Selective Service, Volume I

Stepping off the lift and into a corridor deep within the subterranean citadel, Blister winced. What was supposed to be an easy job had shaped up to be anything but - sure, he hadn’t expected to simply walk into a bank, politely ask for all their money, and waltz out without any trouble, yet he couldn’t have anticipated having to put up a genuine fight. Setting his jaw and trotting forward, ensuring he showed no signs of weakness, he gave a subtle nod to a pair of Aco-Lights he passed.

While the civilians, security, and the police hadn’t given him any issues whatsoever, the pair of heroes who’d come to stop him had. A caped crusader had shown up just before him and his henchponies could make their getaway with several sacks of bits - which was predictable, although things quickly went to Tartarus in a hand-basket after that. Instead of valiantly monologuing about how they’d stamp out wickedness and bring justice to the town, the masked superponies had skipped the formalities and attacked him on sight.

Blister scowled as he thought back to the masked stallion. If he was being honest, he’d never given Hope Hurricane much thought - something he was going to have to readdress. Immediately upon seeing him, ignoring the hog-tied civilians, incapacitated law enforcement offices, and the blasted front door of the bank, the young hero had thrown himself at him like a rabid animal.

He could have - would have utterly trounced Hope in a fair fight, yet the do-gooder had sucker punched him and given him no quarter. Though he was loath to admit it, the ferocity of the assault had put him on the back hoof and left him reeling. It was only with the help of the pair of Aco-Lights he’d brought with him that he’d managed to get the upperhoof, turning the tables and putting the hero in his place - still, the confrontation had left him rattled and with more than a few bruises.

As with anything in life, there was a proper way to face one’s opposition. Heroes were supposed to serve as a shining beacon of hope, paragons of virtue who show up to stop the bad guys - not leap in like a crazed maniac and start beating the tar out of somepony! Blister couldn’t say what in the world he’d done to ruffle Hope Hurricane’s nonexistent feathers, but the injuries he’d received, however minor, would prove a lasting reminder to be cautious with the unhinged crusader.

“Blister Wing,” the intercom blared, shaking him from his thoughts, “report to Burner’s chamber at once.”

Cursing to himself, he swung around and altered his course. He had intended to get a shower and some well-deserved rest and relaxation, having successfully completed the heist, yet his employer and self-appointed leader seemed to have other plans for him. Wandering through the network of corridors, moving to the heart of the fortress, he glanced up at one of the security cameras.

It didn’t take him long to reach his destination, and he halted before the tiered, raised dais of the expansive chamber. Anypony else would have bowed or waxed poetic about being in the seated unicorn’s presence, but not him and especially not today. His mood was soured, he wounds to lick, and his patience was worn perilously thin, making the impromptu meeting less than ideal.

The chair above him turned, revealing Burner, and he glowered. “You summoned me.”

Burner studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he tapped a forehoof to a control panel on his bracer. The doors of the vault-like room ground shut and a dim, violet light bathed the interior, making a knot form in his stomach. It wasn’t uncommon to have privacy when discussing delicate matters, but to evoke a negation field, a variety of technomancy which prevented eavesdropping of any kind, was practically unheard of.

“Swift,” Burner began, pulling off his amber mask, “we have a problem…”

Mirroring the gesture, Blister doffed his disguise. “I know, Charred - I know…Hope Hurricane clearly has -”

“Not that insipid pretender,” Burner cut him off. “I’m talking about a real problem.”

Fighting the urge to sneer, Blister stared up at his sibling. He was the elder of the two, larger and arguably more powerful too, but he’d played along and done everything he could to ensure his brother’s little criminal empire had become successful - a fact which made the interruption all the more irritating. While Burner had minced his hooves and taken all the credit for the organization he’d helped found, he’d been the one getting his hooves dirty and doing all of the heavy lifting.

His brother had relied upon him for as long as he could remember, and he leaned heavily on Burner in the same way. They’d done great things together, bailed each other out more times than he could count, and they’d gained infamy with one another’s aid, yet they still butted heads like any siblings did. Biting back his frustration, he noticed a sudden shift on Charred’s face.

