt.

He landed, and the enchanted glass of his slippers hit the floor with total silence. The rest of him was just as quiet, not a flap of his wings audible to anyone but the most attentive of thestrals.

Here was where he chose to enter the dreamscape, because here he could look out upon his people. The city of Canterlot around him, and down below a valley in which was sprinkled towns, villages, hovels. And amongst them to the south was a special, little-known place by the name of Ponyville.

Smiling, the moon's ruler stepped forwards, but his hoof did not touch solid ground. At least, it was not the ground from the balcony.

Rather, it was an ethereal, formless mass that constituted ground only by Luna's say so. Like leaving one room and entering another, Luna had seamlessly transitioned from the world of the living, to those of the dreaming. There was no jolt, no sudden shift, only a perfect bleeding of realities, until the initial was supplanted by the second.

More than anywhere else, more than the night itself with which he commanded, the realm of unconsciousness held the most comfort and natural ease for him. Navigation and existence in this ephemeral place felt simply, inexplicably natural.

He wondered, rather often, how things might have gone had he discovered the joys of dreamwalking earlier. Might he have avoided becoming Nightmare Moon? Perhaps then, he'd be free of this pornographic pillar which tormented him so.

Screams of fear and terror brought Luna back to attention. He was here for an explicit purpose, not to dwell on past regrets.

He cocked his head, turning his body in all directions to locate the origin of the sound. When he found it he made his way swiftly and dispatched the horrors within, be they nightmarish or more esoteric in nature. He repeated this several times, lending a helpful hand and wise words where he felt appropriate, and soon he was left with little else to do.

As he prepared to return to the material world, another sound caught his attention. This was another scream, but not one of fright. Rather, it was one of ecstasy.

Luna could not help but smirk. He had witnessed several such 'wet dreams' as they were called and knew the symphonies of pleasure well. Although he did not participate, it was a secret he would clutch to his breast til the grave that he received a certain thrill from peeking in on others' sexual fantasies.

What he was not so much enthused by was when he stumbled on those involving him. It wasn't that he was a prude - or so he liked to tell himself - but that he simply did not enjoy seeing himself engaged in any assortment of amorous activity.

The truth was, in fact, the polar opposite. But he could never admit that, so he buried it deep in his subconscious. Even if that required twisting his brain into knots to explain why he'd watched dreams from Twilight where she had taken each colossal inch of his midnight fuckmeat into her gullet, or those of a stacked, lactating Fluttershy suckling upon his dusky nipples, he would do it.

More moaning and wet, squelchy schklurps interrupted Luna's reminiscing. His ears perked, strained to hear better.

Had he heard that correctly? Was that his sister's voice?

The pleading words and vivacious vocalizations confirmed it, though he could not make them out from that distance. Ashamed as he felt, Luna was dying to know what of all things got his dear darling sister Celly hot under the crown. He flew closer, cheeks blazing hotter the louder Celestia's moans grew. It was always possible this wasn't Celestia's dream at all, but somepony else's fantasy of hers, although Luna sensed this was not the case.

Before him was a door, floating in ethereal space and designed after those outside Celestia's bedchambers. That was all the confirmation he needed.

He could have turned back. A part of him wanted to, but he was too damned curious to leave now.

Slowly, haltingly, Luna's hands approached the twin golden knobs. He grasped them softly, and, inch by inch, eased them open, exposing the dream and letting the sounds freely escape.

"Oh, Luna, yes! Ruin your worthless, peasant whore of a!"

Luna slammed the doors shut in one swift, violent act.

Turned about, he braced himself on the doors, feeling their intricate grooves cooly pressing into his back and wings, and took his breaths slow, steady, with meant to relax purpose. He could still hear the grunts and groans wafting out through the mahogany, and so he plugged his feathers into his ears.

He glimpsed the fantasy within for but a fleeting second, but that was enough to get the gist - Celestia on all fours, bent over her throne, her regalia gone and dress tattered. Himself wearing Celestia's crown, with a hoof pressing into her back as his titanic, bitchbreaking femboy piledriver buried deep into the tight, sloppy confines of his sister's puffy princess pussy. Two cum-fattened orbs swinging back and forth, slapping Celestia's luscious thighs with sticky, meaty, fluid-caked impacts.

He wanted to see it again.

There was a long period spent there, not allowing himself to do so. Yet, behind the door, he could hear them - he and his sister rutting as wild beasts in a forest. And, gradually, with glacial acquiescence, more of the evening Prince felt his steadfast will chipped away. As the eyes commonly tricked their owner, how could he be so sure he'd genuinely seen what he had seen? The dreamscape was an untamed realm of primal magics, so who was he to vouch for its voracity?

Luna peeked again, through a slivery crack in the door. The same sight greeted him, though the two were engaged now in a different position - Celestia lying prone, the dreamt version of himself straddling waist, thrusting his hips so that his shadowy shaft slammed and shunted bruskly inside the valley of Celestia's cavernous white titmeat.

Luna did not turn away this time. He continued watching as he took his own kin in too many filthy ways to spend words describing. Never touching himself, he did ease more into the dream, able to get right up next to the feverishly fornicating pair, undetectable so long as he made himself so.

Only when the urge arose to take the place of his dream-self did he pull away. Reluctantly wheeling on his hoof, he readied to leave this dream, depart from the scape, and never think of this encounter - although he could never again lay his eyes or hands upon Celestia the same way again.

Something strange occupied his periphery, an odd dark shape. He swiveled his head in its direction and saw what he could only think of as a tear in the fabric of the dreamscape itself. Lying beyond was pure blackness.

With trepidation, Luna inched forwards. He had sworn himself to the care of ponies' dreams, and if there was more to be learned, he saw it his duty to investigate.

The closer he came, the more it seemed to draw him in like a black hole. Fear took root, then, and he tried to retreat.

But the odd darkness had other plans. The split widened, silent as starfall, and gobbled him up.

He fell, and the light from Celestia's bedroom grew farther and farther away until he could no longer see it.

When he stopped falling, he was in the darkness' gullet. Impermeable black surrounded him from every angle. He could not even see his own hand an inch in front of him.

So, as with a torch, he lit his horn.

It allowed him to make out his body, but nothing besides. Reaching out, he found there was no solid mass to grab onto, not even the floor like the dreamscape lent him.

Lights appeared in the darkness. Not all at once, they came to like a lightbulb flickered, each a distant point. Some were further away, some closer. One was pink, another blue, green, yellow, purple.

But closest of all was red. Luna did not know where he was, or for that matter, how to return.

