> Wing Fingers
>  by anonpencil
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Friends of a Feather...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	You never understood how it was that earth ponies and pegasi could be friends. Never mind the obvious race wars that could and probably did happen, and the jealousy that surely would inspire a murder or two, the logistics were kind of nuts. You had to expect the pegasi to come down to earth for all their activities, and you would never truly visit their home without some strong magic or a hot air balloon. That kind of relationship wasn’t a healthy one, and it also meant they never had to bite the bullet of being a party host. The lucky sods. 

Never mind that two of your closest friends are the winged sort. You’re just surprised you haven’t snapped and demanded they give you a pair of wings yet. 

You give a slow sidelong glance at Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash as they admire their hay sandwiches across the picnic blanket from you. You’ve just settled in, and you’ve noticed that those two tend to perch more like birds than like horses. It’s pretty damn weird, but you’re too chicken to ask about it. 

Hey, they’re the birds here, not you, cut that out.

“All set?” you say, squashing down your jealousy like a trick snake into a fake can of peanut brittle.

“Yep! Let’s eat!” Dash declares.

Fluttershy, who rarely speaks unless it’s about animals or to make scared noises that always sound vaguely sexual, just nods happily. You can practically see the shoujo sparkles gleaming around her face.

You also turn your attention to the sandwich in front of you. It lacks meat, the cheese is a thin ricotta sort of substance that may or may not contain dairy, and the majority of the filling is greenery, spouts, a little tomato, and a few yellow flowers. Your carnivore ancestors rage quietly in the back of your mind as you gingerly lift it and take a bite.

Yep, tastes like disappointment and self-righteousness.

You’re about to take another bite, when you glance up and catch sight of your two closest friends munching away. It’s not Rainbow’s massive horse teeth or Fluttershy’s kawaii demure blush that makes your blood run cold. Instead, it’s the way they’re eating.

As you watch, both ponies lean forward and take bites out of sandwiches, that are being held in front of them… with their wings! And we’re not talking that the sandwiches are held up on the flats! No, these crazy dames are holding them like damn burgers, the feathers curling and bending like individual parts of the hand.

“Sorcery and illusion!” you scream as you drop your lie of a sandwich and skitter backwards. “Flying she-demons, what witchcraft is this!”

Both ponies stop to look at you, then look at each other in open confusion.

“Well, the only witchcraft around here is friendship,” Rainbow Dash says with a roll of her eyes. “So… what exactly are you talking about?”

You gesture wildly from one mare to the other, pointing and gesticulating like Billy Mays on a cocaine rush. 

“Your wings!” you finally blurt out. “They’re alive!”

Not exactly what you meant to say, and the girls look a little confused at first. Then, Fluttershy jolts a little, like a lightbulb has gone on in her already bright yellow head. She leans over and whispers something in Dash’s ear, and she too jolts a little, like she’d just whiffed a mare in estrus. 

“Oh, you mean that we can hold things with them?” she says, cocking her head a little.

You nod emphatically, and the two nod at each other in understanding. You’re all nodding now, and you wish someone would let it stop. You don’t know how you didn’t notice their wings being dextrous like this before, how long have they been doing this?

“How long have you been doing this?” you demand of the girls.

Rainbow shrugs and sets down her sandwich before continuing.

“Well,” she says slowly. “We don’t always use our wings to do stuff, but they’re a lot more useful than hooves sometimes. We can pinch things, hold them together, pry them apart, and they have a much more exact touch. Totally a tactical advantage, we can even shoot guns and stuff.”

Glossing over the fact that there are no guns in Equestria because that would open up a whole other can of arguing, complaining, conjecturing worms, you can see why Rainbow would be right. You have fingers, and you know how valuable those are. How else would you pick your nose, boop noses, or scratch that rash you’re pretty sure is not an STD?

“But,” you say, more to yourself than to the girls. “How?? How does that even work? They’re feathers, aren’t they?”

“Well yeah,” Dash says, with another roll of her demonically pink eyes. “But it’s magic.”

“So you’re not going to explain it?”

“Nope!”

“Figures,” you sigh.

Damn the rules of the fantasy genre. 

Still, you cannot help but stare at their wings differently now. They do seem dextrous, just like hands and fingers. This means that pegasi have all the good stuff, screw being an earth pony yet again! Also, you’re a red-blooded male, so of course your brain is drifting back to thoughts of sexual intercourse with ponies. I mean, come on, who doesn’t think about pony pussy every 15.7 seconds?

You wonder, as Fluttershy scratches the side of her face with a feather, like she’s a cat with fleas, exactly how dextrous those wings are.

“Hey Rainbow,” you say slowly.

She perks up, and Fluttershy too focuses on you as your tone changes.

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering… do you remember that time you stayed at my house, and I was naked and drunk, and you were flying, and I tried to fly too by helicoptering my penis, and I accidentally hit Fluttershy in the nose, and she screamed like a smoke detector?”

Rainbow Dash nods, and by the look on Fluttershy’s face, she definitely remembers it too.

“And,” you go on. “You remember how I made you guys touch my penis until it got rid of it’s excess helicopter fuel so I wouldn’t be in pain all night?”

They both nod. God ponies are gullible when they don’t know shit about human anatomy. 

“Well… I’m having a similar problem today, and I’m kind of curious if you guys are willing to help me out again?”

The mares look at each other, then both shrug good-naturedly and turn back to you.

