"The octomare is a distant relative to the seapony, and in fact will sometimes pretend to be a seapony to lure unsuspecting victims to their embrace. But while seaponies are kind, generous, and open, octomares are much more closed, secretive, and violent. Do not be deceived by their appearance, for they truly are monsters." - The Equestrian Explorer's Encyclopedia of the Equine-Monstrum

The crowd clapped their hooves, then quickly returned to their conversations. Octavia sighed, lowered her bow, and dropped to all fours, resting the cello on her shoulder. On either side, her fellow musicians shifted, placing their instruments down and stretching. They had been playing for close to an hour, now. Harpo coughed, then said, “Shall we take a short break for refreshments before we begin again?” Beauty Brass and Frederick Horseshoepan nodded.

“But they loved us so much,” Octavia said, rolling her eyes. “If you need me, I’ll be at the hors d’oeuvre table.” She placed her cello down gently on its stand on the marble dais and walked off towards the food.

This being one of the finer Canterlot garden parties, what food was served proved to be of little substance, mainly hard bread and tiny diced tomatoes and onions, and to take more than a single serving was quite the faux pas. Still, Octavia piled as much food as she could on the tiny paper plate and carried it to an empty table. She sat heavily on the grass and took a bite of the “delicacy.” It tasted awful.

“Why, hello there, Miss. Fancypants, at your service.” An older unicorn with a blue mustache and monocle had joined her at the table.

“Can I help you?” Octavia didn’t even bother looking at the stallion, even though his fine suit marked him as a pony of no little wealth.

Fancypants seemed taken aback, and hesitated. Catching himself, he said, “I simply wanted to complement you on your music. Your rendition of Beethoofen’s Fifth, adapted for four instruments, was brilliant.”

Octavia pushed her plate away. “I’m glad somepony noticed. We’re more like background music than anything else.”

“Nonsense!” Fancypants interjected. “Your show was quite riveting, and I-” A white-coated mare slunk between the two, cutting off the unicorn’s complement.

“Fancypants, darling,” she said, “you were just about to tell us about your confab with Princess Luna, were you not?”

Fancypants adjusted his monocle guiltily. “Ah, yes, I was.” He smiled warmly to Octavia. “Do carry on,” he said as the mare pulled him away. “I’ll be watching!”

“Well that’s one pony, then,” Octavia muttered. She stood up and, leaving her uneaten plate of food, trotted back to the stage where her partners were gathering again. The stars glittered coolly above them, but the air was stale, hot and unmoving. Octavia could feel the sweat forming under her mane, which she pulled back with a grimace before sighing again. This night was just the latest night in a long string of boring, uncomfortable, unmemorable nights, all exactly the same. Here she was, playing for a crowd of high-class socialites, all keeping an eye on the dress of the pony to their left while plying the pony to their right with insufferable stories about their connections. Not one of them cared one bit for the music - the hostess might as well have hired a DJ with a set of classical records. “I used to be first chair for the Canterlot Royal Orchestra. The Canterlot Chronicle said my rendition of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 was ‘enchanting.’ Equestria Daily called it a ‘riveting performance.’ What am I doing here?”

“You’re supposed to be performing Manezart’s Concerto with us,” Beauty Brass whispered angrily as she adjusted her sousaphone. “Hurry up.”

Octavia blinked, then rose onto her hind legs to hold her cello. A quick nod to Frederick at the piano, and she began. Drawing her bow across the strings, Octavia looked out over the crowd. Nopony noticed they had started playing again. Even Fancypants was too captivated by his conversation with a pair of well-dressed stallions to look up at the stage. Octavia closed her eyes, felt the music pouring out from under her hooves, and for a moment she could remember the crowd in the Royal Municipal Theater, feel their combined gaze as they watched and listened to her with rapt attention, to her, to Octavia. Then she opened her eyes again, and no one was looking back at her.

There was a splash behind her. Octavia glanced back, still half a mind on the music she was playing. The pool, one of the largest ponds that collected from Canterlot’s great waterfall, glistened under the night sky. Its border, a low wall of chiseled stone, ran up against the edge of the stage Octavia was using. A small hill of rock thrust up out of the center of the pond, dark in the light of the moon and the yellow paper lanterns that festooned the party. There was no sign of what had made the sound.

“Hmm.” Octavia turned to her cello again, trying to concentrate on matching her companions in the song. Another splash. Octavia managed to get out a quick “What is-” before something grabbed her ankle and pulled her off her hooves.

