A Stormy Ride [Two-Shot, NSFW]


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                                            @ A Stormy Ride

                                            @ Originally posted to Pastebin on Apr 8, 2018

                                            @ https://pastebin.com/aqXdy3JX

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                                            "Are you fucking serious, Grubber?"

                                            >"'Fraid so, Anon," came the disappointed sigh of the hedgehog in question.

                                            "All right, which one of those assholes did it?"

                                            >"You already know which one."

                                            "Oh, for the love of God."

                                            >"Really wish I had a joke ready for this, but nope, he's just on a roll this week."

                                            >You let loose a mighty groan, punctuated by your palm meeting your face.

                                            "All right, all right, fine. Guess I'll have to practice somewhere else, then."

                                            >"Well, only other spot's on the other end of the fort. Good luck convincing the boss to let anyone in, though."

                                            "Just my day, huh?"

                                            >Of course the Storm King had to reserve that half of the fort, right on the same day that fucking Wedge went and...

                                            >Jesus Christ, who let Wedge through boot camp, anyways?

                                            >Well, it's a mistake you don't intend on having repeated, at any rate.

                                            >Up comes the handy Notepad of Command©.

                                            >"Uh-oh."

                                            "Yeah, 'uh-oh' is about right."

                                            >A little bit of scrawling later, and the page is torn out and handed to Grubber.

                                            "Get that to the personnel manager, will you, bud?"

                                            >"You got it. If I find Wedge, what should I tell him?"

                                            "Tell him that if he wants to keep cosplaying as Chaos, then lieutenant Anon is more than happy to cosplay as Talon, right back at him."

                                            >"Uh... you know that he won't know what you mean, right?"

                                            "Better question: does he really want to find out?"

                                            >Should skeeze him out real nice, even without the whole 'devouring human worshippers' thing.

                                            >"Uhh, yeah, I'll just be, uh... moving right along."

                                            "Safe trip."

                                            >A quick little salute, and he zips off.

                                            >Man, never figured a guy like him would fit in around here.

                                            >But then again, they took your ass in without any trouble, either.

                                            >The big, bad Storm King found you, fixed you up, and got you into his army, after that little falling-from-the-sky fiasco.

                                            >The armour looking spiff as all hell may have helped things, too.

                                            >Now look at you: the only other lieutenant in his whole army.

                                            >Life is good.

                                            >Or at least it would be, if you had a goddamn training room to use.

                                            >Wait, wasn't there one, up in the officer's spire?

                                            >You wouldn't know, you spend all your training time with the grunts.

                                            >Ah, whatever, might as well take a look-see.

                                            >Not like you've got anything better to do.

                                            >A few minutes of trekking through the main barracks tower, and you eventually make your way across the suspended catwalk leading to the officer's spire.

                                            >Man, the Storm King loves his towers.

                                            >It's like a goddamn maze of bridges and catwalks, between them.

                                            >Extra wide for those big-ass storm creatures, of course.

                                            >Once you're at the much cushier officer's spire, you start combing the place for any training rooms, because asking guards for directions is for bitches.

                                            >A few minutes in, and you find the telltale double-door of a training gymnasium.

                                            >Geez, no wonder you never found this before, it's all the way up here!

                                            >Oh whatever, let's just get to it.

                                            >You open the doors, and...

                                            >Whoa, mama!

                                            >For a smaller spread, it sure has better kit!

                                            >Shit, is that an actual bathroom, tucked away behind a door there?

                                            >Man, this is cool!

                                            >Temporarily cool, Anon.

                                            >Temporarily cool.

                                            >You're not about to leave those grunts without some goddamn direction, now are you?

                                            >Of course not.

                                            >You head over to the right side, drop your bag, and start taking off the armour plates.

                                            >You just finish pulling the last piece off, when you hear the door open.

                                            >The shirt unbuttoning proceeds, while you whirl your head around to get a look at your intruder.

                                            >Said intruder doesn't look pleased to see you.

                                            >"Anon?!"

                                            "Ahh, so this is where you hide out, Tempest?"

                                            >She throws her own bag off to the other side of the room, but still levels that glare of hers at you.

                                            >"What do you think you're doing here?"

                                            "Gotta stay in shape somehow."

                                            >"Wh-- No, I mean, what are you doing here?"

                                            "Oh, here here? Gym's closed off for today. Probably for a few days after, too."

                                            >"Care to explain what happened to cause that?"

                                            "Wedge happened."

                                            >Heh, seeing her cringe is a rare sight.

                                            >"Look, isn't there somewhere else you can go for this?"

                                            "Unless you can get Mr. Storm King to evict the second barracks, that's a no."

                                            >"Damn it. Fine."

                                            "What's the deal, Tempest?" comes your eyebrow-perked inquiry.

                                            >"I train alone."

                                            >Your dress shirt comes off, and you start folding it up.

                                            "Well, where's the fun in that?"

                                            >"I'm not in the mood for this, Anon. If you're staying here, don't get in my way."

                                            >Geez, she's more pissy than usual, today.

                                            >What's her problem?

                                            >Even with that stick in her ass, she usually tolerates you just fine.

                                            >Oh, whatever.

                                            >In a few moments, your pants and shoes are off next, folded and stacked neatly to the side.

                                            >Then your bag opens up, revealing the much looser exercise clothes.

                                            >Classic gym shorts, trainers, and shirt.

                                            >Even had your damn bars on them.

                                            >Tempest's bemused snort can be heard off to the side, as you pull them on.

                                            "There a problem?"

                                            >"You and your layers. What's the point?"

                                            "Look who's talking."

                                            >"At least I have a reason for it."

                                            "Let's hear it, then."

                                            >You start stretching out, waiting for her reply.

                                            >Except it doesn't come.

                                            "Well?"

                                            >"It's none of your business."

                                            >Now it's your turn to snort.

                                            "Whatever you say, O mysterious one."

                                            >Your glance to the side nets you the sight of an unarmoured Tempest, down to her jumpsuit, glaring in your general direction.

                                            >Of course, when she notices you looking, she turns away.

                                            >Equal parts amusing and adorable.

                                            >Ponies tend to be like that.


                                            "You know," you start, finishing off the last few stretches. "I've gotta ask. How'd you wind up serving with the big, bad Storm King to begin with?"

                                            >"None of your business."

                                            >You bring the magic training dummy over, still 'docked' in it's little control panel thing on wheels.

                                            >Definitely the coolest part of this place's training regimens.

                                            "All right, so what's the deal with--"

                                            >"I'm done talking."

                                            >You set the dummy to a lower difficulty setting, to start out with.

                                            "Oh, I get it! Performance anxiety, right?"

                                            >The dummy animates, dropping into a fighting pose.

                                            >And so do you.

                                            >"Wh-what?" comes her flustered response.

                                            >Heh, you're such a shitweasel.

                                            >The dummy throws some punches, but it's as sloppy as you'd expect.

                                            >It's pretty easy to whittle down it's nice, prominently displayed health bar with your totally not aped from Metal Gear fighting moves.

                                            >Once you're done, and the dummy starts returning to it's dock, you look over to Tempest, in the middle of rather angrily beating the shit out of her own dummy.

                                            >Definitely more acrobatic and flexible than ponies normally are, that's for sure.

                                            >Though her Neo wire-fu fighting style might not be the most defensible thing around...

                                            >"You want to say that again?" came her low, very angry response, complete with glare levelled your way.

                                            >You ratchet up the dummy difficulty and turn it on while she speaks.

                                            "You know, that evil badass routine might work on ponies..."

                                            >Duck under the swing...

                                            "But I've gotta tell you..."

                                            >Sweep the legs, bring it down.

                                            "That shit doesn't really work..."

                                            >Drop your knee on it's arm, pull the other one back, choke it out with the free arm.

                                            "On me."

                                            >And it's down.

                                            >Looking over, she hasn't moved from her spot, an angry snort now going with her glare and scowl.

