> Fall of Equestria: Reign of Mares
>  by enne
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> A History of Getting Lucky
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day began as it always began: Muddily.

Lucky Clover strained against the plow that had been attached to him. The harness was needlessly heavy and actually bolted around his shoulders, ensuring that no one but his mistress would be able to take it off. His hands, too, were tied to it, stretched out across a crude wooden yoke. A metal bit in his mouth was strung tight to either side, preventing him from looking too far in any direction. His hooves slipped on the dew-covered soil, straining to find purchase. Although the day had just begun, his back and neck were painfully stiff. But still he trudged on, dragging his heavy burden through the ground behind him, as was only fitting for someone of his class.

The field seemed to stretch on forever, as it had the day before, and the day before that, and the month before that. All told, Lucky had been plowing fields for four months, moving from one to the next without a break in between. He worked mornings, afternoons, and, if Mistress Applejack had "forgotten" to untie him, nights as well. The work was slow; while he wasn't a small stallion, he wasn't a large one either, and his staggering pace before a tool too big for him meant that he would never finish before the next harvest was complete and the first half of his work would have to be done again. Was this fair? Undoubtedly not. But this was the nature of life under Mistress Applejack, who had always taken a particular dislike to him, perhaps because he was one of the few stallions under her direct care who still steadfastly wore a black collar.

The collar was both a sore point and a point of pride for Lucky. He hated having to wear it; by design it was too heavy and just slightly too tight, worsening his struggle with the harness with every step. More painful, though, was what it represented: A black collar marked him as guilty of the cardinal sin of lusting after females.

It wasn't as though he'd had much luck with mares before the Reign. In his old life he'd been Ponyville's resident food critic, supplementing his communal farm work with weekly articles for the town paper. He was generally liked, though some were naturally suspicious of him, and he was mostly content to fade into the background haze of society. He'd dated occasionally; who hadn't? In a town where mares outnumbered stallions by a noticeable margin, it wasn't uncommon for a particularly handsome specimen to court three or four dates at once. Not that Lucky was a particularly handsome specimen. A professional interest in food had given him a paunchiness that he'd never had the motivation to work off, and a well-practiced half-cocked smile couldn't hide the plainness written into his genetics. On top of that, the mares of Ponyville were hard to please, varying between the flighty, girlish ones eternally dreaming of that one grand romantic gesture, and the frighteningly down-to-earth farm girls who were all too eager to settle down and start pumping out babies. True to his name, Lucky had occasionally had some successes, but had never made any true connections. This was fine, though. It was just the way things were.

That had been a year ago, or maybe a little less. And then the caribou arrived.

The Reign hadn't begun in a way anyone would have suspected. They hadn't come as conquerors, or enslavers, or as a threat of any kind. They came as refugees, a group of a hundred or so half-starved females who washed up on Equestria's shores, begging for mercy. In a collection of tales of daring exploits, they explained that they had escaped from the tyranny of their icy homeland, a place ruled by a wicked king who treated all females as slaves. They had been beaten and broken, with their antlers cut and their bodies degraded into mere sex objects, existing only for the pleasures of males. It was only thanks to the bravery of their leader, Queen Glacia, that so many had escaped their grasp - but so many more had had to be left behind.

Nopony could believe it at first, that such terrible cruelty could exist. But as the caribou traveled from town to town, showing off their wounds and telling their stories, there could be no doubt that what they said was the truth. Each one of them had a story, each more horrifying than the last, of how they had been raped, abused, and turned into little more than pets for their unspeakably cruel masters. They had been forced to choose between having their bodies broken or their minds, and instead of uniting against the males who controlled them, they were encouraged to hate and fear those who had chosen differently. They described being force-fed nothing but semen for days on end, being trussed up and passed around at orgies while the men used them as furniture, the nightmarish harvesting machines that raped and tortured their users while they worked. For their whole lives none of them had ever known kindness, warmth or compassion, except from the mercy of Queen Glacia, the lone caribou mare (cows, they were called) who had had the courage to escape and unite them all against their oppressors.

There were none who heard these stories who were not affected by them. As one, ponies from coast to coast embraced these survivors and swore that such cruelty would never grace the shores of Equestria. The caribou were grateful, but wherever they went, they left one final, lasting warning: The curse of the icy king was spreading. Wherever his touch fell, males, even ones who had lived in harmony with females all their lives, would betray the females of their homelands and force caribou law onto them. On their travels they had seen a hunting party enslave an island of horses near their coast; they had watched the men cry out as the women were rounded up, stripped, and tied in presenting postures across the length of a rocky beach. But then the caribou had stepped back, and their leader had spread his arms welcomingly, and he told them that they were granted absolute dominion over the flesh of their women as long as they submitted to caribou rule. The horsemen did not even hesitate. They ran to the women of their home, beloved friends and sisters and wives, and raped them like animals until none of their victims had even the strength to scream. Beware your men, the refugees concluded, locking eyes with every mare they saw. Because if they are granted even the promise of power, they will betray you and make you their slaves.

What followed was a period of unease. For days after the caribou left every husband and boyfriend found himself denying dark thoughts at every turn, reassuring every mare he knew that the idea of rape held absolutely no appeal to him. But over time, this faded. Queen Glacia was made an honorary Princess of Equestria and taken into Celestia and Luna's counsel, and in a joint speech about Equestria's inspirational love and trust between mares and stallions, the fears of the nation were put to rest. Or so, for a time, it seemed.

The changes over the next few months were subtle, only noticeable on quiet reflection. For Lucky Clover, life went on mostly unchanged, following the same schedule of work and occasional socializing. But every so often, when they thought he wasn't looking, Lucky would catch mares giving him strange, furtive glances out of the corners of their eyes. Even after the time of unease had passed, these strange looks continued; whether they were strangers who'd never given him a second glance on the street or ponies whom he'd worked beside for years, the women in his life suddenly seemed strangely aware of him, like he was no longer just another person but a strange other that had wandered into their midst. These looks mostly worried him, though he thought, though he couldn't be sure, that he once caught a mare staring at him and licking her lips.

The other change, which took longer to manifest, was that Lucky started to get laid. A lot. He couldn't say exactly where it began. In the same way as those surrounding him, since hearing the caribou's stories he found himself strangely more aware of the bodies of the mares he spoke to. Flashes of cleavage and midriff caught his eye with strange ease; he wasn't sure if he'd never noticed them before, or if skin-baring clothes were suddenly in fashion. Everywhere he looked he saw toned bodies and flirting smiles, tits straining against tight clothes and tails swishing teasingly in front of tight asses. Apparently, this revelation was all it took. Where once he'd struggled to get a third date, suddenly it seemed that he was taking mares home after a second or even a first night out. It never lasted, but it didn't need to; picking up mares was easy. Lucky's confidence skyrocketed. He started working out again, allowing himself more and more fantasies. Life was on the up and up.

The atmosphere at the office changed. Without meaning to, Lucky caught himself staring at his editor's ass whenever she walked past his desk. By the third day she started to notice, and by the end of the week he was exploring it much more thoroughly on the floor of her office. When the girl who delivered their paper supplies showed up, he casually mentioned that she looked cute in her uniform. One date later, he had the opportunity to use the line that she looked even better out of it. When chatting with the mare at the flower stall outside at lunch, as he had most days for the past three years, he found himself drawn to staring at her plump, grinning lips, red-flecked from snacking on roses. Not minutes later, those lips were wrapped around his cock in a dark alley. He hadn't even had to ask. It just seemed on the table that sex was always on his mind, and virtually any mare he came across was more than happy to oblige him. Thank Celestia for the caribou, Lucky thought, blowing his load down Roseluck's moist, quivering throat.

And so life went on, hotter and stickier than usual. By the end of three months Lucky had slept with nearly half the unmarried staff of the Ponyville Daily, while the other half, so gossip told, was hanging on to Four Sides, his only male coworker. And amidst this atmosphere of lust and communal banging, certain rumours which would normally have dominated the newsroom - of the disappearances in the Crystal Empire, the whispers of male lawmakers fleeing Canterlot in a panic, the hours-long one-on-one meetings between Queen Glacia and the other four Princesses - all slipped quietly under the radar.

No one saw the news coming. No one could have fathomed what was going on until Princess Cadance came forward and made her speech. "Shining Armour beats me," she said. She stood teary-eyed at a podium in Canterlot, addressing a crowd of hundreds of nobles. She looked drawn and sunken, her ceremonial robe thrown back to reveal the bruises and burns on her arms. Queen Glacia stood behind her, resting a broad hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "Every night, he ties me down and rapes me. It's been this way ever since my wedding night. During the day he says he loves me, but at night he hits me, he calls me names... he makes me feel like I'm nothing but a whore to him. I've been using magic to hide my injuries. I thought that as long as I could pretend... everything would be okay. When I got pregnant, I thought that he would treat me more gently. But he didn't. He kept raping me, harder and harder. Until one night, he abused me so hard... I had a miscarriage. He killed my baby." She shook and screamed. "He killed my baby!"

Thanks to a convenient placement of desks at the news office, Lucky was able to get glimpses of which articles were released to the public in the days after the news broke and which ones the editor or the mayor quietly took out of circulation. Twilight Sparkle's public condemnation of her brother made the front page. Shining Armour's public denial of any wrongdoing never made it past the editor's desk. Furious editorials with lots of capital letters were fed to the reading audience day after day; reports of corruption and unusual behavior among the Crystal Guards were not. And once again, the looks that Lucky found himself receiving changed, just slightly.

The story of Shining Armour's execution was well publicized. The former captain was brought to Canterlot in chains, beaten and bruised from the harshness of his journey. Yet all the while, he never stopped proclaiming his innocence. "You were the one who told me to tie you up," he said to Cadance in front of the court, trying to lock eyes with her. She refused to meet his gaze. "I never did anything to you that you didn't ask me to. I even asked you if you were sure this was what you wanted. You told me to be rough with you. You begged me." His eyes brimmed with tears. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

But when Queen Glacia stood between them, his tune changed. "You bitch!" he screamed at her, composure gone. "You lying bitch, you poisoned her! You poisoned her against me! Let me talk to her! She begged me to do it, you bitch! She begged me!"

Queen Glacia approached him, her arms folded. By all accounts, she was an imposing sight: thick-coated and wide-muzzled, covered in unsightly scars and muscles, easily as tall as Celestia if you counted her antlers. "I was once told that I was begging for it," she growled, her accent thick and blood-curdling. Then with two kicks of her powerful hooves, she ended Shining Armour's life: one to knock him flat on his back, the other to crush his skull against the tiles. That was the moment when the Reign began. It would just be a long time before anyone admitted it.

The specifics of the next two months were lost in gossip and hearsay. Queen Glacia was cleared of any wrongdoing, and her closeness with the four pony princesses only grew. There were tales of more stallions being accused of rape, some in relationships that had gone on for years, and more public executions. Suspicion crept in around everyone. Suddenly, it seemed rare to see a smile on a mare's face, at least when a stallion was in the room. Sensing the way the wind was blowing, Lucky decided to give up dating for a while, at least until this mistrust blew over. Other stallions were starting to complain about their mares going frigid in bed, and he'd seen more than one female coworker turn up at the paper office in last night's makeup and tears. For reasons no one fully understood, autumn fell early that year.

Roseluck still took him into the alley behind her stall every day at lunch. They barely needed to exchange words any more; as soon as he appeared she would stand up and trot back into the shadows, calling him after her with a swish of her tail. By the time he followed her she would already be waiting on her knees. Over time her movements became more jerky, and then more diminished, until it felt more like he was simply fucking her face than her doing anything to him. As if to compensate, she started hitching up her shirt to show her breasts and wearing thicker and sluttier makeup, leaving red smears around Lucky's cock.

She didn't smile often. Lucky began to contemplate telling her that they didn't need to do this any more, but every time he tried to broach the subject she immediately dropped back to her knees for a second round. And, well, one simply doesn't say no to a mare licking desperately at your crotch. It was during one of these double sessions that, in a not well thought out act of conscience, Lucky tried to pull out to avoid coming down her throat, instead accidentally blowing his load across her face. Roseluck instantly burst into tears and ran out of the alley, uncovered breasts bouncing and cum dripping from her nose. The next day her friend Daisy covered her shift, shooting Lucky looks of intense hatred. He never got an opportunity to meet her there again to apologize, because that afternoon Lucky lost his job.

The editor called him and Four Sides into her office. She wasn't alone; practically a small army of mares was standing behind her with their arms folded. "It's not because of anything you've done," she said, fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair. "We... I just feel that your continued presence is creating a tense work environment for everyone here. It would probably be for the best if the two of you just left quietly."

"That's insane," Lucky protested. "Sides and I have worked here for years. You can't just let us go without notice." He reached across the desk. "Quill, you know we're good guys. If we're causing a disturbance, I can work from home, and we could just meet privately once or twice a w-"

She leaped back and upright like his touch was poison. Her cheeks were flushed and her tail was raised and quivering. "Get out," she said. "I don't want to see you hanging around this building any more. Just get out!" she shrieked over his protests, pointing a firm finger towards the door.

Lucky kept grumbling as he packed up his desk. "This isn't fair," he muttered. "It's illegal. We haven't done anything wrong. It's not right."

"Let it go, man." Four Sides patted his arm. "I don't know about you, but I've fucked half the mares in that room. I should have been let go weeks ago. Let them have their way for now. They'll realize they miss us soon."

That was the end of that. Unemployment wasn't an issue; it was always the rule in Ponyville that there was work to be found out in the fields. It couldn't escape notice that there were a lot more stallions jockeying for positions on the farms, though. Lucky's food column was replaced with a female "sex specialist" named Tender Buttons who spent her first article condemning stallions in the workplace. If he'd still been at the office, Lucky would have complained. Lucky for her there were only mares there now.

The incidence of rape was on the rise. This wasn't just speculation. On the way home one evening Lucky came across a stallion trying to tear the clothes off a teenager in a dark street. With one swift punch to the back the stranger fled; the young mare shakingly pulled aside her ripped leggings and offered to repay him with her pussy. Well, he couldn't say no to that. Incidents such as these caught the eye of the public on a regular basis, and they definitely caught the eye of Tender Buttons, who week after week demanded justice.

By Celestia's decree (in which she gave thanks to the input of Queen Glacia) a committee was formed, appointing a group of six Masters and Mistresses to each town and city to ensure the safe and fair treatment of all citizens, male or female. Promises were made that all complaints would be listened to, and any fears or disturbances would be put to rest. Of course, it was only natural that in Ponyville all six members of the Equality Committee should be female; they were the Elements of Harmony, most trusted of all ponies to bring peace. And in Manehattan, all the male members of the existing Ethics Board had independently resigned in the weeks prior, so naturally they ended up with all Mistresses as well. And in Cloudsdale, well, no stallion had won an elected position there in close to a century. In fact, from coast to coast, no one had actually heard of there being a Master on any Equality Committee, but of course there was no census and everyone knew that the members were chosen fairly. There was no reason to complain.

In fact, initially everything went extremely well. The mandatory hiring of more female guards was universally agreed to be a good idea. The revamping of the sexual education system was long overdue. Mares were encouraged to form friendship groups and stick together at all times, which generally increased happiness and safety. (No mention was made of stallions, as "I've never heard a stallion complain about being alone.") Public spaces were made safer, friendlier, and more accessible to all. What Lucky did find reason to complain about was the collars.

"Don't think of it as an accusation," Twilight Sparkle said. She sat in Lucky's front room with a cup of tea, casually attired except for her crown. He'd heard reports of her and her friends going door to door, but was only now finding out why. She and Applejack were the only ones who walked alone, which made sense; no stallion would dare touch a mare who could kill them with her bare hands or horn. Her dragon Spike sat on the floor beside her and thumbed through a comic book, his own white collar proudly displayed around his throat.

"Well, it sure feels like an accusation," Lucky grumbled. "Why don't you just call me a rapist to my face?" The collar he turned over and over in his hands was black, stiff and starched and faintly buzzing. He suspected that it was enchanted.

"Lucky, no one is calling anyone a rapist," Twilight Sparkle said. He suspected that she'd been giving this speech a lot, and had it down to a science. "It's just a matter of public safety. Everyone knows that not all stallions are rapists, and it would be crazy to say that they are, but if you look at the numbers, you have to admit that the vast majority of rapists are stallions. Statistically, any stallion you meet might be a rapist, and for most mares there's no way of telling until it's too late. All we're trying to do is slowly, by process of elimination, let mares know who they can feel safe to be around."

"I don't see what the big deal is," Spike added without looking up. "Even Mr. Cake's wearing one. If you're not a bad guy, what's the problem?"

"It's a problem because if I put this on, every mare I meet is going to start looking at me like I'm a potential rapist," Lucky snapped.

A look of something approaching fury flashed across Princess Twilight's face, but she bit her tongue and held it in. "If it helps," she said instead, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I know some mares who like the idea of the black ribbons. They say it'll make it a lot easier to approach stallions if they know they'll be interested and aren't gay or asexual. Maybe if you think of it as a 'healthy sexual appetite' ribbon, it'll make it easier. You might even start to feel proud of it."

"Maybe." Lucky turned it over in his hands again. It didn't feel like a ribbon. He couldn't think of any other word for it than collar. "I guess I still just don't understand why this is necessary."

Princess Twilight looked away. "Of course you don't," she said quietly. "You're a stallion. You can't possibly understand." She brightened up and smiled at him again. "This program's seen a lot of success in the Crystal Empire already. With just one small reminder, sexual assaults are down to almost nothing, and there haven't been any complaints about stallions being treated differently. If it's the black one that worries you, I can test to see if you qualify for another color. But for that I would have to scan your memories for sexual experience and urges, and I would need your permission for that."

He definitely wasn't going to let that happen, since within seconds of her walking in he'd had a fantasy about kissing and sliding his cock between those small, perky breasts of hers, so he relented and closed the collar around his neck. It sealed itself with a hiss unlike any magic he'd ever heard. "It's a little tight," he noted, tugging at the edge of it. "Do I need to take it off when I shower?"

"You don't take it off at all. It's sealed with caribou runic magic. Only a mare can unfasten it." Twilight stood up. "Thank you for your time. If you have any comments about the program you can write to the committee, or my door is always open."

Lucky stood as well. "One question before you go," he said as she moved away. "Will there be a program like this for mares as well? It would make me feel a lot more comfortable about this."

Twilight paused in front of the door. "We'll see," she said guardedly. Then she and Spike left.

Ten minutes later, there was an outraged roar from somewhere nearby, swiftly cut off. Lucky and several others ran into the street to see Princess Twilight emerge from Crafty Crate's house with the massive stallion being dragged behind her in a magic bubble. "What happened?" Lucky's neighbor Rays asked, echoing everyone's thoughts.

Twilight Sparkle bit her lip thoughtfully. "I don't understand," she said, mostly to herself. "Everyone I scan tests out purple."

Lucky never got to see firsthand how the collars worked out. When he arrived at his usual place at Sweet Apple Acres the next day, he and the other farmhands were met by Mistress Applejack as well as one of Ponyville's resident caribou. Many of the caribou had taken on Equestrian names after they landed, or what they believed were Equestrian names; this particular cow, who was more or less their representative in Ponyville, was known as Symmetry. It was perhaps meant to be ironic. Her left antler had been carved down to a rounded stump, leaving her head perpetually lopsided, and her face was misshapen from too many beatings.

From the neck down, however, she was a thing of absolute beauty. Caribou had a fondness for flowing, revealing clothes (some because they still feared punishment if they tried to cover up, but most because they found Equestria's climate unbearably hot) and Symmetry was no exception. Her white robes barely covered up a chocolate brown hourglass figure that flowed and jiggled with the slightest movement, a body that had worked night and day to sculpt itself into the perfect fuck toy for males. She stood unflinching under the gazes of the two dozen stallions who stood before her, the hunger in their eyes evident with or without their black collars. She folded her arms defiantly in front of her, lifting up her breasts a little. It was hard to know if it was intentional.

Applejack cleared her throat, tying to get all eyes back on her. "'Fraid there's been a change of plans," she said. "Y'all are being redistributed around Ponyville. There've been a lot of stallions changing jobs lately-"

"Getting replaced by mares, more like!" a stallion yelled from the back, to a low grumble of agreement.

Applejack ignored him. "-and it's gettin' harder to find places for y'all. Until the situation changes, each of you'll be gettin' a chit tellin' you where you'll be workin'."

This was met by a grumble of inverse tone to the previous grumble. "But I've been doing this same job for six years!" one stallion complained.

"This ain't about any one of us," Applejack said. "It's about workin' as a team. From now on, you're not workin' for me, you're workin' for all of Ponyville. I ain't your boss any more. We all are."

A mare, the only one in the group, raised her hand. "Um... does this apply to me as well?"

Applejack checked her clipboard. "Um... no. You're free to work wherever you like."

No more grumbles, just cries of outrage. "How is that fair?" one stallion yelled, speaking for everyone. "If this is a team effort, why does she get to do whatever she wants?"

Symmetry spat. "Because your mares can work together without needing to be organized like cattle."

Absolute silence met this. Applejack broke it with a sigh. "Look, I don't make the rules," she said. "But we all have to do our part. Sugarcube, what's your name?"

The mare smiled bravely. "Lemon Cake."

"And what were you hopin' to do?"

"Well..." She looked around nervously. "I've always wanted to try my hand at pulling carts. I know it's usually the stallions who do that, but it looks so relaxing, and-"

"Oh, come on!" the stallion from before yelled. "She can't do that! She's a mare!"

The crowd parted. Applejack glared daggers at the stallion who'd spoken. "Care to rephrase that, partner?"

"I mean-"

"'Cause it sounded like you just said that it was you, not me, who gets to decide who can and can not do such and such job based on whether you got shriveled meatballs hangin' between your legs."

"It's because-"

"You know what we do to stallions like that round here, partner?"

"I said- LOOK AT HER!" the stallion exploded angrily, pointing. "It's not because she's a mare, it's because she's LITERALLY HALF MY SIZE. No mare's ever been able to do my job. You think that's going to change just because this prissy little bitch wants to..."

Applejack was already walking toward him. He stammered to a halt as she put her clipboard under her arm and rolled up her sleeve. "I swear, I didn't mean to say that, it just slipped out-"

He wasn't finished when she slugged him across the jaw. He dropped like a sack of potatoes and lay still, either unconscious or wisely doing a good job of faking it. Applejack snorted. She took Lemon Cake, who was now shaking, by the arm. "Don't let him bother you none, sugar. We'll get you kitted out and see how it works out. Symmetry, pass these chits out, alright?" She handed the caribou her clipboard on her way out to the field, not without another dirty look at the stallions behind her. "And if any of these give you any trouble, just give a yell and I'll come runnin'."

A line was formed, which, as Symmetry was still leaning to read, proceeded slowly. The stallion on the ground was left where he was. Lucky waited in line patiently; there didn't seem to be anything else he could do. He wasn't anticipating trouble, but he kept an eye on the nearest path to the exit, just in case. For some reason, being surrounded by fellow black collar stallions was unnerving him. The mumbled remarks of the stallion behind him weren't helping.

"Fuck, that bitch needs a good lay."

Lucky kept his eyes forward. Don't want to start trouble, he told himself, then became almost panicked in the repetition of it. The grumblings continued. "She's fucking tense. Isn't right. Needs a hard ride to mellow her out. Fucking cocktease. She wouldn't be such a bitch to work for if she took a cock once in a while instead of just talking about them."

Another voice, slightly further back, joined in. "I know, right? Can you believe all the Mistresses are single? We're living in a town of prime real estate."

"Fuck, really? That explains a lot. They're making us wear these fucking collars because they're all completely cock-starved."

"I hear Mistress Twilight Sparkle's a virgin."

"Not for long, I hope. Fuck, I hope she starts wearing those caribou robes. They're catching on."

"I saw Mistress Rarity modeling one at her show last night. Almost totally see-through."

"Sweet. See, this is why I don't get what the caribou are complaining about. The cows are constantly talking about how they hate fucking, but they're walking around all the time looking like that. No one dresses like that who doesn't want it."

"I think I'll try talking to her when she's done here. Maybe she sings a different tune when she's alone."

"Yeah man, go for it. You'll have to take her from behind though, right?"

"Obviously."

"My man. Hey, you know the real reason she's called Symmetry?"

"It's not her horns?"

"No. Listen, her owner used to-"

The desire to turn around and copy Applejack was tempered by curiosity just long enough for the issue to resolve itself. They took a step closer, Symmetry's ears twitched, and the chatterboxes shut up.

A minute later, they were at the front of the line. "Lucky Clover," Lucky said, keeping his eyes level and maintaining a respectful distance. Symmetry nodded vacantly and gave him his chit, which he wordlessly accepted and moved away. He looked it over. He'd been chosen for "general work" at the Carousel Boutique, which was unexpected, but not necessarily bad. Learning some needlework would probably be more interesting than picking apples. (Plus, he grudgingly admitted, seeing Rarity trying on a caribou robe did sound pretty hot.) He almost started walking again when the line at the bottom caught his eye. "Wait. Accommodations provided?"

"Hm?" Symmetry looked up at him. "Oh, ya. You will live there now. All taken care of."

More stallions checked and double-checked their forms. "I can't live there," one protested. "Who'll feed my cat?"

"I can't move my family!" complained another.

"All taken care of." Symmetry waved them along. "Shoo shoo. Go make work."

So Lucky set off on the last free walk of his life. When he looked back on this, he tried to recall the taste of the air, the smell of foods, the happy sights and sounds that he passed. But it was futile; he'd spent the entire trip fussing with his collar. When he arrived at the Carousel Boutique, there was no hesitation, no feeling that he was crossing a great threshold in his life. He just walked up to the door and knocked.

So began his new life. It was there that he got his first taste of what had truly become of the world, there that he learned what it was to be used, abused, and ultimately abandoned, left mostly forgotten in what had swiftly become his own personal hell. And when he was finally transferred back to the farm more than three months later, when he emerged blinking into the light of the new world for the first time, he finally understood how much and how fast Equestria had changed.

Any recollection stopped there, by force if necessary. Regardless of how much he liked to distract himself from the muscle-straining monotony of his new day job, that particular period of his life was one that he was trying to erase. The only good thing about his time in the Boutique, he reckoned, was that it had kept him indoors during the winter months. Those who'd had their way and stayed at the farm hadn't been so lucky.

Well... one of two good things. But he wasn't sure whether to count the other. Thinking about her was another kind of ache that he wasn't sure how to classify.

If he'd been granted the luxury of a mirror, Lucky would have hardly recognized himself - not that that was necessarily a bad thing. Sure, his grey coat didn't exactly shine any more, and his mane had grown long while his tail had been cropped hideously short, but months of labor far harder than he had been built for had burned his body into the best shape of his life. Any body fat had been drained into much-needed energy during the first few weeks, leaving a solid, toned torso behind. His shoulders and legs had thickened, while his hands and forearms, which he seldom had any use for, had remained soft and lean. Aside from his heavy harness and collar, all that he was permitted to wear was a tight black thong that left nothing to the imagination, outlining his ample package against his body. While he could never match the ruggedness of those naturally built this way, his labors had made him as tough and strong as his body type was prepared to get, and that, at least, he could take some comfort in. Plus, although he had no means of confirming this for himself, he had been reliably informed that he had a fantastic ass.

"You have a fantastic ass," Caramel informed him.

Lucky rolled his eyes upward and kept pulling. Caramel strolled leisurely behind him. He was a red collar, a gay stallion with no interest in mares, with a special gold star attached to his indicating that he'd been openly gay before the Reign and hadn't had to be converted. As a Mistress, Applejack had more than her share of red collar workers, as they were generally considered safer and easier to work with than the potentially deadly blacks. Gold star reds had a lot of privileges that most stallions could only dream of, like sleeping in actual beds, eating cooked meals with their owners, and not being treated with hatred and suspicion by everyone they met. He had also, mercifully, been granted the luxury of a full set of red boxer shorts.

Caramel wasn't a unique case, but it was easy to wish he was one. He'd been Lucky's "partner" for the past three months of his four-month plowing spree, rising much later in the day and leisurely planting seeds in the freshly tilled dirt, all the while watching Lucky and no doubt thinking about planting his seeds. "I mean look at that," he continued, putting too much inflection on all his words. "Round, toned, perfectly moving, all the while looking like you're sculpted out of butter. It looks like I could sink into that and break rocks on it. You must be proud of that couple of handfuls. What is your secret? Is it the harness? You know, sometimes I wish I was where you are. Kidding!"

Lucky just kept moving. Trussed up as he was, he couldn't exactly shut his partner up, and doing so definitely wouldn't end well for him. He couldn't remember Caramel being this camp before the Reign. "Shut up," he grunted carefully around the bit in his mouth.

"I'm just saying, every minute that ass isn't being enjoyed is a minute all the progress of Equestria is going to waste."

He could hear Caramel getting closer. "Still straight, Caramel."

"You're sure? Completely? All that training hasn't paid off?" The red collar leaped onto the plow, snapping them both to a halt. His hot breath tickled Lucky's ear. "Wouldn't you prefer if I was the one doing some plowing for a change?"

"Get off!" Lucky shook wildly and lurched forward, managing to unsettle Caramel. "I'm more trouble than I'm worth and you know it."

Caramel backed off, sulking. "Oh, you'll come around eventually," he said, masking disappointment. "Everyone does, these days. I just want you to know you're too fine to be wasted." He turned and waved to the edge of the field. "Hey, ladies! Can we get an ow ow for that ass?"

"Ow ow!" a cluster of mares nearby cheered back. Lucky had been ignoring them, as well. The "relaxation spots" along the edges of the fields were ostensibly exactly that, but the mares who occupied the benches and beach chairs weren't subtle about ogling the heavy workers at all hours of the day. He'd even caught some of them masturbating while gaping at him, or undressing and toying with themselves to try to get a reaction from him. This was the main reason he'd learned to tune them out. The thong he wore meant that any sign of arousal would be instantly visible, as well as making it painfully tight. The constant rubbing of the silky material, pleasurable but preventing him from growing any larger, was almost as bad as being pelted by jeers and rotten fruits from mares as he desperately tried to think unsexy thoughts to make his semi soften again.

If he'd been on his own, the work might have been almost bearable. But Caramel was constantly there, with his eyes constantly fixed on him, constantly reminding him of how vulnerable he was. It was only luck that he'd landed a gold star; a regular red collar would have raped him by the end of the first week. But one of these days he would slip and break something, or fall face-first and be too tired to get back up, or Caramel would simply get bored of waiting... and for all his gesturing, he knew what would happen to him if he tried to fight back.

The tense monotony of this particular day was broken when a familiar voice washed over from the relaxation spot. "Alright ladies, git. You're creepin' out Apple Bloom."

