[FLUTTERRAPE] Thread Shorts Volume 9


                                            Some weaker material to start with, but I got into the groove later on, if you can handle reading it. What, you can't? You gonna call the cops? Do it. My dad works for Nintendo.


                                            ---


                                            Anon posted an image of Fluttershy with no teeth. It was awful.


                                            >One day, in a flash of genius, Fluttershy pulls all her teeth out.

                                            >She clambers in through one of Anon's ground floor windows - as usual - and gummily asks him if it's his fetish.

                                            >He drops his glass of water and falls to his knees, switching erratically between fussing over her, yelling about how stupid she is, and whether or not she's in pain.

                                            >She is. Very much so. Fluttershy trembles and tries not to cry, failing.

                                            >He scoops her up and sprints across Ponyville to Twilight so that she can fix her.

                                            >She can't, so the three of them fly to the hospital instead, where doctors and nurses run about trying to figure out what the hell happened to Fluttershy.

                                            >Not a single person can understand why she did it.

                                            >As far as Fluttershy is concerned, it was worth it just to see Anon look concerned about her for once.

                                            >She resolves to remove a limb next time to see what he'd do.


                                            ---


                                            "kill yourself degenerate"

                                            - Anonymous tourist. I believe this is how they say "hello" on /pol/.


                                            >You kill yourself.

                                            >Wake up in Hell.

                                            >"H-hi."

                                            "Oh. You were the devil the whole time, eh, Fluttershy?"

                                            >"Yes. Sorry. Will that be a problem?"

                                            "I was sort of promised Pinkie."

                                            >"When were you promised that?"

                                            "Not sure, but at some point it became generally accepted that Pinkie was the devil and she was using her body to seduce everyone to create more daughters in service of corrupting yet more mortals. There were a lot of dice rolls involved."

                                            >"Like, gambling?"

                                            "Kind of, but the dice weren't real and the points didn't matter."

                                            >"That's ridiculous."

                                            "It is when you say it all out loud, yes."

                                            >"Well anyway, are you ready to get started on your five days of punishment?"

                                            "Five days?"

                                            >"Yes?"

                                            "That short? What about eternity?"

                                            >"Eternity?! What, do you think we're running a charity down here, Anon? Torture takes time, resources, and horsepower."

                                            "Heh. Horsepower--"

                                            >"And we can't waste any more than we need to, not with the auditors breathing down our necks. You'll get five days and no more and you'll like it, mister!"

                                            "I mean I don't -have- to like it, do I? Wouldn't that defeat the purpose?"

                                            >"I guess? In any case, it starts now."

                                            "So what's it gonna be, hot pokers? Cock and ball torture?"

                                            >"You and I are going to cuddle on the sofa back at my citadel and watch a movie."

                                            "That doesn't sound so bad."

                                            >"We're going to be watching Shrek on repeat."

                                            "Am I supposed to be scared?"

                                            >"The one with all the babies in it."

                                            "Oh god, that's the worst one! Show mercy, Fluttershy, please!"

                                            >"Ahh, I'm the worst, aren't I?"


                                            ---


                                            "Anon should really just give her more attention if that's all she wants."

                                            - Anonymous, regarding the above tooth-removal-short.


                                            >Fluttershy shows up on your doorstep one day with no limbs.

                                            >There are no bloodied stumps, just smooth fur. Like someone deleted her leg-assets in Flash.

                                            >It's just a bean pony with wings.

                                            "How."

                                            >"The power of love."

                                            "And?"

                                            >"And a monkey paw I found."

                                            "The hell did you wish for?"

                                            >"I asked to be a master at giving hoofjobs, and now I am, but uhh..."

                                            "So if we get your legs back, you'll still be a master, but then you'll have the equipment to practice your mastery, effectively nullifying the paw's curse?"

                                            >"I guess? Alternatively you could use me as a living fleshlight. It's not like I can move around like this, especially if you bind my wings. I'd be utterly helpless. You could pick me up with both hands and just start hammering away. All I'd be able to do is beg you to stop, not that I would, of course. So should we go and get my legs back now?"

                                            >You stare at her.

                                            >She stares at you.

                                            >...


                                            >Twilight blinks at the two of you.

                                            >You're haggard; bags under your eyes and hair a greasy mess.

                                            >Fluttershy is absolutely -covered- in a dried glaze and appears catatonic.

                                            >"Where have you two been? No one's seen either of you for a week!"

                                            "P-please get her legs back, I-I can't take it anymore."

                                            >Fluttershy says nothing. She gave up speaking three days in and now exists only in a state of permanent nirvana.


                                            ---


                                            "It was HER all along!"

                                            - Anonymous, posting a picture of Chrysalis


                                            "-All- of them?"

                                            >"Every female that's ever flirted with you. They were all me."

                                            "-Every- female?"

                                            >"Yes!"

                                            "Mayor Mare?"

                                            >"Of course. Why, do you have a thing for cougars?" she gives a devilish wink.

                                            "That time Celestia sat next to me at the town hall meeting and kept touching my leg?"

                                            >"She was actually in Las Pegasus. The entire royal visit was a set up, and all the guards were my changelings."

                                            "Luna when she keeps visiting me in my dreams?"

                                            >"Dreams are difficult to emulate, but the right mix of psychedelics and hypnosis can induce a similar state."

                                            "Mrs Cake?"

                                            >"Did you really think she would ever cheat on her husband? But I bet you loved the sight of that plump MILF waving her flanks in your face, didn't you?"

                                            >You screw your face up and ponder every female you've ever encountered.

                                            "...Mrs Brooks?"

                                            >Chrysalis grins.

                                            >"You thought your fifth grade math teacher was a human? Idiot. It was me! I was the one making you stay behind for detention even though you did nothing wrong! I was the one rubbing your shoulders!"

                                            "Charlie on that school trip that one time?"

                                            >"Did you enjoy our ride on that Ferris Wheel? Did your little teenage heart leap with excitement when I kissed your cheek?"

                                            "Wait."

                                            >She stops cackling, clearly waiting for the final logical leap.

                                            >You swallow and whisper.

                                            "Alice McConnell from next door?"

                                            >She sneers, caressing your cheek with a hoof.

                                            >"There never -was- a tender childhood romance. I was that seven year-old girl the entire time!"

                                            "...You travelled across dimensions to take the place of a little girl just to make moves on an alien?"

                                            >"...Uh. Yes."

                                            "..."

                                            >"..."

                                            >She coughs into a hoof.

                                            "Chrysalis, you need a new hobby."

                                            >"How about dating you, can that be my hobby?"

                                            "No."

                                            >"P-please."


                                            ---


                                            No prompt for this one. Scary, I know.


                                            >Wednesday morning, and you gaze into the winking hole of one Fluttershy F. Fluttershy.

                                            >No, you didn't believe that was her name at first, but if Big Mac's middle name can be "Bonerplow" you guess anything is possible.

                                            >"Are foal-bearing hips your fetish?" she asks in her best attempt at a seductive voice - like she has bronchitis.

                                            >You step back and observe her broad cheeks.

                                            >From experience you know that they are firm. Neat, well-washed shorthaired fur glistens in the cresting sun, and a comfortable layer of plump fat envelops each cheek, providing just the right amount of cushion.

                                            >Wideset hips beckon to you, begging to be gripped and held on for dear life when your base instincts inevitably take over.

                                            >You nod.

                                            "I think so."

                                            >She turns, looking puzzled.

                                            >"Really?"

                                            >You frown and glance at the sunlight peeking through the tree line, the twittering birds nesting amidst the branches the only noticeable noise beyond the warm breeze tussling the overgrown grass of your front lawn.

                                            >There's no denying the appeal, and Applejack would break your legs if she knew you were lying.

                                            >Look back to Fluttershy and shrug, your own expression matching her unsure countenance.

                                            "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is."


                                            *


                                            >You slouch on the park bench, Fluttershy beside you.

                                            >Three foals wrestle and scream on the playground near you, but you pay them no mind, your thoughts and eyes drawn to the distant Canterhorn peak, blueshifted by the warming haze.

                                            >"...Now what?"

                                            "Not sure."

                                            >"Do we keep doing it, or...?"

                                            "Doing what?"

                                            >"The guesses."

                                            "I don't see why we would."

                                            >"Tradition?"

                                            "What's the point? We know what it is now, not like you wasting more money and me more time will get us anywhere."

                                            >"Surprised it was so simple in the end."

