> A Polite Proposal
>  by Some Leech
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> And Interspecies Intercourse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hearing the door of his shop open, Hoity Toity huffed in exasperation. Straightening his collar, he trotted to his storefront. It had only been a few days since the invasion of Canterlot, and he was still getting his affairs in order to reopen his business. Even though the event had only spanned over a single evening, the city had yet to fully recover. The stallion wasn’t disgruntled by a potential customer paying him a visit, far from it; he was simply annoyed that his displays still weren’t up to his exacting standards. As he passed through the threshold into the boutique propper, he was met with a rather unexpected sight. A mare came shambling through his front door. She teetered slightly, markedly unsteady, as she wandered inside.

“May I…” Hoity announced, drawing her attention, “help you?” Peering over the rim of his glasses, he studied the pony. For all intents and purposes, she was but a simple pegasi, but something just didn’t seem right. First of all, she appeared to be either ill or drunk, as she stumbled about. Secondly, and much more subtly, her motions were simply wrong. The way she carried herself, how her wings stayed pinned to her back, and her heavy hooved, boorish movements were amiss. As she looked up to him, he casually trotted towards her, passing her entirely, as he reached the entrance of his shop. With one smooth motion, he locked the door and turned to face his guest. “You can drop the act,” he grunted, straightening himself to full height.

Cornicle went rigid, at hearing the pony’s words. A dim, emerald fire enveloped his frame, exposing him for who, and what, he truly was. Like his many brothers and sisters, he was but a simple changeling drone. A hard, purple carapace covered his back, protecting his wings, over the dark, soft flesh of his hide. Like his siblings, his legs were marred with holes and small hallows. His eyes, a deep blue, looked fearfully out at the stallion who barred his escape.

After Chrysalis’s onslaught of the capital had failed, Cornicle had been abandoned, or so he thought. The magical blast which expelled his kin and Queen, launching them hither and yon, had only sent him flying into a dumpster, leaving him battered and bruised. Shoot, he’d been on the brink of starvation before everything went to Tartarus in a hand basket, so the minor concussion had only made him feel worse. Using what little energy he had left, Cornicle had resigned himself to seek out an easy meal. Sadly, he’d been caught before his plan could even truly start. As he opened his mouth to speak, the grey stallion held up a hoof.

“First of all, I’d like to say, I’m not going to hurt you,” Hoity stated, taking a step forward. He could tell that the creature couldn’t harm him, even if it wanted to. Judging from his posture and body language, he wasn’t going to put up any sort of a fight. “Just answer me this,” he sighed, looking his glasses, “why are you here?”

“I...I’m just trying to survive. Please, I swear, if I can get enough food to leave Canterlot, I will…” Cornicle croaked, taking a step back. In truth, he was far too weak to flee the city. He barely had enough energy to transform, let alone fly.

“Well then, it seems we have a dilemma on our hooves,” Hoity grumbled, rubbing his chin. He realized that the little changeling was no hazard to him or, for that matter, anypony else. With Chrysalis’s defeat, the threat to their empire had been beheaded. Seeing no point in turning in the forgotten invader, and abhorring acts of violence, Hoity would be perfectly content with simply letting the changeling go. That being said, he was fully cognizant that he couldn’t just escort the bug-horse through the town. “Can you still transform?” he asked, waving a hoof at his unexpected guest.

Cornicle winced and broke into a sweat, as his metamorphic magic fizzled about his frame. After the failed attempt, he simply panted, shaking his head dourly from side to side. Without the power to shapeshift, he was left at the hooves of his captor. Even though Hoity didn’t seem to bear him ill will, he was still keenly aware of just how vulnerable he was. “P...please...just don’t hurt me,” he mumbled, taking another step backward and bumping against a shelf full of clothing.

“Please! I’d do no such thing,” the stallion groaned, waving dismissively. “Canterlot can’t have its premier designer defacing himself as some lowly ruffian,” Hoity continued, trotting forward. It was his first change to study a changeling up close, so he was more than a little curious. “Say, since I have you here, do you mind if I ask you a question?” he inquired, inspecting his guest.

“S...sure, I guess,” Cornicle sputtered, watching the pony look him over.

“How do you lot feed exactly? I know it’s got something to do with love, but I’m none to keen on the specifics,” Hoity stated, lowering his head to investigate the changeling’s underbelly. As he’d suspected, the interloper was a stallion. Between Cornicle’s thighs sat a suspicious bulge and, what appeared to be, a cloaca. Not surprising, given the physiological differences between their species. Nodding his head forward, and looking out over the rim of his glasses, a bright blue tip of equipment began to peek out from the creature’s slit. He had to admit, the contrasting color was rather captivating, and a bit arousing as well.

