A Sailor is Lost and Found.
Chapter 1.
Gray skies loomed high above the crashing sea as the sun slipped under the boiling horizon. Cut apart by the tossing waves and shrouded by an endless spray of blinding, salted foam, the atmosphere became yet darker as the storm raged on unabated. Violence churned the icy waters into frothing and cascading mountains savagely beating and tossing about with a deafening roar. Over the howl of the wind breaking against the stony-hard squalls of wine-dark ocean the death rattle of a mighty ship snarled. Echoing down to the silty bottom, the twisting of iron, the shearing of rivets and the crackle of bursting boilers rattled flesh and stone and water alike.
The steamship 774 of Daybreaker’s Holy Solar Navy, known to her crew as “Placation,” rolled over in the ravenous water and was devoured, spewing a column of choking smoke that was quickly dispersed by the ceiling of storm clouds. Her black hull twisted and split in the pounding waves like paper, pouring her contents into the darkness never to be seen again. The rain and the wind whistled over her torn iron skin and splintered deck boards before she fell down into the ice-water depths of the ocean.
An enlisted stallion bound to serve the Royal Sun thrashed just as his twisted ship did in the waves, kicking his boots through the murky depths to keep his head above water. His eyes could see nothing but the deep gray of the storm, the clouds and the ebony sea gnashing its white teeth at him from all directions. His little body was whipped about, thrown here and there and plunged into the most formidable cold he had ever experienced in his short life. He sucked for breath, he choked down great mouthfuls of sickening salt water and shouted with all his might to the foggy shape of a life boat slowly but implacable moving away from him.
“HEEELP!!! Agh- ACH! Help me!” He shouted between mouthfuls of chilled suffocation, the light of the Placation’s lifeboat growing dimmer as it was pulled away.
“Pull, lads! PULL! Break your backs, crack your oars! I cannae see him! Get me closer, I say!” The Captain’s hard and commanding voice bellowed with a brass instrument’s penetrating reverberation, but it was not enough. The lantern swinging with the wind was snuffed out and darkness reclaimed its rightful place over the Placation's stranded crew. The harder the stallion struggled the more exhausted and breathless he became with no progress toward his pitiful goal.
“Pull! Burst your lungs if you wish to see another sunrise, Lads! Hold fast! We won’t leave that sailor behind!” The water-logged stallion reached his shivering hand above the water, begging to both his Captain and a higher power for a spot on that cascading and soaring lifeboat. He wished only for one more chance at life, one more opportunity to hedge his bets in the great gamble of living so he might carry on. Down in the trough of the waves his world was lit only by the long tendrils of geometric lightning slicing through the sky above. And atop the tremendous mountains of the waves he could see nothing but a vast planet of empty water.
All was lost. He would surely succumb to the numbing cold, the orchestral wind and the suffocating sea.
Helpless against his fate, the stallion was subjected to one more great beating before he was allowed to die. The sea-spray mistress of the depths tossed the lifeless pony high upon a wave and brought him down onto the smoothed belly of a rock. The breadth of his body caught the fall, absorbing the punishing force like a ragdoll. The stallion was pressed on either side and forced to evacuate both his gut and his lungs, ejecting the water that had been drowning him and the porridge that had been nourishing him. Like a little babe he reflexively gripped tight to the monumental rock and held fast against the rushing tide peeling away into the surf.
The waves would surely be back, but for the moment the stallion had an inexplicable respite. Above the water, laid across a smooth and textured surface with breath in his chest again. The cold had numbed him to the pain of being so roughly handled, the unforgiving sea had taken just as it had given. With the very last of his strength he craned his neck to look upon this strange savior. And with the last of his faith he prayed that it was a true means of escape rather than his very last fantasy.
To his relief, the rock was but one rounded finger hanging off an island. A rocky, wind-whipped island glowing with far-off fairy lights like wolf eyes. The stallion shivered in hopes of being saved, he clamored forward against his rigid and unresponsive muscles until the sea washed over him once again. His grip failed, his body became just another lifeless molecule in the surf and he was brought forward by the will of the water. Only the hope of safety preserved his flickering flame, the slightest hope giving just enough faith to see him through this sudden disaster. In short order, the stallion was thrown face-first onto the pebbly shore and coated in the frigid sand of a dark beach. Finally, the ocean had vomited him out with such force it could not properly get hold of him again. The sailor lay there motionless on land as the water lapped at his boots.
His core had been chilled to a stiff and useless lump of barely living flesh. The fibers of his muscles twitched and shuddered with motion for a moment, but soon sputtered under even the slightest burden. His mind swirled about the same few thoughts again and again as his heart slowed to a bass drum’s melancholy thump, the blood simply too cold to move through his veins. Fingers, toes, ears, nose and tail had gone completely numb and still. The stallion could only roll to his side and watch as the yellow lights in the distance twinkled like heavenly stars.
“A warm bed… just a warm bed and I’ll get myself back together.” The mantra repeated in his thoughts again and again seeking some comfort in infinite darkness. Perhaps if he focused on only those few words, only on that single thought, it might shut out the cold and preserve him just that little bit longer. His arms curled in against his chest, holding onto the little life trying so desperately to flee from his body.
”Just a wink a’sleep. Just a little rest for my eyes and I’ll be fit again. Just a warm bed…” Even his thoughts stumbled over one another in confusion. His body could not even shiver as the swirling winds pinned the sopping wet canvas and cotton of his uniform to his body. Trousers, shirt, suspenders and boots captured water that slowly turned to ice against his fur.
He could only wonder whether it was delirium or luck that delivered him a mysterious figure. Out of the night, holding aloft a lantern of brilliant white light unlike the flame of oil, the cloaked shape of another pony. An upright and mighty figure that walked straight despite the flattening winds. Soon he felt the aura of light creep over his helpless body and bathe him in the blinding majesty of magical energy. His eyes hardly had the strength to open for his savior, for they were so encrusted with salt and so frozen that his lids could only split the tiniest amount for his vision.
“What luck. Already dead.” Angelic tones, mature harmonies and the single most sweet sensation of relief. The stallion lay below the rescuer and did not feel the toe of her foot prodding his ribs. He was motionless in the sand and taking the most ragged, slight breaths. In his haze he could not make out the details of his compatriot, he could only see it was but the most faint shape of a two-legged pony just like him.
“Typical. Couldn’t hold on for another few minutes?” A soft energy enveloped him and lifted the stallion from his sandy grave. Dark blue energy split the wind and kept it off his sodden fur, away from his clammy and graying flesh so he might have a chance to survive. Pins and needles and prickles and bolts of lightning ran through his all but dead flesh as he was made to ascend from the shore and stand somewhat upright for his tall and shrouded mistress. Even when held eye-to-eye with her, he could not properly see her face. In his muddied perception, only duel moons of cyan. The bright color of the sky when all is calm. The color of the heavens over his far-away homeland in the summer.
“Augh… c-... cold… so cold.” He choked out, making his savior gasp and nearly drop him back to the sand. His breath danced about her face in a cloud of musty vapor that was near-instantly obliterated by the wind. He could feel her cushion of magic waver for a moment of shock, the consuming shroud letting in the tiniest bite of wind against his face.