                                            "I'm a simple man. Writing was on the wall, really."

                                            >"So could we...?"

                                            "No."

                                            >"Why not?"

                                            "It'd be weird."

                                            >"No it wouldn't, interspecies happens all the time--"

                                            "Not interspecies, you."

                                            >She cocks her head.

                                            "It's been years, Flutts. At this point I associate you with everything bad and annoying in Equestria. If we started dating it would just be..."

                                            >You shrug.

                                            "Dunno. Weird."

                                            >"Then is the next step to get you on a date with me?"

                                            "We can give it a shot."

                                            >She turns in her seat and looks sidelong at you.

                                            >"Please will you go on a date with me?"

                                            >You give it fifteen seconds of thought.

                                            "No."

                                            >"I'll let you explore between my foal-bearing hips?"

                                            "Mm, getting there?"

                                            >"You can reach around with your tongue and slide a few fingers in, then when I'm good and wet you can do your best to impregnate me."

                                            "Yeah, I'm pretty hard right now."

                                            >"So we can go on a date?"

                                            "...No, that's just killed it."

                                            >She snorts and folds her arms, scowling at the horizon.

                                            >"Well that's... great. Just great."

                                            "We could try casual sex."

                                            >"You sure that wouldn't be 'weird' as well?"

                                            >Your mouth snaps shut and you mull it over. You deflate slightly.

                                            "No, you're right, it would be."

                                            >She slides off the bench, her wings unfurling and flexing before she beats a few times into a hover.

                                            >"To heck with this."

                                            "Where are you going?"

                                            >"Home. I've got a vibrator calling my name and four years of sexual frustration to work out for the eighth time this week."

                                            "Damn. Well, best of luck."

                                            >She leaves you alone, and you continue to gaze into the blue yonder.

                                            >There you remain until a southern twang pulls you out of you reverie.

                                            >"This seat taken?"

                                            "Nope."

                                            >Applejack hops up next to you, curious eyes poking your features.

                                            >"You okay? You look lost. Fluttershy giving you a hard time again?"

                                            "Nah, we found out what my fetish was and now neither of us know what to do with ourselves."

                                            >"Well ain't that a stuck jar."

                                            >You grunt and the silence returns. AJ clicks her tongue and looks to you again.

                                            >"So what was it?"

                                            "Foal-bearing hips, apparently."

                                            >She cocks an eyebrow and looks at her own flanks.

                                            >"What, like mine?"

                                            >You glance at her butt.

                                            >Her absolutely incredible, perfectly sculpted butt, and the broad, maternal hips that accompany it.

                                            "...Huh. Not sure how I didn't notice those before."

                                            >"Wanna take 'em for a ride?"

                                            "You'd let me?"

                                            >"Pfft, no."

                                            >She jumps off with a laugh and readjusts her hat.

                                            >"I ain't about to let just anyone take me to bed, Anon. You'd have to try harder than that."

                                            "Oh come on, I've been having a hard enough time with Fluttershy as it is. Just once, please?"

                                            >"Are you really begging for it? Land sakes man, get a hold of yourself."

                                            >She chuckles.

                                            >"I'll see you around, horndog, don't yank your own horn too hard now, you hear?"

                                            "AJ, come on--"

                                            >"No means no, Anon, thought you of all folks would know that by now."

                                            >With a final chortle at your expense she's gone.

                                            >You glare after her and her insultingly tantalising rear end.

                                            >Surely there's got to be a way to get her to sleep with you.

                                            >You furrow your brow and think hard.

                                            >You need some way to convince her...


                                            *


                                            >The knocking on your door drags you downstairs, yawning.

                                            >Even for a member of the Apple family, five in the morning is too early.

                                            >You wear neither your hat nor hairbands as you throw open the door and gaze up at the beaming man beyond it.

                                            "Anon?"

                                            >"Morning! I was just wondering," he opens his shirt and shows you his glossy, scented body. "Are oiled abs your fetish?"

                                            "Oh sweet Celestia no--"


                                            ---


                                            Anonymous and I briefly mentioned humanity and its various evolutionary perks. As well as how useless it all is in the face of magic.


                                            >"The time is now, Anonymous."

                                            "Hah! It's cute that you think that, Celestia, but I have my superior human endurance! Good luck catching me when I can long-distance jog for miles! My human sweat glands will keep me cool, and my omnivorous diet will keep me fuelled throughout my journey as I flee to safety!"

                                            >"...Well why don't you go and do that, then."

                                            "I will! So long, nerd--"

                                            >"Oh, would you look at that, you're floating. Ah well, it was a sterling effort, Anonymous."

                                            "This is bull, you have magic!"

                                            >"And you have thumbs. We all have to play to our strengths, my heart."

                                            "If you didn't have magic this would be easier."

                                            >"I have wings."

                                            "Or wings."

                                            >"I have four legs and earth pony strength."

                                            "Or... or limbs?"

                                            >"True, if I had neither horn nor wings nor legs I'd be quite unable to stop you. Sadly, I have all three, and you have none.

                                            "M-my humanity--"

                                            >"Has sadly failed you. Fortunately for you I find that your most endearing quality."

                                            "You can't do this, you're a princess--"

                                            >"Oh hush, love, you'll shout yourself hoarse. Now come along, let's see if you can use that venerated 'stamina' to plough a few foals into me."

                                            "But the genetics--"

                                            >"I don't care for your human 'science', Anonymous. If you don't get me pregnant the first time, we're just going to keep trying until you do."

                                            "You're insane."

                                            >"Worse, I'm in love."


                                            ---


                                            Anon posted an edited screenshot from Postal, but with Fluttershy instead of Postal Man.

                                            I have no idea what the main character from Postal is called.

                                            According to Wikipedia he's actually called "Postal Dude". Learn something new every day.


                                            >Fluttershy is on your front lawn again.

                                            >Ordinarily you'd be out there throwing hands and insults, but today you're staying inside.

                                            >Fluttershy's relentless assault on your mailbox with a baseball bat reaffirms your decision.

                                            >She finishes and wipes her forehead, visibly heaving from the exertion.

                                            >In contrast to her frightening anarchistic display, she whips out a pink flowery lunchbox and tucks into a neatly-cut sandwich and juice carton.

                                            >In this more passive state, she'll likely be more open to negotiation.

                                            >You confirm it with a nod and stroll outside.

                                            >Fluttershy waves at you as you approach, a healthy glow to her cheeks.

                                            "Hey there, ol' neighbour of mine. What'cha doin'?"

                                            >"Good afternoon! I um, hold on," she sucks down some more juice and licks her lips, "I'm going postal!"

                                            "Are you now. Well, that's very impressive. Please could you also go and get me a new mailbox? Preferably without breaking anything else."

                                            >She shakes her head.

                                            >"Nuh uh, I'm not done yet. Once I've had my lunch I'm going to pee on your furniture."

                                            "...Why."

                                            >"Because it's part of going postal? You know, going crazy, tearing stuff up, being a hooligan, that sort of thing. What's that word Rarity always uses?"

                                            "Darling?"

                                            >"The other one."

                                            "Ruffian?"

                                            >"Yeah! I'm a -ruffian-," she puffs out her chest with pride.

                                            "So if I was to call the guard, what would you do?"

                                            >"I'd fight the law."

                                            "The law will win, I assure you. They even wrote a song about the futility of engagements with the police back on Earth."

                                            >"Really?"

                                            "Oh sure, it was a big hit."

                                            >"I'll just have to settle for committing as many crimes as I can before I'm taken away then."

                                            "You could always just do your regular thing. Trying to sneak in through my window, licking my towels, masturbating with my socks, all that jazz."

                                            >"And I'll get back to that just as soon as I've finished going postal, I promise."

                                            >She sucks her carton dry and munches down the last sandwich before wiping her mouth and rising to her hooves.

                                            >"Okay! I forgot to mention but one of the things on my postal list was rape."

                                            "Par for the course, isn't it?"

                                            >"Yes, but all the other times I didn't have a bat."

                                            >Her bat is leant against the ruins of your mailbox. You pick it up and weigh it in your hands.

                                            "This bat?"

                                            >"Yup!"

                                            "Cool."

                                            >"Thanks! Please could I have it back?"

                                            >You purse your lips.

                                            "Ahh... no."

                                            >...

                                            >"O-oh. Please?"

                                            "Mm. Nope."

                                            >"But it's... mine! That's theft! I-I'll call the guards if you don't give it back!"

