Ever wanted to see your favorite villain in an intimate situation? Ever wanted to see your favorite clop authors in one place? Look no further!
Ever wanted to see your favorite villain in an intimate situation? Ever wanted to see them be humiliated in gloriously over-the-top erotic scenarios? Ever wanted to see your favorite clop authors, like Bronystories and TittySparkles, in one place? Look no further!
Inside this anthology is story after story of intrigue, romance, passion, and the darker side of bronydom. Brought to you by none other than your favorite writers, and me -- the whimsical, wonderful, and might I add handsomest draconequus Chaos Keeper himself, Discord!
Just remember to bring a towel. This might get sweaty.
Original Concept: Kamineigh Project Director: Brony_Fife Intros/Outros: Bronystories
The cold night air whistles quietly through trees as owls converse in their never-ending questions. The full moon, dressed in dark clouds drifting by, is serenaded by the howls of wolves. Far from the still streets of Canterlot stands the Royal Maze Garden, where a surprise awaits.
At the edge of the maze garden, the fog begins to thicken. A low creak echoes from inside the maze, closely followed by empty hoofsteps. He walks out of the shadows, half-stumbling, half-mad, his frame tall and wiry. The dark, creepy hood and cloak he wears flutters in the wind. With every step he takes, his joints groan and crack.
He lowers his hood with a swift yank, revealing a set of horrendous yellow eyes, his single visible fang a dead grey and his nose all but gone. Though rotted, his familiar face is recognizable anywhere.
His lion paw holds a lit flashlight up from under his chin as, with a snap of his eagle talons, Discord calls down a single tentacle of lightning that booms dramatically. It’s corny, but effective.
Once all quiets, he smiles like a predator cornering its prey.
“Greetings, boys and ghouls!” he says with a fourth-wall-breaking bow. “I am the Chaos Keeper. Welcome to my Maze of the Macarbe!”
Another flash of lightning streaks across the sky. Discord waits for the thunder to pass before he continues. “You’re just in tomb for Tales From the Clop! I’ve come to share several stories of licentious lugubriousness guaranteed to leave you scared stiff!” He leans in and quietly adds behind his lion paw, “If the stiffness lasts longer than four hours, consult your doctor.”
Another snap of his eagle talon calls up a coffin from the earth. As it rumbles up from the ground, so do a pair of candles that instantly light when the coffin comes to a stop, spilling eerie light onto a thick book that rests on the lid. Discord leans over the coffin as if it were a desk, opening the book and thumbing through the pages.
“Our first scary tale is about a tyrant and a treacherous tailor. It was love at first fright for this power-obsessed couple. Will Suri Polomare succeed in stealing more than Blueblood’s heart, or will the prince curry Suri’s favor? Find out in our inaugural tale of titillating terror, Powerless!”
Fetishes/Trigger Warnings: Blackmail, Male-Over-Female Domination, slight Cum Inflation, Muzzle-Fucking, 69ing, Vaginal Penetration, Cunnilingus. Read at your own risk!!!
“No, look. Maybe you got that wrong. It’s Polomare, mmkay? P-O-L-O-M-A-R-E.” Suri tapped her hoof once for each letter, hoping to carve them in the valet’s thick head.
“For the last time, ma’am. I’m pretty sure it’s ‘Polymare’ on the list.” The young valet adjusted his glasses and squinted his eyes to check again. “Is this a ‘Y’ or an ‘A?.
Suri let out a long, irritated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Sure. And you know many fashionistas from Canterlot called Polymare?” She searched in her finely embroidered saddlebag and among the rolls of fabric she searched for a letter sporting the royal seal. “You want proof? Here’s proof, mmkay? Unless somepony changed my name in the middle of the night, it clearly says...”
Her eyes settled on the letter and, to her horror, it clearly said Polymare even there…
Either it was a cruel mockery, or there really was a royal invitation for a fashionista named Polymare who was probably trotting her merry way to Canterlot to hog Suri’s leftover glory. She didn’t know which one was worse. Probably the second.
After losing the competition, that royal invitation was an absolute stroke of luck. A proof that the Universe still wanted something out of her and nothing, nothing in the wide world of Equestria could have dissuaded her from it.
“I don’t know about that. I should ask my superior.” The large, marble door behind him creaked open. “I can ask the Princess and spare a lot of time, but would the Princess even have the time to—”
A smug voice burst from the halfway opened door and acted as the proverbial last drop to Suri’s patience. “Ah, Miss Polymare! You’ve arrived at last!”
“It’s Poloma—!” she spinned on her hooves towards the voice but her scream was cut short when Suri held her gaze on the focus of that rage. A very bright, tall, royal and perfectly groomed focus of her rage.
“Alright, Miss Poloma.” Prince Blueblood came out of the door and let out a chuckle so irritating that her hoof felt compelled to meet his face. “I’m glad we finally meet.”
“Finally? You mean that...Oh!” Realization hit Suri as his lips gently brushed against her pink hoof. Suddenly, she found in her heart the will to forgive the little misnaming. Mostly.
“Yes. Equestrian Royalty needs you and, to be absolutely precise, I need you. I was the one to send your invitation.”
“Really?” a wide smile blessed her lips. “But the letter said the wrong name. I almost thought that—”
With a magic touch, Blueblood snatched the letter out of her hooves and examined it carefully, sighing right after. “Just a gross mistake. I apologize for that.” He led the way for the mare with his hoof. “By the way, you are fired,” he said to the valet.
“W-what?! But I...I didn’t…” He fell to his knees, his hoof futilely trying to reach the cold prince as warm tears crossed his cheek.
“That’s right. You didn’t.” He left behind the still-shocked young colt and slammed the door on his face. Suri could hear quiet sobbing from outside.
He stole a quick glance of her elegant form and when those cerulean eyes landed on her, she felt...breached. Violated. Simply dirty. The good kind of dirty. “I look forward to hire your… considerable talent,” he smirked, and landed a small kiss on her wrist.
There was this aura coming from him. A veil of power and smugness that only the upper classes could produce.
“My...talents?” she sulked, flicking a lock of her mane out of her forehead. “I mean, you've surely heard of that...scandal. For the lack of a better term.” She blinked. “Not that I’m refusing an opportunity!”
“Puh-lease!” He let out a roaring laugh, so loud that the guards in the hall and some of the nobles entertaining themselves and conducting their business turned towards him. “Scandals are high society’s bread and butter! Scandals are like medals pinned on our chests.” He slipped a foreleg around Suri’s shoulders and waved the other in a slow arc that encompassed everypony in the room. “You can’t be somepony if you don’t rack up a few scandals left and right!”
“Like the one you were awarded at the Grand Galloping Gala two or three years ago?” Suri smirked triumphantly, imagining that smug grin deflating under a veil of frosting. One little, playful jab in retaliation for that earlier Poloma was absolutely entitled to her.
Blueblood gave a little smirk of his own. “I like you, Miss Polomare.” The taste of sweet victory overwhelmed her and, with her standing in the halls of the Canterlot, it couldn’t feel better. She was at the top again and it felt right.
“Perhaps you could follow me to my chambers, so that you could—oh, I don’t know—take my measurements for starters?”
“Well, of course, Prince. But you still haven’t told me what you have in mind, mmkay?”
“Don’t worry, dear. You’ll know when it happens.” Again a smirk and those eyes, slithering all the way inside her soul.
She’d never been afraid of snakes before…
****
Suri looked at the so-called ‘chambers’ of the Prince. A most frugal thing, if she dared to say it. A simple bed with blue night sheets and gold trimming that, knowing the Prince, could’ve been actual gold embroidered in the texture, a desk in pure mahogany, on which were scattered half a dozen smutty romance novels that elicited a little sneer of contempt from her. The piece de resistance of the room was a nearly life-sized portrait of the Prince wearing his usual smug grin and holding a rose between his teeth. It was perfectly visible even in the dim light caused by the halfway-shut blinds.
If anypony asked her, she would say that the rumors about the Prince being a massive narcissist had strong foundations. He was an attractive stallion though, so it was partly excusable.
Before she could even open her bag to pull out at least some measuring tape, she heard the door slam behind her. She turned and saw the Prince locking the door tightly, turning the key with a swift magical motion.
“Hey, I can understand you want some privacy, mmkay? My art is—”
A pair of strong, masculine forelegs immediately locked around her shoulders. She yelped in surprise as a girlish blush spread to her cheeks. “Woah! P-Prince, this is really, y’know, i-inappropriate—”
“The correct term is ‘your Majesty’,” he purred. Suri gulped loudly. A sharp panic threatened to overwhelm her as that smile that gleamed like a knife in an alley stretched his lips.
“W-What are you trying to do?”
“I desire you. Wasn’t that obvious?” he chuckled. “Ever since I heard about your competition—”
“Which I lost, in case you forgot!”
“Details! I admired your spirit, your cleverness, your willingness to bend the rules to your benefit—not to mention your near-victory against that Ponyville shrew!” He flashed a crazed grin he hissed that last sentence, his eyes gleaming dangerously.
“Near-victory,” Suri chuckled as she tried to squeeze herself out of his grip. “We agree on the sentiment, though.”
“You truly are one of us. The scandalous ponies! You take what you want and I take what I want.” She could feel his breath over her neck, his hooves sliding among every hair of her pelt as he sniffed the expensive Manehatten perfume out of her skin. “And I. Want. You.”
“Oh, Prince...M-maybe you’re taking this too far. I mean, I’m flattered, mmkay? But—”
His smile disappeared, leaving his face barren. Blueblood’s voice dropped to a creepy monotone. “But you’ll refuse a Prince’s advances, right?”
“Look, I’m sorry, mmkay?” She unlocked his forelegs from her body, falling limply to the ground. “But I came here because I thought this would be, like, my comeback job, but since you have nothing to offer—”
A gleam in the Prince’s eyes felt like a gust of cold wind on her back. A faint voice in her head told her sternly that she could’ve really used a better choice of words.
She wasn’t afraid of him... Not at all... What was there to be afraid of this fop?
“P-Professionally, I mean. I’m flattered you want me that way, mmkay? But I still have, like, my dignity! So, if you’ll excuse me…” She adjusted her scarf and trotted towards the door, keeping her eyes closed. That was when she felt an unexpected force lugging her back and holding her in the room. She turned to see the Prince tearing her saddlebag with his teeth, ripping its straps off. It fell on the ground and exploded in a cloud of exquisite fabrics.
Fabrics wearing the Equestrian nobility's colors, the dark blue of its Night Sky and the golden trimming of its Sunny Morning. Fabric that one would’ve found only in one place: Castle Canterlot.
Suri quietly muttered an expletive.
“Old habits die hard, I suppose,” Blueblood said quietly. He picked up a dark blue sheet and twirled it in his hoof, his expression unchanging as he examined it.
"I... I was going to use those as accents on your regal r-robes," Suri Polomare said nervously as she glanced quickly at the door.
“Of course!” Blueblood said as he rolled his eyes. “Because it’s the client that supplies the raw materials.”
“Technicalities!”
“This explains that little detour you took before coming here,” the Prince giggled, a grating sound worse than a thousands forks on a chalkboard. “Seriously, though: I expected a better excuse.”
Suri lowered her gaze to the floor, defeated and humiliated. Again. With no other mare to blame but herself. Or to shift the blame on.
"My aunts look unfavorably on ponies who steal," Prince Blueblood said, letting the fabric fall on the ground. "As royalty, it is my sovereign responsibility to report any thieves. Unless..."
"Unless w-what?" Suri asked, drops of cold sweat soaking her brow.
His white teeth glistened in the dim light. "Start sucking," Prince Blueblood said bluntly.
“What?!” Suri shrieked and lunged at him, only to be grabbed by the wrist with his hoof, stopping the blow directed to his face.
“Oh, well, in that case, GUAR—”
But before Blueblood could finish, his words were choked back by a pair of stiff lips locking with his, a rough, swift tongue sliding down his throat and twirling around his.
She moaned and pushed as their lips behaved more like two slabs of metal grinding against each other than a kiss. He tasted of cheap brandy and arrogance, but it was the only way to shut him up without knocking his teeth out and really have the guards on her tail. She opened her eyes for an instant to see the creep enjoying the feeling of her smooth lips, eyes fully closed and breathing faintly.
The Prince jerked his head backward and loosened his grip around her mouth, breaking the kiss for a fleeting moment before lunging forward and enveloping her in a hot, sloppy embrace with her tongue, sharing a yelp in their mouths. His tongue reprised their fight for dominance over globs of saliva as their lips slid against each other.
“Very good,” he whispered as he slid his tongue out of her mouth and held her chin in one hoof. “Very good indeed.”
“Happy now?” she spat, knowing it wasn’t over by a long shot.
“My, are you in a hurry? I could call the guards to escort you…” Such smugness, playing the same card over and over...
“What do you want, mmkay?”
“When I said ‘start sucking’ I meant…”
Suri followed the Prince’s mischievous gaze between his legs, to see his newly unsheathed stallionhood dangling and twitching, its flat tip wobbling left and right as a small drop of precum was already hanging from it. His girth was throbbing, his veins pulsating with raw sexual power that would’ve never fit in his black obelisk.
Suri took a long breath. She saw no escape from this situation, no way to keep her so-coveted dignity. At least for now. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, her tongue hanging out from the side as his musky scent penetrated her nostrils. Maybe it will be over quickly if she—
A hoof gently stopped her lips. “Ah ah ah! That’s way too soon. Clean my hoof first.”
He offered his foreleg and she planted a few small licks on it. He grunted in disapproval and forced his appendage closer to her face. She whipped her tongue again and forced her head down and cringed at the strong tickling that followed.
She stuck her tongue out further, swirling it around the sensitive frog of his hoof. Blueblood quivered and felt the air frizzle on his stallionhood. It wasn’t a mundane interest, but surely something to keep only inside the most depraved of bedchambers. It wasn’t a matter of arousal. It was a matter of power.
Power over ponies was the ultimate aphrodisiac. Power over arrogant ponies was worthy of the gods!
"Do the other one," he ordered.
Suri placed his front hoof on her forehead and felt his state of arousal growing exponentially as the licking carried on. Next, he heard the mare inhale deeply and swirl her tongue all over the centre of his hoof, catching him by surprise and sending a wave of electric arousal up his spine. A small drop of cum jizzed out on the floor and his head was sent lightly spinning.
He wanted this mare for real this time, only by the promise of her touch. She had graduated from ‘possible plaything’ to ‘possible afternoon delight’.
“Very good, Miss Polomare.” He grabbed her head in another savage kiss and led her by her generously-proportioned hips onto the bed, mixing the gentle brushing of his hooves with mischievous slapping on her rear, sending her trotting on the bed with a half-choked complaint. That was the best part: when they still had something to complain about but had no power whatsoever to do anything about it. Just a quick gaze of pure authoritarian might and the plaything returned to her proper place.
When she sat on her knees with those feisty looking eyes, that look of spite, unable to act—on her back like the powerless wench that she was…
Blueblood climbed onto the bed, pinned her down in a 69, and dove head-first into those plump, pink thighs of hers, searching for the delightful taste of her femininity.
He gave a firm, sharp lap to the warm red slit and felt Suri quivering and moaning beneath him, her fluids leaking out at each stroke of his tongue. He pounced forward, nose-first into her soaking flower, rolling his tongue and his lips over the beautiful flesh exposed and snorting the scent of her red petals, the taste of her musky ambrosia rolling down his throat. His wet tongue rolled around her snatch, indulging on the door of her marehood and on her small, exquisite clitoris that puckered and winked at him, showing her willingness in its basest form. A mare’s body never lied, never said no and never disappointed.
To his delight, he felt the warm, smooth sensation of her lips going around his shaft and reprised the assault on the outer walls of her cunt, drowning his muzzle in the shameless juices that were leaking out in worrying quantity. “You like this,” he grinned as he felt the damp touch of her tongue spreading to his privates, his veins brushing against the soft contour of her mouth. He wondered aloud if it was the right time to let her taste her masculinity but she was just so into it that he decided to let it slide...before sliding inside of her.
He pinned his hooves on the bed and straightened himself up, facing her marehood and slowly exiting his cock from her mouth, only to give one sharp thrust and stuffing himself back in, knocking on the back of her throat and causing her to give a quick, arousing gag before that sweet tongue of hers landed on his voracious tip. His lips smothered her sore clitoris and a long, throaty, desperate moan from the mare beneath him was choked back by his turgid flesh, immersed in the damp inferno of her mouth.
He propelled his hips forward and his girth expanded, squeezed by her powerful throat muscles. Pleasure unlike any other coated his nerves in powerful bliss, further fueled by her tongue still thrashing at his member making the climax closer and closer, his mind lost among the wrangling flesh that used to be their bodies.
Blueblood’s heart was pounding ferociously, his mind swelled with thoughts of power as a thick cloud of steam enveloped his genitals. He took a final dive to her snatch and finally inserted his tongue inside, swirling around and around, sending her fluid spurting all over the sheets. Not that he enjoyed the coarse act of having his royal tongue buried so near her urethra but etiquette demanded a little reward, even for a plaything.
His cock pulsated and stiffened instantly, releasing his boiling climax down Suri’s throat. He churned out his stallion cream with a wet schlick and pumped the mare’s maw full, a little bulge slowly expanding at the base of her throat, like a bucket throwing around its load in one stroke. He came and came, his organ quaking under the pressure of his own semen, nearly hurting as he felt her delicious suckling noise, prelude to milking even that last trickle of cum out of him.
Suri flopped around, her head hitting the bed, as the still erect member unsheathed itself from her mouth, her stomach full of his cozy warmth, her head spinning from the afterglow as a small strand of semen still connected her lips to his cock.
Blueblood sat on his flank and admired his work, her lilac face stained by thick smudges of his pearly white cum, her eyes sticking out from the rest of her splattered face and devoid of that daring light he saw before, replaced by the light of the small white droplets dribbling from her mouth.
But his hunger wasn’t quelled so easily. The fire of his lust for power still dwelled under his golden orbs and screamed in his groin. Her eager, still-leaking snatch would’ve provided a solution to it. Without hesitation he grabbed his equine pride with both hooves and lined it perfectly with her most sacred opening, its thick head still dribbling globs of cum dwarfing her tiny hole.
She raised a hoof as if to say something but his seed drowned any objections she might’ve had. She didn’t even have the time to scream when their sexes touched and he found solace in her intimate embrace of the flesh. Just a small gasp escaped from her lips as he buried himself deeper and deeper inside her, his shaft roaring and forcing his way in her depths. Her hips were found smashing against his, glued to each other by a need that transcended reason. Slaves to their natures, sure, but still owner of her body as only his touch could’ve ever make her feel what she was feeling, the lucky mare.
Any mare would’ve done anything to feel the touch of a Prince...
Her vaginal muscles still opposed his might so he pounded harder, squishing himself further inside, turning her hole into goo that slowly welcomed the throbbing intrusion as an honored guest, trumpeting her horn to send wave after wave of orgasmic bliss down his shaft, stimulating the sexually-overloaded husk that was his nervous system. He gyrated his hips, turning his thrusting into ferocious drilling, his mind set to satisfy every extravagant need he was churning out by the second.
And it felt extravagant indeed: every single inch of his cock pounding her cunt was showered by her fluids, crushing any resistance Miss Polomare could or would ever have, forsaking even the small whimpers of pain coming from her mouth.
Suri was making hardly a sound, in fact. Just a faint series of whines as her soft hair was pressed against his, his hooves exploring her curves as he kept crashing against her cervix, her body writhing and twisting under his animalistic desire. Her outstretched hind legs went limp as he kept filling her with his length. Blueblood increased his pace, thrusting harder and faster.
Now she was starting to enjoy it. Suri moaned and babbled in delight, her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her eyes rolling to the back of her head, finally giving in to the pleasure his rod was giving her while the fantastic friction at the base of his member finally sent him over the edge, his crotch marooning, so near the edge of the orgasmic bliss.
He tightened his grip around her waist and his thrusting grew more erratic, abandoning any subtlety he might have had and pumping like a maddened piston of flesh in her tightening grip, softer than a velvet sheet and stronger than stone. She tried to say something but he sealed his lips around hers, wanting to savour every inch of her flesh before the end, his hooves scratching at the sheets as her own clinged to his back desperately.
Her previous moans turned to declaration of carnal madness as she started to gnaw and bite at his mane and coat. The Prince repaid the favor by taking off her foulard with a quick stroke of his teeth, letting her sweaty mane down, finally leaving her naked, vulnerable, completely his. Body and mind.
