> Deasly's Night with Spitfire
>  by Star Sage
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> A Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You lied to me,” complained one stallion to his mentor as the pair nodded with false smiles at yet another dignitary or high society pony. The pony in question, a mare of some repute, did have the courtesy to nod back at them, but did little else, and didn’t even try to fake a smile before turning back towards her own party, this included the Princesses, who seemed ready to throttle the bag of hot air, if Deasly knew them like he thought he did.

“Oh, lie is such a dirty word, especially since the Element of Honesty is here somewhere. I prefer to think of it as…truth magnification. After all, I said there was fun to be had at this party, not that you would have any if you came,” said DawnChaser, there purple stallion popping something into his mouth with his magic, and swallowing it. Probably some snack he’d snuck in with him, knowing the food the hoity and the toity ate was not to his own tastes.

“You could have at least let me bring my sketch book,” observed Deasly, having to smile again, though this one less fake, as Princess Luna looked in his direction, and then smirked, shaking her head, and having to put on another false smile as Prince Blueblood came up to her. It must really be boring to be the center of attention at this event, thought Deasly, glad he himself was actually here as a guest, rather than a true participant.

“Oh, but that wouldn’t do. You’d spend all night in that thing, working on some spell circle design, or sketching the mares here as you think they’d look without their dresses on. Mind, I like both, but there comes a time in a young stallion’s life where he just has to get out and mingle,” said the Professor, who had, Deasly observed, kept conspicuously out of the mingling tonight, only talking to Twilight Sparkle once, and then making plans with Spitfire, the Captain of the Wonderbolts, to get together later for…something.

“And what should the old stallions like you do?” jibbed the assistant to his mentor. It was some point of honor that, thanks to the spell DawnChaser had developed studying Deasly, that he kept himself smaller, and thus younger looking, than he really was.

“We should leave the impertinent youth to fend for himself,” said the Professor with a smirk, and then trotted away, not quite fast enough to be considered rude, but faster than Deasly could keep up with, even his purple hair with orange mane, and that tux he wore, vanishing into the sea of faces.

Sighing, Deasly looked around again, trying to spot somepony who was familiar so he could talk to them. However, most of those he knew were from the school, worked with the Professor, or were research subjects like the Elements of Harmony. While all of those six were at the party(Their third, or so he’d been told), they were each in their own groups, and none appeared to really want to keep him company. He did see one of the other Apprentice Magisters talking to somepony he didn’t recognize, but a quick glance from the mare told him it was best to keep his distance.

“So passes another night,” said the stallion dejectedly. He wished for a moment that he fit in at these parties, but then, thinking farther, wished instead that he didn’t have to go to them. While the Professor was comfortable here, mostly because he didn’t care what anypony, Princess, commoner, or tabloid writer, thought of him, Deasly couldn’t afford that yet. Well, he didn’t think he could ever throw caution to the wind like that in truth, it took a special kind of mind, warped in some respects, to disregard everypony else’s opinion entirely.

Trotting around, he soon found himself in front of a catering table, and looked towards the various foodstuffs that the rich and famous ate. Most of it, as DawnChaser had told him, though only after it was too late to sneak himself some snacks in, was of the variety that was…well, it was just disgusting. From seaweed gathered by seaponys, to something from a volcanic island that was on fire, it all looked unappetizing.

“Heh, so, the old stallion abandons his young ward yet again, huh?” came a voice behind Deasly, and he turned to find himself staring at Spitfire, who had shown up in a dress, rather than her usual uniform. Truth to tell, it looked lovely on her, in the stallion’s opinion. It was blue, like her uniform, but with shimmering lines that appeared to be on fire moving up and down it, and small horseshoes that also looked to blaze, though these did so in a rainbow of colors rather than just red and orange.

“Um…uh….yes, yes he did. Not that I can blame him. I bet he’s ditching the party to go someplace actually fun,” said Deasly, stumbling over his thoughts at first, and staring a little too long at Spitfire’s plot, but recovering enough to smile at her.

“I hear that. I wouldn’t come to this thing myself if the Tyrant didn’t make us. One more thing I won’t miss when your boss bumps the theocracy off, and makes this place into a…I think he said mad house,” said the Wonderbolt Captain with a bit more of a blasé attitude than one would expect, considering she just made light of somepony’s ambition to overthrow the Princesses. Still, most made light of that ambition, and Deasly, jaded from the various attempts he’d been dragged into to actually do it, most of which ended with him eaten, stepped on, swept up, or something else, merely nodded.

“It would be nice to not have to come. Still, civilization demands its price of us all, I suppose,” admitted Deasly, looking around, wishing the price tonight was the tongues of a few loud mouthed unicorns.