                                            >You look at her expectantly until it dawns on her.

                                            >"Oh."

                                            "Have you learned a valuable lesson about the importance of obeying the law and of respecting other people's property?"

                                            >"Yes, Anon..."

                                            "Are you going to make the simple logical leap necessary to understand that the same also applies to personal space and non-consensual intercourse?"

                                            >"No?"

                                            "Figures."


                                            ---


                                            Anon posted an image of anthro Pinkie Pie. That he wasn't blacklisted from /mlp/ and reported to the FBI for this is an indictment of our times, and of the moral decay that festers at the heart of our pure, whimsical horse forum.


                                            >"Are my fat sweaty knockers your--"

                                            "HAUGHHH--"

                                            >A jet of hot vomit hurtles forth from your gullet and plasters Pinkie's perky padonkers.

                                            >The mare blinks, eyes wide and bits of chunky bile dripping down her face. She doesn't say another word.

                                            >You wipe your mouth, face pale and knees trembling, and look away from her.

                                            "What... what the fuh..."

                                            >You glance at her again, only to paint your doorstep with the same vile expulsions.

                                            >Pinkie Pie staggers back from you, looking at her hands, one of which is tainted with specks of your breakfast.

                                            >"I-I, uh," she breathes in, and the smell hits her. Her face goes from pink to green.

                                            >"Anon!" Fluttershy lands by your porch and immediately fusses over you, wiping your mouth with a cloth and evading your half-hearted attempts to fend her off. "Are you alright?"

                                            "What," you jab a shaking finger at the bipedal pink abomination stood before you. "What the FUCK is that?"

                                            >Fluttershy glances at Pinkie Pie, still stood nude and mute before you, and swallows the lump in her throat.

                                            >"I-I don't know, but maybe we should go inside and away from it? You've got sick all over your shirt, so that'll need washing too, oh you poor thing!"

                                            >She continues to fuss and you spare a final look at what was once presumably Pinkie Pie.

                                            >The heretical melding of pony and human, stood uncertainly on two hooved legs, regards you with a mixture of disgust and worry.

                                            >But the only disgust that is valid to you in this moment is your own.

                                            >What sick magics had been worked to create such a sin against nature?

                                            >What perverse mind could possibly conjure forth such an insult to the beauty of the universal order?

                                            >You spit the last glob of vaguely pancake-flavoured slime at the dirt and glower at the anthropomorphic homunculus.

                                            "Twilight did this, didn't she."

                                            >"She... she said you'd like it, that it would remind you of human girls!"

                                            "Tell her that if she perverts the glory of the human form like this ever again I'll amputate her horn and use it as a backscratcher."

                                            >With that, Fluttershy manages to drag you inside to get you cleaned up.


                                            >Amazingly, and without any prior warning or indication that it was going to happen, she uses the opportunity to fondle you.

                                            >You'd never have expected such behaviour from Fluttershy.

                                            >You are shocked to say the least.


                                            ---


                                            Anon posted an image of Celestia saying "Why can't you just accept that we're meant to be together forever?"


                                            This marks the beginning of what I'm calling The Celestia Spiral. A period of prolonged madness where my thoughts were overtaken by visions of Celestia. Ironically, despite the sun, it was a dark period in my life.


                                            "In short, I'll never step foot in Sugarcube Corner again without at least three bladed weapons. So what's going on in your world, Celestia?"

                                            >"Tia, please," Celestia notes over the rim of her teacup.

                                            >You give an unsure shrug.

                                            "Feels weird to say, I prefer just calling you Celestia."

                                            >"But I'd prefer Tia. Are we not close? Please, don't feel as though you need to maintain the formalities around me."

                                            "Alright, I guess I can give it a whirl, Tia," you emphasise her name and she smiles.

                                            >"There, that wasn't so hard, was it? You may as well get used to saying it, we'll be seeing a lot more of each other soon enough."

                                            "Why's that?"

                                            >"Well," she sets her cup down and straightens up. You adjust yourself on your own seat - a cushion at the low table at which you sit cross-legged. "We're well past being friends, wouldn't you say?"

                                            "I mean, you invite me up to the castle a lot for tea and snacks, and I guess I enjoy it, train journeys notwithstanding."

                                            >"Ah, precisely my point," her eyes light up and a sugar cube levitates into her tea with a plop. She gradually stirs it with a teaspoon as she speaks. "The train journeys must be a drain both financially and physically, no? Would it not be better for you to simply move to Canterlot so that we can be closer?"

                                            >You chuckle and reach for another biscuit.

                                            "Sure, it'd be nice to live here, but a bit expensive. I barely get by in Ponyville--"

                                            >"So money -is- an issue for you?" the stirring hastens.

                                            >You frown.

                                            "Money isn't... something I'm comfortable bringing up, but yeah, if you must know I've not got much to my name. I get by though, don't worry."

                                            >"But I -do- worry. If you're struggling for bits, how can you keep taking the train up to Canterlot?"

                                            "Well, we could just make these tea-dates a monthly thing rather than, uh," you think for a few seconds, "thrice a week?"

                                            >Celestia stops stirring. Spots of tea leap over the rim of the cup.

                                            >"I'm... sorry?"

                                            "Well I'm just saying, as much as I like talking to you and being your friend, and I really do..." you shrug, unable to think of anything else to do to break the sudden tension you're feeling. "It's just that, you don't even talk to Twilight as much as you do to me. She's kinda jealous, actually."

                                            >Celestia hasn't blinked in a minute. She stares at you, stock still.

                                            >The teacup trembles in her grip, but soon calms.

                                            >"I'm not sure what to say."

                                            "Maybe we should call this one now, I-- I should head back to Ponyville, it's getting late--"

                                            >"Do you not appreciate my company?"

                                            "What? Celestia don't be daft--"

                                            >"TIA," you leap. Her expression could kill a man. "Call me. Tia. Now, I've been -very- generous with my time and with you--"

                                            "I know, but--"

                                            >"Don't interrupt me. I want to spend time with you because I want you to feel comfortable. Is that really too much to ask?"

                                            "I'm already comfortable."

                                            >"Despite not having any money."

                                            "I have -money-, just not a lot of it, and some of that is to do with the constant train rides up here--"

                                            >"Then move to Canterlot."

                                            "As I said earlier, it's expensive to--"

                                            >"I didn't say get a house here, I said move to Canterlot. Live with me."

                                            "With... you? Cel-- Tia, you can't be serious."

                                            >"And why not? There is room in the castle. There are more unoccupied guest rooms than rooms actively being used. Why not live here? It's spacious, extravagant, you'll be waited on by a team of professionals, and you'll have me right here by your side."

                                            >She forces a smile. She still hasn't blinked or even glanced away from you.

                                            "I have a life in Ponyville, Tia."

                                            >"You have a life here as well. With me."

                                            >You struggle for a response.

                                            >"Do you know what my days are like? I'll tell you. I wake up, and the first thing on my mind is whether or not you're safe. Do you have any idea what that's like, Anonymous? I used to think the same sort of things about Twilight, but she became a mare in time. A powerful one, capable of looking after herself. But you? No magic, no bearing on the world around you."

                                            "Now hold on--"

                                            >"No family, no money, no safety net. If you fall, who will catch you?"

                                            "I have friends, Celestia."

                                            >"But they aren't -me-, Anonymous. They are not capable of the things -I- am capable of. If you fall I'll catch you. I'll always be there to catch you."

                                            >Your eyes dart to the teacup.

                                            >A spider's web of cracks has enveloped it, and the tea spoon has been contorted in a half-dozen different directions like it was a blade of grass.

                                            >"Why," she breathes, "why are you -incapable- of seeing that we're meant to be together?"

                                            >The table is swept aside. You are dragged off your cushion by magic and pulled against the beating chest of the Princess.

                                            >She wraps you in her hooves, hot breath in your ear.

                                            >"Just let me look after you. Let me hold you. Let me keep you safe and protect you. I'm everything you'll ever need."


                                            >You watch the copy of yourself being non-consensually cuddled by Celestia from a distance.

                                            >Luna looks away from the scene and nudges you.

                                            >"Are you alright?"

                                            "When you said her dreams were getting weird I didn't think you meant like this."

                                            >"What were you expecting?"

                                            "Would you judge me if I said 'weird sex'?"

                                            >"Of course not. Weird sex is what the majority of Equestrians think about."

                                            >She bobs her head.