“Moon and stars! He yet lives!” Her voice brought such unbearable melancholy to his heart. That familiar, motherly tone. That past of joy and leisure that would never come back. The stallion choked on his breath and attempted a helpless whimper, only for a dry croak of deathly agony to escape instead.
“Cold… cold…” Was all he could say, for it was all he could feel. The penetrating and consuming ice of death had sunk tendrils deep into his chest and insisted itself upon him. He floated for a moment longer, just enough to fear that it might be the last instance of his living self. But in short order, a warmth. A painful, encroaching, consuming and soft warmth wrapped all around him and shocked his nerves. The brambles running through his veins rapidly retreated back to their ice-water mansions deep below the waves as life rejuvenated the stallion. He was breathless and unable to even cry out as the savior slowly brought him into her bosom and wrapped her cloak about his sopping wet body. She was big, powerful and abundantly heated so the frigid sailor didn’t instantly cool her fur.
“Come to me. That’s enough of your complaining.” Her voice was not entirely sentimental, as a tinge of hunger belied the musical sound. The stallion felt his head pressed between two enormous orbs. Squishy and flexible and deliciously scented breasts surrounded his head and deafened his ears, trapping every last trickle of heat around him. Had the sailor any senses left, he would have remarked at how fabulously endowed and accommodating the mare’s chest was. The stinging, burning, fiery heat of life rushed back through him readily and anxiously so that he might not succumb to nature's predatory grip.
“Hrrmm… rrmmph…” The stallion gurgled and pressed his face into the inky blackness of night. The texture of soft fur, of feminine flesh and the sound of a beating heart lulled him into security. The gap held him firmly in place, pillowy walls squeezing on either side of his skull. He was beyond shame in what he thought to be his final moments, as it didn't matter if it was a mare or a stallion or a gluttonous sea-witch he was embracing. So long as they were warm, soft and willing the stallion would pull himself into their embrace as tightly as he could. He was weightless from both the numbing cold and the shroud of magic hoisting him aloft, the scent of fur, cotton and summer night air bringing levity back to his heavy soul.
“There we are… nestled safely. Forgive the posture, but I believe you will find ample warmth just where you are.” He could not only hear the voice, but feel it in his very depths. Down where his soul connected to his physical body the voice plucked at delicate little strings. She was simply so warm, so massive and so soft. He could feel his arms being laced around her barrel by her magic, yet no matter how tightly he embraced or how deep he pushed, his fingers could not meet at the otherside. Globes of heat surrounded his head and jostled on either temple, the friction bringing an unbearable heat back to his skull and brain so he might be able to think again.
Were it not for the stupefying scent, the stallion would have come back to his senses sooner. All he could stand to do was embrace her, feel her life rushing just beneath her firm body and take in her scent. The sweet, familiar scent of a mature mare. The sugary, savory flavor of a caring monolith he could submit himself totally to. His eyes grew heavy and his dreams danced about in confusing, continuous motions. He felt her moving, he could hear the muffled sound of the storm grow faint and the creek of a door closing. But he was unconcerned with where they were going, what they were doing. He was in a weightless void of warmth completely antithetical to all things deathly. He was perfectly content to stay as long as it would allow him.
“It appears the winds of luck blow in my favor this evening. I’ve needed a good, able-bodied stallion of my own for some time now. And though you reek of coal dust and sea water, I believe a young thing such as yourself shall suit my requirements quite nicely. Are you… comfortable sharing a bed for the evening? I highly recommend it, given your state.” The voice asked him with a shudder, as if unsure of itself. Squeezing tightly as he could, sucking down her ambrosial odor and submerged in endless darkness, the stallion was in poor shape to properly respond. To him the voice was just chimes blowing in the wind. Beautiful and calming, but ultimately meaningless. Unrecognizable as speech he was meant to understand. In his state he drifted between sleep and waking, unsure which was better to him.
“Hm… nothing to say? Or perhaps your lips are frozen together? It matters little, in the end. You and I shall share the bed tonight and you may complain later if this displeases you. The sheets will need a thorough washing to remove your stench, but I shall forgive you. There are many ways a stallion might compensate a mare.” Light crept in through a small crevice between rounded orbs, a candle's weak little light that gave just enough illumination to realize the stallion was still alive. Peering up from the canyon of her cleavage, the sailor's weak eyes glowed like dull rocks. He meekly gripped onto her titanic savior without concern for her words, praying that she wouldn’t dare move him from this spot. He was unsure if he'd survive one moment away from her however, thus he felt too conflicted to assert any desire of his own.
“Let us dry you and get these rags off. Oh, how filthy you are! Has my Navy discarded all forms of dignity whilst I’ve been gone? It truly is a lucky thing you are so handsome. A dirty animal has no place in the Queen’s bed.” Her cloak peeled away in a dark room that the stallion refused to look into. His head was lodged firmly in her chest until he was both deaf and blind to the most sudden of noises and the brightest of lights. His body was painfully pulled from hers by magical energies, an airy and swirling spell ejecting all the sand and water from his fur and shredding his clothing with an electric-
”SHRP!”
“I shall provide you new clothes in the morning. Something more dignified and suitable for your fig-... my word. T- the cold has done little to hide your endowment. Bravo, stallion. I will enjoy seeing it once you’ve escaped death’s clutches.” His fur was left dry by her spell, but ragged and rough. His body was warming but so slowly he would surely die without another's heat. Inside, the wind could not eat and peel at his body until it lost every last bit of heat. But without a furnace of warmth he was too far gone to recover on his own. He gripped greedily at the mare’s enormous body drawn in silhouette by the candlelight, but once again he was completely at the mercy of a dark mistress. The stallion whined as the magic gave way and gravity reclaimed dominion over him. He was pulled down onto a plush surface, an expansive mattress over which heavy wool blankets then descended. Fine sheets felt lovely against his naked body, far nicer than the rough burlap of Navy accommodations.
“There. This is certainly the warmest bed you shall find, stallion. With my natural heat and desirable body, you will no doubt recover quickly and be of use to me. I do hope you enjoy cuddling? Even if your stature is slight, it would be interesting to feel a stallion’s grip whilst I sleep.” The stallion did not answer, as the sheets were cold to the touch. Immediately he curled into a pitiable position to seal in the little warmth this mare had so kindly given to him. His unresponsiveness clearly displeased the looming matron, as she huffed in frustration whilst she disrobed.
“Still in no mood to speak? Not so much as a ‘thank you kindly’ for my efforts?” She remained unanswered as she pulled open the heavy covers and slinked her body beneath them.
“You are a pitiable thing. But that is no way to address roya- OH~!” Haughty words were cut off by a rush of desperation. Just as her colossal weight bowed the bed and compressed the mattress, stallion hands shot forward and gripped about her wide hips. The mare squeaked when the icy-cold digits snuggled into her dark fur and tickled her warm skin, her voice peaking again when she felt the broad chest of a stallion pressed against her thigh. Her Sailor's head rested firmly against her round and soft belly, a snout pressing into the fold between her legs and huffing deeply at her scent. His chilled legs curled about her own and snapped possessively about her, securing the stallion's place beneath the covers as he shivered away.