“Got that right. You shoulda been here during Rainbow Dash’s first though. She was all over us back then, totally a nervous wreck. And then that quiet one just kind of busted through the doors, which had been sealed, screaming about love, and then cake had flown and Prince Bluebottom had gotten a good yelling at from his date. Man, what a night. Most fun I’ve ever had at these parties,” she said, and soon the pair were reminiscing about various fun times they’d had, well, more fun than this anyway.

Luckily, some of the most fun times the pair remembered involved a certain purple unicorn. This was mostly because he tended to be exciting, frustrating, but ultimately harmless. After regaling each other with their own version of a recent desert adventure, which had seen Deasly shrinking an entire palace with his magic, and Spitfire nearly getting snacked on by a desert plant that ate bugs, thanks to DawnChaser using his own magic to hide them, the pair both turned to the food.

Unlike Deasly, Spitfire seemed to enjoy some of the food, snacking on various things using the utensils provided, and trying to get her fill from portions that weren’t exactly those you’d find at your local hayburger stand. Seeing no need to interrupt her, Deasly went down the line, rejecting dish after dish, until he’d finally made his way to the dessert section of the table.

Not that the fare on that section was much better. From something called chocolate frogs that had been spelled to really croak, and were said to give you a bit of bounce in your step. Beside that were some toffees that were…well, they appeared to shift between a variety of colors, but the sign claimed they could be almost any flavor you could think of. Mind, that list included some rather inexplicable things like body fluids, and he quickly moved on.

Finally he came to a fondue fountain. It was a gusher of liquid chocolate, which flowed down into a heating unit, and then was pumped back up to flow down again. This chocolate at least, wasn’t spelled, and so wouldn’t do anything funny to him, assuming DawnChaser hadn’t done anything to it without somepony spotting him(He hadn’t, he had however, spiked three punch bowls with various potions, most of which were relatively harmless, like changing coat colors. Though one would cause a species shift, from unicorn, to earth pony, to pegasus, and around again. Fun times)

The problem he soon encountered was that there was a limit on how much one could eat from the fountain of chocolate. Namely, you were supposed to dip strawberries in it, and in this case, you were limited to two. How they planned to enforce that rule, he didn’t know, but then, there were gods at the party, and the royal guards were stationed everywhere. Looking up, he caught the eye of one of the armored pegasus guards, and quickly ducked his head down, figuring it best not to draw that type of attention to himself.

Normally, that would be the end of that, and Deasly would just suffer in silence and take his allotted two strawberries. Deasly wasn’t normal though, he was an Apprentice Magister, and so he decided to approach this like a problem for a pony going to join such an elite group.

First, a quick illusion spell, the illusion being himself, so it was easy to cast, especially since it hid the glow of his horn even as he sent the spell out. Next he called on his own talent spell, the ability to alter size, namely, shrinking it down. Feeling that familiar falling sensation, Deasly hopped forward, a move that would have caused the table to buckle and break beneath his form, as it had been loaded to capacity with food, and couldn’t take the weight of a grown stallion.

When he landed though, he wasn’t a full grown stallion, in fact, he was about the size of a fly as he stood there on the table, looking up at himself. The spell him was moving poorly, since it no longer had him inside it to maintain it, and so he quickly sent it off with a thought, the false stallion moving away from the table for a few steps, before losing himself in the crowds, and then fading away, so that nopony noticed it happen.

Nodding at a job well done, Deasly walked over to the edge of the fondue fountain, which luckily had to be built into the table to accommodate the heating unit and pumps to keep the chocolate in a liquid state, and flowing upward. This meant that the thing was literally just a drop off from the table, rather than having some edge that Deasly would have to climb up, and possibly be spotted as some kind of bug.

For the next few minutes, the stallion laid at the edge of the lake of chocolate, sticking his hoof in and drawing it back covered in the brown liquid, which quickly dried against his coat, and he would suck off, before sticking back it. One of the advantages of his shrinking spell, he mused, was his ability to eat even junkfood, and get nutrients from it, so he soon at his fill, and then sat there, rubbing his distended gut, figuring that he’d jump off the table, get under it, and grow back, probably claiming to be fixing the heating unit if he was even asked what he’d been doing.

Of course, the best laid plans of stallions were for mares to shatter, and in this case, it was the shadow of just such a mare that caused him to rouse out of his reverie. In this case it was Spitfire, still working her way down the line, stopping to enjoy a toffee from the plate near where he lay, and then scrunching up her face as she obviously got a bad one, before giggling and washing it down with some punch, and then coming towards him.

Given time, Deasly could have come up with a good plan to hide, or otherwise get away. That would require thought though, and staring at Spitfire, in her beautiful dress, he didn’t really think, so much as act on instinct. In this case, he dove for the closest place he could to hide, which just so happened to be the fondue fountain.

