Skeletons In Celestia's Closet (AiE)


                                            Okay, this one isn't too long. But I hope the end makes up for it. Sorta. Made from a deleted scene from my last green that I made into this thingy, so it also has Celestia. Feedback is always appeciated. And (You)'s, of course.


                                            >“Now listen, Anonymous,” says Princess Celestia, her voice just loud enough to hear over the royal chariot’s wheels, “this new sex dungeon was paid for by the generous, good tax-paying ponies of Equestria. You understand?”

                                            >You nod, still stuck with a ball-gag in your mouth.

                                            “Mmphf-Hmmphf! Mrai mumfershtampf!”

                                            >“So, when I say I *don't* want you to break free from your restraints, know then that I *mean* it. Are we clear?”

                                            “Mmphf-Hmmphf!”

                                            >Princess Celestia’s lips rest into a smirk.

                                            >“Good boy,” she says. “Very good boy.”

                                            >She cracks the whip across your back once more.

                                            >You squeal into the ball-gag, picking up the pace you haul along her royal hotness.

                                            >The pain from the whip throbs with a searing heat, each marking a-pulse and burning.

                                            >You’re kinda gettin’ into it, honestly.

                                            >Still, before you can truly appreciate what your ruler is trying to do with you (at least without stepping over the very limited rights you have as an ‘interdimensional pseudo-citizen’ of Equestria), you arrive at the royal palace soon enough, rolling past the front gates of the premises until you stroll inside the grand entry hall.

                                            >The two enormous doors are open for you to enter through from outside, but once you wheel past them, a plethora of royal guards on the other side are quick to close them once you and their ruler have entered.

                                            >Once you come to a stop, Princess Celestia steps out of the chariot, her every movement a beautiful pose worth its own sculpture, its own painting.

                                            >The guards bow before her, and their commander in particular goes to kneel before she.

                                            >“Your highness, you grace us with your return. How may we serve you, your majesty?”

                                            >Princess Celestia just laughs.

                                            >“Oh, at ease now, Commander Dart Wing! I’ve only been gone for thirty minutes this time. No need for a grand routine.”

                                            >“Ah, yes. But of course, your majesty. Of course, of course.”

                                            >‘Dart-Wing’ rises onto his hooves once more, and turns to face his bowing troops.

                                            >“At ease, soldiers! Return to your partners at their stations!”

                                            >Once they scatter from the hall, Princess Celestia rolls her eyes over to you.

                                            >“Always a bit heavy-hoofed, aren’t they?”

                                            >You point to the ball-gag in your mouth— and the reins still connecting you to the chariot.

                                            >“Oh, oh! Why, of course! Your bindings! Let’s get you out of those now, shall we?”

                                            >Her horn glows gold with the luminescence of her alicorn magic; likewise, the reins of her chariot’s yoke are embalmed in this aura, lifting off your body, undoing themselves, until all which tethered you to the mode of transport are dropped to the floor.

                                            >Then, of course, she simply teleports the ball-gag away.


                                            >“There we go,” she says. “Feel better now?”

                                            >You’re shirtless, panting, and sweat stings the marking of red left by her whip.

                                            >You nod breathlessly at her.

                                            “I…feel…great…”

                                            >Seeing you like this must please Princess Celestia, for she is quick to press up against your body, chuckling from the deepest parts of her throat.

                                            >“Oh, good, good. But you know what? I actually think I knew that already, thanks to your special friend down below,” she says, laying her hoof upon your abdomen before sliding it down to the bulge of your leather jockstrap.

                                            >She fondles the bulge, laying the rounded protrusion atop the frog of her hoof to admire its weight, how swollen and heavy you are.

                                            >It makes you realize how full your balls feel.

                                            >She presses her neck against your chest, eyes peering up at yours.

                                            >They gleam of carnal mischief.

                                            >“Have you been a good boy?” she asks,smiling impure deeds at you.

                                            >They gleam with dirty intent, her gaze a lead tarp trapping you under her lusting presence.

                                            “I’m…I-I’m a good boy…”

                                            >She snakes her hoof behind the bulge of your crotch, wiggling over your taint to feel the bottom of your glutes.

                                            >“Yeah? You sure?”

                                            “I…”

                                            >Feeling her wrist right between your legs, bumping up against where your taint presses into your prostate, makes your legs tremble.

                                            >You press harder against her foreleg, grinding and moaning like a bitch.

                                            “Oh, mmyeah, I-I’m sure…”

                                            >Princess Celestia pulls back from you.

                                            >“Great! Let’s go!”

                                            >And she’s off giggling, skipping merrily down the halls…

                                            >...Leaving your balls aching for her touch once more.

                                            >Ah, well.

                                            >At least you don’t have to pull her by chariot anymore.

                                            >You follow her royal butt right away.

                                            >It’s not much of a walk around the premises, thank goodness; you’re still pretty beat from earlier.

                                            >At this point, you would prefer it if she’d just tie you from the ceiling and fling hot wax at you.

                                            >That’d be kinda nice.

                                            >Eventually, you seem to arrive at the door leading to this new dungeon, Celestia stopping mid-hoofstep in the hallway to make a grand gesture towards the door itself.

                                            >“Voila! This, my little hoo-man, is where we’ll have our fun from now on! Behold!”

                                            >She watches your reaction as she opens the door, not looking at it herself.

                                            >But she isn’t expecting the frown on your face.

                                            >That’s cause you can’t see shit.

                                            “...Nothing?” You scoff. “That’s it? That’s what your tax-payers paid for? Or are they all just tax-evaders or something. What’re we gonna do in there? It’s just a plain, dark room!”

                                            >But even calling it such feels wrong.