Her cello fell over with a terrible spang! as Octavia lost control of it and fell herself. She hit the marble hard enough to knock the wind out of her. Beauty Brass screamed as whatever it was began pulling Octavia back towards the pond. She struggled, her hooves sliding on the polished marble, but the thing on her leg did not relent. Slipping through the air with a sickening lurch, she was over the edge and under the water.

She was being dragged away from the wall, towards the center. She tried to scream, but water filled her mouth, choking her. Octavia tried to cough, to expel the water from her lungs, but there was no air, and it was pulling her down, away from the light and warmth of the party and into the murky depths of the basin.

Suddenly, air. Hacking, Octavia expelled several mouthfuls of water from her lungs. There was solid ground beneath her back, scraping against her fur. The grip on her leg tightened and she was pulled violently up into the air. Her mane spilled earth-ward as she was held upside-down, water streaming over her face and into her hair. Through blurred eyes, she had her first view of her attacker.

She had a pale blue coat, and a purple mane that was long and bedraggled and dripped water down her cheeks. Her eyes were blue as well, the deep blue of the ocean, and she had a cutie mark that looked like three wavy lines on her flank. But as Octavia’s eyes traveled down the mare’s body, she came to the most confusing and terrifying part. Where the mare should have had two blue legs to go with her forelimbs, there were instead eight long octopus tentacles. Octavia had been taken so abruptly that she hadn’t even realized the danger she was in. She began to scream.

Her yells echoed over the garden party. Frowning, the octopus-mare whipped one of her tentacles around Octavia’s mouth, silencing her. The earth pony tried to bite her, but her teeth just sunk into the spongy flesh and slid off without leaving a mark. Octavia lashed out with her legs, but the tentacles quickly grabbed those as well. Having completely immobilized her, the octopus-pony lifted her until she was staring Octavia in the eyes. “Stop struggling,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She flipped Octavia right-side up again. “I heard you playing. It was... Beautiful.” The mare sighed longingly. “I’ve never heard anything like that before. Haunting? Is that the right word?” The world spun as Octavia was flipped around. A pair of strong legs wrapped around her barrel and the octopony whispered in her ear. “I want to make you feel as good as your music made me.”

Octavia tensed as a tentacle slipped under her tail. Small circular suction cups tugged at the sensitive skin around her marehood. “Mmmm!” Octavia cried under the fleshy gag. The octopony ignored her, and began to stroke Octavia’s mound with her rubbery arm. With a jolt, Octavia realized the octopony’s intentions. She squirmed desperately against her captor, but every motion was restrained by the mare’s powerful arms.

The tentacle stroking her crotch was joined by another, and the two alternated, sliding back and forth over the black skin around her holes. Octavia shrieked, struggling even harder. Her eyes rolled wildly over the scene. It seemed like every face in the crowd stared back at her. Watching her every move. Paying attention to her.

Moisture formed between her legs. Just a little, but Octavia recognized it for what it was. No, she thought desperately. As if sensing the change, the head of a tentacle probed her lips, teasing them apart. Octavia wiggled, trying to shut her legs, but she could feel it searching, probing, like it had a mind of its own. With a sharp push, the tentacle slipped inside her.

Octavia gasped as the rough friction tugged at her insides. The sliminess of the octomare and the tiny bit of wetness inside her had given the arm entrance, but not freedom of movement. Octavia grunted as the tentacle pulled and twisted at her inner walls.

“Look at that mare!” came a shout from across the water. “Somebody get her down!” said another. Octavia’s eyes spun through the crowd. One mare had fainted. Others were covering their mouths to hide their expressions of shock. A couple of stallions were pacing back and forth nervously at the water’s edge, as though debating whether to rescue her or keep dry. Somewhere, somepony was screaming.

Fluid leaked out of her marehood, and the tentacle was suddenly sliding much more quickly. The octomare stopped, a look of surprise on her face. “Do you like this?” she whispered in Octavia’s ear. Octavia shook her head, blushing, even as the lubrication flooding her lower half betrayed her. “You do like it,” the octomare whispered in awe. “You like being humiliated, being held up in front of all these high-class ponies and fucked hard.” She resumed thrusting her tentacle into Octavia and the earth pony moaned through her gag. “Let’s give them a show, then.”

