Synopsis: Anon is bullied by three pink mares, but what goes around comes around.

*** AUTHOR'S NOTE ***

Just a heads up to any readers: the first complete draft of this story is already fully written (330k~ words). I only need to proofread and update it as I go along.
As for the content of the story itself, expect fetishes and a whole bunch of self-indulgent wish fulfilment. If any of that sounds interesting to you—peep this space.

*** LINKS AND KINKS ***

PART 1: YOU ARE HERE
PART 2: https://ponepaste.org/10809

CURRENT KINK LIST: femdom, ass kissing, unwashed mare musk, hoofrubs, wingrubs, mind control, slaveplay, maledom, defloration, squash soup, blowjob, shower sex, neck biting, terrible disguises, flexible tongues, breath sharing, light feeding, chubby mares, hornjobs, horngasms, belly rubbing, burping, large teats, teat fondling, teat fucking, cum drinking, hypnosis, spit swallowing, orgasm denial, The Wing Dimension™, deep kissing, tongue suckling

*** 1 ***

>You're a stranger in a strange land, the only human living in Equestria—a magical realm that is predominately populated by sapient pastel ponies.
>Once upon a time, you were but a humble earthling humbly living on your humble Planet Earth.
>But about a year back, an otherworldly portal suddenly appeared out of thin air and sucked you straight out of your mundane comforts.
>Thus, you were swiftly yanked out of your old world, hurled through a space-time warp—and promptly plopped smack-dab in the middle of a sprawling alien street.
>The portal dissipated shortly afterwards, leaving you stranded with no way to return home.
>Surprisingly, despite your bombastic entrance, the colourful inhabitants of this land paid your sudden arrival little mind.
>You would later find out that your spontaneous feat of extradimensional travel was just another drop in the pond when it came to everyday Equestrian life.
>That's not to say you didn't get at least a few minutes of fame; there were more than a few curious news outlets who wished to interview you—which was attention you unabashedly relished.
>However, your celebrity status didn't last very long at all—and you were soon accepted into this alien society without much fuss.
>It turns out that a hairless ape is a fairly mundane sight when compared to talking yaks, fire-breathing dragons, and bird-horses that can turn into fish-horses.
>So, after running through some paperwork, you became a proud citizen of the Crystal Empire—which was the place where that portal had dumped you—and you slowly began to carve out your own way of life within this shiny new world.
>Naturally, you needed to get that bread, but you also wished to find your niche—something that only Equestria's sole human could bring to this pastel pastiche of culture.
>After suffering no less than four failed business ventures, you pondered to yourself:
>These ponies could speak, sure, but they were still animals at the end of the day.
>They had animal bodies, animal instincts—animal *desires.*
>Deep down, these ponies all had itches that yearned to be scratched—primitive urges that they could never hope to sate by themselves.
>That's where you would come in; you would happily satisfy those bestial cravings of theirs—for a small fee, of course.
>All you had to do was use what your momma gave you:
>Your soft, supple human hands.

>Sure, massage parlours were already a well-established concept in Equestria, but after some independent research—you soon came to notice a few critical flaws within the industry:
>Pony hooves were too blocky;
>Dragon claws were too sharp;
>But your delightful little grabbers? Juuust right.
>With that revelation, you knew exactly what you had to do:
>You opened up a massage parlour straight from the comfort of your own home.
>Appropriately, you named your new business "Handyman."
>In order to make sure your hands were working above board, you spent most of your savings on purchasing a parlour permit—but you were dead certain that the chance to achieve your dreams was worth any price.
>Raw ingenuity and unbridled optimism coursed throughout your veins; you were set to introduce an unprecedented demand for human hands and human-hand–related accessories.
>And as the sole supplier of both—you were ready to make bank.
>…
>That was the idea, anyway.
>Fast forward to the present day, and you have been running this massage parlour of yours for several months now.
>Unfortunately, business is not in fact booming.
>You do get a few clients here and there, but not nearly as many as you had initially hoped.
>Equestria's currency happens to be minted in the form of gold coins that are called bits—and you are currently bit-starved.
>You live paycheck to paycheck—or rather, client to client.
>The combination of monthly rent and business expenses add up; whenever you're not busy dipping your toes in the red—you're only barely making enough to scrape by.
>You may have made a minor miscalculation at some point.
>But where?
>Not enough advertising?
>Not enough experience?
>Not enough clientele willing to let a human run his freaky little alien hands all over their body?
>Or maybe…maybe it's because you aren't even the only massage parlour on the street.
>…Yeah. It's probably that.
>Fucking Smooth Claws.
>Still, this has been your longest-running business venture thus far—and you don't intend to give up now.
>Call it stubborn pride or simple-minded naivete—but you've been holding onto the slim hope that things will turn around for you.
>Ever since that portal displaced you into Equestria—you've started believing in miracles.
>Hell, the fact that your startup massage parlour has even managed to survive this long is another miracle in your eyes.
>So, who's to say that one more fortuitous anomaly isn't lurking around the very next corner?
>If you had the choice—you'd greatly appreciate the sudden yet inexplicable death of all your business rivals.
>But the unexpected patronage of a generously affluent client would also be highly welcome.
>Either of those would do it for you.
>Or both. Both would be good.
>Yeah. That's all you ask—just one more miracle.
>And then you'll be living like a king.

>For now, though—today's a day just like any other.
>Your massage parlour is presently open for business—and thus, you are currently seated behind your reception desk, calmly counting the minutes away.
>The reception itself is a moderately sized room with a rectangular layout—it also happens to double as your lounge when you're off the clock.
>At one end, you recline against the back of your cushioned crystal chair, while your feet are kicked up on top of your solid crystal desk.
>At the other end, your front door awaits—ever eager to welcome in the veritable crowd of customers that you shall one day receive.
>As for the rest of your establishment, it's…suitably homey.
>Your walls are lined with plain blue wallpaper; some of it peels away at points.
>Your carpet is a darker shade of blue; it's also very scraggy.
>Your couch lies against the left wall, functioning as waiting room seating; it's currently unoccupied.
>A wooden bulletin board is fixed upon your right wall; there's barely anything posted on it, but you like to think that its mere presence makes you look pretty damn professional.
>A few potted crystal chrysanthemums dot the perimeter of the room; they all smell florally stagnant.
>A cooling cup of joe rests atop the crystal desk in front of you; it's a quarter empty.
>Directly to your left, a short hallway trails deeper into your house and leads into your parlour proper—the place where the handsy magic happens.
>However, your next appointment isn't due for another hour, which means you've got time to kill.
>So, as your raised feet leisurely rest upon your desk, your slightly sweaty hands hold the latest issue of "Playcolt"—a deliciously salacious magazine.
>These prurient pages possess promiscuous photos aplenty; many half-lidded mares lie within, all presenting their ample curvature.
>Some rest on their side, one hindleg tantalisingly crossed over the other.
>Some lounge on their back, with one of their forelegs reaching down to cover their bare crotch.
>While others point their shapely rear ends directly at the camera—yet their tucked tails prevent prying eyes from witnessing anything scandalous.
>Provocative pictures, all.
>Ponies are naturally naked, yet the pictures with them wearing lingerie somehow manage to be even *more* thought provoking.
>Now, you might be a human and all…
>But you would.
>You *so* would.
>You've lived in this world long enough to stop giving a damn about the species barrier.
>Problem is: you've got no game—even in magical horse land.
>But what you *do* have—are the pictures in this magazine.
>These wonderful, sinful photos.
>…Alas, you maintain enough scruples to stop yourself from rubbing one out on company time.
>You must at least *pretend* to be a professional—you owe yourself that much.
>Even if your next appointment is still in an hour.
>Even if barely anyone comes in here anyway.
>…
>Hm.
>Maybe just a—
>*Dinga-linga-ling*

"A-ah!"
>That's the sound of your fancy door chime jingling.
>Which means your front door has just been opened.
>Which means you have customers.
>Prospective clients, perhaps?
>That's great!
>Prospective clients who are about to see you with your feet kicked up on the desk, perusing a softcore porno mag?
>That's…uh…
>Shit.
>Scrambling to re-orient yourself, you quickly toss your copy of Playcolt on the floor under your desk, keeping it far away from scrupulous sights.
>Your legs swing every which way in your haste to sit upright and look presentable; thankfully, your flailing feet miss your coffee cup.
>As soon as your dollar-store shoes touch down on your carpet, you straighten both your posture and your shirt—just in time for your visitors to enter the room.
>There are three of them, cheerfully chattering amongst themselves.
>And they're all mares.
>Whew…
>No. Bad Anon. Get your mind out of the gutter.
>You're a professional.
>And a professional has a discerning eye—especially when it comes to potential customers.
>Thus, the first thing you notice are their appearances.
>For starters—their coats are all in varying shades of pink.
>The pegasus on the left has a salmon-pink coat, while her mane is baby blue.
>Her mane has been curled into ringlets, and her tail has been curled up into a swirly roll; also, both her mane and tail are topped off with a cutesy cream-coloured bow.
>Overall, she looks kind of doll-like—which does unnerve you just a little bit.
>She's easily the smallest of the trio, standing half a head shorter than most mares—her cohorts included.
>The unicorn on the right has a cerise-pink coat, while her mane is two-tone, combining both yellow and orange.
>Her mane's long forelock is styled in a wavy loop, and her tail is fairly standard; also, a red hairband ties the back of her mane up into a ponytail.
>Overall, she bears a frizzily unkempt appearance—looking like she just rolled out of bed five minutes ago.
>She's middle-of-the-road as far as pony heights go, but you note that she's quite portly in stature; she's certainly not overweight—but she has a noticeable potbelly.
>Last but not least, the mare in the middle stands at the forefront, clearly leading the group; her coat is light pink, and her short, swirly mane is pinkish-purple with blue highlights.
>She's the tallest of the trio, having a slender build that places her a full head higher than the average mare.
>She's also fully decked out in fancy looking regalia—wearing silver hoof shoes, a silver chest plate that has a heart-shaped slab of blue crystal embedded into the front, and a crown that appears to be made of solid blue crystal.
>And if that wasn't enough, she bears both wings *and* a horn, which makes her an…uh…

>Wait, shit. You've heard about this.
>Ponies like her are both exceptionally rare and extremely high up in the social ladder.
>They're called…what was it now…
>Alicorns?
>Yeah, one of those.
>…Hold on. This means that an *alicorn* is checking out your humble parlour.
>Could this be it? Your golden opportunity to hit it big in the massaging industry?
>If you manage to get an personal endorsement from a member of the ruling elite, customers will come flooding in—you're sure of it.
>And with customers—comes money.
>You could finally make enough moolah to move out of this dinky home office.
>Ah, you can see it now…
>Anon: Alicorn Masseur.
>…Oh, but first—
>They say that first impressions make all the difference.
>So, after combing your hair back with a hand and clearing your throat, you calmly address your privileged patronage with a practised tone:
"Welcome to—"
>"Ugh," the alicorn interrupts you with a groan. "What *is* this place? It's so tacky."
>And just like that, her dismissive words and droning tone knock nearly all of the high-flying wind out of your sails.
>Her bored blue eyes lazily scan the establishment's interior, paying no heed to its established owner.
>She completely ignores you—however, you have nonetheless managed to capture the attention of her two cohorts.
>Neither of them speak a word—and yet they don't have to, for their gazes convey their character at a glance.
>The scarlet eyes of the pegasus are filled with clear curiosity as she looks you over.
>A perfectly innocuous smile adorns her features, yet there's a subtle sharpness to her gaze—as if she's peering straight into your very soul.
>On the other hand, the unicorn fixes upon you with a smirk and a snort; her tail wags from side to side as she eats you up with her eyes.
>Her amber gaze readily relays a overbearingly belligerent inferno—one that threatens to fully consume you the longer you maintain eye contact with her.
>Between these two mares—you're not sure which one of them discomforts you more.
>They both seem like bad news; it's only a gut feeling—but you trust in your intuition like a brother.

>In any case, you curtly turn your attention away from them and look back to the alicorn—
>Who has now wandered over to your roomy bulletin board to scrutinise it.
>"Eugh," she groans, "girls, take a look at this board; it's basically empty." She looks back to them with a unimpressed frown. "Not a good look for this business if you ask me."
>The alicorn's voice is shrill and commanding; she talks as if she's owed the world.
"Um, Miss?"
>"Doesn't surprise me, though. I can't imagine anypony actually *wanting* to visit this stuffy shop."
"Miss."
>She walks over to one of your potted plants and prods it with a forehoof, lightly giggling to herself as she does.
>"I mean, look at these pathetic little flowers! I've never seen plants this puny!" She shakes her head. "They're nothing like what *I* have."
"M-miss."
>She then sniffs the air, soon wrinkling her nose.
>"And they don't do a *thing* to cover up the horrid stench that stinks up this place, eugh."
>You pinch the bridge of your own nose in a attempt to allay your building frustration.
>Meanwhile, the unicorn tears her gaze away from you, closing her eyes and loudly snorting up the air.
>Her expression soon settles into a deeply satisfied smile.
>"Mm…I dunno, Flurry. I think it smells kinda nice."
>The alicorn whips around and tosses her unicorn friend a judgemental glance.
>"That's 'cause you're a weirdo, Lustie."
>"Pfft. Guilty as charged."
>The unicorn's voice is raspily brusque; it uncomfortably scrapes at your eardrums.
>The alicorn continues to lazily gaze around the room—somehow never acknowledging your presence.
>Is she wilfully ignoring you—or are you simply too low-class to be picked up in her snob-vision?
>"Sooo," she begins, "what was this place again? A massage parlour or something?"
>"Yep, that's right," the pegasus answers. "The sign out front said 'Handyman.'"
>The alicorn raises an eyebrow.
>"'Handyman?' What does that even *mean?*"
"I-it means that I have hands," you weakly interject, "and I know to…uh…"
>You hold up one of your hands, yet you've fully lost the strength to finish your sentence—
>For all eyes are now finally upon you—including the alicorn's.
>And you're starting to wish that they weren't.
>The expressions of the unicorn and pegasus haven't changed—they still bear ominous smiles that size you up in their own distinct ways.
>While the alicorn…isn't smiling at all.
>Her cold gaze travels down from your face, over to your hand, and then back to your face.
>She squints, her expression displaying both confusion and contempt towards the unknown.
>"…What even *are* you?"

>Your mouth opens—but the words don't come out.
>The alicorn turns to her friends, completely disregarding you.
>"Do either of you girls know what the heck this thing is? 'Cause I sure don't."
>The unicorn simply snickers in response.
>"Golly, I think he's that human," the pegasus answers, lifting a forehoof up to her chin. "You know—the one that randomly showed up in the Crystal Empire one day? He was all over the news."
>The pegasus's voice is sickeningly sweet—so sweet that you may contract diabetes from listening to it for too long.
>"Well *I've* never heard of him," the alicorn retorts. "Whereabouts in the news was he—Plebs Monthly?"
>"He was all over the 'Magical Anomalies' section about a year back," the unicorn answers.
>The alicorn throws a sidelong glance towards both of her friends.
>"…Hmph. Aren't you two well-informed."
>She then sharply turns to you, her icy glare refrigerating your veins.
>"You. You run this place, right? This massage parlour?"
"Y-yes."
>She turns up her snout.
>"Then give us your finest massage—and don't dawdle."
>Unfortunately, you do dawdle a little.
>Blinking blankly, it takes you a few seconds for her words to sink in.
"Uh, yeah! Right! O-of course!"
>The alicorn rolls her eyes while her friends snicker among themselves.
>You pull out a clipboard and pen from under your desk and force out a smile towards her.
"Right then. If I may take your name?"
>She looks at you like you had just gut her pet poodle.
>"What?"
>You can no longer force out a smile.
"Y-your, uh, name…"
>She shakes her head in disbelief.
>"Excuse me?"
>The unicorn playfully nudges the alicorn with a grin on her face.
>"He doesn't recognise you, Flurry."
>Taking a deep breath, the alicorn slowly closes her eyes in response.
>And a silence hangs in the air.
>You just need to know her name—what's wrong with that?
>Still, if the alias her friend addressed her with is any indication, then…
"S-so it's Flurry then? I—"
>"No."
>She tersely interrupts you, opening her eyes and glaring at you with indignance.
>"To you, pleb—I am *Princess* Flurry Heart. Do *not* forget that if you know what's good for you."
>You find yourself overcome with a strong desire to tell this prissy bitch to fuck off.
>You want to.
>You so want to.
>But you can't.
>After all—she's a princess.
>This could be your big break.
>You just have to…
>…grin and bear it.
"U-understood, Princess Flurry Heart."

>The pegasus appears to find a great deal of amusement in your response, lifting up her forehoof and tittering into it.
>Flurry sighs, shaking her head once more.
>"Honestly, what is this city coming to…"
>You return your attention to your clipboard—the hard plastic bending under your tense two-handed grip.
>Taking a deep breath, you tersely set it down alongside your pen.
>Flicking your gaze back to Flurry, you beckon to her with your right hand.
"Okay, Princess Flurry Heart, why don't you come over here so we can book in the time for your appointment?"
>She blinks.
>"Appoin…" She shakes her head and lifts a confused eyebrow. "…wha?"
>Flurry doesn't move towards you.
>Instead, she turns to the unicorn and whispers to her.
>"Lustie, what's an 'appointment?'"
>The unicorn whispers something indistinct in Flurry's ear.
>Flurry listens quietly—and then her eyes suddenly shoot open.
>She gasps.
>"What?! You mean I have to *wait!?*"
>Her head snaps up to look at you, disgust and discontentment dancing together to form a stormy scowl.
>"Hm, no." She shakes her head. "I don't think so. Come on, girls." She spins around. "We're leaving."
>She walks back to your front door.
>You can feel a whirlwind of withdrawal rush through your massage parlour, it aims to sweep up your clients and hopes both, and spit them out far across the horizon—far out of your reach.
>Caught up in this intolerant typhoon, the unicorn tuts, shakes her head, and follows her.
>Only the pegasus stays put.
>She regards you with a thoughtful glance, a tilted head—
>And then calls out to her friend.
>"Where are we going next, Flurry?"
>"There's that other massage parlour across the street—the one run by a dragon, right? We'll just go there instead."
>"Okaaay…"
>And so, she too turns to leave.
>Wait…what was the last thing she said…?
>…
>No.
>FUCK no.
>You are not letting that scaly bastard Smooth Claws steal any more of your clients.
>If you have to bend the rules a little—so be it.
>So you shoot up from your chair and quickly circle your desk.
>With only a long stretch of scraggy carpet between you two, you desperately call out to Flurry Heart—who is already halfway out the door.
"W-wait! Please! Princess Flurry Heart!"
>And, against all odds, she listens to you.
>She stops with a short snort, still facing the outside world.
>"The pleb tells me to wait, hmph."
>She throws you a glance from behind her shoulder.
>"You have five seconds to state your case. Make them count."
"Ah."
>Only five…?
>Shitshit, what do you—
"P-please, um, pleasehaveyourmassagehere!"
>You clasp your hands in front of your face and bow your head for good measure.
>God, you must look so pathetic.
>But you're in too deep to back out now.
>You've fallen prey to the sunk cost of attaining stardom.

>Thus, you stand there in silence for about ten seconds, and it's only when you hear the door close do you look up from your pitiful prayer.
>All three mares are now facing you.
>The pegasus's mouth is slightly agape, while the unicorn flashes you a toothy grin.
>Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, Flurry looks you up and down.
>"You're tall."
>Her lips curve slightly upwards.
>"Okay. I'll consider getting a massage from you."
"Really?! Tha—"
>"Ah-ah!" She raises a hoof, interrupting you.
>Upon lowering it, she continues.
>"On one condition."
>Your brows knit as you await your incoming trial.
>"Grovel. Grovel at my hooves."
"…What?"
>"After all of the disrespect that you've shown me today, this is simply the *least* you can do to make it up to me, no?"
>You blink.
"Th-that—"
>"You have five seconds."
>You blink again, eyes widening.
>"Five. Four."
>…
>Every so often in a man's life, he is forced to make difficult decisions under extreme temporal duress.
>Critical thought, common sense, and everything in between—all are thrown out of the window in the instantaneous moment of a split-second decision.
>All that remains is a man's barest of instincts, and thus—it is his truest self that shines out in such times.
>This, as it so happens, is one of those times.
>One moment, you're standing up against an impending countdown.
>And the next—you're down on your hands and knees, shamelessly prostrating yourself before Princess Flurry Heart.
>To your credit, you like to think you pulled the sickest slide on the way there.
>That has to count for something, right?
>…No. There's no sugarcoating it. You've hit rock bottom—grovelling before a prissy pink pony.
>Your nose rubs against shabby carpet that's far more dignified than you are.
>Your eyes are focused on the floor—yet you shut them anyway.
>Your ears take in the world around you—that cruel, mocking world.
>You hear a "golly…" come from your left.
>While a "heh…" comes from your right.
>And then…
>You feel a cold metal shoe press down on the back of your head; you get the distinct feeling that it belongs to the mare in the middle.
>It forces you further against the carpet—painfully so.
>"It doesn't matter what kind of creature you are—you are a pleb. And you ought to remember your place under the Royal Family."
>You choke back what little pride you have left as it threatens to resurface.
>All you can do is lie there, completely still.
>"…Well? What have you got to say for yourself?"
>All you can do is answer:
"Forgive this pleb for his transgressions, Princess Flurry Heart. It won't happen again."
>"Hmph. Good."
>The hoof lifts, and so too do you raise your head—
>You really shouldn't have.
>All three mares mockingly smile down upon you, their sneers caustic and their leers acrid.
>Flurry is the one who breaks this scathing silence:
>"Okay girls, let's go."

>She turns around and leisurely makes her way over to the exit; her friends quickly follow her.
"Wh-what? Wait! I did what you asked!"
>Flurry stops and shoots you a glare from over her shoulder.
>"So? I said I'd consider getting a massage—and I did."
>Her lips twist into a mocking smirk.
>"I just decided not to."
"Ah…"
>You—
>You want to curse her out.
>You want to lash out so bad.
>But…you just can't find the energy to do so.
>Sitting up on your knees, yet slumping your sights, you let out a defeated sigh as the sounds of their hoofsteps move further and further away.
>Looks like you won't be rubbing royalty after all.
>Perhaps it's for the best—
>"Wait a sec, Flurry."
>The distant hooves halt, and the ambience is taken up by a loud, impatient groan.
>Your sights are set on the floor—exactly where you belong—yet you nonetheless listen in on their conversation:
>"What is it, Lustie."
>"You sure you wanna pass up on this? A massage from an alien?"
>"A downtrodden alien with a failing business, you mean."
>"But he's a *one-of-a-kind* creature, Flurry. You're not gonna be able to get this kinda service from anywhere else in Equestria."
>"…If you want to ogle 'one-of-a-kind' creatures—I own plenty of them back at my menagerie."
>"But do any of them provide massages~?"
>"Hm. Well…"
>There's a pause as Flurry addresses her other friend:
>"Glowie?"
>"Hm…"
>Another pause, and the pegasus cheerily answers:
>"Ya know, I think I agree with Luster on this one—It might be fun!"
>Yet another pause, then you hear Flurry respond with a surprised tone:
>"Wait. You two *actually* agree on something? Huh…"
>As your ears continue to pick up on this conversation, your mind paces in a circle.
>Are they…actually pleading your case?
>A second chance looms over the horizon; you should feel relieved—elated, even.
>But you don't.
>The way they talk about you—it makes you feel like a cut of meat being eyed up by a pack of hyenas.
>So, even if they decide to employ your services after all, perhaps it would be best for you to—
>"Hey."

>Raising your gaze, you see Flurry standing in front of you.
>A sharp smile cuts her features as you make eye contact with her.
>"It's your lucky day, pleb. We'll be taking that massage after all."
"Uh…"
>Your listless reaction quickly turns her smile upside down.
>"Well? Are you gonna do your job or not?"
"O-oh. R-right."
>Swiftly standing up, you clear your throat and point left towards your hallway.
"If one of you would follow me down the hall to my office, I can—"
>"Down the hall. Great. Let's go, girls."
>Flurry and the pegasus immediately walk past you and head down the hall together.
"W-wait, just one of—ugh…"
>You should've just said no…
>But you didn't, so now you've gotta deal with the consequences.
>Sunk-cost stardom strikes again.
>…You really need the rest of your coffee.
>Walking back to your desk, you reach out and grab the—
"Huh?"
>Your coffee cup's gone!
"Where did it…"
>Your thoughts are interrupted by a distinct *gluk gluk gluk* coming from behind you.
>Spinning around, you see that unicorn—
>Chugging down your coffee.
>Holding your joe within her amber magical aura, she tips the contents of your cup down towards her parted lips, roughly and heartily humming to herself as she slurps up your rousing fluids.
>Upon downing your coffee, she lowers the cup so that it hovers just below her chin—and she gives you a sly smirk.
>"Hey there~" she coos.
"Uh…" You arch a uncomfortable eyebrow. "…hey."
>Your eyes flit to your cup and then back to her.
"You just drank my coffee."
>She blithely chuckles.
>"Heh heh, sorry. Here—you can have it back."
>You blink in confusion.
"Have it ba—"
>Nothing could've prepared you for what she does next.
>She makes a disgusting hocking sound with her throat—
>And spits a loogie into your cup.
>…What the fuck?
>With a slightly wider smirk on her face, she floats the cup over to your lips.
>"There ya go~"
>You snatch it out of the air, quickly setting it back on your desk without giving it a second glance.
>As you turn away from her, you catch traces of a dissatisfied frown forming on her face.
>Weird-ass mare.
>Wasting no more time, you head down the hall to join your other two clients.

***

>You enter your personal office—the place where the magic happens.
>Flurry and her pegasus friend are already there, scanning the room's interior.
>As it so happens, this room is actually just your kitchen.
>But with a few fuzzy mats on the floor, an appropriate amount of mood lighting, and a generous arrangement of air fresheners—no-one will ever suspect a thing!
>"Say, mister…"
>You look at the pegasus, who has a cheeky grin on her freckled face.
>"…isn't this just your kitchen?"
>You blankly stare at her for a few moments.
"…Yes."
>The pegasus snickers into her hoof.
>Flurry scoffs.
>"Are you serious? You don't even have a proper parlour?"
>She shakes her head, sighing.
>"You might be the most destitute pleb I've seen yet."
>That's another "pleb" mark against you, you guess.
>Does that mean she's gonna fuck off?
>You're really starting to hope that she does—
>"Aw, come on, Flurry, don't be too hard on our humie~"
>A pony brushes against your leg as she enters your office.
>It's that unicorn.
>She walks over to Flurry's side, tossing you a smug glance from over her shoulder and flicking her frizzy tail your way.
>"There's nothing with keeping your office and kitchen in the same place—" She takes a moment to sniff at the air. "—'specially if your a house-trained humie, eheh~"
>With a slight sashay of her hips, she slowly turns around, casting her gaze towards your cupboards which conceal your foodstuffs.
>"Say, humie, do you offer any after-massage snacks for us hard-working mares? Maybe a belly rubbing service afterwards~?"
>She keeps calling you that word…
>You don't like it; it writhes under your skin like a cicada in heat.
"Humi—" You quickly shake your head and get back on track. "—okay, what are all three of you doing in here?"
>Flurry raises an eyebrow.
>"We're here for our massage, obviously. Did you forget that's your job or something?"
>You nod.
"It is, but I can only work on one client at a time."
>Flurry looks at you, unimpressed.
>"What? Only one? What kind of masseur are you?"
>You raise both palms.
"One who only has two hands."
>Flurry promptly facehooves, looking just about ready to storm out of your establishment at any moment.
>Meanwhile, the unicorn's leery eyes trail up to your hands—and then drift all over your body.
>She then licks her lips.
>"Oh, I'm seeing plenty of other things you can use to 'work' on us, humie, heh~"

>Okay, you were only barely willing to put up with her remarks until this point—but now, this is clear sexual harassment.
>You attempt to calmly address the unicorn:
"Look, Lustie—"
>She flinches at your voice, eyes widening in surprise.
>"H-huh?"
>Okay, you didn't expect that reaction.
>Nor do you expect this next one coming from Flurry:
>"Snrrk."
>Flurry snortily snickers, her agitated mood having changed on an amused dime.
>On the other hand, the unicorn's smug veneer has completely dissipated, her mouth flatlining.
"Um," you begin, feeling some unease, "isn't…isn't that your name?"
>"No, it's not," Flurry blithely answers you in her stead. "That's what *I* call her! Pfft…"
"O-oh. Sorry."
>The unicorn forces out a slight smile and casually combs through her mane with a forehoof, swiftly reclaiming her composure.
>"Hey, if you wanna call me Lustie, I'm cool with it~"
>Her gaze and tone both become just that little bit sharper as she continues:
>"But my full name's Luster Dawn, just so you know."
"Um, got it, Luster Dawn."
>Her smile softens, and you mentally congratulate yourself on the grand feat of having learned more about your clientele from hell.
>That makes two names out of three.
>As if sensing your imminent question, the pegasus waves at you, beaming brightly.
>"And I'm Cozy Glow~! Pleased to meet ya, mister human!"
"Cozy Glow. Okay."
>So you have Cozy Glow the chipper pegasus, Luster Dawn the horny unicorn, and Flurry Heart the cunty alicorn.
>Alright, you can remember that.
>Names and dominant traits both memorised—you address all three mares.
"Well, as your masseur for the day, my name is—"
>"Pleb."
>Flurry interrupts you with a terse word and a piercing glare, her cheery countenance having completely vanished.
>"We didn't ask. And we *won't* ask until you give us all a proper massage, you got that?"
>You bite your lip, yet she continues regardless:.
>"Don't forget—we can still leave at any time. And you can bet your business that I *won't* have nice things to say about this place if I don't leave here *completely* satisfied, understood?"
"I…"
>You will yourself to nod in deference.
"…alright."
>Hey, weren't you going to chastise Luster over her lusty remarks?
>Well, you *were,* but now you feel as if you're on the back foot yet again.
>To think, you had invited Flurry and her two friends here in the hopes of receiving a royal endorsement—but instead, you find yourself up against the threat of being put on a royal blacklist.
>Ugh.
>O stardom, how you loathe thee.

>"So, we're all supposed to lie on this thing?"
>Flurry prods the side of the lone massage table standing in the middle of the room.
"Yes, but…uh…"
>You nervously look over the expensive metalwork that adorns her body.
"…don't you want to take your…um…regalia off first?"
>She distrustfully squints her eyes at you, making you worry that you may have accidentally committed a faux pas.
>Thankfully, she merely responds with an upturned snout and an icy tone:
>"The *royal* regalia stays on, pleb," she stresses the word.
"Even the, uh, crown?"
>You accentuate your question with a shaky point towards the slab of shiny rock atop her head.
>Flurry's flit upwards, looking in its direction.
>She then exasperatedly rolls her eyes and lets out a loud groan:
>"Euugh. Fine."
>Horn coming to life with light-yellow magic, she lifts her crown up off her head.
>"But you better not infect it with your plebness, pleb."
>She floats her crown over to one of your kitchen counters—knocking over a strategically placed air freshener in the process—and thoughtlessly drops it there.
>Magic dissipating, she curtly spins around to face your singular massage table.
>With an appraisive eye, she presses a silver-shoed hoof on its padded surface, listening to it painfully groan and worriedly creak.
>She pulls her hoof herself and shakes her head.
>"Can't say I'm surprised, hmph."
>Ignoring her slight, you plead your case:
"That's—" You quickly clear your throat. "—that's why I can only handle one client at a time: I only have the one table."
>Flurry regards you with one more disinterested glance before turning to Luster.
>"Lustie."
>"Yup." Luster nods, lighting up her horn.
>An amber aura soon envelops your table, making it violently vibrate.
>It then steadily and shudderingly elongates.
>You watch as the padded surface of your massage table stretches both to the left and right; it is a sight most disconcerting, yet it's also backed by the harsh creaking sound of your table's metal frame struggling under intense magical duress.
>Glimpsing down at the alloyed legs that hold your workstation up, you begin to realise something:
>Your table isn't elongating—it's splitting.
>Like a cell undergoing division, an identical copy of your table slowly shudders out from its right side, while another slowly shudders out from its left.
>When all is said and done, you find yourself looking at a row of three identical massage tables; there are short gaps between them that provide some space for you to manoeuvre from table to table.
>The amber magic dissipates, and Luster wipes a small amount of sweat from her head with a forehoof.
>"Phew. All in a day's work."

>Your mouth hangs gormlessly agape for a good few seconds.
"You…you just cloned my table, twice."
>Luster grins at you.
>"Heh, consider these babies my gifts to you, humie. Should help with your business~"
>That derogatory nickname of hers is as insultingly irritating as ever.
>But…you must admit, the allure of free stuff does help soften the blow a little.
"Gotta admit," you state with crossed arms, "that's quite the impressive spell."
>Luster chuckles with pride.
>A dainty hoof taps your left side, bringing your attention over to Cozy, who bears an bright smile on her face.
>"Luster's *really* good at magic, mister."
"Yeah." You nod." No kidding."
>Flurry loudly clears her throat.
>"Yeah, well, I could've done it too. Just didn't wanna overexert myself; that's all."
>She proudly poses as if awaiting a response, but neither her friends—nor you—have anything more to add.
>"Aaanywaaay~" Luster speaks up, performing a few spine-bending stretches. "Think I could use a massage right about now."
>She thus struts straight over to the table in the middle.
>Then, she turns back to you.
>She looks at your left hand, and hums in thought.
>She looks at your right hand, and hums in deeper thought.
>She looks at your torso, and nods.
>From there, her eyes shamelessly drift down your body, and you can see a smirk slowly build on her face.
>Before you can open your mouth to admonish her—she swivels around, swishing her tail.
>"Yeah. Think I'll take middle~"
>Luster hops up into the air—but does not land on the table.
>Instead, she stays suspended in space, held within a light-yellow aura.
>Her eyes quickly widen in shock—then slowly narrow in disappointment.
>"No. *I'm* taking the centre table," Flurry states with her horn alight. "Thank you very much."
>Luster is unceremoniously dropped onto the rightmost massage table; she rolls her eyes in response.
>"Hmph, whatever…"
>Flurry hops onto the middle table and lays on her belly.
>Glancing to the left, you see that Cozy has already made herself comfortable on the remaining table, lying prone like her friends.
>Indeed, three pink mare rumps are now pointing your way.
>If you weren't keenly aware of the rude individuals that they're attached to—you'd call this heaven.
>Unfortunately, you *are* aware—so this is just a job to you.
>And it is a job that must be done.
"Alright, let's begin."

>…
>Gliding along the surface, you travel through a forest of pink.
>All around you, tall, taut trees tower up to the very heavens; they pulse with life, their fanning foliage blotting out the sky.
>Your eyes keenly appraise each and every one of these biological bulwarks as you search for a certain something…
>Ah, there it is:
>You spy a tree, much like the others—yet its trunk is bent and misshapen; its once-vibrant colours have faded, and it lacks any trace of the life that its peers proudly present.
>It's a sorry sight, to be sure—but it's also why you're here.
>For your purpose—your very reason to be—is to scour this forest for such irregularities, uprighting or uprooting them as you go.
>Regrettably, this specimen is too far gone; all you can do now is prune it and put it out of its misshapen misery.
>And so you shall—
>"Hey, humie! My horn's feeling really pent up—why'd you stop?"
>You look up from Flurry's left wing to see Luster impatiently tapping her own horn with a forehoof.
>Letting out a sigh, you address her:
"Sorry. I'll be right over—"
>"Miiister! I'm still waiting on my hoofrub!" Cozy also calls out to you.
>Letting out *another* sigh, you address *her:*
"Okay, just—"
>A light-yellow aura roughly yanks you by your shirt.
>"And just where do you think *you're* going, pleb?" Flurry firmly reprimands you. "My wings are still ruffled!"
"A-agh…"
>Turns out—attempting to massage three ponies at once isn't easy.
>Or feasible, really.
>Why in the everliving shit did you agree to this?
>Was it stardom? FUCK stardom.
>Right now, you're a starsub—you're starwhipped.
>These mares have you running figure eights around the tables in a futile bid to keep them all satisfied.
>You knead their shoulders; you stroke along their backs; you pat down their limbs.
>But then they've got their own preferential treatments on top of all that.
>Cozy wants you to give the sensitive ends of her four horselimbs an extremely thorough hoofrubbing; it's a delicate, drawn-out process, and it's one you'd be totally fine with—if it weren't for the other two mares constantly and rudely interrupting you.
>Luster wants you to slowly jerk off her horn to help release the "backed-up magical energies" that are lingering within; naturally, she tirelessly tosses innuendos your way whenever possible—which is pretty much always.
>And finally, Flurry wants you to meticulously work her wings over, which is something you have no experience in—no client has ever asked you to preen them before.
>Thus, you've had to quite literally wing it—you have to enter your zone just to have the slightest fighting chance of parsing these peculiar lands.
>Alas, every single time you find yourself approaching some modicum of inner peace—the incessant nagging of your needy clientele yanks you straight out of your happy place.
>This.
>This is Hell.

>Nonetheless, you endure; you have to. What other choice do you have at this point?
>Willing your weary body to work, you put your best efforts forward in trying to keep all three mares reasonably placated.
>You try to focus on what matters:
>Cozy's hooves—
>"Humie! I'm backed up like crazy! Get over here!"
>"Pleb. My wings. Get back to it."
>Luster's horn—
>"Pleb! Are you ignoring me?! I'll give you exactly five seconds to come over here…"
>"Mister! Could you continue your hoofrub, pretty please?"
>Flurry's wings—
>"Mister! Mister! What's taking you so long, hmmm?"
>"I'm *sooo* close, humie. Come oo~oon…"
"Agh! Stop!"
>You slam your hands down in defiance.
>"E-eep!"
"L-look," you gasp out, "I'm only one man, okay? There's only so much I can do at any one time!"
>Silence permeates your office.
>Your outburst has them shook.
>…Actually, your blowback was way more effective than you thought it'd be.
>On the left, you see Cozy cover her mouth with a forehoof and bashfully look away.
>While on the right, you see Luster's mouth hanging agape, utterly stunned.
>After a brief second, she shuts her mouth with a gulp and addresses you.
>"Wh-whoa. Humie…"
>Knitting your brows, you watch as Luster's eyes slowly drift downwards.
>Tentatively, you follow her gaze, looking down to see Flurry—
>Oh.
>Yes. Flurry is still there, lying on her belly and currently facing away from you.
>You stand directly behind her.
>And your hands…
>Are each firmly grasping an ample amount of alicorn flank.
"A-ah—"
>You reflexively jolt your hands away from her.
"P-princess Heart I, uh, I-I didn't mean to…"
>Slowly, oh-so slowly, Flurry creaks her head over your way.
>There's death in her eyes.
>"You."
>Your blood chills, vision shakes, throat dries.
>Yet you cannot avert your terrified gaze from hers.
>If this is Hell—then you're about to be immolated in hellfire.
>"Phew, you've really done it now, humie." Luster snorts in amusement. "Just couldn't help yourself in the end, huh? Heh, not that I'm surprised."
>Luster leans towards Flurry and playfully nudges her side with her left forehoof.
>"Don'tcha think it was suspicious how desperate he was to get you in here, Flurry?"
>Flurry's eyes flit over in Luster's direction for just a millisecond before immediately refocusing their ire on you.
>"This is what he was hoping for all along, I bet," Luster continues with a jeering tone. "A chance to feel up the royal rump~"
>Cozy gasps.
>"Are you saying that our masseur's a *pervert,* Luster?"
>Luster nods with an affirmative hum.
>"Oh, I know his type—lecherous *creatures* who pretend to run 'massage parlours' only so they can lure innocent ponies into their backrooms and grope 'em all over."
>Cozy scoffs.
>"Golly, why I never…"
>Briefly closing her eyes, Cozy shakes her head in disappointment.