“Moon and stars… you are… comfortable?” She asked the mound in the dark blue blankets, his shoulder sticking up as a quivering little mountain. Even his short exhalations into her groin were cold, like a south-bound wind brushing against her delicate femininity again and again with a rhythmic and dulling pace.
The stallion had finally found it, warmth. All-consuming warmth. For the moment, he was dead to the world until his body reached a functional temperature once more. His savior simply sat there with a blush consuming her features and an excited tingle worming about the bottom of her heart. She shifted somewhat in the softness of her enormous bed, reaching down to lace her fingers through the stallion's salty and bedraggled mane. He refused to slacken his grip even as sleep crept in around his thoughts. He instead sustained himself on the humid and musty scent of her groin so it might warm his lungs.
“This is a queer insistence you make. Your face would surely be more comfortable in the crook of my neck or the crux of my bosom. Down there is simply… it’s rather demeaning for you, isn’t it?” She said quietly, as if she didn't truly want him to hear. His breaths boiled something in her belly that she found rather agreeable, a dirty sort of agreeable the mare was unsure if she wanted to continue feeling. At the very least, with her Sailor guest so still and silent, she felt more secure speaking as she wished and indulging in the feel of his body. If he even remembered this compromising position in the morning, surely he wouldn't hold it against her.
“If you would like to… make love? In order to keep warm? I would-... It would not be unwelcomed. Clearly you express lust in your actions.” Her experimental question was unanswered by either voice or sudden movement. The stallion only continued to lay there near-motionless.
“I am prepared to receive, if so required. You need not even give warning.” Tree trunk legs spread somewhat in invitation, but the Sailor did not answer. She could feel that sleep was soon to claim him, better than death but still somewhat disappointing. Her insides wriggled and writhed as he breathed against her marehood, taunting it with soft lips and a limp tongue only inches away. Her salty and tangy flavor wafted up and into the sailor’s senses like a strong medicine, easing his discomfort and making it all the easier for him to disregard the near death experience he had just encountered.
However much his Hostess wished he would indulge her silent fantasies and dip boldly into her honeypot, it was clear he had no real intention of doing so. She could only sit there and think about how grand it would be if he sprung to life and claimed her at that spontaneous moment. She swallowed and snugged the comforter up and over his head, trapping him in a swirling chamber of her aroma and her coaxing heat.
“Yes… best that you rest. It is understandable one would be tired from such an odyssey. You should forget that I said anything. I- I have misjudged your intentions.” She cooed uneasily as he slept against her, subtly stroking his fingers through her fur, nosing her groin and pressing his naked body against her leg. She breathed deeply and laced fingers between the long locks of his dirty mane, enjoying the weight of a masculine body settling against her.
“Hrm… tomorrow we shall discuss it. If you are agreeable, then this exile needn’t be taxing for either of us.” Nightmare Moon crooned to herself, the blush burning her cheeks and the stallion below burning her nethers.
Nightmare Moon Makes Her Demands.
Chapter 2.
The smell of ozone hung low to the ground. The sun had been swallowed up by dark, asphalt-colored clouds some hours ago and they brooded on their new position in the heavens. Bellowing and grunting and rolling over one another for dominance in the air, the storm above prepared itself for a mighty release that anxiously promised to come at any given second. The winds brushed over the warm lands below, the patchy grasses and the dark sands and the bare wood of the houses in Appleloosa baked raw and dry by the month-long drought. Everything was porous and thirsty, but the weight of the coming storm was far more frightening than it was relieving. Surely, the sand would be churned into mud, the dry earth would become saturated and the flat land would roll over with sudden floods of coffee-colored water. In mere hours, some parts of the land would be under rushing currents tall as a man.
Cognizant of this, a stallion had left his home early that dry morning. His fur was the color of fresh lumber and his long mane the same shade of black as coal dust, the fitness of youth and of a thread-bare diet keeping him lean and well-defined. He wore nothing but ragged overalls and a straw hat to keep himself safe from the sun, for he had few other clothes that he would risk getting wet in the downpour. When he went to the market in town to fetch provisions for his household, hardly any pony took real notice of his visible poverty. Such was not an uncommon thing on the Equestrian frontier, nor was it too surprising to see that particular stallion dressed in such a manner.
Coal Cartner did not feel shame for his lack of means, but he was well known for being a rather reserved and shy stallion because of it. He was a poor pony in a poor town, but such was life for those on the frontier. He still made enough to feed himself and his Mother, worked hard whenever he could get the work and bothered no pony or buffalo with his business. He wasn’t particularly respected, but he could count himself among the well-liked in Appleloosa. He purchased flour, grits, molasses, beans, yams and rifle cartridges on this run, though he saved his last shiny bit for a pint of whisky. A nicety just in case the coming rain washed away friends’ homes or crops.
On his brisk walk home he could feel the first pitter patters of tiny drops on his bare shoulders. The sun-baked fur was nearly bleached white by the intense heat of Day Breaker’s punishing summer, thus the cool water soaked right through to his raw skin. The alarm set in, as he wished dearly not to be caught knee-deep in mud several hours from home. He walked faster and faster as the rain picked up, soon running through the steady fall of fat droplets that slapped against the firm ground. The denim of his overalls scraped at his joints, the brim of his hat hung over his eyes and the fog of splattering rain darkened the world. He was plunged into confusion running down the now soupy road, slurping footsteps going slower and slower and slower bit by bit as he pushed through the rain.
Tramping through the mush, feeling the cold rush of aggressive wind, suffering the burning in his exhausted legs, Coal Carter stopped and sucked down breath. He shivered as the water seemed to push him lower and lower into the ground and the mud snaked up his legs greedily.
“You there! Yoohoo! Come about, now!” A voice from the fog, a lantern’s yellow glow in the obscure distance. Coal turned toward it and forced himself to struggle toward the familiar voice. An ebony and handsome mare called for him from her porch, several yards distance now an impenetrable layer of gray fog. He could only make out the fertile, thick and powerful shape of her body filling a deck chair like molten gold overflowing in a mold.
“Lordy may~! Coal Carter himself out in the rain!” Lindsyedale Pecheron said as he struggled up and onto her wood stoop, stopping so he might not spread thick mud across her porch. The rough sack of provisions hung heavily on Coal Carter’s back, heaving up and down with his labored and speechless breath. She held her hands over her enormous and bulging breasts, the mammoth mammaries just barely held by a single button on her floral dress. Her bare feet pressed onto the wood with a giddy flex, as if she was prepared to jump upright and savage him at any moment.
“Darlin’ this ain’t no time for runnin’ about! You silly stallion! C'mon in and bring that whiskey with ya, I'm in need of some company ‘till this storm passes.” She invited with such a thick and tempting voice, a sweet and lurid voice he had lusted after for so long. The motherly mare loved to tease and to play with him, taunting that she might molest him the moment she got the chance. Now the black-colored beauty sat back on her porch’s rocking chair, her eyes imparting a divine and shocking warmth to the young stallion. A warmth that silently screamed- ”I’m gonna getcha~!”