His decision was made, then. He walked, flew, floated, swam - whatever method of propulsion it was that carried him forward. The darkness offered no resistance, and with growing frenzy, he clawed towards the red light.

Through it, he could make nothing out. But it was shaped familiarly, like a conjured portal. Its edge became increasingly distinct the closer he got, a fine crimson glow wreathed in scarlet hellfire.

By the time he thought to turn around, the tides of shadow pushed him towards it. It was like they wanted to be rid of him as soon as he wanted to be rid of it.

Flailing and yelling, Luna fell through a hole in reality for the second time that day.

And landed face-first into the warm, furry embrace of substantial cleavage. He made a muffled sound, and above him a sharp, startled voice barked.

"What the fuck?!"

Pinned down behind an empty car, Loona grit her teeth. The sound of gunfire and bullets impacting metal and shattering glass filled the parking lot. From where the shots came were several policemen. Loona didn't know how many, only that there were even more across the battleground, separating her and Millie from Blitzo and Moxxie.

Wherever there was a break in the fire, Loona would pop up and fire off a shot or three from her pistol. Sometimes she'd hit, other times not, but her job wasn't getting any easier. There were simply too many for her to handle alone.

It didn't help that she was more stacked than a mountain of pancakes. No normal bra size was built to restrain her enormous hellhound hooters, and it made moving as swiftly as she'd like - or need - a colossal pain in her back.

Satan himself be blessed if she had to acknowledge the reason why they were in this mess to begin with. Before she could linger on the matter, she called out to Millie.

"Hey! Could use a bit of help over here!"

"Sorry darlin'," came the imp's response, far to her left. She summersaulted, ducked, and slid to where Loona was. Just as fast she popped up behind the hood, spraying and praying that the automatic rifle she carried would do the job.

It did, or well enough at least, downing four officers in one fell sweep of the barrel. More remained, but the rain of gunfire was lessened temporarily.

Before the remaining men got off more rounds, Millie ducked again. Loona beside her had her pistol clutched to a massive, heavy breast, knees pulled up.

"Okay, next car's over there." Loona, still in her human disguise, gestured towards the right of them and tried to ignore how it made her titflesh bounce. Millie nodded, comprehending. "On the count of one, two..."

"Try calling for backup after this, little piggies! Ahahahahaha!"

"Oh boy," Millie and Loona sighed in unison.

Precious few moments after Blitzo made his typically vulgar proclamation, a heavy explosion rattled the air. Orange-white fire bloomed out into a cloud, followed by screaming, then silence.

Cautiously, ever so cautiously, the two demons peered up from their makeshift barricade. No more bullets came to greet them, but neither could they make out a thing through the explosions' resultant smoke.

Preferring not to waste any potential escape time, they deftly, quiet as silk crept alongside the vehicle, between it and the next, except for the faint plap-aplap of Loona's tits against her midriff and one another.

There was empty space, but through those they darted, hopped, or rolled as needs be. Eventually, the cars became fewer and farther between, flung about or twisted into wreckage by whatever big boom Blitzo had decided to give them a taste of. A grenade, a bomb, an RPG? Neither could say.

Nor was there point in saying so. Right then, the only thing they needed to focus on was getting the hell out of that place, quite literally.

"Loony! Oh thank fuck you're okay."

Blitzo, sliding out the fog of war, moved close with his arms spread. When he was a few steps away from her, she dropped her human disguise - just temporarily - to pull her lips back in a warning snarl. Laughing awkwardly, he pulled away.

Millie, meanwhile, leapt to hug her lover. That was an embrace fully welcomed by the other imp, though maybe less so the subsequent squishing of cheeks and fretting, fussing.

"Blitzo," Millie started. "Mind if ah ask what that explosion was?"

"Oh, nothing special," was Blitzo' answer, before he whipped out a rocket launcher from behind him, longer than he was tall. Plastered across his face was a truly wicked grin. "Just this beautiful baby. Wuldja look at 'er? Gets the job done real damn quick, I'll tell you that!"

"Sir..."

Moxxie's interjection came reluctantly, cautiously parting from Millie. Blitzo cocked his head his way, lovingly stroking a hand along the firearm's fat barrel all the while.

"If you had that with you the whole time," he continued. Then, suddenly raging, his voice rose to a fever pitch. "Why didn't you use it from the start?!"

Blitzo rolled his eyes, as though the question was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard, and the answer all too obvious.

"Moxxie, I know you're a fucking idiot with rocks for brains, but I didn't take you as this dumb. Blow up too much shit and you'll have mortals with helicopters and tanks crawling up your asshole. But if the backup's there and you can't deal with them all? You use the big guns. Take the lesson to heart, Mox. Maybe you can use it when you're plowing Millie sometime."

Moxxie's anger, briefly flaring, vanished sooner than it appeared. He sighed, huffing dejected and insolent, while Millie cooed and rubbed at his shoulder.

Now it was Luna's turn to speak, tapping her boot impatiently with arms folded, gun holstered. "Guys, maybe let's keep the chit-chat to when we get back home? There's gonna be more soon, and I have enough of a headache as it is."

Truth be told, the ache was centralized more between her loins than her head. That wasn't to say she got hot and bothered at the thought of some good old-fashioned murder - except for every now and again - but it had been the reason for their precarious little predicament in the first place. Not that anyone besides her knew, other than it was her fault.

To Loona's complete and utter lack of surprise, Moxxie decided to rub that particular salt in her wound. "You're the one who let that guard escape to begin with!" he jabbed, poking forth an accusatory claw.

Loona considered. She'd half a mind to punt him clear across the parking lot, but then they'd have to scramble to find him so they could leave. Millie, thankfully, put a halt to things before they could reach that point.

Regardless, Loona glared red hot daggers in his tubby direction. Despite the wobble of her pendulous breasts set off by each breath taken, which otherwise might have ruined her intimidating aura, Moxxie knew better. He shrank, fearing the wrath of a hellhound, no matter how weighed down she was by a pair of balloon-tits, each half again the size of volleyballs.

"Loona's right. Keep the bickerin' ta later, you two," said Millie.

"Well al-damn-righty then!" Blitzo exclaimed, clapping once. "Let's get the fuck out of here, shall we?"

Upon returning home - or as close to home as Loona was going to get - the gang did their usual, fanning out to occupy themselves in their own corner of the building. Blitzo was in his office, no doubt being made to hear out endless expletives and wanton sluttery from Stolas. Millie and Moxxie were towards the receptionist's desk, chatting about whatever in that sickeningly sweet, lovey-dovey way they always talked. She paid none of it mind, but Moxxie did throw the occasional, wary glance her way.