“Well, we do feed on love, yes. Forcefully extracting it from captives can sustain us, but having it freely given is much more nourishing,” the changeling explained, blushing slightly. He’d never had anypony take such a keen interest in him, and the attention wasn’t doing him any favors. Unable to control himself, and more than a little embarrassed, Cornicle’s tool slid from its sheath. It wasn’t that he was an exhibitionist or anything, but something about having an attractive stallion studying him, while in his weakened state, was strangely exciting. He shifted a bit, as Hoity withdrew.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” the stallion chuckled, circling to the changeling’s face. “Here, see?” he added, cocking his hind leg to assuage his visitor’s trepidation. It’s not like he hadn’t seen stallions before; well, pony stallions, that is.

Cornicle’s eyes went wide, and his jaw slackened, as he gazed upon the magnificent stallionhood before him. Hoity wasn’t even hard, and yet his cock was nearly double the size of his own. The thing was easily one of the biggest he’d ever seen! A large, angry vein snaked just below the silken flesh, from its root to its blunt tip. To make matters worse, a subtle and titillating aroma tickled his nostrils. A portion of the bouquet was more than the heady musk of the earth pony; no, there was also a tantalizing touch of lust in the air. Despite himself, his equipment slipped fully free, and began to go rigid, as he stared longingly at Hoity’s girthy tool. His body, acting on its own, took a step closer, followed by a second, as his snout drifted towards his host’s loins. Cornicle’s mouth started to water, at the prospect of feasting upon the curious and friendly equine.

Noting the changeling’s transfixed expression, a smirk crept across Hoity’s face. Realizing Cornicle still basically had his back to a shelf, he turned to face the curious bug-horse. Now facing his guest, he took a step forward, driving the smaller creature back. Rearing up and over the little shapeshifter, he rested his forehooves on a shelf above and behind the salivating parasite. His semi-erect length slapped against Cornicle’s face, leaving his smile to broaden. The opportunity to do something naughty with a changeling was far too rare to pass up, and Hoity wasn’t going to let the change slip through his hooves. Of course, he did have a plan to evacuate the intruder from Canterlot, but there was no point in missing out on a little fun.

“So,” Hoity cood, craning his neck downward and drawing the changeling’s attention, “you feed on love, eh?” Cornicle gulped and nodded, his eyes darting between the log of flesh on his snout and the pony’s face. “Well then,” he whispered, gyrating his hips and dragging his length over his guest’s muzzle, “be a Dear and feed yourself…”

Cornicle breathed deeply, drawing in the earthy and powerful odor of the stallionhood draped over his face. Leaning forward, his mind in a haze, he buried his snout into Hoity’s sheath, where the fragrance was most potent. Without a second thought, his serpentine tongue lept from his mouth, dragging itself across his host’s hefty balls before coiling around his shaft. Opening his fanged maw, he withdrew his head slightly, repositioning himself. As he wrapped his soft lips around the head of the pony’s prick, the larger equine bucked, jamming nearly two thirds of his length into the changeling’s mouth.

“There’s a good colt,” Hoity purred, flexing his hips and servicing himself with the changeling’s eager gullet. Although he knew Cornicle was no colt, he found the tactical employment of the term useful. In his experience, many smaller, more subservient males found it endearing. If his newfound friend was in need of love, Hoity would be sure to accommodate him. His movements were casual, allowing the changeling to breath on each backstroke, before ramming himself back into Cornicle’s muzzle. After all, this was merely an appetizer.

With nowhere to go, the changeling began bobbing his head. Even if he could have escaped, he wouldn’t have wanted to. Relaxing his throat, Cornicle persisted, driving his face forward and allowing the succulently thick rod of flesh into his airway. He was almost so hard that it hurt, as his prick throbbed in tune with his heartbeat. Losing himself to the depravity of the situation, the little changeling hummed quietly around Hoity’s cock. The experience was energizing, in a very tangible way. Slowly, Cornicle felt his strength returning; that was, until the stallion hauled himself from mouth, before hopping back to the floor.

“I presume you’re feeling a bit better?” the pony asked, wetly slapping his dick against his underbelly. Hoity’s glasses served as more than a simple fashion statement. While he could clearly see where Cornicle’s eyes were focussed, his guest would have no clue what he was looking at, at any given time. Not waiting for a reply, the designer absentmindedly trotted over to a display rack. “I’d like you to try a few things on. All part of the plan, I assure you,” he mused, fetching a pair of silken panties and some leggings. Of course, it was part of a plan he was cooking up to help the changeling escape Canterlot, but it just so happened to allow him to continue making the best of the current situation.

