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[FLUTTERRAPE] Thread Shorts Volume 12

By Nebulus
Created: 2022-05-03 20:28:31
Updated: 2023-02-05 21:10:09
Expiry: Never
anondarknsfwcomedyflutterrapevarious characters

  1. Shorts? Again? What are you, a one-trick pony?
  2.  
  3. Ye.
  4.  
  5. ---
  6.  
  7. >"I-Is um... cock vore.... fetish, Anon?"
  8. - Anonymous
  9.  
  10. >You open the door to find Fluttershy on your doorstep holding a struggling rooster in a headlock.
  11. >She shoots you a pained smile before shushing and soothing the bird.
  12. >"M-morning, Anon, um," she tightens her grip. The bird scratches at the ground with his talons helplessly. His head darts about in random, panicked directions. Whatever is coming, he's well aware of it and wants no part.
  13. "Fluttershy."
  14. >After years of these theatrics, saying her name is at once a greeting, a question, an accusation, and a plea.
  15. >She gulps and her smile wavers.
  16. >"You'll love this one, trust me."
  17. >The rooster intensifies his mad struggles.
  18. "Should I be calling Animal Protection?"
  19. >"Um, I -am- Animal Protection. I'm Ponyville's local rep."
  20. "How tragic."
  21. >"O--" she sucks in a quick breath. "Okay. Here I go," she says to herself before looking at you. "Here I go."
  22. >Fluttershy opens her mouth as wide as it will go.
  23. >The rooster pauses, head facing Fluttershy side-long.
  24. >His iris dilates.
  25. >Then he trashes for his life.
  26. >Fluttershy puts the rooster's head in her mouth, then shoves the rest of his body in.
  27. >Your morning drowsiness vanishes, replaced with disgusted fear.
  28. >The rooster's lower half wriggles madly, legs flailing in the air.
  29. >Fluttershy's jaw opens yet wider, wider than it should. You hear a crack and she groans.
  30. "Oh God," you whisper.
  31. >With a herculean effort, Fluttershy stuffs the entire bird into her mouth and swallows.
  32. >Your mind struggles to reconcile the size of the bird with the size of her throat, and yet you can see before your very eyes the gargantuan bulge travelling down her oesophagus and towards her stomach.
  33. >The form writhes as it goes.
  34. >It reaches her belly. Fluttershy falls back onto her bottom, legs splayed before her and poking her bulging front with a sense of stunned disbelief, as though all this wasn't part of the plan.
  35. >She opens her mouth to speak but winces.
  36. >She nurses her jaw instead, tears coating her cheeks, whimpering.
  37. >To your horror, you see the lump in her belly shifting around.
  38. >You feel faint, sagging against the door-frame for support.
  39. "What have you -done-?" you say, voice strained with your contempt.
  40. >She takes several deep breaths and makes a couple of false starts.
  41. >She tries to look you in the eye but can't do it. Instead, she speaks to your feet.
  42. >"I-is, um, c-cock v-v..."
  43. >She can't finish. She breaks down into sobbing, begging the bird within for forgiveness. A sob escapes you too.
  44. >The neighbours are watching. They're used to your daily nonsense but even they can see something's gone wrong. Golden Harvest murmurs to Bon Bon, both mares wearing looks of genuine concern.
  45. >You wipe your eyes and lunge at Fluttershy, your expression contorted to a grimace.
  46. >She squeaks at your contact, but there's no victory as you drag her to your kitchen.
  47. >A glass is filled with one part water one part table salt.
  48. >You force her to drink it, gripping her head and holding her nose to make sure she swallows. She does so with evident misery.
  49. >It does what it was supposed to and she retches most of it back up.
  50. >The lump in her stomach shifts.
  51. >You keep forcing saline into her and her stomach contorts again.
  52. >By now she's almost despondent from physical shock and anguish.
  53. >On the third glass, which you'd made more salt than water, her belly heaves.
  54. >The rooster travels back up and is ejected with force from her maw.
  55. >Sticky with fluids and legs covered in pink burns where the acids had dissolved the outer layer, it twitches on the tiled floor but is still very much alive.
  56. >Fluttershy, between her shivers and choked cries, manages a simpering smile.
  57. >You slap her across the face as hard as you can. Then again. She raises a trembling hoof to fend you off, but you lay into her again. Again. Again.
  58. >Then you drop to your knees and yank her against you, hand stroking her mane and kissing her forehead, clutching her shivering body against yours.
  59. "You fucking idiot," you whisper to her. "You absolutely feckless fucking moron."
  60. >She weeps into your shirt and burbles apologies at the rooster, which has staggered to its feet and is tottering about trying to get its bearings.
  61. >She doesn't even ask you if it's your fetish.
  62. >So you'd call this morning a win.
  63.  
  64. ---
  65.  
  66. Marble Pie is a virtuous mare.
  67.  
  68. >The consecrated sun rises on an austere world.
  69. >Transgressions aged and recent reverberate in your soul, echoes of mockery, of belittlement, of failure, accompanied always by his cruel face.
  70. >But self-pity is a crutch for the weak, and you have ascended beyond the sanctimonious auto-fellatio that characterises the pathological introvert.
  71. >Your blood is lava, your bones granite. Righteous anger is your being, and the challenges of the day shall fall before you, one daunting mountain in particular.
  72. >Though not a mountain, a man. A mountain of a man. A walking monument to your inadequacies.
  73. >For him to stride upon the Earth uncowed is a testament to your ongoing failures.
  74. >In your spirit you know, today he will bow. The titan will grovel at your hooves before he grants you your progeny.
  75. >He will call you mistress as you break both his body and spirit.
  76. >Today your legend is born.
  77. >His house sits isolated across the derelict fields of stonework blades.
  78. >The sedimentary carnage, gaping wounds stuck with daggers of flint and lime.
  79. >Lesser ponies may faint before such desolation, but you have known no other home. This lifeless scape is a comfort. The cotton and silk of civilisation are to you acid upon skin.
  80. >His door is before you. You strike at the wood. In groans at your touch. The edges of your vision flicker with throbbing resentment, tunnel vision threatening to overtake you, but you master it as you have mastered everything about yourself.
  81. >Your physique, your cunning, your words. They are as honed as a keen dirge.
  82. >Great resonant lumbering approaches. He will be upon you soon. His tricks are many. His strength supreme.
  83. >But you will not yield. The door opens, and you will not yield.
  84.  
  85. *
  86.  
  87. >You open the door.
  88. >Oh. It's the quiet one. Again.
  89. >What was she called?
  90. >Mubble Tie? Probably?
  91. >She looks mad.
  92. >Or scared.
  93. >Both? Maybe both.
  94. >Fifth day in a row.
  95. >She's mumbling again.
  96. >Can't hear a word of it.
  97. >Maybe she wants sugar.
  98. >Does her family like sugar?
  99. >Still not sure.
  100. >Still getting used to living out here.
  101. >Better get her some sugar.
  102. >Just to be safe.
  103. >Wouldn't want to offend.
  104.  
  105. *
  106.  
  107. >The tyrant of your nightmares retreats in the face of your condemnations.
  108. >Victory would taste sweet, but sweetness is a luxury of the anointed.
  109. >The Pie family dares not indulge in such debauchery as sweetness, lest they too become enamoured with the vanity of city life.
  110. >Better that victory be sour as lemons than sweet as sugar, a life without bitterness is a life not lived.
  111. >The pain of experience, of work, of labour, these are the things that forge mares. The things that take the unbroken flesh of an untested babe and lash at it until the scars, the pain, have become hardened leather.
  112. >With each rejection of your advances from the Dread Anonymous you only grow stronger. The lessons of Father are a drumbeat in your mind, urging you on.
  113. >You will not suffer the indignity of failing him again. To return to the farm with your feminine essence unwashed in the seed of life will be to spit in his eye, spit upon everything he has given you.
  114. >Better to cast yourself into the caverns beneath and rot into nothingness than bring further shame to your family.
  115. >The beast's intoxicating scent returns before he does; your stomach twists in contempt at his oppressive presence.
  116. >The insult that is his continuing weight upon your libidinous conscience can be borne no longer.
  117. >But a loathed smell accompanies him. Your hatred boils. He would not dare. He could not dare.
  118.  
  119. *
  120.  
  121. >Huh.
  122. >Looks even madder now.
  123. >Sugar might have been a bad idea.
  124. >Does she really not want it?
  125. >Who doesn't like sugar?
  126. >Might not want the whole bag.
  127. >Don't neighbours ask for cups?
  128. >Not many neighbours around here.
  129. >Not any, actually.
  130. >Just these guys across the way.
  131. >She's mumbling again.
  132. >Hard to tell what she's saying.
  133. >Something about seed?
  134. >Bird seed? Plant seed?
  135. >Can't grow plants around here.
  136. >Shit, her family farms -rocks-.
  137. >Maybe get her some seeds.
  138. >Should you invite her in?
  139. >Might be polite.
  140. >Better invite her in.
  141.  
  142. *
  143.  
  144. >The elusive titan, your white whale, beckons to you.
  145. >Does he think you so stupid as to follow him into his lair? His hovel? Upon floors of wood and soft carpet?
  146. >If your womb is to know the fleeting miracle of life, you must be sewn upon the hard earth. Father would have it no other way.
  147. >Mother was bred three times upon the earth, but once upon the bedsheets, the latter a mistake Celestia saw fit to cast judgement upon.
  148. >As a consequence of their hubris, your family was burdened with the fel demon Pinkie. Demon of parties, demon of loud noises, demon of sweetness.
  149. >Her touch is agony. Her breath is putrid with the scent of confectionery and the immoral delicacies of society.
  150. >Even a true mare of the earth, even one such as you, cannot help but fall sway to her seductions from time to time.
  151. >Stone is immortal, but even a boulder can succumb to the razor winds.
  152. >As such, a box of your private shame lies hidden upon the land. Crammed with trinkets and pleasantries delivered by your cursed sister.
  153. >And your soul is damned for your inability to dispose of it. For your weakness. That you at times sneak from the house in the dead of night, uncover your trove of sin, and delight in the pretty things she sends you.
  154. >Soft socks, bon-bons, weekly update letters that end in "Love you forever little sis!!! See me sometime!!!"
  155. >Your mind is distracted. Already the beast has you on the defensive. You must act in good time to remove him from his house and claim him upon the earth.
  156. >No child of yours will be conceived upon a soft surface, within a house infested with -sugar-.
  157. >You dive through the doorway and growl at the looming giant. You spit your contempt and challenge him. He cannot match a mare of zeal and purpose.
  158.  
  159. *
  160.  
  161. >Marble Pie.
  162. >That was her name.
  163. >She's taking her sweet time coming in.
  164. >Took one step over the doorway then out.
  165. >Looks terrified.
  166. >Did your welcome mat burn her or something?
  167. >She keeps looking back at her place.
  168. >Nibbling her hoof.
  169. >Wiping her sweaty forehead.
  170. >She forget something?
  171. >She's saying something again.
  172. >Hard to tell, she keeps hiding behind her mane.
  173. >She's glaring at you, though.
  174. >Is that a glare?
  175. >More like worried constipation.
  176. >Focus.
  177. >Bird seed. She wanted bird seed.
  178. >-Did- she?
  179. >You forget.
  180. >Maybe it's in the kitchen.
  181. >...
  182. >No, not there. Cupboard by the back door?
  183. >...
  184. >Nah.
  185. >What the hell, you bought some like last week.
  186. >You're not even sure why.
  187. >Birdseed just seems like something you should have.
  188. >She's still mumbling.
  189. >Keeps staring at the floor though.
  190. >Trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.
  191. >Poor thing,
  192. >...
  193. >Where the -hell- is that bird seed.
  194. >You scratch your head and frown.
  195.  
  196. *
  197.  
  198. >In throes of confusion he stumbles to and fro.
  199. >Your voice, empowered by the conviction of your divine purpose, has shattered his spirit.
  200. >See how he falls into each room, clawing at the roots of his disgusting hair with expressions of forlorn anguish.
  201. >His mind unravels. The time has come to make your move. Your body vibrates with coiled energy. Your earth pony power, granted to your by your ancestors, roars to be unleashed upon this sapient malediction.
  202. >You lunge for him, focused on his leg, for to topple a stele you must start at its base. With effort and precision, even the mightiest of obelisks can fall victim to gravity.
  203. >He flinches at your touch. How pathetic for such a beast to feel fear towards one so comparatively small as you, though even a dragon would balk at the sight of such a pure earth pony mare.
  204. >The volcanic blood of a true earthen clan surges within you, and you heave the man towards the door. Your loins quiver at the notion that soon your eggs shall be wed to his otherworldly essence.