She gladly returned the gesture with either a silent snarl or a middle finger.

Loona hated them. She didn't, really, but she told herself she did. Bless them all that they had bedmates. Moxxie had Millie, Blitzo had Stolas, no matter how much he might've been weary of the bird man. Everyone she knew, save Octavia, had a partner.

But her? Forget it. The closest she'd gotten to reeling a catch was with Vortex, up until he told her, offhandedly, not realizing in the slightest she wanted for him that he had a girlfriend. And so, just like that, her dreams were crushed to a fine powder in his no-doubt strong, commanding hands.

That was all bad enough on its own, but now she was in heat. Distraction had been the reason for her folly earlier. She'd let a security guard slip by to call the police, too captivated by her plump, jiggly ass to do anything. Instead, she'd stood there like a lark, drooling dumbly as each running stride away made the guard's egregious expanse of booty ripple like a lake disturbed by stones.

Her fists clenched. Sat in the corner, a thick thigh crossed over the other, she tried pushing down the fire in her cunt.

It was no use. A hellhound in heat was a terrible creature to sate, and she knew it'd only get worse as the days wore on. Eventually, she'd have to stay behind while the others did their dirty work.

So, admittedly, not that different from the usual.

But there was a difference between not doing her job because she couldn't be assed and not doing it because she was unable to.

Technically, she could. But she had the sneaking suspicion the little lovebirds or her adoptive father would be much pleased by her moaning into the phone while she buried her fingers inside her knuckle-deep.

"Loona."

A voice called her attention, but she ignored it. It was an annoying, grating voice she would punch if she could. No, she'd rather continue thinking of sex and masturbating. Maybe she'd pull out her triple XXXL doggy dick dildo from her dresser and fuck herself silly with it. Her sheets would stink of bitch in heat, but she liked that smell, so it was fine.

"Loona."

The voice again. She glared at nothing in particular, hazy red eyes lost to lustful wanderings.

Of course, she wouldn't just use a dildo. She had all manner of sex toys. Vibrators, for instance, were pleasant. But she enjoyed, more than any other toy in her prostitute's playset, the milk pumps she could attach to her tits. While her breasts gave no milk, not until she was heavy with pup at least, she regardless adored the sensation and idea of being milked. Something about being able to cast her constant frets aside and be a happy, horny she-wolf broodbitch with a gravid belly and milky sloshers got her head all fuzzy.

"Loona!"

That fucking voice, Satan bless or God damn it, she didn't care. Reality came to her as though commanded by a finger's snap, and across the room, she saw Moxxie's punchable, pissy face giving her a look.

It was a look she didn't appreciate.

"What?" she snapped. Her fantasies were gone in an instant, replaced with supreme annoyance for the one who'd shooed them off.

"I was trying to tell you we were getting a call, but you kept staring and drooling like a half-wit."

"Oh stuff your cock in it, Mox."

"You stuff it! Stuff your... in the... c... Do your job!"

Loona rolled her eyes, and went back to pretending she was on the phone. Moxxie, fortunately for his skin, did not disturb her after that.

What did disturb her sometime later was Blitzo, calling her into his office. Loona did not fail to catch the shit-eating grin Moxxie shot her as she padded away.

She swore he'd pay for that. Millie's wrath be blessed.

"Yes, Blitzo?" she asked, sighing boredly as she stepped into the room.

"Come on now, Loony, don't be like that. Can't a father talk to his daughter every now and then?"

Loona mumbled under her breath, "I'm not your daughter," but too quiet for him to hear. She took her seat obediently, leaning back to light a cigarette. That was something she was glad he didn't get on her case about, though it wasn't as if cancer was a thing down in Hell.

Well, not the sort that would kill you, anyway.

"Is everything alright? Moxxie came in and told me you've been distracted recently."

Oh, that little bastard was gonna get it now.

"Now, as you know, I don't often take Moxxie's advice for some really obvious fuckin' reasons, but this time I gotta admit he's right. I'm not blaming you for what happened earlier today, but I just wanna know my girl's alright. If something's wrong, just tell me."

Loona's mind flashed back to earlier. The security guard, having had her pistol kicked from her hand, gaped at her. Swiftly, as Loona had snatched the gun, she'd turned tail and fled.

And in doing so, exposed Loona to what she could only describe as a fat shelf of wobbling jello.

How that guard performed her job or moved around with any swiftness Loona hadn't a clue. Though, she admitted, she managed to get by with her chest, a rack so prolific she could and often did use it as a pillow when sitting and bored. Perhaps then it wasn't so unthinkable.

Christ, if she could have chased after her, sunk her claws into that doughy flesh, spread her legs and mashed their pussies together until she cried with delight. Then after splattering their respective feminine juices all over each other's loins, she'd stand up, drop her clothes, and sit on that guard's face until she'd cum enough times to stop pressing her thighs together for at least a couple hours.

"Loooony," said Blitzo, waving a hand in front of her.

She bit at him.

He was too experienced with her for it to have done anything though. He pulled back, folding his arms, but he did appear genuinely worried.

"Sorry, I'm uh," Loona tried. Her blood red irises darted left and right, searching for a suitable explanation. "I've been sick with something. I don't know what but it makes my head hurt like a motherfucker."

To emphasize her lie, she coughed roughly.

"Oh my poor baby," he crooned. He didn't move to touch her though. "You know what? Fuck it. Me, Mills and Mox can take care of the shop for a few days. You stay in bed and get your rest, okay?"

"Yeah, that," she coughed again, hacking and sputtering. "That sounds great. Mind if I go now?"

"You're excused," he said, waving her off. "Get well soon, baby girl!"

She nodded, eye twitching, and thanked him. She took her leave, and upon entering the main lobby, she spied Moxxie with Millie out of sight. Her black lips peeled back to expose her sharp canine fangs, and she held his gaze, drawing a claw along her neck. Then, she twirled around, tail sashaying behind her, and tossed him a wordless double-bird as she left. When she was home, however, she considered that maybe she should have thanked him. Now she had an excuse to not do work and jill her snatch til it was numb. She'd be certain to phrase it exactly like so when she returned, too.

What Loona thought would be a few days of heat turned out to be more than a week. She wasn't going to complain about being able to relax at home, but there was a problem.

That problem was - there was no relaxation. She was constantly horny, and every day that passed made her hornier. Her hormones and ovaries were in absolute overdrive, and she doubted highly she wouldn't be able to go anywhere without trailing behind her the scent of fertile canine cunny.