Burner unseated himself and trotted toward Blister, only slowing when he noticed the swollen flesh around what was definitely going to develop into a black eye. “Hope did that?”

Grunting and reflexively reaching for his face, Blister nodded. “Perhaps we should start calling him Harebrained Hurricane…”

“I presume you taught him a lesson for that,” Burner murmured, his expression softening.

Blister faintly smiled, hearing the note of sympathy in his brother’s tone. “I did, yes. He’ll think twice before he tries to give me another cheap shot, but I digress. What’s this problem you mentioned?”

“Mmmm,” Burner hummed, reluctantly looking down and pressing several buttons on his bracer.

Glancing over as a screen began lowering from the ceiling, Burner shifted his focus back to his sibling. As far as he knew, nopony, not even their most seasoned Aco-Light veterans, had the slightest inkling that they were kin, yet that was in part due to the costumes they wore. While they may have been built entirely differently, with him being taller and having far more muscle, the almost identical color of their unaltered eyes, coats, and manes made it obvious that they were related to one another.

“Look there,” Burner instructed, nodding up at the screen. “See the issue?”

Blister looked up at the video feed and cocked his head. From the look of it, he was getting a view from inside the base’s water treatment facility. The concrete structure looked fine, as did the mazework of steel pipes, which only compounded his confusion. Quirking a brow, he turned to his brother.

Fiddling with his control bracer, Burner scowled. “I know she’s in there….”

“She?” Blister quipped. “Which she? We have several dozen mares who -”

“There!” Burner blurted, waving his hoof up at the image.

“I don’t…” Blister tailed off, pursing his lips in consternation.

The video’s quality wasn’t the best, being somewhat grainy and slightly out of focus, but he instantly saw the issue. A mare was working on what appeared to be a pressure control valve, using her wings and a foreleg to haul on an oversized wrench, but that wasn’t the problem - the problem was what she was wearing and the spectacle she was making of herself. It wasn’t that uncommon for Aco-Lights to individualize their uniforms, being given leeway for patches or small shows of self-expression, yet what the pegasus had done to her outfit was nothing short of egregious.

What had once been a one-piece bodysuit had become a slatternly bastardization of its former self. The mare’s massive udders were barely covered, wobbling and swaying under her while she worked, and her rear was partially exposed. While he took no umbrage with giving one’s outfit some personality, the brazen, utterly shameless pony’s display had crossed a line by a mile.

As the camera panned to the side, his dismay turned to one of outright disdain. Several Aco-Lights, haphazardly concealed behind a piece of machinery, were watching the curvaceous mare work. Squinting and stepping forward, wanting a closer look, he sneered with barely-kept disgust. The goons weren’t merely observing the buxom pegasus - no, they were playing with themselves or one another.

“Now do you see what the problem is?” Burner grumbled.

“Yeah…” he seethed.

“Oh it gets worse -” his brother coldly remarked, “much worse. At first I thought it was odd that the number of work orders had nearly doubled in the last week, but I quickly found out why. It would seem that somepony has been sabotaging equipment.”

With his jaw nearly hitting the floor, he balked. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was,” Burner uttered, turning to face him. “I don’t know if these accidents are being done to disrupt operations or purely to bring that,” he continued, waving a hoof at the obscene pegasus on the display, “to certain areas, but this needs to stop now.”

Blister donned his mask, brushed himself off, and stormed to the exit. “I’ll take care of it.”

It was almost unheard of for him to get legitimately angry, even in the heat of combat, but be darned if finding about the scandalous goings on in the base, the very base he’d helped finance, didn’t annoy the everliving crap out of him. He could tolerate small infractions, the sort of small things his brother wouldn’t overlook, although he was not about to let the stronghold become a den of depravity. Whoever that mare was, regardless of her skill, she was about to get a very stern talking to.

“Hold it,” he shouted, rounding a corner and seeing the doors of lift at the end of the corridor beginning to close.

The grey of a suited foreleg shot out of the elevator moments before Tricky’s face appeared. “Blister, what’s got you -”

“Maintenance floor,” he intoned, rushing in beside the pint-sized mare, “now.”

