~ III ~
The Morning Calm
The captain faced the bounty of the water, a hoof wrapped around a steaming mug, the distant waves calm and slow, like the gentle breezes that caused them. The morning calm was a gift only to those there to receive it. Peace before the chaos. Then the tired satisfaction that comes after a day well done.
“Sir Castaway?”
Castaway drank the breeze as its caress brushed his coat. Donned was a long, emerald jacket. It flapped, lightly, its whips a comfortable sound. Once more the waves crashed into the side of the shipping yard. “Crane... we ain't even clocked in yet.” He turned to his best stallion. “Why are you trying to start the day earlier than needed?”
“Because night-crew messed with the placements and—“
“We are not correcting their mistakes on our off-time.”
“It ain't that.” Crane turned away his head to unleash a sigh. His chest seemed compounded with tension. Eyes narrowed in that way of being unsure of how to phrase that which came next. “Just that the working order from yesterday was issued by royalty itself.”
“Course we already knew that you dolt.” Castaway stepped forward on the walkway, feeling the metal teased in the holes across it. Several feet below loomed the yard. Forklifts cruising past each other as long and colourful shipping containers stood stacked on either side of wide lanes. “Processed the order and space myself. Abundant clothing and other accessories expected of such folk. The space cleared for pick up?”
“Exactly the problem sir.” Crane stumbled back on enduring a full gaze on him. “Left dock is still... mostly clear from removal last week. Additional crew show up today. Should already be ready and on standby for royalty's arrival.”
“Do you know why ponies do a job well? So they don't have to hear about it after they're done.” Castaway rose and crossed his forelegs on the polished railing of yellow, sliding until his chest rested on the beam. He sipped from his mug and looked over the waters. Waves whipped beneath the surface. “So why are you telling me all that I got right on my off-time?”
“Because someone else didn't do their job well.”
“And why ain't you bringin' it to them?”
“Because they punched out before I could catch them.”
“And why are you bringing it to me?”
“Because you're the only one who knows how to do the job well.”
Castaway dropped and shook his head to golden mane swaying over his eyes. Keeping as such, he looked up and through the bangs, relaxed by the sunny beams set over the watery horizon. “Pays more to be a slacker in most spots—doesn't it?”
“I don't know sir.” Hoofsteps dared to near from the side. “Doing the job well usually comes with perks you can't get from anything else.”
A sideways nod of the head followed by a loose chuckle. “Maybe you're right in that. And... thanks. For bringing this to my attention and all that.” Castaway rolled his shoulders while adjusting on the railing. Curves shot out in the water afar. Signs of a boat close and set to dock... yet none around at all. “So what is this problem anyway?”
“About that.” The stallion cleared his throat and tried again, voice a lot looser, sounding more relaxed. “Staff aren't used to having a whole dock free of anything. We've had to optimize the space we had left.”
“Which is possible and has been so these last few weeks—so long as the good boys are keepin' to the plan.” Castaway's eyes squeezed and the tip of his snout rolled around. Natural reaction to finding a problem on his own. “Which they ain't. Even with the map up and placement already set.”
The breeze rolled in before an answer did. “Complications arose last night. Staff pretty much took what they couldn't tuck away and littered containers over the area. Not a lot of them. But enough to be a problem.”
“Ain't that jolly.” He looked back over the railing to the paved lane below, set before the edge of the water, which softly lapped at the yard. It wasn't supposed to be this active in the morning. Though bad days come with a surprise in everything. “And when are the royals due to arrive?”
“Before either of us have time to punch in.” Swift and concise was the speech. “Hence this.”
“You're a good stallion after all.” Castaway shook his head and sighed through the steam of his coffee. Nodding into it, the flick, afterward, was the cue to send the other away. “Now get yourself into the office. Take ten after you punch in. You shouldn't lose compensation for your time due to the numb-skulls before.”
The stallion turned away but did not move. “Thanks sir. But I’d... rather get early on this problem with the crew—so everyone suffers a little bit less.”
“Good stallion indeed.”
“And sir?”
“Another problem?”