Of course, she had locked her door the moment she got in. It wouldn't do to have Blitzo walk in on her diddling herself. She didn't want to do it, but if that happened, she might have to kill him so he didn't say anything.

The lock soon proved nowhere near enough to protect her privacy. The noises she made were too loud, and the smell of sex and ready-to-breed bitch too potent. It wasn't difficult casting a spell or two on her room to stop those leaving the walls, but they didn't make her cycle any easier.

Morning, evening, afternoon, dawn, and dusk alike were spent doing the same thing. She fucked herself on or with every type of toy she had, fingers included. Her sheets were soaked through with sweat and sex stink within a couple days, and a few days beyond the whole room reeked of her essence. She couldn't get away from it, and that only made her tribulations worse.

Loona was glad for one thing and one thing alone - Blitzo trusted her when she said she was sick. He didn't come in, just knocked, asked how she was doing, and either let her be or attempted holding conversation, which she would proceed to respond by telling him to fuck off.

Not even her dreams were safe. When she did find slumber, it was hardly restful. Cocks, cunts, tits, asses, cum, girlsquirt, milk. They all filled her sleep nearly as much as she wanted to be filled herself. Whether that was with a primal slab of fuckmeat the size of her forearm or a woman's tongue buried deep into her wanting folds, she didn't fucking care. She just wanted to fuck, plain and simple as.

She thought too about the specific people she wanted to fuck. Her mind often drifted to Vortex, picturing his strong frame above her, powerful muscles flexing. He'd smile, speak to her soft and kind like he had many times. His thick arms would pluck her from the ground light as a feather, pin her legs behind her, and thrust his knotted cock into her womb, filling her with his seed and sowing within a litter of pups.

Or maybe Verosika. She wondered how Blitzo would feel about that if he saw her fucking his succubus ex. She knew those that hailed from the Circle of Lust had access to all kinds of dirty magic. She could give herself her own doggy dong, or maybe get plowed by the succubi's dick - conjured or plastic. She heard, too, some succubi could do wild things with their tongues, long and serpentine, capable of filling a hole up as much as any dick out there.

Lastly, she thought about Octavia. Her own personal feelings on Stolas and his questionable arrangement with Blitzo aside, his daughter was rather fetching, she thought. She was a little younger than her, but not by much and still legal. Not to mention, her chest was similarly close to rivaling her own. She could picture it so easily, their cream-filled mammaries swollen to bursting, nipples protruding out with such hardness they'd rip any fabric to tatters. They could suckle and slurp, nurse on one another's tits at the same time, or milk the other from behind or on top.

Like a whirlpool, these lusts and countless more swirled within her head. Not a waking second of her days were spent without fantasizing. Loona couldn't function; this was by all measurement the single worst season she had experienced.

If she didn't get better soon - and thus speaking, she only continued to worsen - Blitzo would start getting suspicious. And if Blitzo got suspicious for long enough, she'd have to tell him. And if she had to tell him, she'd have to kill him, and she really needed to keep her job.

It was over a full week and a half when she considered going down to Lust. Her pride would be wounded, but she could bear it if it meant she could show her face in public again.

The plans formed in her mind as she fell asleep. She'd found she slept better with the pumps around her nipples, and a vibrating dildo and buttplug shoved in her holes. Like the nights before - or what qualified as night in Hell - she dreamt of fucking.

That was when something slammed into her, hard. Her eyes snapped wide open, staring into a set of gleaming teal ones, and she blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"What the fuck?!"

"I apologize sincerely, I don't-"

Luna had scarcely got but a few words from his soft lips before Loona reached behind her pillow, drew out a pistol, and fired.

The bullet never hit.

It crumpled audibly before clattering to the floor, a misshapen hunk of metal. When Loona looked where she had shot, the strange intruder had erected a wall of magic around him. It shimmered in the form of a dome, the same color as his eyes.

So what was there for Loona to do? Shoot some more, of course.

"Are you quite done yet?" he asked, nonplussed. His pouty lips were pursed into a thin, albeit amused smile, sleeved arms crossed before his chest.

"Not until I empty the mag. I need to vent off some fucking steam right now."

"I'm sure you do."

He didn't mean it to come out as sardonic as it sounded. His gaze had drifted across the room, seeing the hellhound's bed in disarray, clothes on the floor, familiar tools of pleasure strewn about all over. He could tell by her sheen of sweat, the matted fur clinging to her curvaceous body, and above all, the unmitigated stench of pheromones.

"Shove it, asshole," she growled. The gun was long since emptied, so she tossed it against the barrier. Like the bullets, it rebounded, and not a hair on Luna's pretty head was harmed. "What the fuck are you, who the fuck are you, and how did you get in my room?"

He uncrossed his arms, unfolded his wings, and bowed, ignoring the growing pressure and sensation down below. "My name is Prince-"

"Hahahahaha, you're a fucking dude? You've gotta be kidding me. You've got more ass on you than the security guard I almost shot!"

He did not possess the foggiest idea of what she was talking about. Brow raised, his hands - dainty and feminine as they were - came to rest upon a set of foalbearing hips.

"May I continue?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever. I clearly can't get at you so it's not like I have a choice."

"Thank you," he answered courteously, bowing once more. "As previously mentioned I am Prince Luna-"

"Wait, Loona?"

"Yes, Luna."

"Loona," she said, rolling the name on her tongue. "That's my name. You get off on going around and stealing girls' names, little boy? Or is that what the hitman who hired you told you to say because he thought it'd be funny?"

"I'm terribly sorry to disappoint, but Luna is indeed my real name. Ell-yoo-en-ay."

"Oh, shit. My bad then, I guess." She said it reluctantly, as though apologizing for any kind of wrongdoing was poison to her tongue. "I'm also Loona, but ell-oh-oh-en-ay."

"Interesting. Now that that's out of the way, I'd very much like to continue to answer the questions, which I remind you you asked me to answer in the first place. I am Prince Luna of the sovereign lands Equestria. I also am known by other names - Father Night, Prince of the Night, Prince of Dreams, Sleepwalker. As for how I arrived, I cannot tell you true if I'm to be honest, as I am not so sure myself. I was walking the dreamscape-"

"The dreamscape?"

He sighed, long and hollow. His fingers rose to pinch between his furrowed brows, rubbing at the ache that began to stir there.

"The dreamscape," he explained, "Is a plane of reality different from the material world. It, as you might imagine, is where the dreams of those who sleep manifest. I walk those realms, dispatching nightmares and offering advice to those that would hear, as is my sworn duty."

"Oooh, how gallant."