Blueblood thrusted all of himself inside. She screamed as he became harder than he had ever been, her vaginal muscles clenching against his member and milking in one fell swoop his impressive, thick load.
Even more generous and powerful than the first shot he had released in her mouth, so much that a small bulge formed in her belly as he pulled back, impaling Suri further on his dick at every uneven motion of his balls, signaling another blow of his load. It felt so simply...warm. Like a furnace of pure masculinity being shoved in her cunt one piece at time, coating her canal in all of his pent up virility, sent crashing inside her pink insides.
The sheer weight of his seed on her belly made her twitch weakly under his wheezing mass, their bodies reduced to a pair of sweaty, sex riddled piles of flesh. He coughed and cleared his throat, the post-coital exhaustion already taking hold and he wanted to make his point as clear as possible.
“Clean yourself and get out.”
“W-what?!” she wheezed, fixing the loose locks of her mane sticking to her forehead.
“You heard me. I’m not interested in you anymore.” He threw himself into the bed and covered himself to the shoulder with the sheets, giving her his back. “I had my fun. Now disappear. I never want to see you again.”
Not a word. Not even a grunt of annoyance. Not that he cared. He would’ve payed good bits to see her face, but he was a little too spent for it.
The angry rustling of sheets, the sounds of her hooves tapping around, combined with the sound of her stuffing her flotsam and jetsam back in the saddlebag. “By the way, you can keep the fabrics.” He smirked as sweet slumber started to take hold, the final nail of his victory hammered in. “Try not to drop any semen on your way out, mmkay?”
Suri slammed the door the door so hard, she nearly broke the walls.
*****
The Prince stood there, abashed. The smile on his portrait resembling a twisted mockery of himself...by himself. With all good reason, since he was in that state of abject astonishment only because of his lack of foresight.
The photos slipped from his trembling hoof to the floor. With full view of his royal posterior he was featuring in the vile act of screwing an unknown, her face obscured by his not so strategically positioning of his royal self in front of her. Just her legs were in the picture, and those could’ve belonged to anypony. Promise of being featured in another filthy tabloid, possibly with even more venomous, mocking articles to smash his public image to smithereens. On top of that, his orgasm face looked so ridiculous…
On the desk laid a letter without sender, but there was no doubt on who it was. Terrifyingly clever in its brevity.
How’s that for a scandal, your Majesty?
If he had any doubt, the drops of perfume on the paper dissipated them.
With just a few photos he lost all the power he had gathered in those moment of pleasure he snatched from her. The mare had her victory, at last.
He felt humiliated.
Powerless!
The thrill of the hunt, of the power, turned against him…
“And I want more,” he muttered. He was the victim for the first time in his life, tasting his own medicine. He found this incredibly attractive. He met his match and longed for a payback that would never come.
Knowing that he would never see her again, just as he wished, was her ultimate victory. She had given him something he’ll never have again.
The emptiness of his life just became harder to deny.
A lit fireplace crackles in front of the raised coffin. Sitting atop the coffin is Discord, dressed in cowboy duds—the ten-gallon hat, the spurs, the assless chaps. Calmly strumming a guitar, he finds a rhythm quickly and sings:
“Stallions, mares and colts better hurry, When I show them the slutty Suri, When I show them the slutty Suri with the jizz on top! Blueblood’s jizz. Just look at it glisten. When mares yell ‘stop’ he just doesn’t listen. Nosey ponies peek through their shutters while they sit and clop!”
He tips his hat as he finishes his song, a faint smile touching his fetid lips. With a snap of his clawed fingers, his cowboy duds are traded for his usual cloak, his mouth pulling into a mean-spirited beam.
“Before forcing a mare to tickle your pickle, always remember that fame is fickle,” he says. “Bluebood should’ve kept his blue balls to himself. The frantic fruition of forced fornication failed to facilitate a furtive faux pas.”
He lifts a declarative talon into the air. “In other words, kiddies, the moral of the story is: don’t get caught!
“That’s all for tonight, boils and ghouls. Join me next time when we delve into another dirge of dreadful debauchery in Tales From the Clop!”
And like that, with a quick snap of his eagle talon, the fireplace is silenced, casting all to black.
The catacombs beneath Canterlot wind and spiral, its walls decorated with the deceased, their empty eyes seeing all. The heavy musk of a thousand years cling to the air, the dirt and filth caking the tunnel floor to ceiling. There is light here, but it sits atop melting candles, coloring the catacombs in periodic splotches of eerie light.
At the end of these catacombs is a large metal door. Sitting above it, flashing in a spectrum of lights, is a neon sign. It says, “TOTALLY NOT A SEX DUNGEON.”
Behind the door lies all manners of interesting machines: chains that sparkle darkly against low lighting, chairs and beds designed to punish, all manners of wheels and spikes and electrical implements.
From out of a nearby door walks a familiar draconequus carrying a cardboard box labeled “TOTALLY NOT SEX TOYS”. He’s dressed head to foot-and-hoof in black leather. The mask he wears has zippers over the mouth and eyes, which probably explains why he trips over one of the torture chairs, the sex toys spilling from the the box all over the floor.
With a fast movement from his eagle talon, Discord unzips his eyes and mouth. “Oh!” he says, blinking in surprise. “There you are! Didn’t see you come in. Welcome to yet another titillating Tales From the Clop!
“You’re probably wondering what all this loveliness," he pauses to gesture at his leather costume, “is doing on all this loveliness,” he says, sweeping his lion paw over himself. “I’m just waiting for my mistress to arrive, you see.”
Almost at his words, another nearby door slams open. In walks his mistress, her inviting figure covered both in leather and her usual zebra stripes, her snow-white-on-beetle-black mane cascading over her shoulders. Her face is steeled and demanding, looking down sharply upon Discord with a sneer on her lips.
“Ah, there she is now!” Discord says. “Back into character!” He proceeds to zip his eyes back up.
He runs to a corner next to his mistress, then gets on his hands and knees. “I’m ready, my mistress!”
“I’m over here, you silly dear,” she rhymes.
After an awkward pause, Discord turns in her direction and bows again.
“Do not even try to flee,” she says as she reclines on a padded couch and spreads her legs. “Get your ass over here and service me!”
“What can I say?” Discord says. “Sometimes it’s just fun being submissive. That reminds me of a story!” He pulls out a book from… somewhere.
“Even a princess can enjoy the perks of being a bondage slave. While I’m busy munching mare muscle, why don’t you all see what happens when Trixie and Sunset Get Cocky!”
FETISHES AND TRIGGER WARNINGS: Futa, Threesome, Anal, BDSM, Bukkaku
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!
Silence and darkness. Bad start for any evening ever, unless one has downed the whole cantina of Sweet Apple Acres. Which, at least that evening, Twilight didn’t do. Lousy Applejack and her talks about ‘drinking problems’...
Last thing she remembered was trotting on her merry way towards Carosel Boutique at her friend’s invitation. Then a clonk in the head followed by pain and blackness.
Twilight Sparkle woke up with a splitting headache and a weird, metallic taste in her mouth. Her surroundings were blurry, wobbling shapes but she had this gut sensation to have seen these shapes somewhere. Some trumpets were lying around the floor, stashed with a cardboard blue lollipop and a planet with three crude, cartoon stars attached to it with springs.
She smacked her lips to get rid of that taste but found instead a small, plastic orb lodged between her lips, scraping her teeth. She yelped in fear and tried to get up and run away, but to no avail. Her hooves were shackled to the walls, grasping at nothing but air. Cheap, plastic smelling air.
She looked down and held her breath at what she saw. Her hind legs shackled as well and spread by a black bar. Twilight tried to flap her wings only to find them painfully pinned to the wall, cold circles of metal holding their bases in their cold grasp. As usual, brute strength wasn’t the answer Twilight needed. Not the one found in her muscles, anyway.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pour as much power she could into her horn, at least to make some light and at best to free herself, but a small jolt of pain shot from her horn down to her spine. Her horn, too, felt constrained, not that she could just roll her eyes up there and see what was it all about. Just a round border of something black and bulky that kinda smelled like rubber dangerously close to her eyes.
“If that’s a surprise to you...take a look down below,” purred an unseen voice.
Twilight followed the direction and noticed something new had been added. Phasing into existence just above her vagina, was a massive, flaccid cock. It had a brilliant purple complexion and firm, lively shape, its bulbous veins pulsating while its flat and broad tip nearly brushed against the floor, bulging outwardly to give it a form more like a bludgeon than a penis. A plump, puffy penis that, once it came into view, Twilight felt her crotch instantly weighted down, only stopped from slipping by her bindings. A surprised moan bleated from Twilight’s gagged mouth.
Just as the penis finished appearing, the owner of that unspeakably smug voice dashed into view.
“Yes, it is I! The Great and Powerful Tr-r-rixie!” She made her entrance jumping in front of her captive with her starry cape swishing, her ‘rs’ trilling like a full suit of holiday bells.
Twilight simply rolled her eyes. Just the one punch in the gut her pride needed: taken down by Trixie! And no Alicorn Amulet around her neck this time, either.
“Mock Trixie, if you must! You will realize that you have no means of escaping. No means!” Trixie whipped out a mirror, and Twilight yelped in a fit of confusion at the reflection she saw.
Her horn was encased in a magic-dampening sleeve, molded to look like a big, fat horsecock, which wobbled and twitched every time the young Princess tried to course her will through it. She wanted to yell but it did nothing but shove further into her throat the foul tasting plastic device. Twilight took another look to the other, more natural phallus below and realized she had to look really silly from an outside perspective.
"Growing magic!" Trixie said with a sinister chuckle before taking a few steps toward her and brush lightly her hoof against Twilight’s new pride. "I'm sure you're familiar with it. I just added my own unique flourish to the spell." She poked the flaccid appendage with a hoof and giggled. “And it worked far better than I thought.”
Needless to say, Twilight Sparkle had the feeling it would turn into a very weird, very sexy evening. Or a total disaster. It was a 50/50 chance. The itching in her new organ leaned towards the former and a bit to the right.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie supposes you want to give a few words of gratitude for granting you this honor.” Trixie snatched the ball gag in Twilight’s mouth with a telekinetic pull, pulling it out with a small pop.
“Ohhh...Not again!” She passed her tongue on her teeth to ease the small pain. “Not even the time to take a nap!”
Trixie blinked then her pupils widened to a comical degree with a loud pop. “Pardon?!”
“I just got back from this kind of fun yesterday! You could’ve warned me at least.” She tried to move her hoof to massage her pained head but the shackles were still there. “I don’t know...send me a letter or something. You know where I live.”
“‘This kind of fun’? What does that mean?!”
“Rarity.” Twilight shrugged without moving her shoulders. “Beat you to it by a looooong shot.”
“Rarity? White unicorn, purple mane, bit of a drama queen, annoying voice, that Rarity?” Trixie had to admit to herself that sometimes she got Twilight’s friends mixed up. After all, it was mostly healthy to obsessively obsess over just one enormously-attractive purple Princess at time.
“Yeah, she kidnaps me twice a week, gives me some corrected wine which I just drink anyway, locks me in her basement, grows me a dick with a spell I regret teaching her every day, and rides the crap out of me until I pass out covered in sweat and cum. Then I wake up in my library with an apology letter taped to my pillow.”
Trixie’s jaw formed a crater on the wagon’s floor as a weird, droning noise came from her mouth.
“...I’m used to this stuff,” Twilight summarized. “Sometimes Spike joins in if he gets lucky.” Twilight shuddered at the mere memory of her friend and assistant’s squeals of pleasure, a familiar ball gag shoved in his mouth and something else entirely shoved in his orifices. “The things he would do for love…The things he would take in the butt...”
Trixie took a few steps backward, the mood of the evening completely and utterly spoiled by this disturbing revelation. She trudged back and forth in bemusement, stuttering angrily.
Then she stopped.
She turned around, a devious smile on her lips as she glared daggers at Twilight.
“Are you alright?” Twilight asked. “You look really pale. I’d call somepony for help if I wasn’t shackled and with a rubber cock on my head.” Twilight blinked. “Never thought I’d have to say that line again.”
“Y-yes! The Great and Powerful Trixie is in no way unsettled by this revelation about your private life!” She straightened her cape and hat with a fell swoop of her hoof, eyeing greedily Twilight's growing member. “In fact, don’t think your past experiences with your perverted friend will help you!”
“Hey!” Twilight shouted, sending Trixie off balance while on her rant. “I won’t let you talk about Rarity that way. Just because she’s a nymphomaniac with a very roundabout way to show affection doesn’t mean she’s a bad pony!”
“Y-You’re right...Sorry. Gaaah, what is Trixie apologizing for?! Trixie is supposed to be the dom here, for Celestia’s sake! The Great and Powerful Trixie will fuck you unlike anypony before!”
“That’s fantastic!” An adorable smile appeared on Twilight’s lips, flustering Trixie’s further attempts to be intimidating. “You were doing so good, it would be a shame to lose your momentum now! I mean, this isn’t the best sex dungeon I’ve been tied up in, but at least the introduction was good. Not to mention this…” Twilight purred and her virility twitched, starting to grow in size and hardness. Trixie turned on her hooves and brushed her silky tail on Twilight’s muzzle, its base damped of her female juice.
“And that’s nothing... Sparkle!” Trixie hissed, savouring every consonant like fine orgeat. She rolled her tongue around her name again, tasting it before she could use that tongue on that very gifted mare. “Ssssparkle...!”
“Oh, yes! Say my name! I’ve been such a bad pony! I totally deserve it!” Twilight mewled and Trixie smirked, her awesome ego getting its fix.
“Not so fast, my little plaything. First we got to take some precautions…”
A cock ring was placed near Twilight’s tip with a magic wisp, squeezing it lightly to give it a much darker purple hue. Her growing pride felt choked up, a small pinching pain growing in its tip. The good kind of pain, though, the kind that squeezed a small drop of precum out of her.
Small, metal clips were added to her nipples and she bit her lip to contain the much sharper pain, pinching and hurting her swollen teats. Suddenly, a wide butt-plug found its way up her anus, forcing a full-on whinny of pain out of her as it stretched her backdoor, filling her.
“Well, if you react like that at the small stuff, Trixie doesn’t want to think of later!” Trixie chuckled and Twilight rolled her eyes, her tail flicking nervously back and forth on the floor. “First...I’ll give you a taste…”
Trixie’s hot breath teased Twilight’s ever growing appendage, sending a small wave of anticipatory pleasure up her shaft. She started kissing Twilight’s inner hips as her new organ twitched and brushed against Trixie’s mane. For a fleeting instant her horn brushed against her sensitive sex and Twilight bit her lip to not let a yelp escape her mouth, lest she would already spoil the fun.
Trixie smirked and wanted to give her favour to the Princess, poking her muzzle against Twilight’s member. She breathed on it at a regular pace, keeping her greedy mouth so close and yet so far before touching it across its length with her hooves. She rubbed Twilight’s puffy, swelling dick at a frantic pace before letting her tongue land a slow, long lick on its length. Trixie’s tongue maneuvered between the bulging veins, hitting every spot that mattered before her lips started grazing against the swollen, aching tip. Its taste was salty. Its smell was extravagantly masculine.
In fact, she would’ve never expected intelligent and graceful Twilight to have such a broad, plump dick. Not that she was complaining, but she expected the Princess’ finer qualities to be reflected through that spell, not sprouting a honest-to-Celestia bludgeon between her legs.
Twilight was already drooling, showing her participation with satisfied mewls and screams while her eyes were etched on the spectacle of Trixie rolling her swollen tip with her tongue, rolling it left and right before smothering it with her soft lips. She threw her head at the ceiling and moaned at the wonderful pressure building up in her nethers as her dick sprung up and grew to a narrower angle, the perfect shape to be shoved in Trixie’s waiting maw. She already had a dick dangling from between her legs but every time it felt...virginal. Unaccustomed at the touch of a mare (or a dragon), each stroke turning into needles of pleasure being carefully poked into her spine.
Twilight’s flare sang as it sunk into Trixie’s mouth, stretching her jaw and overwhelming her with the tasty, musky scent. Slow inch after slow inch entered her mouth as she locked her gaze with the purple Princess. Trixie’s lips molded around the purple, pulsating obelisk and plunged her tongue on the entrance of Twilight’s urethra, lapping vigorously as she sucked the leaking precum out of her.
“Aaaargh! Trixie...Yes…” Twilight wanted to take the magician’s head in her hooves and shove herself further inside, throat-fucking at her own savage pace, but she only managed to make the odious metal tingle weakly, still lodged in the wall. Her hips moved of their will and her tip tickled past Trixie’s tonsils, drawing a satisfied moan from her captor-turned-lover. The sound of slurping and smacking lips together filled the small wagon while the scent of sex and bodily fluid was raising slowly and ready to stain the air.
A blue hoof slipped in between Trixie’s haunches and rubbed furiously at her winking lips, preparing her gaping, lonely hole to be filled with some Princessy goodness. Trixie’s mouth somehow stretched further as Twilight’s dick plumped up a bit more. Trixie would’ve called her a showoff but instead let herself in a satisfied giggle, praising her luck and Twilight’s genetics. She took in her mouth more of the massive pride of Twilight Sparkle and lapped at it more vigorously, caressing with her tongue every vital spot, sending another spear of pleasure rattling to the center of Twilight’s very soul.
Trixie’s jaw hurt a little as she tried to stretch more than was healthy, but she used all of her willpower to taste that fat marvel, to have it lodged in her throat and to milk all the precious seed her favourite Princess was willing, no, destined to give her. Her hoof pressed harder on her nethers and Trixie’s head spun around when she squirted weakly. The cock ring tingled weakly and...
Just as Twilight was lodging herself deeply in that fantastic mouth, boiling baby batter waiting to burst down Trixie’s throat, a shrill challenge came from the sprung-open door.
“Not so fast, you phony magician! Sparkle is mine!” The sunshine-gold mare made her entrance, ripping off the doors of the wagon with a magical blast.
Trixie, startled, popped Twilight's dick out of her mouth, a small strand of saliva still uniting them. She narrowed her eyes angrily at the party pooper. A party pooper she didn’t know very well, but her exploits were...not to say legendary, if only because her very nature would rebel if she acknowledged that...she settled on ‘notable’. For the moment.
Sunset Shimmer, former apprentice of Princess Celestia and all around pain in the flank, stood there framed by Luna’s moonlight, flicking her firey mane and tail with the utmost grace. She smirked and her horn fizzled lightly, closing the doors behind her with a noisy slam. She stood there a few seconds in that obviously prearranged photo, almost expecting the flash of a camera to immortalize her beauty.
The narcissism of some ponies!
“Sunset Shimmer!” Twilight smiled but her expression soon turned in a puzzled one, mostly because of doubt and a painful lack of foreshadowing. “Wait, are you here to save me or to fuck me? Because I kind of expect the latt—”
“Trixie!” She pointed with a hoof to the sordid magician. “I challenge you to a duel! The winner shall claim Twilight Sparkle’s virginity!”
Trixie and Twilight both forced a noisy chortle before snorting out an irreverent, vibrant laughter. It was nice to see that Trixie’s rival was a good sport about it, after all. To say that Sunset was disconcerted by this wouldn’t have been enough.
“What’s so funny?” Sunset blinked and pouted. “Did you think it’s a joke? I knew of the plans of this phony and it was my right, my destiny to thwart—” Trixie and Twilight laughed even harder, the blue unicorn sent rolling on the floor.
“Was that the presentation? Because I can do bett—”
“If this mare here is a virgin then the Great and Powerful Trixie is the Princess of the Moon,” Trixie proclaimed while snickering like a school filly and lifting herself from the ground. Twilight’s eyes widened and she scrunched her face, sticking her lower lip and staring sternly at Trixie.
“Whaaaat?” Sunset whined.
“Even if true, it’s not nice bringing it out. “
“Bringing out...what?”
“Third mare in a row. I don’t know if to consider myself incredibly lucky or incredibly busy.”
“What does that mean…?” Sunset Shimmer’s gaze fell on the long, hard phallus between her former antagonist’s legs, complete with a plump and hairy ballsack. Sunset’s mouth watered instantly as very unseemly thoughts flooded her mind. She was so adorably awkward staring at Twilight’s dick, she drew a shared grin from the captive Princess and the very equivocate showmare.
Trixie chuckled and put a foreleg round Sunset’s shoulders. “Let Trixie tell you a story about a perverted fashionista and her den of iniquity, and the fact that Trixie sadly came second in this business.”