“Not quite.” The stallion's head rose as he swallowed hard. “The contents of those containers from overseas? Ones spanning the freighter that came it? It was nothing but clothing and accessories, sir.”
Castaway eyes scrunched into each other, his lips drinking the coffee, the bitterness reinvigorating. “Well. What did you expect? Royals not wanting to fill a castle with clothing?”
“But this clothing could dress a castle itself!”
Castaway looked over at the stallion who kept his back to him. “Come again?”
“Each container, sir, each of ‘em is stuffed with giant articles of clothing! Nice and smooth and velvet too.” Crane shook his head as it leaned downward. “Densely stacked fabric touching the ceiling and spanning back. Not multiple outfits or anything like that. Just one massive skirt.”
Castaway thought about it, eyes flicking in their jump from an answer to answer, the most rational ones, of course, the first to die. Finally, he stopped caring as the moments before the shift was shortened by this. “Don't worry 'bout it. Ain't our business to be snooping the contents too deeply. Maybe they got some giant mannequin they're going to dress in the likeness of someone. Who knows?”
Crane raised his head. “Perhaps you're right. Maybe we should be focusing more on the task at hoof anyhow.”
“Thatta boy.” Castaway nudged his head away. “Now scoot. I need to prepare for meeting the convoy.” He leaned further over the railing. “And the words never come out right before a finished cup.”
“Aye aye sir!”
“We ain't the guard! Now get a move on.”
“Aye aye!”
“Oh boy.”
Hoofsteps on metal faded into the distance as Castaway remained at peace. There was always a small shake to his head with every exhale harsh on the lungs. He gazed out left, across the colourful stacks of containers, seeing the open port there. The space bore parked forklifts and boxes not belonging there.
Royalty was always pedantic about everything being right.
“I'm as good as dust after this.”
Castaway's head hung over the railing with ears flattening against the sides of his head. Sunlight warmed through his mane to the back of his scalp. It comforted him. But then came a shiver. An incessant vibration.
His head lifted in a tilt while looking down at a metallic beam. Rattling and rolling in place until becoming so quick as to appear still. Sirens beeped below as those on forklifts swerved around each other. Something was rumbling from the sea that was unseen.
What could it be? Castaway blinked in being unable to back down. Violent stomps quaked throughout despite an origin point appearing non-existent. It came from the sea. Waves splashing over the edge as they washed across the pavement. Boxes turned on the currents in being flushed back. Another BOOMquaked the water from down under.
Down under?
Castaway looked down at the view of ponies fleeing the scene. Distance between them and the threat. Looking back to the water, though, came the rising of long and thick objects to the surface. Wet locks billowed up, clapping on their breaking of the surface, chromatic strands flying several feet, then plopping down, seconds later, in a gentle rest across the water.
Hair floating like a pool rendered unto itself.
“D-Dear Celestia... what in t-tarnation is that?”
It was hard to see even from an aerial view. But the sense of form could be felt. Something large and round set before the edge of the dock. Mane outward in its spread as its colours glinted in the sunlight. Through the locks loomed a form. Shadowy and monolithic. Waves gushed from over it. Subtle rocking able to rock the shore.
Castaway looked over his shoulder to see the staff fleeing for the gates. Wondering if he should do the same, curiosity locked him in place, the beast before him, this threat, appealing to him somehow. Slowly then did it emerge.
A sight unable to be contained.
It broke the surface with a thunderous crashing unable to be bested. Waterfalls thickly crashed as the beast's head lightly rose. It consumed the edge of the port in the width of its face alone. Long spanned its muzzle as it kept in a downward tilt. Little hacking, gently done, from the massive beauty.
Castaway felt his mouth open, even only a little, in witnessing the titanic view. Awash in shadow as Celestia's head blocked the sun. Dense mane draped and clung to the length of her neck. Glossy colours sticking to the matted whiteness of her coat.
“Mmhmmm! Oooooh deeeeeaaar!” Celestia's voice boomed without being overbearing or annoying. Rather it consumed everything within the space without a touch more. It didn't command attention but encouraged it. The massive mare seemed unaware of it all the same. “Such a long swim! Please, if you don't mind, give me a few moments to stretch.”