He did not rise to the bait. "We- Err, I - my apologies, a slip of the tongue born a bygone era - was in that place when I found myself falling into darkness. Then, I found myself here. I swear to you, on my sunlight sister's honor, I have nothing to do with you, your home, or wherever it is you live."

"Hell."

He raised his eyes curiously. "Hm?"

"Hell, that's where we are, and I'm a hellhound."

"Oh," he said, thinking. "That is... unfortunate. I haven't died, have I?"

"Take that barrier down and we can find out."

"I'd rather not."

"I was kidding."

She rolled her eyes, clucked her tongue and cocked a hip, wider than his only because she was larger than he.

Much, much larger, actually. Where he was a petite stallion of five feet, she loomed mountainously overhead at what must've been no less than eight. And, despite being a head or so shorter than Celestia, was bustier than her by leagues. Each udder was a cushion of its own, capped with fist-sized nipples, areolas the width of two palms flat, and a true canyon of cleavage he could suffocate in.

"Hey! Quit staring perv."

"Hard for a hot-blooded stallion like myself to ignore when you're strutting about the place naked."

She snarled fiercely, tail twitching, claws out. The threat was empty, but her wits had raised, and she wasn't about to be quipped at by some soft prince boy. When her ploy garnered no reaction, she huffed with a wobble of her breasts and returned to standing.

"Hot-blooded stallion my ass. You've got almost as much hip on your tiny little body than I do."

She gestured at him in general as well as his finery, and the long starlight river hair running down his narrow shoulders.

"So you're a Prince, huh? Some King's f***** son."

He scowled. "I am no King, nor my sister queen. We rule by the titles of Prince and Princess. From our experience, Kings and Queens have been power-hungry villains, and that's not a connotation either of us wish to impose."

"And what about the other thing? You like taking dick or something?"

"I prefer to give it, thank you, and I'd sooner have a maiden than a man. Though-" Luna chewed his lip "-Give me a stallion such as I, and I might not complain so much."

She laughed, slapping her hand against a strongly athletic thigh. There was ripple, but nowhere close to the likes of her bosom. She was fit, and her thighs thick but with corded muscle rather than fat.

Luna could not help but wonder how tight she could wrap them around his waist.

"You know what? Assuming you're not bullshitting me, and I still haven't decided whether you are or not, I think I like y-" She stopped. "...ou."

"Is something the matter?"

Her gaze wasn't on him anymore. She was focused someplace lower, mumbling under her breath, "Holy shit."

"We're in Hell. Would it not be unholy shit?"

"Zip it, wiseass," she retorted, but the effort was half-hearted.

Unbeknownst to the pretty boy prince, his royal scepter had come barging out his sheath again. It was like a hound in that way, stimulate it with enough visions of squeezable babes and gushy cunts, tease it with the scent of a tasty pussy meal, and it'd come running and drooling to boot.

"i'm, uh, sorry," she said, spitting out the word. "For insulting you earlier."

'You might not look like a man,' she thought. 'But that's because all your manliness went between your legs.'

His response came soft-spoken, and utterly oblivious. "Do not worry. I don't like to hold grudges."

Loona couldn't take her eyes off it. Unconsciously she began to pant, and rubbed her thighs together absently. This only served to further fuel the flames in her fertile furnace.

"Are you alright?" he asked, genuine worry etched in his tone. Consciously ignoring it or not, he saw her blush and damp perspiration freshly dripping down her muzzled face. It was truly incredible how ignorant he was to the obvious, but he merely assumed she was dealing with the typical trials of breeding season. The signs were all there; he couldn't be blamed.

"C-can you, do you think you can maybe pull down that... magic wall dome thing? Whatever the fuck it is."

"Only if you swear not to attack me again with-" He gestured at the abandoned firearm. "-'Whatever the fuck that is'."

"Yeah! Uhm, yeah, sure, no problem, don't even worry about it, dude."

Nodding, all smiles and bright big eyes, he permit the barrier fall away. From top to bottom, it disappeared until he was standing, unprotected, in a horny hellhound's den. The poor boy couldn't begin to imagine what he was in for.

The moment the magic was gone, she leapt forward. He tried to erect the barrier again, but she was too quick on her feet, a hellhound's swiftness pumping her legs.

His eyes shut, flinching, expecting the hot press of teeth into his neck, or claws his back, but they never came. He dared crack one eye open, slowly, slowly...

Just in time to see her grab his cock.

"Wha- what are... y-you, fffff..."

He groaned, clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly. He tried to pull away, but when his hips moved back they slid forth as if on their own.

'Damn this body. It betrays me.'

"Do you have any fucking idea," she said, sniffing the air wildly. Now that she wasn't trying to hide it, she threw all caution aside and sniffed, snorted, snuffled his powerful masculine scent freely. Lungs filled to the brim with virile stallion essence, and she drew her wide dog's tongue over her lips before pressing it against his flare. "What I've been going through? Two weeks, almost two fucking weeks of getting myself off non-fucking-stop, and it wasn't getting any better. I was about to whore myself out in the Circle of Lust just for a chance at dick. And now?"

Luna was barely hearing her. His resistance was brittle and shattered within seconds of her ministrations. He had dared not once to so much as lay a finger against his cock since he returned, and now all those denied sensations were coming to the fore with vengeful force.

Loona cackled. "You walk in here, looking girlier and barely any bigger than Millie. And, somehow, you've got a prick the size of my fucking arm? Christ, kid. Where have you fucking been all my life?"

"Unnngh," came his reply.

She kissed him. Or, she kissed his cock, anyway. Her glossy black lips, full and plush, pressed smooch after lustful smooch to his dickhead, the shaft, medial ring, traveling further to his crotch where the balls sat. They hung low and fat, brushing his knees, big as cantaloupes. She kissed those too, and his sheath.

She found it cute. His junk was a deeper shade than the rest of him, but closer towards the base it was mottled black like his flanks, an inkwell spilled onto his meat. That ink it seemed had spattered across the rest of his equipment, freckling his churning foalfactories with dark freckles.

Loona cupped a hand around one nut, and weighed it. She played with the sloshing orb like a funny ball, bouncing, rolling, squeezing it, and massaging between her digits. Crouched down, legs apart in a slutty squat, she need look up only barely to find his hollow, glassy-eyed gaze. In hers, there was a strong lust no doubt, but also a kind of sick, perverted love.

"How long's it been since you've cum, pretty boy?"

She squeezed again.

"Bff, rgg. Uh- ahh. Uhm, a very, very long time, I must admit." He panted. "I've not felt another's touch nor mine own in centuries."