“S-second?”
“Yup. And you are the third wheel. Surprised, yet? Turns out that her stylist friend beat us. Several times. Two times a week!”
“Rarity? Purple mane, really well groomed, flair for the dramatic?”
Trixie nodded.
The thought left a sour taste in Sunset’s mouth. “I don’t have time for this drivel! I’m here to take my rightful prize!”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m already powerless here, so I don’t think it’s much of a challenge.”
“Well, tough cookies, Shimmer! The Great and Powerful Trixie caught her first!” Trixie stomped her hooves on the ground and concentrated her will on the tip of her horn, creating a small, blue lightning ball. It started to pulse and growl at the golden unicorn, who stayed remarkably calm.
“Yes...but can you keep her?” A flash of light bathed the room and nearly blinded Twilight Sparkle. She blinked several times to get rid of the cool green stains in her eyes only to see Trixie writhing on the ground… and enjoying herself immensely.
A quite generous member made of pure magic was thrusting in and out of her, parting her pink lips with gusto. Her tail was lifted as well as her butt, giving Twilight full view of that big, glowy thing squeezing itself inside Trixie, going in and out at a cruel pace. It didn’t look like a real penis, more like a glowing cylinder of energy, but Trixie didn’t appear to mind. At all. It was rutting her in just the right way, kissing her clitoris every time it slid inside to skam her cervix, sending an electrical shock wave down her legs and spine. Liquid pleasure escaped from her folds and coated shamelessly the magic creation, Trixie’s mind lost in a lustful landscape.
She groaned as the thick cock pushed further and further inside her. It was extremely painful, but there was a tiny smidgen of pleasure shining through the roaring horsecock forced into her pucker. In fact, she was really enjoying feeling this filled, her pussy gargling and guzzling more and more of Sunset’s lustful thoughts given form. She could feel her whole body being stretched, her hole stretching larger, her road being paved to take Princess Twilight’s glory deep inside her.
She could even feel a pair of magical balls slapping against her butt as the thing slammed in her even faster, turning the delectable warmth buried in her crotch in a blazing inferno of lust, reducing the usually calm and stylish performer to a shrieking, sex-crazed mess as her vagina shlicked and popped obscenely at each thrust of her rival’s sorcery. It was designed to surely drain her energy, to weaken her so that her rival could take that purple prize for herself...and when she saw Sunset lustfully licking Twilight’s neck, completely at her mercy when her hooves were descending on her cock, Trixie was quite sure of it.
She wouldn’t allow it.
At last, she came just as quickly as she was fucked, the construct exploding in tiny sparkles as her ambrosia gushed out, forming a warm puddle on the floor. The blessed afterglow obfuscated her senses, but still ached deep beneath her crotch, screaming for more. She panted and groaned as a defiant smirk formed on her lips even though her legs were still shaking weakly. Shimmer turned towards her when she heard a sarcastic cough.
“That was it?”
“Y-you...what? That spell could’ve fucked the brains out of a god! How can you have finished already?”
“Trixie’s business card doesn’t say ‘Great and Powerful’ for nothing.” Trixie chuckled and fixed the loose locks of her mane, drops of sweat hanging from the tips. “Was that all you had?”
“Well...I…” Sunset looked left and right, searching for an escape. She met Twilight’s gaze who just shrugged. “I guess that was it.”
“Girls!” Twilight yelled, trying to clap her hooves to get their attention. Lousy shackles. “You know this is cute and all, but you know what my friend Pinkie Pie says?”
“No, what does she say?” Sunset said while Trixie just shook her head.
“You gotta share... you gotta care…” Twilight grinned.
Suddenly, Trixie and Sunset Shimmer exchanged a dirty look.
“Truce, Sunset dear?”
“For now.”
The two leaned close together and bathed Twilight's cock with their tongues, sloshing up and down her shaft, wet saliva making it glisten in the light of the two unicorn’s fizzling horns. Their lips worked their way around Twilight’s rounded tip, pressing on the delicate nerves to rile her right at the point where Trixie alone had stopped earlier.
It quickly grew fully-erect with a noisy sproink, sending drops of precum all over the place and her captors’ fur, following the same curve of Twilight’s tush. Twilight winced at the pinching pain of the cock ring. Her nipples, too, swelled but their growth was stopped with great pain as the pinches increased their hold on her soft flesh. The two mare’s lips eased that pain when they took her cherries gently between their lips, their warm tongues caressing the nerves. Twilight’s vagina was leaking profusely and coated her balls with glistening liquid pleasure, big bundles of steam wrapping around her crotch.
The heat of their mouths slowly grew along her shaft. The moment one had the hold of the tip, the other sucked on the wide underside of Twilight’s dick.Their tongues rolled around the bulging veins, sending Twilight’s mind to a sex-fuelled dreamscape, her wings flapping madly without managing to escape from the shackles.
Massive amounts of pleasure were pandered in the equally-massive organ, suckling noises and smacking of lips and girlish giggling filling the air. Twilight was thrashing around, sending the wall creaking and protesting. The cock ring was choking her harder and pain and bliss were thrown together in an absurd mix, sending her over the edge then violently throwing her out of it, like some kind of crazed yo-yo. She was returned to reality when she caught a glimpse of Sunset passionately taking all of her length in her stretched maw while Trixie was fondling and suckling her balls, gurgling obscenely at every stroke of tongue.
“G-girls...Ahaaaaa-ha!” Twilight screamed and she felt an audible clink. She finally came in spurts so strong that pain rippled through her dick as massive splashes of warm cum were swallowed by the two mares, attached to her semen spewing tip like a baby suckling a bottle. Small puddles of cum formed on the floor as the two feasted on the thick semen, reveling in its pungent musk and salty taste. Her cock flopped weakly and lost just a small glimmer of its hardness as the lustful pair swallowed the last drops of warm stallion juice. An evil grin formed on their mouths while Twilight was still moaning from the afterglow pressure lodged in her crotch.
“Alright, Sunset dear…” Trixie said. “This will take some cooperation from your side.”
“How so?” Sunset cocked an eyebrow, curious. She then picked up the mirror with her magic grasp and looked at her face, wiping one last drop of cum from the side of her mouth.
“Well, we’ll have to decide on who gets to…” Trixie leaned closer to Sunset and whispered something in her ear. Sunset Shimmer’s stare went vacant and her jaw fell on the floor before Trixie exploded in another bout of girlish laughter.
“Well…” A powerful blush scorched Sunset’s cheeks. “D-Do you have a coin or something to decide that?”
“Well, of course.” She flipped a coin in the air with a hoof. “Heads or tails?”
“Tails!”
The coin landed heads up. Trixie gave a full toothed grin and smacked her lips together.
Sunset let out an annoyed snort. “Crap.”
“Someponies are just born to be second place.” She grinned smugly and caressed Twilight’s sticky-from-sweat mane. “I’ll go first…”
Trixie stood on her hind legs and pinned her hooves around Twilight's head. She approached her with her burning sex slowly dancing around Twilight’s hungry tip. Trixie’s hooves brushed Twilight’s shoulders and played with the loose locks of her mane, planting a few kisses on her face and jawline. Her hips rolled back and forth letting her lower lips kiss Twilight’s cock on their own, teasing Twilight’s enormous organ to drool.
The delicate features of her soaking wet flower sharing its warmth with hers. Her clit throbbed with glee as it wobbled, slave of the crazed winking of her folds. Sensation unlocked in the Princess’s mind: she wanted that hole. Trixie’s hole.
“P-please,” she whispered when the outline of Trixie’s vag was teasing cruelly her hungry cock, beating a rhythm out of it with ginger strokes of her hips.
Her lips lunged at her, and at the same time Trixie impaled herself on Twilight’s cock.
Twilight’s cock spread Trixie’s love muscles slowly, coated by the rain of Trixie’s liquid pleasure. The tip slid in with ease and her walls hugged Twilight’s pride as her canal was filled with her throbbing meat. Twilight moaned with mirth but the sound of her pleasure was swallowed by Trixie’s hungry kiss. Her tongue darted in and brushed past her tonsils while the magician’s hips rocked back and forth as her hind legs were steadily planted on the ground, pumping back and forth. Inch after inch disappeared in her and was pulled out, only to be plunged back in by Trixie’s wanting snatch, creating a wonderful friction between their organs, joined together at last. She bucked back and forth, slamming the rock hard cock against her insides, her tip kissing Trixie’s cervix like a sloppy lover while Trixie’s and Twilight’s tongues were jousting in their shared mouth.
Sunset then climbed on top of her, stepping painfully on Trixie’s back and delicately placing her rump above Twilight’s horn sleeve.
Sunset Shimmer felt incredibly awkward doing this, but steeled herself, keeping her front hooves pressed against the walls while she tried to work the rubber phallus into her vagina. It didn’t feel as warm or lively as a stallion’s real cock, but it throbbed like the real thing. She could feel Twilight’s magic rebelling against its constraint, a powerful current of raw power raging back and forth in the tubular containment. She pressed it against her folds and let gravity do the work to let it enter slowly…
...until she slipped and fell, impaled on the savagely throbbing thing, letting out a suprised yelp. Not only that, the tip of Trixie’s horn lunged forward when its owner was busy sucking out Twilight’s face, and with preternatural precision found Sunset’s butt hole, its fizzling warmth invading her. Trixie’s delicate appendage yelled of pain and shot an arrow of pure enjoyment right to her brain. She perfectly knew where it had been shoved, but there was a time to eeewww and a time to rut two ponies silly.
Sunset and Twilight yelled simultaneously as they connected. The pain in Sunset’s two holes was so sudden and intense, it caused her vision to speckle, little stars dancing in front of her eyes. But as Trixie bobbed her head slightly, stimulating Sunset’s stretched anus, and as Twilight did likewise to pleasure her vagina, Sunset found her pain melting into pleasure. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed dreamily, her tongue hanging out of her open mouth.
Twilight’s horn, encased in the phallic shape, vibrated vigorously inside Sunset Shimmer’s velvet walls, making every inch of her pink, soft flesh tingle and slather. She moved her hips around it in a circular and steady movement to let the vibration spread to every part of her femininity, up to her womb. Raw magic pulsed all the way up Sunset’s rectum in perfect coordination with Twilight’s, stimulating every inch of the sensitive tissue that coated her innermost parts.
The rubber dick, on the other hoof, was choking Twilight’s horn right at the base and feeling painfully sensitive. Twilight could feel Sunset’s inner folds not as just mere flesh but as the very idea of her sex, propelled right inside her brain. The organ that allowed her to interact with reality in a much more intimate way was stimulated by the most base of acts… and she was loving it deeply. Sunset’s lower lips squeezed on the surrogate penis with such force, and each twitching of the thing squashed her folds into a sex-addicted goo.
Tendrils of pure magic were raging inside the cask, intent on feeling Sunset’s vag and savouring its touch, only to fail to penetrate the constraint. The device only tightened more and grew in a rhythm with Sunset’s thrusting, the pungent smell of her vaginal juices filling her nostrils together with the humours Trixie was drawing out with her simultaneous fucking.
A vacant thought filled Trixie’s brain and drew a grin from her when she saw a very interesting object lying nearby. She picked up with her telekinesis a riding crop and gave a quick strike to Twilight’s ballsack. Twilight shrieked of pain among all the moans, a small drop of suffering poured in her delight. She was abused in every sense of the word, on every part of her body and down to her very soul, her very being used for the pleasure of two D-list antagonists of hers with too much time on their hooves.
Twilight’s captors drew orgasm after orgasm, hoarding pure pleasure like an ancient dragon would hoard jewels. The sensations Twilight felt, of plunging her amazing cock and horn inside these two sex gluttons, felt amazing, but it didn’t have a purpose. Twilight was driven just dangling above the edge but never reaching it, the orgasm that she sought painfully kept away from her. The gurgling semen trapped in her balls screamed to be poured in Trixie’s womb while her own magic power begged to fill Sunset’s.
Then she realized of the most annoying and sharp pain of all: the one around her dick that was squeezing her even harder, denying her satisfaction with a pain that nopony should feel. Trixie’s power was keeping it shut around her muscles, keeping her from experiencing the orgasm of her life while the two kept showering her organs with explosions of female juices.
Twilight was practically driven insane from her desire to cum, struggling to tear down the wall she was shackled to, turn the wagon into rubble and rip the blasted metal thing, so she could finally mark the two of them as hers with one, big, fucking cumshot.
The kissing suddenly stopped. Twilight opened her eyes, and found herself analyzed by Trixie’s own. Trixie smiled almost maliciously.
She knew.
"If you want to cum, then say that Trixie is the greatest, most magical pony in Equestria!" Trixie said, fondling her cheek with the same hoof that was buried among Twilight's lower lips.
Didn’t matter.
“Say it, and Trixie will allow you the privilege to cum.” A detestable glowing aura enveloped Trixie’s horn. The cock ring tingled weakly, still buried inside Trixie. Twilight had to give in, just to have a glimmer of that delight Trixie was offering her. She had lost.
"Trixie... is... the greatest, most magical pony in Equestr—" Twilight said, but was interrupted by Sunset Shimmer dislodging herself from Twilight’s horn with a wet pop, teleporting herself to not land of her sore ass. To Twilight’s surprise, the phallic constraint had been removed and fell on the floor, completely covered in Sunset’s juice. A smirk appeared on her lips.
"Hold on!" Sunset Shimmer said. "I'm the greatest!"
In response, Trixie unsheathed herself from Twilight’s still-rock-hard dick, which flopped weakly left and right, the area constrained by the cock ring adapting a bluish hue. In doing so, she’d doomed Sunset to falling down on her already-sore bottom. “Of what?” Trixie scoffed. “Of sucking at life?”
“How dare you!”
“By moving my mouth and saying it, Second Stringer!!”
“And you feel fulfilled by making your impromptu sex slave say that you’re the greeeaaatest! Bravo!” Sunset sarcastically clapped her hooves.
“Now you want Trixie to believe you weren’t going to do the same.”
“Ye--No! I mean...uh... Take this!” Sunset threw a tiny ball lightning to Trixie, who dodged just at the right second and only got a small burn on her cape.
“Watch it! This is my favourite cape! My only cape!” Trixie returned fire, her shot easily dodged by an elegant movement. The roaming projectile hit one of Twilight's shackles and broke it in half.
The two mages kept throwing small magic bullets, riddling holes in Trixie’s travel wagon, allowing Luna’s moonlight to enter the sex prison. One of Trixie’s missed bullets destroyed Twilight's second shackle while Sunset’s smashed the restraints on her wings. Twilight fell on her four hooves and before she could celebrate her newfound freedom, another projectile burned off a lock of her mane.
She looked up to see the blue sphere of light bouncing left and right dangerously close to a pair of cardboard Sun and Moon held by two thin chains at the ceiling. The projectile severed them and the two astral bodies fell on her captors’ heads, knocking them out in one swift stroke.
Twilight opened the door and before she could run home, have a hot bath and forget the craziness of the evening, she took a look at her swollen, pulsating dick and noticed that the cock ring had finally fell to the ground, freeing it from its burden at last!
She moved both her hooves to her sensitive appendage, her cream finally free to burst. The lustful massage grew to a faster, frantic pace, no doubt fueled by the previous stimulation, the memory of Trixie’s warm hole still alive on her flesh. Her wings fluttered frantically, losing a few purple feathers to the violent spasms of her body, forming a small puddle of feathers and pre cum on the floor.
Time stopped and something broke or, more exactly, was freed.
Her seed came out soaring in long, squishy strokes, landing right on Trixie’s and Sunset's faces. She showered them in all her potent cream, washing out the smugness and arrogance in a flood of baby batter. That was when Trixie regained her wits and opened her eyes, only to get one shot of jizz right in her cornea. Sunset woke up at her side while the two of them were coated by hot cumshot after hot cumshot.
Twilight came and came, staining her rivals with huge smears of white, turning them into a pair of vaguely pony-shaped blobs of semen. After one last trickle not strong enough to land on a face, her cock dissolved in a series of little purple sparkles.
She smiled at the two and took her leave, the double doors of Trixie’s wagon creaking slightly and the pungent smell of seed still etched in her nostrils. Trixie and Sunset Shimmer looked at each other in utter confusion, too weak to raise a hoof to stop her.
“That was…” Sunset Shimmer wiped the cum off her face. “What’s the word to say something that was both amazing and a complete disaster?”
“There’s two of them: Twilight Sparkle,” Trixie said in a lust-induced haze. Sunset shut her up with a slap of cum on her face.
Twilight left the two to their squabbles and made a mental note of getting home and at least get Rarity a note to explain her absence and to not worry her. Perhaps Spike could get that to her personally and who knows? Maybe she would have unwinded her frustrations on him.
That was when she a white silhouette flash before her eyes and she got another blow to the head. Silence and darkness swallowed her again.
An unspecified amount of time later, Twilight Sparkle woke up in the basement of Carousel Boutique, tied up and with a huge cock between her legs. The smell of aromatique candles and wine stained the air.
Rarity stood in front of her up on her hindlegs and in full dominatrix attire, holding a riding crop in her hooves. “You know what happens to the naughty ponies who are tardy, darling?”
Twilight groaned. “...Not again!”
There’s no catacombs anymore, just a kitchen. The smells here are much more welcome and buttery—with a touch of cinnamon—and the lighting is just as friendly. Too bad the chef isn’t any of these things.
Dressed as a chef, Discord stands over a countertop in gross concentration, applying cream to his latest carnal culinary concoction. His toque is several inches too high, and the moustache he’s grown on his rotting face is thin and long, spiraling up on either end. He glances up, then returns to his project.
“Welcome back, my fondly fiendish friends,” Discord says, squirting out some more cream. “I hope I enjoyed those fantastic futas as much as you did!” He gives a cheer as he finishes his latest creation.
“Earlier, somewhere getting whipped and stretched, I got hungry—for food this time. So I decided to salvage some sweet treats for you, my sour readers. Behold!” He holds up several small suspiciously-sexually-shaped strawberry cupcakes, with strategically-placed heart candies on top.
“I’ve heard the term ‘candy-vag’ before, but this is ridiculous!” Discord jokes as he tosses the tray aside. It lands in the trash accompanied by a rimshot and canned laughter, followed by applause as the trash can explodes.
He leans over another creation of his: a fruit salad made exclusively of only two oranges with one very long banana between them. With a grin, Discord takes a can of whipped cream and shakes it.
“That’s all for tonight, everypony!” chirps Discord as he puts a small dollop at the very tip of the banana. “Join me next tomb for an extra-tasty Tales From the Clop! And if you’re extra good, there might even be some dessert!”
Story 4: "Why Can't You Dust Take What You're Griffon?"
There isn’t a castle around, so a nightclub will just have to do, and in this particular case, in this particular place, there’s prideful colors and a drag show. Light shafts of purple and red dance with darkness as shadowy figures beneath dance also, with fine drinks and finer conversation.
The host of all this depravity lights up on stage, his long red slip-on dress trailing behind him demurely as his pearl necklace sparkles against the spotlight, his lipstick and eye-shadow and fake eyelashes disguising his face glamorously. The noise of the colorful patrons and their equally colorful chatter drowns out Discord’s dance, not that he minds, since he’s already noticed our presence.
“Greetings, boys and girls and girly boys and boyly girls,” he says with a sashay, “welcome to a colorful copulation from Tales From the Clop.”
Discord continues dancing as he speaks, evidently confident and practiced enough to earn the stares of a handful of admirers. “It’s a different timeline, but some things haven’t really changed for Lightning Dust. For one, she’s still a loser.”
He points, down over there by the bar where a few ponies sit. She sits further away from the others, a shadow under the dim blue light, leaning back on her stool, elbows on the bar, her golden eyes scoping out the dancing colors, the colorful patrons, the drag show.
Discord twirls, his audience oohing and ahhing, only to recoil and shriek once he turns back around, his make-up now gone, his ruined face grinning menacingly. “There’s still hope for her, of course, especially in a den of inequity. But I like to think she’s looking for love in all the wrong pussies.”
As his gathered audience shrinks back in fear, Discord chuckles. “Will the Sapphire Shmuck strike out yet again, or will Gilda’s glistening grotto be the answer to her prayers? Why not mosey your cute little asses over there and find out for yourselves in ‘Why Don’t You Dust Take What You’re Griffon’?”
