Magic Mirror

Quibble, covered in dust and sweat, glared at the piles of junk and overturned boxes now scattered around his living room.

"Impressive book collection" had been a pretty misleading description. Quibble didn't know much about Thundercloud, but if he had to judge the guy based solely on his taste in literature, well... it was no wonder Clear Sky had gotten over him so quickly.

Quibble shook his head. That wasn't a nice thing to think about somepony who had (probably) died tragically in the service of Equestria, and it definitely wasn't a nice thing to think about Clear Sky. Still, though: other than a couple of Equestrian classics that looked like they had been school library books he'd never bothered to return, Thundercloud's entire "book collection" was mostly trashy horror stories and books about weight lifting. He had a few Daring Do novels at least, but they were just common paperback editions you could find in any bookstore. He didn't even have the uncensored edition of Daring Do and the Jungle of Terror, Quibble noted with disdain.

Fuck, why am I so cranky? Quibble wondered. It wasn't like anypony had told him to open every single box and dump the contents all over his house. He was just annoyed that now he was going to have to pack it all up again, in addition to lugging it down to the junk shop, and he didn't even have anything good to show for it.

Then, he noticed that there was one box he hadn't quite finished exploring yet. It was still sitting, open and upright but with most of its contents still inside, off to the side wall. It was mostly full of random junk and there didn't appear to be any books inside, which is why Quibble hadn't bothered with unloading the rest of it. Still, though, he'd already dumped the rest of them out, and it wasn't like this would add to his workload all that much.

"Might as well see what's inside," muttered, flipping the box over.

The contents were as disappointing as the rest of this haul had been, and he was about to give up and start boxing it all up again, when something caught his eye. It was an old Skymail delivery bag. Quibble held the bag up to the light, turning it over and examining it. It was definitely the older style of bag, probably fifty years old at least.

Clear Sky had told him a little bit about Thundercloud's job. He was, or had been, a Skymail delivery pegasus. Not just any delivery pony, though: he was a White Star, one of the few and the proud. They made deliveries to far-flung corners of the world, well beyond the borders of Equestria. Travel to those wild places was dangerous enough on its own, but politics made it doubly so. Since very few ordinary ponies had anything to send to Black Skull Island or the Scorpion Kingdom, the job usually involved carrying sensitive political correspondence between governments. This meant that oftentimes the messengers were treated as military targets, and it wasn't uncommon for White Star pegasi to be killed or go missing in the line of duty. For this reason, they were highly paid and highly respected. Ponies who applied for the job had to go through a rigorous selection process, and only the most elite flyers were accepted. Their training regimen made Wonderbolts Camp look like a Filly Scouts outing.

Quibble examined the Skymail crest that was stitched on the flap of the bag, and sure enough there was a White Star marking. This bag was far too old to have been used by Thundercloud himself, but he remembered Sky saying that his father and grandfather had also been White Star pegasi. This bag had probably belonged to one of them. Quibble wasn't sure how much it was worth, but old Skymail bags were trendy collector's items, and a White Star bag that was this old... he was sure he could get something for it.

"If nothing else, I can trade it in for some more Daring Do collectibles," he muttered to himself.

He flipped open the flap and took a look inside. It wasn't much, but there was always a chance there might be an old undelivered war treaty or something in there, which would definitely increase the value. However, to his surprise, Quibble found that the bag was full of gems.

They were just common gems of little value, only noteworthy in that they were all exactly the same size and had the same peculiar cut. However, Quibble immediately knew what they were. Magic tech was a pretty recent development, but it was one of the subjects he kept up on.

There were magic-powered devices, sort of like cameras, that could record moving images and sound and store them on these gems. A second device, a magic mirror that doubled as an image viewer, could read whatever was stored on the gem. What's more, like all magic tech, the spells were woven into the device and operated by a mechanical interface, so anypony, not just unicorns, were able to use them.

The movie-mirrors were an incredible invention, and Quibble had been one of the first ponies in Appleoosa to buy one. He'd had to special-order it from Canterlot; the stores in town barely carried any magic tech at all. He had showed it to Clear Sky, and tried to explain how awesome it was, but she hadn't really understood. Wind Sprint, as usual, just scoffed at him.

He emptied the bag onto the floor, and stared at the pile of gems like a hungry dragon. There had to be at least a hundred of them, all labeled with dates. He wondered what they could possibly have on them that had necessitated hiding them in such an out of the way place. The Equestrian film industry was quite new, and "official" gem releases of films were expensive. He had paid far out the ass for the complete set of the latest Daring Do serial, and it hadn't even been that good. The mare they found to play her could hardly act, and they got the details of Caballeron's costume all wrong, and then there was that terrible scene with the rape snakes...