  205. >Father was clear - the stronger the seed the stronger the foal, and surely the seed of one so powerful as Anonymous of Earth shall beget you a child of myth.
  206.  
  207. *
  208.  
  209. >...
  210. >She's, uh, on your leg.
  211. >Humping.
  212. >That's new.
  213. >So does she -not- want the birdseed?
  214. >You're not good at this.
  215. >Being neighbourly.
  216. >Back on Earth you had two neighbours.
  217. >One above, one below.
  218. >Such is life in a flat.
  219. >Guy above dealt drugs.
  220. >Lady below worked street corners.
  221. >She was like, eighty.
  222. >Neither ever asked for sugar.
  223. >Guy above did ask for sodium, though.
  224. >And ammonia, phosphate, glass beakers.
  225. >Whole bunch of other stuff.
  226. >...
  227. >So -that's- why the cops were so keen on you.
  228. >Took you a while, but you figured it out.
  229. >You better not get busted for this.
  230. >Is being humped illegal here?
  231. >Or maybe you need to marry her.
  232. >You think she's Amish.
  233. >Her dad is.
  234. >Talked to him the other week.
  235. >Dude's fresh out of the Bible.
  236. >Started hitting you with shit like "retribution" and "Providence".
  237. >Chill out, Abraham, you've never even -been- to Rhode Island.
  238. >...
  239. >She's really going at it.
  240. >Better shake her off outside.
  241. >She might get cum on the rug.
  242.  
  243. *
  244.  
  245. >The earth quakes with his every step as you wrench him closer to the exit to his vile lair, this den of eldritch horror, of unknown danger.
  246. >The very air is thick with his stench. That stench that haunts your dreams and inflicts impure thoughts upon you.
  247. >Once the seed is sewn you need not return. His use will be at an end, and you can dispose of him.
  248. >Mother shall surely be proud. Many nights has she regaled you of tales of her own breedings, of Father's powerful thrusts and her whorish moans.
  249. >Such tantalising fantasies are moral impetus for your own objectives.
  250. >The fel demon Pinkie was blind and weak, she could never understand the ways of a true earth pony.
  251. >Your teeth grit together as you recall your final meeting with her. With her cloying scent and warm hugs, the hugs of Tartarus itself, so alluring and safe.
  252. >"Yeah, I'm moving to Ponyville. Can't stay here with mom and pop, they're kinda wacko, you know? Hey! Wanna come with?! We could be -roomies-!"
  253. >Her temptations may work on lesser mares, but not you. Not your sisters. The three of you are untainted maidens of stone. Untouched by sin or time, you shall grow as powerful as the earth itself one day.
  254. >Maud and Limestone too shall embark on their own journeys to become mothers. Your heart leaps at the idea of the three of you, each turgid with foal.
  255. >Perhaps they have already done so. Perhaps you, as the youngest sister, are the last pony to the mountain's peak.
  256. >All the more reason to press on. To join your sisters in the sun.
  257. >Fresh air, pure air, graces you. The outside world envelops like a doting parent.
  258. >Beneath Celestia's sky and upon her ground you shall do the deed. The dread titan glowers down at you. He knows his time is short. You shall muster your courage, your hate, and enact the lessons taught to you by Mother.
  259. >She will be proud of you. She will.
  260.  
  261. *
  262.  
  263. >You frown at Marble and waggle your leg a bit.
  264. >She's holding fast.
  265. >Waggle a bit harder.
  266. >Oop, she's coming loose.
  267. >Waggle some more.
  268. >She flops off.
  269. >There we go.
  270. >She looks confused.
  271. >There's the angry and/or constipated face again.
  272. >And more mumbling.
  273. >Not one for eye contact, this one.
  274. >Her father said he's proud of her.
  275. >Not sure how, she's not much to look at.
  276. >She's trembling.
  277. >Really trembling.
  278. >More mumbles.
  279. >Almost caught a word there.
  280. >Something about bread?
  281. >Shit, you ran out last night.
  282. >And now she's crying.
  283. >Hoo boy.
  284. >Should you go back inside?
  285. >Or like, pat her on the head?
  286. >Do ponies like that?
  287. >Might be patronising.
  288. >Bingo - an idea.
  289. >You duck back inside.
  290. >Then back out.
  291. >You gently place the bag on sugar on her head.
  292. >She sniffs and wails.
  293. >Probably thanking you.
  294. >Yeah, that'll do her.
  295. >You'll need to get more bread and sugar from town.
  296. >Maybe you'll run into that pink one again.
  297. >You like her.
  298. >She smells like candy.
  299.  
  300. ---
  301.  
  302. Rarity asks for assistance.
  303.  
  304. >Dear Princess Celestia,
  305. >I've been struggling with a personal matter for some time now, and Twilight Sparkle recommended I write to you for assistance.
  306. >Until now she had been helping me, but seems to have given up. On reflection, her suggestion to write to you may have been sarcastic - you know how she gets - but the more I thought on it the more I thought it may be a good idea after all.
  307. >Would you have any experience in matters of love? I will readily admit that there may be sordid details involved, but I hope against hope that you would be inclined to lend your centuries of wisdom to a simple mare in her search for intimacy.
  308. >I hope to hear from you.
  309. >Your loyal subject,
  310. >Rarity.
  311.  
  312. *
  313.  
  314. > ~ From the desk of Her Royal Highness ~
  315. >My dearest Rarity,
  316. >Thank you for writing to me!
  317. >Twilight Sparkle has been somewhat possessive of me since I sent her out to Ponyville. I was hoping that at some point one of her new friends would reach out personally, rather than Twilight acting as a constant intermediary between you all and I.
  318. >Despite the circumstance leading to her sending you my way, I hope this is the start of a trend for the Elements of Harmony. As defenders of the realm you are more than entitled to my ear, assistance, and friendship.
  319. >(Or if you would just like to discuss simple matters - I have been known to enjoy a bit of gossip!)
  320. >I tend to have a spare hour in the evening for personal matters, and would be honoured to spend it offering guidance for your romantic journey.
  321. >How may I be of assistance?
  322. >Your sincerely,
  323. >Princess Celestia.
  324.  
  325. *
  326.  
  327. >Dear Princess Celestia,
  328. >Thank you for responding so quickly! I was quite taken aback to see a response arrive so soon, but I am most grateful. So, to business!
  329. >A local gentlecolt has caught my eye and I have been making efforts to court him. He is, however, unresponsive to my efforts, and at times even quite rude.
  330. >Despite this, I find myself fawning over him. It is not the first time I have been romantically inclined, so I can say with confidence that it isn't a sort of 'puppy love' I feel towards him but something more genuine.
  331. >He is from a far-off land called "Urth". Have you heard of it? I have scrutinised more than a few maps to the exasperation of both Twilight and the town hall's archivist, but can't seem to find it, though our maps do have large gaps in them owing to the unknown reaches of the world.
  332. >I was hoping to find out more so that I could emulate their fashion, to create a sort of gift, you understand.
  333. >I suppose my proper question is, how would you make inroads when dealing with an interest who isn't interested? My romance novels have failed me!
  334. >I look forward to hearing from you again. Thank you for your guidance, however light.
  335. >Your loyal subject,
  336. >Rarity.
  337.  
  338. *
  339.  
  340. > ~ From the desk of Her Royal Highness ~
  341. >My dearest Rarity,
  342. >I do love a good romance, I have collected hundreds of novels over the years and read them regularly. Have you read the works of Regal Heart? Would you believe that he was a crochety old stallion, and a virgin 'til the day he died, no less!
  343. >Despite this, he had a more intimate understanding of love than any stallion I have ever encountered. It was a shame he died without ever knowing the touch of a mare, I think he would have made someone very happy. Perhaps no mare met his standards?
  344. >The thing about stallions and standards is that it is difficult to break through their stubbornness. Oftentimes it comes down to something as sterile as marketing. Have you explained to him why you would be a good match?
  345. >Were I in your hooves, I would start there. Arrange for a meeting and lay your cards on the table. Explain your feelings and take note of how he responds. Note the topics he shies away from and the interests he expresses. If you take steps to match some of his passions he may yet see something in you.
  346. >It takes but a spark to catch a wildfire. You can fail a hundred times, but you need only succeed once.
  347. >Regarding Urth, I am afraid I am at a loss. I asked Luna for her thoughts and she has never heard of it either. I shall consult our geographers and cartographers to see what they can find. I will keep you updated.
  348. >If we can find it and any examples of its culture, I'm sure he would appreciate a garb in his exotic style. Perhaps a hat or a scarf?
  349. >Please keep me informed as to your own progress, I am eager to see how things develop.
  350. >Your sincerely,
  351. >Princess Celestia.
  352.  
  353. *
  354.  
  355. >Dear Princess Celestia,
  356. >I -have- read Regal Heart! I had no idea they were a stallion, let alone a virgin. Twilight has a point when she says to never judge a book by its cover.
  357. >It reminds me of my flame. He has a harsh presentation and is prone to vulgar language, but I have not seen anything in him yet to tell me that he is cruel.
  358. >The other week, I saw him helping my sister Sweetie Belle and her friends with their cutie mark hunting (that's something they like to do, they call themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders, isn't that adorable?), and when he thought he was alone with them he was all smiles and support.
  359. >It was only when he became aware that I was watching from a distance that he became reserved and made excuses to leave. Perhaps he is only shy and uncomfortable letting grown mares see the 'real' him. What do you think?
  360. >I don't know about you, but gentlecolts with a knack for dealing with foals ticks one of my boxes!
  361. >As you suggested, I arranged for a meeting with him, and I think I made good progress. Here are my findings:
  362. >Urth is an entirely different world from ours. I think this might be hyperbole, his way of saying that things there are completely at odds with how they are here, but it's something to consider. It makes a sort of sense considering how he looks. He's hardly a pony.
  363. >He is very much -not- interested in a relationship with anyone, and he was very insistent about that. There is some cultural taboo there preventing him from entering into a relationship with a member of a different species, and I worry that getting over that mountain may be too sheer a task.
  364. >By trade he is a blacksmith! It would explain his physique, and he seems thrilled by Ponyville's need for such craftsponies. Apparently blacksmithing was a dying tradition where he is from, so it seems he may have relocated for work.
  365. >I could not glean much about family ties. I do not think he is married, so if I can get over this hurdle about his interspecies hangups I think I could have a shot!
  366. >Your loyal subject,
  367. >Rarity.
  368.  
  369. *
  370.  
  371. > ~ From the desk of Her Royal Highness ~
  372. >My dearest Rarity,
  373. >I must confess to a great deal of shock. Interspecies? I will admit that in my close-mindedness I had assumed you were talking about a regular stallion.
  374. >Is he equine? I am thinking of Saddle Arabians, Zebras, perhaps the elusive Kirin, whom I haven't seen in many centuries. Each have very deeply entrenched traditions and will be difficult to sway. Is he similar to any of those?
  375. >Twilight has not mentioned any non-pony residents of Ponyville in her letters to me, though she has been focused on her historical arcanology of late and it might have taken presidence over anything else that normal ponies might find interesting (you know how she gets!)
  376. >You sister sounds adorable, I would very much like to meet her the next time I visit Ponyville. I also have a fondness for a stallion with a talent for child-wrangling. Perhaps you could play on that? Encourage your sister to probe him with questions as a form of intelligence gathering?
  377. >Now that you know he's a blacksmith, you will need to play to that. In Regal Heart's 'Rivers of Lust', the wayward noblemare fell for a woodspony and was forced to abandon some of her more delicate habits in order to appeal to the rugged rural stud.
  378. >There are lessons to take from stories. Though the events didn't happen, that doesn't mean they're not true.
  379. >I will not be so gauche as to say "lower yourself to his standards", but certain amendments may need to be made. Perhaps read a few books on blacksmithing to familiarise yourself with his trade, it could go a long way to fostering a relationship.
  380. >We have made no progress regarding Urth, unfortunately, though our scholars are becoming interested to hear more about it. I will personally investigate the 'other world' hypothesis and will include Luna in the venture (I don't need her support, but I would like to spend time with her. I'm sure you understand, being a fellow older-sister!)
  381. >Your sincerely,
  382. >Celestia.
  383.  
  384. *
  385.  
  386. >Dear Celestia,
  387. >I hope you don't mind me addressing you as such? I wasn't sure if you meant to end your previous letter so bluntly and hope I'm not overstepping a boundary in doing so.
  388. >I've very much enjoyed our correspondence over this last month and hope to see you in person at the upcoming Running of the Leaves. Perhaps you could bring Princess Luna, and I Sweetie Belle, and we could all go running together?
  389. >I'm sure Twilight wouldn't mind it if you dropped by, and if I may be so bold, I would recommend not telling her you are coming. She will only agitate herself if you do, and will only get more and more worked up until the day you arrive (you know how she gets.)