Story By: Bronystories Written By: SusieBeeca Edited By: Brony_Fife
I don't know why I bother coming here anymore, Lightning Dust thought grimly as she shuffled past the bouncer. Well, that wasn't exactly true---the Cherry Chomper was the only fillyfooler bar left in Cloudsdale, so it had a captive audience, and the owners knew it. The drinks were overpriced, the DJ had gotten complacent, and it seemed like the only mares who still bothered showing up for the paltry drag shows were either seeing somepony or married.
But tonight there was a little sliver of hope, and it took the form of a curvaceous mare sitting by herself at the bar. Lightning's ears perked at the sight of that ample ass spilling out over the back of the taped-up barstool. She couldn't see the mare’s face, but the bubbly cutie mark didn't look familiar.
A newbie? she thought as she trotted over, one hoof glossing a stray tuft back into her gelled mane. Damn! I better pounce before somepony else decides to show her the ropes.
"Hey there, honey," she said in her huskiest voice, sliding easily into the seat beside the new filly. "Are you alone toni---"
The sentence dried up in her throat when the other mare turned to face her. Her first thought was that this mare was already drunk; her second was that she was trying to pull a funny face. Eventually she realized that whatever was wrong with her eyes was probably permanent.
"Alone? Well.... not anymore, I guess!" she answered, and reached out for Lightning’s mane. "Hey, I love your highlights!"
Lightning slapped her hoof away. "Nopony touches the 'do."
She'd done that to a butch once, and it had earned her two black eyes. This odd little pegasus didn't seem to mind, however. She just giggled and apologized, using about seven or eight more words than were necessary.
Maybe she is drunk, Lightning Dust thought. Oh well... she's cute enough.
"So, uh... you come here often?"
....And she immediately kicked herself. Really? That was the best you could do? Why not ask her what her sign is while you're at it? She pressed a hoof to her temple and sighed. No wonder you got your ass handed to you at the Academy...
"Nope!" she said with a huge smile. "It's my first time!"
Leering like a lion closing in on a gazelle, Lightning put her chin on her hoof and leaned forward. "Uh-huh. What brought you here?"
"Oh, I got tired of stallions grabbing my butt every time I wanted to go out dancing, so I thought I'd try this bar on for size! No stallions here, right?" She gulped at her amaretto, hiccuped a little, and laughed through her nose.
Lightning groaned as she watched the mare do a quick scan of the bar, one eye focused on the dance floor, the other on the pegasi fly-dancing closer to the ceiling. Great. A hundred mares in here and you pick the straight one. You really are a doofus.
"Fillyfoolers are so much more polite," she went on. "They ask before they grab me! Isn't that nice? Oh gosh!" She put a hoof over her mouth when she saw her companion narrow her eyes. "Sorry, was that offensive? Should I have said 'rug-munchers' instead?"
Banging her hoof against the bar, Lightning grumbled, "You know what? This conversation's over."
"Okay!" she said brightly. "What do you want to talk about now?"
Before she could answer, a mare---well, she was probably a mare---in a multi-coloured wig jostled in between them, holding out a tray full of candy-coloured shots. "Hello, ladies! Either one of you care for a free drink?"
The grey pegasus' eyes lit up. "Free is good!"
"Sandy at the bar made these up just for Pride. They're called Rainbow Kisses!"
"Uh... no thanks," Lightning Dust muttered. She could already feel the muscles around her jawline tensing.
"C'mon, gals, they're on the house!" she chirped, waving the tray between them. Lightning eyed the shots suspiciously; while they did trigger a nasty memory, she had to admit it was pretty impressive how the bartender had managed to layer one colour of liqueur on top of the other. They really did look like little rainbows.
"Well, the house can go stick them up its ass for all I care!" came a gritty voice from behind them.
The waitress pulled the tray away from Lightning's face, and shot a nasty look over her shoulder. "Okay, okay! Jeez."
To Lightning's admittedly slightly vocal surprise, it wasn't a pegasus who elbowed the server back a few steps, but a griffon---an actual, real-live, Celestia-damned griffon! She tried not to stare. The closest she'd come to seeing one in real life was in the well-greased pages of her older brother's magazines... and this one had far more muscle than the painted birdies in "Preen Queens".
"Wow," she whispered.
The vision in front of her plucked up one of the shots, scowled, and shook it just enough to muddy the colours. "I thought queers were supposed to have good taste," she growled. "Rainbows are as tacky as a drunk clown at a funeral."
Pretending she didn't notice Lightning Dust's gawking, the griffon gave her a curt nod as she zeroed in on the empty barstool to her left.
"Calm down. You don't need to hack up a hairball," the waitress muttered.
"Well, she said she doesn't want your frou-frou girly shots, and neither do I!"
The server crinkled her muzzle. "Just doing my job here, sister."
"I'm not your sister, bitch. Now move it. You're in my way."
"Oh, for fuck's sake." The waitress scooped her tray up and went sashaying off, but not without a parting shot: "Nothing more annoying than a butch with her jockstrap in a twist!"
"Okay, that does it!" Lightning took to the air a foot behind the retreating waitress---and stopped short when she felt something warm and scaly and sharp descend on her shoulder.
"Let her go," the griffon said. "Punching a server's a three-month ban."
She gaped down at the talon that had her in an uncomfortably-tight grip. She could only imagine this was what it might feel like to be seized by a dinosaur. "Uh... and how do you know that?"
Her beak pulled up in a half-grin. "A little birdy told me."
"Wait a minute!"
They both looked to the right, and the claws digging into Lightning's flesh loosened a little. The wall-eyed pegasus was staring at them with the kind of shocked expression normally reserved for when one sees a puppy being kicked. "Guys, those were free drinks!" she exclaimed. "Free! Drinks! And you just turned them down?!"
The griffon turned to Lightning. "Friend of yours?"
"Never seen her before in my life."
She let out a throaty chuckle and crossed her eyes. "From the looks of it, neither has she."
"You two are just plain nuts!" she said over Lightning's laugh. Leaving her half-finished drink on the bar, she went loopily flying after the server, calling out, "Hey, rainbow-lady! Wait for me!"
"She fucking called her 'rainbow-lady'?" the griffon said as she plunked herself down next to the electric-blue pony. "Is she stoned or something?"
"Eh. I get the feeling she's always like that." She extended her hoof. "Name's Lightning Dust."
The talon came up to shake, but bypassed her hoof in favour of her elbow; she allowed her to turn her foreleg around a bit before adding "Um, you're supposed to grab a bit higher, you know." She had no idea why the griffon was examining the underside of her hoof as if it was booby-trapped.
"I know!" she snapped. "I'm not an idiot. It's just the last time a pony held her hoof out to me, she..." Her huge pupils suddenly shrank to pinpricks, and Lightning could swear she saw a few feathers on her neck puff out.
"...She what?"
"Nothing. Nevermind." Picking up the abandoned drink, she said, "I'm Gilda."
"So what're you doing in a pony bar, Gilda?" she asked as the griffon smoothed her feathers back down.
"What's it look like? Getting piss-ass drunk." She downed the last swallow of amaretto and almost immediately horked it right back into the glass. "Oh fuck, what the hell was that moron drinking?!" she gagged, letting her tongue loll out of her beak. "This tastes like cancer!"
"Uh...huh," Lightning Dust said, absent-mindedly. Her eyes were on that tongue, the free end of which was nearly grazing the bar. It was long, nearly three times the length of her own, and had what looked like a rough spot on the flattened tip. She realized in some faint part of her brain that Gilda must use that for grooming, if her limited knowledge of cats held any water.
Keep your cool, shithead!
She whistled for the bartender, then grinned at Gilda. "What do you usually drink? It's on me."
Gilda eyed her, eerily enough, without having to turn her head. "Why?"
"You look like a stranger in a strange land."
At first it looked like she was about to say something cutting, but the cross expression faded before it could settle. "Fine," she said as she pushed the glass away. She told the bartender "Make it a dry gin martini. Three olives. And when I say dry, I mean dry as your grandmother's pussy."
"My grandmother's dead," the barkeep answered without so much as a blink.
"Then it'll be even drier, won't it?"
She just rolled her eyes. "And for you?" she said to a scandalized-looking Lightning Dust.
"Uh, the same!" Scootching her stool a little closer to Gilda's, she said, "That's my favourite!"
"Ha! No shit?"
"Yeah, seriously! They're expensive as fuck, but they're worth it if they make 'em right."
She rested the underside of her beak---Lightning wasn't exactly sure if it could be called her chin---on her open palm, and drummed her talon-tips against her cheek. "Good to know at least one of you walking buffets has some taste."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she said, but without as much malice as she'd intended.
"Exactly what it sounded like, dumbass," Gilda countered with a smirk. "Ponies just don't have good taste."
"Oh. Is that it?" Lightning took her drink, ignoring the dirty look the bartender was shooting both of them, and used her tongue to lap up the condensation from the rim of the glass. A little spark of excitement kicked up inside her when she saw the griffon's eyes following her lapping. "I thought you meant you wanted to eat me."
With a deliberate slowness, she plucked an olive up in the very tip of her beak and tugged it off the spear. "You? Nah. I'd have to floss a little morsel like you outta my teeth."
"...You have teeth?" she asked, aware of how stupid that sounded.
She knew that side-smile was just to show off her fangs.
"Besides," Gilda went on, her voice a little lower, "Who knows what you'd taste like? Anything as colourful as you guys is automatically gag-worthy. I mean, look at this place!" She waved in the general direction of the dance floor. "You'd think a bomb went off in a crayon factory."
Lightning looked at the spangled, colour-drenched version of the Equestrian flag hanging in glittery glory above the dancing ponies. "You know what? If I never see another rainbow again, I'll die happy."
Her beak opened, and for a second it looked like she was about to blurt something out. But she clammed up again, and bolted a bit of her drink. "Jeez, and I thought I was bitter."
"It seems like every gay bar follows the same script," Lightning said, twirling her swizzle-stick. "Get a bulldyke bouncer, put rainbow shit all over the place, hire a few drag queens to prance around..."
Gilda ran a claw up the back of her neck, which made her mane bristle up into goosebumps. "You forgot the cynical, drunken pega-sister with a mullet."
She immediately smacked her talon away. "Hey! This is not a mullet! It's a pompadour!"
"Well, excuse the fuck outta me."
"And I'm not drunk," she added. "One martini doesn't do that to me. I'm no lightweight!"
Turning around so they were facing each other instead of the bar, Gilda put both her palms down on the pegasus' knees and lowered her face to look her in the eye. "So, Dusty, what you're telling me is... it'll take a few more rounds to get you loose enough to fit my fist?"
At first, she thought that meant a punch. She really did. It took a few seconds of wondering what she'd said wrong before it clicked.
The double-page spread in "Preen Queens". She'd almost forgotten about it---but she distinctly remembered thinking the photo was altered in some way, since it was impossible to be wrist-deep in someone.... right? This photoshoot has been brought to you by our sponsor, Gush-A-Lot lube! Comes in ten different flavours!
"Oh!" she gasped, hoping her blush didn't show too much. "Y-you mean---"
"Give the girl a medal," Gilda purred. She really purred.
"A medal?" She looked down at the gleaming beak---so close to her muzzle now that she could lick it if she wanted. "I always liked going for the gold."
"For Celestia's sake!"
They both looked up in surprise at the bartender, who was rubbing her temples.
"Can you ladies do me a favour and get a damn room? I don't want to have to wash sticky puddles off those barstools again."
"A room?" Gilda said as she toyed with her drink. "Don't mind if I do."
Lightning Dust considered saying 'your place or mine?', but a better idea butted that out of her head.
"Hey," she whispered in what she hoped was the griffon's ear, "Meet me in the fillies' room in five minutes."
ooooo
Lightning pushed the door open and frowned. "What are you doing?"
Gilda glanced up and grinned. She'd been holding the edge of a claw up against the side of the mirror. "Oh, just making sure this isn't a two-way."
"Two-way?"
"A two-way mirror, you idiot. You know, the kind you can see through?" She waved her closer, and when they were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, she tapped the surface. "See the little gap between the tip of my claw and its reflection?"
"Yeah, so?"
"That means it's normal. No one's watching us from the other side."
Lightning gave her own reflection a quick once-over, peeling her lips back to check for anything stuck in her teeth. "Are all griffons this paranoid, or is it just you?"
"Hey! It's not paranoia if you're right!" she snarled, her crest feathers ruffling a little. "The principal in my high school got fired 'cause he installed one of those things in the girls' dorm!"
"What, really?!"
"Yeah." She huffed a bit and folded her arms. "I'm not taking that risk again."
"Gilda?"
"Yeah?"
It started out as a giggle, and Lightning quickly coughed it into a chuckle. "You, uh, kinda forgot this is a gay bar. Even if stallions in the other bathroom could see in here, I doubt they'd be looking at our pussies." Then for good measure, she added, "Dumbass."
Oops. Her tail began to lash back and forth, a little ridge of fur puffing up along her spine---the universal warning signs that you'd pissed off a cat.
"You know a better way to tell if it's a trick mirror?" Lightning Dust said as smoothly as she could. Before Gilda could answer, Lightning turned around and bashed her hoof right between their reflections.
"Shit!"
Her wings cracked open and she took to the air just moments before the glittering pieces spilled out over the tiles. "Are you fucking crazy?!"
Lightning smiled, picking up a dagger-shaped shard and turning it over in her hooves. "Define 'crazy'."
"I can't walk on the floor now!" Gilda snapped. She lifted up a hind-paw, wiggling her toes for emphasis. "These aren't hooves, you know!"
Lightning thought she heard a little gasp when she touched the bottom of the griffon's paw, but she couldn't be sure. "Really? Are they.... sensitive?"
Gilda didn't have to answer. The way her claws shot out at the gentle brush of tongue answered for her. Carefully easing around the sharp tips, Lightning ran her tongue up Gilda's paw pads and flickered it in the soft fur between her toes, smiling when she heard a deep rumble from above her.
"Kinky little fucker," Gilda said with a grin.
Leaning back against the counter, Lightning licked her lips and used the edges of her feathers to reach into the mini saddlebag around her haunches. She'd been saving this little treat for herself, but... well, she suddenly felt like sharing. "Wanna kick it up a notch?"
"What’s that?"
She tried not to laugh as she used her teeth to shake a little out onto the broken mirror; the dusty green powder settled in more or less a line, and she used the tip of her hoof to push every last trace together. "What's it look like? Powdered Joke."
"Powdered Joke?!" Gilda landed on the counter, craning her neck down to take a closer look. "Isn't that stuff---"
"Illegal? Yeah. And awesome," she said. Pressing a hooftip against her left nostril, she cocked her head to the side and with a loud breath, inhaled as much of the line as she could. She'd been a bit generous when she'd poured it, and couldn't quite get it all in one take, leaning back and coughing a little as she wiped her fetlocks across her muzzle.
Ah, there it was; that moment of worry when nothing happened, the split-second wondering if it's been cut with Celestia-knows-what, and then---the sudden, spiking surge of warmth right under the skin. Lightning sighed in contentment as her hide prickled. It was pure.
When she opened her eyes she saw something on the griffon's face she never would have expected. Hesitation. No, fear.
"We've both been drinking," she said as her eyes flicked to the side. "Mixing that shit---"
The shrill burst of laughter surprised them both. Lightning, still cackling, threw both her forelegs around the fluffy white neck, hooking her ankles together to pull the griffon a little closer. "Giiiilda," she whispered, "I've done this before."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she repeated, and then pressed her numbing lips against what she hoped was the safest part of her beak---the malleable part that she'd seen curl up in a smile.
It worked. That lovely long tongue she'd been ogling before slipped between her teeth and began a gentle, teasing flicker across the roof of her mouth. The salt of the olives and the gin's sharp clove aroma filled her all the way to the back of her throat, but there was something on her breath below all that---something rich and earthy, almost like mushrooms, but...
Meat. Griffons ate meat.
Years ago, on a dare, Lightning had taken a bite of raw fish. She'd been fully expecting to be disgusted, but instead she was startled by how sensuous the oily flesh was. And now, her heartbeat pounding her arteries so hard they felt like they were pressed right up against her skin, the fact that she could taste a little of it on Gilda's tongue made the blood flow a bit lower.
When they pulled apart, the griffon's pupils had dilated almost as much as her own. She knew she needed no more convincing.
"Pour me some of that shit," she murmured, and Lightning was more than happy to oblige.
For a beginner, Gilda took a mighty hit like a pro, even if she did gag a bit; after lapping the last traces from the mirror-shard, she put a talon up against her beak, licked it, and then passed it over her head in a few quick grooming flicks. The patch of fur just above her rising tail was ruffled up, just like in the magazine.
Lightning could feel her clit poke out in a wink. Shit! She's presenting!
The stall door slammed against her back before she knew what had happened; her cloudy brain was still putting the pieces together when Gilda scooped her up in her strong arms and pressed her against the wall. With her hind legs around Gilda's waist, she could feel quite a difference in the texture of the fur on her sides---rough and scratchy---and on her belly, which felt more like soft down. There was a wet sucking noise as her labia smoothly pulled against it.
"Heh. You ponies and your weird pussies," she said, tracing a knuckle down the increasingly-red cheek.
Grinding her hips around, Lightning answered between her gasps "W-w-what? You've... you've fucked a pony before?"
"Variety is the salt... sugar...? ... variety.... Oh, fuck it!" She shook her head. "I'm already too stoned to remember how that goes."
"High. You get high off Powdered Joke, not stoned."
"Aw, shuddap."
She expected Gilda to silence her with a kiss---and not shock her into it by grabbing her clit between her thumb and forefinger. Letting her head bang against the stall, she let out a shivering groan as she felt her button being manipulated between the scaly digits, tugged up a little, then pressed down by the flat of her thumb, then twisted side to side; this was so, so different from feeling it just mashed around with a hoof, so bizarre, so alien, so...
"Fuck that's hot!" she moaned, her pelvis starting to jerk around in a spastic circle.
With Gilda's cheek pressed against hers, she could feel the grin before she heard the chuckle. Before she could ask what was so funny, Gilda stopped pinching her clit and clamped it between her knuckles. She sure was glad for the throbbing bass outside, because when she began cracking and popping her joints with the erect clit trapped between them, her little pegasus lover began howling like a hyena.
Her pinion feathers quivering and stuck straight out in the Full Feather Salute, Lightning lowered one of her hooves and pressed it against Gilda's alula, grinning when she heard a whimper. She was gay, she knew that through and through, but she also considered herself pegasexual; she just couldn't imagine sex without the brush of feathers along her body. And damn if this strange creature didn't have the most crackin’ set of wings she'd ever seen! Her wingspan was easily the length of a pony's body, if not more, so wide the edges of her stiff primaries were splayed out against opposite walls. Lightning's dry mouth began to water at the thought of getting those beautiful feathers between her teeth.
But that could wait.
Shoving Gilda back, Lightning slid down to the floor, her face now just inches from the patch of fur that had turned a darker brown from the gathering moisture. With a leer, she looked up and said "Looks like that sure got you going, birdy! How long's it been since you got laid, hm?"
"Bite me."
"Oh, I've got something better than that in mind." Bopping her on the shoulder just hard enough to make her stagger back, she added, "Sit your ass down."
She did so, plunking down on the toilet, her hind legs splayed out and her tail draped over the tank. Lightning pulled her lips into her mouth and licked them in excitement. Although she normally liked teasing her lovers with bites and kisses before moving to the main course, the drugs had flattened her brain to the point of only seeing, only wanting what she'd been thinking about all night: a sweet, alcohol-flushed pussy. And there it was, right in front of her, smaller by half than a pony's, and instead of a big, winking clit, she had a tiny red nub, barely the size of a peppercorn.
Don't back down from a challenge now, 'Dusty'!
She slammed forward, smushing her muzzle against it, and groaned as she breathed in a smell she'd remember for years, a kind of loamy musk that filled her mouth with smoke and spice. The little clit was pressed against her front teeth, and when she pushed forward she could swear she felt it jump.
Gilda's talon landed in her hair---fuck it, she didn't care anymore!---and she sunk her fingers deep into the thick blonde strands, forming a fist and tugging her head to and fro. Lightning tried to get inside, but the feline cunt was so small, and her tongue so broad and flat, it wasn't easy going.
This must be what it's like to break in a virgin, she thought, and her already stiff wings began to flutter.
With a final push, she got her tongue inside, gasping around the lips at how tight it was; Gilda was no virgin, she was sure of that, but the differences in their anatomies made this pussy feel cherry nonetheless. The way it clamped and squeezed on her as she swirled her tongue around, her tastebuds grinding against the wet walls, was starting to make bright, multicoloured stars appear around the edges of her vision. It was like getting the most intimate kind of massage, and it tasted like nothing she'd ever had before.