>Luster, however, flashes you a grin.
>"Hey, if you love our princess's posterior so much—why don'tcha kiss it, huh? Show her some proper respect for once!"
"Wh—"
>"That's not a bad idea, Lustie," Flurry suddenly speaks up.
>Flicking her tail your way and turning up her nose, Flurry gives you one hell of a demanding command:
>"Kiss my butt, pleb."
>You stare into those cold blue eyes of hers—those frozen pools that are filled with disdain towards your very person.
>From begging, to grovelling, to overburdening yourself—
>And now this.
>You…you can't keep doing this.
>These mares are going to take and take until you have nothing left.
>You have to stand up for yourself.
"…No."
>Despite your refusal, Flurry's reaction is cool and confident; she calmly raises an eyebrow, and her trenchant tone is fully ready to snuff out any rebellious embers brewing in your heart:
>"I don't think you fully understand your situation here, *pleb.*"
>Her gaze briefly whips around your office.
>"With just one word from me—I can shut this shoddy little business of yours down."
>A cruel smile adorns her face.
>"And after that, I'll make sure that you'll never be able to find work *ever* again—here, or anywhere else in Equestria."
>Her words cut through your will like butter, and your eyes lower to the floor in defeat.
>You never should've invited this terrible trio here.
>Unfortunately, from the very moment they had set foot into this room—you lost all illusion of "choice."
>And so you have no other option.
>Getting down on your knees, you lower yourself to Flurry's level, soon making eye contact with that posterior she's so priggishly proud of.
>You lean forward.
>"Oh, look, look—he's doing it!" Luster jeers.
>Drawing closer and closer to her flanks, you can clearly see that cutie mark of hers:
>It's a blueish crystal heart.
>Hearts are supposed to be symbols of love.
>Yet this mare is anything *but* lovely.
>Your lips connect with the short pink fur that coats her left cheek; it's soft, yet it still manages to prick both your skin and your pride.
>Ignoring the derisive laughter coming from both sides, you press down to the skin—just enough for her to feel your taboo tribute.
>With a shameful *mwah* you quickly pull back from Flurry's butt, shamefully casting your gaze far to the side.
>Snorty chuckles and giggles assault your senses from seemingly every direction—you can't escape it.
>Regretfully looking back, you can see Luster biting her lip while her tail wildly thrashes about.
>On the other hand, Flurry's tail amusedly wags from side to side—
>Thus whipping you across the face.
"O-ow!"
>It stings your right cheek, sending your gaze leftwards—
>Over to Cozy.
>She waves to you, joyfully kicking her hindlegs against the table.
>"Oh! Oh! Kiss mine, too!"

>You worriedly blink.
"Wh-what? But I—"
>"Do it," Flurry tersely commands.
>Chancing a glance back to Flurry, you see that her blue-eyed enmity is still ever-present.
>This opprobrious ordeal is far from over, it seems.
>Plodding over to Cozy's rear end, you prepare yourself for yet another ass-kissing.
>You lower your face—
>"Wait!"
>—only to be halted by the tip of Cozy's rolled up tail; it dextrously props you up by your chin.
>"One for *each* cheek!" She winks at you.
>Flurry gasps.
>"Glowie! Are you trying to one-up me?"
>Cozy grins at Flurry.
>"Maaaybe~"
>The two mares giggle between themselves.
>You just stand there awkwardly.
>"Hm? What are you waiting for?"
>Cozy shoots you a glare, and her tone suddenly turns strict:
>"Get to it."
>Fine. Fuck it—give her what she wants. It's only two.
>Down and down you go.
>Cozy bears a different cutie mark to Flurry's; it appears to be a chess piece.
>A red rook?
>Or perhaps a devil's fork?
>*Mwah* *Mwah*
>After quickly and reluctantly laying two kisses on her butt, you decide that it's the latter.
>"Humiiieee~" Luster calls out to you, "don't forget about meee~"
>A quick glance over to Flurry's face tells you that your next course of action has already been predetermined.
>And so, you soon find yourself standing behind another pink mare who's resting on her belly—Luster.
>This particular pink mare, however, looks much greasier than the other two, while her pudgy gut squishes right into your table's padding and spills out at the sides.
>You'd rather not let your mind wander any further; better just get this over with.
>Luster parts her tail to the side—
>"Dig in, humie~"
>—and *winks* at you.
>Eugh.
>Ignoring the sight of her pulsating mare bits, you force your face down to her left flank.
>Being this close to her, an all-too-pungent odour perforates your nostrils and ransacks your sense of smell, making your nose promptly wrinkle and your eyes tearily squint.
>If you can muster up one compliment towards your other two tormentors—it's that they both take great pride in their appearance; they keep their coats clean and their scents well-perfumed.
>But Luster…urgh.
>You can keenly smell the distinct musk of a sweaty mare who considers cleanliness a voluntary virtue; it's also mixed with an earthy aroma that tells you she's enjoying this way too much.
>Resisting the urge to retch, you quickly move in and out, laying a kiss on her left cheek.
>Yet as you attempt to pull away, you are stopped—the back of your head hits something solid yet ethereal.
"Huh?"
>That certainly wasn't there before, and when you're dealing with a horny hornhead like her, it can really only mean one thing:
>Magic—to be precise, a magical barrier.

>"Gonna need more than that, humie," Luster states with her horn aglow.
>So she wants another one, like Cozy? Fine, whatever.
>As you switch sides, you catch her swaying her rump over to the right—and you almost land your lips on a most unsavoury place—yet you manage to force out a kiss upon her right cheek all the same.
>Her cutie mark is that of a sun peeking over the sea; however, much like Flurry—nothing about this mare screams "sunny" to you.
>You attempt to pull away again, yet that vexing magical barrier once again prevents you from fully exiting this mare's musky rump.
>"Stiiill not done here, humie," she says as she loftly swishes her tail around.
>What, she wants three kisses? Is this how this situation is escalating?
>So be it. You're past the point of caring.
>Rolling your eyes, you lay one more peck on her right cheek for good measure.
"There. Now we're done."
>The barrier's gone, so you pull back, finally free of this mare's magic—
>"No."
>—or so you thought; an amber mist fogs up your vision, holding your face strictly in place.
>"That's not nearly enough, humie."
>You knit your brows.
"What?"
>With a snerk and a smirk, Luster produces a magical wisp; it carefully caresses your lips from the left end to the right.
>Then, it drifts down to her rear end—
>And slowly circles the rim of her protruding pucker.
>The wisp soon fades into nothing, but the onus before you couldn't be clearer.
>"Kiss it."
>You glare at her.
"Fuck off."
>She snorts derisively, and the magic surrounding your face tightens.
>"I said—"
>You are promptly flung face-first right into this mare's buttocks, eyes meeting total darkness.
>"KISS."
>You are dragged up her sweaty canyon, higher and higher…
>"IT."
>And you soon feel your lips pressing up against her ring.
"Nng!" you grunt.
>Your nose bumps up against the top, sliding into the space just under her tail dock.
>While your chin rests against something slimy and excitable.
>You immediately reach up your arms—only to find them bound by a familiar, incorporeal force.
>The stench of sweaty, unwashed mare ass violates your sense of smell and stings your eyes to tears.
>You want to puke—yet you can't; the feeling ebbs and flows—nauseous in of itself.
>Trapped within this sickening state, you'll take anything—anything at all to provide you with the sweet ambrosia of a moment's distraction.
>"Ehehe!"
>Even if it is the mocking laughter of Princess Flurry Heart.
>"Ewww~! You're really making him do *that,* Lustie~?"
>"Nff…yeah. It's what a pervert like him deserves."
>"When was the last time you even *showered,* anyway?"
>"Aw, hey. He doesn't need to know that~"
"Nnngh!" you grunt with greater volume.

>Her thighs shudder and tighten against your cheeks, while her tail curves over your scalp and bats the back of your head relentlessly.
>"H-how're you doing back there, humie? Make sure to show her some love, eheh~!"
>Her ring flexes against your tightly-pressed lips, desperate to pull you into a forbidden kiss; the anal mucus it excretes dares to seep into your mouth and share with you its depraved passion.
>You exert every ounce of strength you have to try and pull yourself away from your puckering prison.
>But you can't.
>You just can't.
>She has you trapped.
>All you can do is hold your breath to stem the tide of pervading ass musk.
>You struggle to stand tall, the lack of oxygen sending your brain woozy.
>At this rate…
>"You…nff…you remembering to breathe, humie? Don't…hah…fight it. Take it all in…take in the scent of the mare who *owns* you~"
>You would rather black out.
>But your body betrays your rational thought, forcing a vile unwashed mare stink in through your nostrils and expelling it out just as quick.
>Your involuntary perspirations further humidify this swamp of an ass.
>You barely hang on in this bog, the only sensations punching through to your system are those belonging to your tormentor.
>Such as her slimy, sweltering starfish;
>Her fierce, growling snorts;
>And her rapidly winking, overflowing canal.
>Luster's whole body convulses as she reaches her sadistic peak, splattering both your neck and chin with God-knows what, with some of it dribbling down to the table.
>In her orgasmic fervour, her magical hold weakens, and you promptly yank yourself several feet away from her foul posterior—stumbling far, *far* away.
"Gah!"
>You land with your butt on the floor and the last dredges of your pride utterly eviscerated.
>"Phew…" Luster whistles out in satisfaction, rear end still facing you.
>Your vision clears up, you catch sight of a long, thick trail of mucus enduringly connecting your lips to her anus.
"AAHH!" you scream, jerking your entire body to the side.
>You cough. You retch. You vomit.
>"Ewww…"
>A cacophony of hooves hit the floor all at once, and your brain compels you to snap your head over in their direction for further fear of your own well-being.
>Flurry Heart stands a short distance away from you, raising a forehoof to cover her tittering mouth.
>And right next to her—you can see Luster's sneering face.
>You shuffle backwards on pure revulsion, your back bumping up against one of your kitchen counters.
"G-get the fuck away from me!"
>Luster raspily chuckles.
>"Aw shucks, humie. Why so hostile? We were having such a good time just a few moments ago~"
>Your heart is pounding for dear life while your lungs are running a marathon.
"You—" You frantically hold both of your palms out in front of your body. "—th-this is done. We're done. Massage is over."
>Flurry lowers her hoof, exposing a faint frown.
>"Oh really?"

>She icily glares you over for a few seconds, before continuing:
>"Hm, maybe you're right. I guess we *should* put a pause on our massage…"
>Her expression twists into a smirk.
>"…'cause you smell like butt! Ehehe~!"
>Using her magic, she retrieves her crystal crown from your counter and casually drops it back onto her head.
>She then turns to the exit and authoritatively flutters out her wings.
>"Come on, girls. Let's go."
>Those two awful mares cheerfully head to your exit, heedless to the immense suffering that they've caused you.
>Just before they leave, they turn back to face you, and your blood runs cold.
>"Gotta say, I kinda like this place!" Flurry chirps. "Might come back for another massage one day, hehe~"
>"Same here." Luster nods. "Catch you around, humie. I think we'll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on~"
>You answer them with dead silence; the mere thought of interacting with these demons again threatens to summon forth another fresh surge of bile from deep within.
>And so they turn the corner and vanish from your sight
>Your ears catch snippets of their following conversation as it fades into the distance:
>"…can't believe you did that to him right in his office…"
>"…the only way perverts like him will learn their place, Flurry. You've gotta…"
>Another pony walks past you, only stopping by the doorway to toss you a parting glance.
>Oh. Right. There was a third one.
>How could you forget.
>The pegasus casts a silent smile your way, momentarily raising a wing to partially cover the lower part of her face.
>You wearily stare back.
>Soon enough, she too leaves to go join her friends.
>You are thus left by your lonesome.
>…
>You're not sure how long you sit there with your back against your kitchen counter, keeping company with a puddle of your own puke.
>It's only the sounds of heavy steps stomping through your reception that bring to mind any passage of time.
>The stomping grows closer and closer, until—
>A large woolly quadruped bursts into your office—you recognise them to be one of your few repeat customers.
>Through the terribly thick bangs that shield their eyes, they look at you;
>Then at your pool of vomit;
>Then back at you.
>And a gruff, feminine voice bellows out:
>"Yak want to feel soft human hands!"
"…Hah…"

*** 2 ***

>Another day, another dollar.
>Or another "bit"—as it happens to go in this world.
>The morning light shines in through your reception windows, meaning that it's just about time to open up shop.
>May today's hustle prove better than…
>…
>You don't talk about yesterday.
>…
>Well, okay. You can talk about the yak.
>She was cool.
>She had regaled you with riveting tales of how she journeyed up to the highest peak of Mount Everhoof to wrestle down the ferocious twin-headed roc.
>Kick. Ass.
>Yaks are alright in your book.
>Other than that, though—you would much rather pretend yesterday never happened.
>For you are Anonymous, a struggling masseur in the Crystal Empire.
>And that's all you'll ever be.

>You greet the outside world—and breathe in that fresh Crystal Empire breeze.
>Verily, you bear the power of written language at your fingertips—also known as a hanging sign.
>And you stare down your canvas—also known as your front door.
>A daring synthesis is about to take place; may all who bear witness to this event make note of your brilliance.
>Taking one magnitudinous step forward, you hang the sign on your door.
>Its message is as clear as day.
>Oh yes. You are, in fact: "Open for Business."
>Turning around, you take the time to gaze upon the lush lands that you are proud to call your front lawn.
>Indeed, your cracked cobblestone path is well on its way to being reclaimed by both the weeds and the grass.
>'Tis a sight of pure natural beauty.
>Past the white picket, you can see your mailbox.
>Naturally, it's red—the colour of kings.
>It's also bent at the stem, and you're still trying to figure out when exactly it developed that kink.
>Lifting your gaze upwards, you are able to see that spire-like Crystal Castle standing tall in the far distance.
>…Eh.
>Vision falling back to earth, you decide to look around the rest of the shiny crystal houses that dot this avenue.
>All things considered, you live in a pretty nice neighbourhood.
>For the most part, anyway.
>Just across the road, you can see that scaly bastard Smooth Claws tending to his hoity-toity, immaculately maintained garden.
>He sees you, and he gives you a friendly wave.
>You give him the middle finger.
>And then you head back inside.

>Filled with vigour yet thirsting for more, you slide into your comfy chair behind your desk and take a sip of your freshly brewed coffee.
>You're using a different cup this time.
>You don't think you'll use the other one ever again.
>After downing some joe, you examine the clipboard containing today's schedule.
>As the *only* human masseur in Equestria—you are a very busy man.
>Customers from all corners of the world are chomping at the bit to get a (metaphorical) taste of your hands, you see.
>For example, your very first client of the day: Violet Gleam—
>Is coming around in…!
>Two hours.
>…Well then.
>Time to kill time.

>In lieu of recent events, you've decided to treat yourself today.
>Crinkling in between your fingers is fresh paper—the latest issue of Playcolt.
>And a new magazine means new mares to ogle.
>The photographs contained within are optically unsullied—simply begging for your human eyeballs to soak in their sensual sights.
>Thus, flipping over the front cover, you get right to peeping.
>And by *God* there are mares.
>Mares with wet manes.
>Mares with thigh-high socks.
>Mares with *huge* chest tuffs.
>Whew.
>This was a good purchase.
>Turning to the next page, you see a mare lying on her belly, butt pointed towards the camera.
>With pink fur…
>Eugh.
>Next page.
>In the midst of your extremely classy reading session, you swear you hear the distinct jingle of your front door opening.
"Hm?"
>You look up from your magazine just in time to see your door swing shut by itself.
>Quickly casting your eyes around the room, you don't see anyone around who could've entered…
>It's still only you here.
"Must've been the wind…"
>You've always wanted to say that out loud.
>It probably was just the wind, though.
>Your door's latch isn't doing too well these days.
>Probably should've invested your hard-earned bits into fixing it instead of buying the latest issue of Playcolt.
>…Nah. You've got your priorities set straight.
>In fact, they're so straight—you're already ogling the next model with glee.
>A pure white unicorn graces your vision, her mane a two-tone of pink and purple.
>She lies on her back atop satin bed sheets; her hindlegs are spreadeagle—yet black lingerie covers up the naughty bits.
>Her curves fill out her body perfectly; her sultry green gaze entices your own eyes; and the way she rolls her forelegs up to her chest communicates a coquettish charm found nowhere else.
>You think you've finally found her—the horsey supermodel of your dreams.
>In other words: humina humina.
>Might have to note down this page number for later.
>What is it, page—
>"Whatcha reading, mister?"
>—pink?
>Wait, no.
>Who?
"What—"
>Snapping your head to the right, you see that a saddlebag-wearing pink pegasus has somehow made her way over to your side of the desk without you noticing.
>And she's not just any pink pegasus—
>She's a salmon-pink pegasus.
"Gah!"
>Stumbling over to the left, you slap your swiftly shut magazine onto the desk.
>You nearly fall out of your chair—but you never break eye contact with *her.*
"Y-you!"
>She beams at you.
>"Hello!"

>You force down a gulp, the bileful memories of yesterday already threatening to resurface.
"Wh-what the hell are *you* doing here?"
>She airily tilts her head.
>"Me? Well…"
>She slowly flaps upwards, stopping just above eye-level with you.
>"I came back to this massage parlour…"
>Hovering herself into an upright position, she jubilantly places her forehooves on her hips.
>"…to get another massage, of course!"
>She sunnily stares into you, while you merely look back at her.
>Your brows then furrow.
"…You've got a lot of nerve asking that."
>You rise from your seat, promptly towering over her floating form; your looming height makes her backpedal a bit.
"Coming back here after the shit you and your friends pulled."
>Her ears flatten as she looks away.
>"Oh, um, about that…"
>Wings laden with remorse, she flutters over to the front of your desk.
>With a deeply guilty frown upon her face, she addresses you:
>"I'm…I'm really sorry for everything that happened yesterday, mister. What we did…it was completely over the line."
>You scoff out loud and shake your head.
"'Sorry' doesn't even begin to cut it."
>Your harsh words make her wince.
>"I-I know, but…but here."
>She reaches into her right saddlebag with her mouth, soon procuring a small, light-brown sack; it makes a light jingling sound as she carries it through the air by its neck.
>Lowering her head, she gently sets the sack down on your desk with a thud.
>You eye the sack with suspicion, noting that it has been tied off with a pink ribbon.
"…What is this?"
>"This is your payment."
"Payment…?"
>Pinching the neck in between your fingers, you attempt to lift it up…
>It's pretty heavy.
>"It's for yesterday. Flurry forgot to pay you for your time, so I made sure to chase her up on it."
>You're pretty sure that whatever's in here *far* exceeds your usual rates.
>But it feels like dirty money.
"…Is that all?"
>She shakes her head, tone still penitent:
>"No, there's…one more thing."
>She reaches into her left saddlebag just as she did with her right; this time, she pulls out a rectangular black box with a see-through cover.
>After setting it down next to your sack of payment, she speaks up.
>"This one's from me. I know it'll never make up for what you suffered through, but I…I wanted to get you something regardless."
>You don't even glance at it.
"Cool."
>Your eyes slowly drift towards your front door, while hers nervously flit between you, the box, and the sack.
>This awkward silence continues for a little longer before she speaks up again.
>"I, um, about the massage…"
>You glare at her.
"Forget it."
>She winces, and you continue.
"You need an appointment in this place."
>You cross your arms.
"And my schedule's completely booked."
>She looks around your empty reception, before quickly getting the message.
>"Oh, okay."

>She steadily touches down on the floor, dropping from view as she lands in front of your desk.
>Alas, she walks a few steps back to enter your field of vision once more.
>"Goodbye, mister."
>You don't answer.
>And so she turns to leave, slumping towards the exit with her head hanging low.
>Letting out a sigh, you feel a mixture of pride and relief over having finally managed to stand up for yourself.
>But you also feel…a bit of guilt?
>Why? She was one of *them!*
>Even if she was *far* from the worst one there.
>But still…
>Ugh…
>She must have really gone out of her way to try and make things right with you.
>You look over to that sack of bits and silently scrutinise it.
>Honestly, you didn't even consider that those mares *should* have paid you; they swept through both your parlour and your psyche in such a traumatic manner that you ended up mentally writing them off as a natural disaster.
>Considering how heavy that sack is, you'd confidently wager that it covers compensatory damages too.
>However, you're not some loose manwhore who can be so easily won over simply by flashing a fat sack in front of his face.
>Money speaks, yes—but your ears are waxed with integrity.
>You'd leave it at that, yet she also happened to bring you something else:
>That small black box.
>Might as well see what it is.
>Thus, your eyes travel over to her second offering of peace, and you peer through the top of this box—
>It's a box of chocolate truffles.
>…Shit, you love those little guys.
>Maybe she isn't so—
>No, no. You're not gonna completely flip-flop on this just because she bought you a box of your favourite tasty treats, are you?
>Are you?
>Yeah, that's right. You're better than this.
>You're a principled man. A busy man. A peckish man.
>You don't have time for her.
>You have a client in one hour and forty-five minutes.
>And you are going to be *very* busy reading your softcore porno mag in the meantime.
>It's very important stuff.
>Very…
>…
>Fuck it.
>The pegasus opens the door—
"Wait."
>She looks over her shoulder, sparing a hesitant glance your way.
>You take a deep breath.
"Cozy Glow, was it?"
>She solemnly nods.
>"Yes…"
>You chew on your lip, and a multitude of conflicting emotions tug on your countenance.
>You're about to say something that you'll doubtless regret later.
"…I think I might be able to fit you in."

***

>"Mm~ this is…oh…this is gooood~"
>Deep inside your esteemed office, Cozy lies on her front, belly firmly pressed against your padded table.
>The tools of your trade rub against one of her most tender areas:
>It's a crevice that makes a mare squeal in delight whenever you delve a finger into it.
>And when you stick *two* fingers in…
>"Oooh~!"
>A smile escapes your lips.
"Somepony's enjoying herself."
>"Mm…you bet~!" she chirps. "I can't believe I missed out on this yesterday!"
>She sighs happily, leaning into your delicate touch.
>"What did you call this treatment again—'ear scritches?'"
>With a slow slide of your fingers behind her twitching left ear, you answer her.
"Indeed."
>She happily hums, a satisfied smile plastered on her face.
>"Golly… I think I'm in love~"
>After having stopped Cozy by the door, you decided to offer her a massage right after the fact.
>The technique of choice?
>Ear scritches—a "Handyman" special.
>Hah, that dumbass Smooth Claws would probably slice his client's ears off if he ever tried to copy your greatness.
>Humanity wins again, baby.
>You continue to gently run your fingers along one of Cozy's auricular canyons, listening to her coos of delight while also watching her tail lightly swish from side to side.
>Ponies can be damn cute sometimes.
>Even when they've been directly complicit in the cruel torment of this world's only homo sapien.

>"Mm~" she harmoniously hums. "I've been needing something like this sooo badly. You won't believe how *stressed* I've been lately…hah…"
>Taking your fingers away from her ear, you slowly move down along the table's left side.
"It must be a lot easier to de-stress when your masseur isn't running laps around the parlour."
>She lets out an awkward laugh, ears flopping down.
>"Yes… I suppose you're right…"
>You pause your paces, stopping by the lower left corner of your massage table.
"Ah, I meant nothing by it, Cozy." You smile at her. "Was just a joke."
>Admittedly, this joke is one rooted in sober truth.
>Cozy looks over her shoulder at you, and her downcast face soon lightens up after seeing your reassuring smile.
>You carefully take up her left hindhoof in both hands.
"Hoofrub?"
>Ears perking up, her face goes from light to bright.
>"Mm-hmm!" She nods, beaming. "Yes please, mister!"
>You chuckle.
"Coming right up."
>You move your thumbs into position, letting them both rest against her delicate inner frog.
"And by the way," you continue, "my name's 'Anon'—not 'mister.'"
>She blinks, and her lips slowly part in thoughtful realisation.
>"Oh, I'm sorry, Ano—"
>Her apologetic tone is your green light to go—and you immediately get to work, rapidly sliding your thumbs up and down her super sensitive sulcus.
>"—oo~oon!" she gasps out a moan and squeaks out a "Eep!"
>Her hoof jitters like crazy in your hands, while her breathing hastens to a fever pitch.
>The speed of her breathing is matched only by the merriment in your laughter.
>Soon enough, however, her breathing steadies—and her scarlet eyes sharply refocus on you.
>"You…"

>Her face puffs up into a pout.
>"…you are *such* a tease! Hmph!"
>Ceasing your movements, you flash her an bashfully impish grin.
"Ahah. Sorry."
>Adopting a much gentler pace, you resume your thumb movements around her tender frog.
"But I'd say we're even now."
>She blinks in total surprise.
>"W-wait. We're even, really?"
"Sure."
>For the most part, at least.
"You were nowhere *near* as bad as the other two, anyway."
>"Well…maybe, but I know I'm not blameless in the matter. After all, I both said and did some pretty mean things back there."
>You nod, humming in quiet agreement.
>Recalling the situation, she *did* call you out on being a pervert, but…well…she's not entirely wrong in that assessment.
>Still, there's a time and a place for such things.
>"I hope you can believe me when I say that I'm not usually like that."
>She sighs, solemnly shaking her head.
>"It's just so…so *easy* to get caught up in whatever my friends are doing."
>You fire up another sagely nod.
"Bad influence, huh?"
>Leaving the conversation there, you focus on massaging Cozy's hoof, kneading the balls of your thumbs against her frog.
>The frogs of a pastel pony are surprisingly soft and sensitive, not too dissimilar to a paw pad of a dog or cat.
>Cozy appreciatively hums in response to your ministrations.
>Resting the right side of her head on top of crossed forelegs, she calmly eyes you over as you work.
>You, in turn, find yourself stealing glances at her serene expression.
>Her scarlet eyes tell a enticing mystery; you find yourself drawn to them, yet reluctant to peer in too deep.
>What stories does she have to tell, you wonder…
"So," you speak up, speaking your honest mind at the same time, "how are you even friends with those mares, anyway?"
>After a brief purse of your lips, you continue:
"Forgive the foul language—but they seem like total cunts."
>Her eyes widen, and you worry that your words were too rotten—
>"Mhm-hm-hm~!"
>—said worries are quickly swept away by her tittery giggles.
>"Well," she begins, "you're not wrong…"
>She sighs and looks away, perhaps internally debating on her rationale for keeping such rude company.
>Meanwhile, after setting her left hindhoof down, you decide to circle around the back of table and pick up her righthindhoof .
>Engaging your thumbs once more, you work on this hoof much like you did the other.
>And soon enough, you find yourself settling into another comfortable rhythm of thumb-to-hoof kneading.

>"They weren't always like this, you know?" Cozy speaks up, looking back to you. "And I'm not exactly a model pony myself."
"Oh?" you respond, not stopping your thumbs for a moment.
>Looking up, you see that she wears a pensive expression on her face.
>"I've done some…" Her eyes flit to the side. "…bad things in the past."
>A ghost of a smile appears on her face.
>"But those two were willing to look past that and befriend me all the same."
>Her eyes flicker very briefly.
>"Flurry especially. She stood by me when nopony else would."
"That Flurry sounds a lot nicer than the princess I saw yesterday."
>She chuckles dryly.
>"She used to be a lot nicer back then, but…not any more. She's changed. She let the prestige of her own royal heritage go straight to her head."
>You arch a curious eyebrow.
"Her…'royal heritage?'"
>She nods, casting you a serious expression.
>"You see. Not only is Flurry is an alicorn, but she's also a Princess of Love—*and* she's the Crown Princess of the Crystal Empire. She lives in a pampered world where endless praise is heaped upon her just for existing. Nopony around her has the courage to tell her no—unless they want to be on the receiving end of one of her temper tantrums."
>She glances to the side.
>"And Luster…well, she's in a similar situation; she was born as a natural prodigy in magic—and so she was hoofpicked by the Princess of Equestria herself to become her personal protege. She's destined for greatness—and she knows it—so she never took the time to bother learning a thing or two about humility."
>Your eyes widen in shock.
"W-wow…" You take a brief pause to fully absorb this portentous information. "I had no idea my clientele were so high profile."
>You knew Flurry was an alicorn but…damn.
>You assumed that she was a Princess of Gaudy Gemstones at best.
>Cozy sure has friends in high places.
>How high does she fly?
"What about you, Cozy?" you ask her with a sly smile on your face. "Don't tell me I'm speaking to the High Commander of the Equestrian Air Force or something like that."
>She giggles softly.
>"No, nothing like that. I'm just a regular mare who's had more than my fair share of woes. But I've also had the chance to learn and grow from my past mistakes—they haven't."
"Mm. I see…"
>"Time changes ponies, Anon," she says, turning away from you and facing forward, "and not always for the better."
>It's clear she bears a lot of baggage over this.
>Her friends are complete bitches, but she stands by them anyway.
>In a way, her stance kind of reminds you of you—and how you're still sticking with your massage business despite barely getting any clients.
>As you continue your hoofrub, you idly wonder how your woes match up to hers.
>…Not to brag, but you like to think that "being flung into an alien dimension with nothing to your name" combined with "being forced to huff sweaty horse ass" could beat out her problems any day of the week.

>…
>Some time passes, and you have now given all four of her hooves a thorough rubbing.
>You then carefully filed down any jagged edges on her soles for good measure.
>Not that you could spot many imperfections in that regard; Cozy Glow is clearly a mare who takes excellent care of her hooves—and the rest of her body, besides.
>The massage draws closer to its end—and currently, you are finishing up with some shoulder rubs.
>For such a dainty-looking pegasus pony, Cozy hides a surprising amount of musculature under her pretty pink coat.
>Her shoulders are sturdy and sinewy, pulsing with power underneath your fingertips.
>She's shorter than most mares, but far stronger than you expected.
>Hell, she's beefier than most stallions you've worked on—not that you've worked on many, but still.
>Throwing a quick glance towards the clock hanging on the wall, you confirm the time.
>Nodding to yourself, you steadily move your hands away from Cozy's shoulders.
"…Okay. We're just about finished here."
>She yawns, slowly sitting up.
>"Oh…already? Remind me to book a longer session for next time."
>Uprighting herself, she turns over to the side and crosses one hindleg over the other, letting them both dangle from the table's edge.
>Her eyes drift up to your hanging clock, her forelegs rest at her sides, and she quietly hums in thought.
>Meanwhile, you can't help but sneak a peek at your occupied client.
>You must admit, there's a subtle sultriness to her pose—especially in how it perfectly accentuates her shapely curves.
>Just like in one of your Playcolt magazines.
>"Is *this* also part of the massage, mister?"
"U-uh—"
>With a sudden sense of sanguine shame covering your cheeks, your ogling eyes dart up from Cozy's thighs to see her grinning face.
"I-I…um."
>You sputter guiltily.
>She giggles sportively.
>"Don't worry." She playfully winks at you. "I won't tell~"
>You simply gulp and nod in response, taking what you can get.
>Seriously, what's wrong with you, Anon?
>Up until now, you were do *so* well on not acting like a total creeper.
>Is this because you skimped out on your "required reading?"
>Or is it because you overindulged in it?
>Eh, it's one of the two.

>Cozy hops off the table and performs a few post-massage stretches.
>"Mm~! That was refreshing~! It's official—" She beams at you. "—you're my new favourite masseur~!"
"Oh?"
>You cross your arms.
"Is that a 'glowing' recommendation I hear?" you ask, only barely containing your highly amused smirk.
>You see, it's funny because she's called—
>"Well," she interrupts your thoughts, "I've visited more than my fair share of spas and parlours here and there."
"Ah," you reply, spirited expression softening into steely nonchalance.
>None of them better be dragon-run…
>"But none of the masseurs I've been to quite have the *passion* that you do, Anon."
>Flashing her a grin, you raise your hands and waggle your digits about in the air.
"And these?"
>She giggles.
>"And those. They help too~"
>Turning and trotting, she merrily makes her way over to the saddlebags that she had left by the room's entrance.
>Picking one of them up in her mouth, she flutters back to the top of your massage table and sits down on her haunches, setting her saddlebag by her side.
>"So," she begins, "here's your payment~"
>Rooting through her bag, she soon pulls out another sack of bits and places it down in front of her.
>It's smaller than the other one, but it's still pretty damn hefty-looking—it definitely contains more than your usual rates.
>You smell a generous tip from an affluent client.
"You're really spoiling me today."
>"And that's not all. Have a look at this!"
>Once again reaching into her saddlebag of wonders, she pulls yet another item out and sets it down next to your bit sack.
>Squinting your eyes, you can see that it…
"Hm?"
>It's a simple looking thing: a single strap of black pleather inlaid with small crimson gemstones; the gems are spherically cut with the precision of an artisan.
>Complementary parts of a snap buckle are attached at both ends of this strap.
>You cautiously pick it up with right hand.
>It feels weighty—not in the physical sense, but rather in the…spiritual sense.
"Is this a collar?"

>"Mm-hmm!" She nods." Good eye!"
>You look up from this collar, seeing her cheery face.
>"And it's for you!"
>You blink a few times.
"Uh…"
>She's giving you a collar? Why…?
>Wait.
>You tense, just now remembering the mares that she keeps company with.
>Is this her way of further tormenting you? Of telling you that she and her friends now own you?
>Damn it!
>Why did you ever think to let your guard down around her?! She's one of *them!* You—
>"Ehehe~!"
>These frantically defensive thoughts of yours are cut clean through by Cozy's soft giggles.
>Having noticed the colour rapidly draining from your face, she speaks up:
>"Oh, it's not *for* for you, silly!"
>You blink again.
"It's…it's not?"
>She affirmatively hums and nods.
>"Do you remember our earlier conversation about Flurry—about how she had changed for the worse?"
>With some lingering hesitation, you nod back.
>"Well, the truth is…I want to change that. I want to bring back the Flurry Heart I remember."
>Your brows furrow, and your eyes drift back down to the collar held within your hand.
"And this…?"
>"This happens to be an enchanted collar from King Sombra's time. It was just one of the many ways he would keep his 'subjects' in line—before he eventually settled on his helmets."
>You raise an confused eyebrow.
"Um, King who-now?"
>She blinks at you, before tittering to herself.
>"Oh, Anon. You should really brush up on your Equestrian History some time~"
>You purse your lips, feeling a little self-conscious over your lack of worldly knowledge.
>"Aaanyway," she continues, "when you place this collar around a pony's neck…"
>Reaching out her right forehoof, she rests it on top of the collar.
>"…it melds with their very being, instilling absolute obedience towards the one who put it on—and *filling* them up with the *deep* need to serve their new master in *any* way they possibly can~"
>Your eyes widen.
>This conversation…it suddenly took a turn.
>You gave her a massage, and she gifts you some kind of freaky mind control collar?
>What for?
>An idea immediately springs to mind, but…
>No. You know what they say about assuming things.
>And after what happened yesterday, you'd prefer to be the furthest thing possible from an ass.

>So you decide to ask the mare straight up:
"Why are you giving me this?"
>She happily clasps her forehooves together.
>"Why, for you to use on Flurry, of course!"
"You…" You choose your words bluntly: "…you want me to brainwash her?"
>Unclasping her forehooves, she holds one up to her chest.
>"Golly, 'brainwash' is such a *strong* word!"
>She shakes her head.
>"I don't want anything like that. I just want you to give her a *thorough* attitude adjustment."
"Uh huh…"
>An "attitude adjustment"—but more importantly, a chance to enact your retribution upon that utter brat of an alicorn.
>Tempting…
>But you're quick to notice a particular oddity with this pegasus's proposition.
"Why aren't *you* doing this? Why me?"
>She nods with confidence, clearly having anticipated such a question.
>"The recipient needs to be in a fully relaxed state of mind for the collar to work."
>She gestures around your office.
>"And you—*you're* a masseur! Making ponies relaxed is your job! You're perfect for this!"
>Perfect, huh?
>The pieces do seem to align "perfectly," as she says.
>It would be all too easy to slip this collar around your client's neck during a massage.
>It would also be completely illegal and utterly immoral.
>However, there's something about the idea of enslaving a princess that tickles you pink.
>Especially a princess like her.
>…
>But you're still hesitant. There's still so much you don't know.
>You need more info.
"Where did you even come across something like this?"
>Her face slowly gives way to a sly smile.
>"Oh, I have my ways~"
>Her non-answer leaves you feeling even more uncertain.
>Just *who* is this mare? How much does she know?
>In the midst of your wondering, your eyes take to wandering around the room.
>It last only a brief moment, but as your sights drift across Cozy's neck, an errant thought enters your mind—
>Of her vulnerable neck.
>And the collar in your hand—
>"I wouldn't do that."

>A harsh, threatening tone cuts through the air, and your eyes flit up to meet her piercing glare.
>One of her forehooves is firmly resting against your shoulder—you have no idea when she put it there.
>You can sense a calm, confident strength lying underneath her cold keratin—towering and terrifying.
>Despite standing in the middle of your own office—you feel cornered.
"I-I wasn't…" you manage to stutter out.
>Her gaze softens on a dime, and she retrieves her forehoof with a giggle.
>"You know," she speaks with a lighter tone, "there's another reason I wanted to entrust you with this collar."
>After a brief, suspenseful pause from her—she continues:
>"I think we're both quite alike."
>After a brief, suspended pause from you—you reply:
"W-we are?"
>She hummingly nods, staring deep into your eyes.
>"We both want…"
>Lifting a forehoof, she airily twirls it about in the air.
>"…more."
>She jubilantly clasps her hooves together.
>"We both stand to benefit from this. I get my old friend back, and you…"
>Lidding her eyes, she shoots you a toothy grin.
>"…you get to have your revenge. And not just that…"
>You blink, waiting for her to continue.
>"…but think about it, Anon. With the Crown Princess at your complete mercy, you'll finally be able to get the respect that you *deserve,* and you'll finally be able to live like a king~"
>A king?
>That…that doesn't sound so bad.
>Kings don't have to worry about failing startups or loose door latches.
>You could finally make something of yourself.
>Yeah…
>Maybe…
>"So!" Cozy suddenly speaks up. "That's my offer!"
>She slowly reaches out her forehoof towards your collar-holding hand.
>"But if you're not interested, that's okay too! I'll just take back the collar and—"
"W-wait."
>Tightly grasping the collar in your hand, you hold it closer to your chest.
"I'll…I'll do it."
>She shoots you a bright smile.
>"Oh, that's wonderful!"
>She pulls her forehoof back—
>And then thrusts it in front of her, holding it out to you.
>"Put 'er there, partner!" she says with mock southern twang and a playful wink.

>With your free hand, you two shake on it.
>"Here's to a fruitful partnership~"
"Partnership?"
>"Mm-hmm!" She pulls her hoof back. "After all, Flurry isn't the *only* pony you want to get back at, right?"
>You solemnly nod.
"Right…"
>"For now, though—let's focus on Flurry."
>Hopping off the table, Cozy makes her way over the place where she left her other saddlebag.
>Upon reattaching her saddlebags and letting them both hang by her sides, Cozy turns to you, looking just about ready to leave.
>"Oh, but don't worry." She pause to titter. "I know how you *love* your appointments~"
>You awkwardly rub the back of your neck in response.
>"So!" she continues. "I'll tell Flurry to come over tomorrow noon; how does that sound?"
>You have zero clients tomorrow.
"…I should be able to fit that in."
>"Great!"
>Trotting to the open doorway that leads out of your office, she turns around and waves back to you.
>"Looking forward to hearing the good news! See you around, partner~!"
>Lifting up your free hand, you weakly wave back.
"Yeah…bye."
>She promptly exits your office, leaving you all by your lonesome.
>Standing next to your massage table in your empty kitchen, you ponder the collar held in your hand for a good long while.
>Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into?
>As a test, you connect the collar together with a *click,* closing it around nothing.
>You watch as the inlaid gemstones glow crimson and hum ominously for a brief moment, before dimming into dormancy.
>Curious…
>"Um, hello? Anonymous?"
"Ah—!"
>You swiftly hide the despotic mind control collar behind your back.
>Snapping your sights to the side, you see a mare standing in front of the doorway.
>She's a crystal pony—one of the Empire's locals.
"U-um, yeah?"
>She slightly slumps her posture.
>"It's Violet Gleam. Here for my appointment? If that's okay with you, I mean…"
"O-oh. Yes. Sure. Come in, come in. I'll be right with you…"
>The rest of the day passes as any other—with you primarily perusing Playcolt while running the odd massage session in between.
>For you are Anonymous, a struggling masseur in the Crystal Empire.
>But, you can tell—
>Things will soon change.

*** 3 ***

>Pace, pace, pace.
>Tomorrow is now today.
>Pace, pace, pace.
>Noon is fast approaching.
>Pace, pace, pace.
>And you're currently circling your reception—
>Going pace, pace, pace.
>Your mind is racing even faster than your feet are.
>What if Flurry *knows* about the brainwashing collar?
>What if Cozy set you up?
>What if Flurry *doesn't* show up?
>What if the Royal Guard are coming to bust you on possession of an illegal artefact?
"Agh…"
>It's at times like these that you need a little bit of moral support from the old reliable:
>Your opened issue of Playcolt, lying on top of your reception desk—
>And the coquettish unicorn depicted within, resting on her back with her forelegs curled up.
>She bears an ivory coat that's directly contrasted by her ebony panties, a swirly mane that effortlessly blends purple and pink, half-lidded eyes that shine out like emeralds…
>And absolutely *luscious* thighs.
>Perfection. Pure Pony Perfection.
>Easily *the* Playcolt mare of all time.
>Her divine form has not once left your mind ever since you glimpsed her on that fateful day—also known as yesterday.
>Right now, you need her more than ever.
>Clasping your hands together in a heartfelt prayer, you beg clemency from your idol.
"White mare, give me strength…"
>You wait, and you watch.
>Her curves give you confidence.
>Yes…
>You can feel it.
>You can feel the power surging through you!
>…
>Okay, that's too much power.
>Down boy, down.
"Phew…"
>Perhaps you should've derived your power from elsewhere.
>Seriously.
>How on Equestria you gonna take care of *this* before she arri—
>*Dinga-linga-ling*
>Shit.

