Rainbow Crust

"Hey Dad, I got your letter to stop by, what did you want to see me so badly for?"

"Well Dash, mostly to say I'm sorry, for a lot of things. Raising you was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and I made a few mistakes along the way. I'd never change having you, Dashie, but I'd do a few things different."

"Aww, you were the best Dad in the world. I couldn't love you more, even if you spank me a few times for like, no reason at all."

"Excuse me?"

"Come one Dad, it's like, the year 1000, who still spanks their kids?"

"I caught you smoking twice, and when you got caught stealing those magazines and got kicked out of flight camp, I just didn't know what to do! Besides, you didn't steal anything after that again, did you?"

"No."

"And not because of some sense of moral justice, no, you didn't because if your butt was this sore the first time you knew you'd have to hover for the rest of your life due never being able to sit again."

"Pfft, whatever Dad. I still have scars from that one, you know?"

Dash unceremoniously trots over to her father and spins around, wagging her rump in his face, keeping her tail tightly down to politely obscure her genitals. True to Dash's word, there were streaks on her butt cheeks that were thinner than the rest, small slivers of bare skin visible in spots. Her father tenderly brushed a hoof along her backside, tracing the lines and feeling sorry not for the beating, but that it had to be done.

But the elephant in the room, even more offensive than the scars of an overzealous whipping, was the smell rising from beneath her tail. The rank, wet heat of roadkill on a hot summer's day that had flooded the cloudhome as soon as she had entered it, and was practically blowing in her father's face at the moment.

"Dash, believe me, this really was one of the hardest things I had to do. But this, what I'm about to do today, is going to be the hardest father moment of all time.

The talk."

Dash's sigh of relief was palpable as she straightened back up, her butt having drooped low fearing having to scoot on out of there if Daddy was going to have to whip her for something again. Full grown mare or not, she felt like a little kid whenever Dad was talking to her.

"Dad, I think it's a little late for that. I'm twenty three."

"No dear, I fear there's a few things you may have missed."

Dash grinned, only having few rare chances in her life to show off knowledge, and standing tall and proud with all the pride of the day she became the element of loyalty she recited the process of reproduction. "Oh yeah? Mare meets colt, they fall in love, then they get married, then they build a nest together, and then he puts his 'whats it' in her 'hoo ha' and babies pop out."

Her father nodded sagely.

"Yes, I suppose you got that close enough. But there's more, Dash."

She drooped again as her father continued.

"You've got to keep yourself clean too, you know. There's a few things about your body you need to know, that I never got around to teaching you. I was just so embarrassed and scared, and you seemed like a toddler to me until the day you moved out, I never felt like it was time yet. Then I hoped you were old enough to figure it out on your own or that someone else would tell you, but that clearly has never happened."

"I-I shower like, every other day, Dad-"

"Do you wash it?"

"M-my h-hoo-"

"Your vagina, Dash."

"The, the book I read, skimmed, it said it was supposed to be 'self cleaning'!"

"That's different dear. You've never washed that thing in your life? Show me."

"Dad!"

"Dash, please. I spent three years cleaning poop out of both your cracks when you were a little foal. You'll always be my baby girl no matter how old you get, so go ahead and show me."

With all the same nervous skulking of a child about to get whipped again Dash walked back over to her father with baby steps.

Again she puts her butt in her Dad's face, this time with less that one one-thousandth of the confidence she'd had earlier.

"Lift your tail, Dashie."

Timid and nearly quaking at her knees too hard to do it correctly Dash flicks her tail up onto her back, exposing her private treasure to her father.

Thick and utterly rotten, the smell suffocates like a blanket throw over his face. Had he been standing he would have been floored, and even seated he threatened to sway over and collapse. Chapped lips swollen to twice their normal size stared him in the face, skin peeling free from its wet prison all over Dash's coot. A thick, snotty discharge leaked, gumming up the lower area of the freak show as the higher areas near the anus seemed dry and nearly sunburnt.

The anus as well seemed distressed, bright skinned and scabbing areas all around the puckering ring, as though Dash had never wiped in her life and simply itched it whenever she felt like.

"Dash, Dash. Dash, Dash, Dash. What?"

"What's what, Dad?"

"Do you think this is normal, dear? Hasn't anyone ever said something about this?"

"W-well, sometimes, ponies gasp a little when they get a good view of my butt, but I always thought that it was because of your whipping scars."

"And your special someponies?"

"..."

"Really? What about that griffon that nearly ruined you?"

"Dad! I told you, she wasn't gay!"

"So she 'made you' go steal a bunch of magazines full of erotic mares for no reason?"

"We were gonna sell them!"

"To who?"

"I, I don't know. Somepony, I guess."

"You're not in trouble Dash, you can tell me anything. You aren't going to get spanked for liking mares."

"I don't Dad. I, uh, I only ever tried to 'experiment' once and she nearly puked when I presented to her, so I knew right there she didn't like mares."

"Dash, anyone would puke at this. It's completely rotten, and it's my fault for letting it get this bad."

"What are you saying, Dad?"