A chorus of giggles cleared off from the spot, and two sets of footsteps came closer. Lucky carefully kept up his pace until Caramel yanked on the back of his harness, drawing them to a halt again. He tried to keep his eyes forward - he knew he wasn't supposed to stare - but curiosity took him; he'd never seen Apple Bloom since before the Reign. Subtly, straining against the bit, he twisted his torso and looked to the side.

To his profound relief, Apple Bloom looked normal. She was still only around ten or eleven and was staring back at him with nothing but childlike curiosity, none of the fear or lust that older mares looked at him with. She was still wearing the same old shirt and overalls, with the same pink bow propped up on her head. Looking at her, he could forget just for a moment that the Reign had ever happened. But it wouldn't be long before her body would start changing, and she'd get swept up in all of this as well. He wondered what kind of education the fillies her age were receiving. He didn't dare think about how their former male classmates were being treated.

Applejack was another story.

"Caramel, you're comin' with us," she said, standing jauntily with her hip cocked out. "My sister and I need massages." This was not the same Applejack who'd decked a stallion twice her size on the day the Reign began. The only article of clothing she'd kept from that period was her hat. Her top could barely be called that; she wore a caribou-inspired band of silk that wrapped around her torso, pressing her bountiful breasts against her body and not covering much more than her nipples. Her mane was unbraided and fell long against her back, and her unshorn tail nearly touched the ground. What had once been practical jeans had been ripped up into booty shorts, a truncheon dangling from the belt loops and something even worse bulging in the other pocket. This last article of clothing strained against the mounds it contained, threatening to rip even further. Lucky silently egged it on.

It seemed traitorous to even consider the thought, but the Reign had not been easy for Applejack. Reportedly, in the early days of the Reign she'd been one of the easiest Mistresses to work for, as no matter what orders came from on high she still believed in equal and honest work. But she wasn't working with her usual friends and relatives any more; she'd spent her time trying to order around grouchy, uncooperative black collar stallions who would rather leer at her than pitch in and help. When she was frustrated she used to vent by kicking trees, but whenever Symmetry caught her doing farm work she'd immediately order a new shipment of stallions to help, as "You must be understaffed if you must lower yourself to doing filthy grunt work." It was one of these transfers that had gotten Lucky taken out of the Carousel Boutique, which, while it had seemed like a blessing at the time, meant that he'd been the one who'd borne most of the brunt of Applejack's downfall.

Week by week, the sympathy had drained out of Applejack. A farm girl who was now no longer allowed to do her own chores, she spent most of her time doing paperwork or wandering restlessly, lashing out at anyone who wasn't fully pulling their weight - and Celestia help them if that stallion also happened to be a black collar. Every time she left for a meeting with Symmetry or the Equality Committee, she came back a little bit angrier and a little bit quicker to whip out her truncheon. Just for the sake of getting herself out of the house, she'd found ways of creating inefficient and unnecessary work that would need supervising - such as, for instance, assigning a single stallion of only average size to plow the entirety of Sweet Apple Acres all by himself.

But despite her efforts, the time inevitably came when Applejack had to spend most of her day sitting down. And oh, did it show. In part due to her inactivity as well as the caribou diet craze that was sweeping Equestria (supplemented, of course, by delicious, nutritious apples) Applejack had put on weight, filling out in all the right places. She'd gone up a full cup size in the first month of Lucky's tenure while her stomach had remained toned, if soft. But by far the biggest change was her ass. An already ample butt had ballooned under the sudden daily weight of her body into two bouncing flesh pillows that were the envy of the entire farm. Applejack was less glad of it; her aching back and the jiggle of her body with every step was just another reminder of what the Reign had taken from her. And so her temper had grown shorter and her ass had grown larger, and there wasn't a straight stallion on the farm who hadn't spent his nights dreaming about riding that booty every which way.

In short, Lucky had heard of an apple bottom, but this was ridiculous.

"Quit starin' at my hiney!" Applejack shrieked. Lucky blinked himself back to reality; as usual, he hadn't even realized he'd been staring, and he didn't realize the danger quickly enough to move out of the way. The truncheon cracked into the side of his head, knocking him sideways and cutting the corner of his mouth as the bit ripped into him. He tried to straighten up but was forced onto a knee as another blow caught him across the back of the head, then another across his back, raining down with sharp cracks until he sank down into the mud and lay still. Stings turned into dull aches; the weapon was made to inflict more pain than damage. A glob of spit landed in the middle of his back. "Disgustin'," Applejack grunted. "Sooner you up an' convert, the better. C'mon, Cara- Apple Bloom, don't touch him. He can get up on his own."

"Um..." Apple Bloom's voice came from nearby. Lucky kept his head down, waiting for the ache to pass. "Applejack?" the filly said. "Weren't that a little... mean?"

A pause. "What d'ya mean?"

"I mean... he was just lookin' atcha. He weren't hurtin' no one. Why'd ya have to go an' hit him like that?"

"Apple Bloom..." Applejack knelt down in front of her sister, muddying her knees. If Lucky had tried to pull himself upright, his trussed-out hand might have been able to brush against her glorious ass. He wisely kept down. "I know you're too little to really understand right now- hush, you are. But this is something you've gotta learn." She ran a long fingernail down the middle of Lucky's back. "Why do you think we keep the black collars locked up like this? Why do they need three mare guards for every one of them?"

"'Cause..." Apple Bloom scratched her head. "'Cause they're bigger than us?"

"Bigger and meaner and stupider. An' if they ever got out, you can be sure they wouldn't be as kind to us as we are to them. This one might try to tell you he's a gentlecolt, he might talk fancy and he might look pretty, but if it were you or me who was in his place, he'd do things to us that... nah, I don't wanna give you nightmares."

"I know 'bout the birds and the bees, Applejack. I've been watchin' the pigs ruttin' and givin' birth since I was old enough to start feedin' them."

"And I ain't even talkin' about that. Do you know how the caribou do their farmin' in their homeland?" A rustle as the filly shook her head. "They strap their cows up in great big harnesses, just like this. But the back's covered in whips so the cow gets cut with every step. They cover her in little clamps that shock her if she don't move. Her bit goes all the way down her throat so she can't breathe, and they put a carrot in her hoo-ha and another in her bunghole, and if either of 'em falls out, she's gotta get down on her knees and eat it up right in front of everyone. An' that's just what happens if she's done absolutely nothin' wrong."

It was hard to see Apple Bloom's reaction, but Lucky could hear her voice shake. "But... why? Why would anypony do somethin' like that?"

"'Cause that's how stallions are. No matter how big and tough they are, they don't feel strong 'less they're makin' somepony smaller than them hurt. So don't go feelin' sorry for these big fellas, no matter how much they hurt. 'Cause if we don't do all we can to keep them in line, they'll do ten times worse to you." She paused, looking at an expression that Lucky could only guess at. "Oh, fine. Caramel, help him up. Then hurry on. We're late."

She stepped away, and Lucky heard Caramel step over him. Slender arms wrapped under his own. "Easy, big guy," Caramel whispered. He pulled him up, just enough that Lucky could get one knee up and push himself the rest of the way. With his arms stretched to the sides, he'd learned to get good at this months ago. Then, there it was - Caramel's stiffening dick grinding between his ass cheeks. "How about we give those ladies a show when I come back, honey?" he whispered, nuzzling Lucky's neck.

"Fuck off!" Lucky grunted, shrugging him away.

"Humph." Caramel stepped back, looked around, and then lowered his voice and let out a loud whisper towards Applejack's retreating back. "Gonna rape you and your sister someday, apple bitch."

Applejack stopped dead, and her ears pricked up. Before Lucky could protest she turned around and charged at him with a scream, planting a kick into his stomach that not only sent him skidding on his back across the field, but flipped the plow he was attached to onto its side. A second stomp knocked the wind out of him again, and all he could do was pathetically curl up as more kicks and punches hammered him from all sides. All the while Applejack screeched, Caramel snickered, and Apple Bloom watched in silence. The beating only stopped when Lucky finally opened his mouth to croak with pain, which Applejack took as an opportunity to gag him with a fistful of mud. "I have had it up to here with you," Applejack hissed as he choked and spat. "One more outburst outta you and you're goin' upstream. What'll it be for you? White collar? Or purple?"

That was no contest. Objectively, that was no contest at all. But even when he'd regained his breath, all Lucky could do was stammer, unable to defend himself or answer the question at all. "That's what I thought." Applejack spat again and stalked off, Caramel trailing smugly behind.

Once he felt there was no more danger of a surprise attack, Lucky strained hard and sat up. He stretched as much as he could and sighed heavily, wincing at the pain. Comet Tail would fix him up a little when he went in for lunch (if he got lunch today) but there was little that the unicorn could do for anything more than skin deep. Given the pain in his chest, it felt like he might have bruised a rib. Getting the plow back upright would be a challenge. It was strange to think that these days, a challenge like that was really the least of his worries.

It was only when he started to rise that he noticed Apple Bloom still standing there, staring. He immediately froze. She kept looking, not right at him, but - he followed her gaze, mortification growing - down at his mudstained crotch. His dick pouch had gotten shifted during the beating, and one of his testicles was hanging halfway out of it. Instinctively he tried to cover up, only for his arms to once again strain uselessly against his harness.

He froze a second time when Apple Bloom moved. She crept closer, a curious and (oh fuck no) almost lustful look crossing her gaze, slowly reaching out towards him. He wanted to close his legs, he wanted to swat her hand away, but sheer terror kept him still. If he denied her, if he laid a hand on her in any way, Applejack would have his head.

Oh please, no. Oh please, Celestia, no. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed, trying to derail the train of thought that was rapidly screaming towards him. Making out with Caramel. Baseball. Mayor Mare in a clown costume. He felt her fingers brush against his exposed testicle, those soft, delicate fingers, more gentle than anyone had been with him in months. No! She's ten! He tried to quell the shiver rushing through his entire body, repeating his unsexy cycle more and more quickly. Please, Celestia, even after all that I've done, all that I've been forced to do, not this. Don't turn me into this. Not this!

The touching stopped. He cracked one eye open. Apple Bloom bit her lip, glancing back and forth between his face and his crotch, playfully smiling at him. Then she wound back and punched him in the balls, screaming with laughter when he cried out and doubled over in agony. "Faggot!" she yelled, kicked his shin, and then ran off after Applejack.

Bright stars exploded in front of Lucky Clover's eyes. Well, got my wish, he concluded. Then he fell face-first in the mud and lay there in sweet oblivion.
> But are you absolutely positively completely super-DUPER sure you're not gay?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Applejack didn't come to collect Lucky for lunch that day. She sent three of her guards instead. This was only slightly an improvement.

A little over an hour after he'd finally gotten his plow upright and started moving again, slowed by the sharp pain in his chest whenever he took a breath, he heard the playful chatter of three mares ambling unhurriedly towards him. At first he kept going, not wanting to appear a slacker, but he slowed when he recognized two of the voices: Lyra and Bon Bon. He could afford to relax a little around these two, if only because they were usually much more interested in each other.

Friendship was in bloom in Ponyville. As long as you stuck to the streets, away from the fields and the workshops where the stallions were kept, the place had never looked happier. Mistress Twilight's "Safety In Numbers!" program had exploded in popularity. Through outreach workshops if necessary, mares had grouped themselves into inseparable clusters of three to six, spending every waking moment of their lives together. Lives which, as of the Reign, had become much easier. Anyone who'd had a husband or boyfriend before suddenly had a free source of income and labor instead, and becoming the legal "Matron" for any unclaimed stallion was as easy as filling out a form. A sudden drop in prices and new supply of free, empty houses meant that mares rarely had to work any more, only keeping up their jobs when they felt like it. And for those who didn't have a stallion to support them but didn't want a job that would take them away from their BFFs, well, there was always being a guard.

It didn't take much to be a guard, no skills required. They were given the standard weapons and tools, but most probably didn't know how to fight. However, any stallion who tried to overpower his captors quickly learned that the real danger wasn't the mares themselves, but the twenty more who would come running at the first sound of a high-pitched scream. By contrast, stallions were generally kept separate as much as possible, so organizing an escape was near to impossible. The only one that Lucky had heard of had been in the first month, and those responsible had been... made examples of. That was when the results of the purple collar program had come to light.

There were no more escape attempts after that.

There was no standard uniform for guards, either, which was especially apparent when the trio came into view. They were the regular pegasus-unicorn-earth pony combo, the latter two still chatting loudly and not paying attention to Lucky at all. Bon Bon had stuck with an old, modest sundress that fell past her knees, while Lyra had embraced the new fashion, wearing a shimmering silk wrap that flowed and exposed different parts of her middle as she walked. Their third, Derpy Hooves, trailed after them in what appeared to be a mismatched cheerleading uniform, complete with pompoms. "Good morning, ladies," Lucky said respectfully, keeping an eye on the position of the sun. "Isn't it a little early?"

They didn't answer. "You know I've always worn this," Bon Bon said to Lyra, unrolling a long leash from around her shoulder. "I'm not going to change it just because everyone else is changing."

"Come on, you need to get with the times," Lyra answered. She shrugged off another leash and then ran a finger down her side. "You would not believe how good this feels against my skin. Plus, it makes my rack look a-ma-zing." She thrust out her chest and wiggled. "Totally fuckable, right?"

"Lyra!" Bon Bon covered her mouth and pretended to look away as her friend shook her boobs at her. "...Not in front of the stallion," she flustered.

"Aw, he likes it. Don't ya?" Lyra turned and jiggled in Lucky's direction as well, smirking.

Lucky crimsoned as he realized that he, too, had been staring. "They're very nice, ma'am," he said carefully, desperately trying to keep eye contact.

"See?" Lyra sidled closer to her friend, who was blushing as well. "And I know yours are even better than mine."

She wasn't wrong. All three of the mares had clearly been affected by the new diet, which was based primarily around a fat, puffy vegetable the caribou had brought with them from their homeland. Lucky had never seen one himself, but he had heard that it was supposed to grow exceptionally well in the more temperate climate and "enhance natural beauty" in anyone who ate them. Of course, it hadn't occurred to anyone until much later that the caribou's cultural definition of beauty might not be the same as it was in Equestria, but even though half the town had had to order new bras, demand for the plant didn't go down. Bon Bon's loose-fitting dress wasn't so loose in places, and even Derpy was nearly bursting out of her top. Bizarrely, it was only Lyra, in her alien getup, who looked natural. (All three of them were definitely working for Lucky, though.)

"We'll... we'll compare cup sizes later," Bon Bon said. She clipped the end of her leash to Lucky's collar and tugged sharply. Immediately, Lucky's airway closed.

The leashes were designed to choke their victim at the slightest tug. If you saw it coming it was tempting to hold your breath, but the guards were permitted (read: encouraged) to kick stallions in the stomach if they even suspected that they were trying to fake a positive result. Lucky resigned himself to being strangled, involuntarily twitching and gasping for breath until Bon Bon was satisfied that he couldn't breathe.

Lyra then clipped her leash on and tested hers as well, this time not letting go until Lucky collapsed onto one knee. "Awesome," she chuckled, then held up a hand as Derpy started to circle around his back. "Hang on. He's got a problem."

Amidst deep gasps for air, Lucky followed her gaze down. Despite several minutes of leg-shuffling, he hadn't been able to work his loose testicle back into his pouch. "I had a fall earlier," he quickly explained, bracing himself.

"Yeah, whatever. Let me get that for you." Before he knew what was happening, Lyra was on her knees. He craned her neck, closed her eyes and lapped at the air, then stretched her lips wide and took Lucky's sweaty, muddy ball into her mouth.

The pressure was overwhelming. Lucky felt his blood rush to his dick, but the faint grazing of teeth gave a very clear answer to what would happen if he presented any trouble, any excuse to act on half the kingdom's gendered paranoia. With all his willpower, he forced himself to look away from the unbelievably hot mare on her knees in front of him and up at her steely-eyed friend with her hands on both his leashes. Caramel. Clown costume. Apple Bloom punching me in the balls. That was a good one. He would remember that for a while.

Once she was satifsied, Lyra used her teeth to pull Lucky's pouch back into place, smoothing it down with a few licks. "Delicious," she cooed, drawing herself up against his muscular front. "You're welcome."

"Th-thank you, ma'am," Lucky answered, trying not to stare at her lips.

"Lyra, you are such a slut!" Bon Bon complained as her friend walked back.

"Come on, he liked it. And you definitely like it." She smirked and took her leash. "Derpy, you got him?"

Derpy, who had been staring out at the landscape, jerked to attention. "Huh? Oh! I got him!" She pulled a key from her bosom and ran behind Lucky. After a few seconds and some loud clicks, Lucky's restraints pinged away from him. He wormed his arms out of the harness and carefully removed the bit from his mouth, making sure not to cut himself more on the thin wire. After spending so long with his arms raised he tried not to lower them right away, instead taking two staggering steps forward still posed with them perpendicular. Lyra and Bon Bon laughed at his posture and then trotted leisurely away, forcing him to stumble and stagger after them to avoid being choked.

He'd barely made it a few steps when Derpy landed heavily on his back. "Carry me!" she yelled, flapping her wings to keep herself up on him.

"Derpy!-" Lucky quickly caught her legs, wincing as the sudden movement made his arms seize up in pain. "Not today, please," he begged, all the while trying to keep her from falling and not slow his pace. "I can't breathe, and I think my rib's hurt, and-"

In response, Derpy just wrapped her arms over his shoulders and nuzzled the side of his head. "You're my favorite," she told him.

His heart melted. "Yeah, alright," he mumbled. He adjusted his grip on her legs and marched on.

They made their way off the field and on to the dryer path, towards the barn. Up front, Lyra was still talking about her silk wrap. "Look, the mud just slides right off," she said, bending over to demonstrate. Lucky had to admit, it looked even better from behind.

"This isn't about that," Bon Bon argued. "I'm not saying you don't look hot. I just like my dresses." She thought carefully. "If the new Era of Freedom means that you're allowed to wear something like that without being judged, shouldn't that mean that I should be allowed to wear what I've always worn without you trying to force your new preferences on me?"

"Come on, that's BS. You're just used to wearing that because you had to, back when it wasn't safe to show off your assets. Tender Buttons says a mare isn't really happy with her body until she's comfortable showing it off."

"That's silly. No one ever had that problem until after she made it up."

"Aw, Bon Bon, don't be like that." Lyra's voice became coy. "You have an amazing body. And I just want to know that you're happy in it."

"I am happy in my body."

"Then why won't you let anyone see it?"

Bon Bon couldn't answer, but came to a halt and stammered. Lyra stopped beside her, Lucky a safe distance back. "Maybe you just need a little reminder," Lyra said slyly, swishing her tail against Bon Bon's ass.

"Lyra, no."

"In fact, maybe I should just..." She scooted closer. "Tear that dress off of you!"

"Lyr-ah!" The name turned into a cry as Lyra buried her face against her neck, nibbling and nuzzling down into her cleavage. "We can't! The st-stallion..." she protested feebly.

Lyra tossed her leash back without looking. "Derpy, choke him if he moves," she instructed, then dove back in.

"Kay!" Derpy yelled, grabbing the end.

Bon Bon let a strap be slid off her shoulder, and her protests were turning into longer and longer moans. Lucky just stood awkwardly. He wondered if he might be allowed to sit down, or at least turn away, when the decision was made for him. As Lyra dragged Bon Bon to the ground her leash dragged Lucky as well, bringing him crashing to his knees. Instantly, the vise tightened around his throat again. He choked, trying to get a word of warning out, but both mares were occupied; Bon Bon's fist remained tight, and her other hand scrabbled for purchase on the grassy road as Lyra's tongue roamed further and further down her engorged bosom. Derpy seemed oblivious to both events, happily humming a tune to herself. Lucky released her legs and swatted at the leash, but his stallion hands simply passed through the dark material. The world began to swim and darken in front of his eyes. It was only the fortune of a reaching green finger that caused Bon Bon to shriek and release the leash and allow Lucky to gasp and dry-heave onto the road in front of him.

Even after the danger had passed, he kept his eyes firmly downward. Even given who he was dealing with, this was more out of self-preservation than a sense of decency; he needed to be in Applejack's good books right now. A tan hoof snaked into his field of vision, erotically curled. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on Derpy's humming, anything to block out the sounds of two mares having sex right in front of him. She'd wrapped her legs around him and was bobbing her head in time to her own music, flapping her wings every few beats. He almost thought he recognized the tune.

She was innocent, if only through obliviousness. Compared to the treatment he usually got, it was sweet. He almost felt sorry for her, stuck with these friends practically from another world. But as a duet of moans crashed against his ears, her body started to feel hotter and hotter against him. Her soft breasts were like pillows against his sore back, tender nipples massaging him. He put his hands under her legs to support her and instantly regretted it, unable to stop himself from rubbing and squeezing her juicy thighs. His imagination lanced out before he could catch it and he knew that from this angle her tail would be lifting her short skirt up, panties fully visible... was she even wearing panties? The only way to know would be to let his hands shake, let her skirt ride up against him, and feel either the pressure of cotton or silk or a warm, wet snatch against his back, and her music seemed to be reaching a crescendo...

"Choo choo!" Derpy yelled, yanking hard on the leash. Lucky choked on his own thoughts and wheezed heavily, almost falling forward again. Oh, right. It's a song for foals about trains. He no longer felt sorry for her.

The tryst went on for about ten minutes, during which Bon Bon came twice, wailing like a steam engine herself across the hills. Both times Lucky braced himself for a stampede of mare hooves to come storming down and beat him into the dust, but apparently "orgasmic wail" didn't register on the farm's list of emergency codes. Every few verses Derpy would clamp down on his neck again, which provided a suitable enough distraction that he was able to tune the noises and sensations out. "We're so going to get in trouble," Bon Bon said once her breathing had subsided.

"Nah, Applejack's down for us getting down. It raises morale." Lyra stood up and brushed herself off, easily throwing her sparkling wrap around herself. "Besides, Mister Delicious here was a perfect gentlecolt. Weren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lucky sighed, rising.

Bon Bon crawled upright, having more difficulty rearranging her dress from where it lay bunched around her middle. "This dress is ruined," she complained, putting her hand through a hole across the knee. "Everyone's going to stare at me."

"And they're going to love it," Lyra reassured her. She leaned Bon Bon back and kissed her deeply, then moved over to Lucky. "And our man here is the living proof of-" She slapped her hand onto his dick, stopping when she found it still soft. She rubbed it twice and then slapped both hands against his chest. "You're so boring!" she yelled, taking his leash from Derpy and whirling away with her nose in the air.

They finally reached the barn soon after. Applejack sat at a desk on a freshly-constructed balcony overhead, frustratedly struggling her way through a mountain of paperwork. It was generally assumed that she had placed her office there in the hopes that a stray wind would blow some papers away, forcing her to run after them; sadly, now that the weather team had been reduced by one third all winds were carefully regulated. "Hey, Applejack!" Lyra yelled up as they approached.

"What?" Applejack grunted back.

"Get rid of this one! He's boring!"

She leaned over her desk and stared down at them. Lucky couldn't help but feel that her gaze was piercing through him for longer than necessary. "I'll bear that in mind," she called down. "Now get him in. He's very late."

Instead of leading him all the way up to the door, Lyra and Bon Bon let go of their leashes, shoved him, and strutted off arm in arm. Derpy kissed his cheek, shimmied down his back, and hurried after. Lucky let his gaze follow her; her skirt fluttered as she skipped. She was wearing panties after all, but barely, and it stirred him to know that his hands had been so close to all that. He'd heard of a bubble butt, but this was ridiculous.

An impatient cough caught his ear, and he turned back to see Applejack leaning over at him again. She'd definitely seen him staring. With a blush and a resigned sigh, he trudged indoors.

Comet Tail was waiting on a stool at the entrance in a curtained-off area behind the door. He stood up as Lucky entered, running a quick eye over the bruises on his face and sides. He raised an eyebrow. "Again, Lucky?"

"Caramel set me up," Lucky grumbled.

"Whatever. Anything hurt?" Comet Tail's horn lit up. He was, to Lucky's knowledge, the only male unicorn on the farm, and thanks to his red collar, one of the few anywhere who was still allowed to use magic. He hadn't seen a black collar unicorn since the first day of the Reign; he wasn't entirely sure how that was possible, but he'd heard rumors.

"Just my chest," Lucky answered. "Applejack might have bruised my rib."

"You bruised your rib, Lucky. It's your job not to piss her off." He let a blue glow wash over Lucky's body, and with some focused pressure of his fingers he sealed cuts, brightened bruises, and plucked splinters. Of course, much of this healing also seemed to involve fondling areas which didn't have any injuries at all. Comet was all right for a red collar, but "for a red collar" was still the operative term. "Why don't you just let Caramel fuck you?" he said, predictably. "You know anything he can do to you won't be as bad as if you keep annoying Applejack."

"I don't swing that way, Comet. You know that." He winced as a hand pressed against his muscled chest. The tightness in his ribs diminished, but not by much. "They haven't got inside my head yet, and that's what keeps me going. Even if it hurts, I've gotta be me."

"If you say so. But you know what keeps me going?" Comet leaned in closer than was necessary. "A triple blowjob before breakfast and another over dinner."

"No thanks."

"Anal, every single time."

"I said no thanks."

"No judging, no power struggles, no pressure. No stupid mares telling you where you can and can't put it. Just two total equals getting it on."

"Seriously, if this didn't work on me the first dozen times..."

"Free choice of clothes from Carousel Boutique?"

This caught Lucky's attention. "What?"

"Yeah, that's new." Comet knelt down and started on Lucky's legs. "Mistress Rarity's got a surplus, so she's letting some reds come to her place and try things on. So long as we're being useful, we might as well look fabulous, right?" He winked up at Lucky. "Yeah, that got your attention. Only us red collars, though. I mean, everyone knows we dress way better than you."

Possibilities fluttered through Lucky's mind. He'd thrown off the idea of ever going back to the Boutique, he'd had nightmares about it, but if he could return not as a worker, but a visitor...

All this was immediately cut short when he felt Comet's hand press firmly against his crotch. "And all you have to do," he added, "is open yourself up to getting the best sex of your life..."

Lucky pulled away in disgust. His fantasies shriveled up as quickly as his junk. "Comet, for the last time, I'm not gay!" he yelled.

"Yeah, that's what I said at first," Comet said, leaning back on his haunches. "But a mouth on your dick is a mouth on your dick, right? You go through an awkward phase, everyone does, but by your second orgy you realize it doesn't matter. Once you get over that wall, you don't even miss pussy. Everything feels amazing."

"I said no," Lucky said. "And that's final."

Comet paused, his lips an inch from landing a kiss on Lucky's cock. His plaintive gaze met Lucky's glare and finally gave in. "All right," he sighed, scooting around to work up Lucky's back. "But you'll come around. Everyone does. And I'll look forward to it."

The back half went quicker; there wasn't much but the usual aches across the shoulders. "One last thing," Comet advised as he massaged him. He had to admit, this part did feel good. "Eat up quick. You're late, and we're due at the arena soon."

"What?" Lucky looked back. "That's not 'til Friday!"

"Sorry." Comet shrugged. "Schedule got moved up this morning."

"Shit." Lucky pulled away, wincing as the magic faded from the knots in his neck, and rushed for the curtains. "And, uh, thanks," he called back, then took a moment to brace himself and entered the barn proper.

As usual, the thing that hit him first was the smell.

There were no more walls or stalls in the barn; everything had been converted into one big space. In the middle of the room were two long troughs, one full of a yellowish gruel, the other water. Three black collar stallions were kneeling around the former, taking handfuls of what could loosely be described as "food" up to their mouths. One of them Lucky recognized, a former tennis player named Ace, who waved him over. Around this safe zone in the middle was a square drawn in thick red paint, slightly obscured by assorted debris, along with a thin path leading to the door. Black collars only had a limited time to eat, wash, and get back to work. If they stayed even a second too long, they would get dragged over that line... into the realm of the red collars.

Against the far wall, impossible to avoid seeing from the entrance, the massive form of Bulk Biceps sat against the wall on a bed of straw, effortlessly lifting Rough Tumble up and down on his intimidating cock. They both had their heads bent back, dopey smiles on their faces. All the while, Noteworthy lay on the ground and licked Bulk's hanging balls, simultaneously being sucked off by Mr. Breezy, who was himself being assfucked by Filthy Rich. (It was well known that Applejack had paid extra to have that particular stallion under her care.) On his other side, Night Watch furiously rode Time Turner, both of them staring at the food trough with fixed grins and silently counting. A dozen more stallions continued this pattern across both sides of the room in twos and threes and fours, filling the barn with moans and grunts and the smack of flesh on flesh from all sides. Wherever you looked an erect cock or dribbling asshole was in view, spraying spunk over the floor and each other, adding gleams to the mechanical, never-ending orgy. The blast of the scent of sex and shit could knock the uninitiated off their hooves.

With a gulp, Lucky hurried to the food trough, telling himself once again that it was all a mind game. The mares liked to get all the red collars together for lunch, but keep the blacks split up a few strangers at a time; even from the start, there'd been a conscious effort to make it seem like everyone had given in but them. Meeting faces he hadn't seen in a while, however, gave him hope. Ace he hadn't seen in weeks, and Meadow Song, who shuffled over to make room, he'd only met twice before.

"Do we have time?" he said quickly, kneeling down and putting a hand into the grainy muck. The texture was inconsistent, but mostly snotlike. "Comet Tail said-"

Ace waved him off. He was the brawniest of the four of them and had three leashes hanging from his neck instead of the usual two. "Don't worry about it," he said. "We have time. Applejack's not going anywhere until she's got those forms done. She's fucking useless without her brother doing them for her."

Lucky participated in a murmur of assent. "Where is Big Mac, anyway?" Prism Glider asked from Ace's left. He'd had his wings clipped and ruffled them constantly, unable to get over the intense wrongness of flapping but not being able to fly. "I haven't heard his thunderclaps in a while."

This was true; it had been a few days since the tree-shaking kicks of their strongest black collar had been heard echoing around the orchard. No one had an answer to this, so they resumed eating. Unable to stop himself as usual, Lucky lifted the first handful up to his nose, sniffed it experimentally, and had to hold in a gag while he swallowed. There were grains in there somewhere, and tiny squishes of what he could only pray had once been fruit, but the ingredients of the main, creamy part of it were unknowable. The mares liked to boast that it was high-protein, high-energy, and could get even the weakest stallion through the harshest day. The odds that it contained semen were almost certain - and that was before the red collars started aiming for the trough and adding some of their own. If the mares in charge had thought that this would help them get used to the taste, they were entirely wrong. At least the sniff test had him confident that no one had thrown up in the mix... this time.

After a minute to let Lucky get settled in, the group returned to their previous conversation, which, as usual, was a rousing game of What's The First Thing You're Gonna Do Once You're Free? "The first thing I'm gonna do when I'm free," Ace said in a low voice, making eye contact with the others in utter seriousness, "is rape that fucking bitch Applejack."