He attempted to justify himself and explain just what he was doing out in the storm. But the words failed him, his throat could only push out a meager and chirpy little mumble. He could not help but notice her legs luridly spread, only the drape of her skirt hiding her shame under the lantern’s light. She was breathing deep and hard, excited for something to happen.
“I can't, Ma'am! I gotta-... I gotta get home now… ‘yer man wouldn't like me bein’ alone with ya anyhow.” He gasped in exasperation, feeling far more exhausted than he had any reason to be. But her broad hand oozed down her front and took hold of her fancy dress, lifting it bit by bit in a taunting and goading manner that drew the eyes straight where they ought not to be.
“But ya'll would be so much more comfortable in here ‘stead of that awful rain, Carter honey~.” Coal’s heart fluttered in his chest and lightning struck in his belly when the inky black lips glistened and trembled in the wind. Soft, titanic thighs funneled his gaze straight to her winking opening, thick ebony lips circumscribed and topped by a dense bushel of snow-white pubic fluff. The world spun around him, removing all sense of space and time from his perception. His manhood reacted, but his muscles refused to move him one bit closer to the soft prize.
“Don't be cruel now, boy. I done welcomed ya in~. Least ya could do is thank me properly~.” Lindsydal’s voice carried off into the void, darkness roiling and churning like the violent sea until a blinding light burned everything away.
“Where ya goin’? Too chicken to give it another try~?” The voice blew away on the wind, carrying with it the nostalgia of a long-lost homeland. In one smooth motion he fell onto the porch as it transformed into a broad, warm and plush bed. Coal Carter stirred awake and gripped a soft pillow between his arms tightly as a terrible ache settled over his entire being. Softness had consumed his terribly stiff body, cotton and wool and warm linen was wrapped tightly all about him like no other bed he had ever warmed. But the muscles within were pulled tight. His stiff joints crackled and popped when he moved and his brain stirred with an uneasy throb. His organs pumped with a peculiar discomfort, as if simply living was a trying and exhausting task.
“Sun almighty…” He grunted to himself as the morning burned his eyes. For several minutes he simply lay in this tremendous bed, feeling about for any sign of time or place that might help explain his situation. In his heart he was quite disturbed, for this wasn’t the feel of his little cot aboard the Placation. Nor was it his bunk in the Navy shipyard of Fillydelphia. This bed was far too comfortable and warm to be either of those places. And the more he thought of it, the more images of stormy weather, rushing water and consuming darkness filled his thoughts.
The instant he seemed to find some grip on his memory, a bruising pain would burst in his head. His brain would throttle against the walls of his skull and jam up any momentum his thoughts had built, commanding him to stop thinking on it any further. He couldn't be too troubled by his situation at the moment. Maintaining a forward-looking mind and denying any attachment to the past was the only way to keep out the booming ache. He forced himself to sit in the bed and search for any familiar sign, but there was nothing he could spy.
The wood-paneled walls were dark, inlaid with bronze and sparsely decorated. A single window to his left looked out over a barren island of rough grass and a dark beach, the infinite ocean stretched out to the far-off horizon. The clouds above had mostly cleared and left only a constant sea-breeze that pressed against the glass panes. High ceilings loomed above with the similarly floral inlay, the hanging chandelier dangling glass beads but no candles. The candle stick on the nightstand was unused and freshly changed. The bed was so enormous he had to crawl out from the middle of it, albeit with great difficulty once he reached the still warm spot on one side.
“HMM~! S- sun above! Can’t hardly move a rotten inch!” The stallion gasped as the scent magnetized him downwards. Carter's arms collapsed and his face planted into the epicenter of the heat as if gravity itself commanded him to huddle there. A fruity and somewhat raunchy scent lingered in the sheets, the smell of a woman’s shame soaked into otherwise fresh linens. The meager strength went out of his muscles as he huffed the goading aroma, flaring nostrils and straining lungs aching but demanding more after each breath. The decency had gone out of his mind for the moment, replaced by the sincere desire to be close to this scent, engulfed by it. Coal Carter only came back to his senses when the tell-tale grunt of heavy feet against wood resounded through the manor, awakening that buried desire for answers.
Reluctant to pull away, he finally stood up from the bed on a plush carpet and found the nearest dresser was decorated with a parchment. However much he focused and stared at the flowery, flowing and elegant handwriting, he could not read it in any meaningful manner. Things that looked like words slipped and folded over themselves until it was all so many meaningless scribbles. Few phrases came through, as he had seen them written in similar script before on signs.
”Sailor… clothing for you… breakfast… sleep well… yours truly.” He gave the note little concern when he found himself naked in the cold room. Folded, respectable clothes were laid out for him in neat order where he could reach them. Rather than go about a stranger's home with his manhood bare, he decided it would be best to infer the note's intention and dress himself.
Wool trousers, thick socks, a pin-striped shirt and suspenders suited him for the moment. They were certainly the nicest clothes he had worn in a long while, though clearly not tailored for a stallion of his slight build. They sagged on him like his Father’s clothes did back in his childhood, but they kept him warm and spared him shame. Stepping out of the bedroom, Coal Carter was struck by the scale of the manor. The hall was not only wide enough for several ponies to walk shoulder-to-shoulder, but the ceilings were grand enough for pegasui to fly undisturbed.
“Hello? Anypony up and about?” His voice rang off the ceiling and the walls with the same booming and roomy echo as a cathedral. It carried on for some time before finally echoing quietly at the end of the long hall. Candle holders made of cast iron hung from the walls in the shape of timberwolf claws gripping waxy sticks, illuminating the way in the dull morning light. Plaster walls shone between the sturdy beams of dark wood holding the roof aloft, polished mahogany floors so smooth against the foot he could skate across the shimmering surface. A scent lingered in the air, filling the gigantic space as he stepped past one closed door after the other.
Bread, cream, coffee and cinnamon. Carter's empty belly commanded to move toward the smell of food, the warmth of cooking and the noise of a busy kitchen. The further down the hall he walked, resting his hand on the wall for stability in his weak legs, the stronger the signs of life. Clattering pots and pans, shuffling feet, the rustle of feathered wings flexing and fluttering. In short order he had stepped into a grand kitchen paved with alternating tiles of white and cerulean. Enameled stoves and cooktops and ovens were tucked in between massive slabs of polished marble, the essential tools of a cook hanging from hooks with shiny metal polished to a clean perfection.
“Sun almighty… where I gone off to?” He asked under his breath. Tall windows let in the full light of the rising sun, bathing the bright room with a comforting and soothing luminance. The clean surfaces of metal and stone and enamel reflected the light into infinite bouncing rays that dazzled his eyes and made his head spin.
“Hello?! Is anypony here?!” He called again in the kitchen, the noise bouncing sharply off the kitchen with a particular volume that rang in his ears. But most shocking was the great table set out in the sunlight. A long and broad street of oak wood draped by dark blue mats. Bowls of every shape and size held in them every breakfast food a simple stallion such as Carter could dream of. Bowls of steaming oats drenched in milk and dusted with cinnamon. Icing-covered buns twirled with brown sugar. Heaps of freshly cut fruit soaking in their juices. Golden-brown biscuits rounded and hilly with a heavy pot of thick gravy waiting to shroud them. A pot of coffee still hot and steaming with cream just beside it. All this and more set out with perfect silverware and fine china plates set out for two. Carter stood over it with his mouth watering and his stomach twisting itself into anxious knots, but he refused to eat without answers. For all he knew, this was a fancy lord's breakfast he was intruding upon. He insisted on politeness, lest he be cast out to sea again. But the temptation was simply so mesmerizing when it was all right there and fresh.
