Just a harmless drink...
Sweetie Belle has always been an adorable little filly. Foalsitting her after all this time, you've grown quite close to one another. Time in the park, helping her with homework...the days spun into weeks and months, flowing together in the tapestry of your developing relationship. You'll never forget the times she's asked you to accompany her to her various school dances, nor the sisterhood-drama of her first estrus. Equines always seemed to grow so quickly; the doe-eyed foal matured rapidly before your eyes.
Rarity certainly was grateful for your help, and always welcomed you to stay as long as possible in the spare bedroom of her boutique. Although you were still something of a curiosity to the townsfolk, the Element of Generosity had always treated you with respect. So much so that she'd begun a very passive act around her friends whenever they dropped by to visit, much to the mysterious chagrin of little Sweetie Belle. With an increasing frequency, you'd find the filly curled up under a blanket upstairs as Rarity and her friends had their mare-time, moreso if she caught her sister staring at your rump or giving you a swift peck on the cheek. All-in-all, despite her pouting, your comforting presence was always more than enough to coax the teary-eyed foal from her cloak. It was sometimes nice to escape the lewder moments oversexed mares during their monthlies; you would usually sneak upstairs both to catch a breather and promise that the little darling had nothing to worry about from her sister.
"I only have eyes for you, my Sweetie Belle."
... in a platonic manner, of course.
One day, a particularity brazen Rarity alluded to possibly dropping Sweetie off at her parents' place and heading out to Canterlot with you for a weekend. It only made sense, given how flirtatiously she'd been behaving as of late.
As you sit once again in Rarity's abode, your mind winds back to all the times she'd "groomed" you with her lips and left her lingering hoof along your hand. Maybe you'll take her up on that offer someday. She's quite easy on the eyes, for a pony...
"Hey! Whatcha thinkin' about? " Sweetie Belle interrupts your current thoughts as you lay back on Rarity's chaise lounge. She's been gone for most of the day, and naturally, needed your foalsitting services once again. However, Sweetie Belle's behavior has been quite...forward...as of late
"Nothing, my little filly."
"Hmph." the foal pouts with her snout in disbelief, "you're not telling me the truth."
You merely shake your head. The innocent filly, once so easy to convince, has grown into quite the observant young mare. Looks like you'll be needing to be more open with her; it is about that time in her life for it anyway...
"Alright, I'll tell you," you begin while sitting up," but you have to promise not to tell anypony."
Sweetie Belle's face lights up instantly.
"Oh! You can tell me! You know I'll always keep a secret for you~" she croons, fluttering her eyelashes in a manner reminiscent of her older sister. She must have simply picked up the habit over time a paragon of innocence not to be questioned. You ignore her behavior and give a gentle smile.
"Well then," you bite your bottom lip, still quite unsure whether to divulge your thoughts to the foal. Unfortunately, your playfulness gets the better of you. "I'm thinking about your big sister."
"Oh! ...oh? .......oh." It is as if the foal's lungs can't find breath. Immediately, the formerly bouncing filly turns somber. "W-what about her?"
Your mind detects the slightest hint of venom laced within the last word, but you simply play it off. "Well, she certainly is quite pretty. And generous. And she lets me stay in the boutique. And she's a marvelous cook. And you know what else?" you rhetorically question the stoic-faced foal, looking up towards the ceiling. "She asked me out on a date to Canterlot. I think I'll take her up on it someday..."
Sweetie Belle remains silent. After many awkward seconds, you decide to inquire her thoughts.
"...what do you think Sweetie Belle? Do you think that your foalsitter has a shot with your big sis?"
She doesn't even blink.
"Haha, you're old enough to know about these things. I'm sure that you've heard at least something from her about what she could be planning for her and I in Canterlot. Perhaps a conversation with one of her friends? Or even a special outfit she might be making for the occasion? Come on now, what do you think?"
"Thirsty."
"Pardon me?"
"I think I'm thirsty." Sweetie states flatly. "I want something to drink."
