Anon and Octavia RGRE mono shitpost


                                            >Be Octavia.

                                            >Be an extremely lonely mare desperately looking for a new place to live.

                                            >You lost your temper and had a knock-down drag-out brawl with Vinyl after she shat in the toilet and forgot to flush it for the dozenth time in three months.

                                            >You won.

                                            >Earth Pony strength has its uses.

                                            >While Vinyl's getting her snoot reconstructed and her broken legs set, you're trying to find somewhere else to live.

                                            >Unfortunately, Vinyl's a damn sight more popular than you are.

                                            >As usual.

                                            >You're starting to despair of finding someone who'll let you live with them when you see a want ad in the Ponyville Daily Record.

                                            >"Wanted. Roommate for my spare bedroom. Roommate must be honest, pay rent on time, not have any criminal side ventures, and not give me shit for being male or an alien ape-man. I didn't ask to have my house and land torn through space-time and dropped off in a dimension full of big-eyed pastel horses with weird gender roles."

                                            >You are somewhat dubious, but it's half the price of anywhere else in Ponyville.

                                            >Any port in a storm, right?


                                            >"So why are -- [words, words, words]"

                                            >You were not expecting the apelien to smell like sex on wheels, or to be tall and muscular enough that he could overpower you easily. It's more than a bit distracting. The small, pale eyes, the omnivore teeth, the mangy dark fur, and the pallid night-walker's skin beneath it are more like what you'd expect from a creature alien to Equus. But it seems to share a certain trait with you...though it's far more open about it.

                                            >"Miss Octavia? Are you all right?"

                                            >Oh. It was talking TO you rather than AT you.

                                            "I'm sorry, my mind wandered. Can you repeat that, please?"

                                            >Please don't be too mad, please don't be too mad...

                                            >"I said, why are you moving out of your last place?

                                            "Despite her popularity with the fairer sex, my roommate was a disgusting slob and we had a rather...physical falling-out about it."

                                            >"I'm not the neatest person in the world myself. Define what you mean by 'disgusting slob,' please."

                                            "Do you regularly fail to flush the toilet after dropping a deuce and cop an attitude about it when called on your literal fucking shite?"

                                            >Whoops. Your natural Cockneigh accent slipped out towards the end there. Hopefully he didn't notice.

                                            >The ape's face twists. You think that's a negative expression, and his next words confirm it. "No. No I do not, and if that was the reason for your falling-out, I hope you cracked her skull. That's absolutely revolting."

                                            >You blink.

                                            >Alien with different gender roles, right. Still, that casual approach to violence is both frightening and arousing.

                                            "Just her snoot and her legs."

                                            >"Well done."

                                            >A small thrill of pleasure shoots through you.

                                            >"Besides, even if I was such a revolting subhuman, you'd still have your own bathroom."

                                            "Thank Faust. That nearly convinces me to move in on its own. What else do I need to know?"

                                            >"Due to all the solar panels on the roof, we have working electricity. I'll show you the ropes there."

                                            "Oh, not another colt with a bondage fetish. It's shite. SHITE."

                                            >Fuck, you said that out loud!

                                            >You cover your face, but you can still feel it turning crimson.

                                            > The big ape roars with laughter. "A woman -- sorry, mare -- after my own heart! Bondage is nice as an occasional change of pace, but it's no fun if your partner wants you to do it all the time. Or even most of the time."

                                            "Then where do the ropes come in?"

                                            >"It's an idiomatic expression in my language. Goes back to the Age of Sail, when old sailors would have to show the new hands how to manipulate the ropes in the rigging and their knots. Sailing ships got replaced by steamships, and then by internal combustion engines --"

                                            >Oh, I'll show you somewhere internal that your engine can cum bust in, pretty stallion...monkey...whatever...oh shit, he's still talking!

                                            >"Anyway, enough about humankind's technological progression. Back to the actually relevant stuff...we also have a functioning well, so there aren't really utilities per se. Meals are not included in the rent and you're responsible for doing your own laundry. You're welcome to use my home gym if you want to, though. Also, the house is a split-plan layout, so if you want to bring someone -- sorry, somepony -- home and fuck them, don't worry about me overhearing."

                                            "No worries there, sadly."

                                            >He blinks. "Really? But -- nevermind. Let's change the subject from our failed love lives."

                                            "Wait, failed love lives? You've been living alone without a herd? How do you keep mares from raping you?!"

                                            >That gets you a flat look. "Octavia, I'm a giant compared to your species and I outweigh even earth pony mares by a factor of two. Being physically overpowered isn't exactly a concern for me. In fact, let me demonstrate --"

                                            >He stands up, grabs you under the forelegs and, with what seems to be minimal effort, lifts you up until you're at eye level with him.

                                            >Don'twinkdon'twinkdon'twink...

