"Oh bugger!"
Very few things truly drive you barmy. You can get by ignoring Lady Pinkamena’s mad obsession with parties and watching you sleep. Lady Rarity’s whinging doesn’t even faze you, despite with her wannabe British accent. If Ladies Rainbow and Applejack are pissing about the estate, it’s piss poor odds that I’m going to be put off my rocker. Not even getting stuck in Equestria bothered you; it’s inconvenient that you were stuck here, but like any of Britain’s finest gentlemen you’ve accepted your hard lines.
In spite of it all, you are beyond pissed, to put it in gentlemanly terms. Imagine! Her Royal Majesty, Princess Twilight Sparkle, the purported Queen Mum of Friendship has had her royal arse parked firmly atop a way for you to get home for more than a year, and she’s made bugger all in attempts to communicate this to you. Everything would be just tickety-boo if she’d brought it up casually over Saturday tea.
“Sir Anonymous, the most curious thing happened recently that I thought might be of interest to you,” she could have said. “I came across a gateway that takes me to a place where everypony is human, not unlike you!”
But no, you found out like everybody else in this barmy candy-horse town. Gossip. It’s as if she just sits there with her cronies, slagging you off behind your back, knowing how dearly you desire a way home. Slamming open your door, ignorant of the fact that Lady Fluttershy has been known to linger on your porch within striking distance of the door, you storm down the steps and up the lane. You are so gutted by all of this that your glorious mustache is unkempt, and you are having difficulties keeping your monocle in place.
Ponies are definitely noticing how enraged you are by this slight. Rather than wave and give you a polite hello, mares are ushering fillies out of the way, and the stallions are all giving you a look that says “You wot, mate?” It must be the way you are gripping your cane, or the disheveled look about your normally immaculate attire. They see your seething hatred, the look of a man out for blood, and their prey instincts bring them to fear you.
That is how much of your trip to Princess Twilight’s crystalline abode goes. Pony fear, human anger, and Lady Pinkamena stalking you from the bushes. Knowing her antics, you honestly expect her to burst out in song or otherwise find some means to distract you from avenging your honor. That you choose not to have a flutter on this expectation is for the best; against all odds, she remains silent and aloof.
When you reach the gates to her gaudy crystal tree castle, you contemplate how best to get Her Highness’s attention. The civil thing to do would obviously be rap on the door with the metal end of your cane and hope that she hears you. That is not, however, the best reflection of your mood. How did that one bloke inform you that he was displeased with you for sleeping with his sister, again?
With a cry of fury, you unseat a flagstone from the lane and toss it through a second storey window, no small feat for you. A shriek of surprise is followed by what could very well be a bookcase unseating itself. “Twilight Sparkle, you gormless twat,” you bellow at the top of your lungs. “You get your fanny down here and explain why I shouldn’t make a right mess of your doorstep!”
Twilight’s head pops out of the window, and from the wide-eyed of horror look on her face, she knows exactly why you’re here. “Oh, Anonymous, you’re here,” she says with a nervous titter. “I was just about to ask Fluttershy to—”
“You found a portal back home, and none of you horses thought it might be best to inform me post haste?” you yell, shaking a cane at the royal. You’re well beyond fearing being held at Her Highness’s pleasure; you’ve spent enough time with her to know that she doesn’t abuse her power, even when she’s well within her rights. “For over a year, you’ve known about a way to the human world and in all that time you’ve done sweet fuck all to tell me?”
If the area surrounding Twilight’s castle hadn’t have been absolutely quiet beforehand, you’d never have noticed the sudden increase in background chatter. Those around me seem genuinely surprised to hear that you did not in fact choose to remain in Equestria, but that somehow everybody but you had known about the portal. Even from here, you can see her ears drooping and her pupils shrinking.
“I can explain,” she croaks, her eyes determinedly looking anywhere but at you. “Just come up to the library and I’ll explain everything.” Her horn shimmers with magic, and the front door creeks open. “Just please don’t break anything...”
“We’ll see,” you warn as you stomp through the door. Truth be told, you’ve already worked most of the anger out of your system through the act of putting a paving stone through the princess’s bedroom window. Any further disturbance or destruction of property just seems downright uncivil. In fact, the walk through the crystalline corridors is more than enough time to give you the willpower to hear her out.
By the time you make it up from the ground floor to the first storey, Twilight’s already waiting for you in the library. She looks quite ashamed of herself, and rightly so. You’ve been in Candy Horse Land for nearly a decade, and, if the rumors are true, you could have spent the last year among your own kind, looking for a nice bird to have a few rounds with at the pub before a bit of rumpy pumpy. Instead, she fails to inform you, you subsist off J. Arthurs for the eighth year running, and Bob’s your uncle.