He shook his head rapidly. If this really was a collection of bootleg films, it would more than make up for the time and effort he'd spent hauling this junk up here and sifting through it. If there was anything rare in here, he could make serious bits selling it on the black market.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he had bagged all of the gems back up and was racing upstairs, the saddlebag slung across his shoulders. He couldn't wait to see what was on these things...

Inside his bedroom, Quibble closed the drapes and dimmed the lights, and then fired up the magic mirror on the wall. The device hummed and crackled, and while he waited for it to power on he once again opened the bag and sifted through the gems. Each gem had a date on it, with no other markings to indicate what it contained. He grabbed one at random and inserted it into the slot at the bottom of the mirror.

The glass flickered with magical energy, and slowly an image took the place of his reflection. He sat down on the bed to watch, and was immediately disappointed.

The scene was a familiar one: Clear Sky's bedroom. The sheets on the bed were different, but he recognized the room. Wind Sprint, looking maybe a year younger and lacking a cutie mark, sat on the bed.

Quibble's heart sank.

So that's all it is, he thought. Just an old home movie.

It made sense. The gems all had dates instead of titles, and if the books he owned were any indicator, expecting Thundercloud's taste in movies to be anywhere near kino had been a long shot to begin with.

Looks like my afternoon was wasted after all...

He wanted to get up and shut it off, but between carting all that junk around and sorting through it, he was completely exhausted. So he just lay there on his back, staring lazily at the screen.

Wind Sprint was twitching her tail back and forth, looking at something off camera. There was a muffled voice speaking, but he couldn't tell what it was saying. Wind Sprint nodded, and a second later a big pegasus stepped into the frame.

Shit. That must be Wind Sprint's dad.

It was a little weird watching Thundercloud on screen. Quibble had heard plenty of stories, but seeing him in the flesh was a whole other thing. The guy was huge, he looked more like a statue of an old Ponish god than a real pegasus. His body was pure muscle, not an ounce of fat on him, and his chin looked like it could break a tidal wave. His coat was sort of a grey lavendar, with a pink and purple mane that was close to Wind's in coloring. His cutie mark, unsurprisingly, was a thundercloud.

Quibble looked down at his own pudgy body, and then back at the Adonis on the screen. Thundercloud looked like an amalgamation of every macho colt that had ever picked on him in school. It was a bit satisfying to think that this godlike specimen of stallionhood was probably decomposing on some forgotten mountaintop, and meanwhile Quibble was in the guy's house plowing his wife every night. Still, though, if this was the image of masculinity he had to live up to, it was pretty damned intimidating.

He looked back down at his flabby barrel, watching it jiggle as he tapped it with a hoof.

I really need to start hitting the gym.

Meanwhile, something odd was happening on the screen. Wind Sprint was now lying on her back, with her legs spread wide open so that Quibble could see everything. Granted there wasn't that much to see, she was just a little filly after all, but there was still something rather dirty about it.

Quibble frowned.

What sort of home movie is this, anyway?

He thought back to where he'd found the gems. All of the junk he'd carted off had apparently been stored in their garage, and the gems had been stuffed inside an old mailbag and buried underneath a mountain of even less remarkable stuff. Kind of a weird place to keep precious family memories.

Unless you wanted to hide them for some reason.

Quibble's frown deepened. Thundercloud now had his head between his daughter's legs.

What is he doing now? Is he... giving her a pelvic exam, or something?

If so, he was being awfully thorough about it. He pressed his snout up against her fillyhood and inhaled deeply.

"You take a shower today, sweetie?" he asked.

Wind Sprint reddened and looked away.

"I didn't have time after practice," she muttered.

Thundercloud's voice dropped about an octave.

"Hm, that's no good..."

He took another deep whiff.

"Yeah, smells like a dirty, sweaty little filly to me..."

He nuzzled his nose into her crotch and she groaned softly. He moved upward, planting small kisses on the outside of her labia, slowly working his way up to her little flat teats. He took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked on it while she continued to moan, finally letting it go with a soft pop.

"You want Dad to clean you up?"

Wind Sprint nodded rapidly.

He thrust his muzzle deep between her legs and aggressively devoured her fillyhood. Wind's back arched and she gasped. At first Quibble thought he might be hurting her, but... no, that wasn't it.

After only a few seconds, her entire body began to quiver, then shake, then convulse. One of her legs was kicking at the air in short, rapid spasms. She thrashed around on the bed, moaning loudly, while her father held her hips in place and continued to attack her pussy with his lips and tongue.

Of course, by now Quibble was pretty certain that this wasn't a pelvic exam.

