Misc. Prompts: Ad Infinitum


                                            >Empress Infinita, First Alicorn, The Eternal Loop, She Who Devours, Fire of Creation, Singularity of Fate and Font of Harmony, always stresses you out.

                                            >She was, in some abstract way which didn’t warrant elaboration, you and your sister Luna’s mother.

                                            >Technically.

                                            >Insofar as an entity like that could mother anything, and insofar as you – rather than simply your body – had been born.

                                            >And, to be fair, she was an excellent mother. You’d never felt unloved, between her giving birth to you and your mortal mother giving birth to the body you now occupied. And you loved her right back, and you and Luna always appreciated the reminder that the two of you were something beyond the temporal existences you most recently occupy.

                                            >She’d even taken on a body like yours, to visit her favorite daughters, time to time. So she wouldn’t terrify your subjects any more than necessary. Best as she could manage, anyway.

                                            >At least she kept Discord away.

                                            >But her existence was something of a threat, on a cosmic scale, even if on the scale of the real and immediate she was as benevolent as you and wouldn’t hurt a fly. And with some of the quirks of her form, unlike the blessedly natural bodies you and your sister occupied, everypony knew it.

                                            >You, she, and your sister had just finished dinner and were walking the palace gardens to give the housestaffs’ nerves a break when you see a familiar figure on his two plantigrade legs, admiring some nondescript and unimportant plant with his hands.

                                            “Ah, mother, this is our newest curiosity. A human, so he calls himself.”

                                            >”I know of them.”

                                            >Both you and Luna look to Infinita in surprise.

                                            “You do?”

                                            >”Oh, I haven’t visited them like I do you two. No personal connection. They seem to love to make trouble, though.”

                                            “Yes. Trouble is a good word for it.”

                                            >As the three of you pass, you tense as you see Anon look up.

                                            >And turn to watch you go.

                                            >His eyes on your mother.

                                            >And then he lets out a whistle.

                                            >You and Luna freeze on the spot, mid-stride. Even the guards nearby look thrice as terrified as a moment before. Just behind your mother, you share a glance with your sister, and see the raw terror on her face.

                                            >Your mother only stops after two more paces. Then with the most innocent voice in the world – you know she can feel the thoughts of everyone around you, so of course it’s an act – she asks nobody in particular, “What a curious signal. Whatever could it mean?”

                                            >Anon’s only been here for three months.

                                            >Shame he wont be around for much longer.

                                            >Your sister tries desperately to cover up. “It meaneth, ah, er, he doth, uh, compliment you!”

                                            >No you fool, now’s not the time for honestly, no matter how vague!

                                            >”Oh?”

                                            >”Yup.”

                                            >That was Anon.

                                            >Buck everything.

                                            >”Was just thinking you manage to be even sexier than your two friends there. Damn, the things I’d do to that perfect ass.”

                                            >Anon what are you doing are you in heat or something please just shut your-

                                            >”My oh my, how scandalous.” Infinita’s innocent expression, you’re horrified to see, has acquired a little upturn of the corner of her mouth. That can’t mean anything good. “My daughters-” emphasis on that second word- “hadn’t told me you were so forward. Haven’t you a mare to tame that tongue?”

                                            >”Why so interested in my tongue, pretty lady? If you want a mare to tame it, maybe you could do it yourself?”

                                            >Infinita finally turns to him, with a flit of the wings against her sides. She’s wearing a kind of smile you’ve never seen her display, before.

                                            >Uncharted territory, now.

                                            >You’re already calculating the hit to the royal finances the imminent damages to your palace are about to incur.

                                            >”Feisty, aren’t you, mortal? Have you no idea to whom you speak?”

                                            >Don’t ask Anon questions that only eggs him-

                                            >”A damn fine mare I’d take to D-town?”

                                            >Infinita’s irises always present as rings of flame, that’s just her style. But this is the first time you’ve seen them fill her normally-black sclera too, the flames licking out past the corner of her eyes like they were seconds from leaping forth from her charcoal-grey skull and set the grounds alight.

                                            >Then she turns those fiery eyes and strange smile on you.

                                            >”I think boldness of that level deserves some humor. My children, I will return in a moment.”

                                            >She throws one last look at Anon, then starts walking away.

                                            >Anon, a look of total shock on his features, quickly follows.

                                            >You look back to your sister.

                                            >She’s no longer terrified, just… resigned. “We have a funeral to plan.”

                                            “Lets make sure she keeps her displeasure constrained to wherever she’s leading him.”


                                            * * *


                                            >You follow the strange alicorn into the palace.

                                            >You weren’t lying about her ass.

                                            >Her dark grey coat steadily darkens towards her flanks, pure black by the time it’s reached her hips. Her cutie mark looks like a ring of fire that doubles back to belt itself, and the coat inside that belted ring is even darker than pure black; light seems to disappear inside it. Unlike other ponies, her cutie mark moves, the loop of light writhing and swirling in its course.

                                            >From her back you can see more clearly the strange halo behind her head, looking for all the world like metal formed by compressed glowing embers. Her dark brown mane, appearing like smoke, drifts towards it, then disappears into a point at the halo’s center.

