Midnight Belle (and the Case of the Vanishing Foals!)

The watch ticked beside Sweetie’s head. Lyra walked to it and picked it up, smiling at the hands as they continued to move.

She threw it back to the ground, where it settled with a clink.

Sweetie opened her eyes to the sound, and stared upwards. Lyra smiled at her.

After a few seconds, Lyra’s horn glowed. Sweetie heard a rattle of chain, and a sudden weight lifted from her hind leg.

“Well,” Lyra said, “you did it. That took me twelve minutes at least, though I kinda lost count near the end. That means you’re free to go.”

Lyra smiled down at Sweetie, who didn’t move an inch.

“Well?” Lyra asked. She gestured to Sweetie Belle, then towards the corner, where a light from her horn showed Scootaloo and Applebloom, both starting mindlessly forward with empty eyes.

“You won,” Lyra said. “Don’t you wanna go rescue your friends?”

In the ache of Sweetie’s chest, she couldn’t hear her heart anymore. Her mind was empty too. The cold stone of the floor and the heat of her skin and the dampness of her fur and the soft rub of the cotton costume against her body all blurred together.

She knew she should get up. She knew she should walk to her friends and take them out of their cage and bring them upstairs and rescue them just like she had planned.

She could feel the wash of her own liquids underneath her, collecting under her body like a pool.

She could still feel the touch. Hands. In. On. The explosion that they had drawn out.

She couldn’t think, but she knew what she wanted.

Sweetie shook her head. Lyra smiled at her.

“You don’t?” she asked, her inflection rising in mock surprise. “Well, if you don’t wanna go rescue your friends... what do you want?”

LIke a child desperate for their mother’s attention, Sweetie Belle feebly raised her left hoof and pawed at the air in Lyra’s direction.

“Aww. Aren’t you just adorable.”

Lyra’s horn glowed. From elsewhere in the basement, a clink of metal rattled against the stone, and the sound of something scraping came from the side until a chair made itself apparent in the dim lamplight. The metal revealed itself as something profane—a hewn phallus that Lyra floated towards her own pelvis. She stuck out her tongue between her teeth as she fastened it, locking it into place and giving herself an absurdly hard, human-looking cock between her legs, and two testicles underneath.

With a further glow of her horn, Lyra picked up Sweetie Belle from the floor. She took a seat on the chair that had made itself available, and sat Sweetie down on her lap, resting her on one leg. She smirked as Sweetie’s wetness trickled onto her fur.

Sweetie Belle mumbled something incoherent and began to rock herself on Lyra’s leg. Her face scrunched up, and her mumbling turned to sniffles and soft whimpers.

“Hey, hey... it’s okay,” Lyra cooed. She raised a hand to Sweetie’s face and used the back of her fingers to stroke the filly’s cheek. Sweetie Belle sniffled, but held back her tears. After a few seconds of Lyra’s whispered ‘shh’s, Sweetie settled her sadness—but a different wetness leaked from her, different even than the wetness that had come from between her legs till now.

It was warm against her legs, and it hissed as it trickled against Lyra’s leg and then onto the floor, leaving a yellow puddle on the stone.

“Aww, Sweetie, It’s okay.” Lyra continued stroking Sweetie’s cheek as she wet herself, the drip of her urine eventually subsiding as she finished emptying herself. Lyra didn’t even flinch as the last drops of yellow liquid ran down her leg and onto the ground.

“All better?” she asked. Sweetie Belle nodded. “I’m glad,” Lyra said.

“Now,” she started, running her hand down Sweetie’s cheek and over her neck until she reached the inside of Sweetie’s leg. “Do you wanna tell Lyra what it is you want?”

Sweetie shook her head. She had no words. But, she scrunched up her mouth and poked awkwardly at Lyra’s cock, shivering slightly as she touched the length of hard metal.

Lyra nodded sympathetically.

“I understand,” she said. “You just relax and let me do the work.”

Sweetie gasped as she felt Lyra’s hands on her sides, lifting her up, holding her in the air and then slowly lowering her down, until she felt the cool metal head of Lyra’s cock pressing against her.