When she sees you’re not about to use your cane as a bludgeon upon her brainpan, she heaves an unsteady breath and looks you in the eye. “Anonymous, I truly am sorry you didn’t find out sooner,” she says, tracing the tip of her hoof on the floor. “Fluttershy said she would break the news to you, but she always ended up getting cold hooves.”
You blink at her explanation as something clicks into place. “The skittish bird with the pink mane?” you ask, just to be sure. She nods. “That would explain why I’ve been finding her unconscious in my hedge lately. Breaking news like this would probably give the poor thing a panic attack.”
This time, it is Twilight’s turn to blink before planting her hoof firmly against her face. “When you put it like that, it sounds pretty stupid.”
“Quite,” you reply. “So... why didn’t you tell me yourself? You’ve had this for a year at the least and in all that time you have never once told me.”
“I’m not even sure it’s really your world,” she explains. “From everything you’ve told me about Earth, there are a lot of similarities, technology-wise, but in other ways, it’s much more like Equestria. There are plenty of skin and hair colors well outside the range you said human genetics allowed for in your world, and I came out in an urban area called Canterlot, much like Equestria’s own capital.” A flush spreads across her cheeks. “My friends had, erm, male counterparts there.”
This gives you pause. All of the rumors seemed to imply that the world Twilight had found was your home. It never occurred to you that it might have simply been some one-in-infinity parallel world where everyone is human, never mind one where everyone’s sexes seem to be flipped. Perhaps you should not be so eager to rush into this? After all, there is no knowing what sort of life awaits you there.
“Besides, I’m not even sure what the portal would do to you,” she continues before you have an opportunity to speak up. She leads you to a different part of the library, and into the line of sight of a device that looks to be out of some sort of steampunk setting, built around a high-fantasy magical mirror. “When Spike went through with me, he didn’t become a human; he became a dog.” She gives me a nervous look before channeling a spell through her horn at a book mounted atop the device. The mirror ripples for but a moment. “I can let you go through, but I implore you to think on this one point before deciding:
“Spike is mostly bipedal, and he became a magical talking dog,” she emphasises. “Nopony knows what the portal will do to you.”
Blimey. You realize that when you showed up, here, you were too worked up to contemplate whether or not it was a portal to Earth or not. The words magic mirror portal and human world were honestly all you heard. You sink into a nearby chair, stroking your moustache. She doesn’t even seem surprised that you want to go home so badly, which sucks, because you had this whole guilt-trip planned. Twilight just opens the portal and insists you think on it.
“Sadly, you’re right,” you admit, leaning back and resting your cane across your lap. “This isn’t something I should rush headlong into.”
From somewhere very close to your ear, there is a loud snort. You turn to look, and there, on your shoulder, is a tiny Pinkie Pie dressed in a form-fitting red body-suit, with horns on her head and a spade-tipped tail. A glance at Twilight reveals that she is seeing this as well, and unable to speak.
“Oi, you’re all sixes and sevens if you’re believing that rubbish,” tiny devil Pinkie says in the most godawful approximation of a cockney accent. “She’s taking the piss out of you if you think she’s not just trying to hoard all those human birds to herself.”
What. “Lady Pinkamena, pardon my French, but what the fuck are you on about?” you say. “I think I have the princess sussed enough to know when she’s taking the mickey.”
“Yeah?” Pinkie replies coolly. “She was awful interested in you when she first came here, but she started treating you like ‘one of the girls’ after she saw your todger. If she was into stallions, she’d have been all over you still, right? So why’s she keeping a world apparently full of stiffies rather than squidgy bits all to herself?”
She makes a good convincing argument, ignoring the fact that she’s the one who gave Twilight a photograph of your tool in the first place. Back when Twilight thought you were female after seeing you shirtless once or twice, she used to be all over you. She was fascinated, wondering what sort of hormonal imbalance would cause a human mare to grow a glorious moustache such as yours, and you didn’t have the knowledge to properly explain that both human males and females have nipples because of the way babies develop in the womb. After Pinkie showed her your winkie, it was like, “Ew, penis; let’s just be friends.”
Why would Twilight keep such a portal mostly hush-hush, relying on Fluttershy of all ponies to let you know, if all of her friends on the other side had penises and she had no ulterior motivations? Something doesn’t add up, and if it doesn’t add up, it’s usually not on the up-and-up. That would mean Pinkie is right, for a change. Twilight is keeping all the human ladies and squidgy bits to herself!