                                            >"Think you're funny, do you?"

                                            "I do try my best."

                                            >"Well, you're about to look the part, too, laughing without any teeth."

                                            >She gets ready to charge, in a very horse-like manner.

                                            "Live practice, eh?" comes your retort, filtered through your mighty shit-eating grin. "I like the way you think."

                                            >No response from her, outside of just launching straight at you.

                                            >She opens up with a flying roundhouse kick, pretty easy to duck under.

                                            >Her rebound into a donkey kick after hitting the ground, not so much.

                                            >That one caught you, but she got too greedy, and tried to follow up with a drop kick.

                                            >Easy to sidestep, and let you grab hold of her forelegs.

                                            >Any response she had was cut off by you swinging her around in a circle a few times, ending with you flinging her at the dummy.

                                            >Good thing they're padded, otherwise that would've left a mark.

                                            "Not bad," you follow up, "But you're leaving yourself way too open."

                                            >She darts back towards you, angrier than before.

                                            >Already, you notice her opening kick is more guarded than usual.

                                            >Unfortunately for you, she catches you with an outstretched hoof as you sidestep it.

                                            >Solid hit.

                                            >She whirls around and sweeps the legs, but you jump over it, roll out upon landing, and sweep right back, sending her crashing down.

                                            >Before any retort can come, she launches herself up towards you, forelegs outstretched.

                                            >Her reach is just a bit too wide to sidestep, and she brings you down to the ground.

                                            >She tries punching you with either hoof, and both times you stop them with your hands, grabbing hold of her hooves and pushing back against her.

                                            >She does much the same thing, effectively locking you two into a bit of a stalemate.

                                            >Now, you could easily roll under this, but...

                                            >"Give up."

                                            >You can't just let that slide, now can you?

                                            "But I'm having so much fun!"

                                            >"Then I'll keep beating you down, until I get your complete and total surrender!"

                                            "Ooh, 'complete and total surrender'? How long did you work on that one?"

                                            >She redoubles her push against you, forcing you to redouble your own resistance.

                                            "You know, you could just surrender, instead."

                                            >"Not happening."

                                            "Works for me. Means I get to use one of my special techniques."

                                            >"You don't have any special techni--"

                                            >Your head darts forward, and your lips connect.

                                            >"Mmph?!"

                                            >Her eyes go wide, she freezes up, and she stops pushing for a split second.

                                            >All the time you need.

                                            >Your hands move to her fetlocks, and you roll her onto her back, spreading her forelegs apart and pinning them to the ground with your new grip.

                                            >All while never breaking lip contact.

                                            >Now that she's immobilized, you break said contact with a light smack.

                                            "I call that one the 007."

                                            >"Th-that wasn't fair!" she shouts, surprise replacing the anger, and a bright blush covering her face.

                                            "Tempest, I work the Klugetown patrols. Ain't no such thing as fair."

                                            >All she manages are a few splutters, before lightly struggling against your hold.

                                            >If she's trying to distract you with cuteness, it's working.

                                            >You let go of her and stand out of her way, and she stumbles back to her hooves.

                                            >"I... I need to get back to training."

                                            >Still red-faced, she rushes back to her side of the gym, fumbling with the dummy controls.

                                            >D'aww.

                                            >You briefly wonder how far you could really push her, but quickly decide against it.

                                            >Wouldn't want to push your luck too too far, after all.


                                            >The next little while goes by, with the two of you beating the shit out of ever-more difficult training dummies.

                                            >You manage pretty well, but you see Tempest off to the side is struggling more than you'd expect.

                                            >In fact, she steals a few glances towards you, her still-present blush brightening whenever she does.

                                            >Ah, it's probably nothing.

                                            >Probably.

                                            >Maybe.

                                            >Uh...

                                            >You're gonna regret pulling that move on her, aren't you?

                                            >Fuck.

                                            >Oh, whatever, that's tommorow Anon's problem.

                                            >You finish off the hardest-setting dummy with a good lariat, and with quite a sweat worked up, to boot.

                                            "Whoo! Hey, Tempest, the bathroom here have a shower?"

                                            >"Y-yeah."

                                            "Sweet," you say, picking your bag up and carrying it to the bathroom.

                                            >Entering it reveals that yes, indeed, it is sparkling clean.

                                            >You'll have to tip the cleaners, sometime.

                                            >You peel off your very damp ensemble, and step into the nice, large shower.

                                            >Plenty of space for a group of people.

                                            >Good thing there's two of these big showers, so at least Tempest doesn't have to share.

                                            >Anyways, you close the curtains and get the water running, and then grab the--

                                            >The curtains opening up again draws your eyes away from the soap.

                                            >You know, you expect all kinds of shit, where showers are concerned.

                                            >Seeing Tempest enter yours wasn't on that list.

                                            >Her eyes lock on yours for a moment, but she quickly looks back down, that blush from before coming back full force.

                                            >She closes the curtain behind her, and starts reaching for the soap, before you turn back away, intending to reach for your own bar.

                                            >Man, never seen her outta that suit before.

                                            >The thing never left much to the imagination anyway, but man, as ponies go, she's pretty damn--

                                            >Ahahah, how about you stop that line of thought now, Anon?

                                            >Shit, uh, focus on something else!

                                            >Uhh...

                                            >Cutie mark, right!

                                            >Can't say you expected it to be a--

                                            >"Hey."

                                            >Her voice was much closer than you expected, and turning around reveals her to be barely a foot away from you.

                                            "Uhh... what's shakin'?"

                                            >"L-listen, I," she stammers out, the blush getting deeper as she goes, "H-how did-- N-no, uh, I-I mean, where did you c-come up with th-that, uh... t-technique?"

                                            >Ah, shit, guess it's not tomorrow Anon's problem.

                                            "It was... inspired. By home. Hey, you all right?"

                                            >Her ears pin back.

                                            >"Inspired? R-really? W-well, I just, ah... I-I'm just wondering i-if you had any... any other..."

                                            "Tempest?"

                                            >Wait a second.

                                            >Is she trying to ask what you think she's--

                                            >"Agh, h-how am I supposed to ask this, without it sounding dumb and corny?!"

                                            >No fucking way.

                                            >Okay, Anon, play it cool...

                                            "You could just, uh... show me what you mean."

                                            >Or you could fuck up completely, that works too--

                                            "Whoa!"

                                            >Next thing you know, Tempest's reared up and pinned you against the wall, staring you in the eye with a mix of emotions you can't really identify.

                                            >"You mean, a-act on impulse, j-just doing whatever you w-want?"

                                            "Well, I-- mmph?!"

                                            >Talking got a lot harder when she leaned in and kissed you.

                                            >Wait.

                                            >She just...?

                                            >Holy jumping Jesus, she actually--?!

                                            >She pulls away with a light smack.

                                            >"D-damn it... Look at what you've made me do...!"

                                            >Never thought you'd see a nervous smile on her face.

                                            >Then again, never thought she'd start sucking face with you, either.

                                            >Speaking of which, she went right back to doing just that, more boldly than before.

                                            >You know, Anon, you're a dumbshit.

                                            >There was a point where you needed to just up and stop, and you've quite clearly screamed right past that point.

                                            >But hey, since you're fucked either way...

                                            >The second she breaks contact, you speak up.

                                            "You know, that's wasn't even the best 'technique' I know..."

                                            >Let's keep going, and see what happens!

                                            >"Y-yeah? Then wh-what is?"

                                            >Your hands travel to her back, gently pulling her in closer.

                                            "You gotta ease into it, you know? Technique's part of a big ol' series, can't do 'em out of order."

                                            >"Th-that's the worst line I've ever heard," she says with a barely restrained, still nervous giggle.

                                            >It turns to a gasp, with a full blush returning to her face, when she feels Anon Jr. poke against her belly.

                                            >You can't help but groan a little at the contact.

                                            >Christ, she's soft...

                                            "Heheh, whoops," comes your totally not kinda nervous response.