It was thicker than her fingers, but Sweetie wasn’t worried. She tried to relax as Lyra slid her further down, down until the first inch, second, third, sixth, and then all the way in, and Sweetie could feel Lyra’s fur against her, through her costume and the big hole where the dick had slid inside.

“Mmmm...” Sweetie moaned and cooed like she was being fed, or petted, and Lyra did just that, stroking one hand along her head and through her hair as she shifted a bit, finding the right angle to thrust at.

“I can tell you’re really tight,” Lyra said. Sweetie nodded breathlessly, the whisper of her moan still on her lips.

Without another sound, Lyra put her hands on Sweetie’s sides again, sinking her fingers into Sweetie’s softy, slightly pudgy stomach through her costume, and lifted her up. And then back down. One thrust. Bottoming out inside Sweetie’s pussy, which clenched around the rod filling it up.

Sweetie gasped and leaned backwards, resting her head against Lyra’s chest. She stared up at Lyra’s face, into her eyes through Lyra’s black mask, and Lyra stared back at her, grinning as Sweetie squirmed on her cock.

Lyra leaned down and licked across Sweetie’s lips, and Sweetie parted them. She made little ‘nnh, nnh’ noises until Lyra complied with her unspoken request, and leaned in again, and kissed her. With spit and tongue and Sweetie moaning into Lyra’s mouth, and Lyra shoved her hips upwards and bumped the head of her dick against the inside of Sweetie’s hole, and Sweetie moaned even louder.

And Lyra began thrusting properly, bouncing Sweetie up and down on her dick, and slobbering into her mouth like she was hungry for more of Sweetie’s taste, and Sweetie let the spit dribble off her mouth, onto her chest where it soaked into the already sweat-covered fabric of her costume. Lyra bounced Sweetie up again, extra hard, and Sweetie broke the kiss and cried out, and turned her head, and stared into the corner of the room that she could make out now, and saw Applebloom and Scootaloo, there, in the darkness, watching her.

Lyra kept one hand on Sweetie’s stomach as she fucked her, and moved the other one to the hole in Sweetie’s costume, right below her stomach, and tore it open further. And Sweetie cooed like a happy pet, and arched her body against Lyra’s, and moved her hips upwards to meet the touch of Lyra’s fingers that she knew she wanted.

Lyra spread her fingers around Sweetie’s clit, and Sweetie Belle moaned and jostled herself from side to side, looking for the touch of Lyra’s magic hands against her nub. Lyra only waited a few seconds before bringing her fingers together.

“Ahhnnnnmmm...” Sweetie’s moan started loud and turned into a hum of enjoyment as Lyra rubbed her clit, swishing back in forth in circles and still thrusting upwards, ramming herself into Sweetie’s tight little cunt. Sweetie squirmed and squirmed, and let herself be filled up with the sensation of Lyra’s hard cock, cold, smooth steel, with a head just slightly bigger, bumping up inside her, against her womb, against the walls of her pussy, hitting that spot, that spot, that spot—

Sweetie didn’t have time for another warning. She came again, and like the first time, when she came, she squirted. A stream of clear liquid sprayed out from her her slit, arcing in the air like a miniature rainbow of girlcum. She didn’t moan as loud this time, and her sounds almost dwindled into whimpers as she came, and Lyra kept rubbing, and fucking her, until Sweetie’s pussy clenched its final clench and her orgasm subsided.

Lyra waited until Sweetie was done, and then picked her up, and stood, and moved forward until she was off the chair and threw Sweetie to the ground with her cock still inside her. Sweetie caught the floor with her forelegs, and then her hindlegs, and Lyra kneeled with her, and started fucking her from behind. She used her right hand to grab Sweetie’s hair, and pulled her back, and Sweetie let her, and her tongue hung out of her mouth as she did, lolling over her chin like a dog’s.

“Good girl,” Lyra said, and Sweetie nodded, and moaned with her mouth open, like a dirty desperate whore’s hole that Lyra was using.