                                            >He sets you back down before your loins can betray you, but you still have to tuck your tail under yourself to avoid leaving an unseemly dribble on his chair.

                                            "But what about unicorns? You're big and strong, but that doesn't do you any good against active magic!"

                                            >"True, I don't have any magic resistance, but humans are apparently ridiculously fertile with magical creatures. Such as ponies. Twilight broadcast that to the whole town when I got here...and then told Berry Punch again when she sobered up. No mare's going to rape me when it guarantees that she'll be pushing out hybrid quadruplets -- quadruplets AT A MINIMUM -- nine to eleven months later. I'm surprised you missed the announcement."

                                            >"I might have been performing in Canterlot at the time. I'm second for the Royal Canterlot Orchestra."

                                            >"Classical music doesn't pay much better here than back home, it seems. What instrument?"

                                            >"Cello."

                                            >"Well, good for you. I can't play stringed instruments worth a damn. I just tweedle on a cow-horn trumpet occasionally."

                                            >You blink. "Why a cow-horn trumpet, specifically?"

                                            >"I bought a processed half of a cow from a local farmer and they threw in the horn by mistake. I figured I might as well put it to use."

                                            >Omnivore. Right. Still, that's BLOODY creepy.

                                            >But you don't have much choice, do you?

                                            >"Well, Mr. Anonymous, let me take the tour rather than just sitting in your living room. If it's even halfway decent, we have a deal."


                                            >It was better than halfway decent. It was actually better than your last place.

                                            >You were leery about rooming with a stallion, because you've heard a lot of horror stories.

                                            >It turned out much better than you were expecting.

                                            >You are pretty sure that it's because he's an alien.

                                            >Anon is considerate, thrifty, easy-going, and when you disagree on something, he at least listens to your point of view instead of automatically rejecting it, sulking, or trying to emotionally manipulate you (stallions) or doing something disgusting as petty revenge (VINYL.) He even listens attentively when you practice and tries to offer constructive criticism.

                                            >You just wish he didn't walk around fully dressed so much.

                                            >AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

                                            >Or work out heavily and then take a nap on the couch without showering.

                                            >AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                            >You'll clop yourself to death at this rate, filly.

                                            >You didn't have a musk fetish before you got here, but you certainly do now.

                                            >But the worst part happens on the rare occasions that he jerks it.

                                            >He cooms in his underwear...or worse, a sock...and then he leaves it in the laundry hamper UNTIL HE WASHES THE NEXT LOAD OF CLOTHES.

                                            >Which can be anywhere from a few hours to A FEW DAYS.

                                            >AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                            >Sweet Celestia, you're but a mortal mare!

                                            >A mortal mare who hasn't been laid in years. The temptation to pilfer his laundry and shamelessly huff it while you clop keeps growing.


                                            >The tension finally breaks after a few months. It's late spring. The start of estrus.

                                            >Anon is completely unaware of this fact.

                                            >After a three-hour workout, he staggered into his room for a post-workout wank session.

                                            >You could smell it when he came.

                                            >The smell is vaguely ammoniac, and pungent.

                                            >You wonder what it would taste like.

                                            >Anon shuffles out of his room in a new set of clothes, throws a load of old clothes into the washroom's laundry hamper, and limps back into his room for a nap.

                                            >You can hear him snoring like a sawmill within a few minutes.

                                            >You creep over to the laundry hamper and start sniffing. A little effort lets you pick out a freshly cum-filled sock and Anon's sweaty briefs.

                                            >You slink over to the couch, throw the underwear over your face, and start going to town on yourself.

                                            >You're knuckle-deep in your pussy, huffing Anon's masculine musk and doing your damnedest to suck every drop of salty goodness out of his cum-sock.

                                            >You lose track of time until you hear his voice.

                                            "You know, if you were attracted to me, you could have just said something."


                                            >Be Anon.

                                            >You were awoken from your post-workout nap by muffled moaning, so you got out of bed to make sure that Octy was okay.

                                            >Oh, yeah. She's definitely okay.

                                            >You'd like to be confused, but finding your roommate -- your INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE alien horse-person roommate -- jilling off while sniffing your sweaty underwear and sucking on the sock that you just used as a cum-rag is pretty unequivocal.

                                            >Well, you aren't just going to sit there like a bump on a log.

                                            "You know, if you were attracted to me, you could have just said something."

                                            >Octavia jumps a foot in the air from her reclining position, lands hard, and tries to scramble off the couch.

                                            >Nope.

                                            >You take a few brisk steps and pounce on her before she can flee, pinning her to the couch.

                                            >She starts to say something, so you kiss her.

                                            >There's a moment of startled resistance. Then she kisses back. HARD.

                                            >A broad pony tongue invades your mouth, and your tongues wrestle until lack of air forces both of you to break the kiss.