                                            >"B-b-but, y-you said--"

                                            "I did, and I will. That was just... a little accident."

                                            >Well, that wasn't the most reassuring sentence around, but she seems to buy it.

                                            >"D-doesn't feel all that little..."

                                            >Or she could get a good throb out of you, that works, too!

                                            "S-so, you really want me to show you those techniques, huh?"

                                            >"W-would it help, if I said 'please'?"

                                            "Very."

                                            >With some newfound determination, she presses herself up against you, sandwiching your member between your bodies, and then leaning up to speak into your ear:

                                            >"Show me every technique you know. Please."

                                            >That last 'please', drawn out like that...

                                            >Fucking hell...!

                                            >Come on, Anon, get the situation back under control!

                                            "E-every one, huh?"

                                            >"Every one."

                                            "A-all right," you say, pushing her back a little bit to give your dick a little breathing room. "Let's start with an upgrade to that first move."

                                            >You both lean in to kiss each other at the same time, a hand snaking behind her head as you start in earnest.


                                            >You wait for a good second or two of lip-locking to happen, before you start moving your tongue in for the kill.

                                            >She jumps a little at the sudden intrusion, but gets the idea pretty quickly, reaching out with her own pretty soon after.

                                            >Before long, the two of you are performing full-on tongue wrestling, complete with the occasional moan from both parties.

                                            >You don't know if she's even aware, but she's started pressing her belly against Anon Jr. again.

                                            >It helped allay the disappointment, when you both had to stop making out for air.

                                            >That blush of hers is still in full force, but she looks a hell of a lot more confident, on top of looking satisfied.

                                            >"Th-that's one hell of a technique, Anon," she breathes, eyes lidding. "How dangerous do they get?"

                                            "Whew... whatever happened to not wanting to sound corny?"

                                            >"Stopped caring about a minute ago."

                                            "Well, in that case..."

                                            >Her eyes bulge a little when she feels your hand move to her rear end, eclipsing most of her cutie mark.

                                            "I'll show you just how dangerous it gets."

                                            >"L-looking forward to it," she replies with a small bite to her lip.

                                            >Aw, she's warming up to this.

                                            >Seeing her stammering and nervous was cute, but confidence suits her much better.

                                            >But let's get down to business.

                                            >Standing's gonna make this more awkward, so you lower yourself down to a sitting position, with Tempest hovering over you, hooves planted against your shoulders.

                                            >Once you're settled, your other hand makes it's way to her rump, and both of them start kneading.

                                            >She groans her approval, while you work your magic.

                                            >"Aah..."

                                            >Man, she's tense.

                                            >If you weren't about to nail her like Jesus to the cross, you'd almost consider giving her a full rub-down.

                                            >Oh well, her flank's gonna have to do.

                                            >You keep doing this for a little bit, alternating between squeezing, rubbing, and--

                                            "Whoa...!"

                                            >Tempest picks that moment to lay on top of you, pinning your dick underneath her belly, and looking down at you with a hungry smile.

                                            >"Why don't I show you a 'technique' of my own?"

                                            >You have to choke back a moan, when she starts grinding her belly against you.

                                            "Fffuck..."

                                            >"You like that, huh?" she chuckles.

                                            >Your response is to squeeze her rear harder, getting a moan out of her.

                                            >"Th-that a yes?"

                                            "Try a-- fuck! H-hell, yes."

                                            >Her smile widens, and she continues to do her thing, her motions soon going low enough for Anon Jr. to get sandwiched between her teats.

                                            >The constant spray of water from up above, contrary to what you thought would happen, was giving her coat a little extra drag against your skin.

                                            >The growing amount of pre covering the area only helped a little.

                                            >It was then, that you heard something hit the floor with a dull thunk.

                                            >Turning your head revealed it to be a bar of soap.

                                            >Well, now, isn't that lucky?

                                            >Pulling one hand away from it's sacred task, you scoop up the soap bar, much to Tempest's confusion.

                                            >Confusion that soon morphed to realization, when you started lathering up her undercarriage a bit.

                                            >Her hoof stopped your motions, however, prompting you to look up at her smiling, ever-needier face.

                                            >"Let me."

                                            >Didn't have to tell you, twice.

                                            >A quick rinse in the water, and your hand went back to work on her flank.

                                            >Tempest took the soap, getting the point of contact lathered up very nicely.

                                            >Soon, there was very little friction between Anon Jr and Tempest's coat.

                                            >Sadly, it also obscured the view of her teats, but oh well.

                                            >She continues doing this for a little bit longer, before she starts picking up the pace.

                                            "Aah...!"

                                            >Christ, that's a little too fast...!

                                            "H-hey, ease up a bit."

                                            >"Hmm?"

                                            >She does slow down, but her smile gets bigger and more wolfish.

                                            >"Don't tell me you're almost done? What happened to showing me all of those techniques?"

                                            >Before you can respond, she slides her hooves down your body, sitting at more of an upright angle.

                                            >You feel something considerably warmer against your little trooper, once she reaches the top of her new position.

                                            >As she gives you a deep, erotic chuckle, getting another throb and groan out of you, the water washes away enough of the soap to...

                                            >Oh.

                                            >It's exactly what you thought.

                                            >She's upgraded to using her God-given lady parts for the bump n' grind.

                                            >She winks against your member, getting grunts from the two of you.

                                            >And then, she starts moving again.

                                            >The much slicker, much hotter surface makes the experience way more pleasurable, and it gets more than a few extra moans from her, too.

                                            >As awesome as this is, you won't be outdone just yet.

                                            "Guh...! S-so, that's how you-- fuck! Wanna play it, huh?"

                                            >A smidge of confusion works it's way into her expression, but it soon melts away when she feels a fingertip press against her tail dock.

                                            >"Aah!"

                                            >Oh, hello there.

                                            >That sounded like it was a sensitive spot.

                                            >A wolfish smile of your own develops, and your right hand ceases squeezing her rump, working instead on her dock.

                                            >Your finger rubs gently up and down the soft nub, and you take care to sync it's movements with her own grinding.

                                            >Judging from her deeper, breathier moans, you'd call your counterattack a rip-roarin' success.

                                            >But not content with resting on your laurels, your other hand comes off her rear, brushing along her skin and coming around, until it meets her teats.

                                            >"Haaah! O-oh, my g--!"

                                            >She melts under the two-pronged assault, with you working up to two fingers almost digging into her dock, along with giving her teats a good squeeze.

                                            >Somewhere along the line, she picks up her pace, grinding faster and harder against you.

                                            >"Aah! A-Anon, I..."

                                            >W-wait, is she trying to make you finish, first?

                                            >Oh no, not today!

                                            >You redouble your ministrations on her sensitive areas, getting rewarded with louder moans, and what you swear was a small squeal.

                                            >F-fuck, she's getting faster!

                                            >"Anon, I-I can't, I'm--"

                                            >T-too close!


                                            >"G-gonna-- Aaaah!"

                                            >She freezes, a long yell escaping her, her legs clamping around your hips as best as they could.

                                            >It was tough to tell at first, with the shower still going, but she was definitely squirting a good deal against you.

                                            >Just as important as the pony you just pushed over the edge, however, was that you somehow managed to narrowly avoid going over the edge, yourself.

                                            >By the time Tempest ran out of breath, and collapsed against you, sweating and panting, you'd 'recovered' a fair bit.

                                            >"Haah... A-Anon?"

                                            "Yeah?"

                                            >"Y-you're not finished yet, a-are you?"

                                            "Against all odds."

                                            >You don't know if she meant to grind her belly against Anon Jr some more, but if she did, the bedroom eyes she was giving you right now were seriously completing the experience.

                                            >She leans in to kiss you again, and you meet her in the middle.

                                            >When she breaks it, she leans back in towards your ear.

                                            >"Damn. I was s-sure that would work..."

                                            "If it's any consolation, it almost did."

                                            >"Well, in that case..."