Tricky swallowed hard and pressed the lowest button on the panel. “Something wrong?”

“You could say that,” he huffed, paying his aching shoulders little heed.

As he peeked over at her, seeing her anxiously gnaw on a forehoof, his frown deepened. Though they didn’t keep fillies or colts around for a reason, Tricky was an exception. He’d made a place for her, taken her under his metaphorical wing, and had done everything he could to ensure she was being treated well - after all, he was the reason she was with them in the first place.

Craning her neck to look up at him, she wiped her cheek. “What? Is something on my face?”

“No,” he sighed, reaching down to gently tussle her mane. “You’re keeping up with your studies?”

“Mmmhmm,” she cheerfully hummed.

The lift slowed and he inched closer to the door. “Go up to the bay and make sure none of the bits I brought back go missing ~ alright?”

Her eyes lit up and she grabbed his sleeve, keeping him from leaving. “You went on a job without me?! I thought you said -”

“Tricky, now isn’t the time,” he breathed, forcing himself to frown. “If you want to help, do as I ask. I promise I’ll bring you with me next time.”

She relented, releasing him and stepping back into the elevator, but she was clearly disheartened. “Fine…”

“I’ll meet you for dinner, sweetheart,” he hastily added, looking back at her as he trotted down a hallway.

Waiting until the lift closed and began its ascent, he grimaced. He hoped - prayed she hadn’t stumbled upon any of the perverted Aco-Lights or any inappropriately amorous misdeeds throughout the morning, and he was going to make darn sure that wasn’t going to be a concern moving forward. Tricky may have technically been one of them, a little evildoer in her own right, but she was still far too young to be exposed to such sinful behavior.

He slowed just outside the water treatment wing, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. While he wasn’t normally wasn’t one to harshly discipline any of the ponies in their employ, preferring to wield menace or rewards garner minions’ compliance, he was sorely tempted to put a hoof up somepony’s backside. Barging in with spectral flame wreathing him, looking like he’d stepped from some infernal abyss, he marched straight over to the cadre of reprobates.

The Aco-Lights reaction couldn’t have been more perfect. Two of them fled on the spot, practically running for their lives, while those who remained were either too terrified or awestruck to budge. Each of the miscreants was in a state of undress, their uniforms either opened or removed entirely while they relieved themselves to the spectacle just beyond the machinery they sheltered behind, which did nothing to temper his white-hot ire.

“I’m not interrupting anything ~ am I?” he growled.

“B…B…B…Blister,” one of the goons croaked, feverishly attempting to stuff his stallionhood into his outfit, “we were j…just -”

“Just what,” he hissed, taking a step closer to the cowering lot. “Just inspecting your tools?”

The corners of his lips turned up when he turned his baleful gaze to a minion who spontaneously fainted. Violence was like an exotic spice, best used conservatively and only for certain situations, and he would, in spite of his inclinations, avoid sending any of the simpletons to the infirmary. Straightening up, he bared his fangs.

“You have ten seconds to make yourselves presentable,” he coolly noted. “Ten…nine…eight…”

The sheer panic of the group was as hilarious as it was rewarding, making it difficult to keep a straight face. They’d all finished by the count of three, somehow managing to get themselves dressed before falling into an orderly, albeit somewhat pitiful little line. Each and every one of them would deal with the repercussions of their actions, but that could wait - for now, he needed to put the fear of the almighty in them.

Pacing before them voyeuristic band, he remained silent for a hoofful of seconds and let them twist in the wind. They’d been caught with their hooves in a very improper cookie jar, and now it was their time to pay the piper. Waiting until he heard one of them gulp, he peaked a brow and fell still.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he whispered, “you’re going to go to the gym and run laps ~ understood?”

One of the henchponies, a brave or particularly foolish changeling, awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “F…for how long?”

“Until I tell you to stop,” Blister seethed, focusing his magic and shifting the fire around him from a flickering orange to a vivid, oppressive blue. “Am I clear.”

“Sir!” the group, the entire lot of them, replied in practical unison.