“There is no need to call out. I know thou art here already.” A deep and smooth voice said from behind, pushing the soul from his chest. Coal turned on his heels quickly to address the Mistress of the house, preparing himself for a hasty explanation. But the moment he laid eyes upon her, every muscle froze stiff. His heart ceased to beat for an entire second as the looming, enormous, ebony mare consumed his vision.
“Unfortunately I am not familiar with your preferences in breakfast food. I have made some of everything.” Tall, wide, powerful and threatening. A dark alicorn stood chest, shoulders and head above Coal Carter with a long and slender horn sharpened into a needle. Her long blue mane fell over her broad shoulders and cascaded down the back of her blouse like the storm clouds that had cast him ashore, shining with the subtle twinkling of stars. A lithe neck led down into a buxom and strong body like that of an earth pony mare, bristling muscles constrained by soft hills and accents of plush flesh. Her fur absorbed such light that the room seemed to grow darker when she stepped into it, especially when her massive body blotted out the sun. Coal shuddered as her enormous and healthy breast pushed against her shirt until the buttons bulged and the cotton strained against their combined mass, a hopeless apron wrapped tight over the planetary orbs and dusted with white flower.
“N- Night- N- N-...” He gasped and stepped back in terror of her, finding that his rear bumped into the table and disturbed the breakfast she had laid out for him. Her feet brushed against the smooth, cold floor as she approached him with metered and careful steps. Long legs led up to wide hips so girthy and thick they could conceal an entire man standing behind her. Her belly was rounded and somewhat pudgy, though one could still see the power of the muscles in her sides, her arms and her thighs. Nightmare Moon wore just a simple brown dress behind her apron, the common clothes so unfitting for a mare of her legendary stature that it further terrified her guest.
“Aye. I am she.” She answered with her cat-like eyes focused on his emerald orbs, transfixed with an interested and curious glimmer. Carter shivered and gripped the table until his knuckles turned white as his flesh had the evening prior.
“Nightmare Moon! HCK- NIGHTMARE-!” She brought a firm and large hand to his mouth and clamped it shut for him, letting the young stallion feel the penetrating energy of her warmth. He smelled on her the same alluring, addictive and saturating scent as he had smelled in the bed. Immediately, he felt somewhat calmer, as if his heart wouldn't burst out from his chest at the slightest move she made. Coal Carter's eyes still stared into hers, unsure how to move or respond to the Queen of the Night who- as long as he had been alive- was nothing but a long dead legend banished for eternity. She studied him as well, albeit with a far different spirit to her slight moves.
“I have already confirmed who it is that you converse with. I am happy you wish to glorify my name. But it is time for your breakfast.” Her hand uncoupled from his snout and settled on his shoulder, a solid yet considerate grip tightening on his collar.
“Sit and eat. You require thorough nourishment after yon night prior.” Coal Carter was turned and welcomed into his upright chair, his posture stiff and uneasy as the Queen of the Night sat by his side. Separated by the table's corner, a feast set before him, Carter simply stared at her in gaping disbelief. Nightmare Moon sat with a discontent grunt and poured the fresh coffee into a pair of petite mugs, one for her and the other for her aghast companion.
“Cream? Perhaps sugar?” The simple question failed to pierce his gawking and silent expression. Nightmare Moon rolled her eyes and simply pressed the mug into his grip, letting the burning heat awaken his better senses.
“You ought to stare out of awe and rapture rather than fear, Sailor. I've no intention of causing any harm.” Coal reacted slowly and looked down at the drink burning his hand, carefully and mindfully gripping the mug's fancy handle. He sipped from it and put his eyes back onto breakfast, his breathing somewhat regular now that he wasn't staring a goddess in the face. Nightmare Moon watched him for a few agonizingly awkward seconds, searching his expression for any hint of emotion outside of absolute terror. It had simply been too long since she had mingled with mortals, their manners had once again become alien to her.
“Good?” She asked sternly, earning a slight nod from the stallion. He savored the complex and rich flavor of good coffee, an expensive luxury he had never been too familiar with throughout his life.
“Y- yessum… it's very good.” He answered, the sound of his masculine and young voice making his evil Queen relax somewhat. She leaned on the table with both elbows, further encroaching on his personal space.
“Excellent… I have made it specially for you. I understand sailors have only weak tea and grog on their vessels. Your long suffering belly need worry no longer.” He nodded and ran his fingers over the immaculate, smooth and finely decorated porcelain.
“Thank you kindly, Ma'am.” Again the awkward silence consumed the pair as Nightmare Moon stared her sailor down and he in turn desperately thought of something to say. She could content herself with observing him and all his terrified little quirks, but under such scrutiny Coal Carter felt the weight of the world on his ribs.
“You’re… really Nightmare Moon?” Finally asked, bringing quite the indignant look to his Hostess’ snout.
“Do I resemble somepony else? Is my brilliance lacking such that you feel uncertain?” She retorted firmly, her wings fluttering in frustration. Carter winced at the venom in her voice, fighting to steel himself against her harsh tone.
“N- no! No, Ma'am! I just- it's that-... you- ain’t ya'll supposed to be banished? To the ehm…” He finally choked out the words, his eyes flicking from one dish of food to the next. The dark Queen breathed deep, but never pulled her face away from his. Coal Carter was made to endure the whooshing currents of the breath leaving her nostrils.
“To the moon?” He added, looking to her once again in a bold dare. She was inordinately beautiful, the perfected form of mare-kind carved from divine flesh. Just glancing into her eyes made the simple stallion's soul twist and thrash in his chest, as if she had a hand wrapped around its slight throat. Nightmare Moon chewed on the question for a moment before sipping her strong coffee and answering with a markedly softer tone.
“Hrm… I am banished. But to the ’Sea of Tranquility,’ rather than the moon.” Her answer was indeed coherent and true, but to the simple Sailor's mind it was hardly an illuminating one.
“A- ain't that on the Moon?” He sputtered, sipping his coffee and feeling far too frightened to mind it burning his tongue.
“Yes. My beautiful sphere has a Sea of Tranquility across it. But Day Breaker is obsessed with childish ironies and irritating jests.” She sipped her coffee once again, moving the bowl of fresh fruits toward her so she could eat from it as well.
“Thus, she has named this realm of the Ocean the ’Sea of Tranquility’ and banished me to this island within it. Is that not simply the pinnacle of comedy? Is the compulsion to laugh tearing your soul apart as I explain it to you?” Coal Carter cocked an eyebrow in confusion before thinking better of it. Likewise, he straightened his posture and reached carefully for the warm oats.
“May I?” He asked quietly, receiving a little wave of approval from the towering Royal.
“Of course, of course.” She answered between nibbles of cantaloupe and strawberry and watermelon, her table etiquette perfectly proper and courteous.