“Sure! Anything to help a friend in need,” Rainbow says. Fluttershy leans over and whispers something urgent into her ear, and Dash nods before continuing. “Just don’t get any in Shy’s hair this time. Angel took days to get it all out.”

Hey, it’s a fair trade, though the “accidental” bukkake was arguably the best part. You nod your agreement and set to unzipping your pants. You pull your quickly hardening dick free from your fly, and let it stand erect like a triumphant tower of manhood. The girls marvel at it a moment, as they should, or at least you hope they’re marveling and not just horrified by that little red bump on the underside that, again, you’re pretty sure is not an STD, despite what Web MD says. 

As the girls slowly lean forward across the checkered picnic blanket, hooves extended, you suddenly hold up a hand to stop them. They pause, looking to you questioningly.

“I really think,” you say, trying to show an apologetic expression, “that you should try it with your wings? I mean, they’re more dextrous, right? Probably won’t take as long.”

You give a fake wince of pain to try to drive the point home. By the looks of sympathy on their faces, it looks like they’ve bought it. With a kindly smile, Fluttershy pats your arm with one hoof, then turns so her back is facing you, wings extended out and downwards. Rainbow Dash follows suit, and you admire the beauty their wings seem to show. Also their asses are on either side of you, all plump and round, so there’s that too.

As they lean back, you wonder how it’ll be. How soft the wings are, how strong. You’ve never petted them before, for fear it was very sensitive or personal, but you’ve kind of always wanted to. Now, at last, at long last, you’ll see what their wings feel like. On your dick.

You move your hips up a little slightly, inviting their touch to your quivering member (you know you should have gotten checked for dick parkinsons during your last free clinic visit). So close now, you can smell the soft scent of clouds, spring rain, and autumn winds rippling off their feathers. You lie back, ready to enjoy every second of it, as at last both girls close the distance and wrap their feathered wings around your cock.

You were right! They are soft, warm, and strong, just like you wanted them to be. They curl around you, so strong for their size, almost tingly with their delicate texture. Like the fingers of some kind of duck fairy. Then, as you look down at your dick wrapped in yellow and blue, they begin to move.

You convulse and let out a yelp of surprise.

Well, that wasn’t exactly pleasure that coursed through you with that stroke! It was sudden, shocking, maybe a little painful, but more… no. It couldn’t be.

They move again, and you again flail your upper and lower half in a sudden spasm, like Michael J. Fox trying to wave at a pretty girl. The girls pause and glance over their shoulders at you. They both frown.

“Wow, you must really be in pain this time,” Dash says with a frown. “Hang in their buddy, we’ll get the fluid out in no time, you can count on us!”

Before you can say to stop, they move again, and your body contorts like you’ve been electrocuted. You know this feeling. This horrible feeling. You haven’t felt something quite like this since your niece decided to count your ribs “for science.”

It… TICKLES!

You cry out in rolling waves of laughing agony as the girls continue to stroke your shaft with their feathered wing-fingers, unable to yell for them to stop. You try to reach down to pry their wings off, but every movement is so intense, so strong, so ticklish, that it sends a stabbing sensation through your gut, that just keeps you immobile and thrashing. 

You’ve never felt anything this ticklish before! You’ve never felt so agonizingly taken over by screaming giggles that sound more like tortured rabbits than actual laughter! Your dick pulses and writhes within their grasp as they move up and down across it, your hips bucking wildly as you try in vain to free yourself. It probably just feels like the usual thrusting to them, for they quicken their pace. Their rears bob up and down in opposite rhythms, otherwise looking completely mesmerizing, but right now they look like a machine of tickle torture, just plugging away.

You can feel your cock straining against them, completely overstimulated, sore, and aching. But they work it fervently as you groan and cry out and convulse beneath them.

“We can do it!” Dash cries out. “Stay strong, we can make this happen!”

You want to tell her to stop. You want to tell her she’s trash and that you hate her and that she’s a selfish creature who can’t have a consistent character to save her life. But instead you howl out something that sounds like the song of an erratic parrot. 

They’re still getting faster somehow! Those damn wings are still jacking you faster than even old flash porn games show possible! The tickling is too much, too strong, too uncontrollable, and it feels worse than having a splinter shoved under your toe nail at this point.

You feel a wave of pain and nausea roll and crash inside your gut and chest. It hurts to laugh. It hurts to breathe! Someone stop this! Someone save you! You make choked gagging noises with each stroke now, and you feel a secondary convulsion, deep inside you. It’s building up, getting stronger. You won’t be able to hold it back much longer.

Tears stream down your face as you shut your eyes, trying to repress it, but there’s no use. It’s going to happen, there’s nothing you can do. Your lower abdominal muscles contract and release in a growing rhythm, and you whine like a stuck pig as you curl forward towards the girls in a last ditch attempt to stop them. They turn over their shoulders to look at you.

“Almost there!” Dash says. “Are you okay? Are you… about to…”

Before she can say anything more, you wrench forward and vomit into Flutterhy’s face.

The girls drop your dick and shoot backwards, Fluttershy shrieking like a banshee as she tries to wipe the bile and sandwich chunks out of her face. Dash looks to you in horror, and you glance sheepishly between them. 

Yeah, you just threw up in a pony’s face, from being tickled too hard on your dick. There’s no coming back from that, no saving yourself from ridicule. Still, you have to say something, have to break this horrible puke-reeking silence. You wipe your mouth on the back of one hand, take a deep breath, and clear your throat.

“Bet you wish I’d just cum on your hair now, huh?”

-End-