> Velvet and You
>  by tailsopony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Unnamed (auto named on publish)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

How do you know you’re alive? You don’t, not really. In fact, you know you’ve died. How you died doesn’t really matter. Maybe it was sad, maybe it hurt, maybe you didn’t deserve it. The fact of the matter was that it was over. You died, and now you are alive. Well, mostly.

At first you hadn’t been so sure. You woke up in the street, blinded by the sun as voices around you chattered in excitement and confusion. The clattering noises were too sharp and loud, and everything smelled oddly crisp and clean. As you blinked, trying to adjust to the far too bright light, the blurry shapes and colors came into view.

Weirdly, you were surrounded by oddly brightly colored small horse things. Even more strangely, you didn’t feel panicked at all. A surreal sense of calm overcame you. Everything was fine. Smiling, you waved at them, and their frightened voices came quick.

“It’s alive!”
“Is it looking at me?”
“Look at those teeth!”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Call the princess!”

The last voice seemingly found footing, and the others began to echo it.

That about catches you up to the present. You shrug, putting your hands down while the creatures watch you intently. No need to scare them, you know most ponies startle easily.

The thought gives you pause. How do you know they are called ponies? And how do you know they startle? Curiously, you try to remember other facts about them.

They are mammals, like you. They come in three tribes: One that’s tough, one that flies, and one that does magic. They also come in every possible color, and have as many personalities. Like ice cream. The little tattoo on their butt is important to their destiny, or something like that. They are ruled by a pony princess that was part of all three tribes.

Oh! You figure that must be her as something catches your eye. Smiling, you wave at the extra tall purple pony with wings, a horn, and a crown.

“Hello, ah, Princess?” You aren’t sure how to address horse royalty, and your voice lifts at the end like you’d sucked up a helium balloon just to say her title.

She furrows her brow in confusion, but shakes her head and smiles. “Hello… And who are you?”

You look down at yourself, curious as to how to answer her question. What is your name? You aren’t sure. You’re wearing a nice black suit. Odd, had you always been a guy? You sort of remember how much your boobs got in the way and how nice it was to have fucking pockets in your clothes. Well, you certainly are a guy now! There is definitely a trouser snake in your trousers. No sense dwelling on it. But really, what was your name? Is that even an important thing for you to know?

Still sitting, you look at her questioningly. Maybe she knows more than she’s letting on. She seems to be less alarmed than her subjects. “I’m not sure! I don’t think that’s important anymore.”

She frowns, and then bites her lips. “Look, there is… a lot going on right now. Are you planning on eating anypony?”

You gasp. “Of course not! I’m a Buddhist! I’d never hurt a soul.”

Oh that was neat. You always wondered what it would be like to be Buddhist, and now you know. Wait, that didn’t make sense…

Twilight nods. Cool. Her name is Twilight. You try not to think about how you know that. “Good. Then I’m assuming you have no plans to take over Equestria, either?”

You shrug. “I don’t think I have any plans for anything. Like, anything at all.” Wait, that wasn’t right. “Oh! I have one plan!”

She blinks. “And it is?”

You smile wide. “Any place to get some banging tofu soup here? I’m really craving that soup that’s like, a broth with white cubes… Youso? Or Weso?”

Twilight takes a deep breath, calming herself as she clearly makes a decision. “Miso. It’s a Neighponese soy based soup.”

What a clever pun! Neighpon, like Nippon, but with horses, and in the Ja… Neighponese language. It sounded like “Neigh Ponies,” which is even funnier. “Yeah! That’s my plan! I’m going to get some of that!”

Twilight sighs, then looks nervously over her shoulder. “Okay. You seem harmless enough for now. I’m terribly sorry, but I really have to go, so, uh, welcome to Equestria. Just until I get back, you’re under royal protection. Also, please don’t hurt anypony—you’ll go to jail for that. See you in a week after we beat the Spirit Dancer and his army.”

You laugh. “Ha! Suck it, nerds! I just got isekai’d by Twilight Sparkle!” Oh, that was her last name!

Twilight Sparkle frowns as she looks back to you. “I’m really very sorry, but we’ll pick this up after I get back.” Then she glances through the crowd, settling on a yellow unicorn, “Double Take, can you take, uh, this guy, to…” She pauses, seemingly unsure, then settling on something, “My mom? And let her know that I’d really appreciate if she could look out for him and make sure he’s taken care of.”

Double Take nervously steps forward and bows, “O...of course, your majesty.”

Twilight smiles. “Thank you, Double.” Then she looks at you. “Please be good to my little ponies. I’m awfully sorry that I can’t offer more hospitality, but I have to go. Be nice to my Mom! She’ll take care of you.” She flaps her wings. “Good bye!”

You don’t see a problem with this. Smiling, you wave at her as she leaves. Boy, you’ve sure smiled and waved a lot. “Bye Twilight! Have fun with your dancing!”

All the ponies wince as you say it, but you don’t really notice. Double Take, who you oddly know nothing about (And why is that odd? You just met her.) looks nervously at you.

“Hello, Mr..?”

You smile back, lowering your arm. “Hello!”

She looks curiously from the left to the right as the other ponies part around her. Sighing, she lowers her head. “Follow me please, Mister… I’ll take you to Mrs. Velvet.”

Jovially, you stand all the way up and brush off your super fine suit with your hands. “Thank you, Mrs. Take.”

She looks at you with a confused stare then blinks once, before tossing her head forward with a faux confidence. “It’s Miss, thank you very much. And I’m on a royal mission from Her Highness! So, ah, please follow me?”

You laugh. “You’re very much welcome, Miss Take. Lead the way!”





Double leads you through the brightly colored winding streets with a hollow confidence. Even now that she’s used to you, something about her manner seems off. Maybe she’s a model? Most ponies seem to look at her, then at you in surprise, then back at her. It’s kind of fun to make faces when they look at you to try and trick them into a second look.

Oh! Now you get it. Double Take! That’s why all the ponies keep looking at her. You laugh. Equestria sure is funny!

“How’d you get a name like Double Take?”

She glances back over her shoulder, tossing her cream colored hair out of her eyes. “I was named by my mother, the same as most ponies.”

“Coolio. So your moms all like, can read destiny?”

She groans in frustration, whipping her head forward. “No…”

“But, like, how can they know what to name you? You’re Double Take, and all the ponies are looking at you! Even with the tall alien behind you.”

She doesn’t look back at you, treating you to the back of her well manicured mane instead of her face. At least her ears flick back when she speaks, “Yes. That’s because they’re checking to see if I’m panicking. I’m not, so they don’t. If I was panicking, every pony would take one look and turn tail.”

You wave at a passing foal, and it waves back only for it’s mom to usher it quickly away. Rude. “What? Why would they run?”

“You’re huge and scary. I’m okay with it because the princess said you were safe and I trust her. Even if I have other things to do right now.”

“Neat! So if I went somewhere without you, the ponies would all run from me in abject terror, impressed by my sheer physicality.”

Her ears flick forward, and her tail swishes as she searches the streets. “Something like that. Lets hurry up and find Twilight Velvet.”

It sounds like a super power. Maybe you could take advantage of it somehow. If you’re lucky you can ditch this grumpy pony and become the terror of Canterlot. “What else do you have to do anyways?”

She speaks quietly as she continues to look. “I run a donation based thrift shop. Ponies in this city throw out clothes like candy wrappers. It’s wasteful, so I run a little business recycling them to benefit ponies who don’t have the money or time to worry about the newest fashions.”

Pleased, you think you’ve figured it out. “Oooh. Double take because the clothes get bought twice! Or worn twice.”

She turns to glare at you, clearly annoyed. “What? No. Don’t be weird.”

“But why Double Take? It’s such an odd name for a pony.”

She narrows her eyes. “At least I gave you my name, Mister. It’s pretty rude to not introduce yourself.”

Hmm… Maybe she has a point. “I’m sorry! I just can’t remember. I think it might come back to me! Some things are! Like Windy Whistles and Pear Butter.”

She looks at you confused. “Are those your names? Those are mare names. Are you a girl?”

You shrug. “No. At least, not anymore, I think. I have a dick and it is huge.”

She blinks, glances down at your trousers, then glances back up in pity. “Okaaay…”

“And those aren’t my names, those are the other moms.”

Double Take furrows her brow in confusion. “I’m not sure I can do this for much longer. Lets find Twilight Velvet before I go crazy.”

You groan. “Why do we have to find her? Can’t we find miso soup? I’m hungry! I feel like I haven’t eaten in years.”

She sighs. “Do you have any bits to buy soup with?”

You check your pockets to find that they are empty except for the device. “Nope. Just a thing that I cannot speak of. No money.”

She turns her head back to the milling crowd. “Well, I’m not buying you any soup. I’ll bet Mrs. Velvet will, though.”

“Aren’t you curious about my thing?”

She takes a deep breath. “No.”

“But it’s unspeakable!”

“Good for you.” She mutters, her tail beginning to twitch.

“It’s maniacal!”

“That’s nice.”

You sigh, disappointed that she doesn’t want to see the unspeakable thing that you can’t show her. “Fine… Why are we sitting here anyways? This is dumb. She’s probably at her house or something.”

Double Take furrows her brow in concentration. “It’s common sense. There’s a higher PPM at this intersection.”

Now you’re confused. “What?”

“Ponies per minute. There is a high density of ponies, and they constantly change. This is the busiest intersection in Canterlot. If each pony has a one in a million chance of being Twilight Velvet, and we go through a thousand ponies a minute, we’ll likely find Twilight Velvet in just over five hundred minutes, or a little over eight hours.”

You stare at her for a full minute as nowhere near a thousand ponies come by. “There is so much wrong with what you just said.”

She groans. “No, the math checks out.”

“Uhh…. Not really.” You glance nervously around. Maybe you could just run for it.

She answers with no inflection, cleanly exasperated. “Yes, it does. I should know, I’m an accountant.”

You clap your hands together, startling her. “Ah hah! That’s what it is!”

Double Take whips around in a rush, startled by the noise. “Don’t do that!”

You smile. “But I figured it out!”

“Fine… what did you figure out?”

“Your name! You’re an accountant, and you’re named Double Take!”

She looks at you like you’re crazy, so you explain it better.

“You embezzle! Or maybe it’s tax fraud? Ah heck, why not both!”

Her eyes get wide as dinner plates, and her yellow fur pales. Her voice is soft, like the wind through a dandelion, “What? No… I mean… I’d… It’s not…”

You smile wide and pump your arm in victory. “Nailed it. Either that or stripper, and you’re pretty naked already.”

She glances over you, suddenly relieved. “Oh look, it’s Twilight Velvet.”

“Pfhh. Yeah, right.”

A voice chimes up from behind you. “Double! It’s so nice to see you! And who’s this friend of yours?”

You turn around in surprise to see a white unicorn with purple stripes. Her butt tattoo is a few stars, and you realize that Double Take had been right. “Holy shit!”

Twilight Velvet’s eyes get wide and her mouth opens slightly in surprise before Double Take rapidly chimes in.

“Velvet! Likewise, it’s always a pleasure to see you! Meet, uh, this guy! We don’t know his name, but your daughter, Her Royal Highness The Princess, kindly asked me to bring him to you so you can take care of him in her stead while she’s off on some adventure.”

Velvet frowns in confusion. “What?”

You make to compliment her meticulously cared for hair, but something keeps you from saying anything. Literally, and it tingles. Your lips are held shut by some aura that seems to be lightly yellow greenish in hue, and tastes slightly like lemons.

Double Take finishes her introduction. “Well, he doesn’t eat ponies and isn’t interested in taking over Equestria. I think he wants some sort of soup. I’ve got to go now, good luck!”

Twilight Velvet keeps frowning. “What?”

Double take looks back at you, then back at Twilight Velvet just to be sure. “One more thing. If he says anything about me, it’s probably a lie. Bye!”

You lock eyes with Velvet as the lemony tingle fades from your lips.

“Don’t let her file your taxes. She’s a scoundrel.”

Velvet blinks, and furrows her eyes in confusion. “Miss Take?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that I’m right.”

“What?” Velvet stares at you in utter confusion.





You sip on your soup, noting that it’s a whole new level of DELICIOUS. The salt, the broth, the soy, the sheer miso experience is unlike any other you’ve had. Even the steam wafting into your nostrils is loosening up your mind with its warm and savory smell. It very nearly gives you an erection, then your brain remembers that your tongue needs the blood more than your dick does. Just barely.

Velvet watches you with a curious interest. She’s been peppering you with questions that you can’t quite answer, but she’s loaded with bits and has a heart stopping adorable face, so you put up with it.

“So, Mister… what planet are you from again?” She smiles sweetly, trying to disarm you.

You smile back, slurping the soup first. “Earth! And boy, are you cute!”

She blushes, then laughs confidently. “My, how forward! I’m happy to say that I’m already married though, so your flattery is wasted.”

You pause your miso soup munch to furrow your brow. “I wasn’t hitting on you? I was just saying that you’re cute.”

Her laugh redoubles. “Oh, am I then?” She smirks, “I haven’t been called cute by a stranger in a few decades, and being called cute in public is a little embarrassing for a mare my age, Mister. I’m not sure how to interpret it if it wasn’t an awkward pickup line.”

You shrug, “I just mean that you’re cute. If I wanted to pick you up, I’d pick you up. You’re tiny.”

Slowly you sip your soup, making sure to slurp noisily while you maintain eye contact with her. The other patrons turn to watch your now obscenely distracting slurping. Velvet frowns uncomfortably, “Do you not have any manners?”

You sigh, “Oh. You really are old. Weird. You really don’t look old at all.”

Velvet’s smile returns, “You’re a strange one. I am, indeed, old.” She leans forward, emphasizing the word with her voice and her eyes, “I’m a proud grandmother, you know. Be careful which mares you go around calling old. Some aren’t as content in their age as me.”

The soup bowl is empty, and your stomach feels full. Your body is content, but you are a general malcontent. “I’m not supposed to call ponies cute, and now I shouldn’t call ponies old. It’s not like I’m trying to fuck you, I just don’t know how to act in Equestria. Maybe you could give me lessons on that?”

She blinks, her blue eyes wide as the restaurant goes quiet in disbelief. Everyone had been listening to your charming conversation, and clearly the way you phrased your dissatisfaction swayed them wholeheartedly.

Velvet quickly looks around the now silent and staring room before she makes to stand up. “Actually, Mister, that’s probably a good idea. I’d like to avoid being banned from any future restaurants.”

You frown, looking around as the large orange stallion who brought your soup comes angrily stomping toward your table. You glance him over in confusion. Pony body language isn’t your forte, but that dude is pissed. You decide just to ask him what’s up, “What the fuck is your problem, my dude?”

The server almost falls forward, and the patrons at the restaurant gasp. Velvet grabs your hand with her hoof (How does that work?), and pulls you rapidly as she throws some bits on the table. The shiny gold coins distract you as she tugs. She’s surprisingly strong for a cute little fuzzball with hooves. You let her tug you along as she shouts over her shoulder to the rapidly approaching waiter, “Sorry, royal business. I added in some extra, a bonus from the crown!”

The waiter frowns, looks at the bits on the table, then looks back at your now fleeing form, and he frowns again. That’s the last you see of him as Velvet drags you into the street and quickly around the corner.

“Velvet, what the fu...” You’re cut off as something tingles around your lips again. This time it tastes more like wild berries.

She glares angrily at you. “No. Bad human. Do not say the bad words in public.”

You smile at her angry face. It’s slightly pudgy, and super soft looking. Like a friendly pillow. Is her horn sparkling? You hum your response, “Mm-Hmm.”

She sighs as her horn glow fades and the tingling around your lips stops, “Let's just get home quickly. I’m beginning to think that it’s dangerous in public. The PPM is too high today, and you're a little too animated for me to be comfortable with. You need to learn proper pony manners before you cause a panic.”

You groan and roll your eyes dramatically. “Whatever you say, Mom.”





Her house is nice. It wasn’t designed for a human, but has more than enough head room for you. “Swanky digs, Miss Velvet.”

She glares, then sighs in exasperation. “I told you, I’m happily married. I’m Mrs. Velvet, not Miss Velvet.”

You nod, only partially ignoring her. “Yeah. The only thing you’re going to miss is deez nuts!”

Velvet’s impassive glare turns into a disappointed frown, “While I appreciate—and even empathize with your exuberance and candor, could you pass on the vulgarity long enough to have a sensible conversation?”

Something clicks, and you realize that she’s honestly upset with you. “Oh. Sorry about that. It’s just that everything is so strange and new. When I’m not sure what to say, I just say the first thing on my mind.”

She blinks, surprised at your honest answer. “Oh. I suppose this all must be very unsettling for you.”

You nod, trying to explain, “It’s like, all the things I know, I don’t? But then I do? And it’s running wild and you’re different. You’re supposed to be flat. Not like, cake flat, because that’s gross, but like, picture flat. And I’m not supposed to be like this. I’m supposed to be shorter, rounder, softer, and more… feminine?”

She seems concerned, “Are you okay?”

You smile to re-assure her, “Sister, I am the most okay mundane normal human being you will ever meet. I’m so okay that without me, rock is just the letters RC. And nobody even drinks RC anymore, let alone listens to it!”

Velvet squints, “Are you saying you want a drink? I have milk and tea.”

You pump your fist, “Yeah! Milk! It comes from boobs!”

She crunches up her face in abject disgust, “Tea it is.”

Eh, good enough. Milk has to come from like, cow titties. Actually, thinking on it, you remember that cows are sentient here. That’s weird, right? You wouldn’t want anyone drinking your milk. Not that your boobs ever made milk. You never even got proper laid, let alone had kids.

She slips out of the room, “Make yourself comfortable on the couch. We have a television set. Feel free to use it.”

The couch is easy enough to find. You sit down, surprised at how “human” sized the couch is. Looking around the room you notice artifacts from Velvet’s life. Pictures of Shining Armor, Twilight, Spike, Night Light, and her adorn the wall. There are homey little knickknacks everywhere, piles of books in the corners, on tables, shoved under things, and generally kitschy things all around. Nothing vulgar, per-say, but all those little emotional things that make you uncomfortable—miniature ceramic pony figurines cuddling, cartoon hearts sewn on a knit throw, and you’re pretty sure one of the wall decorations says “Live, laugh, love” but you can’t read the cursive scrawl. It even smells vaguely like a grandmother’s home, that faint scent of some mysterious cleaner and old fabric.

The room visibly saturated in familial love, and it suddenly makes you sick. You always hated your family. Those fuckers got what they deserved.

Velvet comes back to find you angrily staring at the floor. Her voice is laced with concern, real concern and not that fake crap she had earlier. “Are you alright, Mister?”

The musical note in her voice shakes you, and you look up at her. Her large, blue eyes are focused on you, slightly squinted. Her mouth is flat, and she’s slightly chewing on her lip. Two cups float near by surrounded in a pale purple aura. You smile.

Her lip bite turns into a frown. “Were you… crying?”

You nod your head up and down as you vocally deny it. “I’m physically unable to cry. I’m too manly for that girly stuff.”

Velvet slides the tea over to you. You grab it. It’s hot, but not too hot. The warmth is comforting, almost cozy. She sits next to you and floats a book to herself. “I’ll just be here. If you need to talk, I’m ready to listen. If you need to think, here’s probably the best place in Equestria.”