"O-oh, alright then." Perhaps it was a mistake to ask something so personal from the foal. Perhaps she didn't quite have "that" level of understanding that most fillies her age did despite being 'of-age'. It would be understandable, given how sheltered she must be by her romanticist sister..."Would you like me to get you somethi-"
"No." Sweetie Belle interrupts, "I'll get it myself. You stay there."
"Ok then..." you sit yourself back down, unused to hearing such a commanding tone from the young foal. Looks like you might have made quite the blunder; the poor filly must feel terribly awkward about the whole scenario. You decide it would be best to drop the matter entirely. Soon enough, the foal returns from the kitchen levitating two bottles of delicious gingerbrew. You grin warmly, happy to see the filly who couldn't lift a pencil now able to perform such feats of telekinesis for so casual a task.
"Here you go!" she floats one over to you before setting her own to her left. "Drink up, and then we'll talk alllll about Rarity."
Well, at least it would seem that her mood has improved; an adorable sunshine-smile graces her face once more.
"Alright then, but only if you feel comfortable. You seemed a bit upset, and I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. You're getting older, but sometimes I need to remind myself that you're still just a filly." Sweetie Belle seems to twitch at your statement, but it could simply be from the sound of your dexterous hands cracking open the spicy drink. You inhale the aroma briefly, letting the ginger zap your olfactory system with a sigh. You always did love sharing a soda with the filly. It only makes sense that she'd feel more at-ease drinking one with you. Without a pause, you tip the bottle back and allow the first swig to enter your gullet as Sweetie Belle simply watches on.
You close your eyes and...ahhh, there it is! The zip, the spice, the heat! Fizzing as it travels down your throat, it certainly reminds you of the simpler times in life in its own way. You open your vision, and look towards Sweetie Belle.
"Well, aren't you going to...drink...yours...?"
Sweetie Belle isn't drinking her bottle. She isn't even looking at you. Instead, you are greeted with a lewd sight of Sweetie's bare bottom, plain to the world as her tail twitches actively to the left. With a soft grunt, a thin stream of foalish liquid splatters shamelessly against the elaborate tiling.
"Sweetie Belle! What the hell are...Sweetie Belle, I...Sweetie...Belle...?" Warm. So warm. Heat pricking every capillary as it surges through your very essence, screaming for an outlet. Gathering saliva, you swallow once in an attempt to quell the blistering fire in your throat. Alas, it is for naught. The flames lick you lower and you grip the bottle tightly.
"What's the matter? Feeling a bit hot?" Sweetie Belle coos her rehearsed words with mock-innocence. "Maybe you should have another sip to cool you off. It's a new type of ginger, straight from Zecora's hut. I'm sure she won't mind that I 'borrowed' some for us..."
Struggling to look at the bottlecap, it's clear that it had been tampered with; a thin hole was pricked into the top. Or at least it would have been clear, if you actually managed to tear your gaze away from the foal.
"What...what is this?" you still control your arms. You shatter the bottle in the corner of the boutique with a furious toss and sparkling soda explodes from inside.
"Your flank-fixation drink before our talk, of course." a pealing giggle sounds from Sweetie's throat. However, the sound echoes inside your skull, hypnotically bouncing off into your brain again and again. Your vision narrows to a tunnel as a black void threatens to overrun it. Your nostrils flare, and all you smell is Sweetie's excretions. Her foalish musk, her...heavenly, wonderful musk.
"What...is...this...?" you repeat again and again as if on autopilot, barely able to slur out the words. All of your muscles tense to hold you in place and threaten to crush your bones should you dare defy them.
"Oh, do you mean this?" Sweetie Belle wiggles her developing hips, sending the your eyes spinning with them. "This is my flank, silly. You should know that. Do you like it? I thought you were going to ask me about Rarity, but all you're doing is looking at my butt. I guess you're a bit distracted, huh?" she can't suppress another series of giggles.
"Rarity...Rarity...Sweetie Belle...?"
"Kneel down. You're too tall to have this special little 'talk' standing up."
You immediately comply, as if any objection is blown away by wind of an unexplainable desire to please. The filly begins to back herself towards you, flank-first. Your eyes catch a thin line of pink nestled inside a licorice-black flower.