"Whoa, whoa!" Lucky said quickly, gesturing for quiet and making meaningful glances toward the walls. "If anyone hears you talking like that, you'll get a purple collar faster than you can-"

"I don't fucking care. It's the fucking truth." Ace kept his voice down, but put all his intensity in his eyes. "I'm sick and tired of grown stallions pussyfooting around. All princesses and wives and foot rubs and can I do anything else for you, mistress? That bitch broke Post Haste's leg yesterday. Another bitch laughed at him all the way to the hospital, and those bitches will stick his own leg up his ass before they try to fix it. To make him "safe" for them and their stupid fucking world order." He shook his head. "We work for them all our lives, we let them make the laws, we treat them like fucking goddesses, and all we ask in return is they help us get off once in a while. But instead, they sell us out and lock us up so they don't have to give us shit, then tell us it's our fault for asking for what's ours. And then they start mocking us, dressing like sluts just to remind us of what we can't have."

He was close to frothing at the mouth, but calmed down when he got to his point. "Picture this," he said, spreading his arm wide. "A new world order. We bust out of here, assemble an army, and take what those sluts promised us. We put them in leashes, see how they like it..." He contemplated this for a moment. "They probably would like it, the little whores. And then I'm gonna take that bitch Applejack, and I'm gonna tie her up in front of all of Ponyville, and I'm gonna fuck her fat, lazy ass for every time she thought she could lay a hand on me. And then I'm gonna let everyone else on the farm have a turn, all three holes for every time she tried to hurt one of us, and then I'm gonna look her in the eyes, and I'm gonna slit her fucking throat." The froth was back. "And then every mare from coast to coast is gonna get down on their fucking slut knees and suck dick for every time they said they'd give it up but didn't, or they can sit down on my fucking cock and bounce up and down until they fucking die!"

Frantic gestures to lower the volume were ignored until it was too late. Nearby, a young stallion lifted his head from his partner's lap. "What was that about sucking dick?" he asked.

"We're talking about mares, Red!" Meadow Song helpfully yelled.

"Huh?" Red Delicious slowly tilted his head, thoughts trickling like molasses. "But mares don't have dicks."

"Mares sucking my dick, you Tartarine homo!" Ace exploded at him. "If you knew anything about that, you'd be over here!"

Prism Glider slapped Ace's face back frontward, and a broad hand guided Red Delicious' lips back to their task, and the question was dropped. "But wouldn't that make you as bad as her?" Lucky interjected once the tense moment had passed.

Ace looked at him in incomprehension. "What?"

"I just mean..." Lucky gulped. "The reason we're in this mess is because Applejack thinks you're going to rape her. So if you turn around and rape her, aren't you just proving her right?"

"What? No, no. That's not the same at all." Ace shook his head, laughing. "The mares are always saying if we hadn't stopped them, if we hadn't stopped them, but that's manure. We never did anything to them, and we were never going to, because we thought our mares were perfect fucking angels. But now we know better, see? Even if you were a perfect fucking saint, a mare would lock you in a cage because protecting her empty slut pussy from what she wants is too important. They've proved that they're the fucking-obsessed psychos, not us. And it's only right that the punishment fit the crime. That's what you call a self-filling anecdote."

Lucky wasn't quite sure that he followed that logic, but he was sure that arguing with Ace wasn't in his best interests. Nodding in feigned agreement, he quickly looked to Prism Glider. "And how about you?"

"Oh, I already said my bit," Prism Glider answered, smiling pleasantly. "The first thing I'm gonna do when I'm free is kill my ex-wife for putting me here."

Next to Ace's bridled fury, it was the sheer calmness of this statement that made Lucky silent. Prism Glider just shrugged and ruffled his wings. "Round the circle," he said. "What's your plan?"

"Me? Oh..." Lucky had made plans, sometimes elaborate and fanciful ones, but they always seemed silly when he tried to speak them aloud. Besides, he wasn't sure his fellow black collars would understand. "Just my usual answer, I guess," he said, repeating what he'd said the first time he'd been asked this question. "The first thing I'm gonna do when I'm free is have a nice meal."

This earned three stares. "That's it?" Prism Glider said.

"Well, yeah." Lucky shrugged. "I'm thinking a clover salad, some soup, then a great big bowl of tomato pasta with eggplant, sugar loaf on the side, and the biggest, richest slice of chocolate cake that money can buy. And some onion rings." Playing off the stares, he took another mouthful of cumsludge. "What can I say? I used to be a food critic."

"That's just crazy talk," Ace guffawed. "You mean you've been working here all this time, watching all these sluts walk by in their tight slut outfits, and there's not one of them that you want to fuck?"

Lucky crimsoned a little. "It's not like that," he protested. "It's just that my priorities are-"

"There is," Meadow Song noted slyly. "He's just not saying."

"It's not... like that," Lucky trailed off, defeated. "It's just not the first thing I'd do. Call me old-fashioned, but I'd like to have some kind of relationship with a mare before I get busy with her. Talk with her, go on a date, find out what she's like, you know? Then fuck her," he quickly added when the dumbfounded stares didn't leave.

"Oh, I see," Prism Glider said, perking up. "She's the one who'll cook the meal for you!"

"No, I'll cook. I'm the best chef I know. We'd probably eat it on our date."

This, evidently, was not the correct answer. Ace started to flare up again dangerously. "You mean you let mares lock you in here, you let them use you and break you and try to turn you into a fag, and as soon you get out you take one of those sluts and you treat her like she's-"

"No, I get it," Meadow Song stated. He clapped Lucky on the shoulder and gave him a quick wink, which Lucky took as a cue to shut up. "Our boy's got standards, that's all. If he's gonna settle for one mare to have glued to his dick 24/7, he's gonna make sure she's nothing less than the best, am I right? I hope you find that mare, I really do. I really do," he repeated more quietly.

"...Thanks," Lucky said, unsure of what to make of it.

"Well, last but not least," Prism Glider said, turning Ace's attention toward the last stallion of the group. "Meadow, what's the first think you're gonna do when you're free?"

Meadow Song made a show of considering the question, turning his nose up and tapping his chin. Then he shrugged. "Nah, I'm good."

Even Lucky stared. In fact, he thought he saw a few red collars staring. "You're good?"

"Yeah." Meadow slurped a handful of cumsludge casually. "I'm good."

"You're good!?" Ace burst out. "After you let mares lock you in here, you let them use you and break you and try to turn you into-"

"-into a fag, and all that, I know, but you know what else?" Meadow Song said. He leaned in conspiratorially. "See, it just so happens that a certain nurse-turned-doctor has been renting me from Applejack to help her with her paperwork, which she has no idea how to do. So four days a week I go up to her office, we fudge some forms for a few hours, she brings some snacks, I sing some songs, and then she bends over the desk and makes me ride her 'til the sun goes down." He smirked widely at their shocked stares. "I've been inside her on every surface in that room, and now we're going for every position, too. If I keep my nose clean and get a full transfer there, I'll be well-fed, well-dressed, and balls-deep in the tightest little white pussy you ever did see until we retire. Now you tell me there's any way that could have happened before the Reign." He crossed his arms. "You name one mare who would have agreed to that arrangement before they started calling the shots. I'll wait."

Ace made a small, choking noise in the back of his throat. "Once we're back in control, you can still have that," he argued. "As many mares as you want, any time. And you tell them when to bend over!"

"You mean rape? Yeah, no thanks." Meadow made a gagging sound. "It's no fun unless they're into it. Real sluts are better than the ones you make."

Lucky found he couldn't let this go, either. "But is that really different from what she's doing to you?"

Meadow's curious gaze spurred him on, so he continued without prompting. "I mean, flip the situation. If you were in charge and you called her into your office one day and she didn't want to have sex, you wouldn't like that, right? So if you go to her place one day and decide that you don't feel like sex, do you really think she'd take no for an answer?"

"Oh, Lucky, Lucky, Lucky." Meadow Song laughed and clapped him on the shoulder again. "Under what circumstances would I ever say no to that?"

The pause to contemplate an answer wasn't long enough. There was a scrabbling noise as Comet Tail hastily stood to attention at the entrance, and a second later Applejack burst through the curtain, truncheon at the ready. "Are you layabouts still sittin' around?" she yelled at the black collars. "C'mon, git. I need to get you washed for the arena."

"Yes, Mistress," three voices chorused back; Ace simply mouthed the words. They stood and trudged toward the entrance. "Gonna get her," Ace muttered from the back as they got close. Lucky felt his breath on his back and got a chill. "She won't see it coming. Just one punch. Gonna break her arms and ride her ass so hard-"

Rough hands grabbed him from behind. "Hey, what the fu-" he screamed, only for a cum-soaked ball of straw to be stuffed in his mouth. Lucky turned and flinched away; Night Watch and Time Turner each had Ace under one arm and were dragging him away, his hooves kicking and scraping on the floor.

At the same time, the two red collars leaned in and licked his ears. "Time's up," they whispered.

Ace's screams grew louder as he was dragged away, desperately spitting out cum and straw. Fear gripped Lucky, but he found that he couldn't look away. Applejack absently whacked Prism Glider and Meadow Song out the door, but she too seemed transfixed, only sparing Lucky because he was out of reach. From wall to wall, the other red collars were rising, an unspeakable hunger in their eyes. They lurched and crawled after Ace with the unsteady gait that anyone would expect after taking an anal pounding for hours, drooling from both ends. At the end of the room, Bulk Biceps tossed Rough Tumble aside and spread his arms, licking his lips at Ace's approach with an audible smack.

Applejack broke out of her trance first. "G'wan, get to the hose," she yelled, whacking Lucky's shoulder. "It'll be easier to just leave him."

"Right..." Lucky said quietly, not ever remembering to add "Mistress." He took a few tottering steps backwards and nearly made it to the curtain, but still found himself staring. He could no longer even see Ace, lost within a wall of gay flesh that was closing in around him. "I'll just..."

"Don't touch me, you damned diseased faggots!" Ace screamed from within the mass. "I'll kill you! You brainwashed faggots, I'll kill you all! I'll kAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

"I said git!" Applejack yelled over the noise, striking Lucky across the stomach. He finally got the hint and rushed out. Still she took one last look herself, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Shut the fuck up!" she shouted into the caterwauling, which now sounded like a whole chorus of slightly muffled yells. She spun away and exited. "Faggots," she grunted.
> Taking One for the Other Team
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The hose" was exactly as glamorous as it sounded. On a patch of gravel next to the barn the three stallions stripped and stood shivering while Applejack and a bored white collar stallion blasted them with frigid water. Two teenage mares (Lucky didn't know their names) stood nearby and watched, whispering and giggling to each other. Meadow Song danced and fidgeted under the torrent, while Lucky and Prism Glider just stood there and took it, letting their dirtier bodies run clean. Applejack was especially thorough below the waist; the fact that she allowed them to hold up their hooves for her was appreciated, but not so much the needlessly long torrent of shrivelingly cold water to the genitals.

Once he was as freshened up as he was going to get, Lucky staggered over to the edge of the gravel, where another white collar was crouched beside a soap-filled bucket, limply scrubbing their black thongs. "Good morning, Mister Waddle," he said quietly when he was close. "How are you today?"

The elderly stallion didn't answer. White collars rarely did. Ostensibly, the white collar had been made to designate true asexuals, of which there were a surprising number, but in practice was worn by males who were simply too young, too old, or too dick-chopped-off to maintain an erection. Once the collar was on the latter clause was usually invoked anyway, "just to be on the safe side." They were a morose and lifeless lot, shuffling obediently from place to place with their legs held together and never looking anyone in the eye. To say that they were pale shadows of the stallions they'd once been was an understatement; the other collared workers were expressly forbidden from referring to them as stallions at all. They had lost that distinction. White collars were simply things.

Mister Waddle passed Lucky the thong he was holding and moved on to the next. The washing had not been thorough, and there was no way of knowing which of the three of them had been wearing it five minutes ago. With an inward sigh, Lucky pulled the garment on and let the material tighten around him, the waterlogged fabric pressing even tighter than usual against his crotch. The faintest breeze sent a chill through his balls. These took a long time to dry.

The moment he stepped away from the bucket the two teenagers pounced on him, each taking one of his two leashes. One of them had gone for a look that could be best described as "sexy librarian, according to someone who's never seen the inside of a library" while her chubbier friend had ripped up the edges of her skintight shirt so much that it looked like a deep breath could split every side of it at once. While the pair took turns choking him, he was close enough that he could finally hear what they were talking about. "Kill, fuck... marry," the pink librarian decided, pointing at the three black collars in turn, with the third landing on Lucky's chest.

"Oh my gosh, you'd fuck him?" the blue one whined. She pointedly turned up her nose in the direction of Prism Glider, who was attempting to scrub his asshole with the side of his hand. "He's, like, old! And weird. You're like, weird, Surf."

"What's, like, your choices then?"

"Ugh, isn't it, like, obvious?" She pointed at Prism Glider first. "Kill, marry, fuck." She didn't just touch Lucky's chest on the third word, but ran her finger down it. He tried not to recoil as she leaned in; her breath smelled like rotten grapes.

"You're weird."

"You're weird."

They turned away together and started to lead Lucky away. They'd only made it two steps before the blue mare tripped over the hosepipe and nearly fell. Instinct took over and Lucky reached out to catch her, but the other predictably yanked him to the ground as soon as he moved. "Oh my gosh!" Surf yelled as he struggled to breathe.

"Problem, ladies?" Applejack called, booting Meadow Song over to the bucket.

"This guy totally just grabbed Turf's ass!"

"Huh?" Turf glanced over her shoulder and wiggled her rump. "That's, like, so weird! I didn't even, like, feel it!"

"Yeah, that one'll do that," Applejack sighed. She shut off the hose and draped it over Mister Waddle, then grabbed one leash from Prism Glider and Meadow Song each. "C'mon, get him up," she snapped. "Sooner we get these three to the cart, the sooner we can relax."

"That is so true." The teens stared blankly at Lucky as he picked himself up. He said nothing; he already knew there was no point. They started off again. "Careful not to, like, trip, Turf," Surf said snottily. "I guess some guys can't even control their, like, basic decency when they see your butt."

Turf gigglesnorted. "Maybe I should, like, trip over some more stuff when Applejack's not looking."

"Oh my gosh, shut up."

"You shut up."

Fortunately, the cart was just around the corner. It had once been an ordinary work vehicle, but had since been reconstructed into a cramped, windowless crate of a carriage, used for taking stallions into town. The outside was painted sunnily with apples and the caribou's mystery vegetable; the inside was most often painted with sweat and piss. Around the front, Lucky could see the worn shoulder of Wide Load, the stallion Applejack had punched on the first official day of the Reign. He'd been permanently bolted to the front of this cart, not even unlocked to eat or sleep, "to make sure no mare can take his place, just like he wanted." Mares often joked that he must be grateful. Wide Load's thoughts on the matter were unknown.

Once they were close, Turf fished out the black bag that she'd tucked down the back of her shorts and dunked it over Lucky's head. More runic magic buzzed in his ears as the drawstring tightened. This damped most noise as well as blinded him; Applejack was not about to risk him bonding with other stallions in the cart, or even knowing how many stallions were in the cart, or how many carts there really were. It also quite literally smelled like ass. Hands grasped him, and he let himself be dragged up into the cart, banging his knees on the edge. Turf brushed against him every step of the way, pressing her ample bust against him as she backed him carefully against the wall. His hands were locked into manacles close to his waist and his leashes stretched tight through rings on the walls, giving him maybe a half-inch to safely move.

There were faint sounds of other hooves shuffling back and forth around him, but they were impossible to count. They could have numbered two or three, or the cart might be packed from wall to wall. He was pretty sure he recognized Meadow Song's dainty steps following after him; perhaps Prism Glider had been given the shift next to Wide Load in front. Any attempt to talk just bounced back inside the bag.

"Hey Turf, check this out," Surf called. Of course, female voices penetrated the material no problem. There were more unidentifiable sounds from nearby and they both cackled like banshees. Turf leaned against Lucky for support, her hand drifting much lower than it needed to. He held his breath and focused on his predicament.

"Ew!" More sudden movement and a weighty thud, and Surf started shrieking. "This guy just, like, totally jizzed on my leg! Pervert!"

"Ew ew ew!" Turf joined in. They spent a few seconds squealing at one another, interspersed with the sounds of wet cracks that were presumably kicks to the unlucky stallion's crotch. A low scream echoed in the confined space, sounding like it was coming from far away, and it must have been ear-splitting to have penetrated the bag at all. Lucky winced with every subsequent strike.

"Y'all ladies about done in there?" Applejack yelled in from outside.

The teens froze guiltily. "Yes," they yelled back.

"Then quit messing around. I ain't letting you watch if you make us late."

"Like, sorry," Surf called with a hint of sarcasm. "Gross pervert," she added one last time under her breath, cracking her hoof against a shin and stomping off.

Turf lingered just a little longer. She grabbed Lucky's hand and guided it down the front of her shorts, rubbing her whole body against his side. He gritted his teeth and thought about Caramel snickering, even as his stiff fingers quickly found a soft slit through Turf's caribou silk underwear. "Twelve West Street basement," she whispered to him. "If you ever want to make a great escape, I've got a, like, tight hole you could squeeze into." She giggled and rubbed herself a few more times with his hand, moaning and grunting into his ear, then withdrew and skipped away.

A minute passed. The mares didn't return, the door didn't close, and the cart didn't move. Lucky's fingers felt damp. He shifted uncomfortably, trying and failing to find a position that would let him relax through the journey. This was not going to happen. The wall was splintering from repeated banging, making every squirming motion a risk. All around were tiny shuffles from here and there, but the cart remained still. It was possible that they had been forgotten about. It had happened before.

Then in the distance... a roar.

Applejack made her presence known at the back. "Comfortable, gentlecolts?" she asked, sarcasm drifting off the last word. "Fraid there's been a little change in plans." All the while, the muted screams and roars were getting louder, as well as the heavy clank of chains. "Fluttershy's had one of her boys stayin' with the cows for a few days, so we'll be takin' him to the arena as well. He'll just be fillin' this little space at the back. I'm sure you won't mind. Have a nice trip!"

Lucky had already been through a lot that day. He'd numbed himself to the terrors of the Reign; it was amazing, he often thought, the kinds of things one could get used to. The threats, the beatings, the awful food, the looming presence of Caramel, the awful things he'd been made to witness and the constant effort to control his boner - all of these had passed through him without a flicker. But the approaching noise struck him in a way that nothing else could, and this, of all things, was what finally got his heart pounding with fear.

"What? No!" he yelled, unable to stop himself. "You can't do this!" Pure terror made him wrench at his bindings. The leashes closed his throat as he fruitlessly strained away from the wall. He kicked at the ground, and felt the cart start to rock back and forth as others did the same; unfortunately, their manacles had been made for stallions far stronger than them. Try as they might, not a single one got free. And then, as a heavy hoofstep landed on the edge of the cart, everything came to a stop.

An inequine bellow blasted through the confined space, sending a burst of hot, putrid air past Lucky's face. Now terror kept him still, trying not to shake or even breathe. A mare's hand used him for leverage as she dragged a heavy chain into the cart, pausing every few inches as whatever was on the other end bucked and thrashed. Another black leash almost but not completely blocked out its screaming, enough for Applejack's voice to be heard from somewhere behind it. "All right, ladies! One more push! And... we got it!" The heavy clunk of a bolt slid into place, followed rapidly by several more, as the creature was finally forced all the way into the cart. The mares cheered, and the one nearest Lucky carelessly draped her chain over his shoulder before carefully skipping off. Immediately the roars started again, growing even louder as the rear doors finally shut. A heavy latch thudded across the back, locking them in the dark with this... thing.

This purple collar.

The cart started moving with a disorienting rumble. A rage-filled scream echoed in the confined space, sounding like it was coming from every direction at once. From the direction of the vibrations, it sounded like the thing had been strung in place right in the doorway, hooves stuck to the floor and arms chained to the ceiling. Another wave of fetid breath hit Lucky, and it took all his willpower not to crap himself; it felt like the thing was inches away from his face. There was a nauseating grinding, crunching noise as heavy antlers scraped against the wooden ceiling and a muscled back pounded against the rear doors. A hot spray of spittle landed on his chest, almost making him faint. And all the while, the cart continued at its slow, rumbling pace.

He'd seen them before, but never up close. These behemoths were the reason the arena had been built, for mares and stallions alike. They were prey to be killed, for mares who wanted to show off their superiority, but more often were simply pitted against each other. Bound in place in the stands, he had been forced to watch two bellowing creatures be unleashed, naked and glistening, onto the sands. Spiked antlers were seemingly grafted onto their heads, and their muscles swelled like nothing he had believed was possible. A luscious, naked mare waved at them from a platform suspended overhead, and a single command was issued: "Winner gets to fuck her." That was all it took. The fountains of blood that spilled onto the ground burned themselves into his mind even more than the fight itself, and it was then and there that he'd decided, for his own sanity, to reject the idea that these things had ever once been ponies.

No one knew how they were made, but he'd heard stories. Stories of collars that spewed venom, of icepicks to the brain, of drugs that could not legally exist before the Reign. Of pressure chambers where mares teased stallions all day and night, flaunting their sexy bodies but never letting them touch, never letting them sleep, never letting them cum. Of medically-induced erections that lasted for weeks or months, growing agonizing from the pressure and drawing all the blood from the head. But the most terrifying story of all was the one that Mistress Fluttershy told: That she had done nothing to them at all, and that all stallions, weak or strong, would turn into this in time.

The fights had become a regular part of their psychological torture. Week after week Lucky had been made to watch these inequine things called stallions gore each other to death for the promise of release, and watched mares scream with pleasure as they impaled themselves on their turgid shafts. Twice a purple collar had even begun raping his opponent's corpse before his willing prize could even enter the ring. But just as often the "reward" would be a pig, or an unlucky black collar, or a sobbing family member who had committed the crime of showing sympathy for them. They did not even slow down. On one of these occasions Lucky had been surprised by Mistress Fluttershy herself stalking through the audience; she came up behind him and wrenched his head from where he'd been averting his gaze, and held open his eyes. "That's what you are," she hissed into his face as he watched a stallion monstrously rutting his screaming, crying sister. "That's what you fucking are."

All these memories gave Lucky an all-too-vivid idea of what was in front of him, yet his imagination still managed to make the situation worse as the screaming continued. Even by his now rock-bottom standards, the stench was unbearable, and he had to keep telling himself that the wetness that kept landing on him and the floor was only saliva. He lost track of time, seconds stretching into hours, and focused all his effort into counting the rumbles under his feet. He had to trust that the mares knew what they were doing. If Applejack was going to kill him, it wouldn't be like this. He had to trust that the bolts would hold.

And they did. A burning smell filled the air as muscles beat uselessly against enchanted metal. The cart began to start and stop at regular intervals, indicating that they'd reached the town. Lucky slowly started to calm, and even breathe again. Even the purple collar seemed to settle, growing very marginally quieter. But then came the unmistakable creak of wood.

Panic returned stronger than before. The purple collar bellowed with renewed vigor, repeatedly crashing its limbs against its chains. The creaking grew louder as something somewhere splintered, shattering under the force. It might have been his imagination, but every sound and scent seemed to be getting closer and closer.

"No, nononononononononono-!" Lucky babbled as he flattened himself back as far as he could. He started banging his head repeatedly against the wall, hoping to draw some attention that way, but it was completely lost under the thrashing of the beast in their midst. "Applejack!" he shouted, praying that something, anything would get through. "Applejack! Let us out!"

It was getting harder and harder to breathe in the bag. Almost hyperventilating, he struggled to swallow as, with a sickening crack, a shard of wood gave way from the ceiling and a chain crashed to the floor. The purple collar shrieked and flailed back and forth, trying to free its other arm. The chain snaked violently along the ground, crashing into the walls and Lucky's leg, and the rush of antlers passed just a hair in front of his nose. He screamed and thrashed within his bonds, pounding against the wall. "Applejack!" he shrieked, almost passing out from lack of air. "Applejack!"

With another thrust of antlers, a third scream entered his world, directly to his right. The lower part of a black bag flapped against his shoulder, and a voice used its new freedom to yell. At first there were no words, just a drawn-out cry of pain, slowly resolving into a name. "Aa'ujaa!" The voice was Meadow Song's, or part of it; this was shriller, wetter, missing something. "Aa'ujaa! Aa'uj-"

The antlers swung out again. The shouting stopped. Something hot and wet sprayed Lucky's side. He tried to scream, but couldn't. He tried to throw up, but couldn't. He tried to do anything, literally anything, but his throat was closed and his head was full of noise-

The cart's doors opened.

With everything else, he hadn't even noticed they'd come to a halt. A loud shudder marked it being parked, and even over the continuing roars, Applejack's voice pierced through everything. "Aw, consarn it. Fluttershy!"

Loud hoofsteps withdrew. Lucky gulped and silently begged her to hurry up. He wasn't sure if he'd passed out; it was only luck that he hadn't tangled his leashes and strangled himself. From the sound of its motions, the purple collar was shielding its eyes from the light. This gave them a few seconds at least. He gathered what strength he could and waited. And then, all at once, the smell hit.

This wasn't like anything he'd felt before. He'd grown used to filth and shit and the scent of raw sex. This... this was something else. If it was heavenly, it was a heaven of leather and oils and a wild look in the eyes; if it was flowery, it was only to the extent that would cover a soon-to-be-disturbed bedspread; if it was a perfume, it was the kind that was meant to be tasted on every part of the body but the face. It was raw and it made him feel alive. He felt like he could fight the purple collar one on one, then eat a dozen meals, fuck a dozen mares, and then, just for fun, conquer the world with one hand tied behind his back. He felt his tool growing hard as this immense strength and need filled him. He strained with new desire, not caring when his airway closed again, just needing to get out and fight.

"Oh, my," a soft voice said from the end of the cart.

It was unmistakably her. That voice that was at once innocent and strong, maddeningly both daughterly and motherly. Mistress Fluttershy took a few steps in, the pitter-patter of some helpers following. Her hair brushed Lucky as she rounded him, and his shaft shot to rock-solid in his pouch. That softness was unbearable, and on some primal level he understood: He was going to fuck that hair. He wasn't sure how exactly, or why, but that didn't matter. He was going to do it.

"Oh, no. You made a mess." She was speaking to the purple collar in that same calm, kindly tone. If she'd meant for this to calm it down, it seemed to have the opposite effect; the beast screamed at her, tugging even harder at its restraints as it started to get pulled backwards. "It's okay," she told it. "I know you didn't know any better." She giggled. "Such a pouty little baby. Don't worry, you'll get some soon. You just have to do as you're told."

Several bolts were slid back in unison, and with a mighty heave the purple collar was yanked out of the cart, landing heavily on its back. The beast was quickly muffled and started to be dragged away, Fluttershy following after. The intoxicating scent left with her, leaving Lucky panting and confused. Whatever she was wearing was unbelievably potent. He would have killed for a bottle of that before the Reign; now, he shivered at the thought of being exposed to it again. Not because it had felt wrong, but because it had felt so right.

Applejack hopped back up and circled the cart. She made various noises of disapproval as she poked and prodded different bodies. Evidently some hadn't had as much luck with their leashes as Lucky had. "All right, get 'em out," she barked. "We gotta get this one and this one cleaned up again." Judging by her tone, she was more annoyed about this than anything else.

Slender hands eased Lucky out of his manacles and untied his leashes. He shivered as he took a step forward, barely able to hold himself up. His chest and side were still sticky, and he was slowly becoming aware that he'd soiled himself after all. The fact that his stiff erection refused to go down made him slightly nauseous. He fell as he was taken off the cart, but many hands caught him, and he was allowed to steady himself before continuing.

He barely registered where they went after that, being jostled one way or the other, until water hit him. He stood obediently still as he was hosed down for the second time that day. The bag still wasn't removed from his head, but here the water was warm, and no one seemed to be in any hurry. A heavy brush scrubbed soap across his chest while smaller hands reached down below. Gentle fingers stripped his pouch away and washed the filth from him. Magical presses fixed the scratches along his back, and just for a second, the tip of his mostly-erect cock was kissed by a mouth that he was only half-sure belonged to a stallion. It was better treatment than he'd gotten in weeks, and a bathing he might have actually enjoyed if a chilling numbness wasn't keeping him from registering that it was happening at all.

The bag was finally pulled from his head. All he had time to register were wooden walls, and the next thing he knew Applejack herself was scrubbing the sweat away from his face. He let her hold him still and closed his eyes, only opening them again when she was done drying him off. "What's that look for?" she snapped at him as the horror on his face finally registered. "Y'all didn't even see anything."

From behind, another black bag was slung over his head and tied tight. He waited for the return of his thong, but was instead tugged impatiently along by his leash toward an unseen exit. He tried to orient himself and count his hoofsteps, but couldn't place himself on his mental map of the arena. "No, this way," Applejack barked at someone, tugging him sharply to the left. "This one's getting a front-row seat."

It sounded innocent enough, but the female snickering that surrounded him sent a chill through Lucky's blood.

Panic didn't really set in until the wood beneath his hooves turned into sand. A door opened and the chatter of mares hit him like a roar, stopping him dead in his tracks. He didn't move even when another tug closed his airway. While one of his unseen handlers kept fruitlessly pulling, Applejack stepped closer and grabbed his throat herself. "You're coming out here now," she growled, pulling him close, "or you're going home with Fluttershy. Got it?"

Even as he teared up, Lucky nodded. He let himself be dragged forward, holding back as much as he dared. His brain screamed in protest, his every instinct holding him back; he felt as though at any moment he was going to be dragged chest-first into a blade. The talk of the crowd turned to excited screams as sunlight hit him. The projected voice of the Mayor crackled overhead, completely lost within the cacophony. The only word that he made out was "initiation".

A slight jolt from the leashes wasn't enough warning; his hoof hit the edge of a wooden platform and he fell forward, hitting his chest sharply on what felt like a large crate. The screaming around him became pockmarked with cruel laughter. Within his bag he grimaced and set his face, ignoring the panicked throbbing of his heart. With a stern grip, his legs were spread and his hooves were shackled to the platform. Whatever happens, he told himself, face it with dignity. This became harder when a forceful hand smacked his face down onto the crate, leaving him painfully bent over with his ass in the air.

Slim manacles slipped around his wrists, and the bag was finally pulled from his head, leaving him staring straight into the crotch of Applejack's booty shorts. He gasped for breath and looked around desperately, confirming his situation: he was trussed up right in the middle of the arena, with hundreds of mares and stallions alike staring down at him. The place had been built in a mix of pegasus and earth pony styles, with vertically stacked bleachers that could accommodate the entire town and then some. These were further divided into sections, with the majority of stallions tied in place on one side, not letting them see each other. Applejack swished her tail in front of Lucky, letting her luscious ass obscure most of his view. She ran a finger through his mane teasingly. "You're pretty cute, when you're not playing grab-ass," she said. "A little taste from the other side ought'a straighten you out."

