UNTITLED (Lyra Heartstrings), by Unknown


                                            [Copied from https://pastebin.com/G8DcYBN6]


                                            Ah yes, the joys of winter.

                                            >Colorful Christmas trees, bright lights, and corny Christmas music that repeated itself like a broken record on Pandora.

                                            >Unfortunately, you were unlucky enough to live up where the Christmas weather happened to live up to it’s cruel winter stereotype.

                                            >Meaning cold, harsh snowstorms.

                                            >Outside was a frosty mess. Hell, you were surprised you could still see outside your window with how much snow was raining down from the sky.

                                            >You’d hate to be the guy who got caught out in that shitstorm.

                                            >Clutching your warm glass of eggnog in your palms, you sincerely hope you have enough supplies to hold you over until the main roads clear up.

                                            >Supplies, as in booze, mostly.

                                            >Leaning back in your couch, you grab the remote and flick on the TV, maybe the boring lull of the news would put you to sleep for a little while.

                                            >”Well Tom, at 15 degrees below freezing, there seems to be no sign of this snow storm clearing up.”

                                            >The female news anchor chimes, behind her shows a picture of a torrent of snow, much like the scene you can see outside right now.

                                            >”That’s right, Tammy! We urge all viewers to stay inside these next few days, stockpile extra batteries, test flashlights, battery-powered radios and other tools that might be needed if the power goes out. As we always say here on Channel 4, you can never be too prepared!”

                                            >You sigh, It’s likely you’ll be stuck indoors for a while. It’s times like this you wish you were an Australian. Man, they’re probably living it up right now.

                                            >You glance over to the front door, suddenly remembering you forgot to close up your outdoor faucets. Man, you sure hope your pipes don’t freeze...

                                            >As if on cue, you hear a faint knock on your door echo from the outside.

                                            >That’s odd...

                                            >Likely, it was the wind knocking something against your house. No one would be venturing out on a day like this, especially to your house, or, so you assumed.

                                            >Getting up and grabbing the remote, you turn off the TV.

                                            >Eh, you might as well check. You don’t want whatever stick or rock sitting out there to continue making a racket.

                                            >However, you could not mentally prepare yourself for what awaited you on your doorstep.

                                            >Violently shivering on the welcome mat in front of your door, you find a half-frozen green unicorn, her fur iced over and her eyes bloodshot from the the icy snow that had been berated them.

                                            “Jesus Christ.” Was all you managed to get out before instinctively scooping up the cowering creature into your arms.

                                            >It was almost certain that she was suffering from cold shock, and likely severe hypothermia, both of which were clearly evident from her rapid, shallow breathing, and inability to focus her eyes.

                                            >Kicking the door closed behind you, you run into your living room, quickly placing the small creature as gently as you can onto your couch, before wrapping her in as many blankets as you could find to keep her warm.

                                            >Seeing as she was able to crawl to your doorstep, and conscious enough to knock on your door, so luckily she wasn’t completely out of it yet, her shivering was a relieving sign of that. However, any longer out there and who knows what could’ve happened.

                                            “My name’s Anon.” You say reassuringly. “And you’re going to be OK.”

                                            >She tries to squeak something out through her violent teeth-chattering, but it was far too quiet to know what she was trying to say.

                                            “Shhhh, shhh, save your energy.” You mutter calmly, hastily and gently drying her soaking mane with a spare blanket left on the couch.

                                            >From what you’ve learned about hypothermia, once the subject is in a warm environment, you’re supposed to give them warm liquids if they’re able to swallow.

                                            >Luckily for you, your eggnog was sitting right next to you on your coffee table. Conveniently, you grab it.

                                            “I’m going to give you something warm, do you think you’ll be able to drink it?”

                                            >She rotates her head to look at you, and nods slightly, her eyes slowly adjusting to focus on yours. She weakly lifted her hoof to your free hand, and you take it. Sqeezing her for reassurance.

                                            >Carefully, you lift the eggnog to her lips, and cautiously pour some of the creamy liquid onto her tongue.

                                            >At first, it looked as if she was going to spit it out, but after a few seconds she was able to swallow, and you go in for a second time.

                                            >After a minute or so, it looked like she had calmed down slightly, much to your relief.

                                            >Her breathing had become slightly more regulated, and her body temperature was slowly starting to come back.

                                            >Eventually she stopped shivering, and instead opted to focus on maintaining her breathing.

                                            >You ran your hand through her pastel mane, assuring her she was safe, while she drowsily smiled at you from underneath the blankets.

                                            >”T-thank you.” She finally murmured out, and you squeezed her hoof one last time, before she slowly let her eyelids fall, eventually letting herself succumb to sleep.