                                            >Interesting, but damn that ass…

                                            >”Definitely trouble.”

                                            >You tear your eyes off her rear to look back at her head, try to focus on the top of that curving horn.

                                            “’What was that, beautiful?”

                                            >”You humans are definitely trouble.”

                                            “If that’s what they call it where you’re from, I’ll give you all the trouble you want.”

                                            >She laughs.

                                            >There’s something about that laugh that sucks all the sound from the air.

                                            >That’s… disconcerting.

                                            >”I was thinking it might be time for me to get to know your kind better.”

                                            >You two arrive at what you assume is her door. She opens it with her magic – instead of a glowing a color, her magic is the same light-consuming void at the center of her cutie mark – and you walk in ahead of her, trying to fight the unease growing in your stomach.

                                            >”Besides,” she says as you pass, “I was wondering about some of the more peculiar features of this body my daughters use.”

                                            >Alright, back on track!

                                            >The way she walks to you, after closing the door, could be less described as walking and more as flowing. Her legs moved as almost an afterthought of the impulse pushing her body forward.

                                            >It’s hypnotic.

                                            >She stops up short when she reaches you, sits, then looks you up and down. “Are you going to do something about your clothing?”

                                            “Ah, yeah.”

                                            >You’ve never undressed faster in your life, but she’s already on the bed by the time you’re finished, rear to you, tail pulled aside, head craned around to look at your naked form. You’re already at attention, and she eyes it curiously.

                                            >When your attention returns to her presented rear, you swear something looks different, but you can’t think of what.

                                            >”Show me what your kind is capable of. I believe we discussed your tongue.”

                                            >If she was the mother of the Princesses that’d make her a queen, wouldn’t it?

                                            >Well who were you to deny a queen’s command?

                                            >You kneel beside the bed and hook your arms around her hind legs under her body and lift her slightly.

                                            >You bury your tongue in her slit, satisfied with the little gasp you wrench from her.

                                            >With your mouth’s muscle you can tell hers back here are strong, and you have fun with a little back and forth between them.

                                            >You find which ones melt easiest, and which spots bring forth the cutest moans.

                                            >You sorta need that knowledge, because every so often you hear a moan that’s not so cute, one that makes your head hurt.

                                            >But you’ve already got that clit peeking out, and you take the opportunity to give it a nice kiss.

                                            >Then at the gasp, a good hard suck.

                                            >You keep at it, despite what sounds like a cross between protests and cries from the other side of this wonderful black and gray body.

                                            >With the slightest tug, that cry becomes one you know the meaning of.

                                            >And then…

                                            >And then it looks almost like every curve of that perfect body extends just a little beyond her outline, stretching for a brief moment into the air beyond and eating the light crossing.

                                            >No, couldn’t be. She looks perfectly normal.

                                            >And breathing real hard.

                                            >Damn you did a number on her.

                                            >Still got it, Anon.

                                            >”That… That was…”

                                            “Just a warm-up. Better hold onto something, because you’re going for a ride.”

                                            >With your earlier work, she’s already slick enough you can slam it home, bringing her another cry of pleasure.

                                            >You penetrate to the hilt, buried deep in those muscles your dick is happy to report are just as capable as your tongue had suggested.

                                            >And your brave little soldier continues behind enemy lines.

                                            >And it keeps going.

                                            >You always thought you were a big boy but this is a little ridiculous.

                                            >Your cock will need a map to find its way back out, at this rate.

                                            >But damn if it didn’t feel fantastic.

                                            >You pull out your usual length, feeling the miles you withdraw from inside her in the interval.

                                            >You feel every inch of that warm, wet, clenching length and every inch feels wonderful.

                                            >This is going to tax even your hot monkey stamina.

                                            >You get a good rhythm going, slapping against her hindquarters, hearing the wet squelching that matches up with her gasps.

                                            >You’re bringing her moans back, and fortunately they’re the nicer ones.

                                            >Mother of Goddesses she’s tight, all seventeen leagues of her.

                                            >You can feel a familiar tightness coming on when she throws her head down onto the bed, eyes squeezed shut.

                                            >Her walls’ clenching at your member grows tighter, irregular, desperate.

                                            >Then you slam into her again, going as deep as you can and holding there.

                                            >She grates out a scream

                                            >Everything freezes for the briefest moment as that scream rings in your head.

                                            >Then you slam into her again, going as deep as-

                                            >No, you’d already been there.

                                            >That’s two thrusts for one pull.

                                            >And when you pull out this time, you get an intense feeling of vertigo.

                                            >You spin halfway around and fall backwards on the bed, that tightness in your lower body starting to turn to pulsing pain as you hold your head and try to get your reality fixed in your head.

                                            >Your head is next to hers like this. She’s breathing heavily in your ear. You think she’s trying to say something, but she gives up and nuzzles you instead.

                                            >Slowly, shakingly, she drags herself upright on the bed

                                            >Then she pulls herself over your body, laying on you.

                                            >Despite her size – a tad larger than even Celestia – she feels very light, like she’s only affected by as much gravity as she desires.