This was instantly recognized by the stallion as somewhere down near the bottom of his list of good ideas, somewhere between boneheaded move, and really stupid plan. The second he was under the seemingly water-like chocolate, it sucked at him like mud, showing that it still remembered that it should be a solid at room temperature. This meant that as it flowed, it dragged Deasly along, giving him absolutely no time to protest.

Luck, if you could call it that, was still on the stallion’s side though, as the spell that let him shrink, made him almost invulnerable. This had helped him on numerous occasions, from surviving traps in ancient tombs, to getting stepped on during spy missions, to nearly being incinerated in a campfire when he’d been trying to observe some buffalo without them knowing. His spell for shrinking made sure he was safe through all this, and one way it did so was to make it so he didn’t need to breath.

That being said, it was still rather unpleasant to be beneath the chocolate, not being able to see anything as the stuff flowed around him. He couldn’t even move his hooves, thanks to the thickness of the muck he was stuck in, and so he felt himself being dragged downward, closer and closer to a thumping sound, muffled by the chocolate, and then he felt his stomach get left behind as the flow reversed with the speed of lightning, and he was shot upward once more.

That stallion emerged with an instinctive gasp of air, his head breaking the surface of that chocolate with a sick squelching sound, as he popped up on top of the geyser of the stuff. Of course, before he could try to maybe grow back a little, the flow of the stuff was taking him over the edge, and still unable to move his hooves, he was dragged with it, screaming a tiny fly scream as he went over the edge, to fall into the muck, and start the journey again.

Luck, this time of a more mixed variety, interfered again, as he found himself slamming into something far more solid than the chocolate lake below, something with tiny pits in it, and red and green coloring. Apparently, he’d somehow come down at just such an angle to land on a strawberry somepony had been holding in the chocolate, and as he rubbed that quickly drying stuff from his eyes, he got to see who had scooped him up.

It was Spitfire, her face in a smile as she talked to somepony beside her, probably Soarin, though Deasly had never seen him outside his Wonderbolts costume, and thus, didn’t recognize him. He didn’t have much of a chance to try to either, as the hoof holding the strawberry began to move, and Deasly, plastered to the fruit, was brought to Spitfire’s lips.

Mind, it was her lips, not her mouth that he was brought to. Instead of popping the treat inside, she’d apparently opted to give Soarin a show, and so was moving the thing around her lips before she ate it. This meant that Deasly, who had always found her cute, if not out and out hot sometimes, was pushed against the strawberry by some lips that he really didn’t mind touching him. Her soft skin stroked over his coat, and he could feel it though the chocolate, having not noticed in his little drainpipe adventure that he’d lost is tux.

That last fact was important, as the strawberry moved along Spitfire’s lower lip, and then circled towards her upper one again, as her skin was now brushing completely against the unicorn, who was pressed into the fruit by it, moaning a little as it washed over him, getting her saliva into his hair and mane, before pushing the strawberry all the way inside, gently and delicately.

A bit out of sorts because of the experience he’d just had, Deasly flopped down onto Spitfire’s tongue, barely noticing as the mare, still putting on her show, just tossed her head back, and swallowed the fruit down whole, a bulge coming down her neck. Before it vanished, outside, Soarin kissed it, pushing his face into her neck, and causing the scene inside to tremble and squishing, crushing Deasly between the soft fleshy walls of Spitfire’s throat, before he was passed down into the depths of her body and out of sight.

The unicorn soon heard the familiar bellows sound of lungs around him, two powerful ones, that sucked in air like an engine, and then blew it back out again, accompanied by the thudding, quite rapid thudding actually, of her heart, which was further counterpointed by a gurgling sound below him, one that grew closer, and closer, and closer, until finally he slammed into a tight sphincter that only just allowed the fly sized unicorn through, pushing him into her stomach, into which he landed with a splat, slamming into a solid mass made from the food she’d already eaten.

Pulling himself out of the muck that was Spitfire’s meal, of a sort, the stallion looked around, wondering if his mentor would be pulling him out of this mess anytime soon. Of course, then Deasly shook his head, thinking that it wasn’t likely. DawnChaser had plans, after all, and wasn’t about to interrupt them to look for his apprentice. Not that he couldn’t take care of himself, and in some ways, found it rather nice that his mentor thought he could take care of himself, but still, he didn’t appreciate being left like this sometimes.

As if coming from his dark thoughts, he soundly heard another gulp from above, or rather, a series of them, and braced himself. Seconds after the swallowing sound, an ocean’s worth of water poured into the stomach, mixing and churning with the contents, and causing Deasly to go tumbling about, slamming into a wall, and coming away with a nice coating of digestive enzyme, which bubbled against his coat, and soon broke apart the chewed and otherwise mushed food that had stuck to him when the water had hit.