“Thank ya kindly, Ma'am… seems an awful fancy place to be banished to.” Coal Carter braced himself for a potentially ferocious outburst, as Day Breaker was notorious for lashing out at her underlings for the slightest offense. He was certain that her mythical sister would be much the same. Nightmare Moon didn't react to the question in any visible way, instead dabbing her chin with a napkin and returning to her forward-learning dominance over him.
“Yes, it is. It is good that you honor me with your recognition. I have a personal style that shows in all my fine constructions. This manor was built by my divine hand many decades ago. Some comfort whilst I wait out my sentence.” Carter's eyes darted quickly from fixture to structure to fixture again with a sudden shock. All of the complex joints and fittings and finery coming from a single skilled hand seemed beyond all reason and logic.
“Sun almighty! Ya'll built this? Alone?” He asked with an air of disbelief that both tickled and irritated the Queen. She grinned somewhat at his childish awe, but wanted to grind her teeth at the mention of her traitorous Sister.
“Divinity allows me many abilities and talents, Sailor. I am glad to share my manor with you from this day forward.” Coal Carter took a spoonful of oats from the bowel, the exotic taste of cinnamon and allspice strange, but incredibly delicious to his palate. For a moment he was relaxed and content with the delicious and incredibly fine food, the warm sun on his drab fur and the relief of being alive in his heart. But in an instant, he could feel the sharp prod of expectant, royal eyes on him. Nightmare Moon stared with a curious, hungry smile down at her Sailor.
“But… I have a particular distaste for strangers. Those whom I do not know are far more liable to be distasteful to me. You must not remain unnamed or I shall think again about your accommodation in my home.” She said this with a haughty assuredness only a mare of unbelievable power could wield. The Queen was in total control of the situation, for she could turn Coal Carter to vapor in an instant or simply cast him out of the manor whenever she pleased. In his shy and reserved manner the stallion only sheepishly looked away once again, clenching his hand tightly about the warmth of his coffee and shivering under her piercing stare.
“You need not worry, Sailor. I only wish to ask some questions and set my expectations. Only the very same needs that any Hostess would demand of her guest.” He nodded weakly, unable to drive out that encroaching aroma. Soft and sweet and feminine, a fog that surrounded her like honey sweetness surrounds an active beehive. He could not escape her scent once it had penetrated the flavor of breakfast.
“O- of course, Ma'am.” He said simply as she casually ate and reveled in his submission.
“Good~. Tell me thine name. I wish first and foremost to know who it is I house.” She asked simply and politely, albeit with a threatening flavor to her words.
“Coal Carter… The boys jus’ call me ‘Carter’ for short.” She smiled wider at the simple little name that fit the slouched little stallion so well.
“A laborer’s name. And from thine accent, I suppose thou come from the hinterlands?” The Queen of the night asked with just the slightest flick of her sapphire tongue. Carter’s breath hitched when he caught her retrieving a thin film of coffee from her lips with the slender and snake-like appendage.
“I ain’t never been to no ’Hinterland. But I come outta’ Appleloosa. Buffalo country.” She giggled under her breath at his ignorance, tapping her fingernails against the table with audible anxiety. Carter could feel she wanted to come closer to him, to perhaps devour him entirely like she had been rumored to do to lost stallions. He quietly pushed on his feet to move the chair further away from the ebony Queen.
“Curious. An earth pony such as thou surely hath no place aboard a steamship then? What brings a strong, young thing to these hopeless waters?” Carter became rigid and stared down the length of the table. His eyes widened somewhat as his mind crept back to that time in his life, a period he remembered like a foggy nightmare. A second passed, then several more as he considered how he ought to explain such a thing. It was not an uncommon question during his time in the Navy, but he had been lucky in avoiding the answer for several years.
“It’s… a mighty borin’ story.” He said dryly, sipping his coffee and filling his mouth with oats to avoid talking. However glad Nightmare Moon was to see him eating, his curt little answer certainly failed to satisfy. She placed a foot behind his chair to stop his pitiful attempt at escape.
“Now is not the time to be tight-lipped, Carter.” She insisted huskily and leaned closer, her snout nearly touching against his ear. Carter chewed noisily to deny her as long as possible, but her persistence clenched tighter and tighter every agonizing second.
“I’d prefer not to be wordsy, your Majesty.” He answered weakly and pitifully.
“Best to say I come upon hard times in my homeland. So I go off lookin’ for work wherever I might find it. Navy offered twenty bits a’month for coal trimmers and stokers for them big steamship boilers. Gone aboard two years ago, now I find myself here in y'all's good company.” His aching muscles and fidgeting eyes communicated just how reserved he had been with his information. Coal Carter felt the domineering Queen search through his very soul with her ancient and sinister eyes, picking at him for any hint of scandalous truth. Her presence grew heavier in the air, a suction collapsed the atmosphere toward her until the wafting fumes of his breakfast bent their ghostly, upwards courses toward her enormous body.
By this point, at this proximity, he could not help but notice her endowment. Her apron strained around her breasts so mightily it was a wonder that it didn't tear down the middle and allow her to spill free. They rested on the table like a fat goose and heaved with her gentle breaths in a soothing, monotonous rhythm. Her shoulders were broader than his, biceps far more charged with powerful and visible muscle. Something about him wanted to kiss her muscles, to worship such incredible craftsmanship given flesh. Her entire being just demanded he come close, demanded he embrace her and examine every delightful detail of her immaculate being. The fire of resistance burned all the brighter in his stomach with the oily residue of absolute terror oozing into it.
And her divine scent. How her scent seemed to just attack him with a tactical intent to drive him toward madness. Coal Carter's nostrils flared to take in the elder aroma of the Night's humble Queen. Like the wonderful aroma of a rainy summer forest, the first cool breeze of the coming autumn and the flowery spice of a young mare’s love. His cheeks caught fire from the intensity of her being. His stomach turned and twisted in a showy dance in hopes of garnering her fullest attention. Pangs of boyish fear crashed through every muscle and chewed at his nerves until they were frayed, sparking wires. Part of him wanted to rip out of his chest and leap at her, bury itself back in her bountiful bosom and just be consumed by her engrossing beauty. But combined, the thrashing conflicts of fear and lust in his mind left him still and staring. And Nightmare Moon gladly noticed. It was a nice change of pace to be admired and ogled in such a lonely place. The alicorn adjusted her clothing somewhat so one could see the cavernous gap between her titanic breasts.
“I must admit, I am one that is weak for sea-bound stallions.” Rather than smiling playfully and speaking with a sultry overtone, Nightmare Moon spoke bluntly. The remark caught Carter off guard. He stopped with a spoonful in his mouth and a raised brow.
“A shame your uniform was lost. I would like to see what you looked like in proper dress.” Carter did his best to disregard the strange remark. To his sensibilities, the Queen was far more likely to torment him with random fancies and tricks rather than approach him with any real affection.
“You wear these clothes well. Your body compliments my tailoring.” He inspected his threads for a moment, as she pulled at the buttons of his shirt and almost revealed his bare chest. For a moment her fingers nearly pushed between the button and fabric to feel at his bare front. He swallowed the embarrassment of being objectified for a moment and recentered his thoughts.