"To answer your question from before, yes. Yes I have heard Rarity talking about you with her friends. But it isn't just about dating. It's about your body. It's about how she wants it, and how she's going to get it; how she's gonna take you away from me." she inches her rump further and further back.
She's close now, so close...you just want to reach out and, no, you have to remain defiant, you have to...taste this magnificent little creature. An angel who so generously offers herself for you to enjoy; you're unworthy, so unworthy of such attentions from the little princess.
You fall to your hands and knees, panting as your eyes remain hopelessly locked on Sweetie's hypnotic butt.
"You know what Rarity and her friends sound like? Like mean, selfish grown mares. They've even talked about you like you're some big, dumb animal, who's only good for rutting. But I know better," Sweetie's forbidden fruit begins to drip once more, responding to the increasing neediness of her voice, "You've been taking care of me all this time, like a big, strong stallion would for his mare. Why shouldn't you be mine? Why should you be hers? Why? Why?!" she squeals, her rump only a lick away from your face. You can really smell her now. The odor is nearly overpowering; a mix of youth and mature, all swirling in the miasma that is undoubtedly equine.
You spy the honeydew-liquor, beading at the outside of each ebon petal. Just a sip, just a taste, that's all you need. Just one, just one, she's a good little filly and she...
"N-No." you stutter, starting to stand, "F-find a...guard...to help..."
Sweetie Belle looks back at you, an expression of nervous disbelief across her face. The potion is wearing off. You didn't drink enough. As if a foal possessed, she rips into the remaining bottle of gingerbrew. Without wasting a second, the bottle is forced into your throat. The overly-sweet drink sloppily pours down your gullet and into your stomach.
"Drink it! Drink it all!" Sweetie Belle shrieks her commands, her voice laden with both desperation and determination. "You're going to be mine! She can't have you! She's not allowed to have you!"
You want to gag from the feeling of ginger and sugar flowing though your nostrils as your body attempts to reject it, but the foal is insistent. Gulp by gulp, the contents find home within your stomach.
"W-well?!" Sweetie Belle cries nervously, "How do you feel?"
Hot. Trapped. Aroused. Furious. All of these adjectives would have sufficed, but in your mind, there is only one answer that manages to surface:
"Thirsty."
With a sigh of relief, the foal spins around. Once more you find yourself on hands and knees, but this time, you're quivering. A fire more intense than any other experience before licks at your heart. You're in pain. Confused. Everything hurts. Only one mericful angel can make it better...
"Sweetie Belle," It's the only thing you can gasp, "Sweetie Belle..."
Resuming her previous position, the damnable veil blocking Sweetie's nethers is removed once more. Immediately, your attentions fall upon her supple flank and how it shakes and moves with such ease. How it has just the right amount of foalish-chub, matched evenly by the figure of maturity growing under its surface. Her puckering anus, dilating once before her slit captures your attention with an eager wink.
Then you realize it.
What a fool you've been.
How destiny itself had placed the foal within your care, to nurture and guard, until she claimed you rightfully as her own. All this time you've pined for her older sister...what's her name? It matters not; blasphemy is the title of any other mare that dare leave your lips. Only one. Only one name...
...and she is so. Damn. Close.
"Sweetie Belle."
Her tail swishes back and forth, a metronome of desire ticking away your sanity. Another stream of filly-pre splatters to the floor, and you curse yourself furiously for allowing it to go wasted. As if a dying dog, you would have lapped eagerly at the puddle if not for a more pressing command.
"Taste me."
She wouldn't need to ask twice.
Your hands fly to her mark-barren flanks and pull her into the proper position. The vapors of musk light up your brain, further sparking your sheer need for the little Goddess writhing in front of you. Slowly, your tongue reaches out. You're almost in disbelief that such a marvelous young mare could possibly be so tempting. With a tentative lick, you begin to sample the foal.
"Ohhh..." Sweetie sighs, feeling your warms muscle lap once at her most slit. Curling the appendage back into your mouth, you sample the beads of nectar you've collected and decide it's the most delicious substance known to man. You barely gasp for a breath before diving back for another helping, her warm bottom welcoming you readily.