  390. >Progress with Anonymous (our exotic other-worldly project) is slow. I have read a dozen books on blacksmithing, some of them several times, and think I'm coming to grips with it - it is a far cry from tailoring but I can see some esoteric similarities.
  391. >I tested my knowledge against Anonymous and didn't fare too well. There was some mockery on his part, but I brushed it off. I know that's his manner. I must confess to something cheeky, and hope you won't think less of me for it.
  392. >When I was visiting Anonymous at his home to show off my new blacksmithing wiles (or lack thereof), he leant down to say something directly to my face. I forget what it was - something with harsh language and a stern tone, it all ends up sounding the same if you hear it enough - but I took the initiative to steal a kiss!
  393. >He was most put off, but I found it electrifying!
  394. >Curses were thrown in my direction, but I like to think his rosy cheeks betrayed how he felt.
  395. >How quickly he slammed his door - I think I'd embarrassed him! Oh, but he's ever so endearing when he's pretending to be upset.
  396. >I'm figuring him out. He's not been here for long, two or so months, I believe, but I'm coming to grips with how he operates.
  397. >Harsh exterior, gooey interior. I saw him help the mailmare collect her letters after she flew into a tree the other day. He has a good heart. We just need to figure out how to bring it out into the open.
  398. >Yours,
  399. >Rarity.
  400.  
  401. *
  402.  
  403. >Dearest Rarity,
  404. >I would love to attend the Running of the Leaves with you and Sweetie Belle! Luna has proven resistant to my proposals regarding it, but she's still struggling to lower her walls since coming back. I shall work on her and have her ready for the Running, don't you worry!
  405. >I would also prefer it if you addressed me as Celestia. I will dare to assert that we are friends, and would never expect my friends to be so formal with me (something Twilight hasn't quite figured out yet - you know how she is!)
  406. >So he calls himself Anonymous? An intriguing name, I wonder if it's an element of his culture to forego a proper title?
  407. >You are to be commended for your efforts in learning more about his trade, many mares would have since given up, but you have shown drive and passion, and it has been a delight to read about.
  408. >I must confess something myself: I laughed quite heartily at your kissing him! Perhaps you should step it up a notch? Perhaps try something even bolder?
  409. >In Babble Brook's seminal piece, Sunflowers by Moonlight, the lead stallion essentially forced himself upon the vixen of his dreams until she loved him.
  410. >Now, in today's society such advances are looked down on and in some towns even considered criminal, but as far as I know, not Ponyville.
  411. >Perhaps being -so- bold isn't to your tastes, and I would understand completely if you are put off by the idea of being a bit more 'hooves on', you are a mare of your time, after all.
  412. >I don't want to blight the blossoming flower of our friendship so early by accidentally writing something tasteless.
  413. >Yours sincerely,
  414. >Celestia.
  415.  
  416. *
  417.  
  418. >Dear Celestia,
  419. >I am not put off at all, quite the contrary, I sometimes wish I had been born sooner.
  420. >The stallions of yesteryear had a roguish quality to them that, whilst often unrefined and even uncivilised, appeals to something within me as a mare. Perhaps you feel the same?
  421. >I do wish the stallions of Ponyville were a bit more forward, though I may be projecting my own wishes a bit.
  422. >Not every mare sees things the way I do, most mares I know - Fluttershy, Aloe Vera, Roseluck - prefer the gentler touch.
  423. >I wish them all well with their respective partners and courtships, I truly do. But sometimes I hope for more 'force'.
  424. >Regarding Anonymous, he is trying to avoid me. It is very endearing to see him hastily leave a room when I enter it, but owing to your earlier advice about using Sweetie Belle as an 'inside source', I know all his hiding spots.
  425. >There isn't a place in town he can hide where I will not find him!
  426. >Two nights ago, I stalked the town for nearly three hours looking for him. At times I wonder if I am going too far, being too forward, but then I remember our talks.
  427. >We must be bold!
  428. >(I thought about the gift, by the way. I think he would suit a nice vest, decorated with my cutie mark. What do you think?)
  429. >Yours,
  430. >Rarity.
  431.  
  432. *
  433.  
  434. >Dearest Rarity,
  435. >I think a vest would be marvellous - I have included a package containing old fashion publications from Canterlot over the last few decades. Please refer to the waistcoats and formal evening wear, though dated, I think a seamstress of your calibre would be able to draw some inspiration.
  436. >We have had no luck finding any references to Urth. I think Anonymous may have been literal when he referred to "another world". That makes things all the more exciting!
  437. >Regarding stallions and the roguish behaviours of yesteryear...
  438. >If I might confide in you, my friend, I miss the days when such behaviour was common. Sunflowers by Moonlight was written eight hundred years ago, and whilst it is definitely a dated work, I do find some raunchy comfort in the fantasies it brings forth.
  439. >I sometimes find myself eyeing my bulkier guards. Those that stand taller than the others with thicker muscles. Stallions are better fed these days, and as a result of better nutrition grow larger than their ancestors did. I cannot tell you how thrilling it is to walk into a chamber full of powerful stallions and have all their eyes on me. I never tire of it.
  440. >In my darker, quieter moments, I sometimes imagine such a guard bursting into my chambers and having his way with me. I hope you don't find this too off-putting, but I haven't told anyone this sort of thing and find you very easy to write to.
  441. >I feel we may be kindred spirits. Do you feel the same?
  442. >Yours always,
  443. >Celestia.
  444.  
  445. *
  446.  
  447. >Dear Celestia,
  448. >Yes. We -are- kindred spirits. I admit I shed a few tears at your confession, it is very brave of you to admit such a thing to me, but I am with you in spirit completely.
  449. >I yearn for passionate displays of romance. For unfettered carnal lust. Stallions are born to breed, not dandy about making passive comments and offering flowers - as gentlecoltish as that is.
  450. >There comes a point where I want stallions, no matter how well-presented they may be, to 'unleash' themselves.
  451. >For stallions to take the mares they want and 'thrust' them into submission, and in turn I want to hear of mares holding their stallions down and taming the beasts within, or even bringing the beast out.
  452. >There is nothing more primal, more real, than the unrestrained instinct to continue the equine race. It should be celebrated, not hidden away.
  453. >I am overjoyed that we are so close to one another, please tell me you'll be coming to the Running next week, with or without Luna, I must see you.
  454. >Your friend and confidant,
  455. >Rarity.
  456.  
  457. *
  458.  
  459. >Rarity,
  460. >I am short on time tonight, but I felt compelled to send you a response as soon as possible. I will be there, I promise.
  461. >Yours,
  462. >Celestia.
  463.  
  464. *
  465.  
  466. >My beloved Celestia,
  467. >It was an absolute pleasure to see and speak with you, though I hope Twilight wasn't too incensed by our being nearly inseparable. As you've mentioned in the past she does get a bit possessive of you, as though her position as your protégé entitles her to sole access to you.
  468. >A pity Luna wouldn't come, but I'm sure her walls will come down one day. Who knows, she may even share our secret interests?
  469. >I've been thinking more on what you said during our walk through the orchard about Anonymous. I'm ever so glad you see in him what I do, I knew you were a mare of supreme taste! (the girls don't see it). I agree completely with your assessment: He needs a mare.
  470. >It is not a question of whether or not he actually -wants- one, he -needs- one. Mares such as you and I understand that the males of today are too prone to idle cloudwatching and letting life pass them by.
  471. >They need to be focused, determined, and only with a strong, attentive mare at their side can they achieve their full potential.
  472. >I gather you saw me gushing at how polite he was with you. He even kissed your hoof! A gentlecolt if I ever saw one. Imagine what he could become with a bit of guidance, with a push towards the primal!
  473. >I'm proud of him as he is, but I'll be even more so once I've had a few years of married life to sculpt him into something better.
  474. >With love,
  475. >Rarity.
  476.  
  477. *
  478.  
  479. >My beloved Rarity,
  480. >It has been too long since I have connected with a subject the way I have with you. Even if our current mission to bring Anonymous under your hoof (and into your bedsheets!) proves unsuccessful, know that I will forever be by your side. We are bonded, you and I. Mares like us serve a higher purpose.
  481. >We must bring out the best in our stallions. It is our divine duty, even if it comes at the cost of their momentary comfort. A stallion can't understand what's best for him unless we show him.
  482. >I think we must accelerate our plans. Enclosed you will find a paralysing tonic, we discussed the possibility at the Running and after some thought I delved into my private laboratory.
  483. >A few drops in his drink will render him stiffened and his movements difficult - but only a few drops, love.
  484. >Use it to overpower him. A male as thickly set as he would be impossible for a mere pony to overcome ordinarily, even with you magic.
  485. >There are no secrets between us, Rarity, so I hope you understand that I must tell you I masturbated to the thought of you being dominated by Anonymous.
  486. >I imagined his muscles tightening, neck-veins bulging, animal grunts and curses. I imagined you, tender you, at his mercy and loving it.
  487. >He will understand once all this is through, I am certain. Pony or not, there is an instinct that lurks in the hearts of males. The instinct to dominate, to breed. We need only unlock that potential, but you will need to force his hoof (hand?) in order for that to happen.
  488. >My thoughts are with you. I wish you every success.
  489. >Love,
  490. >Celestia.
  491.  
  492. *
  493.  
  494. >Dearest Celestia,
  495. >It is done. I cannot possibly describe everything I need to say in a mere letter, so won't you visit me? Or I could visit you at Canterlot? Everything, from the tonic's success to our higher purpose to your personal tending, it has unlocked something in me I cannot express.
  496. >You must join me when I next make a move. With your magic we would not even need the tonic. We could make him dance, make him sing. It brought me to tears thinking about how you would never experience it yourself, so I thought, well why not?
  497. >I must spell it out so that nothing is lost in translation: I would like to share Anonymous with you. Together, we would mould him into a gentlecolt of legend, and he would be ours alone.
  498. >With love,
  499. >Rarity.
  500.  
  501. *
  502.  
  503. >Dearest Rarity,
  504. >I must attend to my duties, the life of a royal is nothing if not busy.
  505. >However, I will ensure my schedule is clear on Sunday of this week. Please ensure you are not tied up with your own dealings on the day. I will visit Carousel Boutique at dawn. Be ready.
  506. >Together, we will explore this new frontier.
  507. >Love,
  508. >Celestia.
  509. >P.S. It need not be said, but do not inform Twilight. You know how she gets.
  510.  
  511. *
  512.  
  513. >Rarity lay in the dishevelled bed wearing a serene smile.
  514. >She gazed at the ceiling, absently counting the painted flowers, but at the same time, not. Her mind swam. She was only slightly present, so intense was her bliss.
  515. >Celestia, on the other side of the bed and bare of her regalia, reached over and stroked her friend's rosy cheek.
  516. >"You were marvellous, Rarity. Thank you for inviting me."
  517. "It was nothing, Celestia. I am known for my generosity, am I not?"
  518. >The two of them looked down at the figure sandwiched between them.
  519. >"How are you feeling, Anonymous?"
  520. >Anonymous gurgled. He'd not moved much since everything came to a climax a few minutes prior.
  521. >He twitched, his impressive bulk limp and sagging into the tortured mattress.
  522. >More than anything, Rarity was impressed by the frame holding together. Even in a world of magic it shouldn't have been possible for a simple wooden frame to withstand the tidal forces of the Princess' frenzied riding.
  523. >Yet withstand it did, much like the man of the hour - or morning, as it were.
  524. >Celestia trailed a hoof up Anonymous' chest.
  525. >"We'll wait awhile before the next round."
  526. "We're not monsters, Anonymous, we're not here to break you."
  527. >Celestia tilted her head with a coy smile.
  528. >"Not -too- much, at least. A bit of vigour on your part wouldn't be unappreciated."
  529. >"C-can't... numb," the man wheezed.
  530. "Yes," Rarity nodded regretfully, "we shall have to work on that stamina of yours, I am not wholly impressed. A stallion, or man in your case, should be able to handle two mares..."
  531. >"Though I can understand that I might be a bit much to handle," Celestia finished.
  532. >Rarity, having said everything she needed, settled her eyes on Celestia.
  533. >Celestia watched back, her tranquil features set with a healthy glow.
  534. >After a moment, she leant forward to place a fleeting kiss on Rarity's lips.
  535. "I never thought I could be so lucky," Rarity said softly.
  536. >"Luck is irrelevant. This was destiny."
  537. "Do you hear that, Anonymous? We're destined to be together."
  538. >Anonymous gurgled again.
  539. >Love is a beautiful thi--
  540. >Celestia's ear flicked and she sat up.
  541. >Rarity frowned and did the same.