"More," Gilda moaned. "Fuck! More!"
Ah! And there it was; after a few wonderful, slick minutes of pushing, she found that patch of texture she was hoping this strange pussy would have, too. Maybe G-spots were universal after all.
As she curled her tongue up and into the soft spongy tissue, Gilda's hips jolted enough to lift her half a foot off the toilet seat. Lightning instinctively put her hooves up to grab her haunches, and in her addled state, she didn't realize that she was trying to rub cutie marks that weren't there.
Then her eyes flew open. Gilda had let go of her pompadour and was now gently rolling her ear between her fingers. Gently. Pulling her tongue out, Lightning looked up in surprise; the griffon was staring down at her with a strange expression that was half-lust and half- ...what?
Affection, she realized, swallowing heavily. She's... she's actually being affectionate!
She must have thought the hooves stroking her hips had been a sign of affection, and had decided to return it. Again, Lightning swallowed, this time licking some of the juices off her lips. Normally any kind of tenderness made her gag---she did not make love, she just fucked.
But for some reason, that friendly gesture made her start to feel a bloom of warmth starting in the back of her throat. And when Gilda moved from touching her ear to caressing her cheek, the heat shot forward, bubbling through her whole body.
She smiled, and her lover smiled back. Something clicked.
When Lightning ducked her head back down, she aimed for that little nub instead, puckering her lips around it in a kiss; she was shocked how far she could suck it into her mouth. She wasn't sure if it was the drugs pounding her brain or the throbbing in her lips, but she thought she could feel Gilda's pulse, and began slurping in time. A hoof, moving on its own accord, slid down her belly and pressed up against her soaked sex. She paused just long enough to nibble the griffon's crinkly petals, and then dove back in, alternating between eating her out and planting kisses on her clit. Her mouth was moving faster than ever before, fueled both by the 'Joke and by the surges of pheromones washing over her like the worst kind of heat. This was so new, so hot, she almost couldn't stand it.
"Aa-aa-aah, oh fuck!" Gilda choked out as she grabbed the tense blue wings like handlebars. "Fuck, Dusty, I'm gonna---"
"Mmph!" The hot palms on her coverts made electricity shoot straight from her sensitive wings all the way down to her pussy in one hot line, and Lightning let out a muffled scream. The orgasm hit her before she knew it was coming, a tidal wave of numbing pleasure crashing down so hard it nearly wiped all conscious thought from her mind. For a few seconds she blanked on everything she'd learned about sex, everything about pleasuring a mare, and her talented mouth reverted to when she was a virgin, just earnestly exploring, licking and kissing the wetlands in front of her.
Gilda's own climax had been building for far longer, and now the smouldering fire crackled to life, her pussy spasming against Lightning's clumsy kisses. She arched her spine and let out a deafening eagle cry, squirming, squirting, even begging a little as it washed over her. As the last few spikes of bliss ebbed away, her wings slowly began to fold, and she eased back down, panting.
When she opened her eyes---which she hadn't realized she'd squeezed shut tight---Lightning Dust was staring up at her, resting a sticky cheek on the inside of her thigh. She was smiling.
"So I guess I don't have to ask if it was good, huh?" she said as she wiped a bit of juice from her forehead.
Gilda grinned. "How... Shit, how hard did I come?"
"Buckets."
This was usually the part where she got up and left, so Lightning was more than a little shocked when Gilda swooped down and grabbed her in a bear hug. She ran her long tongue up around her wet face, lapping up as much evidence as she could; the quiet cooing, chirping noises she was making led Lightning to believe that this was some sort of grooming, but she didn't know if the griffon was acting out of instinct, or... something else.
She put a foreleg around her shoulders and gave her a slightly awkward hug. "We better get out of here before that daddy-dyke bouncer finds the broken mirror."
"Pfft. Don't worry about her. She's a bottom if I've ever seen one."
Lightning laughed as she nuzzled her face into the griffon's neck. "...You wanna go back to my place?"
"Nah."
Her heart sank a little.
Seeing the look on her face, Gilda chuckled as she carefully stroked the pegasus' mane back into place. "Let's go to mine."
Lightning Dust and Gilda left maybe an hour or so ago, leaving their mess behind. Of course, not all the fluids on the floor, walls, and ceilings are theirs, but it’s apparent whoever has to clean this place has his job cut out for him.
Speaking of, a toilet flushes as Discord, clad in a janitor’s uniform with a mop slung over his shoulder, walks out of a stall. He glances at one of the surviving mirrors, noticing a bug crawling between his teeth. The pinky of his eagle talon seeks and destroys, pushing the bug into a chewier position.
Discord swallows. “I suppose you could say Lightning Dust and Gilda’s relationship,” he says with a pause as he flicks open a set of sunglasses and places them onto his face. “...Stalled!” He poses awesomely, and someplace, somewhere, there are those who cry “YEEEAAAAHHHH!”
“Always remember, boils and ghouls, winners don’t do drugs,” he says in an uncharacteristically serious voice, with an equally uncharacteristically serious face. He holds it for all of a second before breaking into a coquettish grin. “Winners take drugs and do each other in the bathroom.”
Catching a particularly nasty spot on the floor, Discord removes from his breast pocket a toothbrush and gets to work scrubbing away whatever the fluid might be. Nonchalantly, he uses the fluid as if it’s toothpaste, cleaning the mess in his mouth the bug left behind.
“One thing to keep in mind is that before you have drunken, drug-laced sex in a public place, be courteous and consider the janitorial staff who will be cleaning up after you,” Discord says, “If the housekeepers are going to be picking up shards of glass of the floor, the least you could do is invite them to watch while you screw in a stall.”
He removes from his equipment belt a bottle of cleaning detergent, unscrewing it and holding it outward as if to spill some on the floor for further cleaning. Instead, he draws it upwards to his lips and throws some into his mouth. He swishes it around, shivering at how it burns before spitting his makeshift mouthwash into the nearby sink.
“That’s all for this in-stall-ment, my frisky friends,” Discord says. “Join me next time for yet another hedonistic haunting.”
The darkness and humidity of the jungle’s depths waft about like shadows as fog spills across the river. In the distance, all manners of wildlife purr and groan and roar and buzz, as if the entire jungle itself is alive and hungry.
Coming down the foggy river now is a small steamboat. Like its Captain, it is in great disrepair, with many parts sagging as rope, careful amounts of glue, and sheer luck desperately hold this mess together. The Captain lifts his white cap up, revealing a pair of yellowed, mismatching eyes peering out of an equine face destroyed by rot and neglect. He smiles with a mouth of brown teeth.
“Greetings, readers!” Discord crows. “Welcome to another shlong-tingling entry in Tales From the Clop!
“I heard a long time ago about a witch doctor who lives around these parts,” he continues, waving a ghastly eagle talon towards the jungle around him. “I’m told he can shrink heads, so I’m curious as to whether he has a formula that can shrink vaginas. In fact, I hope he has two: one for that delicious, tighter squeeze, and one in case her vagina isn’t the only cunt I'll have to put up with.”
His ears perk as tribal drumming dances across the empty riverside, chasing away the hungry jungle sounds. Discord grins in excitement.
He lets go of the boat’s steering wheel as he turns around to search through the pile of junk on deck. As he does so, a third arm springs from his back to keep the boat on track. “While I’m searching for the pert poon potion,” Discord says as he picks up a book and dusts it off, “why don’t you all enjoy today’s story, starring Daring Do and that diabolical daytime demon, Ahuizotl? I hear it’s a real scream!”
With that, he cackles as the boat wanders down the river...
I Love Daring Story and Writing By: Gabriel LaVieder Edited By: Brony_Fife
FETISHES AND TRIGGER WARNINGS: Rape, impreg, pregnancy, male domination
The oppressive heat of the jungle was beginning to wane as evening descended. Despite the high humidity which could trap warmth like a sodden blanket, the lowering of the sun had the effect of mitigating the tropical temperature, an effect increased by the proximity of the ocean. Waves lapped the sand not too far away from the jungle’s edge, the thick canopy offering sunshade, but the press of trees and the decomposition of leaf litter did more to hinder than help.
Ahuizotl made his way through that slowly falling heat. The legendary creature moved with his usual dexterity along what paths existed in that jungle, coming from inland and slightly north. His destination was a large, elaborate temple situated at the far edge of a cliff which overlooked the ocean.
The temple was a high wonder, composed of perfectly fitted blocks of dressed and polished light gray stone. The whole was in the shape of a step pyramid, with six layers, the top mostly open, though enclosed with screens. Fanciful carvings of plants and animals were all over the face of the pyramid. Each layer had an entrance on every side with access being possible through four staircases that reached up to the very top. An elongated, carved effigy of Ahuizotl lined both sides of each staircase, his head portion at the bottom and his rear at the top.
Ahuizotl arrived at the bottom entrance, brought out a small, cat-shaped amulet, and placed it into a carved section beside the door, then slid a few hidden panels. The door slowly opened with a grinding screech. Just before he went inside, he used his tail-hand to open his mailbox, which looked like a miniature version of the temple, except it had a red flag on the side, which was up. Her plucked out the few envelopes, put the flag down, then entered his temple.
Though it was all stone within, it was painted a muted white, cool blue carpet for a floor. Light shone from a glowing magical crystal in the center of the large, open room. A few spaces had been sectioned off by more stone walls, but the majority of the lowest segment was dominated by what in a modern home would have been a living room. There were even two wicker-back couches and three easy chairs. A television with a custom stone exterior sat in front of one couch, while a record player on an end table made of dark-stained jungle wood stood by the other.
Ahuizotl set down the briefcase he’d been carrying and tossed his golden necklace onto a hatstand by the door. “Daring! I'm home!”
He casually strolled to one couch, flipping through the mail. “Junk mail. Junk mail. Junk mail. Even in the jungle... oh, and another letter from your mother. I hope she is finally out of the 'I will have my vengeance and strangle you with your own intestines' phase. I got the message the first time she yelled it.”
“Quiet down!” Daring Do hissed. “The baby is finally asleep! And you know what I told you I'd do if you work her up again.” She emerged from one of the partitioned spaces, looking rather stern in her usual khaki explorer's outfit and pith helmet... and apron, which bore a few minor stains.
“As I recall it was 'stop letting me get off until my balls weren't just blue because of my coat,' or words to that effect,” Ahuizotl said softly.
“Right,” Daring said. “And I think you like pony pussy too much to risk that.” She made her way over to Ahuizotl and planted a kiss on his lips, wrapping her forelegs around his neck. “How was work?”
“There's someone new in accounting,” Ahuizotl said, returning Daring's kiss. “He keeps complaining about how I write. I told him, I learned my numbers somewhere other than Equestria. I gave him a codex and a quick lesson. I hope he won't be a problem.”
“Mm, well, that's corporate life,” Daring said casually.
“I don't see why I must work in an office building in a resort city up the coast. You are rich beyond measure thanks to your books. And the movies about your books. And the speaking tours. Television appearances. Endorsements... and I have a room filled with golden treasures, things I did not even steal.”
“You're working because that's how things go,” Daring said with a grin. “You work for a living to keep your head on straight and I stay here and keep this place up, watch the baby and handle meals.” She turned and headed back to the kitchen. “By the way, dinner should be in half an hour. It's baked papaya tonight!”
“Ah yes, I smell it,” Ahuizotl said, before flopping down on the couch. “It should be another delicious creation.”
He settled himself comfortably, before he faced his audience. “And how has it come to this? The legendary Ahuizotl, once a notable raider of temples and villain of some fame, now living an ordinary suburban-type life in the jungle, wedded to Daring Do, my erstwhile archenemy? Well now, that story is truly a strange one...”
- - -
“Another day, another temple,” Daring Do grunted as she slid under a falling door. The dark pinkish stone of the temple surrounded her, barely seen in the wavering light of the enchanted ever-burning torches. She had just managed to lose Ahuizotl and find the right path through the labyrinthine temple's depths, well on her way to the legendary Necklace of Tlazolteotl. She wasn't sure what it was, but if Ahuizotl wanted it...!
She plunged through the temple, barely catching a glimpse of the elaborate carvings and paintings on the walls, twisting her way through the final stone passages until she reached a huge, inner space. Magic gems gave and refracted light to every corner, revealing the room was mostly empty, save for the carvings and paintings common to the rest of the temple.
Four pillars rose up to the ceiling: perfectly square, with the middle portion removed, making them resemble four smaller pillars in the middle, about a pony's height from the floor up a pony's height from the ceiling. Inside those hollows were obsidian cylinders. The color of the stone of the room was far more pinkish, a brighter tone than the others. At the center of the huge room rose a miniature version of the step pyramid itself, topped with the necklace.
Daring dashed to the necklace, muscles ready to send her out of the path of the death traps and entangling traps she was certain would protect such a treasure. Nothing came of it, however: she made it to the central pyramid and up one of the sides oddly unmolested.
The necklace rested against a small jutting stone. The necklace portion itself looked like it had been made of dried rubber vines and gold. The pendant was a mix of gold and stone, in the style of many of the artifacts Ahuizotl sought, with blocky features and stiff posing. It looked very much like a feminized Ahuizotl, except it had two faces, both of them made of gold-covered ochre stone, with the stone showing at the ends of their snouts.
Daring picked up the necklace and smiled. She had done it. She’d beaten Ahuizotl. Picking up the necklace caused the stone against which it had rested to slowly descend into the central dais. She watched as the four pillars trembled, the obsidian cylinders shattering into a tinkling storm of black glass pieces.
Typical.
Unlike most instances of an activated temple trap, nothing started falling down. Rather, the ceiling began shedding dust and flecks of stone, and a tremendous grinding noise echoed around the chamber. The blocks at the center of the ceiling slowly pulled away to reveal a long, narrow shaft that showed sunlight at the far end. It looked wide enough to admit a pony body.
Daring flicked her wings open, pushed off from the ground and gave a huge flap, sending her rushing towards her only egress. She passed the entrance with ease, pulling her limbs in to fit in the tight passage. Her wings just barely had clearance in the narrow path and she had to remain straight on, lest she clip the side and fall to her doom.
She clutched the treasured necklace tightly to her chest, feeling a radiating magical warmth. Such was it ever with the odd magical artifacts she recovered: there was always some radiating magical force out to make her wonder just what sort of enchantment she had stumbled on. Further study, or the ranting cries of Ahuizotl, would tell the tale. (She had to give him that: for all his jerk-hole ways and pompous self-assurance, he could be remarkably informative.)
Daring blinked and shook her head, nearly sending herself into the side. She slowed her ascent and tried to focus on the growing halo of sunlight. That thought had come unbidden, but it was at least not obtrusive. She really hated that guy, but he was not offensive to look at: big muscles, perfect (if weird) teeth, and quite the sexy accent.
Absent the evil parts, Daring would have classified Ahuizotl as 'himbo lust-fuck' material. The thought of doing that wasn't exactly unusual for her, but it was odd to think of it during her escape. She usually just thought it in the safety of her camp, or in a town after savoring her victory over the pathetic pretty-boy.
She finally flew out of the constricting passage, and set her hooves down on solid stone. She was at the top of the temple, with a clear view of the featureless jungle all around her. If she could just get her bearings and locate the way back to civilization, she could chalk up another victory over…
“Finally, Miss Do, you have it.”
Ahuizotl. He pulled himself sinuously over the side of the temple and posed, half seductively, half threateningly, his muscles flexing in such a way to both tease and demonstrate power.
“Ahuizotl! What are you doing here? I lost you in the temple!” Daring shouted.
“You left me unable to follow you, Miss Do,” Ahuizotl said smugly. “I could never reach the central chamber before you, but I knew the way out. And I knew the temple would release you through the roof. I am an expert in these matters.”
Daring rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I win, you lose. And now you can shake your fist and curse me and all that.”
“But I am here, and I could still win,” Ahuizotl hissed.
Daring flapped up, hovering just out of Ahuizotl’s reach. “Should I shake my ass at you like usual?”
“Doesn't hurt,” Ahuizotl said, affecting a very debonair tone. “Well, aren't you going to wear your new prize? You always do it to spite me. It seems to be your habit.”
“Ha! I almost forgot,” Daring said. “You're really useful sometimes, pretty-boy. Too bad there's not much else between your ears!”
She slipped the necklace on. A powerful cramping spasm suddenly tore through her lower belly and her wings seized up, sending her falling to the temple top. “Wh-what is this? What did you do?”
Ahuizotl slowly, casually, almost mockingly, strolled over to Daring, and began to circle her like a predator preparing to pounce his prey. “You... did no research, yes? You do not know what the Necklace of Tlazolteotl does, is that so?”
“I didn't... d-didn't have... time... to... argh!” Daring grabbed at her cramping belly, wracked with a painful tightness whose every stab vanished quickly. She attempted to remove the necklace but found it magically fixed to the back and sides of her neck.
“And whose fault is that, hmm?” Ahuizotl purred, slowly sliding his tongue along his lips. “Right now you feel it. The power. The power of Tlazolteotl, the lady of lust and... sexual impropriety.”
“Wh-what?” Daring gasped out, shakily coming to her hooves. The cramping had stopped but she felt an oppressive, stifling, all-consuming blaze. It was more than just the jungle's sticky heat. It radiated from within her, hottest at the base of her belly and soaring through the rest of her.
“Oh yes,” Ahuizotl said with a perverse grin. “The power of unbridled lust and improper sex. You can resist all you want but you'll be wanting it until you get it. And only I can cool it for you because this is as improper as sex gets.”
Daring opened her mouth to let out a sneering insult, but instead groaned loudly and grit her teeth hard. The sound of liquid spattering on the temple stones sounded especially loud in that sudden silence. She hadn't urinated herself; her pussy was so sloppily juicy that is was almost-literally cascading out of her slit. The flesh was flushed so pink it was nearly red, and her lips were already spread just from her need and arousal.
Ahuizotl boldly and uncouthly shoved his face beneath Daring's flagged tail and ground his nose on her slit. His long snout wound up dripping with the musky honey, his tongue slapping and slithering all over his mouth, nose, and chin as he cleaned up. He then ran his tongue tongue across Daring's sex, while he deeply inhaled the heady scent of arousal.
Daring shuddered hard and made an effort to pull away. Though she strained and craned her neck her legs refused to move. Rather, her rear legs stepped out, giving her a receptive A-frame stance that made her dripping snatch more obvious. She shoved her ass back, grinding her engorged clit on Ahuizotl's snuffling nose. “F-fuck... you fucking bastard...”
“Well... bastard is a bit judgmental about your coming situation...” Ahuizotl purred, giving another burning slurp of his wide and powerful tongue.
“And just what does that mean?” Daring seethed through her teeth. Her eyes were shut tight and her neck stretched as far as it could get. Her wings flapped wildly and trembled at she tried to get away.
“That cramping you felt... I do not want to get too technical and spoil your image of me but... that was your womb, growing the necessary flesh to grow a child. And an ovary sending an egg. That is right, Miss Do, your womb is ready. The magic has ensured a single wiggling sperm from any creature will do the job. Even me...”
Ahuizotl gave a concluding laugh, slapping a hand down solidly on Daring's right flank while swirling his nose around her lips.
Shock crossed Daring's features as she contemplated the idea. She imagined the flood of semen, the rush of sperm, a single wriggling thing surging before all others and penetrating her egg. She shook her head quickly as the idea started to become appealing and lifted a trembling foreleg, only to slap it down solidly a moment later. “No! You can't!”
“Oh but I can. I am perfectly capable. Witness...” Ahuizotl rather reluctantly pulled himself away from Daring's leaking sex and strutted his way around to her front. He very boldly reared up and showed her the effect that her mare musk had on him. His sheathed organ had dropped, and looked impressive: bigger than a pony rod by virtue of Ahuizotl's larger body, and lacking the flattened head. The tip was rounded and slightly pointy, while the dark blue shaft was ridged with what looked like a series of medial rings, each one with fleshy, backward-facing 'nubs' around the circumference. His balls were proportionally larger, hanging low and heavy.
“I wasn't saying you're impotent; I'm saying don't do it you stupid twit!” Daring snapped, head pulling down and a huge groan leaving her mouth. Her pangs of need were getting worse.
“Temper, temper, Miss Do,” Ahuizotl said calmly. “I really wanted you to enjoy yourself, to have fun with this fantasy of yours. A cursed necklace, a muscular male, amazing sex against your will, all the things you could want.” He considered pushing his erection or nuts in her face but decided against it. She still had basic control of her head and could do some decent harm. Instead, he casually sauntered behind her again, his tail-hand delivering a solid slap to her ass.