“I...I’m not sure I can transform yet,” Cornicle muttered, watching in confusion, as Hoity passed him the mares’ undergarments. Cocking his head, he looked back at the pony, utterly perplexed.

“Well, put them on. If I’m going to shelter you under the guise of being my assistant, you simply must learn to wear clothing,” Hoity stated matter-of-factly.

“Wait, you’re going to let me stay here for a while?” the changeling blurted, dragging his focus from the stallion’s still turgid length to the pony’s face. To say he was surprised was an understatement.

“It’s only temporary, and only if you can act as a somewhat competent model and assistant,” Hoity explained, brushing his hair with a hoof. “Now, if you please,” he added, motioning to the panties in Cornicle’s grasp. As asked, the changeling stepped into the garment, before pulling it up his hind legs and over his succulent rear. The lingerie was rather scandalous, leaving little to the imagination. Each obsidian globe of the dark stallion’s rear was virtually exposed, and the neon colored prick at his loin peaked out over its rim. “Now,” Hoity began, moving behind the changeling, “prop yourself up on that end table, if you would.”

With a nod, Cornicle obeyed. He’d never worn a mare’s clothing or, for that matter, any type of clothing before. Putting his forehooves on the tiny table, he stepped forward. Looking back over his shoulder, he watched Hoity circle and inspect his posterior. Something about being examined while in such a compromising position was really getting him worked up. His stallionhood struggled against the lacey fabric, restraining it to his belly.

Hoity, pleased with the sight, chuckled to himself. “Strike a pose for me,” he announced, watching his small assistant awkwardly lift a foreleg and reposition his head. “Perfect. Now, hold it for me,” he requested. Tugging the panties from between Cornicle’s cheeks, he pressed his snout to the changeling’s ass. The smaller bug-horse gasped, as his tongue began to dig into his partner’s backdoor. The moment Hoity felt the shapeshifter move, he stopped. Retracting his head, he look up at Cornicle’s face. “If you want me to keep going, I really would hold that pose,” he tutted, licking his lips.

Turning his head away, and assuming the position he’d chosen, Cornicle complied. All he could do was shiver and fidget, while the pony’s tongue probed his rear. Fitfully, his hips bucked, causing his tool to rub against the soft confines of their cloth prison. When the oral servicing ceased, Cornicle thought he may get a moment’s reprieve, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Before he knew it, a heavy weight landed upon his back, and a pair of legs wrapped around his waist, as Hoity mounted him from behind.

“Now, does my assistant want me to rut him like a mare in heat?” the Hoity asked, breathing hotly into the changeling’s ear. In sexual matters, much like with fashion, the devil was in the details. Simply plowing somepony was dreadfully boorish and blasé; to truly enjoy the experience, it must be properly executed, like a fine meal. Lining up the engorged tip of his stallionhood with Cornicle’s saliva slickened entrance, he gently prodded his guest, kissing the smaller creature’s hole with the blunt head of his tool.

“Y...yes,” Cornicle whimpered, trying his best to stay in his pose, as instructed.

“Yes, what?” Hoity pressed, continuing to taunt his partner’s saliva slick pucker.

“Yes, p...please rut meeeeee!” the changeling’s humble request turned to a cry of delight, as the pony penetrated him. The motion was slow, almost infuriatingly so. Steadily, Hoity plunged inch after girthy inch into his tail-hole. The tender and sensitive flesh of his pucker could feel every vein, every minute detail, as it ground inside of him. When the stallion’s medial ring bumped against his already stretched entrance, he was allowed a brief moment, before Hoity continued. As the thicker part of the pony’s length popped inside of him, brutally scraping against his prostate, he nearly came. Pre-cum drooled out of Cornicle’s dick, as he gnawed his lip. After what felt like an eternity, he felt Hoity’s weighty nuts gently rest against his own.

Now fully entombed within the changeling, Hoity ran a hoof over the frill on his partner’s head. “Be a Dear, and do try not to cum all over my table,” he purred, gradually retracting nearly two thirds of his stallionhood before ramming it back inside of the smaller equine. Positioned as he was, he watched Cornicle’s eyes roll to the back of his head. There was nothing quite like watching a stallion make that face, while they were getting fucked. Steadily, his strokes picked up speed, leaving his balls to heavily smack against the shapeshifter’s equipment. Keenly aware that Cornicle was struggling to maintain his pose, Hoity brought his muzzle to the changeling’s ear. “If you really want my love, how about you put in a little effort,” he quietly teased, licking his partner’s cheek.