He didn’t say a thing, merely snorting and tapping his hoof to send them scrambling to the door. They may not have realized it, but they’d be getting more than an extended exercise session. Double shifts, reduced meal rations, and coincidental inspections of their quarters in the dead of night would be their reward for their tomfoolery - if that wasn’t enough to straighten them out, he’d fall back to less forgiving punishments in the future.

As the door slid closed behind him, he crept to the edge of the vast piece of machinery and peeked further into the chamber. The mare was where he’d first seen her, blithely humming to himself and blithely ignorant to everything that had just transpired. It really wouldn’t have mattered if she’d heard him enter or quietly lambast the Aco-Lights, but he wasn’t about to give up the element of surprise - not now at least.

The blistering flames around him dwindled away to nothing, his breaths came slow and steady, and a twisted grin steadily split his muzzle as he sneaked up behind her. The discipline he was going to dole out to the henchponies would be harsh, although she was going to need some special treatment. Desecrating a uniform, making a spectacle of herself, and possibly undermining their operation were more than enough grounds for a dismissal at best and being turned over to the authorities at worst.

“Ahem,” he coughed, looming over her.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she looked back and beamed. “Hey, Blister! When’d you get here?”

His eyes widened and his jaw nearly hit the floor, recognizing her in that instant. The troublesome mare wasn’t just some goon with a penchant for exhibitionism - it was none other than Vise. With his neurons misfiring, struggling to process what in the heck was going on, he shied away from the cheerful, wholly undisturbed mare.

“Hello, Equestria to Blister,” she chirped, waving a wing in front of his face, “are you in there?”

Her lilting voice and the worried look in her eyes brought him back to his senses - if only just. He liked to think he’d seen all manner of things in his day, from toppling buildings to pitched battles between leagues of villains and heroes, yet he failed to think of one that had given him such a moment for pause. Centering himself, he closed his eyes while lifting and coughing into a forehoof.

“Might I ask what you’re doing?” he placidly inquired.

Glancing back at the valve assembly, she shrugged. “I’m not sure who thought using a butterfly valve for that was a good idea, but I was removing it and installing a globe valve. Do you have any idea what kind of mess you’d be in if that thing failed?”

“I - uh - no, frankly I don’t,” he grumbled. “As much as I appreciate your keen eye for preemptive maintenance, I was referring to this.”

She looked down at herself as he waved to her. “My outfit?”

“If you’d like to call something so revealing an outfit, yes,” he affirmed. “It’s against protocol to alter -”

“It didn’t fit,” she interjected.

Blinking, he cocked his head. “I’m sorry ~ what?”

“It didn’t fit -” she repeated, “I mean, technically it fit, but it’s sort of - um - snug in certain areas.”

“Certain…” he fell silent, following her gaze back to her bountiful bosoms.

His mouth went dry and his heart skipped a beat. She’d either sprouted the massive pair of mammaries after he’d brought her back to their lair or she’d done a darn good, out-and-out mythical way of concealing them when he’d kidnapped her - either way, the sight of her huge hooters was enough to derail his thoughts. If he’d had the slightest inkling that her uniform would need tailoring, he would have seen to the matter personally - alas, she’d failed to mention the need for a specialized garment before he’d left.

Sensing his cheeks darkened when she lifted a hind leg to partially hide her breasts, he turned away from her. “Come.”

“Wait,” she bleated, “I’m not done with -”

“You can finish that after we address your attire,” he tutted. “Not to sound blunt, but the modifications you’ve made to your uniform have caused a number of distractions…”

Trotting up beside him, she scrunched her snout. “Distractions?”

“You’re telling me you haven’t noticed anypony acting strangely around you?” he countered in disbelief.

“Not really - actually, everypony’s been super friendly!” she joyfully remarked. “I can’t go five minutes without one of the Aco-Lights asking me if I need some help, if I’d like something cold to drink, or offering to give me a massage!”

He rubbed his temple and clamped his eyes shut, feeling a migraine coming on. “For future reference, unless you expressly ask for assistance, they should be minding their own business and tending to their own duties - duties which they’ve been neglecting because of you.”