                                            >She plants a kiss on your ear, following it up with a lick.

                                            >"You still want to show me those techniques of yours?" she breathes into your ear, as husky and needy as she can say it.

                                            >Y-yeah, that definitely worked in her favour...!

                                            "Y-you learned pretty fast," you start, caressing her back with a free hand. "I think you can handle the... last technique in the series."

                                            >She hummed her approval next to your ear, before pulling back to kiss you again, this time slipping her tongue into the mix.

                                            >You gladly reciprocate.

                                            >She pulls back after a moment, shakily getting to her hooves, and stepping off of you.

                                            >At first you were confused, until she leaned her front half against the wall, almost like she was bracing herself.

                                            >Her mane, long since swept back by the water, cascaded down her withers, as she looked back with the strongest 'come hither' look to date.

                                            >And finally, her tail flicked side to side, offering teasing glances at her marehood.

                                            >All right.

                                            >You got the message.

                                            >She wants you to show her some technique?

                                            >She's gonna fucking get some technique.

                                            >Several inches of it.

                                            >You make your way over to her, her smile getting bigger as you go.

                                            >A gasp punctuates your hands clasping around her rear, her smile widening for your trouble.

                                            >One hand comes up and grabs the base of her tail, pulling it up with a small moan.

                                            >And there it is.

                                            >A thumb traces the outer walls of her opening, while the other rubs her dock--

                                            >"No."

                                            >Huh?

                                            >You stop, looking at Tempest's now very needy expression.

                                            >"N-no more foreplay. I need you inside me, right now...!"

                                            >Well, if she insists...

                                            >One hand grips her thigh, and the other takes hold of your dick, guiding it into it's target.

                                            >She tenses a little, failing to stifle some moans as you begin to penetrate her at a brisk pace.

                                            >Sweet mother of God, there's barely any resistance, she's so damn wet.

                                            >A small, adorable squeak escapes her as you bottom out, the tip poking at something deep within her.

                                            >Three guesses as to what that something is.

                                            >She doesn't waste any time, grinding against you mere seconds after hilting inside of her, and looking back at you with pure hunger.

                                            >"Rut me."

                                            >Your other hand clasps around her other thigh, preparing to do just that.

                                            >"I don't care how hard you do it, just rut me! Rut me until I can't walk right!"

                                            "Your wish is my command."

                                            >She cries out as you start thrusting into her, making up for your slower start with a good deal of force.

                                            >Wet, heavy slaps ring out with every time you hilt inside her.

                                            >She presses her hooves against the wall, bracing herself against your onslaught.

                                            >"Aah! Y-yes-- Aah! H-harder!"

                                            >You don't think you can do harder without blowing too quickly.

                                            >But what you can do, is pick her up.

                                            >Standing fully upright, you press her against the shower wall, continuing to bury yourself in her, as if trying to nail her to the wall.

                                            >Her cries, moans, and occasional squeals say more about her approval than words ever could.

                                            >"Aah, aah, more!"

                                            >But the words certainly help.

                                            >And more is what you give her, pounding away at her for a good minute or two.

                                            >It doesn't take long, however, for your finish to come.

                                            "Guh... G-getting close..."

                                            >"Haah! I-inside!"

                                            >Works for you!

                                            >She's half a year outta season, anyways!

                                            >Your thrusts become heavier and jerkier, much to Tempest's delight.

                                            >Gah...!

                                            >Th-that's it, you're gonna--!

                                            >You thrust into her one final time, burying yourself as deep as you'll go.

                                            >Parts of your vision start to go white as you throb inside her, and you seriously think you heard the first jet or two shoot out.

                                            >On Tempest's part, she cries out with every spurt fired into her, starting loud, and tapering off with the remaining, weaker spurts.

                                            >All she could really do was squirm in your grasp, and press herself against you as much as she possibly could.

                                            "Guh...!"

                                            >"Aaaaaaah! Haaah! Ha-- Aaah!"

                                            >As the high of your release tapers off, so too does your strength, and you collapse to the floor, with Tempest coming along for the ride, Anon Jr still buried inside her.

                                            >Both of you spend a few moments, panting like animals, the spray of the shower adding to the post-coital bliss.

                                            >Until you heard her shut the water off.

                                            >"A-Anon?"

                                            >You look down towards her, rivulets of white leaking down your still-buried member as she brings her head up, wearing the picturesque face of satisfaction.

                                            >"H-how long do you think your gym's gonna be closed for?"

                                            >You smile back.

                                            "Probably a few days. More, if I'm not there to manage it..."

                                            >"Well," she begins with lidded eyes and a husky tone, "It would be a real shame, if you weren't there to manage it, huh?"

                                            >The wink thrown your way completes her delivery.

                                            >In response, you slowly sit up, soft giggles leaving her freely as you start rubbing her belly.

                                            "Yeah," you respond, kissing her neck for good measure. "Real shame, indeed..."


                                            @@@@@@@@


                                            >"You always question my competence! Every time! Why can't you just--"

                                            >Biggs's punch was easy to sidestep, leaving him wide open.

                                            >You decide to end this right now, sweeping his legs from out under him.

                                            >Before he can recover from his crash to the ground, you're already on him, foot planted on his back, and twisting his arm back.

                                            >For how big these storm creatures are, they were surprisingly easy to wrestle down.

                                            >"Oow, ow ow ow!"

                                            "So, want me to stop, do you?"

                                            >"Aahahahaoooow!"

                                            "Here's a tip for you, buckaroo. Want me to stop calling you incompetent? Then stop acting so goddamn incompetent."

                                            >Seriously, how'd this guy pass boot camp, to begin with?

                                            >First Wedge, and now this guy!

                                            >Still, you do relinquish your hold on him, when he starts to blubber.

                                            >God, you can't believe this asshole's gonna be in the main force, during the big invasion.

                                            >Knowing him, one of those damn ponies could probably talk him into tears.

                                            >Oh, whatever.

                                            >These newbies needed some serious training squeezed in for the big invasion, and that's exactly what you're going to do.

                                            >To their credit, they've been taking to it pretty well.

                                            >Mostly.

                                            >Fucking Biggs.

                                            >Your part of the regimen finishes late into the afternoon, and the weapons teacher enters just as you leave, right on cue.

                                            >Thank God you're not the guy teaching them weapons, today.

                                            >So off you go, heading across the bridge to the officer's spire, headed straight for--

                                            >"Hey, Anon!"

                                            >The sound of Grubber's voice was an unexpected, yet welcome surprise.

                                            >Looking over to the side reveals him and Fiz-- Tempest, walking down a side hallway towards you.

                                            >Seeing her again was a much more welcome surprise.

                                            >And despite her attempt to hide it, you knew full well that the feeling was mutual.

                                            "What's shakin', little guy?"

                                            >"Just finished meeting with the Storm King, finally got the invasion planned out."

                                            "Well shit, that right?"

                                            >"Yep! Everything's set up and ready to go, right on schedule!"

                                            "Hard to believe it's just a week away, huh?"

                                            >Harder still to believe that the guy thinks he can pull it off, given the opposition.

                                            >But he doesn't need to know that.

                                            >"I think that Equestria is going to be in for quite a shock," adds Tempest in her usual manner.

                                            "Well, you've got that right."

                                            >You saw how good she was with those stone orb things, she'll be fine.

                                            >Hell, she'll probably end up carrying the whole mission.

                                            >You notice Tempest regarding you with a certain look.

                                            >A well-hidden, yet very familiar look, signalling her desire to 'talk' in private.

                                            >Secret codes are way more fun, when there's someone to share them with.

                                            >A very unsubtle wink is thrown her way, and she has to force herself not to grin.

                                            >"Uhh, Anon? What're you doing?" Grubber chimes in.

                                            "Hm? Whaddya mean?"

                                            >"You're looking at her all weird!" he exclaims, head darting between you and Tempest. "And Tempest, why're you looking at him funny, too?"

                                            >Ahh, what a poor, sweet summer child.