“Ain't much to be showin’ off. Never had a good setta’ dress down in the coal pit. I was always a'covered in that black dust and that drippin’ sweat. I looked a mess, I assure ya.”
“Perhaps. But a work-wearied stallion is attractive just as a proud admiral. It simply depends on the preferences of the mare deciding to make use of him.” Nightmare qualified and enjoyed her fruit with a smooth sigh. She breathed deeply and contently as she drew the blinds on the sun shining in her face. By this point, Carter was comfortable enough to eat consistently in front of her. In short order his bowl of warm and spicy oatmeal was emptied and scraped clean.
“My, my, Carter. You’ve certainly the appetite of a working stallion.” She said, quickly sliding the sweet rolls before him the moment he enjoyed his last bite.
“Eat your fill. You shall need every last bit of strength to fully recover.” He gladly obliged her a dense and flakey roll, his eyes falling to the dark waters outside. It still churned and stirred with a vicious and wind-whipped ferocity to it, not a single sea bird soaring overhead.
“I thank you kindly, Ma'am… I don't suppose no other feller come off the Placation?” He asked as he chomped through the biscuit. The stallion was surprised to find it so terrifically plush and moist and buttery, a rather jarring contrast to the rock-hard and bitter ship's bisket he had been sustained on for months prior.
“Only you. I heard some terrific roar in the night and wandered the beaches looking for any intruders that might wash ashore. Thankfully, t'was only you.” Revelry was clear in her voice, a far-off thankfulness like the aghast words of someone receiving a great gift. Carter scowled somewhat at the rather morbid satisfaction she showed, but quickly remembered who he was speaking to in the first place.
“You would best not worry about them, my Sailor. You are here, alive. I shall watch over and keep you safe.” Carter noted how Nightmare Moon's hand inched closer and closer to his arm, her fingers aching for a chance to seize his sleeve. Her long nail brushed against the fur of his wrist like the pin-prick edge of a knife. Cold fingers tensed against the table with a prey animal's jittery angst.
“I just… I can't remember what happened. For the life of me I-” His thoughts turned to that night once again and searched for some clarity. Pain immediately replaced any progress forward, filtering out everything but the most basic images and recollections. He trembled as the creeping tendrils of the ocean's icy presence licked at his limbs. Carter rubbed his temple as a gong of pain rang out again and again at the base of his skull. His hands trembled like the cold had returned, shaking so terribly that his coffee cup rattled against its saucer.
“I- I- I can’t remember too much. Can’t even recall how it is I come to my bed, Ma’am.” Nightmare Moon’s ears perked up as she magnetized to the trembling stallion. She set her coffee down and laid her hand atop his own, feeling how icy it had suddenly become. For a moment, he could almost see genuine concern in her eyes. She was so warm to the touch, he couldn't help but subtly curl his fingers about hers. Carter leaned toward the heat naturally and almost set his head on the Dark Mistresses shoulder.
“There is no need for that, Coal Carter. You have me to thank. And so long as you remain compliant with my simple demands? I shall see that you are fed and warm from here on out.” His snout directed toward her when she wrapped her arm about his shoulders and squeezed him possessively, bringing him closer with a divine grip. She did not squeeze out of insecurity, but more some strange curiosity that demanded she feel out his body. Carter's head rang for a moment longer before he could formulate proper sentences again, though it was so much more difficult to do so when Nightmare Moon was within kissing distance. She did not seem to mind. If anything, her voice was markedly more relaxed and genuine when uncomfortably close to her guest.
“Demands?” He asked meekly.
“But of course. You are an honest stallion. A laborer for-hire, no doubt. Certainly it is no issue that- as the savior of your life- I may make demands for compensation?” She asked as if truly confused, if not slightly offended. Had it been any other pony, Coal Carter would have gladly admitted his debt to them. A family’s honor partially depended on their good standing with debtors, after all. His late Father had done well to keep his name out of exploitative hands, but still deliver on his promises. But in the face of one of Equestria’s most loathsome evils, he was unsure how deeply he wanted to be involved.
“I- I suppose I could… I don't have anythin’ to give ya, I'm sorry to say.” He said with a free hand raised defensively. The other refused to slide out from under Nightmare’s grip, lest it be deprived of the vital heat the Queen radiated. Nightmare Moon cocked an eyebrow in confusion.
“All my savin's are onshore in Manehatten bank. And shoot, everythin’ I ever owned's at the bottom of the ocean, I reckon.” The alicorn squeezed him softly with long strokes of her fingers, combing over the texture of his clothed body. Tingles chattered down the stallion's spine as she lost herself in his tactile feel for a moment, idly running her eyes up and down his body with her tongue writhing in thirst.
“I’ve no need or desire for the meager wealth of a sailor. If I know that wretched sister of mine? She would rather have her wings cut off than pay a fair wage to my Navy.” She swallowed as if preparing herself for a loaded question, faltering in her lusty and unconscious scan of Carter's form. When their eyes met for the briefest instance, she looked away quickly and drank her coffee to distract herself.
“Mh~... No. Thou shalt repay me through physical means. It is good that a healthy, virile and handsome male such as you arrived at this opportune moment. I have pressing concerns that must have the attention and skills of a stallion. With quite reliable regularity as well.” Big words and a Canterlot accent made it somewhat difficult for the exhausted and simple Carter to understand the full weight of her sentence. He watched her continuously lick up and down his body with her eyes, praying she might at some moment just outright explain what it was she wanted from him.
“I… I see?” He said with a quickly drying throat. If the worming discomfort at the bottom of his stomach and the crawling of his skin was any hint, he quietly hoped she would change her mind and just force him to work.
“You see, I have been here for the last 249 years. And during that time, it has occurred to me that the company of a physically suitable stallion would please me verily. Since you have come and since you have accumulated a considerable debt to me, I wish to be compensated with sexual intercourse every single morning and night from here forward.” The delivery was made with words and a meter he was unfamiliar with, but even Coal Carter of Appleloosa with his limited primary school education could pick out the word ”sexual” from the Queen's vocabulary. The blood rushed from his face and raced down into the core of his body, leaving everything else tingly and numb like it was buried in snow. The alicorn was unhindered by his aghast response as well, as wide eyes just revealed more of his pretty, emerald irises.
“Of course, I understand that at times a stallion has his own needs. So long as it does not conflict with my work or my activities, then we may also make love during the day in order to release any pressures that might build in you. But I still expect thorough attention whenever the act commences. Regardless of your own stamina or temperament, my payment shall be satisfaction.” Nightmare’s voice was similar to that of a business woman negotiating the particulars of a thick contract. No passion, no regard for the emotion that might be broiling and tossing inside of Carter's stomach. His palpable angst and shock were lost on her, as she simply disregarded his racing heart and gaping mouth. In her position, there was so little he could do there was no need to account for potential resistance or denial.