>Swivelling around, you turn to face the entrance.
>An alicorn's at the door.
>Her.
"Ah, Flu—!"
>You hastily clear your throat and swiftly straighten your posture.
"Princess Flurry Heart, w-welcome back."
>You politely bow before her.
>She drags her bored blue eyes away from the nearest wall and sights you.
>"Hm."
>One of her ears makes a slight twitch as she makes eye contact with you—but she otherwise regards you with a callous indifference.
>As you continue to stare each other down, you note that there's something different about her appearance:
>She's no longer wearing her royal regalia from a couple of days ago.
>In other words—she's completely naked.
>You're a little surprised that she took it off, but you suppose even the most pompous of princesses must eventually get tired of lugging metal frippery around on their body—no matter how silvery and showy it is.
>It's not like the sight of a bare mare is anything new to you; ponies go commando all the time.
>However, you happen to have a half-chub straining out your pants right now—making this already tense silence feel magnitudes more awkward.
>Hopefully she doesn't notice it.
>Thus, several stiffly silent seconds pass.
>Flurry takes a slow, blasé blink…
>And she finally replies:
>"…Whatever."
>Breaking eye contact, she slowly steps inside your establishment, letting your door swing shut by itself.
>Her nose slightly wrinkles as she looks around your reception.
>She checks out your (still barren) bulletin board;
>Your (somehow wilting) crystal plants;
>And then to your hallway that leads deeper into the building.
>"I'm here for the massage," Flurry speaks up.
>Laxly lifting a hoof, she points over to your hallway.
>"It's down that way, right?"
"Um, yes." You nod. "That's right."
>Lowering said hoof, she traipses past you without another word.
>Taking a deep breath to brace yourself, you follow her silent example and follow her into your office.

***

>A few strides later, and here you are—office sweet office.
>Alas, the awkward atmosphere in the air hasn't dissipated even slightly.
>You currently stand near the doorway, resting your right hand against the side-jamb.
>Flurry stands near the centre of your office, silently scrutinising her surroundings.
>She glances at your shabby mats that do their level best to cover the kitchen tiling.
>Then, she examines your mood lighting.
>It consists of your closed curtains, ceiling lights that flicker every odd minute or so, and a few scented candles that you have strategically placed down on your various kitchen counters.
>Hey, if it works, it works.
>"This place is still shoddy…" she mumbles to herself.
>Her words are as scathingly sharp as always, but she appears to be way more diffident than she was a couple days ago.
>Could it be that she carries some measure of guilt regarding her previous actions?
>…
>Or perhaps she just feels less confident now that she lacks her personal entourage.
>You do wonder how Cozy managed to convince her to come here by her lonesome.
>Whatever the case may be—this won't do.
>You need to get her to drop her guard—to feel relaxed around your presence.
>If what Cozy said yesterday was true—then that's your best shot of getting the collar to work.
>So, it's time to do your job as a masseur.
>Stepping forward, you clear your throat, catching her attention.
"Shall we get started with the massage?"
>You cordially gesture towards your workstation.
"Please lie down on the table whenever you're ready."
>Flurry lets out an inaudible murmur, turning to face your massage table.
>She then clambers onto it and lies down on her front.
>Her prone position is a somewhat stilted one; she doesn't lie completely flat, instead propping up her upper body with her knees.
>You slowly make your way over to her left side, and she keeps her gaze trained upon you the entire time.
>Yeah, you're definitely not slipping that collar on her while she's like this.
>Gotta wait—and work—for your opportune moment.
>After oiling up your hands, you lean over the table and address her.
"I'll start with the shoulders. Is that alright?"
>She rolls her eyes.
>"Whatever…"
>Ignoring her indifference, you get to work; gently resting a hand upon each of her shoulders, you begin kneading and rubbing.
>There's a surprising amount of tension hiding within those muscles of hers—you can only imagine what pains and pressures she must have picked up from her prestigiously pampered life.
>Using the evolutionary magic of your human digits, you gently ease her stresses, bit by bit—knot by knot.
>"Nn…"
>Your wrigglers work wonders on her worldly worries, warmly wringing out the weighty woes that keep her tensed and trepidant.

>Seconds pass and fingers flow, yet her wary gaze remains firmly fixed on you.
>However, you are ever diligent with your continued caress, aiming to coerce her into calmness.
>Thankfully, your handsy efforts come to bear steadily growing fruit, and Flurry slowly—oh-so slowly—allows herself to relax at your attentive touch.
>She gently lowers her own upper body down onto your padded table, resting her right cheek against the headrest and letting her forelegs splay out to her sides.
>In this picture of relative peace, you note how her slackened alicorn neck stretches across a good chunk of your table.
>You must admit, she has quite the impressive length.
>It's easily double the size of yours.
>Maybe triple.
>Gives you more to work with, you suppose.
>As you move your hands closer to her collarbone, you address her.
"I'm going to work on your neck, okay?"
>"Mm."
>With her approval acquired, you carefully massage her long pony neck, sliding your palms along its sides and rubbing your fingers across its back.
>"Mm…"
>Her hums are ones of becalmed contentment, and you are able to feel her throat vibrate underneath your fingertips.
>Your business might not be doing so hot, but you like to consider yourself somewhat competent when in comes to soothing your client's tensions.
>Plus, it is *way* easier to focus on your craft when you only have the one bitchy mare to deal with.
>You'd love to quip at Flurry on the matter, but you get the sinking suspicion that it won't help your case in the slightest.
>Thus, deep inhales and soft exhales fill the room's ambience while you quietly work.
>Looking up to her face, you notice that her eyes are no longer upon you.
>She now gazes at your closed curtains, seemingly lost in thought.
>Yet you can still feel it—
>An underlying tension that lurks within her muscles.
>No matter how hard you try, you are unable to squeeze this particular stress out.
>But perhaps words may suffice where fingers can't.
>After all, snooty princesses love being talked up, right?
>Trailing your hands back down to her shoulders, you slowly knead the soft tissues around her upper back.
>And you attempt to strike up some small talk:
"I, um, must say," you begin, trying your best to get into character, "it is truly an honour to have earned the privilege to massage a princess not just once—but twice."
>"Hm."
>Well, you tried.

>Flurry's physique is one that can be best described as "lithe."
>She's long and slender—an alicorn princess who stands a head taller than most ponies.
>Her body is nowhere near as toned as Cozy's, but Flurry is still no slouch in that area.
>That being said, you do wonder how much this muscle is purely a result of her alicorn genetics; you don't see this spoilt princess doing much in the way of physically exerting herself.
>"It's good that you've learned to show me some proper respect this time, pleb."
>Seriously? Was the literal ass-kissing not enough "respect" for her?
>This fucking—
>No. Calm down, Anon. Think happy thoughts. Think of the white mare.
>"How on Equestria did you not recognise me?" She tosses a pompous glance your way. "Me—your Crown Princess?"
"Well…"
>Because the world doesn't revolve around you—you self-absorbed little brat.
"…I just live under a rock, I guess."
>She rolls her eyes.
>"Ugh. Pleb…"
>You quietly sigh to yourself.
>You're really beginning to regret this whole "start up a friendly conversation" plan.
>Might as well keep letting your hands do the talking.
>Sliding your hands down from her shoulders and along her barrel, you gingerly knead and rub the area around her folded-up wings.
>And so a few more seconds pass.
>"…Hey, what's your name, pleb?"
"Huh?"
>Looking up, you see that Flurry has now slightly lifted her head to look back at you.
>She bears a mildly curious expression upon her face.
>"I forgot to ask last time, so I'm asking now—what is it?"
>You take a quick second to reply, searching for your true name amongst all of the "pleb"'s being thrown your way.
"It's Anon."
>She makes a slight nod in affirmation.
>Then, she rests the side of her head against the headrest once more, humming to herself.
>"Anon the pleb. Okay."
>You can't tell whether she's just given you a title of endearment or ridicule.
>You also don't particularly care to understand the inner workings of her mind.
>Well, not yet, anyway.
>Your hands drift down to her lower back, and—
>"Hey, can you get started on my wings already?"
>Flurry suddenly shuffles in place, prompting you to retract your hands.
>You watch as her wings steadily unfurl out from their folded positions; they drape along the padded surface of your table and lazily hang off from its sides.
>With an expectant expression on her face, she addresses you:
>"That's what I'm really here for."
"Oh, um, sure."
>She's a blunt one.
>Still, the customer is always right.
>For now, at least.

>…
>Alicorns happen to be more endowed than the common folk in many ways.
>Their bodies are taller, their horns are longer—
>And their wings are much, *much* larger.
>Once again, you have your work cut out for you when it comes to handling Princess Flurry Heart.
>You've been massaging her wings for a while now—running your fingers through her sea of pink feathers and making sure they're truly fit for a Princess.
>It's easy to lose track of time when you get into a massage—for both the masseur and the client.
>However, you've been at this long enough
>Very few words have been said between you, other than the occasional call-out for when you're about to pluck out a lost cause.
>Like right now, for example.
"I'm going to pull one out."
>"Mm, okay."
>Holding Flurry's right wing in both hands, your thumbs press up against the base of a bent, lifeless feather.
>Slowly, you move one of your hands up and pinch the shaft in between two fingers.
>In one swift motion, you pluck out her her dead feather.
>"Tss…" she hisses through her teeth and tenses up, but soon settles.
>And down the trash bin it goes.
>Using your thumb as a beacon, you quickly locate the defeathered pore and rub your thumbs around it, easing any building irritation.
>"Ooh…" she throatily coos out.
>Her wing jitters ever so slightly in your hands.
>"You're good at this."
"Oh, uh, thanks."
>You try to hide your shock—but that's the first compliment she's thrown you today.
>Nay, it may be the first genuine compliment she's given you in your mortal life.
"How am I matching up to the other, uh…wing massagers you've been to?"
>"Considering you're the first one who's even been willing to *touch* my wings—much better."
>You blink in surprise.
"What, you've never had your wings massaged before?"
>She shakes her head.
>"I'm not supposed to. Apparently, it's—" She scoffs to the side. "—'improper.'"
"'Improper,' huh…"
>Could it be a faux pas to fondle a pony's feathers?
>It would certainly explain why Flurry has been the only pony to ask you for a wing massage.
>Perhaps you should be charging her extra for this kind of seedy service.
>A lifetime of servitude sounds like a fair asking price.
>"Ugh," she groans out loud, "and it's all because of my *stupid* mom."
>You pause your preening.
"Y-your mom…?"
>Shit. She has parents!
>Why *wouldn't* she have parents? Every pony has parents!
>But she—
>She has *royal* parents!

>"Uh huh," she answers, blithely clueless to your internal conflict. "I mean, can you believe she made it an actual *law* that you can't preen another pony's wings unless you're married to them?"
>She pauses for a second, taking your stunned silence as express affirmation to keep going:
>"So, I confronted her on it, and she told me—"
>She adopts a mockingly maternal tone and gesticulates her forehooves around in front of her.
>"—'a pony's wings are *sacred!* You should only let your special somepony touch them! And as a Princess of Love—it's your duty to be setting a proper example for everypony else!'"
>After letting her hooves fall back down onto the table, she groans exasperatedly.
>"Like, seriously, what am I supposed to do? Preen *myself?*"
>You hold your tongue.
>"Stupid laws. Stupid spa ponies. Stupid *Mom!* Ugh…"
>She sighs out her frustrations straight into the table's headrest.
>Then, lifting her head, she casts her gaze your way.
>"But you—*you* don't care about any stupid made-up rules like that. You rub my wings whenever I ask."
>She gives you a smile, perhaps the first genuine one you've seen from her.
>"And…there's something about the way your claw thingies go around my feathers; it…it just feels *right,* you know?"
>You blink.
"Um, maybe?"
>She softly titters, turning away and facing forward.
>"Yeah, you're not half bad…Anon."
>She just praised you—she even referred to you by name.
>And yet a myriad of conflicting emotions are currently storming through your consciousness.
>You've just been saddled with the uncomfortable knowledge that you've been illegally feeling up a princess's maiden wings.
>It's official: you are absolutely going to Hell—Double Hell if her parents find out.
>Then again, considering what you're about to do to this mare—pre-marital preening is the least of your moral quandaries.
>…
>Does she *really* deserve the fate you have planned for her?
>You certainly seemed to think so when you first entered this office with her.
>She may be a spoiled brat of an alicorn, and she *may* have utterly humiliated you a couple days ago, but…
>Enslaving a pony's will? Can you truly go through with this?
>…
>It's…
>It's not too late to back out.
>Just finish the massage, and—
>"Yeah. I think I'll keep you."

>You tense, fingers pinching uncomfortably into Flurry's wing.
>"Ow!"
>She shoots you a threatening scowl.
>"Hey! Careful with my wings, pleb!"
"S-sorry," you sputter out. "I, um, what did you say?"
>"Seriously? My wings?" She scoffs. "I only have the two of them—I can't afford to have you breaking them with your weird alien claws. Stop zoning out and do your job properly."
"N-no I meant, um, before that."
>She knits her brows for a few moments before coming to a realisation.
>"Oh. About me keeping you?"
>You nervously nod, and she casts you a sly smile.
>"Yeah. I've decided that I'll have you move into my castle as my live-in masseur. That way, I can have you massage my wings every day."
"Uh…"
>"And since you're also, like, one of a kind or something—that means you'll also be a perfect fit for my menagerie! So I'll simply have you stay there with the rest of my critters until I need you."
"That—"
>"Aaand because you'll also be my pet, that means I'll have to get you a collar, too!"
>You gulp.
"C-collar…?"
>A collar? Does she know?
>No. That's not possible.
>Or is it?
>"It'll be one in pink—one that says 'Belongs to Flurry Heart!' I think it'll suit you super well!"
>She giggles to herself, jubilantly fluttering her wings in the air and excitedly tapping her forehooves on your table.
>"Oh, I can't wait to see the look on Lustie's face when she sees you marked as *my* property~!"
>You awkwardly clear your throat.
"E-excuse me, but if I'm to be living in your castle, what will happen to my home—my business?"
>She blinks at you in confusion, before casting her sights around the room.
>"Hm, this? I'll shut this place down, obviously—sell it to somepony else. Doesn't really matter who."
>She nods to herself.
>"Yeah, I'll have that done by the end of today, I think."
>Her gaze snaps back to you, and you see a slight frown appear on her face.
>"What, is there a problem with that?"
"I-I…"
>You strongly shake your head.
"N-no. There's no problem at all. That sounds wonderful, Princess Flurry Heart."
>You absolutely have a problem with that.
>But you can't afford to put her on guard—not now.
>Her agreeable response turns her frown upside down.
>"Hm-hm~! I knew you'd agree. She said you would."
>She turns away from you, continuing to muse to herself—
>Completely distracted.
>"Not that it would've mattered if you said no; I'm the Crown Princess, and I *always* get what I want, unless my dumb mom gets in the way, but we don't talk about that, so anyway…"
>You tune out her obnoxious rambling, for none of it is of any interest to you.
>It all concerns a destiny that you despise every facet of.
>Instead, you reach into your shirt pocket, and you pull it out—
>The collar.
>Black band. Red rocks.
>A chance to reclaim your dignity.
>And a chance to claim something even more.

>Pursing your lips, you wordlessly walk along the right side of the table, crowning moment held in your hand.
>With quiet, trepidant breaths, you raise up the collar with both hands, slowly moving in towards Flurry's neck…
>Closer… Just a little closer…
>"…and I'll have you kiss my butt like you did with Lustie. It looked *super* gross but she *really* seemed to like it so maybe it's not so—"
>*Click*
>"Huh?"
>You swiftly jerk your hands away, having just fastened the collar around her neck.
>There's no going back now.
>"What the…"
>Lifting her right forehoof, she cautiously feels around her foisted accessory.
>"Did you just…"
>Blinking in confusion, she turns to face you with an inquisitive expression.
>"…did you just place something around my neck?"
>Your own eyes nervously widen.
>You weren't expecting her to talk back.
"U-um."
>You thought it'd take effect immediately.
>Better think fast.
"I, uh, yes!"
>With a tone that is as convincing as it is chipper, you throw out the first thing that comes to your masseurly mind:
"Ahem, it's a neck massager—you know, to relax your neck while I work your wings! It's all part of the massage, trust me."
>You put on your best reassuring smile.
>She stares at you, expression unchanging.
>The lakes of uncertainty unceasingly bear down upon you.
>She blinks.
>You blink.
>…
>"Oh, okay."
>She turns away from you, gives her neck another brief rub, and quietly mumbles "neck massager…" to herself.
>You blink again.
>She…she actually fell for it.
>However, you can't risk dropping the act now.
>And so, putting both of your hands back to work, you take up her right wing and begin mindlessly running your thumbs through her feathers once more—although this time, you're not really paying much attention to this whole "preening" affair.
>Instead, your attention is focused squarely on the collar.
>Questions assault your mind from every angle:
>When will its magic begin to take effect?
>How will you even know?
>Were you able to fasten it properly?
>Why have the gems started glowing?
>In the midst of all this worrywarting and fusspotting—something curious happens.
>Humming with crimson light, the collar slowly contracts around Flurry's neck.
>But instead of strangling the unaware mare, it appears to melt into her flesh, sinking deeper and deeper…
>Until not a trace of black nor red remains.
>Only pink.
>God damn. Cozy wasn't kidding when she said it melds with their very being.
>So…does that mean that it worked?
>Is she under your control now?
>"…Nrgh…"
>Groaning in discomfort, Flurry tentatively lifts a forehoof up to her neck.
>"Anon, that neck massager you put on feels kinda weird, it…"
>She rubs around her fur, feeling the distinct lack of neckwear.
>"…there's nothing there…?"

>Turning her head, she glances in your direction, shakily squinting her eyes as she struggles to focus on you.
>"Anon…"
>Her light-blue eyes shakily squint as she struggles to focus on your face.
>"…what did you put on me…?"
>Her breaths are jittery, and there's a vacancy to her gaze that wasn't there before.
>It's now or never.
>Time for your first command.
"Flurry."
>Holding up her right wing with your left hand, you gently run your right thumb in between her feathers to try and calm her down.
"Don't worry about it, okay? This is perfectly normal."
>"I…"
>She blinks a few times, slowly taking in both your words and your touch.
>"…okay."
>Well, she's not making a break for it at least, so that's promising.
>However, her voice is intoned with a quiet wariness.
>Not only that, but you can see her pupils wavering and her body fidgeting.
>Perhaps there's a part of her mind that's still resisting the collar's magic.
>Or maybe she's just nervous.
>In any case, time for you to fix that.
>You circle the table and stand in front of it—in front of her.
>She, on the other hand, continues to look where you once were, as if your movement simply didn't register in her mind.
"Flurry?" you call to her.
>Her ears perk up.
>Facing forward, she lifts her gaze to look up at you.
"I want you to relax for me. Can you do that?"
>Her eyes blink and her lips part.
>"Relax…" she mumbles to herself.
>You crouch down to make your face level with hers.
>With your nose mere inches away from hers, you stare deep into her glossy, unfocused eyes.
"Yes…"
>A slow blink from her.
>"Okay…"
>You nod.
"Listen to the sound of my voice. I want you to follow my lead."
>"Follow your lead…"
>You deeply inhale through your nose.
"Take a deep breath in…"
>She deeply inhales through her nose.
>"In…"
>You slowly exhale through your mouth.
"And a deep breath out…"
>She slowly exhales through her mouth.
>"Out…"
>Some of her breath washes over your face as she exhales.
>It smells sweet.
>Pleasant and promising.
>Thus, you continue.
>A deep inhale from you.
"Now in…"
>A deep inhale from her.
>"In…"
>A deep exhale from you.
"And out…"
>A deep exhale from her.
>"Out…"
>You notice her nostrils flare out as your breath washes over her face.
>Perhaps it's pleasant for her, too.

>Another round.
>You inhale.
"In…"
>She inhales.
>"In…"
>You exhale.
"Out…"
>She exhales.
>"Out…"
>The two of you partake in these breathing exercises for a while longer.
"In…"
>With each breath, her body becomes more relaxed; she steadies her posture and closes her eyes.
>"Out…"
>With each breath, her mind becomes more pliant; she empties her thoughts and accepts your influence without complaint.
"In…"
>She breathes in your comforting commands.
>"Out…"
>And breathes out that pesky resistance.
"In…"
>She centres her muddled mind around your voice.
>"Out…"
>And finds serenity within the haze.
"There we go…"
>"In… Out… In… Out…"
"Now, doesn't that feel so much better?"
>She steadily opens her eyes, gazing deep into your own eyes with renewed focus.
>A calm smile adorns her face.
>"Yes… Thank you, Anon."
>She's at your complete mercy.
>Time for you to savour this.
>You smile at her and stand back up.
"Good. Let's continue the massage."
>"Mm…"
>She relaxes into the table, lying perfectly prone.
>Her wings splay out to her sides, with the feathered ends spilling out over the table.
>Walking over to her left side, you rest your right index finger at the very top of her spine.
>As you walk along the table, your finger trails down her body, following the line of vertebrae.
>When your finger bumps up against her tail dock, her butt jilts upwards.
>"O-oh."
"There, there…"
>You gently scritch around the base of her dock.
"Relax…"
>"M-mm…"
>Reluctantly, she lowers her rump back down to the table surface.
"Good girl."
>Her dock twitches.
>Oh, she liked that?
>Good to know.
>You circle around to the rear end of the massage table; as you do, your finger drifts away from her dock and travels across her right flank, crossing over that Crystal Heart cutie mark of hers.
>Soon enough, your discerning digit reaches its destination—and you find yourself lightly prodding the right butt cheek of the Crown Princess.
>Your lone finger is quickly joined by its brethren as you allow yourself to get a good feel of her royal rump.
>As it turns out, there's *plenty* to feel—your fingers slowly sink into her generous padding, brushing up against the tightly packed muscle hidden underneath.
>It seems that your lovely princess must enjoy snacking on some sweets from time to time.
>No complaints from you.
>Just as your right hand rests upon her right cheek, you carefully bring your impatient lefty onto her left cheek.
>Spreading all of your fingers outwards, you enjoy your "massage" of Flurry's pink posterior—
>Both her pleasant plushness and her firm, taut muscle.
>You grab.
>You knead.
>You grope.
>A princess's pristine body—right at your fingertips.
>You'd be a fool not to indulge.
>Pat.
>Pat.
>Rub…
>…
>Spank.
>"A-ah—!"
>Flurry sharply gasps in air, body tensing up.
>Warily turning her head, she shakily stares back at you, posing a silent question.

>You give her a smile and an answer:
"Relax, Flurry. This is all part of the massage."
>"H-hah…" she sighs. "All part of the massage…"
>You thoughtfully caress the freshly stung section of her soft behind.
>Her body relaxes at your discretion, becoming even softer under your fingers.
>"Okay…"
>With steady breaths, she lowers her head back onto the table.
"There, there…"
>With a steady hand, you continue rubbing.
"Good girl."
>Another twitch of her tail.
>And…oh.
>A twitch of something else—masked by a subtle squelching sound.
>Gripped by curiosity, you spread her plump cheeks apart with your thumbs, exposing her private pony parts to your prying eyes.
>Protruding out from just below her dock is her princessly pucker.
>It's just as regal as the rest of her.
>And just below that…
>Is her pink pony pussy.
>With darkened, puffy lips, it sags out against your table surface.
>Right near the bottom of her marehood, her pearl peeks out at you, slick with self-satisfaction.
"Hm…"
>Shifting your right hand, you lower your thumb down to her clit while the rest of your fingers keep her pony cheeks spread.
>You gently press the pad of your thumb against the groove of her button, getting a tentative feel of that pulpy nub.
>"H-hah—!"
>Her clitoris quickly shrinks away from your touch, retreating back into her canal.
"Oh…"
>But within moments—it returns, slowly peeking out from her folds like a shy lover steadily grappling with their enamoured emotions.
"Oh my."
>Copying the movements of your right hand, you slide your left hand across her cheek, positioning your thumb upon her vulva.
>Using both thumbs, you slowly pry her opening apart at each side, revealing the pink insides of her delicate flower.
>You stare deep into into those enticingly slimy depths, idly sniffing up her heatedly sweet scent.
>You'd really be a fool not to…
"Hm…"
>You can feel eyes upon you.
>Looking up, you see Flurry posing you another silent question—this one more pertinent.
>Clearing your throat, you address her with authority and concern:
"I must say, you have a *lot* of tension down here, Flurry."
>Pulling your right hand away, you position it directly behind her entrance.
>You take your right index finger—
>And lay it squarely upon her exposed pearl.
>"Nff—!"
>This time, it does not hide from you.
"We're gonna have to work it out, together."
>She gulps, then nods to you.
>"O-okay… T-together…"
"Remember your breathing exercises—" You cast her an understanding smile. "—and relax, Flurry."
>"Breathing exercises…" She takes a shaky breath. "Y-yes."
>You nod.
"With me, okay?"

>Lifting your index up from her clit, you slowly slide it into her wet tunnel—wedging yourself up to the first knuckle.
"In…"
>"I-in…"
>You wiggle your finger inside of her hole, rubbing it against her rippling inner walls.
>She shudders slightly, and you can feel her slick snatch tentatively suck upon your intrusive index.
>You then gradually draw your finger out of her flower, feeling only the slightest resistance trying to keep you there.
"Out…"
>"O-out…"
>She dutifully follows your directives—both breathing *and* winking in tune with your voice.
>Such a well-behaved mare.
>You wipe your slickened index off on the side of her fuzzy flank before continuing.
>For your second descent into these marely depths, your index is joined by his brother—the middle.
>You slowly slide them both in.
"In…"
>"In…"
>Two fingers—both up to the second knuckle.
>Wiggling them around her slick cavern, you can feel your fingertips bumping up against some kind of fleshy barrier.
>Hm. You'll have to keep that in mind for later.
>For now though, you struggle to pull out your fingers, as you feel far more resistance than you did the first time.
>Nonetheless, you persevere.
"Out…"
>"Ooouuut…"
>Her voice comes "out" as a needy whine.
>With a bit more force, you manage to drag your fingers out of her walls with a wet *shlick.*
>As you wipe both your index and middle fingers against her flank, you spy one of her hindlegs twitching on the table.
>You gently pinch her winking pearl in between your thumb and ring finger to keep it steady.
>"A-ah…!"
>Your actions excite her, yet your words aim to soothe her building tension:
"Relax…" you breathe out.
>"I-I…o-oooh…" she weakly moans out.
>Releasing her clit, you prepare for your third excursion.
>This time, however—your ring finger joins the fray.
>Thus, you slowly slide your three digits in.
"In…"
>"Iiinnn…" another needy whine from her.
>Given her "barrier"—you are only able to fit these three into the second knuckle, like before.
>You let your digits writhe and wriggle within her, teasing out both mewls and moans from your pink princess.
>Her inner walls contract and flex around your fingers, desperate to keep you inside her.
"Hm."
>And it's working—you can't pull your fingers out.
>It's like being trapped in a fleshy vice.
"Flurry?"
>"I-I…ah…!"
>She clamps down hard.
>Her entire body shudders as you feel a thick wave of liquid warmth coast over your submerged digits.
>It floods out of her tunnel, running up to your palm and splashing over your other two digits.
>A sugary sweet scent fills the air while a lewd squelching sound surrounds your hand.
>"Nn…nn…!"
>Some of her mareish excitement stains the table padding below her.
>She rides out the rest of her orgasm as her marely gushes slowly decrease in frequency.

>Eventually, her grip on you slackens enough that you can finally pull yourself out.
>With your hand dislodged, you gaze at your fingers with furrowed brows.
>They are absolutely drenched.
>"U-um…I…"
>You see Flurry looking back to you with a flickering stare and panting breaths.
>Narrowing your eyes, you hold up your disgraced digits so she can see them.
"…You've dirtied my hand."
>Even in her delirious afterglow, her eyes still widen in response to your stern tone.
>"A-anon, I-I—"
"Silence."
>Spank.
>"E-eep!"
"Off the table. Now."
>With a clumsy gait, she clambers off the left side of the table and hits the floor—landing on all four hooves, at least.
>She shakily turns around so she can face you directly.
>Her stance may be dumbly wobbly, but her expression is deathly worried.
>Taking a few steps forward, you crouch down in front of her and hold up your marecum-laden fingers.
"Do you see what you've done?"
>Her eyes flit from you, to your hand, then back to you.
>And she silently nods.
>You move your hand right up to her muzzle.
"Lick it clean."
>She wastes no time in adhering to your command.
>Quickly opening her mouth, she leans forward to take in your fingers.
>Her tongue swirls around your hand, dutifully cleaning up the careless mess that she left on you.
>She laps up everything—your fingers, the gaps in between, and your palm itself.
>Your expression remains solidly stern throughout—but to tell the truth, you find yourself rather impressed both with how readily she accepted your command and how thorough she is in her care.
>You almost want to call her a good girl.
>But no.
>Because as she finally pulls away from your hand, you realise that your digits are now slick with pony saliva instead.
"Hah…"
>You flex your sticky fingers about in the air.
"This isn't *nearly* enough."
>Her eyes dart to your hand.
>"A-anon—"
"Silence."
>Her jaw snaps shut, and you stand up, raising yourself far above her.
"Do not speak unless I ask for it."
>You glare down at her.
"You can't even go through a simple massage without making a complete mess of yourself…"
>Shaking your head, you let out a disappointed sigh.
"…and to think I was growing rather fond of you…"
>You raise your hand, contemplating it.
"Not only do you stain my hand—"
>You throw a brief glance at the damp spot on your massage table.
"—but you soil my workspace, too."
>You turn back to her.
"How unfortunate."
>Ears folded back, she whimpers through quivered lips and teary eyes.
"Speak."
>"I-I'm sorry!" she needily whines. "P-please don't be mad at me! Please! I'll do anything! Anything!"
>You arch an eyebrow.
"…Anything, hm?"
>She rapidly nods.
>You take a thoughtful, humming pause.
"Perhaps there is *one* way you can make it up to me."
>Her ears perk up.
>You smirk.
"Grovel."

>She blinks, twice—
>And she quickly drops to her knees, lowering her face down to the floor and closing her eyes.
>You glance down at your footwear and examine them.
>Your shoes can best be described as "worn."
>They're the same ones you came to Equestria with, and you've never been able to save up the bits to get a new pair tailored.
>Hell, your right shoe even has a sizeable hole in it.
>…
>You lift up your right foot.
>And you slowly, but firmly, press the tip of your toe against her forehead—specifically, where the base of her horn meets her head.
"All throughout your life, you've been running that vapid little mouth of yours without a care in the world, no doubt taking everypony around you for granted."
>You let out a deep, loud exhale through your nose.
"A spoiled little princess without a guiding hand to reign her in."
>Lifting your shoe up off her head, you squat down to her level.
"I will be that hand."
>Thanks to the combined efforts of that collar and your breathing exercises, her mental defences have already away to nothing.
>What you have now is the malleable mind of an totally obedient princess.
>She dutifully awaits your command—your rightful claim on everything that she is.
>All you need to do now is land the killing blow on her psyche—
>And make her yours.
"Now, listen carefully, Flurry Heart."
>Her eyes steadily open, while her ears studiously perk up.
>Good.
"Henceforth, obeying my will shall bring you the greatest joy in life."
>You slip your right hand under her chin.
"You shall live for my attention, my affection…"
>Chewing on your lip, you take a brief pause.
"…my ambition."
>Guiding her by the underside of her chin, you raise her up to a sitting position.
"You will become my loyally devoted slave, and I…"
>You stare deep into attentive aquamarines of hers.
"…will become your Master—and you will refer to me as such. Understood?
>She breathes in through her nose, accepting your absolute dominion over her.
>And she breathes out through her mouth, offering you her complete submission.
>"Understood, Master."
>A wide grin slowly snakes its way onto your features—it's one of total confidence.
>Upon seeing your smile, a similarly wide grin adorns Flurry's features—but this one is of total relief, fully gladdened that the burden of independence been taken off her shoulders.
"Good girl," you state, scritching underneath her chin.
>Her ears twitch, and her tail excitedly thwaps against the floor in her utter elation.
>However, your benevolence doesn't end there.
>Your second gift comes when you lean forward and press your lips against hers.
>"Mm~!"
>A kiss to seal your bond—a boon truly befitting the Crown Princess of Love.

>Her pink pony lips are lusciously plush and pleasantly pliant, easily giving way to your mouthy movements.
>Even though you lead the charge, you can feel her mouth clumsily smooch and suck on your own, eager to return the favour.
>You can also feel the tentative prods of her curious tongue against your puckered lips.
>As tempting as it would be to invite her in—you're afraid you must relent.
>After all, it would be most improper to ravage your princess right here on the kitchen floor.
>Such a salacious act deserves an appropriate stage.
>Thus, you make to seek greater heights.
>Resting your left hand on her withers, you give her a brief rub.
>Then, with your right hand still holding up her chin, you slowly rise to an upright stance.
>Naturally, she rises with you, gleefully following you up to her new position in life.
>With your guidance, she steadily moves from sitting down on her haunches to standing up on her hindlegs.
>Her posture is shaky and her limbs are jittery, but she tries her level best to stay level with you.
>Looping your whole left arm around her back, you steady her body from behind to make sure she doesn't trip and fall flat on her face.
>She, in turn, leans into you as she slowly accommodates herself to this new alien position.
>Soon enough, you and Flurry reach the apex of your ascension together, standing face to face with each other.
>Flurry stands slightly short of you—yet your lips stay connected all the same.
>Her wobbly hindlegs lean into your sturdy legs, wholly depending on your solid stature to support herself.
>Her bent forelegs slip under your shoulders and tightly clasp around your midsection, holding you close.
>Her large wings carefully unfurl and gently wrap around your back, covering you in soft pink plumage—and keeping her Master even closer.
>She closes her eyes; you narrow yours.
>A second passes, and you can feel her curious tongue prodding at your mouth once more.
>Such an impatient slave.
>You'll have to scold her later.
>For now, though…
>You let her in.
>As you soon as you part your lips—her thick tongue storms into your mouth, desperately searching for its beloved companion.
>But despite her unbridled passion, she quickly submits to you once your tongue collides with hers—and so you push back into her mouth, easily dominating her tongue with repeated lashings from every angle.
>You are still able to taste traces of Flurry's juices lingering on her tongue; she tastes sweetly sugary—like candy floss.
>While you continue to enjoy your mare's maw, you move your right hand away from her chin, slide it down her body—and grab a firm handful of her plump rump.
>"Mmph~!"
>She throatily moans into your mouth as you take what's rightfully yours—wrestling down her tongue and feeling up her flank.

>Flurry happens to be gifted with the immaculate physique of an alicorn—the absolute apex of ponykind.
>Her pony posterior is perfectly padded yet impeccably athletic, while her whole body sets the gold standard for both beauty and brawn.
>And now she's yours.
>You make sure to get a few greedy gropes of her malleable buttmuscle, thoroughly savouring the mare who now belongs to you.
>As your newly christened slave, Flurry accepts this without complaint, implicitly understanding that it is a Master's right to fondle his slave however he damn well pleases.
>When it comes to more mouthy matters, though, you can feel her smooch back against your lips just like she did before.
>Her kisses are both soft and sloppy, with saliva leaking from the sides of her lips as she struggles to contain her utmost concupiscence.
>Given her clumsiness, it's crystal clear to you that your pristine princess lacks practical experience in such amorous affairs.
>Yet she easily makes up for her inexperience with boundless enthusiasm—from the way her swirly tail swishes like a happy pendulum, to the way her nostrils excitedly flare in and out as she hungrily sniffs up your scent.
>It pleases you to see such an *eager* slave—
>Fingers sunk into her plush posterior, you squeeze hard, making her squeak out in submissive pleasure.
>—just as it pleases you to have such an *ample* amount to train for future endeavours.
>As you continue swapping spittle, you can feel her wings shudder around your body while her hips needily rub up against yours.
>Yes…you suppose it *is* about time.
>Repositioning your right hand under her chin, you gently push her face away from yours, breaking this sloppy kiss and leaving several trails of saliva behind.
>"M-mm…"
>You lighten your hold on her chin—and she quickly pushes back, giving your closed lips a few longing licks, silently begging you for an encore.
>Alas, this sensual encounter must move onto its second act.
>And so you push her away again, applying a bit more force this time.
>She lets out a pathetic whimper in response, and her eyes slowly flutter open to pining tears.
>"M-master…" she whines.
>Ignoring her infelicity, you growl out your next decree:
"It's time for the main event, slave—" you lightly squeeze her face, squishing her cheeks together. "—your crowning moment."
>Your words make her eyes widen and her lips part.
>"I-it is? Master, what do I need to do?"
>Tilting your head to the right, you glance at your massage table: once a spectator—soon to be the stage.
>Turning back to your slave, you address her with an authoritative tone:
"Hooves on the table, now."

>With a nod, Flurry reluctantly removes your wings from your back and neatly folds them up to her sides.
>Given that the table is merely a couple of feet away from the both of you, her task is a relatively simple one.
>Cautiously unlatching her forelegs from around your body, she turns towards your table and—with both of your arms carefully supporting her stature—gently leans forward and rests her forehooves atop the padded surface.
>Now balancing against the table, she adopts a hunched and bipedal stance, letting her rump stick out behind her.
>Taking a few steps to the side, you reposition yourself by her rear, disrobing as you do.
>Shirt, shoes, pants, boxers—all hit the floor and are casually kicked to the side.
>With your human form fully exposed, your rod stands proudly rigid in this humid office air, roused to action by the needy scents of a princess desperate to be *tamed.*
>Said princess looks over her shoulder and towards you; her eyes quickly hone in on your bare chest—and soon drift down towards your Masterly pride…
>Her tail promptly flags up and parts to the side, paving the way to her quivering anticipation.
>"Oh, Master~" she breathily sighs out
>You answer her with a mere grunt, curtly closing in on her from behind.
>Thus, it is time for your third gift:
>To make Flurry your mare in both body and soul.
>You lean over her bent form, snaking your arms around her forelegs and resting your hands atop her forehooves.
>With your face near-buried in her candy-coloured mane, you take a deep, triumphant whiff through your nostrils.
>It smells just as sweet as it looks—and it only further affirms your dominant desire to wholly savour your mare.
>In no time at all, you line yourself up with her entrance.
>Key and lock. Man and mare—Master and slave.
>You plunge right in, pushing straight through her welcoming folds—
>And piercing through the barrier.
>"A-ah!" She winces, hindlegs wobbling.
"Slave, remember this pain."
>You buck your hips against hers, making your message clear.
"For this is what marks you as *my* mare."
>She huffs in air, steadying herself against you.
>"Y-yes, Master!"