                                            >"Not to say it wasn't going to end like that. In a little while 'you' will give in, realise she's everything you ever needed in life, and you'll have ridiculous sex right here in the garden."

                                            "How is ridiculous sex any different from weird sex?"

                                            >"Your member isn't nearly as large as she imagines it to be, you can't ejaculate your body weight in semen, and her 'moist twitching flower' isn't enough to drive you to start reciting ad-hoc poetry about how divine it is."

                                            "I've never recited poetry in my life."

                                            >"No, I thought not."

                                            "My body weight, though?"

                                            >"Oh yes, it's not a normal dream for her unless it ends with her covered in so much cum you can barely see her coat. She'll drink it too. Like a dog trying to drink from a broken fire hydrant. Sometimes there is swelling."

                                            "Never thought she'd have a thing for cum."

                                            >"We never truly know ourselves until we know what we dream about."

                                            "What do you dream about?"

                                            >Luna blanks before answering.

                                            >She cranes her head back, as if checking to make sure there's no one else in this isolated dreamscape.

                                            >"Bareback mounting for the sole purpose of procreation," she whispers.

                                            >You take several sidesteps away from the dangerous sexual deviant beside you.

                                            >At that point, your dream-self whips out his cock. It's the size of one of Celestia's legs.

                                            "Oh that's just stupid."

                                            >"Wait till you see where it goes," Luna quips.

                                            >...

                                            >"Yes, Anonymous! Put it in my virgin asshole! I can take it!" Celestia screams.

                                            >"Thou velveteen walls art like an angel's kiss!" You cry.

                                            "There's no way that's going all the way in without lub-- oh, nope, there it goes. Jesus."

                                            >"Mhm."

                                            "Should I take all this as a sign that I should come up to the castle less often?"

                                            >"It might be wise to give her space for a few weeks, just so she can stop obsessing over you."

                                            "Will that work?"

                                            >"Probably not. I'd ask you to consider where Twilight learned her habit of never giving up."

                                            "That's not reassuring."

                                            >"It wasn't meant to be."

                                            "So what do I do?"

                                            >"Put it in her virgin asshole?"

                                            "I'm not above punching a princess."

                                            >"Please Anonymous!" Celestia yelps, "rearrange my organs! I don't need them anyway!"

                                            >"Celestia! Thou art so much hotter than your sister!" you roar.

                                            "Luna can I please wake up now."

                                            >"You wanted to see it."

                                            "You promised there'd be candy and hard rock, you Judas."


                                            ---


                                            "I'd be down for more sunhorse obsession"

                                            - Anonymous, not helping in the slightest.


                                            "This isn't healthy, Celestia."

                                            >"What's not, Luna," she doesn't look at you, her eyes remaining on the letter floating in a sunlight glamour.

                                            "This," you cast your hoof at her desk. Opened missives are strewn across it, annotations and 'corrections' adorn each of them. "I implore you again to reflect on what it is you're actually doing. This is... I'm not sure what to call it."

                                            >As you speak, Celestia's quill makes precise jabs and scratches at the particular letter before her. She still refuses to meet your gaze.

                                            >"What I'm doing is seeing to the protection of a valued subject."

                                            "And does this subject know you've been tampering with his mail?"

                                            >"He won't need to."

                                            "I should think he does. What are you amending there, anyway?"

                                            >"I keep discovering inaccuracies. I am merely correcting them."

                                            "In what way," you narrow your eyes.

                                            >"Take this, for instance. On the 5th of October, Anonymous wrote to his friend: 'It was great meeting up with you, I hope we can do another date sometime, this long-distance stuff is blah blah blah--'. See how ridiculous that is?"

                                            "Anonymous wishes to meet his friend. There is nothing objectionable about that, and certainly nothing worth--"

                                            >"That's it though, he wishes to -meet- her. But here, he uses the word 'date'. That would send entirely the wrong impression, so I am, quite generously if I may be so forward, correcting his message before it passes on. There's also this whole passage about long-distance relationships, but again that fosters a view that their association runs deeper than platonic friendship, which it obviously doesn't."

                                            "And why not? Is Anonymous not free to pursue his own fancies?"

                                            >Celestia chuckles.

                                            >"Luna, come now, why would he be chasing another mare when he already has me?"

                                            "Does he have you, Celestia? You've yet to invite him up here, despite this obsession of yours persisting for up to a month now. One would think you're putting it off. If he truly means so much, why have you not made your move?"

                                            >"These things can't be rushed, Luna. I know you never understood the courtship game as well as I, but there's a great deal of foreplay involved. A sort of cat-and-mouse game, you understand."

                                            >A contemptuous hot snort bursts from you.

                                            "I have -quite- a firm understanding on matters of courtship, thank you. I am the Princess of the Night and -all- its affairs, not just stargazing and babysitting ponies having bad dreams."

                                            >"Then please don't act like you don't know how this works. I will formulate a plan of action and make my move soon enough. These things require patience."

                                            "Your plans have a habit of consuming you. It is little wonder Twilight Sparkle ended up as neurotic as she did."

                                            >Celestia ignores you, shaking her head and striking out a few lines on another letter.

                                            >She scoffs, raising it closer to her face.

                                            >"Listen to this, a letter from this 'other mare'. 'Dear Anon, do you mind if I call you Anon? Hope you're doing good. Was hoping you'd be interested in meeting up for Hearts and Hooves? I think this will be your first one, so I'd love to show you how things work. Winky face'."

                                            >You blink.

                                            "Winky... I'm sorry?"

                                            >"Exactly!" Celestia throws the letter down with disdain. "Hope you're doing good? Starswirl did -good-, Luna. Ponies do -well-. And she's so... unrefined! And to actually draw a winking face at the end of the letter... It's utterly juvenile. I'll have to rewrite the entire letter, I can't let this get to Anonymous as it is, it's entirely the wrong sort of thing to say and will nurture the dangerous notion that she's romantically inclined towards him."

                                            "And what do you plan to write in its place?"

                                            >"I will simply address upcoming events around Equestria not related to Hearts and Hooves, and cordially extend my-- her, well wishes."

                                            "How sterile."

                                            >"How -necessary-."

                                            "And once you are done crushing this blossoming flower of happiness out of sheer self-interested malice, what then?"

                                            >"I'd have thought it was obvious. Once this other mare is out of the picture, I will begin my own correspondence with Anonymous. It shall be a slow-burn romance, built up over roughly twenty-two months. There will be specific landmark dates and events where I will put forward my interests and intentions, and there will be contingency plans in place should each proposal fall short. All being done on schedule, we will be wed within two years."

                                            "Blessed Mother. Sparkle never stood a chance with you as her teacher, did she?"

                                            >She smiles with a happy hum, your comment going over her head and her keen eyes darting over folders and scrolls that drift across her field of view in golden fields.

                                            >"I've already placed all the restaurant bookings in advance, and am currently putting out feelers to see where we can host the wedding. I was thinking Canterlot, but it struck me the other day that that might be a bit 'old hat'. I want to try something daring, bold. Judging by the field reports and psychological profile I've requested from Agent Sweetie Drops in Ponyville, I think he'll appreciate the gesture."

                                            "Celestia..." you rub your face with a hoof. "Please assure me that you -haven't- instructed the nation's security apparatus to spy on the poor man.

                                            >"Of course I have," she seems surprised, as though it would have been obvious. "His safety is in my best interests, and it helps my long term goals to gather intelligence on his personal habits so that I have a full dossier to refer to once the next phase of the plan goes into motion."

                                            >She taps her temple with a conspiratorial grin.

                                            >"It's all planned out, Luna. All of it. Down to the hour. Your big sister's ready for this, I promise you."

                                            "That's precisely what I'm worried about. And what happens if he rejects you?"

                                            >"He won't."

                                            "You sound very sure."

                                            >"As sure as I can be given the information at hoof."

                                            "As sure as you were of your divine right to rule before someone close to you gave you a reality check roughly ten centuries ago?"

                                            >She frowns.

                                            >"That was an exception."

                                            >You shrug and turn to the door.

                                            "Suit yourself, but don't come crying to me when it all burns to ashes."

                                            >"Pout all you want, little moon, but in two years you'll have a little brother-in-law to pester, so you can thank me then. Consider it my gift to us both."

                                            "You're so considerate," you deadpan.

                                            >Celestia beams at you, then goes back to doctoring the letters.


                                            *


                                            >' Dear Anonymous.