You stare forward, looking around the room. In the back of your mind, you’re grateful for her patience. Somehow though, something isn’t right. You look at all the trophies on the shelf. The certificates, letters, and diplomas that line the walls. Her whole family is in this room. Even little Flurry Heart is there in pictures. The comfort that permeates the room is palpable. This is her space, and here it is peaceful and she is loved.

Velvet is reading her book. You watch as the golden sun filters through the blinds, filling the room with light. Time passes, and you’re both quiet. It’s hard to be quiet. You have the urge to move, or to shout. You need to tell her how cute her whole family is. How hot her son is. How her mane glints in the light, and how you’re a thirty foot tall monster from the Mesozoic age that needs three dollars and fifty cents.

You blurt it out, “This isn’t me.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“This isn’t who I am.”

Velvet turns to look at you with a patient smile, “Then who are you, Mister?”

You look at her. Her ears are forward, sticking out of her straight cut mane. It makes her look almost like a cat. You try, you really do.

“I’m Rick James, Bitch.” You stare at her, your lips quivering.

She raises an eyebrow, momentarily offended, “I see. I don’t think that’s entirely accurate. I’m going to keep calling you Mister.”

You slam your hand into your head, frustrated. “Not me!” You shout.

She grabs your hand with her magic, her grip is iron. “You seem to be doing worse. We could hold a conversation when we first met. Now you’re trying to hurt yourself.”

Your hand can’t move at all. Her telekinesis is strong, much stronger than her size leads you to believe. Maybe Twilight didn’t just send you to Velvet because of familiarity. Maybe Velvet is someone she knew could reign you in—one way or another. The thought actually calms you. Velvet is in control, so you can relax. Your hand relaxes and it falls to the side. “Sorry.”

She smiles, “Sorry is a good start.”

She’s nice. Too nice. Nobody is this nice to you. They’re mean, they make fun of you. They use you. They always want something. Your eyes dart around the room. She doesn’t want anything. You know that. It’s soothing.

She’s not even real. She’s a cartoon character from a show you’ve seen. She’s just a supporting character, so she doesn’t matter. The thought relaxes you and you sink back into the couch. The tea is delicious.

You try again. They’re all cartoon characters. None of it matters. “I’m not me. I’m not a guy. I’m not this guy.” You point at yourself.

Her eyes dart form the book to you, “I see. And I guess you’re not human either?”

You shake your head, “No. I am human. But this is all different. Something is wrong. I’m not me, and I’m all wrong. Even my thoughts aren’t mine.” You gesture around you, “This is all wrong. It’s too bright, too lively. Too living color.” Shaking your head some more, you add, “I can’t think like me.”

She nods her head at the TV, “Would black and white help?”

The TV clicks on, and there is a show. It’s two ponies dancing. The color is black and white. It’s like watching a movie from the fifties. You settle back into the couch and relax, eyes focusing on it. “Thanks.”

She smiles deeply into her book, not that you can see, “You’re welcome, Mister.”





It’s dark out. She’s still reading. The shows are over, and the station is transmitting static. You feel more calm. More in control. You can think your own thoughts, and that is both relieving and terrifying. What happened to his thoughts?

“Velvet? Can we talk?”

She seems startled. She must have forgotten that you were here. “Of course.”

“I’m a little more together now. I remember things. I think I’ll remember more things, but it might be a while.” You speak calmly and don’t have the urge to shout. That’s a win, right?

She blinks, looking around the room and taking a breath. “Do you know your name?”

“Just Mister is fine. I’m sorry that you have to babysit me. I know I’m cramping your style.” It’s obvious that she probably doesn’t usually spend all evening on the couch.

Velvet smiles, “My daughter asked me to keep an eye on you, and I intend to. I don’t think you’re dangerous, but you’ll have to excuse me for not trusting you entirely. You’re a bit of a wildcard, Mister.”

You shrug, “I’m no Tom Brady, but I will need somewhere to drop my balls.” And He’s back again.

She squints, frowning again, “Are you asking if you can stay here?”

You aren’t sure, “I guess? Where should I crash?”

Velvet smiles, “For the time being, please stay here. It will make keeping an eye on you much easier. You’ll fit just fine on the couch. Let me get you a blanket and a pillow. It’s later than I thought…”

You answer nervously, “Cool. Cool. Cool.” The TV static is bothering you, “Uh, can you turn off the snowstorm? I don’t want it to get all ‘Ringu’ in here.”

She furrows her brow, “What?”

You point your hand at the TV. “It’s too much static. It’s making my hair stand on end.”

She quickly turns it off. “I’d forgotten it was on. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little forgetful in my age.”

You lean your head down to eye level with hers. You can’t see any wrinkles. Her fur is smooth, her eyes are bright and clear, and her hair has a thick, full bodied gloss., “Nope. You look like you should be in college.”

She takes a step back, and a hint of rose shows in her cheeks. “I teach college, Mister. My current courses cover academic writing, runic translations, and media engagement. But I appreciate the compliment.”

You reach a hand to her retreating face, and she watches nervously as you lightly touch her cheek. She isn’t just cute, she’s soft. Her fur feels warm, like a luxury teddy bear. You just want to hug her. “Yup. GILF confirmed.”

Without any hesitation, she uses her magic to forcefully push your hand out of her face, “I’m a happily married mare, Mister. Please don’t touch. And what’s a ‘gilf’? Is it something cute?”

Some part of you is embarrassed by your behavior. That part is new. Neat! The rest of you just smiles. “Yup. It’s fucking cute all right.”

She frowns, and it is adorable.





You try to sleep on the couch. It doesn’t work well. You keep having this dream of falling. You just keep falling. When you hit the ground, you fall through the ground and fall some more. It scares you. The fall, the ground, and then the fall after the fall.

Then you wake up. You’re laying on the overly large couch, staring at a well loved living room. There’s a TV that’s not on, an old clock, books, family photos and little bits of memorabilia. Two dirty tea-cups sit on the coffee table.

Should you have picked them up? It’s not your house. You’re staying here. You’re a guest.

Or are you a prisoner? Would Velvet stop you if you just tried to leave? Would she even know? Uncomfortably, you get out of the makeshift couch bed and stand up. Your limbs ache strangely.

This isn’t your body.

It’s too muscled. Too large, to strangely proportioned. And you sure as hell aren’t used to this dick yet. It just feels weird. Sitting there in your pants like some kind of monster waiting to strike. You turn your head and walk to the window, using it as a mirror as you lift the blinds and peak under.

The face that looks back from the inky black darkness isn’t yours. It’s too manly. You’re body isn’t quite Chadwick the Chad of Chad’s, but you have more male features than you remember. Your face is supposed to be softer, rounder. You’re supposed to be cuter.

Were you a twink?

Yeah, you were probably some hot little boy toy. That tracks. You’d look good as a girly guy. All this muscle and those chiseled abs are throwing you off.

You look down your body. Fuck. You’re hot. Yeah, you’d let you plow you.

You yawn. It’s late. You’re tired. Something is wrong and you know it. There’s a reason you keep falling. There’s a reason your mind is a mess. You know that you aren’t you.

So what are you?

No, that’s not the question. That question isn’t important. You glance at your chiseled face in the makeshift glass mirror, and realize the real question.

What were you?





It’s halfway through the next day. Velvet is distressed. She’s been reading on the couch all morning and nervously looking towards the kitchen while you’ve been watching weird pony soap operas. It seems like ponies take nuzzles very, very seriously. No wonder Velvet freaked out when you stroked her cheek. It wasn’t quite a nuzzle, but according to the pony soap, “Days of our Livestock”, it was close enough to warrant a duel from a lover.

Lucky for you, Velvet seems to live alone. Wait, that’s not right.

“Where’s Night Light?”

Velvet slowly closes her book. When she goes to look at you, you notice bags under her eyes. “He didn’t come home last night.”

You grunt in disgust. “Men. Feh.”

Velvet looks at you oddly, “Are ‘Men’ your version of stallions?”

You cock your head, “Yeah. Why?”

She frowns, “He’s not doing anything untoward. He normally works late, but he’s working over time to handle castle affairs while Twilight is gone.”

You roll your eyes, “That’s what they all say. Working late. Overtime. Big projects. It’s all lies. They’re getting wasted at the bar and plowing sluts.”

Velvet’s eyes get wide and she leans away from you, “Night Light would never!”

You shrug, “Okay, boomer.”

She settles back into the couch and looks at her book in contemplation, not actually reading it. “Aren’t you a ‘Men’ then?”

You laugh, “Eew. No. I’m a … a…” You look down. Oh. That’s what’s wrong. “Huh.” is all you can say.

Velvet looks concerned.

You look back at her, “And I have you all call me ‘Mister’! Ha! How fucked up is this?”

She winces when you say fuck, but doesn’t try to chide you. “How long have you had this body?”

That’s an easy question, “Yesterday. I got it after I died.”

Velvet’s eyes get wide again, but this time she leans forward. “Oh… You poor dear.”

You laugh, “Poor? Hah! I haven’t a dollary doo to my name! So yeah, poor cuts it pretty close. You don’t like to mince words, do you, Velvet? Maybe you should be the Twilight Knife instead? Or is that too edgy?”

Yeah, Twilight Knife was probably too edgy. And if she was Twilight Knife, she’d have a cool backstory about how she was assassinated and stuff. Not anything dumb like fell out of a window while trying to save a cat. That would be real stupid. Only a real idiot would die that way.

She stays quiet. You don’t like how quiet she is. You don’t like how caring she is. It makes you angry. It makes you uncomfortable.

“Can you stop?”

Her big blue eyes are so innocent, so earnest. “Stop what, Mister?”

You turn away. It’s not like you don’t like being stared at. “Nothing. I’m just… It’s a lot.”

She puts a hoof on your leg, trying to reassure you. It’s surprisingly soft. “Sometimes we all need time.”

You turn back to look at her, afraid to ask the question, but you do it anyways, “Is this Heaven.”

She shakes her head, “No. This is Equestria.”

You try again, this time the fear makes your voice shake. It’s probably more what you deserve. “Is this Hell?”

She shakes her head again. “No, Mister. This is Equestria. I don’t know how you got here, but this isn’t an afterlife.” Her eyes dance across the walls and a small smile teases her lips, “This is my only life.”

Something inside you is shaking. Things are falling into place, and you don’t like it. “I… I need a hug.”

You stare impassively forward, lost in terrible realizations as Velvet climbs up on the couch and wraps her hooves around you. She’s kind of weak, but she’s soft and warm. She gently puts her head in your chest, and you wrap your arms around her. You start to sniffle. Tears run down your cheeks.

You’re dead. You knew that before, you’ve known it since you got here. But now you’ve realized it. You are dead.

Her horn is actually kind of sharp, resting against your chest. You take a breath, and a sob comes out. She squeezes you. “It’s okay, Mister. Let it out. Everything is okay now.”

You had cats. Three of them. You can’t remember their names just yet, but you worry if they are doing fine without you. You cry. Not just a sob, or some tears, but full on ugly cry. It’s not pretty. Velvet holds you, her head nestled in your chest and her arms around you.

She didn’t hesitate, and she still doesn’t. Without a thought, she threw her heart at you. Between sobs, you have a traitorous thought. A gentle soothing one, but one that you know isn’t true. You ask anyways.

“Are you an angel?”

She chuckles. “Stop. I’m married. If this really isn’t another awkward pickup line then, no. I’m just an old pony. I can tell when somepony needs a little kindness. And right now, you need kindness.”

You can’t ask the follow up question.





Your mind feels more stable. It’s late. She’s been reading and you’ve been watching the television. This isn’t heaven or hell. The TV is too… normal. Sure, it’s old, but it’s not perfect and it’s not terrible. It’s just like soap operas on earth.

Velvet herself is no angel, and no devil either. She’s getting angry again, but not with you. Your eyes flicker to the wall, seeing pictures of her family.

“Is he late again?”

She glances up at the clock before answering. “Yes.”

You take a breath. The urge to tell her that you're never late, you’re always exactly when you mean to be fades. You’re getting in control of these strange urges. You guess now that you understand more of what happened, you’re trying to make this body yours instead of his. Should you feel guilty? Did he need it? He’s kind of an asshole. Instead of being rude, you try to alleviate her concern.

“It was some sort of emergency when Twilight flew off and sent me with the corrupt accountant pony. If Night is covering things, he probably doesn’t have much time.”

Velvet blinks, then looks at you in surprise, “Don’t talk poorly about Double. She’s nice. I suppose there is an emergency of sorts with Spirit Dancer. But Night could at least call me! Then I would know that he isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere.” She mutters, “Or off at a bar…”

You wince, that thought is your fault. “He wouldn’t do that. You know it.”

She shivers, “I know. I just… well… I married him because I love him. I think about him all the time. It's why I’m distracting myself with these books. I’m a reader, but not this much of one. I usually like to get out and about! Go do something exciting! Not sit around and read trashy books and watch soap operas all day.”

You lick your lips in anticipation. You could go for some miso again. “We could go out for a bit. I think I’m better behaved now. I only had one bad word today!”

She looks at you, “I’d like to get out, and you are acting much better today. Being cooped up is driving me crazy. But I can’t leave to take you on a date. As I’ve made abundantly clear, I am married. I need to be here if he calls, or if he comes home, or if one of his coworkers drops by. Sorry, but we’re staying in. This time you’re stuck with me instead of me being stuck with you.” Then she buries herself back in her book.

You groan. It’s too late. You want to go do something but you can’t. Before you died, you’d sometimes stay up and pet your cats. They loved it. Velvet doesn’t have any pets. You look at her. She’s about the size of a dog.

Without thinking, your hand ends up on her head as you gently pat it.

She tears her eyes away from her book and silently judges you. You ignore her slight frown of disapproval as you pet her with an uncontrollable grin on your face. She looks like she’s going to chide you, but instead sighs and deflates slightly. “Don’t… touch my horn.”

Her warning peters out. Clearly she was going to say something else. Well, this is better than doing nothing and listening to TV static. Or, god forbid, reading.

Velvet awkwardly refocuses on her book while you stroke her hair. It’s silky smooth and impossibly soft. No wonder she’s called Velvet. This pony is probably the softest thing you’ve ever felt. The minutes drip by easier and lighter with each pat. She completely ignores your petting and her previously tense posture is now calm and relaxed.

While it might have been a little weird, you don’t think she thinks it’s weird. Ponies in the pony soap operas were always touching each other for comfort or even just greetings, so just petting her head doesn’t cross any boundaries that you know of. It wasn’t like you were nuzzling her or anything. Certainly not as risque as the taboo nose-boop!

You chuckled, imagining her scrunching up her little nose. Maybe you would boop her later. You start to play with her hair a little, pulling it gently through your fingers. It almost feels like magic.

“How do you get your hair like this, Velvet? It’s beautiful.”

She stays focused on her book as she answers, “With magic.”

You murmur in agreement, “It’s magic all right.”

Your hand lightly touches behind her ear, and her ear flicks backwards. You do it again, teasing out the response. She doesn’t seem to notice; her reaction is an unconscious reflex. Curious, you give her a light scratch behind her ear, slightly but firmly digging into her scalp. She sighs. You can’t tell if she enjoyed it or not, but she doesn’t complain.

Your cats loved it when you did that. Absentmindedly, your hand drops lower under her ear and you give her a light scratch under her chin. She shivers, then abruptly pulls away, glaring at you. “Mister, I’ve told you before. I am married.”

You hold your hands up in defense, “Sorry, Sorry… It’s just… well, my cats used to love that. I sort of forgot where I was.”

She stares at you, “I am not a cat.”

Awkwardly you look to the side, “Yes. I know that. Can we go back to what we were doing?”

She bites her lip, looks at her book, then looks at you. “Fine. But don’t touch my horn, or my face.”

Carefully you ask, “But behind your ear is okay?”

She settles back down in her seat and opens her book. “That’s fine.”

Fuck yes. You smile loosely as you reach to pat her head.





It’s much later. Velvet is still on the couch. You’ve been gently scratching and petting her head for at least an hour, probably more. She truly feels luxurious. She’s also much more relaxed now as well. Soon she’ll fall asleep.

You’ve been thinking while you pet her. About how unfair it all was. How everything is gone, and now you’re here in this strange body. About how Velvet is weird, and sort of alien, but also so familiar and so caring. In some ways, she makes you angry.

Why is she so amazing? Why can’t she be flawed like you? You were always flawed. A little dumber than the rest, or a little slower. A little uglier, far more selfish, the list goes on. You were never perfect, even before you died. Your cats didn’t care. But the rest of the world always did its best to remind you how much you sucked. No money, no friends, no future, and now no life.

And here was Velvet. Her kids were royalty, she was so beautiful, so cute, and also incredibly commanding. She had presence when she wanted to, but she also had compassion. She was smart, kind, and now that you got a look at who all these trophies are for, very athletic. Everything you couldn’t be before you died.

Yet, here she was under the palm of your hand. Why were you a man now? Was that who you really were, or was that just what you needed to be to be here with her? Still, she wasn’t yours. She wasn’t one of your cats even if she acted like one. Even if you wanted her to be.

She was, as she kept saying, Married. Angrily you let your hand dip a little too low. From just under her ear to softly touching her cheek. The lightest of touches, barely in the no-go zone. She doesn’t say anything, but her body tenses.

You can almost hear her growl in warning. Before she says anything, your hand is back behind her ears. She likes that, and she calms down quickly.

Carefully, you keep from snorting in amusement. She is such a fucking cat. Everything about her right now reminds you of one. Even her soft white coat could be one particular little fluff ball you used to have. You miss your cats, even if you can’t specifically remember them.

You test her cheek again, your singular finger dipping from under her ears to her cheek bone to lightly trace it’s length. With excitement, you wait for her growl. It starts with her body tensing. Slowly her eyes drift from the book to you. She’s angry. You scratch behind her ear while you gently touch her cheek.

She stiffens, unsure of what to do. Her eyes drift from you, to the book. The growl dies in her throat. Without saying anything, she makes a quiet decision and her eyes settle lazily on the book. Your finger is still lightly touching her cheek.

It’s your territory now. You have free access to it. Decadently, you rub into her soft cheek while you soothingly scratch behind her ear.

What a fucking cat.

You keep petting her, gently running your hand through her hair and lightly scratching her head. You’re using both of your hands, completely focused on her. One hand is always somewhere it’s supposed to be—her hair, behind her ear, or gently running down her head. The other hand visits your conquered territories.

The bad hand makes sure they still belong to you. The jawbone under her ear where she glared at you for half a minute before she relinquished it. The soft little space to the side of her neck that caused her to shiver when you quickly touched it twenty three times before she stopped responding to your trespass. The base of her horn, a fiercely fought battle where you clumsily excused bumping into it with your hand over and over until she finally stopped commenting on it. A dangerous little trail of claimed territory that runs down her forehead where she curiously and intently watched your finger the first several times it “slipped” down her forehead.

You haven’t made it to her nose, you haven’t risked anything actually taboo in pony culture just yet. But these little no-mans lands of “almost” were yours now. Each individual visit or trespass could be excused as an accident.

Soon, they are far less defensible. Your hand isn’t slipping anymore when you reach a little too far forward down her forehead. Your finger drops and firmly touches her jaw, curiously pressing into her soft cheek on the way. You bump the base of her horn regularly now, clearly not avoiding it. The neck visits aren’t quick anymore—now you linger, spreading your palm across the side of her neck.