>You further drive yourself into her freshly deflowered depths, soon hitting upon her very core.
>Her tight walls ripple around your member, exuding both warmth and wetness.
>Conquering her body just as you did her mind—you slam into her, again and again.
>You grunt and growl; she moans, mewls, and whickers.
>Your heaving nuts slap against her winking button as you take what you want—and give her what she *needs.*
>As you claim her marehood thoroughly and repeatedly, moulding her malleable insides to memorise your manhood.
>As you pound the validation she so desperately craves into her very being.
>And—above all else—as you *relentlessly* plap her pink princess pussy.
>Several meaty slaps and throaty grunts later, you can feel your nuts clench and your glutes tense.
>Sensing your impending climax, you make to leave a lasting impression on your royal slave upon her crowning session.
>Taking one more hungry whiff of her mane, you spy her right ear whimsically wiggling back and forth.
>Slowly, you move in—
>And you gently close your teeth around it.
>Flurry freezes up.
>In the eye of the storm, you give her captive ear a light nibble.
>And then you growl into her mind.
"You. Are. Mine."
>Her limbs wobble and jitter. Her body shudders and shakes. Her mouth neighs and nickers.
>"Ah…Master…Master…!"
>With a guttural whinny, she clamps down, gushing waves of delight over your pulsating member.
>You respond in kind, blasting her pink insides with load after load of white matter.
>Her hooves slip and she drops to her knees, balance completely broken in the throes of her overwhelming maregasm.
>You snort and grunt against her ear as you furiously fill her up.
>These next few timeless moments are spent in a utterly feral fog, with the both of you being reduced to animalistic grunts and bucking hips as you ride out your synchronised orgasm together.
>This fog eventually passes, though, and you soon find yourself lying on top of your mare, arms possessively wrapped around her chest.
>Examining your surroundings, you notice that the you and Flurry are now haplessly sprawled out on the kitchen floor—while your rigid rod is still fully sheathed inside of her royal snatch.
>Over on the right, you can see your battle-scarred massage table lying toppled on its side a short distance away.
"Phew…"

>Breathing heavy breath after heavy breath, you slowly pry yourself out from her tight canal—which weakly clasps at you as you leave, reluctant to let go.
>Sitting up on your knees, you admire your handiwork from behind.
>Her hindlegs lie splayed out to the sides, while your cum freely leaks out from her freshly fucked pussy and pools onto the floor.
>She's been thoroughly seeded—thoroughly *bred.*
>And yet…
>There's a ravenous appetite within you that demands further satiation—a Masterly need to claim your mare.
>Flurry looks over her shoulder at you; her eyes are half-lidded and her mane is mussed up.
>You let a brief breathy silence pass between the two of you before you speak up:
"…Lie on your back."
>She nods swiftly and affirmatively.
>"At once, Master!"
>She rolls onto her back, spreading her hindlegs wide and curling her forelegs up to her chest.
>Shuffling forward and closing the distance, you gaze down upon your slave.
>Her carnal yet coquettish pose rings strangely familiar to you.
>Suddenly, it clicks.
>She's just like the Mare in the Magazine.
>She's even got a similar swirly manestyle.
>However, there is one key difference that cleanly separates the two:
>This one's yours.
>With knowledge comes deep passion, and you can feel yourself raring to go for another round.
>Her light-blue eyes sparkle with utmost adoration as you crawl atop her and draw closer to her face.
>"Master…"
>You snort hot air right into her face; her nostrils happily flare out in response.
"Your little 'induction' is *far* from over, slave. We still have the entire day to drill in your *new* royal responsibilities."
>A dreamy smile soon plasters itself on her face as her eyes nearly roll over.
>"A whole day with Master…mm~"
>Her eyelids flutter, she lets out a short whicker—
>And you can hear a *squelch squelch squelch* coming from below.
>You're quickly growing fond of your tormentor-turned-thrall.
>She's just so *honest* regarding her utter devotion to your being.
>Truly, a slave fit for a king.
>And now—
>The king shall *feast.*

*** 4 ***

>Your eyes slowly flutter open, and a beige bulwark up above greets your sleepy vision.
>Off-colour splotches decorate this painted canvas in an all-too-familiar fashion.
>Yep, there's no doubt about it.
>You're staring up at your bedroom ceiling.
>You are Anonymous—and currently, you're lying in your own bed, body tucked under your greyish duvet.
>The back of your head is comfortably nestled into your mildly damp pillow.
>And man—
>That was a good dream.
>Breaking in a bonafide princess pony to be your loyal slave?
>It doesn't get much better than that.
>You really ought to invest in a dream journal one of these days—because that's a fantasy worth remembering.
>Anyway…
>Letting out a soul-rousing yawn, you tilt your head to the right to check out your bed's nightstand.
>An alarm clock rests upon it, and its blood-red numbers beam out your current whenabouts.
>Checking the time, you see that you've got ten minutes before the beep.
>Not bad. That gives you a little bit of extra time to relax and bask in your homey ambience.
>As it so happens, your bedroom is situated on the second floor of your house-slash-establishment—naturally, this is a staff-only area.
>On the left side of your room, you have two windows; they both provide an absolutely stellar view of the narrow back alley behind your house—alas, they don't provide much in the way of morning light.
>On the right side of your room, you have your bed's nightstand; on it, you can see your alarm clock, a small lamp, and a half-emptied box of chocolate truffles.
>Past your nightstand and over by the rightmost wall, you see your bedroom door; it's currently shut, as it should be.
>Casting your eyes forward and checking out the far wall, you see a slightly creased motivational poster plastered on top of your blue wallpaper.
>The poster depicts a roided-up pegasus stallion standing up on his tiny hindlegs and screaming "Yeah!"—God bless him.
>Ah, home sweet home.
>Perhaps you'll rest your eyes a little and embrace the comfort of your bed:
>With your whole body warmly wrapped up underneath the bed covers;
>Your back snugly sank into your springy mattress;
>And your left arm looped around your fluffy body pillow.
>Truly, this is a plushy paradise fit for a peculiar primate such as yourself.
>…
"Hm?"
>Wait, when did you get a body pillow?
>And why is it warm?
>And breathing?
>And pink?
>After letting out a cautious yawn and taking a few bracing blinks, your groggy eyes scan the horsey shape cuddled up to you in bed.
>…Ah. It's because it's not a body pillow—it's Princess Flurry Heart.
"Makes sense…" you mumble.
>You close your eyes, sleepy mind satisfied with your conclusive observation.
>…
>And then your eyes shoot open.
"Oh."
>You look at the princess in your bed once more.
"Oh shit."

>That wasn't a dream.
>Royalty really is sleeping soundly in your bed.
>But why? How? When?
>What exactly happened yesterday?
>You broke in that bratty princess around noon—you remember that much.
>But what happened afterwards?
>You attempt to recall those Masterly memories—and a clarifying vision soon presents itself to your mind's eye.
>After you "crowned" Flurry as your royal slave, you quickly closed up shop—and the two of you spent the whole day fucking like animals.
>You remember *really* getting into your role as her Master; in fact, you might have gotten a bit *too* much into it—but it was all in service of making sure this mare knew her *proper* place under you.
>There were some breaks sprinkled in here and there so the two of you could hydrate yourselves—but otherwise, you practically ploughed that pony pussy all throughout your house.
>You did her in the parlour, the reception, the bathroom, the bedroom, the closet…
>Hell, you even had her copy all of those provocative poses in your Playcolt magazine and *furiously* fucked her in each one.
>Needless to say, when nighttime rolled around—you were *exhausted.*
>Thus, you flopped onto your bed, completely spent.
>Flurry silently stood by your bedside for a little while, before curling up to sleep on the shaggy bedroom carpet.
>Now, you may not have been cognisant enough to care that the Crystal Empire's Crown Princess had just wandered into your room instead of returning to her castle—but you *were* conscientious enough to worry about your fuckbuddy's bedtime comforts.
>You may be this mare's Master, but you weren't heartless enough to leave her sleeping on the floor.
>So, you invited—or rather commanded—Flurry to sleep in your bed with you; naturally, she obeyed your instruction and snuggled right in.
>And this all brings you back to the present—where you now find yourself waking up to the snoozy sight of the Crown Princess of Love cuddled up to you in bed.
>Currently, she lies on her right side, forelegs curled up to her chest as she huddles up to you.
>Her head rests on your chest, with one of her ears occasionally twitching in her peaceable slumber.
>The swirls of her mane are completely mussed up, giving her a major case of marely bedhead.
>Thankfully, her long and pointy horn is jutting away from your tender face, leaving you mercifully ungored—though no less concerned about her natural pokeyness.
>Under the covers, her left wing is draped over your bare chest; it feels like an extra blanket made of feathers.
>Your left hand rests on her barrel, which laxly rises and falls with her softly sleepy breaths.
>Her relaxed respirations resonate with you—and in somnolence, she looks utterly serene.

>However, you can't help but be assailed by a variety of conflicting emotions as you gaze upon her.
>This is the same mare who totally humiliated you in front of her friends;
>The same mare who threatened to shut down your business when you dared to stand up to her;
>And the very same mare who—in her growing "fondness" for you—planned to put you on display within her private petting zoo.
>If you hadn't collared her right then and there—there's no doubt in your mind that she would've continued to make your life a living hell.
>She's cruel, capricious, and childish.
>All in all, an absolute demon of a mare.
>…
>But you can't deny that she's really cute while she sleeps.
>Honestly, it's like she's a different pony entirely in this snoozy state.
>Then again, if yesterday's events held any weight with her, perhaps she—
>*BEEP BEEP BEEP*
>Oh shit—the alarm.
>"Mmnrgh…"
>Oh shit—the princess.
>Flurry fidgets against you as your mechanical siren's strident song slowly rouses her body from its slumber.
>*BEEP BEEP BEEP*
>Her right wing twitches periodically, feathers tapping your chest, while her fuzzy muzzle nuzzles into your collarbone, nose tickling your neck.
>Man.
>She's even cute while she's waking up—
>*BEEP BEEP BEEP*
>Right—you should probably turn that thing off.
>Carefully pushing yourself away from Flurry and her outstretched wing, you shuffle over to the noisier side of the bed.
>Your movements are mild—yet your sudden departure nonetheless elicits a groggy groan from your sleeping beauty.
>Upon reaching the bed's edge, you swiftly bop your clock on its top, finally putting an end to those blaring beeps.
>Your decisive action brings with it a silent serenity, and it's one you bask in for a few blissful moments.
>"Mm…"
>But where one household appliance takes to stilled slumber, a housebroken alicorn steadily stirs to sightfulness.
>Turning your head leftwards to glance at Flurry, you see her drowsily lift her head up off the pillow.
>Opening her eyes to sleepy slits, she slowly scans your room's interior.
>"Huh…?" she blinks. "Where…?"
>Soon enough, her sight falls upon you—and the two of you lock eyes.
>Her eyes steadily widen, revealing more and more of those glacial irises to you.
>You see both of her ears briefly twitch, yet she doesn't utter a single word—and neither do you.

>With each unspoken second that passes, you find your blood running colder and colder.
>Does she still recognise you as her Master?
>Or…could the collar's magic have run out?
>What if it did? What does that mean for you?
"Ah…" an anxious gasp leaves your lips.
>These worrisome questions spread through your mind like wildfire, while the tension in the room seeps into your body like a freezing mist.
>Hot and cold. Dread and disquiet. The fragile ice cube that is your future feels as if it could shatter at any moment.
>These concerns continue to pile up on your consciousness with no end in sight.
>All you can do is wait on Flurry's next move and take it from there.
>And make a move she does.
>She slowly blinks;
>Breathes out a soft sigh;
>And addresses you with a gentle whisper:
>"Master…"
>You blink in surprise, but you soon find yourself relaxing at her calm conduct.
>That word, singular yet familiar, serves to ease your woes when uttered from her lips.
>Another second passes, and Flurry's expression suddenly soars up into a wide smile.
>"Good morning, Master!" she chirps at you.
"O-oh, er…"
>Her chipper tone completely catches you off guard, but you manage to hastily clear your throat and respond:
"Morning."
>She happily hums as you return her greeting.
>The mare in front of you certainly seems amicable enough—but there are still a few doubts you need to address.
>You need to confirm where you stand with her.
>Thus, you cut the fat and get straight to the point:
"Tell me," you begin, "who are you?"
>She nods, ready to respond without restraint.
>"I'm Princess Flurry Heart."
>She briefly shifts her gaze down to the pillow, seemingly deep in thought, before cheerily providing an addendum:
>"Your loyal slave!"
>You curtly nod in response.
"I see. Very good."
>Her smile widens as you praise her.

>She's given you a promising answer—but you still need to see the other side of the coin, as it were.
>So you present to her your other question:
"And who exactly am *I* to you?"
>"Oh! You're my Master!" she proudly answers. "And I live to serve your every need!"
>You tap your chin.
"Every need, eh…"
>"Mm-hmm!" She nods. "I'll do anything for you, Master!"
"Hm…"
>You point towards your bedroom floor and address her with a firm tone:
"Then grovel before me—just like you did yesterday."
>"At once, Master!"
>With a gait that's as sycophantic as it is sluggish, she clambers off your bed and hits the carpet on her belly.
>She quickly uprights herself and turns around to face you.
>Then, with an obedient smile on her face, she lowers herself down to her knees and prostrates herself before you.
>Such a lowly sight.
"Hah."
>It's enough to coax a satisfied grin onto your features.
"Well done, slave."
>You see her tail lightly swish around in response.
>There is no longer any doubt in your mind; the servile mare in front of you is most definitely your slave—and you are most certainly her Master.
>After all, the pompous princess you knew yesterday would never debase herself in such a manner.
>But now—you *own* that princess.
>So, what does that make you?
>A prince by proxy—or perhaps a king?
>Hm, a king…
>Yes. You quite like the sound of that.
>A grand castle in your name; the veneration of an entire kingdom; a lavish life surrounded by luxury at every turn…
>King Anonymous—once a pipe dream, now a reality within reach.
>And it's all thanks to the princess currently prostrating herself at your heels—one who is willing to satisfy *all* of your heart's desires and bodily needs.
>…
>Well, maybe not all of them.
>Judging by the building tension that you feel in your groin—you're still gonna need to take a piss by yourself.
>Unless you want to be *that* kind of Master.
>You don't.

>After putting on a (relatively) fresh set of clothes, your body runs on autopilot as you get ready to carry out your morning rituals.
>You drag yourself out of your bedroom;
>Lumber down your hallway;
>Enter your bathroom;
>Stand in front of your toilet;
>Lift up the seat;
>Drop your pants;
>Feel a strange presence behind you;
"Hm?"
>Turn around;
>Flurry Heart is standing right there.
"Uh."
>She smiles up at you, dutifully intruding on your personal space.
"What are you doing?"
>"Waiting on your command, Master!"
"Oh."
>You happen to have quite the shy bladder.
"Can you wait on my command—"
>You point towards the bathroom's doorway.
"—outside?"
>"Oh, of course!" She nods.
>She obediently trots out the doorway, turns around, and sits down on her haunches.
>With a big smile on her face, she now happily stares at you from her not-so-distant vantage point in the hall—just outside the bathroom.
>You squint your eyes.
"…Close the door."
>Her smile falters ever so slightly, though her response is no less chipper:
>"Okay, Master!"
>She promptly closes the door with her magic.
>With a tired sigh, you turn around to face your porcelain throne—and you begin draining your tank.
"Phew…"
>It's faint, but you can still feel that strange presence coming from behind you.
>You wouldn't be surprised if she was currently trying to stare straight through your door in a vain attempt to peek at your glutes.
>Then again, she *is* a magical horse creature; perhaps there are spells to do just that—
>Nope. Not gonna think about it. Not gonna think about a princess being a peeping tom while you bleed your lizard.
>…You're gonna have to educate her on the importance of personal space later, aren't you?
>No sooner does that question leave your mind that a myriad of other ones enter:
>What *else* are you going to have to teach her?
>Is she just going to live with you now? Does that make her your responsibility?
>How are you going to take care of her? You can barely take care of yourself!
>Are there any shops that sell care manuals for looking after slaves? If there are—do they sell any specifically for owning a royal?
>Damn. Who knew owning a slave could be so stressful?
>…Eh. Maybe you're overcomplicating things; she might be your slave, but she's still an adult—she should be able to take care of herself.

>…
>And with that, your bladder has now been blissfully emptied.
>Pulling down on the toilet handle, you flush away any your unsavoury thoughts and fluids.
>The roar of rushing water masks your withdrawal as you strut away from the bowl of the bathroom.
>Upon reaching the other end of this tiled traipse, you pull open the door—
>And Flurry Heart is sitting down on the other side, smiling that big ol' smile.
"Um, hey."
>"Hi, Master!"
>Part of you isn't surprised by her constant presence, and you feel that the rest of you will soon follow suit.
"You good?"
>She nods.
"Cool."
>You walk past her, catching sight of how her eyes briefly flit between you and the bathroom.
>She stands up and turns around, ready to follow you wherever you may go—but you note that there's something *off* about her stance.
>Her hocks are bent inwards, while her tail is tucked tightly between her thighs.
"Er…"
>She might be an adult—
>But you have to ask:
"…do you need to use the bathroom?"
>She blinks once, before looking to the side.
>"I…"
>She scuffs her forehoof across the carpet, ears folded down.
>"I-I need to pee."
"Oh."
>Shit. It's a good thing you *did* ask.
"Well, what are you waiting for then?"
>Her head droops in shame.
>"This is your—Master's bathroom…" She looks down at the floor. "I-I didn't wish to sully it."
"Uh…"
>You briefly raise an eyebrow at her ridiculous rationale—but then quickly lower it.
>Right. Slave logic.
>You find her devotion quite admirable, but you'd also prefer her to not piss herself in your house.
>So, letting out a sigh, you address her:
"You have my permission to use my bathroom as you please."
>You point into the bathroom.
"Go on."
>She lightly gasps, ears shooting up.
>"Oh! Thank you, Master!"
>She turns around and gallops into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind her.
>After magically lifting the lid, she hops up onto the seat and faces you, playfully kicking her hindlegs in the air.
>You quickly close the door in her stead, feeling zero desire to watch a princess pee.
>Perhaps it would've been more prudent to scold her for forgetting to close the door—but honestly, you're still trying to wrap your head around this whole "master-slave" dynamic.
>You've got a lot to learn.
>And a breakfast to consume.

>You head down the stairs, stroll through your reception, and step into your humble parlour.
>Of course, being the man of many means that you are, your resourcefulness knows no bounds—and with just a singular thought of focused intent, you are able to turn your workplace into your homestead.
>In other words, your humble parlour is also your humble kitchen.
>Rummaging through one of your cabinets, you grab a bowl and accompanying spoon, soon setting them down on the massage table in the middle of the room.
>And thus, what was once a table of handsy pleasure has now become a table of fine dining.
>Your ingenuity both impresses and terrifies you.
>Incidentally, your table still stinks of sex—so you should probably clean it sometime.
>Stepping into your tiny pantry that you have nestled away in a corner, you pull out a wooden stool and set it by your table.
>Reaching into another kitchen cabinet, you retrieve a box containing your cereal brand of choice: Scootaloos™—crunchy torus-shaped oats with a strong chickeny aftertaste to them.
>These colourful ponies come up with the weirdest things—but you've long gotten used to "weird."
>And on that note, you pour your chicken-flavoured cereal into your bowl; then, you grab a carton of milk from the fridge and pour some of that into your bowl too.
>After sitting down on your stool, you look down upon your first meal of the day.
"Scrumptious."
>Now you're ready to…
"Hm…"
>You watch the ringed grains float atop the pale, floundering and feckless.
>You contemplate them. You consider them.
>And you soon find yourself pouring out another bowl of cereal and setting down another stool by the opposite side of the table.
>It wouldn't hurt to be a hospitable host.

>While you dig into your breakfast, you hear hoofsteps coming down your stairs; you note that they sound somewhat hurried.
>Said hoofsteps trot all around your reception, growing more agitated by the second.
>You're beginning to get worried that you'll come back to a trampled foyer, so you awkwardly clear your throat and make to stand up.
>As you do, however—you hear hooves rush down the hall and head towards the kitchen.
>Soon enough, Flurry comes into view by the doorway; she looks to be in quite an anxious way—ears shot up and lips pursed tight.
>Her eyes frantically scan the room, quickly locating you.
>"Oh!"
>You see her distress dissipate in its entirety as she slowly confirms the presence of her beloved Master.
>After letting out a sigh of relief, she canters over to you.
>"Master!"
"Uh, hey."
>You're starting to get the distinct feeling that your slave is an incredibly needy one—perhaps your actions yesterday had a direct hand in such behaviour.
>Sitting back down on your stool, you gesture towards the other bowl on the table.
"Take a seat. Breakfast is served."
>She glances at your goodwill, then excitedly nods to you.
>"Okay!"
>Trotting over to that other stool, she seats herself by the table and silently stares into her bowl of milky Scootaloos™.
>Just in case she needs your express go-ahead, you decide to speak up:
"Eat up."
>"Mm-hmm!"
>Levitating her adjacent spoon, she brings a scoop of oats up to her mouth.
>You mimic her actions with your own spoon—albeit in a much handsier manner.
>Taking a bite of cereal, you let the contrasting flavours seep into your senses.
>Mild milk and savoury chicken wage war on your tender palate.
>It is a long, drawn-out battle—but the side of milk eventually prevails.
>Wholly relishing in their cruel conquest, they promptly subject all of the chicken remnants to an execution via drowning—and when that's done, they dispose of their bloated corpses by chucking them down your gullet.
>…This cereal is an acquired taste.
>"Mngrh…"
>One that's not for everyone, clearly.
>Gazing across the table, you take one look at Flurry's scrunched face and question her:
"Something wrong?"
>Her eyes shoot open at your concerned tone.
>"Urk!"
>She forces herself to swallow her chickeny cereal.
>"N-no! Of course not, Master!"
>She forces out a strained smile in a feeble attempt to convince you of her flaccid sincerity.
>You would almost consider yourself deceived—if it wasn't for the coughing and spluttering that soon follows.
>Thankfully, she hacks to the side and away from your padded table, sparing its sex-stunk surface any further staining.

>On one hand, it heartens you to see that this princess has at least *some* manners under her belt.
>On the other hand, it *disheartens* you to hear your slave so blatantly lie to your face—even if it is purely for the sake of not offending her Master.
>But just like how a masseur endeavours to give his clients the best possible service, communication is key—you can't help her if she obfuscates her feelings.
"Slave," you address her with a stern voice.
>Her head snaps back to you.
>"Y-yes, Master?"
>You tilt your head towards her bowl while tapping your own.
"Is this cereal not to your liking?"
>"U-um…"
>Her ears flatten under your uncompromising gaze.
"Be honest now."
>"I-I…"
>She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
>"If Master likes this, I like it too."
>Oof.
>That's just about the harshest denomination a mind-controlled slave can give, isn't it?
"…I see."
>And so the two of you eat your cereal in silence.
>You begin to lose yourself in meaty flavour and moody thoughts both.
>Flurry is your slave; you don't *have* to give any due consideration as to what she likes or doesn't like.
>You don't have to—but you want to.
>The fates have seen fit to grant you a devoted slave—and you don't intend to be a negligent Master.
>So you speak up:
"What do you usually have for breakfast?"
>"Well…"
>She gently sets her spoon down in her cereal.
>"Every morning, I have the castle chefs bake me a large cake."
>You lift an eyebrow.
"And…that's what you eat? You have *cake* for breakfast?"
>"Mm-hmm!" She nods. "They're about thiiis big…"
>She rests one forehoof on the surface of your table while hovering her other one a fair distance above it.
>The height difference between her hooves is roughly equivalent to the standing size of a healthy foal.

>"I make sure my chefs bake me a totally unique cake every day," she cheerily continues. "with lots of frosting and icing, too!"
>You blink.
"…Right, so you—"
>"And I also have three cupcakes as a palate cleanser—no more, no less."
"Oka—"
>"Oh! And the drinks!"
>She excitedly clasps both of her forehooves together, before gesturing with her left.
>"Strawberry smoothies on odd days of the week—"
>She then gestures with her right forehoof.
>"—banana milkshakes on the even ones."
>She twirls both hooves in the air.
>"But if I wake up in a particularly bad mood that day—I chuck whatever they give me back in their face and demand a glass of hazelnut hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows."
>She ends by tittering into her hoof.
"I…see."
>You take another ruminant bite of your breakfast.
>Part of you feels vindicated that you haven't been the only one who's suffered at this princess's capricious hooves.
>More importantly, however—how in the fresh sugary hell is this horse not diabetic?
>Perhaps magical princess ponies are simply built different.
>Incidentally, you doubt that simply changing your brand of preferred cereal is gonna be enough to win her oversaturated taste buds over.
>Gotta think sweeter, you guess.
>…Man, why are you even considering this?
>There's no chance that your poor, takeout-ordering ass is ever going to compete with royal cuisine.
>You'd be much better off moving over there instead.
>…Hm, now *there's* an idea.
>If you so desired, you could ditch this dump and relocate straight to the Crystal Castle; there, you could have your every whim and want taken care of by Flurry's servants.
>Sure, your sudden presence might raise a few suspicious eyebrows—but with a few words of earnest endorsement from your slave, you could see the tide quickly turning in your favour.
>After all, the ponies over there sound whipped enough to accept whatever bullshit she spews out—mind-controlled or not.
>The scenario you're concocting in your head sounds almost too good to be true—and maybe it is.
>But you've already got a princess under your command—why stop there?
>Perhaps it's time for Equestria's one-of-a-kind masseur to start planning his royal retirement…

>For now, though—you've got a day job to get to.
>After finishing your breakfast, setting your tableware aside, and thoroughly wiping your massage table down—you head out of the kitchen.
>Unsurprisingly, Flurry follows you into your reception.
>It's unsurprising, yes—but as the opening hour of your establishment draws closer, you find your bemused brain being peppered by a few pertinent questions.
>How are you gonna explain the presence of a princess casually loitering around your house to your clientele?
>Are you getting in the way of her royal duties—whatever they may be?
>Do her folks even care that she has been gone for nearly twenty-four hours?
>With each unanswered question—you find your breathing growing more and more ragged.
>That glorious transferral to the Crystal Castle is beginning to sound more like a grim trip to the dungeon.
>Hell, a prison cell is probably the least of your worries—you wouldn't be surprised if Equestria hands out the death penalty for having violated a princess as deeply as you did.
>Shit. You may have bitten off far more than you can chew here.
>Steady on, Anon; don't panic. Perhaps you can still salvage this.
>Turning around, you address the source of your fretfulness.
"So, uh, slave."
>"Yes, Master?"
>You rest your left hand upon the reception desk to your side.
"Don't you have stuff to do, um…back home?"
>Her lips briefly part, as if considering your conundrum—before she vehemently shakes her head.
>"The only thing that matters to me is serving you, Master! Your needs are my needs!"
>To further punctuate her point, she steps forward and nuzzles directly into your crotch.
>You may be fearing for your life right now, but you've gotta admit—she makes a compelling argument.
>A *very* compelling argument.
>…
>That trip to the dungeon can wait.

>Once again, you find yourself reclining against your cushioned crystal chair in front of your shiny crystal desk.
>Opening hours have been postponed until you take some much-needed time to destress.
>To that end, you're perusing your Playcolt magazine in a bid to lift your spirits.
>"Gluk…gluk…gluk…"
>Oh, and Princess Flurry Heart is sucking your dick under your desk.
>She sits right in between your spread legs, lips sealed around your length and tongue swirling around your glans.
>With her eyes lasciviously lidded, she passionately makes out with your meat, lathering it in her warm saliva and giving it a tongue bath that truly befits a king.
>While your left hand loosely holds your saucy magazine, your right hand is firmly gripped around Flurry's horn as she suckles your sceptre.
>Very considerate of these magical horses to come with a natural handlebar.
>But that's not all—you've also added an ingenious "improvement" to your alicorn to make her more blowjob-friendly.
>With a growing smirk on your face, you rub your thumb against the tip of her horn—
>Or rather, the wooden cork fixed atop it.
>That's right—gone are the worries of getting accidentally gored by her horn during a passionate fit of cock throating.
>Flurry's quiet moans fills the room as she steadily bobs her head up and down your head, never leaving the tip.
>Each lavish lap sends jolts of excitement running through your loins, while her plushy lips are as divine cushions for your throbbing dick.
>It. Is. Heavenly.
>You've trained her well.
>Alas, the rest of your shaft is feeling woefully unloved.
>You know she'll get around to the whole hog eventually.
>…But you're more than happy to take the reins and speed things up regardless.
>Feeling proactive, you gently set your Playcolt down on your desk and carefully rest your left hand on the back of her head.
>You give her a few tender pets through the mane for a job well done…
>And you force her right down to the base, squishing her snout against your scrotum and holding her there.
>Her horn cork harmlessly bumps up against your shirt—your intuition is already paying off.
>"Mmph!"
>Flurry's eyes widen in surprise, while her nostrils fully flare out against your pubes, taking in your scent.
>One of her most beloved and primal of Masterly smells fires straight up into her brain, coating her mind in a murkily musky mist.
>Her mareish instincts flick into overdrive, and her tail excitedly slaps the underside of the desk behind her.
>Her tongue movements become unfocused and desperate, rapidly lapping at whatever part of your submerged shaft lies before it.
>Her soft lips needily flex in and out around your base, peppering your pubic zone with pliant pecks aplenty.

>While her manic movements both entice and amuse you, you can't help but desire even further stimulation.
>So, using both hands, you slowly pull her up your rod, bringing her mouth to just under your frenulum—
>And you slam her right back down to your base.
>A Master ought to use every part of his slave for his own purposes.
>Which is why you continue to heartily force Flurry's face up and down your dick, using the Crown Princess's gullet as your own personal onahole.
>Her mouth provides a most-satisfactory medium for your meat to bask in heat and humidity both.
>Her throat tickles your tip, and her lips brush up against your base.
>Her tongue settles under your member, moistly massaging its underside in her eager efforts to draw out your load.
>Flurry's once-quiet moans quickly become much more brazen in both volume and frequency.
>A few bracing grunts escape your own throat, while your tool throbs with bracing anticipation.
>Feeling your passionate peak fast approaching, you promptly pull her face up past your physical peak and beyond—yanking her off your dick and teasingly holding her head several inches above your tip.
>She whimpers longingly, desperate to continue revering her Master's royal sceptre.
>With her eyes utterly fixated and her mouth still agape, she extends her tongue out towards your meat, readily lapping at the open air in between—
>And rolling out the red carpet for your climax.
>One grunt, one thrust—and you swiftly hilt yourself all the way into her waiting maw.
>Her twitching throat awaits your creamy reward—and so you give it.
>You nut and you bust and you blow—blasting her royal pharynx with ropes upon ropes of thick human gunk.
>She audibly accepts every creamy load that you give her, *gulp* *gulp* *gulping* it down with gusto.
>Her snout snorts hot air around your pubic region, filling up *all* of her senses with that of her beloved Master.
>It's only when you have *thoroughly* finished unloading all of your pent-up stress do you finally let go of Flurry's horn, letting your right hand lay limp on your chair arm.
>Your left hand still rests on Flurry's head as you give your "good girl" a few appreciative pets for a job *very* well done.
"Phew…"
>Your softened member falls out of Flurry's mouth; she peppers it with affectionate nuzzles and tender pecks, treating her Master's pride with the utmost care.
>Slouching back into your chair, you exhale in satisfaction:
"Haaah…"
>Ah, now *this* is the life.
>Bunking with a sexy horse princess who's desperately eager to serve you in every which way.
>It really doesn't get much better than this.
>*Dinga-linga-ling*
>…It can certainly get *worse,* though.

>Straightening up your posture and furrowing your brows, you glare towards the reception entrance—and at the pony walking through.
"Hey, did you not read the sign outside? We're—"
>Said pony is pink, winged, and has a preference for cream-coloured bows.
"—C-cozy?"
>The pegasus gasps in mock surprise, casually closing the door behind her.
>"We are? Golly!"
>Her face quickly settles into a sugary smile—one that's almost as diabetic as Flurry's diet.
>You rest your right hand on the table surface and awkwardly clear your throat.
"E-ehem. What are you doing here?"
>"Me? Well…"
>She quickly flutters over to your front and hovers up in the air, resting both forehooves on the side of the desk that's opposite you.
>"…I just wanted to see how my *favourite* human was doing!"
"A-ah, right."
>Taking a quick blink to compose yourself, you respond:
"Um, I'm good—great, even. Thanks for asking."
>"Gee, that's just swell!"
>She raises her forehooves and clasps them together.
>"So, I take it you were able to take care of our 'royal problem?'"
"Oh, uh, yes. She's very well…a-ahem…taken care of."
>"Great!"
>She looks around the room.
>"So…where is she?"
"I…"
>Cozy was the one who had you brainwash Flurry in the first place—yet you still feel some hesitation in informing her that her best friend is currently nuzzling your knob.
"Um…"
>Squinting her eyes, she holds a hoof against her forehead and looks down your hall.
>"Is she over theeere?"
>She lands on your desk and looks up towards your ceiling.
>"Upstairs, maybe?"
>She then throws a glance your way, and you see the sweetness in her smile giving way to slyness.
>"Ooor…"
>She steps forward. You gulp.
>"…down here?"
>Before you can react, she slides across your desk and takes a peek at the action going on underneath.
>Sure enough, Flurry is still in the middle of sniffing your scrotum back to action.
>A faint shade of red crosses Cozy's pink cheeks as she witnesses her friend's wanton worship—yet her grin doesn't falter in the slightest.
>"Golly."
>You loudly cough.
"A-as you can see—she's, uh, busy."
>Cozy giggles.
>"Why, she certainly is!"
>Her eyes trail up your body to meet your face—and she hops a short distance back.
>"Unfortunately, I'm gonna need to borrow her for the rest of the day."
>Your eyes shoot open in surprise.
"What? Why?"
>All traces of cheer leave her face as she takes a deep, forlorn sigh.
>"Well, you see, when Flurry failed to return home yesterday—everypony at the castle lost their collective minds."

>Cozy sits down on her haunches and runs a pensively runs a forehoof through one of her mane's curls.
>"Princess Cadance—ruler of the Crystal Empire *and* Flurry's dear mother—was beyond terrified that a rogue changeling sect had kidnapped her daughter for nefarious means."
>She lowers her forehoof and holds it to her chest.
>"So then Prince Shining Armor—Flurry's father—quickly mobilised the Royal Guard in order to find and punish the perpetrator."
"Wh-wha—"
>Cozy suddenly slams both forehooves on the desk, addressing you with clear panic strewn across her face.
>"And *now* guardsponies are going house to house, bucking down doors and arresting anypony who they even slightly suspect has ties to the disappearance of our Crown Princess!"
>Your blood is rapidly approaching sub-zero temperatures.
"S-shit, I, uh, r-really?" you manage to croak out.
>You fearfully stare into her spooked scarlet eyes, feeling more fucked by the second—and not in the fun way.
>…
>Cozy's frown suddenly turns upside down.
>"…Nope! I lied!"
>You blink—
>Once.
>Twice.
>Thrice.
"Wait, you what?"
>She titters.
>"Pretty convincing story, huh?"
"I…uh…"
>You shake your head to recover from the mental roller coaster that this prankish pegasus has just put you on.
>On the bright side of things, you can safely skip your cup of coffee this morning—because you're wide awake now.
"So…you *don't* need her?"
>"Oh, I do."
>Flapping her wings, she flutters over to the right side of your desk.
>"Flurry's parents may not be *panicking,* per se, but they're still kinda concerned that their one and only daughter didn't return home last night."
>She glances down at the princess by your pelvis.
>"A quick trip home ought to alleviate any budding suspicions that their precious little bundle of joy has been turned into a pervert's sex pet."
>She places both forehooves on her hips.
>"And better me than you to bring her there, wouldn't you say?"
>She flashes you a smirk.
>"I betcha I can spin a better cover-up story than you can~"
>You roll your eyes.
"What are you—her caretaker?"
>"Mm…" She thoughtfully taps her chin. "…I'll leave that one to your imagination."

>You let out a ruminant sigh.
>Loathe as you are to relinquish your ever-helpful slave, you have to admit that Cozy has a point—you can't keep Flurry cooped up in your house forever.
"Okay, fine."
>You look down at Flurry, who is still single-mindedly worshipping your meat—sniffing and kissing and licking around your recovering half-chub.
>The mare must be in her own little world right now—one that is comprised of only you and her.
>Alas, you must take her out of it.
"Slav—er…"
>Taking note of your current company, you quickly clear your throat.
"I mean, Flurry."
>Flurry looks up at you with a wide, obedient smile.
>"Yes, Master?"
>Hearing snickering coming from your side, you snap your gaze up at Cozy.
"Just so we're clear," you retort, "this whole 'master-slave' thing doesn't make me a pervert. I'm merely asserting my authority. You got that?"
>Cozy playfully bats a hoof your way, completely undeterred by your defensive tone.
>"Loud and clear, 'master!'"
>"Hm?" Flurry's ears swivel over in Cozy's direction.
>She pokes her head out from under the desk, soon catching sight of her best friend.
>"Oh, hi, Glowie! How long have you been here?"
>"A whiiile…"
>Cozy crosses her forelegs and arches a curious eyebrow.
>"But did you really only notice me just now, Flurry-wurry?"
>"Y-yes, b-but…"
>Stammering, Flurry turns back back to your crotch, a slight smile forming on her face as she takes it in with her eyes.
>"…that's only because I was so busy worshipping Master's dick, ehehe…"
>"Wowie, it's really that good, huh?"
>Feeling a little awkward now that the topic of conversation is turning over to your pipe, you hurriedly speak up:
"S-so, Flurry—I'm gonna need you to go along with Cozy for a bit. Something about stopping the castle from exploding."
>"Oh, okay…" she mumbles, ears slightly folding.
>Moving away from her cherished royal sceptre, Flurry walks out from under your desk to sit between you and Cozy.

>Now granted the opportunity to fully examine Flurry's form out from the shade of the desk—Cozy gasps in sudden shock.
>"Golly, Nonny, what have you *done* to poor little Flurry?"
"What do you mean? She looks fine."
>She narrows her eyes, scrutinising your slipshod surveillance.
>"Are you suuure about that? Look closer."
>You do so—and upon closer inspection, you begin to notice certain characteristics that ill-befit a pampered princess.
>Such as her messy mane, her frazzled tail, the cork stuck on top of her horn, the few stray pubes stuck to her lips, and…
"Okay," you admit, "so she looks a little dishevelled…"
>"And smells—"
>Fluttering down to the floor, Cozy sniffs the air around Flurry; the pegasus's nose wrinkles near instantly, while her tail reflexively flicks to the side.
>"—absolutely *reeks.*"
>"I-I do?"
>Flurry turns to you, eyes shimmering with self-conscious concern.
>"Master, d-do I smell bad?"
>Nose blindness from the recent marathon of man-on-mare sex has left you woefully unable to answer that question with any sincerity.
"You, uh…"
>So instead, you lean towards Flurry and carefully wipe the pubes off from her snout.
"…just need a little glow up, that's all; bit of perfume and you're good as new."
>You glance at Cozy.
"Right?"
>Cozy responds with a sigh and a shake of her head.
>"Stallions…"
>As her eyes drift up Flurry's sitting form, Cozy's gaze slowly widens once she notices a certain "something."
>"Good golly, what is *this?*"
>Cozy cautiously hovers her forehoof over the cork on Flurry's horn—as if the act of merely touching it would both debase and defile the pegasus in turn.
>"Master gave it to me!" Flurry proudly beams.
>"Riiight…"
"It's a safety measure," you add. "Something to stop her from stabbing me in the stomach during, uh, you know."
>You awkwardly rub your thigh to prove your point against points.
>Cozy briefly raises an eyebrow—and then snickers.
>"…Jeepers, Nonny, you sure are *devious.*"
>She shoots you a sly wink.
>"I like that~"
"Um, th-thanks?"
>Once again, your nescience to pony social faux pas has left you completely in the dark.
>You can only wonder whether corking a pony's horn ranks above or below groping their wings.
>At this point—you're afraid to ask.

***

"Hey, that's one of my good towels!"
>Hovering in the air and holding said towel in her forehooves, Cozy responds:
>"It's *also* the only thing that's stopping the entire Royal Family from murdering you until I can get Flurry cleaned up."
>Your brows knit.
"…Okay. Keep the towel."
>She giggles.
>"Glad you see things my way~"
>With dextrous hooves, Cozy layers the towel atop Flurry's head, veiling her scruffy mane from prying eyes.
>The three of you are now in the kitchen.
>And for the past ten minutes, you and Cozy have been hard at work to conceal the identity of the sexed-up alicorn in front of you.
>Apparently, quite the political scandal will occur if the citizenry start to see the Crown Princess of Love as a loose harlot who gets fucked up at massage parlours.
>Personally, you don't see the issue; slutty mares are *in* this summer.
>And if worst comes to worst—you can always just take responsibility and marry the mare, right?
>…Eh, you're not entirely sure that will absolve you of the whole "enslaving her mind" thing.
>Anyway, the princess in front of you looks sufficiently disguised.
>The aforementioned towel is now wrapped around her mane.
>A spare curtain covers up her body, hiding her wings.
>To complete the look, she also dons a pair of thick-rimmed sunglasses.
>Regrettably, you had to remove her horn cork.
>She's certainly making a fashion statement—though perhaps not a royal one.
>After giving Flurry a quick once over, Cozy dusts off her forehooves in triumph.
>"Okie dokie," Cozy speaks up, "this should keep her identity hidden until we get can back get to the castle."
"And by 'we'—you mean just you and Flurry, right?"
>"Unless you desperately wish to plead guilty to brainwashing and defiling the Crown Princess—that's right."
"Sure…" You sigh. "…but what about after that?"
>"Hm?" She tilts her head. "Whaddaya mean?"
>You lean back against the kitchen counter.
"You see, I've been thinking about moving into the castle. Living like a king—just like you said a couple days ago."
>"Mm, no. Don't do that."
>Your brows furrow as Cozy quickly shoots you down.
"What? But you—"
>She raises her forehoof.
>"Ahem, let me finish."
>She points her raised hoof towards you.
>"Don't do that *yet.*"
"'Yet?' What am I waiting for?"
>"Flurry by herself won't be enough to secure the future you want, so it's for the best that you lie low for the time being. Not just that, but your appearance at the castle would raise way too many eyebrows."