Glad for the quick clean, the unicorn made his way to the top of the stomach, swimming a bit more easily through the quickly dissolving mush than he had through the thick chocolate, and soon breaching the surface, and able to look around, casting a small light spell that required almost no magic at all.

Everything was fleshy, and slightly yellow tinted, thanks to the pink flesh taking on a bit of the shading of Deasly’s natural magic color. He could barely see anything though, and so just floated there in her stomach, enjoying the churning motion of the walls as it mixed the food and acids together, neither really touching him, but instead giving him a nice relaxing wave pool ride.

After a few minutes of this, the stallion felt the familiar tug of the digestive tract on his body, and looked towards a wall to see it had grown a rather large hole in it, which was sucking all the stomach juices into it. That was the way to go, but seeing no need to rush, Deasly allowed the natural current to carry him. The river of digested food gently swayed around, likely with the motion of Spitfire walking, and Deasly flowed with that swaying, allowing it to splash him against the walls for a few feet into the intestine, before the liquid covered him up, and he was cast into darkness again.

Feeling the flow, and now unable to enjoy that view, Deasly decided that it might be time to hurry this along, and so, swimming with the current, he passed farther along Spitfire’s intestine, the walls growing soft, as they were covered with a carpet of villi that gently tickled at him, trying to draw sustenance for Spitfire from his body, and failing that, they passed him onward, pushing him even faster forward, like this was some kind of water slide, and he was in a race to get to the bottom.

Sooner than he would have liked, the liquid began to dry out a little, and he again could find surface, recasting his light spell, and looking around. He was already moving forward though, and with a shrug, just kept going, figuring the faster he was out of her, the sooner he could get back to talking with her, and maybe try to get her to kiss him with her lips in a more aware fashion.

After a while, the river was completely dry, and Deasly was walking again, going with the movements of that walls that were Spitfire’s large intestine, moving faster than they could push him, as he pulled ahead of the rest of her meal, making his way towards the lower exit of her body. With a suddenness that was jarring, the stallion was thrown from the long tunnel of flesh, into  a more open sac of flesh, the holding place for her solid waste.

At the moment, the sac was mostly empty, meaning he had arrived ahead of the rest of the mess that would soon fill this place. Of course, that meant that it would be several hours yet before Spitfire felt the need to empty this part of herself, and he was not going to be trapped here that long if he had anything to say about.

So thinking, Deasly, using his light spell to guide him, found a sphincter below the one through which he’d entered, and he began to push at it. At first, the flesh, soft, but firm, refused to yield to the stallion’s efforts, some massage along the edges loosened it though, and with a pop, Deasly was freed from his prison, and cast down into the exit of Spitfire’s body.

Looking around him, the stallion tried to place the things he was seeing, judging the fastest way out of this place, and which routes led deeper into Spitfire’s body along other roads. Finding the one he was looking for, Deasly set off down the path, trotting now, as he knew freedom lay just around the bend.

When he passed the bend though, it wasn’t freedom he saw. Well, it was in a way, as it was something that had been freed, but it was preventing him from being free, as it blocked the way out. It was a massive shaft of quivering flesh, already wet, and looking like it was starting to grow softer, while it hung there in the air.

Before Deasly could do anything about it, the cock shot forward, and he was rammed hard against the walls, the soft flesh tensing around him, crushing against him, and nearly reducing him to liquid before it released. When it did let go though, he found he wasn’t on the wall of Spitfire’s anal canal, but instead was attached to the cock head, which pulsed beneath him, becoming a little harder, as it drove forward again, once more crushing him between it and the wall.

When it pulled back again, Deasly was startled to find himself staring at the wall of Spitfire’s flesh through a long tunnel of more flesh, as he’d apparently found his way inside the cock slit, and was then forced farther back as the massive stallionhood slammed forward again, sending him so deep within it, he couldn’t see the exit anymore, and just as it grew too soft to move, the walls sealing up around him.

For a moment, Deasly tried moving forward, but the movement of his body only seemed to excite the stallion he was within again, and the walls, flaccid and soft, became slick and hard again, causing the tiny stallion within to tumble backwards, sliding along the surface, before splashing down into liquid again, the stuff warm, and almost as thick as the chocolate that had landed him in this mess. Sighing, and trying not to think about the wiggling around him, Deasly swam to one side, to await either more sex with Spitfire, or DawnChaser finding him.


**************


“That was great,” said the mare, stretching out on the bed, and kissing her partner, her fire themed mane seeming to ignite in the morning light pouring through the window. Her partner, smiling himself, kissed her some more, while, off to the side, their third wheel, slept.

“You’re getting better at this. And you were right, the book worm does know a lot of ways to please a stallion,” said Soarin as he rolled over, and kissed DawnChaser on the cheek, getting only a louder snore from the larger stallion. The two Wonderbolts smirked, and basked in the afterglow, recharging so they could go for a third round.