“Fuck it, I’ll take the chance,” you declare, hopping to your feet. The sudden, violent movement unseats Pinkie from your shoulder, sending her tumbling into a nearby pile of scrolls. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but I just can’t get off to you ponies.” Without another word, you waltz right through the mirror.
Moments after your hasty exit, Twilight turns to Pinkie. “I’m not even going to ask who reduced your size on such short notice, Pinkie, but was that really necessary?” she asks, ruffling her wings. “He was going to wait; I just know it.”
With an innocent smile, she beams up at Twilight. “Anonymous was being too reasonable... Nopony wants a story where Nony does the sensible thing,” she chirps gaily. With a glance at the mirror, Pinkie lets out a tiny, nervous giggle. “You did tell him he was going to be a she, right?”
Twilight looks at the still-active portal, down at Pinkie, and then back to the portal again. “...buck it. Sunset can deal with it.” Without further prompting, she shuts down the portal and begins making some tea. “Let him have some fun before he wants to come smashing up my lab.”
~ Ponies Do Not Go Na ~
After being subjected to the rainbow seizure tube between worlds, you can safely say you would not use that airline by choice. In addition to the uncomfortable seating—being that there was none—and a sudden, agonizing change in cabin pressure, you can’t shake the feeling that everything is somehow off. Unfortunately, you can’t quite put your finger on it.
Maybe one of these half-dozen people standing around doing sweet fuck all can help you get your bearings. Yeah, one of these... extraordinarily tall, very colorful, and extremely familiar men. Oh... shit.
“OH GOD, I’M IN A LAND OF GIANTS!” you scream without thought or consideration. “PLEASE DON’T EAT ME! I TASTE AWFUL!”
“Whoa, guys,” the rainbow-haired one in a footy uniform says, crouching down to get a better look at you. “You seeing this?”
“That’s impossible,” says the man with the almost normal skin-tone and wavy short bacon-hair. “That’s... an Equestrian pony... but how?”
“Dunno, Sunset,” the blue-skinned footy-player replies. “It just came stumbling through the mirror, looked at us, and started screaming.”
“She,” the one apparently named Sunset corrects. “Look at the short, rounded muzzle; definitely a filly.” He, too, crouches down in front of you, and picks you up under your armpits as one might a cat. “Hello, little one, how did you get through the portal?”
“Um, what? Little? Wait, FILLY!?” You turn your head to peer over your shoulder at the mirror you exited through, expecting to see a giant human holding a cat-sized human, and nearly scream again. Instead of a man with long arms, the nice tuxedo, and false-leather loafers expertly crafted by Lady Rarity, you see a little earth pony filly who looks no older than Applejack’s younger sister. Green fur, a black mane and tail, and large green eyes stare back at you. “Oh bugger.” You smack yourself in the forehead. “God damn it, Pinkie Pie.”
“Hey! I know that name!” says a voice far too shrill and cheery to be a normal guy. “That’s what Actually-A-Girl Twilight said Girl-Pony-Me is called!”
You are honestly afraid to look, but much as one cannot stop themselves from watching a trainwreck, you can’t help but turn your head in the other direction to peer at the speaker. Sure enough, there’s no mistaking Pinkie Pie, regardless of a change in sex and species. Frizzy pink afro, out-there sideburns, and garish neon clothes or not, that’s Pinkie standing beside Rainbow and a pale, pink-haired young man.
“Gah!”
“Eeep.”
Your latest cry of not-terror startles the pale one between Pinkie and Rainbow, who, by his modest clothes but enough of a fringe to hide behind, could only be Fluttershy’s counterpart. He looks keenly interested, but not too thrilled by all the shouting. Come to think of it, Fluttershy was that way too. Pretty effeminate, though.
“Can someone please fill me in on what in the ruddy hell is going on?” you say, looking back to bacon man. After a moment of pondering the position, you realize all of your goods are on display to the group and cover up with your tail, which is weird enough having in the first place. “Why am I but a small female horse when I was a man on the other side?”
There’s silence, even as the group migrates away from the portal and what appeared to be a school building to avoid drawing attention. Sunset even shifts his hold on you so that you’re facing forward, his arms wrapped around your chest like a child might hug a very docile cat or plushie. They take you to a nearby park, and place you atop a picnic table.