“Not... my... fantasy...” Daring groaned. The slap on her ass not only made her toned and strong explorer's thighs twitch, it made her sex squeeze and roll over nothing. The pattering on the temple grew more copious, sounding like a localized rain storm. “I never imagined you fucking me!”
“I know,” Ahuizotl said firmly, “but allow me my ego. A small repayment for all you have done to me.” He slapped both of his normal hands down on Daring's ass, his tail-hand reaching out to slide the fingers against her heated slit. “You dream of having me at your mercy. So use me, use my body like a sex toy then throw me away like trash. Am I trash to you, Miss Do?”
“You said it, not me,” Daring huffed, turning her head around just enough to give Ahuizotl a look at her strained, but smug, smile. “You're just a himbo with cobwebs between your ears. You're not worth more than a desperation fuck.”
Ahuizotl trembled a little, right hand lifting and coming down to deliver a solid smack to Daring's right cheek. The left then repeated the gesture, striking solidly. He alternated in that way over and over, changing locations all over Daring's ass, thighs and flanks. The smacking sound was sharp and clear, ringing out over the jungle like perverted drums. “You will not disrespect me in such a way, Miss Do! I am more than just dumb muscle! I am mighty! I am great! And I will have my reward! You will pay for every victory you had over me!”
“That's not happening, Ahuizotl! You don't get to win, because I'm the smart one, the strong one, the better one,” Daring asserted, breath huffing from between her teeth as the spanking rang out. Maybe it was the necklace, maybe it was her pumping adrenaline, or maybe it was something she had never examined before, but it wasn't bad. There was a tingle running through her spanked rear end, a pleasant feeling of warmth and delight that pulsed out over and over and seemed to bring another dribble of her juice.
“I cannot undo the past,” he admitted. “I cannot undo your many victories and triumphs over me and all my brilliant plans and schemes to conquer... but I can make you regret them. Every pump of my hips, every wad of my semen is my victory over your triumphs! I undo the shame of losing with my conquest of your body!”
Ahuizotl screamed to the sky, his cry carried on the wind. He concluded his spanking with a single hard, double-handed slap over Daring's Cutie Marks, gripping the area tightly. He pulled himself up and over Daring's body, his thick and muscular chest resting heavily on her back. His tail-hand remained between his rear legs and continued to molest her snatch, until the tip of his dick mashed up against the juicy lips. He used his tail-hand to spread the flushed, heated lips out, and provided a clear passage for his fat and pulsing piece of monster meat.
His hips rammed forward savagely and without concern. The point of his rounded cockhead was superfluous, as the spread and eager pussy lips didn't fight against the extra-thick invader. There was still a delay, the ringed titan of a pole having to forcibly spread Daring's passage wide open. The nubbed rings ground over her clit as each one was forced into her, and her desperate, magically stimulated cunt alternately loosened to allow more in and squeezed tightly to massage the great shaft.
Daring screamed, though more a shout of frustration. Her thwarted desire to keep Ahuizotl's cock out of her was countered by her body's heated insistence the textured knob stay inside. She hated just how much she liked the way the monster shaft forced her passage open wide, how the raised rings felt grinding on her inner flesh, how his muscles were apparent in all he did. She would have liked it on her terms. As it was, against her will, she was being dragged kicking and screaming to pleasure. “Get your dick out of me or I'll rip it off and feed it to you!”
“I'm already feeding it to you, Miss Do! How is my vengeance?! Tell me, you arrogant pony!” Ahuizotl roared in a mix of rage and great pleasure at his own triumph. He drove his trembling hips all the harder, wedging open Daring's pony passage, fighting the tightness of her size to cram as much of his oversized organ into her as possible.
“It's fat and hot and I wish it was attached to someone I actually wanted!” Daring screamed, head thrashing about as the stretch of her walls nearly reached the limit of her capacity. There was some soreness to the stretch, but either the magic of the necklace or the side-effect of great need made the sore stretch delightful.
She was once more flooded with an unwanted hot and heady tingle that made her passage seize up. She gave a sharp and sudden cry, gasping as a squirt of her hot honey shot back around the plugging pole and splattered across Ahuizotl's inner thighs and over his heavy, swaying nuts. She had cum. She had cum while Ahuizotl raped her out of vengeance. She had been expecting almost everything but that.
Ahuizotl let out a loud, deep, bold laugh of triumph and celebration, releasing Daring's hips for a moment and slapping her Cutie Marks again. “Yes, Miss Do! Cum again and again! Each one is a forfeit of your pride in victory over me!”
“It was the necklace, you ignorant git!” Daring cried out, her breath panting. Just her luck the necklace kept her aware of how much her body was betraying her. She hated it. She didn't want it. But she couldn't stop herself. Each bulging ring helped to cool the burning need deep in her snatch, scratched the itch she was trying to fight. Just as he had demanded, she was already back on track to build up another orgasm, even as the aftershocks of the first still had her passage twitching.
Ahuizotl groaned loudly, his mind growing a little clouded. He wanted to savor his triumph, enjoy the savage raping of his hated rival. He was brutally having her but she wasn't breaking. He never expected her to. It was enough for him that she was helpless, at his mercy.
The necklace made her body burn, and more than that, it made her burn for him. She could hate it all she wanted but her legs wouldn't move so long as he was there, throbbing and ready for her. Having her while she hated it, cursed at him, spat and despised, it warmed him. He was winning at last! He had his ultimate triumph, and all thanks to a treasure that Daring had assumed she could snatch from his grasp once more.
But the esoteric pleasure of dominating his foe was losing ground to the carnal pleasure of dipping his dong into a mare's steamy honeypot. He had so indulged, of course, Daring was hardly his first. But none had been so sopping and receptive. Her hatred of him and the fight that was trying to manifest seemed to make the hard, raw sex even more delicious.
Ahuizotl’s mouth opened but the only thing that came out was a mindless, groaning cry of animalistic pleasure. His mouth hung open and he drooled rather freely down his hanging tongue. The saliva cast around, splattering across Daring's back and all around the space beside her. His back arched and he hunched forward like a simple beast, to finish sinking his cock as far down as it could go.
He was just too much for her, size-wise. His tip struck her cervix when he was about three quarters into her. He cried out in pleasure, sounding like a yowl mixed with a moan. His hands moved up, to wrap around her midsection while he savored the sensation of the needy, constricting sex desperately rolling and fluttering over the precum-spitting length.
Daring cried again, shuddering as she came from the touch of the tip against her inner barrier. She tossed her head back, sending her cry to the heavens. It was less agonized and restrained than before. If she was going to be forced to like it, she'd like it. She was already cumming. She'd have plenty of time to hold the whole matter in disdain when she was brooding about it in bed.
She wanted to feel that grand, boiling pleasure that was bubbling like a kettle in her belly. Her walls rolled and pulled on Ahuizotl's cock, and clutched down all the tighter during the big withdrawal, when the little nubs on the raised rings plucked and flicked at the accordion-like folds of her inner walls like a small army of carnal fingers over her sexual strings. A little climax struck her, with a trembling flutter of her sex and little ooze of her fluid.
Ahuizotl's mind slipped further away from where it had been. He wasn't thinking about how amazing it was to dominate and force-fuck his foe. He was thinking that Daring was the best mare he had ever fucked. Her pussy was pliant and warm and had taken him in further than any other. The constant squeezing and trembling and milking roll was unlike anything he had felt. He was beyond delighted.
Losing control of his polished domination made Ahuizotl's hips run riot. He still kept just at the edge of Daring's inner barrier, but drew his hips back as hard as he could and rammed back in to the full extent he could, without entering her womb. Daring's pleasured cries, the moans and grunts of frustrated forced-delight, rang in Ahuizotl's ears, and sent him even more into his own world.
The flicking nubs pleasured Ahuizotl as much as they pleasured Daring, as did the grip and pull on his raised flesh rings. If anything, it was hard to judge who was most pleasured by it all. His hips trembled and his balls pulled up tight against his body. He squirted heavy shots of precum all over the warm inner walls, splattering against Daring's cervix.
They approached a point where their bodies became so hot, they felt almost cold. Semen squeezed through Ahuizotl's hard cock as it slammed into Daring's cervix, escaping its phallic prison and punching the fertile egg with godlike force.
Daring's scream came out silent. Ahuizotl gasped, his body covered in sweat.
There was no way around it. Daring Do had been impregnated.
His large size helped to make his impressive, and imposing, load all the more voluminous. Each new hot gush was like another splatter of thick pudding, packing Daring's womb full. Her belly swelled slightly as the sperm-rich loads settled heavily down in her.
Ahuizotl's mental capacity slowly came back as he gradually pulled his softening dick out of Daring's gaping sex. One last orgasm shuddered through her as the nubbed rings pulled out of her flooded insides, where cum was flowing, splattering out in heavy blobs. He staggered back a little bit, panting and smiling. “My vengeance... is delivered...”
Daring stood for a moment longer, legs growing shaky and weak, breath coming out in hard, desperate gasps. Her body fell heavily to the side, laid out on the stone of the temple, Ahuizotl's semen still slowly oozing from wide-spread depths.
The necklace flashed, washing both Daring and Ahuizotl in the golden light. When the light cleared nothing seemed all that changed, except the necklace was no longer magically attached to Daring's neck. She lifted her head up, groaning lightly. “When I can move, I'm gonna rip your dick off...”
“I will be... far away, Miss Do,” Ahuizotl said, with a tired smugness. He panted as he sauntered off, trying to keep from looking tired. He was quite drained, and not just in a testicular sense. Something felt off. “You will never catch me! I have the last laugh! The ultimate revenge!”
He made his way down from the top of the temple, taking a moment to rest once he was on the ground. As he sat there, on the cushy loam of the jungle floor, his tail-hand reached casually down to the ground and scooped up a hearty collection of the rich, heady earth and pushed it to his mouth. He chewed casually, only realizing something was wrong when he swallowed the gritty mouthful.
Ahuizotl's eyes went wide, almost watching himself from the outside as he scooped and ate several handfuls of the rich-smelling jungle dirt. He found control of his limbs again, focused hard on his path home and ran off. In transit his tail hand once more reached out, scooped up dirt from the jungle floor and shoved it in his unresisting mouth.
Ahuizotl reached his bachelor temple, made his way inside and threw himself onto his pile of golden treasures. His stomach churned, but not from all the dirt he had eaten. That actually settled in his stomach like a lump, which felt proper.
His churning stomach came from his disorganized thoughts. He was feeling... conflicted, confused. Something inside of him was making him feel regret for what he had just done. However both had enjoyed themselves, he felt that his well-deserved vengeance had been... wrong.
He languished over the piles of gold and jewels, raking his fingers through the collection, head shaking. He had triumphed. But all he could think about was that he could never contest against Daring again. His revenge had been final. If he showed his face again she would do what she promised. She was never one for idle threats.
He actually smiled at that. Daring was earnest, to say the least. She was extremely motivated and determined, and quite talented. So athletic. So smart. Her victories were often hard won. Nothing was guaranteed. She was just very good at what she did and that made her a little bit better than Ahuizotl…
Ahuizotl shook his head and blinked, surprised. His hand was resting beside a pile of codices, which was how he knew where to find treasures and what the magical ones did. He had been reading about the necklace and Tlazolteotl. Last time, he'd stopped when he saw the bits about improper sex and lust. He felt driven to look closer.
The next fold of the codex made the cerulean drain from his face. He hadn't asked why the necklace had two faces. She was the two-faced goddess, of illicit sex…
...and the punishment for illicit sex.
Her face was ochre because she ate dirt in penance for her transgressions. That struck Ahuizotl as too familiar.
She was punishing him. He had eaten dirt at her demand, and his mind was being twisted around by performing the penance. He wasn't being turned good, just feeling... guilty. He had never felt guilty! “Curse you, Tlazolteotl! I should have just roped her and raped her!”
The days that followed weighed on his mind more and more heavily. The guilt, the shame, all of it was growing worse and worse thanks to the insidious influence of Tlazolteotl's paid penance. Worse, with his mind filled with regrets he was honestly missing Daring. He wanted to see her but knew he never could. And she could never find him. She never had an inkling of where he resided. She probably would have beaten him to a fine paste ages ago had she known.
His days were tormented. He barely slept, his dreams alternating between guilt-saturated nightmares and lustful dreams of Daring that went forever unfulfilled because she was always out of his reach. He hardly ate, and more often than not found himself grabbing dirt and chewing it up. Each swallow was unpleasant and he gagged the whole way through but it nourished him well enough.
He was incomplete without her. He always had been. There had been a hole in his life he’d tried to fill with schemes and arrogance. He'd had a mare that was quite his match but all he could do was steal from her, or be stolen from by her. They could have done quite well together.
It was certainly the best sort of punishment that could be visited on him. He'd painted himself into a corner. He'd ruined any chance of being able to act on the feelings Tlazolteotl had made overt. He was condemned to a life of misery, unless he went out to find Daring, in which case he would be condemned to either a short and bloody life or a life without genitals.
One unpleasant morning, while Ahuizotl was languishing in the main room of the lower segment of his temple, a titanic and ringing hit sounded around the room. It was very like powerful hooves pounding on the slab that served as his door. He was going to chalk it up to self-induced hysteria but decided to give it a look anyway.
He pulled a stone lever to open the slab, his whole bearing unenthusiastic. His face was drawn and glum, with dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his tail-hand dragged on the ground limply. “Who dares to disturb the great beast Ahuizotl in his own temple?” he began in a sullen monotone.
The morose message was halted by the barrel of a gun being planted right against his mouth. His eyes grew fearful and after staring down the barrel of a shotgun for a moment he looked past it to see what was on the other end.
The first things of note was a small army of staid and serious ponies, of all races and both genders, dressed in essentially identical blue suits and black ties, with briefcases at their sides. Along with them was a somewhat nervous-looking unicorn stallion in a casual black suit with an Equestrian National Emblem pinned to his chest. He was carrying, in his magical grip, a thick book which had the faces of the Princesses on the cover.
Daring headed the assembly, holding the shotgun in one strong, steady hoof. She was still wearing Tlazolteotl's necklace, which pulled away from her chest, pointing directly at Ahuizotl's shocked visage. Her belly hung heavy with her pregnancy, though she carried herself without difficulty. Her wings flapped slightly to maintain her balance as she brought up the other hoof to show a piece of paper. It was mostly small letters and some charts but prominent across the top were the words, 'Genetic Examination of Paternity'.
Daring's eye were set in a steely stare, somewhere between hate and worry. She didn't say anything for a long while, just threateningly holding the gun to Ahuizotl's face as though daring him to even move. “The necklace told me where you were. It's been telling me since I got it.”
“S-so I see...” Ahuizotl squeaked out through a tight throat. “It is truly... potent.”
Daring maintained her level and steady aim. “I have codices too, Ahuizotl. Just because I rush in head-first doesn't mean I'm ignorant.”
“I never implied it! I never would,” Ahuizotl squeaked, barely capable of talking while his life passed before his eyes.
“I figured out that this thing did a number on both of us. How does all that dirt taste, asshole?” Daring asked, with some mirth coming through, savoring Ahuizotl's fear. “Serves you right for what you did. Been scarfing it down by the handful?”
“It is almost all I can consume anymore,” Ahuizotl moaned. “Tlazolteotl has cursed me! I live a half life and can hardly bring myself to go outside. I am effaced by this condemnation.”
Daring's smile pulled up, and she nodded just a little bit. “Yeah. Yeah that's what I figured. You're a miserable wretch and you deserve everything. And now I'm here so we can finish this.”
“Please, Miss Do, in the head,” Ahuizotl said, defeated. “My life is torture enough, I at least wish to die quickly,”
“Die?” Daring screamed, pushing the shotgun firmly to Ahuizotl's mouth once more. “You're not dying on me! You're not getting out of this that easily!”
“What do you mean?” Ahuizotl asked in a confused and muffled mumble. “Why are you here if not to take revenge for my revenge?”
“You did this to me,” Daring hissed, “the test proves it. I had a little smear of your blood from a previous incident, they did the test and confirmed it's yours, just like you said it would be. You got me like this, and now you're gonna pay.”
“And in what form will this payment take?” Ahuizotl asked, still muffled and confused.
Daring motioned with one of her wings, the stallion with the book coming forward. “There's no way in Tartarus I'm ending up a single mom. If I'm having your kid, you'd damn well better believe you're gonna be there. This is a Justice of the Peace, who wasn't squeamish about tracking you through the jungle. The army of suits are the lawyers my publisher sent to make sure you sign on all the dotted lines. You knocking me up is fucking their bottom line as much as it fucked my waistline. They want you to pay, too. If you think I'm bad, wait until they get you in a courtroom for a breach of contract.”
Ahuizotl stared, wide-eyed, hovering between disbelief and some strange sense of joy. “You would... shotgun marry me?”
Daring put away the paternity test and pulled out a gold ring studded with stones. “I slipped this out of a temple right under your nose, and I know you well enough to know it fits. You'd better have something in there that fits me because there's no way you're getting out of this.”
- - -
“... And so, that is the tale,” Ahuizotl finished. “We were wed, the necklace ceased to curse me, and I ceased hungering for dirt. The vengeance was done and I... I find myself quite satisfied.
“We learned to tolerate one another, then to enjoy one another’s company. Our relationship makes for an interesting bit of writing. She tells me she has moved on to domestic comedy, as E. L. Etsif, as well as selling some version of our home life as a television comedy. From what I hear it is testing well, and the books... well, the numbers speak for themselves. It is us, with some exaggeration and a change in my species. I still have my suave tone, but I am a pony. Such a pity.
“I took her name, of course. I had no choice, and I don't mind. I had no title or name to give her, at least none that she wanted. She refused to be Daringotl. Not that I blame her. It is not as pleasing to the ear as my name. I am Ahuizotl Do. And to that end, because she is both clever and funny, she creates for me the 'Ahuizotl Do List'. Like the 'Honey Do List' for other stallions? Sweep the temple, fill the cracks in the exterior, weatherproof the outside furniture, sweep what we call a garage. It's a cove where we dock our boat, but she calls it a garage. She must miss life in more normal situations.
“But this is life, and it suffices for us both,” Ahuizotl said, turning from the audience and rolling off the couch. “Do you need help?”
“Your turn for diaper duty!” Daring called.
“Again?” Ahuizotl called back, with some dismay.
“Don't you complain! You've got hands. I could make you do it with your mouth,” Daring warned.
Ahuizotl looked prepared to complain, but he only nodded, smiled and said, “Yes, dear...”
While the dark jungle is now traded for a bathroom, there is still humidity: a shower runs full blast, the steam from its hot water filling the room. On the counter, just by the sink, sits a half-empty tube of suspicious lubricant. Its label reads, “Industrial-Strength Masturbation Cream.”
Pitiable sobbing can be heard burbling in the shower. Behind the curtain, Discord lies in a fetal position as the water cascades upon every inch of frazzled hair and rotting flesh.
“Can’t get clean,” he mumbles between sobs. “Can’t get clean, can’t get clean.”
Suddenly, he realizes he’s being watched. Gathering himself together, Discord turns off the shower. On a ring nearby hang three towels: “His”, “Hers”, and “Its.” Guess which one he grabs.
Discord looks at the towel he grabs (“Hers” of course!) as if he doesn’t know what it’s for. Then he wraps it around his neck, wearing it like a cape. He sighs mirthfully, recalling his glory days as Captain Goodguy.
As he steps out of the shower fully nude, there’s an… interesting change to his anatomy. Were his penis to enter a contest of size with a Tic-Tac, the Tic-Tac would win.
“Depressing, isn’t it?” Discord says. “It turns out the witch doctor only shrinks heads. That’s not why I was weeping, though. I’m usually much more composed, even under these circumstances, but this last story broke me.”
Discord grabs another towel (this one marked “Its”) and begins drying himself off. “I mean, we let the writers get away with a lot of things in this sexually scurrilous series, what with the BDSM and the drug abuse and the blackmail rape, but marriage?!” He shivers. “Now there’s a lifetime of torment!”
With a deft movement, Discord reaches for a bottle of bleach from behind his back. He unscrews the cap, then reaches up to grab one horn. He twists it, causing his head to pop open like a trash can, revealing a brain as moths escape.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to scrub those ghastly images of a happy family from my brain before I start getting nightmares.” He pours the chemical into his head, sounds of something sizzling as the scent of ozone drifts into the air with a plume of white smoke.