Her eyes went huge, big as dinner plates. Then a terrifying, wicked grin split her lips, but he was too fuckdrunk to care.

"Let's change that then, shall we?"

She stood, letting him stand there while she rooted around for her spellbook. Not any ordinary tome of magic, this was one explicitly for the purposes of sex, and she'd gotten in her mind a truly terrible idea.

Finding the page, she grinned wider and began to chant. She bent over as she did so, wagging her tail and shaking her ass at him so she might further waft her scent into his nostrils. They flared, and he drank it eagerly, now openly and unashamedly pleasuring himself. One hand twisted and tweaked a hard dark nipple, while the other pumped fiercely at his shaft.

There was a mild tremble in the room, a hot pink fuschia glow, then nothing. Loona pivoted and marched back to her prey and noted with pride the glowing pink runes wrapped around the base of his prick, with another band still where his sack connected to his loins.

"What... what hast thou... d-done to us?"

"Nothin' much, don't worry about it."

Luna thought that maybe he should have been, but he was too horny to think much of anything. She kissed his cheek and lowered herself, squatting again.

"How big is this thing? Have you measured?"

She hefted best she could, in both hands, the log of navy bitchbuster. It, like the testicle she had weighed, seemed heavier than it already looked. The Loona of yesterday might have been ashamed to drape it across her face and lap at the sticky, sweaty mess that dripped and clung to the bestial lance, but she was the Loona of eleven miserable days in heat. And that Loona was perfectly happy to let the little lordling lord his cock over her, so long as she remained in control.

"Th-three feet."

"God damn. I knew horsecocks were big, but I never expected this much."

"We- I... am not the average stallion."

"Clearly," she muttered.

Scooting around, she shifted until she squatted right before him. She spread her legs perfectly horizontal to the rest of her, giving him an uninterrupted view of her front and the leaking box below her belly. Leaking indeed it was as well, a broken faucet of upturned honey.

Luna wasn't any better. His 'pre-cum' so to say, after so long without pleasure, had become pure, undistilled foalbatter. Each drop was packed with teeming hordes of sperm, ready to gangbang any egg into absolute submission, marinating ovaries and rendering the first womb it touched pregnant with an army.

It was the only way his balls could keep from exploding or expanding otherwise. If it all stayed in, he doubted he'd be able to move.

"So you say you haven't jerked it in centuries," Loona droned. Mostly though, she was concerned with pleasuring him. Her hands shifted, one palm flat to his mast's top, the other against the bulging spunk pipe that ran underneath. They moved in alternating directions, back and forth, easing the ball-slag out his battering ram cockflare. "Why is that?"

Through his girly moans and cute splutters, he told her about the envy for his sister, his fall and possession by Nightmare Moon, the subsequent freedom, how he had gotten his titanic tool, why he didn't want to touch it. She listened passively, never interrupting, switching her technique, speed, grip firmness up now and again, often finding personal pleasure in groping his backed-up spermbanks. The more he talked, the closer he got, and the closer he got, the more effort she put in.

"No orgasm in over a thousand years, huh," she hummed, considered. How would she fare in that situation? Not well, but then again she'd never be afraid of her own body in the first place.

She looked up at him, fluttering her lashes. "Well tell you what, pretty boy. Or should I call you my Prince? That's about to change."

She dove in and wrapped her lips around his cock. She sealed it, pressed her tongue right against and then into his urethra, what little of that she could. For a flash second, he grabbed for her head, but she growled a warning.

Then, Luna came. For the first time in a millennia, he hit climax, throwing his head back so quick and so rough the crown flew off his head and clanged against the wall. He didn't care, he just bucked his hips like an untamed beast and let loose unrestrained noises of ecstasy.

But he didn't cum.

Pain followed heartbeats after pleasure. There was an ache all around his meat, the worst at his tip, worse than any ache he'd felt prior. His kegs churned and pumped out barrels' worth of spunk, but before it could leave his cumslit and bloat the bitch's belly, it slid back.

And right into his balls. He moaned as they tingled, then swelled. Larger, heavier, burbling with more brew than he'd begun with. Once the grueling toll was taken, they were watermelons more than cantaloupes.

"Mmmh. There we go."

Stumbling, panting, he fell back against the wall. She pouted, tut-utting and crossing her arms under her hefty bust.

"Oh come on. You're not seriously out are you?"

He said, "No," but it came out a pathetic whimper, so he shook his head instead.

"Good, 'cause I'm not done with you for a long while yet."

She got down on all fours, entering a wolf-like stance. Her claws scraped against the floor as she stalked towards him, wagging her tail, waving her hips so she looked like a lion ready to pounce. And every padding step of the way her obnoxiously overgrown breasts dragged along with her.

When she reached him, he was even harder than earlier. His pillar stood boastful and mighty, but Loona knew the truth of the matter. That truth was that Luna was a defenseless princeling, rendered too aroused and desperate to put up any kind of fight against her. She could do whatever she wanted, and he'd have to take it.

Her belly hit the ground, or close to it as she could get. Taking firm hold upon her gray nipples she lifted her tits, pulling them to the tippity top of his shaft before releasing. They fell one before the other with a resounding set of 'Slaps!' that echoed all throughout the room - doubtless the house without her spells. He moaned, cock twitched, burbled heady marbles of stinky sludge.

"I saw the way you were looking at my tits, you know." Loona shook her head, like she was disappointed in him. "Dirty, filthy fuckin' perv. I guess I can give you a taste of 'em, but only if you say please."

She grinned.

"Please!"

"Pretty please," she corrected.

"Pretty p-please, w-with a cherry on top! Hnngghfuck. W-we, I, needst thy assistance, t-terribly!"

"Did you know you talk all fancy when you're dumb? It's kinda cute, tee-bee-aich."

"J-just," he begged, but he never finished the plea. She was on him like that, using her nipples to drag her breasts up and down, up and down. Rather than hold the thick nozzles themselves though, she used the piercings that adorned them, each a massive silver doorknocker that provided easy leverage.

Within seconds, Luna was back to mewling, mindless and frothing. Loona found it hard to say where more white foam was bubbling up from - his mouth or his cock.

His fucktanks gave a noisy, ominous gurgle. Then, within the blink of an eye, a salvo of tacky ball-tar was raining down over her, sinking into her fur, sticking inside her hair. To think such gross outputs were merely pre. What sort of loads was he capable of dumping?

'Scratch that. Definitely his cock.'