  542. >"Rarity," Celestia said slowly, concern creeping into her voice, "did you lock the shop door?"
  543. "Yes?"
  544. >"Then I think someone just broke in--"
  545. >The bedroom door slammed open with a tremendous bang and a flash of purple light.
  546. >Twilight Sparkle looked with twitching, bloodshot eyes between her friend and her mentor, blatantly ignoring the near-comatose man pressed between them.
  547. >"I knew it," she hissed.
  548. >Her friend and her mentor, in bed with each other, slick with sweat, coat and manes a mess, the heavy unignorable presence of sex all around them.
  549. >Rarity quickly removed Celestia's crown, which she had taken to wearing half-way through the event.
  550. >A vein surfaced on Twilight's reddened forehead.
  551. >"I -knew- it!"
  552. >Celestia pursed her lips as Twilight's horn ignited.
  553. >"Well, I suppose we -were- tempting fate."
  554. >In a way, this was expected.
  555. >You know how she gets.
  556.  
  557. ---
  558.  
  559. Cadance tries to get her freak on.
  560.  
  561. >"Just past here."
  562. >Princess Cadance passes through the great carved hole in the cavern wall.
  563. >It must be at least four metres high, the smoothed circumference decorated in winding crystalline filigree reaching up to a bas relief of an alicorn with closed eyes and spread wings.
  564. >You frown and follow her into the tightening passage.
  565. "You store your coffee down -here-?"
  566. >"Only the good stuff. The cheap stuff we keep upstairs in the castle."
  567. "Fair."
  568. >From its imposing entrance the subterranean passage winds down in a corkscrew, terminating in a final cavern with no other apparent exits.
  569. >The cavern is largely self-illuminating - trace light from sparse lanterns passes through the translucent gemstone stalactites where it refracts and amplifies ad infinitum.
  570. >Your breath catches at the sight as you emerge from the corkscrew passage.
  571. >Cadance trots on ahead as though the miraculous sight is mundane. You suppose, for her, it must be.
  572. >"Come on, don't dawdle, the tea's over here."
  573. "I thought we were getting coffee?"
  574. >She laughs over her shoulder but doesn't look back.
  575. >"Yes! Coffee, that was it, sorry."
  576. >At the centre of the cavern is a raised dais. Upon it, an expansive round cushion dressed in gold trimmings.
  577. >Ringed around the centre are shelves upon shelves, racks upon racks, expanding to the farthest reaches of the cavern beyond sight. All crammed with strange artifacts that defy your understanding.
  578. >Cadance ignores it all and drapes herself over the cushion with a contented sigh.
  579. >"Here at last."
  580. "For the coffee."
  581. >"Sure, for the coffee, but before that, let's talk about you."
  582. "Are you sure? Twilight's waiting for us."
  583. >"She can wait a little longer, she has a book so she'll be occupied."
  584. >The Princess' eyes wander down your body and back up to your face.
  585. >She winks.
  586. >"Cut quite the figure, don't you? Do you work out?"
  587. "I've literally never set foot in a gym."
  588. >"And you still have that physique? Me-ow, I bet you're a real marekiller."
  589. "Ma'am, I've never laid a finger on a mare and I take such accusations seriously."
  590. >"You're funny," she says with a broad smile. "It's one of the things I like about you."
  591. >She stretches out, positioning herself - accidentally or otherwise - in the most compromising position afforded to her.
  592. >"So. What are we doing here, Anon?"
  593. "Coffee, Cadance. Is the air down here too thin or something?"
  594. >"No~o, I mean besides that. You and I, alone down here, no one around... You know, these caverns run so deep that you could fire a cannon and no one would ever know. We can scream and shout and be as loud as possible. Nothing would come of it."
  595. "Alright?"
  596. >"I'm just saying. If we end up doing anything down here."
  597. "Like what."
  598. >"You know..." she runs the tip of her hoof in a circle on the cushion before her and giggles. "A Princess and her good, -good-, close friend."
  599. "We've spoken like three times before today, and one of those times I held your mane back when you were chucking up in Luna's toilet on New Years Eve."
  600. >"Right? We've been through a lot together."
  601. >She strokes her hoof along the contours of her body, leaving it atop her cutie mark.
  602. >"I feel like we've gotten close."
  603. >She looks away and sighs wistfully, though that might be putting it elegantly. She's a terrible actor, and her dramatics are as poorly played as Twilight's whenever the aforementioned nerd lets one rip if she thinks she's alone then tries to play it off and blame you or Spike.
  604. >"It's just... I'm married."
  605. "Yeah, you are, to a real go-getter. A real nice guy. Someone I wouldn't betray if I were you."
  606. >"Oh, I know, Shining Armor is the perfect stallion. He's brave, strong, attentive. He's a great shoulder to cry on, he can cook, he's amazing with my friends, he takes me seriously and..." Her eyes moisten. You're not sure she's actually acting now. "Celestia, h-he's just so utterly perfect I can't believe I was actually fortunate enough to marry such an incredible, wonderful pony--"
  607. >She puts a hoof to her mouth and tries (then fails) to not cry.
  608. >Her sob must have echoed around the room because almost sounded like two ponies sobbing at once.
  609. >"Uh..." she sniffs and wipes her eyes. "Any-- anyway. What I mean is, I'm married, but I wish I could just have one night of fun with someone with no strings attached, you know?"
  610. "Nope. Not a clue. Anyway, let's get that coffee and bounce. I'm not sure if you remember, but it's early morning and Twilight's literally sat eating her breakfast right now. She's probably eaten both of ours as well, honestly. She's a real pig when she thinks she can get away with it."
  611. >"Twilight will be fine, but back to my strings, or lack thereof."
  612. >You shrug and plod around the dais looking for the coffee, ignoring the Princess as she practises her Thespian talents.
  613. >There are objects here so esoteric you wouldn't be able to fathom them if you were given a leaflet explaining them.
  614. >Some books look so old you fear you might turn them to dust by mere glance alone.
  615. >One of the treasures is just a pony's skull in a jar of brine. It's not even anyone special, the faded plaque at the base of the thick glass jar actually says "Just some dude's head in a jar of brine."
  616. >All these centuries-old wonders, but no coffee. You're starting to suspect you may have been rused.
  617. >"So why don't you get on up here and we'll see what we can do."
  618. >You glance back at Cadance.
  619. "What's that?"
  620. >"What?"
  621. "What?"
  622. >"...What, what?"
  623. "I wasn't paying attention to most of what you said."
  624. >Cadance deflates and for a moment you dare to believe you may have either derailed or upset her.
  625. >Instead, she sucks in a breath, smiles, and looks you in the eye.
  626. >"Why don't you come on up onto this cushion with me, and you can find out what it feels like to have your thick human cock wrapped inside my hot silky pussy."
  627. >She finishes with a lip bite, which would probably give most stallions a seizure.
  628. >But you're not a stallion.
  629. "Oh. No thank you, that's not something Jesus would want."
  630. >"Are you sure, maybe if I just showed you--"
  631. >Her horn ignites, something you were hoping she'd mysteriously forgotten she could do before you'd made your escape with the coffee-that-might-not-exist.
  632. >You're dragged up and onto the cushion beside her. She wastes no time entangling your limbs in hers. Her face hovers beside yours, hot, moist breath on your cheek a stark contrast to the frigid cavern air.
  633. >"It's cold down here, Anonymous," she whispers into your ear. "Why don't you warm me up inside?"
  634. "Are you actually going to do this when you were just going on about how you're married--"
  635. >She does a small gasp, hesitates, then tilts her head to one side.
  636. >"That's right, Anon," she calls, "I don't care that I'm -married-!"
  637. "What."
  638. >"Cadance!" a new voice shouts.
  639. >Cadance corrects her mane, sits up, then corrects it again.
  640. >"Oh no!" she says deliberately. "That sounds like my husband!"
  641. >Shining Armor bursts from a wooden crate labelled "Not A Pony" - you're not sure how you missed it - but catches himself when climbing out.
  642. >He hits the floor with an audible "Oof". Cadance gasps - again, it doesn't seem like acting this time.
  643. >"Shiny? Are you hurt?"
  644. >"No no, I'm fine," he stands and clears his throat, grinning at his wife.
  645. >She beams back, sees you looking at her, then shepherds her expression into something more shocked.
  646. >"Ah!" she cries, "I didn't know you were down here as well looking for the Harpoon of Truth!"
  647. >"I, uh, yes! I was! And now that I'm here the only truth I can see is that you're canoodling with our close, good, close friend Anonymous! How could you, Cadance?"
  648. >"Oh Shining, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't bear to break your heart. Now though, I have the courage to say to your face, I've not been satisfied by you!"
  649. >You're watching all this with your cheek resting on a palm. You check your watch. You've been down here for forty minutes. Twilight's going to have raided the castle kitchens and somehow it'll be your fault she couldn't control herself.
  650. >"I need the thick, cum-weeping cock of a superior male!" says Cadance.
  651. >You mouth "cum-weeping" to yourself.
  652. >"I... I can't believe it, my own wife! And now I'll have to watch as she's taken right before my very eyes, please, Cadance, don't do this!"
  653. >"I have to, Shining Armor, my insatiable needs as a dick-addicted royal slut have overtaken my sense of reason!"
  654. >She stands before you and spreads her hind legs. You among mortals are lucky enough to see the Princess of Love in all her morning glory. Winking, glistening folds and all.
  655. >It's absolutely disgusting. Jesus wept.
  656. >"Take me now, Anonymous! Do it! Right in front of Shining Armor!"
  657. >Shining cranes his neck slightly. Cadance adjusts her positioning in turn and quirks an eyebrow at him. He nods affirmatively.
  658. >"Okay, do me from here instead! So he can see everything!"
  659. >They fall silent - at last - and look to you expectedly.
  660. "Are you done?"
  661. >"All done," Shining chirps, "ready when you are, Anon."
  662. >You stand up and stride off the dais.
  663. >Or you try to, but are stopped by magic before you reach the first step.
  664. >"Anonymous!" says Cadance sharply, "What are you doing?"
  665. "I'm not into anything that's happening right now. I want my coffee. I want my bedroom. I want peace and quiet."
  666. >A moment of silence. Your hosts seem to reconsider their options. Perhaps you'll be free?
  667. >"What was that last bit, that, there, that you mumbled just now?" she says.
  668. "Uhh--"
  669. >"You said-- did you hear it too, Shining? I heard him say it loud and clear. You don't like mares at all, Anon! You prefer stallions! Could it be? Did you both lure me down here to trick me?"
  670. "Oh God."
  671. >You're forced by magic to turn, and there you behold Shining Armor prostrating himself on the cushion.
  672. >For three agonising seconds you witness his puckering, clenching sphincter and drooping shaft from behind.
  673. >"Anon!" the stallion that once held a modicum of your respect says, "I know what you need, and I need it too! Impregnate my ass with your alien cum!"
  674. >Cadance nods eagerly.
  675. >"Yeah! Do that!" she says.
  676. >You stare at the beaming royal couple for a while longer.
  677. >Then you walk off the dais unimpeded and towards the cavern exit with your hands in your pockets.
  678. >"Anon?" Cadance calls after you. "Are you just tired? Should we try this again later?"
  679. >You keep walking. You hear the two murmur at each other but they don't stop you.
  680. >Just before you get to the mouth of the corkscrew passage, you pause.
  681. "Huh," you say in genuine disbelief.
  682. >There, on a shelf sandwiched between a blood-red crystal that looks like a sea urchin and a large tub of magically sealed yoghurt alleged to have expired twelve centuries ago, sits a perfectly ordinary unopened sachet of rich blend Zebrican coffee.
  683. "Well I'll be damned."
  684. >You pluck it off the shelf, stuff it in your jacket, and march out.
  685.  
  686. *
  687.  
  688. >You walk back into the castle dining hall an hour and a half after you left.
  689. >Twilight Sparkle sits at the far end of the long table.
  690. >Nine silver platters covered in crumbs and leftover sauce are arrayed before her.
  691. >Twilight looks up from her book and scowls.
  692. >"What took you so long? Look how much I've had without you! Half of this was supposed to be yours!"
  693.  
  694. >At least the coffee was good.
  695.  
  696. ---
  697.  
  698. >"Why won't Anon rub MY wings...?"
  699. - Anonymous, with a picture of a pouting Fluttershy
  700.  
  701. >"I've got you where I want you, now you have to do what I say!"
  702. >You glance from Fluttershy to the bear beside her clutching a 4-gauge shotgun.
  703. >The bear glares back at you and racks the gun with insidious intent.
  704. "Yeah, I'd say I'm fucked."
  705. >"You're hecking right you're fudged! Now, sit down on that bench and we can get started."