                                            >Once you were sure she was out, you let go of her hoof, tucking it under the covers with the rest of her body.

                                            >Getting up off your knees in front of her, you sit down on the couch next to her.

                                            >Did you just save a random pony’s life, and better yet, how did she get here?

                                            >Ponies weren’t that hard to get ahold of, hell, you could even purchase them much like you could purchase any other pet, meaning she likely belongs to someone that lives around here… Evident from the fact that ponies don’t have the freewill to walk freely around.

                                            >You knew about these creatures, and you even knew a few people who decided to get one for themselves, you just never really considered the idea.

                                            >You saw them as just another mouth to feed. Not really worth the hassle, nor the money it’d cost to buy one.

                                            >Glancing over at mysterious mint green unicorn, she did look pretty cute while sleeping, though.

                                            >Hopefully you’ll be able to find out who owns her tomorrow, and return her back home.

                                            >However, you will have to admit, her owner must be pretty stupid to let his pony outside in weather like this.

                                            >At the very least, you’ll be able to learn her name when she wakes up.

                                            >Suddenly, the feeling of intense drowsiness washes over you.

                                            >You lean your head back, and let the gentle lull of sleep overtake you.

                                            “G’night, little one.” was the last thing you mumbled out before letting sleep overtake you.

                                            You woke up to a very unnatural feeling.

                                            >The feeling of something on your lap, pressing down on your stomach.

                                            >Blinking a few times to rid the sleep from your eyes, you were able to make out the outline of something green, and heavy, sitting on your legs.

                                            >In your half-asleep state, you were unsure if you had actually awoken, or were still consciously dreaming, but the vivid feeling of something wet and smooth sliding over your bare skin confirmed that you could at least feel.

                                            >The object in question, sensing that you had woken up, turned it’s focus towards you.

                                            >”O-oh, g-good morning M-master.”

                                            >Was it talking to you?

                                            >Groggily, you lifted your hands to your face, rubbing the lingering sleep out of your eyes so that you could see straight.

                                            >That's when the odd feeling resumed.

                                            >The feeling of something wet and slimy moving down your…

                                            >You quickly shift your hands away from your face, the scene in front of you was almost too unthinkable to be true.

                                            “What the hell are you doing?!”

                                            >Instantly the little green pony turned to focus her gaze on you, quickly moving her tongue up the length of your shaft, before releasing the tip with a little kiss.

                                            >”I-I’m s-sorry M-master.” She stuttered out. “I’ll go f-faster if t-that’s w-what you r-require.”

                                            >Swiftly, you pull your boxers back up, blocking off access from your dick.

                                            “Are you actually retarded?” You growl out, forcefully grasping the green mare and plopping her down on the ground.

                                            >”W-what?” She stammers out, tears quickly welling up in her eyes.

                                            >You sigh.

                                            >As violated as you feel right now, the act of making anything cry, human or pony, made you suddenly feel very shitty.

                                            “Look… Why were you sucking me?” You say, trying to sound as least vulgar as possible.

                                            >You had no idea why she thought you’d enjoy that, but you didn’t expect her face to warp into one of genuine confusion in response to that; as if she was truly unsure of what she was doing wrong.

                                            >At first she didn’t respond, cowering at your feet, expecting you to hit her or something.

                                            >When she found out you weren’t, she looked up slightly, visibly shaking.

                                            >”I-... M-my old M-master… Y-you were…” She tries to stammer, breaking out into a fit of tears.

                                            >Ow, your heart.

                                            >Wait, her OLD Master?

                                            >She did seem to call you master when referring to you, but by no means were you taking responsibility for this pony. Although, it’s possible that’s just how she refered to everyone as.

                                            “Hey, hey.” You say, a little more calmly, hoping to get her to stop crying. “I’m not angry with you, I’m just… puzzled why you thought doing that would be a smart idea.”

                                            >She sniffs a few times, trying her best to wipe away the tears that were wetting her face.

                                            >”You- I s-saw y-you were... “ She pauses again, looking for how to describe her reasoning. >“Y-you were s-s-stiff, a-and my o-old M-master-” She tries to sputter out before letting her emotions take over again.

                                            >oh

                                            >OH

                                            >Whoever owns this mare must use her for… things. It makes sense that she’d mistake your morning wood as a sign to ‘pleasure’ you, if that’s what’s normally expected of her. The person that owns her must be a sick fuck, sure, but mare didn’t seem to mind at all, it was almost as if she was enjoying it.

                                            “Hey now, there’s no need to cry, just… Don’t do that again.”