                                            "You trying to imply something, little guy?"

                                            >"Yeah! I mean, maybe a little! You two didn't even want to look at each other a few weeks back, and now you're always looking at each other! And all weird, too!"

                                            >How such innocence can flourish here is beyond you.

                                            >Still, you assume the universal pose of 'really makes you think'.

                                            "Have I? Hmm, haven't noticed. Hey, Lieutenant, have you noticed?"

                                            >"No, Commander," comes Tempest's reply. "I can't say I have noticed."

                                            "Well, there you have it, little guy. Looks like we haven't noticed anything."

                                            >It's hard to keep the grins off of your faces, especially when Grubber starts to sputter.

                                            >But he does give it up fairly quickly, clamouring for some food.

                                            >You say your farewells, heading back to your room.

                                            >As Tempest passes by, she drags her tail along your waist.

                                            >Your grin grows a little wider.

                                            <...

                                            >"A-aaah... Haah... Aah-- Aaaah!"

                                            >The loud moan that just left her was sweet music to your ears.

                                            >Just like the how the accompanying clench of her marehood was sweet bliss to Anon Jr.

                                            >"Aah... M-more...!"

                                            >Now, who can refuse a request like that?

                                            >Tightening your grip on her hips, you put just a bit more force behind your thrusts.

                                            >She tightens her hold around the pillow beneath her, her hindlegs widening just a little bit more in an attempt to allow you more access to her.

                                            >You spend a little more time on one thrust, grinding against her deepest barrier, just how she likes it.

                                            >"Haaaaah...!"

                                            >You continue pounding into the pony beneath you, the pressure of your own release slowly inching closer and closer.

                                            >"Aah, aah, haah, m-aah, m-more..."

                                            >Hearing her vocalize her pleasure like that will never get old to you.

                                            >You pick up the pace just a bit more, much to her delight.

                                            >Alas, your finish is felt creeping even closer.

                                            >You try to delay it a bit more with a little bit of extra grinding.

                                            >"A-Anon..."

                                            >But it looks like she has some other ideas, if that needy look of hers is anything to go by.

                                            >"Y-you're getting-- Aah! C-close?"

                                            >A grunt and a nod is all you get, too busy fighting back an early release from the throb she drew out of you.

                                            >"You k-know where to-- Mmmh...! F-finish..."

                                            >That, you most certainly do.

                                            >You ramp up the speed, set on giving the girl what she wants.

                                            >She bites her lip, anticipation in her eyes.

                                            >She knows what's coming.

                                            >You feel yourself pass the point of no return.

                                            "Guh...! F-Fizzy, I'm--!"

                                            >"D-do it!"

                                            >You bury yourself in her one last time.

                                            >A groan leaves your throat, as the pleasure overtakes you.


                                            >Rope after sticky rope of your seed is fired into her, her quiet squeals with the first few spurts enhancing the already amazing sensation.

                                            >"Aaaah! Haaaaah!"

                                            >Her mouth hung open, tongue on the verge of lolling out, her eyes locked to yours, silently pleading for more.

                                            >But sadly, the seventh spurt marks the end of your ability to fulfill her request, in spite of her marehood's constant, powerful squeezing, trying so hard to milk just that little bit more out of you.

                                            >Both of you stay in place like this, breathing heavily and enjoying the last few moments of the experience.

                                            >You're the first to move, slowly pulling yourself out.

                                            >Despite her disappointment, she doesn't move to stop you, groaning a little when Anon Jr. finally pops out.

                                            >Finally, you let yourself fall forwards onto the bed, beside her.

                                            >Whew.

                                            >Pleasing your girl is some mighty tough work.

                                            >But that look on her face made it all worthwhile.

                                            >Speaking of, Temp-- Fizzy rolls onto her side, pulling herself in for a hug.

                                            >"Th-thanks, Anon," Fizzy breathes, quickly pecking your lips, eyes full of contentment. "I really needed that, today."

                                            "I could tell," you coo back, arms wrapping around her.

                                            >A soft exhale from her accompanies your move.

                                            >You still have a hard time believing that Tempe-- Fizzlepop had this side to her.

                                            >But when you've got something as good as this, complaining is always the furthest thing from your mind.

                                            >It's been a solid month, since you first had that fun-filled shower with her.

                                            >She'd warmed up to you really fast in the days following that.

                                            >Even wanted to properly train together.

                                            >And pick up a few techniques after you were done, of course.

                                            >You were kind of sad when you had to head back to training with the rest of the grunts, until she came knocking on the door to your quarters, a few nights later.

                                            >You still remember how needy she looked, how much she said she missed 'seeing' you.

                                            >You were more than happy to catch up with her that night.

                                            >And the night after.

                                            >And the night after that.

                                            >Thus started the routine: she always came around every night to talk, to vent, to confide in you, and of course, to let you screw her silly.

                                            >Can't forget that part.

                                            >Fizzy groans a little as your fingers dig into her back, working loose some of that tension of hers.

                                            >Never, ever thought that she, of all people, would look this cute and vulnerable.

                                            >"Mmm..."

                                            >Well, looks like she's fallen asleep.

                                            >Guess there won't be much talking tonight, after all.

                                            >You quickly join her in slumberland, a few minutes later.

                                            <...

                                            >"I still don't know how you made commander, before I did."

                                            "Well, honestly, you'd probably be better at it than me," you say, a smirk spreading across your face. "But the big, evil overlord loves his assholes."

                                            >Fizzy snorts and rolls her eyes, in that signature cute style of hers.

                                            >Your fingers lightly trace around her ears, drawing a small, pleased sigh from the pony resting against you.

                                            >"You know that you won't be able to come along for the invasion, right?"

                                            "Babe, that was the play."

                                            >"Don't tell me you still think our chances are bad?"

                                            "Oh, 'bad' is such a mild term for it."

                                            >"You still haven't told me why you're so sure about that."

                                            "You hear things, down in Klugetown," you begin. "Even chatted up some of the guys who had their asses kicked by the Equestrian hero brigade."

                                            >"Wait, you know their capabilities, already?"

                                            "Mmhm."

                                            >"And you didn't share this with us why, exactly?"

                                            "Didn't share with him, babe. Big difference."

                                            >"What?" she almost exclaims. "But why wouldn't you--"

                                            >Her face lights up with recognition.

                                            >Heh, looks like she's figured out your master plan.

                                            >"You're going to have them take him out."

                                            "Clever girl," you reply in a droll tone, shooting her a wink.

                                            >"You sneaky bastard."

                                            "In the flesh, in the bed, and rocking the best girl in the land," you proclaim, giving her rear a quick squeeze.

                                            >There's the little squeak you were waiting to hear.

                                            >You weren't quite expecting her to start scowling, however.

                                            >"You want to get rid of the one person who can fix me?" she all but growls.

                                            "You know," you sigh, "I had a feeling you'd say that."

                                            >Her scowl doesn't leave, even as she lets you sit upright, letting you pivot to your nightstand drawer.

                                            >More specifically, the hidden compartment beneath it, holding a small pocket book.

                                            "Had Grubber root around the king's stuff a few weeks ago," you say, pulling the book out and turning back to her. "Trust me, I wouldn't be trying to waste the asshole without a good reason."

                                            >Despite her obvious skepticism, she takes the book, flipping it open.

                                            >Her eyes bulge when she reads the first page.

                                            >"You stole his journal?!"

                                            "Borrowed without permission."

                                            >"I... wh-what are you trying to prove, with this?"

                                            >You respond by flipping the pages over to the right section for her.

                                            >She reads the contents, slowly and carefully.

                                            >As she does, fear and uncertainty begins to creep into her expression.

                                            >She doesn't even finish completely, before slamming the book shut and throwing it back at you, where it bounces off your chest.

                                            >"Is this some kind of sick joke to you?!"

                                            "I never joke about backstabbing, babe."

                                            >"No. No, I don't believe it. This is a fake, it has to be!"

