The Morning After
It was an ordinary day in Ponyville. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, the birds were singing from the trees, and Twilight Sparkle was enjoying a nice cup of coffee in her kitchen, the sunlight from outside coming through the windows and warming her body. She hear some noise from outside, bringing her attention from her caffeinated drink. She heard the mailmare wondering what went wrong, and a smile grew on her face. “Oh, the mail’s here!” she cried out, her wings shooting straight out, and her pussy becoming soaked from anticipation.
She galloped out the kitchen and through the front door of the Castle of Friendship. There, the mail-dildo stood, thick and long, loaded with mail and ready to deliver its load to her. She rubbed her front hooves together, her face flushed red. “Oh, baby! Time to get myself stuffed with packages!”
She paused, her wings retracting ever so slightly. “I really need to ask Rainbow Dash for tips on mail-related innuendo.” A clipboard, quill, and inkwell appeared in front of her. “Ask… Rainbow Dash… about innuendo…” She nodded as the three items were teleported back to her study. “And now, time to get my mail!”
Twilight sauntered up to the inanimate objects, and quickly slid down the 8 foot cock pole. The mail cox quickly hardened, and the mailshot deeply into her puss, filling her womb with all of the important documents and packages for that day, and getting deliciously painful paper cuts in the process.
“Oh man, I love to be fucked by the big thicc dicc of the postal service,” Twilight moaned. “You’ll be re-delivering my package some time between 7am and 9pm? Oh yes, fuck me harder, daddy!”
“Twilight, what the frick are you doing?” asked Spike. “Just get the post and cum back inside.”
Twilight pouted, the dick mailbox lubed up with her viscous mare goo. “Aww, let me enjoy this. It’s the highlight of my day.”
“Ugh, fine.” Spike rolled his eyes. “At least let me check if the figurines I ordered arrived.”
Sadly sliding off the pole, Twilight rolled over onto her back and presented her stretched pussy to her number one helper. He walked forward and gingerly put his arm inside of her, until he was up to his elbow in warm mare jizz. “Mane, Twilight, you keep making sweet love to the postbox so hard it just pushes the letters further and further inside of you.”
“Hehe, sorry,” giggled Twilight sheepishly.
Spike removed his arm from her puss puss, chunky bits falling off onto the ground and he began slowly rifling through the pile of letters in his hand. “Bills, bills, bills… well, Twilight, I think it’s time to raise taxes on Ponyville again. And stop spending so much time on the pay-per-view channels.”
“Is your figurine not there?” asked Twilight, ignoring his comment about her watching habits, although making sure to make a mental note about that taxes thing. Capitalism existed for a reason, and Celestia-damned if she wasn’t going to abuse it to its full extent.
Spike grumbled. “No, I don’t think so. But it should have arrived today.”
“Hold on, I think there might be something more inside.” Twilight shifted her weight, and a look of intense concentration came across her face. She began to squeeze her vaginal muscles very tightly. Her face got redder and redder, until, finally - pop! a parcel shot out and into Spike’s arms, sending lavender colored ponycum flying everywhere, and her pussy shaking harder than an autistic colt having a seizure.
“Oh, here it is! Thanks Twi, I’ve been waiting for this all week.” Spike smiled, holding his cum-covered parcel in his hands.
Spike walked outside like a fucking idiot. Cause that’s what he is, without any sort of dispute or debate. He was happy. He had his mind on positive things, like cookies, gems, and living peacefully in a place full of friends that would never think of him romantically.
Then, he slowed his gait. His eyes glazed somewhat. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There it was. Those thoughts.
“Well, at least that’s one thing I don’t have to stress about, right?” he mumbled to himself.
Then, he spotted a mare in the distance. She seemed to stumble about lazily, not drunk, but clearly not normal. Wait a second. That seafoam green fur. That horn…
“Lyra?” Spike called out.
“NO ES MEEEEE!” screamed the mare, turning on the spot and charging towards the baby dragon.
It was then that Spike realized that Lyler had joined the party.
“SPIKE I AM HAVING POOPING PROBLEMS CAN YOU KISS MY ANUS AND MAKE IT BETTER?”
“I, wut?” Spike stood and stared at her like a fucking retard, cause, ya know, that’s what he was.
“MY ANUS… IS BLEEEEEEDDIIINNG©.”
Lyler whips around and reveals her brown, diareehaed assole to the baby dragon.
Spike, like the little nigglet he is, shove his arm down her anus, bringing the retarded autism fucker to her peak, and causing her cancer-ridden giblets of cum to shoot over the already cum-covered malformity to be covered with even more cum.
“Oh! Well there’s your problem!” Spike said, pulling a shard of glass out of Lyler’s asshole. “You ate a window!”
“BUT YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT AND I WANTED TO LOOK SHARP.”
“No, I think that only works on chicken tenders.”
That was when Spike accidentally awakened the hydra. Lyler was unleashed.
“TENDIES. WHERE?!”
Spike shrugged. “How many bits do you have?”
Lyler sniffed and tears started falling. “I ONLY HUV SIXTY NINE (Yea, I know this joke is overdone, fucc you) (Fuck off) [BOYS I WILL PULL THIS COLLAB OVER.] [YOU’RE STILL A FAGGOT](LYLER I LOVE YOU). I HAVE THURDY GOOD GIRL POINTS THO.”
There’s something weird about when a mentally challenged pony cries. They neigh. I mean, they -actually- neigh. Like a real fucking horse.