                                            >Meeting you earlier this month was satisfactory.

                                            >Please accept my platonic thanks for your company.

                                            >Please find enclosed a schedule containing platonic events taking place in your local area.

                                            >Please suggest one (1) that we can attend.

                                            >Please do not attempt to schedule more than one action-packed fun-fuelled outing per month, as my heart murmur and medical history discourages me from too much excitement.

                                            >Please find enclosed all the relevant medical documents from the Equestrian Medical Bureau along with signed confirmations from the Royal Physician and the Headmaster of Canterlot Medical University for your interest.

                                            >Kind regards,

                                            >Your friend, Breezy Petal. '


                                            >You squint down at the letter in your hand, expression askance.

                                            "What the fuck?"


                                            ---


                                            "When you're doing Netflix &a chill and she gives you this look..."

                                            - Anonymous, with a picture of Celestia looking horny. I'm not talking about her horn.


                                            >A fat mare sings, yet the show continues.

                                            >Her warbling voice reverberates around the auditorium, bolstered by the acoustics of the Canterlot Opera House.

                                            >You look down on her, enthralled.

                                            >Not by her singing - this sort of thing isn't your scene - but by the number of chins she has.

                                            >You weren't aware equines could get that fat, but through the miniature binoculars provided by the house you're seeing what must be a dozen light blue chins.

                                            >All of them rolling from the thunder of their owner's voice.

                                            >The costume she wears is doing just as much work as she is - several seams look close to splitting.

                                            >Good thing Rarity didn't end up coming; she'd be crawling over the front rows armed with sewing needles and thread to prevent the horror from unfolding - or splitting - before it happened.

                                            >Sadly, she came down with pony flu.

                                            >Or so she tells you.

                                            >Sweetie Belle confided that her sister had received a letter, went even whiter than usual, then locked herself in the bathroom to scream for half an hour.

                                            >When she came out, she had flu and would allegedly explode if she stepped within five miles of Canterlot.

                                            >Well, her loss.

                                            >That just leaves you.

                                            >"She's good, isn't she?"

                                            >...And her.

                                            >You lower your binoculars and give a weak smile to your companion, the only other person in the box with you.

                                            >Princess Celestia looks out over the crowd below with her usual air of serenity.

                                            >"This production has been one of the best I've seen in some time. Are you enjoying it?"

                                            >The fat mare hits a note that threatens to burst your eardrums. You smile through the pain.

                                            "It's great."

                                            >"I am glad you think so, though I must confess that this is rather a long opera, so we may be here for some time."

                                            "A shame Rarity couldn't be here to enjoy it."

                                            >"Yes," she shakes her head, "it was awful that she came down with that illness. I hope that I can be better company."

                                            "She insisted that I come. Even gave me one of her tickets."

                                            >"She's a generous mare and a good friend."

                                            >You nod, and the two of you look back to the show.

                                            >The fat mare is surrounded by stallions dressed like Vikings. They wave around clubs in an amusing interpretive dance. It reminds you of...

                                            >A warmth presses against your thigh.

                                            >Your eyes drift down, not wanting to confirm it.

                                            >Celestia has shuffled next to you, her haunch touching your leg. The alicorn speaks in a lower tone, her dulcet measure a stark contrast to the shrillness coming from below.

                                            >"You know, I think my favourite part about these sorts of shows is the solitude my position grants me."

                                            "Yeah?"

                                            >You're not sure where she's going with this, but alarm klaxons are wailing in your head.

                                            >"I love the company of my little ponies, but it is nice to be able to just enjoy a show like this. With them in presence, but apart. Like I am able to spectate them from on high."

                                            >She offers that knowing smile of hers.

                                            >"Though I do enjoy sharing such a private spot with good company."

                                            "Yes, it's uh, great. Thank you again for insisting that I come up here to enjoy the view. Even if I was escorted here by guards."

                                            >"Oh, they were just there to ensure you didn't get lost on the way to me. Or get cold feet. I know how skittish you can get around me."

                                            >She's not looking at the show anymore, instead choosing to focus solely on you.

                                            >The door at the back of the box is closed. Armed guards will be outside, and even if they're not they'll be lurking somewhere.

                                            >There is a twenty-foot drop off the side of this box, and the show hasn't even reached the first intermission yet according to your watch and the provided program.

                                            >You are - unless you choose to break your own legs on your way to the floor far below - stuck.

                                            >Celestia presses closer, voice still carrying that huskier quality.

                                            >"I hope you feel more comfortable with me, now that we've been given the chance to spend some more time together," her breath is right in your ear.

                                            >You like living in Ponyville.

                                            >It's tranquil, immersed in nature. Peaceful, for the most part.

                                            >And a good distance away from Canterlot.

                                            >Sure, Celestia does on occasion visit, and she uses every opportunity to see if she can 'bump' into you whilst she's there, but generally speaking you've been able to evade her far easier in Ponyville than during your brief introductory stay at the castle.

                                            >You curse Rarity, her passion for the arts, and her refusal to see you go without indulging in the creative works of her people.

                                            >"Are you comfortable, Anonymous?"

                                            "Ah, quite comfy, thanks," you edge slightly away from her.

                                            >She makes up the distance immediately and without subtlety.

                                            >"I'm ever so glad to hear it."

                                            >The fat mare pauses in her shrieking - it had become white noise amidst your other distractions, but you swear she'd been belting out the same note for a full minute.

                                            >"Oh! Pay attention to this one, this is one of the high-points of the opera."

                                            >Celestia sits up again, her attention back on the stage.

                                            >You follow her gaze, beholding the fat mare and her dozen glistening chins.

                                            >She sucks in a deep breath and unleashes a note so powerful you feel your ribs vibrate.

                                            >The audience is enraptured; not a single head looks away from the scene even for a glance.

                                            >It is admittedly a stunning display of vocal aptitude.

                                            >And then, as she reaches the apex of her outburst...

                                            >A hot tingling envelops your flaccid cock.

                                            >Your eyes bulge, but don't look away from the fat mare.

                                            >Neither does Celestia move in your peripheral vision, but you can just about see the faint luminance of magic wreathing her horn.

                                            >You swallow, thoughts frantic.

                                            >She can't seriously be doing this. Not now. Not with all these ponies around.

                                            >The tingling field, once smothered over every inch of you, becomes more focused.

                                            >It forms a thick band, the fuzziness becoming a more definite force. Pliable and yielding, but with an underlying firmness that grants the illusion of a surface.

                                            >It strokes forward along your squat length, glacially reaching your tip before pulling back again.

                                            >The pits of your arms are sweating; you are glad to be wearing black.

                                            >The band reaches its terminus at your crotch and lingers, a faint squeeze prompts you to cross your legs before it makes another journey back to the tip.

                                            >You spare a glance at Celestia.

                                            >She's still watching the performance, but a measured smile plays across her face. Clearly the show isn't the only thing she's enjoying.

                                            "Celestia!" you hiss.

                                            >She doesn't respond, instead the corona bathing her horn pulses once, and the band around your cock becomes hotter, tighter, and its repetitions quicken.

                                            >You gasp unbidden, a glimpse around at the other boxes lining the high walls of the chamber are packed with other members of high society.

                                            >All of whom are fixated on the thrilling show before them, but oblivious to the more daring display taking place in the highest box at the far end of the room.

                                            >You swallow again, squeezing your legs together and covering your crotch with both hands, anything to stop the band.

                                            >The moment you make contact with your lap, both hands are pulled back to your sides by an irresistible force.

                                            >Celestia remains a statue, magenta eyes and forward-facing ears drinking in the intricate choreography and bombastic orchestral swells.

                                            >There is nothing you can do but ride it out.

                                            >A glimmer of hope in you posits that she'll get bored.

                                            >The other times she's cornered you she'd say her piece and leave before anyone caught her, she'd never do anything like this.

                                            >But that's just it.

                                            >She's also never had you alone like this either.

                                            >You are stuck in this box with her for the next hour, but even when the intermission arrives you'll have to contend with the guards.

                                            >She'll have told them that you're not to leave, surely.

                                            >A rogue thought pushes to the fore.

                                            >Was this whole thing a set-up?

                                            >Did Rarity win those tickets in the raffle on purpose?

                                            >Knowing what you know about Celestia from Twilight, she always struck you as the mastermind sort.

                                            >You look at the side of her face more deliberately, your own haunted expression in stark contrast to her mirthful manner.