                                            "Fizzy--"

                                            >She sits up all of a sudden, leaping down off your bed.

                                            >She was trying hard to hide the anger and sadness in her expression, but the wet eyes gave it away.

                                            >"I... I need to be alone."

                                            "Fizzy, wait--"

                                            >"I'll see you later, commander."

                                            >She slams the door behind her.

                                            >Were you cradling the bruise the book left, or the bruise left way deeper?

                                            <...


                                            "Good shit today, ladies!"

                                            >The groaning mass of beaten-down storm creatures before you didn't seem to agree.

                                            "Oh, quit your bellyaching! You want those pirates to run circles around you all, like last time?"

                                            >Not your proudest base management move to date, you'll admit.

                                            >Still, the reminder of that raid stops the groaning, and seems to energize them.

                                            "Yeah, that's what I thought. Now you ladies get some rest, and I'll see you bright and early next morning."

                                            >And with that, you leave the barracks, striding over to the palace tower--

                                            >"Commander!"

                                            "What's up?" you reply, turning back to the winded messenger.

                                            >"One of our airships is inbound!"

                                            >Oh, is that right?

                                            "Show me."

                                            >The messenger leads you to the hangar tower, where an airship could be seen making to land.

                                            >You ascend the tower in record time, much to the messenger's displeasure.

                                            >You toss him some water, then pull some guards off their posts to accompany you, as you step into the hangar.

                                            >The airship was just setting down, the ramp extending downwards.

                                            >A certain little hedgehog came rushing down first.

                                            >"Big news, big news!" Grubber called out. "You've gotta tell the comman-- A-Anon?"

                                            "Ayy, Grubber! Long time, no see!"

                                            >Wow, he looks really excited.

                                            >And what's that he was holding?

                                            >"Anon, big news! We lost!"

                                            >Now you're smiling back.

                                            "Oh, no," comes your sarcastic response. "That's terrible news! I really hope the king made it out okay."

                                            >"I'm sorry, Anon," comes his equally sarcastic reply. "But he... he didn't make it. Taken out by his own weapons..."

                                            "Oh, how horrible!"

                                            >Snrk...

                                            >Nope, neither of you can keep the facade going.

                                            >You both start laughing like hyenas.

                                            "Haahahah! Ooh, boy! Glad to see you made it out all right, little guy!"

                                            >"We did more than make it out okay! There was this huge party they threw, with so many cakes! I don't know how that pink one does it all..."

                                            "Shit, sounds like I missed out."

                                            >"Yeah, too bad for you!" he says, handing the small box he was holding to you. "We saved a whole bunch of food for us all, though!"

                                            "Sick," you remark, prizing the box open to find what has to be the most colourful, decked out cupcake you've ever seen.

                                            >Taking a bite out of the little thing brings you pure, knee-shaking pleasure in confectionery form.

                                            "Grubber, please tell me we made nice with those ponies."

                                            >"I like to think so."

                                            "We should draw up some trade deals for this right away. This is the best damn cupcake I've ever had."

                                            >"We've got plenty more in the ship, if--"

                                            >Hoofsteps could be heard ringing out against the metal ramp, prompting the two of you to look over.

                                            >Fizzy.

                                            >She walked out of the ship, head hung low, trying her best to avoid looking at you.

                                            >Silence reigned as she walked out of the hangar, and until her hoofsteps couldn't be heard anymore.

                                            "Grubber? How is she--"

                                            >"She's still taking it really hard."

                                            "Damn."

                                            >"She did make some friends in the end, though. Even helped beat the king. But..."

                                            >He doesn't know what to say past that.

                                            >You lean down and give him a pat on the shoulder.

                                            "I'm living in the palace tower, these days. If you two need to find me..."

                                            >"I'll let her know. Thanks, Anon."

                                            "Don't mention it. You two get some rest, all right?"

                                            >He nods, gives you a quick little hug, then runs off after Fizzy.

                                            "All right, boys," you clap, standing back upright. "Get this shit unloaded, on the double!"

                                            <...

                                            >The warm curtain of water from the showerhead cuts off, and you stride over to the towel rack, drying off in short order.

                                            >Halfway into it, a few knocks on the door are heard.

                                            >"Commander, the lieutenant is requesting an audience."

                                            >Your motions freeze.

                                            >She's here?

                                            >Already?

                                            >"Commander, sir?"

                                            "Direct her to the good lounge. I'll be right there."

                                            >"Yes, sir."

                                            >When the butler's steps can't be heard anymore, you exhale.

                                            >God, you haven't seen much of her since...

                                            >Since that morning.

                                            >You dry off and get dressed in record time, and head over to the lounge.

                                            >Stepping into the quiet, lavish room, you see her.

                                            >Fizzy laid on top of the pony bench, in only her jumpsuit, head still lowered, with a nervous look on her face.

                                            >When you stepped in, she became visibly more nervous, but still wouldn't look your way.

                                            "Fizzy?"

                                            >Her ears droop.

                                            "You all right?" you say quietly, walking over to her.

                                            >Her lip began trembling.

                                            >Her eyes start misting, by the time you're a foot away from her.

                                            "Hey, it's-- whoa!"

                                            >The next thing you knew, she'd leapt up, almost tackling you to the ground.

                                            >You drop to your knees, wrapping your own arms around her in response to her tight hold around your chest.

                                            >"I'm sorry."

                                            >She's trying so hard not to sob.

                                            >"I should have listened."

                                            >Your shirt begins soaking up her tears.

                                            "Hey."

                                            >You begin stroking her back.

                                            "It's all right."

                                            >And with that, she broke down.

                                            >She tried so hard to suppress her sobbing, but the few that do escape sound very, very painful.

                                            >And she kept trying to apologize, all throughout.

                                            >Your reassurances, your scratching, and your general presence did little to calm her down.

                                            >Minutes pass until she stops crying, but looking down shows that she's cried herself to sleep.

                                            >Poor girl.

                                            >Doing your best not to disturb her, you lift her up, gently carrying her to your room.

                                            >Her hold tightens occasionally as you go.

                                            >You gently lower her down onto the bed, considering how to--

                                            >"Don't leave," she whimpers in her sleep, tightening her hold even more.

                                            >You weren't about to deny her that.

                                            >Carefully, you lower yourself into bed with her.

                                            >You spend a few minutes stroking her mane, before you nod off with her.

                                            <...


                                            >You push the door open, treated to the sight of Fizzy relaxing in the hot spring.

                                            >Well, before she jumped at your entrance, anyways.

                                            >"A-Anon?!"

                                            "Good to see you up, Fizzy."

                                            >You drop the ice bucket near the pool's border, and start undoing your robe.

                                            >"But, I-- How'd you find me here?"

                                            "Nothing gets past that butler."

                                            >"Oh for-- of course he'd tell you."

                                            "Well, he does kinda work for me now," you smile, the robe falling off and letting you step down into the water.

                                            >Man, can't believe that Storm Douche had this in the bottom of the tower.

                                            >No fucking wonder he built it in this weird spot.

                                            >"So what are you doing here, anyways?"

                                            "Just wanted to check in on you. Been pretty rough these last few days, hasn't it?"

                                            >"I..."

                                            >You start all but swimming over to her.

                                            >"Yeah, it has. But why does it matter to you?"

                                            "Why wouldn't it matter to me, how you're doing?"

                                            >You're now standing a foot away from her.

                                            >"I-is this some kind of 'looking out for your soldiers' thing?"

                                            "No, babe."

                                            >Lifting her chin ever-so-slightly with a few fingers, you move in and kiss her.

                                            >The shock on her face from calling her 'babe' was just eclipsed from the shock of doing this.

                                            >You pull back after a few seconds.

                                            "It's a 'looking out for my girl' kinda thing."

                                            >"B-but... I," she stammers, still floored by what you've done. "I thought, a-after what happened, th-that you wouldn't--"

                                            "Takes more than throwing a book to keep me away."