  706. >You shrug and sit on the bench. Fluttershy climbs up beside you and fiddles with her mane for a moment.
  707. >A mare in a nice summer hat trots on by walking her dog.
  708. >She gives you, Fluttershy, and the bear a cheery hello.
  709. >Fluttershy mumbles a distracted hello in return.
  710. "We're really doing this in the park?"
  711. >"Yes, now be quiet and... um..."
  712. "Do you even know what you want to do?"
  713. >"I've got it! You have to rub my wings."
  714. "Is that a sexual thing?"
  715. >"I think so. Just rub them and we'll see what happens."
  716. >You acquiesce and she lies across your lap.
  717. >The feathers of her wing are softer than you'd have expected. The primaries are firmer, but the emerging feathers within the mass are as soft as chick down.
  718. >Fluttershy relaxes as soon as you begin, her body sags against you, all that nervous tension she seems to innately carry around with her vanishes.
  719. >"That's... nice..."
  720. >You run your palm along the thin bony ridge of the wing a few times.
  721. >It's only when you get started on the other one that things escalate.
  722. >You rub your palm up her other wing as you did with the previous one, but as soon as you lift your hand from the soft coating, something goes bang.
  723. >For a second you assume the bear just accidentally fired off his shotgun, but you look up to see the bear clutching the gun to his chest like a teddy-bear, staring off at something in wide-eyed terror.
  724. >A huge ethereal stallion wearing arabesque robes hovers in the air beside you, front legs folded, his lower half tapering into a pink powdery cloud.
  725. >"You who have rubbed the magic wings and freed me from my prison, I thank you," he booms.
  726. >Fluttershy's tension immediately returns - her musculature becomes granite.
  727. >The bear shakily points the gun at the stallion, but the weapon turns to orange jelly before it can be used.
  728. >"As a token of my gratitude," the stallion continues, "I shall grant you one wish."
  729. >Fluttershy is hyperventilating.
  730. >"W-were you i-in my wings...? Were you wuh-watching me -shower-?!"
  731. >The stallion glares at her.
  732. >"I was beholden to far worse than your showering, degenerate."
  733. >Fluttershy's eyes roll up into their sockets and she faints right there on your lap.
  734. >You wet your chapped lips.
  735. "Can I... can I wish that she'll never be horny towards me ever again?"
  736. >The stallion nods sagely.
  737. >"A wise, wise choice, master." He clops his hooves twice. "It is done. Now I beseech you, as my master, may I have my freedom?"
  738. "Is that something I need to greenlight?"
  739. >"Yes."
  740. "Sure, go nuts."
  741. >"Hella," he says with authority.
  742. >He pulls out a porkpie hat, pops it on his head, pulls a briefcase out of his pink cloud, and floats off.
  743. >"I'm gonna go bowling," he mutters.
  744. >Fluttershy wakes up and touches her head.
  745. >"What... did I black out?"
  746. "Yeah, kinda."
  747. >"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!"
  748. >She scrambles off your lap.
  749. >"I-I hope I didn't invade your personal space..."
  750. >You smile.
  751. "It's alright, Fluttershy."
  752. >The mare blinks at the bear.
  753. >"Harry? Why are you holding all that jelly?"
  754. >Harry growls in distress, and Fluttershy gives you a flustered farewell before she rushes off with the bear, consoling him.
  755. >You lean back on the bench and breathe in the crisp spring air. Smells like a new beginning.
  756. "Finally," you whisper.
  757. >Someone joins you on the bench. You loll your head to one side and give them a dopey smile. For the first time in as long as you can remember you feel something approaching contented.
  758. "Hey there! What's up? Don't think we've met, I'm Anon."
  759. >"Oh, I know," the mare says.
  760. >She sticks a hoof out, you shake it.
  761. >"Name's Lyra. I just overheard all that."
  762. "What, with the genie and all?"
  763. >"Sure did! So Fluttershy's leaving you alone now?"
  764. "That she is, Lyra," your smile broadens. "It's all pointing up from here."
  765. >"Great! Well now that she's out of the picture I can make my move."
  766. >She plants a firm hoof on your crotch and rubs.
  767. >Your smile and hopes shatter.
  768. >"Wanna fool around on this park bench?"
  769.  
  770. ---
  771.  
  772. "That’s way too tame to be her fetish."
  773. - Anonymous, regarding tame fetishes.
  774.  
  775. >"I, um, I wanted to try something different today."
  776. >You check your watch.
  777. "You're still on my porch at seven in the morning, can't be that different."
  778. >"Well, you know, I was thinking that for a while now I've been trying to guess your, um, fetish."
  779. "A while is a polite way of saying a year."
  780. >"Has it been that long? I must have lost track of the time," she says with a nervous laugh.
  781. >She wilts under your glare and plays with her mane.
  782. >"Um, anyway, I thought you might appreciate it if I met you half-way. So I wanted to tell you what my fetish is in case you ever change your mind and want to, you know," she tilts her head as if what she's saying is evident.
  783. "Want to what," you say flatly.
  784. >"If you ever want to stuff me full of man-meat. Not say you do, I-I mean unless you've changed your mind in the last twenty-four hours. Have yo--"
  785. "No."
  786. >"Just checking. Anyway," she sucks in a deep breath, "this is it. This is my fetish."
  787. >She reaches into her saddle bag. You tense your arms and legs and prepare to engage your fight or flight response.
  788. >Fluttershy places a tangle of pink striped cloth at your feet.
  789. >"Ta-dah!" she says weakly. She checks over her shoulder as if fearful of anyone else seeing what she's shown you.
  790. >You blink dumbly at the striped lengths.
  791. "They're..."
  792. >"Socks!"
  793. "Socks."
  794. >She nods eagerly, a faint blush tinting her cheeks.
  795. >"I-I really, really like wearing them. They make me feel so, um, n-naughty. I-I like how the elastic feels when it clings to my upper thighs, and I like rubbing my legs together when I'm wearing them. I also look really cute in them! In, um, in my opinion. W-want me to come inside and show you?"
  796. "Absolutely no--"
  797. >She's already picked them up in her mouth and slipped through your legs.
  798. >You lumber after her into the bedroom of your cottage.
  799. >The mare is already dolled up and waiting for you when you enter, so clearly she gets a lot of practice putting them on.
  800. >Fluttershy lies on her side atop your bed, pink and yellow striped socks pulled far enough up her legs that they leave a only slight gap between the sock and her body.
  801. >Exactly as she said, she rubs the socks together.
  802. >"Do you like them?"
  803. >She giggles.
  804. "Get the hell out of my--"
  805.  
  806. *
  807.  
  808. >You stare straight ahead in bewildered shock at the dresser by your door, looking, but not really seeing it.
  809. >Then you look down at your own slick, naked form, and at the satisfied Fluttershy clinging to your arm.
  810. >Her mane is partly wrapped over your chest. The room reeks of musk. A generous amount of cum stains both her coat, her socks, and leaks from the mare herself.
  811. "Wh-what."
  812. >"Mmm, I knew you'd like them," she murmurs quietly. "So what should we call our foals?"
  813. "...WHAT."
  814.  
  815. ---
  816.  
  817. "I believe Twilight set the groundrules, after one of Fluttershy's guesses nearly destroyed the town."
  818. - Anonymous
  819.  
  820. >You narrow your eyes at Fluttershy.
  821. >She looks back, warily.
  822. >Then holds aloft her Cube.
  823. >Something about it makes you think that when referring to it, it requires a proper noun.
  824. >The Cube hums malevolently.
  825. >"Is, um, is the Cube your fetish?"
  826. "Explain the Cube to me in a way that doesn't make me want to hit you."
  827. >"Uhh, I don't... really know. The guy that sold it to me didn't say much, just sort of said it would cost me dearly if I was to accept it."
  828. "And? How much was it?"
  829. >"I don't know. I didn't pay anything. I just said yes and he gave me the Cube and now I can't put it down."
  830. "Sounds suspicious."
  831. >Fluttershy frowns.
  832. >"I suppose he -didn't- really have any... you know. Facial features."
  833. >You eye the Cube.
  834. >Strangely, you feel it eyeing you back.
  835. >Whispers in foreign voices emerge in the back of your mind, barely perceptible.
  836. "I think you should put down the Cube."
  837. >"I can't."
  838. "I think this might be beyond a fetish guess, put the Cube down, Fluttershy."
  839. >"No, you don't understand, I literally can't. It won't let me."
  840. "Oh for fuck's sake."
  841. >You lean back through the doorway and slap your palm against the big purple button with a six-point star cutie mark engraved into it.
  842. >A moment of nothing passes, then a rapidly building "wee woo wee woo" sound echoes from nearby. That isn't a crass onomatopoeia either, someone is actually just shouting "wee woo wee woo".
  843. >Just as the Doppler effect reaches its apogee, around the corner of your house the noble (widely grinning) steed Pinkie Pie thunders, bearing Twilight Sparkle upon her back, the unicorn clutching her friend for dear life.
  844. >"Wee woo wee woo!" Pinkie yells happily.
  845. >She comes to a grinding halt, nearly throwing Twilight off.
  846. >"Hiya Nonny! Hi Fluttershy!" she says, trembling in excitement.
  847. "Hey Pinkie," you and Fluttershy say in unison.
  848. >"Whatcha dooin'?"
  849. "Fluttershy's got a Cube."
  850. >"Neat! Hey Twi, you're up!"
  851. >Twilight fixes her mane and sits up shakily.
  852. >"We might, um, need a better way of getting around, Pinkie. Can't I just teleport?"
  853. >"No way! Then I won't get my steps in, and the doctor said I need more exercise or my diabetes'll get worse!"
  854. >Twilight struggles for an answer, then just pats her friend gingerly on the head.
  855. >"A-alright, Pinkie. Anyway, Anon, you pushed the button. What's the problem?"
  856. "Fluttershy has a weird Cube. I feel like it's gonna blow something up."
  857. >Twilight nods and clears her throat.
  858. >"Fluttershy, as per rule four of the Ponyville Guessing Act, you are to turn over any potentially dangerous artefacts you may have to my custody for examination and, if necessary, destruction."
  859. >At the word "destruction", the Cube shrieks.
  860. >It is an unearthly, hideous sound, and your eardrums whine.
  861. >Fluttershy waggles her hoof desperately, but the Cube remains stuck to it.
  862. >"I-I can't get it off! I can't get it off!" Fluttershy yelps.
  863. >The Cube flares with fluorescent red light, and a ragged chasm is rent open in the air behind Fluttershy.
  864. >Strange creatures vaguely resembling humans wander about, though a few of them stop and stare at what they must see to be Fluttershy's back end.
  865. >The sight of such uncanny things disturbs you.
  866. >The mare in question out-right refuses to look behind her and instead stays rigidly still.
  867. >One of the creatures, wearing what you think is a leather jacket, blinks and rushes to the portal, evidently ecstatic at the sight of Fluttershy's butt.
  868. >"Wh-- you're Equestrians! Oh my God, it's been years! My name's Sunset Shimmer! Are you here to bring me home?"
  869. "Shut it! Shut the fucking portal!"
  870. >Twilight screams fearfully.
  871. >"This is a dimensional breach! That's not my specialty, Pinkie! Fix it!"
  872. >You slam the door rather than be witness to such horror.
  873. >From beyond you hear screams, blasts of magic, more eldritch howls, and Pinkie laughing maniacally.
  874. >This is -exactly- why the ground rules were put in place.
  875. >Fucking Fluttershy.
  876.  
  877. ---
  878.  
  879. Fluttershy struggles through a pitch but Anon has a great idea.
  880.  
  881. >She's wearing a suit this time.
  882. >You lean against your doorframe and fold your arms, then raise your eyebrows at her with pursed lips.
  883. >Fluttershy clears her throat and gestures at the flipchart beside her, then she points at you.
  884. >"Hey you!" she shouts.
  885. >Not a proper shout, the Fluttershy version of a shout, which is a raised voice merged with hints of a harsh whisper.
  886. >You wait. She waits. You both watch each other. You frown.
  887. >"Um, you're supposed to say 'What'."
  888. "What."
  889. >"Stop right there! Because boy-oh-boy have I got a deal for you!"
  890. >She takes her time slowly flipping the sheet on the flipchart over to the next one. Hooves make this exceedingly difficult, and the top sheet ends up a crumpled mess as she does her best to grip and drag it over the top.
  891. >Why would ponies invent something like a flipchart? Wouldn't they invent their own racial equivalent?
  892. >Your mind wanders.
  893. >"Do you like -sex-?"
  894. >You aren't listening, lost to your thoughts on various pony-specific office supplies as you are, but she interprets your vacant expression as tacit approval.