Lucky squirmed. His wrists had him winched down tight to the wooden block, and he could barely bend his knees; practically the only movement he could make was to shake his exposed backside up and down in the air, which earned a cheer from whatever section was right behind him. Applejack chuckled and sauntered away, giving him a firm smack on his rump as she went.

Okay, stay calm. Lucky clenched his eyes shut again and tried to focus on nothing at all. His legs shook violently, and he struggled for breath against the block. Stay calm. The Mayor belted something else out, filling the air with high-pitched screams and squeals again. Stay calm. Have dignity. A gong sounded loudly, and on the far end of the arena a gate creaked open. Stay ca- Despite himself, Lucky's eyes opened. Oh, handbaskets.

A massive stallion staggered out into the light. He was magnificently muscled, ripped on every part of his body and practically gleaming in the daylight. His rugged mane was swept heroically back from his solid, handsome face. Between his legs his cock hung thick and heavy, looking nearly the length of Lucky's forearm. Every part of him was immaculately groomed, beautiful in every way, a perfect dream for any straight mare or gay stallion who beheld him. But all that Lucky could focus on was his collar - a deep, vibrant red, almost invisible against the colour of the gorgeous stallion's rustic coat.

"Oh, Big Mac," Lucky whimpered, feeling despair drop heavily onto him as a hundred lusty cheers filled the air. "Not you too."

The show began immediately. A pair of naked mares ran past Lucky and struck sexy poses, shaking their hips and running their hands over their engorged breasts. But as Big Macintosh started to move, his eyes zeroed in on Lucky. In that gaze there was none of the calm, wise detachment that Lucky had seen on the few occasions he'd met the massive stallion; now, his eyes were glazed with a single-minded determination.

Every pounding hoofstep pounded in Lucky's ears. The mares threw themselves at Big Macintosh as he passed, expertly grinding their bodies against his heavy frame. They were clearly masters of the art; the display was enough to turn Lucky on, even under the circumstances. Big Mac brushed them off as if he didn't notice they were there. As he cleared the distance he reached down and started stroking his cock, thickening the shaft to terrifying proportions. A deranged, twisted smile broke onto his face as he towered over Lucky, and he exaggeratedly licked his lips. The screams and cheers of the mares around them reached new heights.

Lucky tried to find his voice as the smell hit him: soaped and perfumed, but also reeking of raw testosterone and just a hint of semen. The unmistakable smell of a red collar. "Mac, snap out of it," he begged, struggling to make himself audible. "This isn't you. You don't want this." He winced as he felt those lust-crazed eyes crawling over his bound body. Big Mac's cock stretched, casting a shadow over Lucky's face that grew longer by the second. "Please," he whimpered, all composure cracking. "You like mares. You want to be a daddy. You'd never hurt a friend, Mac, please, don't do this to m-"

A heavy hand smacked across his face, jolting him to the side. "Stuff it, fuckmeat," Big Mac bellowed in a voice that, just for a moment, quieted the arena. Then he grabbed Lucky's head in both hands, wrenched his jaw open, and plugged up Lucky's cry by shoving the head of his cock in his mouth.

Everything erupted all at once. The mares cheered as though a great evil had been vanquished right in front of them; Lucky could even hear the voice of Applejack whooping and hollering with encouragement. "Ponyville is now a little bit safer!" the Mayor proclaimed amidst the noise.

This was by far the most pleasant sensation currently pounding through Lucky's head. He held his breath and clamped his eyes shut, trying not to taste, smell, or in any way experience what was roughly invading his mouth. This was impossible. His jaw stretched painfully as Big Mac thrust hard into Lucky's face, dragging several inches of hot, hard dickflesh over Lucky's tongue. His gag reflex, overworked by day after day of a metal bit in his mouth, put up no resistance. He felt his throat distend as cock filled it completely, already slick and starting to drip into him. Before he knew it, his snout was buried all the way in Big Mac's crotch, and he had a brief moment of what was almost relief as he realized there was no more length to swallow. But this did nothing to prepare him for the thrusting.

The entire platform jolted as Big Mac drew back and slammed forward. Lucky cried out as best he could, showering Mac's thighs with a spray of spittle. A powerful rhythm took over both their bodies, Mac riding Lucky's face hard and adding his bellows of pleasure to the continuing cheering all around them. The constant crashing blew through Lucky's barriers and his brain revolted as it finally understood what was happening - that there was a dick, in his mouth, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't move, he couldn't fight, and even if his conscience had allowed him to bite down, the sheer size and force of the cock would have prevented it. He was utterly at its mercy.

The humiliation hurt worse than the pain. It still hurt a lot; Lucky's jaw creaked painfully with every thrust, and he felt as though his face and neck were being bruised. But the massive cock plugged him completely, overpowering every other sensation, until he could physically feel himself giving into it. He either had to relax his muscles or have them torn. He barely struggled for air, having become strangely used to not being able to breathe, but every sharp and desperate inhale tasted of dick. It wasn't even Big Mac who was in front of him any more, just this singular, powerful force that now lived inside him. It almost felt like it wasn't his throat that the cock was invading so much as his mind.

Just as he thought he could take no more, the cock withdrew. Big Mac grunted and panted, dragging his slick shaft all over Lucky's face. Clarity returned with an unobstructed lungful of dick-scented air. Lucky dry-heaved, barely holding onto his lunch and wondering if it was even worth the effort. He collapsed onto the block and blearily looked up, just in time to realize that Big Mac was no longer looking at his face. The massive pony was now trailing his gaze upwards, all the way to his victim's raised-up backside.

There was no point trying to fight it. Lucky let himself lie flat as Big Macintosh straightened up and walked out of view. He felt a hand trace along his side, only stopping to powerfully smack his rump. This earned a grunt from Lucky and laughter from everyone else. He took deep breaths, bracing himself and preparing to get this over with.

Instead of the brutal lancing that he'd been expecting, Big Mac started with his mouth. He planted a hefty kiss on Lucky's ass cheek and then licked, lubing him up with his broad tongue. He ate out Lucky's ass with a perverse passion, drawing a shudder from his victim. Lucky held in a whimper. It was the nature of the Reign that he couldn't honestly say he'd never had anything in there before, but it had never been like this. Tingles filled him as he was invaded; if it had been a mare behind him doing this, this would have felt amazing.

His hands balled into fists as the mouth wandered lower. Big Mac licked and sucked on his balls, while gentle fingers started to stroke his shaft. Lucky bit his lip and held in a moan from the touch. His cock started to twitch and thicken. No! Bad! Stay down! he ordered. Clown costume. Apple Bloom. Meadow Song getting shanked. Something! It was no use. It took a simple flicker of his brain to imagine that it was one of the seductresses from earlier who was now behind him, masterfully worshiping his cock and asshole, and his body chose to run with this instead of facing the truth. His dick reached semi-chub from Big Mac's fondling, sending more waves of pleasure through him while the crowd hooted. No! No! No! He beat his head against the crate in frustration. I'm not into this! A mouth on your dick is not just a mouth on your dick!

More visualizations of mares on their knees flooded him. Lucky forced his eyes open to keep himself in the moment. What he saw chilled him more than any stallion's touch could. Directly in front of him was Mistress Rarity's section of the audience.

Mistress Rarity took a somewhat different approach to controlling her stallions. Each of the ponies under her command was bound in place in a straitjacket made from black latex, another material that the caribou had arrived scarcely clothed in. Massive ball gags plugged their mouths and, Lucky knew from experience, somewhere else as well. Each of them had a rubber tube wrapped tight around their prick, leading down to a clear plastic ball strung between their legs. Every minute or so the tube would wriggle and suck, keeping the stallions permanently erect and forcing them to cum again and again, slowly filling the ball with clear, watery semen. These "satiated" stallions stood pale and trembling, weakly mewling as their aching balls were continuously pumped dry. Lucky's heart went out to them in sympathy and remembrance.

In the front row sat Mistress Rarity herself. She was wearing a skintight latex outfit of her own, which split open into a diamond across her stomach. Her full breasts were perfectly outlined by the material, allowing her to pinch and tweak a nipple as she smugly looked over the proceedings. Her other hand held a jeweled riding crop that she repeatedly flicked up into the balls of the stallion behind her. But Lucky couldn't focus on her, not that he cared to. His gaze was drawn like magnetism to the mare beside her: the only pony in that section not wearing black.

She was a pale, petite mare, defying convention by wearing an unrevealing white dress. Her light blue mane had a short, practical cut, perpetually decorated with a flower. Perhaps uniquely in all of Ponyville, her bust had remained modest, possibly no different than when Lucky had first met her. But even all of this could not compare to the difference in her eyes. She sat with both hands over her mouth, trying not to draw attention to herself, and when their eyes met across the distance she stared back at him with a silent horror that hurt worse than anything Big Mac could ever do to him.

Lucky's heart cracked. He teared up, barely noticing as a spit-lubed cock started rubbing itself across his backdoor. "Coco," he whispered.

Memories entered and overwhelmed him at the same moment that the cock did.
> Back That Ass Up To the Future
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


In the Beginning


Lucky waited nervously in front of the Carousel Boutique. He double-checked the address on his work chit, even though he knew there could be no mistake. Something about the place seemed different, even if he couldn't put his finger on what. There was a faintly different smell in the air, and maybe a sound was there that hadn't been there before, or one was missing that he hadn't noticed until just now. The place at least looked as inviting as it always had.

It took close to a minute before Rarity finally came to the door. "Hello, so sorry to keep you waiting," she said. "Please, come in." She opened the door wide and gestured inside.

A moment passed before Lucky could find his voice. Mistress Rarity looked stunning. She was wearing a black corset and stockings that perfectly complimented her already gorgeous figure, covered up only in name by a nearly transparent negligee that glittered as it cascaded around her. Her coat had a radiant shine, even for her, and her smile held a sultry edge that could arouse as much as the rest combined. Lucky became awkwardly aware of a stiffening in his pants. "P-pleased to meet you," he stammered out, quickly stepping inside. "My name's Lucky Clover." He extended a handshake. "Applejack told me I'd be working for you."

Rarity ignored his hand, instead pulling his work chit from his grip. "Ah, I see," she said, reading it over. "You're the last to arrive. Follow me, please."

Lucky followed her as she stepped daintily away. He forcefully drew his eyes away from her swishing tail and lovely hindquarters and observed his surroundings. The boutique was unusually cluttered, filled with clothing racks and fabric stacks of materials he wasn't sure he recognized. "Watch where you step, please," Rarity advised. "I'm having some workers in this week to put in the new basement, and they'll be finishing up this afternoon. It may take me a few days to get everything organized, I'm afraid, so for now you'll be working out of one of the fitting rooms."

"That's all right," Lucky said. "It's still a nice change from getting my hands dirty." Rarity was frostily silent at this, so he tried again. "I'm not sure I recognize these designs. It looks like you're starting with a Manehattan-style base, but... incorporating cuts and materials from the caribou?"

This made her perk up considerably. "Yes, absolutely! The caribou have been creating quite the scene in Manehattan. Distant Shores alone has the entire world of undergarments wrapped around her little finger. They are truly opening our eyes to how much of our industry was devoted to pleasing the tastes of a few beastly old stallions. It's been incredibly liberating since that old structure was torn down. 'Self-Gratification Without Objectification' as the saying goes." She sighed faintly, but had a smile on her face. "Of course, it's exhausting to try to keep up as one's preferred art form changes drastically before one's eyes, but this past month has given me the chance to expand in so many new directions. And one simply cannot describe the relief of finally being able to help others dress for their own beauty instead of for the eyes of their husband or date." She beamed back at him and fluttered her eyes. "And I am so glad to finally meet a stallion who agrees."

Lucky didn't recall agreeing, but he nodded just the same. "Well, I'm happy that you're happy," he said neutrally. "All I know is that mares love a stallion in a fine suit."

Rarity's smile flickered. "That... may not be the case for much longer," she said. She cracked open a thin door that was partially hidden behind a mannequin in lingerie and called out in the direction of the stairs. "Coco! Could you come help me get our new guest set up, please?"

"C-coming!" a muffled voice yelled back. A short and slightly mousy mare hurried down to them. "C-Coco Pommel," she introduced herself, holding out a hand. For some reason she wasn't quite able to look Lucky in the eye. "I'm Mistress Rarity's new assistant."

"Lucky Clover. Me too, I guess." He shook her hand. She blushed a little at his touch. This mare was dressed much more modestly, in a simple working shirt and skirt, and next to Rarity her face was incredibly plain. But in her cheeks and the furtive movements of her eyes there was a sweet, almost innocent cuteness that the beauty queen herself didn't possess. Lucky found himself smiling when he looked at her. He felt, in a small and subtle way, that his day had suddenly gotten a lot better.

"Chop chop, you two," Rarity said. She pushed the door open again and hurried them inside.

The fitting room was large for what it was, though cramped for an office, even more so with all three of them inside. Lights provided illumination from every angle and a wide mirror filled the far wall. A lot of the space was taken up by a filing cabinet and a writing desk with some strange black apparatus attached to the bottom of it. A small water cooler bubbled in the corner. There were two chairs behind the desk; Lucky immediately pulled out the nearest one, but then stopped. From the hard seat what appeared to be a piece of rubber in the shape of an intricately detailed stallion's member wobbled up at him.

"Oh, don't mind that," Rarity laughed quickly. "That's just a prototype." She levitated it out of his grip and hastily shoved it out the door. She stepped over to the filing cabinet. Lucky couldn't help but stare as she bent over. "Now, your job is going to be..."

Just as her delicate fingers touched the handle of the top drawer, a loud knocking echoed through the building, coming from the direction of the front. "Oh! That must be that client I was expecting." She straightened up and brushed past Lucky on her way out. "Coco, take care of this one, will you?"

"What?" Coco Pommel caught Rarity's wrist as she stepped back into the foyer. "But Rarity, you said-!"

"Now, Coco." Rarity turned and gave her a stern look. "What have I told you about not being a team player?"

The shorter pony visibly withered under her look. "Yes, Mistress Rarity," she mumbled.

"That's a good girl. I'll be back in just a few minutes." She vanished, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Lucky shuffled on his hooves, tasting awkwardness. Slowly, Coco turned to look at him with a new kind of nervousness. She seemed a little more apprehensive about being in the room with him, but also a little flushed. "So, um..." She looked away and rubbed her arm uncomfortably. "Please, um... t-t-take off your clothes, and sit down."

Lucky blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Please," Coco repeated, "t-take off your c... your clothes, and sit down."

He still didn't immediately move. He waited, expecting Coco to leave the room, but she just kept not-quite-looking at him expectantly. Watching for her reaction, he reached up to the top button on his shirt, but hesitated. "Are you sure?" he said. "Rarity's not going to come back in here and ask what I'm doing, is she?"

"No..." Now she even sounded a little bit miserable. "This is Mistress Rarity's idea. It's part of a new program she's trying out. All the other stallions are the same way. Please," she said again, with a small, desperate gesture. "If you don't, Mistress Rarity will think I'm being difficult again."

He couldn't argue with that voice. He started to strip, all the while half-expecting more ponies to come barging into the room with cameras flashing. As his shirt came off he saw Coco chewing her lip, trying not to look at him, and blushing intensely when she did. An inner part of him swelled with pride; he'd been working out in preparation for when the dating field became less toxic again. He was still no model, but judging by her face his efforts had been paying off. Without really thinking about it, he made a show of it as he removed his pants, flexing his arms as he slid one toned leg out after the other.

It started to feel hot, just the two of them so close together in that tiny room. Lucky's imagination flared; although he tried to keep a professional face, in the back of his mind he started to wonder what just what kind of "work" Rarity expected him to do with this adorable assistant of hers. He stopped again as his thumb slipped under the brim of his boxer shorts. "Everything?" he asked.

"Everything," Coco practically whispered, forgetting to hide her stare.

He slid the boxers down, baring himself completely save for his black collar. Coco covered her eyes, but peeked from between her fingers. Lucky's tool stood at half-mast, growing steadily thicker as the subtle opening of her mouth put more ideas in his head. "Um..." Her lips flapped, forgetting her lines, until she shook her head and aggressively turned away. "Sit down," she said. "I'll, um, set you up."

Lucky sat down. The remaining chair was not particularly comfortable, but suitable for office work - and, he reckoned, much better than the one Rarity had moved outside. From here he could get a better view of the object underneath the desk. It looked like a basic magical current generator, with a few modified wires hanging and a pipe dangling from the underside. But instead of examining it more closely, he watched the edges of Coco's skirt as she tremblingly approached the filing cabinet. She knelt down and opened the bottom drawer, producing a small object that Lucky couldn't place. It looked like a black rubber ring, which started to unroll as Coco tugged at the end of it. For a moment Lucky mistakenly identified it as a condom, an ancient birth control device from before tenderfreeze leaf had become a popular salad topping, but then recognized that it wouldn't work with a hole cut in the end. This, for whatever reason, was just a dick-sized rubber tube.

While Lucky tried to puzzle this out, Coco rose and rounded the desk to him. She pushed the desk back a few inches and, without saying a word, knelt down in front of him. Lucky's heart started to pound. His dick rose to its full height, pointing straight towards her lips, which unconsciously parted to taste the air. But while the rest of her face was flushed, Coco's eyes showed fear. As she edged closer she repeatedly glanced at Lucky's hands and up at his face, which, despite his efforts, he was sure looked hideously eager. With badly shaking fingers, she lifted up the rubber ring and started to unroll it over Lucky's cock.

Or, tried to. The material pinched painfully around the head of Lucky's shaft, and it only rolled down a little over an inch before it slid off. Coco tried again, then again, growing increasingly frustrated and then desperate as the tube refused to stay on. Lucky shifted, uncertain if he was doing something wrong. If it had been another mare, he might have suggested that what it needed was a little "lubrication" to get it going, but the fact that she seemed near tears held him back. He was reminded of his experiences with Roseluck, and not in a good way. "Um..." he finally said, hoping for some change as the rubber snapped off of his dick for the eighth time.

All of a sudden Coco stood and fled from the room, leaving the door open. A cool breeze hit Lucky, letting him finally realize how hot it had gotten in the small room. He took a gulp of air, trying to clear his head. Between Rarity and Coco, it was going to be hard to stay focused on whatever he was supposed to be doing here. He wondered if it would be polite to close the door. He also wondered how many other stallions had arrived that morning, hiding naked behind the walls. He felt a pang that he couldn't quite name as he wondered if the two beauties outside had been performing the same procedure on each of them.

Coco was presumably whispering, as Lucky could only overhear Rarity's responses from the room outside. "Coco, I told you, when I'm with a client I'm absolutely not to be... What do you mean, it doesn't fit?... Yes, it's supposed to do that, just... Oh. Oh, I see. Now that is interesting." There was the faint scrape of a chair. "Miss Melody, I am so sorry to do this to you, but I've just been informed that one of my workers has some rather exceptional equipment that needs to be attended to rather urgently. You understand, of course."

A primal part of Lucky couldn't help but feel a little smug. He'd never thought of himself as having an especially big dick - once one caught a glimpse of the bulge that Applejack's brother was packing in his jeans, it was hard for anyone not to feel inadequate - but hearing Rarity of all ponies talk about him that way returned his shaft to diamonds. He got even harder when she reappeared in the doorway, a set of sexy red-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, and peered at him over the frames like she was inspecting a priceless work of art. "Oh, yes," she said in a sultry voice. "That could certainly be a problem."

She snapped out a tape measure and took Coco's place on the floor in front of him. Coco followed and shut the door behind her, leaning against it with her head down. "Yes," Rarity mused, rolling the tape down Lucky's many inches, "it's a good thing you brought this to my attention. Clearly, the next model of the Satiator will have to accommodate a much wider range of sizes. Much, much... wider," she repeated to herself, double-checking her measurement for Lucky's girth.

The tape measure felt deliciously cool against his skin, while the light brushes of Rarity's fingers were teasing to the point of madness. "Sorry, what's this about?" Lucky asked, no longer able to keep his curiosity contained.

Rarity ignored the question, instead just beaming up at him. "You certainly are a lucky find for us, mister..." She waited.

"...Lucky Clover," Lucky reminded her.

"Yes, you certainly are." She patted his penis as one might a puppy and stood up, crossing over to the filing cabinet. "Won't be just a minute," she said.

She opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet, then faced directly away from Lucky and bent all the way down to it. She raised her tail and swished from side to side as she pulled out materials, giving him a perfect view of her stockinged legs and pearly white ass, concealed from him only by the very thinnest of thongs. In typical fashion, Lucky could only gawk while she wiggled back and forth in front of him. She took her time rummaging through her supplies, shifting her perfect, slender curves all the while, to the extent that Lucky knew there was no way this could be unintentional. He'd heard of having junk in the trunk, but this was ridiculous.

With what little blood remained in his brain, he wondered idly if all this was some sort of test. Was Mistress Rarity trying to seduce him? Was the way to pass to vault over the desk and fuck her senseless right then and there? His dick said yes, and his muscles flopped and clashed in his seat as different parts of his body tried to agree. Both his cock and his brain started to hurt. He finally dragged his eyes away and glanced at Coco, whom he realized had been staring at him just as hard. Immediately she turned her gaze away as well and folded her arms, staring poutily at the wall.

As if she'd been waiting for this, Rarity finally straightened up and turned around with her arms full. Her horn lit up and she did several things at once: floating Lucky's clothes over to Coco, spreading a sheet of thin black rubber over the desk, raising up a pair of scissors, stretching out her tape measure. With a speed that came more from flawless coordination than the movements themselves, she produced a slightly curved rectangle and floated it over to Lucky's cock, wrapping it snugly around. It was a comfortable fit, stretching from the base to just before the tip, with a texture that he couldn't quite compare to anything he'd felt before. Crossing around again, Rarity touched a finger to her horn and carried a spark from it down to the rubber sheath, sealing its edges together. When the magic faded, it was impossible to tell where the seam had even been. "Ah, that's better," Rarity said, admiring her work. "Now, I really must be getting back."

"But that's only half the spell," Coco protested as Rarity made to leave. "It doesn't have the same charge that the other ones d-"

"I know, I know, Coco, but I simply can't keep my client waiting." She took Lucky's clothes and bustled out the door. "I've warmed it up for you," she called over her shoulder. "Just give him a quick blow job, will you?" Before either of them could respond, she shut the door.

Coco stared silently after her. She slowly faced Lucky, not by turning toward him, but by carefully backing away until her back was pressed against the furthest wall. Her face was hard to read; she was flushed and quivering, but also disconcertingly tense, like a rabbit waiting for the wolf to make the first move. Lucky stared back, feeling more confusion than anything else. "Um, what did she say?" he said.

Coco started to creep forward. "I'm, um, I'm going to give you a blow job now," she said. "Is... is that okay?"

"Um..." He laughed awkwardly. "Yes?" His cock gave a much more concise answer, twitching impatiently within its new clothing. It strained harder and harder as she stumbled across the room and dropped to her knees in front of him again. He held his breath and gripped the chair tightly as she put her hands on his thighs, licked her lips, and then, with another fearful glance up at him, pressed her lips against the head of his cock.

Lucky let out a massive groan of release as her mouth touched him. It had been a few weeks by now since he'd gotten any action, and he'd been starting to worry that this whole morning was going to be one gigantic cocktease; finally passing the point of no return was an enormous weight off his mind. She kept kissing his shaft, opening her mouth a little wider each time, then stretching to take him inside of her. Her cheeks puffed and for a moment she just held him there, looking up at him as if for approval. And when he nodded, she began to suck.

The feeling was incredible. Coco slowly pushed her head down, her teeth grazing him as she inexpertly licked his tip. Her inexperience only served to make her cuter to him - but even so, he was accustomed to getting sucked off by the best. This teasing was torment; his aching need needed more. He half-consciously jerked his hips forward, forcing another inch of flesh into Coco's mouth and hitting the back of her throat. She gagged, immediately breaking away from him and gasping for air. "Uh... sorry," he said sheepishly. She just closed her eyes and forced herself back onto him, holding something in.

The longer it went on, the harder it was to get into it. He just sat there and let Coco try to figure out what she was doing. And in fairness, she was succeeding; she started to get a rhythm going on her comfort zone of the first inch and a half of his cock, slowly easing up on how often her teeth rubbed him. He could barely feel the rubber tube, and in places it even added more pressure to his most sensitive spots. And dry spell aside, Coco Pommel was easily the cutest mare he'd had on him all year, if not even longer. But every time she looked at him, it was as if she was afraid he was going to hit her. She winced when he looked at her, forcing herself further down on him even as she choked. As blow jobs went, the feeling was just passable. It looked amazing. But every whimper from her just made him wonder if any minute now she'd be running away and sobbing, never to be seen again.

The tipping point came when she took both of his hands and put them on either side of her head, giving him complete freedom to fuck her face as he had before. The look of desperate helplessness in her eyes was too much; he felt himself losing his boner in her mouth. She felt it too, rubbing the length with her fingers to try to stir some life back into it. "P-please," she begged, letting him drop limply from her mouth. "You have to stay hard. It won't work if... if you don't..."

"Yeah, I'm... I'm sorry." He scooted his hips back and gently pulled her hands away. "I don't think this is working for me."

Now she looked like she was about to cry. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, sinking lower than ever. "I'm no good at this. You're r-really sexy, and I was trying so hard, and-"

"No, no. It's not you." He reached out to her, quietly fanning his own ego. She at first flinched away from his touch, but when he immediately withdrew as well she looked up shyly at him. "You're really pretty, and you were doing, um, a good job," he said. He thought about Roseluck's face and gulped. It was one thing that he'd been a jerk once, but he couldn't in good conscience make the same mistake twice. No, not even for a blow job. "It's just... it's really obvious that you don't want to be doing this, and that's a pretty major turn-off for me. No offense."

She sniffed. A note of surprise entered her voice. "Really?"

"Really." He smiled at her and helped her up. "Rarity was being too hard on you. I shouldn't have let her push you to do that. I don't even..." He laughed at the absurdity of it all. "I don't even know why any of this is happening."

Coco trembled. She took one small step toward the door, but then stopped, as though realizing she didn't have anywhere to go. Then all of a sudden she was on Lucky's shoulder, quietly weeping. "I don't either," she whispered.

Words caught in Lucky's throat. He tried to analyze the situation rapidly as blood rushed back to his brain. His aching blue balls told him to make a move, but he couldn't risk scaring her off. Slowly, he started to move his arm, and when Coco didn't pull away from him he put it around her, making sure to keep it chaste. "It's okay," he tried.

"It's not okay." Coco dropped to her knees again and clung to him tightly. "You're the only stallion who's come in all month who hasn't tried to touch me. They keep grabbing me, and making me sit on them, and trying to make me kiss them... They keep doing it whenever Rarity turns away from me. She never listens to me. Sometimes... Sometimes I think she's letting them do it. And then she takes them into the back room, and I keep hearing noises..."

Lucky's dick perked up at this, but the noises of Coco on his shoulder cooled him off. "What's gotten into her?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Her hands balled up into fists. "She never talks about friendship any more. It's all stallions and penises and what a mare should be and, and machines. She told me that she brought me to Ponyville to teach me about the world, but... What am I supposed to be learning?"

For a moment an alluring thought leaped into Lucky's mind: of a world where mares were taught that they only existed to serve cocks, and lived as slaves for the constant pleasure of stallions. He immediately brushed this off as ridiculous. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I just wish I could help her." She sighed. "Ever since she started going to those meetings... no, before that. A little after I got here, I heard her having an argument with somepony from Canterlot. I didn't see who it was, but she sounded important. She told Rarity there was no market for dresses any more and she needed to start a bra and panty line right away or she'd go broke. They shouted for an hour and then Rarity locked herself in her room. I could hear her crying all day. And when she came out..."

She sobbed and shook her head. "She doesn't want this. I know she doesn't. She keeps saying that she's happier now, but she's not. She's angry, all the time. It feels like everyone's angry, and we keep taking it out on each other, and no one even knows why. I just... I just want things to go back to the way they were."

She rested her head against him. Taking a cue from past dates, Lucky kept his mouth shut and just let her cry. Eventually, she sniffled and nuzzled him. "Thank you," she said. "No one's ever listened to me since I came here."

"It's the least I could do." He gave her a squeeze. "Rarity's out of line. I can understand if she's upset, but she shouldn't be dragging you into this." He hesitated. "Um... whatever this is. Why exactly are we doing this?"

"Oh. Um..." Coco hesitantly pointed down at his lap, keeping her finger well back. "That thing you're wearing," she said. "It's kind of like a record. It makes a copy of anything physical that happens to it. Mistress Twilight Sparkle helped Rarity make them in exchange for the data she gets from them."

"Seriously?" Lucky looked down at the black tube on his dick. It utterly failed to look menacing. "She's using you to collect blow job samples? That's messed up."

"I know. I wish I could stand up to her." A hint of a smile graced her lips. "I wish I was as strong as you. I didn't think any stallion would want to say no to a blow job."

Blue balls made themselves known again in an uneasy regret. It would have been nice to keep having Coco sucking him off. If his guilt hadn't kicked in at exactly that moment... If the situation had been less absurd... If Coco had been just a little less terrible at giving head... He gulped and pushed back how close he'd been to using her face like a toy as she'd offered. Even now, there was still some part of him that was calculating how to get her on her knees again. "I like to think I'm pretty average," he said evasively.

"I wish that was true. But you're not. Thank you." She moved back a little and looked away shyly. "I've, um, never had a penis in my mouth before," she said.

It was kind of obvious. "Never?"

"No. I've, um..." She looked at the floor. "I've never even kissed anyone before."

His flirting instincts kicked in. "Really? A pretty thing like you?"

"It's not that no one wants to kiss me." She turned away and leaned back against the chair, holding her knees against her chest. Her head rested on Lucky's leg. "Lots of ponies have tried to kiss me. But I've never kissed anyone back. Rarity says that a first time is an outdated concept and I should just enjoy myself, but... I've still always wanted it to be special." She leaned back and looked up at him. "Is that dumb?"

Lucky could barely remember his first kiss. Or his first blow job. Or even his first fuck. He wasn't even totally sure that they'd happened in that order. "I dunno," he said with a shrug. "I thought the whole point of this pro-mare movement was that I'm not allowed to judge you any more."

"It's not always the stallions who do the judging," she answered quietly.

"Well..." He shifted slightly, blood pumping. "I know the answer I'm supposed to give is that you should do what's right for you no matter what, but... it's really hard to make that call with you so close and without any clothes on."