In the back of his mind, there was a little voice screaming that he shouldn't be watching this. The thing to do, the voice advised, would be to immediately shut the mirror the fuck off, and then gallop straight for the nearest Royal Guard station. Unfortunately, though, Quibble couldn't really hear that voice over the sound of his soon-to-be-stepdaughter's obscene moans, so he continued to watch.

Meanwhile, Wind Sprint was nearing the end of her orgasm. She lay on her back with her legs spread apart, breathing heavily. Her father pulled back, the hair on his muzzle wet with filly cum. Without saying a word, he seized Wind between his front legs and roughly flipped her over onto her belly.

"Oof," she grunted softly as she plopped back down onto the mattress.

"What do you say?" he asked.

She glanced nervously over her shoulder and lifted her hips, flicking her tail to the side. She looked a bit weak in the knees.

"F-fuck me, Daddy..."

"Good filly."

Thundercloud climbed up on the bed and positioned himself. Even scaled to the rest of his body his cock was enormous.

There's no way that thing will fit...

Quibble glanced down at his own stallionhood. Even at full mast, he was no match for this guy. Just one more thing to be insecure about.

Wait, why am I at full mast? I shouldn't even be watching this...

He didn't have much time to think about it. Thundercloud had stuffed his gigantic cock about halfway into his daughter, and was now slowly bucking his hips up and down. The bed creaked under his weight.

Wind gasped as he pushed himself into her even further. He seemed to have reached the physical limit of how deep he could get, but he still had an admirable amount of his length inside.

"Good filly," he whispered to her.

He began to pick up speed. Wind was grunting and squirming underneath him, but she didn't try to fight him or escape. She couldn't have escaped even if she'd been trying to; the enormous stallion had his full weight on her and was practically nailing her to the bed with every thrust.

Thundercloud was breathing more rapidly, and it was obvious he was having difficulty controlling himself. The bed creaked noisily as he fucked the helpless filly harder and harder.

"AHH!! Dad, not so hard--" Wind protested, but her father pressed a hoof against the back of her head and shoved her face into the mattress before she could finish her sentence.

"Quiet," he ordered. "Oh, fuck..."

Clearly nearing his limit, Thundercloud was now drilling into his daughter with the merciless force and precision of a machine. Quibble's jaw hung open as he watched. He wasn't just fucking Wind, he was practically impaling her. What was even more shocking was that the little filly was taking it like a champ.

With her face pressed into the mattress Quibble couldn't hear much more than a few muffled grunts and groans, but it was hard to miss the obscene squishing sounds coming from her pussy. Or the puddle of filly juice that was growing on the bedspread underneath them.

Quibble realized he had his cock between his hooves, and was frantically jerking it up and down. He had no idea when he had started doing this, but he couldn't compel himself to stop. Meanwhile, in the mirror image, Wind Sprint's small body was convulsing. One of her hind legs began to kick at the air as it had before, and the muffled groans coming through the mattress were getting louder.

"You cumming again already, sweetie?" grunted Thundercloud. "Damn, you are a slutty little filly, aren't you?"

"M--mm...h--hmmm..." came her muffled response.

"Alright sweetie," he panted. "Dad's gonna cum too...you ready...?"

Wind Sprint made no reply, but there was a low, muffled continuous groan coming from the mattress.

Thundercloud gave one last powerful thrust. He threw back his head and bellowed, and a moment later a thick white substance began to ooze out from where they were joined, pooling into the damp spot that had already formed on the bedspread.

He held the little filly firmly in place until he had completely expended himself. Finally, he removed his hoof from the back of her head and rolled off of her. His member slid out of her with an obscene pop, spraying little clear droplets of filly cum into the air. He collapsed on the bed next to her, the springs creaking audibly under his weight.

Wind clambered to her hooves, her legs still shaking. She crawled over to where her father lay, climbed on top of his barrel, put her mouth to his, and kissed him. Thundercloud wrapped an enormous foreleg around her neck and drew her in closer. Quibble could hear the sounds of their lips smacking together. Wind's little hindquarters were facing the camera, and her pussy was gaping lewdly open. A huge glob of white cum suddenly oozed out of it and dribbled down the back of her hind leg.

This was what finally sent Quibble over the edge. The sound that emerged from his throat was nothing like Thundercloud's deep, masculine roar; it was somewhere between a groan and a croak, the kind of sound he imagined a strangled goose would make. It turned into a yelp of surprise as a glob of his own semen landed just above his eye. He wiped it off with the back of his foreleg.

The image in the mirror crackled into static. Quibble lay on his back, panting, his cock still spasming weakly. His chest heaved and his heart pounded. He lay there, panting and holding his dick between his hooves, while the image faded away, until he was left staring at his own reflection.