Maybe you could have excused one of them, once. But not anymore. Now it was obvious. You have no accidental excuse when your fingers curl around the base of her horn. You can’t think of a reason why you’d accidentally draw little circles on her forehead with your finger, but you do it anyway. You don’t even tease around her jawbone anymore, you softly grab it, probing it and her soft cheek flesh. Even her neck is warmer now as your palm lingers on her pulse, sometimes tapping her. The bad hand isn’t petting her anymore, not in any way you can defend, but she isn’t stopping you either.

As long as your other hand is where it belongs, she concedes the fallen territory. One good hand, and one bad hand. You don’t know why teasing out her cat like behavior is making your pulse race. You have no real reason to push past her clearly communicated boundaries as far as you have. Maybe you just enjoy being bad. Maybe you want some level of control. Maybe she just makes you angry, and this is petty vengeance. Her calm, lithe demeanor does irk you in some inexplicable way. She’s not a cat. More so, she’s certainly not your cat.

Some part of you isn’t so sure of that fact as she leans into your ear scratch one more time. You wonder exactly how cat-like she is. When your kitties were bad, you’d move them. Pick them up by the scruff of their neck. Curiously, you wondered something.

How angry would she get? Does this go beyond petty vengeance for her perfection? Is this desire out of pure curiosity on her cat-like nature? Is it the strange unbidden need for chaos that’s seemed to plague you since you’ve arrived? Does the reason why even matter? The thought’s been planted. You can’t stop yourself.

Your bad hand wanders up to her head and becomes good while your good hand slides down to the base of her neck. It’s about to be bad.

Firmly, you squeeze the base of her neck. Your fist grips a surprising amount of neck scruff as you easily lift her off the couch. She’s lighter than you thought.

Her response is immediate. She goes limp in your grip, just like a cat. The book drops, missing the couch and landing spine up, pages down on the floor. Its sensible words are hidden in the carpet, the pages spread wide open underneath the hardback cover that’s holding them together. There is a quarter second of squirming as her legs kick out straight and then stiffen. You lift her all the way off the couch and spin her around so she’s facing you.

You’re literally holding her in the air in front of you. She weighs almost nothing. Her blue eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen them and she’s staring right at you. Her pupils are pinpricks, and her ears are flat back against her head. The only movement she makes is some shallow breathing and her mouth moving softly, but nothing comes out and it’s locked open by her slack jaw. Her soft little lips are strangely puckering and quivering, like she’s trying to say a word, any word, but can’t make them move.

You snort, amused at her complete paralysis, “What a fucking pussy cat you are, Velvet.”

She breathes quicker, but doesn’t say anything or properly move. Her eyes stay focused on yours. “You let me pet you, but only in weird ways. You say one thing, then let me do another. You growl, and you even do the kitten carry. How can you say you're not a cat?”

Velvet doesn’t say anything, she just limply hangs.

“Lounging around, reading books, acting all weird about space but desperately wanting to be touched… I can’t get over how much of a cat you are. It’s crazy. I mean, I’m crazy, but you denying that you’re a cat is even more crazy.”

She hiccups as she takes a sharp breath.

Something in the back of your mind pushes you forward. You don’t know why. Maybe you just want a cat again. Maybe it’s him and not you. You stare at her as she dangles helplessly from your grip. Your voice is as certain as you are. “I think you are a cat. You’re a cat.”

Of course, she doesn’t say anything. Her mouth is moving slightly, but you can’t make it out. Her eyes are still wide as saucers and her ears are still pinned to her head. Her legs give a weak kick, shiver, and then dangle limply again. You know you’ve crossed a line, but you aren’t sure how it got to this. Her magic was strong, and you weren’t grabbing her horn. She could have zapped you, you think. She probably still can. Still, in for a penny, in for the whole goddamned pound.

“Meow for me kitty-cat.”

She stares at you, seemingly uncomprehending.

“I see your lips moving. Meow for me, and I’ll put you down.”

Her lips freeze. Clearly she heard you.

You pull her into your face, bringing her snout to your nose. You can feel her breath on your mouth. Her nose is impossibly soft as it touches yours. Her eyes are right in yours. Your voice is low, coming from your chest. “Do it. Meow for me.”

Her eyes water, and a light puff of air graces your lips. You hear the faintest noise emanating from her chest. The word is whispered, a secret that only travels the centimeter of distance from her mouth to yours, but you hear it regardless.

“Meow.”

You even see it in her eyes. Some cognition flashes in her mind, and you know that you’ve conquered territory of some kind. Some little patch of her that your bad hand can visit now. You smile a wicked smile, feeling a confident rush you’ve never felt before as you encourage her, “That’s a good pussy cat.”

Carefully, you gently put her on the ground, letting her limp legs settle before you slowly release her neck scruff. She’s standing stiffly on her legs, staring at you as she regains her balance. As your hand lifts, she shuffles awkwardly on her hooves, and her tail swishes aggressively from side to side. In cat body language, she’s angry. You’d guess pony body language is the same. Her eyes are still watery as she stares at you. She takes a long, shaky breath, forcing the air deep into her belly.

You don’t say anything as you watch her take several deep breaths before stiffly moving. Her voice is low and strange, you’ve never heard her this angry before. “I’ll be in the bathroom.” She turns, and nearly gallops away, which is almost comical given how stiff her legs are.

You relax. Angry as she seemed to be, she ran off quick without scolding you. If it was full body paralysis, it might be the pony equivalent of the brown note. Still, feeling her face on yours was something else. And forcing her to meow was a whole new rush. Exerting that much direct control over another intelligent creature was something you’d never experienced before. Your heart was still racing from that. Was it wrong? She didn’t stop you. Maybe she couldn’t?

Idly, you wait. That had been beyond strange. You still don’t know what compelled you to do it. But her response had been worth it in every way. Minutes pass and eventually she comes back. Her hair looks straighter and her posture is more relaxed and confident. She also smells of soap, that lavender business she keeps next to the toilet because it reminds her of her daughter. A glance at her hooves shows that they’re shiny; she washed them.

Velvet opens her mouth, but then closes it as anger flashes across her face. Apparently she’s changed her mind. She glares at you, then sighs and shakes her head. “Do not do that again.”

You smugly cross your arms, “And why not?”

She takes a breath, and you notice a hint of embarrassment. Yup—all signs point to the shitter. Her awkward response isn’t particularly convincing, either. “I don’t need to explain. I am telling you to not do that again. Both physically and verbally, that is not an appropriate way to treat anypony.” She sparks her horn menacingly and points it at you.

You sigh and lift your hands defensively. “Message received.”

Velvet relaxes her aggressive posture, then magics her book back up. She’s still visibly pissed, but at least she’s not pointing her horn at you anymore. Her answer is terse. “Good.”

The night is decidedly over, so you turn to look for your pillow. As you reach over the top of the couch for it, you feel her settle next to you on the couch. She’s sitting there, absorbed in her book again.

Confused, you look around the room, then back at her. Her posture seems even more relaxed than before you picked her up. There’s plenty of room further away on the couch, and yet she sat next to you. It had to have been on purpose. You scoot slightly over to give her some space. She looks up at you in clear confusion.

You don’t have any idea what’s going on, but you scoot back, and she looks back down at her book. She seems increasingly irritated, and she’s clearly frustrated over something. Timidly, you reach out your hand and put it on her head. Instantly, she relaxes.

Realization strikes you, and a simple thought rings in your head. What a fucking cat.

You pet her again. At first you play it safe, carefully sticking to the places that are absolutely fine. After only a minute or so, your finger dips to her jaw. When there’s no response, your hand bumps her horn. She turns the page, and before you know it you have one good hand and one bad hand again.

The game is back on, but it’s different now. She doesn’t growl at all, even as your bad hand strokes all the way under her jaw to her chin. The chin isn’t an unsure no man’s land, it’s definitely off limits and you both know it. She had explicitly told you that her face is not for your use. Clearly, the rules have changed somehow. She presses her chin firmly into your light scratching. Slowly she tilts her head forward pressing her snout into the palm of your hand.

Your fingers find purchase on her lips and you’re startled by how warm they are. As you trace them, you expect her to rip away and chastise you again, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, your finger wanders up over her lips and gently dances across her nose. It wasn’t a boop, not officially, but it was far more than you should have been allowed for casual contact. Instead of threatening you, she responds in a wholly unexpected way. Slowly, her face pushes forward and tilts up, inviting your hand to wander under her jaw and then down to the nape of her neck.

What the fuck. You are confused as heck. She’s moving exactly like a cat now, and you get the inkling in the back of your brain that it’s no longer a mindless reflex on her part. It’s on purpose. She’s playing with you some how.

You’re confident that this is some passive aggressive response to making her meow for you. It doesn’t bother you, so you’re not sure why she’d do it. As you ponder it, your gears start turning. if she can fuck with you, then you can fuck with her. With an evil grin, your good hand slips down to the base of her neck while the bad hand gently grasps her throat.

She doesn’t seem to respond. There’s no growl, she doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t even stop aggressively rubbing her throat into your hand. But the moment your hand starts to squeeze, her horn responds with a bright flash, causing a sudden stinging spark to shoot through your hand. For a moment, your hand feels like it’s on fire, then it can’t feel anything. Suitably chastised, you slide your now numb hand back up her neck and settle it in her mane.

She doesn’t look up from her book, but she purrs a response as she tilts her head forward, drawing your still good hand back up her throat and to her chin, “I’m a married mare.”
> Unnamed (auto named on publish)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s late at night. You can’t sleep. Your penis is hard, and you don’t know what to do about it. You aren’t used to having a penis, so you aren’t sure the proper protocol for this. Will it go down on its own? Will you have a boner for the rest of your afterlife until you get laid? Can you masturbate the problem away?

You’re confident a masturbation session would fix it, but even pondering it raises more issues. How do you even masturbate? How much mess should you expect? Is it rude to masturbate on a host’s couch? Is it rude to masturbate in the bathroom?

Unsettled, you roll to the side. You aren’t entirely even sure why you have a boner. You’ve always been into hot dudes, and you’re the only hot dude you’ve seen. All you can figure is that it had something to do with the weird cat game that Twilight Velvet had been playing with you. By the end of the night you had two bad hands; she didn’t care if you kept up the charade of normal petting. You had risked a shock once more, and got it immediately. Other than gripping the very base of her neck, you had pet the entirety of the top of her back, her sides, her chest floof, her underside neck, her chin, her face, and her ears. You even played it super risky and were tracing the spirals in her horn by the end. Not quite a standard cat pet, but it seemed to pacify her.

At the end, Velvet had simply finished her book. She closed it, stood up, thanked you for keeping her company and said that she was going to bed, with a recommendation for you to do the same. Then she left. No deep discussion. No words of wisdom. No heart to heart. Just an overly verbose “goodnight” and then she was gone.

You watch the pony clock, and figure it is something like three in the morning now. It’s been hours, you think. You aren’t sure that Velvet’s couch is a good long term solution for a sleeping arrangement. Maybe you should ask her for a bed? They have a large house, there’s probably a guest room or two in there. The main problem is almost certainly that the beds are too small. You’re also getting cabin fever.

Velvet is great and all, but you need to go outside. See the sun, run in the fresh air, find some saag to pour over rice. Anything. You’re basically in a new world. Why are you cooped up in a living room space?

The thought distracts you long enough to finally drift off to sleep, and you dreams are filled with cats. The strangest one is white, with purple streaks on it.





It’s afternoon. Both you and Velvet slept terribly late. You wonder if something kept her up, but you aren’t willing to ask. It’s not worth risking having to explain why you were up late. It’s weird enough that you have a dick, telling a pony lady about the problems you’re having with it seems a little much. Oddly, you’re comfortable with your discomfort. It means he’s further away, and these are really your thoughts.

She’s nervously looking towards the kitchen again as she sits on the couch. You know the phone is in there. You want to keep watching the show; Gumdrop Heart is about to find out that her father is actually Dill Bean, and not Royal Filigree like she’d thought her whole life, but it’s hard to focus when you keep thinking about Velvet.

You sigh, taking advantage of the commercial break on TV to ask her the question you’ve been putting off. “I’m guessing he didn’t come home last night?”

She looks up from her book, and for the first time since you’ve seen her she actually looks old and tired, exhausted to her bones. Her answer is flat and defeated, “No. He did not. I cried all night.”

Unsure of what to do at the awkward revelation, you reach for her.

She closes her eyes with a tired acceptance, and takes a deep breath as she turns her head away from you to hide her face. As you snake your arms round her body and pull her into a hug, her surprise is palpable. She softly laughs into your chest as she returns the hug. “I thought you were going to make me to remind you that I’m married again…”

You give her a light squeeze, “Maybe later. Right now you look like you could use a hug.” Hugs were a well known panacea in Pony culture, and were always welcome from a friend. The pony soap operas have taught you something useful at least.

She squeezes you back. “Thank you.”

After a few moments of relative quiet, she pulls herself out of the hug and smiles at you. Velvet looks like a new mare, all signs of her exhaustion are gone. “I needed that.”

You smile back, “Sorry. I’m still getting used to pony things.”

She nods, “You’ve been pretty good lately. I’d take you sightseeing if I felt comfortable leaving the house right now.” Her eyes dart to the kitchen.

You frown, “Have you heard from him at all? In the, what, three days I’ve been here?”

She shakes her head, “Not a word. He could be dead for all I know.”

You don’t know what to say, “I’m sorry.”

She rolls her eyes, “He’s done it before. It’s always when something big happens. The changelings, Sombra, The Long Night, Tirek, and so on. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Every time it happens I go from wandering the town and doing my job to immediately becoming a homebody. It’s not always just sitting on the couch. Sometimes I sew,” She nods to the throw with the hearts embroidered into it, “Sometimes I practice,” She nods to the trophies, “sometimes I craft,” a hoof points to the small ceramic figures of ponies being lovey, “And sometimes I loaf around and do nothing.” She gestures to the TV. “I’m used to this.”

The room takes on a new light. It’s still her sanctuary, but now you know why she needs it. You groan in frustration. “He could at least call.”

She grumps in acknowledgment, “Yes, he could. But I’m sure he has a list of priorities right now. He likes lists. He’s working his way down it. And at the very, very bottom is a penciled in ‘Call your wife.’”

You frown, “Yeah, that should be number one.”

She sighs, sinking back in the couch, “You know, I usually love how much he adheres to his checklists. He can’t get anything done without them.” A small smile creeps on her face.

You look at the TV, the show is back on. You look at Velvet. Something urges you to watch the TV, but you ignore it. It’s not his body anymore, and it needs to get used to you. “Tell me about him.”

Velvet looks at you in surprise, and then smiles as she leans forward from the couch. Her book is set down completely, and her voice has a tinge of excitement, “Oh! Where to start. He’s gorgeous, as you can see…”

Her eyes drift to one of the photos, and yours follow. Honestly he looks like any other pony stallion to you. Maybe if you meet him in person you’ll form an opinion, but as far as you can tell he’s got the same generic body shape most of them do. You try to find something to add, “Yeah, he’s got a nice shade of blue going on, doesn’t he?”

Velvet’s smile turns into a dreamy sigh, “Oh, stars, yes! His colors are just perfect. And that hair, those hooves, and that chin!” She gives a soft animal growl of approval, “I mean, Rawr, right? He’s just amazing!”

You smile back, and she continues on. You do manage to pay attention, but something becomes clear the longer you listen. This pony, Twilight Velvet, is absolutely head over heels (head over tail now?) in love with Night Light. Her voice drips with admiration, and even her posture changes as she describes every little detail about him. How he likes late nights, how he’s so romantic, how he’s such a good father, and it keeps going.

Your eyes flicker to the TV, and with disappointment you notice that Gumdrop Heart is running into the woods. You’ll have to catch up later. For now, you focus on Velvet and listen to her. Her face is lit with joy as she continues talking about her husband and his seemingly infinite virtues. You’ve burst a pipe, and now have no way to close it until the water runs out.

As she keeps on, you add little details, agree with her here and there, and generally are a good friend. She needs this, and you know it. As it goes on, you feel your body growing restless. This isn’t how He acts. He wants to be mean. He wants to watch TV. You force Him down. He’s you now, He needs to accept this.

Smiling, you and Velvet talk through the afternoon until the room is lit in an amber glow by the setting sun.

The phone never rings.





It’s evening now. Velvet made some sort of salad for dinner. You had to pick out a few of the flowers, but everything else was delicious. She’s sitting next to you reading, and the broadcast on the TV has just ended for the night.

She’s looking better, far more relaxed than she was in the morning. Sighing, you awkwardly tap your knee with your hand. His body is antsy. It needs to do something. You miss your cats. Gingerly, you reach to Velvet’s head.

She stops your hand with her magic, grabbing it fully in a pleasantly warm and tingly field of telekinesis. Her eyes flicker to yours with a hint of disgust. “Are we doing this, again?”

You guiltily smile, “I, uh, miss my cats.”

The tingle fades and her eyes bore deeper into yours. “I am not your cat.”

You keep your hand out as you slowly reach forward. Something about the way she says it hurts, but you don’t really mind. She’s just reminding you, “I know.”

Velvet’s eyes drift to your slowly moving hand and she bites her lip in thought. She doesn’t stop you when your hand touches her mane. As you gently stroke her head, she sighs. Her eyes are locked on yours again and her voice is timid and she speaks with an uncharacteristic nervousness, “Just… not my horn and not my face.” She pauses, her eyes glinting in the dim light as they follow down your long arm, “and do not grab my neck.”

Your smile starts easy, but quickly turns into a smirk as your mind settles on something, “No promises.”

She huffs, but doesn’t stop you. “… just don’t forget that I’m a married mare.”

It’s a tacit agreement. You are going to break the rules and she knows it. The thought excites you, even though it shouldn’t. Something about being actively mean to her makes your heart race in a strange way. As your hand strokes down her hair, she nervously begins to read her book.

Her mane is still luxurious, and you gently run it through your fingers as you lightly pull your hand down her neck and onto her back. This time you give her a full length pet, trailing from her head to the start of her tail. She shivers as you do it, but doesn’t say anything.

Minutes pass where you gently pat her head, then run your hand down the length of her back, and pull it off when you bump the little tail nub she has. She shivers the first few times, but after a while the full pet is a familiar sensation for both of you. Your cats would lift their tales and stick their butts up in the air when you did this. Velvet does not, though it’s not hard for you to guess why.

She’s a married mare, after all.

Chuckling, you reach up with your bad hand while you pet her with your good one. It’s a little awkward to reach across her body as you pet her head, but you manage to keep one hand on her head as your other runs down her back. When your fingers inevitably dip below her ear to her cheek, a low grunt of complaint surfaces from her chest and her shoulders tighten. Her tail swishes in complaint. You slowly pull your fingers back in response, but the second time you reach down her growl is quieter. After the third time, her nonverbal complaints stop and she’s fully relaxed. She doesn’t even look up in consideration for the fourth and fifth times.

You both already knew that you were going to do this.

Quickly, you reclaim the territories from the no-mans land. Her forehead, the base of her horn, her jaw, and a little on the side of her neck. She doesn’t really fight for them, and they aren’t completely against the three rules of “no face, no horn, and no neck-grab”. Your hands taunt her like they belong there.

She isn’t aggressively seeking contact like she had been at the end of last night, but it’s still early. Carefully, you test one of the actual off limits zones by trailing a finger up her horn. She momentarily freezes, but there’s no other response. After a few strokes, it’s as much your territory as the needy little spot behind her ear. The finger on her jaw moves to her chin, and she shivers once. The second time, there’s no shiver.