“You must be Anonymous,” Sunset says, sitting down in front of you. “Twilight told me a bit about you. I’m Sunset Shimmer, and this is Rainbow Blitz, Bubble Berry, and Butterscotch.” He gestures at himself and each of the three guys with him in turn. “Applejack and Elusive are out of town, or else you’d have met them, too.”
“I am seriously freaking out right now,” you state in a trembling voice that you’re only now recognizing as very feminine. “Take me back through the portal; I want to go back.”
Instead of doing as is demanded of him, Sunset takes off his backpack, and retrieves a rather large book not unlike the one you saw atop Twilight’s portal device. He skims through a page and then frowns. “Twilight’s shut down the portal for the time being. She seems to think that you might be inclined to trash the place when you get back.”
“Now that I am stuck here, you bloody well bet I am,” you grumble darkly, crossing your stubby forelegs across your chest, which in turn elicits a delighted coo from Butterscotch. “I was more inclined to tie Pinkie to a chair and make her watch paint dry, but now...”
As you begin to ramble, you notice Sunset writing in the book, and then the book vibrating moments later. This goes on for a few minutes before he looks up at you and frowns. “That might not be the best idea,” he says, looking away. “We don’t know if the portal will return you to your original form, or if it’s just going to mess with you some more. Normally, I’d say it would turn you back, but it doesn’t usually turn adults into children. It could turn you back, but it might also turn you into a fetus.”
“Does anyone else think this sounds like the set-up for a bad fanfic?” Bubble Berry says, for whatever reason choosing that moment to do a hand-stand. “I mean, next thing you’re going to tell us is that you and Twilight are going to need time to run tests, which means Anon has to stay with one of us.”
Sunset’s palm meets his face, and he gives Bubble this withering side-long glance that just screams, “I hate you so much.” Instead he gives you this apologetic look and says, “He’s right, unfortunately.”
“Whoa, no can do, Bub,” Rainbow says, raising his hands defensively. “Mom barely tolerates Tank. There’s no way she’d allow a small horse, no matter how cutesy it is.”
Bubble Berry shrugs. “The Cakes put a no pets clause on the lease when they rented the loft out to me. I get away with Gummy because she’s practically a vegetable, but there’s no way I could get away with having her there.”
“Same,” Sunset adds, glancing at Butterscotch, who is now smiling like the cat that ate the canary. “The college dorm has random spot-checks. No can do.”
There’s an audible squeal of delight from the male Fluttershy. He scoops you up in his arms like a cat—seriously, what is with these people and treating you like a cat?—and twirls around on the spot. “It’s settled, then. I can take you back to my place until I can get out to the animal shelter on the weekend. Then we can keep you in the stables until you go back home,” he positively gushes. “Oh this is going to be so much fun. Well, gotta go, seeya!”
As Butterscotch makes off with you, Rainbow gives Sunset Shimmer a worried look. “Wait, isn’t Butters a furry?” he says, running his fingers through his totally-natural hair. “I mean, you’ve seen what he’s bought from that website... Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“... Anon’s fucked, isn’t he?” He frowns slightly, but watches as you are absconded with. “We should probably check in on them.”
~ Oops? ~
You can’t lie; no matter how you look at it, you wouldn’t expect Fluttershy, er, Butterscotch to be able to run as fast as he can. Sure, his pony counterpart would probably set fire to the town if it meant helping one of her critter friends, but speed was always the domain of a certain self-obsessed speedster. It’s pretty difficult to believe just how quickly he’s able to run from that park to his home. That’s easily four kilometers, and twelve lanes of traffic crossed, carrying you like it was nothing.
The bloke honestly seems a bit too excitable to be exactly the same as his equine counterpart, but at the same time, you technically are an adorable animal. That always overrides the usual reserved demeanor. Hell, if you were to start making cute animal noises, he might be at risk of cuddling you to death.
It occurs to you, as he lets himself into a small suburban home, that were this reversed, and this was a female Fluttershy and you were a small male horse, you might have been able to swing it so that you could probably get laid. Here though, you’re not too sure. You’ve fooled around with guys before, especially the effeminate ones, but you’ve always been more of a giver than a taker. Now that you’re basically a filly... Would it even fit?
Butterscotch carries you through the door and past a small living area. Just as he reaches a flight of stairs, however, there comes a slurred voice behind him. “Hey, Big Bro. Whassat you got there?”
Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Butterscotch gives you a pleading look. Obviously he wants you to keep quiet, which probably means things might get a bit dicey. “How nice to see you again, Mistral,” he replies, turning on the spot to reveal a disheveled aquamarine woman with blond hair. The most stunning thing about her isn’t her vivid purple eyes, but rather that she’s wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a tube top that leaves nothing to the imagination. “A friend of mine found her, so I brought her home until Dad can give me a ride to the animal shelter.”