"And what exactly *is* the future that I want?" you grumble, crossing your arms. "Since you seem so certain and all."
>She titters and flutters closer to you.
>"Isn't it obvious? You desire the same things that I do."
>She slowly circles your head with a sly smirk on her face; you stay still.
>"Luxury…" is whispered into your left ear.
>"Respect…" is whispered into your right.
>She loops around to your front and firmly rests both her forehooves on your shoulders.
>As you stare deep into those almost-hypnotic pools of scarlet sin, you hear her softly growl:
>"*Power.*"
>Her eyes lid, with her smirking muzzle mere inches away from your own face.
>"…Am I right?"
>You can't bring yourself to respond.
>Because she *is* right.
>This…this pretty pink pony understands you completely.
>Are you that easy to read?
>And…are you that easy to win over?
>"I-I can give Master all of those!" a voice rings out from your side.
>The two of you turn towards Flurry, whose agitated wings threaten to flare out and launch her curtains on her coat skywards.
>Cozy sighs, tone turning sour:
>"Flurry, shut up."
>"Nng…"
>Flurry winces, quickly deflating and drooping her head.
>Cozy releases her hoofgrip on you and slowly hovers backwards.
>She then crosses her forelegs.
>"Luster Dawn. You remember her, right?"
>Your expression tightens with trepidation.
"…How could I not."
>She was that raunchy unicorn with a penchant for calling you "humie" and humiliating you thus.
>In truth—you wouldn't raise any complaints if you and her were to never meet again.
>But…
>"She's a magical prodigy—one under the direct tutelage of Equestria's Ruling Princess, which means she'll be an useful asset to have under your command."
>Cozy flashes you a grin.
>"And once you have the Crown Princess *and* the Star Student under your complete control—nopony will be able to challenge us."
>You hum in thought.
"'Us,' huh?"
>"Well, of course!" She nods. "After all, we're *partners,* aren't we, Nonny?"
>There are a lot of things about this pegasus that rub you the wrong way—
>Such as how nonchalant she is about letting an alien turn her best friend into a sex slave.
>But she hasn't steered you wrong yet.
>Perhaps that's all you can ask for in this topsy-turvy horse land.
>So you'll trust her—for now.

"I suppose we are."
>You return her grin.
"You provide the collars—I do the deed."
>She titters.
>"That's not the only thing I'm providing—don't forget who's gonna be covering for you after…"
>Cozy gestures towards Flurry.
>"…this happened."
>You solemnly nod.
"Yes…that too."
>You suppose somepony will need to inform the castle chefs why the resident bratty princess hasn't bothered them for her foal-sized cake this morning.
"Speaking of collars, though…"
>Extending a hand towards Cozy, you rub your middle finger and thumb together.
>She giggles, quick to pick up your inference.
>"Golly, eager to break in your next mare already?"
"What can I say—I'm not too keen when it comes to resting on my laurels."
>"Ah, a stallion after my own heart~"
>She briefly glances to the side.
>"Unfortunately, these collars to take time to…procure." She looks back to you. "But don't worry—I'll be in touch soon."
>Fluttering up to you, she takes up your right hand within both forehooves.
>"In the meantime, you just keep working those lovely hands of yours~"
"…Will do."
>"Mm. Good."
>Cozy lingers in the air with your hand still in her grip, eyeing your palm intently.
>Steadying your hand with one hoof, she tenderly trails a circle on your palm with the toe of her other.
>It feels…strange—ticklishly intimate.
>Keratin caressing flesh.
>You don't mind it.
>It's only a quiet chuff from Flurry that snaps you and Cozy back to reality.
>Letting go of your hand, Cozy touches down next to Flurry.
>"Come on, Flurry; time to go home."
>"Okay…" Flurry mumbles, tone slightly sulky.
>The two mares head to the kitchen's exit.
>Once they reach the doorway, Cozy turns around and waves at you.
>"See you around…"
>She shoots you a wink.
>"Partner~!"

***

>The rest of the day goes by just like any other.
>You massage a few clients here and there.
>You book a few appointments for later dates.
>You stare at your ledger and lament your lack of profits.
>Same old, same old.
>No Flurry.
>No Cozy, either.
>Day turns into night—and you turn in to bed.
>Lying on top of your mattress, you stare up at the ceiling, your thoughts totally occupied by the two mares who have both taken your life by storm.
>First, there's Flurry Heart—the needy alicorn who's oh-so eager to please.
>She's a stuck-up, spoiled brat who saw the entire world as beneath her—you included.
>But now, she's your royal onahole—one who would happily give you the world if you commanded it.
>Her sincere servility and bombshell body is enough to make you want to capture her heart for real.
>And then there's Cozy Glow—that alluringly toned pegasus shrouded in mystery.
>She had first approached you in the hopes of bringing her old friend back—but it's clear her ambitions lie far beyond a mere rekindled friendship.
>You're curious to see just how high she can soar.
>But you also want to make her *yours.*
>Both mares are equally enticing.
>You wonder if you could choose between them should the situation ever call for it.
>For all her of faults, Flurry is a real sweetheart once you get to break her in.
>But Cozy has that air of danger to her—a typhoon of excitement and intrigue that threatens to swallow you whole should you ever grow complacent around her.
"Hm…"
>Decisions, decisions…
>Flurry…
>Cozy…
>Flurry…
>Cozy…
>Bright flash of yellow light…
>…
"F-flurry?"
>"Hi, Master!"
>Flurry now stands by your bedside, looking just as chipper as she was this morning.
>The key difference is—she's cleaned up a lot better; her well-groomed form practically radiates regality.
>If it wasn't for the dopey smile upon her face as she lays eyes on her Master—you'd almost think she recovered from her collared control.

"What are you doing here?"
>"H-huh? I…"
>She recoils, briefly taken aback by your question.
>"I-I wanted to sleep with Master, like we did last night."
"Oh."
>Well, you're not against the idea of having a royal cuddle buddy, but…
"…won't your folks miss you back at the castle?"
>She shakes her head.
>"Don't worry, Master! I'll return home in the morning—they won't even know that I'm gone!"
>Sitting on her haunches, she clasps both forehooves together and gives you a pleading smile.
>"S-so…please?"
>You sigh, patting the spot on the bed next to you.
"Come on up, then."
>She shoots up to a standing position and giddily prances in place.
>"Oh, Master! I get to sleep with Master again!"
>Wasting no time, she quickly clambers onto bed with you and lays on her side, tail happily wagging against the soft sheets.
>Cute—but there's something that has been bothering you.
"One last thing, slave."
>"What is it, Master?"
>You squint your eyes.
"…Why does your mane look like that?"
>Indeed, her luscious locks bear neither the dignity of her regal swirls, nor the messy bedmane of the morn.
>Instead, her manestyle is something different—yet familiar all the same.
>Her purply-pink mane has been meticulously curled into long ringlets, with a light blue streak running through each roll.
>To top it all off, a cream-coloured bow sits at the apex.
>Colour scheme aside—it's the spitting image of a certain pegasus's manestyle…
>Flurry giggles.
>"Do you like it, Master? Glowie said you would!"
>Mere words could never describe the weight of how you feel right now.
>So you settle for the next best thing:
>After deeply exhaling through your nose, you yank her towards you.
>"Eep!"
>You pin her pristine, princessly form under your own—and your hands furiously grip the bedsheets at either side of her.
>Flurry's wide eyes slowly travel down your body—and her shocked lips soon settle into a dreamy smile as she sights your "answer."
>"You do~!"
>You intend to make *full* use of your slave tonight.
>Because, as the age-old saying goes:
>Why not both?
>…
>Honestly, you prefer her swirls.

*** 5 ***

>It's the second day.
>The second day of what, you ask?
>"Good morning, Master!"
>The second day of living with Flurry Heart.
>Slowly opening your eyes, you sleepily greet those excitable blue pools of hers.
"G'mornin…"
>She lets out a chipper titter and softly nuzzles your face.
>Tickly. Very tickly.
>Once she retreats, you throw a glance over to the alarm clock on the nightstand.
>You see that you're ten minutes before the beep.
>So you switch your clock off.
>Not today, old friend. Not today.
>You and Flurry are in bed together, but the duvet has been partially flipped over so that your upper bodies are exposed to the temperate bedroom air.
>Flurry's slender body currently lies atop your own, and you can feel her warm, velvety coat brush up against your bare skin.
>Her widely smiling face is right up in your business, with the tip of her snout lightly touching upon your nose's apex.
>Her forelegs, bent at the knees, rest under your arms and by your sides, further steadying her permissive position.
>Her unfurled wings lie lazily splayed to her sides, looking fluffily ruffled.
>Hm…
>Looping your left arm around her back, your right hand finds its way to Flurry's closest wing—her left.
>Tenderly and tentatively, you begin running your fingers through her feathers.
>"A-ah…!" she gasps in surprise and jerks her head back.
>Her body lightly tenses, and you can feel her wing nervously twitch in your right hand.
>So you rub your left hand along her withers to calm her down.
"Your wings are a mess, Flurry," you whisper. "Let me take care of them for you."
>She blinks a few times.
>"O-oh, I…"
>She briefly closes her eyes and lets out a soft sigh.
>Upon reopening her eyes, she regards you with a quiet smile.
>"…thank you, Master."
>She allows herself to relax, stilling her wing's movements and lowering her neck so that her chin rests atop your left shoulder.
>Your fingers rub up against the delicate muscle that comprises her wing's forearm as you lovingly tend to her plumage.
>"Mm…"
>You hear her deeply exhale through her nostrils and into the pillow right next to your head; the waft of her hot breath ends up tickling your left ear.
>You smell her pleasant scent: natural sweetness mixed in with flowery perfume—topped off by a strong hint of mareish sweat.
>You feel her supple belly relaxedly rise and fall atop yours as the both of you breath in sync with one another.
>The two of you are more than content enough to simply lie here and enjoy each other's presence within this peaceful harmony of Master and slave.

>…
>But alas, duty calls.
>With some hesitation, Flurry lifts her head off your shoulder and looks down at you with a pensive frown.
>"I-I should get back home…" she speaks with a tone that matches her forlorn expression. "Mom and Dad might start wondering where I am…"
"I see."
>"B-but I'll return as soon as I can!" she quickly adds. "I…I want to be with Master…"
>Letting out another soft sigh, she turns her gaze over to your right hand and lightly flexes her feathers against your fingers.
>"And I want this…" she quietly whispers. "More of this…"
>Though she may be your mind-controlled slave, she willingly and openly lays her heartfelt desires bare before you.
>These are the earnest desires of a mare who wishes to be cared for by the human who owns her.
>And what kind of Master would you be to deny your slave these simple comforts?
"Then you shall have it…"
>Leaning forwards and up towards Flurry, you whisper into her left ear:
"…my slave."
>Her ear twitches, and she heartily sighs out:
>"Haaah…" she breathily sighs out.
>She carefully nestles her head on top of your left shoulder, making herself comfortable.
>Then, she slips her forelegs around your back and envelops you in a hoofy embrace.
>It seems that in spite of your slave's obligations over at her castle—she's in no rush to leave quite just yet.
>The feeling is mutual.
>And so the two of you lie together for a few minutes more, silently enjoying each other's presence.
>As you continue to casually preen your mare, you slowly savour her slavish scent through flared-out nostrils.
>Her feminine fragrance—sweetly musky—perfectly complements the sweaty smell of your masculine claim over her body.
>…
"Actually, wait," you speak up. "Before you go…"
>She pulls away from your shoulder and looks to you with a curious expression.
>"Mm?"
"…you should shower first. I'm not sending you home like this."
>She nods.
>"Of course, Master."

***

"You know how to use it, right?"
>"I…"
>She shakes her head despondently.
>"I don't, Master. I've always had my maids bathe me."
>You sigh.
"Of course…"
>The two of you are now in your bathroom.
>You are currently staring down your shower cubicle—and the mare sitting on her haunches within.
>Flurry stares back at you from within that bone-dry stall, her expression painting a potent picture of princessly perplexion.
>If strength of will alone could power a shower faucet—then you'd still be standing here, twiddling your thumbs.
>Because your slave has no clue on how to operate the common man's shower.
>Figures.
"Very well, then."
>Quickly disrobing, you step into the cubicle.
"I'll take a wash with you; we'll save on water that way."
>"O-oh, okay!" she shakily replies, light-blue eyes laser focused on the emergent pride of your naked form.
"Uh…"
>While the prospect of a shower blowjob *does* sound pretty tempting…
>The whole point of this affair is to get her *clean,* not dirtier.
>Thus, you crouch down and position your hands around the sides of her barrel.
"Alright, up you go."
>With a faint blush on her face, she looks up from your groin and nods to you.
>"Mhm."
>She rests her forehooves upon your shoulders, ready to rise.
>Using a gentle yet firm force, you carefully pull her up into a bipedal standing position—just like you did a couple days ago.
>She's not the lightest pony in the world, but with Flurry following your ascension, this lift proves to be no issue at all.
>And soon enough, she stands solely on her hindlegs, face level with yours.
>Just like before, she leans against you to support herself.
>Her forelegs loop over your shoulders and hang around your upper back, steadying her stance and aligning her anatomy with yours.
>Circling your arms around her back, you rest your right hand on her withers and your left on her croup.
>You and Flurry take a few seconds to reacclimatise to this awkward synergy of man and mare.
>It's awkward, yes—yet you can't deny that there's a certain grace to your princess's two-legged poise.
>Incidentally, your genitals also happen to be level with hers, making this clumsy configuration feel markedly more steamier.
>Flaccid though you may be, you are still able to sense your coin purse getting close and personal with her coin slot.
>So close and personal, in fact, that you can feel yourself slowly awakening.
>Er…
>"What now, Master?" Flurry speaks up, cutting those carnal thoughts short.
>Right. Shower time—not sex time.
"Now we turn the thing on," you answer. "Brace yourself."
>"Mm."
>She rests her chin on your left shoulder, appropriately braced.
>Briefly taking your right hand away from her withers, you slowly switch on the shower via the control valve—
>And liquid chill promptly pierces your skin from above.
>"O-oh!"
"F-fuck!"
>Shit—damn that's cold!
>Probably should've let the water heat up before stepping in.

>"M-master!" she addresses you with clear concern in her voice. "Please, let me help!"
>Her horn heats up—as does the rest of her.
>As does the rest of you.
"Hey! That's…"
>You quickly find yourself being wholly encompassed by a magical warmth—one that repels the biting chill of the fresh shower drizzle.
"…that's not a bad spell, actually."
>"Hehe!" she giggles, nuzzling into your right cheek. "I'm glad you like it, Master!"
>That being said, you certainly didn't permit your slave to cast such a spell.
>But considering the benefits, you suppose you'll allow such wanton autonomy from her—this time.
>The shower's temperature soon settles, and Flurry releases her temperate sorcery.
>However, there's something else that still *hasn't* settled—something spurred on from Flurry's heated magic.
>Something down below…
>Ahem.
"Let's get started."
>Grabbing a nearby wash cloth with your right hand, you lather it up with soap and begin rubbing it into Flurry's body—starting with her shoulders and the back of her neck.
>"Oh…ooh~" she coos with delight. "Master…mm~"
>She happily rubs her entire body up against yours, brushing your bare flesh with her soft fur.
>It's not an unpleasant feeling by any means, but it does threaten to…distract you in some areas.
>So you clear your throat and sternly speak up:
"Stay still, slave."
>She lightly jumps at your sharp tone.
>"A-ah, sorry, Master. Sorry…"
>She stills her body, just as you command.
>Yet, even as you slowly work your way down her back—neither of you can help the way your bellies breathily respire against the other.
>And neither of you can help the way your loins carnally call out to each other in the most primal sense.
>Sandwiched between your bodies, the underside of your engorgedly throbbing member pushes up against her almost-steaming marehood.
>You may not penetrating her at the moment, but you can still keenly feel how she needily winks into your rod; her excitable button peppers your meat with wet kisses every time it emerges.
>As her nethers canoodle you from below, the strikingly piquant scent of mareish arousal pierces straight through the shower's hazy humidity and shoots up into your flared nostrils, sparking your brain into overdrive.
>The burgeoning need to ferociously breed your princess grows dangerously close to overriding your waning sense of self control.
>…
>But you are a masseur—a professional one.
>And right now—you are kneading the virtue of cleanliness itself into your slave.
>Sex can come later.

>Taking a bracing breath to compose your libido, you continue to work your way down her body with your soaped-up wash cloth.
>You attentively wash under her sensitive wingpits, making her wings reflexively jitter about as you lift them up.
>You tenderly rub around her supple flanks, making her lean into your firm hand.
>You carefully clean the area both above and below her tail dock—giving plenty of care to her puckered anus; naturally, her tail twitches wildly at your every touch.
>No matter where you wipe her down, Flurry makes her sweet-scented appreciation known to all of your senses; light gasps and marely moans freely escape her lips while she shudders and grinds against you.
>At this point, you can't bring yourself to scold your slave for her bawdy behaviour—your bodies are simply being honest with each other.
>After spending some time with your wash cloth wedged in between her luscious thighs, you move your left hand all the way up her body and gently pull Flurry's head away from your shoulder.
>As you gaze upon your slave, you can see how the ringlets that her best friend had once bestowed upon her have now completely washed away—leaving only her natural swirls to poke through her wettened mane.
>Just the way you like it.
>"Master…" she breathily whispers.
>Face to face, you stare deep into her light-blue eyes…
>And you steal a kiss from your princess.
>"Mm…"
>This is merely a chaste kiss to steel your resolve—thus, you use no tongue.
>It's just a few seconds of your mouth pressing up against her plush lips.
>Just a few more seconds of sharing breath afterwards—hot, steamy breath.
>Yeah, now you're ready.
"Turn around," you growl.
>"Right away, Master."
>With both of your hands steadying her barrel, you assist Flurry in turning away from you and facing the tiled wall at the back of the shower cubicle.
>She rests both forehooves against the wall, and you wrap your left arm around her barrel to further support her.
>Due to her naturally horsey stature, her posture is partly hunched, causing her plump pony butt to lightly push back against your bare groin—which does very little to help your rapidly crumbling inhibitions.
>Your rock-solid rod furiously throbs through her supple thigh gap, and your base instincts scream at you to make this slutty princess your personal cumdump right now.
>…
>Lathering up your wash cloth once more, you get straight back to work.
>You move down her body, cleaning what needs to be cleaned:
>The front of her neck.
>"Ah…"
>Her fluffy chest.
>"Mm…"
>Her slender belly—with extra care given to her sensitive navel.
>"Mmph…!"
>Her modest teats.
>"Ooh~!"

>You make sure to pay special attention to her fleshy teats; after all, it just wouldn't do to leave your mare's foal feeders in such an unsanitary state.
>Thus, you carefully circle each supple mound and run your cloth down the bumpy valley that resides in between them.
>One of Flurry's hindlegs jitters and wobbles as her hoof impatiently taps the shower flooring.
>As you tenderly trace another figure eight around her mammaries, she suddenly lets out a loud, steamy snort—followed by a soft, restrained whicker.
"Hm?"
>You move your clothen hand over to one of her perky nipples and give it a light *squeeze.*
>"Nnf…!"
>You growl into her ear:
"Got something you wish to say, *slave?*"
>"I-I—"
>Squeeze.
>"Ah!"
>She gutturally whinnies into the tiled wall, scraping her forehooves against its surface and flaring out her wings.
>Undignified though she may be, her horsey behaviour awakens something visceral within you.
>You carelessly toss your wash cloth to the side, splatting it against the glass wall of the shower cubicle.
"Such a rowdy mare…"
>You pin her against the tiled wall and let your hands freely roam the front of her lascivious body:
>Groping her chest fluff.
>Fingering her navel.
>Pinching her teats.
>All while she primally neighs and futilely attempts to flap her wet wings within this cramped cubicle.
>Your bare bodies clammily undulate against each other, soaked in stinky sweat and showery steam.
>With your nose pressed right up against her neck, you take a deep whiff of her feminine, *mareish* fragrance.
>"Ahn~!"
>Her submissive scent utterly electrifies your brain, telling you on an instinctual level that this mare belongs to *you.*
>Your throbbing manhood rubs up against her sweltering, dripping marehood.
>You're about as close as you can get without directly penetrating her.
>…
>*Schlick*
>"Mm~!"
>And now you're even closer.
>All it took was a quick jut of your hips to completely plunge yourself into her warm, inviting depths.
>You hilt yourself without hesitation, knowing full well that her lewd body expects no less.
>Bumping up against her babymaker, you feel her muscly walls ripple around your meat, clenching and clasping.
>Following your base instincts, you ruthlessly jackhammer her against the wall while the steamy shower rains over you both.
>Feathery flaps match pulpy *plaps* as you take her, and take her—and take her.
>She floods you in turn, dousing your groin and stinking up the shower with her natural need.
>Grunting growls leave your lips—marely moans and snorts escape hers.
>In this impromptu yet passionate fuckfest between man and mare, you two of you bare not only your bodies to each other—but your hearts, too.

>As you furiously fuck Flurry against the back of the cubicle, you totally smush the left side of her face against the tiled wall.
>Her tongue lolls out of her gaping mouth while her eyes roll over to her conquered brain.
>It is an utterly debased sight. You love it.
>For your part, you simply cannot stop yourself from huffing her sweaty neck, for the primal scent of your tamed mare is just as addicting as it is stimulating.
>The natural scent of her neck invigorates your loins—spurring you to rut her harder and faster.
>And so you pick up the pace, feeling your climax quickly building.
>Her legs buckle under your thrusting assault and her own continued orgasms.
>Thus, she loses balance, steadily collapsing to the floor; her lolled-out tongue slimily trails down the wall, leaving a thick line of pony saliva amidst the condensed steam.
>You hungrily follow her down to the bottom of it the shower cubicle, pounding her into a crouching position and pinning her pliant body underneath your own.
>Driven by desire, your animalistic instincts command you to thoroughly breed the fecund mare under you, to fill her up, to claim her, to mark her—to make her wholly yours.
>In this mental maelstrom of mannish impulses and mareish musk, passion takes hold of you for the briefest, most poignant of moments—
>And you lightly chomp down on her neck.
>"A-AH~!"
>With a snorting neigh, Flurry loses herself in her fiercest, most quaking maregasm yet.
>Sticky, stinky fluids coat your groin, dousing you even further in her gloopy need.
>You match her need with masculine desire, spearing yourself right up to her waiting cervix.
>Now that your tip is pointed exactly where it needs to be—you erupt without restraint.
>You fill up your mare with ropes upon ropes of virile human swimmers as you hose down her fertile womb with a force far greater—and far more furious—than the shower faucet up above.
>Your hips frantically buck into hers as your body demands that you drive yourself even deeper—to claim her completely.
>Her flexing walls squashily churn around your throbbing length, making sure to squeeze your seed out to the very last drop.

>Amorous moans turn to satiated sighs as you pulse out the last of your loads deep inside her depths.
>Fully spent, you gently collapse on top of her back, and the two of you wordlessly lie there for a time, pantingly enjoying the afterglow.
"Hah…hah…"
>"Hah…hah~"
>You can still feel yourself snugly buried inside her tight snatch; her becalmed walls gently massage your manhood, making your hard-working nuts twitch with activity as you squeeze out a few lazy loads of post-coital cum into her cunt.
>The warm shower continues to rain down upon your back while you nuzzle Flurry's neck, dotingly lapping at the tender spot where you had nibbled her; her soft fur tickles your taste buds.
>Your arms remain wrapped around her body; one of your hands tenderly rubs her slender belly—which now slightly bulges outwards thanks to all of the seed you've stuffed her with.
>The faint gurgle of the shower drain can be heard beneath your bodies as the sensual signs of a Master-slave bonding session drizzles down the pipes.
>Letting out a reluctant grunt, you forcefully pull yourself out from Flurry's clasping canal with an audible *plop.*
>A flood of backed-up fluids follow your wake, gushing out of her well-fucked pussy and dribbling down the drain.
"Phew…"
>Your eyes travel up her body as you admire your princess in full—your panting, sweaty, totally sexed-up princess.
>The left side of her face is still smushed against the tiled wall, and her tongue remains dopily lolled out; one half-lidded, glossy eye is glancing your way.
>Her mane is a complete fashion disaster—being both wet down and mussed up.
>Even through the cleansing humidity of the shower, she absolutely reeks of raunchy man-on-mare sex.
>And to top it all off, there's now a faint bite mark on her neck; you can see it even through her fur—for it is a new and not-so-subtle claim of your ownership over her body.
>You sigh.
>There's no doubt in your mind—this "shower" has left the both of you far dirtier than when you entered it.
"God, we're a mess…"
>Flurry slowly spins around to face you, and you see her light-blue eyes regain some measure of lucidity as they come to focus on your own.
>Rolling her tongue back into her mouth, her lips curl up into a soft smile.
>She then leans forward and cheerfully nuzzles your face.
>"Hehe~!" she giggles. "I'm *your* mess, Master!"
>…
>And so, the two of you had to share a second, chaste shower to wash off the sexual stink of the first.
>So much for saving on water.

*** 6 ***

>"Good morning, Master!"
>You groggily open your eyes, soon sighting proximate pools of blithesome blue.
"Mm…good morning, slave."
>"Hehe~!"
>Flurry's snout quickly meets your nose as she gives you another one of her loving nuzzles.
>For a brainwashed slave—she sure is affectionate.
>Against all odds, you are now on day three of living with Flurry Heart.
>Somehow, the Royal Guard have yet to bust down your door and arrest you on charges of collaring their dear princess.
>Which—considering what the two of you got up to yesterday—is quite surprising.
>Perhaps you have your timeless ingenuity to thank for that.
>Tilting your head towards the alarm clock on the nightstand, you check the not-so-timeless time:
>Once again—ten minutes before the beep.
>It seems that your royal bedmate is doing wonders when it comes to stabilising your sleep schedule.
>Just like before, Flurry's slender body lies atop your own, belly to belly and face to face.
>You note how the natural swirls of her mane have now completely overtaken the curls that were once bestowed upon her by her bestie.
>Her well-preened wings lie leisurely splayed across the bed, and you find yourself idly thumbing through her fluffy feathers with your right hand, making her softly hum and breathily coo with delight.
>Using your left hand, you give her withers a few slow strokes, running your fingers through her supple pink coat.
>She equably closes her eyes and contentedly exhales through flared nostrils, relishing your caring touch.
>Calm and cuddly mornings like these are quickly shaping up to be an everyday occurence for the both of you.
>There is one noticeable difference from yesterday's wake-up call, however—and it comes in the form of a marked modification to your slave's dainty appearance.
>Namely, you speak of the wide black choker around her neck—it's quite the eye catcher.
>This tight-fitting accessory matches pure-black pleather against pale-pink fur—sending a crystal-clear message to all those who lay eyes upon it.
>Your slave happens to be going through a rebellious phase, you see—and it's one where you hope to God that no-one notices the lingering bite mark you've left upon her neck.
>Thankfully, your strategically placed attachment appears to be working as intended—for no vampire hunters or irate parents have come after you yet.
>Moreover, you can't deny that the choker gives your mare a certain "punkish" appeal.
>Indeed, it surrounds her with an air of danger—turning her into a venomous viper of a princess.
>Yet you know this viper is one who would protectively coil around you, baring her pointed fangs squarely at the throats of your enemies—
>*BEEP BEEP BEEP*
>Shit. You forgot to turn it off this time.
>Letting out a sigh, you shuffle out from underneath Flurry's body and address her:
"Come on, then. Time to hit the grind."

***

>Flurry Heart, being a princess, naturally has her own obligations to attend to throughout the day.
>Magic lessons, training drills, badgering the royal servantry—but mainly just letting Mom and Dad know that their daughter is alive and well.
>After the two of you take care of your morning rituals together, you let her go back to her castle so she can carry out her duties.
>She leaves your home in a flash—and less than an hour later, she returns just as flashily, ever eager to spend the rest of the day by your side.
>The sight of a pink pony princess suddenly teleporting into your humble parlour is still one you have yet to get fully used to—but you're slowly getting there.
>From what she's told you, your slave already has the exact co-ordinates of your establishment firmly committed to memory—and with her nigh-limitless magical reserves, she's able to quickly teleport between your house and her castle like it's nothing.
>You must admit, alicorns sure are impressive—even when they've been totally brainwashed.
>So, given that you have an extremely powerful and endlessly needy alicorn slave on your hands, you suppose this is your life now.
>Because, as it turns out, the Crown Princess of the Crystal Empire is mostly left to her own devices, giving her a lot more free time than you initially realised.
>It's time that she must have spent painting the town red before you came along.
>Not that you mind, though; she's surprisingly good company—and a wonderful outlet for your sexual frustrations.
>But in this passionate partnership, a pertinent question presents itself—what do you do with a princess who spends most of her day at your massage parlour?
>It can't *all* be sex, can it?
>Well, as it so happens, your bottomless font of human ingenuity has come up with yet another creative solution…

>Crystal ponies.
>Despite their stony sounding name, they are, in fact, *not* made of crystal.
>They're beings of flesh and blood, just like you and their more opaque cousins.
>However, their physiology possesses a certain quirk that their plainer brethren clearly lack.
>For example, take your current client—Violet Gleam.
>She's a soft-spoken sort, but she's a sweet enough mare; she's not really your type, though—and you doubt that you're hers, either.
>Anyway, Violet Gleam is one such crystal pony.
>Her coat colour is a flat violet, while her droopy mane that covers one of her greyish eyes is a dull blue.
>Her gloomy expression naturally defaults to a forlorn frown, and you swear you can hear a sad trombone faintly playing in the background whenever she's present in your parlour.
>To put it bluntly—the mere sight of this mare depresses you on a fundamental level.
>But with a proper polishing, this pony can *shine*—quite literally, in fact.
>When a crystal pony's mood brightens—so does the rest of their physique; they sparkle with delight in the truest sense of the word, while their entire body turns incandescently translucent.
>It's a sight to behold whenever it happens; even after spending a year in the Crystal Empire—you never get tired of seeing a crystal pony gain their sparkle.
>Unfortunately, the crystal mare lying prone your massage table is currently the complete opposite of bright and chipper.
>"Ugh…"
>No matter how much you give her shoulders a good rubbing, Violet's body remains stiff and lifeless.
>If it weren't for her intermittent groans of discomfort—you'd think you were massaging a lukewarm corpse.
>You have a pretty good idea as to *what* is causing her to act so closed off—but, being the handsy paragon of customer service that you are, you feel it's better to ask rather than speculate.
"Is everything alright, Violet? You seem tenser than usual today."

>Her left ear nervously twitches as she tentatively chews on your question.
>"W-well, it's just…"
>Steadily lifting a forelimb up into the air, she points her hoof over towards the other figure in your parlour.
>"…why is there another pony in the room with us?"
"Oh, her?"
>Said figure happens to be a unicorn with a slender build and a light-pink coat.
>She dons a wide-rimmed bowler hat on her head; said hat manages to totally obscure her mane, yet there are holes near the top that allow her pony ears and long horn to poke through.
>Upon her face, she wears a pair of Groucho glasses—stache, nose, and all.
>Lastly, from her knees and hocks all the way up to her neck—a pony-fit trench coat covers most of her body in heavy brown fabric.
>As the hip and trendy youth of today might say—you could argue that she has "got the drip."
>And she's…
"…she's my assistant."
>You take a moment to thoughtfully flick your tongue across the top row of your teeth a few times, before continuing:
"Jimmy Cart."
>The two mares lock eyes for a few awkward seconds.
>Jimmy then waves at your client.
>"Hi."
>Violet's brows knit.
>"Jimmy Cart…?"
"Yeah." You nod. "She's still learning the ins and outs of this place."
>Leaning in towards Violet, you gently whisper into her ear:
"And it's her first day on the job."
>Pulling back, you shoot your client a playful wink.
"So go easy on her, alright?"
>Violet's eyes flit between you and Jimmy for a couple of seconds.
>"U-um, okay."
>With some hesitation, Violet steadily lowers her upper body back onto the table, turning her head away from Jimmy.
>Thus, you get straight back to work, kneading into her solid shoulder blades with both hands.
>Strange. She seems even tenser now.
>Could she be suspicious?
>Nah. Can't be.
>Jimmy's fit is rock solid.

>…
"Hey, pass me another towel, Jimmy."
>"At once, Master."
>Jimmy is quick on her yellow-tinted magic, promptly levitating a spare towel up to your outstretched hand.
>You grab it out of the air.
"Cheers."
>She nods in acknowledgement.
>Violet turns her head over to you, throwing you a glance that could perhaps be described as "suspicious."
>"Why…why does your assistant call you 'master?'"
"Huh?" You blink a few times. "Uh…"
>Shit. You didn't prepare an answer for that one.
>Gonna have to freestyle it.
"She's…ah…training…"
>You squeeze and twist the towel in your hands as you struggle to find the right words.
"…training under me."
>Your eyes briefly flit to Jimmy, and then you nod to Violet.
"Yeah, uh, she's my assistant, but she's also, like, my apprentice, you know?"
>After chewing on both your bottom *and* upper lip for a couple of seconds, you continue:
"And, um, that's how I have her refer to me under my apprenticeship. Helps establish our relationship—b-business relationship, that is."
>Nailed it. Absolutely nailed it.
>Violet's eyebrow stands raised.
>"Sure…"
>Her eyebrow doesn't lower, but she turns away from you nonetheless, silently awaiting the next part of your massage.
>You gently drape your towel across her back to seal in the heat and help loosen your client up.
>Unfortunately, as you attempt to press your hands into her supremely stiff muscle, your fingers find only denseness—immense denseness.
>Her body feels as if someone secretly swapped out your client with a pony-shaped boulder, and if you *weren't* an experienced masseur stationed within the Crystal Empire—you would simply assume as such.
>But no—you understand full well the reason why your client is beyond rock hard for you.
>Because this is yet another quirk of crystal pony physiology.
>Beings of flesh and blood they may be, should they become sufficiently sullen enough—their bodies will gain certain stone-like qualities, turning as taut as tantalum.
>Supposedly, it's a defence mechanism—for you, it's an annoyance mechanism.
>After all, massaging a rock is a mountainous ordeal—one you can't accomplish with human hands alone.
>Which means you're gonna have to break out the big guns.
>Turning over to your assistant, you clear your throat, ready to kick this massage up to the next level:
"Bring out the buffer, Jimmy."

>…
>You carefully set your rotary buffer down on the floor and wipe a build-up of sweat from your brow.
>Yeah, you polished that mare—polished her *real* good.
"Okay," you speak up, "that should just about cover it. How do you feel?"
>"I…"
>Violet closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
>"I feel…"
>Her body slowly levitates off the table, literally glowing with incandescent light.
>"I feel…!"
>You throw your assistant a quick glance.
"Avert your eyes, Jimmy."
>You cover your face with a hand just before Violet's body flashes out a most bright brilliance, turning the room pure white for but a brief second.
>Her booming voice resounds throughout the room:
>"I feel AMAZING!"
>Colour slowly returns to your massage parlour—just as colour has finally returned to your client.
>Her translucent purple coat is both sparkly and glittery, readily beaming out the light of her inner joy.
>Her shining azure mane, once a droopy sight, is now styled in a puffy bouffant—yet another indicator of the spontaneous transformation that crystal ponies undergo when they get "back in the groove."
>The pony that stands before you isn't just Violet—she's Violet Gleam.
>She springs off the table and trots up to you—and before you can react, she quickly nabs one of your hands with both of her forehooves and vigorously shakes it.
>"Thank you so, *so* much, Anonymous! Your massages always leave me feeling like a million mares!"
>The exuberant energy displayed in her hoofy handshake threatens to send you spinning—but you try your level best to keep up with her.
"A-ahem, glad I could help."
>She promptly lets go of your hand and prances right up to your assistant, leaning in towards her with a seriously wide smile.
>"And thank *you* too, Jimmy! I *must* say—you've done a *spectacular* job for your first day here!"
>Jimmy staggers a step back, responding with a weak nod:
>"Th-thank you."
>Violet checks her bare fetlock, squints her eyes, and then looks up at the clock on the wall.
>She dramatically gasps, eyes bulging open.
>"Oh my! Just look at the time! I'm about to be late to my shindig!"
>She hurriedly gallops over to your doorway—but before she leaves, she turns around and gives the both of you a vivacious wave.
>"Thanks again, you two! See you around!"
>You wave back, watching her sprint out of sight.
>Once you hear her exit your parlour, you allow yourself to mutter under your breath:
"Crazy-ass bipolar mare…"
>But she didn't suspect a thing.
>Anonymous—you've done it again.

*** 7 ***

>"Mornin…mmph…Mashtuh…"
>Lying in bed, you fold your arms behind your head and sigh out with satisfaction:
"Aaah…"
>Casting your eyes down along your body, you smile at the mare nestled in between your legs and underneath the duvet.
"Good morning, slave."
>That's right—you've made it to day four with Flurry Heart.
>Indeed, it has been a long and *hard* journey.
>So, you've decided to make this a day of deep relaxation.
>Sometimes, you've gotta take some time off to appreciate the finer things in life.
>Like—for example—having a pony princess wake you up with a morning blowjob.
>A blowjob that she's doing a damn-fine job at—you might add.
>Her long horn—tipped off with a wooden cork—lifts up the duvet from below, creating a clothen archway that grants you a wonderful view of her sloppy toppy.
>You may have known Flurry for less than a week, but she's become more than well-acquainted with your meat during that short time.
>Put plainly, she sucks dick like a pro, which is something you can clearly see—and *keenly* feel—as she skilfully suckles your sceptre.
>Her plush lips are planted firmly against your base, giving your groin a continuously cushy kiss.
>Squished up to your skin, her soft snout snorts hot air against your bare pelvis, blasting your naughty nerves with heated impulses.
>The inside of her muzzle is just as hot—and just as stimulating; thus, her moist mare mouth makes your meat absolutely *turgid* with desire.
>And her tongue—God, her tongue!
>Lifting her head and opening her mouth, Flurry gives you front-row seats to the lewd workings of her moist muscle.
>Readily displaying its surprising prehensility, her lengthy oral organ slimily coils around your twitching member, positively pumping it up and down.
>She's essentially jacking you off with her tongue; it's utterly orgasmic—and you haven't even started cumming yet.
>Part of you is beginning to wonder if this Princess of Love is secretly part succubus.
>But if she is—then she's *your* succubus.
"Hah…" you let out another hearty sigh.
>Moving one of your hands away from your head, you rest it atop Flurry's mane and gently ruffle through it.
"Keep going."
>"Mhm," she hums in affirmation.
>Maintaining half-lidded eye contact with you the entire time, she redoubles her erotic efforts.
>She completely lathers your throbbing length with her warm saliva, providing plenty of slick lubrication inside the the snug confines of her spiralling tongue.
>One thing's for sure—her tongue pussy is just as stimulating as her actual pussy.
>Content as you are to let her suck you off at her own expertly done pace—you cannot help yourself from occasionally bucking up into her mouth and thrusting against her fleshy uvula.
>She responds to your raunchy reflexes in kind—humming out a gutturally low moan whenever you roughly use her face for your own perverse pleasure.

>This wet and sloppy *tonguejob* of hers has just about pushed you up to your natural limits.
>Feeling a fervent finality approaching, you feel your balls heave as you let out a deeply masculine snort.
"Mmph…gonna…"
>Quick on her tongue, Flurry swiftly seals her lips around your pulsing member, suckling and slathering you even further as she attempts to squeeze out your virile load.
>Your grip on her head tightens as you push her snout even deeper against your groin—making her take in even *more* of your morning musk.
"Nng!" you grunt.
>With one more upward hump of your hips, you grant your slave her *just* reward, furiously blasting sticky ropes of hot human gunk straight down her gulping gullet.
>"Mm~!"
>*Gulp gulp gulp*
>Audibly savouring the taste of your semen, Flurry's twirling tongue doesn't let up for even a second; she coils and clenches around your erupting rod, milking your meat for all it's worth.
>Her hungry gulps match your manly grunts—and as you lighten your hold on her, you find yourself being treated to a truly *titillating* view of how she swallows your semen.
>Each thick and creamy load that you blast into her mouth slowly travels down her bulging throat—stretching out her black choker along the way.
>The sensual sight before your eyes makes you cum even harder—it makes you want to *snap* her choker with the ferocious force of your baby batter alone.
>Regrettably, her accessory stays securely strapped around her neck—even down to the very last drop of jizz.
>Sensing your spentness, Flurry fully pulls her face up off your cock; however, she lets her tongue freely hang out from her parted lips—with the tip idly lightly tickling your frenulum.
>Exhaling heavy, cum-scented breaths through her mouth, she maintains eye contact with you—blue eyes tinted with dutiful adoration.
"Ph-phew…"
>Your hand, still resting on top of her head, gives her a few affectionate pets.
"Good girl…"
>She quietly titters at your earnest praise, before she lowers her snout down to your scrotum and gives your genitals a royal tongue bath.
>You have no more nuts to give, but your toes curl and your thighs clench as Flurry laps at your balls and sniffs up your dick.
>"Hm-hm~"
>To her, your Masterly essence is her ambrosia—and your pleasure is her pleasure.