With a wounded expression blossoming on her face, she stopped dead in her tracks. “Did…did I do something wrong?”

“You - ugh…” he quietly groaned. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong - at least not intentionally.”

It was remarkably rare for him to feel sympathy for a conscript, but darned if he didn’t feel bad for her. He’d done his homework prior to volunteering her to work at the base and discovered that she had no criminal history, came from a nuclear family, and even had a stellar permanent record from school - leading him to one of two conclusions: she was either a peerless manipulator or was as a genuinely virtuous and possibly naive soul. Waving her along, he changed directions and headed to a smaller, less used lift.

“I’m going to escort you to your room,” he explained as hailed the elevator. “Once we’re there, I’d like you to wait for me until I return - that means no going to the cafeteria, no fraternizing, and certainly no more work for the next hour or two.”

As she peered up at him, the faintest trace of a smile graced her lips. “Does that mean I’m done for the day?”

“No,” he responded, though he regretted it in an instant. What little cheer she had was extinguished by his blunt reply. “Maybe - you may be done for the day, if you follow my instructions.”

“Well if I am done for the day, maybe could we get a coffee?” she bleated with her eyes alight.

“A coffee?” he chuckled. “You want to have a coffee with me?”

Extending a wing and brushing at a blemish on his suit, she shrugged. “I don’t see why not. You seem a little stressed out, so maybe a coffee would help you relax a little.”

He shrewdly stroked his chin and considered her offer. Explaining to her that she couldn’t go traipsing around the base in such a state of undress was necessary, but he’d have to handle it delicately - as such, speaking with her in a relaxed, private environment would be prudent. Smirking, he nodded and extended a forehoof to her as the elevator doors opened.

“Deal,” he stated, waiting for her to shake his hoof before retracting his foreleg, “but only if you promise never to wear that getup again.”

“If I can’t wear this, what am I supposed to wear?” she pouted. “And before you ask, I am not going to stuff these puppies into one of those one size fits all outfits,” she testily continued, throwing her wings back to squeeze and heft her bosoms.

Biting back a laugh, he shook his head. “Don’t worry about that.”

Ushering her into the lift, he stepped in behind her and hit the button for one of the residence floors - specifically the floor he lived on. Though it may have been hastily thrown together, he’d constructed a plan that should, if he was lucky, tie up all the loose ends without too much of a hassle. First he’d bring her to his suite and have her wait - after that, he’d go to the supply clerk, order her a hoofful of properly fitting jumpsuits, then swing by the cafeteria to get coffees and snacks for the two of them.

He didn’t say much throughout the relatively short trek to his room - not because he didn’t want to talk with her, but because speaking with her meant looking at her, and looking at her meant suppressing the urge to ogle her. While he was by very definition a villain, he held himself to certain standards - almost like a code of ethics. It was fine to rough up somepony if need be, but being evil or injuring somepony, be it psychologically or physically, should be avoided.

“Go in and wait for me,” he noted, opening the door of his suite. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Briefly peeking into his room, she knit her brow. “But you said -”

“Coffee, yes, I know,” he sighed. “I also said that we’d have coffee if you follow my instructions ~ remember?”

She kicked at the floor and skulked into his chamber without saying a word, bringing a smile to his face. Hiding her away in his suite would serve a number of purposes, not the least of which keeping her away from the lustful Aco-Lights who’d been dogging her, and it wasn’t like he had anything to hide - at least he didn’t think there was anything in his room that she could use against him. Briskly trotting away, he made a right turn and headed for the supply depot.

His excursion went as smoothly as he’d hoped, though it had been a bit awkward to explain the specific requirements of Vise’s custom uniforms. Since it was going to take at least a day for her new attire to be ready, he’d make a temporary concession and allow her to wear the clothing he’d abducted her in. While it would be a bit unusual, letting her work in her civilian clothing would be far, far better than allowing her to traipse about like a seductive grease money.

With a pair of coffees and a box of assorted donuts hovering beside himself, he slowed as he approached his room and checked his watch. All told, it had only taken him about half an hour to complete his errands, but he still felt bad for making Vise wait. He gave his door a cursory knock, purely out of politeness, before stepping inside.