                                            >Her posture remains prim, her focus remains set, her horn remains aglow.

                                            >But her smile stretches farther when she catches you staring.

                                            >An eye swings round to you, and for a moment you both watch one another.

                                            >Your face alone is a silent plea for clemency. Her mirth holds, and the band becomes faster in its motions.

                                            >You let out a shuddering breath.

                                            >By now you're at full mast. The inner lining of your pants is stained with the unwelcome texture of pre, with each journey by the band to your tip squeezing another bead out of you.

                                            >Cold wetness presses back into your groin, still the band hammers away at you.

                                            >Your hands reach forward, not to your pants but to the railing before you.

                                            >You grip it with white knuckles, hunching over and doing your best to ignore the sweat trailing down your brow.

                                            >Celestia looks away from the performance, her attention now fixated on you.

                                            >A morbid curiosity is about her, a filly pulling the legs off a spider.

                                            >How far can she push you? How far -will- she push you?

                                            >Does she intend to send you over the edge?

                                            >With each stroke you're getting closer. Her stare only hardens, the placid smile warping to a mischievous grin.

                                            "Please," you whisper, "not here."

                                            >Your words are mute amidst the leaps and crests of the score, the conductor leading the band at the front is sweating as much as you are.

                                            >A familiar, horrible throb overtakes you. Your heart drops.

                                            >She's doing it. She's going all the way.

                                            >You shoot one final look of panicked horror at Princess Celestia, and with a look that bears none of the sweetness most in the land know her for, Celestia's magical grip crushes you.

                                            >The heat becomes such that it could be fire, and a final death-grip wrench to the base of your shaft provokes your hips to give an involuntary thrust of their own as you fire the first shot in your underpants.

                                            >Each pulse is matched by an encouraging squeeze, and the touch of the band spreads to your balls, a ghostly tongue wrapping around each one to coax as much from you as possible.

                                            >Celestia bites her lip and shifts in her own seat, a viscous smear plasters the faux leather beneath her and an earthen scent dances into your nostrils.

                                            >For half a minute you twitch and buck against nothing, each throb bringing forward another spurt of hot moistness that rapidly cools until it's a discomforting goo crushed against your lap by your clothes.

                                            >Mercifully, it ends, just as the fat mare ends her own apex.

                                            >You slump back into your seat. Celestia releases a trembling breath.

                                            >Her horn ignites again, and that cursed tingling returns, softer this time.

                                            >To your surprise, the moistness fades. Your pants become warm and dry, as if freshly dry-cleaned.

                                            >You are about to offer something in the way of thanks for her not leaving you in a disgusting sweat-ridden state, but then you see it.

                                            >A manifestation of gold shimmering between you both.

                                            >It flickers in and out, leaving behind a floating, bubbling ball of...

                                            >You look to her, your revulsion clear.

                                            >Celestia locks eyes with you as if daring you to call her out.

                                            >You daren't say a word.

                                            >And there in that arena, surrounded by a thousand nobles and members of the aristocracy, she hovers the fresh wad of your own cum up to her mouth and eats it.

                                            >She doesn't blink, and neither do you. She doesn't look away, and neither do you.

                                            >The wad is passed from cheek to cheek, the Princess savouring its taste, a delighted hum resonating from her chest.

                                            >She swallows.

                                            >You watch the lump in her throat travel down, now cursed with the knowledge that one of your loads sits snugly in the belly of the ruler of Equestria.

                                            >"Bold of you, Anonymous," she winks. "You know we're not allowed to bring in our own food, yet you smuggle in a snack like that."

                                            >She leans down to your ear. A long, sticky tongue extending to trace it, finishing with a nibble on its lobe.

                                            >"Got anymore?"


                                            >It is a very, very long opera.


                                            ---


                                            >"Oh my, Anon is in my chambers and I'm not wearing anything. Whatever will he think?"

                                            - Anonymous, with a picture of naked Celestia.


                                            >It takes a restraint honed by millennia to keep a neutral expression as you stride into your chambers.

                                            >Anonymous lumbers in behind you, surveying the ornate room as though lost. His eyes linger on the painting by the en suite door.

                                            >"Nice place," he manages.

                                            "I try to keep it from getting too busy. A life like mine often leaves me with more knick-knacks than I know what to do with." Your gaze settles on the prepared tea set; each piece arranged with millimetre precision and the already-full cups steaming. "Would you like some tea?"

                                            >"Sure," he shrugs, "so where's this book you were talking about? Twilight said it had a blue cover but..."

                                            "I'm certain it will be in here somewhere, we'll just need to be thorough."

                                            >"Surprised it wasn't in the library."

                                            "There are many tomes that ought to be in the library that aren't. I do have a habit of taking out more books than I can handle and then leaving them around, silly me!" you titter.

                                            >He nods, clearly uncertain as to how to respond.

                                            >Mother, he's adorable.

                                            >"I'm not seeing that many books, and none of them have a blue spine."

                                            "Ah, well, it may be under my bed."

                                            >Along with many other personal things.

                                            "Would you like to sit down?"

                                            >He turns in place, frowning.

                                            >"All this and no chairs?"

                                            "Yes, I prefer cushions, but how about you sit on the bed?" you pat it and shoot a friendly look at him. You hope it's friendly, at least. Your nerves are a bit jumpy.

                                            >He wanders over and perches on the very edge, poised to leap off in a moment and fiddling with his hands.

                                            >You float a cup to him and he takes it gingerly, raising an eyebrow at the rising steam.

                                            >"Did a maid know we were coming?"

                                            "It wouldn't surprise me. Word travels around here, so I can see a maid scurrying in here to pour tea in anticipation of my arrival."

                                            >"Oh. Neat."

                                            >He sets his lips on the rim and barely samples a droplet.

                                            >"Mm. Very good. So, you said the book might be under the bed?"

                                            "Ah yes, let's have a look, shall we? Oh, but first."

                                            >You kick off your sollerets and remove the rest of your regalia.

                                            >Anonymous blinks, his eyes darting over your nude form.

                                            "I don't enjoy lounging in my room with it on, I'm sure you understand." You catch his eye and grin. "Something... the matter?"

                                            >"Nothing, I've just never seen you, uh, nak... without it on."

                                            "Very few ever see me -naked-," you wink at him, "how fortunate for you, hm?"

                                            >He swallows and attempts to sample the tea again.

                                            >He's not even touching it. Perhaps too hot? Or the taste is off. What sort of tea was used? You have no idea, you left that to...

                                            "One moment, please. I need to freshen up."

                                            >"Freshen-- we're only looking for a book, aren't we Princess?"

                                            "Of course. You'll forgive a mare for needing the little filly's room though, won't you?"

                                            >He blanches, and you have to suppress a giggle at his fumbling apologies.

                                            >And so, you pass into your en suite and close the door behind you.


                                            *


                                            >Only to find Luna sitting in the bathtub with her face pressed against the wall.

                                            >"Well? How's it going?" she whispers.

                                            "What kind of tea did you put out?" you hiss back.

                                            >"Chamomile, like you said."

                                            "I don't think he likes it."

                                            >"We can hardly change it now, Celly."

                                            "I know, but do you think it's going alright so far?"

                                            >"I can't see much from here, but he looks nervous."

                                            >You clamber into the tub next to her and you each press your muzzles to the wall, cheeks smushed together.

                                            >Through the eye-holes cut into the painting on the other side of the wall, you watch Anonymous creep over to a plant pot and pour the tea onto it before darting back to the bed and sitting down again.

                                            >He runs a hand through his hair and scowls at the few books dotted around the room.

                                            >You pull back.

                                            >"Will you be wanting this yet?" A blue book hovers between you and Luna.

                                            "No, but I'm not sure what to say to him."

                                            >"Just work your moves."

                                            "I don't have any moves."

                                            >"Tell him you're ovulating and that you'll be able to raise a dozen healthy foals for him, healthy enough to survive the winter cold."

                                            "That might work if he was a stallion and it was 110BCE."

                                            >"I don't know then, try pressing his face into your chest fluff?"

                                            >You both look down at your chest.

                                            >You puff it out a bit and the fluff reveals itself.

                                            "Isn't that pegasus thing though?"

                                            >"We are part pegasus, are we not?"

                                            "Yes, but he's a human."

                                            >"No one knows how humans mate, Celly, these are uncharted waters. Look, it's this, or we go back to sharing a double-ended--"

                                            >You clamp a hoof over her mouth and cringe.