Coco giggled. But she didn't move away. She turned slightly and craned her head back, staring at the dick so tauntingly close to her. "I..." She flushed red. "I could try again."

Lucky's chest tightened in conflict. "You don't have to."

"Yes I do. Rarity gave me a job to do. And maybe, um... I kind of want to. A little." She stared with a shy hunger, at once shrinking away and drawing herself closer. "This isn't how I thought my first time doing this would go, but... as long as no one's making me... I just don't want it to be a disappointment."

Lucky's heart cracked. "Wait..." She started to rise, but he put a hand on her shoulder. "To be honest..." His balls ached and quivered like they wanted to leap up into his throat and strangle him, but he kept going. "It would feel wrong to get a blow job from a mare if I haven't even taken her out to dinner."

Her ears flicked up as she caught his meaning. "Are you asking me to...?"

"If it wouldn't be too awkward. I'm free tonight, if you are. I think. Promise I'll keep my pants on."

"Yes!" She jumped up, shouting a little too loudly. Her smile quickly faded. "I mean, maybe. If Mistress Rarity says it's okay. I'll think about it."

"That's all I can ask," Lucky said, feigning calmness.

And then the door opened.

Mistress Rarity cast her eyes about the room, quickly locking into an expression of annoyance. "Coco, are you still not done in here?" she snapped.

"Mistress!" All of Coco's plucky demeanor vanished. "Mistress, I-I-I-"

Rarity stormed over to Lucky and, before either of them could get a word out, grabbed his shaft by the middle and rolled it between her fingers. "Why, this penis is bone-dry!" she exclaimed, apparently unaware of her own pun. "Did you even put your mouth on this at all?"

"Hey, leave her alone!" Lucky started, trying to rise.

"Quiet!" With a barked order, Rarity shoved Lucky in the middle of his chest. He weakly fell back onto the chair. For some reason, her touch alone had made him feel like jelly. "Coco, I simply do not understand you," she continued, shaking her head. "I lock you alone in a room for ten whole minutes with this, and your mouth doesn't even begin to water? Come here." When Coco just shook, she sighed and tried again. "Please come here. I promise, you are not in any trouble."

Coco crept forward as close as she dared. In a dainty step, Rarity swept behind her. "Just look at that," she said, holding her head still as Coco shyly tried to avert her gaze. "Quite the delectable body, don't you think? Don't you just want to ravage it with kisses? Don't you just want to eat it all up?"

Coco nervously chewed her lip, turning redder than ever as she was made to stare hard at Lucky's muscles. "Yes," she squeaked.

"Then why don't you?" Rarity nuzzled her lovingly. "I know it must be painful, to be so inhibited. But there's simply no reason to hold yourself back any more. Enjoying a stallion's body is something to be celebrated, not ashamed of. And I know that it will make him very happy, too." She playfully nipped Coco's ear, then pushed her forward with a light smack on her bottom. "Now go on," she said. "Have some fun!"

Coco didn't move. She dragged her gaze up to Lucky's eyes, and the pair just stared at each other silently, in mutual understanding and uncertainty. "Oh, for Glacia's sake," Rarity eventually huffed, giving up. "Coco, must I do everything for you?"

She pushed past Coco and dropped to her knees in front of Lucky. "Now pay attention," she said, pulling her mane back into a ponytail. She flicked a spark down from her horn that vibrated the rubber tube and made his cock tingle, which he assumed was her initial spell resetting itself. "This is something that you're going to have to learn how to do at some point."

Lucky raised his hand in half-hearted protest. Rarity slapped it down, forcefully spread his legs, and then proceeded to give him the best blow job of his life.

It was incredible beyond words. Just a few licks were all it took to get him hard as diamonds again, and then her silken mouth enveloped him and slid halfway down his length in a single gulp. Rarity sucked like a goddess, gliding her silken lips up and down his shaft with lubricated ease. Lucky moaned uncontrollably with each plunge. The room swam in front of his eyes; the world became lost to him except for Rarity's face contorting into a fucksleeve around his cock and the gleam of her jiggling tits just below. Then he lost himself completely and threw his head back with eyes shut tight, grunting and groaning and resisting her hands to push forward with his hips. Her tongue swirled around as she took him to the hilt, which was enough to push him over the edge. He cried out and tensed his body, wracked by an orgasm like nothing he'd ever felt before as he pumped weeks of built-up cum down Rarity's throat. She swallowed eagerly, two, three, four times, then drew back only a little and continued to suck the last few drops until he was limp enough to flop wetly out of her mouth. "Mmm," she crooned with satisfaction. "Delicious. Now, Coco, don't you wish you'd been the one to do that instead of me?"

Coco whimpered, more than ever sounding like she was about to cry. "Yes," she said.

"That's what I thought." She stood up, daintily wiping a few flecks off her chin. Lucky opened his eyes, but could barely follow her, his mind still reeling from what had just happened. "Stallions are pigs," Rarity said, reclining on the desk. "While you or I may have our completely natural and safe sexual urges, they are completely controlled by theirs. You can never trust anything a stallion says if he hasn't relieved himself in the past ten minutes. They'll fight and lie and cheat and steal just to get the barest hint of satisfaction from you. But if you can keep those desires satiated, then you'll begin to see the real stallion underneath: a sad, thoughtless, yet delightfully obedient little pet." She stretched out her leg and tenderly rubbed Lucky's limp prick with her hoof. "Why, this one will do just anything I ask of him without complaint, won't you, dear?"

Forming an answer still required too much brainpower for the moment. "Weh," Lucky answered vaguely.

"You see? Perfectly docile." She hopped from the desk and reached beneath it. The pipe below the machine extended at her touch, spilling out more black material the same consistency as the stuff on Lucky's dick. She took the end of it and slid it over the tip of Lucky's penis, where it immediately fused with what was already there. "If this works," Rarity said, "it could mean the beginning of the end of all our stallion problems forever."

Her job done, Rarity rose again and finally completed her initial task of opening the top drawer of the filing cabinet. She lifted out a long string of black material, which she floated over to Coco, followed by two enormous armfuls of paper that she had to use magic to help her hold onto. "Staple these forms," she ordered once she'd completely emptied the drawer onto Lucky's desk. "The first three pages in order, with the small flyer stapled to the top right of the second page. I expect these to be finished by tonight."

"Uh..." Lucky blinked. A large stapler landed in front of him. "Is that all?"

"For now. Hurry up, Coco."

Coco's hands snaked around his waist. She tied the dark strip in a loose knot around him, lightly binding him to the chair. "I'm sorry," she whispered in his ear. In his fuzzy-minded state, all he could think to do was nuzzle her cheek and put his hand over hers. He hoped she knew that meant he understood.

"Do not let him touch you." Rarity snatched her assistant away. "If you want to keep him wrapped around your little finger, you must be the one to touch him, not the other way around. Otherwise he'll start to think he can get away with doing to you whatever he likes."

Coco gave him a long backward glance as she was dragged away. "I don't think this one's that bad," she said. "He and I were talking, and-"

"Don't be silly, Coco. You know he was only trying to get under your skirt." Rarity pushed open the door. "Now come along. We need to clean. The builders will be here in a few hours, and I want to be far away from them when they are. I'd say we both deserve another spa day, don't you?"

They vanished. With a loud, unnatural clunk, the door shut.

Once his head had sufficiently cleared, Lucky got to work. He read the pages over as he figured out how to assemble them. It was a mountain of order forms with references to a catalogue that was presumably being assembled in another room. From the names alone, he could tell that Rarity hadn't been exaggerating about her need to expand and adapt; there were pages of corsets, bodysuits, leggings, undergarments of every kind, and yet more things that he couldn't begin to guess the appearance or function of, along with an entire blank page for special orders. The only hint of her old wares was the tiny flyer that he stuck into the middle, advertising a clearance sale on all autumn dresses and ballroom gowns. He felt a pang of sympathy for her and did his best to make it stand out.

He was used to long, repetitive jobs, and quickly settled into a rhythm that allowed him to zone out, even if the circumstances were a little stranger than usual. He'd lost track of how long he'd been working when the machine below the desk suddenly sprang to life. It clicked and sent a magical pulse down the tube to Lucky's cock, jolting him and almost making him staple his own thumb. His dick started to rise again from the pleasing vibrations, which all of a sudden stopped. And then the licking started.

"Celestia-!" Lucky gripped the edge of the table and looked down. If it wasn't for what he was seeing, he would have been dead certain that Rarity was on the floor in front of him again, lubing him up for another round. Minuscule twitches and indentations lined the rubber, molding it even more perfectly into his cock and covering him in all the sensations of the Mistress' tongue, copied exactly right down to the sticky residue and the warmth of her breath. Then when her mouth descended to take him in a second time he threw his head back and let imagination take him. He could practically feel her hands on his thighs as he humped the air, moaning all over again in ecstasy. Once again it was her final deep-throating that made him cum, shooting more sticky wads that shot down the tube and into the machine. Then the hum of magic faded, leaving Lucky gasping and panting in his chair.

Ten minutes later, it happened again. This time Lucky lasted longer; when he had yet to orgasm by the end of the routine the feeling of Rarity's throat slowly faded and restarted with the teasing initial licks. Five minutes after that, it happened a third time. There seemed to be no pattern to it, with no consistent wait from either the beginning or end of each cycle, leaving Lucky constantly on edge. He wielded his stapler carefully, aware that at any moment another jolt could render him completely catatonic once again.

Two hours later, this was no longer fun. His balls ached constantly from being continually drained and his cock started to feel like it was being burned. He drank several cups from the water cooler and pissed down the tube, which was carried away by a suction that was at least something different. No matter what he did, his head ached. Each successive blow job made him feel a little bit weaker. He pulled on the tube, but it felt like it was glued to his skin. The machine gave him a painful jolt when he kicked it. The thin strip that Coco had used to tie him down proved somehow unbreakable, and despite how easily she had tied the knot that held him, for some reason his own hands kept slipping off of it.

Time began to have no meaning. He finished stapling the order forms, no thanks to the "help" of the machine, but Rarity and Coco did not reappear. There was nothing for him to do but relax and get sucked off - a perfect day on paper that was slowly turning into a nightmare. Before now, he hadn't believed that it was possible for an orgasm to feel anything but good. Eventually there was a succession of rumbles and clunks, which he guessed was the builders tunneling out the basement. No matter how much he yelled for them, they never answered. Some time later, they left. He groaned listlessly as he realized the sounds were finally gone, then groaned again as he weakly pumped out another thin string of cum. His stomach rumbled, unheard by anyone. The water cooler ran out of cups.

He wondered how many other stallions there were, locked away in the walls like this. Was Twilight's experiment having its intended effect, he wondered weakly? Did Rarity really think he would be happier like this? He took another swipe at the Satiator with a leg that felt like jelly, letting the pain from the warning jolt keep him focused. The movement made him slide around in his damp seat, and his thoughts went back to the chair outside the door. A spike like that would certainly keep him in place. But that was just a prototype. Rarity's hurried voice echoed inside of him again and again - The chair? "Just a prototype." The rope? "Just a prototype." The Satiator? "Just a prototype." He wondered what the basement was actually for and his mind went to places darker yet.

When the door finally opened again, it was night outside. He blinked, barely conscious, and the first thought in his addled mind was that he was missing his date with Coco. A vague outline in the shape of hands unhooked him from the Satiator and, lacking the energy to do anything else, he wept. For the moment, for that one, final moment, the terror of the Reign was over. He could not yet begin to comprehend that for him, everything had only just begun.





"Lucky."

No response. Lucky rolled on his front as though unconscious.

"Lucky, snap out of it."

He didn't want to snap out of it. Coming back to the present seemed like a terrible idea. The present was full of pain and humiliation and doubting that he would be able to sit down ever again. The past wasn't much better, but it had slightly friendlier faces. What he had wasn't much, but he would give it all to spend the rest of his life reliving those stupid, awkward moments, forever in the arms of the last pony he'd ever met who hadn't been driven completely nuts...

"Lucky!"

Maybe, he thought, I should just disappear. It seemed strangely plausible. Just drift away and never wake up. My body can become a toy for the red collars, or a purple. I won't need it any more. I can just be me, here, forever, with my memories of-

"Lucky, I ain't gay."

...hold that thought.

Everything zipped back into focus all at once. Big Macintosh was riding his ass hard, plunging a cock that felt like a tree trunk into his painfully stretched anus like a piston out of Tartarus. The explosion of pain from his hindquarters returned, but by this point he'd become almost numb to it. In fact, if he'd been in a different mindset, the feeling of being utterly filled up might have been oddly satisfying. Tiny pulse grenades of unwanted pleasure squelched out from each titanic pressure against what he guessed was his prostate, refusing to let his completely inappropriate erection go down. Mac's rough hands grabbed his shoulders and his weight fell heavy across him. Hot, fetid breath wafted against his ear from Big Mac's mouth - a mouth that, just seconds ago, had formed words. Words that he could not possibly have actually said. "Wha?" Lucky blurted, still slowly coming to.

"Oh, thank the stars, you're still with me." The pounding became marginally less brutal. "Lucky, I ain't gay."

"What?" Lucky twisted to try to look at him. "What do you mean you're not gAAAAAAAAAH!" He shrieked as an especially powerful thrust made Mac's crotch smack against his rump, knocking their balls together. The mares around them cheered out their appreciation.

"Quiet!" Mac ordered as he kept fucking. "Try not to move your lips. If they catch us talkin' it'll be purple collars for us both."

Lucky looked around. The shrieks of the crowd still completely dominated the arena, marked by laughter and the shrill wails of mares openly masturbating in the stands. Paradoxically, even with the eyes of most of the town on them, the odds of being overheard were next to zilch. "How are you not gay?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Faking it. I'm pretending you're Twilight Sparkle. Ungh!" He grunted and performed another powerful thrust again, indulging in some inner fantasy. His hands rippled down Lucky's back in a way that sent shivers through him. "I'm here because I've got a message," he said.

"A message?"

"Yup. A message I've been guarding with my life. And when I'm gone, you'll be the one who has to guard it with your life. So can I trust you?"

"Uh..." Lucky shrugged helplessly. "Yes?"

"No, Lucky. Can. I. Trust You?" Each word was hissed threateningly, marked by yet another painful slam up the ass.

Lucky gulped, weighing his options. On one hand, he wasn't sure where his mind was at or where it would end up going, considering where it had been just seconds ago. On the other hand, it probably wasn't a good idea to piss off a pony who could easily rupture his intestines and make it look like an accident. "Yes," he answered with what he hoped was a sense of finality.

"Good. Then listen, and listen closely. Because no matter what happens, you need to remember..." He leaned in as close as he dared and whispered:

"King Sombra has not forgotten us."

Lucky took a long moment to absorb this. "Who the heck is Sombra?"

"No idea. My sister might'a mentioned him once."

"And what does that mean, he has not forgotten us?"

"I don't know. The pony who told me didn't know either. But it's important. Uhn, Twilight..." Mac moaned, and Lucky felt his cock grow harder inside him. "Be careful who you tell this to," the big pony wheezed. "Trust no one who you think might turn. No mare can ever know about this."

Lucky went completely silent. For a while there was only the hooting of the audience and the low slap of Big Mac's balls against his ass. One of the seductresses from before did a long cartwheel across the arena, her free breasts bouncing wildly. "Mac?" Lucky eventually said.

"Mm?"

"Was this cryptic message really so important that you had to spend the rest of your life sucking dick and bang me in the ass to tell me about it?"

"Have faith, Lucky. One day you'll be glad you held on to this." Mac straightened up a little. "'Sides, I didn't come here for you. Couldn't count on my initiation partner bein' somepony I could rely on. Meetin' you here was just..." He thought for a second and avoided the obvious pun. "Good fortune."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"See-"

Mac trailed off as from the other end of the arena came a roar. The roar of the crowd dimmed while crashes and screams echoed from the door that Big Macintosh had emerged from. A mare was flung out of the shadows, landed hard on an already broken arm, but still picked herself up and sprinted away out of pure terror. What followed tore off part of the wall as it crashed through after her, screaming with inequine lust and fury. It wore a collar of vibrant purple that was completely ringed in black and silver chains, some of which dragged more mares behind it as they fruitlessly tried to hold it back. Lucky felt a deep chill at the sight - not because of its presence here, nor because of what he'd heard and felt in the cart, but because he recognized it.

"Oh my gosh," he breathed. "Davenport?"

The thing that had once been Davenport bellowed in his direction. There were traces of the mild-mannered shopkeeper in there, in his colours and the basic shape of his face, but the rest was unrecognizable. He was grotesquely muscled in ways that should not have been possible, as though rocks had been planted into his limbs, and could not fully balance on his legs. His cock stood straight out and slightly dribbling, and oddly small; though in reality it was of average size, and possibly even a decent size, it seemed tiny on his warped frame. A pair of asymmetrical antlers erupted from his skull, fearsomely spiked and stained with red. He gnashed his teeth, which had been filed into spikes, and locked eyes with Lucky. With a maddened shriek that he had heard several times too many, the purple collar charged.

Time seemed to slow down. The creature threw itself forward with its hands and hooves, weaving and changing directions with every step. There were screams, and the sound of running hooves, but not enough - nothing could be fast enough. As doom bore down on him there was a great rush, and then an incredible emptiness, and suddenly Big Macintosh was vaulting over him with a cry of his own, cock bobbing and fists rising. He closed his eyes as the pair met and there was a great, thundering crash, and then nothing at all.

Slowly, Lucky peeked an eye open. The two mighty stallions stood crouched toward each other, perfectly still. Then the purple collar hacked out a weak, spittle-filled gasp and slowly toppled backward, leaving Big Mac's fist in the air an inch into where its gut had been. It crashed down onto the ground with a spray of sand and lay still. But still the crowd was silent, and Lucky realized that, more than the purple collar who had escaped, all eyes were on the red collar who had just broken the rules.

What they had just seen was a red collar with self-preservation instincts. A red collar who, given the choice, was doing literally anything other than fucking stallions. A red collar who had just defended a black collar. And all this on the very day that he was supposed to prove he had been truly broken. Lucky started to sweat. If neither of them came up with anything in the next few seconds...

Fortunately, Big Mac saved it. He stepped back and roughly grabbed Lucky's mane, lifting him up. "THIS ONE'S MINE!" he roared with almost equal ferocity to the beast. Then he turned and, grabbing Lucky beneath the arms, pulled. In a titanic display of strength, Lucky was yanked up until the manacles around his wrists snapped free of the rope holding them, followed by the ones on his legs. He cried out in pain from his sudden release and was held up like a prize in front of the gasping crowd. Then he was lifted further so that he was facing the red collar and, before he had time to brace himself, was slammed back down onto his massive cock.

Now the crowd went wild, screaming and hollering in victory, while Lucky cried out with something even more base. There could be no gentleness here; gravity plugged him down the shaft right to the hilt. Big Macintosh held him steady in both arms and, just for a second, gave him a sympathetic look. "Sorry, Lucky," he whispered. "We really have to sell this now."

While mares began to drag the downed purple collar away, the fucking began anew. Mac held Lucky close to him and pounded him from below, turning every thrust into a painful jolt. Lucky just whimpered and tried to hold on. His cock rubbed against Mac's hardened abs on every stroke.

When maintaining this angle became too much, Big Macintosh put one hoof up on the platform and bounced Lucky on his knee. This freed up one hand to run up Lucky's spine, crushing their muscular chests together. Lucky didn't see where this was going until Big Mac kissed him, forcing his tongue deep into his mouth. Somehow, through all the sweat and dick and semen, he still tasted like apples. Lucky choked and pulled his head away in disgust, only to get shoved close again. "Kiss me back," Big Mac hissed in his ear.

"Are you crazy?"

"I'm goin' soft. Kiss me back!"

Mac's erection didn't feel like it was going down, but now was no time to argue. Lucky sighed to himself, made a mental reassurance that this meant nothing to him, then kissed his captor powerfully on the lips. A nearly inequine cry came from the mares while they made out, wrapping each other in what could be mistaken for a passionate embrace. Lucky battled nausea as he wrapped tongues with the stallion. He started clenching down with his ass, hoping that this would somehow get his partner off faster, even though he barely had control of anything below his waist by this point.

Big Macintosh finally broke the kiss with a manic grin. "Gotta say," he whispered, "that's one heck of a distracting package you got there." He glanced down at Lucky's cock, still hard and sandwiched between them. "A real red collar would be havin' a field day right now."

This was absolutely the worst compliment to receive at that moment. "Then turn me around if it's distracting!" Lucky growled. "Just finish this!"

Instead, Mac spun himself around. He took one step and fell backwards, laying himself down on top of the crate and letting Lucky come to a crashing, bouncing halt on top of him. Mac grabbed his waist and shook him violently, using Lucky's body like a masturbation sleeve. Lucky's limbs bounced uncontrollably, his cock slapping against his stomach. Beads of lubrication slipped from the tip, spattering in all directions.

"Oh, Twilight," Mac moaned, getting into whatever it was that he was visualizing. He fondled Lucky's ass and the base of his tail. His grunts of satisfaction rose with the rapid thrashing of his hips. "Twilight, I love you," he suddenly whispered. "I lo... loaaaaauuugh!"

The stallion roared as he slammed Lucky down on his hips one last time, finally cumming inside of him. Lucky felt a rush as a thick, creamy load exploded inside his ass. The sensation made his cock harden and ache for attention while his brain desperately shut everything down to keep him from throwing up. He collapsed forward and let Mac's cock loudly pop out of him, sending an intensely satisfying flood of semen after it. For a moment the two of them just lay there, trying to catch their breaths, while hooting and applause rained down.

The Mayor started belting something out excitedly, but Lucky didn't care to listen to what she had to say. "So..." he whispered carefully.

In response, Mac grabbed him again and flipped him around. He gasped and braced for another round, but the big pony just cuddled him close and started to jack him off. "Is this necessary?" Lucky grunted.

"S'just for show," Mac mumbled back sleepily.

It didn't feel like it was just for show. His large hands were surprisingly adept at handling Lucky's shaft, teasing him with yet more unwanted sensations that kept him from going fully soft. Lucky sighed and took it. "You were saying?" he prompted.

"Oh. Right." Big Mac cleared his throat. "Red collars get to request where they get reassigned. The Mistresses don't have to listen, but initiations put them in a good mood. That's all."

Lucky smiled slyly. "Oh, I see. You're going to go and work for-"

"Symmetry."

He paused. "Oh."

"I got my reasons."

"Um, okay. If it's worth it to you." Lucky tried to think of how it could be, but came up blank. Sure, Symmetry was unbelievably hot below the neck, but that was hardly news these days, and he couldn't imagine that assisting her would be an easy gig. All his memories of the cow were of frosty disdain. An old thought buzzed in the back of his mind. "Hey, do you know the real reason she's called Symmetry?"

"You mean it ain't her antlers?"

"No, uh... oh. I heard there was another reason. I thought you might know."

Big Macintosh didn't answer. The creak of a gate opening indicated that their conversation was about to come to an end. Lucky craned his neck, peering towards Rarity's section of the audience. He could no longer see Coco Pommel in the stands. "Hey, Mac?" he asked quickly. "How hard is it to become a red collar?"

"Got sucked and fucked for one whole day, then had to return the favor. Don't do it, Lucky," Mac added, catching Lucky's intent. "They'd sniff you out and make you do it anyway. You wouldn't last one weekend as a red."

"Why not? You did it."

"I'm different. I'm doing this for something more important than my own mind." He squeezed Lucky's shoulder. "Don't mistake this for some kind of escape. Where I'm going, I won't ever be coming back. This is the last time I'll ever talk to anypony as myself. But you need to stay you, Lucky. The black collars need good ponies on their side."

"Oh yeah?" Lucky twisted in his grip angrily. "And how do you know I don't have something more important than myself too? If you can pretend to be gay for that, why can't I?"

"Well..." Big Macintosh caught his eye and gave him a strange, lopsided smile. "Maybe I'm a little bit gay."

Before Lucky could process this, shadows and hoofsteps forced them to abandon speech altogether. Rough hands dragged them away from each other. Lucky was rolled off the crate and slammed to the ground, held down while his hands were cuffed behind his back. On the far side, he heard Mac being walked away to the sound of cheers. It was a hard life of an altogether different kind that he would be coming home to. Lucky wasn't sure whether he envied him.

An instantly recognizable orange hoof cracked down in front of Lucky's face. Applejack grabbed him below his arms and forced him to stand, then gave him a cruel, knowing smirk and let go. He wobbled unsteadily on his weak legs and fell uncontrollably forward, smacking his face into Applejack's stomach. Her smile vanished. With a growl, she kneed him in the chin and kicked him backwards, knocking him down to the sand. Multiple sets of smaller hands grabbed his arms and started to drag him out of the arena. He thought he heard the Mayor asking him to come back soon. Laughter and cheers followed his exit out into the stalls.

A shadow fell over his face, both literally and figuratively, as he tried to puzzle out Big Macintosh's words. How was it possible to be a "little" bit gay? He knew that the stallion liked mares. He'd had to pretend he was fucking Twilight Sparkle just to get off. Or had he been saying... that he was a stallion who liked mares... and stallions? But that couldn't be it. Was that even allowed? If such a thing were possible, the mares would have surely known about it, wouldn't they?

The mares dropped Lucky in a dark cell and walked away. They shut the iron door, but didn't bother to lock it; there was no pony alive who would be able to mount a getaway after taking a pounding like that. Lucky lay still, feeling a small puddle of semen slowly forming under him from his leaking asshole, and waiting for every part of him to stop aching. But while his body took a much-needed rest, new ideas sparked inside his brain. An impossible plan formed, full of absurd coincidences and things he knew he could never do, but he deliriously jumped to the conclusion anyway. If there was any chance, any at all, even a fool's chance...

His hand found its way to his dick, for once unseen and unobstructed, and began to jack it. "Coco," he murmured to himself, thinking of her inexpert lips caressing him again. "I love you."

Then he farted out a long stream of white liquid, which ruined the moment somewhat.
> That's right, it's yet another goddamn flashback chapter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

No matter how much time had passed, whenever Lucky closed his eyes, he could still see the searing lights and stone walls of Rarity's basement.

It had seemed so standard, at first. During his first change of scenery, when he'd been led by the hand down the rough stone stairs to his new home, he'd gotten a decent if bleary-eyed look around the place. It was a clean hexagon of sheer stone walls, cold and dimly lit, a far cry from the elegantly designed upstairs. A terrifying black pyramid sat in the middle of the floor, each of its six sides covered in an array of buttons, levers, and extendable tubes. Six chairs of varying sizes were bolted to the floor around it, each with a stiff rubber erection jutting from the seat.

He couldn't remember if he'd struggled. He'd had to be dragged the last few feet by his shoulders, his hooves dragging on the dusty floor, but whether this was a token act of resistance or due to sheer exhaustion was a mystery even to himself. His two handlers shared haughty smirks as they lubed the dildo up and lowered Lucky onto it. He whimpered as it entered him, muffled by his now-familiar ball gag; this wasn't the girthiest toy Mistress Rarity had used on him in her experiments, but the broad, flat head made insertion - and would make excision - much more jarring. He was pushed down smoothly most of the way until the mares stopped, glanced at each other, then slammed him down the final two inches, producing a yelp that felt like it had been hammered out right from the depths of his gut. "That's what that feels like," the mare on his left hissed in his ear. She spat in his face, then helped her partner tie his wrists to the chair's arm and left him there in the dark.

For fifteen minutes, that was it. A chilly room, a dark pyramid, saliva clinging to his eyelid, an almost-comfortable chair and a burning internal ache. Nothing more than an ache, though. Whatever was in those creams Mistress Rarity was using on him, with surprising rapidity it had transformed him from an anal virgin into somepony able to take seven inches with relative ease. A series of chairs and mounts had warped his body, overseen by Mistress Rarity and a sneering pink-maned assistant whose name he still didn't know. The pain had frequently brought tears to his eyes, but it hadn't stopped. Having been inside the asses of two mares before, he'd flushed with guilt each time the rubber was withdrawn and he was shown that it still hadn't even reached the width of his own dick.

It wasn't... entirely unpleasant, he would admit. Even if the insertions were way too fast, there was an intense feeling of relief when his muscles finally relaxed, and an uncomfortable eroticism in the feeling of being filled. The pressure on his prostate was something else entirely, like a monstrous third nipple in his colon being milked. And it wasn't even as if he'd been totally opposed to the idea in the first place. There was nothing inherently gay about being pegged; he'd even known a couple of straight stallions to confess that they loved it when their wives pulled out the strapons. Having a hot, bitchy assistant finger cream into his asshole was sometimes even the highlight of his day. But after endless penetrations, vibrations, and watery spurts into slick black tubes, there was only one thing that Lucky had been able to conclude:

At the end of the day, he just wasn't into this.

This was something that Mistress Rarity would have known if she had cared to ask. As it was, the ability to force an erection was all that she judged her efforts by, and her final design was already spilling extra inches down Lucky's leg. If she had been hoping that it would keep him in a state of permanent arousal, however, she would be disappointed. It was amazing, he reflected, the kinds of things one could get used to.

He'd practically stopped feeling his latest chair-plug when the assistants returned, dragging another stallion with them. Lucky looked up as they came into the light, catching sight of a blue coat and lanky body, but tore his eyes away at the last second. He wouldn't want to risk any of his friends seeing him like this. He'd grant them the same courtesy.

It wasn't long before they were left alone again. The new arrival sat two seats down from Lucky, just at the corner of his vision. He constantly wriggled, whimpering through his ball gag. Lucky was torn between offering sympathy and snapping at him to sit still and relax, but ultimately could do and did neither. The third stallion took even longer to arrive, and it was more than an hour before all six chairs were filling their occupants. Then the lights finally came on to their full strength, and with a flourish, Mistress Rarity appeared.

To say that she was gorgeous was an understatement. To Lucky's eyes the transformation was a subtle one, there being little about her when they had first met that could have been improved, but if the circumstances had been different he might have complimented her heartily on the success of her diet. Her luscious form had been cut as though by diamonds into a subtle hourglass shape, not too thick, not too thin, and curving sensuously with even the slightest of motions. Her breasts were not only larger but shapelier, supported by what seemed an impossibly slim bra, while the black thong that wrapped around her mouth-watering rear left even less to the imagination. The rest of her was completely bare, her toned stomach, her ample cleavage, and her stunning legs all fully on display, shining like polished marble. There was no part of her that Lucky wouldn't have loved to run his hands over, followed by his tongue. And knowing that she might even allow it was what finally got him stiff.

Needing no further introduction, Rarity descended the stairs and sashayed around the room, directing her apprentices from stallion to stallion. She posed with each motion, swishing her tail, jutting her chest, and bending over at every opportunity. With that in front of him, Lucky could barely concentrate on what was being done to him - which, he would later realize, may have been the point. A familiar tube was wrapped around his dick and connected to the pyramid, which hummed as it came to life. His hands were carefully lifted and a desk was assembled around his chair, trapping him within it. Then, something new; his gag was ripped out and another tube was stuffed into his mouth, expanding behind his teeth to lock in place, and then magically stretched out to connect to a pipe on the ceiling.