                                            >She looks up at you, trying to regain her composure.

                                            “It’s called morning wood, it happens to every guy waking up… It doesn’t mean I want you to start sucking me off… Besides, you don’t even know who I am.”

                                            >You sigh again, shaking your head.

                                            “What’s your name anyhow?”

                                            >”I-I don’t h-have o-one.”

                                            “Of course you do!” You say a little dumbfounded. “You’re a pony afterall.”

                                            >She looks down slightly heartbroken, as if you saying that panged her a bit.

                                            >”It’s… I-It’s Lyra.”

                                            “Alright, that makes it easier.” You say, standing up and pulling your pants back on. “Anyways, let’s go get you some breakfast…that’s the least I can do.”

                                            >Picking up the empty eggnog glass from yesterday, you start your walk into the kitchen, the little green mare seeming hesitant to follow after you.

                                            “Well, come on then.” You call back to her.

                                            >As if responding to an order, she hastily gets up, galloping to your side.

                                            “So, wudda eat? Besides… Nevermind.” You say down to the mare at your feet.

                                            >”O-oh, uh, anything r-really.” She responds back.

                                            “Eggs and salad sound good?” You reply. However, she doesn’t respond back, almost as if she thought you were being sarcastic. “Hmm?” You announce to her again.

                                            >”O-oh, n-no, I c-couldn’t eat something t-that nice…” She says. “I-I’m a pony.”

                                            >You concernedly laugh. Eggs and salad aren’t that special… it makes you wonder what she’d typically eat. From her skinny frame, probably not much, you assumed.

                                            >”M-Master?”

                                            “Uh, just Anon is fine.” You respond “What did you need?”

                                            >”W-what did y-you mean, by k-knowing my n-name makes i-it e-easier?”

                                            >Taking out the eggs from the refrigerator, you turn on the oven in preparation to scramble some eggs.

                                            “Well, your owner is probably worried sick about you.” You say, cracking an egg on the side of the frying pan, and placing it in the pan. “Oh by the way, how do you like your eggs?” Turning back around to face her.

                                            >”M-maybe, but… how does k-knowing my n-name…” She says, still stuck on her last question.

                                            “I have a plan... we can’t do it right now because we’re essentially snowed in, but when the weather clears, I’ll need to return you back to your owner, the only way I can is if-”

                                            >”NO!” Lyra suddenly shouts, bolting up and clinging to your pant leg. Tears once again flowing steadily from her eyes. “I-I’ll do a-anything f-for you. P-please!”

                                            “Whoa, whoa, Lyra!” You call out suddenly. “What’s wrong?!”

                                            >”Please d-don’t take me b-back there.” She sobs. ““I-I’ll do anything!”

                                            >Kneeling down, you pull the unicorn close and let her cry into your shoulder, rubbing her back in an attempt to comfort her.

                                            >”He m-made m-me-”

                                            “Shh, shh, it’s OK, Lyra.” You tell her, not wanted her to bring up her past if it would cause her pain. “Did you run away from home? Is that the real reason why you’re here?”

                                            >She nods, tears running down her cheeks.

                                            >”I, I a-accidently s-spilt h-his j-juice o-on the c-carpet, and he-he locked m-me outside, a-and wouldn’t l-let me b-back innnnn!” She cried out, once again sobbing violently into your arms.

                                            >Well… shit.

                                            >”H-he would w-whip me, and b-beat meee!”

                                            “It’s OK, you’re safe now, Lyra.”

                                            >You were unsure what to do in a situation like this. You never planned on ever owning a pony, yet here you are, one in your arms. You planned on finding her home to return her, but from the looks of it, that’s the last place she wants to be.

                                            >Maybe you’ll find something for her to do to make up for living here.

                                            >After Lyra’s little emotional episode in the morning, you decided it’d be best for her to relax a bit, much to her protests.

                                            >All she wanted to do was help you with something. Anything.

                                            >Something about proving to you she wasn’t worthless or whatever. Not that you even remotely elluded to thinking she was, but this morning after you suggested to help her find her owner, she wanted to do everything solely in her power to make you reconsider keeping her for awhile.

                                            >Whether that be cleaning, cooking, or… other.

                                            >From what little she had spoken detailing her previous owner, you could tell that her skill-set was mostly geared towards, well, said things.

                                            >For you, however, you mostly just opted to just turn on SpongeBob and let her watch TV for awhile, while you retired to your room to work some more on your novel.

                                            >When you live by yourself, there wasn’t much to do in the way of chores, especially seeing as the entirety of the outside was a fucked over winter wonderland.