“Daaahling,” said Rarity, her shit-tier status showing like a chocolatey man at a meeting of the American Abseiling Society while they were carrying out a lynching.
Or rather, a strangely Filipino-looking black man who speaks in a German accent in a suit made to look like Rarity said it.
Fuck it, I can’t tell the difference. Both of them are vaping whores anyways.
“RARITY NOBODY LIKES YOU FRIG OFF,” Lyler screamed at the poor imposter of a pony before shoving her glass in her ass for safekeeping.
Meanwhile, somewhere else in Ponyville where the actual plot happens, a young mailbox called Dozey Davey sat still, senseless to all except the burning passion in his heart. The object of his desire was a young earth pony by the name of Carrot Top, who every morning came to empty the mailbox across the street from Davey. By fucking it, of course. Every morning, he would watch the nameless mailbox across the street get to repeatedly enter the mare; and he would see her eyes roll back in bliss as she orgasmed and mail sprayed erratically everywhere, like a puncture in a hose. Meanwhile, Davey would not get to taste her yummy carrot pussy and fill it with his mail seed. Instead, he would be fucked by-
“Ah, what a beautiful morning,” came an ugly, high-pitched voice, interrupting Davey’s train of thought. He shuddered as much as a stationary mailbox could. It was his owner.
Her name was Cunny Sag, and she was the second-oldest mare in Ponyville, after Granny Smith. Once upon a time she had been a notable local prostitute, though now she lived in relatively comfortable retirement. Her mare canal had been ruined by years of angry and repeated use. The STDs had had something to do with it, too. The result was that her genitals smelled like a homeless man with dysentery had taken a massive shit, then let it ferment, then put it inside a rotting corpse and let that ferment, and then put it in inside of Cunny Sag’s cunny. And naturally, given her age, she had fermented a bit too.
She walked towards Davey, who braced himself for another round of horrid torture.
Meanwhile, Anon was sitting on a bench, watching and wondering just what in the sweet fuck he was pulled into.
“Fucking horses.” He picked his nose, Pinkie firmly buried within his nostrils. She wriggled around a bit, trying to find a comfortable position.
Next to him, Lyra sat. “I’m not a horse though,” she glared at him, still fondling his hands and suckling upon his fingers. She had decided to let Lyler loose for the day.
Anon watched the mayhem that was ponies riding their giant mailbox-cock dildo things, and turned to Lyra, “Ey babee, want sum fucc?”
“...Eh, sure.” And with that, Anon and Lyra got down and dirty on the bench like the dirty pervs they were.
“Shouldn’t we be worried about your sister?” Anon asked as he was roasting that pig. Er. Horse. They were fucking.
“No? Why? That’s a wholly different story.”
Derpy’s mailbox erupted with the largest ejaculation yet, causing all of Ponyville to stop and watch in awe as her mail erupted into the sky, painting the night with its colors. Pinkie Pie, watching the spectacle, stood on the roof of Sugarcube corner, placed her hoof over her heart, and began singing.
“At the dildo's big flare, our nuts busting in air. Come flew through the night, and the mail’s flag was still there!”
Before long, everypony on the streets was following suit, placing their hoof over their heart and singing along while Derpy’s mail soared through the night sky.
“Oh say, does that star spangled banner yet waaaaaave. For the land of the free, and the home of the brave!”
Everypony cheered, as Pinkie jumped into the air. “Play balls!”
As everyone dispersed, Twilight caught a glimpse of Rainbow Dash flying away. She took to the air, clipboard reappearing by her side. “Rainbow Dash, I have some questions for you…”
Meanwhile, Lyler was attempting to eat thumbtacks. She fucking died. She was buried with tendies, and full military honors. Everyone in attendance pressed F.
Wait, do thumbtacks even exist in ponyland? What would they be called? Hooftacks? Whatever, go fuck yourselves, bby. Have a happy new year.
“Status report,” Chrysalis barked from the top of her throne. Her small squad of changelings sat in front of the throne, refusing to look their leader in the eye.
“Uhm, my queen,” One of the lackeys mumbled. “Project Mailbox is… working a bit too well. We would like to reconsider the goals of our mission.”
“Reconsider our goals!” Chrysalis cried. “Our GOAL is to absorb as much LOVE as POSSIBLE! If ponies have to learn to fuck their mailbox in order to get their mail, then they will learn to LOVE the postal service. Then, we will TRULY rule Equestria! Not through slavery, but SUPERIOR LOGISTICAL TWO DAY SHIPPING!”
The lesser changelings fell silently.
“Well, some of us are getting STD’s,” another spoke up. “T-that’s not my f-fetish though...”
“OCCUPATIONAL HAZARDS ARE PART OF THE JOB!”
“I was literally born for this job,” another said.
“THAT’S THE SPIRIT.”
“Actually, Queen,” one of them sputtered, “some of the changelings are dying from the massive amount of lust they’re absorbing. Fucking cocaine and krokadile is more healthy at this point.” The changeling in question then pulled out a big-ass needle and injected it straight into his skull. His skin quickly rotted off as his spasmed there in orgasmic bliss, before quickly becoming braindead.’’
“... I don’t see the problem?” Queen Chrysalis said.
She then fell over dead, since being cut off from love for a single second kicked her addiction into overdrive and her body collapsed without the overwhelming love to support it.
And nothing of value was lost.