                                            >It gives you the impression of a wonderfully warm blanket, albeit one heaving with how much you’ve been exerting her. She lays her forelegs over your shoulders, her hooves bracketing your neck. Her hindlegs frame your hips.

                                            >Your dick is grazing her slick and oozing entrance as it rages at its denied climax, though the pain is abating.

                                            >She nuzzles you again, that smoky mane cascading down around your face before it gets sucks into her halo. The spiral laid into her horn is glowing like that halo, like her fiery eyes, pulsing in time with her quickened heart you can feel where her chest is pressed against yours.

                                            “Not… Not done…”

                                            >”My, you humans… sure have energy…”

                                            >You’re worried you won’t get her off before you burst, with how close she got you, so you reach your hands down to her hips and slide them underneath her in a play for time.

                                            >Her teats feel, well, divine. Perfectly shaped, just firm enough. Not too big to be unmanageable, not too small to prevent a bit of fun. She gasps in your ear and shudders when you tweak them with your fingertips, pulling and prodding.

                                            >She picks her head up and looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, the fires swirling behind them threatening to draw you into those inky black pupils.

                                            >Those fires start to lick outward across her sclera as your hands continue your work.

                                            >Yeah, that’s gotta be a good sign.

                                            >But she beats you to it first.

                                            >”It would be rude of me to not see to your desires too.”

                                            >She shoves herself backwards against your dick.

                                            >You’re pretty sure it wasn’t at the right angle for it to slip inside as it did, but it almost feels like it gets sucked inside her.

                                            >Off it goes on its impossibly long journeys as you piston your hips from underneath her, feeling her body atop you quiver and shake with your combined efforts.

                                            >Combined, yes, because even as you work, she’s pushing herself back against you, trying somehow to get more than everything you have, grinding against your body in a decreasingly coherent rhythm.

                                            >Her wings are soon half-extended, and you bring your arms up to wrap around her in a hug, pulling her whole body as close to you as she’s desperately trying to force where you’re joined.

                                            >But you still can’t tear your eyes away from hers, from those writhing fires of her irises, those infinitely deep pupils still threatening to drag you into them.

                                            >The pressure’s building down there again, hers and yours both. Her breathing quickens further, you can feel her twitch and flinch with every thrust, each one sending shocks through her, spreading out in irregular patterns across the muscles of her whole body.

                                            >They reach her wings, which extend fully.

                                            >That mighty span of inky feathers blocks out all the light in the room, but for the light her body throws off, in her eyes and on her hips and behind her head.

                                            >Even as she cries out one final time, her eyes are still open and locked on yours.

                                            >And this time you really do fall in.

                                            >Your whole world becomes constrained to those pupils, and they engulf you, drowning you in their void.

                                            >But no, you’re not diving into them, you’re diving through them, right through those smoky trails behind her head, towards the center of her glowing halo her mane descends into and never exits.

                                            >The huge ring’s looming now, dominating your vision, all else black, and once it swallows you, it seems to turn inside out.

                                            >You’re floating over what looks like a massive orb of black. Long, distorted streaks of stars surround you, all falling towards it.

                                            >And that orb is framed by and belted with the brightest light, just like on her flanks.

                                            >You’re falling towards it, into it. Everything’s stretching, pulling out, and for every bit of distance growing between you and your extremities, you feel the most exquisite ecstasy, orgasmic bliss infusing every fiber of your being, increasing with time you know you’re trapped in an eternity of, your whole existence becoming this one endlessly long string of infinite pleasure.

                                            >Your last thoughts, as the sensation tears apart your consciousness and buries its remains with its immensity, are of her.


                                            * * *


                                            >Outside the door, even Luna’s dark coat looks a few shades paler.

                                            >You’re dancing in place nervously.

                                            >That couldn’t have been a happy sound Anon had made, trailing off strangled like that.

                                            >It sounded like your mother put some effort into whatever cruel fate he had suffered at her horn, with the sound she’d made concurrently.

                                            >And if she had to put effort into something, it was beyond your ability to describe, indeed, beyond mortal comprehension.

                                            >”As I said, sister,” Luna whispered, eyes wide. “A funeral to plan.”

                                            “It’ll be a simple one. I doubt there’s a body left.”

                                            >Luna’s coat loses another couple shades at that.

                                            >You stop your dancing when you hear movement inside.

                                            >A hooffall, just one.

                                            >Another joins it, but not soon.

                                            >Two more, then, and they start walking, though in a very unsteady gait.

                                            >The doorknob disappears into a dark void, then the latch clicks and the door opens.

                                            >Your mother stands there, one leg still shaking, trying to steady her breathing.

                                            >Behind her, on the bed, lies Anon.

                                            >By all accounts still alive.

                                            >Wearing quite a goofy grin, though seemingly insensate.

                                            >You bring your gaze back to your mother, who’s also smiling, though much more placidly.

                                            >”Perhaps I will extend my stay a bit.”

                                            >Suddenly the world’s tilting, and the floor rushes up towards you, but you’re not conscious when you meet it.