“I hope you didn’t get too - Vise?” he called, looking around the suspiciously empty room.

“Just a minute!” she shouted from within the bathroom. “I’m almost done.”

As a wave of relief washed over him, he sat on the bed. It wasn’t like he was worried about her escaping, but having to hunt her down and then explain to his brother why he’d left her unattended would have been a huge pain in the rear. Levitating the confections and the two cups of java over to his coffee table, he looked up when he heard the restroom door open.

“That is so much better,” Vise groaned, stepping out and into view.

Staring over at her, he went rigid in more ways than he cared to admit. With a towel wrapped around her mane, glistening wet and dripping water onto the floor, she was as naked as the day she was born. The logical part of his brain told him this was natural, that he was around ponies in the buff whenever he was out of the base, but the primal, stallionly part of his mind practically went feral at the sight of the young, buxom, undoubtedly fertile mare.

“Hope you don’t mind that I used your shower,” she snickered, nonchalantly turning and toweling herself off. “I tried to wait, but then I noticed I got hydraulic fluid in my mane; just so you know, that stuff is terrible for your skin.”

Realizing she’d spoken but not having the faintest clue what she’d said, he slowly nodded. “Uh…uh-huh…”

Her breasts were almost laughably huge, large enough to rival a dairy cow’s udders, yet they were only one of her alluring features. While she wasn’t what he’d call fat, she was far from thin, leaving her in what he’d describe as a goldilocks zone of sorts. Unable to stop himself from watching her, completely transfixed, he subconsciously bit his lower lip when she flicked the towel over her ample, foal-bearing hips and started drying off her tush.

Sweet, merciful Celestia - her ass was a work of art, the sort of thing that inspired poets or sculptors, and his unfettered view of it was enough to make his mouth water. He would have struggled to contain himself if she was just nude, yet fate must have been feeling particularly sadistic. Instead of staying still and drying off, she quietly sang to herself while swaying her tush from side to side.

Sensing a sudden pang of discomfort, he dumbly glanced down at himself and stifled a gasp. While he’d been enjoying what should have been an innocent spectacle, his traitorous body had utterly and completely betrayed him. The imprint of his stallionhood snaked up nearly to his navel under the constrictive fabric of his suit. As a sudden movement caught his eye, fear gripped him.

He moved without thinking, magically lifting and throwing a pillow at himself to cover his nethers. Heaven help him ~ what was he going to do?! If she noticed how excited he’d gotten, she may think she’d been brought to his quarters for something unscrupulous! Almost frantically concealing his erection, he nervously smiled over at her and waved to the donuts.

“I…I got our coffee,” he sputtered.

“Coffee and donuts?” she quipped, positively beaming. “Blister, you may be a bad pony, but don’t let anypony tell you that you’re a bad stallion.”

Taking metered breaths, he closed his eyes and tried to think of something - anything that would be unappealing. He just needed time, a few minutes to tear his thoughts away from the absolute bombshell of a mare that was in the room with him. As he dwelled on the memory of a particularly homely teacher he’d had in school, a fat, bridge troll of a mare who he’d had for algebra, he steadily exhaled.

“Oh gosh - I love donuts,” she hummed. “And there are so many to choose from!”

Feeling his turgid length soften just a hair, he opened his eyes. “Yes well…”

The moment he looked out at her, he was hit with regret. With her tail flicked to the side, she unwittingly gave him a peek at a donut that wasn’t supposed to be on the menu. Resting just above her meaty, succulently plump marehood was her glistening, pristine pucker. His instincts demanded that he commit the sight to memory, if only for nights when he was feeling particularly lonely and pent-up, yet a sudden noise sundered his focus - a noise so terrifying that it caused his blood to run cold.

“Did you hear that?” she quipped, turning and swiveling her ears toward him. “Sounded like fabric tearing.”

“I d…don’t know what you’re talking about!” he squawked, fiercely holding the cushion over his loins.