Once all the stallions were hooked up in this way, Rarity did a final circuit of the room, making sure all the stallions were to her liking. When she came to Lucky she straddled his cock-tube and pressed her hand against his chest, bending his chair back into a more comfortable position. It was with great difficulty that Lucky managed to keep his gaze above her neckline, but this only made her titter. "Don't be shy," she whispered. "This is all for your pleasure. Look as long and hard as you like." A jiggle made him give in and stare at the inches of rounded cleavage on display, which got a sultry smile from her as she moved away.

With some more minor readjustments and a brief stop to apply makeup, it wasn't long before she was finished with the stallions for good. "Coco!" Rarity called, walking toward the stairs. "Could you pull the blue lever, please?"

At the sound of her name, Lucky's heart leaped. He didn't have long to think of her, however. There was a noise from above not unlike that of a toilet flushing and a creamy liquid flowed down the upper tube and into his mouth. He gagged as mouthful after mouthful was forced into him in regular spurts, cramming his cheeks faster than he could swallow it. Just when he thought he could take no more, the assault stopped. "Excellent," Rarity said, clapping her hands. "This will make caring for you all much easier."

With a spring in her step, the Mistress approached the dark pyramid and began adjusting dials, stirring it to life. "Now, don't be concerned if things feel a little strange for a while," she continued. "These are only proofs-of-concept, and any concerns you may have will be listened to. Keeping you satisfied is our greatest concern. Once the Committee approves we'll be able to make as many changes as we like, and in another month, well... you may never have to get out of those seats ever again."

She trotted back to the stairs, stopping to cheerily wave goodbye. "I'll be back tomorrow with a survey, darlings, and some work to keep you occupied. In the meantime, please enjoy this gift that Sequin and Lacy made to thank you for being so very patient during our work. Pleasant dreams!" And with that, she was gone.

Sequin and Lacy (were those their names?) smirked at each other. In practiced harmony, they blew loud raspberries at the stallions, turned and smacked their butts, and then marched after Rarity with both middle fingers raised. Sequin turned off the lights and slammed the door behind her, leaving the basement in total darkness.

Lucky steadied himself and tried to stay calm; it had never bothered him before, but he'd been starting to fight with claustrophobia ever since his arrival. He tried to start the little meditative breathing that he knew, made doubly harder by the tube in his mouth and the presence of five other ponies. They were all slowly becoming aware of each other, these six points of heat in an otherwise cold room, one still choking, one quietly weeping, their labored breathing clearly audible over the ever-present hum of the Satiator.

And then-

Lucky started as two hands roughly grabbed his dick, bouncing himself on the dildo in his ass. A skilled tongue licked his shaft from base to head and swirled around the tip. He grunted in pleasure and heard the others in the room doing the same. Then a third hand started to stroke him off, and then a second mouth, sliding up to wrestle tongues with the first around his crown. Together they spat and drooled on his cock until every inch of it was lubed up, and then really got to work. They kissed it, bit it, rubbed it aggressively across their faces, all while squeezing and twisting the lower half with their hands - it was by far the roughest action Lucky had ever had.

The assault kept up as the room got louder. If Lucky closed his eyes he could practically see Sequin and Lacy on the floor in front of him, and it made his heart race as he thought about those two haughty bitches on their knees, wearing their usual sneers while they worshiped his cock with their mouths. But when one of them drew back and swallowed a third of his length in one gulp, his leg spasmed and kicked out, hitting nothing. And when warm breath hit his skin that could only be laughter, all he could hear was the nasal moaning of the stallion next to him. His confused senses paralyzed him, keeping him from cumming, but he still found himself impulsively thrusting up into the mare's mouth, vibrating his own ass further.

So it went on, the room echoing with moans and wails as Rarity's assistants simultaneously sucked the six stallions off. And so it would be, for what none of them yet comprehended would be a very, very long time.





Lucky was awoken by a warm pail of water being thrown over him. He came to with a start, instantly seeing a pair of shadows looming over him in the dim cell. "Time to wake up, sweetheart," the shorter one said to him in a smiling, motherly tone. "Applejack's waiting for you." The taller, younger mare just turned up her nose and pointedly dumped out the rest of the bucket onto his crotch.

After taking a moment to catch his breath and orient himself, Lucky stretched and rubbed his eyes. He was dimly aware that he'd been dreaming, but he wasn't sure about what, and didn't care to remember. Since the two mares standing over him didn't seem to be in a hurry, he took his time working the life back into his limbs and spine and then slowly, shakily, pushed himself onto his hooves.

Right away, the burning in his asshole was back full force. He winced hard and almost keeled over again, clenching for all he was worth. His painfully stretched insides ached in protest to every movement. Before the Reign, he'd used to think that 'I won't be able to sit down for a week!' was just a compliment. Now... well, it wasn't as if he had many opportunities to sit down anyway.

Still, knowing that mares always had ways to make a situation even worse than it already was, Lucky swallowed his discomfort and slowly uncurled, ending in an awkward half-crouch that was the best he could manage. Once they were satisfied, the mares stepped forward and each took one of his leashes, not even bothering with a black bag as they led him out of his cell.

The two of them kept a gentle pace, so in addition to carefully straightening his gait, Lucky took the rare opportunity to examine his surroundings. Sadly, there wasn't much to see. They walked through a dim corridor of earthen floors and iron cells, and the few of those that were occupied held nopony that he recognized. A few volunteer mares slipped by with clipboards and feed buckets, giggling shyly when they saw him. Distant hoofsteps probably indicated the last stragglers filing out of the stands, and from what he'd picked up on past visits, by now the sands would be being swept clean in preparation for a more conventional sporting event. For today at least, the nightmares of the Arena were over.

The line of cells eventually ended, and it was only one more corner before Lucky could see daylight again. He squinted and resisted the urge to shield his eyes, knowing that some mares would take this as an aggressive gesture. There was more chatter outside, but one nearby voice, accustomed to being loud, caught his attention above the rest. "I must thank you again for your contribution to this event," the Mayor belted out over the sound of carts.

"Shucks, weren't nothing," Applejack unmistakably replied. "Big Mac made the whole journey all by himself. He took to bein' a faggot like swine to a landfill."

"Yes, I'm sure your sister will be overjoyed that he is finally safe to bring home," the Mayor said. "But I was also referring to that dashing charcoal specimen you provided for the show. Really, Applejack - what have you been thinking, keeping such an eager boytoy all to yourself?"

"That good-fer-nothing black collar? He's just a lousy plowpony. Picked him up in a group transfer and he's been trouble ever since."

"That may be, but he's caused quite a stir. I haven't had this many backdoor requests since the Spring Feeding Festival, and it isn't even nightfall yet. And demand like that means that for the next few days, that stallion will be worth his weight in-"

Squinting, Lucky was pulled the last steps to emerge fully into the daylight. The moment he appeared, he was assaulted by dozens of high-pitched screams and squeals, as though a famous pop pony had just burst onto a stage, followed by a chorus of wolf whistles and catcalls. He flinched back in surprise, nearly strangling himself once again, and looked around. The stallion loading zone wasn't nearly as secluded as he'd thought, opening up to two main streets and a bustling community market, and all of it seemed to have suddenly come to a screeching halt. Dozens, no, easily a hundred mares were waiting in the streets, screeching like their lives depended on it, and all of them were fixated on him.

As the cheering continued it slowly dawned on him that he was standing right in the middle of town completely naked and impulsively tried to cover up, to little avail. While this should have been a drop in the bucket compared to his "performance" earlier, the unexpected familiarity of it all was making this all to real for him - this was a place he knew, and being this close to his jailers, being able to see the whites of their eyes as they applauded his body, made his stomach lurch. There were ponies he knew in that crowd: mares he'd passed every day on the street, mares who took his change at the market, mares he'd fucked, all happily screaming and staring him down with the intensity of vultures. The comparison had barely occurred to him when a pegasus winged down behind him and threw her arms over his shoulders, which cued the rest of the flock to descend.

The two handlers drew closer to him and tried to clear a path, but could do nothing to stop the countless hands groping for his muscular arms and backside. Slim fingers stroked through his cropped tail and countless lips brushed his neck and cheeks, each staying for just a moment before their owner was hip-checked aside for another mare to take her place. Lucky tried as usual to stay composed and keep moving but inwardly smirked at the attention; it was actually pretty nice once one got over the initial shock. His freely-hanging dick swelled a little with pride, which would have caused great delight if his handlers' tails weren't carefully positioned to hide it.

As they moved forward at a snail's pace, Lucky caught sight of Mayor Mare and Applejack standing patiently near her cart. Ponyville's elected official had tried her best to keep up her appearance of being older and more mature than her peers, but her flushed skin and straining, perky tits left little doubt as to her true age. "You know how mares without contracts are," she yelled over the ongoing cheers. "Show them something that gets them wet and they'll eat him alive. But in only a few days that well will be dry, and they'll have a new flashy colt to lust over instead. Sell him while he's hot, and any mare here will give you the roof over her head as long as she can sleep under him instead."

It was admittedly refreshing to hear somepony barter over his body, rather than pretending it was about his work contract. Still, Lucky reflected as his hand was roughly yanked from his side and squashed between two jiggling thighs, being a piece of meat on display had never felt so good.

Something hard and thin was pressed against his palm. Lucky instinctively grasped it, slowing even further to examine it. It was a black marker pen, the cap already off; an innocuous sight, but this was what made his blood freeze. "Quick, sign my boobs!" a cream-coloured mare yelled, hitching up her shirt while her friends hooted. He moved without thinking, stretching his arm mechanically, making curved lines across that sweet buttery surface. The same thing he'd written thousands, thousands upon thousands of times before.

"Aah, yeah!" The mare flared her wings and let out an ear-splitting scream. Lucky flinched and dropped the pen, which fell unnoticed underhoof. The mare turned away and shook her chest mockingly at the crowd, slowing when she glanced down and saw what he'd actually written on her. "Wait, what the fuck?"

"Ladies!" Applejack broke in with a roar, which Lucky had never thought he would be glad to hear. Most of the mares immediately quieted, and those who didn't were quickly shushed. "I'll thank you for not manhandlin' my property," the farmer said in a stern voice.

As one, the entire group looked at their hooves and respectfully stepped back. The two handlers breathed sighs of relief and walked on, dragging Lucky in front of Applejack. Mayor Mare still hovered at her shoulder. "Take this opportunity, Applejack," she said. "Let me take care of the bidding. I know some powerful mares who demand to always be on top of the latest craze, and they'll take him off your hands for more than triple what the Funhouse will offer. Say the word and we can split the proceeds, 70-30."

The silence was palpable as Applejack stepped forward. Lucky meekly looked up at her. She was chewing her lip in thought, one hand on her curvy hip, letting her eyes trail across his battered body. His heart beat hard as he rapidly weighted the pros and cons of the offer; being the plaything of a rich mare sounded worlds better than walking back and forth across a field for all eternity. But if there was one thing that his meeting with Big Macintosh had impressed upon him, it was that he needed to start making some long-term plans - and he dreaded to think what powerful mares would do when they got tired of their new toys. And if they took him out of Ponyville...? But no, he couldn't think about that. With a resigned breath, knowing that his own desires ultimately meant nothing, Lucky simply waited.

They stayed like that for what felt like much longer than it was. Applejack's gaze traveled up and down him, up and down, down and down, up and... down. When she crossed his half-erect shaft for the fourth time she gave up the pretense and stared at it, surreptitiously licked her lips, and seemed to come to a decision. "Naw," she announced, to a chorus of groans. "Sometimes you need a troublemaker around, to keep everypony else in line. An' if I catch him makin' a pass at anypony again..." She looked around, smiling proudly. "I'll tell my brother his boyfriend wants to meet at the Arena!"

The crowd cheered, and finally started to disperse, but not before one- two- three- four- five more mares darted in to slap Lucky's ass before leaving. Mayor Mare pouted, pursing spectacularly full lips. "60-40?" she offered.

"Naw means naw, Mayor." Applejack sauntered up to Lucky, still grinning. "Seems like you got a little crush on my bro there, troublemaker," she teased. "You sure there ain't a little nice, obedient red in you after all?"

Remembering his place, Lucky averted his gaze. "It was all part of the show, Mistress," he muttered.

"Sure it was." She pulled a thong from her pocket and flicked it at him, expertly hooking it over his nose. "Put that on. We're headin' out."

The smell of aloe urged him on. In a hurry, Lucky slipped on the oil-soaked undergarment, groaning as the enchanted string soothed his burning asshole. Applejack wasn't usually this generous unless she wanted something, and it was only a moment before he learned what that thing was. "Alright, hitch him up," she said, striding away. "The star of the show's goin' up front."

And with that, momentary relief turned once again to tired resignation. His handlers led him around the front of the apple cart, where Wide Load finally came into view. The broad pony was barely recognizable within his bolted-on harness, with almost everything but his mouth and ears covered in metal straps or the suffocating black fabric. Lucky grimaced, but there was no time for sympathy; his handlers were already pushing him into the slightly more conventional harness at the side. "Easy, dearie," the older mare said, sliding heavy wooden bars over his shoulders. Then his leashes came loose, only to be replaced by reigns that hung on him just as tightly, and then the blinders, obscuring his vision save for what was right in front of his hooves. He gulped, knowing from experience that that tiny gap was only there to keep him paranoid; even if he saw something coming, momentum and his limited movement meant that he would have no choice but to walk through it.

"Yah!" Applejack yelled, tugging the reins. Lucky choked and Wide Load moved first, lurching silently forward into the road. For a few seconds Lucky just dragged before recovering his hooves and starting to pull. Together they set a steady pace, with Lucky straining and struggling to keep up. He knew that with his tired legs he wasn't contributing much, but he kept trying, both to keep up appearances and to lighten his partner's burden, even a little. Wide Load may have been a jerk, but he didn't deserve this.

On they trudged, minute after minute, stopping and starting. The roads were loud and busy. At the second intersection Lucky sighed, starting to relax. The cart wasn't so different from his usual harness, after all. Trusting the fate of his hooves completely to Applejack, he closed his eyes and let the reins guide him, starting to tune into the conversations around him as his stressed mind began to wander.

"...cute, but so expensive," a mare passing in front of him was saying. "I'm thinking about starting up an affordable public rental project, but I haven't run the numbers yet..."

She moved away, and a voice from the sidewalk drifted in in her place.

"...unbelievably good. I should have stopped eating tenderfreeze years ago. My boobs are even bigger, and I'm always so fucking horny now."

"But aren't you afraid it'll be a colt?"

"I'll just give it to Pinkie Pie. She never says no, and I want to get pregnant again right away..."

The reigns lashed, and he walked on a little further. More voices drifted here and there, between stops and starts.

"...enough? Tender Buttons recommends at least two orgasms a day to stay healthy, but sometimes a week goes by when I don't even masturbate. Do... do you think there's something wrong with me? I'm scared to..."

"...don't care how good of a fuck he is, you can't let him know where you live, and you know why..."

"...makes her look like a total prude, and... Ohmygosh, is that Lucky Clover?"

"Ohmygosh! I so ship him and Big Mac. He's, like, totally going in my fantasy harem."

"No fair, I called him!"

"I let you have Cheese Sandwich! Why can't you..."

"...worth. Even with the smallest size, I just can't get my muscles to relax. But after Mistletoe took two stallions at once last month, I can't stop..."

"...you have to try a purple collar, even if it's just once. I haven't been pounded so hard in..."

"...Look, let me be honest. This is just going up my husband's ass. Do you have any that are really under-ripe?"

"Let me see if I can find you a better shape..."

"...didn't think I'd like the taste, but now? I wonder if I can install him in my house, like on a wall somewhere, so I can suck him dry whenever I feel like it..."

"...only reason I still talk to her is for Golden Root. That six-pack is worth a shitty friend any day..."

"...hasn't come out of her castle in-"

"Mooooom! My hooves hurt! Can't those stallions carry us?"

"Petal, get away from him! I can't believe I ever let you do that..."

"...and when I got back my freaking grandma was riding him right on the table! I'm gonna have to..."

"...on. We don't have to divide him up. If we're all pitching in, why don't we just get a huge bed so we can all fuck him together? We can be, like, caribou sisters or something..."

"...It fucking sucks. Half the team's never touched a thundercloud before, and all of them keep ditching me to go visit their boyfriends. I only get one day off a week, and I can't even- Oh hey, Applejack!"

"Howdy, Rainbow. You comin' with us tonight?"

"Sorry, AJ. I'm stuck teaching Feathermay how to mix rainbows. Again."

"Cornrows. You think y'all are ever gonna get back to your old numbers?"

"Depends. Is Symmetry gonna bust my rump if I let Thunderlane out of the office?"

"S'pose not, then. You stop by if you ever get a free hour, alright?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll see you in, like... three years."

There was a short, bitter silence, and they started moving again.

"...the news? Another colt caught behind the schoolhouse, raping the mouths of three fillies."

"Disgusting. It's barbaric that Cheerilee keeps letting them into her school at all, the little..."

"...seriously as long as my arm..."

"...refused to come out of her room all day. She was working extra shifts for weeks just to rent Big Macintosh for an afternoon. Now, well..."

"...once you've creamed the butter and sugar, beat in two eggs, then add just a little over two cups of flour - I like to sprinkle in a pinch of cinnamon, for luck - and then..."

"...Glacia's sake, stop crying. He wasn't even attractive."

"I j-just miss him so muh-muh-muuuuuuuuuuuch-"

"No you don't. Come on. Once you've tasted a real stallion you'll see how silly you're being..."

"...calling it the 'Retake The Homeland Initiative'. You know, giving those muscle-bound beasts something useful to do. We're not seeing the effects down here, where there's plenty of labor to keep them occupied, but back in Manehattan it's getting hard to find a stallion who can even lift me over his..."

"...so much pressure, y'know? It's like, I wasn't straight a year ago, y'know? And I'm not, like, suddenly gonna start preferring..."

"Ooh, yeah, baby... don't stop... that's it, right there..."

And then they pulled away onto a quieter street, out of the market district and onto the long, slow road back to Sweet Apple Acres, leaving Lucky alone with nothing but the weight of the cart and his own thoughts.






Hearth's Warming Eve


Rarity was annoyed. Lucky was blearily aware of that.

For the first time in a long time, he knew what time of year it was. It had been two months... maybe a little more than two months? Time had a way of slipping away from him, here in this hexagonal prison. Now he had a new point of reference to work from, one which only came once a year. A while ago, that might have felt like a spot of hope for him. Now, it hardly seemed to matter, especially with how adamant Rarity was that nothing more needed to change.

In fairness, to an outsider, she might have seemed correct. Everything about the room was a vast improvement from when this treatment had started. In fact, it had been almost surreal how quickly Rarity's basement had been transformed. For the first few weeks, it seemed like not an hour went by when something wasn't being measured, disassembled or upgraded. If Lucky hadn't known better, he might have thought that the plans for these devices had been in the works since long before the Reign had started. But of course... that was ridiculous.

First to change were the chairs. The stiff-backed work seats had transformed into huge reclined surfaces, curved in at the edges and lined with luminescent blue pillows, faintly lighting up their bodies even at night. A work desk swiveled overtop, giving him some freedom of movement. Once, his aches and pains could only be soothed once a day, when Sequin and Lacy had had to laboriously unhook each stallion from their equipment, walking them around the room to stretch and shit in a bucket; now, his seat would vibrate periodically to massage him and keep his muscles from atrophying. The dildo up his ass had gone through several variations before ending up as a stiff hollow tube, performing the dual role of hitting his prostate and giving him daily enemas, washing his shitpipe clean. Combined with a marginally more controlled flood of gruel from the ceiling twice a day, no one had had to get up in weeks.

Compared to that, everything else seemed trivial. The room was warmer now, and brightly painted. Well-angled spotlights gave each stallion plenty of light, though with the side effect of throwing each other's exposed cocks and balls into sharp relief. The food was... well, it was edible, and that was about all that could be said about it. From time to time an all-mare construction crew would come down and fill the basement with an immense clattering, but as he faced toward the stairs Lucky could never see what they were doing.

Work was utter tedium. Each stallion had a single task that they performed over and over again, like machines. Nothing interesting, of course; clumsy stallions couldn't be trusted with scissors or needles, and they had no eye for design like the mares upstairs. Instead they got the minor tasks, each given just enough freedom of movement to go through the motions. One spent all day stamping order forms. Another stenciled designs onto strips of fabric. A third did nothing but fold paper into envelopes. Their work was picked up and dropped off every few hours, at first by Sequin and Lacy, but later by other mares and evens stallions in red collars as Rarity's business grew.

As for Lucky? His handwriting, which Rarity had described as "exquisite" had earned him a special honor: he was the one who personally signed every letter that went out of the building. His wrists were tied to the corners of his desk by eight inches of black string, giving him just enough room to shuffle papers and write with the quill tied to his left hand. Flyers, receipts, thank-yous for repeat customers, everything demanded a little personal touch from a mare whose ads boasted she treated every client like a best friend. "Be your best, love Rarity." "Your glamorous friend, Rarity." "Hugs and kisses, Rarity." The same words, all day, every day, forever.

He could have refused, of course. Any of them could have chosen to stop or rebel at any time. But then he would have nothing to do at all, no distraction from his predicament, stuck listening to the snuffling breaths of other stallions and his own thoughts. His own thoughts... and the Satiator.

Physically the machine was the same, but its changing hums and glowing lights hinted that it was growing more powerful by the day. It knew more than a dozen different sex routines now, taught to it by carefully feeding it rolled-up cocktubes. Every thirty minutes, or earlier if he pressed a button on his desk, it would whir to life and play one at random. There was Sequin and Lacy's aggressive double blow job, and a pair of heavenly silken lips that could only belong to Rarity, and a third, unknown mare who'd given him his first taste of pussy in weeks. And then more, and more. A buffet of hot, wet tunnels squeezed themselves down onto him, milking him with the skill of professional whores. There were titfucks, deep-throatings, the intense tightness of anal, playing out over and over again for his pleasure.

There were times when he had to laugh. Wasn't this the kind of life all stallions fantasized about? Here he was, lying on his back on an obscenely comfortable chair, making a living off the most trivial work imaginable and getting sucked and fucked dozens of times a day by the most skilled cocksmokers in Equestria - mares he couldn't see or hear, sure, but that only meant that his pleasure was only limited by his imagination. No wants, no worries, and all of Equestria devoting their best minds and hottest bodies to letting him empty his balls in them... What could he possibly have to complain about? Wouldn't he have killed for an opportunity to live this life a year ago?

And yeah, it was fun. Awesome, even. For a little while.

Everything hurt. His body was superficially fine, of course, but he could feel the lack of movement in his bones. He needed to run, to flex, to shout, or just to speak, even at all. He missed the sun. He missed his home. He missed things he didn't know it was possible to miss, like combing his mane or taking an unassisted dump. He missed food maybe most of all; his tongue threatened mutiny with every slimy mouthful of the increasingly tasteless gruel. Imprisonment was torture, he'd come to realize, even if it did come free with unlimited blow jobs. And it was another torture altogether when he realized that after mere days of non-stop fucking, he was absolutely, completely and totally bored with sex.

Or, he frequently clarified before he could make any hasty decisions, perhaps he was simply bored with this kind of sex. This rough, emotionless, purely physical sex, so incredibly varied in style and technique but somehow always the same. He'd become desensitized to it, almost numb; he could last for hours now, getting worked over again and again until his dick felt like taffy and his overtaxed balls felt like smashed grapes, all while feeling nothing more than discomfort and irritation. The fear that he would never be able to enjoy fucking again lay upon him heavily some nights. Wasn't there anything he could do to mix this up, add some spice back into what had become a chore? Was it really so wrong to just want to eat a mare out from time to time? To have some actual foreplay, to see her smile, to hear her moan? To, and he couldn't believe he was thinking this, not have sex?

But he had no means of voicing these questions, and he suspected he already knew what the answers would be. And so he did his job, he ate his food, and he felt less and less, week after week. Until one fateful day, on Hearth's Warming Eve, when Mistress Rarity, in her infinite generosity, asked what presents she could give them to improve on their already-perfect experience. Judging by her response, their requests had been... not what she'd expected.

"...ungrateful pigs!" Rarity was shouting. Lucky blinked blearily in her direction. It was difficult to focus on her. All the lights in the basement had been turned on, blindingly bright, and since the start of winter Rarity refused to approach the stallions unless the Satiator was turned to an even higher intensity than normal. Currently Lucky was being ridden hard by an unknown mare, and his mind's eye was filling in the details that he'd invented in his endless boredom: a tall beauty he'd named Strawberry after the colour of her coat, slightly chubby in just the way that he liked, her mouth open in a ring of pleasure but her smiling eyes trained on his, breasts jiggling with each bounce, her hands sliding up and down his chest, bringing her closer and closer until he could practically taste her-

Rarity slapped him with a fistful of papers, drawing him temporarily back to her. She was as gorgeous as ever, dressed up for the weather in a stylish red coat with fluffy white trim. It was far less revealing than her usual attire, but on her the outfit somehow oozed eroticism, making Lucky's overtaxed boner just a little bit more genuine. "Less sex?" she snapped, crumpling up one of the stallions' many requests and throwing it away. "Going outside? More difficult work? 'Let me out of this damned machine, you heartless-' Eugh!" She threw her hands in the air and stomped away.

It took some time for her to calm down. "Listen to me, you horrible creatures," she growled while pacing, "I simply do not know what more you want from me. I've taken away everything in life that once caused you pain. I've given you every pleasure your puerile little minds can comprehend. And you tell me that you want to leave?" She snorted. "Am I supposed to be impressed? Do you think you have to earn my favor by pretending to have suppressed your desires?"

Her tone changed. "Darlings, the world is different now," she crooned, leaning lovingly over one of Lucky's neighbors. "All those things you used to pretend to like so that foolish mares would reward you with sex... you don't have to worry about them any more. You no longer have to work just to buy us gifts. You don't have to charm us with food, or songs, or ravishing good looks. Just think of all those years of your lives you used to waste, working all those long and tedious hours just to seduce a mare for your own, when now, you can have all the loving that you ever wanted just from the push-" She demonstrated. "-of a button."

Her victim's cock-tube pulsed with another wave of intensity, and the (un?)lucky stallion bucked his hips, making muffled moaning noises through his food-tube. Rarity straightened up, smiling around the circle as she waited for the other stallions to follow her example. Her face fell when none did. "No?" she said. "Then what? What could you possibly get out there that you couldn't in here?" She pondered this angrily. "Is it the thrill of the hunt? The cruelty of stalking a filly for yourself, tricking her into bending over for you, taking her against her will? Is that it!?" She clutched a hand to her chest. "No. No, I refuse to believe it. You are simply misguided. But I will help you. You're going to learn that my way is better. And then... then, you will finally be happy."

Turning away, she rifled through her notes some more. "Outside, outside, Sequin and Lacy gone, so much rudeness... Oh?" She perked up. "Oh, but Mr. Cake, you have been seeing your wife! Didn't you recognize her?"

She strode to the machine and fiddled with its top, pressing a quick sequence of buttons. The moist pressure of Strawberry faded, and a pair of confident hands took her place. Lucky's heart lurched. This was a routine he'd committed to memory a long time ago; five minutes or so of stroking and sucking, trailing down into the Satiator's best boobjob and then loose, squishy anal. He'd named the mare behind it Blueberry, but now knew that he would never be able to unsee the face of Mrs. Cake as she expertly sucked his cockhead through her plump lips. "She said this always used to be your favourite," Rarity said, her voice echoing. " Now you can have her this way any time you like. Isn't this what you married her for, after all?"

She stepped away much more brightly. "And then we have... more nonsense, more nonsense, and... Ah, at last! 'More threesomes.'" She stopped on her way out to pat one of the stallions on the head. "You see, everypony? Toe Tapper is honest about what he wants. At least one of you will be getting an appropriate Hearth's Warming gift. I do hope that all of you will learn from his example. You'll be getting plenty of new roommates in the new year, so I expect you all to be model stallions by then."

Rarity left them, and the lights went out - all of them. All that remained was the faint, grim light of their glowing cushions, and the strangled sound of Mr. Cake weeping as his wife sucked off the six stallions in the circle all at once. This was all that they had. And this, Lucky began to see, was all there was ever going to be.

Time passed.

Time... passed.

Lucky slept fitfully that night. He thrashed in his bonds as much as he could, uselessly feeling his guts squish against the tube inside him as he tried again and again to roll over. Rage fluttered around through his limbs, searching for any escape, any- but what was there to do? Against this oppression, this insanity, what use was even the strongest muscle? All he could manage was to clench his fists and cry out, one defiant croak that came out as a low moan as it echoed back into his mouth. Then he fell back, even this leaving him too weak to fight further.

He did not weep. Any fluids he had were needed more by his aching balls. Instead he simply closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.

And then- he could never know, but he told himself it was at the stroke of midnight- a noise.

He awoke, not knowing why at first. Something was different; something there, and something gone. He rolled his head. There was movement nearby, a faint breathing unlike any he was used to hearing. And his body... something was different on his body. A chill passed over him and he startled fully awake as he realized what it was. A tube was still stickily gripping his dick, but that was all it was doing. There was no grasping, no suction, no ever-present vibration to keep him aroused even in sleep.

The Satiator had been turned off.

With the faintest of hoofsteps, his savior came into view. Coco Pommel leaned over him, lit up in a dreamlike blue by the cushions, her face downturned with concentration and grief. Carefully, she grasped Lucky's feeding tube and slowly twisted it. The material inside his mouth contracted into itself, allowing him to widen his jaw and let the tube slowly flop out of him. He gasped for breath, taking a sweet gulp of the dry basement air, only for a trembling hand to clap over his mouth. Coco shook her head rapidly and pressed a finger against her lips, eyes wide with fear. Lucky nodded. She took her hand away and he breathed in again, more slowly. He made a grin his thanks, and despite the sadness on her face, she managed to smile back.

Coco vanished for a moment, bending down to retrieve something. When she reappeared, she was holding a fork and a plate, which held something Lucky couldn't make out. Slowly, making sure not to spill a single crumb, Coco took a forkful of food and held it out to Lucky, who obediently opened his mouth for her. The moment the first drop touched his tongue, grateful tears came to his eyes. It was exactly what he'd asked for: One night without sex and A slice of Hearth's Warming cherry pie.