                                            >Before she can respond, you pull her against your chest, embracing her.

                                            "I missed you, Fizzy."

                                            >"I..." she starts, legs clasping around you to return the gesture, "I missed you, too."

                                            >Sitting atop one of the spring's rocks, you hug your little pony in silence, up to your shoulders in the warm, relaxing waters.

                                            >You don't know how long it goes for, just having her sit on your lap and hold onto you like this, but man...

                                            >Can't believe you went without this for more than a week.

                                            >Went without her.

                                            >God, did you ever miss her.

                                            >"Anon?"

                                            "Mmhm?"

                                            >"What did you bring in that bucket?"

                                            >Couldn't have asked for a more perfect way to end the moment.

                                            "Well, if you must know," you smile, scooting over just enough to reach it, "The old bastard had a little wine cellar going here."

                                            >"You didn't."

                                            >A white bottle and a pair of highballs are lifted out.

                                            >"You did!"

                                            "Only wish the guy had more than white wine." you remark, unable to keep the annoyance out of your tone. "And more than these shitty tumblers."

                                            >"Do I look like I'm complaining?"

                                            "No, I guess not, huh?"

                                            >One glass goes to her, and you pop the cork, pouring a very generous amount into both glasses.

                                            >"Shouldn't we, uh, toast to something?" she says as you slide the bottle back into the bucket.

                                            "Wasn't planning on it. Why, you have something in mind?"

                                            >"N-not really."

                                            "Well, in that case..."

                                            >You raise your glass.

                                            "To just being happily loaded with my girl."

                                            >"I'll drink to that."

                                            >A clink of glasses later, and down the hatch it goes.

                                            >Wow, holy shit, this is some real fruity stuff.

                                            <...

                                            >Whew, what a day.

                                            >Even when you're in charge of this place, you still keep training yourself, along with the troops.

                                            >Off to the side, you hear the door to the shower room open.

                                            >A smile creeps onto your face.

                                            >Only one person you know has free access to the palace tower's shiny new gym.

                                            >Or rather, one pony.

                                            >And said pony just slid open the curtain of the very spacious shower, eyes fixed on you.

                                            >"Ah, there you are, Anon," she croons, eyes lidded.

                                            "Hello, Fizzy."

                                            >She's already stripped down to her skivvies, flicking the curtain closed with her tail, as she advances towards you.

                                            >"Putting the new space to good use, I see."

                                            "You know it, babe."

                                            >"Now, care to explain why you didn't invite me, for some... extra training?"

                                            >There's no mistaking that salacious tone, much less her nuzzling your chest.

                                            >And that damn smile of hers slays you, every time.

                                            "Aww, you're right," you reply with plenty of fake sorrow. "Got a little ahead of myself. Total dick move."

                                            >You kneel to her level, cupping her jaw with an outstretched hand.

                                            "But since you're here..."

                                            >The other hand trails along her back.

                                            "How would you like to... make up for lost time?"

                                            >Said hand now reaches for her cutie mark.

                                            >"Mmmm... it has been a really long time, huh?"

                                            "Too long."

                                            >Your hand was about to begin kneading her rump proper, before she pushed it away.

                                            >"Well, it can wait for a little longer."

                                            "Fizzy?" you ask, now quite confused.

                                            >She's never refused you, before.

                                            >"Oh, don't worry," she intones in that deep, sensual, and oh-so-lovable voice she does. "We're definitely making up for lost time today. A lot of lost time. But..."

                                            >She gives you a quick peck.

                                            >"It's going to be a very... special make-up."

                                            "Special?"

                                            >"Mmhm."

                                            "I like the sound of that," you grin.

                                            >She offers you one last giggle, before she sidles up against you, reaching for the soap.

                                            >The two of you end up washing each other, though you don't manage to pull off anything too sexual, outside of some not-so-subtle kneading of her flanks, during the cleaning.

                                            >She was real insistent on saving it for her 'special event'.

                                            >Leaving the shower to dry off is much the same deal, including you two drying each other off.

                                            >"I'm curious, how many of the old bastard's secret rooms did you find, around here?"

                                            "Still digging those up, as I go."

                                            >You finish towelling off her tail for her, then opt to throw on a bathrobe.

                                            >"Well, did you ever find the one, hidden in the small closet on this floor?"

                                            "Can't say I have. Why, you snooped around here before?"

                                            >"A little," she says as she finishes pulling her jumpsuit on. "But Grubber's the one who found it, first."

                                            "Figures. So, what's the secret?"


                                            >"Well, I could tell you," she says, excitement lurking beneath her bedroom eyes. "But I'd rather just... show you."

                                            >Her tone became much more salacious, to match.

                                            "This wouldn't happen to involve us 'making up for lost time', would it?"

                                            >"Mmm, wouldn't you like to know?"

                                            "All right, keep me in suspense," you smile.

                                            >She bumps her flank against you with a smile of her own, then leads you down the halls, towards a small broom closet.

                                            >Inside, the one magic candle-holder is pulled down, showing it to be a lever that opens the wall it's next to.

                                            >A very strong-looking wooden door greets you, the wood stained a deep red.

                                            >She pushes the door open, but stands aside to let you enter, first.

                                            >Which, of course, you do, revealing...

                                            >Oh.

                                            >Well.

                                            >This is, uh...

                                            >The door closing with a deep 'thunk' draws your eyes back, showing a grinning Fizzlepop sliding the three door bolts shut.

                                            >"Did I mention that he never snuck around here again, after finding this place?"

                                            "I can see that happening," you reply with your own grin.

                                            >You start slowly backpedalling towards the bed, the mare sashaying her way towards you at the same pace.

                                            "So," you start, sitting on the bedside when you can't back up any further, "How long have you been planning to use this place?"

                                            >"Since I first started... 'visiting' you," she all but breathes, rearing up and planting her hooves on your shoulders. "It was really, really tricky, sneaking in here. Even trickier to smuggle in the... clothes."

                                            >Clothes?

                                            "Clothes?"

                                            >Her response is to kiss you, a move you're more than happy to return.

                                            >Well, for all of five seconds, before she pulls back with a light 'smack'.

                                            >"Tell you what," she says with a small bite to her lip, "Why don't I show you?"

                                            "S-sure," you nod, not even bothering to hide Anon Jr's rise to attention.

                                            >If she noticed, she didn't show it, her tail brushing against your face, as she turns and walks over to a small dressing room, making very sure to sway her hips plenty as she went.

                                            >This fucking girl, man...

                                            >While she changes, you shift over to the side of the bed facing her way.

                                            >Never thought you'd see a room like this in the tower, straight out of a damn love hotel.

                                            >Red room, red decor, red everything.

                                            >This huge four-poster bed was something else though, sporting what feels like red silk making up the curtains and bedding.

                                            >Luxurious and salacious, without being too cheesy.

                                            >And to think, you were about to ruin this nice bed with Fizzy...

                                            >You can't help but smile at the thought.

                                            >"All right, I'm ready," she calls out in that signature husky voice of hers.

                                            >The door opens, and she steps out, smirking widely and looking proud as can be.

                                            >And she's got every damn reason to look proud.

                                            >You never really got the appeal of pony saddles, at least not until just this moment.

                                            >She was sporting a black saddle, the gray 'seat' kept lacy to an absolute minimum, with the bottom left open a little bit, showing both her coat and the corset lacing keeping it held onto her.

                                            >Once she was sure she had your attention, she turned to the side, getting you a good look at the socks on her back legs.

                                            >Well, maybe 'socks' is the wrong term, seeing how they're not covering her hooves up.

                                            >Whatever they were called, they hugged her legs closely, the gray fabric interspersed with the occasional black pinstripe, with the lacier top of the garments tied off with a little dark pink bow.

                                            >"Looks like you're not the only one who likes what he sees," she croons, eyes fixed on a very poorly covered Anon Jr.

                                            "Jesus," you finally breathe out, "You trying to turn me on, or kill me?"