“I also expect to be embraced whilst I sleep. At least two hours prior to my rest and two hours after. Both hands are required, but if you wish to use your legs as well? I am agreeable. You are quite small, so you will have to employ some creativity in order to fully satisfy me. I should be quite glad to help construct and test any ideas you have. Expressing your ideas is best done through detailed writing that I may review beforehand. ” Carter's mouth hung lower as she talked, his heart flipped in his chest as she endlessly prattled on and on in her icy, monotonous voice. Nightmare Moon squeezed his hand with a slight tremble to her own, as she had never asked such things of any pony. Let alone a handsome and exceedingly rare male of good breeding and excellent physical fitness. Carter stared into her eyes hoping for a trick, praying that she might just devour him or kill him instead. But after several seconds of grinding silence, Nightmare Moon only blushed and looked away.
“I see you are feeling attraction to me already. Were you not upon death’s forlorn stoop yon night prior, we might have already started our arrangement and relieved the tension. You look upon me with such… intensity, now. Th- that is quite natural, I suppose. No doubt your time in the bowels of a steamship has left you pent up and in need of attention. I have often wondered how I might react to being restricted from relieving myself of such urges as you have been. I would almost certainly be liable to attack a stallion upon my first shore leave.” Her voice wavered and her wings flexed across her back in a smooth extension. The Queen beat down the frothing and volcanic excitement building in her chest before it could force out some terribly embarrassing and un-royal noise from her soul. The longer she looked at the captured, handsome and submissive mate before her, the more difficult that became.
“You show remarkable resilience to your natural needs, Carter. I find that most admirable. T’was a lovely time to have you in my arms as we slept. Your body is… so lovely to the touch. Out of respect for you I did not satisfy myself as you slept. But the more time between your relief and now, the more likely you are to spring upon me when I am not fully prepared. Finish your breakfast and we may begin. I shall need to bathe you first and disrobe. Best we become intimate as soon as possible so you may learn my needs and preferences early.”
Silence. Several seconds of tense, grinding, pulling silence. Coal Carter blinked and felt the dryness of his eyes, he swallowed and nearly gagged at the desert-like atmosphere of his throat. His being quaked and his heart flipped inside his chest, landing feet-first on his stomach and nearly making him cry out. Something was indeed stirring in his intimate region, an excitable young man that was never one to turn down the opportunity to indulge in dirty thoughts.
He could immediately imagine parting her oceanic legs of consuming black, stroking his hands over her curvaceous hips and slamming himself home inside her. Her scent had filled his braincase like molten lead and slowed every thought down to a ponderous and stupid creep. How soft she must be, how bountifully her goddess body might fill the hand when it gripped at her feminine fat, how quivering and submissive she would be when made rigid along his pride. Carter gulped and let his gaze fall down to her mountainous breasts once again. Just how many stallions throughout history had lived and died lusting for that chest? What price would an aristocratic lout pay for just a few minutes alone with her titanic, soft and mature mammaries? What would they feel like shrouding his shaft and bouncing up and down along his girth like hungry hips?
His knees pinched together at the thought of her chair-filling, room-dominating and stallion-crushing rump settling in his lap. A royal backside so massive it could bury him alive suddenly settling with a weighty and airy- ”fwump!” so he could easily slide inside of it. Fleshy lips split around a turgid rod of black flesh and trembling from the pleasure, a snotty ooze of creamy mare delight dripping down his gonads. He imagined the musical sounds such a goddess would make, the innumerable squeaks and grunts and whimpers and moans of a pony in the throes of a good, hard and long-awaited breeding. Some part of him was more than ready to leap forward, kick everything off the table and lay her across it. A randy and bucking and thrashing piece of his brain commanded him to lay her down, spread her out and show her exactly what force of nature she so brazenly decided to toy with.
But his higher functions held him back with a panicked grip. No pony had ever bested a Royal in any physical pursuit. They were not constrained by their flesh and blood. Alicorns could rip stallions apart with their bare hands, forge iron with their fists and pull their very souls apart with arcane energy. Any displeasing action would surely result in a quick death that even Coal Carter’s ethereal soul would not survive. The moment he insisted dominance over her, she could twist his spine into shattered plaster. If he mounted her incorrectly or stepped on a leg in the process, she might just rip his arms off to teach him a lesson.
Worst of all, if she lost her temperament in the moment, if she insisted dominance, he could be crushed into gravel. Her powerful legs and mighty hips would beat him down into a flattened tapestry of a stallion, pulverizing bone and liquifying muscle in the process. Stories had been circulated in the Navy for years about cocky admirals, insistant generals and downright suicidal seamen falling to the lust of their Solar Queen. Under the cover of hushed whispers, there was always at least one stallion talking about old Rust Jaw’s broken pelvis, Anchor Chain’s bursted organs and Captain Gale’s roasted nethers. Stallions whose name’s once belonged to flesh and blood creatures now vaporized by a goddess’ deathly sex.
Considering his options, finding that she was braced around him like a cage of muscle ravenously thirsting for him, Carter sipped his coffee with a shaking hand so severe he nearly spilled his cup across his clothes. His mind worked sloppily, but fast.
“S- sounds… I reckon I can try my best.” He said quietly. Nightmare Moon did not smile giddily at his answer, she only nodded in satisfaction. The deal had not been completed quite yet.
“But… m- m- may I use the head? That Navy chow’s gone right through me.” A tiny, crooked little smile would have alerted most normal ponies to his discomfort. A twisted smile like a twisted gut terrified beyond words in the face of consuming darkness. Nightmare Moon retorted with a confused blink, only gathering his words together after several more seconds of molesting him with her eyes.
“The he-? ...oh! Oh yes, of course. Down the hall, just across from our bedroom, Coal Carter. You shall find your bath in there, as well. Have you any familiarity with indoor plumbing? Should I come along to assist? I would be most pleased to draw a bath for us- I mean you.” Her question was half-way out of her mouth when the stallion stood up and wriggled from her grip. His feet nearly gave out from under him when weak knees were made to take the brunt of his weight, but he struggled toward the familiar route nonetheless.
“Yessum! Yessum, sure do, Ma’am! Just like a steamship shower, I reckon! I’ll only be a jiff, then we can get right to it!” Coal Carter shuffled quickly and stiffly, just as he spoke his words. Sock-covered feet slide across the kitchen floor and then beat on the hard wood of the hall in a stilted run. The huffing stallion let his fear speed him along as he ran toward the open bedroom door and nearly broke down the closed one opposite of it. His wild eyes skittered around the fine and tile-covered bathroom, ignoring the brass fixtures, enormous soapstone tub and the automobile-sized mirror. All he cared for was a large enough portal, a window or a vent or anything that might allow him to scramble free.
Luckily for him, just over the basin there was such a structure. He made for it and threw open the window to scramble out and onto the roof of the manor. Socks rapidly soaked up moisture from the prior night’s rain as his feet slopped against the sloping roof. To his glee, it was only the second floor of the building he had escaped from, which gave him a way to slide off and land without too much discomfort. Even after letting himself down carefully he collapsed to the cold, soggy grass below without any grace and struggled to get back up.
“OOAUGH! Damn it all ta’ hell! Got dammit! GOT DAMMIT!” He winced and hissed as an intense pain shot through his ankle, doing his best to ignore it and the biting cold racing through his body. Clambering up and limping off, the stallion put as much distance between him and the towering house as quickly as he could, refusing to look back until he had no other choice.