                                            >However, she wouldn’t stop opposing the idea of her not being able to help you, until you reassured her that the next time you think of something that needed to be done, you’d go straight to her, and if she needed something, she was always welcome to come to you whenever.

                                            >Which wasn’t exactly a lie. To your knowledge, everything there was to do was already done.

                                            >After about an hour or so of spinning around in your chair, trying to rid your head of the inevasible writer's block, you decided to step out of your room to get something to drink.

                                            >Lyra somehow found out how to use the remote, and switched from SpongeBob to channel she claimed was a lot more “enjoyable” because it contained humans.

                                            >Rick and Morty.

                                            >Eh, at least the girls’ got a good taste in animated TV shows.

                                            >Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, you walk over to your refrigerator door to fill it with some water.

                                            >Once full, you turn around, spying Lyra standing in the Kitchen doorway, having gotten up off her spot on the couch to greet you.

                                            “Hey sweetie, what’s up?” You state, before taking a sip from the glass in your hand.

                                            >She blushes at the name you called her, bashfully looking down.

                                            >You’re starting to think she wasn’t used to being complemented, or being acknowledged as anything other than an equine slave

                                            >”I uh… I was wondering if y-you needed any help n-now, Master?”

                                            >That’s another thing she needed to work on. Even after conveying that you’d like to be addressed as Anon, calling you Master seemed to be one of those ‘old habits die hard’ sorta things for her.

                                            >Hopefully with time she’ll understand you had no more authority than she did; understand, and accept.

                                            “I think I’m good for now, Lyra.” You say, walking over, and bending down to pet her. “I just want you to focus on getting better… You gave me quite the scare last night, y’know.”

                                            >She diverts her gaze away, and her face transforms into one of guilt.

                                            >”I know... I-I’m sorry Master.” She quietly replies.

                                            >You laugh, hoisting her up into your arms, careful not to spill your water while doing so.

                                            >”Hey!” She shouts, surprised by your announced actions, before you plop down onto the couch with her resting in your lap.

                                            “This is my favorite episode.” You exclaim, pushing the minty mare up into a more comfortable position with her back against your stomach, quickly recognizing the scene being played.

                                            >While you do love the show, you just hope the over exaggerated violence doesn’t trigger her in some unforeseen way.

                                            >You watch the show for a few minutes, Lyra seeming to greatly enjoy your company on your lap.

                                            >And while you found it extraordinarily cute as well, the shifting and grinding she did with her backside, trying pull her butt back further up into your lap whenever she’d slide forwards slightly was making you a little more unintentionally aroused then you’d care to admit.

                                            >Goddamit brain, pones are not for sexual.

                                            “Hey Lye?” You coo gently into her oversized ear that lay in front of you.

                                            >”Yes Master?” She responds, turning her head to face you.

                                            “I’m going to go into my room for a little bit to check on something. Just come find me if you need anything. Once I’m done, I’ll make us some lunch.”

                                            >”O-oh, ok.” She says, slowly getting off your lap, careful not to step between your legs in the process. “If it’s alright with y-you though, could I make lunch for you…?”

                                            >Standing up, you look down and smile at the green unicorn staring up at you,

                                            >Who could say no to a face like that?

                                            “Sure, Lyra.”

                                            >Once in your room, you waste no time getting down to business.

                                            >It’s been a couple days now since you were able to relive some stress the good ol’ fashion way, and Lyra’s wake up call this morning only assisted in making the bluing of balls worse.

                                            >So when her backside was rubbing against you, you knew you’d need to do this before she got the wrong idea.

                                            >Pushing the door closed behind you, you swiftly take off both your pants and boxers, throwing them to the side, before unplugging your phone from the nightstand and finding a comfy spot on the side of your bed.

                                            >Yeah, some may call it obscene, but sometimes you just gotta do what ya gotta do.

                                            >Finding some half-decent female pics on the internet, you start to shake the snake.

                                            >Yank the crank.

                                            >Drain the vein.

                                            >Yeah, that sorta thing.

                                            >”Hey Master, d-do you like red sause or-?” A familiar voice suddenly rings out from just behind your bedroom door.

                                            >Your head snapped around to face to source of the noise, and that’s when you realized, you didn’t completely shut the door, you just closed it enough so that it blocked vision, but it didn’t completely latch.

                                            “O-one second Lyra!” You call out, but to your dread, it was too late. Her little green head had already nudged the door wide open.

                                            >Now was the time when you’d falteringly say ‘It isn’t what it looks like!’ But unfortunately, it was exactly what it looked like, and you knew she knew that too.

                                            >”Master…” She says, a hint of sultry very evidently climbing into her voice, taking a few more steps into the room.