Castaway squeaked in meaning to speak. He doubted the princess knew him to be there. Eyes closed and mass so voluminous as if it was even possible for him to see him without trying. Something splashed from the water. Two objects. Sprawling cylinders of white, lifting from the water and over the yard below. They hovered for a second as their shadow shot across the lane.
From the fur came a drop. Thick droplets pelting from the span of the wrist. How it possessed a shadow of its own in dropping, a collection of crates caught within it, all of them, on impact, shattering into an explosion of wood flying. The contents within were doused and washed out onto the pavement.
Then the mighty forehooves descended from up high. Slowly but tremendously as the air generated rocked the railing Castaway stumbled on. Then came the crash below. Thunderous and quaking. Metal clattering as containers shivered on top of each other. Few containers slid back, backs slamming into the ground, leaning from the impact, moving over the edge and splashing into the sea.
Castaway threw himself into the railing and bore the vibrations into his chest. He looked down at the gulf below. Two composed tunnels of utter white slid across below. Sliding to the crumbling of concrete, nothing but sand to the hooves. That, and how afar, the mare arched forward, chest-floof blanketing the edge of the yard, the whole of her body pushing into the dock. Afar and to the back, her monolithic rump pushed out and high up, mountainous flanks, creamy in their whiteness, now smoother in the sunlight.
Once more his breath had been lost for a different reason. Flanks arched to the sky and blocking the view of clouds. The space they devoured. Mere existence blotting out the world behind it. The jitter, wobbles, of the tremendous twins. Fat without being fat as the slope of their curve could make a mountain jealous. They jiggled ever so easily. Softly swaying into the other. Light smack to little rub. One grinding into the other until swaying apart.
“Oh dear!” The front of the princess arched up as well, the bend in her back deepening, a ramp composed of snow. Her neck ascended like a lighthouse rising from the depths of the sea. Shadows darkened her coat. Locks the size of tubes swung like a pendulum clock. “E-Exactly what I needed! Such a shame in losing my floater! Or my tube for air for that matter.”
Something terrific splashed out from the water to the pelting of rain on pavement. Afar and at her side rose a colossal wing, its tips larger than boats, the added pressure flooding through her front. Her chest mounted on the edge of the dock, cracking into it, further, as spiderwebs shot back from the impact and across the asphalt.
“And that careless submarine! Jabbing itself into my flank like that.” Celestia's head shook at the memory as her wet locks whacked across the edge. Vines breaking into the sides of containers, crunching into their middles, a few landing on forklifts, flattening them on weight alone, coming to whip them the second next. “Eek! Dear heavens! Blew out the top of my breather with that. If Luna saw that...”
Castaway struggled to keep alive in the scene. Unable to handle this terrific beauty consuming the width of a dock with her body alone. Her forelegs had slid fully underneath. Their shape rolled high enough to brush the railing—spots of fur, ivory, of course, coming through the holes of the metallic plating.
Then there was her. Head high enough to require the backward crane of his neck. She turned a tad to the side and exposed the same of her muzzle, revealing the length of her body, barrel blurred as it went on, fields of sloped white, now wet, spreading out in reaching her posterior.
And that was massive.
How that mighty wing set its tips across the thickest swell of the flank, three bunched together on a spot, rolling around, jostling the cheek as well. Heavy were its ripples as the splashing waters below weren't able to compete. Light bounces came as the tips vibrated up and down.
“Oh well... mhmmm...” Suddenly was how the mare's head lowered from the sky, graceful in its swiftness. The forehooves below pulled back, pushing on the railing, rocking it as the stallion fumbled around. “At least I've finally made it ashore.”
Sunlight exploded as Celestia fell out of its way. Castaway rose a foreleg to protect his eyes as the shakes below rocked through the platform. His thigh smacked into the railing, the force knocking him over, something in front falling first—even more blinding than the sunlight.