"Mmm...t-that's my g-good coltfriend..." Sweetie Belle mutters with satisfaction, happy to feel you yielding to her. Slowly, she begins to grind her hips once more. The motion spurs you on, and not for a moment more do you choose to think of your own pleasure. Every moment is for her. Every stroke of tongue, every huff of breath, every groan against her nethers, all of it if only to continue hearing the soft whimpers of satisfaction from the foal.
"K-keep going..."
As if you have any intentions to stop? Hardly.
Still shuddering, your tongue traces upwards towards the rim of her anus and gives it a flick. The taste is divine. Should you have expected anything else from so perfect a creature? Although slightly above the honeypot below, the flavors her butt are reminiscent of a strong coffee mixed with a youthful offal. Gently, your muscle pardons itself through the tight ring and into her waiting sphincter.
"Ohhhhh, Celestia..." Sweetie Belle whines, now matching your shivering form. "My b-butt...oh, Sun!" her forehooves scrape the tile as she attempts to reel in her senses, but you don't relent. Your strong fingers massage her flanks and relax her spasming muscles. You push until your mouth forms a tight seal around her petite anus, the convex shape of her wrinkled flesh lending itself readily for sucking. Sucking which you did with fervor, feeling the foal squeal each moment your wet tongue gave a swirl within her tight rump.
"Something's gonna...I can't...!" Sweetie Belle loses herself in your carnal ministrations and you feel her anal-muscle clamp tightly around your tongue. A thick ooze of fillycum starts to seep from Sweetie's sex, an alluring pumpkin-yellow that splats shamelessly against the floor. With no small mental effort, you withdraw from her delicious ass and seal her lower orifice with your lips. Glob after glob, spurt after spurt, you drink each helping of her semi-translucent orgasm with mirth. The soothing warmth of her excretions is the only thing that quells the fire in your throat. Sadly, the foal's orgasm tapers off, and you are once again left suckling at her developing sex, the inferno still raging within.
"That w-was...that was..." Sweetie Belle can hardly speak. Your continuing oral assault sees that her mind is constantly occupied by the thoughts of your tongue claiming her sweeter hole. Your nose becomes buried near her anus, inhaling breath after breath of her now-slick rump as your mouth is far too busy to partake in something as trivial as oxygen. Her little nub winks against your tastebuds and makes your heart soar with joy. Your hypnotized mind welcomes it, and you caress her clit as you would her bodice within your arms. It doesn't take long before another series of contractions attempt to pull your invading muscle further inside.
"W-wait!" Sweetie Belle manages to stutter, pulling herself forward before she can lose control. You groan, too lost in her heavenly flavors to realize your grip has waned. The foal tugs herself from you, and you nearly collapse onto your face in a sloppy attempt to follow her. Sweetie Belle looks back, panting as she feels her peak begin to calm.
The foal observes your heaving form, no longer in possession of rationality. Instead, you are reduced to a state normally tightly-chained within the confines of one's mind. The drugs, her musk, your testosterone-driven filly-lust, all fuse into a new, frightening mentality running roughshod over your senses. A drip of Sweetie's juices runs down your jaw. You need more; Sweetie sees it in your heart and decides to cement her possession of the man once thought unobtainable.
"Mmm, you're too good at licking me. But I think you'll be even better at doing something else." Sweetie Belle wiggles her plot once more and a groan escapes your lips. The fire in your loins begins to match that of your throat. Sweetie Belle takes notice.
"Take off your clothes."
You couldn't obey fast enough; you viciously rip off the buttons and threads of your shirt. The foal only giggles, rocking on her hooves to further tease you with her buxom bottom. "You want this, huh? You want to do more than taste it?"
"Uh-huh." you grunt, unable to form coherent words.
"Then you'd better lose those pants."
She doesn't even finish her sentence before your trousers and underwear are flung aside. Your manhood burns in the air, apparently the reservoir for each drop of the hypnotizing tonic. Sweetie Belle smiles with excitement, letting the full image of her human under her control sink-in. You cannot wait to feel the foal against your aching manhood, any part of her would do. But you must. Sweetie's sway over you is total; you stare in vapid starvation at her moist fillyhood.