She didn't mind. Her tongue rolled out, unfurling and wiped her face clean of as much cum as she could. So thick, salty, creamy. The thickest nougat held not but the faintest kindling flicker to the boy's royal jizz, almost more comparable to molasses than anything.

The remaining dregs drizzling down his meatpole she similarly feasted upon. And there was plenty of it. Those adorably speckled nuts of his were an endless fount of life-giving nectar, prolific with protein and the seeds that would see grown a farms' worth of ponies, because she had the sneaking suspicion his equine genes would have overpowered those of her canine ones.

Before long, between her oral attentions and the pillowy cushions wrapped oh so snuggly around his shaft, he was edging to orgasm again. She saw, and fucked his cock with her tits faster, now gripping each meaty udder whole. Claws sank deep, cleavage squished, rubbing and grinding them together asymmetrically.

The second orgasm slammed into him like a freight train. He thrust himself up into her titty sandwich, so enormous most of it managed to swallow up his immense length, but once again no cum entered the world. Dry as a bone it boiled up to the top, then ran down below, flowing and fattening his balls.

Growing larger, they pushed against her breasts til she was forced to retreat. Loona watched and reclined on her haunches, happy to observe as his orbs grew. Lurching inch by lurching inch the bloat was steady, if enormous, so that his thunderous thighs were pushed apart to make room. By the time it stopped, they were near to peer with her hell puppies.

Luna was, for his part, nigh catatonic. His slim chest rose and fell beneath his doublet, nipples hard and poking against the moonshine cloth. He'd give an errant twitch here and there, limb and third leg alike, but he was obviously pained. The sheer enormity of his balls, backed up as they were, yearned fierce for reprieve.

Loona would give it, but only if he could pick himself up.

Luckily, she knew just how.

With a fleeting self-fondle, her left hand traced down the curve of her teat, her taut and flat tummy. Digits curled, nails hooking into the fur and skin beneath so that her hand crawled below like a spider. Making with her fingers a peace sign, she spread apart the puffy lips of her pussy, briefly teasing her clit, pushing inside her canal.

She shuddered, but only slightly. She pushed her fingers deeper until they were fully inside, and wiggled them around, swirling and gathering up her juices. When she pulled out, it was with an audibly wet shlick-shlurp and 'Pop!' as they came free. Her own nectar clung to her fur, soaking to the bone, and stretched out in a web when she spread them.

Luna, breathless, gasping for dear life, watched her approach. She knelt to him, and pressed her knuckles underneath his snout.

The result was immediate. His pupils dilated, nostrils flared wide, and he snorted the scent of her being without shame. Glad to see her efforts worked, she stood, but not before wiping her cunny honey against his nose.

Turning, she padded to the bed and climbed on top. On all fours and doggy style seemed the appropriate position, and with her ass up, face down to press her muzzle against the sodden sheets, she breathed deeply of herself and waited for him to come.

She needn't wait long. He followed, standing on trembling hooves, and with her tail going on to sway back and forth, her heated scent was buffeted at him again and again like the most delicious jungle winds.

His body, small as it was, clambered and scrabbled for purchase toward his mate. His balls hung so low he was forced to walk with them before him or else bow-legged, and his cock ached something fierce. Ruby lust burned bright in his veins, so much his usually deep midnight pole turned a starless evening black towards the tip.

"Get on with it already," Loona rumbled, shoving her rump at him. "Stick it in, and fucking fuck me."

Luna's reply was a low grunt. He had to either stand, or as he chose, climb on top of her, but that felt right to him. He pressed himself to her, fingers first kneading the dough of her iron tough assflesh, hips, tracing the contours of faint abdominals, and last to her pendulous tits.

Pressing his flare to her cunt, he pushed inside the same moment he found her nipples.

She yowled.

The combined feeling of having her hole stretched by a cock of such girth, and her teats being roughly yanked brought Loona her first orgasm of the night. Her sex quavered spasmingly around him, and a deluge of doggy dew washed against his crotch, made his dusky fur dank with the smell of bitch. Although dimly aware of what was happening and what he was doing, Luna smirked.

But Loona, in spite of herself, wasn't so pleased.

"G-get your hands off my fucking tits, perv. Y-you're supposed to plow me into a coma, not molest my fucking tits."

He heard her, but didn't show acknowledgment. She growled, snarled, spat, and cursed as he continued milking her udders for milk that wasn't there, but she didn't object enough to actually force him to halt.

Besides, once Luna began to fuck, she shut it rather quick.

His motions were slow, to begin with. It had been so long, too long, he now realized, since he'd shared a bed with someone - although he hadn't expected said someone to be a hellhound from a different dimension. But pussy was pussy, and this girl's pussy was tight as a vice.

To an extent, it made it difficult for him to do what he wanted. The longer he pumped, though, dragging his cock in and out with little motions like a seesaw, never burying more in her than a third of his length at a time, she yielded to him. The submission was halting, progressive, but he soon discovered her velvety walls resizing to accommodate his supreme fuckslab, whether she was happy to or not.

And oh, was she happy. She hated that she was, more thanks to his ceaseless groping of her chest and the roughness brought with it than his fucking her, but she also loved it. Hadn't she wanted to be treated this way, after all? Else, why did she love having those pumps work away at her tender titty taps?

Loona decided to not think on it further. She'd rather snap and snarl fruitlessly, rake her claws, and shred the sheets than risk driving him off. The billowing oven of arousal inside her had finally, however minor and temporarily, been quenched.

She needed more, though. Graciously, without having to tell him, Luna provided just that.

He pushed more of him inside her, and she knew by how her stomach felt she was being stretched. The vague outline of equine endowment bulged out her stomach, pushing the confines of her love tunnel to its limits.

That wasn't to say there wasn't pain or resistance. She was bigger than him by far, but her body was made to accommodate dog dicks, not horsecocks. He had to force himself in more often than not, but he was winning the battle. No beauty could possibly hope to beat back the tide of colossal dickmeat this pretty boy prince wielded.

Soon enough, he was up to the medial ring. That would be the most challenging part, for the ring rest at her abused pussy while his flare touched her cervix. He'd need to bust through both at the same time, and she wasn't looking forward to that.

"P-prepare thyself for our, m-most generous of royal, ggrghk, treasures!"

She wanted to slap him for being such a dork, but that was when he pushed. A sharp, keening wail ripped along her throat, and the claws of her feet and hands alike tore the bed, sheets and mattress both to ribbons. Tears brought with them heavy black mascara to stream and streak her cheeks, and she bit down so hard she thought her teeth might crack.