Castaway slammed onto something hard but coated in softness. He rolled as silky grass tickled him endlessly. Stopping after a couple of seconds, he turned on the narrow platform, instinctively hugging it, surrounded by whiteness.
The thing, then, crashed into the ground. It rocked through him as he hugged the object harder. Things relaxed afterward. Breathing a breath, he loosened as well, looking across the road of white fluff—seeing the wall in the distance.
Two pools, closed lids, now opening.
At once he was awash in violet. Soft white surrounding a shimmering pink. Two masses of gentleness widening and brightening in curiosity. Both settled on the critter locked to her snout. Far too small to hug the thickness of its center slope.
“Oh dear.” Though they were out of focus and existed on the very edges of his vision, Castaway witnessed the mare's ears, high and sprawling out of view, now, coming down, becoming flat over her neck. “Are you okay sir? I didn't mean to bring you any harm.”
Castaway coughed in dislodging himself from the snout, fighting the compulsion to hold on, to be tight in straddling it.. As he went to rise, though, her muzzle twitched, rocking him greatly, forcing him to hug the muzzle. “No harm at all ma'am. Or I mean Princess Celestia.”
He inhaled deeply. “Always get it wrong.” He looked up into the trained eyes. “But am I supposed to kneel or wave? Or do you do both of 'em in that order?”
Something spread underneath his legs, the muscles beneath the density of the coat, great works pulling to make the lips below stretch into a smile. Air warmed here. Rather her aroma heated the place. “Neither today.”
“That so?”
“Today is my exemption from being a princess.” She nodded, and in that dip, he slid to the tip of her snout. “So please attempt to treat me like any other mare if you can.”
“Like any other mare huh?”
He could feel the smile, now, collecting into a grin, one firing in the opposite direction. Celestia's eyes narrowed with amusement on the tiny. “Aren't you a cute one.”
“Cute? Don't think I've ever had the privilege of being called that in all my life!”
“Then this will certainly be a memory to cherish then!” Her eyes swept left and right in search of something. “Which reminds me. Do you happen to know if the royal order is ready to be carried out at this particular dock?”
“Indeed it is.” Castaway's head dipped left and right in balancing opposing thoughts. “Though might have a few issues in the matter of the prepared platform.” The princess's face darkened as the top of her muzzle inched higher. “N-Not that we don't have everything prepared! Just a few idiots not following the plan and map I'd hung and left a couple of things scattered there.”
Immediately the giantess lightened. “That shouldn't be a problem then. Say. Has the water tower been prepared yet?”
“Indeed it has.” Castaway looked to the right to be reminded of how high they were. In the dock next rocked a freighter. Its middle possessed the polished water tank. That, and thick tubing laid next to it. “Right over there ma'am. Your order said it only needed to remain at the dock for the moment. Hence it hasn't been offloaded.”
“Again that shouldn't be an issue.”
Princess Celestia strained her eyes to do so, but the effort of crossing them was worth it, of course, in seeing the stallion clung to her snout. Vision allowed to rest easy, she pulled from the port, feeling the cool rise on her chest, around her body, hooves far below reaching the ground of the dock.
She backed from the platform to catch her destruction for the first time. Its edge crumbled in with pieces of rock still dripping into the water. Webs cracked across the lane, a metal railing, dislodged from one side, now hung from the other. Most objects required squinted eyes to see. Dots of brown and flattened, glittering things, glossed in yellow.
She would need to make it up to the stallion on her snoot.
But she waded through the water. Massive crashings feeling anything but across her body. There was a nice chill to it all. Warmer on the surface but cooler in going down. The sore spot on her rump, assuaged, by the density of the cooling water. How some of it washed the crevice between, towering cheeks of white, inched apart, just enough to tease the darkened divot inside.
How easily boats could sail into the valley, waves splashing in, a transition to dimness, echoes everywhere. Her larger size before would have been more of a show. Water splashed at the thick swells of the walls. How deep did the valley go? When did the walls bind together, tightly, as to deny further passage?
And when would they clench and destroy the boats that sailed in?
Keep that perversion under wrap.