"Still think Rarity is the one for you, when you can have this? From the filly who always loved you?" she reaches back, gently pulling her winking lips apart with a hoof. You moan loudly at the sight, feeling your glans throb and ooze a thick rope of precum onto the floor. A field of pink explodes from her onyx sex, waiting to be penetrated for the first time.
"I'll take that as a yes." Sweetie Belle playfully rubs herself once more, hissing with satisfaction. She knows how terribly you want her. How couldn't she? Who wouldn't want to rut with such a Goddess of Love; a filly exemplar!
"Get up on your knees." Sweetie Belle softly commands. You obey, as always, with tunnel-vision planted squarely onto the rump drawing closer once more. Another you might have felt ashamed for being so submissive, but the compounds coursing through each vein saw that you always adhered to your lover's wishes.
"You know, I don't like always being called 'just a foal'. I hate it when 'grown-ups' talk about riding you like some toy. Not me. You're not an animal or a toy to me. I love you, and you just needed a liiittle help to see it." Sweetie Belle whispers in monotone voice almost more hypnotic than her ivory plot.
Almost.
"Besides, you can't really call me a 'foal' anymore...I go through estruses now," she beams once more upon seeing your manhood throbbing at the word. "And I'm going to show you that I can do grown-up things even better than dumb-old Rarity."
Your heart catches within your throat. Your drug-soaked brain spins through every possibility, not believing that a being so pure would bless you with such sexual favors. You whimper in disbelief as Sweetie Belle grinds herself against your turgid member, sliding herself along your length like she always fantasized about.
"Do you want to...fuck me?" she experiments with the word, using it for the first true time within its proper context. "Come on then. Rut me. Make everypony know I'm yours. But that means you'll have to take responsibility and marry me, too..."
How can you possibly refuse such an offer? You place your shaking hands against her flanks once more, gripping them tightly. You prod her with your girth, testing in fear of harming the porcelain idol that saw fit you give you your release. The instant your skin touches hers, you lose yourself once more. Throwing caution to the wind and thrusting forward, you finally enter the carnal bliss that is Sweetie Belle's virginity.
The foal is a mess of heaving groans, borrowed curses, and gasping desire. Sweetie can't help feral whinny escaping her throat, and feels her once-ignored climax approach with a terrifying speed. She wanted you to slow down, to prolong the experience of her hymen being taken by her future husband, but your hilting cock would not allow any rational thought to form. No matter how many times Sweetie Belle rehearsed the act, no matter how steeled her senses were to the notion of sex, nothing compared to the sheer experience that is breeding.
You wail with passion, blubbering a mess of praise and thanks towards the filly that now tames your pain with her blistering heat. Without any other desire, you pull back before slamming yourself back home, unwilling to experience the loathsome air outside for any second longer than necessary. In desperation you pound, in and out, again and again, not giving the foal a moment's reprieve to adjust to your rather generous size. You bite your bottom lip and stifle a groan. Her womb kisses your crown lovingly, a soothing gesture that attempts to sate your animalistic lust.
"AAAAHHHH! Too much! I can't...I can't!" Sweetie Belle shrieks, climaxing with a deafening whinny. Her bodice lurches to escape the stimulation, the pleasure too great for her young psyche to bare. But you don't make the same mistake as before; your grasp holds fast. There are no longer words, only snarls and hoots of passion between man and mare, male and female, in a shared eagerness to rut themselves senseless.
Sweetie Belle can't believe how long you've lasted already. Nothing she has read prepared her for the experience of bedding a human. Subsequently, the filly who can't stand the intense, urgent fucking somehow manages to groan your name during a particularly violent climax. Your veins rub against her outer lips as the filly loses herself to the reality; her long-awaited fertilization by the man she's always dreamed.