>In the midst of her lavish affections, your gaze drifts up to the splotched bedroom ceiling, and your thoughts begin to wander:
>With her impressionable mind filtered through the collar's magics, this prissy princess utterly worships everything that you are.
>It's at times like these that you truly *do* feel like a king.
>And a king deserves a kingdom, does he not?
>But therein lies another question—what would you *name* your holy land?
>Anonytopia?
>Land of the Green?
>Mousworld?
>4chan 2.0?
>Hm.
"…Hey, Flurry."
>You look at her.
>She lifts her head to look at you.
>"Mm?"
"Once I finally take the throne—what do you think I should name my new kingdom?"
>"M-me?"
>Her eyes slowly widen.
>"Y-you're really asking me?" she asks with an uncertain tone. "A-are you sure?"
"Mm-hmm." You nod. "I'd like to hear your thoughts on the matter."
>"O-oh, um…"
>Knitting her brows, she stares at your bare chest and hums to herself for several seconds, clearly lost in deep, deep thought.
>"…Ah!"
>Her eyes and ears shoot up, having settled on an answer.
>"How about Master's Kingdom!"
>You stare at her, unblinking.
>She stares back, unwavering.
>…
>One of her ears nervously twitches.
>"Wh-what do you think?"
>…
>Trailing your fingers down along her mane, you tenderly scritch behind her twitching ear; she subtly leans into your touch.
"That'll do, pet. That'll do."
>"Hehe~!"
>She flashes you an adorably innocent smile and goes straight back to work on cleaning your nuts.
>Your princess has a certain ditzy charm to her—and it's one you've come to genuinely adore.
>After letting out a deep sigh and relaxing into your pillow, a stray thought enters your mind:
>Should Flurry hoof you the throne to the Crystal Empire—
>Wouldn't that make her your queen?
>Hm…
>You're not against the idea.
>Actually, you quickly find yourself growing rather fond of it.
>Yes, you can see it now:
>You, Anonymous—Supreme Ruler of Equestria—reigning triumphantly from your gilded throne.
>And right there with you would be Flurry Heart, your loving and loyal—
>*BEEP BEEP BEEP*
>God damn it.

*** 8 ***

"'Good Morning, Master!'"
"'Good Morning, Slave.'"
>You squint your eyes at the book held in your hands.
"…'and other iconic tales.'"
>Shaking your head, you slot the bizarrely titled tome back into the bookcase in front of you.
>You then mumble to yourself:
"Who the hell names their children's storybook that?"
>A crystal pony who has lived most of their life under the tyrannical rule of a callously cruel despot?
>Perhaps.
>Anyway, you've now made it to day five of living it up with Flurry Heart.
>Life is good.
>There's just one small caveat you're currently dealing with—
>Flurry isn't here.
>As of this present moment, she's over at her castle, carrying out her princessly duties—and hopefully not blabbing to her parents about the hunky human Master that she dotingly serves.
>You, on the other hand, are perusing the local library.
>Let it be known that this "Crystal Library" is an absolutely grand building. It's several stories tall, as far reaching as a football pitch, and bears floors comprised of baroque blue crystal.
>The time is just after noon. Glossy sunlight filters in through nearby stained glass windows, illuminating these erudite halls with a gentle refracted radiance.
>Towering bookcases reach all the way up to the dizzyingly high ceilings; they are as wide as they are tall, playing the part of both an obstructive wall and a storied cabinet.
>The hallowed ambience of this place gives the impression that this may be some sort of holy site.
>And yet, this isn't even the only library of its kind within the Crystal Empire; hell, there's a similarly grandiose-looking library just two blocks away.
>This isn't just the local library—it's the *localest.*
>These crystal ponies must really love their books.
>Now if only they could stop making the layout of their libraries so *labyrinthian.*
>The reason you came here was to learn more about the Crystal Empire.
>In particular, you wish understand the legacy of the late King Sombra, an evil tyrant who had once ruled this shimmering city with both fear and force—and apparently, copious amounts of mind control.
>Naturally, as an apprentice mindslaver yourself—his exploits are of great interest to you.
>After all, if you are to one day usurp this empire's throne and rule over this fertile land—then you must first understand Sombra and his story.
>Where did he succeed?
>And—more importantly—why did he fail?
>…You don't think you're going to find the answers to these questions in the Children's Books Section.
>Time to move on.

>You have moved on.
>No longer will you subject yourself to whimsical tales meant to amuse the younger generation.
>For now you find yourself facing a bookcase that espouses the wonders of…
"…mathematics."
>Hm.
>Perhaps the late king enjoyed a spot of calculus in his spare time?
>…Well, even if he did—you fail to see how such information will help you on your literary quest.
>What you want is a concise record of his calamitous deeds and crushing defeat.
>What you *need* is a clear list of dos and don'ts when it comes to becoming the Final Boss of Equestria.
>Neither of these can be gleaned from reading up on pony algebra—or, at the very least, you don't intend to waste time trying.
>Letting out an exhausted sigh, you can feel your tired legs ache at the mere thought of traversing these long halls once more.
>What's a guy gotta do to stumble into the "Evil Dictator" section of the library…
>"Fancy meeting you here, humie."
"Urk—!" You freeze up.
>That crass call-out came from behind you.
>You…you recognise that raspy voice.
>And you utterly *resent* that nickname.
>Good God. Why here? Why now?
>Slumping your shoulders in solemn trepidation, you slowly turn around and meet your maker.
>Said maker happens to be a unicorn who's standing a little too close to your crotch.
>You look her over.
>Pink coat. Orange mane.
>Yep, it's her:
>Luster Dawn.
>She flashes you a grin.
>"Heya."
"What do you want?" you spit out.
>She recoils at your harsh tone, taking a step back and providing you with some much-needed personal space.
>"Gee, didn't expect such a cold reception. Thought we were best buds."
"You were my client."
>"A close client, yeah?"
>You don't respond.
>Instead, you turn away from her and walk down the hall, continuing onwards in your unending quest for imperious knowledge.
>Looking around, you see a few other ponies in the nearby vicinity, perusing books on their own terms.
>You take their ambient presence as a small comfort that Luster won't try anything while they're around.
>She may be brazen—but she can't be *that* brazen.
>You hope.

>Geography…
>"Y'know how the Crystal Empire is always encased within this big magical dome? Pretty neat, huh? It's what protects us all from the snowstorm raging outside, and it—"
>Fiction…
>"Ever hear about the book: 'Kissing the Cosmos?' It's about an alien who falls in love with a unicorn. You should read it; it's over—
>Astrology…
>"Hey, wanna know my star sign? It's—"
>Magical Theorems…
>"Whew, how'd you figure out where my favourite section of the library was, humie? Heh heh…"
>You stop dead in your tracks and heave out an annoyed sigh.
>"Oh, you found something?"
>Luster has been incessantly hounding you while you wander through this fathomless library.
>She follows you as you move from bookcase to bookcase, offering nothing but empty quips and idle remarks.
>And you're pretty sure that she's been eyeballing your asscheeks the entire time.
>Fool that you are—you thought that you could simply ignore her.
>Clearly—you can't.
>So you turn to face her.
"Why are you following me?"
>She chuckles.
>"'Cause I wanna help you, obviously. It's part of my job."
>You arch an eyebrow.
"Wait. Your 'job?' Y-you mean…?"
>She shoots you a proud grin.
>"Yup. I work here—I'm one of the librarians."
>Throwing a glance to the floor, she awkwardly rubs the back of her neck and coughs.
>"Alsokindaliveheretooso…"
>You tilt your head.
"Huh? What was that?"
>She looks back up to you.
>"I asked you what kinda books you're looking for, humie."
>She makes a come hither gesture with her forehoof.
>"So come on—spill."
"Uh…"
>The game has now changed.
>You still bear no fondness towards this mare.
>In fact, you would even go as far as to say that you dislike her immensely.
>Such bitter-tasting feelings tend to arise when the object of your odium magically forces your face up against their sweaty, unwashed asshole.
>…But you've come to realise that you can't find your quarry alone.
>You need her—you need her help.
>The question then becomes: how *do* you phrase your despotic desires to your unlikely librarian?
>After all, you can't quite confess to her that you're attempting to follow in the sinful footsteps of a sadistic overlord.
>So, instead…
"…I'm looking for history books."
>She briefly rubs her chin in thought.
>"Oh, so you're a history buff, eh?"
>Leaning forward slightly, she shoots you a flirty wink.
>"Heh, I like that in a stallion~"
>You roll your eyes.
>"And it's a good thing you told me," she continues, "'cause the History Section is in a totally different wing."
>You blink.
"…Oh."
>With a snicker on her part, she turns around and points down a hallway.
>"C'mon, follow me."

>You've been following Luster for a good few minutes.
>She walks in front of you, sashaying her hips from side to side.
>Her swaying tail is hiked all the way up, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
>And if that wasn't bad enough, there's a particularly spicy scent of mareish arousal wafting in the air; it clings to the insides of your nostrils like thick slime.
>You try your best to ignore this intrusive smell—but honestly, you just feel bad for all the innocent ponies she's walking past.
>As you continue to trail after your lusty librarian, you catch her throwing you a sly over-the-withers glance every so often.
>She's doubtless making sure that you're still following her.
>But she's also probably checking if you're *interested.*
>You're not.
>At least…not as she is now.
>Averting your eyes from any *winking* sights, you focus on the path ahead—where the coveted History Section lies.
>Soon enough, you'll be—
>You trip.
"Whoa!"
>Thankfully, you recover your balance just in the nick of time.
>You're well glad that you did—because otherwise you would have fallen face first into Luster's ass.
>Quickly regathering your bearings, you swiftly scan your surroundings.
>…
>Wait, what exactly *did* you trip on?
>The crystalline floor is as smooth as a mirror—and only slightly less reflective.
>Yet you're dead certain that you stubbed your foot on *something.*
>Maybe you kicked it away?
>You look at Luster, who's now facing you; she's also lightly tutting to herself for some reason.
"Hey, why'd you stop?" you address her. "Weren't you taking me to the History Section?"
>"Huh? Oh, yeah."
>She blithely gestures towards a nearby row of bookcases.
>"We're here. History. Go nuts."
>Squinting your eyes, you examine these scholarly shelves from bottom to top.
>You have to squint your eyes to see it, but you can spy a small crystal plaque titled "History" hanging from the tippy-top of the midmost bookcase.
"Oh."
>Bookish though these crystal ponies may be—they could certainly do a better job with their signposting.
>But that's neither here nor there.
>Carefully walking around Luster, you begin to peruse the shelves.
>You hear her let out a long and loud yawn as she plants her pony butt on the crystal floor.
>It doesn't seem like she plans to leave you alone any time soon.
>Whatever. You're not here for her.
>You're here for *knowledge.*
>And while knowledge cannot be gleaned from titles alone—they *do* give you a good idea of what to expect.

>First off, you find yourself laying eyes upon a book that's titled "History of the Crystal Empire."
>Yeah. You can't go wrong with the basics. You'll take that one.
>Next up is "Return of the Heart: The Crystalling's Long Legacy."
>The…Crystalling, huh?
>Recalling idle chatter from previous clients, you vaguely know this to be a special ceremony of some kind.
>Regrettably, you've never attended a "Crystalling" in person—but you suspect it might be worth reading up on regardless. You'll take it.
>After that, you spy a book titled "The Secret Life of Princess Cadance."
>Huh. Sounds saucy. Doesn't sound particularly relevant *or* historical, though. Pass.
>…
"Oh ho…"
>What's this? "The Dark Ages?"
>The title sounds *very* promising, and the book's black binding has a sort of "stygian" allure to it that you can't take your eyes away from.
>If you were a more superstitious man, you'd suspect this book holds some kind of dark hex that corrupts the soul.
>However, this is Equestria; you can't walk five paces without tripping over something magically malignant—so you've long cast aside such concerns.
>Yes, the verdict has been made—you absolutely *must* peep this tome.
>There's just one problem.
>It's a couple shelves too high for you.
>The tome's sharply lettered title tantalises your sights a short distance away, yet even when you stand up on your tippy toes—you are woefully unable to reach it.
>…
>This…
>This is bullshit!
>You're a human! Being tall is one of your few defining traits!
>How can a pony-made bookshelf be "too high" for you?
>Perhaps Man was not meant to reach for such stars…
"Agh…"
>Wait, hold on. Maybe if you jump…?
"Hup!"
>…no.
>"S-snrrk! What're you even *doing,* humie?"
>Snickering chortles erupt from behind you.
>You turn around.
>Luster is now lying on her left side, smirking up a storm.
"I'm…uh…"
>You awkwardly scratch the side of your neck.
"…I'll just go grab a step ladder."
>"Or, y'know, you could ask the nearby unicorn to nab that book for you."
>You blink.
"Y-yeah. That works too, I guess."
>She chuckles.
>"It's that black one up top, right?"
>You nod.
>Her horn lights up, and your much-pined-after book is soon levitated out of the shelf.
>It hovers over to you, held within an amber glow.
>"Here ya go~"
>You grab it out of the air.
"…Thanks."
>She nods self-assuredly.
>"Mm-hmm."
>She takes a brief pause.
>"Although…if you really wanna thank me—I wouldn't say no to a smooch~"
>Lidding her eyes and puckering her lips, she kisses the air in front of her.
>"On the lips…"
>Using her right forehoof, she tenderly traces a circle around her cutie mark—and then smacks it, making her flank jiggle.
>"Anywhere you like, really~"
>Ugh.
>You turn around, scanning the bookcase once more.
>She quietly huffs at your heedlessness.

>…
>You retrieve a couple more books for your collection.
>"Griffonstone or Griffonia?" and "Sun and Moon: Where Are They Now?"
>Honestly, their names aren't important; you're only picking them up to throw Luster off your scent—you don't want her wondering why you were so interested in that black book.
>She's still there, by the way—laxly lying on her side and shamelessly ogling your glutes.
>Doesn't she have anything better to do?
>She probably does, but clearly—harassing the local human takes far higher priority.
>Anyway, with those two books you just picked up—that makes five.
>If you were to stack them all up in your hands, you'd struggle to see what's in front of you.
>Thankfully, you had the foresight to bring a carrier bag to store your cultured hoard; currently, it sits next to your feet.
>Crouching down, you store your two new arrivals in your bag, uniting them with their brethren.
>Luster lets out another yawn.
>"You done yet?"
>Letting out a sigh, you stand up and pick up your bag by its handles.
"Yes."
>"Oh, finally."
>She wobbles up to a standing position, popping out her limbs with a few lazy stretches.
>"Mmrgh…"
>After sniffling at the air, she addresses you:
>"You know, there's plenty of history *we* can make together—just putting that out there."
>You furrow your brows and ignore her latest raunchy remark.
>As you do so, you cast a sweeping glance around your surroundings.
>There's no-one else in sight.
>…You don't like this. You don't want to be alone with this mare—not after what she did to you more than a week ago.
>Time to make your exit.
"Okay," you speak up. "thanks for everything. Gonna get going now."
>Spinning around, you hastily walk away from her and down the hall.
>She calls out to you:
>"Hey, where are you going? Exit's the other way."
>Her raspy words travel up your spine, feeling both sparkly and tingly.
>You try to ignore her, stepping onwards and forwards—yet you find yourself slowing down nonetheless, weighted with worry.
>Soon enough, you stop your paces entirely, coming to a halt.
>You turn around and face her.
>That was a mistake.
"I-it is?"
>"Yeah…"
>She calmly saunters up to you and slowly circles around you.
>Sizing you up.
>Where she circles, you tersely turn—eyes not leaving her for a second.
>"Hey…why're you so tense, humie?"
"I'm not."
>"You are."
>Letting out a thoughtful huff, she takes a step forward.
>"Think I know why, too."
>You take a step back.
>"It's about last time, isn't it?"
>You try to take another step back—but you're up against a bookcase.
>This isn't good.
"L-last time?" you sputter out.
>"Yeah. I think we got off on the wrong hoof back then, y'know?"
>She takes another step forward.
>"And…I've been wanting to make it up to you."
>Another.

"Y-you, um, you don't really have to…"
>Tilting her head up, she flashes you a grin.
>"Aw, there's no need to be shy about it, humie."
>She's really close now, and her snout is completely level with your pelvis.
>"I was pretty mean to you back there, wasn't I? Called you a pervert and everything."
>Lowering her sights, she eyes her prize.
>"Truth is, though…"
>Her grin widens even further.
>"…humie pervs are totally my type~"
>Leaning forward, she quickly closes what little distance there was between her face and your groin.
>Her supple snout slightly squishes itself against your clothed crotch.
>Lidding her eyes and flaring out her nostrils, she…
>*Sniff sniff sniff*
>"Hm~"
>…takes whiff after whiff of your panted scent. Sampling you. Savouring you.
>*Sniff sniff sniff*
>Why are you letting her do this?
>She's like half your size!
>And yet…
>You feel paralysed all the same.
>Is it fear? Shock?
>You can't tell, and you can't move.
>You're powerless.
>After a few more sniffly seconds, Luster takes a step back and looks up at you.
>"Hey, humie, have a look at this."
>With a light grunt on her part, she rears up onto her hindlegs, adopting a bipedal stance.
>Her initial gait is wobbly and uneven, but after taking a couple of steps forwards, she leans into you, using your own body as a way to steady her stature.
>She hooks her forelegs under your armpits and rests her hooves on the shelves behind you, further supporting herself.
>Her amber eyes look up at you, while her grin remains as smug as ever.
>"Must be like your humie mares, yeah?"
>Being an average-sized unicorn, Luster isn't as tall as Flurry is, only reaching up to your collarbone.
>But that gives her the perfect angle to snort up your neck.
>*Sniff sniff sniff*
>"Mm…smells even better up close…"
>Her furry snout brushes up against your bare clavicle, tickling you and making you shudder.
>She can smell you—and you can smell *her.*
>Her sweat—her *excitement.*
>Musty and musky.
>You can also feel her pudgy pony belly squishing up to your clothen one.
>Her body rubs against yours—making her warm, sweaty coat grease up your clean shirt.
>Down below, there's tension where there's moisture—and moisture where there's tension.
"A-ah…"
>She huffs hot air up along your neck.
>"Relax, humie. Just be honest with yourself. We *both* want this."
>You…you do?
>You suppose that you *will* have to bed this mare eventually.
>Maybe…maybe it's fine to do it now? To quietly enjoy each other's bodies within the sanctity of this public library?
>…
>No. Something's wrong.
"L-luster, I-I…"
>*Sniff sniff sniff*
>"Mm?"
"I-I want…"
>*Sniff SNORT sniff*
>"Yeah?"
"U-uugh…"
>She aggressively yet passionately rubs her snout up against your neck, giving you an extended sniffly nuzzle.
>"Tell me how I should make it up to you, Anon. Whatever it is—I'll make it happen."

>You take a deep shaky breath, inadvertently snorting up a few stray follicles of her frizzy orange mane.
>It makes you want to cough—to wretch.
>But you can't.
>Because you…
>You need to…
"…c-cook!"
>Your response causes Luster to stop sniffing at your neck.
>She then arches an eyebrow your way.
>"Huh?"
>With steadied resolve, you gulp out your next words:
"C-cookbook! I-I need a cookbook!"
>"…Cookbook? You?"
"Y-yeah. I wanna make my own meals…a-and stuff…"
>"Oh…"
>After lowering her eyebrow, she knits both of them together.
>"My humie's teaching himself how to cook, huh…"
>Lightly pulling away, she softly hums in thought, considering your skin and statement both.
>She suddenly presses her snout *deep* into your sensitive neck, and she takes an equally *deep* nasally whiff of your natural scent.
>You gasp in shock, legs wobbling; she sighs with satiation, tail flicking.
>She then makes a disgustingly loud slurping sound as she gratuitously licks her own lips, loudly smacking them together after the fact.
>You see some of her saliva drip onto your shirt.
>Gross.
>"Mm," she responds, "alright."
>She pushes herself away from you, quickly landing back on all fours.
>"Cookbooks it is."
>Turning around, she casually walks away from you as if her earlier actions were mere happenstance.
>Still slumped against the bookcase behind you, you take several shuddering breaths to recompose yourself.
>Luster casts you an over-the-withers glance and she calmly brushes herself off.
>"So, what're you planning on cooking?"
"I, uh…"
>You gulp down the rest of your concerns.
"…I'm looking to bake a cake."
>You're not lying; you were hoping to grant your royal slave a sugary reward for her due loyalty.
>…Ah, that's right. Your slave—Flurry Heart.
>As of this moment, you wouldn't be surprised if she was anxious to lay eyes on you once more—and to serve you with every inch of her being.
>Ugh, what were you thinking? You're supposed to be a dignified Master—but you just about let Luster Dawn walk all over you back there!
>…*Were* you thinking?
>"Well," Luster speaks up, "if you're looking for *cake*…"
>She sashays her ample hips from side to side, flicking her mane and tossing you a smirk.
>"…then you've come to the right place~"
>A sultry second passes.
>She then quickly gestures over to the bookcase that's opposite the one you're leaning against.
>"'Cause the Cooking Section's right over there."
"Wait, what?"
>Turning your head, you scrutinise the bookcase behind you.
>Yep, you're still backed by History.
"You put the cookbooks right next to the history books?"
>She turns to face you and tilts her head.
>"You don't?"
"I—"
>Snapping your mouth shut, you shake your head.
"Fine. Whatever."

>It doesn't take much longer until you find what you need:
>'Baking with the Cakes.'
>The book cover is illustrated with the pleasing imagery of a smiling chubby mare and a grinning lanky stallion; they stand side by side—surrounded by eight foals of various sizes.
>Cute.
>"Big family, huh?"
"Uh…"
>You look down at Luster—who is once again standing a little too close for comfort to your crotch.
>This time, you curtly backstep away from her, making her tut out loud.
"Think I'm ready to leave now."
>"Oh, sure. Follow me back to the lobby."
>After stashing the cookbook in your bag, you follow her.

>…
>True to her word, Luster does indeed lead you back to the lobby—and as an added bonus, she does it without any further molestation on her part.
>Thus, you now stand in front of a crystal circulation desk—which is currently staffed by not a soul.
>"Alright, give me a sec."
>Luster clumsily clambers up onto the desk and quickly dives behind it, vanishing from sight.
>…That's one way to man your station.
>Not long after, she pops back up, levitating a clipboard and pen; she also looks a little bit different.
>She now sports a semi-rimmed pair of red reading glasses.
>Flashing you a friendly smile, she addresses you with a chipper tone:
>"Hello, welcome to the Crystal Library! How may I help you today?"
>You stare at her, dumbstruck by her change in appearance and demeanour both.
>…
>Not just that, but she's kind of cute with those glasses on.
>…Kind of cute without, too.
>"Oh, you like?"
>She playfully nudges her spectacles up the bridge of her snout and flutters her eyelashes at you.
"U-uh…"
>She snickers, smile twisting into a smirk.
>"Just set the books down on the desk, my good humie~"
>With a sigh, you do as she asks, retrieving the six books from your bag and stacking them onto the desk.
>She quickly gets to work on her bookkeeping—scanning your book codes, scribbling on her clipboard, and mumbling to herself all the while.
>"Uh huh. Yup. Yup."
>Honestly, you're still a little surprised that she actually works here; you thought she was just messing with you.
>…This place must really be short-staffed.

>"Okay. Alright. Okay. Yup. Got it."
>After flitting her eyes between the bookstack and the clipboard a few times, she confidently nods to herself.
>"All done."
>Further acting the part of helpful librarian, she levitates your newly checked-out books back into your carrier bag.
>"Oh…"
>She also tears off a scrap of paper from her clipboard and floats it over to you.
>"…and here's your receipt, humie."
>You gingerly grab it out of the air.
"Um, thanks…"
>Just before you toss it in with your books, you side-eye your receipt.
>Yup. It's a piece of paper.
>Splendid.
"…Hm?"
>But wait, there's more.
>Squinting your eyes, you can see that there's a date and time written on it:
>Four days from now; early in the afternoon…
>"That's when I'll be dropping by."
>You look up to meet Luster's amber gaze.
>"For my next massage. Figured I'd give you a heads up."
>You fail to suppress the grimace on your face.
"…Fine."
>"Pfft. Don't get *too* excited, humie."
>She rests a foreleg on her desk and waggles her eyebrows at you.
>"Maybe you can show me some of your cake when I come over—and I'll show you some of mine~"
>You pick up your bag, mentally tuning out her jests and jeers.
"If you say so."
>"Heh, it's a promise, then."
>She winks at you—thankfully, this is an eye wink.
>"Catch you around, humie."
>She blows you a kiss with her hoof.
>"Mwah~!"
"Uh huh."
>You leave the library, finally Luster-less.

>Out on the glimmering streets of the Crystal Empire, you sit down on a nearby bench and examine your scholarly haul.
>Despite the unfortunate meeting, you must that today has been quite the productive day.
>Not only have you secured essential research material for your eventual reign—but you've also made great strides on the path to honing your culinary arts.
>Truly, you will not want for knowledge with these seven books in your collection.
>…
>Wait, seven?
>You're pretty sure that you checked out six.
>Time to take a quick inventory.
>You've got:
>'History of the Crystal Empire.'
>'Return of the Heart: The Crystalling's Long Legacy.'
>'The Dark Ages.'
>'Griffonstone or Griffonia?'
>'Sun and Moon: Where Are They Now?'
>'Baking with the Cakes.'
>And…
>Huh?
"'Kissing the Cosmos?'"
>The illustration on the dark-blue book cover depicts a mare being bridal carried by some kind of E.T.-looking creature.
>What the hell kind of book is this?
>You certainly don't remember picking this one up.
>Wait…did Luster slip it in while you weren't looking?
>Gripped by curiosity, you gingerly open this cosmic-looking tome and thumb through a few pages…
>…
>It's interspecies smut. Of course it is.
>Fucking Luster Dawn.

*** 9 ***

"Good morning, Equestria…"
>You're on day six of living with Flurry.
>Skipping past the morning blowjob, preening session, and shared shower—you find yourself just about ready to kick things off for the day.
>Standing in your reception, you lean back against your desk and stare down at the wooden signage held within your masseurly hands.
>It simply states "Open for Business."
>Words to live by.
>Words to *rule* by.
>You turn over to your assistant, who is dutifully standing by your side.
"Gonna open us up for business, Jimmy. Hold down the fort, yeah?"
>She nods.
>"Understood, Master. I…"
>She trails off.
>You head towards the front door.
>"M-master," she suddenly speaks up, "p-please wait."
>You turn around, seeing Jimmy twiddling her forehooves together.
"Hm?"
>"May I, um…" She looks up at you. "…may I open up shop with you?"
"Uh…"
>Open up shop?
>You're only hanging up a sign.
>That's hardly a two-man job—it's barely even a one-man job.
>Still, she *is* your assistant—no reason not to, you guess.
"Sure. Why the hell not."

>Ah, your front door.
>Many a hankering customer has walked through here in search of your divine digits.
>…
>Well, okay. Maybe "many" isn't the accurate word to use when it comes to your not-so-thriving business.
>But it's a good one—an optimistic one.
"Okay," you speak up, "just hang the sign on the, uh, hanger—and we'll be good to go."
>"Mm."
>You and Jimmy are now outside, standing on your front step.
>Jimmy holds your signage within a light-yellow aura; through the foggy lens of her Groucho glasses, her squinted eyes betray her utmost concentration.
>You watch as she slowly, ever-so-carefully lifts the sign higher and higher. And then she gently, ever-so-gingerly loops the sign's string around the door hanger.
>"Here?" she asks with a tentative tone.
>Feeling obligated to match her excessively encumbered energy, you react accordingly:
>You solemnly stare at the sign for several long seconds, "hm"ing and "ah"ing to yourself all the while.
>And eventually, after a monumental magnitude of composed contemplation, you finally reach your venerable verdict.
"Yeah, that'll do."
>You gently pat your assistant on her bowler hat.
"Good work."
>She nuzzles her head into your hand.
>"Hehe…" she quietly giggles to herself.
>Another job well done.
>Things are looking up for Handyman.
>A voice suddenly calls out from behind you:
>"Well, I'll be—is that *you,* Anonymous?"

>That familiarly jovial tone makes you reflexively cringe in deep disgust.
>Ugh.
>Him.
>You want to head back inside the parlour—but you know he'd just follow you inside if you did.
>Might as well face the dissonant music.
>You turn around, watching as an overgrown lizard with wings strolls along your front path and makes his way over to you.
>His scales are green, his musculature is lean—and you'd like nothing more than to kick him in his spleen.
>To top it all off, he also stands a head taller than you.
>Supposedly, they call him and his ilk "dragons."
>You call him a pest.
>Unfortunately, you can't call him that in a public space; you've taken far too many Friendship Fines for that.
>Instead, you are forced to call him…
"…Smooth Claws."
>Smiling down at you, he raises one of his claws and jovially flexes his digits about in the air.
>"Aren't they just, ohoho!"
>Before you can react, he reaches over and casually ruffles through your hair.
"You fucking—!"
>He quickly retracts his hand before you can snap that bastard's arm—but not before he lets out an obnoxious chortle.
>"But enough about me—how's the old hustle and bustle been treating you, my good creature?"
>Your skin crawls whenever he calls you a "creature."
>It's apparently the "politically correct" terminology to use when referring to the denizens of this realm.
>But you still despise it; it sounds *wrong.*
"Fantastic, until you came along."
>He places his hands on his hips, beaming down at you.
>"Oh, there's no need to be so pointed! You and me—we're business buddies! Maties in massage!"
>You glance past him and across the road.
>His obnoxiously opulent establishment stands opposite to your humble parlour.
>His lovingly cared-for garden looms over the tastefully grown blades of grass on your front yard.
>His self-assured countenance makes you want to deck him in the face.
>But you can't—Friendship Fines are a bitch.

"I'm not your buddy, 'pal.' We're business rivals."
>He playfully bats a hand your way.
>"Oh pshaw! A little friendly rivalry never hurt anycreature!"
>God, you fucking hate this asshole.
>No concept of personal space.
>No concept of humility.
>No concept of leaving you the hell alone.
>"Speaking of business—my, oh my—Who is *this* adorable little equine?"
>He bends down to look at your assistant.
>Jimmy silently stares at Claws through the lens of her novelty glasses.
"…She's my assistant: Jimmy Cart."
>He gasps as he uprights himself.
>"You're hiring *assistants* now? Glad you finally took my advice to heart!"
>You roll your eyes.
>"Oh, and while we're talking business—you won't *believe* who showed up at my parlour the other day."
>You blink, frown unchanging.
>He blinks, smile unbending.
>"Go on—have a guess!"
>You sigh.
"Pest control?"
>He chortles.
>"Close—but not quite."
>He clears his throat and spreads his arms in a bombastic manner.
>"Why, none other than Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor!"
>You blink.
"…Really." you state with a scoff.
>"As real as it gets, my fellow creature! And let me tell you—both of their bodies were simply *aching* for the old 'smooth claws.'"
>Punctuating his point, he wriggles his abominable appendages in the air.
>"Suffice it to say, I think I can start adding 'royalty' to my long list of repeat customers, ohoho!"
>Oh, so *that's* why this scaly bastard has decided to disturb your good humours on this once-fine morn.
>You're not surprised in the least.

"Are you quite done bragging about your royal clientele?"
>"I wouldn't call it 'bragging'—more of a riveting tale."
"Whatever."
>"I really should be heading off, though. Wouldn't want my customers to start massaging themselves now, would we? Hoho!"
>He leans down and whispers to your assistant, cupping his own cheek as he does.
>"Do keep an eye out for your boss; the old creature has a tendency to get his head stuck in the clouds, ohoho!"
>Of course; you can still hear the asshole throwing shade; subtlety isn't his strong point.
>Jimmy, once again, stays silent.
>Smooth Claws shoots up and struts halfway down your front path, before turning to wave at you.
>"It's been great catching up with you, Anonymous! You know, everycreature's been missing on you game night—Blackjack with the Boys just isn't the same without your signature scowl!"
>You are currently flashing him your signature scowl.
>"Toodles!"
>…
>You glare with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows as Claws soon heads back into his own parlour.
"Fucking prick…" you grumble under your breath.
>You hear a huff at your side.
>"Master," Jimmy speaks up, tone icily sharp, "would you like me to raze that scalebrain's nest down to the ground?"
>Your eyes widen.
"S-scalebrain?"
>You turn to look at your assistant, noting how her scathing words directly contrast her silly attire.
"…Snrrk."
>Your barely suppressed snickering quickly gives way to unrestrained laughter.
>You chortle till your throat aches, catching a few concerned glances from passers-by.
>Not that you care; you needed that—a good old belly laugh to soothe the soul after a surprise scalebrain visit.
"Oh…oh man… Scalebrain—I love that one."
>You pat your assistant on the withers—or rather, her trench coat.
"Come on, let's head back inside."
>"Okay, Master."

>Standing within the comfort of your own parlour, you calmly address your assistant.
"Forget about him, Jimmy."
>She looks up at you.
>"Understood, Master."
>Her stock acknowledgement is one devoid of both positive and negative emotion.
>However, it's not enough for you.
>You want your assistant to *truly* understand your ambition.
"I mean it."
>You crouch down to meet her at eye level.
"He's not important—not to us."
>You gently position a hand on her clothen chest and slowly trail it upwards—
>Up her trench coat;
>Over her choker;
>And rest it under her chin.
>You gently scritch at her light-pink coat.
>"Ah…" she softly sighs out.
"Our sights are set far higher than a scalebrain like him could ever dream."
>You stare past those novelty glasses of hers, peering deep into those light-blue eyes of hers—
>And you see her lips slowly curl up into a smile.
>"…Mm~"
>'Head stuck in the clouds,' he says.
>Little does he know—
>You're already reaching at stars.

*** 10 ***

"Good afternoon, me."
>Why did you say that aloud?
>…No clue. Just felt right, you guess.
>Anyway, give it up for day seven with Flurry Heart.
>By the end of today, you'll have spent a whole week with your princess.
>That's gotta be a milestone of some kind, right?
>Hell yeah it is.
>Alas, for how momentous this milestone is—your activities are anything but.
>You are currently seated at your reception desk with nary a soul in sight.
>Looks like you're set for another blithely slow day at the office.
>It's at times like these that you turn to your greatest ally:
>Books.
>Every since you picked out those three history books from the Crystal Library—you've been reviewing their contents whenever you get some free time to yourself.
>Naturally, being the masseur-in-demand that you are—you're on your third reread of the set.
>In that time, you've come to learn a lot about not only the Crystal Empire—but also the tyrant who once ruled over it: King Sombra.
>The books tell you that Sombra was a unicorn with a penchant for utilising "dark" magic—a type of magic that goes against the natural order.
>Said dark magic allowed him to conjure magic-nullifying black crystals, transform himself into a stygian fog, produce terrifying illusions, and—most interestingly—subjugate weaker minds to serve his will.
>His deep cruelty was matched only by his boundless ambition; possessing far more magic than morals, he quickly set upon conquering the Crystal Empire.
>Being a peaceful and pearlescent sort, the Empire's inhabitants were powerless to resist the King's claim.
>Thus, Sombra would continue to reign uncontested, until two brave alicorns sought to dethrone the King of Shadow and liberate the crystal ponies held captive.
>It was a long, hard-fought battle—but they eventually succeeded, and they promptly banishing Sombra out to the frozen reaches that lie beyond the empire.
>In one last act of spite, however, he cursed the Crystal Empire with his dark magic, sealing it and its citizens away for a thousand years.
>It was only when a new Princess of Love was properly crowned that the Empire broke free of its curse, finally revealing itself to Equestrian eyes after ten centuries of solitude.
>Alas, Sombra returned with it.

>With his dark magic now fuelled by a millennia of massed-up malevolence, he made to reclaim the Crystal Empire, utilising every trick at his disposal to bring the fair city under his heel once more.
>But this time, the newly inaugurated Princess of Love and her husband stood as the Empire's stalwart defenders. And, together with the rest of her compatriots, she decisively banished his shadowy self into the ether.
>All was once again well. The day was saved.
>…Until he was later forcefully brought back in some kind of strange supervillain get-together—and soundly trounced yet again.
>…
>Huh.
>Taking a closer examination of the book's photos, you note that one of those "supervillains" looks kind of familiar…
>Anyway, you're beginning to notice a pattern here.
>King Sombra, Stygian Despot of the Crystal Empire…
"…was a total jobber."
>Seriously.
>He had *all* of that dark magic at his disposal; he could *bend* minds to his will!
>But he lost not once, not twice—but *three* times!
>Hell, if the speculative section of this book is be believed—he got his ass beat even more.
>What was he even *doing?* Did he spend all of his time sat on his ebony ass, preparing evil monologues?
>Or…perhaps it has something to do with the ponies who stood against him?
>In all three of his defeats, at least one alicorn was present among those who banished him.
>Alicorns are ponies who possess both wings and a horn—and awesome magical might besides.
>Your Flurry Heart is counted among their number.
>Sombra, as written in the books, was just a unicorn—one with access to forbidden sorcery, but a unicorn nonetheless.
>He ruled through fear and force, holding zero compassion for his subjects.
>Small wonder they all turned against him when they broke finally free of his yoke.
>There's a certain irony in the fact that, for all of his obsession with the Crystal Empire—Sombra never truly understood what made it tick.

>The Crystal Empire is a magical city that has the ability to both reflect and amplify the emotions of its inhabitants, channelling it into pure magical energy.
>Sombra drew out negative emotions such as fear and hatred during his tyrannical reign.
>These feelings can be sharpened into powerful weapons, yet they beget only destruction and desolation; in the end, had he succeeded, Sombra would have been left ruling over a lifeless wasteland.
>Good enough for him, perhaps—but that's not the future you desire for *your* Empire.
>For just as you can force out negative emotions from this city—you can draw out positive ones, too:
>Happiness.
>Laughter.
>Hope.
>And above all else—Love.
>These feelings promote nurture, growth—and a long, fruitful reign.
>They are also what protect the Crystal Empire from the raging blizzard that lies just outside the city.
>To be more specific—they are what power the Crystal Heart: an enigmatic artefact that rests at the heart of the Empire and shields it from outside forces.
>It is said that the Crystal Empire's crystal-coated populace and the Crystal Heart itself share a deeply symbiotic relationship; they each influence and support the other, drawing out a brilliant resplendence from within both parties.
>However, the Crystal Heart's immense power can only be directly harnessed and properly nurtured by Princesses of Love—ponies who preside over the purest of passions.
>Princess Cadance—Resident Sombra Slayer and Current Ruler of the Crystal Empire—is one such Princess of Love.
>Her sole daughter—Princess Flurry Heart—is another.
>That's right, *your* Flurry.
>You already knew that she was royalty, but to think that she had such deep ties to the Empire's livelihood…
>That essentially makes her the cornerstone of the Crystal Empire—and your rule, at that.
>Thus, you had best treat her right if you don't want your sovereignty to go up in smoke.
>Heh, smoke.
>It's funny because you smell smoke.
>…
>Where *is* Flurry Heart right now, anyway?
"Hm…"
>Ah, now you remember.
>Today's the day that you'll be baking a cake for Flurry—all thanks to the cookbook you borrowed.
>Earlier, the two of you prepared some cake batter and set it onto the baking tray.
>After placing the tray in the oven, you set Flurry the simple task of watching over your stove while you stood guard in the reception.
>Yep. One sheltered princess—left all alone in your kitchen.
>Unsupervised.
>Sounds about right.
>…
>Oh.
"ShitshitshitshitSHIT—"

***

>You sprint into the kitchen.
>The oven is smoking.
>Flurry is staring at it, light-blue eyes filled with both wonder and worry.
>Mostly wonder.
"Flurry! The hell are you *doing?*"
>"Oh, Master!" She beams at you. "I'm baking!"
"Oh for fuck—!"
>Rushing over to the stove—you hastily switch it off.
>Darting all over your kitchen, you swiftly throw open your two windows and release those forlorn fumes out into the open world.
>After waiting for a majority of the smoke to filter out of the room—you decide that it's time to assess the damage.
>Grabbing your handy dandy oven mitt, you pull the baking tray out of the oven, and…
>…
>The batter is as black as night.
>This shit would make some kind of cursed Sombra cake—no doubt about it.
"God damn it…"
>"U-um, Master?"
>Listlessly turning your head, you toss a tired glance at Flurry.
>She nervously scuffs a forehoof across the floor, ears folded back.
>"Did I…" her voice cracks, "…did I mess up?"
"You—"
>The rest of your reprobation refuses to leave your throat.
>Because…because you can see tears forming in her watery eyes.
>Ugh…
>Is this all it takes to temper your rage?
>One teary-eyed pony?
>…
>It is.
>And so, letting out a sombre sigh, you dump the remains of your abyssal batter into the trash can.
"…We're gonna have to start over."

>And so begins the second bake-off.
>Wait, is it still a bake-off if the two of you are working together?
>Perhaps it's a bake-on?
>Eh, whatever; you're ready to bake—and that's what matters.
>Your chef's hat? On.
>Your "Kiss the Cook" apron? Also on.
>Thankfully, you bought enough ingredients for a second helping.
>Foresight or dumb luck. Call it.
"Dumb luck. *Definitely* dumb luck…"
>"Hm?" Flurry looks to you.
"Oh, nothing."
>Currently both you and Flurry are stood over a kitchen counter where your ingredients are.
>The counter is built with humans in mind, so Flurry has to rear up on her hindlegs to reach the countertop, while her forehooves rest upon its surface.
"Anyway," you speak up, "how's that mix coming along?"
>"Oh. I've finished adding the sugar," she takes a brief pause, and then adds, "I-I think."
>Turning your head her way, you arch an eyebrow.
"You 'think?'"
>"W-well, I…d-did I add enough sugar, Master?" she asks you, ears slightly folded.
>It doesn't take a genius to see that she's still shaken up from the failings of the previous cake.
>You silently stare into the mix.
"Hm…"
>Yep.
>That's *way* too much sugar.
"Yeah, looks good."
>You pat her head.
"Nice work."
>She beams at you.
>"Hehe~!" she mirthfully giggles. "Yes!"
>Cute.