The mare settled with the chill as her muzzle swung over the back of the freighter. It rested at the port with concrete platforms stretched out to accompany its sides. Ahead was the mainland of the yard consuming a section of the city.
Celestia didn't deal with that yet.
Instead she grinned as her wings unfurled from her sides. The poor stallion on her nose turned, still in his hug, watching as her the tips of her wings settled on the edge of the tank. His minuscule form turned to her. Bound in a smile shooting one way, with eyes lifted in heightened satisfaction, Celestia bore a smugness beyond compare.
Her wingtip snapped up into the underside of the tanker's top. Screeching came the metal as it crunched and bent in a way not intended. Its cover shot like a bottle cap into the sky, twirling and glinting sunlight, flying over the freighter, darkening a saucer on the dock. Little yellow forklifts beeped and fumbled in their driving.
KA-POOSH!
Violently rumbled the ground as it crunched into itself, pieces of concrete floating up, caught without gravity, a crater forming below. Carts bounced into the air and crashed into the ground, fumbling around, shooting off from the scene.
“O-Oh dear.” Celestia inched her head from side to side over the ship, sunlight lathered on her face, eyes squinting to the round trench in the asphalt. Ponies like ants circled the thing as they left their hiding. “Well. It appears none were harmed. Perhaps I should be lighter on the tricks next time.”
“...h-has any stallion survived dating you?”
Celestia's eyes playfully narrowed as her smirk fired off left. Her wingtips swept up the bundle of tubes like they were chopsticks. Easily she broke them apart, the snap like a chime, a ringing keeping in an angelic sound. “There have been a few gallant attempts. But alas. I'm unattainable for most."
She struck the remaining tube into the tanker, allowing it to graze the bottom of the bowl, her other hoof lifting out from the water, hovering over the ship, dousing the decks, washing the walkways, pelting the windows of the cabin with the water dripping from it. She curved a foreleg underneath the bowl, lifting it, snapping it, without meaning, from the metal beams attaching it to the ship.
Which rocked from the contact.
“Why? Do you wish a chance at the sun?” Celestia slid her back legs forward deep within the water as her back fell into the side of the port, softness crunching into the wall, grinding it, as she adjusted herself until comfortable. “Tell you what. If you can survive being in coconut milk without being slurped up—I'll let you take me anywhere.”
Celestia reclined further back to the wagging of her head. The stallion clung tighter from the swings of the frosty bridge. He peered over the end of her snout to the bowl below, cupped like a coconut, revealing the toasty milk inside. Little steam lifted from the scene. “M-Milk? You had milk in there the whole time?”
“Figured I'd deserve a treat after drinking seawater with its unintentional consequences.” Her smirk from before had failed to go away. “So how about it? Do you wish to use my muzzle as a diving board?”
The stallion crawled back, still holding on the snout, from her tip. “Mighty fine offer madam. But afraid you caught yourself a sailor that doesn't know how to swim.”
“Is that so? Such a shame.” Now her smirk died and her shoulders dropped a bit. Still Celestia's head inched into a tilt with a light feeling of mirth. “But you don't mind if I drink this. Do you?”
“Whatever gives my boys long enough to clear that space for you.”
“Is that a comment about my weight?”
“No offence, ma'am, but I feel all that weight you put on—growing big and mighty like—went to all the right places in that regard.”
Heart pumping to a series of jitters rocking. Celestia's eyes tilted up as they looked down at him in amusement. Satisfaction tinged with something else in her expression. “What is your name kind sir?”
“Castaway, your former—only for today—princess.”
“I think I might come to like you, sir Castaway.” Celestia twisted her back on the concrete, looking over the dock and water, catching a glinting, something white, floating on the water. Bubble of magic swept the objects and hovered them close. Greatest squint of the west was needed for the floating miniature bowls. “And I've put you through a touch more trouble than intended. Here.”
The bowls dropped from the sphere and pelted the sea below. Except for the larger one. That dove into the tanker hugged above the floof of the mare's chest, which pinned some of her tuft beneath it. The bowl dived and scooped into the pond of steamy white. It lifted and hovered at the end of her snout.