"I love you! I love you so much!" Sweetie screams, tears running down her eyes. You respond with a groan, plowing into the foal's lush sex with reckless abandon as her wonton cries drive you mad. You look down in a haze, sweat pouring from your working form as your manhood stretches Sweetie apart. The sight is amazing; a ménage of filly-pink and onyx, skin-peach and masculine red, all slapping together in the lewdest symphony two sexes can compose.
Suddenly the embers of your previous inferno surges into life. The feeling of sperm boiling to be released makes you whimper with need. You hunch over your filly-bride, preparing to give her the finish of a lifetime.
"Take me! Make me pregnant!" Sweetie Belle throatily pleads, unable to stop her sore fillyhood from squeezing down each time you thrust. She grunts, snorts, and groans reminiscent of a horse in estrus back home. You clench your eyes and grind your jaw, so close to the release you've been desperately chasing.
Suddenly, a moment of clarity strikes as you find yourself in control of your own movements. Has the potion worn off? How long have you been in command of yourself? Would you be able to stop, even when on the brink or painting the foal's womb with thick ropes of cum?
As quickly as the thought comes, it goes. Your instinct has you in its clutches; you're planted deep now, thick glans almost knotting you to the filly as if a dog readying to release its seed. Sweetie Belle welcomes it, and cries out into the boutique once more. Her little body, flush with new hormones, is eager to be fertilized and vows to see its task through:
Gripping your manhood until it spurts every last drop.
With a howl, you dig your fingers hard enough into Sweetie's gorgeous flanks hard enough to bruise. You spray the foal's insides thickly, leaning over from the sensation of release that threatens to send you into unconsciousness. Her tender bodice milks you, unwilling to allow withdrawal. The effort is unnecessary as you have no intention of ever leaving the paradise that is Sweetie's fillyhood.
Sweetie Belle manages a smile, feeling your human sperm hotly bathing her eager fillyhood. Imagining you fertilizing her virgin ovum, the piece of her waiting just for your seed to touch, sends her into a flurry of ecstatic moans. You grind your hips, sore to the touch as you attempt to expel every shred of fire. Even still, you cannot escape stealing a glance the omnipotent, hypnotic flank now coaxing the largest load of your life from your balls.
Finally spent, you give a few more half-thrusts before collapsing onto the floor with your filly. Rolling yourself over, you bring her with you. You share several long kisses as the heat rampaging through your senses finally dies down.
"That...that was great!" Sweetie's voice cracks as she praises you. You can only pant, still lost in the fog of orgasm and unable to think. Are the drugs really out of your system? Are you simply doing what came natural, or what you subconsciously wanted all along? The questions swirl around in your brain, and you can only shake your head. Sweetie Belle's fillyhood still contains your rod, quite hard and ready once more to fill the foal with love.
....if there was any crevice left to fill, that is.
"Ohh, I feel so full. My human must love me very, very much." Sweetie Belle whispers, twitching her fillyhood and sending a small pearly stream trickling out. Streaks of white-hot cum race across her black lips, spreading along your testicles and onto the wet floor. Some even clumps inside her tail. The gravity of the scene begins to dawn on you. What a mess; Rarity will be furious if she sees such a sight. It's a good thing she's out at the market for the day, perhaps if you are quick enough then you can get cleaned u-
"Sweetie Belle!"
You both jump as a shrill voice rings out from the hallway. Near the entrance stands a shaking Rarity, jaw agape as a bag of groceries lie dropped at her hooves. A large blush runs across her features, belying her outrage with a rather different emotion altogether.
"What...what in Equestria are you two doing?!"
Before you can even formulate a reply, Sweetie Belle lifts her flanks and you bite your lip to stifle a groan. Eventually the filly manages to rise off of your cock. It exits her fillyhood with a lewd "pop", your crown breaking the breaking the seal as a gush of fresh cum pours from her twitching sex; Sweetie Belle simply looks back towards her flustered sibling.
"I told you he'd be mine." she shows off her insemination with a lingering wink, wiggling her rump in victory.
"He's...but he and I..." the fashionista stammers, looking at you for some sort of confirmation or explanation.
You gulp once, tilting back your head and staring into the ceiling.
"Sorry, Rares. Looks like we're gonna have to take a rain-check on that Canterlot date..."