There’s no battle this time. Aside from her subdued body language, it’s almost like you just picked up where you left off last night. 

There’s one more thing missing, though. One lock that you actually need the key for. The strange victory you only got once yesterday, but seemed to be secret for turning her into a cat. You worry that she might zap you again, but you aren’t going to let that stop you from trying.

Cautiously, you move one hand back to her head and let the other do a full pet. Both are completely in the safe zone, but you’re still nervous. You wonder if she can tell. Can she hear your increased breathing? Can she feel the slight shake in your hands as you pet her? Maybe she can smell your excitement… 

Or maybe she has no idea. She’s absorbed in her book merely letting you do what you want with your territories. You lean forward and quietly whisper to her as you’re petting her, “Velvet?”

She looks up from her book, seemingly blinking awake as she’s distracted by you, “Hmm?”

You smile darkly as you enact your plan, “Aren’t you going to meow for me?”

Her eyes lock with yours, and then go wide. Your quarter second distraction works. As you do the full body pet, you stop at the scruff and firmly grab her. Her book falls to the floor, bouncing once and then laying shut. You give her scruff a squeeze and her legs kick out from underneath her, then go limp. Velvet’s surprised eyes are locked with yours.

You pick her up again, and she can’t do anything about it. As you pick her up with one hand, you use the other to settle her in your lap, like she’s a cat. Like she’s your cat.

She can’t turn her head, but her eyes follow you like you’re the only thing in the world. You like the feeling, though it’s odd how she’s forced to watch you with a side eye because you settled her lengthwise across your lap. You aren’t going to turn her facing you, there isn’t enough room on your lap, and you aren’t going to let her go just yet.

You don’t know what’s going to happen when you do let her go. Will she be furious? Will she run off to the bathroom again? In the back of your mind, you’re worried that the grip will cause her to brown note on the couch, but you shrug it off deciding not to think about that.

You hold onto her, slowly petting her in your lap with one hand and holding her firmly with the other. She doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, doesn’t even try to talk this time. It’s like she’s completely and utterly pacified. You close your eyes, and she’s your cat. Perhaps cruelly, you take your time.

As you pet her, sometimes she shivers. Her whole body twitches, ever so slightly when your hand runs from her horn to her tail. The sensation of having her completely at your mercy makes you shiver as well. This doesn’t entirely feel like innocently petting one of your kitties. Something is happening inside of you, and you like it.

You like it a lot.

He likes it, too. Your mind and body are in harmony as you extend the same little bit of selfish cruelty that you did yesterday, but perhaps with a different motivation. Yesterday you just wanted her to be your cat. In this moment she is, but you want her to do more. “Velvet, I’m not letting you go until you meow for me.”

She hiccups.

Your hand digs deeper into her back as you stroke her, almost scratching down her length as your grip slightly tightens around her neck scruff. She lets out a strange sound, like a soft, high pitch squeal. It almost sounds like a meow, but you can’t make it out. It was too animalistic, and not cat-enough for your satisfaction.

You lean down. “Close. But this time, I want to hear you actually meow.”

Her eyes are watering. You wonder if this hurts her. Her breathing is shallow, and her mouth is moving, but you can’t hear anything. You keep slowly petting her. Running your hand through her luxurious hair. After some time, you take your full body pet and run it through her tail, lifting it up in the air as you admire how well she takes care of it. It’s not just beautiful, it’s sleek and well groomed.

As you hold it up to admire it, you mess up the stripes with your fiddling. The clear white and purple lengths get muddied into a pale purple mess that you scrunch up. You give it a gentle tug as you twirl some of the strands around your fingers.

Velvet suddenly shivers once violently, and her back legs quiver. As you hold her tail, the base flickers left, then right, then left. You remember how your cats would flick their tails when they were pet sometimes, and the sight puts a nostalgic smile on your face.

She takes a deep breath, and a long drawn out noise fills the house. It’s her voice, and she says one slow word that starts off clear and precise but then trails off into a warbling nothing, “MeooOowWwWww…”

You let go of her tail, and it flops gracelessly back between her still quivering legs. Still holding her scruff, you take your now free hand and grab her by the chin, turning her to face you proper. Her eyes are still wide, though wet with tears, and she still can’t look away from you. Her mouth is slack, but drool stains her lips and chin. Her face is flushed in pink hues, and you see her tongue shivering in her mouth.

You lean down to get close to her, and let her know that you’re satisfied, “That’s a good pussy cat.”

She shivers, and you gently relax the grip on her neck scruff. As you let go, she starts to breathe normal, and then heavily. She stays silently watching you, lounged across your lap as her breathing rapidly increases. Tears well up in her eyes, and then are blinked down her cheek.

You watch her curiously as you slowly pet her with full pets. She doesn’t move, just watches you with heavy breathing. You slip a hand under her chin and softly scratch her there. He eyes flutter, and she leans into it before she violently shakes her head. Suddenly, Velvet rolls off of your lap and scrambles to the floor. She looks at you over her shoulder, makes to say something, then bites her lip.

She runs to the bathroom without saying what she wanted to.

Pony brown note. You shrug, wondering how much longer you could have risked holding her. You held her captive a hell of a lot longer than last time. Now that she’s gone, you have time to think.

Your body is shaking as well. Adrenaline courses through you, and you don’t know why. Even your breath is fast and shallow. Uncomfortably, you realize you have an erection. God, you hate that thing. It kind of hurts in your pants, being bent forward like that. As you look down to inspect yourself, you put your hands in your pants and shuffle it around so it’s pointing up in your pants instead of bent forward. 

That feels so much better.

Laying back in the couch, your dick finally somewhat comfortable, you drape both arms across the couch back and tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling.

Why are you doing this? You like Velvet. You don’t want to embarrass or hurt her. Something about her makes you want to do these things to her, and you don’t understand it. You can excuse, and even understand the petting. Even the “bad” petting. But you just crossed a line, a line you already knew about from yesterday. You don’t know why you keep pressing her.

She’s a married mare. The thought rings through your mind. It’s what she would say if she was in the right head space, but she seems as torn up about this as you. You aren’t sure why “The Grip” has such an effect on you, but you’re pretty sure it’s because it has a big effect on her. Yesterday it turned some sort of key in her behavior. After “The Grip” she really felt like a cat. Like your cat.

You don’t know what her being married has to do with any of this, but she says that any time you compliment her or do something out of the bounds of normal. A thought rings through your mind, and you’re not sure it’s yours. You should respect that. She loves Night Light, actually truly loves him. The thought makes you weirdly cold and slightly frustrated. Are you feeling guilty? Whatever this thing you’re doing is, it’s something weird, and it’s something that he might be upset about.

Then again, you’ve always been a selfish person. So maybe that’s not your thought. Maybe that’s his. Groaning, you put your hands over your face. Why is this a thing? Why does it feel sort of wrong, and why should you care?

After a few minutes of you contemplating what you should do, a noise gets your attention. You look up.

It’s Velvet. She’s fixed her mane and tail again. She smells of lavender, and her hooves are shiny. She looks at you, and her look is flat, almost disappointed as she coldly stares at you. She’s calm and composed.

You don’t say anything, you just keep laying back in the couch, watching her. She steps forward, smoothly and gracefully. You prepare to be chastised. She looks like she’s going to tear you a new one, and maybe you deserve it. Looking at her more closely, you don’t see anger exactly. Instead, there’s nothing on her face but an uneasy serenity.

She climbs on the couch, and stands up on it. You’re pretty sure that’s not appropriate in pony culture, but it puts her almost at head height with you. Maybe she just wants to be eye height with you when she tears you a new one. Confused, you have to lean back as she steps over your lap, then turns and sits down on it, facing you. She’s right in your face, and you still can’t read her.

She’s either beyond pissed, or she’s cracked somehow. She glances from you and looks at the kitchen, where the phone is. Then she looks back. She’s an inch from your face. She puts her hooves over your shoulder, and the inch between disappears as she presses her chest against yours. You feel her legs adjust, and you realize that she’s straddling you, her back end resting solidly in your lap and her tail cascading off the couch between your legs.

Her voice is quiet and calm when she speaks, and her breath is hot and moist as you breath it in, “I’m a married mare.”

Somehow, the familiar words make you shiver. You take your hands from behind the couch and slide them under her forearms. It’s easy to reach her back from here. You have full access to her neck, her head, her tail, her horn, anything you want. You take a deep breath, watching as she rises and falls with your chest.

Her statement wasn’t a question, but you answer anyways, “I don’t care.”

Her calm, eyes flutter and she presses her face into you. Her lips press against yours, surprising you with how soft they are. They slightly stick, and they’re warm and sweet as she pulls away. Her breath is heavy, and blows from her snout like it’s heat from a fire.

You’re surprised by the kiss, but you don’t let it stop you. You never had experience with this sort of thing before you died, so you aren’t sure what to do.

Velvet’s voice is low, and something about it makes your heart skip a beat, “I know.”

She knows. Of course she knows. You’ve been ignoring her boundaries since you got here. Whether that’s you or him, it doesn’t matter. It’s the “you” that Velvet’s been living with. And now she’s here, in your lap and with her hooves draped over your shoulders.

Curiously, you begin to pet her. One hand on each side as you firmly, but gently run down the length of her body. You don’t go over the top, but down her sides. Your fingers dig through her fur as they run across her cutie mark. Something about that act feels taboo. Cutie marks are sacred. You’ve never seen a pony muss up another’s cutie mark, even in the most risque TV soap.

Velvet shudders, then leans in for another kiss.

You dig your fingers in, grasping at the flesh under her flanks as she plants another hot kiss on your lips. Your noses touch, and you both shiver.

Your greedy hands fully mess up her shiny coat, and she grinds against you. Suddenly, you’re very aware of the cock that you tucked up earlier. It’s hard, rock hard, and something soft and warm is rubbing it as she continues to press into you.

You’re confused, but you can work with this. “This is nice, Velvet.”

She leans forward, whispering in your ear, “Here’s the rules, Mister. Tonight, you pet me. I’ll meow for you. I’ll purr. I’ll even lick you when you do a good job.” Her tongue slips behind your ear, and…

Holy shit is that new. Your breath sucks in, and your dick gives a twitch as a warm rush floods your body.

Her voice is low and sweet. “I’ll be your pussy cat.” She pulls back, and glares at you intensely, “But I’m still married. You can have my neck, you can play with my tail, you can snuggle and even kiss me. I’ll be a good cat, but nothing more.”

You furrow your brow.

She glares at you, “Anything under my tail is off limits. And I mean it this time.” She gives you a quick, angry kiss. Her lips are hot and hard. “If you try to push it, if you try to trick me or distract me, or…” She gives you another hot kiss, this time slightly biting your lip. The pain is quick but sharp, it fades as her lips leave yours, “Force me,” her breath is heavy as her half lidded eyes glance over her shoulder, toward the kitchen. She gets a far away look as she tells you her rules, “Then I’m not going to do anything.”

You freeze. That’s not what you expected to hear.

She shivers as she relaxes down, settling her head under your chin as she speaks quietly into your chest. Her voice sounds defeated and she’s looking at the kitchen from the crook of your neck, “I wont stop you at all. I’m needy, lonely, and desperate. I’ll let you do anything you want to me as long as you touch me.”

That doesn’t feel much like a threat; it feels like an offer. You gulp, your hands trailing lower down her back to the base of her tail. Her confession bounces around in your brain as you play with her soft tail. You’d been thinking like she’s a pet cat. She’s been thinking like this was a sex thing. Deep down, maybe you knew that. The thrill you got when she meowed for you was far from innocent.

Your cock throbs between your bodies, held back from her hot underbelly by your pants. Velvet isn’t looking at you. She’s resting her head in the crook of your neck, pressing slightly into it. You feel her breathe, and slightly squirm.

He wants to fuck her. He wants to wrap that cute little GILF who is so full of love around his cock and make her scream. You gulp. You do, too. As you try to imagine it, you realize that you haven’t seen under her tail. You don’t even know what to imagine. All the ponies on the soaps, even the dirtier ones, kept their tails just barely covering everything. Velvet’s never been close to exposing herself to you. Even when she was irritated and swishing her tail, she always kept the base covered.

Except that once. The time you lifted her tail to play with it while you held her neck. You hadn’t thought about that angle when it happened, but now you realize that you could have seen anything. There was no way she had been covered down there. Maybe that was the moment for her? Maybe that little exposure was the pony equivalent to pulling down her panties? You had her trapped and helpless, and you just wantonly exposed her to the world. You shiver, remembering your past life. Yeah, some big dumb brute doing that to you would have made old you fucking melt.

Now that you understand what you've actually done to her, the new you is melting at the thought of it, too. Well, hardening at least. You rub up her spine with one hand, fluffing her fur the wrong way and messing it up as you slowly trail your hand to her neck, then sliding into her mane to grasp her scalp with the flat of your palm.

Your dick feels heat burning through your clothes. Her need practically pulses through the thin fabric of your pants in waves of tingling heat. She’s not just hot down there, she's quivering – grinding her far too soft flesh against your all too hard self. Her head feels warm under your palm, and you nervously lick your lips. She’s also hot on top. All of her is burning up. Slowly, your lower hand grasps the little fleshy nub at the base of her tail; you think it’s called a dock. Your fingers curl around it, and the back of your knuckles feel the heat radiating directly from underneath, like they’re too close to a candle.

She squirms. Her dock wiggles in your hand as she tries to shift her tail, but you’re stronger. You hold it still until she stops wriggling it. She squeaks under your chin, her mouth open and pressed against your neck now. It’s not quite a kiss, but it’s also not clearly not a kiss. You press her head into your neck with your palm. She breathes on you, then you feel her tongue. It’s wet, and hot.

She had said that she’d lick you if you did a good job. You seem to be doing a good job.

You pull the dock to the side, looking down her back as you force her to expose herself again – this time with intent. The tail base shifts, but the tip stays between your knees dangling off the couch. Her dock twitches and struggles as she fights to keep herself covered. You can’t see underneath, the angle she’s at doesn’t allow for it, but she’s exposed and you both know it.

Velvet’s licking tongue turns into a nervous nibble. The bite isn’t painful, nor is it firm, but it’s there. You can’t tell if she’s chastising you, or if this is a nervous biting reaction. Either way, it’s as close as she gets to complaining. You hold her tail to the side until she relaxes. Your hand stays firm as she wriggles. Until she lets go of the bite, and her tail stops quivering. She shivers as you move it back, and her mouth turns from a sharp biting thing into a warm, soft wet thing again. Her tongue feels even hotter than before as it soothes the place she bit.

You chuckle low as you pull her tail to the other side. She tenses, her body suddenly hard as she momentarily fights you. The struggling is shorter this time, she’s fighting herself more than you. She’s exposed again, this time breathing heavily into your neck as she relaxes into it.

It doesn’t take long. After only a few minutes, it’s obvious to both of you what's happened. You’ve claimed more territory; more of her. She doesn’t fight you over it anymore. Her tail dock is yours, and it’s conquered. As you toy with your new tail, you start to pet her again with your other hand, re-exploring all the territory that you own now that the newest battle is over. 

Her horn tingles as you rub it. Her neck is burning. Her mouth opens for your hand as you bring it close, and her tongue is longer than you thought. You linger there, surprised at the sensuality of having your hand sucked. Your cock aches, desperate to replace your finger and He screams in your mind but you shush him. This is your body, and you’re going to do this your way.

Curiously, you push your fingers deeper in her mouth. She opens wide, and lets you. You feel the inside of her jaw, where her teeth sink into her gums, across the rough roof of her mouth, and even the delicate soft pallet near the back. Her spit soaks you, and she makes a slight choking sound when you get too far back towards her throat, but doesn’t complain or move away. Carefully, you pull your hand out.

That was new and unexpected territory, but it’s yours now. You didn’t even have to conquer it, she surrendered it. Gifted it even.

You grab her by the chin with your drool covered hand, and lift her face up and out to look at you. She’s blushing fiercely, and when your eyes meet, hers flutter. Her face is inscrutable. She clearly likes this, but there’s more going on behind her unusually timid eyes.

You push her tail fully to the side, as far as her little dock will bend. She winces slightly, but doesn’t complain. The tip drags across your knee, and now rests outside of your lap. Nervously, she glances away from you, down and to the side for a moment before she looks back.

Your grip on her dock loosens, but she doesn’t move it back. Slowly, you let go, keeping your loose fist curled around it but testing what she does. The tail stays over your knee.

She bites her lip, clearly thinking hard on something, then she quietly begs one more time in a soft whisper, “Not under…" Her voice quivers as she repeats herself, "I said not under...” 

She’s not looking at you when she says it. She’s looking toward the kitchen. Her eyes are desperate and full of longing. She blinks. Is she hoping the phone rings? 

It doesn’t. There’s a moment of silence, then she looks back at you. You don’t respond to her little request. It isn't actually for you anyways. She tries again, this time looking at your eyes, "Please don't..."

She's talking at you, but the words are obviously for herself. As you watch her face, you extend your middle finger downward, and firmly press it towards her flesh. You feel something hot and hard, with little rough ridges nestled immediately under her tail. Her eyes go wide in surprise, as though she honestly didn't expect you to touch her there. After an eye locked moment of stunned silence, she reacts with a twitch of her whole body.

Her head jerks upward and her lower body flees from your invading touch by pressing into your abdomen as she attempts to move away from your hand, but you still hold her firmly by the tail. She moves quickly, looking over her shoulder and down at her tail, then back up at you with wide, now fearful eyes.

She’s biting her bottom lip hard, and her body is pressed tightly into you. Your finger loses purchase at the sudden jolt that runs through her, but your fist is still gripped around her tail. She’s breathing heavily through her snout, and her eyes look a little wild as they flicker from over her shoulder to you, back and forth rapidly. Clearly she's contemplating something after her little jump.

You smirk in amusement at her antics while her eyebrows furrow in concentration. She un-bites her bottom lip only to bite the top one, then takes a deep breath. She's shaking.

You snake your hand from her chin to the bottom of her horn, and grasp her firmly as you apply pressure downward, holding her in place. Her eyes lock onto yours again, her nervous flickering stopping. She's come to some sort of decision, and now she’s holding her breath.

You wonder if she's going to fry you as your finger finds purchase once again, and you give a gentle tap to her puckered flesh.

Her reaction is to press into you, but your abdomen is unyielding. She tries to push upwards, but she’s held down by your firm hand. There’s nowhere for her to escape to as her entire body rams into you ineffectively. Even her dock shivers in your grasp, but you re-tighten your fist to remind her that it’s your dock right now, not hers.

Velvet stares at you, seemingly terrified but blushing profusely and making no move to stop you. She’s perfectly still, doesn’t say anything or make any movements. She’s waiting for you, so you do it again.

This time you tap harder.

She lurches again, her body already smoothly compressed into yours and unable to really move. She closes her eyes, screwing them shut and then opening them again. She almost looks like she’s in pain, but you know you’re not hurting her.

Her voice is desperate and breathy, but it’s impossible to tell what exactly she’s begging for in the jumble of words that slip from her lips, “Mister… don’t… I can’t… not… It’s not… I told you not... you’re under… my tail.”