                                            "N-not out loud, he might hear!"

                                            >"Bit late for that, don't you think?"

                                            "Look, I need a plan of attack, Lulu, or we'll miss our chance."

                                            >She rubs her chin.

                                            >"Then... attack?"

                                            "I'm sorry?"

                                            >"Be aggressive. Force yourself on him. Stallions are always going on about how mares never make the first move, aren't they?"

                                            "...I don't know, -are- they?"

                                            >"From what I've overheard between the guards, yes."

                                            "And he'll... be receptive?"

                                            >"Possibly. If not, what's he going to do? Stop you? You're the oldest alicorn on the planet, and we get stronger with age."

                                            >You huff and lightly punch her in the shoulder.

                                            "I'm not -that- old, Lulu."

                                            >"Even so, he cannot resist you. Not physically or romantically. Assert yourself. Dominate. Conquer."

                                            >You chew your lip and glance through the hole in the wall again.

                                            "After that I'd need to convince him to open up to having both of us, which might not happen today..."

                                            >"I am a patient mare, Celly, and our toy box is plentiful. I can wait."

                                            "Alright. Alright, I'll do it. I'll go back in there and be... aggressive."

                                            >Luna plants her hoof between her legs and gives you a firm nod.

                                            >"I'll be watching and cheering you on. Go get him, sister."

                                            >You suck in a deep breath, check yourself in the mirror, then clamber out of the tub and through the door again.


                                            *


                                            "Still here, Anonymous?" you flash him a grin.

                                            >"Yeah. You were in there for a while, is everything..."

                                            "I'm fine, thank you for asking. Any look finding that book?"

                                            >"No, I can't see anything. You're -definitely- sure it's in here?"

                                            "If not here specifically I'm sure it's around."

                                            >You slide onto the bed beside him and flutter your eyelids.

                                            "In the meantime, we can enjoy each other's company, I'm sure?"

                                            >"I, uh, in what way?"

                                            "Well, you know."

                                            >You nod at the closed door, double-checking the lock with your magic.

                                            "Just you and I, up here alone, seeking knowledge. Or perhaps something more?"

                                            >"A book. We're looking for a book, Princess."

                                            "Oh yes, that too, but are you sure you wouldn't like to sample something more... unreachable?"

                                            >You drag a bare hoof down your chest, allowing the fluff the swell.

                                            >Trace pheromones carry to him and his nose wrinkles.

                                            >"I-I think there's been a misunderstanding--"

                                            "Has there? I think I understand the situation perfectly. A handsome stallion brought a meek, innocent Princess up to her room and got her naked with the intent to... what?"

                                            >You push him back onto the mattress and straddle him.

                                            >He gawks, but stops himself short of pushing you off. He probably thinks it would be rude.

                                            >So polite. You have to have him.

                                            "Do you not yearn to caress my flanks? To nurse my teats?"

                                            >A thought manifests and you speak before considering it further.

                                            "I can bear many healthy foals for you. All of them will survive the winter. I'm ovulating right now."

                                            >He stares at you.

                                            >Maybe that was too much?

                                            >Listening to Luna is often a gamble.

                                            >"Princess, I apologise if I've given you the wrong signal."

                                            "Shh," you stroke his cheek. "I understand. I want this. You want this."

                                            >"B-but I don't! And what would everyone else think? What about your sister?"

                                            "I assure you she'd be fully onboard. She might even be open to joining us."

                                            >He stammers.

                                            "You do like my sister, don't you? You get along with her?"

                                            >"O-of course I get along with her--"

                                            "You like her, then?"

                                            >"Yes, but not like--"

                                            >"Marvellous!" comes a shout from behind the wall.

                                            >The en suite door is all but blown off its hinges, and Luna marches out with a triumphant grin.

                                            >"Masterfully done, Celestia. Now we shall claim him for ourselves."

                                            "B-but-- Luna I didn't--"

                                            >"What the hell? Was this a trap?" Anonymous breathes.

                                            >Luna jumps onto the bed and nudges you over a bit, leaving both of you sat on the poor man's chest.

                                            >"Anonymous, our foals shall be supreme," she barks. "No winter shall claim them, no matter how brutal."

                                            >"You keep bringing up winter, what's so bad about winter?"

                                            "What she's trying to say is that we'd like to have fun now. Just us. Just the three of us, I mean." You shoot Luna a sibling-glare.

                                            >She beams at you in response and addresses the prone (and scared-looking) man beneath you.

                                            >"I pray that you are prepared for the rutting of a lifetime. My stamina is peerless. My muscles are steel. I can crush coconuts between my thighs."

                                            >He goes pale. Extremely pale.

                                            "But in a good way!" you offer. "She's very athletic, is what she means."

                                            >"Quite right. As for Celestia?"

                                            >A firm hoof slaps your buttock and you yelp.

                                            >"Hear that, Anonymous? Prime breeding hips. Go on, give them a feel."

                                            >One of Anonymous' arms is pulled out with magic and forced to your flank.

                                            >He gropes it unwillingly, but you won't deny it doesn't feel magical to have someone you like touching you in such a manner.

                                            >"You see? Celestia is built for comfort, I am built for sport. I may lack in cushion, but I assure you I make up for it in excitement."

                                            >"I-- I just wanted a b-book!"

                                            >"Yet you have found far more. How lucky you are. Now," her horn ignites, and from under your bed the 'toy box' emerges.

                                            >"Let the breeding commence."


                                            >Anonymous screams.

                                            >And not for the first time that afternoon.


                                            ---


                                            >"You'll cooperate willingly, of course?"

                                            - Anonymous, with a picture of Nurse Celestia


                                            >"Open."

                                            >You open your mouth at Doctor Neigh's instruction.

                                            >"Move your tongue, please?"

                                            >You pull it back as far as you can.

                                            >He peers into your maw, a small flashlight illuminating your cavity-ridden teeth and weak gums.

                                            >The Doctor nods and mutters something under his breath, turning to make a few notes on his report.

                                            >"That's fine now, thank you."

                                            >You close your mouth and run your tongue over your teeth.

                                            "So what do you reckon, doc?"

                                            >He gives you a small shrug, chewing the end of his pen as he reads his notes.

                                            >"I have no idea, I'm not a dentist. I just wanted to see your weird alien teeth."

                                            "Oh."

                                            >"Anyway, you were saying about whether or not alicorns can impregnate humans?"

                                            "Yes. Is it possible?"

                                            >"How the hell should I know? You think we get a lot of alicorn-human pairings swinging by? Why are you asking, anyway?"

                                            "Well like I was trying to say earlier, Princess Celestia keeps raping me, and she's getting frustrated that I can't give her foals so she said last time that she was going to look into ways to make me bear her foals instead."

                                            >Doctor Neigh nods along with your words.

                                            >"Right, right. How about this, if you go out the door?" he points at it with a hoof then drags it left. "Just down the corridor that way? Door at the end, Doctor Screw Loose. She's our resident clinical psychologist. Go speak to her about it and she can see about getting those demons of yours exorcised."

                                            "Really? You think that'd help?"

                                            >"If she can't, I'm sure we can cook up a medication routine that should obliterate your mind and fry whatever braincells you've got left into being normal."

                                            "Uh, okay?"

                                            >"There's a good lad." He pats you on the arm. "Off you trot, now. Don't go talking to any strangers."


                                            *


                                            >You rap the door with a knuckle.

                                            >"Yes? Come in?" comes a voice from behind it.

                                            >The office beyond is cosier than the sterile white room you were just in - deep reds, fine woods, and shaped glass - and the mare you assume to be Doctor Screw Loose sits behind a broad desk reading from a file.

                                            "Doctor...?"

                                            >"Screw Loose."

                                            "Right. I was sent by Doctor Neigh to see you about exorcising some demons, or something?"

                                            >She frowns.

                                            >"You'll want our resident chaplain Father McFeely for that, I should think. What was it specifically?"

                                            "Princess Celestia wants to rape me until I'm pregnant."

                                            >"...Alright no, this is definitely my department. Take a seat on the sofa there and we can begin."

                                            >You recline on the sofa, your legs hanging off the end and fingers knitted over your belly as you stare at the ceiling.

                                            >Doctor Screw Loose perches on a chair across from you, notepad at the ready.

                                            >"Just before we begin I want to reassure you that cognitive behavioural therapy definitely works. I used to believe I was a dog and now I'm a licensed psychologist. It helped me and it can help you. Do you have any questions?"