They went through the entire slice this way, with Coco occasionally dabbing Lucky's mouth and chest with a silken napkin. Every bite was a struggle to remain silent; each juicy cherry, each flake of crust, each drop of syrup was an explosion of bliss, one which he knew would make the gruel to come taste all the more bitter. His refined taste buds could tell that the pie was store-bought, possibly even made by the same mare who'd ridden them all anally just hours ago, but nothing could have prevented him from declaring it the best meal he'd ever had. Midway through he started sobbing, letting tears flow freely down his cheeks, but Coco just wiped him clean again with a warm smile.

When they were finished, Coco put the plate down again. She glanced at the stairs and bit her lip, some of her terror returning. Then, even more carefully than before, she reached out and untied one of Lucky's hands. She immediately jerked back, as though afraid that he might grab her, but visibly relaxed when he made no movement. With his arm free, she pushed out his desk as far as it would go and pulled herself onto the chair, steadying herself with her palm on his chest. Fully-clothed, she slid down and pressed herself against him, curling up tightly against his side.

Lucky's heart melted. She fit perfectly into the crook of his arm, her head nestling comfortably on his chest, as though he had been made to hold her. He wrapped his arm around her and shivered as she drew even closer; it had been so long since he'd felt real fabric on his skin, or the touch of any living thing that hadn't been meant to control him. He buried his face in her mane and breathed in her scent, squeezing her gently when she sniffled. She was so small; not bouncy and buttery like every other mare lately, but hard and fragile as a tiny bird. Her hands were thin and coarse from needlework, her skinny limbs malnourished, her breasts so flat he barely registered them through her shirt. But she was beautiful. Even though he couldn't fully see her, and even though his dick didn't even stir at her touch, he understood then and there that she was the most beautiful mare in the entire world.

She shifted again. With a small sigh, Coco reached across his chest and pulled out the knot on Lucky's other wrist. All he did with this freedom was to wrap both arms around her, holding her as she clung to him, taking her turn to cry into his chest. If he wanted to, he reflected, he could probably overpower her. Even weakened as he was, he was still twice her size. Or just a few whispered words and she might set him free on her own. They could run away together, disappear into the night, leave this place behind... what did they have to lose?

But no. Who would take them in? Who in the wide, wide world of Equestria could they trust? He'd barely glimpsed the reality of what the town he'd loved had turned into, but he knew without a doubt that Rarity would waste no time hunting him down. If this was what she considered generous, what would she consider punishment? No. He trusted that Coco was a clever mare, and brave beyond measure too. If escape for them was possible, it was what she would have tried.

But they had this. These fleeting touches, this brief warmth, the tears that neither of them needed words to understand. He knew it wouldn't last. The greatest mercy she could give him was that she would be gone when he woke up. But he held her, and she held him, and they cradled one another until sleep took them both. And no matter what the future held for them, they would always have this night. In this madhouse world where either of them could have sex with any stallion or mare they chose, for this one, precious night, neither of them felt like they were alone.
> Every Rose Has a Switchblade
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

By mid-afternoon, everything was back to normal.

It had taken another thorough touch-up from Comet Tail before Lucky had been cleared to work again; after his mandatory session that evening, it would be a new personal record for the number of times he'd been magically healed in the same day. After that he'd been given one last opportunity to empty his bowels, and then, without any fanfare, he'd been led back to his plow and chained to it the same as ever. As if nothing had even happened.

He stared at the ground as he trudged along, dragging the plow behind him no faster or slower than usual. His weary legs were too used to the tug of metal and dirt to let pain or grief change their stride. His mind cried out for rest, some time to process what the day had already heaped onto him; but, he reflected, he'd already had his rest, as much rest as his circumstances would allow. Time enough to let him strengthen his body, but not his mind. Never his mind. There was no point in thinking about it, not of rape, not of death, not of seeing a loved one so close and yet so far away. These were just things that happened during the Reign. 

There was nothing to do but pull. One hoof in front of the next, on and on, until the mares came for him again.

"What's got you so down?" Caramel quipped, popping in front of him. "Don't you know how many stallions want to be you right now?"

Lucky's arms snapped forward in their restraints, straining to grab Caramel by the neck.

"Look at you," the red collar went on with a smirk, either irritatingly oblivious or knowingly egging Lucky on. "Every mare in town wants your dick, and every stallion wants that ass. Even if some of them don't know it yet. You are one hot, hot commodity. I wouldn't be surprised if you find yourself face-down in the Arena all the time from now on." He skipped back but leaned in close, timing his steps to stay right in Lucky's face. "You're going to be doing so much fucking," he whispered, "you won't even have time for little old me any more..."

Lucky barked and lunged forward, but only succeeded in mashing his bit into his throat. Caramel just snickered. "Aw, what's got you so worked up? Are you mad that I'm jealous? Or maybe that no one's taking advantage of your fame right now? You know, it doesn't have to be that way. You've got a willing fan, right here, right-"

"Caramel, will you shut the fuck up?" Lucky burst out. "I'm not in the mood."

His tormentor just hopped back in faux terror, girlishly flicking his wrist at him. "Oh, I am so sorry," he keened, laying it on thicker than ever. "Having a bad time, are we? Maybe realizing some things about ourselves? Honey, we've all been there, but let me tell you-"

"I watched Meadow Song die today."

Caramel froze. His words caught in his throat, and though he recovered his composure almost instantly, a quick, frantic look in his eyes indicated that this wasn't fun anymore. "W-well, you know that sort of thing would never happen to a red," he recovered, unsuccessfully.

"I know."

Lucky just kept his eyes forward. Caramel fumbled for words, gulped, and then pranced away back to his seeding.

Over the next ten minutes Caramel's hoofsteps got slowly closer, then backed away, repeating as (Lucky assumed) he came up with more and more scathing retorts and then lost his nerve. Other than that, it was business as usual. Lucky resettled his pace and paved the way forward. At times like these he liked to let his mind wander, but the only positive thoughts he had that might distract him from his rape were reflections on that past, and he'd done enough of that for one day. So he let his mind go completely blank, and thought of nothing at all.

Sadly, just as he was starting to get some really good nothingness going, some shrill voices ripped apart his concentration. There were no hoofsteps to warn him of their approach, just rapidly-moving shadows that his dulled sensed hadn't picked up until now, and a spiral of shrill chattering that drew into focus as the flock descended:

"See, I told you he was a plowpony!"

"She's not gonna do it."

"I'm gonna do it."

"Snowy's gonna lose it! Snowy's gonna lose it!"

"Ohmygosh, he's even better up close..."

"She's gonna chicken out again."

"Sluts of a feather! We fly together! Hip hip-"

The rest of the mares joined in the nonsensical chant, only to break into shrieks and giggles as they made a series of uncoordinated landings in the field. Two of them who'd been carrying an earth pony dropped her from several feet up, forcing Lucky to come to a swift halt as she made a crater right in front of him. Another one tripped, her fall cushioned by the soft earth and her prodigious bust, and two more leaped on her with cries of glee to dirty her clothes even more.

Inwardly, Lucky groaned. Teenagers. Older teens, sure, but some of the smaller ones he wouldn't have pegged at more than sixteen. They were loud and colorful, dressed in sort-of-coordinated outfits made from caribou silk, and each one sporting a cleavage that would have made her the star of the schoolhouse a year ago. They quickly regrouped and the tallest one raised her fist, silencing the others. "Lucky Clover?" she said.

Lucky sighed. "Speaking."

"Two of my friends here lost a bet." She grabbed a mare in each hand and pushed them forward, smiling through her pretext. "Now they have to suck your dick."

One of the losers waved shyly. The other stared at his crotch with a knowing, lusty smirk on her face. This was a familiar slut initiation game, the kind Lucky had endured before, usually when the weather was bad and he was left to work alone. On most days, it was a welcome change. This was not one of those days. "I'm powerless to stop you," he recited flatly.

This just made the group cheer. The more eager victim pulled the shy one forward and guided her onto her knees, already reaching out to hook Lucky's thong. But before she could get any further than that, a pair of gay red boxer shorts blocked her way, from which she visibly recoiled. "And just what do you ladies think you're doing?" Caramel asked.

As a unit, the mares gulped. "They lost a bet," the ringleader explained, standing firm. "It's the rules."

Caramel just tsked. "Ooh, I wouldn't start saying things like that around here," he said. "Mistress Applejack's very particular about what goes on on her farm. I don't suppose any of you asked her permission before you started manhandling her property?"

Now the guilty looks started. "She won't mind," one of them protested.

"Oh, I think she might," Caramel countered. "I'm sure we all remember what happened when Jelly Cups took one of her carts out for a little joyride." A chorus of worried nods. "And this fine specimen is absolutely irreplaceable. Certainly worth much more than some silly old cart. Why, I'd think Applejack would be well within her rights to drain your college funds if any of you stole so much as a single drop from his balls."

The ringleader glanced around before answering. Reading the looks on her friends' faces, she sighed in defeat. "Fine," she grumbled. "But this isn't over." She turned away and spread her wings. "Come on Snowy, get up. You're eating a dick today if we have to search the whole town to find one. Sluts forever!"

"Sluts forever!" the others cheered, smiles returning. In a messy flock they launched into the sky, leaving a rain of dust and earth behind them.

It wasn't until the flapping and laughter had faded into the distance that either stallion moved. Lucky felt himself unclench, releasing his breath. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Aw, it's only because I wanted you all to myself," Caramel countered, leaning back and draping himself over Lucky's frame. But he only lingered there a moment before sliding down and skipping back to his work, leaving them to carry on as before.


---


The sun had shifted in the sky. It was after Four o'clock now, Lucky reckoned, incorrectly. Enough time had passed.

They had made good distance today, considering all the interruptions. After a few more passes they'd cleared the usual hilly area and moved out to the further reaches of the farm, to a smaller, newer patch that jutted partway into the orchard. The soil was tougher here, but there was occasional shade and not a bench in sight. The trees here were in bloom, not due to be harvested for a good long while. Despite himself, Lucky gulped. He was as certain as he could ever be that there was no one else around. That meant that it was a perfect time to make his move.

Since their encounter with the mares, he'd given up on grief or blankness and been doing the most dangerous thing a black collar stallion could do: thinking. If events continued like this, his time on the farm might be closer to an end than he'd thought, one way or another. He wouldn't always have Caramel to defend him; for that matter, Caramel wouldn't always feel like defending him. If he was ever going to regain his freedom, he couldn't afford to just stand idly and let himself be taken advantage of. He needed a plan. A real plan, not his daydreams and romantic fancies, but something he could actually work towards. Something to give him hope.

What he had in mind was not a plan. Not exactly. But it was a start. And a start, he told himself, was sometimes all you needed.

He gulped again. Every fiber of his being cried out against what he was about to do. He pondered calling it off, waiting for a better time, but hardened his resolve. He already knew there wasn't going to be a better time. And if his courage failed now, when the fire of urgency was still burning bright inside him, then he knew he would never be able to pick it up again.

"Caramel?" he called, as quietly as he dared.

"Yes, honey?" came the reply.

"Can I suck your dick?"

Laughter followed, then a pause. And then, to Lucky's surprise, Caramel's voice dropped what sounded like a full octave. "Wait, are you serious?"

Lucky drew to a halt. As much as he could, he nodded. "Yeah, I'm serious."

There was a long quiet. "Um. Wow. Okay." Caramel dropped his seed back and strode forward. By the time he came into view, a smirk was on his face and his voice had risen back to his usual overly-camp tone. "I always knew you'd come around eventually, honey," he said, running his hands down Lucky's chest.

"Alright, stop," Lucky spat. "Let's get some things straight, first." He paused. "Do you think you could take this thing out of my mouth? I'm gonna be using it a lot."

Caramel gave him a look of suspicion, but still reached up and unhooked the wire stretching around Lucky's face. He opened his mouth and let the metal bit slide free, breathing deep to pant the taste of iron from his tongue. "Thanks," he said. "Now, first things first. I'm not gay. I don't like the idea of doing this, and I especially don't want to do it with you. So don't go getting any ideas or blabbing anything to your Mistress."

"Yeah, sure." Caramel chewed his lip thoughtfully. His bulge was already visible through his boxers. "So what's this about?"

"I just..." Lucky sighed. "I just want to see where I'm at. Because you're right. I probably am going to have to do stuff like that in the Arena again, and maybe other places too. And as long as it's going to happen, I may as well... try to get used to the idea. To at least give it a shot, on my own terms, to see if there's any gay in me at all."

His voice grew sterner as he saw Caramel's mouth open for the expected quip. "And the reason I'm telling you this," he said, cutting him off, "is because this is your chance, Caramel. Your opportunity to show me that maybe being gay wouldn't be so bad. And that means we're doing this by my rules. You don't push me, you don't force me, you don't tell anyone about this, and if I say stop, then no matter where we are, we stop. Because if this ends badly for me, then this never happens again."

Caramel mulled this over, and his face softened. "Yeah, that makes sense," he said. "Don't you worry, sweetie. I'll be gentle."

Sashaying slightly, the red collar moved to the side and out of view. Lucky kept his breathing steady, calming himself as he felt his shackles being undone. The last chain pinged off and he dropped heavily to his knees, flexing and massaging his aching arms. "Let's go a little into the trees," Caramel said, taking him by the hand. "There's a grassy spot over there that'll be just perfect."

Hand in hand, they walked into the treeline. Lucky's stomach churned. Caramel hummed a smug little tune, and Lucky swallowed the urge to deck him. Instead he gulped and let himself be led over to a thick tree surrounded by long grass, against which Caramel eagerly leaned. The eager red collar thrust his thumbs into his boxers and slowly lowered them, his cock springing free with an excited twitch. It was of an average size and, Lucky supposed, nicely shaped, though it couldn't hold a candle to Big Mac's gut-buster. "At your own pace, honey," Caramel said, wiggling his hips enticingly and licking his lips in anticipation.

Lucky dropped to his knees again, more slowly this time, and surveyed Caramel's cock with a heavy, racing heart. Gingerly, he reached out and wrapped two fingers around it. The flesh was hot and hard, and Caramel let out a tiny mewl of approval at the touch. He flexed his hand and started to jerk Caramel off, taking stock. So far, so good.

Caramel was weak. It would be so easy to punch him in the balls, rip his dick off, break his arms. He could overpower him so easily and finally pay him back for every time the obnoxious red collar had gotten him in trouble with Applejack. Lucky mulled this over, then kept gently stroking. He felt no revulsion at the act; he'd long been desensitized to the sight and feel of cocks, and after the Arena this was comparatively child's play. So that was something. He was himself, however, as flaccid as they came.

"We can stick to hand stuff for now if you like," Caramel broke in, his breath short and eager. "But I hope you didn't bring me out here and get my hopes up for just that..."

Lucky cursed under his breath and brought his face closer. No doubt about it; he was not in the least bit getting turned on by this. Good enough to survive, not good enough to pass muster. What had Big Mac done? Fantasize about Twilight Sparkle? Maybe he could do something similar.

He pictured Coco Pommel's cute face. He thought about her first, fumbling attempt at a blow job, of going to town on Rarity's adorable assistant. His dick twitched. He imagined facefucking her, hearing her gag as she worshiped his cock. The silken, heavenly feel of sliding into her wet pussy...

Those thoughts in mind, Lucky took a deep breath, leaned forward, and ran his tongue up the underside of Caramel's cock.

Conflicting thoughts and images clashed in his mind. Sickly protestations filled him from both sides; a roar of indignity at servicing Caramel, a weak and feeble guilt at thinking of Coco in this way. Still he pressed on, licking and stroking while his mind made up excuses and made itself scarce. His erection reached half-chub from fantasizing, apparently unaffected by the sex acts he was performing. "Mm, someone's getting into it," Caramel crooned. Lucky rolled his eyes and prepared to take Caramel's cock into his mouth.

From somewhere nearby, there was a loud, pained scream.

Lucky's head shot up. He let go of Caramel and tried to stand, only to be pushed back down to his knees. "The mares will take care of it," Caramel mumbled, his head back against the bark.

"That was nearby," Lucky protested. "We have to-"

"Don't stop." Caramel thrust his hips forward, slapping Lucky across the lips with his dick.

Another scream rang out, more high-pitched than the first. Lucky looked back toward the noise, then at Caramel. A flash of anger surged through him. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd risen up and slugged Caramel in the stomach. As the red collar gasped and lurched forward, Lucky took off toward the sound.

He sprinted through the trees, already cursing the decision as he ran. Wind and leaves whipped past him and then he emerged onto a field, skidding to a halt as he nearly charged directly into a river winding lazily through it. Already he could see several pegasi circling overhead, and a horde of ground-bound mares approaching from the untilled field yonder. As he rapidly took in his surroundings, Lucky saw what they didn't.

A wooden bridge spanned the river not far from where he stood. Beneath it, crouched on rocks, was a pair of stallions. One of them slumped weakly against the dirt wall, while the other, keeping a lookout in the other direction, had a wriggling mare under his arm, something held against her throat. Their colours were indistinct beneath the shadow of the bridge, but Lucky's blood ran cold as he recognized the shaggy mane of the second stallion. Ace.

Lucky crept closer, trying to take stock of the situation without revealing himself to the ponies flying above. Ace gave a signal with his hand and the two stallions crept forward, diving into the water with their captive between them. The slow current carried them away, tiny blobs among the blue and white. Lucky looked up. The pegasi were still circling obliviously, the other mares still too far away. They were getting away.

Lucky looked up. Part of him longed to turn around and pretend he'd seen nothing. Another part said to call up to the pegasus mares and let them deal with it. He couldn't do either. After all he'd seen, after all he'd endured, no part of him could bring him to sell out his fellow stallions. But he also knew, in the pit of his heart, that he'd never be able to live with himself if he left an innocent mare alone with someone like Ace.

With another whispered curse, Lucky leaped forward and dove into the river.


---


Lucky came to with a groan. He put a hand to his head and felt something wet. For that matter, all of him was wet. Gentle waves lapped at his lower half, and smooth sand lay beneath him. Where was...?

Right, the river. He'd jumped into the river. And immediately hit his head on a rock. Then he must have been carried down here... to the lakeside? That sounded right. Then that screaming nearby must be...

Lucky leaped to his feet. Everything went white, and he fell over. He tried again more slowly, blinking in the sunlight. He was at a bend in the river, at some part of the farm he didn't recognize. Was it even still Sweet Apple Acres? Three figures were on the ground nearby, slowly coming into focus. He blinked again. "Roseluck?" he choked.

It was definitely Roseluck on the ground - the mare who used to take Lucky into the alley for blowjobs every day at lunch. She was shrieking and kicking her feet, her head in the lap of - Lucky blinked once more - Four Sides, his old coworker, who was holding a knife to the throat. He looked pale, listing slightly to the side as he firmly held her down. Ace was at her other end, yanking on her skirt and ripping it off her body. He was fully naked, his erection huge and menacing, and missing his collar. With a loud bark he tore Roseluck's skirt down the middle and violently spread her legs apart. She wasn't wearing any panties.

Clarity returned to Lucky like a thunderbolt. "Hey!" he yelled, striding forward. A dozen aches and pains shot down his side, and he suppressed a wince. "Ace! What the fuck are you doing?"

Ace dropped Roseluck's legs and looked up, momentarily shocked and afraid. Then his face spread into a grin. "Lucky, my man!" he said. "Glad you could join us."

Lucky stopped, a safe distance out of Ace's reach. "Ace," he repeated. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I was making my great escape," the burly stallion replied proudly. "Until I found what this bitch was doing to Sides here. Now she's getting what's coming to her. Sides, show him."

"I'd rather not," Four Sides said weakly. "C'mon, I'm in a bad way. I can't hold her forever." He stared at Lucky with dead eyes. The short knife trembled against Roseluck's skin.

"So I'm taking one for the road before we leave," Ace announced. "You want in? It'll be easier to hold her with three of us."

Roseluck kicked out again. Slowly, Lucky shook his head. "Don't do this," he said.

Ace's face clouded. "What, are you with them?" he growled. "You want I should just stay here and get turned into a fag, is that it?"

"No!" Lucky backed off, raising his hands. "No, I get it. No one should go through what we do. Get out of here, never look back. I won't tell a soul. But..." He gestured to Roseluck. "Leave her out of this. She doesn't deserve that."

Ace guffawed. "Doesn't deserve-" His face darkened again. "They're all bitches, Lucky. All of them. Four Sides is never gonna fuck again after what she did to him. I'm taking back what she took from him. She's just another evil whore and she's gonna get what whores get."

"No." Lucky shook his head. "You don't have to do this. Because you're better than her."

Ace laughed, shaking his head as well. He sauntered forward, resting a heavy hand on Lucky's shoulder. "If you try and stop me," he said, smiling and nodding, "I'll kill you as well." Then he turned and walked casually back to Roseluck, kneeling between her legs. "Now where were we?"

Lucky stared blankly. His arms trembled. Ace lined himself up and started to thrust roughly, his thick prick failing to find purchase between Roseluck's kicking legs. Lucky sighed. "Aw, hells," he muttered. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he charged forward and tackled Ace in the side.

A moment's confusion gave Lucky an advantage, but a moment was all he got. Within seconds Ace was tussling with him, frothing and shouting, and moments later he was on his back with Ace straddling his chest. "I told you, you piece of shit!" Ace shouted, and his fist collided with Lucky's jaw.

Stars and blackness circled Lucky's head. Fists rained down like hail, and every painful thud and crunch brought another flash followed by a longer period of darkness. He tried to raise his own fists in response, but couldn't seem to locate them on his body. Still, the pain wasn't so bad, all things considered. And, some semiconscious part of him mused, there were worse ways to go out.

He wasn't aware at first that the beating had stopped. Darkness still had hold of him, and the pounding in his head went on. After what felt like an age, however, some part of him prompted him to open his blood-crusted eyes and see Ace frozen above him, arms slack at his sides and a blank look on his face. Then Ace's cock erupted, showering Lucky's face with at least half a cup of thick white cum before the stallion fell to the side and tumbled onto his front. Lucky choked for air and squinted with his uncovered eye. A pulsing, rune-covered stone was stuck square in the middle of Ace's back.

In a flurry of footsteps, he felt himself being surrounded. "Is he dead?" a mare asked, checking his pulse. "No... no, this one's alive. Get him up." Lucky felt himself being lifted. He stood slowly and shook his head, flinging cum and blood in all directions. The mares around him shrieked and backed up as he blearily took in his surroundings.

A dozen mares now stood at the riverbank. Roseluck was crying into Applejack's shoulder, while Four Sides sat cross-legged with his hands over his crotch. Someone hurriedly attached a leash to his collar. Ace, still down, was being poked at with a stick. "Easy, now," Applejack was saying, cradling Roseluck comfortingly. "Just tell me what happened."

"It was awful," Roseluck sobbed. "These three stallions kidnapped me for no reason. They were all going to rape me and murder me. If you hadn't come when you did-!"

Lucky's brow furrowed. He croaked a protest, which was ignored. "Well, it's all over now," Applejack told her. "You're safe. That's what matters." She looked around at the others. "Well, don't just stand there! Get 'em tied up!"

The nearest mare choked Lucky, bringing him to his knees. The mares began to carefully bind his and Ace's hands while Applejack paced among them. "Purple," she said, kicking Ace's side. She marched over to Four sides and forcefully lifted his hands. Lucky winced at the sight. "White," she said. "And you." She marched up to Lucky, fury burning in her eyes. "If you think I'm gonna go easy on you just 'cause you fucked my brother-"

"Don't listen to that bitch!" Ace roared. The mares working on him shrieked and fled in all directions. "Lucky wasn't with us! He's a traitor to all stallions! That bitch-boy tried to stop me!"

Applejack paused. Slowly, she raised an eyebrow. "Is this true?" she asked Lucky. He desperately nodded.

"He's lying!" Roseluck cried out. "They were all in it together! All three of them!"

"The fucker punched me! Wouldn't let me take what's mine! He's a fucking pansy-ass mare-loving son of a whore!" Ace spat. "You make sure everyone knows that!"

Roseluck started to protest again, but fell silent when Applejack turned and focused her gaze on her. "Is. This. True?"

Roseluck said nothing.

Applejack turned back. For a long moment, she looked Lucky up and down, anger and defeat clashing on her face. "Get the fuck back to work," she eventually said.

"What? No no no. Applejack, you don't understand." Roseluck clutched at Applejack's arm. "You can't trust this one. Every day, he used to rape my mouth in the alley behind work. I had to be afraid for my life every single day. He's a monster!"

"What?" Lucky finally found his voice. He sniffled and coughed, spitting blood before continuing. "That's not what happened. You sucked me off. You wouldn't stop sucking me off. It was all your idea."

"Please. I knew exactly what you wanted." Roseluck hid behind Applejack and hissed. The other mares started to cart Ace and Four Sides away. "I saw the way you were always staring. I only gave in to keep you from taking it from me yourself. If I ever stopped, you would have murdered me or worse. That makes it rape."

Lucky stared in disbelief. "What ever gave you the idea that I would do that? You had no reason to think that! I would never lay a hand on you!"

"Yeah, because I gave you what you wanted," Roseluck spat. "Everyone knows how stallions are. You pretend not to be monsters to get into our pants, and turn on us the moment we say no. You're no white knight, Lucky Clover. You're just another rapist."

Applejack rolled her eyes. "Alright, that's enough," she said. "Rose, take the rest of the day off. I promise I'll deal with this one. And you, I thought I told you to get the fuck back to work."

"Y-yes ma'am," Lucky said. Under Roseluck's glower, he rose up onto his feet and looked around. "I'm not sure-"

"Figure it out." Applejack took Roseluck by the arm and walked away. The remaining mares followed, sneering at Lucky as they went.

Lucky's heart pounded as he was left alone. This was his chance. He could make his escape. He could go...

Where, exactly? In his broken, bleeding condition? He stood still for several minutes, catching his breath, then sighed and started to trudge back across the field.

It took over an hour to find Caramel again, leaning miserably against a stump near the abandoned plough. "Took you long enough. Any chance of finishing that blow job?" the miserable red collar asked.

"Sorry, Caramel. Not in the mood," Lucky answered.

Together, they strapped him back into the plough. He began to move again, one slow step at a time, across the endless field. As if nothing had even happened.
> After-Dinner Snacks
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucky ate dinner alone that night.

After an extra-long and extra-intimate session with Comet Tail (were the butterfly kisses really necessary to fix his nose?) he emerged into the feeding barn to find it completely empty. A whole food trough and sparkling clean water awaited him, untouched. It was, he supposed, something. One upside to an utterly miserable day.

He drank heavily first, washing away the dried blood and semen still clinging to his face. He knew he was muddying the water for those who would come after him, but couldn't bring himself to care. Then came the food, as fresh as he was ever going to get it but still utterly tasteless and repulsive in its texture. As he ate he found himself weeping, and couldn't entirely tell why. The miseries of the day gone by? The knowledge that this was and would be just one similar day of many? Or maybe the loneliness was finally getting to him. "King Sombra has not forgotten us," he whispered to himself through clenched teeth. It fueled a burning anger in him, but did nothing to staunch the tears. "King Sombra has not forgotten us."

His solitude was broken by footsteps at the door. He quickly wiped his eyes and stood, but it was only Comet Tail, sauntering forward with one hand behind his back. "Got something special for you," the red collar teased, approaching slowly. "A reward for your exemplary performance in the Arena today." He revealed his hand, leaving Lucky staring. A fat, hourglass-shaped fruit was held in it. "Ever seen one of these before?"

"Only in pictures," Lucky croaked. Warning bells blared at the back of his mind, but the sight and smell of actual food was leaving him a drooling mess.

"Even us reds only get to split these on special occasions. You must have been a very good boy today." Comet held it out. "Eat up, stud."

Lucky took the fruit reverently. "I don't know if I..." he began feebly.

"Don't take too long. You're not leaving this barn until you've eaten the whole thing. Applejack's orders."

The warning bells turned into an orchestra of shrieks and sirens, but Lucky was past resisting. The edge of the fruit was already in his mouth, the skin splitting wetly between his teeth. It was overpoweringly delicious, sweet and sugary and rich - he couldn't tell whether genuinely or simply because it was the first real flavour he'd tasted since Hearth's Warming. Tears returned to his eyes as he messily devoured it, the juices dripping down his chin in a river of ecstasy. Testicle-shaped seedpods crunched between his teeth and he spat them aside, diving back in to slurp up more of the nectary flesh.

All too soon, nothing but the stem and a handful of seeds remained. "Good boy." Comet Tail nodded proudly. "Now hurry on. We're going into the house."

Into the- Lucky narrowed his eyes. No chance Applejack was this generous. But he followed as Comet Tail led him out of the barn and up to the farmhouse. The entrance was guarded by another red collar Lucky didn't recognize, who simply nodded as the pair entered.

The farmhouse's interior was disquietingly normal. Vases, an empty kitchen, family photos on the walls. A little old lady dozed in a rocking chair, some half-finished knitting on her lap. Comet Tail led Lucky past all this and up the stairs, down a sparse hallway and into a large bathroom. "And now," Comet Tail said, "I don't know about you, but now we're going to fulfill one of my personal fantasies and take a bath together."

Lucky could have melted. "A bath?"

"Yup." Comet playfully punched him on the shoulder. "You've earned it."

The next hour was a slice of heaven. Lucky soaked himself in hot water, letting himself be pampered by the gay stallion who joined him in the bath. He washed his hair for the first time in a very long time and scrubbed until the water was brown. Comet leaned over and tried to kiss him; not in the mood to fight, Lucky simply redirected this to his cheek. Afterward came more pampering in the form of tooth-brushing and a dash of apple-scented cologne. All he needed was some proper clothes, and Lucky practically felt like his old self again.

His head was so in the clouds that Lucky couldn't say exactly when he started frotting with Comet Tail. In what seemed like no motion at all, the red collar had gone from cuddling his side to rubbing their hard dicks together. He couldn't even quite say when he'd gotten hard at all. "Whoa, whoa!" Lucky said, gently pushing Comet away. "That's a little too close, there."

"You sure?" Comet pouted. "It's the first time I've seen you so hard for me. You sure you don't want any help with that?" He expressively licked his lips.

That would be nice, Lucky's foggy brain purred. A loving blow job would be the perfect cap to end the day. If only Comet Tail was a mare. "Thanks but no thanks," he said with a glimmer of what felt like confused disappointment. "Sometimes I wish I was gayer than I am. But I'm not."

"Someday, Lucky," Comet laughed. "Someday." He slapped Lucky's flawless ass. "Now let's get you to your room."

Lucky's room turned out to be the room next door. It was as bare as could be, occupied only by a metal cot in the middle that lacked even a headboard. Judging by the size of it, Lucky wondered if this had once been Big Mac's room. "Lie down and make yourself comfy," Comet Tail said. "You'll be sleepin' here tonight."