She's still fighting with herself, so you decide to help her decide. Instead of holding her by the horn, you slip your hand down to her neck. Slowly, you apply pressure at the base, starting the grip. You keep it steady instead of instantly squeezing like you did before. You want to give her plenty of opportunity before it happens. She won’t have any excuses. This isn’t tricking her, it isn’t beating her, and you aren’t forcing her—yet. She could stop this at any time, and you need her to understand that.

She feels it, and shakes her head in denial as she bites a lip. She doesn’t struggle to get away, or light her horn to zap you. She doesn’t even growl. If anything, it feels like she’s pressing her neck into your grip, though it may just be her moving away from the invading finger underneath her tail. She looks at you one more time, tears forming on her face as she whispers, more to herself than to you, “I… I’m a married mare.”

“I don’t think that matters, does it?” Your answer is cruel, and giving it makes your heart race. She makes it seem like its your fault, but you’re in this together. You remind her of that as you fully squeeze her neck in your grip.

She goes limp over your body, her tail pushes all the way to the side. Her breathing is rapid and shallow. You smush her now limp body into your chest with your grip, relishing how her squishy skin feels on you. Her smooth downy fur underneath her body must feel luxurious. Maybe you’ll take your shirt off later to feel her fur against your skin.

Your finger presses again. This time, her asshole isn’t hard. It’s loose and soft. You let go of her tail, and move your whole hand down, exploring her properly.

Velvet squeaks, and squirms as you grope her. She's not as loud as her last meow, but it’s easily the most she’s squirmed while in “The Grip”. Her smooth flanks come to a valley under her tail, and nestled in the valley is a ring of hot flesh. You know enough about anatomy to know that it’s her asshole. You poke at it, feeling and grasping around it. It’s kind of squishy now, not firm, but it’s still hot.

You gingerly put a finger inside. The tip goes in easy, and you stretch it from side to side, playing with her pliant, hot inner flesh.

You’ve conquered more territory, and Velvet shivers uncontrollably against you. She’s mumbling something quietly, but either she can’t form words or she’s too quiet for you to understand. You watch her lips as she keeps moving them around her quivering tongue. She’s drooling, and her eyes are locked on yours. Is she trying to tell you something?

You curl your finger, relishing the hot, stretchy flesh. Her asshole is dry, but forgiving. Maybe you are hurting her. You slowly pull your finger out, and there is a wet sucking sound. Velvet blinks, and some tears fall down her cheeks. 

Slowly, you pull her face to yours as you press the soft flesh around her asshole. It’s fur less, unlike the rest of her. Her skin is warm and stretchy, and as you poke it you relish the squishiness of it. She’s soft here, too. Every part of this pony is amazingly soft.

Her open mouth meets yours, and you taste her. Her spit is flavored like wild berries. Her mouth is larger than yours, and her tongue is huge. It’s wide and flat, filling the bottom of her mouth with its quivering mass. Yours presses into it, and you breathe into her. She has no choice but accept it.

She already had her chance to stop this; now it's too late.

Her eyes are shimmering and wet. She’s not sobbing, but the trickle of moisture down her cheek is apparent. You press above her asshole and under her dock, digging slightly into her soft skin with your fingers. It probably does hurt her a little, but not much.

She shivers, and her tail shakes over your leg. 

You pull out of the weird kiss to look at her. She’s looking back, her eyes focused on you through the wet shine. You’re sure that you're all she can see. 

“I cannot begin to describe how cute and how hot you are, Velvet.”

Her already red face flushes. You pull her away from your head, wondering what happened to your cute little kitty. This isn’t the kitty cat at all. This is something else. Still, it’s something you want.

Velvet doesn’t respond when you move your hand from under her tail to under her mouth. You start wiping up her drool, wetting your fingers with the surprisingly thick spit. It’s not quite enough.

“Spit.” Your command is simple, but you’re curious if she’ll be able to. The paralysis that “The Grip” puts her under doesn’t seem complete, she can overcome it if she tries. You briefly wonder if “The Grip” is a nerve thing, a brain thing, or some magic pony thing. Your dick twitches as you consider that it might be a “Velvet” thing. That thought is weirdly hot.

Her eyes dart to your hand, then at you. Her tongue lurches forward, and her lips move more erratically. It looks like she’s trying to pucker them. She barely manages, and a small squirt of drool oozes out. It coats your finger like honey. 

You smirk, amused and strangely aroused at her struggling. “Let’s find out if that’s enough.”

Velvet looks back to your eyes as you carefully move your hand back to her butt. You don’t want to scrape off the spit by rubbing it in her fur. This time when you press into her asshole, her sphincter gently flexes around your finger and she exhales hotly into your face. 

Your finger sinks in. First the tip goes in, and you give it a little swirl. She stretches easily. Then you push it deeper, and you’re at your knuckle. You give a little curl, sliding your finger against the slackened muscles. Velvet hiccups. You push it deeper, and it glides against the spit slickened walls. Quickly enough, your middle finger is fully inside, and your palm is resting against her dock. The rest of your fingers grab the soft flesh around her ass, and you squeeze.

She moans unintelligibly as you explore her insides. Slowly, you relax your grip on her neck. She’s shivering, and slumps down into you, pushing backwards into your violating grasp as her slack body slowly regains it’s function.

Her face is pressed into your neck. You feel her eyes closed, streaming wet tears as her mouth nibbles on you. She licks you in little, short bursts whenever your finger curls inside her. Her soft tongue scrapes your flesh, lavishing you with her warmth.

Suddenly, she shudders. She’s still for a moment and her sphincter tightens around your finger. It squeezes almost painfully and her tail flicks to the side under your palm, straining as far as it can. She mutters into your neck, at first a whisper, “No..”

You grab her by the horn, tilting her head back so you can see her face. She’s glassy eyed and her cheeks are red. Her slack eyes lock onto yours, and she squeezes your finger with her ass again. “No.”

This time she says it louder. It’s not for you. You’re not who she’s telling to stop. She's hardly been talking to you at all.

Her eyes flicker to the kitchen, then back to you, back to the kitchen for a moment, then settle on your own. Her pupils shrink and her mouth opens. This time she utters a loud, drawn out denial that lifts in timbre as it goes on. “Noooo...OoooOooo”

You keep fingering her asshole, molesting her ass as she rides out whatever you’re doing to her. She gyrates into you, and her asshole clenches and unclenches. She has a moment where she shakes her head, her eyes screwed tightly shut as she briefly denies what you’re doing with her in well spoken and coherent speech, “This isn’t happening!”

You smirk, using your firm grip on her horn to turn her head and force her to watch you again, “Yes it is, Pussy-Cat.”

She freezes when you tell her that. Her eyes shine for a moment and her horn grows noticeably hot under your hand. Her mouth gapes opens like a fish out of water, and you feel something warm trickle down over your pants. You hear her let out a forced, choked grunt as she squeezes your finger tight enough to almost hurt.

Velvet’s pupils get large again and she focuses far away. Then she shudders. Her legs kick, and she pulls you into her with her hooves, not that you let her close the distance. She heaves a hot breath, her uncomfortably warm horn locked in your grasp,

Slowly, she relaxes. Velvet forces stuttering breaths as her eyes re-focus on you. You keep fingering her asshole, feeling it loosen up as she relaxes into your molesting hand.

Her eyes are filled with tears. She tries to say it with her stuttering, breathless voice, but she can’t, “We just… I just…”

You don't have any problem saying it, “You just came, Pussy-Cat. Here I just wanted a kitty to pet…” You lean forward, whispering in her ear, “But you wanted to be a whore.”

She freezes, stiffening up as you keep slowly fingering her asshole. “This is wrong. I’m too old for you. I’m married. I told you not to…”

You cut her off. “You’re sexy as fuck, and we both like this, don’t we?”

She doesn’t say anything, she only lets her eyes drift to the side.

You squeeze her ass hard, curling the finger inside of her. She shivers and looks back to you.

“I asked if you liked it, Pussy-Cat. Tell me.” Your voice is suddenly cruel.

She shivers, and nods—afraid to say the words.

You smirk, taking your hand off her horn and sliding it down her neck. “Use your words, Pussy-Cat.”

She glares at you, obviously angry but also breathing heavier from your attention. “I do…” 

You kiss her. This isn’t one sided anymore. She isn't paralyzed, she isn’t surprising you and it isn’t the exploratory peck she gave you earlier. Both of your mouths are open, and your tongues entwine. It’s still strange. Her mouth is larger, and her tongue is huge, but you make her feel you. You still command her lips with yours. 

Your faces are mashed into each others as your finger keeps reminding her that her ass is your territory now. She pulls away, glances down over her back and shivers. She doesn’t look back at you, instead keeping her face shyly hidden to the side. Her voice is quiet as she speaks, she’s unsure, “I’ve never done anything like this.”

You chuckle in amusement. “You’ve never played with your ass?”

She glances up at you, blushing profusely, “He thinks it’s gross.”

You smile wide, “I sure as fuck don’t. You have the cutest little tush I’ve see. I just want to touch it, grab it, stretch it, and break it.”

She glances back, her eyes wider and a tinge of fear in her voice, “Break it?”

Your grin gets evil as you press your index finger in with your middle finger. She grunts, but flexes to allow it. Your second finger slides in with the other, and you feel her skin dragging with it. The spit lube isn’t holding out. You’re going to need more if you want to jam another finger in. She winces, but doesn’t complain.

She looks at you, her face flushed and her ass filled with your fingers. Your dick throbs between you and she shivers. “This is weird… This is wrong. We can’t be doing this… I can’t be doing this!”

You kiss her again, this time she’s stiff and doesn’t kiss back. Maybe you pushed too far with that second finger. You slip from the kiss to her ear, where you whisper to her, “You just did and it was the sexiest thing in the world when you came. I can't see it, but I'm sure your cute little pussy is soaked from all the fun we just had.”

She flushes warm against your neck, and you pull the second finger out of her tight hole. She visibly relaxes when you do, and she moans back with a whine, “Why are you doing this to me?”

You return to slowly thrusting into her with your middle finger, easily sliding it all the way in. Her warm sphincter pressing tightly against the base of your finger with each thrust, and clenches it in rhythm with you. Her clenching asshole almost feels like a ring around your finger. She’s warm inside, and stretchy. There’s a surprising amount of give at your finger tip. As you curl and thrust your finger, you’re sure that you're moving her insides. 

She groans into you, and you don’t answer her question. What are you supposed to say? She’s hot? She’s cute? She makes your dick tingle and you don’t know what to do about that? You have no morals? You never really have? Or have you?

You pause, suddenly uncomfortable, not with Velvet, but with yourself. Would you, the you before, really have fucked with a marriage bound in so much love? Your eyes flicker to a picture of Velvet and Night, standing on their hind legs back to back and smiling at the camera. They both have mischievous grins, like they’re two troublemakers. They look like they were made for each other.

The mare in the picture doesn’t look anything like the needy mare whose asshole you’re currently finger fucking. You grab her by her mane, close to her scalp, and roughly pull her head back. She winces, and moans at the same time as she blinks back some more tears. Pulling her hair probably hurts her like hell. It seems to turn her on more.

It used to turn you on. You always wished someone would pin you down, grab you by the hair and make you their slut. You growl angrily at her. She gets to live your dream. She’s lived some miraculous life of magic and wonder, and now she’s living your dream.

Angrily, you slam your finger roughly into her ass as you pull her hair. You’re not being loving. You’re pulling her up by her hair, lifting her off your body like some obscene finger puppet. She screams, kicking her legs and shifting her weight. She wraps her arms around your arm, supporting her weight to take some of it off her scalp.

She looks at you, tears streaming and her mouth open. She’s red faced, past the point of hiding anything. There’s nothing to hide. Everything you need to know you take in from a sparkle in her eyes.

She's afraid, and in pain. She's also never been this turned on before.

You don’t look at her lower half. You don’t care what her ass or pussy looks like. You watch her face as she cums again. She screams through grit teeth and you feel her squirt on your chest as she painfully rides out a grunting, screaming orgasm that neither of you were ready for. You’re hurting her, you're sure. You're also sure she doesn't mind right now.

The show doesn’t last long. It’s crude, it’s twisted, and it’s violently abrupt. You roughly set her back down, finally pulling your finger from her asshole with a loud squelch. She moans again, this time in relief. She’s still randomly kicking and quivering, still riding twitches from her orgasm. The room smells like sex and ass. 

She never once blinked. The whites of her eyes are red now from the crying. Her face is streaked with drool and tears while her lower half is glistening and wet. You’re not much better. You shirt has a big wet splotch in the middle, and you pants are soaked as well. 

Velvet's hair is a tangled, frizzled mess and it looks like she had sex. You suppose that’s about what happened. She sniffles. Her voice is cold and angry as she speaks into your chest, “Do I still look pretty to you, Mister?”. 

You take your dirty hand and rub it through her cutie mark as she keeps her face hidden. She's still dripping on your lap, still soaking through your pants. You clean your ass-hand off on her mark, mussing it up in the process while she refuses to look. Your other hand grabs her chin, and you force her to face you. “You’re beautiful.”

She holds back a sob as her eyes sparkle. “You’re sick. I’m sick. You’re…” She pushes off your lap and then scrambles off the couch, stumbling as she falls off the side. You reach down and scoop her in your arm, grabbing her before she lands on her head. 

You set her gently down, and she stumbles two steps away before she stops. She turns and looks at you, unsure of what to say. Her tail wrenches to the side as she stares, and your eyes wander. It’s the first time you’ve seen under her tail. 

Her little puffy asshole is round, and red as sin. It looks irritated and you know exactly why. More telling is her sloppy slit. The dark fleshy patch is longer, slightly stretched and drooling. It doesn’t look like a human’s, but it’s clearly her pussy. Her legs are matted with her arousal, and even the underside of her tail is coated in a wet sheen. Her little hole is leaking something clear and sticky.

You’re eyes drift back up to hers, and she’s watching you intently. Suddenly she smirks, just slightly. The lightest hint of a smile, but it’s there. It’s a strange counterpoint to the rest of her. Her body is wrecked and ruined, teary eyed and fucked up, while her smirk is surprisingly playful. You raise an eyebrow, and her ghost of a smirk morphs into a concerned frown as she realizes what she's doing. She shakes her head in sudden disgust, slams her tail back between her legs, and takes another two steps.

Where she stops again. This time, she looks curiously at you, and slowly swishes her tail to the side. You look at her puffy underside again. She does look a little like a real horse down there, but not entirely. There’s something alien about the way her little asshole is so round, and about the visibility of her slit. There’s an alluring, unearthly and distinctly equine appeal that you’ve never thought about before.

Her tail swishes back, covering her again, and your eyes drift up to her face. She meets your eyes and blushes, then turns and gracefully walks away. As she walks, her tail swishes slightly, but no more hidden flesh is revealed.

Your dick is still rock hard, and now that she’s gone you look down at your wet splattered pants and shirt. You’re going to need to do something about all three of these things.
> Unnamed (auto named on publish)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’ve been sitting on the couch with your head in your hands, staring down at your dick. It looks kind of weird. It’s his dick. Is it gay to touch it? Or is it fine? You’ve only touched it briefly when you peed, and even then you weren’t sure about it. And then when you showered.

To top it off, you’re covered in her, uh, what is this shit? It’s not pee and it’s not jizz. It’s like, girl spunk or discharge or something. Mare juice, since she’s a pony? It’s hot, but it’s kind of gross to just sit in it. You never were a squirter yourself, so everything about this is new.

You’re pondering this when Velvet comes back into the room, and politely coughs to get your attention.

“Ahem. Mister?”

You look up at her. She’s fixed her hair, and cleaned herself off. She smells of the lavender soap, and her hooves are shiny. If you hadn’t seen her wrecked body twenty minutes ago, you’d have no idea that she’s the one who squirted all over your shirt. Her eyes are focused intently on you, but she’s calm.

Notably, she doesn’t come particularly close. 

You grunt an awkward response, “Hi.”

She takes a tentative step forward, then nods at the clock. “It’s late, but we should clean up before bed… and we need to talk.”

You gesture at your shirt, “I don’t have any other clothes…”

She blushes, then deflates. “We’ll get you some tomorrow. For now, I’ll need to wash them.”

You shrug, then stand up and start undressing. She watches you curiously. As you lift your shirt over your head, the wet spot goes across you face and you smell it. It sends a tingle to your still erect dick, and you shudder. As you take it off, she pulls it from your grasp with magic. She’s looking at your chest intently. Smiling, you flex a pec and her eyes lock on the strange movement. You do the other, and her eyes flick to that side. She turns and blushes when you chuckle.

Her smooth purple and white hair half covers her eyes as she looks away in a huff. You tease her, “My pants and boxers are soaked. Are you gonna wash those, too?”

She turns back and glares at you, the blush gone. “Of course. Take them off.”

You momentarily freeze, “But then I’ll be naked?”

She continues to coldly glare, “So?”

Eh, why not. You already finger fucked her bum. She can look at your (his) body. You unbuckle your pants, and let them drop to the floor. She watches, but only with curiosity. Your hands pause on your boxers, then you ask her one more time, “Are you sure?”

She picks your pants up and glares, “Yes. I can see the stain from here. We have to wash it. Along with the couch…”

You look over your shoulder at the couch. Yeah, there was a little splash zone, wasn’t there? Shrugging, you drop your trousers and stand proudly naked. Your dick falls from the trouser waistband and sort of bounces as it points at her.

Velvet gasps, seemingly horrified. “Put that away!”

You roll your eyes, and pull your boxers back up. She stomps in response, “I need to wash those!”

“Okay…” you awkwardly drop them again.

She blushes, but doesn’t flinch this time. “I said to put that away! I’m serious, Mister. We need to talk about this.”

You pull your boxers back up. Velvet stomps up to you, and rips them down, pulling them to the ground, “I need those! I have to wash them!”

Your dick is inches from her face this time, and she freezes as it points at her again. 

You shrug, stepping out of the boxers and sliding them to her on the floor. “I’m getting mixed messages here, Velvet. Do you want me naked or not?”

She stays still, her eyes locked on it as she slowly and furiously responds, actual anger in her voice, “Just sheathe the damned thing, you disgusting animal.”

She’s close enough to grab. You still have a hard dick. Her head is dick height. He has ideas. You aren’t sure if they’re good ideas, but you’re on board. She doesn’t flinch as you snake your hand into her hair.

Velvet’s eyes look up to you, narrowing with a dangerous anger. “We need to clean up, Mister.”

Your hand grabs her scalp, behind her horn. Her head is still hot, and her horn is warm from the levitation she’s doing, “Velvet, I can’t put it away. I don’t have a sheathe. That’s what my clothes are for.”

Her eyes drift back down to your dick, “Oh.”

You lick your lips, “Also, I watched you cum twice. I’m new at this masculine thing. I don’t even know how to masturbate. I have no idea how much of a mess it’s going to make.”

She looks back up, her eyes narrowing further. “And?”

You smile, “If you’re going to clean up, it only makes sense to do it after I cum, too, right? Or are you the kind of gal that’s only out for your own entertainment?”

Her narrowed eyes go wide in disbelief, “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, I got you off twice tonight. I haven’t came at all since I got here. It only makes sense to return the favor before we clean up. Plus, I can’t put this thing away. It’s going to be erect until I do something with it.”

Velvet’s glare softens slightly as she thinks. She glances back down at your dick, then back up at you. Her tail swishes, and a blush forms on her cheeks as she mulls it over.

You gently scratch behind her ear, and she leans into it ever so slightly. “Plus, you promised to be my kitty-cat tonight. You promised you’d lick me if I did good, and I think I deserve a lick from my cute little pussy.”