  895. >"Well let me introduce you to the latest, greatest advancement in sex-having since Celestia invented the orgasm!"
  896. >A small part of you is aware that the next sheet is a photograph of Fluttershy lying on her bed, her back-half hanging off the end and tail hiked to one side to display her ladybits to the camera.
  897. >The effect is lost somewhat since it's printed in harsh black and white on a printer that was clearly running out of ink.
  898. >It takes you back to your school days, and of those exam sheets where you would be asked to identify something on a picture that looked more like a Rorschach test than anything a camera could create.
  899. >Your mind meanders further off the beaten path into a world of offices, exams, and stationary.
  900. >"Introducing Fluttershy! That's, um, that's supposed to be me in the picture, it came out kind of weird... But anyway! Fluttershy is soft, delicate, and ready to be pounded into the mattress by a virile male! Yes sir, with zero payments of no bits, all this can be yours for free! Just grab her hips and start pounding!"
  901. >She waits a moment, wets her lips, studies your expression.
  902. >It's still lost in a world of its own.
  903. >A thought seems to strike her and she furrows her brow.
  904. >"Um, actually, if I'm supposed to be soft and delicate, how am I supposed to take a pounding?"
  905. >She looks back at the lewd print of herself and chews her lip.
  906. >"Uh, okay, forget that bit, I don't want anyone to be rough with me, I-I'm not that strong and it might hurt me. Okay! New pitch! Fluttershy is soft, delicate, and ready for tender lovemaking! Just lay her down on her bed and be gentle! Our reviews are outstanding--"
  907. >She throws a hoof as if to emphasise her own lower lips on the print, looks again, says "Ponyfeathers", and fumbles to flip to the next sheet.
  908. >Meanwhile, you're considering the logistics of a compass.
  909. >Surely, the only tribe that can reliably use office equipment are unicorns. Even then, from what you understand, their magic has to be honed and is quite clumsy without training, so it's not like any random unicorn can wield a compass or a protractor.
  910. >Then how does engineering work around here if two-thirds of the population can't even use the equipment necessary to create a simple draft?
  911. >Office supplies are only viable for one third of the population. That leaves a huge gap in the market.
  912. >Your expression twists into a concentrating scowl.
  913. >Fluttershy finishes flipping and taps the board.
  914. >"Our reviews are solid!"
  915. >The board reads:
  916. >' Yes, Fluttershy, you're a very nice pony. What's this about? ' - Posey Shy
  917. >' What? Yeah, sure sis, you're fabulous, whatever. ' - Zephyr Breeze
  918. >' Thanks, Honey, you're a big help, can you give this to your mom? ' - Fuzzy Cloud
  919. >"As you can see, ponies all over Equestria have so many nice things to say about Fluttershy!"
  920. >She notices your look and laughs breathlessly.
  921. >"N-not that reviews really mean anything, right? What you want are specifics, so, um..."
  922. >She scrambles with the next sheet, ripping the review sheet to bits as she goes.
  923. >Now, if the sheets of paper had lengths of ribbon placed between each sheet, ponies could grip it in their teeth and use it to pull the previous sheet over the top, like using a ribbon bookmark in a book to open the pages.
  924. >An idea forms.
  925. >The next sheet is several badly-printed close-ups of various body parts.
  926. >Fluttershy swallows and tugs at her collar. Her tie knot is pulled too tightly. Her collar doesn't fit her neck properly. The whole suit looks sodden with sweat.
  927. >The pony smiles sheepishly at you.
  928. >"Here are the, um, Fluttershy statistics."
  929. >She squints at the board and reads directly off it, not looking at you as she goes and speaking in slow, deliberate monotone.
  930. >"Fluttershy weighs fifty-seven kilograms. She is four foot one. She likes watercress and cucumber sandwiches. She has a vaginal depth of three inches. Her clitoris... um, I can't really read that, I don't know what it says. Fluttershy has seven hundred bits saved up in the bank, and she owns a cottage and one acre of land surrounding it. Her favourite things are animals, tea, and single men."
  931. >She looks at you hopefully.
  932. >You're glaring at the board but not really reading it. Plans within plans are developing. Your neurons are going haywire. You're on the precipice of epiphany.
  933. >Fluttershy swallows and flips to the final sheet.
  934. >A flattering picture of her lowered half-way onto a sizeable dildo resting on the floor pointing up.
  935. >She looks visibly in pain as she does it; it's actually quite distressing to see her so hurt.
  936. >Not that this is immediately apparent to you - you're still thinking.
  937. >"Um. I-I think that's it. This last sheet was just to show how much I can take. I-I can't take a lot, honestly, but my mom says every mare is different and that size doesn't really matter as long as you find the right stallion. I asked her how much she could take and she was really embarrassed, but she told me in private later that she could take ten inches and that that's how big dad is. Is that bad? Should I be worried that I'm so shallow? I-I don't know if... well I don't, um. Yeah. Well, that's the presentation. What did you think?"
  938. >You shake your head as if coming out of a trance.
  939. "Whatever you said, no, but you've given me an idea."
  940. >"Really?"
  941. "Yeah. Wanna start a business selling speciality office supplies to pegasi and earth ponies together?"
  942. >Fluttershy blinks at you.
  943. >She looks at the flipchart, and her agonised expression at trying to fit too much inside her, then back at you.
  944. >"Can I still wear my suit?"
  945. "Yes."
  946. >"Alright, if that gets you off, I suppose."
  947.  
  948. >The business goes on to be a great success until Fluttershy is caught trying to see how much of your company's novelty jumbo pencils she can fit inside her vagina. The shareholders find out and it all falls apart.
  949. >You make some money out of it, at least. And Fluttershy was elated to find that she can fit four inches inside her if she really pushes herself.
  950. >Good End?
  951.  
  952. ---
  953.  
  954. "Beware the Easter Bunny, Fluttershy speaks his language."
  955. - Anonymous, on Easter Sunday
  956.  
  957. >The bunny is sitting in your chair.
  958. >You peek around the corner from the kitchen and watch him intently.
  959. >He rustles the newspaper - a copy of the Ponyville Gazette - and clears his throat.
  960. >He's not like any bunny you've ever seen, but he can't be mistaken for anything else.
  961. >He fills the entire seat, body pressed against the back, padded feet larger than sacks of animal feed planted squarely on the rug.
  962. >Giant ears, perked up at the bottom that gradually flop over to the sides the farther up you go. If they didn't flop they could touch the ceiling.
  963. >Fur so thick you could bury your hoof in it, and of an unnatural whiteness that defies the world's efforts to sully it.
  964. >A button nose, though a button large enough to put on one of Rarity's novelty coats, and whiskers longer than knifes.
  965. >Finally, and this is what really throws you, an ashy stubble across his chin, and baggy eyes that carry a cynicism you've never seen in anything other than older ponies or Anon.
  966. >The bunny clears his throat again, hacks up a lump, and gulps down some more water from his glass. Your glass, actually, that he took the liberty of obtaining himself from your kitchen.
  967. >He squirms in your chair, his chair now, you suppose, and rustles the paper again.
  968. >"You know, it's hard to read when you're bein' perved on," he grunts without looking up. His voice is deep, accent thick, like a taxi-stallion you once met in Fillydelphia who was fond of shamelessly eyeing up mares he passed even when you were in the back of his cart.
  969. >Your cheeks warm and you come out into the open.
  970. "I'm sorry for staring."
  971. >Why are you apologising? This is your cottage, not his.
  972. "I've just never seen a creature exactly like you before."
  973. >"Yeah? Well whoopdie-fuckin'-doo, here I am. You got anythin' more saucy to read? This current affairs crap is puttin' me to sleep here."
  974. "Um, I'm sorry, I don't have anything else."
  975. >"Christ, well aren't you a barrel'a fun. Do you do -anythin'- or do you just sit around lookin' at flowers or whatever the fuck?"
  976. "I-I, I like... going for walks? And taking care of animals?"
  977. >"No shit? Well, I'm an animal, so you'd better start takin' care a' me. First off, I need a pack'a smokes and somethin' harder than fuckin' tap water. I'm not a fuckin' flower over here, I'm an Easter Bunny, Christ's sake..."
  978. >You cock your head, struggling to parse his accent, language, and title.
  979. "Easter?"
  980. >"Yeah. Easter. You know, eggs 'n shit."
  981. >You blink.
  982. >"What, you ain't never heard'a Easter round here? Fuckin' hell am I in some kinda Amish town or somethin'? Bad enough there's all these flyin' horses, now I gotta explain myself to every dumb bastard that looks at me funny?"
  983. >He sips his water with evident revulsion.
  984. >"Fuck me."
  985. >You raise your hoof. You're not sure why. He quirks an eyebrow at you.
  986. "Why are you in my house?"
  987. >"'Cause I got nowhere else to go and this chair is comfy."
  988. >You nod, then pause, then shake your head.
  989. "Actually, I meant to say, who are you, and why are you here in Ponyville?"
  990. >"You deaf?" He jabs his chest with a paw larger than your head. "Easter, bunny. Need, smokes. Go, get."
  991. "But where did you come from?"
  992. >"Me? New York. Miss it like you wouldn't believe. Dunno when I'm goin' back though. Hope they don't fuck everythin' up over there while I'm gone."
  993. "I've never heard of New York... is it in Equestria?"
  994. >"The fuck's a Questria? It's in God's own United States, and if you've not heard'a that I'm gonna go fuckin' nuts."
  995. >You open your mouth, then close it.
  996. >He scratches one of his ears, digging his claws into its crevasses and digging out fluff.
  997. >"Christ. Yeah, I'm kiddin' myself. This ain't Earth, is it."
  998. "It's Equest--"
  999. >"Yeah, heard you the first time. Fuck. Mama weren't kiddin' when she said I'm a dumbass. God's truth, that."
  1000. >You muster enough courage to come forward and sit in front of him. Not in a seat, nor very close, just a respectable distance.
  1001. "So how did you get here?"
  1002. >He shrugs his mighty shoulders.
  1003. >"Found a hole and stuck something in it I weren't 'sposed to, and I ain't talkin' 'bout the ladies neither." A rumbling in his chest accompanies a licentious grin. "I go 'poof', an' here I am, walkin' around the fuckin' countryside like I'm a God damn farmer."
  1004. >The bunny stares down at you. You find it hard to meet his gaze, and his beady eyes dart all over you, hesitating on your flanks. His grin returns.
  1005. >"I dunno. I could get into livin' here."
  1006. >Suddenly, a thought strikes you.
  1007. "United... wait, I think I know where you're from! You're from the same place as Anon!"
  1008. >"Who the fuck--"
  1009. "Anon! He's from Earth! Oh my gosh, you should meet him!"
  1010. >The Easter Bunny doesn't respond immediately. Instead he scratches his other ear.
  1011. >"Anon... that a human?"
  1012. "Yes! I'm surprised, he never mentioned that Earth had giant bunnies! We should go see him right now!"
  1013. >You grab the Easter Bunny's arm and attempt to tug him to the door.
  1014. >He remains firmly planted in his seat. He shakes his massive head once.
  1015. >"Nuh uh. Nothin' doin'."
  1016. "No?"
  1017. >"I don't do humans. Ain't racist, just don't like 'em. I got my duties, I do 'em each year, I go home. Don't want nothin' to do with 'em when I'm off the clock."
  1018. >His face contorts into something like a pout or a grimace.
  1019. >"Nope. If there's humans round here, I ain't lookin' for 'em."
  1020. "But... you could talk about home!"
  1021. >"Listen, lady, bunnies an' humans don't mix. We don't like each other. Shit, we're invisible to 'em. Like ghosts. Us bunnies just do what we gotta do, an' the humans make racist plastic caricatures of us an' pretend they understand bunny culture."
  1022. "He can't see you?"
  1023. >"Nope. I can see them, but I sure as fuck don't want to. Ugly bastards. You people are better, so far. Only seen like four'a you before I came here."
  1024. >You deflate.
  1025. "For a moment I thought you could help me..."
  1026. >He studies you.
  1027. >"With what."
  1028. "I, um. Well, I've been trying to get Anon to... take me on a date."
  1029. >"No shit. No offence, but you can do better. Humans got diseases."
  1030. >You give a weak shrug. By now you've let go of him and are perched on the arm of the chair. To his credit, the Bunny rests his paw on his lap to give you space.
  1031. >He watches you and your downcast face, then sniffs and shifts himself in his seat.
  1032. >"That's like, half my job, you know."
  1033. >He smirks at your confusion.
  1034. >"What, thought I was just good looks and urban charm? Lady, you're lookin' at a gen-you-ine Easter Bunny. Birth 'n fertility's my bread an' butter. You wanna get fucked an' knocked up? I'm your guy."