The sex dungeon is every bit as dark and gloomy as when last it was left, the tools for kinky torment lying unused and ignored for now. However, there is a new addition.
The very Princess of the Sun herself, strapped uncomfortably to a wooden table, her forelegs and wings tied around her body with thick leather straps, bright-red ball gag plugging what might have been a scream for help. Her most prized possession—her round, white flanks—hangs from the end of the table, her forelegs spread into the classic A-position, each one strapped to one leg of the table.
She hears a squeal of old door hinges, and although she tries to lift her head, the chains on her choker keep her down. Through a sudden milky square of light walks the shodden and demented form of Discord. The fragrance following him is earthy and rotten, and that, coupled with his gross appearance, makes her wetter, for one reason or another.
“Greetings, clop connoisseurs!” he bleats as he sets down a box he’d carried in. He opens it, reaches inside, and pulls out a comfy purple bean bag chair. “Welcome, once again, to Tales From the Clop!”
He sets the beanbag behind Celestia with a muted thud and a cloud of dust. “Before we begin tonight’s titillating tale,” Discord begins with a wave of his finger, “I feel I should warn you that it contains some 'light' vore. I don’t even really know what that means—are they eating light, or getting eaten by light, or…?”
Discord shrugs. “Oh well. I suppose it doesn’t matter. You know that one rule about the Internet: if it exists...”
He reaches into the box and pulls out a lightbulb with a suspiciously long screw coming to a flared point at the end. With a smile on his fetid face, he shoves the lightbulb into Celestia’s sopping snatch, eliciting a muted, excited groan out of her. It bubbles into pleased giggling as he screws the lightbulb further inside her until finally, it lights up.
Discord gives Celestia’s butt an affectionate pat, admiring the way her soft fanny jiggles under his touch, before settling into his beanbag chair with a comic book he pulls out from under his arm, opening it to read under his new rump-light. “I’m always open to try out a new kink, so let’s see what happens in today’s story, Bum Deal.”
The mud stuck to his pure white hooves, no matter how hard he shook them off. The earthy smell of the jungle around him was equally grotesque and clingy. He felt a tickling sensation on his royal flanks, and with a girlish yelp, Prince Blueblood swung his marvelous blonde tail to swat at whatever heinous insect had found its way there.
“Congratulations, Your Highness,” said Butterup nonchalantly. “That speck of dirt will never harm anypony again.”
“Drat it all!” Blueblood growled as he listened in on the jungle’s conversations around him. “Of all the places in Equestria, he just had to pick here! Why couldn’t we make this exchange closer to civilization? Closer to water? Closer to the nearest spa?!”
Despite his years of service and loyalty to the Prince, Butterup had become worn down with time. His patience had grown thinner than his once-red mane, and sagged more than the skin on his greying neck. “I’m sure Dr. Caballeron prefers privacy of the utmost caliber, Your Highness,” he sighed.
“Privacy is what you earn when you buy a castle,” Prince Blueblood sniffed. His regal posture unfailing, he strode through the muddy brush, his muzzle high in the air, eyes closed, showing the local wildlife who the real king of the jungle was.
Flanking the Prince and Butterup were a pair of Canterlot Royal Guards—white pegasi clad in golden armor with bored looks in their eyes, desiring to be anywhere but here. Unlike Blueblood, it wasn’t that they hated the jungle; it was that they hated Blueblood.
In either case, what was more important was the treasure chest the two Royal Guards carried between them. In Blueblood’s opinion, the box itself was more valuable than the item it carried, but that was mostly because the box was designed to closely resemble his face, and since it resembled the royal puss, of course it had to be carried on a royal purple pillow with gold trimmings, on a gold throne, on two poles, on the backs of not one, but two Royal Guards.
Because.
One of the guards stumbled over a jutted rock, threatening to topple the chest’s throne. Thankfully, he and the other guard were able to correct their balance just before the chest fell off. Once everything was back in place, they returned to their rigid postures and mighty strides.
“Do take care not to drop the box, gentlecolts,” Blueblood called. As usual, he didn’t even look in their direction as he barked his orders, nose still in the air.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” Butterup said with a nod so deep it was almost a bow. “It is my fault for assigning such clumsy Royal Guards!”
Both Guards growled beneath the sounds of the jungle, unheard by the ungrateful nobles as they continued their trek.
The little clearing here in the jungle was more than enough, Caballeron thought. It was easy enough to find if you knew where to go and what to watch out for. Heck, you didn’t even really need a map for it, just a general knowledge of the landscape. It helped that Caballeron and his client had worked a neat flag system out in case he was dumb enough to get lost: red meant go north, blue meant go south, green meant go east, and yellow meant go west.
Caballeron reclined a bit as he and his henchmen ate a light and early dinner of hay, chewing his helping in contemplation, thinking of the awesome prize that was being brought to him this moment. He’d waited since he was a colt to get his hooves on a treasure so precious—the very idea that such a deal had landed right in his lap was nothing short of a miracle.
Nearby, the giant box-cage they brought rattled ferociously, its thick iron walls echoing with a hungry growl. Caballeron sneered as the creature contained inside roared. “Mierda,” he said. “The sedative must have worn off.” He looked to one of his henchponies—the one with the black fedora—and cocked his head in the direction of the cage.
With a nod, the henchpony took an odd apparatus—a gun-shaped thing—and put it through a barred, square hole in the giant box. He wrapped one hoof around the plunger and pumped the box full of the gaseous sedative.
The thing inside the box quieted gradually, until finally falling silent.
Caballeron returned to his meal and his daydream for all of five seconds before he heard a sound. His henchponies all stood up, weapons ready.
“Why are the flies as big as my royal head?!”
“Y-Your Highness, I—”
“My hooves are filthy and tired! I demand to be carried! You! Yes, you! Let your companion carry the box; you’ll carry me!”
“But, sire, you—”
“That’s an order from your Prince! Do you deny your Prince his orders?!”
Caballeron rolled his eyes. “Stand down,” he ordered with a groan. “It is merely the client.”
Prince Blueblood rode into the clearing on the back of one of the Royal Guards, reclining lazily, his back against the Guard’s head. His blue eyes carried this haughty look that was accented well by his pursed sneer, his blonde-gold mane spilling over one shoulder. He was followed by a meek, aged unicorn and another Royal Guard, this one carrying a fanciful-looking treasure chest.
Caballeron’s eyes widened as they landed on that chest. It was hilariously gaudy, bejeweled to the point of near-hideousness, pearl-white with gold-leaf trimmings. He analyzed it a bit further… was it…
He looked to Prince Blueblood. Then to the chest. Then he sighed.
The Prince glanced at the Royal Guard carrying the chest, then motioned his eyes towards Caballeron’s group. Caballeron caught the look of consternation in the guard’s otherwise brotherly eyes. “Announcing the presence of His Royal Highness, the Prince Blueblood!” announced the Guard.
How in Equestria he was able to say it without sighing or rolling his eyes was beyond Caballeron.
Blueblood dismounted his Guard and walked towards Caballeron, extending a hoof meant to be kissed. “Caballeron, I presume?”
Ignorant of the Prince’s expectations, Caballeron reached his own hoof out and shook Blueblood’s hard enough to jiggle his teeth. “That’s Doctor Caballeron,” he corrected. “You must be Blueblood.”
Blueblood removed his hoof from Caballeron’s clutch, wiping it on a nearby rock to get the commoner cooties off. “That’s Prince Blueblood, if you please.”
“Pardon my rudeness, Your Highness,” Caballeron said with a nod, “but we must move quickly. You brought the trade, si?”
“Yes,” nodded the Prince, “I brought the trade, see?” He motioned towards the hideously ornate chest.
The Royal Guard with the brotherly eyes took that as his cue and set the chest on the ground with a thump. Blueblood’s eyes widened. “C-Careful with that, you great lummox!” he shouted. “What’s in that box is more valuable than your own lives!”
Caballeron’s henchponies gave each other uncomfortable glances at the Prince’s statement. The Royal Guard that had carried the Prince into the clearing—the seafoam-white pegasus with ocean-green eyes—hid a contemptible glare as the meek unicorn frowned demurely.
“Sire,” the meek unicorn whispered into Blueblood’s ear, “d-don’t you think that last statement was uncalled for?”
“Oh please,” Blueblood sniffed, “they’re Royal Guards. Their drill instructors treat them like dirt all the time. Why should I be any different?”
Caballeron cleared his throat. “I do not mean to sound rude, Your Highness, but if we are to make this trade, we must do it tonight.” He cocked his head toward the giant box as the gathered groups fell silent. There was soft snoring inside.
Blueblood walked over to the box, excitement growing inside him, his face crumpling upwards with a boyish smile. He suddenly found himself blocked by Caballeron’s henchponies. “Excuse me?!” he nearly shouted.
The henchponies shushed him.
“First you forget my title, then you block me from the prize I’m trading for, now you tell me to SHUSH?!” Blueblood’s face—the one that smiled on millions of magazine covers—bared his teeth, his eyes squinting into angry slivers, the light from the fire casting his predatory shadow upon a large nearby rock.
Caballeron stuck out a foreleg, stopping Blueblood from carrying on. “Your Highness, your prize is asleep. I recommend you not wake it up, entiendes?”
“Then why are your henchponies keeping me from at least catching a quick peek?” he asked in a hushed, angry tone. “You wouldn’t happen to be trying to cheat a Prince, would you?”
Caballeron glared him down. Granted, he had a… reputation. Caballeron wasn’t exactly the most honest pony, but he liked to think he was as good as his word. It wasn’t his fault his business partners weren’t more careful about how he phrased his sentences.
He huffed hot air into Prince Blueblood’s face, a scowl on his lips. “Don’t insult me, Prince,” he growled. Caballeron looked to his henchponies and nodded. They parted at his command.
Carefully, Blueblood trotted towards the box. Now that he was closer, he could tell the box was actually shuddering from the force of the snoring. Like an excited little colt chancing a peek at his Hearth’s-Warming gifts, Blueblood stood on the tips of his hooves to look in through the small, barred window.
And there she was. She was only an inky shape amidst imprisoning darkness, but it was definitely her. Her body, long and huge, trailed from one end of her rectangular cell to the other, small coins of starlight twinkling off the chains that bound her to the cell’s floor. Even in the darkness, she was magnificent.
It was difficult, but somehow Prince Blueblood pulled his eyes away from the beautiful creature in the cage, turning his attention to Caballeron. “Well, Your Highness?” asked the doctor. “I take it she is to your satisfaction, si?”
Wordlessly, Blueblood nodded, the boyish grin still on his face.
“Then let’s see what’s in your box,” Caballeron said, turning to look at the chest now resting on the ground.
Blueblood gave them the cue. The Royal Guard with brotherly eyes removed a key from under his wing, inserted it into the keyhole, then turned. The Prince’s pearled visage was decapitated, revealing the treasure inside the chest.
…A comic book.
Its cover was glossy and beautiful, depicting a wild-maned villain cackling as she looked down upon a helpless city. The title, embossed in gold, read “THE MANE-IAC has RISEN!”
The Royal Guards gawked at it, insulted. A comic book? Worth more than their lives?!?!
It was Caballeron’s turn to grin like a foal on Hearth’s-Warming Eve. “Finally,” he said breathlessly, “after all my years of searching, I can finally add you to my collection!”
Blueblood shrugged. “I don’t see why you’re into such things, Ca—Dr. Caballeron,” he said. “A pony as educated as yourself should pursue a different hobby.”
“Like collecting endangered animals for my personal zoo?” Caballeron suggested sarcastically. “You don’t appreciate the value of something like this! This was the limited edition Super Origins of Power Ponies villain Mane-iac, published November 1973!” His voice grew more high-pitched as he continued, barely in control of himself. “I have the 30-Year Anniversary Edition rerelease from 2003, but it’s, you know, the art was recolored and there were production notes and a different ending and so on, so it’s nowhere near as valuable!”
Smiling, Blueblood rolled his eyes as Caballeron went on and looked back into the giant cage’s window to admire his prize.
“They originally produced at least thirty thousand copies of this book,” Caballeron continued, “but they were all later recalled after continued complaints. None of my sources could tell me what the complaints were, but all the copies recovered were then destroyed. All but eighteen—one for each then-member of Magic Press Comics.”
Unable to control himself any longer, Caballeron reached down, slowly, into the treasure chest to carefully lift the comic out. He undid the protective plastic slip with all the care of a surgeon, sliding the book out as his eyes glistened and his smile broadened. “It’s finally mine,” he chuckled, “at long last!”
Then he opened it.
Then he flipped through the pages, skimming them, admiring the artwork.
Then he reached the end.
Then his smile faded away.
Then his mouth became a frown.
Then it became clenched teeth as his eyes bulged angrily.
“…Boss?” asked one of his henchponies worriedly. “Something wrong?”
“¿Qué es esta mierda?!” Caballeron bellowed, wheeling around to Blueblood.
Blueblood looked back at his angry trading client, not noticing that the creature inside the cage stirred at the volume of Caballeron’s voice. “What?” Blueblood said. “You told me to get that book for you, I got it. What’s the problem?”
Caballeron marched over to Blueblood angrily, waving the comic about. “¡Tonto de los cojones! Where’s the ending?!”
Again, the creature stirred.
“Boss,” said another of Caballeron’s henchponies cautiously, “m-maybe you shouldn’t be so loud?”
Blueblood turned away from the box completely. “Are you accusing me of fraud?” he asked venomously.
Caballeron clenched his teeth. “As you Equestrians say, ‘if the horseshoe fits!’” He threw down the open comic at Blueblood’s hooves. Much to the Prince’s surprise, it was in fact, blank.
“I, er…”
“What are you saying, Prince?” Caballeron spat. “That you didn’t think to inspect the comic book to make sure it wasn’t tampered or damaged?” He groaned, throwing a foreleg into the air in frustration. “You... nerds! ...And your lack of simple foresight!”
Blueblood’s mouth pulled downward, rocketing so far south it stretched his chin, his eyes bulging angrily. “What did you call me?! You dare call your Prince a hhhhnnnnnnnneeeerrrrrrrrrd?!”
Blueblood had power. Prestige. He’d never so much as had a hoof raised against him. He was in such a place, such standing, that any threat of violence would be silenced. All it took from Caballeron was one glare and a puff of hot air from his nostrils and Blueblood cowered in fear.
Caballeron’s henchponies gathered around the spectacle, glares and hooves and weapons at ready. The Royal Guards did likewise as Butterup ducked for cover. Caballeron snorted. “Do you know what we had to go through just to get that thing for you?!”
“Thing?!” Blueblood spat. At Caballeron’s unintended insult, Blueblood suddenly found the courage to lean menacingly into Caballeron’s face. “The Tatzlwurm is no mere thing! It is an endangered species! It is meant to be treated with the utmost respect! Like me!”
The two ponies argued loudly as one of Caballeron’s henchponies looked suspiciously at the comic’s final, blank page. He blinked, taken aback by a small splotch on the page. Upon closer inspection, he realized the blotch was really a paragraph of very small words.
“¡Mala suerte! The Tatzlwurm isn’t the only dumb animal getting endangered tonight!” Dr. Caballeron roared, bursting forth suddenly to shove the Prince. Blueblood found himself off his forelegs and slamming into the cage behind him with enough force to jiggle his teeth. Inside the cage, the Tatzlwurm blinked her eyes—all six of them—as she groaned awake.
*****
The Royal Guards charged Dr. Caballeron, just as two of his three henchponies jumped them. A brawl began around the campfire, nothing but a mass of swirling hooves and gnashing teeth and shouts and quite a bit of antisocial behavior goin’ on there, now don’tcha know. However, the third henchpony ignored the fight, instead picking up the discarded incomplete comic.
“’Whatever you do, don’t read this sentence aloud’,” the henchpony read aloud.
At the henchpony’s words, the comic book began to glow. The henchpony dropped the comic the moment it blinded him. He screamed as he turned to run, but because he couldn’t see, he didn’t realize he was running towards the Blueblood’s-head-shaped chest until he’d already tripped over it, spun in the air a few times, and landed face-first on the ground.
The fighting calmed down a little as the comic book’s glow fell over the entire encampment. All conscious ponies present turned their attention to the shaft of light rocketing up from the comic’s empty page, their jaws slack, their eyes wide with surprise. Just as Blueblood thought to ask what the everlovin’, blue-eyed heck was going on, a long green something slithered slowly out of the open page.
The long green something reached high up into the air, then paused. Everypony could hear the blood pumping in their own ears. Suddenly, the long green something shot straight down, slamming the jungle floor with a sound loud enough to scare away the birds in the trees.
The long green something was joined by more long green somethings, each one slapping down onto the jungle floor. Blueblood glanced about, noticing how everypony huddled together in abject terror. He whimpered as he looked back ahead to see what those long green somethings were bringing up along with them.
Up and out of the shaft of light was lifted a menacing mare, dark blue pelt dressed in purple spandex, piercing green eyes, and jagged, shark-like teeth that lined a crooked, curved smile. The long green somethings—Blueblood figured they were half-tentacle, half-mane—pushed her up, higher and higher, letting her dangle like a hanged body. As she was pulled from the comic, she threw her head back and a cackle billowed from her open mouth, the moonlight above shedding tears of white upon this sordid scene as the shaft of light finally dissipated.
“Well, well, well,” she cooed as she looked down upon her prey. “What have we here?” Her tentacles did all the walking for her, jabbing their pointed ends into the dirt, moving her along the way spider-legs would. She clicked her tongue against her teeth hungrily.
“The Mane-iac,” Dr. Caballeron whispered.
“That’s me, handsome,” the Mane-iac said flippantly. A few of her tentacles came up to curve before her as she stopped in front of the party. She leaned forward on the hair-tentacles, her hind legs kicking upward girlishly, her face serene, her smile almost romantic. Her eyes scanned Dr. Caballeron—his intelligent eyes, his dark mane, his masculine musk and stubble. She licked her lips.
“I gotta say, you’re the finest thing I’ve laid eyes on in a while,” she said, dreamily. “Of course, being trapped inside a magic comic book means I haven’t seen anything besides the same corny writing and flat characters and childish artwork for years.” She got out of her coquettish position, stretching calmly, drawing attention to her alluring curves.
Mane-iac smiled as she reclined a bit against her tentacles, which ran behind her to form a comfy chair. “Mm,” she giggled, her eyes landing on Blueblood, “oh, but this one—!” Her tentacles moved her over behind Blueblood, slithering like serpents, getting a better look at Blueblood’s features.
“Now this one’s really good for Mommy’s eyes!” she said, her voice suddenly becoming buttery soft. The tentacles all looked to her as she nodded to them, giggling, as if they agreed he was quite a catch.
Had Blueblood known any damn thing about the Power Ponies comics, he would have known that the Mane-iac actually had hypnotic powers up till about the mid-80’s, before one of the head writers (A cow named Alan Moo, if I’m not mistaken), decided that hypnotism had nothing to do with hair, and wrote a story in which she lost that ability. (It was a pretty awesome story too, added a lot to the character. I wish you’d have read it.)
So when Blueblood and Mane-iac made eye-contact, she didn’t hesitate to use her old, forgotten power. He tried to look away, but come on, her eyes were very pretty. Kinda hard not to look at. Like bright red coins sparkling on green boats amidst an ocean of white. The way they dilute when she’s happy or excited. Their intensity was hard to deny...
Uh, r-right, where was I?
“Yes… good,” Blueblood mumbled stupidly, looking at the Mane-iac with undiluted admiration. His lips turned up into the first genuine, unselfish smile he’d made in a long time.
Two of her hair-tentacles scooped down, brushing Blueblood’s face affectionately before getting underneath his body. Then one of them slid tenderly between his testicles, drawing a soft sigh of surprise out of the Prince. His royal face reddened as he felt her gentle touch, the very tip of the hair-tentacle tickling him as it coiled upward and poked at his anus.
With a careful force, the other tentacle lifted Blueblood up off the ground and cradled him, easing him onto his back and into a reclined position against itself. He looked down, still under her spell, and smiled as he saw his penis fall from its sheath, dark and healthy and excited.
The Mane-iac grinned, biting her bottom lip at the sight as her mane brought her above Blueblood for a better view. Another tentacle came forward, this one a bit more curious than its previous sisters. It slid around Blueblood’s shaft, coiling upward around its currently-short length, and—as gently as you would stroke a kitten—began to massage his member. As she teased his penis to its full length, the Mane-iac giggled at the look on Blueblood’s face. It was the same expression you’d find on a happy drunk after a good night’s intoxication.