He was screwed - he was so utterly screwed! The pillow had been a secondary line of defense, something to hide his boner, but now it was the only thing keeping his stallionhood from springing into the open. Reflexively retreating as she stepped closer to him, literally backing away from her, he fretfully smiled.

“I’m s…sure it w…was nothing,” he nervously continued. “Probably just - H…hey!”

Clutching his pillow with a wing, she gave the cushion a hug. “You’re hiding something from me ~ aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m not!” he yelped, his voice cracking. “Why in the world would I hide anything from you?!?”

“Because you’re a villain ~ duh!” she laughed. “I bet you wanted to steal the best donut for yourself; that’s probably why there aren’t any cream filled ones in that box!”

The remark of cream filled evoked all manner of wildly lewd thoughts regarding her donut, sending him further into a panic. Holding the pillow in both his forehooves and pulling it in the opposite direction of her, he set his jaw. He hadn’t wanted to overpower her or do anything even remotely mean, but desperate times called for desperate actions - regrettably, given his physical strength and his lack of a clear head, his hubris bit him squarely on the ass.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion, drawing out the excruciating moment into a small eternity. The world spun, he toppled back, and the cushion went soaring into the air and away from him. He landed with a heavy pomf, stared up at the ceiling in shock, and waited to hear her shrill, horrified scream - a scream which ultimately never came.

“H…holy cow,” she breathed.

“I’m sorry,” he lamented. “The stupid thing has a mind of its -”

“You’re like that because of me?” she bluntly asked, looking past the towering pillar of his cock and to his face.

Thrown off guard by her question, he locked eyes with her. “I’m sorry ~ what?”

“That,” she clarified, pointing a pinion at his dick. “You got that because of me?”

“If you must know, yes,” he shamefully admitted. “As I was saying, it has a mind of its - what are you doing…?”

Turning around in circles, she peered back at her backside. “Was it my butt or boobs that did it?”

“Does it matter?” he exasperatedly moaned, drawing a forehoof over his blushing face.

Coming to a halt, she shrugged. “Not really…”

A tense, painfully clumsy silence fell over the room. The perils and precarious situations he’d faced in the past paled in comparison to the discomfort threatening to snuff out his soul. As he went to roll over, get to his hooves, and excuse himself, he flinched when something soft snagged his fetlock.

“What?” he whispered.

Twisting in place, she withdrew her wing from his hind leg and kept her eyes on the floor. “Maybe…maybe I can help you out with that…”

“Help me out?” he repeated. “Why in the wide world of Equestria would you help me out?”

“Because it’s kind of my fault,” she sheepishly answered, “and because I kinda wanna get a closer look at it…”

With his jaw working noiselessly, comprehension dawned on him. It was subtle, so subtle that he could only barely detect it, but there was the scent of marish arousal in the air - paired with the brilliant crimson blossoming on her cheeks, her refusal to look him in the eye, and the way she was grinding her thighs together, it was practically a certainty that he wasn’t the only pony in the room who’d gotten a little hot under the collar. Waving her back, he slid to the edge of the mattress and placed his hind hooves on the floor.

It felt wrong to tell her that she could indulge herself, so he let his actions speak for him. Spreading his hind legs, he let his package hang freely between his parted thighs. Given that she had just given him an eyeful, whether unwittingly or not, it was only fair that he returned the favor to her ~ right?

Trying to watch her without coming across as too creepy, he flinched when she gently, almost reverently caressed the tip of one wing down the side of his shaft. Compared to the sensation of his hooves or magic, the feeling of her feathers was divine. She shuffled nearer, closing the gap between them, and stared down his length.

“It’s so big,” she mumbled.

“W…well I am sort of a big unicorn,” he uneasily laughed.

Pressing her snout to the fleshy folds under the base of his stallionhood, she drew a deep breath through her sinuses and shuddered. “And you smell really good.”

Growing increasingly flustered, unsure of what to say, he bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. “I - uh - thanks?”

He’d heard that some mares had an appreciation for bigger stallions, but this was his first time experiencing it first hand. Breathing in through her nose and nuzzling his package, she contentedly hummed to herself while practically worshiping him. His size had been a boon for most of his life and it came with a number of perks. Not only was he able to overpower smaller ponies with relative ease, but seeing his immense stallionhood draped over her face was more exciting than it should have been.