He was too overwhelmed to question it. Immediately he threw himself back on the mattress - far from the plushest he could imagine, but worlds better than the straw he normally slept on. He sighed and sank in as Comet pulled some ropes from beneath the bed, not questioning it as he started to be tied down. No uncomfortable leashes this time - not that Comet Tail could have handled them anyway - just luxurious silk ropes gently but firmly tying his wrists and ankles to each corner of the bed. He didn't even lash out when Comet put his head between his legs and sniffed deeply, taking in his musk. "Oh, the things I'd do to you," the red collar sighed. "If Applejack hadn't ordered hands off, I'd be riding you so hard right now. Well, until tomorrow, Lucky. Sleep well." Then Comet left the room, turning off the light.

Lucky lay in the dark. "Goodnight, Comet," he said to no one.


---


Despite it all, sleep refused to come.

Partly, it was the confusion. Lucky was still uncertain what he'd done to deserve such treatment in the eyes of the mares. Was it really because of the Arena, like Comet had said? Did Applejack hold a soft spot for him for helping to 'convert' her brother? Or was it because he'd saved Roseluck, despite the mare's protests?

But mostly, he couldn't sleep because of his massive boner.

No matter how much time passed, he was still hard - painfully hard. His balls felt like they were bloating and churning, overfilling with seed and swelling by the moment. He didn't honestly feel all that aroused, but the sheer physicality of his erection, the feeling of being huge and ready to fuck at any moment, was recursively starting to turn him on. As he tried to ignore it a drop of pre welled up on his tip and dripped down onto his stomach, making him shiver. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together. He had no doubt in his mind that this was the effect the caribou's vegetable had on males. What was it like in the caribou lands, he wondered, if men walked around like this the whole time? No wonder they treated their women as slaves, if their own diet left them so constantly pent-up...

Internal pressure continued to mount. Unable to see them, Lucky imagined his balls expanding to dangerous levels, trembling with the strain of holding in what felt like a fountain of cum waiting to happen. He strained and twitched in his bindings, yearning to jack off and relieve the pressure, but the silk ropes held. Was this a sick joke on Applejack's part, he wondered? Had she brought him here under the pretense of a reward only to find a new way of torturing him? Or did she have something else in mind for a pent-up, unbearably horny stallion?

His question was answered as the door opened.

"File in, ladies," Applejack said, and the clip-clop of many hoofsteps filled Lucky's ears. His neck sore from straining, he could only lift his head for a moment, blinking as the lights came on. He caught sight of a lilac mare and the chocolate brown of a caribou before his head fell back against the mattress. "Don't be shy, now." Applejack brought up the rear. "Time for the main event."

Lucky felt himself being surrounded, cooed over. His instinct was to cover himself, but there was no chance of that. Already a mare was petting and stroking his penis, gasping at his thickness. Lust and shame reddened his face. "I haven't been this excited in weeks," the mare petting him whispered.

"I know! So worth the cost," another whispered back.

Lucky rolled his head back and forth, taking in his molesters while he was talked over like a piece of meat. "Right, that's enough," Applejack chided, slapping their hands away. "Spoiled Rich won the bid, so she's up first. Spoiled, care to do the honours?"

"My pleasure," one of the mares purred, stepping forward. She was a generously full-figured older mare dressed in deep purple lingerie that matched her mane, a cold and eager smile on her face. She circled him once, running her hand over his chest and down his body, then crawled up onto the bed between his legs. With no preamble, pausing only to brush the hair from her eyes, she licked all the way up his shaft and took the head of his cock into her mouth.

Lucky moaned. The mares around him whooped. Spoiled Rich sucked and stroked him inexpertly, nicking him with her teeth while she tried to cram as much of him into her mouth as possible. Winking, she leaned back and undid her bra, tossing it aside and letting her massive, teardrop-shaped mounds fall free. With a smug little grunt, she scooted forward and wrapped her pillows around the base of Lucky's cock, stroking them up and down while she continued to drool over the tip. Spit mixed with another spurt of pre and became lubrication, her soft, heavenly tits jerking Lucky off as she sucked on his tip.

Lucky felt close to cumming when she stopped, abruptly drawing back and leaving Lucky twitching and gasping. A few mares laughed. With a waggling finger, she leaned forward and spat on his cock again, stroking him to make sure he was properly lubed. Then she crawled forward again, straddling Lucky's hips. Licking her lips, she reached down and pulled her violet panties to the side, then slowly and carefully lowered herself onto his cock.

Insertion took a couple of tries, but once he was in, Lucky's head swam. She was a far cry from the tightest mare he'd been in, but the heavenly sensation of pussy around him, real pussy, after such a long dry spell was overwhelming. He threw his head back and panted, twitching his hips as Spoiled Rich slowly, slowly worked herself down onto him. "Just as advertised, Applejack," the older mare purred, her voice only slightly laboured as she started to ride. "You don't sell often, but when you do you always go the extra... m-m-m-miiiiiiiiiiile." Her eyes rolled back as she slid down another inch, halfway down Lucky's length. Her pussy lips gripped as she put both hands on Lucky's chest and raised herself up, leaving a trail of her own feminine lube in her wake.

Spoiled rode him slowly, teasingly, savouring every delicious inch that she took into herself. Lucky's arms strained against the ropes again, instinctively trying to hold her down, make her take him deeper, but she fucked with no thought to his pleasure, only her own. Minutes passed before she started to speed up, shaking her hips in time with some unheard beat, and Lucky felt himself starting to reach his peak. He groaned, and Spoiled ran her hands over his face, and everything went white-

When clarity returned he was still cumming. It felt like there was nothing else in the universe but his cock and Spoiled's pussy, milking and thrumming around him as he pumped load after load into it. The sensation of being overfilled diminished, but only momentarily; he felt his balls going into overdrive as his orgasm finished, manufacturing record quantities of cum at a speed he couldn't keep up with. He was just as ready to fuck as he'd been a minute ago, just as full, just as insatiable.

Spoiled Rich leveraged herself off of Lucky's cock with a pop and a pleased hum. A spray of white shot out of her, causing shrieks from that direction, but she covered herself with a hand to keep as much seed inside her as she could. "This one will be a nice, strong colt," she declared as she slid off the bed. "I can feel it. I always wanted a son..."

As Lucky tried to take this in, the shadow of Applejack loomed over his head. "How was that, troublemaker?" she teased, staring down at him. "Having a good time?"

One of her eyebrows curled, and for a moment Lucky wondered if he was, for the first time since the Reign began, seeing a mote of actual affection or concern in- nope, nope, that was definitely a threat. "Wonderful, ma'am," he gasped in between breaths.

"That's what I thought," she laughed. "You get all sorts of perks working here, don't you?" The rest of the room tittered. Inches away from Lucky's head, Applejack began fiddling with the buckle on her booty shorts. The shorts hit the floor, and Lucky stared. As he'd imagined so many times, she wasn't wearing panties beneath them. "Come on, then!" Applejack swung around, and suddenly her massive, glorious ass hung like a shelf over his head. "Show these folks how much you love your Mistress!" The ass descended.

Any panic was thrown away in favour of sheer shock and lust. Applejack's wet, apple-scented pussy brushed past his nose, and its sister orifice landed squarely on his mouth as she sat on his face. A part of him hesitated before reaching out, but she was freshly bathed and sweet-tasting as he started to lick. He was vaguely aware of the rest of the room cheering him on as he ate out Applejack's ass, giving all he could to obscenely pleasure his Mistress. Applejack wiggled atop him, the twin globes of her ass and thighs pressing into both sides of his head. "Alright, who's next?" Applejack called, to a chorus of hoots and shrieks.

"Me next! Meeee!" somepony yelled - a voice that Lucky was sure he'd recognize if he wasn't so very, very distracted. While he wiggled his tongue inside Applejack's bootyhole, another mare crawled atop him and immediately slammed herself down on top of him. Part of his brain screeched in protest - it was too soon after cumming, his cock was too sensitive - but this mare was incredibly loose around him as she took him to the hilt. Right away she was riding like a pro, rising up only an inch at a time before slamming herself back down.

Just as Lucky was starting to run out of air, Applejack stood up. He gasped and blinked, shocked to see none other than Pinkie Pie herself riding him. She looked... honestly, she didn't look good. Her hair was a frizzled mess, more than usual, her coat unkempt with spots of dried crust in it. Her expanded breasts looked ungainly on her, wrinkled and sagging and faintly dribbling milk. But worst of all was the absolute deadness in her eyes. Deep bags hung under her eyes and no spark lay within them, just an echo of cold desire. Despite this, a crazed, lusty smile was frozen on her face. "Fun," she muttered to herself as she rode. "Fun. Fun. Fun. Fun. Fun!"

With a last squeak, Pinkie Pie collapsed forward, her breasts cushioning the fall onto Lucky's torso. Her hips twitched for a few last thrusts and then, almost comically, her eyes closed and she started to snore.

The room groaned. "Again?" Applejack sighed once it became clear that Pinkie was not getting up. "Alright, roll 'er off. We'll put her in my room to sleep it off." Protesting mares pulled Pinkie Pie clear and dragged her from the room. "Who's next?"

"I will be next," a chilling voice next to Lucky's head said. He twisted to look up at her and conflicting emotions shot through him. The caribou Symmetry walked around the bed, then crawled toward him.

Lucky's heart raced. He was actually going to fuck a caribou - the original sex slaves! Born and bred to please males! And also a stone-cold, stallion-hating monster who was partly responsible for every bad thing that had happened to him in the past year. Those tits, though-! She was fully naked, perfect hourglass figure on display. Her breasts brushed past Lucky's cock as she crawled over him, making him shiver and twitch. She allowed herself to drop down, hard nipples dragging over his stomach and chest as she moved up until they were face to face, pressed together. Then, to his surprise, she kissed him.

Surprise gave way to a shrug, and Lucky closed his eyes. Symmetry's mouth was strangely shaped, her tongue thick and flat, but she wielded it deftly as she tangled it with his own. All the while, she reached down and lifted Lucky's cock up to her snatch, sliding it inside her. They moaned into each other's mouths as they connected, sliding down to the hilt. Symmetry was hot, tight, and wet - possibly the hottest, tightest and wettest he'd ever been in. His hips thrust upward as far as they could reach, and Symmetry rode him with expert ease, her pussy drooling all over his crotch.

She suddenly pulled back from him, leaving him making out with empty air. "Let loose his hands," she breathed.

"You sure?" Applejack said after a pause. "This one could be dangerous."

"Ya, am sure." The exotic beauty looked down into Lucky's eyes. "Let loose his hands. I want him to embrace me."

One by one, Lucky's hands were untied. In the back of his mind, a violent escape fantasy flared, but the rest of him was far preoccupied with fucking this chocolate beauty as best he could. He sat up a little and wrapped both arms around Symmetry, one on her back, one drifting down to the curve of her ass, crushing her to his chest. Her fur was thick but soft as silk, her body plush and intensely huggable. Now with better leverage, he thrust as best he could with his legs bound, grinding against her as she ground back.

"Oh, Haakon," Symmetry moaned into Lucky's ear. He wasn't sure that she'd spoken at first until she did it again. "Yes, Haakon. Use me. Use this horny slut. Yes, Haakon, use this cunt."

Disgust and disbelief blossomed in Lucky. All this time, and she still-? A soft fury rose in his throat. Before he knew what he was doing, he reached up and smacked her ass, the satisfying feel of her soft flesh wobbling echoing through his palm. The mares around him cheered. "You like that, slut?" he hissed into Symmetry's ear, low enough that the others wouldn't hear.

"Yes, Haakon," she moaned back, eyes closed and lost in fantasy. "Use this slutty cunt. Use me!"

He could not deny such a request. Scooting down a bit on the bed, he braced himself on his hooves, planted both hands firmly on Symmetry's plush ass, and slammed into her with everything he had. A throaty moan and rush of pleasure was his reward. He pounded her from below, pulling down to accentuate each thrust, painting her insides with pre as he rubbed against her walls. She twisted and writhed atop him, utterly lost in pleasure as they began to make out again. "My ass," she groaned into his mouth in between brutal thrusts. "Use this useless cunt's slutty ass!"

Before Lucky could work out the logistics of this, Symmetry did the work for him. She abruptly sat up and rode for a few more thrusts, her fat breasts jiggling, then popped herself off of Lucky and flipped over. Now facing away from him, she took his spit-, pre- and femcum-coated cock and slid it between her ass cheeks, lower, lower. Lucky's heart raced. He could scarcely believe this was happening. With ease that had to come from more than practice, Symmetry lowered herself with an explosive moan and shoved Lucky's whole cock into her ass.

Intense tightness enveloped him. He threw his arms back and gasped, lost in the intense pressure and pleasure. Symmetry braced herself on the bed and started to ride, slowly at first, but building speed until her ass was clapping with every downward thrust. Mares on both sides started to clap along. "Go Symm go!" somepony yelled, and the chant grew, rising louder as Symmetry howled in bliss. "Go Symm go! Go Symm go! Go Symm go!"

A naked mare on Lucky's right grabbed his unused hand and started to finger herself with it. Taking a cue from her, another mare sat on his face, driving her apple-scented pussy into his mouth. Scarcely able to breathe, he did his best to pleasure three mares at once, licking, wiggling his fingers and making tiny thrusts up with his overtaxed hips. Something was nagging at him, and his eyes widened as he realized he'd finally worked it out. Symmetry's pussy was so tight, and her ass so loose, that from the front and back she felt almost exactly the same.

One last time, Symmetry slammed herself down, her ass clenching and tightening as she wailed her way through an orgasm. It was almost enough to push Lucky over the edge a second time - but just before he reached the peak, she pushed herself off of him and collapsed into several waiting arms. Lucky groaned in frustration, his hips still pumping, eliciting several infuriating laughs from the corners of the room. It seemed that no matter what Symmetry said in the heat of the moment, she was still the one in charge. "Next?" Applejack asked the room.

"Me!" called a few different mares, but none louder than the one currently on Lucky's face. She shimmied down his body, filling his view with yellow - she was smaller than the others, with a round, firm butt and perky breasts. The mare - he wanted to say Apple Fritter? - lowered herself onto his still-twitching cock and rode him for a few thrusts, pigtails bouncing across her shoulders. "Hey, flip him over!" she yelled, grinning. "I want to feel him on top of me!"

Applejack made another noise of protest, but the mares by his hooves were already untying him. With an inward shrug, Lucky sat up and grabbed hold of Fritter, then rolled her over and pinned her down to the bed. He started to thrust again, this time from on top, feeling a smug satisfaction as her eyes rolled back and her eager smile turned into a dopey grin. Fingernails dug into his back as he fucked her deep, almost reaching his peak again quickly.

Over the eager cheers of the mares around him, he overheard Applejack speaking from near the doorway. "Hey there, sugarcube. You gonna come in, or are you just gonna hide in the hallway all night?"

A small voice answered her. "I'm... I'm okay, thank you."

Lucky's breath caught. He almost looked back, but stopped himself just in time. "You sure you're alright, Coco?" Applejack asked, oblivious to how the name made Lucky's veins freeze like ice. "Rarity said you needed this. Why, the way she talks about you, it's as if you've never even been with a stallion before!"

"I've b-been with lots of stallions!" the tiny mare protested. Lucky's heart cracked, even though he could smell the lie from across the room.

"Uh-huh. Listen, if you're gay, that's fine, okay? I can hook you up with lots of nice mares who'd be happy to-"

"N-no! Thank you. I'm straight, I mean, I think I am."

"Then what's the holdup? Rarity said this is the one you've had your eyes on. Why don't you go jump him?"

There was a pause. "Ooh, I think he likes me," Fritter said from beneath Lucky. She playfully kissed him, and he halfheartedly batted tongues with her, still pounding into her sopping pussy.

"...I don't know," Coco eventually answered. "I guess I just thought... it would be different, somehow."

"Trust me, it's better this way." There was a sound of stretching. "Come on. I'll show you what you're missin' out on."

Applejack loudly approached the bed. "Alright, that's enough," she said to Fritter. She yanked on Lucky's cropped tail to make him stop thrusting. He made a couple more painful humps, stuck in a mechanical loop. "Time to let a real mare show you how it's done."

Throwing Applejack a filthy look, Fritter wriggled her way out from under Lucky, kissing him one last time before sliding off the bed. "On yer knees," Applejack ordered. Accustomed to obeying her, Lucky raised himself up and kept his eyes forward. Applejack crawled onto the bed in front of him. She shimmied around until her colossal booty bumped into his crotch, grinding back on him. "Take my ass," she ordered, looking back over her shoulder. "Don't disappoint me."

Conflict boiled in Lucky. That ass - but Coco was right there - but that ass - but this bitch was evil - but that ass!

Lust and fear won out. Licking his lips, he hotdogged Applejack for a few seconds more, watching mesmerized as her rippling booty cheeks completely enveloped his cock. Then he drifted lower, drawing back until he was lined up with her asshole, still damp with his own spit. Tenderly, careful not to hurt her, he slowly pushed forward.

He was surprised by a push back by Applejack that swallowed two inches of his cock into her ass. "Is that all you've got?" she yelled back mockingly. "Don't be a faggot and fuck me right!"

Well, if that's what she wanted... Lucky grabbed her hips and slammed forward, his crotch colliding with her ass with a sound like a drum. She cried out as she stretched around him, her tight asshole struggling to contain his obscene girth. A crazed smile overtook Lucky's face, and everything else fell away. After months of fantasizing, he was finally, finally fucking Applejack's fat ass. If only Ace could see him now!

A frenzy came over him as he started to fuck in earnest. His hands moved over Applejack's booty, shaking and kneading it as he spread it wide. He pounded back and forth in ecstasy. Their positions shifted as Applejack dropped her head to the mattress, changing the angle of his thrust and heightening his pleasure. Face down, ass in the air, he rode her just like he'd imagined doing in his stall at night, hard and fast for every time she'd laid a hand on him.

It wasn't long before he was at his limit again. With a primal roar, he slammed down to the hilt and blew the first part of his load deep into Applejack's ass. But then, moving like a coiled serpent, she bucked her hips and pulled forward to yank him out of her and spun around, catching his second spurt across the side of her ass before whirling and taking his cock in her mouth. She sucked deep as four more spurts jetted out, swallowing them as quickly as they came. Behind her, Apple Fritter hopped back onto the bed and licked the cum off of her ass, kissing and sucking as she went.

Once his vision cleared, Lucky looked down to see Applejack slapping his cock across her face with a smirk, getting him instantly hard once more. "Hope you're not getting tired, troublemaker," she said. "'Cause we're not even close to done yet." She looked around. "Who's next?"
> One Last Goodnight Kiss
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sleep did not come easily that night.

The orgy had lasted what felt like hours. A dozen mares had taken Lucky in every way possible, often two or three at a time, well beyond the point of what any stallion could endure even with the aid of an enchanted fruit. He would have ended up sleeping with some of them as well, if Applejack hadn't tied him up again and ushered everypony out of the room. Coco must have either fled or spent the night in the hallway, because he didn't see or hear another sign of her the whole time.

After cumming all over a mare for the umpteenth time his dick had finally given out. He'd licked until his tongue failed to rise either. In the end, even his fingers felt stiff and worn. His hips burned from pistoning; his arms ached from holding himself up. In every way that he could measure, he was completely burnt out.

It had been one of the greatest experiences of his life.

He had, he struggled to remind himself, been raped. The mares had used him like a piece of meat, satiating their desires with no thought to his wants or comfort. He had been mocked and violated, reduced to a penis on legs that existed only for their pleasure. His sex-blissed brain didn't care. The most he could muster was some disgust with the fact that he didn't feel sick with himself. It almost made the rest of the day worth it, and that was what disturbed Lucky the most.

Had Rarity been right? Were stallions truly sex-crazed beasts who'd put up with anything as long as they were satiated at the end of the day? He'd done hours of pointless, back-breaking work that day. He'd been beaten and raped by mares. He'd been beaten and raped by stallions. He'd been broken and humiliated in front of the whole town and had stood by helplessly as one of the only friends he had was murdered by a purple collar. And yet after all that, all he could think about was how he couldn't wait to see if there'd be another orgy tomorrow.

Maybe Applejack was right. Maybe he really was just a grab-ass troublemaker. A sex-addicted pervert who disrupted things with his penis everywhere he went. Just like the mares at the newspaper office had accused him of being. Was it more comforting to think that he was the exception rather than the rule? No; after what he'd seen of his fellow stallions, so eager to rape and kill the mares who'd wronged them, he couldn't believe that he was the only one. How many stallions harboured those ill desires, the ones who'd gone gay notwithstanding? Some of them? All of them?

Had Fluttershy, of all ponies, been right? Was the natural state of a stallion a monster, socialized to pretend to be something else? Was he no different than the inequine creature that had killed Meadow Song? Just a fuck beast waiting for the opportunity to be set free?

No... that was ridiculous, he told himself. All he'd done was enjoy having sex. That didn't make him a monster. It didn't.

Still, he slept fitfully.


---


Lucky was awoken by a tugging on his wrist.

He came to groggily, a faint headache plaguing him. Shadows hung dark and thick in the room, and at first he didn't register the other pony standing by the bedside, let alone what they were doing. When the silk rope slipped away from his arm his head lolled to the side and he beheld Coco Pommel standing over him, biting her lip between glances at the door as she moved down to untie his ankle.

"Coco," he whispered.

She jumped almost a foot in the air, darting away skittishly before collecting herself and moving closer. "Shh," she whispered back, putting a finger on his lips. "Applejack's next door."

He nodded, understanding, and said no more as she circled the bed. One by one the ropes on his ankles came undone, then his other hand. He sat up slowly, withdrawing and massaging his limbs. She sat cross-legged on the bed beside him. It started to dawn on him slowly that he was once again naked in front of her. With most mares, unless he was actively fucking them, he still felt an instinctive urge to cover up in their presence. With her, it just brought him back to when they'd first met.

"It's good to see you," he began.

"Don't talk." Coco leaned against his side, small and fragile. On impulse, he put an arm around her. "Talking only brings pain. I can't do that right now. Just be here with me."

He nodded. Slowly he pulled her closer, savouring both the feel of her clothes and the feel of her skin against his body. For a short time, they sat together in silence.

Coco was the one who moved first. Her hands, which had been clasped in her lap, slowly unfurled. With agonizing slowness, as if having to drag herself every inch, she trailed her fingers up and across her leg and onto Lucky's. He watched with mild curiosity as she laid her palm on his thigh and gently squeezed. Her cheeks flushed and her breaths grew shorter as she stayed in that position, the tips of her fingers barely an inch away from Lucky's flaccid yet substantial cock. "Lucky?" she whispered, arousal heavy in her voice.

"Yes?" he breathed back.

"Y-you can do anything you want to me."

He looked to her in surprise. She met his gaze and stared into his eyes, a mix of guilt, fear and longing looking back at him. Nervously she licked her lips, and he followed her gaze as it trailed down his body, then back up again. He could feel the heat and desire radiating off of her in waves, and suddenly her clothes looked far too tight, too restrictive. She needed to be freed from them.

A chorus of voices in the back of his mind protested. He'd already had sex with a dozen mares that night, they cried. He entirely wasn't in the mood. His balls were empty, his dick felt like chewed taffy, his tongue ached. He was tired. He had a headache. Wouldn't it be better to just keep things as they were? To just hold each other until the sun came up, free from the shackles and expectations of-

It was too late. He was already kissing her.

Bliss and relief blossomed in his mouth and spread through his skull as their lips made contact. He clung to her as she melted into him, her head tilted back, her hand still on his thigh. Her mouth tasted sweet; Lucky could only shamefully imagine that his tasted like pussy juice. Still, nothing could ruin this moment. She was everything he'd ever wanted, in his arms, away from the prying eyes of the mares who ruled the world. This moment belonged to them. And they were going to take it.

The fog of ecstasy gave way to a more urgent need. He kissed her more deeply, batting tongues with her as his arm snaked further around her. She yielded to his touch and together they collapsed onto the mattress, facing one another as they made out. He was once again blown away by how light Coco was; already a small mare, she felt fragile and malnourished in his arms, skinny as a twig and just as liable to snap. He felt as if he could pick her up with one hand with ease. Instead he used that hand to brush the hair from her eyes, then pressed it against her cheek. Her eyes were closed in the dark, her cheeks flushed, her tongue exploratively brushing over his own. He closed his own eyes and smiled, losing himself in the moment.

For a time they simply kissed, lying there in the darkness. Eventually, Lucky's greater weight and tiredness pulled him onto his back, dragging Coco with him until she was straddling him. He clasped his hands behind her back and ran them slowly up and down, feeling her flush and shiver at his touch. Up to the nape of her neck he went as he crushed her to his chest, then down again, inch by inch, until his hands were over her skirt.

For the second time, something in the back of Lucky's mind cried out for him to stop. But then, she had said anything. And if she wanted him to stop, all she had to do was ask. With a decisive motion, Lucky brought his hands down the final inch and grasped onto Coco's petite ass.

Coco squeaked, then moaned faintly into Lucky's mouth. Her legs spread wider and she squirmed against him as he felt her up, his dick stiffening until he was prodding her from below. Breath quickening, he ran his hands up her body to her equally petite chest, fumblingly unbuttoning her shirt. He finally broke the kiss to push her up and slide her shirt over her head, tossing it to the side. Her slim bra followed. Lucky could feel her trembling as he cupped the rosebuds of her breasts, staring up at her in the thin moonlight.

She breathed in sharply as Lucky rolled them both over, then again as he began to trace kisses down her body. She gasped when his lips clasped around one pert nipple, suckling gently at one then the other before moving further down. He sat up to finish undressing her, her skirt sliding down her slender legs, then thick, cotton panties. She squirmed nervously and covered herself as she lay bare before him, the mare of his dreams. Gently, he moved her hand aside, put his face between her legs, and started to lick.

Lucky's tongue was tired. He moved in broad, flat strokes with little finesse. At first he worried that this wouldn't be enough for Coco, but the way her legs spasmed, then locked behind his head filled him with more confidence. He dove in with gusto, moving harder and faster in an effort to please the mare he loved. Coco let out a loud squeal, then covered her mouth with both hands. She alternated hands after that, clinging to the mattress for support while her opposite hooves sunk into Lucky's shoulders. Her already-wet pussy began to gush, filling Lucky's mouth with the taste of a fully aroused mare.

At long last, when his tongue clenched up and declared it could do no more, Lucky planted a last kiss on Coco's clit and sat up. He crawled over her again, planting kisses up her body until he reached her face. His painfully hard cock swung low, batting the side of her leg. She gaped up at him, shock and pleasure still written across her features. He couldn't help but kiss her again; she was far too beautiful not to. "Ready?" he whispered to her. She vacantly nodded. Using one hand to align himself, he put the head of his cock against her sodden slit and slowly pushed forward.

Coco cried out, and Lucky groaned, a shared release that they both forgot to muffle. She was tight, unbearably tight around him, her walls clenching and spasming as he drove deeper into her. Once sense returned he searched her face for pain - was he hurting her? - but while her eyes were shut tight, her arms grasped onto his and her mouth opened in a ring of bliss. "Deeper," she whispered back to him. "Don't stop."

He couldn't refuse her. Deeper he pushed, inch after thick inch struggling to cram themselves into this tiny mare. After what felt like an eternity he finally bottomed out, their lower halves kissing as they connected. Coco was insensate, eyes clenched closed and her tongue hanging out, barely responding as Lucky kissed her again. "I'm going to start moving now," he breathed in her ear. "Okay?" She clung to him tighter, nodding desperately.

Pulling out, her pussy clung to him so tight it felt like the skin was going to be ripped off his dick. Pushing back in was easier, and the next cycle easier still. Every movement coated his cock in a new batch of female lubricant, his space to move growing wider as her muscles relaxed. It wasn't long before he was full-on thrusting into her, making the bed creak alarmingly with each swing of his hips. Coco let out a tiny, adorable squeak each time their hips connected, which Lucky was happy to muffle with a kiss.

Thrusting turned to pounding. No longer caring about the noise, Lucky slammed into his willing mare, his balls slapping against her asshole on each thrust. She was so wet and tight around him that in his mind she put even Symmetry to shame. Up and down, then side to side his hips pistoned, causing Coco to break away from him and let out a pleasured shriek that surely must have echoed through the house.

Orgasm came quickly after that. Tunnel vision overcame Lucky as he focused in on the mare bucking and squirming under him, and his massive dick splitting her apart. He groaned mightily and thrust into her one last time at the same time as she howled and dug her fingers into his back. Her pussy clamped down on him, thrumming up and down as he painted her insides with everything he had left. It was a perfect moment that seemed to stretch on forever.

As he came down from the high he found himself panting, Coco breathing just as hard beneath him. They smiled at one another in the dark as they lay there together, feeling his dick slowly softening inside her. "Coco," he whispered to her, planting another kiss on her. "I love you."

"Mmm." Coco kissed his cheek. "Someone probably heard us. Let's get you back in bed."

It took another minute before he was able or willing to extract himself. When he finally pulled out of Coco she wriggled off the bed and stretched, her slit gaping and dripping with seed. As quickly as she could on her jellied legs, she moved from corner to corner of the bed and tied Lucky back into place. "When can I see you again?" he whispered to her once he was securely tied up.

Instead of answering, Coco simply gathered up her clothes. When she was finished she stood over him, smiling down at him fondly. Without a word, she patted his head and walked swiftly out of the room.

"How do you feel?" Applejack asked from the hallway.

"Better," Coco answered calmly. "You were right. I think I'm over him now."

The words thudded into Lucky like arrows. His eyes widened and he stared dumbfounded at the ceiling as the two mares walked away. Silence overtook him and he found himself once again alone.

And then he wept.
> Post-Reign Analysis
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Snow and ice clouded Lucky's dreams.

He saw himself on top of a vast hill. Sleet rained down on either side of him, but did not touch him. He descended to a ponyville made from crystal ice, figures frozen where they stood. Their eyes followed Lucky as he walked to his destination.

A castle stood at the edge of town, a garish thing built of crystal itself. He passed through the doors without opening them and followed the sound of weeping. In the highest peak a pony sat on a velvet throne, her face in her hands, her subjects frozen around her. Lucky approached her calmly. "On your knees," he said to her.

Fire and fury lit up her face. But even so, she sank from the throne and fell to her knees before him. "Now," he again, "do your duty."

She crawled to him, her clothing wisping away like snakeskin. Her hands trailed up his legs and she took the tip of his cock into her mouth.

"Wakey wakey, troublemaker."

Lucky blinked awake, then moaned. Applejack was between his legs, naked save for her hat, sucking on his morning wood like candy. "Ready for another day, you rascal?" she said between slurps, then bent down and took him to the hilt in her throat.

Words failed Lucky at first, leaving him choking and groaning as his cock was expertly serviced. But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm and cold. "You know what, Mistress?" he said. Darkness swirled in the corners of his eyes. "I think I am."