“Take that and recline with me,” Celestia said, straightening her muzzle, ceasing to move or speak, all to keep still, as the tickles of the stallion rose on her muzzle. He looked back, worried, only to meet her gentle, encouraging, and charmed expression. “Please. It's been a while since I've last not rushed through the morning. Its stillness, of course, is better enjoyed with another.”
It took him a bit. But Castaway nodded. Looking forward and carrying in that direction. Steps petting spots on her snout with the sensitivity rising at the end. Raising a foreleg into the magical bubble, he gasped, suddenly locked, as the bowl descended onto his offered hoof.
Then he was freed.
Castaway turned around only to be stuck frozen. The greatness of the princess's face loomed in the distance. Gigantic and perfect in its proportions. The way those eyes trained on him. Half-lidded and interested. Seeming a thought and a feeling ahead. Mirthful due to his existence.
He nodded, with a turn of the head, avoiding her gaze, one gently heavy on his shoulders. It rang a light quake from the ground, a giggle sounding out, vibrating the land by a little. Castaway chuckled to himself in strolling forward. Seeing from underneath his golden bangs to the face of the mare.
It didn't take him long to reach the cliff composed of furs. Celestia would be strained to see him here, and so, in lifting the tanker below, her lips now searched for the straw. Both eyes on either side looked afar, over the water and the boats within the coast of the city, all to the horizon, to the sun above.
And it was peaceful. Strange to be seeing the world from so high, and it appearing so small. On a titan of a mare as she sat back to watch the miniature world around her. He plopped on his rump and snuggled back into her, the coat, trimmer here, still offering padding, the furs brushing over his sides. Like a vertical field of white grass.
The two relaxed into each other and lost themselves to the scene. Rolled in was the breeze and chilly had the height rendered it. But the aroma coating him. The furs warmed in body heat alone. It caused the stallion to sigh. To want to turn around and slumber on the mare. Comfy and heated and silky that she was.
Yet he kept with the mood instead. Her eyes determined as they set out. Watching the waters with her, the boats coasting to the sides, how, in the distance, the bridge connecting the city loomed. But that determination was set afar. Way out into the water, where there was nothing, no detail, only open space.
The stallion pointed out a hoof there, the speck, somehow, caught in the corner of the massive eye. It turned to flick onto him. He had her attention for a second. “You thinkin' of pickin' a fight with the water there? Or thinking about how you'd like to be a pig in a bath of mud?”
The smile below pulled, lightly, on the land underneath him. “A bit of both my trusted friend. Though... I shouldn't be thinking that far ahead. In fact I shouldn't be thinking at all.” Her lips sipped on the tube, at the delicious milk, half-consciously enjoyed, during their meditative enjoyment of the scenery. “Maybe I am starting to lose that part of myself. Lulu and I... or, I mean princess—“
“H-Hey now! You ain't a princess today.” Castaway tilted the bowl up before his muzzle, sipping from it for the last few moments, now, with it done, chucking it to the side without remorse. It fell and pelted into the water far below. “Now go back and tell me about this Lulu of yours.”
The smile below, now, stretched the ground a little more. “Hmm! Very well.”
It was a bit scary to recline on the muzzle of a mare as she spoke. Little rises during higher syllables. But fear went away in hearing Celestia speak. It accentuated her words. Made Castaway feel along for the ride in hearing her speak. Vibrations through the coat and little tilts rocking him around. Being able to rest into her, though, was a cause for everything to be okay.
“It was back, so far back, when only a few towns constituted all of this kingdom.” Torrents of wind became devoured in Celestia's inhale as she went on with the story. “Work wasn't too demanding of us. Especially when there were two. But we had a pact in the morning. Something formed without words.”
“Those tend to be the best now, don't they?”
“Indeed. I...” Celestia giggled in a soft sway as the waterfalls of mane did the same over her face. Curve fell to the side, suddenly blocking the view to the dock, casting shade over the tiny. “I don't even recall how it began. Maybe I was there one morning or perhaps it was her first. In any case. We met on the balcony once in the time between night and morning.”