"Could you grab the buttermilk?"
>"Of course, Master!"
>While she looks away, you discreetly scoop up some of the sugar and dump it back into its container.
>Contamination? You hardly know her!
>"Here you are, Master—buttermilk!"
>She levitates a measuring container up to you; fortuitously, it's been filled with the correct volume of buttermilk.
>You nod in approval.
"Nice one."
>You then gesture towards the mixing bowl.
"You can do the honours."
>"Okay!"
>She pours in the buttermilk and gleefully whisks the mixture, humming a light tune to herself.
>As she works, her butt playfully wiggles from side to side, while her tail swishes to follow it.
>Cute—and also a little enticing.
>Smoking oven aside—you couldn't ask for a better co-chef.
"Hey, Flurry."
>She momentarily stops her mixing and looks at you.
>"Yes, Master?"
>You carefully remove your chef's hat—
>And place it atop her head.
"There you go." You smile at her. "You're a real chef now."
>She stares at you agape for a couple of seconds—and then breaks into a fit of happy giggles:
>"Ehehehe~! I'm Master's chef~!"
>You give her hat a few pats.
"That you are."
>Upon retrieving your hand, you look back to your cake-in-waiting.
"Now come on—let's mix the rest of this batter together."

>The batter is coming along smoothly.
>It's as smooth as…batter?
>Yeah, that works.
>You put in flour, eggs, baking powder—all of that good stuff.
>Oh, and cocoa powder—because you're making chocolate cake.
>Mix it all together, and you get a nice, dark-brown sludge.
>Wait, "sludge" doesn't sound very "nice," does it?
>Correction: it's a nice, dark-brown…cake mixture that you've poured into a greased mould and set on a baking sheet.
>You slide the tray into the oven and close the door.
>After setting it to bake, you address Flurry:
"Alright, I'll keep watch this time."
>She nods gloomily.
>"Oh, okay… What do I do?"
"You…"
>You squint your eyes.
>Then, you turn over to your massage table that's been set up in the kitchen.
"…can get on the table; your wings could use a good preening while we wait."

>…
>"Mm…oh…oh Master…hah~" Flurry sighs in relief as you straighten out another one of her feathers.
>Roughly forty-five minutes have passed.
>Preening is going well.
>Now how about the baking?
"One sec."
>Leaving Flurry to lie on the table, you stroll over to the oven and peek in through its glass window…
>Yep, looks pretty baked.
>Opening the oven door and pulling out the tray, you gingerly prod at the to-be-cake's surface…
>Oh yes. Delightfully firm. Just so.
>You're baking good.
"Cake's done baking," you call out to Flurry.
>She gasps, quickly hopping off of the massage table.
>"It is?!"
"Mm-hmm." You nod. "Have a look."
>Closing the oven door, you carefully place the cake tray onto the countertop.
>Flurry pretty much gallops over to your position and basically clambers halfway up onto the counter; reared up on her hindlegs and resting her forehooves upon the counter's surface, she peers into your freshly baked cake with literal stars in her eyes.
>"What now, Master?" she asks, eyes darting over to your face. "C-can we eat it?"
"First off, no."
>You boop her nose, making her snout reflexively wrinkle.
"We're saving this cake for tomorrow."
>She deflates.
>"Aw…"
"Second—"
>You grab a nearby tube of chocolate icing.
"—we've still gotta finish the cake."
>You squeeze some icing onto the cake.
>Uh.
>Haphazardly.
"Um, you can do the rest." You pass the pipette over to Flurry.
>"Okay!"
>…God, she's even worse at it.
>Also, she uses up all of the icing.
>You're pretty sure the recipe didn't call for all of it.
>The baked batter in front of you looks more icing than cake at this point.
>Still, it's what's on the inside that counts, right?
>Yeah, totally.
"Well, okay then."
>You smile at her.
"*Now* we're done.
>"Oh! We are?"
>She beams.
>"We did it!"
>In her excitement, she recklessly taps her hooves against the countertop.
>"We did it! We did it! We—"
>Her hooves slip off the counter—and she trips.
>"—whoa!"
>You catch her just in the nick of time, holding her within your arms.
>"A-ah."
>The two of you stand facing the other, with Flurry's face buried in your apron.
>Several seconds pass.
>"…S-sorry, Master."
"It's alright. We did a good job."
>She softly sighs into your chest, slipping her forelegs around your back and steadying her stance.
>"We did…"
>Tilting her head to the side, she glances at the cake.
>"We made something, Master…" she speaks softly and slowly. "We made something *together.*"
>She looks back to you.
>You see glimmers of emotions present within her blue eyes.
>Pride. Compassion. Love.
"Yeah…I…"
>The surreality of this whole situation is beginning to sink in.

>This…this is the same mare who had greeted you with utter disdain when you first met.
>The same mare who was going to force you into the role of exotic pet.
>The same mare who you had brainwashed into becoming your sex slave.
>The same mare who was going to be your ticket to a better life.
>The same mare who you had just baked a cake with.
>And the same mare who you…who you…
>Fell in love with.
>Huh, when did that happen?
>*Chu*
>Flurry's soft lips leave yours as quickly as they came.
>You blink dumbfoundedly, still trying to process what just happened.
"Wh-wha…?"
>She smiles bashfully.
>"'Kiss the Cook,'" she whispers to you.
>Her eyes briefly flit down to your chest, blush intensifying.
>"I-it's what your apron says, hehe…"
"Oh."
>You calmly exhale through your nose.
"I see…"
>A serene silence hangs in the air as the two of you lean into each other for support; her forelegs remain looped around your back, just as your arms are looped around hers.
>Gently, you trail your right hand up her back, soon resting it upon her withers; then, you slowly circle a few fingers around it.
>Her fur is luxuriously soft—yet also slightly matted with sticky cake batter.
"Hey, remind me to get *you* an apron next time."
>Your hand then travels even higher:
>Along her crest;
>Around her neck;
>Under her chin.
>You carefully angle her face upwards so as to make eye contact with her.
"One that says…"
>You lean in.
"'Kiss the Mare.'"
>Your press your lips against hers.
>But this ain't no mere smooch.
>There's tongue—plenty of it.
>Instead of *chu*—there's *mlem* and *mlem* and *mlem.*
>"Mm~"
>*Mlem* and *mlem* and *mlem.*
>…
>And then, finally, a *mlop* as your mouth leaves hers.
>"Ah…ah-hah…"
>Trails of sweet saliva still connect your tongues, shared spittle as unbreakable as your bond.
>You breathe into her nostrils; she breathes into yours.
>The two of you share breath for what feels like aeons.
>In one of these aeons, you find yourself taking up her left forehoof in your right hand.
>You lightly squeeze it, gently stroking your thumb up and down her tender frog.
>It feels both warm and fleshy.
>"A-ah—"
>You catch a hitched breath from her.
>The first of many to come.
>…
>You can't say just how long the two of you spend sharing breath while holding her hoof with your hand.
>But eventually, all things must come to an end—no matter how slow and sensual.
>At some point, you help lower Flurry onto all four hooves, and the two of you stash your cake in the fridge.
>From there, the day's obligations steadily come to overtake you both.
>Yet neither of you mourn the end of your intimate moment.
>For passion is fleeting—
>But love is forever.

***

>"Ah~! Ah~! Ah~! Master~!"
>Flurry's raunchy moans ring out in your bedroom as you slam your hips into hers again and again and again.
>Day has turned to night.
>And you are currently prone boning the Crown Princess into your comfy bed.
>Your hands fiercely grip the sheets in front of Flurry, while the mattress underneath you squeaks and shudders with every bed-wobbling thrust you give her.
>You grunt and snort each and every time you hilt up into her royal babymaker—giving her cervix a firm and wet *smooch* with your tip.
>Her wings fervently flap about at her sides as you furiously take her, wild wingbeats matching wet wombpumps.
>Your jostling balls slap against her fleshy button as you stormily pound her sopping pussy; all the while, sloppy sounding *schlick schlick schlicks* fill the air—and stain your sheets.
>The supple softness of her fur, the pleasant plushness of her flanks, the warm tightness of her tunnel…
>Each and every salacious sensation has been well-seared into your body.
>After all, for the past week, you have been fucking Flurry Heart every single day—and every single night.
>The passionate plapping of a pony princess—while once completely novel to your senses—has become mere commonality for you.
>*Claiming* her body comes just as naturally as breathing to you; it has become your ritual—your *right.*
>Within the mundanity of modern life, your bodies naturally seek each other out—to *rut* and *breed.*
>And yet, despite this carnality becoming commonplace—your desire for her hasn't diminished in the slightest.
>This familiarity—this *deep* understanding of her body—it only helps you further *grasp* her desires.
>To understand *exactly* what she needs:
>You.
>And so you *give* yourself to her—just as much as you *take* her for yourself.
>Driving yourself into her very depths, you lower your face down to her neck, huffing and sniffing around her black choker; Flurry breathily pants in response, while her body sensually squirms underneath yours.
>You smell a curious combination of earthy leather and floral perfume.
>But above all else—one particular scent rings clear in your mind:
>The smell of a tamed mare—*your* tamed mare.

>You sigh deeply into her neck, riding out the latest of her spasming, winking maregasms.
>Your balls heave and clench—you're close.
>Bound by curiosity, you gently pull down her choker to examine the toothy mark that you had left upon her a few days ago.
>Her hickey has all but cleared up, and only the faintest of red marks can be seen through the fur on her neck.
>…
>And so you decide to *renew* your claim on her.
>"Ah~!"
>Your teeth graze her skin as you gently—but firmly—nibble her neck.
>She whinnies into the pillow as she bucks her hips up into yours, turning this prone bone into a racy rodeo.
>Her convulsing canal clasps and clenches around your cock, squirting out her sweltering submission.
>Your canines drive a *pointed* message into her servile form—not enough to draw blood, but enough to assert your *marked* dominion.
>As you lay claim to her tender flesh—you decide to lay just as much claim to her waiting womb.
>And so, right as she unleashes yet another rippling maregasm around your throbbing member—you cum.
>You furiously flood her fertile fields, delicately lapping at her neck as you virulently blast her insides.
>Your body completely collapses onto hers—sweaty skin on top of sweaty fur.
>Riding out your orgasms, your hips undulate against hers as her marehood thoroughly milks your manhood.
>Your neck licks turn to neck nuzzles as your hard-working balls squeeze the last of your loads.
>"Mm…"
>Sweaty and spent, you continue to lie atop your mare, still hilted up to the hips.
>Her considerate cockpocket carefully caresses your sensitive rod, lovingly coaxing out any stray seed that has yet to come.
>Tired breath matches tired breath as the sensual, soporific afterglow threatens to send the both of you to slumberland.
>You are oh-so tempted to fall asleep like this—to stay sheathed within your loyal and royal hole, lazily churning up her womb with sleepy seed all throughout the night…
>Hm…

>Ah, but you can't.
>For there is something else you must tend to before you hit the hay.
>And so, with a parting kiss, you pull away from Flurry's neck to examine your mouthwork:
>Your toothy claim on her has been *thoroughly* re-established; the blistering sight makes you smile.
>You gently pull up her choker in order to hide your fresh hickey, making sure that only you and her know of your saucy sensibilities.
>With a heaving grunt, you yank yourself out of her possessively tight marehood.
>You then sit up on your knees behind her.
>Glancing down at your mare, you see Flurry's face buried into the pillow, likely still recovering from the pounding you just gave her.
>Her forelegs lie buried underneath the pillow, while her wings lie splayed to her sides.
>To you, your slave's sexed-up form is a sight of unrivalled beauty—yet it is her slightly ruffled wings that catch your eyes the most.
>So, you lightly pat her croup.
"Hey, sit up."
>"Mmph…"
>She slowly lifts her head up off the pillow.
>"Okay, Master."
>The rest of her upper body soon follows suit; she rises off the bed and into a sitting position, still facing away from you.
>With a crick of her neck and a yawning hum, she carefully folds her wings against her barrel, looking more regal by the second.
>She then scooches backwards, sidling her plush rump in between your knees and right up to your bare groin.
>…If you weren't currently dealing with the natural wonders of a refractory period, your present thoughts would be far less than wholesome.
>However, this mare isn't just a warm hole for you to fill up and toss aside as you please—she's also your cherished slave.
>Thus, stretching out your legs and leaning forward, you steadily take up her left wing with both of your hands.
>You spread her soft plumage in between your fingers, feeling that familiar softness.
"Now let's see about those feathers…"

>…
>Counting the morning routine and that affair in the kitchen—this'll mark the third time today that you've spent preening Flurry's feathers.
>It's as if a curious compulsion drives your intimate instincts—like her very body is calling out for you to care for her.
>Not that you mind, though; there's just something so…therapeutic about tending to your mare's wings.
>Plus, you're a masseur; you figure that massaging wings just comes with the territory.
>And when you're caring for wings that belong to the pony you love…
>Hm.
>'Love'—there's that word again.
>You recall an off-hand remark that Flurry made on the day you collared her.
>It was something passed onto her by her mother—about how a pony's wings are "sacred" and how they should only be touched by their "special somepony."
>You didn't give any thought to such superstitious beliefs back then, but now…
>…
>Well, in any case, you're currently giving the Crown Princess of Love a deep preening.
>Earlier, you started with her left wing—and now you're on her right.
>Your fingers delicately tend to her downy muscle without a second thought; her wings may as well be a part of you with how closely you've come to understand them.
>Her feathered membrane is your carefully curated canvas—while her pinions paint a picture of tenderness between man and mare.
"Your wings are in top form today, Flurry."
>She hums.
>"That's because you spend so much time caring for them, Master."
>Lifting her head, she stares up at the wall past your bed's headboard.
>"You're not that experienced a masseur compared to the spa ponies I've been to, but you tend to me in places that they'd never dream of going—and where I'd never let them."
>She closes her eyes and lets out a sigh.
>"And even though I'm just your lowly slave, you…you make me feel so important. In truth, you make me feel like a queen—"
>She suddenly gasps, eyes shooting open.
>You feel her wing tenses up in your hands as she vehemently shakes her head.
>"A-ah. I'm sorry, Master." She looks behind her withers and casts you a worried frown. "I-I didn't mean to speak out of turn—"
>You softly stroke along her withers, allaying her budding concerns.
"No, it's fine."

>Your fingers linger on her coat for a few seconds, before going back to her feathers.
>Flurry has just laid bare her truest self to you—giving you a glimpse of the *Queenly* ambitions that lie deep within her own heart.
>Honestly, you didn't think she had it in her.
>Perhaps the two of you are more alike than you realise…
>You'd be a fool not to capitalise on this.
"Actually," you speak up, "I've been doing some thinking."
>You rest your right hand on the fluffy forearm of her right wing.
"For when I usurp the Crystal Empire's throne—and for when I *claim* this land's bounty as my own…"
>You scritch around the wing's forearm, your fingers rubbing along and around her covert feathers.
"I'll need some…pony by my side."
>Your hand travels down her wing, moving to her secondary feathers.
"Somepony capable…"
>And then across, going from secondaries to primaries.
"Somepony intellectual…"
>Drifting all the way over to her wingtip.
"Somepony dependable…"
>Once you reach the end of her wing, you carefully intertwine your fingers with her primary feathers.
"A Queen to share in my victories and secure our everlasting dynasty."
>Flurry lightly gasps.
>"Q-queen…"
"Mm."
>Your left hand moves over to her left wing.
>Just like with her right side, your left hand travels over to her left wingtip, soon intertwining fingers with feathers.
>Hands and wings interlocked.
"I can think of no other fit for the task…"
>You gently lift both wings up, granting your princess her due grandeur.
"Queen Flurry Heart."
>Flurry takes a deep, shuddering inhale through her nostrils, wings jittering in your hand.
>A few heavy seconds pass.
>And she lets out an equally deep, shuddering exhale through her mouth:
>"Haaaah…"
>You smile. The seed has been planted.
>Or perhaps you simply watered it.

>You let go of her wings, allowing them to fold back against her sides.
"I think that's enough excitement for one day. Let's sleep on it."
>She nods.
>"Agreed, Master."
>With that, you crawl past her and tuck into bed.
>Flurry soon joins you, cuddling up to your left side under the bed covers and draping a well-preened wing over your bare body.
>You've only spent a week with this mare, but sleeping together with her like this already feels commonplace.
>You like it.
>In fact, you like it so much that you've been putting efforts towards optimising this bedtime experience for maximum mutual comfort:
>Flurry now wears a small fluffy pink pompom atop her horn.
>It's something you purchased for her on a whim, replacing the wooden cork you used before; it serves to minimise your pokey peril while also maintaining some measure of her dignity.
>Plus, from what the shopkeeper had enthusiastically told you, this little accessory is apparently "magically breathable"—meaning that your princess should have no trouble casting any of her usual spells.
>As your slave, you know that Flurry will happily demean herself at your command—hell, you're pretty sure she'd stick a cork over every single one of her feathers if you asked her to.
>However, now that you've lived with her for a fair bit, and now that you're starting to see her as more than just a mere slave, you feel she deserves at least some respect.
>Yes, Flurry is still your slave—but she is also your mare.
>And so, after giving her pompom a few pats with your right hand, you gently wrap your left arm around her barrel.
>You smile at her.
"G'nite, Flurry."
>She smiles back.
>"Good night, Master."
>Letting out a yawn, you close your eyes, ready to call it a night.
>…
>But it appears Flurry has her own ideas on how to cap off the final hour.
>You can feel her move her muzzle down to your neck and let out a soft sigh; her warm exhalations make your skin tingle.
>Her plush lips then slowly trail up your neck, leaving loving pecks wherever they go.
>One on the side of your neck.
>*Chu*
>One on your Adam's apple.
>*Chu*
>One on your chin.
>*Chu*
>And one on your lips.
>They linger there.
>…
>Eventually, her lips leave yours with a *mwah~*
>She then moves her snout up to your ear, laying another kiss on your earlobe, before breathily whispering into your canal:
>"And sleep well, my *glorious* King~"

*** 11 ***

>The warp goes round and round—it's a kaleidoscopic conundrum.
>What is up? Right?
>What is left? Sideways?
>Touch turns to feel, sight merges into sound, and with your eyely ears, you spy:
>Reds whites oranges purples blurples and—
"Agh!"
>You collide face-first into cold, hard pavement.
>It hurts.
"Uuugh…"
>With a groan, you slowly push yourself up off the ground.
>You quickly come face to face with a distorted version of yourself.
>Because the ground beneath your knees is stupendously reflective.
>Also, your vision is still very hazy.
>Okay. Status check.
>You don't think you've lost any limbs—so that's good.
>No bones feel broken either—even better.
>Patting yourself up and down, you confirm that you are, in fact, still in one piece.
>Splendiferous news.
>Now there's only one last matter to address—
>Just a teensy little query that dares to be asked.
>…
>Where the hell are you?
>Steadily rising up to a standing position, you examine your surroundings.
>The skies high above are both blithely blue and crystal clear, yet they refuse to cast any light upon your current situation.
>There are buildings all around you—strange stone structures that scintillate in the sun; their dazzling veneer makes it a struggle to look them dead on.
>And over in the far distance, you can see the shiniest, most blindingly bright building of all—it looks like an Eiffel Tower made of crystal.

>Something about that structure calls out to you—but right now, you've got far bigger problems to worry about than a tower trying to metaphorically speak with you.
>Because down on the ground level, you spy shapes—moving ones.
>They come in all sorts of shapes and sizes and colours—
>But none of them appear to pay you any mind.
>"H-hey, are you alright?"
>Well, except one, it seems.
>You spin around, seeing one of said shapes standing quite close to you.
>It appears to be some kind of…horned quadruped; their colour scheme is a gaudy mix of pink and orange.
>Also, they just asked you a question, so…
"Um, yeah," you reply, tone still somewhat stunned. "I think so."
>"Are you sure?"
>Damn, she hit you with the double.
>Wait, "she?"
>…Yeah, that's definitely a chick's voice. Sounds a little raspy, though.
"Uh…why wouldn't I be?"
>"Well, you just kinda fell out of the sky like—" She bombastically waves her forelimbs about in the air. "—fshew! And faceplanted right into the road."
"Oh yeah." You nod sagely. "I did do that."
>Cricking your neck to the right, you give your left shoulder a few firm pats and continue:
"I think I'm good though. Thanks for asking."
>"O-oh, you're welcome!"
>Your vision is still a bit blurry, but it looks like your response has brought a smile upon her face.
"So," you begin, "do you know where we are?"
>"Where we are…hm…"
>She casts her gaze around your surroundings—which appears to be smack-dab in the middle of a street—before looking back to you.
>"Sapphire Avenue, I think."
>You blink bemusedly.
"Sapphire—"
>"Oh!" she suddenly interjects. "Or did you mean—" She swiftly shakes her own head. "—right, of course, sorry, ahahah…"
>After letting out a nervous-sounding chuckle, she clears her throat and takes on a brighter tone:
>"This is the Crystal Empire! It's situated deep within the Frozen North—and located directly north of Canterlot!"
>Definitely doesn't sound like Kansas.
"Cool," you coolly respond. "Do you know how to get back home?"
>"Home?" She tilts her head.
"Yeah, if you could kindly point me in the direction of…"

>…
>Well, that was a sobering conversation.
>Miss Pink and Orange has just politely informed you that there are no known return trips when it comes to getting sucked up by spontaneous space-time warps.
>Turns out, you're stuck here—far, *far* away from home.
>Everything you've ever known, everything you've built up—gone in an instant.
>And you have only one thing to say:
"Damn."
>You have relocated yourself to sitting on the edge of the sidewalk alongside your equine-shaped informant.
>"I-I'm so sorry," she tries to reassure you. "I know this must be a lot to take in for you a-and… G-gosh, I don't even know what to say in a situation like this…"
>You dismissively wave her off.
"Nah, it's fine. I'll survive, probably."
>Resting your right hand against your forehead, you knit your brows.
"Just trying to map out where the hell I go from here, you know?"
>"Wh-where to go? Hm…"
>Twenty seconds are spent in solemn silence as you watch the various colourful shapes pass you by.
>Some are quadruped, some are biped—yet all are alien to your sobering eyes.
>Suddenly, your informant shoots up with a gasp.
>"Oh, I know! Why don't I take you over to City Hall? That way, you can get yourself registered as a proper citizen of the Crystal Empire!"
>You mumble to yourself:
"Registered, huh…"
>You hum, a smile creeping up on your face.
>Perhaps it's not all doom and gloom.
>An end to one life can simply mean the beginning of another.
"Now that's a start." You nod to her. "I think I'll take you up on that offer."
>"Great!" She nods back. "City Hall's over this way!"
>She points down one of many streets within this reflective city.
>"Follow me!"
>You stand up and make to follow her lead.
>After about five steps, however, she stops in place.
>"Oh! And while we're here…"
>Turning around, she smiles up at you.
>"…what's your name, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Name?"
>You quirk an eyebrow, critical information still slowly returning to your discombobulated mind.
>"Yeah!" She nods. "Something I can call you by?"
>Her right ear flicks and flops as she very hastily adds:
>"U-um, that is, if you have one, of course."
"Oh yeah, sure. I've got one of those."
>You hold out your hand towards her.
"Call me Anon."
>She stares at your hand for a few seconds, before steadily reaching up one of her forelimbs to meet it.
>"Nice to meet you, Anon! My name's—"
>*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

***

>*BEEP BEEP BEEP*
"Uuurgh…"
>No, her name was *not* beep beep beep.
>It was…
>Ah, damn it. Dream's fading already.
>Should really invest in a dream journal one of these days.
>In any case—day eight.
>You've survived an entire week with your fluffy pink bedmate.
>And that's—
>*BEEP BEEP BEEP*
"Alright, alright; shut up already…"
>You turn the alarm off and flop back into bed, alone.
>Anyway.
>—and that's pretty good; the whole "Flurry for a Week" thing, you mean.
>…Speaking of Flurry, where *is* she, anyway?
>You definitely went to bed with her last night.
>Yet she's nowhere to be seen—or felt, for that matter.
>Hell, she even left you to suffer through the alarm clock's blaring siren in solitude.
>The nerve of her!
>Wait.
>You're pretty sure you assigned her a specific task to carry out this morning.
>What was it, again…?
>Before you can ponder on her absence any longer, the door to your bedroom swings wide open—
>And in comes the mare herself.
>"Good morning, Master!" Flurry beams at you.
>Sitting up, you greet her with a quick wave of your hand.
"Ah, morning, Flurry."
>She's carrying something within her light-yellow magical aura:
>A rectangular tray.
>On it: chocolate cake.
>It's the same chocolate cake that the two of you baked together yesterday.
>Lightly tittering to herself, she walks up to the right side of your bed and gently sets the tray down on your lap.
>"Here you are, Master—breakfast in bed!"
>Looking your confection over, you nod in approval.
"Good work, Flurry."
>You pat the spot next to you on the bed.
"Come on up."
>With a bashful smile, she clambers onto bed with you, soon sitting up on her haunches by your right side.
>Reaching out your right hand, you pet her on the withers.
"Let's share in our efforts together."
>She lets out a soft sigh, nervousness melting away to reveal serenity.
>Shuffling closer to you, she gently unfurls her left wing and smoothly wraps it around your back, resting her wingtip upon your left shoulder.
>"Yeah… Let's."

>The large plastic tray lying across your lap has everything you need to start the day off sugary sweet.
>Besides the cake itself, you note that there are a few additional items on the tray:
>A knife to cut the cake;
>Two paper plates to divide it up;
>And two spoons to eat your food like a civilised species.
>Picking up the knife, you carefully cut the cake into two equally sized portions; one for you and one for her.
>Truthfully, you'd like to give her more than half the cake.
>No, you're not applying to be an architect—you just don't believe your half-asleep stomach is cut out to digest a calorie-crammed confection for breakfast.
>However, as Flurry's Master, you have an image to uphold—and it'd be poor form to grant her a greater portion than yours.
>Even if she is to be your eventual Queen.
>In any case, after partitioning the cake onto the plates and setting your knife down, you slide Flurry's portion over to her side of the tray.
"Here's your piece."
>"Thank you, Master!"
>With a nod, you look down at your plate.
"Alright. Well, without any further ado…"
>Grabbing one of the spoons with your right hand, you scoop up a chunk of cake and hold it up to your anticipatory lips.
"…let's dig in."

>Chocolate cake.
>It tastes like chocolate—and also cake.
>Who woulda thunk.
>Still, if it tastes like it should—then that means you must have baked it correctly.
>Anonymous, Culinary Legend, clinches another victory in his name. Great success!
>Oh, but don't take *your* word for it—ask the pampered princess who has an in-house suite of royal chefs ready to supply her with all the gourmet cake that she could ever want:
"How're you finding it, Flurry?"
>"Well…"
>Lightly burying her spoon into the cake with her magic, she thoughtfully twirls the spoon's handle a few times.
>"…to be honest, this doesn't hold a candle to any of the cakes I have back at my castle."
>Damn. That's brutal.
>She scoops up another piece of cake into her mouth, humming as she swallows.
>"But it's something *we* made together…"
>Turning her head your way, she casts you a smile that's as soft as it is sincere.
>"I love it, Master. I'd gladly have this cake over that of the royal chefs' any day."
>Still brutal, but…lovingly brutal?
>You'll take it.
>Casting her a smile of your own, you gently pat her shoulder.
"Guess we better add 'baking' to our job description, huh?"
>She amusedly giggle-snorts.
>"Ehehe~!"
>Cute.
>She leans into your side, and you can feel her winggrip on your shoulder tighten ever so slightly.
>The next minute is spent in near-total tranquillity, with the peaceably quiet ambience only broken up by the soothing sounds of you two humming and chewing on good cake.
>Chocolate cake on a morning isn't so bad, actually.
>You could get used to this.

>You're about halfway through your half of chocolate cake, thus leaving you with a mere quarter slice.
>Flurry is much the same, matching your pace.
>If you put two quarters together—you get a half.
>In that respect—you'd still need two other quarters to get the full caboose.
>But you know they'll come soon.
>In the meantime, you scoop up another chunk of cake, slowly raising it up to your mouth—
>Yet you stop the spoon just shy of your lips, pondering your prize.
>You then throw a mindful glance Flurry's way, who matches your gaze with a curious expression of her own.
>And an idea soon surfaces in your mind—a devilishly loving idea.
"Hey, Flurry."
>She lightly tilts her head.
>"Hm?"
>Exercising utmost nimbleness, you pass your utensil from your right hand over to your left.
>You then playfully point your caked spoon in her direction.
"Open your mouth."
>She blankly blinks at your silverware with parted lips.
>But as she gradually pieces together your intentions, you see her eyes subtly widen.
>"O-okay."
>Closing her eyes, she opens her maw all the way, letting you glimpse the inside of her moist muzzle.
>Her gums glow a healthy red, while faint strands of fresh saliva enduringly connect the roof of her mouth to the bottom.
>Her teeth shine a pristine white, only being marred by the scant specks of chocolate cake stuck between them.
>Her long horsey tongue placidly lies at the bottom of her mouth, yet it also extends past her lips, with the tip tentatively pointing out towards you.
>With a cautious hand, you slowly insert the cake-filled spoon into her waiting maw, gently resting its dome upon the base of her tongue.
"Close it."
>She does as you command, making her lips form a seal around the neck of your utensil.
>You nod in approval, still holding the spoon's handle in between your fingers.
"And enjoy."
>"Mm."
>Through your grip on the silverware, you can feel her tenderly lap at your utensil, carefully cleaning every crumb of cake off it.
>With gentle hums and hearty gulps, she thoroughly savours your confectionary gift to her princessly palate.
>And after several sugary seconds, she slowly opens her eyes, gazing thoughtfully at you.
>The licks have now abated.
"You done?"
>"Mm-hmm."
"Good."
>You delicately pull your utensil out of her mouth, only meeting the slightest amount of resistance as the head exits the seal; a quiet, wet *pop* fills the air as the tip leaves her lips.
>Much like the aftermath of an intimate kiss, a thin trail of saliva still connects your spoon to her lips—with some tiny traces of spittle pooling up at the bottom of its bowl.

>Turning away from her, you stick your saliva-slickened silverware back into the rest of your cake, ready to scoop out another chocolatey chunk…
>"M-master."
>Your eyes flick over to Flurry, a part of you already knowing what to expect.
>Her own cake-filled spoon hovers in the air, pointing straight towards your lips.
>She flashes you a shy smile.
>"M-may I…?"
>Your eyes drift between her face and the spoon for a few seconds.
>You then mutely open your mouth.
>She titters, spoon closing in.
>"Open wiiide~" she coos.
>Your jaw is already as "wiiide~" as you can go.
>But you're pretty sure she just wanted the chance to say that aloud.
>Still, you humour her nonetheless, flexing your lips just a little bit farther apart—and you see her smile grow just a little bit wider in response.
>A combination of cutlery and cake soon find their way inside your oral cavity, resting themselves upon your tongue.
>"Now clooose~"
>Like the obedient Master you are, you do as your slave commands.
>…Man. How on Equestria did you get to this point?
>You were supposed to be in charge here.
>Love really is one hell of a drug.
>Flurry gently tilts the spoon from side to side within your mouth, lightly humming to herself all the while.
>Not how you'd do it, but whatever.
>The movement of the metal in your mouth makes it difficult to properly consume Flurry's cake—but you give it your best efforts regardless.
>Using both laps and licks, you manage to slide most of the sugary sweetness down your gullet—with the taste only made sweeter by the mare who's feeding it to you.
>You exhale through your nostrils as your tongue stills; Flurry takes that as her cue to ask:
>"Are you finished, Master?"
"Mm."
>Parting your lips, you let her take her spoon out of your mouth.
>Once her utensil is fully extracted, she examines its bowl.
>"Oh, there's still some left."
>She casually sticks the spoon into her mouth and quickly cleans off the rest, happily humming to herself all the while.
>Guess your stray spittle is just additional flavouring for her.
"By the way," you speak up, tone stern, "keep the spoon still next time."
>After floating her now-spotless spoon out of her mouth, she flashes you a bashful grin.
>"Ehehe…sorry, Master."
>Her eyes drift down your face and towards your left cheek.
>They then quickly widen.
>"Oh!" she gasps.
>You arch an eyebrow.
>"Master," she speaks with a determined tone and a serious expression, "there's…hold on."
>Flurry carefully leans in towards the left side of your face—and then slowly drags her tongue across your cheek, lapping at your skin.
>This sudden act of lavish attention surprises you—yet you also feel no need to stop her.
>Thus, you let her do her thing.

>After several slightly sloppy seconds, she pulls back, lightly licking her lips as she does.
>"Mm…" she hummingly savours her impromptu act, "there was a bit of leftover cake on your cheek, Master."
>Reflexively reaching up to your left cheek with your right hand, you find your skin both wettened and spotless.
"Ah, thank you." You lower your hand.
>She casts you a warm smile.
>"Of course…"
>She gently sets her spoon down on her plate, still gazing at you; you do the same.
>Your eyes lid; so do hers.
>You lean in; so does she.
>The two of you wordlessly draw closer to the other, about to enjoy the first direct kiss of the day.
>Just as your mouths are about to meet—
>"Golly…" you hear a voice whisper.
"Wha—?"
>Your brows furrow; you turn to the side—
>And Cozy Glow is lying prone along the left edge of your bed, resting her head on her forehooves and grinning at the both of you.
>You blink in surprise.
"Wh-when did—"
>"EEP!" Flurry yelps.
>Flurry, in her panic, accidentally flips the breakfast tray over, sending fragments of fudge flying all over your bed to cake it in cake.
>Your various utensils are also haphazardly flung—but most fortuitously, the knife you used to cut the cake is launched off the bed and away from anything vital.
>"Oh!" she gasps. "Oh no!"
"Flurry…"
>"I-I'm sorry, Master! I'll clean this up right away!"
>She shoots up to all four hooves.
"W-wait—"
>Using her magic, she quickly gathers up not just the tray and utensils—but your stained duvet as well.
>Cozy quickly hovers up into the air to avoid getting caught up in this frenetic storm.
>And you…you feel strangely breezy.
>Flurry leaps off of the bed, yanks open the bedroom door, and gallops out of your room—dirtied duvet and troublesome tray in tow.
>You stare at the door as it swiftly closes shut.
"Th—"
>You quickly shake your head.
"She's gone."
>Just like that.
>"Well, at least she's house-trained."
>You look over to the side, seeing Cozy touch down on all fours close to your left side.
"Cozy Glow."
>She beams at you.
>"Nonny!" Her eyes flit down. "Oh—and Nonny Junior, too!"
"Nonny Ju—"
>You look down.
>Ah, right. You went to bed naked last night.
>And Flurry took the duvet.
>Which means you are currently naked in front of Cozy Glow.
"A-ah! Er—"
>Eyes darting around the bed, you quickly yoink a pillow and cover your crotch with it.
>"Ooh! Quick thinking!" She applauds you with her forehooves.
"Um…"
>You look away with flushed shame.
>But hold on—why do you feel shame?
>The last time she had visited you, Cozy caught an full eyeful of you getting your knob nuzzled by Flurry.
>…
>Maybe…
>Maybe it's because you feel even more naked than usual when it's just you and her.

>Letting out a sigh, you look back to Cozy, who now sits down on her haunches.
"Never mind that. How—when—why did you come in here?"
>You probably could have phrased that better.
>"I—"
>She raises a forehoof.
>"—can answer one of those: the 'why.'"
"But I want to know more than that."
>"Golly, Nonny, you should know by now that we mares love to keep our secrets~"
"Sure, secrets…" You roll your eyes.
>You look around the room.
>One of your windows is open.
>It wasn't before.
"The window?" You glance at her.
>"Weeell…"
"Hold on."
>You narrow your eyes.
"Pretty sure I locked my window."
>"Are you suuure you did?"
"Yes."
>You briefly knit then unknit your brows.
"I'm sure."
>You point at her.
"Don't gaslight me."
>Wholly undeterred by your righteous suspicion, she titters into her hoof.
>She then hides both forehooves behind her back, fluttering her eyelashes at you.
>"Okay, so maaaybe you locked your window, and maaaybe I unlocked it while you weren't looking~"
>As she finishes her sentence, she slowly unfurls her left wing—
>Is that a lockpick dangling from one of her feathers?
>…
>It is.
>You quirk an eyebrow.
"…You broke into my bedroom to peep on me?"
>Flashing you an innocent smile, she quickly folds up her wing, lockpick disappearing from sight.
>"Oh, but I wasn't trying to spy on you, honest! I just wasn't sure on when to interrupt your little…"
>Said smile turns into a smirk.
>"…moment~"
"Moment…?"
>You throw a brief glance towards your closed bedroom door.
"…Oh, that."
>Quickly clearing your throat, you look back to Cozy.
"We were just having breakfast in bed. That's all."
>"Mhm-hm-hm~" she titters.
>She siddles a little closer to you.
>"In any case, I can see that you've been *hard* at work when it comes to *deepening* your master-slave bond with Flurry~"
>You rub your neck, smiling awkwardly.
"Ahah, yeah…"
>"Golly, I wouldn't be surprised if somepony mistook you for a pair of lovebirds!"
>Your smile falters slightly.
"Huh? Mistook?"
>Cozy silently yet inquisitively tilts her head—and you quickly correct yourself:
"Er—I mean, I-I guess?"
>Why are you so quick to deny the relationship that you've built up with Flurry?
>Is it the way that Cozy's scarlet eyes peer into your uncertain soul?
>Is it the way they make you feel as if your very being is unravelling in front of her?
>Cozy gently taps her chin, humming thoughtfully.
>"Well…it *would* be a mistake, wouldn't it? After all, her mind isn't even her own right now. A brainwashed slave could never *truly* fall in love with her master—especially not a pony like her."
"'Like her'…?" you mumble to yourself.
>Isn't Flurry a Princess of Love?
>What is she getting at?
>…What are *you* getting at?

>Cozy brings her right forehoof up to her chest, closing her eyes.
>"You know, deep down, she's still that same bratty rotten princess who sees the entire world as beneath her."
>Opening her eyes, she smirks at you, gently prodding your bare chest with that same hoof.
>"You included, obviously; you'll always be a 'pleb' to her—just one who has ruthlessly twisted her body and mind to suit your own ends."
"I…"
>Well, when she puts it like *that*…
"I…I suppose so…"
>She giggles to herself.
>Yet you feel anything *but* jubilant right now.
>For this is a truth you have long tried to ignore.
>You chose to believe that the ever growing bond between you and your slave was founded upon something real.
>However…in truth…
>Every single one of the intimate interactions you've had with Flurry since you enslaved her—they were all filtered through the mind-bending magics of Cozy's collar.
>Flurry's feelings for you are ultimately farcical, and the connection that keeps you two together is as fragile as it is fleeting.
>Deep down, you knew this.
>And yet…
>You sigh, slumping your shoulders.
>Quickly picking up on your soured mood, Cozy gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
>"Oh! But I didn't wish to undermine your efforts—not at all! You've done a great job on breaking Flurry in!"
>You look away.
"Sure…"
>"Mm-hmm!" She nods. "You know, I don't blame you for getting so attached to your slave, Nonny. After all, our hearts can be real fickle things sometimes."
>Her reassuring pat turns into a slow rub as she gazes at you with pursed lips.
>"But…don't lose track of what's important, okay? Your partner is only looking out for you."
>Your brows knit.
"What's important, huh…?"
>She gives you another nod.
>"Power, luxury, and respect—remember? The life of a king~"
>Her hoof travels up your neck and rests upon your left cheek.
>"But maybe we can add 'companionship' to the list too, hm? A king shouldn't rule alone."
>This conversation all sounds very familiar to you.
>Cozy's words evoke a similar sentiment to the speech you gave Flurry last night—yet they somehow sound even more enticing when spoken from her lips.
>Perhaps it's the way that her desires run parallel to yours.
>Roused from your solemn slump, you re-establish eye contact with Cozy.
"Then who *should* he rule with?"
>She smiles.
>"Somepony who understands him on a level nopony else could."
>Her hoof caresses your cheek.
>"Somepony who has been watching over him for a while now."
>Her eyes lid.
>"Somepony who's closer than he might think~"
>You hum.
"And just how close *is* this 'somepony?'"
>"Golly, I couldn't tell you for sure, but…"
>Her hoof slowly trails down your face, soon resting itself under your chin.
>"If you focus on what's in front of you—you just might find her~"

>Gazing deep into her scarlet eyes, you see yourself reflected within them.
"In front of me, you say…?"
>She leans forward.
>"Mm."
>You lean forward, too.
>Bit by bit, inch by inch, your faces draw closer together.
>Cozy closes her eyes.
>You close your eyes, too.
>And you kiss.
>…
>You note that Cozy's lips feel quite different to Flurry's.
>Flurry's lips are soft and pillowy.
>Cozy's lips are taut and leathery.
>And studded.
>…
>Wait a minute.
>You open your eyes.
>You're not kissing Cozy.
>You're kissing a black pleather strap that's inlaid with spherically cut crimson gemstones.
"Bwuh—"
>You recoil, jerking your head backwards.
>After a quick second, you reassess your situation.
>Cozy is holding said black strap in her left forehoof.
>Its appearance rings deathly familiar to you.
"C-collar?" you manage to stutter out.
>She giggles.
>"That's right!"
>She lowers her collar-holding hoof and flutters her eyelashes at you.
>"Guess who it's for~"
>Your eyes flit down to the collar.
>Then back to her.
"You?"
>She suddenly snorts in your face.
"Oof!"
>You take a critically direct hit of steamy mare air to your senses; it sears your eyes, makes you hack to the side—and perhaps causes your nostrils to flare out slightly.
"Okay, okay…"
>Blinking several times, your stinging eyeballs slowly come to refocus on a slyly smiling Cozy.
"…Luster Dawn, right?"
>"Mm-hmm!" She nods.
>Looking down at the bedsheets, she casually brushes off her chest with her free forehoof.
>"You'll have to arrange the meeting with her yourself, though. Flurry should be able to help you with that."
>Ah, that's right. This collar is only the first step towards Luster's enslavement.
>But before you can even get started on working your magic upon her mind and body—you need to somehow lure this slovenly mare into your parlour yet again.
>…Wait, hold on; there was that "receipt" she gave you back at the library…
"Oh, that won't be necessary," you address Cozy with confidence. "You see, Luster and I have already, uh, 'arranged' an appointment here at the parlour—she'll be coming over tomorrow."
>Cozy hits you with an impressed-sounding "ooo."
>"Golly! Aren't you well-prepared! Collaring her should be a cinch for you then!"
"Eheh…"
>Lifting her left forehoof, she presents the collar to you.
>"Here ya go!"
"Thanks…" you mumble as you take it.
>Giving the collar a thoughtful lookover, you hum to yourself.
>You hold in your hand Luster's crowning destiny.
>Yet your thoughts lie elsewhere.
>To that time at the library.
>To those books you picked up.
>And to the mare sitting in front of you.