  1035. >You're not sure whether to be intrigued or repulsed by the idea of this huge lout having anything to do with fertility, and up-close his smoker's breath doesn't do the notion any favours either.
  1036. "Please could you, um, explain?"
  1037. >He shrugs.
  1038. >"Nothin' to explain. Just did, kinda. It's fertility. I go around an' spread the spirit of Spring. All mystical, you get me? Voodoo shit, or whatever the fuck. I go here, maybe a couple get the idea to have a few kids. I go there, plants wake up from winter an' do whatever the fuck it is flowers do. At some point Jesus gets involved," he does a strange gesture, his paw passing between his shoulders, forehead, and chest. "But God knows I never paid attention in Sunday School so I ain't sure what his angle is. Gotta respect the big man though. He died for our sins."
  1039. >Your brow creases.
  1040. "So... you -can- help me?"
  1041. >"You're lookin' to get fucked, yeah?"
  1042. "I, um, I wouldn't put it quite like that..." your blush and smile belie your words.
  1043. >"Yeah. Okay. So here's the deal: I get you shacked up with this Anon, you give me a place to stay. An' a pack'a smokes. Fuckin' dyin' over here. Capisce?"
  1044.  
  1045. *
  1046.  
  1047. >You knock on the door.
  1048. >Bunny stands back a bit, wary.
  1049. >"Man, he's in there. I can fuckin' feel him." He shudders. "Humans. Bunch'a freaks." He glances at the sky and nods at a cloud. "Not Jesus, though. Brother's got my back."
  1050. >The door opens and Anonymous stands before you. His good mood immediately vanishes, you can tell because the faint twinkle in his eye died the second it saw you. You've gotten good at reading him, you think it's a sign he's The One.
  1051. >"Oh. And I was having such a good day," he says.
  1052. "H-hi, Anon!"
  1053. >"Well ain't this guy a fuckin' character," Bunny grunts.
  1054. >True to what Bunny had previously said, Anon doesn't take any notice of the giant seven-foot rabbit sat on its rump not two metres from him.
  1055. >"Fuck, got my work cut out for me here. Alright. Keep him busy, I'll cook somethin' up."
  1056. >Still nothing. You glance from Bunny to Anon, and Anon follows your gaze.
  1057. >He looks right through Bunny.
  1058. >"The hell are you looking at?" Anon says.
  1059. "Nothing, just, um. So, do you want to go on a date?"
  1060. >He clicks his tongue.
  1061. >"Wow. No preamble or anything today, just straight in there. Okay, let me see." He considers something for a few seconds. "No. Anything else?"
  1062. "And what if you were, uh, captured by the spirit of Spring?"
  1063. >He blinks.
  1064. "You know, um... Easter?"
  1065. >The human lets out a breathless laugh.
  1066. >"I'm amazed you even remember that. Not sure I remember telling you, in fact. So what's this, you're just trying the optimistic route and seeing if I've changed my mind?"
  1067. >You glance at Bunny.
  1068. >He rolls his paw, motioning for you to keep going, otherwise he folds his arms and scowls at Anon.
  1069. >"Real charmer, this one, lady," Bunny grunts.
  1070. "I just think that, given it's a new year, we should... start fresh! Try something new."
  1071. >"And by 'Try something new', you mean do the exact same thing you've been doing for all of last year."
  1072. "Sort of. Don't you feel it in the air? That sense of renewal and... um..."
  1073. >Another glance at Bunny. He opens two digits on his paw and thrusts a singular digit from his other paw between them repeatedly.
  1074. "Fertility?"
  1075. >Anon studies you closely, though not by getting nearer to you, he's learned that lesson already.
  1076. >"What's your angle, Butterhorse."
  1077. "No angle. Just you and me, on a date, celebrating Spring, and maybe me getting pregnant."
  1078. >He squints at you, then shrugs.
  1079. >"I can't see any difference, you're still an idiot from what I can tell. Go home and chalk this one up as a failure, maybe try again tomorrow or better yet just stop completely. I'm gonna go back inside and do more important things, like not interact with you in any way at all. Peace out."
  1080. >He moves to leave, but Bunny clears his throat.
  1081. >"Yeah, that's long enough. Badda-bing badda-boom, you lanky fuck."
  1082. >He claps his paws twice and seems to throw a pocketful of gold glitter at the man's turned back.
  1083. >Anon freezes.
  1084. >Bunny dusts his paws off and gives you a big smile.
  1085. >"There we go. Took a while 'cause I needed to work my magic. No, I ain't explainin' shit, that's just how magic is, you wanna know how, go ask a fuckin' unicorn."
  1086. >He snorts.
  1087. >"Like they exist."
  1088. "Um. You know there are actually unicorns in this world, right?"
  1089. >He stares at you.
  1090. >"No... shit?" He develops a forlorn look and speaks in a whisper. "I love unicorns."
  1091. >Anonymous turns back to you, slowly.
  1092. >His cheeks are a healthy pink, and his eyes race all over your body.
  1093. >"Listen, um, change of plans," his demeanour has changed completely, and speaks as though in a rush. "Do you wanna go on that date?"
  1094. >Your heart leaps.
  1095. "Really?"
  1096. >"Yeah. Yeah, really. Wanna do it now?"
  1097. >He swallows. He can't seem to stop his eyes fixating on your cutie mark.
  1098. >"Actually, wanna skip the date?"
  1099. >Bunny looks at his paws and sucks in air through his teeth.
  1100. >"Ah shit, might'a given him too much juice."
  1101. >Anonymous wipes his sweating brow and staggers forward.
  1102. >"I-I think I might," another swallow, "no, no, I -need- you, Fluttershy."
  1103. >Every fantasy you've ever had is suddenly vindicated, and your downstairs floodgates collapse open.
  1104. >"Let's just go, yeah? Right now, come on," he swipes you up from the floor and almost trips over his feet sprinting back into his house, clutching you to his chest as he goes.
  1105. >You're emitting a persistent whine, unable to otherwise voice your thoughts.
  1106. >"Ey, don't go forgettin' our deal, yeah?" Bunny shouts after you. "I want those fuckin' smokes!"
  1107. >The door slams shut.
  1108. >You don't leave for the rest of the day.
  1109. >You don't know what Easter actually is, but you've decided you're a firm believer.
  1110.  
  1111. ---
  1112.  
  1113. Celestia and Anonymous discuss art. Strap in.
  1114.  
  1115. >Art is subjective.
  1116. >You knew this intellectually, but only now do you understand it spiritually.
  1117. >The piece before you is of a mare, her body wracked in apparent ecstasy, joyful smile and creased eyes turned towards the heavens. Her forelegs are spread wide, as if ready to accept blessings from on-high.
  1118. >The craftsmanship is undeniable, the talent it must have taken to shape the marble self-evident.
  1119. >Yet it looks the same as every other piece in this gallery. Even so, your companion will speak about it at length for up to five uninterrupted minutes.
  1120. >Mercifully, Celestia has just entered the fifth minute, and sounds as though she's drawing to a close.
  1121. >"It was a joy to see, hence the title of this piece. 'Joy'."
  1122. >Nothing she said registered, but it's over now, so you can move onto the next lecture.
  1123. >You glance down the chamber.
  1124. >A dozen statues remain, all of the same general theme: Happiness.
  1125. >You don't dislike Equestria's emphasis on serenity and good feelings, it makes a nice change from home, but would it kill them to be a bit more dramatic in their artistic expressions?
  1126. >Celestia turns to you.
  1127. >"Are you enjoying the gallery? There are quite a few more items I would like to show you."
  1128. >You cough into a fist, your throat having dried out a long time ago.
  1129. "I hope I'm not being rude, but shouldn't we get back to the party?"
  1130. >She cocks her head.
  1131. >"The Gala? It will be fine without us, I'm sure."
  1132. "I more mean you. You're the centrepiece, aren't you?"
  1133. >"Piece?" Her laugh is warm. "I'm not an object, Anonymous! I can do more than stand around and be gawked at."
  1134. >The Princess spreads a hoof before the artworks.
  1135. >"For example, I can talk about things that I like. Do -you- like the pieces? You didn't say. I do hope so."
  1136. "They're... lovely."
  1137. >Her smile fades.
  1138. >"Ah. You are not impressed?"
  1139. "No, I am, and they're nice, but..." you shrug. "They're a bit," you struggle for the word, "safe, aren't they? I'm just used to stuff from Earth, I suppose. It's a bit more dramatic where I'm from. Darker themes, I mean."
  1140. >Celestia nods slowly.
  1141. >A smile creeps back, but this new one is coy.
  1142. >"I think I understand. You want the more daring pieces, don't you?"
  1143. >She straightens, and looks at you as if just seeing you. Her gaze drifts between your eyes, nose, and mouth.
  1144. >"I knew I took you for a fellow connoisseur. Follow me, Anonymous. There are other pieces hidden away from the public you might find more enticing."
  1145.  
  1146. *
  1147.  
  1148. >The castle is quiet this far away from the Gala.
  1149. >The persistent drone of conversation and crescendos of the performing bands can't reach this far through the dense stone walls.
  1150. >Sound is muted, Celestia's hoofsteps ring only for a beat before the sound is absorbed by the pinch-pleated silk hanging off the walls.
  1151. >Celestia asks you more questions as you walk. Questions about artistic taste. A few times you both stop and she listens intently as you explain yourself.
  1152. >You answer as best you can, and as you try your best to stumble through why you prefer art with more bite, her steps hasten, as if gripped by impatience or excitement.
  1153. >She leads you into a little alcove, and the two of you are squashed together.
  1154. >She makes no effort to give you space, her chest pressing against yours.
  1155. >"My apologies for the closeness. We'll not be a minute, though I'm sure you're not complaining." She gives you a playful wink.
  1156. >A secret mechanism is activated by a golden glow of her horn, and the stone wall slides away to the side without a sound, not even of stone grinding against stone.
  1157. >A dark hallway beckons, and you gaze into the gloom for so long you leap when Celestia whispers into your ear.
  1158. >"Just this way. Stay close, I wouldn't want to lose you."
  1159.  
  1160. *
  1161.  
  1162. >"Here we are! I hope you're ready, for many are not."
  1163. >The final room is close; tight walls and a low ceiling.
  1164. >Words die the moment they're spoken, so soundproofed is the space.
  1165. >Celestia bobs her eyebrows as you enter behind her. Her regal façade is less important here, her manner more expressive.
  1166. >"This is my private repository for our 'edgier' works. The sort that the public doesn't get to see, lest it offend their sensibilities."
  1167. >It's obvious why. It was obvious the moment you stepped through the narrow doorway.
  1168. >The statuette closest to you is of a mare on her knees before a stallion so cut and muscular you could slice your finger if you traced his ridges.
  1169. >The stallion's cock is half-way down the mare's throat. She looks up lovingly at him. The sculptor went to great pains to reflect her adoration towards him, and his utter disinterest towards her. He looks off to the side, face scornful.
  1170. >Celestia appears beside you, her head by your shoulder.
  1171. >"Exciting, no? You couldn't see that at the national gallery. Though imagine if you could? What would a little filly make of it?" She giggles to herself.
  1172. >A framed canvas on the wall, a metre across at least, depicts Celestia staring into eyes of a stallion. Or more accurately, his severed head resting on her outstretched hoof. Celestia seems only vaguely interested in him, as though his death is as mundane to her as the weather.
  1173. >"That one revolted me when I first saw it. I had the artist imprisoned. This was a decade or so after I banished Luna, and the sight of it gave me a fit. In time, I've come to appreciate it. This is how many in the art world saw me after Luna was gone, and it remained that way for many decades after, until the long peace set in."
  1174. >She gauges your reaction.
  1175. "It's definitely something."
  1176. >"Oh, don't be evasive. What do you really think? How does it make you feel? Luna was originally the patron for the arts, but I developed a keen eye for it in her absence. I'm always on the lookout for novel opinions."
  1177. "It's disgusting."
  1178. >"You think so? I wonder..." Celestia studies your expression. She doesn't seem put off, if anything she only seems more interested.
  1179. >"And what of this one? Over here?"
  1180. >She takes you to a wooden totem nestled against the wall. It could be two metres tall, and the pair of you have to crane your necks to see the top.
  1181. >On it, the sculptor has carved every conceivable sex position imaginable, and more than a few beyond imagination. Bodies are contorted, twisted, gnarled. All in service of lust, and in some instances, sheer pain.
  1182. >It wouldn't look out of place on a certain Tibetan basket-weaving forum of ill repute.
  1183. >Celestia's thoughtful voice drifts past your ears, as though the mare was just a spectral presence around you.