Her blush deepens as you slowly press her head towards your cock. You can feel the heat from her breathing over your tip, and it is magical. She slightly pulls back, and you let her. She stays looking at it, and a sad lonely voice asks you, “Do… you really think I’m cute?”

“From the moment I saw you.”

She leans slightly forward, sniffing it. The rush of air around your cock is exhilarating, and it twitches slightly. “I’m married. We shouldn’t do this.”

That wasn’t for you, so you don’t respond. Instead you gently push her head toward your dick. She looks at you, then glances down. She’s pressing back, only pretending to fight you. Just enough that she can rationalize it in her head. She tried. You were too strong. That's what she'd tell herself.

You don’t really care what lies she tells herself when her mouth opens and you feel her wide, hot pony tongue press against your cock-head. The sensation is electrifying, “Holy Shit.” 

She glances up to glare at you, miffed by your vulgarity but not slowing down. Your dick slides into her mouth, gliding across her tongue. She can’t say anything as her mouth wraps around your cock, but her eyes look up to yours.

She looks strangely sad and excited. Like she’s disappointed in herself, but also gleeful to indulge her base desires. You don’t care. She’s hot inside, and wet. Her face is adorable all red and puffed as she starts to lick around your shaft.

She’s done this before. 

You shudder.

She’s good at this.

Her face slides forward, and you feel her snout pressed into the unkempt patch of pubic hair above your dick. She takes a deep breath of your scent as she lavishes the underside of your balls with her tongue. You feel her throat quake around your cock-head.

She’s real good at this.

You’ve never felt like this before. He’s in the back of your mind. He likes this. This is how it should be. You shiver, feeling her tongue lap at you as her warm lips squeeze your shaft. You’re happy with this.

He wants more. You figure why not?

You slide one hand down to her cheek, and put your other on the other side so that you’re holding her head in both hands. Slowly, you move her back and forth over your dick. The sensation is amazing. She knows exactly when to lick, exactly when to suck, and exactly when to squeeze and squish. And when your cock hits the back of her throat?

It feels like Velvet.

She’s focused, her eyes calm and easy. Something about having her so devoted to making you feel good makes you tingle. You want her like this all the time. He wants her.

He needs her.

You shiver as you push your Velvet deeper onto your dick. She’s yours right now. Every bit of her mind is focused on your cock, and every bit of her mouth is working it. Her cute little mouth is burning around your dick, and you want to mark it somehow. She needs to remember this moment.

Gently, you push deeper, forcing her mouth to open wider so you can get further. She stretches for you, and you feel your dick pop slightly down her throat. It isn’t much, but it’s there. You’re inside her neck. She’s frozen, watching you with calm, teary eyes. This clearly hurts her, but she’s also okay with it. You've come to realize that she's a tough little mare.

You stay like that for a moment, buried as deep as you can go while you stare at her face. It grows redder. Her eyes flutter, then refocus. She isn’t breathing. Tears run down her face faster and faster. She doesn’t pull back as you see her grow more relaxed, more limp. Slowly, her eyes start to roll back and limply leans into you. You feel a weak tap on your leg. She’s softly tapping you with her hooves, trying to tell you something.

You pull back, and a rush of air is pulled around your cock. She desperately breathes in through your pubes, taking whatever air she can get. You watch as her eyes refocus, and her breathing resumes around your cock as it’s settled on her tongue. Her snout is leaking mucus now. Her fur is matted and wet. She’s gasping, coughing, and choking around your dick.

But she doesn’t pull away. You let her catch her breath while you pump shallowly into her mouth. Just past her lips and across her tongue. Once she’s recovered, she doesn’t say anything, or even struggle when you push back deep in to her throat.

She locks eyes with you, and this time it’s too much. She’s willing. She’d let you do it again. She’d choke for your pleasure, and you both know it.

You pull slightly back, unsure of what to do. The feeling is coming from inside, a tingle that runs from your balls to your shaft, or does it start from the head? You’ve never felt this before but you know what it is.

“Velvet… I’m…” You try to tell her, to let her know that you’re there. It's happening for the first time..

She licks around your shaft and you can’t help it. Something erupts. A squirt from his dick and into her mouth. It feels like nothing you’ve experienced before. It’s euphoric. Your whole body shakes and you sink into her as another squirt happens. She licks you, never stopping as it happens. Her hot breath running through your groin and down your leg. Something drips down your leg, you think it’s her drool.

You squirt again, holding her cheeks tightly between your hands. You feel empty, as though she’s sucking your soul through your dick. Your body relaxes, and you sigh deeply, standing straighter. 

Velvet’s tongue is still around your dick, still licking it. It’s too much now, the sensation is tingling and almost hurting. Carefully, you push her back, and she opens her mouth slightly. There’s white goo inside, coating her tongue.

It’s your cum. Her cute little mouth is full of your cum. Shivering, you tilt her head back so you can get a better look. You use your hand to gently pull down her jaw. Her mouth is open, wide open, and you can see your cum staining it. It’s on her teeth, coating her tongue, smeared on the back of her throat.

She’s looking at you calmly with a blush on her face.

Your voice is shaking, there’s still one thing you want to see, “Swallow.”

Velvet blinks as you let go of her jaw. She closes her mouth for a moment, and you see her move her tongue inside. She stares at you, then blinks again as her throat slightly quivers. After a silent moment, she opens her mouth on her own. It’s clean.

He’s satisfied. She’s his whore. You lean down and kneel next to her so you’re at the same height. She looks at you with her still open mouth, and say what you feel. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Velvet blushes profusely, and you kiss her. She melts into the kiss. Her tongue is salty and rough, and her lips are dry and sticky. But she still tastes like Velvet.

As you pull away from the kiss you look at each other, just looking at each others eyes. She’s calm, and seemingly happy. You are too. That was not what you expected. It was wild, and crazy. You don’t know what you wanted, but you haven’t felt this satisfied and content since you came here.

“You are… scary good at that.” You compliment her awkwardly.

She winks, with a smile, “I’m a married mare, after all.” 

The wink and smile make you shiver, you like that. “I need a moment to catch my breath… You were like an animal.”

Velvet seems to puff with pride as she lifts up her hoof to her face. She licks it, like a cat grooming as she looks at you and smiles. “Meow!”





You’re naked. It’s kind of nice. Velvet is sitting next to you on the couch. You both cleaned the room, even the little splash zone on the couch. The heavy scent of lavender fills the room. You’ve washed up yourself, using the same soap she does. Both of you are quiet as you wait for the laundry to finish.

It’s late, far too late. Velvet chimes up. “We can’t do this again. This was a one time thing.”

You strongly disagree, but aren’t sure how to say that, “Why not?”

She sighs, and looks at you sadly, “I’m married, Mister. For real. I love Night Light, and his heart would be broken if he had any idea that I did… that with you.”

You shrug. You’ve never been a good person, “Then don’t tell him.”

She takes a deep breath, “I’m not going to. I can’t. And you can’t either.”

“Okay. Easy enough.”

She puts her hooves over her face, “This isn’t me! I’ve never done anything like this!”

You listen to her for a moment before you answer, “I don’t know what me is.”

She groans stands up from the couch, actively dusting herself off like some sort of spiritual cleaning. You watch her cute little movements and your eyes are drawn to her tail. A thought rings through your head, you still haven’t played with her pussy.

She looks at you and frowns. Her horn lights up and a quick shock in your hand disorients you. She’s glaring at you. “You can’t look at me like that. We can’t do that.”

You complain, “You don’t know what I was thinking.”

She glares, “You were staring at my tail and you had that look. The one you get before you do something you’re not supposed to. I might not know exactly what it was, but I got the general idea.”

You grumble, “But you’re so adorasexy! I mean, what do you expect me to do with you flaunting your soft little butt around and your cute face, and your gorgeous blue eyes, and even your attitude. You’re emotionally mature, a loving, caring wom...mare, but with the body and libido of a college girl.”

She’s staring at you with wide eyes, and you see a blush forming. Her tail swishes left and right, then swishes a little too far. You get a glance of her pussy, the dark skin looking soft and fuzzy. You want to touch it. 

She shakes her head angrily, and you feel a zap again, this time enough to make your hand tingly and nub. “And you have to stop complimenting me. It’s… too much.”

You grunt as you pull angrily on your numb hand. “It’s not my fault you’re a slut.”

Velvet opens her mouth, horrified at what you called her. “Take that back.”

You glare angrily back, trying to get feeling back in your hand, “No. I just wanted to pet you like a cat and squish your face or something. You’re the one that made it all weird and sexual.”

She huffs, now actually angry as she starts to yell. Her voice is surprisingly loud and gets louder as she screams, “Me? You think I caused this? I told you no horn, then you grab my horn. I told you no face, then you grab my face! And then, to top it off, you give me a fucking mating bite and make me meow for you like a cat! I had to run to the bathroom to masturbate. You sent me to my own bathroom where I desperately masturbated like a helpless filly in heat! Three Celestia damned times! I have two adult children! I’m too old for this!”

You suddenly smirk, feeling proud of yourself, “So I made you diddle yourself like you were a teen, huh? What a slut.”

She whips her head to the side in embarrassment and anger. “I can’t do this right now! Go to bed. Your clothes will be done in the morning. I can’t look at you, you make me so…” She stomps her hoof and screams, “Argh!”

As she walks away her tail swishes angrily from side to side, and you get a clear view of her backside. Licking your lips, you shout after her, “Horny! I make you horny!”

A magic zap goes flying by your head as she walks away, and you briefly wonder if maybe you shouldn’t be taunting the emotionally distraught powerful unicorn. Then your eyes lock on her tail. It’s pressed to the side as she walks, no longer swishing and just showing you everything. 

Better still, she walks herself stiffly to the bathroom, and not towards her bedroom.

Sitting back on the couch, you decide that it absolutely was worth it. She probably agrees with you right now. At least she will until she’s finished diddling herself like a filly in heat.





The morning comes and you feel pretty good. Velvet, though, is a little grumpy. She dumped your clothes on you to wake you up, and demanded that you get dressed. You briefly considered asking what crawled up her asshole, then remembered that it was you.

With that happy memory, nothing could ruin your morning. First, you begged her to take you out of the house. She angrily denied you, claiming that you were too crude and dangerous to be around other ponies.

You felt that was a rude response on her part, but didn't press it. For breakfast, she made oatmeal. It was bland, and had no sugar. She left it in front of you, then walked away. You still enjoyed it, and even relished the warmth it had.

Soon enough, you were planted on the couch watching television and she was there as well buried in one of her books. Admittedly, she was sitting much further from you than she usually did, but she was still there. And that brings you up to now.

As you watch the continuing saga of Gumdrop Heart, the phone rings. Velvet is up and out like a lightning bolt. Before the second ring even considered chiming, she's already answering. Her voice is quiet, but happy. You can't make out what she's saying, so you do your best to sneak closer.

Her voice is now slightly more firm, "Eight tonight? Don't toy with me, Night. If you can't make it, then that's fine. I just need to hear from you!"

She twirls the cord in her hoof as she listens.

"I'll believe it when it happens. I'm pretty angry at you, Night. You're telling me eight, but it's going to be more like ten, if at all."

She frowns, "Fine. I'll be ready at eight. I'll eat at nine, with or without you. If you aren't here, I'm giving your portion to the human that little Twilight is having me watch."

She glances at you, then shoes you away with her hoof. You don't go anywhere. 

There is some murmuring from his end.

Velvet frowns deeper. "I'm deathly serious here, Night. If you don't show or call, I'm locking the doors at ten. If you're later than that, don't bother coming home tonight. If you can't make it, please just call! All I need is a call."

She sounds desperate.

She smiles, "You promise?"

She smiles wider, "Okay... I love you. See you tonight!"

She puts the phone down, then turns to you with the biggest grin imaginable. "He's finally coming home tonight!"

Damn, she's cute. Her little eyes are wide and her ears are forward. She looks like a puppy dog. You smile back, "Neat! So I finally get to meet him."

She pales, "Oh... Oh no."

You shrug, "Don't worry about it. I can keep a secret."

She glares at you suspiciously, "I don't believe you."

You reach out and pat her little puppy dog head, "I promise."

Velvet's suspicion melts into unrestrained glee. "Lets go out! We don't need to wait around this stuffy house all day!"

You pump your arm, infected by her excitement. "Yes!"





Canterlot is less busy than when you first showed up. The streets are a little slower, and you don't see as many ponies about. Still, it's nice to be outside. Velvet is taking you sightseeing. There's a statue garden on the agenda, and in the back of your mind you wonder if it's where Discord is held. The thought gives you pause.

"Hey, Velvet, where's Discord?"

She glances over her shoulder and frowns, "He's probably with Fluttershy, or in his chaos dimension. I'm not particularly close."

You put a hand on her back as you walk together. It seems innocent enough, and she doesn't complain. It's probably the pony equivalent of just rubbing on each other while you walk. "Do you think he knows anything about me."

She snorts, "Doubtful. He's less than useful, and you probably don't want what help he has to give. He's caused more problems around here than most villains that aren't reformed."

Some ponies walk by, giving you a wide berth as they glance at Velvet. You smirk as you realize that they are only looking at her once. Take that, Double Take.

As you're looking around, you see a store with covered windows and a few "X"s on it. You stop, using your hand to stop Velvet. She looks up at you in annoyance, "What?"

You point at the store, "What the hell is that?"

She looks at it, then sighs. "It's an adult store, for adult ponies. Not for children," she pauses a moment before squinting at you suspiciously, "or humans."

You keep pointing. Some ponies are watching, but you don't mind, "So they sell like, dildos and butt-plugs and stuff?"

She shrugs, "Probably? I've never been inside and have no intention of changing that. Stop pointing, it's rude. Come on, we only have a few hours to see as much as we can. I heard that the museum has a new exhibit on the pre-sisters era. If you keep slowing us down, we'll skip lunch. I intend to see that exhibit before we go home tonight."

Lunch? She wouldn't! "You wouldn't!"

She starts walking as your hand falls, "I would. But lets hope you don't find out."

Suddenly you find yourself moving with an unexpected pep. You have no intention of missing lunch, pony sex store or not.





It's evening. You've been good all day. Well, relatively good. Velvet has been in a chipper mood as well. She's making some stuffed eggplant thing, and it smells delicious. You had a good time about the town with her. Unsurprisingly, she's a bit of a history buff. She talked your ear off about every little thing at the museum, and knew about every statue at the garden. 

The town had been bizarre. They didn't have cars, but did have carriages that were pulled by other ponies. You wondered about it, and asked Velvet. She told you that some ponies are inherently faster than others, and a slow pony can save quite a bit of time by hiring a carriage pulled by a fast pony. It's just sort of assumed that any pony pulling a carriage is fast.

Pony culture seemed to be full of things like that. Ponies did what they were supposed to do, and what they were expected to do. As a result, if you saw a pony doing something, it was safe to assume that they were "supposed" to. So the guy wearing a badge and giving orders? Nobody is going to check that he's actually a cop. The town guard? Of course they can beat you up, so don't push it. Is there a street magician? They're going to be a little sneaky, but very entertaining. It's just how they are.

The idea is confusing to you. It's not exactly a matter of fate, but it is something different than with humans. You could name your kid whatever you want, and their name wouldn't cause them to become a corrupt accountant. You couldn't tell if it was cause or effect. Was Double Take a corrupt accountant because her parents named her lazily, or was it because her mom was psychic?

Either way, who would name their kid something like High-Ball, or Street-Sweep, or Inside Job? And then, who would hire somepony named "Inside Job" to work for them? Ponies seemed to have name blindness. It worked around them, and it was strange. Walking around the city just sort of hammered it in with every one of Velvet's history lessons. 

The heroes all had heroic, or at least cute as fuck, names and the baddies all had clearly bad guy names. Velvet hadn't seemed to notice as she explained it. Even lunch had come from a guy named "Donut Joe", which weirdly, you knew. You didn't know why you knew him, but you did. Some ponies you didn't know, and some you did. You hadn't figured that out either.

You sigh as you wait on your couch, watching the television. A thought occurs to you, "Hey, Velvet, like, can I move into one of your guest rooms? It's gonna be weird with your husband around. I might want to hide or something."

She pokes her head back around the corner, floating some chopped vegetables around her, "They're not really guest rooms, Mister. They're my kids rooms."

You frown. Oh. That makes sense. "So, I'm just gonna live on the couch then?"

She frowns and ducks her head back into the kitchen. "No, you're right... We have the room." There's the sound of sizzling and something clanging as she closes a pot. She steps out of the kitchen wearing an apron and straightens it for a second. "Twilight is the one who sent you here, so why don't we move you into her room?" 

Your frown turns upside down. "Really? Isn't that, you know, weird, all things considered? Why not Shining's room?"

She sighs, "Yes. It is weird. But it makes the most sense. Her room has a bed big enough for you, and she's the one who sent you here. Shining has a bigger bed, but it's wider than long, and they have the little loft for Flurry. Twilight has the castle in town," Velvet sniffs, "She doesn't need to stay here."

You think about that, considering her considerations, "So, like, how long am I going to be here?"

Velvet frowns, "I don't know. Twilight might ask you to go to the castle, or get you an apartment, or maybe figure out how to send you back. She also does occasional work with humans at some school world, so maybe she'll find a place for you there. Or maybe she'll leave you with her mother. We wont know until she gets back."

That gave you plenty to think about. Your mind has been strange, so thinking about the future was low on your list. You've just been trying to survive somehow, maybe understand what was happening, and get another peek at Velvet's soft pussy.

"Weird. I guess you're my mom now." 

Velvet frowns at you and sticks out her tongue, "You are not my child. If you were, then you'd be in big trouble, Mister."

There's a beep from the kitchen, and she runs back inside. You keep thinking. "What kind of job should I get? What kind of job can I get?"

There's a clang, and some pots move around, "You shouldn't need one. Night and I make good bits. If the worst comes to pass, Twilight can help support you, too."

"So you're not just a GILF, you're my sugar mamma too. Sweet."

Warm, fragrant steam fills the house as she works on something in the kitchen, "I can't see you from here, but stop with the flirting." She adds, "I'll shock you."

You laugh, "And you're spicy too. You do really remind me of a cat sometimes."

An electric bolt comes flying from the kitchen, around the corner and glancing across your shoulder. It stings like a bitch, and leaves your shoulder tingling in a weirdly lethargic way. You shout in surprise, "Ow!" 

She pokes her head around the corner and frowns, disappointed, "You're still conscious. I must have missed. Next time I wont miss. You will not speak of that, or you will sleep through dinner."

You lean back in the couch, massaging your limp shoulder. She wasn't kidding. Unlike the other zaps she's sent your way that numbed you from the shock, this one really full on disabled your arm. If that hit your head, you hope it would only knock you out. For a moment, you feel fear. If she could do that from around the corner, while distracted, what could she do if she was in the room? You've been playing with fire.
"Yes, Mom." 

You like fire. 





Velvet is sitting across from you at the table, angrily stabbing her eggplant. It's just after nine. "I knew he'd be late. I don't know why I thought he'd be on time. He's never on time."

You nervously take a bite. She made three of them, but one was sloppy. Originally, she'd sat you down in front of the sloppy one, but when nine came, she swapped the plates with her magic. You would have been happy with the sloppy one. This is absolutely delicious.