“Oh, really?” she asks, taking a swig from a bottle of amber liquid and splashing it down her front in the process. A smile you really don’t like overtakes her face. “I thought you weren’t supposed to have animals in the house after that thing with that dog?”
From your position in Butterscotch’s arms, you peer up at him. His cheeks are scarlet, and his jaw is tightly clenched. You can’t rightly ask what the fuck she’s on about without making this at least ten times more awkward. You settle on making a gentle, curious noise. “Na?”
“That was... a misunderstanding,” he says, looking away. “The dog’s owners sexually abused her and had her conditioned; this is nothing like that!”
Mistral grabs a small device from a nearby surface, and after a belated moment, you realize it’s a cellphone. “You sure Mom’ll look at it that way?” she purrs playfully. “With all the naughty things you keep in the box in your closet, I’m not sure she’ll believe the thought never crossed your mind.”
Your gaze alternates from Butterscotch and his sister. Is she implying what you think she’s implying? On the one hand, eww, it seems he’s been screwing the pooch in the literal sense. On the other, it seems like he’d be otherwise open to the idea.
“You had no right,” he mutters under his breath. “What do you want, Mistral? Money?”
“Nothing like that,” she says with a giggle. “I want to watch!”
Butterscotch looks down at you, biting his lip. That’s a conflicted look if you’ve ever seen one. He definitely is interested, but he’s being manipulated by his younger sister as well. There’s also that whole zoophilia debate hanging over his head. To her, you’re just an animal her brother’s brought home to bugger, but to him, you’re a sapient being capable of consent. Not only that, she could very well be filming all of this.
There’s a good question for you, too. Do you want this? You can’t deny that you’d love to get laid, but again, it would be ideal if you were the one doing the shagging. What could you be expected to do with a filly cunt? Was your body even mature enough to try?
Strangely, the thought of your body being spread at the end of a penis does have some queer appeal. In fact, the idea of being fucked by this young gentleman while his pervert sister watches, convinced it is bestiality brings an unfamiliar, though not entirely unpleasant, itch to your loins. Maybe having that itch scratched wouldn’t be so bad?
You tilt your head up at him, let out an excited “Na!” and then fake a sneeze so as to nod. His eyes widen with shock, even as a hopeful smile begins to perk the corners of his mouth. Turning on the spot, Butterscotch marches up the stairs before his inebriated sister can catch up.
“You’re seriously okay with this?” he asks quietly as he opens the door to a very nondescript bedroom. “Weren’t you a man in Twilight’s world?”
“As long as you’re both over eighteen,” you reply in an equally quiet voice. “You are both over eighteen, right?”
He casts a sidelong glance at the door before nodding. “Mom and Dad wouldn’t let her drink if she wasn’t.”
“Then it’s good enough for me.”
Before Butterscotch has an opportunity to comment, Mistral bursts through the open doorway with her phone and a box of condoms in one hand, and a bottle of vodka in the other. “Aww, giving her a little foreplay, Butters?” she slurs, throwing the box of condoms at him. “She’s just a stupid animal. You can probably just touch her like you do with those weird fleshlights in your closet and she’ll get wet for you.”
As much as you’d love to, you know that telling her off would just make things weirder. So you just sit there, watching as he climbs up onto the bed with you, fumbling with the button to his pants. Again, that unfamiliar itch to be filled returns to your new pony pussy, and you simply can’t suppress a shudder as he pulls off his shirt to reveal his surprisingly well-toned body. When his boxers come off...
Blimey, you think to yourself as your eyes take in his cock. Is that gonna fit?
Mistral struts in and plops herself down in a swivel chair at a nearby desk, the bottle of vodka now sitting forgotten on the table. From this angle, you can see she’s absolutely soaked through her knickers and her thighs are glossy and slick. She holds up her phone in such a way that there’s no doubt that this is being recorded, and gives her brother a smile. “C’mon, Butters, gimme a smile.”
He’s tearing into a condom wrapper when looks up at his conniving sister to gives her the most forced, almost tearful smile you’ve ever seen. You can’t really blame him; as eager as he seems, he’s basically being coerced into this, and if she’s recording this, there’s no doubt she’ll try to use this to get anything she wants out of him. Second thoughts about this whole affair begin crossing your mind until he pulls back his foreskin and begins working the latex contraceptive down his large, throbbing cock.