The tentacle was pounding into her now. All she could feel was the incredible way it slipped and sucked at her insides, sending bursts of pleasure throughout her body. Octavia let out tiny yelps with each thrust of the octomare’s arm, much to her own embarrassment. The crowd of ponies watching had only swelled as more and more unicorns joined. She wanted to call for help, to ask why nopony was calling the guards, but her tongue was lolling out of her mouth obscenely and she couldn’t find the composure to speak at all.

“You’re a good little mare, aren’t you?” the octopony was saying. Her voice was deep and husky, secretive, as though she and Octavia were in on a joke together, a prank they were pulling on the ponies watching. “You just love to perform.”

She pulled the tentacle free from Octavia’s nethers. Her vagina clenched on the emptiness, spasming until another thick arm reached in to replace it. The first tentacle, now glistening with Octavia’s wetness, began to prod gently at something just below the base of her tail. Octavia’s eyes shot wide open. She’d never had anything back there, no toys or anything. She clenched tight, but the octomare whispered reassurances into her ear. “Let me in,” she muttered. “It’ll feel good, I promise. Just think of all these ponies watching you! Don’t you want to give them a ‘riveting performance’?” The octomare’s tone was playful, mocking, and Octavia quivered as her hot breath spilled over her ear. Despite herself, Octavia relaxed, and the waiting tentacle rushed in.

There was pain at first, as her ass was stretched wide to accommodate the beast. But the pain melted into ecstasy as the horrified gasps and shouts of her now certainly captive audience reached Octavia’s ears. The two limbs in her rear were sliding back and forth, separated only by the thinnest of fleshy walls. Octavia could feel every ridge, every bulge, every sucker on the tentacles as they went in and out of her, pulsing with the heartbeat of the octomare. Electric shocks emanated from her crotch, sending fire to her head and hooves. Octavia was dimly aware that the octopony was only holding her up. It was no longer restraining her legs - she was holding them out wide of her own volition.

“Everypony’s watching you,” came that throaty voice again in her ear. “Doesn’t that just drive you wild?” Her hips began bucking against the tentacles, trying to push as much of them inside her as she could. Octavia began to moan loudly, and she spread herself out even wider. Something was building up inside her, like a balloon expanding. With a rough hoof, the octomare pulled Octavia’s head to the side and thrust her mouth against the earth pony’s. A hot, wet tongue forced its way between her lips, and Octavia groaned against it. Her eyes rolled wildly, taking in every part of the scene, from the dark night sky and the steel-black water to the dozens of ponies watching her with bated breath, waiting for her grand finale. And so she gave it to them.

Like an over-filled water balloon, Octavia felt like she burst. Every muscle in her body tensed, and then she screamed in pleasure as fluid gushed out of her in a spray, raining down on the rock and some even splashing in the water. She remained transfixed for several more moments, until the orgasm had passed through her, and then she relaxed, drooping in her captor’s grip. The octopony laid her gently, lovingly down on the stone. “Beautiful,” she said. “They’ll be talking about this in Canterlot for years to come.” Turning, the octopony leapt into the air and dove into the water with a splash. Octavia rushed to the edge to look down after her, but all that remained of the monster were fading ripples on the surface of the pond.

Back on the shore, ponies were clamoring loudly, and the pegasus guards had finally arrived. Breathing heavily, Octavia rolled onto her back and waited, watching passively as the guards bundled her in a blanket and hurried her to the soft grass of the Canterlot garden. Someone was sent to fetch a doctor, and the guards had pushed the inquisitive unicorns back to form a ring of eyes all watching her. After some arguing which Octavia couldn’t quite understand, one pony pushed past the guards and came to her side.

“Frederic,” she muttered softly. Her voice was hoarse. She must have lost it from the shouting.

“I’m here, Octavia.” He grasped her hoof.

“Did, what did everyone, did they see?” Octavia asked.

Frederic shifted uncomfortably. “We, um, we saw it all. I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be.” Octavia smiled. “That was the best sex I’ve had in my life.”

Author's Note

So, that took a while. I wrote half of it, hit a block, and then today I was trying to avoid other work so I opened this up and banged out the other half. That's what usually happens with me though. Oh well.

This is a bonus chapter. It has nothing to do with the main story about the Mane 6. It was a request from Bronystories, who proved to be remarkably specific about his desire. I am doing requests on this, so go ahead and leave a comment or send me a PM with your idea. More specific is generally better, but there's no guarantee I'll follow your request exactly, or even do it at all. Applejack's chapter is next up. That too is half-way done, so we'll see how I do with that one. Hopefully you like it.