She grumbles, sipping her wine, then looks at you, "No call. He could have called. He knows he can call." 

She takes a bite, then takes another angry drink.

You try, "Maybe he's busy?"

She glares at you, pointing her fork at you in the process. "Of course he's busy. He's always busy. Always late. I wouldn't mind! I understand why he's not here, but I don't understand why he doesn't call!"

Awkwardly, you look down at your plate and eye the eggplant thing, "He's missing out. This is a killer... whatever it is."

She takes another bite, "I know. It's excellent. I married him to be with him... Doesn't he understand that?"

You sigh, "I'm sure he wants to be with you Velvet. I'm sure he wants to be here right now, but he can't."

She stares at you, tears forming in her eyes, "How could you possibly know that?"

You shrug, "I mean, I want to be with you. You're funny, a little mean, super hot, super cute, and your food is amazing." You fork a bit of the eggplant, and shove it in your mouth, "I mean, this is fucking delicious."

Her fork floats down and she stares at you angrily for a moment, then she relaxes and her answer is cold and sad, "I told you not to flirt with me tonight. Especially with the bad words."

You roll your eyes, "I'm not flirting. I'm serious. You're great, and anybody that thinks otherwise is intellectually impaired. I don't think you'd marry a retard, so he's only not here because he can't be."

She glares for a second, then deflates, "Don't... say it like that. That's rude, childish and careless..."

You take another bite, chewing it slowly before you answer, "Like what?"

She sets her fork down, her anger seemingly gone. "You can't... Just... Never mind." She looks at the door and takes a breath before looking back at you, "So what was your favorite part of the city today?"

You smile as you recount how strange the whole city was. She quietly listens, and is overly polite. Over the next hour or so, you have a pleasant dinner with Twilight Velvet as the clock ticks by.





It's a little after ten thirty. She promised to lock the door. He never showed. You are sitting on the couch, and she's mumbling something to herself by the door. She's not happy. 

Velvet walks slowly from the door and stands by the couch. "The door's locked. Lets get you into a real room. I've been a terrible host. Just because you never complained doesn't mean I should have left you on the couch."

You awkwardly shrug, "I don't mind. I was just curious, you know? And since he's not here, I don't..." Her horn sparks and you stop talking. Maybe she's more pissed than she seems.

"Lets not talk about certain things right now, Mister." Her eyes look dead.

You nod quietly.

She silently leads you to one of the rooms you haven't had a chance to go in. When she opens the door, you are assaulted by the color purple. There are stars on everything, and you see books piled everywhere. The bed is clear and neat, and there's a medium sized basket with a clearing around it as well. 

Velvet walks inside, inspecting it, "It's not too messy. She's usually quite neat. I'll ask her about moving her things when she gets back, although I'm sure she wont mind if you want to read one of her books."

You follow her, and look at the bed. It's certainly big enough. There's a big star mark on it, identifying it as Twilight's. "Are you sure it's okay to sleep in her bed?"

Velvet hums as she picks up a small mess of paper and shuffles it into the trash, "She won't mind. I promise. She's very understanding. More so than me or... Him." She glares at the trash can.

Eh, fuck it. You fall back onto the bed, relishing how soft it is. This is way better than a couch. You sigh in contentment, "Well thanks! I'm not used to living in luxury like this. I owe you."

She looks like she wants to ask you something, then turns her head stiffly, "You're welcome. It's not luxury, exactly, but it's also not a couch in the living room. Regardless if he ever does come home, at least you'll have some privacy. Goodnight." She turns to leave, her tail swishing angrily.

The door slams shut on her way out.




You can't sleep. It hasn't been long, but the bed is too soft. You miss the clock, the little kitschy decorations, the homey sayings, all that nonsense. Even the little throw that had hearts embroidered in it. Carefully, you make your way out of the room, and stalk your way back to the living room. You aren't sure why. Maybe it's just to get a glance. Maybe it's to steal something. 

Never mind. You know exactly why. It's definitely to steal something. You want something from the living room to put in your new digs. Twilight Sparkle's room was too... book filled. Maybe one of the little nuzzling pony figures. Would Velvet miss that?

As you creep through the dark house, you hear a weird noise. It's muffled and repeating, and sounds maybe squeaky. It seems to be coming from the living room, the place you were going.

As you get closer, you make it out. It's Velvet. She's crying. Of course she'd cry here. Her bedroom belongs to her and Night, but this room is her fortress. This is her sanctuary. So if she needs to cry, this would be where she went. 

You feel oddly uncomfortable about living in it for the past few days. Has she been hanging out with you not because of you, but because of this room? You've basically been forcing her to hang with you. Awkwardly, you stop in the kitchen, unsure of what to do. You bump a chair, and there's a scratching noise as it tips sideways against the table.

Velvet stops crying, and her response is immediate, "Mister? Are you there?"

You consider fleeing, but then remember her electric bolt from across the kitchen. If she thinks you're a burglar, there's no telling what she'll do. "Umm.... Maybe?"

She's quiet for a moment, thinking.. You consider leaving now. This wasn't what you wanted. 

Her voice is strangely clear, somehow ringing like crystal, "Can you come here please? I could use some company."

You make your way through the darkened kitchen, and into the living room. She's on the couch. There's a book sitting next to her, closed. Her eyes are puffy and dark, and it's pretty clear she's been crying for a while.

You sit next to her, and she leans on you silently. You stay like this, unsure of what to do. Your arm snakes around her shoulder, and you pull her into a hug. Ponies love hugs.

She sniffles a little, but her voice is still unearthly clear, "I can't sleep. Can you stay up with me tonight?"

You haven't been sleeping, so you figure why not. "Eh, sure."

She snuggles into you, quietly for a while as her sniffles clear. Eventually, she rubs her head into your chest like a cat looking for attention. On reflex, you put your hand on her head. She smiles, and looks up at you in the dim room.

"Did you mean what you said about me?"

You smirk back, "Yeah, you're my sugar mamma.

She frowns, "No, the other thing. The thing from earlier."

You lean down to her and smile, "You are great, and anyone that says otherwise is a fucking retard."

She blushes profusely and gasps as you muss up her hair. "Don't say it like that!" 

The warmth in her smile makes your heart beat. You love this pony. Oh man, what does that mean? He immediately decides that you need to sabotage the moment. You don't like the idea, but for some reason you have to roll with it. "Or did you mean when I called you a slut?"

Velvet freezes, and her smile falters. Her eyes flicker to you, to your hand, to the kitchen, to the door, and then back to you. She blinks, her eyes wide as her mind does some invisible calculus. It hardly takes a second for her eyes to settle back on you, some decision reached but her emotion inscrutable, "If... If you want."

You aren't sure if that’s really what you want, but it’s definitely what He wants. You don't really have a reason not to push for it. You aren’t against it. Your hand scratches behind her ear and you feel her shiver. You haven't really done anything to make her shiver, not yet, but she's thinking about it. Now you’re thinking about it. You like it when she shivers.

You feel a little guilty. She's vulnerable right now, and you know it. This isn’t how she’d normally act, but she’s desperate. Maybe you should stop this? You go to say something, to tell her that tonight you just want to hold her, but He stops you. When she's vulnerable is the best time. It’ll be easier to get her to do all the weird stuff.

The thought almost horrifies you. That is definitely not you. Or, maybe it's not the you that you want it to be. Maybe it really is you. Maybe you and Him aren't so different. His body and your mind seemed to have merged, so you must be similar in some way. You must have some compatibility.

As you pet the pensive Velvet, you have a flash back to when you were a kid. There was another little girl, and you told her that she couldn't play with you unless she gave you her pencil. You wanted it because it had Majesty on the tip and Majesty could grant wishes. That's what your mom always told you. The girl looked sad, but let you have it.

You kept that pencil for a decade and half. Sometimes you felt guilty about it, but the girl kept hanging around you after that. You got more things from her over the years. More little tokens of friendship. But you kept your end of the deal. She was your friend... until she learned better.

Yeah, you've always been a dick. Even when you were little.

So maybe these manipulative thoughts aren't entirely his. They don’t exactly feel alien. 

Velvet buries her head in your side as your hand trails around her neck. She’s silent as you stroke her. Slowly, your hands wander. There's no response as your hand trickles past her ears and to her chin, no shudder when you gently grab her horn, and no quivering when your hand dips across her cutie mark. It’s as though she’s dead to your touch.

You lean down and give her a soft kiss on her forehead, just below her horn. She sniffles, then tilts her head up to kiss you back. Her lips touch yours and you see that her eyes are wet, but they're warming up. She has a slight blush across the bridge of her nose. It’s cute.

The couch is only lit by the starlight coming through the window, and you find her even more alluring in the dim light of the evening. You can't help yourself, "God you're beautiful..."

Her eyes seem to twinkle and her response is sad, "You really shouldn't flirt with me... I'm a married mare, Mister."

You smirk as you kiss her nose. Her eyes are wide and focused on you. Nose kisses are intimate to ponies, less lewd but more affectionate than mouth to mouth kisses. You’ve crossed another line hard and fast, without even thinking about the repercussions. She shifts around, but doesn't flinch away. Your answer is slow, "That sounds like your problem, not mine."

She stiffens as you pull her snout upwards and gently kiss her mouth. As you pull out of the kiss, she licks her lips, and her eyes squint. She’s thinking, probably about what you’ve just done and what you’re likely to do. Her answer is slow but determined, "I suppose it is..."

As you hold her head in place, you stare at each other for a few seconds in the dark. She shivers. "So, Velvet... What are your rules tonight? I don't think I’m going to stop at just grabbing your horn..." 

She shivers as she narrows her eyes and her answer is low, "I don't think you will either."

You kiss her again, and she returns the kiss warmly. "I’m sure you have some rules for me tonight."

She licks her lips again, "I don't see why I should bother. You treat them more like goals, anyways."

"So you don't mind if I grab your horn?" Your hand slips to her horn, and you gently stroke it upwards. 

She's quick to answer, and she sounds vaguely annoyed, "I haven't stopped you, yet.”

"What about your face?" You tease her as your other hand grabs her chin.

She just stares at you, "We’ve already been kissing. Seems a little late for that."

"What about your... neck?" Your hand shifts from her horn to the base of her neck. 

Velvet stiffens, but then relaxes, "I… if that's what you want."

You gently give her a light squeeze as you lean in for another kiss. She shakes, and exhales into you. Her breath is sweet. As quick as it came, you let go. She doesn't make to move as your hand slides lower down her back, across her cutie mark, and settles on her tail dock.

"And your cute little tail?"

Her eyes slide to the side, "I'd rather ask you not to."

You tilt your head at the odd response, "Will you?"

She bites her lip before she answers, "No."

You gently wrap your fingers around the base of her tail while watching her eyes. She stays calm as you pull her tail to the side, fully uncovering her. "You’re that easy, huh?"

Velvet takes a deep breath before her answer, "Yes."

You kiss her again, this time slipping in your tongue. She reciprocates, and before you know it, you've let go of her tail and are just stroking the sides of her body as you make out with her. She's warm and energetic, eager to return your affection. She's surprisingly sweet inside tonight. It takes a few minutes, but after a while, your tongue and her mouth are fully re-acquainted with each other and her hoof has trailed its way up your chest. Breathless, you pull away.

"And what if I want to go lower..." You lean down to her ear and whisper, "deeper..."

She freezes. Velvet doesn't say anything for a few seconds, she just closes her eyes and quietly breathes.

You chuckle as you whisper even quieter into her stiffly up ear, "What will you do when I get under your tail again?"

Her ear folds back, as though to deny that she heard you say that. Her quiet breathing speeds up.

She doesn't want to talk, but all that does is give you a new goal. "Did you masturbate last night after we were done?"

She keeps her eyes closed when she quietly and reluctantly answers, "Yes."

"And what were you thinking of?" 

Her ear twitches as your breath rolls over it, and she freezes for a second before she slowly presses you back. She cranes her head to move her ear away from your Faustian mouth. Velvet opens her eyes to glare at you angrily as she slowly answers, "It's not your business."

You reach your arm around her head, grasping the back of her scalp, "I think it might be."

She glances downward and away, but doesn't say anything. Her cheeks are flushed bright red. 

You grin as you hold her head firmly in place, "What was it about?"

She nervously glances up, her eyes glaring with both embarrassment and anger, "It's the way you look at me... Like I'm pretty."

You pause, momentarily confused, "But, uh, you are pretty?"

Velvet covers her face with her hooves, and whines, "You can't keep flirting with me!"

"I obviously can."

She lowers her hooves to look at you with a bright red face, the embarrassment making her voice quiver, "Please don’t do this... I'm married."

You shrug, letting her go completely, "And you can leave at any time."

She nervously looks around, her eyes drifting to the dark kitchen. She glances down to her book, the cover unreadable in the dim starlight. 

You take off your shirt as she thinks. You're getting too hot either way. When she turns back around, you're shirtless. 

When she sees you, her eyes drift up your chest, and hers glisten in the twilight as she slowly admits a thought, "I just…. I don't want to be alone tonight."

You reach out and gently stroke her back. "And he's not here tonight, is he?"

She glances angrily at the locked door and her answer is curt, almost violent, "No, he's not."

You gently turn her head again, making her look at you, "But I am."

She sighs, deflating. "You are..."

You don't whisper, your voice is confidently conversational, "Then tell me, Pussy-Cat. What are the rules for when I get under your tail tonight?"

She keeps looking at you and she bites her lip. She wants to say something, but wont. Or perhaps can't.

You pull her into a kiss. This time she's aggressive, her little mouth practically bites yours as she sucks on your lip. Her tongue presses into you, and you fight to push it back. She's got her eyes closed, and you quickly come to an equilibrium of wrestling tongues. You might taste blood, but you aren't sure if it's yours.

She doesn't want to think about this, but you need her to. As you pull out of the strange kiss, she practically clings to you. Her chest is heaving, and yours is as well. 

This time, you grab her firmly, holding her in place with her horn. "Answer me, Pussy-Cat. What, exactly are the rules for when I get under your tail?" 

She stares at you for a second then growls like a feral cat as she angrily spits the answer out, "I'm not going to give you permission to rape me."

You're almost offended by her allegation. "We both know that’s not what this is."

She squints at you, her eyes somewhere between disgust and curiosity as you lean in for another kiss. Her mouth isn’t as eager as it was a few seconds ago, but she doesn’t pull away either. Slowly, her lips part and you dip your tongue into her once more. It doesn’t take long before she’s climbing up you, pawing at your chest with her surprisingly soft hooves while you wrap your arms around her back.

Before you know it, she’s in your lap again. You certainly didn’t put her there, and this time her hooves are wrapped around your neck as her lips stay locked with yours. Her fur presses against your chest for the first time as she grinds into you, and you are distinctly aware of how warm she is. 

Your hands wander her back, pressing against her sides, her spine, and even poking around her cutie mark. Now that you’re thinking about it, she feels softer than usual, and she smells more like berries and less like lavender. 

You gently grab her by her neck, and softly pull her off your face. Not hard enough to trigger her freezing response, but hard enough that she can’t resist the pull. She watches you, her face inscrutable as you admire her. Aside from the wet tear streaks, her fur does look softer and smoother than normal. It even looks like she used some kind of makeup under her eyes, bleaching her fur even more alabaster than usual. 

“You’re all dolled up, aren’t you?”

She blushes, looking down in the dark. There’s still anger in her voice, but it’s directed toward herself, “It wasn’t for you.”

You admire her in the dim light, letting your eyes drink in the curves of her face, the clean lines of color on her, and the sheer cuteness of her embarrassment, “Whoever it’s for, you’re absolutely gorgeous. I can’t look away from you…”

Velvet’s blush deepens as she leans forward in your grasp, almost falling on you. Her voice is low and soft; there’s no edge to it at all when she murmurs, “No flirting…” 

You can almost hear the exasperated smile on her face. You let your hand flick across her cutie mark, gently stroking it in the dark as she presses eagerly against you. Feeling bold, you whisper to her, “Then I’ll set the rules tonight. I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want, and you can leave whenever the fuck you want.”

Velvet nods into your chest without looking up to you. It’s as close to an admission as you’re going to get tonight, but it makes your heart thump like a drum. 

She shivers, but doesn’t shy away at all when your hand slips around her tail again. Instead, she slips her head under your chin and gently kisses your neck. Her lips leave tingling little blossoms of wet heat where she presses them. Your fingers dip lower, and you let go of her tail. 

There’s no hiding the intimacy of your position. She’s fully in your lap, pressing against your chest while you’re holding her ass-cheek in one hand. Your hand cups her flesh, and you give her a squeeze, enjoying the tender springiness of her body. She pauses her kissing to shiver quietly in your neck. She’s thinking.

You’re feeling confident. Your other hand slides down the other side, and now you’re cupping her.  Gently, you give her rump a squeeze. She lifts slightly out of your lap as you press her up and into you.  Her head slides up from under your chin and next to your ear.

Her voice is curious, “Hands… are interesting.”

You smile, amused by her observation. “You’re interesting.”

She chuckles, “Hardly. I’m just an old mare.”

You hold her tight as you stand up, one arm under her rump and the other behind her back. She startles, but hangs on to you as you stand off the couch. “Why don’t you focus on taking off my pants instead of harassing yourself.”

Velvet glares angrily up at you from your chest, but lights her horn anyways. A strange tingle surrounds your waist as your pants seem to unbuckle themselves and drop to the floor. Your underwear follows suite. She sighs, “I still don’t understand why you always wear so many clothes.”

You smirk as you lean back down the couch, laying her down in the process and laying over her. In just a second, she’s on her back underneath you, and you’re poised above. You hadn’t realized how hard you were before this moment, but now your cock is practically aching. 

Her face is flushed bright red again, though this time you doubt it’s from embarrassment. Horny Velvet is still cute, alarmingly so.

“Because if I wasn’t wearing pants, I’d probably be trying to fuck you every time I looked at your adorasexy face.”

Velvet glances down the length of your bodies, eyeing your erect cock and gulping. Her voice is distracted, and her complaint is empty and weak, “You’re flirting.”

You re-adjust your hand and grab her by the back of the head again, forcing her to look at up at you. Her horn sticks into the couch a little, leaving a couch dimple as you lean her head back, “How can I help it when you’re so beautiful?”

Her breath hitches and she bites her lip. She doesn’t complain this time. 

Smirking, you lean down, closing the space between you as put your mouth to her ear. You begin to whisper, breathing heavily over her ear in the process.

“You’re eyes sparkle and I want to fall into them. Your face is sublime and I need to touch it. Your fur is smooth and gorgeous, the color is striking and enthralling. Every time I look at your flank, I imagine my hands on it. Every time I feel your hoof, I’m startled by how soft it is. Every time I look at you I’m reminded of how sexy you are and how much I want you. “

At first, she tries to pull into the couch, but only gets so far. There’s a slight tear as her horn rips the fabric, but neither of you pay it any mind. Her ear flickers away from your breath as you speak, but then flickers back. When she realizes she can’t pull backwards, she relaxes. Velvet feels like putty underneath you, and you blow across her ear as you continue.

“Everything you do, you do with care. You’re smart, powerful, gorgeous, and absolutely stunning. I can’t help it. I flirt with you because every time I hear your voice, I imagine your mouth around my cock. When I see your tail, I imagine how beautiful you are under it. When I see under it, I imagine what it would feel like, and I’m filled with something I’ve never felt before. Something needy and hungry, something only you bring out in me.”