                                            "Yeah, are you sure this will help me with Celestia?"

                                            >"I should hope so, Anonymous. If you work with me and let me help you, we can turn your stress-induced hallucinations into something more productive. I know what it feels like to see things that aren't there. I used to think the squirrels in the park were all looking at me."

                                            >You nod. She clears her throat.

                                            >"Now, when did Princess Celestia first start interacting with you?"

                                            "Last month. She'd been sending letters before then but I think she became frustrated at a lack of progress."

                                            >"Letters. And when did the letters start arriving?"

                                            "Shortly after I did. She was one of the first ponies to talk to me when I arrived in Equestria."

                                            >"What were you before you came to Equestria, Anonymous?"

                                            "I was in special needs."

                                            >"Ah, so you worked with foals?"

                                            "No, I mean I was -in- special needs. Apparently I'm really, really dumb."

                                            >"Oh, I don't know about that. Intelligence is such a varied thing, it can't really be quantified as 'smart' or 'dumb'."

                                            "I arrived in Equestria because I tried to make toast in the bathtub. I figured the water would help conduct the heat and cook the toast faster. I blacked out and woke up in Ponyville."

                                            >She blinks.

                                            >"Wow yeah you're fucking retarded."

                                            "..."

                                            >"So why do you think Celestia manifested?"

                                            "I guess her parents banged?"

                                            >"No, I mean why do you think she's appearing to you with intent to 'rape', as you put it? Have you historically had a problem with authority figures?"

                                            "I used to get in trouble with the cops, if that's what you mean."

                                            >"How so?"

                                            "I kept shoplifting. See, where I'm from you had these little paper notes for money, right? Well you can buy this game called Monopoly for like thirty bucks and you get a whole bunch of stuff I never really got, but also a load of really small notes. So, obviously, I bought like a hundreds sets, that way I'd have thousands of dollars and not need to worry about money ever again."

                                            >Screw Loose stares at you.

                                            >You shrug.

                                            "Turns out you can't use that money in a lot of stores, but I kept trying in hopes that eventually one would accept it. I only found one store but I'm not sure it counted since it was a little kid at a lemonade stand."

                                            >"Uh huh. How was your relationship with your father?"

                                            "He walked out when I was five."

                                            >"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that. So he wasn't around when you were growing up?"

                                            "Kinda hard to be when you're dead."

                                            >"Wh-- so he died after he walked out?"

                                            "Of course he did."

                                            >"No 'of course' about it, Anonymous."

                                            "Look, I know I'm dumb, but I'm sure that walking out of a plane because you need to take a piss can kill you."

                                            >"...Oh."

                                            "Yeah, there wasn't much to work with at the funeral. It was meant to be an open-casket service but really it was just a jar of red goo with two eyeballs floating in it sat on a coffin. Was kinda weird, actually."

                                            >"Was your mother also...?"

                                            "She's still alive."

                                            >"I more meant... 'special'."

                                            "She's my mom, she's the most special lady in my life," you smile at the memories. "Even if we couldn't always visit her at the zoo."

                                            >"She worked at the zoo?"

                                            "No, she was -at- the zoo. She was one of the gorillas they had. When she met my dad it was love at first sight, or so he said before he pasted himself."

                                            >Screw Loose leans back and rubs her eyes with a hoof.

                                            >"Bourbon," she growls. "Just... wait here and try not to stab yourself with anything sharp."

                                            >She staggers from the room as if drunk already.

                                            >You deflate and frown at the ceiling some more.

                                            >You're starting to think this wasn't a good idea. She's not asking anything relevant about Celestia, so how are you supposed to fix your problem?

                                            >"Knock knock?"

                                            >You look up to see a nurse looking in on you.

                                            >"I do hope I'm not interrupting a session, but I saw a mare in the kitchen drinking an entire bottle of bourbon, was she with you?"

                                            "Blue with white hair?"

                                            >"Yes."

                                            "Yeah, she was mine. It's fine, she's not the first therapist I've driven to liver failure."

                                            >The nurse steps inside and closes the door, locking it with her magic.

                                            >"She said I had to give you an, ah, injection, would you be willing to cooperate?"

                                            "Sure thing, if it'll help me with my problem."

                                            >"I'm sure it'll help both of our problems."

                                            "Well hey, I'm happy to be of assistance where possible."

                                            >The nurse ruffles her wings and tosses her aurora mane.

                                            >She comes to your side and smiles down at you, her magenta eyes drinking in your features.

                                            >There's just something about her...

                                            "You look familiar."

                                            >The alicorn adjusts her pink nurses' hat.

                                            >"I can't imagine why."

                                            >Her breath smells like sugar. Or... cake frosting?

                                            "Hey, wait a second..."

                                            >You narrow your eyes and jump to your feet, coming eye-level with the mare.

                                            >Carefully, slowly, gradually, you pluck the hat off her head as if removing a priceless gem from a laser grid.

                                            >Noggin bare, she purses her lips.

                                            >You stare at Princess Celestia, not sure what to say.

                                            >"Do I look cute in my nurse outfit, at least?" she gives you a meek smile.

                                            "GAH!" you leap over the sofa, putting it between you both and waving the hat at her, "s-stay back! I'm armed!"

                                            >She rolls her eyes and sweeps aside the sofa, marching forward.

                                            >You move away in pace with her until your back presses against the wall of the office.

                                            >Celestia rears up on her hind legs with a hoof on either side of you.

                                            >Something large, hard, and hot pokes you in the belly, leaving a wet patch.

                                            >You don't need to look down to know what it is.

                                            >"I figured out how I'm going to impregnate you," she says softly.

                                            "O-oh."

                                            >"In a way, it was obvious, but as I'm sure you can imagine it'll require some... hooves-on application. An injection, you could say."

                                            "Oh, that's clever, it's like what you said earli--"

                                            >"Yes, love, I know."

                                            >She leans forward, her cake-breath mingling with yours.

                                            >"Are you ready for me to claim you? Are you ready for me to stretch that little coltpussy of yours wide open?"

                                            "Celestia, I... I'm ready."

                                            >You throw yourself across the sofa, which had previously been cast aside but was now miraculously back where it was.

                                            >You're already naked and lubed up, you guess?

                                            >Celestia rears up and her hot shaft slides all the way--


                                            "Luna what," you pause for dramatic effect, as your dream-self gets ploughed by futa-Celestia before you, "the DICKENS is your problem?"

                                            >"What?" Princess Luna gives you her sweetest grin, though you can see her trembling from trying not to laugh.

                                            "Twice! You did it -twice-!"

                                            >"Oh come on, you can't say Celestia's dreams aren't entertaining? And this is different from her last one! See? Now -she's- got the massive cock and -you're- the one being pumped full of cum! Plus you're retarded for some reason, that's got to be worth some laughs?"

                                            "You promised this one was going to be normal! You promised there would actually be hard rock this time!"

                                            >"No no no, I said hard -cock-," she tries to master her smirk. She fails. "Besides, this is more your fault than mine. What's the saying? Fool me once, and so on?"

                                            "You're the worst god damned Princess-- can we leave? Wake me up already, I want out."

                                            >"Not yet, we're not even at the good part!"

                                            "You're saying this gets -worse-?!"

                                            >"Look how flexible you are in the dream realm! There's no way you could take that kind of a pounding in reality."

                                            >She watches her sister break the legs on the sofa from the sheer force she's putting into each thrust.

                                            >Your dream-self takes it to the hilt on each reverberating, bone-breaking slam, screaming and panting like a bitch in heat.

                                            >Luna bites her lower lip. Her thighs rub together.

                                            "Luna."

                                            >"Five more minutes."

                                            "Pull me out."

                                            >"No one in this room will be pulling out, I can assure you."

                                            "Wake me up."

                                            >"Can't wake up."

                                            "I'll tell Twilight Sparkle where your diary is kept."

                                            >Her head snaps to you, her mirth slapped off.

                                            >"That's a dangerous threshold, Anonymous," she says in a low voice.

                                            "I'm a dangerous man, now wake me up."

                                            >"Fi-ine," she rolls her eyes, "you're such a spoil-sport..."

                                            "We're never doing this dream-walking thing again."

                                            >"Of course, Anonymous. Whatever you say," she grins as the dream collapses, but not before you get to hear what it sounds like when Celestia pumps you full.

                                            >You're staying as far away from Canterlot as possible from now on.