                                            >That husky laugh of hers wasn't helping matters.

                                            >"Oh, Anon, there's plenty of far more... entertaining ways to kill you, than this."

                                            >Without taking her eyes off you, she bumps a switch on the wall with her flank, turning the lights off and igniting the candles on the nightstand, and on the walls near the bed.

                                            "I'm a little strapped for imagination right now," you grin, as she slowly walks towards you, her eyes lidded. "What kinda... technique did you have in mind?"

                                            >"You sure you're up to it?" she replies, pushing you back until you're lying down, allowing her to look down at you, both hooves planted beside your head.

                                            "I dunno, it sounds pretty intense."

                                            >"Oh, it is. But you're a big guy, I'm sure you can handle it."

                                            >And with that, she kisses you.

                                            >Your hands snake up to pull her down by the neck and withers, but she doesn't budge, despite her appreciative little moans.

                                            >"We're not leaving this room, until you give me everything you've got."

                                            >You have to choke back a moan of your own, when she drops her belly on top of Anon Jr.

                                            >"Every."

                                            >Her body shifts, grinding your member against your robe's fabric.

                                            >"Last."

                                            >It springs free of the loose fabric prison, touching her soft, insanely warm coat.

                                            >"Drop."

                                            >It throbs hard against her, the small, all-too-familiar mounds sandwiching it.

                                            >Your attempt to choke back a moan is much less successful, this time.

                                            >She moves back down to kiss you again, only you meet her in the middle this time.

                                            >One hand cups the back of her hand, as your tongues start wrestling.

                                            >The other cups the mare's rear end, the ensuing squeeze drawing a few moans out of her.

                                            >The squeezing, grinding, and kissing continues for a few more moments, before you both surface for air.

                                            >"By the time we're done, I don't want to feel my legs. You got that?"

                                            "That's all?" you smirk, the hand on her rear instead cupping her marehood, much to her pleasant surprise. "Say, how much... equipment is stashed here?"

                                            >"Lots," she breathes.

                                            "Well, I hope there's plenty of plugs," comes your reply, slipping a finger into her folds to help hammer your point home. "Because you're gonna need one, by the time we're through."


                                            >The hunger in her eyes doubles, and she swoops back in to kiss you again.

                                            >"Have I ever told you that I love you?"

                                            "Have I ever told you that I love you, too?"

                                            >The smile now on her face is beaming and genuine, just like your own.

                                            >Sitting up together, you both close the curtains, enclosing the two of you in the bed, and dimming the candlelight even more, just enough to see her features clearly in the near-darkness.

                                            >You take the opportunity to all but rip off your robe, then grab hold of her rear, pulling her over just a little bit more.

                                            >Now, if you were right, she was going to skip the--

                                            >"C-can we skip the f-foreplay, please?" she asks, already hugging the pillow beneath her.

                                            >Called it.

                                            >She does not like being pent up, and honestly, neither do you.

                                            "You got it, babe. But I think I'll start slow, if it's all the same to you."

                                            >Grasping the base of her tail, you lift it upwards, giving her dock a quick rub, drawing a nice, throaty moan out of her.

                                            >"I-I'd like that..."

                                            >Anon Jr. in hand, you begin probing her entrance, with Fizzy already biting her lip in anticipation, eyes full of need.

                                            >You don't make her wait very long, as you start slowly sinking your way into her.

                                            >Groans of pleasure escape both of you, as you push deeper and deeper, eventually bottoming out.

                                            >Every bit as incredible as you remember.

                                            >"Haaaah..."

                                            >True to your word, you start slow, the bed staying quiet as you work your magic.

                                            >Even as your speed begins to pick up, as the familiar sound of your bodies colliding makes itself known, the bed never once squeaks, leaving Fizzy's breathing and vocalizations as the only thing you hear.

                                            >"Aaah... Yesss..."

                                            >And what a sound, it is.

                                            >You keep going, but don't pick things up to the point where it's the hard, animalistic rutting it usually ends up as.

                                            >Not today, you think.

                                            >"Mmmnn... Haah..."

                                            >This pace continues for almost ten minutes, the two of you perfectly content with the current pace.

                                            >Nothing but you and her, her quiet moans, and your own occasional groans filling out the silence.

                                            >That is, before she gets close to popping.

                                            >"Aah, A-Anon... I-- Aah, I-I'm getting-- Mmmh!"

                                            >To say nothing of your own nearing release.

                                            >You change things up a bit, grinding against her innermost barrier for a few moments after each thrust, just the way she likes it.

                                            >"Haaah...! Haaah, Aaaanoooon!"

                                            >She crashes over the edge, crying out into the pillow, her marehood clenching hard enough to keep you from pulling out of her.

                                            >You can't stop yourself from passing the point of no return, this time.

                                            "Guh...! F-Fizzy, I'm--"

                                            >You try to push yourself further into her, for all that will do.

                                            >Her loud, protracted moans turn into loud squeals and cries, as you begin releasing inside of her.

                                            >"Aaah! Y-yes! B-breed me-- Aaaaaah!"

                                            >Every spurt drew a fresh cry from her, the sheer intensity of your release bordering on painful.

                                            >All you can do is grit your teeth and hold on for dear life, giving the girl everything she wants.

                                            >By the time you finish, it takes a huge amount of effort to keep from collapsing on top of her.

                                            >You both spend a few moments recovering, sweating bullets and panting like animals.

                                            >"Haah... haah... Ohh..."

                                            >That was, without a doubt, the most intense orgasm you've ever had.

                                            >And yet, your mind lingers on one detail...

                                            "Haah... D-did you just ask me to... breed you?"

                                            >You feel her tense up beneath you.

                                            >"D-did I say that?!"

                                            "Totally did."

                                            >"Y-yeah, well, so what if I did?" she responds, her head turning to look at you, a mix of both uncertainty and hope crossing her features. "I don't hear you complaining."

                                            "Me, complain? Never. But I don't remember you ever asking for that, before."

                                            >"W-well, I," she starts, pausing to bite her lip a little bit. "I thought, being the new king and all, you would... need some of my help."

                                            "King, huh...?"

                                            >You smile widely, gripping her hips with renewed vigour.

                                            "And what kind of 'help' did you have in mind, Fizzy?"

                                            >"A-all kinds of help," she leers back, confidence returning to her. "Counsel, defense..."

                                            >She grinds against you a little bit, as if to punctuate her next question.

                                            >"Maybe even start a nice, large line of succession?"

                                            >She definitely felt the throb that that managed to draw out of you.

                                            "Well, when you put it like that, I think we could definitely... explore that possibility, for another hour or two."

                                            >She all but whines her agreement, pushing her rear against you in response.

                                            >"You know, my liege, it's going to be a few more months, before we can even try to... make that a reality."

                                            >She winks back at you, in more ways than one. "Should be plenty of time to... get some practice in."

                                            >Oh, yeah.

                                            >Forget resting for a bit longer.

                                            >Not when your girl's asking-- no, begging you to stake a claim on her.

                                            >With that, you begin thrusting into her again.

                                            >After that, you lose track of how many times you screw her ragged.

                                            >How many times you explode inside of her.

                                            >How many times she cries your name.

                                            >How many times she begs you to breed her.

                                            >By the end of it all, you collapse back onto the bed, feeling like you just ran several marathons.

                                            >You'll definitely feel this, in the morning.

                                            >Mortal men were never meant to be that pent-up.

                                            >Fizzy nuzzles your cheek, curled up by your side, her saddle soaked with sweat and coming undone.

                                            >Pretty sure that no amount of cleaning is gonna take the stains out of her socks, either.

                                            >But it was totally worth it.

                                            >You tighten your arm's hold around her just a bit more, idly scratching her ear with your other hand.

                                            "So, king, huh?"

                                            >"My king. All mine," she coos back. "You'll be a great king, Anon..."

                                            >You smirk, kissing her forehead.

                                            "Hail to the king, babe."