Hearing the pony’s words, Cornicle pressed himself backward. In a matter of seconds, he’d gotten their timing synced, rocking back to meet Hoity’s thrusts. Having been no stranger to anal, he realized that he wasn’t going to last long like this. Just as his thighs began to tremble, and an overpowering pressure within his loins started to overtake him, the stallion stopped moving. Whipping his head around, to see what was wrong, all he found was Hoity’s smug grin.

“Oh no, I’m afraid that just won’t do,” the stallion tsked, solemnly shaking his head. Of course he knew the changeling was close, but he wanted to see it happen. Easing himself off of his partner, he dragged his titanic length from Cornicle. Hopping down, he admired his handiwork. The changeling’s hole was a void, feebly grasping and winking at nothing. “How about you get on your back. Yes, right there should do,” he advised, tapping a hoof on the desk they’d been using. The height was right, and it was already in need of a washing, so it should work perfectly.

Cornicle practically threw himself down onto the wooden surface. He’d been close, so infuriatingly close to cumming. Like some two bit harlot, he rolled onto his back, spreading his hind legs and presenting himself to the pony. “Please,” he bleated, his now pre-cum drenched panties on full display. His heart thundered in his chest, as Hoity stepped between his thighs. Casually, the larger equine mounted the table, wrapping his hooves around his hips, as he stepped forward. Cornicle’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, and his eyes nearly went crossed, as he was penetrated. It was like a hollow within him had been filled, in more ways than one. While Hoity lazily filled his depths, he noticed something absolutely astounding. The imprint of the colossal stallionhood within him could be seen within his abdomen. Transfixed by the sight, he watched it disappear momentarily before reappearing, when the pony started to fuck him in earnest.

“Just look at you,” Hoity taunted, idly running one hoof over the squirming changeling’s torso. “Such an accommodating little thing. Does my new assistant want me to cum inside of them, filling them with a nice, seething gut full of my seed?” he teased. Rhythmically plunging in and out of Cornicle, he grinned. “Tell you what,” he cood, idly stroking his partner’s turgid length, “if you can hold on for just ten seconds, I’ll pump you full and personally escort you out of town; but if you can’t, well, you’ll have to work for me for an entire week. How’s that sound?”

“I...Mmmph...I’ll try…” Cornicle groaned, already on the verge of popping. No sooner had he spoken, then the stallion adjusted his angle. Dipping his hips, Hoity purposefully targeted his tender prostate. The sensation was maddeningly enjoyable, leaving him to writhe about, as he fought to control himself.

“Ten...nine...eight…” the stallion slowly counted down, moving faster and faster with each passing second. Hoity knew it was only a matter of time until the changeling gave in, seeing as how he was directly accosting Cornicle’s sweet spot. Almost on cue, and as his partner’s voice raised an octave, the smaller equine’s stallionhood began to lewdly gush, painting his torso and face in deliciously hot and sticky seed. “Oooooh, and you were so close,” he clucked, dragging his prodigious member from the shapeshifter’s abused hole. Turning, he nonchalantly sauntered towards the back of his shop, leaving the cum spackled changeling to ineffectually pant on the table.

Wheezing, and euphoric with bliss, Cornicle wearily looked to his side. While he didn’t know why Hoity had left him, or where he’d gone, he was compelled to follow. Rolling from the wooden surface, and to the floor below, his shaky legs barely supported his weight. Ambling after the pony, he meandered through a doorway and into the boutique’s back room. Casting his head from side to side, and looking for his host, a voice caught his attention.

“This way, Darling,” Hoity quietly called, waving the changeling into the bathroom. Although he had an exquisite apartment only a short walk from his business, there were nights when he’d opted to stay in the shop itself. In his work area, lie a futon, recliner, and a well stocked cabinet of snacks, not to mention the full bathroom. Considering Cornicle was had lost their wager, Hoity was willing to let his newfound assistant reside in the makeshift living area, after cleaning up, of course. Having set the water in the shower to warm, he tested it with a hoof. Finding the temperature adequate, Hoity set his glasses on the counter, followed by his signature collar and cuffs.

Peeking into the room, Cornicle’s found his host; Hoity, water cascading over his naked hide, stood in the shower. One heavily lidded eye looked up at him, and the stallion smirked.