“Um…” Butterup looked aside to the Royal Guards, who watched on in morbid curiosity. “Sh-Shouldn’t you be stopping her?”
The oceanic-colored Guard shrugged nonchalantly as he turned around. “Hey, his new special somepony is apparently worth more than our lives,” he retorted, his voice a grumpy, bored baritone. “I say they deserve each other.” He spread his wings and took off, becoming a black shape against the light of Luna’s moon.
Butterup looked to the other Guard, into his brotherly eyes. The Guard sniffed. “They do make a cute couple,” he said with his soft, almost paternal voice. “Call us back for the wedding.” With that, the Guard unfurled his own wings and lifted, following his partner into the night.
Butterup then looked back to the scene at hoof and gulped. The Mane-iac’s tentacles were outright fucking Blueblood now: the one tentacle that poked at his anus had now invaded it, slowly at first, then gently and gradually widening it, working its way in. Slowly and powerfully it pumped Blueblood’s ass as its sister stroked his shaft, which had grown into its full erect height and stood as proudly as a sword sticking up in a battlefield. The Prince’s delighted moans would forever haunt Butterup’s nightmares.
So Butterup fled. I mean come on, what elsewas he gonna do?
*****
There came times in the life of Dr. Caballeron when he had to simply go ¡Joder! and run for his life. This was one of those times.
His henchponies had fled by the time the Mane-iac had sauntered towards them, and were probably dicking around somewhere. She didn’t seem too perturbed by their escape, but then again, she paid special attention to him, not to them. Caballeron decided it was better to flee and leave the Prince to his fate than to be included in the Mane-iac’s sick little game.
He quietly tip-toed behind the Tatzlwurm’s cage. He was breathing so heavily, he was sure he’d get caught. Besides Blueblood’s obscene moaning and the Mane-iac’s girlish giggling, there were no other sounds. Caballeron rested a hoof on the side of the cage, gathering himself back together before fleeing, heading home, and forgetting this bullshit ever happened with some help from his good friends Blue Mane and Sammule Adams.
Caballeron didn’t see the black tentacle worming out from the barred window until it was already wrapped around his hind leg. He found himself launched into the air with a jerk, up becoming down, down becoming up, left becoming right, and right becoming whatever the fuck it wanted.
With a terrible sound, the top of the cage was destroyed as the Tatzlwurm shot up from its prison, its shackles breaking and flung into the air like confetti. It roared angrily as it saw its captor falling toward the ground. Its strange mouth blossomed open, a small army of black tentacles at the ready. One lashed out for Caballeron, catching him mid-air around his left hind leg.
Caballeron stared down into the mouth of the Tatzlwurm and shrieked in terror. As he struggled, another tentacle shot forth and wrapped around his right foreleg. Then another ensnared his middle. Then a fourth around his tail. Together they pulled him closer to its maw.
“No, please!” he begged, tears in his eyes. “Not like this! I’m not ready, I’m not ready!”
His pleas went unheard. The Tatzlwurm popped him into its mouth like he was a delicate treat. Its mouth closed around him, each lip nuzzling him gently as he went in. For some odd reason, it left his front end outside, Caballeron thrashing and screaming fruitlessly. The Tatzlwurm giggled mischievously.
Had Blueblood been awake enough to speak, he would have explained to Caballeron that female Tatzlwurms were very playful. He would have also said that the Tatzlwurm in question had been captured in the middle of mating season—and since there were no males around, she’d find her excitement some other way.
The Tatzlwurm suckled on Caballeron, gathering his taste in her mouth, humming. Inside its mouth, Caballeron felt his lower section become damp and warm, the strange pulling sensation of the suckling and the vibration of her humming awakening his loins. Needless to say, he had the strangest boner right about now.
It gulped and gulped, its tentacles and tongues massaging Caballeron’s hind legs—all three of them. Each pull felt calculated and careful, as if the Tatzlwurm was aware that going too hard would break the tiny stallion in its mouth. Strong enough to get excited reactions out of Caballeron, but gentle enough to not crush anything. Its affection was tender and strong. And utterly bizarre.
One tentacle wrapped around his penis sensually, and the suckling changed its focus. The tongues stayed on his legs while the tentacles moved to taste his stallionhood, swallowing it, gulping it, teasing it until it was at full length and pulsing hot.
Caballeron gasped as he felt one of the tentacles find its way to his anus. The Tatzlwurm’s tentacles weren’t anywhere near as aerodynamic or amorphous as the Mane-iac’s hair—instead being fat, sluglike lengths of black flesh. He clenched his teeth and steeled himself for the anal rape about to take place.
The tentacle gathered the saliva of the Tatzlwurm’s mouth and put it in Caballeron’s taut starfish, getting a yelp out of him. Once it felt he was properly lubricated, the Tatzlwurm slowly inserted its tentacle into his ass, stretching him painfully, pumping a scream or two out of him.
As if to stop the noise, one of the Tatzlwurm’s tentacles slithered out of its mouth, trailing up Caballeron’s form until it reached his face. He had all of one second to realize he might want to shut his gob—but alas, it was too late. The Tatzlwurm shut him up by stuffing a tentacle into his mouth.
He had half a mind to bite, but on the other hoof, angering the Tatzlwurm any further would probably be a bad idea. Instead, he decided to play along: he suckled on the tentacle, taking in its salty, earthy taste. It shuddered in his mouth, surprised by his reciprocated excitement. It invaded his oral cavity a little more, intentionally touching the roof of his mouth, going back enough to trigger his gag reflexes. Caballeron hadn’t given a BJ like this since that time he experimented with his sexuality at university.
The suckling intensified as the Tatzlwurm began losing control of itself. Caballeron felt something rocketing inside him—a heat in his chest, bearing all the way down to his penis, building and coiling until finally springing. He gagged on the Tatzlwurm’s tentacle as he came inside its mouth. It made a sound of surprise, halfway between a gasp and a shrill bleat.
Just as he heard that noise, Caballeron felt the tentacle in his mouth twitch.
Oh shit.
Then it pulled out, continuing to twitch, more dangerously than it did before. Oh double shit.
Then from its tip it burst, a white splash of translucent liquid, the first stream getting Caballeron in the face. Its touch was sticky and boiling hot, causing him to gag. He opened his mouth in shock only for the second stream to fill it. Then the third splashed his shoulder. Then the fourth trailed his chest. Then finally, the fifth stream merely dribbled down the phallic tentacle. The Tatzlwurm rubbed its softening tentacle on his face, cleaning him a bit of its primal lubrication. It felt oddly comforting, gentle and motherly. After spitting out the Tatzlcum, Caballeron smiled at its display of affection.
The suckling on his lower section, which had become furious as Caballeron was squeezed to his climax, relaxed a bit more, smoothly gulping down Caballeron’s seed. From the satisfied purr, Caballeron guessed it must enjoy the taste. The purring sent a relaxing vibrating sensation all throughout Caballeron’s body.
The Tatzlwurm then set Caballeron down gently, opening its flower-shaped mouth and letting him drop out. It crawled around its new object of affection, coiling around him the way a loving pet would its master. When it was sure Caballeron was in the middle of its coil, it rested its chin on its tail and purred in satisfaction.
Caballeron was too stunned to do anything else but sit there, goggle-eyed.
Her tentacles worked his ass and dick faster, pumping up and down. While the dick-rubbing was truly pleasant, the sensations in his ass threatened to tear apart his spine, shocking his muscles with every thrust. Admittedly, it hurt a bit at first, but as she continued to explore his rectum, the more his pain melted into a glow.
Blueblood had never been fucked in the butt before. He’d always considered it vulgar and disgusting—he didn’t even do it himself when he was fucking mares, as tight-looking and supple and delicious as their asses were.
And the moment he saw Mane-iac’s, it put every last ass he’d ever bit or spanked to shame. She’d shed her costume by now, letting her slim and naked figure be gazed by the whole world. Maybe it was the comic book dimensions at work, but her slim middle swelled into a wide ass with muscles so tight you could bounce a bit off it. “I want you, my beautiful pet,” she cooed as her tentacles hoisted her over her lover, her ass facing his… face.
Her mane let Blueblood recline a little more as it settled Mane-iac gently onto Blueblood’s face. Her generously-proportioned butt cheeks spread around his muzzle, her puckered anus kissing his lips. She let out a girlish yelp as she felt Blueblood’s spritely tongue tease her.
A tentacle slapped Blueblood. “Greedy little fucker!” she growled. “Not until Mommy says!”
As punishment, the tentacle wrapped around Blueblood’s penis yanked it, stretching it as far as it would go. Mane-iac grinned as she felt him scream into her ass. It sent tingles up and down her spine. She giggled like a little filly as she ground her butt on his face. Her giggles became more melodious and bubbly as she felt his hooves come up and grab her flanks. “Mommy didn’t say when you could do that,” she said softly, “but I’ll let it slide, just this once.”
The way her butt cupped into his hooves felt… right. Just like he imagined it was, the Mane-iac’s ass was truly a marvel: soft to the touch, with a downy pelt that tickled the frogs of his hooves in just the right ways. There was a layer of fat on those flanks that blanketed the muscle, his hooves sinking slightly into each cheek, then stopping at the marble gluteus maximus just beneath.
The Mane-iac then began rocking her hips, gyrating on his face, keeping an eye on his dick and an ear out for his delectable moans. “Oh, y-yes,” she growled. “Come on, pet. Come on. I’ve—I’ve been so bad to you. Mommy’s a bad girl. Spank Mommy, won’t you?”
Blueblood obeyed. He felt her ass jiggle on his face as she squeaked adorably from the force of his hoof.
“Oh, pet, yes,” she moaned. “Yes, Mommy loves it when you get mean!”
He took that as an invitation. Another spank, another squeal. Her voice melted from the squeal into cute giggling. Suddenly, Blueblood felt cold hooves joining the tentacle on his member, rubbing it on either side. “What you don’t know, pet—Mommy’s mean, too!”
She squeezed his member playfully, grinning as she felt another gasp under her butt. With a quick movement, she kissed it. Then licked it. Then, opening her mouth wide, she put her head on one side and quickly raked her teeth against it, once again feeling her pet’s screams buzzing her butt. She giggled as she raked his dick slower... slower... slower, until his scream became an entranced moaning.
Her laugh was cut short as she felt teeth sink into her sizable bottom, not deep enough to break any skin, but sharp and sudden enough to turn her laughter into a shriek.
Just as she looked down to yell at her pet, the Mane-iac’s complaint was scrubbed away by another haughty spank on her ass, followed by gentle massaging. Finally, she felt Blueblood’s tongue glide against her anus, getting a good taste of her. She shivered, biting her lower lip. Her pet knew how to play.
Slowly, he rolled his tongue around her anus, swirling in wide circles at first, then tightening it, spiraling closer and closer and closer until his tongue reached her pucker. Then the tongue retreated behind a set of lips that kissed her anus.
Mane-iac was sweating more than she did when she went mare-against-mare with Mistress Mare-velous’s out-of-control Ultimate Form back in Power Ponies, issue 407. (You remember that one, right?) She began gyrating harder on Blueblood’s face, wanting more of that teasing tongue and those luscious lips. She was being driven crazy—well, okay, she was being driven crazier—her pussy leaking so much, it was running down her thighs and wetting Blueblood’s fine suit.
He bit her ass again, this time much more lightly, much more tenderly. He chewed gently, his round teeth grinding against the downy pelt, the layer of fat hiding the awesome muscle. Blueblood gave her another spank.
“Mommy hates being teased!” the Mane-iac lied, bullets of sweat rolling down her face, shoulders, and back. She wanted to growl the words, but instead they mewled out of her mouth, making her sound meek and submissive. Blueblood had gotten her good.
As revenge, she plunged her tentacle inside his anus. Hard. The scream muffled under her butt felt extra-delicious. “Get your tongue inside me, pet!”
Once again, Blueblood obeyed, finally inserting his tongue into her anus like he’d wanted to right from the start. His lips surrounded that anus, sucking as his tongue twirled as far deep inside as he could reach.
Mane-iac melted. The build-up to this sensation was so fucking worth it. The electricity nearly made her mane stand on end. (Well, it always stood on end, but you get the idea.)
“Oh, pet, you’re—ah!—you’re so beautiful,” she cooed. “Mommy—oh!—Mommy wants to reward you.” The Mane-iac then flattened herself onto Blueblood's body, lowering her head onto his head, giving him some… well, head.
His shaft was too big to fit in her mouth, so she had to get creative. Her hooves slid down, off his erect member, and onto the plump testicles beneath them. Gently, the Mane-iac stroked his balls as her velvet tongue traveled the length of his penis, up to the tip, where she planted a kiss. She felt Blueblood moan into her ass, the vibration making her giggle again.
She then wrapped her lips around his mighty head, giving it an initial, single hard suck. Mane-iac felt him gasp, a strange sensation indeed to feel in your anus, only exciting her further. She took in more of his length, suckling it softly as she worked her head downward as far as she could fit.
Then she began sucking harder and faster. Blueblood moaned more loudly, his sounds absorbed into Mane-iac’s magnificent ass. When she gave him a long, hard suck, Blueblood would give her a playful spank. When she gave him a series of quick, light sucks, Blueblood would massage her, drawing circles around her cutie marks. This routine of give-and-take ushered both ponies to an unexpected shared orgasm—Mane-iac’s come splattering Blueblood’s nice clothes and Blueblood’s come causing Mane-iac to choke.
She released his penis with a gag, his come still shooting up like a geyser, getting her in the chin, in the face. The come that missed rained back down, speckling her mane-tentacles with milky little stars. After three or four streams, Blueblood was tapped out.
Mane-iac’s hair-tentacles went right to work at cleaning their master, wiping off her pet’s come. Then, one after the other, each tentacle inserted itself into her mouth. She sucked the jizz off each one, cleaning them the way they cleaned her.
She swallowed. Then she looked down at Blueblood with her shimmering green eyes and an uncharacteristically warm smile.
Then she farted right in his mouth.
“That’s for coming too early,” Mane-iac pouted.
Blueblood’s mouth was still over her anus at the moment of flatulence, and the moment he tasted it, it knocked him right out of his hypnotic stupor. He gagged, spat, cussed, and shook his head as he pushed Mane-iac’s butt off his face. “What in—?!” he screamed. “Did you just pass gas in my royal orifice?!”
At his patience’s end with this whole scenario, Blueblood decided it was time he made his exit. Thinking quickly, he… uh… well, okay this might take a while.
Before he could do much, Blueblood found the Mane-iac lifted back up. Had it not been for the fart, he might have been sad to part with her glorious bottom. The hair-tentacles rearranged themselves, the Mane-iac’s naked body hanging just above his own, each tentacle wrapped around his fetlocks.
She looked down on him and sneered. “As pretty as you are, pet, I’m kinda bored with you now,” she said quickly, like a filly dismissing her involvement in a game. She looked around a bit. “Where’s that scruffy fella? He might not be as well-groomed as you, but he looks like he has some experience…”
“H-Hey!” Blueblood shouted. “I do so have experience!”
Mane-iac rolled her eyes. “Okay, so he just has more experience,” she amended.
Nearby, the Tatzlwurm snuggled where it sat, coiled up and lightly dozing. Struggling out from one of its crooks was a crook. Mane-iac screwed her screwy eyes a little closer, making out the familiar masculine shape of Dr. Caballeron as he popped out from under the Tatzlwurm. She licked her lips.
“Hey, handsome!” she called as she dropped Blueblood. Her tentacles carried her towards her next victim. “Don’t go! I haven’t even gotten to put you in a giant hot dog bun yet!”
Dr. Caballeron gasped. Just behind him, the Tatzlwurm rustled, shaken from its cat-nap by the sound of the Mane-iac’s voice. It shot straight up, rearing to its full height, stopping the Mane-iac in her tracks.
Before the Mane-iac could so much as think, the Tatzlwurm opened her mouth and out shot the squadron of black tentacles, wrapping around the ends of her mane and yanking her forward. The Mane-iac gritted her jagged teeth. “Oh, you wanna fight, huh?!” she growled.
With a mighty grunt, the Mane-iac yanked the Tatzlwurm forward, up, then over her, suplexing it on the ground behind her. The nearby trees were shaken down like they owed physics money. The Tatzlwurm responded by drawing the Mane-iac into her mighty maw, clamping her inside. Her head shook, then from her lips burst the Mane-iac, fighting her way out.
A few of the Mane-iac’s hair tentacles managed to get out as well, poking the Tatzlwurm in the eyes as she fell onto the ground with a thud. Just as she turned around to face her foe, the Tatzlwurm spun its long, wormy body, smacking the Mane-iac like a baseball, sending her careening into the jungle. The Tatzlwurm chased after its quarry, intent on protecting its “mate.”
Dr. Caballeron and Blueblood observed this battle in bemusement, their eyes wide and captivated and utterly confounded. They both shared looks before finally getting the idea to run away. Which they did.
When they were far enough away that the sounds of battle died down, they stopped to catch their breaths. “That,” Blueblood said, “was the strangest thing I’ve ever done.”
“At least your partner was a pony,” Caballeron said under his breath.
Blueblood snapped to attention. “What?” he asked, smiling. “You’re saying the Tatzlwurm…?”
Caballeron turned away to hide his blush. He snorted as he continued to walk through the thick darkness of jungle, aiming for the nearest town. Rub it in, pendejo.
Having nowhere to go, as his servants had all abandoned him, Blueblood merely followed the Doctor. “Lucky stiff,” he whispered enviously.
And so, the sun sets, casting one last sheen of light over the Rainbow Falls Trade Show as it closes the day. The vendors pack their things--rolling up posters and maps, closing boxes and chests, leading exotic animals back into their cages. Throughout all this, the murmuring of the gathered crowds bubbles away as they recede like the tide.
But, away from prying eyes, there’s one last deal going down: one between a rotting draconequus and pair of familiar traveling salesponies nonpareil..
Discord throws a suitcase atop the small pile of his other trade valuables, popping it open to reveal quite the collection of bits of flesh. “And if it pleases you,” he says emphatically, “I’ll even throw in my collection of foreskins!”
One of the two salesponies sniffs, his red moustache bobbing nonchalantly. “Sorry,” he says, “we don’t work for tips.”
The other—identical in appearance to his brother, minus the moustache—paws at a thick book, its dusty cover depicting a silhouette of a mare and stallion in a rather compromising position. “Did you really think we’d trade the original Pony Sutra, as penned by Starswirl the Bearded, for a bunch of baubles we could find at any adult novelty store?”
The first troublemaker turned to the second. “Come, brother. Let’s make tracks for Canterlot. I’m positive there’s plenty of perverted ponies populating that place who’d prefer our pornographic product.”
As the two brothers put the Pony Sutra out of sight and turned to walk away from the deal, Discord’s rotting face twists into a frustrated scowl. Before they can so much as clear ten feet, the brothers recoil from the telltale flash of Discord’s sudden teleportation.
“Forget the foreskins!” Discord says smoothly. He reaches behind his back to pull out the boner-bulb from before. “This incandescent dildo can light up anyone’s day! It’s been, er… gently used, by none other than the very Princess Celestia herself.”
The two brothers look it over. Then they look to each other. They nod slowly. “Okay,” says the mustachioed brother, returning his attention to Discord. “Throw in the boner bulb and you’ve got yourself a deal!”
All of Discord’s valuables are loaded onto the brothers’ wagon (though it’s less a wagon and more a bizarre contraption on wheels), and the Pony Sutra is put into Discord’s eager clutches. He opens the book as the wagon-contraption pulls away, making for Canterlot.
Discord’s jaw drops as he takes in all the blank pages. Sheepishly, he puts the book under his wing. “I know what you all must be thinking,” he says. “‘But Discord, you handsome devil you! I thought we just got done reading a story about being careful when it comes to trade!’”
He leans in more closely, putting his lion paw beside his mouth. “I learned my lesson, certainly...” He winks. “But I don’t think they diiiiid~!”
Discord summons a lawn chair and reclines comfortably as he hears the Flim Flam Brothers begin screaming their heads off. No doubt that spell he’d cast on his valuables to turn them into living monster-dildos had finally taken effect. As the brothers scream and beg for their mother over the sound of the dildos screeching and pounding them mercilessly in the asses, Discord takes out a crayon and calmly begins drawing dirty pictures in the blank Pony Sutra.
“That’s all for this filthy frolic,” Discord says. “See you all again real soon for another twisted Tales From the Clop!”