                                            >It looks less akin to a ‘dark room’ but more like a door-shaped hole in the canvas of reality, one where a room inside should be is instead a darkness beyond discernible depth, a wall of black so devoid of any light that it is impossible to gauge properly...


                                            >Hell, it could even be solid, for all you know.

                                            >Princess Celestia finally sees the room for herself.

                                            >“Hm, strange,” she says, hoof resting on her chin. “I could have sworn this was the right way to the dungeon. Second door on the right side of the Eastern wing’s back halls… Did I make a wrong turn? Oh, goodness, look at me! I’ve lived for eons and I still don’t know my way around this castle! It’s only been here a half-thousand years; I really ought to—”

                                            >You tune out her blabbering as something *else* catches your attention.

                                            >Something unusual, something dry, white, and round…

                                            >The surface of this object emerges from the heart of the black void (guess it’s not a solid wall after all), and the more the object emerges from that space, the more you see its shape and contours take form.

                                            >It’s a pony’s skull.

                                            >It cranes from its neck around the corner of the door frames, looking from the left and right at the hallway with no eyes in its sockets.

                                            >Then, it looks up at you and Celestia.

                                            >“Hello! Would you like to learn about the equine body? Ah-ho!”

                                            >The voice snaps Princess Celestia snaps out of her rambling.

                                            >With a gasp, she slams the door shut.

                                            >“Whoops! Wrong room, wrong door, wrong one, ha ha ha! Let’s-go-and-never-talk-about-this-again!!!”

                                            >“What’s that?” you hear the skeleton say from behind the door. “You wanna *femur*? But you barely even *know her*! Ah-ho!”

                                            >Turning your gaze from the door to Princess Celestia, you glower at her majesty.

                                            “You have a literal skeleton in your closet.”

                                            >“What? No! That’s not even a closetl! And secondly, that’s not even a skeleton! It just *resembles* one!”

                                            >You fold your hands together taking in a deep breath.

                                            “Okay, now, uh, see, I just have to ask you this ‘cause, uh, what the fuck about *anything* you just said makes you think that clarifies *anything* to me whatsoever, hm? Cause, uh, eh-heh, I’m pretty close to pissing my little boy pants here.”

                                            >“Well, don’t,” she says. “You don’t need to be afraid of it. I mean, it’s not even alive, you know.”

                                            “No shit! It’s a skeleton!”

                                            >“No, no, a *fake* skeleton!” she insists. “You know, for classrooms and demonstrations!? It’s not alive, let alone self-aware.”

                                            >She opens the door again, and the skeleton (definitely an earth-pony's; has no wings or horn) stands in full, waving at you politely.

                                            >“Hi! Would you like to learn about the equine body? Ah-ho!”

                                            >Your face scrunches into a sneer.

                                            “Does it always like to say—?”

                                            >“It always likes to say ‘ah-ho’, yes,” answers Celestia for you.

                                            >Great...

                                            “But if it’s not alive,” you ask her, eying up the skeleton, “then how the shit does it talk? I mean, that’s…that’s kind of…”


                                            >“Oh, Anonymous!” laughs Celestia, bemused by your befuddlement, “just because something spouts words and can put them together doesn’t mean it has thoughts or feelings”

                                            “I dunno... Seems like one of the fucking criteria if you ask me, sun-butt.”

                                            >“Well, perhaps yo are not thinking about it the right way then, hm? Consider this, my little hoo-man: Does an encyclopedia have thoughts because it imparts knowledge?  Does the gyroscope, that which maintains its original orientation regardless of the planet’s spinning, make it smarter than you and I?”

                                            “Uh, no, but they didn't just ask me if I wanted to learn about the fucking body!”

                                            >Celestia just giggles at you, shaking her head.

                                            >“But they're not living, silly! They’re the results of function, no more a sign of independent thought than the numbers on an abacus. Likewise, this skeleton animated through magic to mimic behavior. You know, such as telling jokes! See?”

                                            >“Ah-ho! I tell jokes!” says the skeleton. “Whaddya call a skeleton without life insurance?”

                                            >You pause, looking to Princess Celestia.

                                            >She nods for you to play along.

                                            “Um, I dunno,” you tell the skeleton. “I mean, I’d probably just keep calling it a skelet—”

                                            >“You call them a bone-head! Ah-ho! Ah-ho! Ah-ho!”

                                            >Princess Celestia sees the look on your face.

                                            >She says the only thing she can think to say.

                                            >“Sorry.”

                                            “Slam the door.”

                                            >“I know,” she says again. “I'm truly sorry.”

                                            “Just slam the door. Please.”

                                            >And so she does.

                                            >“Ah-ho!” goes the skeleton, one last time behind it.

                                            >Princess Celestia sighs, her shoulders tense as she winces.

                                            >“I know. It’s bad, isn't it?”

                                            “It’s worse than bad,” you tell her. “It’s awful! What were you thinkinggg!?”

                                            >“Well, I…I wanted medical students to be comfortable seeing a model skeleton in their courses.”

                                            “They’re medical students, Celestia! They’re used to skeletons! They’re used to everything short of shattered pickler jar shards cutting up someone’s asshole inside their anus! If anything, seeing what resembles something dead talking to them is *more* uncomfortable! It’s like a puppet for fuck’s sake! Puppets are creepy! *You’re* creepy!”

                                            >“That’s why I made a spell for it to tell jokes!” says Celestia. “It’s just…well, there’s just one thing, though.”

                                            “Just one thing? Oh, sure, just one thing, right? And what the hell might that just be?”

                                            >“We…we…”

                                            >She lowers her head, shaking it solemnly.

                                            >“We forgot to give it a funny bone...”

                                            >BaDumTssh.wav


                                            End. You may now try to kill me. Joke's on you, though; I'm already dead inside.