The gate to her sacred spot burst open, and his medial ring lodged in her depths. The task of hilting himself the rest of the way was a comparatively mundane one. Pain aside, or perhaps because of it, she came again in a chain of orgasms, spattered his groin with successive waves of bitchsquirt.

Now he was the one to laugh. His fog-clouded mind drove him to madness and devilish dominance.

For a flicker, he remembered the dream he saw Celestia having. The thought brought a cruel smile to his face, and as he pulled out to ready for a thrust in, he lifted his leg and pressed the glass of his hoof slipper into her back.

"Wh... whagh the fnghuck d'you think you're-"

"Silence, peasant."

It wasn't until now Loona noticed how regally he spoke. He'd done so earlier, carrying himself and speaking with an air of royal grace, but he had been kind and even playful. Now that he was on top and inside of her, that had changed. Unintentionally, she'd flicked a switch inside him, and she feared she wouldn't be switching it back until he paid her in kind.

"Thy body is not thine, but ours for the taking. Thou offers herself to us, and we shall take for it is thine right. We will inseminate thine innermost chamber, thou willst thank us for the privilege of bearing our foals."

Loona chose to keep her mouth shut. Part of her wanted to rip his stupid dick off and shove it up his ass to see how he liked it, but a larger part couldn't get enough.

She whined, and his breeding began in earnest. After reshaping her interior to his liking, it was simple to fuck her, pulling out and shoving in over a foot of thick, hearty horseprick at a time. She keened, moaned, barked, and yelped, and each sound of pained pleasure seemed to spur him on further.

He got faster with every slap of his hips, flesh impacting flesh. His nuts were like wrecking balls, swinging behind him and bruising her thighs painfully where they hit.

His lower half was near a blur, and it was not quiet either. The great swaying of his ballsack made the load within slosh like a tank of milk shaken violently. And when they slammed into her, the whole bed rattled on its frame, creaking loudly but never louder than their song of sex. Plaps, slaps, whaps, glorps, churns, the rippling of all her flesh, and the pounding, audible impact of his sword inside her scabbard. They came together to form an orgiastic orchestra reaching such heights of depravity and volume she had to press her ears flat to her skull.

Faster and faster, harder and harder he fucked. Neither was that relegated to his dick in her hole. He reveled in the power he had over her despite his diminutive size. When he wasn't yanking on her nipples, he was slapping her ass or tits, or grabbing her by the hair and pulling her half-mane, or her tail. His nails were sharp and manicured, and he used them to great effect when he scratched and clawed at her sensitive flesh.

She might have been the hellhound, but he was the real beast. How she was going to explain the marks on her body afterward she didn't know.

"We art nigh," he puffed. He didn't need to tell her, but she wasn't about to mouth off at him. She'd mocked him for not being a King in title, but he'd made him her ruler all the same. "Release thy spell, witch, and beg for our seed. Or else we shalt ruin thee."

She was already ruined, and he knew that well as she. Not since Nightmare Moon had he tasted the honeyed sweets of power, and now he could wield it while knowing he wasn't doing anything evil.

Or maybe he was. Luna couldn't say, but the need to knock Loona up - this bitch who pretended at control - was more important.

She whimpered, begged, "Please, my Prince-"

"King," he corrected, grabbed at her ears.

"M-m-my King, p-please knock up your dumb puppy bitch. I-I've been a bad girl and need your cock to tame my naughty cunt. Naughty cunts belong to big, manly cocks like yours, and I'm nothing but a dirty peasant whore beneath your gaze."

"Good girl," he sneered and let go.

Luna delivered one final lightning crack of a slap to her tits, thrust himself in, in, in, and came with a grunt.

All that cum, all that babybatter that had built up in his balls, poured forth. He not so much came in ropes as he did in a tsunami, endless and without break.

Gallons of his hot, womb-warming seed flooded into her, bulging her tum noticeably within a heartbeat. A couple heartbeats later and she looked already pregnant. More, and she had a distended gut. More still, glorging and glurging the whole way, and she and him found themselves being pushed up from the bed.

Loona, cumming as well, tipped her chin skywards and howled.

When Luna's climax tapered, he laid inside her for a few breathless moments. It took him a time before he could stir, but upon doing so and gazing around, he noticed the size of Loona's belly.

Her gut had practically replaced the bed. Whether it was still whole beneath her or broken and smothered, he did not know. He slid out, dragging his broad flare with him, and as instantly, a gushing wave of white gravy spluttered out of her gaping slot.

"I apologize for the words earlier spoke. They were not meant, not truly."

"Shut it, dweeb," chastised Loona, not unkindly. She was smiling, and rubbed her waterbed of a belly with her palm. Beneath it gave way, warmth and sloshing within. "That was the best sex I've ever had."

"I am glad. And... I thank you for providing me the opportunity. It has been too long."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Keep your silver tongue in your mouth, pretty boy."

He nodded silently and slid down her bloated midsection like a bouncy slide. His hooves touched the floor, face twisting in disgust as his dainty hooves sank an inch deep into a puddle of his love.

"I can clean up if you'd like," he offered, looking up at her. There, arms and legs wrapped around her distended gut, she looked like a water balloon with hellhound attached. A peaceful, smiling hellhound, to be certain, but a balloon nonetheless.

"I'll deal with it. Just promise to fuck me again like that some time."

"Mh."

"Hm?"

"Next time I fuck you, I think it might please me to do so in the castle courtyard. I have more to give even now, and I'd want to see if I can fill the gardens with you."

"I'm so flattered."

"Don't be fast with me now. You admitted yourself you enjoyed it."

"And you forget this." She gave him the finger. "Also, I had you squealing like a squeaky toy first, so go fuck yourself."

"I'd rather fuck you."

"Dick."

"Yes, I have one. What of it?"

"I like you. Speaking of..." She yawned, resting her chin atop her breasts. "Do you even know how to get back?"

"I do not, admittedly. Though, however I managed to get here, I must think the method of return must be similar. I'll have to do much research, and can only hope I'm not gone long enough before the kingdom fears."

"You call it a kingdom? I thought you and your sister were Prince and Princess."

"Don't worry about it."

"I can, and I will."

He waved a dismissive hand. "I'll find my way back. Maybe it will take trial and error, but I am capable."

She grinned. "That you are."

A blush, fainter than snowdust, tinged his deep night fur.

"Oh, by the way?"

Luna cocked his head.

"Watch your back when you get home. I dunno if Blitzo can track you down, but if he finds out you got me pregnant, he'll feed you your own ballsack."

"...Duly noted."

Author's Note

This was my entry for the Furry Foray Festival 2023.

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