Castaway chuckled in crossing his forelegs over his chest, leaning more on the mare, now practically lying back on her—with only his head propped on Celestia. “That the time the night owl meets the morning bird?”
“Indeed little one.” Into the cove of the shadow lifted, from the distance, the tip of a wing. It had been tanning on the dock as the mare rested back. It entered, flying over him, but the stallion couldn't be fussed even by the scale alone. Smooth bone coated in fuzz rubbed into his blond mane. “Together we did our duties. She lowered the moon and I raised the sun.”
The wing pulled out from the cove and fell, out of sight, around the giantess. “And as the two followed on their treks, both of us watched, sipping from our drinks, no words for a long while. Usually those moments are for when sentiments are shared. But the act of being silent and still, alone but not quite, did something kind to the soul. I could lose myself to nature without a thought appearing.”
The bridge of white tilted down, from the horizon to the water below, gravity pulling on the stallion as he slid down several feet. “But it seems that's an ability I've since lost. That, among other livings beyond being a princess.”
Castaway kept in his slide without being able to stop it. He turned around and stomped his hooves into the brushing furs for a hope of a hold. None came and he was close to the edge as the mare's face pushed further away. “C-Celes!”
Those magnificent eyes widened at the voice. They flicked to him and a blush rose beneath him at once. Massive crashing sounded from afar as a round shadow passed over him. His head turned and looked to the clouds to find a dimmed underside of a hoof instead. Rounder than what could be contained within his vision.
It fell onto him, lightly, the edge of the titanic thing. Pinning him with a pressure backed with a sense of pleasure. He was utterly pinned onto the snoot of the mare as her hoof acted like a heavy blanket over the back of his body. Gazing up and afar at the full extent of her worried expression placed him in a state he didn't want to be within.
He pushed into the snoot and lifted, as much as he could, not losing a second more. “Ain't that what the mornings are for? Losing yourself to a thought or problem or somethin' other—only for a splash of sunlight to bring you back right? Calm of the morning isn't about never losin' yourself. It's a matter of fallin' into something, gettin' worried by it, before nature pulls you out of again—makin' ya feel like everything is gonna be alright or somethin'.”
His muzzle scrunched in a wince as he exhaled his next words away. “I'm sorry. Afraid talkin' the profound was never my quirk. But I do think you have nothin' to worry about.” He turned the best he could to see the sun around the curve of the hoof. “So long as you can keep lookin' back to that thing for a bit—you'll be alright even in the thick of it. Plus! You caught me pretty quick alright.”
Celestia's eyes lifted over him to the sun cast over the bridge. She seemed caught in something... before it melted away. Inhales and exhales were relaxed in coming below. Her muzzle became straight and the calm stole her again.
“Mister Castaway?” Her eyes returned to looking down at him at the end of her snoot. “I'm very glad to have met you on my day off.”
“And I am glad to have met you on my day on.”
But then came the unexpected change; the muzzle rolling to the side as the mass of hair crashed the same. His body fell from the bridge and landed on soft grounding. It lightly bounced him as he laid back on the saucer. It lowered, the view of the port, beyond the side of the hoof, raising closer.
Castaway looked down the front of his body as he laid back. In the distance was the princess with the end of her muzzle disappearing, upward, from view. Her chest was exposed to him. The bowl in front of it, taken away, set on the water below, where it would bob, set adrift elsewhere.
He stared at the floof. How much there was and how much he wanted to be tangled up in it. But his perversion was caught. The massiveness of her muzzle settling in to view below it. Eyebrow cocked with lips caught in a smirk. It was seconds before they lurched onto him.
“C-Celestia?” Castaway protected his face with raised forelegs, though the edge of her snout nudged it aside, freeing the whole of him. Before he could think to scramble, her lips were set on him, tons weighing in pure softness, heavy and crushing, always plush in texture. “Hehe! C-Crazy mare!”
The stallion could barely wiggle out as the princess kissed him. Warmed by their temperature and massaged by their substance. Little wetness lathering across him. He didn't fight it after a few seconds. Instead he enjoyed the perks of doing one's job well.