                                            >You look deep into those beautiful purple eyes, and realize that today, you're going to succumb to the urges you've been fighting to restrain since she moved in.

                                            >You're going to fuck this horse.

                                            >You kiss her again, and her hands wrap around the back of your neck to hold you in place.

                                            >Wait.

                                            >Hands?

                                            >You break the kiss and seize one of the stray appendages for a moment.

                                            >Huh. You were not expecting that.

                                            "I suppose this is how you play the cello..."

                                            >She looks upset for a moment, but then you kiss her palm.

                                            "Meh. It's not like I don't have a pair myself."

                                            >You kiss her other hand's palm, and then kiss her again. Then you shift lower, and bury your face in her chest tuft.

                                            >The smell is intoxicating, electrifying. Poppers have nothing on this.

                                            >The rest of the afternoon passes in a lewd haze, from which only a few moments stand out.


                                            >Octy's thighs clench around your head, and her hooves scrape against your back.

                                            >Huh. Horse pussy tastes like chocolate mousse. At least, Octavia's does.


                                            >You grab Octy by the hips and hilt with authority.

                                            >She makes a noise that's half groan, half scream, and a gush of hot liquid bursts from her pussy.

                                            >Wow. Sensitive.

                                            >You kiss her deeply, and then begin to thrust, slowly and gently.


                                            >Later, you're not being slow or gentle at all. Sweat pours off your body as you plow Octy from behind. You've lost count of how many times she came.

                                            >Your sheets may not be salvageable.

                                            >And apparently, if you shag her hard enough, she has a really filthy mouth.

                                            >"Dahn't you dare stahp, Anon! Pound me achin' cunt! Yaaasss, just like that! Shag me hahdah! Rut me, fahk me, breed me!"

                                            >You swat her on the ass, hoping it'll shut her up.

                                            >"Yaaaasss, daddy! Smack me hahdah!"

                                            >Dammit.

                                            >You wrap your fingers in Octavia's mane and pull backward.

                                            >"Hee-HAW!'

                                            >You actually slow the pace at that.

                                            >Then you pull her mane again, to see if it was a fluke.

                                            >"Hee-HAW!"

                                            >You can't help it. You burst out laughing. In fact, you're laughing so hard that you have to stop thrusting.

                                            >Octy covers her eyes with her hands. "'S not funny."

                                            >You pull out and flip her onto her back. "It's kind of funny. It's also adorable." You pull her hands away from her face and kiss her deeply.

                                            >Then you hilt all eight inches of white ape-meat again in a single stroke.

                                            >"FAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTT!!!!!

                                            >You feel something give at the back of Octavia's pussy, and you slip in even deeper.

                                            >"GORBLIMEY, ME FAKKIN' WOMB!

                                            "Holy shit, Octy, are you okay?!"

                                            >Those beautiful purple eyes of hers are so dilated that you can barely see a thin ring of amethyst around the ebon pools of her pupils.

                                            >Okay, you've seen her eyes before. The pupils were definitely not shaped like little hearts.

                                            >Her hands wrap around your neck and she pulls you down into a searing, electric kiss.


                                            >The final moment stands out, as you feel that knife-edge tension in your groin and abdomen hit its very peak.

                                            "Octy, I'm gonna cum! Let go!"

                                            >She shakes her head and tightens the leg-lock she has you in.

                                            >"G'wan then, ya beautiful beast! Buckin' knock me up!"

                                            >That did it. The tension releases with a force that makes you roar like a beast.

                                            >Rope after steaming rope of burning white ape-seed bursts from your cock, flooding Octy's womb with your white-hot coom. She spasms, her pussy clenching around you again and again as she wails, "YAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!! GIVE ME YER BUCKIN' FOALS, NONNY!"

                                            >Finally, your balls are drained, and you pitch forward, utterly spent.

                                            "I hope you're ready to be a mom, Octy."

                                            >"Mm-hmm. Are you ready to be a dad?" (You're rather grateful that her grating Cockney accent is gone.)

                                            "I'm not sure, but I suppose I'll have to be."

                                            >"That's a good colt."

                                            >You kiss her again.

                                            "We'll make do. I suppose we should go on an actual date now, though."

                                            >Octavia snorts. "Yeah, we did do things out of order, didn't we?"


                                            ***

                                            "And that's the story of how you were conceived!"

                                            >"And why we're so disappointed that you two --" Octavia points at Canon and Crescendo, two of your octuplets. "-- are dating Vinyl BUCKING Scratch."

                                            "Your mother's right, boys. You can do better than a washed-up DJ who's taken a literal mile of cock."

                                            >Canon (the centaur) looks nervously at Crescendo (the satyr), before speaking. "I mean, we don't really have a choice at this point..."

                                            >You facepalm.

                                            "Aw, hell, you knocked her up."

                                            >Crescendo has enough confidence to nod. "Quadruplets."