“What are you waiting for, Darling, an engraved invitation?” the pony chuckled, waving his assistant over. Sliding the shower curtain aside, Cornicle entered behind him. With the smaller equine at his back, Hoity affectionately rubbed his tush against the changeling’s face. “How about you…” he let the words hang, waiting to see if the shapeshifter caught his drift. Sure enough, he quickly felt a muzzle press between his cheeks. The sensation of a delightfully sinuous tongue running over, and into, his pucker was quite lovely.

Worshiping the stallion’s behind, Cornicle’s sinuses were filled with the stallion’s intoxicating musk. Although he’d cum only a few short minutes before, he was already hard again. Standing there, Hoity grinding his ass against his face, he couldn’t help it. He almost felt drunk from all of the amorous attention. Needless to say, his exhaustion and weakness were rapidly waning, replaced by a bottomless thirst for more.

Waiting a minute or so, just long enough to ensure Hoity that his partner was continuing of his own volition, he cleared his throat. “You know, it’s funny, I still haven’t gotten a chance to cum yet. Since we’re in the shower, maybe I should just expend myself here. You know, allow all  to wash neatly down the drain…” he sinfully mused, knowing how infuriating the notion must have been.

“No!” Cornicle blurted, immediately withdrawing from the stallion’s backside. “I mean, p...please…” he pleaded, desperately hoping the stallion would see fit to use him as a receptacle for his seed.

Overdramatically, Hoity rolled his eyes. “Well, since you’re so insistent, present yourself,” he sweetly scolded. The changeling’s chest immediately pressed to the tub’s basin, as he raised his waist and spread his hind legs. It was cute, really, almost like watching a well trained puppy. Humming to himself, he coolly mounted the smaller stallion. Unlike before, having taken his time with penetrating Cornicle, he thrust the entirety of himself in with a single, smooth motion. As soon as he felt his balls slap against his partner’s own, he began bucking his hips. Like a well greased piston, his tool pounded in and out of Cornicle’s thoroughly plundered backdoor.

Being mounted by the stallion and ruthlessly fucked under the hot water of the shower, left Cornicle nearly insensate. His prick was leaking copiously, and another orgasm was quickly approaching. Whoever this Hoity Toity was, beyond being a designer, they were a carnal master without peer. All he could do for the stallion on his back was push himself backward and clench around the massive cock plumbing his depths; a meager offering, but one he desperately hoped would please his partner.

Hoity’s waist became a blur, as he jackhammered into the changeling. To the untrained eye, he’d simply been taunting Cornicle throughout their encounter, but there had been a second reasoning for his actions; he’d also been edging himself since the very start. He could tell he was getting close, feeling his balls retract slightly and sensing the head of his stallionhood throb as it prepared to flare. “Since I’ve been such a gracious host, concealing you and offering my assistance, perhaps you should thank me,” he murmured, nibbling the changeling’s ear, as he began to cum.

As the cock within him began to pulsate, its base expanding by the sudden influx of cum surging through its length, Cornicle’s resolve crumbled. “Thank you! Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou…” he babbled incoherently, losing himself to the moment. Like a raging tsunami, the pony’s cum went crashing into his guts, filling him with warmth and a sanity shattering amount of pleasure. He came instantaneously, his own feeble load spewing to the ceramic tub and washing down the drain. The changeling’s abdomen began to swell and sag, under the monumental weight and volume of spunk filling him. 

As Cornicle moaned and screamed in ecstasy, Hoity quietly grunted into his partner’s ear. While the changeling was supremely entertaining, and with a devilishly snug interior, he hadn’t quite earned the right to hear his climactic outcries, yet. Sensing his orgasm beginning to taper off, he looked over to a shelf inset in the shower’s side. Reaching to it, he retrieved a sizeable silver plug. Slowly, he dislodged his softening member from his partner’s rump, immediately replacing it with the burnished metal stopper. Hoity was pretty sure Cornicle didn’t even notice, given the euphoric and dazed expression on his face. Plucking a bottle of body wash from the same shelf, he squirted some of the gooey substance on a hoof. “Once we’re done, I need you to try on a few maternity pieces I’ve made. After that, you can remove the plug,” he absentmindedly explained, washing his guest.

“Y...yes…” Cornicle confusedly slurred. His mind, still fractured from the heavenly climaxes he’d suffered, was trying its best to comprehend everything that was happening.

“Yes, what?” Hoity tutted, smiling warmly at his temporary assistant.

“M...master,” Cornicle stuttered, meeting the pony’s gaze.

Stroking the changeling’s cheek, Hoity beamed. “There’s a good colt…”