"I'm saying, it's time to punish myself."

He licked.

If his hooves hadn't had an iron, vise like grip on her thighs, Dash would have shot out of there fast enough to crack a Rainboom.

"Dad! Dad! What!? What the fuck?! Dad!"

"Shh, shh, don't curse Dash."

"Why? Why would you do that, dad!?"

"I'm cleaning you. I made this mess, and I'm going to clean it up. This is just like preening, Dashie. Just relax, and let Daddy clean you all up."

"I..."

"You what, dear?"

"Nothing."

And so Dash's father took another lick. It was horrid. This was his penance for the ten years of ignorant pain and misery his daughter had undergone, come back to him tenfold. As soon as a single molecule of his tongue made contact with his daughter's cracked labia the sensation of salt burst through his entire core like a supernova.

Thousands of days of concentrated sweat, rank corrosion, metallic tones and sensations of licking rusted iron in the ocean, shooting bad oysters, and a heat, a rising heat through his stomach up to his head threatening to steal consciousness from him.

And again, Daddy's smooth, soothing tongue licked his beautiful daughter's bleeding slit.

Softer now, pungent tastes assaulting his senses and psyche as he dives in and does his dutiful chores as a loving father. The thick discharge is lapped up, running snot thick in body and thicker in taste, peppered with chunks of old blood and scab never properly flushed.

To the sides now her moves, licking deep into the seams on either side of the labia. Over twenty years of smegma and crust accumulated on the backsides of those lips, formed and pressed into little cakes with the heat, sweat, and pressure of Dash's lifestyle. Each sliver of those precious little beauties burned like an exploding star, splintering to Dad's tongue and exploding on his palette like dynamite, headiness threatening to make him faint.

Temporary defeated he pulls back, needing water and a breath of fresh air.

"It's... it's like no cheese I've ever tasted."

"Don't stop Dad, please, it, I, it doesn't hurt anymore. It doesn't ache. Please don't stop, Dad."

There are many tough times in a father's life. Going to the bathroom and emptying your stomach into the toilet as quietly as possible while pretending to get a glass of water is among the most challenging. Looking at your daughter waving her puffy, rotten coot in the air as though she were in heat, begging you come back and keep sucking out the venom is probably the second or third worst.

But it was time to pay the price.

Again into the breach with his tongue, again to eat out all the poison of his daughter's afflictions. Long, slow laps from bottom to top, polishing off any discharge, mopping up any loose skin and debris, Daddy's soothing saliva like a balm on his daughter's infected privates.

And now with the outside clear, deeper he must go. Gently tugging the lips apart to dive in, splayed tongue like a shovel digging out the sediment of neglect. Bits of old rotten flow have crusted all around and must be chiseled free, father's tongue nearly burning as though coated in acid. With his snout pressed firmly in his daughter's unwashed anus fighting for air in the slime of her never wiped behind his tongue pressed deeper and deeper into her virgin canal, fighting the rotten cherry for every ounce of gummy, decaying discharge he can suck out.

Dash herself, enraptured, beyond any pleasure she's felt in her life. This is not simply oral for her, this is the unspeakable relief of having a crushing mantle removed from one's shoulders. She felt lighter than a single feather, pushing herself into Daddy's face, each lap of his magical, loving tongue healing her with an antiseptic freshness. She felt normal, alive, and vigorous. The haunting itches and aches, gone. Her first orgasm lost in the sea of relief, unable to hold a candle to the roaring tide of pleasure from being cleaned.

"I love you, Dad!"

His nose and tongue 'pop' as he pulls them free.

"I love you too."

Two hours later they come home from the market, laughing and chatting as though any happy father and daughter. Daddy's saddlebags have a few different tools and soaps to help a young mare clean and freshen herself, and Dash's are stuffed full of healthy produce for good, old fashioned holistic pony medicine.

"All right Dashie, you start eating those cranberries like there's no tomorrow while I make dinner, okay?"

"Sure thing Dad."

The night wore on, the two happily talking and reminiscing. Dash practically floated all around the house, so excited and ecstatic from Daddy's treatment and from the thought of somehow feeling even better after this medicine worked it's wonders on her. Dinner was Dash's all time favorite, just how Daddy used to make it. It was a perfect evening, just the two of them how it used to be.

Dash never wanted to admit how much she missed Dad while living on her own. It was sort of a big deal in pegasus culture to leave your parent's nest as soon as possible, and though her wicked awesome sky castle was pretty sweet, it was also really empty.

"Hey, Dash? Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight, instead of the couch?"

"Only if we pretend there's a thunderstorm, Dad."

Together they laughed, and nuzzled eachother's shoulders.

They bathed together that evening, Dad rubbing soap all over every inch of Dash's body while she play wrestled him in the tub and acted out as though she were only five again, Daddy having to hold her down and scrub her bits with a washcloth that evening.

Together they bonded, applying Dash's topical and internal medicines and laughing the whole while, bond between father and daughter never stronger.

Cuddled together in the old bed, with his daughter's head resting on his chest, everything in life was perfect.

And then she started snoring.