She withdrew slightly, drawing her cheek along his tool until her snout was right before its broad, blunt tip. He’d thought that the help she’d mentioned would be a wing or possibly hoofjob at best, something to let her sate her carnal interest in him, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. As her eyes drifted shut, she opened her muzzle and extended her tongue.

Breathing hotly upon his stallionhood, she leaned forward and slipped his cock into her snout. If her wing had been a fleeting taste of heaven, the sensation of her pouting lips and tongue upon him were an experience of paradise itself. He gripped the sheets to either side of him, holding himself up while doing everything he could not to buck his hips, and bit back a blissful groan.

Simply being touched in an amorous way would have been enough to make him as giddy as a schoolcolt getting lucky, so the impromptu and completely unexpected blowjob left him nothing short of thrilled. Along with the incredible job she was doing, bobbing her head while humming around his girthy length, merely watching her was enough to send him inching toward release.

There were a number of reasons why being a villain was no easy task - only one of which being difficulties with passionate affairs. Dating was a trial, always having to conceal one’s identity, and actually getting laid was a rarity. While it was an unspoken rule that Aco-Lights could fool around with one another, so long as they kept such activities away from common areas, it had been ages since he’d felt the touch of another that wasn’t work related.

Through sheer willpower alone, he forced his thundering heart to slow and reined himself in. Her technique wasn’t the best, nor had she managed to take more than the first few inches of his shaft into her muzzle, but he wasn’t going to complain in the slightest. Just as he somehow managed to get control of himself, ensuring he wouldn’t preemptively blow his load, he made the fatal mistake of looking down her body.

Though she was using her wings to play with him, fondling his balls and rubbing the root of his shaft, she’d put one of her forelegs to work. Reaching under herself and between her breasts, she unabashedly rubbed herself. She hadn’t just voluntarily started sucking him off - she was apparently enjoying herself so much that she couldn’t help but get some relief herself.

The revelation that she was playing with herself sent him skyrocketing toward release, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Screwing his eyes closed and all but gnashing his teeth, he fought against the welling tide of bliss. Teetering on the precipice, the point of no return, he summoned his courage to speak.

“I…I’m getting close,” he wheezed.

Instead of backing away and bringing the moment to an end, Vise doubled down. Driving her face forward, her lips kissed his medial ring while her throat spasmed around him. He could have held on, holding back his climax for another few seconds, were it not for one thing - she started thrusting her hips as she masturbated.

The spectacle, the sound of her stifled gags, and the aroma of her marehood proved too much to bear, casting him into a tempestuous sea of ecstasy. Throwing his head back, he clutched her mane and succumbed. A torrent of seed surged through his throbbing shaft and straight down her throat as she whimpered and choked around him.

Instantly realizing what he’d done - what he was doing, he released her and slid back. She recoiled and sputtered jizz onto his carpet, yet her forehoof ever strayed from her loins. While he did feel a little bad, she clearly didn’t share the sentiment.

“W…wow! You - Cough - you must have been really backed up,” she rasped.

Awestruck, ignoring the cum leaking from his softening stallionhood, he shuffled over and slid from the bed. “Sorry about that. Do you want me to - um…?” he let the question hang as he nodded to her rear.

Batting away his concern, she turned and wandered back to the shower. “If it’s all the same to you, I…I think I’ll just clean myself up.”

“Right,” he grumbled, kicking himself for his moment of weakness.

“And Blister,” she added, poking her head out from the restroom to look at him. “Would it be alright if we acted like this didn’t happen? I swear I’m not some loose mare, but - well, ya know…”

Faintly smiling, he nodded. “You have my word, Vise.”

She smirked back at him and closed the door behind herself. Ponies, irrespective of their age or choice of lifestyle, were prone to moments of weakness, and it was clear that he and his guest had just endured one such juncture. Listening to the water run, peering over at the cooling coffee, he made a silent vow to uphold the promise he’d just made - even if he had a sneaking feeling that some lines couldn’t be uncrossed…