Something in your vagina twinges, and your vulva lips part momentarily, allowing a gush of fluid to coat your fanny and legs. “Oh wow, Bro. Where do you get all these pervert animals?” Mistral shrieked with laughter, even as she stuffed her free hand down past the waistband of her panties. “She watched you put that condom on and she got wet like it’s the hottest thing she’s ever seen!”
Butterscotch doesn’t answer, but instead picks you up gently under your leg-arms and lifts you up, the reservoir tip of the condom mere centimeters from your aching pussy. He quickly switches you into a one-armed hold, and begins gently stroking your belly and newfound teats. As nice as it is, though, you’d much rather he just fuck you already.
“No, don’t fuck her like that,” she groans, pulling her panties off. “It looks like you’re tryin’ to fuck a baby, and I can’t get off to that.” She throws her knickers at him, and smirks, even as she renews her efforts. “Wear these on your face and fuck her like a horse would.”
“What?” He drops me back onto the bed and catches the panties. Holding them out for her, he frowns. “Why?”
The smirk grows wider, and you can’t help but wonder if this is actually going to happen or not. “Because mom would be upset to find out that I caught you with my panties, trying to fuck a baby horse.”
This time, he actually does start getting tears in his eyes. Mate, just forget your twat sister and fuck me! You look up at him with pleading eyes before trying to back into his wrapped cock. Fuck my pony pussy like it’s a damp wank rag!
With a sigh, he pulls his sister’s soaked panties on over his face, the gusset right over his nose and looks down at me. Butterscotch grabs his shaft and begins to position himself against your tiny pony pussy. Oh my god, this is actually happening, you whimper internally as his latex-encased bell-end brushes against your winking clit. I’m about to get speared on a guy’s cock with a pussy I never had...
“No, be rougher!” Mistral cries out, thrusting her middle and ring fingers inside herself roughly. “Push her face into the mattress!”
He complies, and soon you are left with a very nice view of the ajar bedroom door. His large cock-head strains against your filly snatch for only a moment before it pops in, spreading you wide open. To your surprise, there’s no pain, and your body quickly stretches to account for his girth. “Oh fuck yes,” you hiss blissfully through teeth clenched around the bed spread. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”
Centimeter by centimeter, he eases his length inside you, and you can hear him muttering about your tightness and trying not to cum. If he feels half as good as you do, you can’t really blame him. The pleasure is almost indescribable to you, having had a cock for so long, and the best analogue you can think of is that it’s not unlike sticking your cock in some pussy, but instead of warmth wrapping around your cock, your cock is wrapped around the warmth with a heightened state of arousal.
By the time he bottoms out, you can feel his length straining against your belly, bulging it, and your body is quivering uncontrollably. You almost want to scream to him to start thrusting, but with his sister watching and filming, it would probably be unwise. Instead, you try futilely to move, to shift yourself so that you might stimulate yourself some more.
Movement in the doorway catches your eye, and your jaw drops, releasing the bedclothes. There, standing in the hallway is the rainbow haired man and that Sunset bloke, their jaws equally slack. They both stare for a full minute before anyone makes a sound.
“Butterscotch, what the hell?” Rainbow Dash shouts, tearing his eyes away from the absolutely lewd display before him. “You were supposed to take care of her, not fuck her!”
You can’t help but groan as Butterscotch’s cock rapidly deflates inside you, even as he gibbers incoherently to his friends, trying to explain the situation in such a way that makes sense. He’s barely deflated before he pulls away from you. As it would seem, it is very hard to explain away fucking a small horse while wearing his sister’s panties on his face, especially considering his sister his now passed out drunk with half her fist stuffed into her cunt.
“This is my fault,” Sunset says, facepalming. “I should have known this would happen and called AJ about using his barn. This is just... wow...”
You bite your lip and stare over your shoulder at Butterscotch, who has now pulled the panties off his face. There’s no denying the empty condom that’s hanging out of you, or that ache to be filled, and yet they’re all ignoring you now, face down and arse up. Even in human Equestria, it seems, you are getting blue-balled. “If one of you doesn’t get over here and finish fucking me, I’m going to bugger each and every one of you with a broken table leg.”
They all just stare at you, and slowly start backing away.
“Come on, don’t leave me hanging!”
They make a break for it.
“God damn it,” you grumble, grabbing the discarded knickers and stuffing them against your muzzle. Inhaling Mistral’s musky scent, you snake one hoof down your belly and prod your twat. “Looks like another date with J. Arthur, Anon.”