Lyra fucked Sweetie from behind harder than she had fucked underneath her, the metal of her harness jangling with each thrust. Sweetie could feel the slap of Lyra’s cold steel against her ass where her costume was torn, could feel the relative coolness of the cock inside her as her walls wrapped around it and warmed it up. Sweetie could feel another orgasm building inside her, because it felt so good, more than anything in the world ever had or could, and she didn’t want it to stop no matter what. When Lyra thrust extra hard and pulled on her hair like that it hit somewhere and Sweetie came again.

She buried her face into the floor and came, and sprayed like she was pissing herself, all over the ground, wetting herself with her sex juice like a mare in heat, or dripping fluid like a naughty puppy that needed to be punished. Lyra smacked her across the ass as she came, and it sent an extra jolt through her body, and an extra spurt of liquid onto the ground, and Lyra grunted for the first time and buried herself all the way inside Sweetie’s pussy.

She held herself like that for a minute, grinding and grinding and swiveling her hips in circles, the base of her strap-on rubbing up against her body, against her clit. She held Sweetie like that, and moved a hand from her hair to her neck, and pulled her back that way, and choked her. Sweetie’s eyes rolled up into her head quickly, because she was already out of air, couldn’t breath, and Lyra’s hand was choking her into blackness dark and she never wanted to come because this was bliss this was heaven this was blackness dark ending and then—

“Ffffuck, cumming, damn you are a good fuck...” Lyra swore to herself with a gruffer voice than normal as she slammed her hips forward, ramming herself hard inside Sweetie’s cunt, the sound of her pelvis smacking Sweetie right in the ass as she came, jizzing girlcum against the base of her strap-on. Sweetie’s cute little moans turned to squeaks, then to breathless, barely their gurgles as the last of her oxygen left, and then threatened to slip her into unconsciousness, until Lyra let go.

She let go and pulled herself out in the same motion, and Sweetie Belle fell to the ground, not even gasping now, because she didn’t care about breathing anymore. She let the air come in as it pleased, trickling into her lungs like the fluid dripping down her leg. Lyra’s juices were mixing with her own along her hind legs, and the rest of her was coated in sweat, urine, slick, wet arousal. Whatever it was, she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything.

Lyra breathed a heavy sigh as her horn glowed and the clasps behind her ass undid. She floated the strap-on back to its resting place elsewhere in the basement. She did the same with the chair, the legs scraping along the ground as it found its way to the other end of the room. Lyra wiped a hoof across her forehead, swiping away the sweat that had collected from her vigorous fuck-fest.

“There,” she said.” Isn’t that more fun than getting all worked up about your friends going missing?”

Sweetie Belle didn’t answer, but Lyra saw her head move up and down, ever so slightly.

“I’ve got some stuff to do... gotta put some things in place in town, and probably make tracks in a day or two. One or two fillies missing is one thing, but this many is a pretty big deal. Never had anyone notice before, but I guess there comes a time for everything.” Lyra sighed and wiped a hoof across her head again. On the stone, Sweetie twitched slightly, her limbs wiggling like limp noodles.

“Bummer, too. I really liked this place.”

Sweetie burbled something incoherent in a voice too low to make out.

“Anyway. You stay here, and Bonbon’ll be down to look after you in a bit. Be good, okay?”

“Okay,” Sweetie said in a whisper.

Lyra smiled at her, then opened the door. She closed it with a creek, and a rush of air filled the room and washed over Sweetie’s body.

Tired. Sore. She knew she was all of those things, but they didn’t mean anything to her. She knew she was lying on the floor of a basement in a costume she had made, modeled after her sister’s design, for a pony who was supposed to be a hero.

And she was no hero. She had failed. Given up. Lost. She had stared her villain in the face and said ‘please’, and given up in that instant.

As Sweetie Belle lied on the cold stone floor, her eyes turned back to the corner. Metal bars went almost to the roof, and behind them, two familiar faces stared at her—or forward, perhaps into nothing. They were long gone, and Sweetie had come to save them. She was supposed to make everything better.

Sweetie closed her eyes and smiled, the image of orange and yellow faces burned into the backs of her eyes.

She had failed.

And she couldn’t be happier.