                                            “Lyra... you know I’m doing exactly what you think I’m doing.” You reply promptly. Your eyes darting all around the room for something to possibly deflect the tension. “You may think it’s weird-”

                                            >”I know you are.” She responds, jumping up onto the bed. “And I don’t think it’s weird. A-all humans need their release, afterall.”

                                            >You consider running over and snatching your pants, but at this point, it didn’t matter. She’s seen you naked before, the part that comes afterwards is what you worry about.

                                            >She takes a few steps closer to you, lowering her eyelids as she approaches.

                                            >”I know I-I’d be a bad pony if I didn’t offer to help.”

                                            “No, Lyra-” You say, as she places a hoof onto your abdomen. “I-I don’t care what your old Master had you do, this is not-”

                                            >”Do you not like m-me?” She cuts you off.

                                            >This will be hard to explain, especially seeing as she caught you in the act of fapping. In your horny state of mind, you almost didn’t want to protest against her, but you knew how oh, so wrong it’d be if you didn’t.

                                            “No, Lyra, it’s not that at all.” You say, attempting to remove her hoof from you chest. “I just… Don’t want you doing things that you’re uncomfortable doing.”

                                            “I-If that’s the case, then let momma take care of you, you need it, Master.” She says meaningfully before, without warning, she shoots her tongue out towards the base of your shaft.

                                            >You gasp at the sudden and foreign sensation of something else touching your junk.

                                            >It felt so wrong, but for some reason, you couldn’t bring your hands up to stop it.

                                            >This must be her interpretation of ‘helping you’.

                                            >You unintentionally moan again, this one a lot louder and more intense.

                                            >The feeling was impossible to describe, her experienced horse tongue swirled around your shaft, before plunging onto your dick.

                                            “L-Lyra…” You strenuously moan out, trying anything to get her to stop.

                                            >She brings her head up again, trailing your dick with her tongue on the way.

                                            >Whenever you try to raise you arms in protest, she’d plunge back down on you again, simultaneously using her magic to massage your balls, temporarily paralyzing you from the overload of pleasure.

                                            >You make one last groan, and she takes that as a sign, quickening her pace, trying harder and harder with each repetition to make it to you lose it.

                                            “Ah-Lyra, stop… don’t... stop.” You say, uncontrollably, as if the words were forced from you without consent.

                                            >As you say that, a heavy pressure builds up from deep within your loins.

                                            >She sensed it too, and does everything she can to leave you disabled, begging for release on the bed.

                                            >You tried to hold it down for as long as you could, but finally, you passed the point of no return, as you felt a tidalwave of your seed shoot up from your within your member.

                                            >Her eyes shot open, as soon as your seed forcefully hit the back of your throat.

                                            >However, even with the enormous load, she was able to swallow every drop with ease.

                                            >Finally, after making sure you were milked completely dry, Lyra releases your head from her mouth, and swallows the last drops that remained.

                                            >Panting you finally look upwards to the smiling green pony ontop of you.

                                            >”Thank you for your gift, master.” She beams, “Lunch will be ready in a couple of minutes, if that’s alright.”

                                            “What… What the hell was that?” You croak out, not necessarily as mad as you were stunned.

                                            >”Don’t worry M-Master, it was entirely my pleasure. If you want, y-you can forget I was even in here.” She says quickly, jumping off your bed. “It’s my duty a-as your slave to take care of you as best I can.”

                                            >Sitting up, you watch Lyra walk out from your bedroom and into the kitchen.

                                            >What the hell just happened?

                                            >Walking out, you see the dinner table set with a plate of spaghetti next to where you normally sit.

                                            >Lyra looks to be the happiest she’s ever been since staying with you, coincidence or not.

                                            “Lyra, we need to talk.” You say sternly, walking over to the table.

                                            >”Yes, Master?” She says, cocking her head at you.

                                            “I know you want to help, but THAT?” You respond, adding as much emphasis as you could to the word. “Was not called for…”

                                            >Lyra happy expression fades, and slowly, she looks away. “I just wanted to make sure you’ll be ok, I don’t want you to die because I’m not a good enough pony…”

                                            >Wait, what?

                                            “What? Die?” You say in confusion.

                                            >”Yes… My o-old master informed me already that human m-males need release twice a day or their balls w-will fill up and overflow, or worse, possibly e-explode.”

                                            >...

                                            >”S-so I fully expect to do the same t-thing again tonight… or whenever you’re ready again…” She says softly. “It’s the very l-least I can do in return for you treating me so well.”

                                            >You sigh.

                                            >This.

                                            >This won’t be easy.