You pull back from her trapped ear, and look at her face. Her eyes are wide, almost terrified as she thinks about something. She’s breathing heavily, her deep red blush more intense than you’ve seen it before. Her lips quiver, and you don’t give her a chance to respond. Instead, you press your mouth to hers.

She melts into you. Her tongue meets yours and her hooves pull you tighter into her. You’ve conquered more territory, and you think it’s the last.

Velvet is yours.

Everything about her feels soft right now. Her body is squeezed under yours, and you feel her legs wrapped around your abdomen. She’s pressing herself into your stomach, and it’s hot and wet, like one of her kisses but so much more obscene. 

Your cock aches, and you pull out of your smothering kiss. She doesn’t say anything as you slightly prop yourself up with the arm behind her head and gently push her down your body. Her face goes from being level with yours to looking up at you from your chest while the obscene wet spot on your stomach slides to the base of your groin. 

She’s resting just slightly above your cock, and your engorged shaft presses hotly against her backside. The base of it is wet, the length is dry, and the tip is poking into her flattened tail, wedged between her backside and the couch. All of it is burning hot right now.

Her wide, blue eyes are locked on yours, and her mouth is tiny. She seems afraid, but not enough to want to stop. Just in case, you remind her.

You gently squeeze the back of her scalp, and she gulps as you whisper down to her, “I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want, and you can leave whenever the fuck you want. Understand, Pussy-Cat?”

She shivers. You Feel it across your body, and love it. Her answer is a timid lick on her lips, and a quivering voice, “Okay.”

Her body relaxes as you gently press upward, your cock-tip sliding backwards out from under her, through her tail, across her squishy asshole, and settling at her soaking wet pussy lips. You stay there for a moment, relishing the sensation of wet pussy on your cock-head. It tingles, and lights a strange fire in you. Something primal is screaming in your brain. He doesn’t want you to wait anymore. He’s sick of waiting.

You focus on Velvet, and just barely you notice a trace of a nervous smirk across her face. She’s sick of waiting as well.

As you slide into her, she bites her lip and her eyes focus on yours. 

She’s hot inside. The wetness feels strangely good, and the heat spreads from your dick through your abdomen. There’s no resistance as you slide forward, practically no friction at all. She’s smooth as silk. You smirk at the realization that she’s actually smooth as velvet. 

Fucking pony names.

Before you realize it, you’re pressed all the way inside of her, and she’s quietly looking at you as she chews on her lip. You feel her quiver around you and you press the root of your cock harder into her groin, squishing her spreading pussy lips and mashing against her clit.

She doesn’t say a word, but the chewing stops and she lets out a quiet gasp as her cute little mouth opens. You like the sight. Gently, you slide slightly backwards and press hard into her again. This time her mouth opens wider.

Surprisingly, it seems you’ve found new territory to conquer.

You slowly do it again, watching as her mouth opens again. A soft little moan comes out this time. Her clit squishes against your groin, and she shudders around you. She seems confused when you pull out, but her mouth opens again when you press in again. This time her moan is louder, and you catch a glimpse of her teeth.

Your hand shifts to her horn, and you grab it. She doesn’t seem to notice, but you can feel how warm she is. Her horn is pulsing with heat and magic, but there doesn’t seem to be anywhere for it to go. With this much magic, she could probably fry you.

You press into her again, this time making a quiet little slapping sound as your flesh meets hers. You keep the pressure on her for a moment longer than before watching her mouth open wider. This time it’s not just a glimpse, you get a full view of her teeth. She isn’t stifling the moan either.

Your enjoying this, but He doesn’t want to wait. You do it again, faster and harder. This time her moan is a squeal, and her tongue flicks helplessly in her mouth. When her mouth opens, it’s not cute. It’s strained, and something about that is obscene as hell.

You love it.

Her horn is burning in your hand, but you don’t let go. Another slam into her, and the quiet slap is a loud, lewd smack as wet flesh meets wet flesh. She shivers around you and it feels like you belong. Your cock should be here. You know it. He knows it.

She knows it.

Another hard press, and this time she slams her head backwards into the couch, actually overpowering your surprised hand. Her horn spikes the cushion, tearing the fabric. Her moan is more a shout, and you don’t stop.

Again and again you pound her. The rhythm builds up, and she’s screaming wordlessly as you do it. She has to look down her nose to see you, but she still is. Her eyes are half lidded and she’s rolling them occasionally between focusing on you. The cushion is smoking where her horn is at, and your hand has moved to her ear. The smell is slightly acrid from the burning cloth, but you can also smell her. 

She’s strangely musky, and the scent gets seared into your brain. This is the smell of sex. Specifically, it’s the smell of sex with Twilight Velvet. 

She screams one more time, and her body clenches around your dick. You press hard into her as she squirms, and it feels like she sprays your groin. Gushing fluid coats you as her body archs into yours. You can’t take anymore, the sudden overheliming sensation seems to come out of nowhere. For the second time in your new body, you cum. It’s more of a surprise than anything, but the hard squirt from your cock matches with her quivering.

She moans helplessly as you fill her with your cum, and He’s satisfied. You groan into her mumbling her praise with your tired breath. “You’re beautiful.”

She squirts you again, squeezing you harder. The cushion sparks from her horn as she slams her head backwards and thrust her hips into yours.

You hold her as she quivers, emptying your cock into her willing and eager cunt. It’s over. The deed is done and he’s gone for now. You, on the other hand, feel like you’ve found home. 

She shivers for a few moments, and the cushion slowly stops smoldering. You just hold her and watch, loving every second of her squirming. Slowly, she comes to.

She gasps for breath, letting her hooves fall limply to her side.

You don’t say anything as she focuses on you again and trembles. Her eyes glance across the room and she takes a sniff of the air before frowning. Eventually, she mumbles, incredibly embarrassed. “I… it’s… I’m normally… not such a mess.”

You smirk as you slide her up your body to kiss her, letting your warm dick slip free and hang into the cold air between you. You’re both dripping on the couch, but you don’t think much of it. Instead, your loving how light she is; how easy she is to move where you want to. To where you can get the best view, and even better access. 

When you kiss her, she kisses you back. This time it’s affectionate instead of desperately hungrily. You’re amused at her sustained embarrassment while you kiss. It’s cute that she cares so much about a little mess right after you both just smashed uglies. You can’t help but grin when you pull your sticky, pony saliva coated tongue out of her mouth. “I think I like the mess, Pussy-Cat.”

Your cock is still half erect, aching from it’s recent release as you feel it dangling loosely in the air. Her embarassed blush only glows a deeper red at your words. She picks up her arm and dangles it across her face, haphazardly covering her eyes to keep from looking at you as she groans, “I can’t believe this… What are we doing?”

Even though her eyes are covered, her little mouth is smiling. You smile right back at the tight little hole.

“We’re making a mess, Pussy-Cat. Remember? Instead of worrying, why don’t you meow for me.”

She’s silent as she momentarily frowns. Her eyes stay covered but she pensively bites her lip. You can feel her heart beating in her chest, and see the flush growing on her cheeks. Slowly, you snake your hand back around her head and gently grasp the back of her neck. Not too tight, but firm enough that she feels it. You watch her bit lip quiver, and then her bite release as a slow, hungry tongue runs in a circle around her mouth.

You tighten your grip around the base of her neck, and slide her little body down yours to where you want her. Where she belongs. 

Your aching dick quickly remembers how warm she was, and you can feel it eagerly swell. She’s keeping her eyes covered, but her free hoof drifts to the side of her body. Her mouth opens as she takes in a deep breath.

This time, your voice is lower and more direct. You squeeze her neck hard and her back legs stiffen for a moment before completely relaxing. Her self stimulating hoof drops limply to the cushion, and her mouth hangs softly open. “I told you to meow for me, Pussycat.”

She can’t move, not with how tight your gripping her, but her lips press together and she makes a long, drawn out noise before they wetly part and she does what you told her to, “Mmmmmmmmmmeeow...”

This time when you slide into her, she’s tight. She can’t focus on you as pound her, but her insides are already quivering. She meows again, this time with more force as you bury yourself inside her again. “Meow.”

You chuckle, wondering what she’s thinking—if anything at all. Her eyes are still covered by her limp arm. You take your time, slowly pressing into her tight little pussy and watching her mouth strain as she works to meow for you. It’s clearly not easy, but she perseveres. She’s your little Pussy-Cat, all right.

“Meo..O...o..” Velvet shudders unexpectedly, and one of her meows hitches in her throat. Warm fluid dribbles down your cock as she gulps, her mouth gasping like a fish. 

You don’t let it slow you down. Instead you force her limp hoof off her face by slightly lifting her neck and tilting her head back. Her horn pokes nto the couch cushion again, leaving another scorch mark as her arm falls next to it. One of her eyes is half lidded, staring off into space while the other is wide open and sharply focused on you.

She gulps, gasps, quivers, then moews in a gurgling half shout, “Meoww!”

More warm liquid drenches your thighs as her one focused eye goes vacant. 

“Now that’s a fucking mess, Pussy-Cat.”

She doesn’t say anything as you lean in and steal another kiss. You keep fucking her, slowly as you suck on her loose tongue. You suckle the warm limp muscle, pulling it out of her mouth and filling your own with it. She shudders again, silently as her pussy squeezes you hard.

It feels like she’s trying to milk your cock, but you know that isn’t what’s happening. She tries to meow into your mouth, not realizing that you have her tongue. It’s a muffled groan as your cock milks her quivering pussy, feeling her dribble even more around your cock.

You let go of her tongue, and she doesn’t seem to notice that the kiss is over. She might not have even noticed it happen.

You whisper in her ear, not that she can hear you right now, “You’re beautiful… I want to fuck you forever.”

She gasps for breath as you let go of her neck, letting her move again. Velvet stays limp, her lithe little body rocking with your thrusts while her head rolls back and forth. Her horn is tearing the fabric, leaving long, black burnt gashes through the soft upholstery. 

You just came a few minutes ago, so you feel like you can keep this up forever. He’s not here right now, so the hunger is your own. You want to see her cute little face more. You want to see her mouth open helplessly wide again. You want to feel more of her insides, more of her heat and wetness. The hunger might be yours, but it’s still strong.

Velvet is your little cock sleeve right now, and you want it to last. You don’t want to waste this.

“Did my Pussy-Cat just cum? Is she my cute little slut?”

Your voice is low and accusing when you tease her. 

Her one eye refocuses on you, and she grunts. Her voice is tired and her mouth is still wet as she weakly denies, “This.. ah… isn’t… I’m… not… ah…”

You wonder why she’s arguing. Is it pride? It doesn’t matter. You lean down and gently squeeze her neck again. Not hard like you did before, but enough to send a message. Enough that she knows.

She groans again, and you feel her give your dick a hard squeeze. This time her eyes close tightly and she sharply bites her tongue. You can’t tell if she’s moaning or meowing behind her forcefully biting mouth. “Mmffueeeoo”

You keep up your slow steady assault, your groin pressing firmly into her clit, smashing it against her puffy labia as your throbbing cock spears her to the core. She lets go of the bite, her head falling limply back into the couch and her burning horn searing another hole. The room smells of sex with Velvet, and you relish it.

You try again, “Did you just cum again, my pretty Pussy-Cat?”

Her answer is tired and directed through you, straight up to the ceiling. “Yes…”

You lean down and give her a kiss. Her tired tongue finds yours, seemingly pulsing with each thrust as you slowly fuck her. Her mouth is as much yours as hers, and she knows it. When you pull out of the kiss, she’s staring at you with both of her eyes half lidded. 

“What a good slut you are, Pussy-Cat…”

She weakly smiles, “meow…”
> Unnamed (auto named on publish)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

You groggily open your eyes to see the ceiling. It’s too early for this. As the reflection of the afternoon sun dances across the white popcorn, it almost looks like a cloudy sunset on the ceiling. You watch it for a little, not really thinking just enjoying the slowly moving light, the intricate designs, and the silence. After a few peaceful moments you turn your head to the side and the sight of Velvet’s awake and glaring face startles you. 

She’s standing next to the couch, silently watching you. Her face is inscrutable, but her mane is neatly brushed and now that you think about it, the faint scent of her lavender soap fills your nostrils. She’s been up long enough to shower.

Awkwardly, you blink. You look around the room and notice your shirt and pants, folded and neatly pressed at the base of the couch. “How long have you been standing there?”

She stares at you, seemingly emotionless. “Long enough. Get up. You go shower. I need to clean, or maybe burn, the couch.”

You shrug. She’s not wrong. “Sure, whatever you say Pussy-C…”

Telekinesis shuts your mouth and your lips burn from the intensity of the magic. It’s not just a numb tingle like usual, it actually hurts this time.

Her voice is even and steady as you grab at your face in surprise, “Please, call me Velvet. We’ll talk after the shower.”

As soon as it started, the grip relaxes and you can feel your lips again. You don’t say anything as you stare at her in confusion. Were you just pony slapped? 

She nods, silently and meaningfully, towards the bathroom.

Unsure of what to do, you get up from the wreckage of the couch and grab your clothes. As you walk toward the bathroom, you glance back at Velvet. She’s quietly staring at the couch with her eyes focused on one particular cushion that’s been heavily burned and is probably made of more holes than stuffing. 

You smirk as you notice that her tail hitches at the sight. Ever so slightly, it swishes to the side and you get a glimpse of her battered pussy. She’s red under her tail, and maybe a little bruised. Your smirk grows as you realize that she doesn’t notice her little reaction, nor your gaze. 

After the shower, you feel refreshed. In a lot of ways you feel great. Something about the day makes you want to sing and dance. It makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs that you got laid, and it was fucking amazing. You can feel Him gloating. He loves this too, and it’s oddly peaceful to be in complete agreement. 

Every time you close your eyes, you remember her cute little face or hear her cute moans, or remember the absolute heat that encompassed your dick; and you want more. Last night was absolutely phenomenal. You don’t know if sex in general is this good, or maybe it’s that you had sex with a pony, but you highly suspect it’s because you had sex with Velvet. She isn’t some random person off the street. You know her wants, her fears, and even some of her oddities.

And now you know what her tongue tastes like when she cums, and you will never forget it. Humming happily, you make your way back to the living room to see the couch completely covered in a thick quilt while Velvet tugs at a corner with her magic. She’s lining it up, and a few various spray bottles are floating nearby.

You walk up behind her and put a hand on her back, just resting it comfortably halfway up. There’s nothing lewd about the gesture, it’s typical for ponies to touch each other there. Hell, it’s partially how she guides you through town when she’s in a hurry. 

Without saying anything, her horn flashes and your hand falls limply to your side. It doesn’t hurt, but now you can’t feel anything. Startled, you jump back and grab it with your other hand. “What the hell, Velvet?”

She turns around and looks at you, her face as emotionless as earlier. “I’m focusing right now. I have to make it look perfect.”

You cradle your numb arm to your chest, “It looks good enough. You didn’t have to zap me.”

She shakes her head, and you notice a slight panicked note in her voice, “No. It has to be perfect.”

You stare for a moment as it suddenly occurs to you that maybe Velvet isn’t feeling as good as you are. He doesn’t care. You do. “Hey, um… are you okay?”

She keeps pulling on the quilt, lining it up to the side of the couch. “I’m fine. I just need to make sure he never looks under the blanket. He can’t see under the blanket, because then he’ll know what happened to the couch. And if he knows, then he’ll ask me. And I won’t lie. I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him that after all this time, after two beautiful children, after years of hard work, I threw it all away to fuck around with an alien for a night, and it was easily the best sex I’ve ever had.”

You silently watch as she keeps meticulously pulling on the quilt. Her eyes are watery, and they’re panicked.  

“And I can’t do that. I’m a married mare. So it has to be perfect. It has to be perfect and he can never look because he can never know.” 

You awkwardly watch, unsure of what to do. She’s not making any progress anymore, she just keeps pulling the quilt from one side to the other and back again. It’s painful to watch, so you step forward again, risking another numbing bolt. 

“Hey, Velvet. It’s going to be okay. The couch looks fine. Why don’t you take a few breaths, and then we can talk, all right? Gingerly, you put your still working hand on her back. This time she doesn’t zap you.

She stares at the couch, the corner of the quilt settling down as she takes a few deep breaths. You just keep your hand on her back, not daring to get any closer but not wanting to leave her. You’re worried.

He’s horny. He’s wondering if you can swing her fear and desperation into another debauched evening. 

You tell Him to shut the fuck up.

Velvet’s voice is timid, uncharacteristically so. “That was a one time thing.”

You nod, but don’t say anything. He vehemently disagrees, but doesn’t get to offer his input.

She continues, flicking her head over her shoulder to look at you with teary eyes, “We can’t talk about it. We can’t acknowledge it. We take it to our graves, understood?”

You nod your head, but He doesn’t want this. He fights you, hard, and somehow you compromise with Him. Your voice comes out almost unbidden, “Kiss on it?”

Her sky blue eyes go from wide with panic to unfiltered disgust as she narrows them at you. You see her horn start to glow as she thinks about zapping you. 

You stutter, “I mean… as a promise! We kiss on it to seal the deal. Our mouths keep the secret!”

She continues to stare at you in disgust, but her horn sputters out. “Fine.”

As she turns to fully face you, your hand slides off her back. She uses her telekinesis to gently put it back when she lifts her forelegs awkwardly up your torso. With a little effort, she’s standing next to you, her hind legs settled comfortably on the floor and her arms around your back. Her head comes to your chest, and she tilts it all the way back to look at you. 

Her eyes are beautiful, even when they’re narrowed suspiciously. She takes a deep breath, and you feel her chest against your stomach. She seems unsure about being on two feet, but she’s managing well. You steady her, and she leans into you. It’s nice, holding her like this.

She huffs, “I’m waiting.”

Awkwardly, you realize you were staring at her a little too long. “Sorry… You’re distracting. I got lost in your eyes.”

She flushes red, and her retort is quiet, “No flirting…”

She doesn’t make any move to kiss you, and you just keep watching her face. She’s adorable, even angry and nervous. You take a hand and brush her mane to the side, ensuring clear access to her face. She shivers, but doesn’t stop you. As you lean down to put your mouths together, you pause and leave a light kiss on her nose.

The red blush on her face deepens. She glances away, unwilling to chastise you as you slip past her snout and press your lips to hers.

At first she’s stiff, but in moments she melts. You feel her press her body to yours and her heart beats. She opens her mouth and her tongue slides out to meet you. It’s a strange kiss. You take your time to explore her mouth, and she seems to do the same. You want to remember what she feels like. What she tastes like. What she smells like.

You want to remember Twilight Velvet as your little Pussy-Cat, and it seems like she wants to remember it as well. Her tongue is hot, and her breath grows fast as she breathes into you. 

The kiss ends, and she slips away, sliding down your body almost reluctantly. She shivers, and you notice her tail swishing from side to side, not that you can see underneath. She shakes her head once, and stamps her hoof into the ground before calmly saying, “It’s over.”

You sigh. “I guess so.”

She sighs back, “For now, can you stay out of the living room? Just keep in Twilight’s room until I get this figured out. She’s got plenty of books to keep you busy.”

You nod, deciding not to remind her that you can’t quite read. The moment doesn’t seem right for it. Maybe tomorrow you’ll ask for the TV or something. For now, all you do is smile and wave as you make your way to the guest room turned prison cell that you’ve been confined to.

“So long…”  Pussy-Cat. You say it to yourself.

He’s not so sure.