  1184. >"I have a fondness for this one. It's always curious to see what depths the mind can go, don't you think? We all have our darker thoughts, but I think there's a certain cowardice in keeping them locked away where no one can see them. To be so bold as to not only show the world your inner thoughts, but carve them into so grand a piece?"
  1185. "Wouldn't that make you a coward for keeping all this locked away in here?"
  1186. >"You think I don't want to show the world? Many of these pieces have seen the light of day. But the light burned them. The public burned them with their contempt."
  1187. >Celestia comes into view, her expression distant.
  1188. >"Ponies don't want to be challenged by art, Anonymous. They want to be comforted. They want to see triumph and success. They want their little world views to be confirmed by what they see. The artist, the -true- artist, can't stand such conformity. The best art lies in the shadows. It has to be sought out. Fought for. In some cases, the pieces must be torn from the artist's dead hooves. You see that book on the shelf there?"
  1189. >You glance at a simple book pointed out by Celestia, bound in a faded green hardback cover.
  1190. >"That is a book of poems. Poems all about decay, and pestilence. Rot. Some of the most disgusting passages I've ever read. The stallion had written it, then kept it locked in a drawer for thirty years before it was discovered. He tried to burn it. Imagine that. Imagine creating a piece of art and threatening to destroy it rather than let others see?"
  1191. >You swallow a lump you didn't know was there.
  1192. >"In the end, his home burned, and he with it. But I rescued the book. And now it's here, in this room. Every time I read it I imagine his flesh burning. I relive his screams."
  1193. >Celestia smiles at you.
  1194. >"You look pale. Am I scaring you?"
  1195. "Not exactly, just..."
  1196. >"Ah, my apologies. I don't mean to be so intense, but I love... expression, is the word for it. Yes, expression. Ponies gripped by passion. Ponies with stories to tell, emotions to display. It took me a few centuries, but eventually it was the art world that said what Luna could not. I understood her, in the end. The pain and excess of some of these works put me in her shoes. I appreciate her more than ever because of it. That's the purpose of art, no?"
  1197. "That's one way of looking at it."
  1198. >"More evasion. I do hope you're not trying to frustrate me."
  1199. "No, no, I'm not, I just don't know what to say. It's a lot to take in. How many people know about this?"
  1200. >"Myself, Luna, and a few trusted custodians."
  1201. "Twilight?"
  1202. >"Never. As much as I love her, these things would torment her. But you? I think you understand them."
  1203. >She steps closer to you, voice curious, probing. She's watching you like she's seeing you in a Petri dish.
  1204. >"Evade me all you want, I see it in your face. Nothing here shocks you, not really. You've seen it all before, haven't you? That totem doesn't faze you, yet it once sent a stoic general into a fit of anger. The statue of Luna eating my heart over there doesn't inspire anything more than a shrug in you."
  1205. >Celestia's eyes fill your vision, so close is her face. Her lips are an inch from yours.
  1206. >"What have those human eyes seen? What horrors does Earth have to show?"
  1207. "I--" you swallow. "I think we should get back to the party."
  1208. >"No no, not yet. I need to know. Is there anything in here that truly stuns you? Truly stops you dead?"
  1209. >Celestia pulls away and turns; looking, looking, searching for something.
  1210. >"This?"
  1211. >An oil painting of a stallion getting fucked by two other stallions, two dicks in one hole.
  1212. >Nothing. You've seen worse.
  1213. >"And this?"
  1214. >A jar of viscous, translucent fluid that sloshes around its glass prison. A meticulously carved statuette of Celestia on her back and appearing to rub it all over her rests on the bottom of the jar.
  1215. >You don't twitch.
  1216. >She shows you a dozen different artworks, a dozen different mediums and expressions of the wildest depravities Equestria's artists have created over the centuries.
  1217. >And yet, you've seen worse.
  1218. >Celestia's grin is exaggerated in the soft light of the private collection, the diffused orange casts shadows on one side of her face, giving her a manic quality.
  1219. >"Ah. I know. I know what will get you."
  1220. >Something leant against the far wall is covered in a thick sheet.
  1221. >Celestia brings you to it. Stands you before it. Nudges you here and there so that you're 'just right'.
  1222. >"If this doesn't elicit a reaction, I will concede defeat."
  1223. >Her horn glows. The sheet falls away.
  1224. >In an instant, your eyes widen and you take a step back.
  1225. >There you are, naked as the day you were born, hammering away at a gasping, moaning Princess Celestia.
  1226. >The sound is what knocks you off balance, and you look to the door as if expecting to see your own mother or some other person overhearing the long, drawn out cries of the Princess over the repetitive slaps of your hips against her rump.
  1227. >Celestia cackles gleefully.
  1228. >"I knew it!"
  1229. >She taps the glass of what you now see is a mirror with her hoof.
  1230. >"This mirror was enchanted to show the two ponies closest to it engaged in, let's call it 'vigorous coitus'. You can't imagine the faces on some of the nobles that first saw this. The artist was arrested and sent to prison, and I had to give her a royal pardon. Then you must understand that I -had- to have this in my collection. The potential for fun was just too great to squander. If it makes you feel any better, you're definitely not the first."
  1231. >Celestia sighs happily.
  1232. >"I knew it would get you. I always save my secret weapon for last. It's not been beaten yet!"
  1233. >She watches the scene playing out beside her with fondness. You can't look away. It's like seeing a clone of yourself, so clear is the image, so smooth is the motion. All you can hear is the Princess' whorish moans and breathless pleas for more.
  1234. >The Princess covers the mirror again and saunters to you.
  1235. >"So. Exciting, isn't it? Want to know the worst part?"
  1236. >She puts her mouth by your ear.
  1237. >"Luna and I once watched it together to see what it would show us. It was -inspiring-."
  1238. >She pulls back and gives a low laugh at your stricken look.
  1239. >"Ohh, I knew there was something that would get under your skin. Did it really throw you off? Does the sight of your Princess begging for more like some common street harlot get you hot and bothered?"
  1240. >She traces a hoof over your waistcoat.
  1241. >"It got me rather bothered as well. I don't know what I was expecting to see, but I must say, I rather like the idea of a human taking me from behind. You seem more... flexible, than ponies are."
  1242. >She chews her bottom lip slightly and grins at you. You don't move from where you are. You can still hear her voice crying your name. It was too vivid. Too real.
  1243. >Celestia's horn hums and from behind comes a small click.
  1244. >"Just to make sure no one stumbles in. Can't be too careful, can we?"
  1245. "The party--"
  1246. >"The Gala can wait. I don't know about you, but spending my evening shaking hooves with the upper class has never been my idea of a good time."
  1247. >She rears up on her hind legs and drapes her hooves over your shoulders, her eyes now looking down at yours.
  1248. >You step back under her weight, but support yourself with a securely placed foot.
  1249. >"Now, exploring the potential excitements of a clandestine alien lover? That's something -far- more my speed."
  1250. >The Princess leans down and licks your cheek, one long, slow trace from your jawline to the corner of your eye.
  1251. >"Salted flesh as well? Oh Anonymous, we ought to have done this sooner."
  1252. >You heave her off you and back away, palms raised towards her.
  1253. "Look, I appreciate you showing me the collection, it's really interesting and I won't tell a soul, not even Twilight, but I don't want any part in this."
  1254. >You fumble with the door handle; whether by magic or mechanism, it won't budge.
  1255. >You stare pleadingly at the wood, willing it to open on its own, but it won't.
  1256. >You turn. Celestia's gleaming eyes don't blink. She drinks in every inch of you from where she is. Her expression like an falcon watching a field mouse.
  1257. >"Art," she begins slowly, "covers many topics. Every topic, actually."
  1258. >She takes a single step forward. It's like the earth shook.
  1259. >"Joy. Hope. Birth." Her smile sheds its last vestige of warmth. "Murder. Betrayal. ...Rape."
  1260. >Another step. You reach for the nearest object and hold it above your head.
  1261. >On further inspection, it's the blowjob statuette from earlier.
  1262. >You hold it aloft higher.
  1263. "I'll either smash it or throw it at you, I swear to God."
  1264. >She pauses.
  1265. >"Go right ahead."
  1266. >She watches you patiently.
  1267. "Priceless piece of art! I'm warning you!"
  1268. >"Do it. The artist would thank you for destroying her shame. It was carved by an heiress, in a self confessed moment of insanity. The stallion is her lover, whom she was having an affair with. Her own brother."
  1269. >You wait for a second. Two seconds. Then hurl it at the Princess.
  1270. >A golden shield forms in the air before her, and the statuette is obliterated on contact. A thousand shards of polished stone spray across the collection and its observers. Celestia doesn't blink even as a shard or two bounce off her face perilously close to her eyes.
  1271. >"Well done. I knew you had it in you."
  1272. "I'll-- I'll keep breaking it, all of it, just let me out--"
  1273. >Without a word, her horn ignites again, and the thousand shards re-emerge from their resting places.
  1274. >They come together in the air before you, the form rotating and morphing like plasticine.
  1275. >The statuette reforms, as though it had never been touched.
  1276. >"There we are. Good as new. Her shame shall remain immortal."
  1277. >Celestia stalks the rest of the way to you. You ball your fists and suck in a few short breaths.
  1278. >On the cheek. Let her know you mean business.
  1279. >She comes close. You swing at her. Your knuckles connect with her jaw and her head snaps sideways and she makes a flat grunt. The dull crack reaches the end of the room before the sound is swallowed.
  1280. >Her head turns back to you, a line of blood dribbling down her chin from her split lip.
  1281. >Your knees go weak at her expression.
  1282. >There's no anger, no reproach, no hurt. She looks elated.
  1283. >"Do that again," she says softly.
  1284. "Please, please, just let me go--"
  1285. >Her hoof punches the door and the wood caves in under the golden solleret, her face pressed to yours.
  1286. >"Again!" she screams.
  1287. "Celestia, I-I don't want to do this."
  1288. >"HIT ME!"
  1289. >You kick out at her leg. It folds and she goes down with a gasp.
  1290. >The door is still stuck fast, no matter how hard you twist and wrench on the handle it won't move. You bang on it and bellow for help, for someone to hear you and come.
  1291. >But there is nothing, and a part of you knew it was futile before you started.
  1292. >Celestia rises, limping on her wounded leg.
  1293. >"Oh, Anonymous," she says lovingly. "Ohh, my precious, beautiful, Anonymous."
  1294. >The pony takes you into her hooves and strokes your head, her considerable weight pressing you against the door.
  1295. >She keeps you there for a moment, pushing her muzzle into your hair and taking deep, shuddering breaths, as though the scent is ambrosia.
  1296. >"Fuck me until I scream," she murmurs in your ear. "Pull my mane, scratch my back, make me bleed. Make me your object. Rape me, and I'll rape you."
  1297. >She presses a hoof onto your clavicle. She keeps pressing until you cry out, keeps pressing until you yell and thrash under her, keeps pressing until you feel a deep crack, the bone gives, and your strangled wail deafens your own ears.
  1298. >Celestia coos and shushes you, stroking your head.
  1299. >"That's it, let it out. Stars, you're so beautiful. We're going to explore each other, Anonymous. We're going to make art together. Profane, wretched, pure art."
  1300. >She nibbles your earlobe. The nibble becomes a bite. The bite climaxes to searing pain and hot blood.
  1301. >"Show me your soul."
  1302.  
  1303. *
  1304.  
  1305. >You stand in the main foyer of the castle.
  1306. >Your suit is pristine, your body unharmed, your posture straight, unbowed.
  1307. >Celestia poses at the stairwell beside a babbling Twilight. She greets each pony that confronts her with a motherly smile and a gesture.
  1308. >She catches your eye and the two of you watch each other from across the room. The conversations around you fade into incoherence.
  1309. >For a moment, all that exists are the two of you.
  1310. >Celestia's smile doesn't lose its warmth, her lip mended and bruises vanished, as though they had never been there.
  1311. >Her coat is clean, not a drop of blood remains.
  1312. >She bows to you, her back arching into it. Your eyes flicker to her hindquarters, hidden away under her flowing dress.
  1313. >Would she have preserved the mess you left between her thighs?
  1314. >You know her well enough now that you think she would. You think that under her clothes, plastering her second lips, evidence of your actions still remain. She'll take a perverse joy in knowing that her faithful student is a breath away from a smear of dead cum.
  1315. >She straightens, the Whore Princess, and mercifully looks away from you in favour of her student.
  1316. >Twilight talks on and on, devoted as always to her mentor, so pure and wonderful.
  1317. >If she knew, it would break her.
  1318. >It broke you, after all.
  1319. >You bear no scars, no surface damage.
  1320. >But you don't need a broken nose or a fractured rib to remember Celestia.
  1321. >Your spirit is damaged enough.

[FLUTTERRAPE] Happy Birthday

by Nebulus

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