"By the way, Cozy…" You slowly lift your gaze to look at her.
>"Mm?" She tilts her head.
"I've been doing some reading, and, uh…"
>You crudely fiddle with the collar in your hand.
"Just been trying to learn what I can about the Empire I intend to rule, you know?"
>She clasps her forehooves together.
>"Oh! So you took my advice after all! Good thinking, Nonny!" She beams at you.
"Ahah, right…"
>You clear your throat, getting back on topic.
"So, uh, my reading turned to King Sombra, yeah? The dude who came up with these collars?"
>She flashes you a boastful grin.
>"In a technical sense, yes; that imprudent oaf of a tyrant did 'come up with them'—but I had to add several improvements of my *own* so that they could suit *our* needs."
>You note a lot of pride in her tone.
"I-I see."
>She giggles, playfully batting a forehoof your way.
>"Oh, but do continue~"
>You give a curt nod.
"Well, it turns out there was a time where multiple villains laid siege to Equestria at once."
>"Hm…?"
>Her grin begins to falter.
"There were pictures and everything."
>Her brows slowly knit.
"And I saw your face among them."
>She blinks.
>Then glances to the side.
>"Oh."
"A bit younger—but that was definitely you, wasn't it? Don't see anyone else rocking those curls the way you do."
>She raises a forehoof, lightly pushing up one of her ringlets.
>You tentatively clasp both of your hands together, collar still held in between them.
"…So, I'm speaking to a real-life supervillain, huh?"
>She lets out a quiet sigh.
>"Golly, you sure are quite the sleuth, aren't you, Nonny?"
>She nods.
>"Mm, that's right. I once tried to take over Equestria."
>She absent-mindedly flicks one of her forehooves to the side.
>"Twice, actually."
>Her eyes—those inquisitive irises of pure scarlet—slowly drift back to you.
>"…Do you think less of me for that?"
>Before you lose yourself in those sanguine pools completely—you vehemently shake your head.
"No."
>You flash her a smile.
"If anything, it makes you even more alluring—you're a pony who's not afraid to take what she wants."
>She blinks, eyes subtly widening.
>"Alluring?"
>She tilts her head.
>"You're strange."
"I guess so."
>You lean forward ever so slightly.
"Do *you* think less of me for that?"
>She lets out a soft sigh, then shakes her head.
>"No."
>Her lips curl upwards.
>"I like strange."
>Before you can say anything more, she suddenly darts forward—
>And plants a kiss on your lips.
>Your eyes shoot open.
>Alas, she quickly pulls away before you can even entertain the thought of anything else.
"I-I, uh, wow."
>First kiss of the day, huh.

"And here I thought you were gonna tease me forever."
>She titters.
>"Why tease when I can make a promise?"
>She rests her left forehoof upon your chest.
>"You and me, Nonny—us against the world."
>You raise an eyebrow.
"The *whole* world, huh…?"
>"Mhm." She nods. "We stand to gain *everything.*"
"But what do we stand to lose?"
>"Golly, I really don't like to think about failing; defeat can be such a *downer,* you know?"
>She rubs around your bare chest, smiling and humming to herself.
>"Buuut, I suppose if we *did* fail—we'd fail together."
>She lets out a slight huff, pulling her forehoof away from you.
>"Knowing them, they'd probably punish us with a *cosily* cramped prison cell deep within the pits of Tartarus."
>She leans backwards.
>"And from there—we would only need to think up our next plot for world domination…"
>She extends out her forehoof towards you.
>"As partners~"
>You glance at her hoof for a second.
>Then, you reach out and take it up in your right hand.
"As partners."
>You two shake on things once more.
>"Of course, we're *definitely* going to succeed—so we can save the *plotting* for when we're sitting on our *thrones~*"
>You chuckle.
"Sounds like a plan."
>"Hm-hm~"
>She stands up and turns around, taking a couple of sashaying steps away from you and across the bed.
>Unfortunately, her saucy bits are completely covered up by her bow-tied tail—being a no-no zone for your leering eyes.
>Her flanks manage to be both firm and muscular, yet also possess just the right touch of sugary plumpness; you could certainly see yourself sinking your fingers into them one day.
>One day, huh…
>Her back is turned to you, while her neck lies completely unclaimed.
>Your left-handed grip on the collar tightens.
>If you so wanted, surely you could—
>The tip of her tail suddenly flicks you on the nose.
"O-ow!" you wince, quickly covering up your face with your right hand.
>It stings.
>Hearing cheerful tittering coming from your front, you slowly lower your hand.
>Cozy is glancing over her withers at you, tongue impishly stuck out.
>"Oh, behave~"
>You quickly hide the collar behind your body and briefly glance to the side, innocently puffing out your bottom lip.
"M'behaving."
>She playfully paws her forehoof in the air towards you.
>"You better, mister~"
>After taking a few more steps away from you, she slowly hovers up into the air.
>She then flutters over to your open window, soon sitting down on the windowsill with her hindlegs hanging off into your room.
>"Well, I suppose I best get going."
"I'm missing you already."
>"Hehe~" she giggles. "So am I~"
>She kicks up her hindlegs and faces the outside world—or at least the narrow alleyway your window faces.
>"Goodbye, and good luck…"
>She pops her head back into the room to shoot you a parting wink.
>"Partner~"
>And just like that, she enters and leaves your life like a pink storm, shutting the window behind her.

>You find yourself sitting on the bed, alone, still mentally recovering from Cozy's spontaneous visit.
>That mare is a maelstrom of charisma.
>One that you find yourself so easily swept up in.
>Soon enough, you hear the door to your bedroom slowly open.
>In walks Flurry, bearing a solemnly guilty expression.
>Up in the air and behind her body, she levitates your bedsheets, which look noticeably less caked.
>"Master, I…I cleaned the sheets."
"I see."
>Flurry looks around the room.
>"Huh? Where did Glowie go?"
>You turn your head over to the window.
"She left."
>She also briefly looks at the window, before looking back to you.
>"Oh, okay."
>Silently shuffling off of your bed, you head to the closet to clothe yourself.
>Flurry walks over to your bed and mutely makes it.
>After getting fully dressed, you stride past Flurry without giving her a second glance, making your way over to the window.
>Contemplatively, you peer out of it.
>You can feel an uncomfortable quietude looming over the bedroom.
>Yet you do not care—for your thoughts lie far beyond it.
>"Um, Master, I…"
>You harshly sigh.
>It's always "Master, Master, Master" with this mare.
>You thought you had grown used to such titleage—grown contented—yet each and every call to your Masterly moniker only serves as a sobering reminder towards the cruel reality of your hollow relationship.
>She never loved you; how could she?
>She is merely your slave.
>You turn to her.
"Yes?"
>She flashes you a smile—an empty, meaningless smile.
>"May we shower together?"
>You furrow your brows.
"You know how to use the shower by now, surely?"
>"H-huh?"
>Her ears flatten at your cold tone.
>"W-well, yes, I do, but I…I-I want—"
"Then do it yourself, slave. I need to open up shop."
>She winces at your rebuttal, her eyes falling to the floor.
>"O-okay…"
>You leave through the bedroom door, shutting it behind you.
>Yet your hand lingers on the handle, while your head rests against the wooden door frame.
>And you let out a heavy sigh.
>You grew too attached—too complacent.
>Flurry is your brainwashed slave, and you are her impartial Master.
>She doesn't love you—she *couldn't* love you.
>She is merely a tool to be used as you see fit.
>You knew this. You always knew this.
>But part of you is still hurting.
>Ugh.
>Why does mindslaving have to be so…emotionally complicated?

*** 12 ***

>Day nine with…
>Ah, forget it.
>Today's the day you plan on collaring Luster Dawn.
>She'll be dropping by early in the afternoon—not long from now.
>Honestly, you don't foresee any problems with her.
>It's clear as day that she has the hots for you.
>It'll only be a matter of leading her on—and then moving in for the kill as soon as she lets her guard down.
>Once you manage that, you'll have one more slave added to your collared collection.
>And as for Flurry Heart—you've ordered her to stay at her castle for the whole day.
>After all, Flurry's presence in your parlour could very well rouse suspicion in Luster's mind—no matter how covert your princess is.
>Thus, sending that alicorn away simply makes the most sense.
>Plus…you need some time to sort out your feelings.
>To figure out where you and Flurry stand.
>Anyway, for now—all you can do is wait.

>You're currently seated at your reception desk, as per usual.
>Lacking any "royal" entertainment to pass the time, you find yourself turning to the old reliable:
>Your trusty, slightly crusty, copy of Playcolt.
>Opening it, your fingers quickly find the page that titillates you the most:
>Page twelve.
>There she is.
>That unicorn with pristine white fur, a pinkish-purple swirly mane, and eyes that shine like emeralds…
>Like the sensually static image she is, she lies down on her back, silently beckoning you to join her within those very same pages she resides.
>Oh, how you truly wish you could.
>But alas, you are merely a man—while she is a mare of the magazine.
>Regardless, you could never grow tired of this stationary sight.
"It's been a while, old flame…"
>Playcolt Mare, your beloved.
>With that polychromatic shield emblazoned upon her supple flanks, you like to think she has been your guardian angel throughout this Masterly journey.
>Mare of the Magazine she may be to your eyes—a Champion of Conviction she shall ever remain in your heart.
>Clasping your hands together in prayer, you beseech her one more time:
"White mare, give me strength…"
>This unicorn of the past shall embolden you in facing the unicorn of the future.

>*Dinga-linga-ling*
>Sighing to yourself, you close the magazine and set it down on your desk.
>It's time.
>You look towards the entrance, seeing a familiar cerise unicorn peek in through your doorway.
>She holds the door open with a lifted foreleg, while her amber eyes gingerly gaze around the room.
>Soon enough, her eyes meet yours.
>Her eyes soon meet yours.
>You clear your throat and force out a friendly smile.
"Welcome back, Luster."
>One of her ears twitches.
>And a sly smile crosses her lips.
>"Hey…"
>She confidently strolls into your reception, kicking the door shut behind her with a hindleg.
>"…humie~"
>Her utterance of that abominable moniker makes your brows furrow for just a split-second.
>But you quickly recover your cordial composure.
>Remember—play along.
"Glad you could make it."
>She saunters through your reception, simpering at you all the while.
>"Heh, of course. There's no way I'd ever miss out on the chance to have you run those hands of yours all over me~"
>She stops in the middle of the room, taking the time to scrutinise the various sights in your abode.
>"Mm… I missed this place…"
>Her eyes drift over to your bulletin board on the right wall;
>"The sights…"
>Your couch by the left wall;
>Your various potted crystal plants around the room's perimeter;
>And finally, to you—still seated at your desk.
>"And…"
>Closing her eyes, she points her snout upwards, slowly sniffing at the air.
>*Sniff sniff sniff*
>A breathy sigh escapes her lips, while her tail wags and flags.
>Partially opening her eyes, she flashes you a half-lidded grin.
>"…the smells~"
>You let out a quiet sigh to the side.
>This mare is absolutely shameless.
>As you take your eyes off of her, Luster uses the opportunity to quickly trot up to the front of your desk.
>She suddenly rears up and slams both forehooves on its surface.
>"Hey, humie!"
"Wh-wha—"
>Startled, your eyes shoot back to her grinning visage—which is now a whole lot closer to you.
"Uh, y-yeah?"

>She holds that imposingly wide grin for a couple more seconds—before slightly lightening it.
>"How're you finding those books from the library? They good?"
"Oh, um."
>Rapidly blinking a few times, your eyes briefly flit to the side.
"Y-yeah, they were really, um, edifying." Your eyes dart back to her. "Thanks for helping me pick them out."
>She blithely nods.
>"Heh, you're welcome."
>She casts a sweeping glance the top of your desk, seeing your empty cup of coffee;
>Your filled cup of stationery;
>Your ledger;
>Your potted plant;
>And then to—
>Her brows knit.
>"Ooh, what's this…?"
>Her sharp eyes fall upon your Playcolt magazine.
>"Heh, don't remember loaning *this* one to you."
>She slowly, purposefully lifts it up within her amber magic.
>Your eyes widen.
"Hey—!"
>You thrust out your right hand to grab it.
>"Hup!"
>But she backsteps away from your desk, taking your porno mag with her.
"You—"
>You shoot up from your chair, glaring her down as your knuckles clench around your desk's crystal edge.
>She meets your glare with a tauntingly smug grin, daring you to make another move—and you relent, letting out a huff while slumping your shoulders.
>Easy, Anon. Easy.
>Play it cool. Play along.
>Don't give her any reason to be on guard around you.
>Even if she's blatantly *trying* to provoke a reaction out of you whenever possible.
>"So…"
>She leers at the cover of your magazine, lightly smacking her lips.
>"…Playcolt, huh?"
>She playfully waggles it in the air.
>"This the kind of thing you're into?"
>You cross your arms.
"Maybe it is."
>Curling your lips upwards, you attempt to match her cocky veneer—
>And you manage to squeak out a half-convincing half-smirk.
"We've all got our needs, right?"
>She snorts with a smile.
>"Guess we do~"
>She lazily flips through your magazine's pages, humming to herself.
>"Hey, betcha I can *sniff* out your favourite page."
>You quirk an eyebrow.
>She flares her nostrils in and out as she continuing perusing your porno mag.
>You're not about to ask her about the exact science of what makes a page your "favourite"—but you have some theories.
>Eventually, Luster stops on a specific page.
>As she eyes it up and down, you see her expression quickly reach levels of smug not thought possible.
>"Unicorn mare, huh?"
>With a chuckle, her eyes flit back to you, and she shoots you a flirty wink.
>"You've got good taste~"
>You roll your eyes as she closes your copy of Playcolt, soon setting it back down on your desk.
>"Come on, humie." She turns to face your hallway. "Let's put those hands of yours to work."
>She swaggers down your hall and into your parlour.
>You sigh, following her.
>Play it cool…

***

>"Hey, what happened to those other tables I gave you?"
>You are now in your kitchen-parlour.
>Luster lies prone on your massage table; her hindlegs are splayed out, while her head languidly rests on crossed forelegs, facing your way.
>Standing by her right side, you contemplate her question.
>The other tables, huh?
>She must be referring to when all three of these pink mares visited you at once.
>Back then, Luster was able to magically duplicate two extra tables out of your original one.
>You had folded them up and stored them in your pantry after the fact, but…
"…after about a day—they poofed into thin air."
>"Aw, really?"
>She huffs into the table padding.
>"Figured they would *eventually,* but…really—a day?"
>She absent-mindedly kicks her hindlegs against the table as she continues:
>"I mean, it's true that Duplicatus was never meant to create objects for the long term. After all, mass that's been magically copied over can't hold itself together forever; everypony knows that. But still, I figured that if I poured enough mana into it—it'd last longer than a day, y'know? Eh, oh well. Guess I'll have to go back to the drawing board and rethink things. It's obvious that more magic isn't the answer here, but…hm…what if I *combined* Duplicatus with Duplexis or, heck, maybe even Two Face's Cloning Spell?"
"Uh…"
>Hearing Luster suddenly launch into a rambling tirade about magical minutiae has caused you to quirk an intrigued eyebrow.
>Truthfully, you didn't expect her to be so…passionate about something outside of "humie humie humie."
>Clearly, there's more to this mare than meets the eye.
"You, uh, really like magic, huh?"
>"Oh!"
>Her ears spring up—as does the rest of her head.
>Thus, she turns her gaze over to you, bringing an eager smile with her.
>"Yeah! I—"
>She pauses, cutting her burst of excitement short.
>Her smile falters, while her ears droop down into a slack position.
>And she brusquely clears her throat.
>"I mean, I think it's alright, humie."
"Uh huh…"
>There she goes, straight back to the whole "humie" thing again.
>Mares sure are complicated when they're not under your complete control.
>…And sometimes even when they're under it.
>Thinking about it, Luster seemed pretty distracted back there; you probably could've slipped the collar on her without her noticing.
>Unfortunately, since you failed to take advantage of the situation, her slavish submission continues to lie just out of your reach.
>But as long as you keep biding your time, another auspicious opportunity is sure to present itself…
>"Anyway," she speaks up. "enough about magic."
>Her sincere smile quickly morphs into a grin—one of expectance.
>"Where's my cake, humie?"

"Huh, cake…?" you mumble to yourself.
>Cupping your chin and knitting your brows, you peruse your memories for a sugary solution.
>Ah.
>Right before you left the library she works at, Luster told you how she was looking forward to tasting the results of your culinary journey.
>You checked out a cookbook—and so she wishes to see your cake.
"Right—the cake."
>Luckily, you came prepared for such an occasion.
>You shoot her some clumsy finger guns.
"Wait there."
>She chuckles.
>"Don't be too long~"
>She nestles her head against the table headrest, amber eyes calmly watching your every move.
>Heading over to the edge of the room, you open up a particular kitchen cabinet and promptly rifle through it.
>Soon enough, you locate one carefully wrapped blueberry muffin.
>You reach forward to grab it—only to be stopped dead in your tracks as a sparkling, tingling sensation shoots up your spine.
>It makes you shiver with a harrowing sense of deep apprehension.
>You've felt this exact sensation once before—back at the library.
>Letting out an anxious sigh, you pray to yourself that it isn't a bad omen of things to come.
>Pulling out the muffin, unwrapping it, and closing the cabinet, you turn around, holding the muffin in the palm of your right hand.
"Here we are."
>"Oh~"
>As you walk back over to her right side, she slowly yet loudly licks her lips.
>It feels as if you're walking straight into a predator's open maw.
>To say her hungering expression fills you with unease would be an understatement.
>However, you're only doing this so you can soften her up and strike her when she's at her most vulnerable.
>Once you reach the tableside, you hold out the muffin so that it's eye level with your client.
>She shuffles across the top of the table to get a better look at your offered confection.
>"Ooh, this is…" She narrows her eyes. "…hey, wait a minute."
>She throws you a judgemental glare.
>"Humie, this is a muffin—not a cake."
>You quickly fire back:
"It's also for you."
>She pauses, pursing her lips.
>"I…hm…"

>Turning back to your baked bread, she leans in and gives it a few cautious sniffs.
>"And you baked this just for me?"
>You bought it from the local bakery at a discount.
"Yeah."
>"Huh…"
>Her lips gradually curl up into a toothy grin.
>"Nice."
>You crouch down and hold out your hand, keeping your muffin level with her face.
"Want a taste?"
>"Mm, yeah. Don't mind if I do."
>She extends her neck out towards your outstretched muffin.
>Closing her eyes, she opens her mouth…
>And gingerly takes a bite out of the top.
>Carefully pulling back, she leisurely chews on her mouthful of bread and blueberry—slowly savouring the taste.
>"Mm…nom…mm…"
>The sights and sounds of her indulgent mastications are almost hypnotic at your ears.
>But you quickly shake your head, dispelling such succulent stimulation.
>After all, this could be your chance to collar Luster while she's delectably distracted.
>Much like with Flurry, you have your implement of justice safely tucked away in your shirt pocket.
>All you need to do is reach in and—
>*Gulp*
>Seeing the remains of Luster's chewed-up muffin travel down her bulging gullet—you quickly switch gears from shirt pocket perusal to shirt collar adjustment.
>Steadily opening her eyes, she lets out a sigh of deep satiation:
>"Aaah~"
>She then shoots you an approving smile.
>"Not bad, humie."
>You've just let another collaring chance slip through your fingers.
>Anon, you dumbass.
>Nonetheless, you clear your throat to recover your mojo.
"G-glad it's up to your standards."
>Now holding a partially devoured muffin in your hand, you shrewdly nudge it over in her direction.
"Um, feel free to take another bite, if you please."
>She lazily looks your offering over.
>"Hm…" she thoughtfully hums. "Tempting…"
>She then blithely shakes her head.
>"…but nah."

>You open your mouth, ready to try and persuade her otherwise—but quickly close it.
>Being pushy isn't going to help your case.
"As you wish."
>Luster chuckles, clearly having caught on to the surface of your inner conflict.
>"Aw, don't you worry, humie. I plan on *fully* savouring my treat when the time comes~"
>She tilts her snout towards the edge of your parlour-kitchen.
>"But for now, set that muffin down on the counter over there; I'll come back for it later."
>With a sigh, you acquiesce, turning away from her, walking over to the kitchen counter, and setting aside her muffin.
>After you return to her right side, she addresses you:
>"By the way, humie…"
>She shuffles in place.
>"I said I'd show my 'cake' if you showed me yours—but you gave me a muffin, so…"
>With a grin, she turns onto to her left side, presenting her front to you.
>"Guess I'll just have to show you this instead~"
>You arch an eyebrow.
>What is she—
>Oh.
>She's referring to her pudgy pony belly, of course.
>Flurry's body is slender; Cozy's body is toned.
>And Luster, well—she just lets it all hang out.
>She's not obese by any means, but she still has plenty of bellyfat to go around.
>There's more than enough mass to let gravity take its toll, making her pudge proudly rest upon the padded table surface right in front of her.
>And there's more than enough mass to make you want to sink your…fingers…into…
>You cough, quickly glancing to the side.
>Luster chuckles, playfully rubbing around her chub with her right forehoof.
>"No need to be shy, masseur~" she coyly addresses you. "I'll even let you feel it up if you want~"
>You hastily clear your throat.
"I-I could…or…"
>You press your palms together.
>"Hm?"
"I could start things off with a nice backrub, how about that?"
>She scoffs, rolling both her head and her eyes.
>"Backrub, schmackrub. I don't need—"
>Leaning forward, you promptly press both hands into her upturned shoulder.
>Wasting no time, you gently knead into her muscle.
>"O-ooh…"
>And thus, her rebuttal is swiftly silenced.
>You shoot her a grin.
"Still don't want that backrub?"
>Letting out a hearty sigh, she flops back onto her belly and relents to your touch.
>"Y-yeah, alright. Backrub is…backrub's good~" she coos.
>With that, you can finally get started on the "massage" part of the massage.
>Yet you can't help but sneak a few peeks at the way her soft-looking pudge spills out at her sides.
>It invigorates you in all of the wrong ways.
>…You are going to utterly *ravage* this mare's bountiful body once you break her in.

>…
>"Mm…oh…right…right there, humie~"
>Such ravaging will have to wait, unfortunately.
>As currently, your fingers are busy working their magic on this sedentary mare's body.
>You apply your delicate ministrations over her firm, sensitive shoulders…
>And her soft, frustratingly bare neck.
>Luster's unrestrained moans and heavy sighs ring throughout the room as you press into her flesh.
>But alas, despite your best efforts—this unicorn remains untamed.
>You'd think it'd be easy to slip a collar on a mare who has her back turned to you.
>But no.
>Somehow—some way—she always manages to keep at least one eye on you at all times.
>It's almost as if…
>No. There's no way she'd know.
>She probably just likes to ogle her "humie" while he massages the body of his mistress.
>…
>Wait, what? Mistress?
>Get your shit together, Anon.
>All of this time spent away from your slave must be sending you out of sorts.
>…
>You wonder how Flurry is doing.
>After yesterday's sobering revelation, you started distancing yourself from her.
>Hell, the two of you didn't even cuddle last night; she wanted to—but you wouldn't let her.
>You remember her looking pretty broken up about it, and the tears in her eyes almost brought *you* to tears.
>But that was only the collar's magic making her *pretend* to be sad, right?
>Ugh. Just thinking about it makes your heart ache.
>You…you really shouldn't have let yourself get so close to her.
>She is your slave. You are her Master. That's all.
>But still…
>"Hey, humie."
>Raspily snapped out of your solemn ruminations, you make eye contact with an inquisitive-looking Luster, who has lifted her head up off the table.
>"Why the long face?"
"Oh, uh…just thinking, I guess."
>"About what?"
"Stuff."
>She huffs.
>"Aw, come on, humie. Talk to me. Don'tcha wanna know more about your client?"
"I, uh…"
>You don't. Cozy had already told you everything you need to know about this shameless yet skilled unicorn.
>However, as a masseur and Master both—you're gonna have to try and get your would-be-slave in a complacent state of mind before she can fully accept your dominion.
>Which means you'll have to go along with her badgering—for now.
>And so, after bracingly sighing to yourself, you respond:
"…sure. Tell me about yourself."

>She chuckles.
>"Gee, don't get *too* excited~"
>Lifting up a forehoof, she lazily twirls it about in the air.
>"See, I'm a top student at Canterlot's School of Magic. I wanna be a bigwig professor one day—craft my very own spells, y'know?"
"I see."
>Lowering her forehoof, she continues:
>"But at the moment, I'm living over here in the Crystal Empire as part of my studies abroad."
"Uh huh."
>"Get to hang out with my mare pals while I learn more about Magic, Friendship, and Looove~"
>You arch an eyebrow, interest suddenly and sharply piqued by that one pertinent word:
"Love?"
>She shoots you a grin.
>"Oh? You interested?"
>She casts her eyes forward and continues:
>"Yeah, Love happens to be a pretty big deal here in the Crystal Empire; it literally keeps the whole city safe—and there are entire schools of magical study dedicated to how it works."
>She nods to herself.
>"As for me—I've got an old flame of my own living in this very city."
"You do?"
>"Mm-hmm, and after we're done with this massage…" She looks back to you. "…I think I'm gonna let him know *exactly* how I feel, heh heh heh~"
>That low, husky chuckle sends an ominous shiver down your spine.
>Despite all of Luster's lusty remarks towards your person, you must merely be an exotic appetiser for this mare while she works up the courage to confess to her true crush.
>Still, whatever she plans to do to that poor, innocent stallion—you sincerely doubt it's in any way wholesome.
>You'd very likely be doing him a favour by collaring this mare for your own ends.
>"Hey, what about you, humie?" she asks. "Do *you* believe in love?"
>Knitting your brows, you lamentably exhale through your nose.
"…Not really."
>"Aw, don't be like that." She playfully prods at your chest with her right forehoof. "Maybe you just haven't found 'the one' yet, heh."
>Casting her quip to the wayside, you continue on with your massage.
>You move down her shoulders, gently kneading into her back with outstretched palms.
>In the process, your hands further press her squishy belly into the table, and you watch with bated breath as her pudge spills out all the more…
>Ahem.

>…
>Several minutes later, and your client's backrub has proceeded well apace.
>Alas, all you have succeeded in doing is pushing her delightful tummy much *deeper* into your padded workstation.
>You are no closer to collaring Luster Dawn.
>It's frustrating; you were supposed to be the one distracting her—yet it feels as if *you're* the one frequently losing focus.
>And it's all because of this mare's captivatingly chubby belly.
>Agh.
>This enslavement is proving to be tricker than you had first thought.
>"…Hey, humie. Can I ask you something?"
>Yanking your eyes away from Luster's body, you quirk an eyebrow at her face.
"Yeah?"
>Is she gonna formally ask to become your slave?
>You can only hope.
>"Need those fingers of yours to work on something…specific."
>Steadily lifting up her left forehoof, she takes it all the way to the top of her horn.
>She then gently rubs at the tip.
>"My horn," she states. "It's *real* blocked up."
>You blink at her.
>Her ear nervously flicks, her body tenses under your hands, and her expression grows noticeably more anxious at your lack of immediate response.
>"Y-you can handle it, yeah?"
"Um."
>You slowly nod, gulping down any misgivings you have.
"S-sure."
>Her body relaxes with a solaced sigh, and you can feel your fingers nearly sink in completely to her pliant form.
>"Phew, almost had me worried for a sec there, eheh."
>She shoots you a gracious grin as she lets her left forehoof fall back onto the table.
>You can't help but notice how just much pushier she got when it came to asking you for a hornrub.
>You've given her one before, but…
"Just let me, uh, get the right oil."
>"Mm, alright."

>…
>Horns.
>That magically conductive organ connected directly to the brain.
>They are the focus through which unicorns (or alicorns) can cast their awe-inspiring, physics-defying spells.
>Naturally, great care must be taken to maintain this highly important part of their body—after all, they only get the one horn throughout their whole lifetime.
>Luster has entrusted you with the care of her most delicate part.
>You'll reward that trust by giving her a good rubbing.
>And then enslaving her while she's distracted, of course.
>In order to properly tend to a unicorn horn, you need to utilise the appropriate medium to soothe both those thaumaturgic troubles and sorcerous sores—
>You need the right oil, basically.
>That's why you use HORN-GO.
>Held within a see-through container, this oil is a preternatural-looking purple fluid.
>It smells like lavender, and it does wonders on clearing up those blocked magical synapses.
>Supposedly, anyway.
>You don't have a magical horn, so all you have to go on are the praises of your few other horned clients—
>One of which also happens to be your assistant.
>Your assistant who currently isn't here.
>…
>You sigh to yourself; might as well get this over with.
>First off, you rinse your non-horny oils away in the sink.
>Then, you grab your horn file.
>Slowly yet surely, you work up from her horn's base with a delicate hand, smoothing off any jagged contours and rounding off the top.
>In blunt contrast to the deadly stabbing implement of an alicorn, unicorn horns tend to be both shorter and stouter.
>Not just that, but you've also come to learn that most unicorns prefer to have their horns as smoothly tipped as possible; it's apparently an aesthetic thing.
>"Ooh…mm…"
>Luster makes her approval known with soft sighs and gentle moans; she rests her head on her crossed forehooves, her tail swishing from side to side.
>"You…you massaged horns before, humie?"
"Well, there was that time with you more than a week ago…"
>"Heh heh," she raspily chuckles. "That was fun, wasn't it?"
>You roll your eyes.
"…but this isn't my first rodeo with this kind of thing."
>Her ears slightly fold as a disappointed frown forms on her face.
>"Oh."
>Casting her gaze away from yours, she stills her tail's swaying movements, lying it flat against her rump.

>You're not sure what brought on this solemn reaction of hers.
>As far as you're aware, there isn't any taboo associated with massaging horns like there is with wings.
>Maybe it's just another case of this mare being weird.
>Luckily, you know exactly what it is you can do to cheer her up.
>Curtly setting your file aside, you grab your bottle of HORN-GO.
>You squirt a few drops onto your palm and then rub your hands together, lathering them up.
>Gently pushing her forelock aside, you rest both hands upon her forehead.
>Then, you begin slowly rubbing your indexes and middles around the base of her horn.
>"A-ah…" she breathes out.
>Her horn is as hard as bone and slightly coarse to the touch—yet it also radiates a curious warmth.
>Despite its rough exterior, you know pony horns to be plenty sensitive if you know where to rub.
>Such as when you slip two fingers into the base of her horn's ridge…
>"M-mm…!"
>The horn of every magically capable equine bears a spiralling ridge that runs all the way from the bottom up to the top.
>In contrast to their relatively insensitive contours, the inner cavities of these horns are absolutely teeming with seriously sensitive nerve endings.
>Thus, it doesn't take much more rubbing to have Luster melting under your attentive touch, cooing and crooning out loud in cranium-based catharsis.
>Clearly, your client's horn is just as tender as all the others.
>…Yet it also happens to be way greasier.
>You furrow your brows.
"You, um, *do* wash this thing, right?"
>Her ears shoot up.
>"H-huh? Yeah! Course I do! Washed it, uh, few days ago, yeah, eheh."
"Uh huh…"
>You decide not to press her further on the matter.
>Just as you decide not to think about the nose-wrinklingly pungent residue that you're currently scraping out from the grooves of her horn.
>Unfortunately, as your face is quite close to her unkempt body—an olfactory confrontation is inevitable. So, you force yourself to focus on her other "scents," instead.
>Luster Dawn…she proudly bears the distinctly unwashed musk of a mare who spends most of her time locked away in her room, reading books, eating junk food, and freely indulging in her base urges whenever it pleases her.
>You should hate it, you really should, yet the longer you spend in close proximity to her natural fragrance—the more you find yourself growing enamoured with it.
>There's just something about her wild aroma makes you want to tame her—to *claim* her—to capture that sweaty scent and make it your own.
>And maybe command her to take a shower.

>You meticulously work up along her horn—taking a deep rinse of your hands every now and then—until you eventually reach its peak.
>As you rub your thumb around this rounded tip, Luster's entire body tenses up and shivers.
>"Mmph—!"
>The very tip of a unicorn's horn also happens to be quite sensitive.
>Taking your thumb off her horn, you address her:
"Too much?"
>"N-no." She shakes her head. "It's…it's fine. This is what I came here for."
>After sighing into the headrest, she throws a pensive glance your way.
>"Actually, humie, can I ask a favour?"
"What is it?"
>"Use all of those fingers you have. Use 'em to rub every part of my horn a-at once."
>You raise a somewhat-concerned eyebrow.
"You sure?"
>"Y-yeah." She nods. "Do it."
>You purse your lips, ruminating with reluctance.
>You're no fool; you have a pretty good idea as to how this will stimulate her.
>Needless to say, you don't envy the inevitable clean-up afterwards.
>However…this could also provide you with the chance to collar her during the aftermath.
>You shouldn't pass this up.
"Alright then."
>She flashes you a confident grin.
>"Heh. That's my humie."
>She faces her head forward and sprawls her limbs out across the table.
>Her hips playfully wiggle into the padding as she gets herself *truly* comfortable for the upcoming event.
>"Whenever you're ready~" she coos.
>With a squeamish sigh, you position yourself by her right side.
>Resting your right hand upon her forehead while your left hand hovers above her horn—you have two sets of fingers poised to strike at both the top and bottom.
>Your lips slowly twist into a grin of your own as you sense an opportunity to finally exert some dominance over this raunchy mare.
>Lowering your face down to her right ear, you huskily whisper:
"Brace yourself."
>Her confident grin widens even further.
>"Heh, I'm already—"
>Not giving her a chance to answer, you turbulently yet tenderly lay a ten-pronged assault on her horn at every angle:
>Wiggling your fingers in and around her sensitive ridges;
>Rubbing up and down the whole length;
>And thumbing at the rounded tip.
>"—a-ah!"
>Luster is very quickly reduced to snorty neighs and shuddering whinnies as you meticulously work her horn over.
>Shutting her eyes, she stormily squirms under your touch, shamelessly humping at your table while squishing her deliciously chubby belly against its surface.
>You can feel her horn steadily and needily throb in between your rhythmically rubbing fingers, pulsing waves of horny heat out into your bare skin.
>As her tail hikes sky-high, her invigoratingly heady scent pervades the air, freely flowing into your flared nostrils.
>Her excitement is very quickly becoming *your* excitement, and within moments, your "horn" becomes just as stiff as hers.

>The anticipation of breaking this bawdy mare in is almost too much to bear—while the mere thought of how breathless and *defenceless* she'll be after you bring her over her peak has you near salivating.
>Exhaling a hungrily throaty breath, you eye down her undulating, whickering form much like how a predator eyes up its prey.
>Her horn's only means of defence is to thermally throb into your hands—an act that only serves to entice you even more.
>Truly, that is all this pudgy pony can muster up at the moment—to further fan the flames of your burgeoning arousal.
>It takes every ounce of willpower you have to stop yourself from *taking* your soon-to-be slave right then and there.
>But if you are to be a King—then prudence shall be your virtue.
>"A-anon…!" she moans out. "I'm…I'm going to…!"
>Luster's horn heats up to a blisteringly high level.
"Hah—!"
>What had once been frequent pulsations of thermal delight has now become a sweltering supernova of imminent release.
>Her horn sears your hands to the touch, so you reflexively pull them away—
>Only to find that you can't, as that very same magical organ has engulfed both your digits and her horn within a binding amber aura.
>You can't move your hands—and they burn.
"Nng—!" you wince.
>It burns, and it burns, and it burns.
>Yet it's not the kind of burning that sends you screaming in agony—but rather the kind that saps your strength and leaves you feeling short of breath.
>Your hands, too, do not blacken like charcoal—but instead palpitate with magical energy, making your blue-blooded veins glow bright orange.
>You can only watch as this bright orange energy slowly travels up your left arm, weakening in intensity as it moves further away from her horn; by the time it reaches the hem of your shirt's short sleeve, the magic dissipates completely.
>While the visual spectacle of this magical phenomena is constrained only to your arms—there's no doubt in your mind that some part of her etherial essence is diffusing into your bloodstream.
>You're not sure how to feel about that.
>Instead, you focus on what you *can* feel.
>Luster thrashes about on the table, lost in the throes in sorcerous pleasure—though with your hands firmly clasping her head and horn, her manic movements amount to mere mewling squirms.
>Her horn furiously throbs in your hands, yet you have not ceased in your masseurly ministrations even for a second, determined to bring the mare in front of you to her mystical climax.
>Luster's eyes suddenly shoot open—and so too do those fantastical floodgates open.
>Letting out a guttural whinny, her pulsing horn fires off round after round of goopy amber magic; it rockets past your tip-tickling thumb and disseminates into the parlour air as a thick orange mist.
>Her whole body throbs and shudders as her quivering horngasm gradually turns the room more and more orange.

>As her raw, undiluted magical energy continues to take hold within the parlour ambience, you watch in silent awe as bright yellow sparkles slowly start to appear within this vividly orange haze.
>Sensual origins aside, the scene surrounding you evokes a dreamlike imagery—one of a starlit sky witnessed moments before the rising of the sun.
>It is, in a word, beautiful.
>Yet…it also smells peculiar.
>The orange atmosphere manifests within your nostrils as a tart aroma, pleasantly poking at your senses.
>And in the midst of it all, a piquantly spicy scent hangs in the air.
>It tingles the mind and titillates the body.
>For some reason, you just can't get enough of it.
>You find yourself idling sniffing and snorfing at the air, yearning to take in more of that magical scent—
>"Aaah…haaah…"
>Oh, right. Luster.
>Her horngasm has now abated.
>She lies limply prone on your massage table, her head turned onto its left side; her eyes are firmly closed and her tail is completely slack.
>The magical aura around her horn has fully dissipated, freeing your hands from her horny grip.
>The veins in your arms are back to their blue normal; however, you notice that a orange goopy residue now drips from your fingers.
>You blink, staring at your stained hands with a quiet curiosity.
"Hm…"
>You then quickly lick them clean.
>Tastes like mango.
>Looking back to Luster, you see her wear a sleepily satisfied smile upon her face as she steadily recovers from her recent excitement; her chubby belly slowly rises and falls with each recuperating breath.
>Just as you had predicted: she has left herself completely unguarded during the afterglow of her own magical peak.
>And this…
>This gives you the perfect opportunity to check up on her.

>Crouching down to meet her at eye level, you gently scritch behind her right ear to wake her up.
"Hey, Luster?"
>Her amber eyes slowly flutter open, and she cooingly cranes her neck into your touch.
>"O-oho… What's this~?"
>As her eyes meet yours, they briefly flit towards your outstretched arm.
>She then shoots you a cheesy grin.
>"This part of the massage~?"
>You jerk your hand away.
"No." You shake your head. "Just wanted to make sure you were alright."
>"Oh, well, I'm good. Heh, better than good, actually."
>Her grin falters as something slimily orange drips onto the bridge of her pink snout.
>"Um."
>Both of you glance up towards her horn, seeing a build-up of magical gunk that has coagulated around the tip.
>Luster groans at the sight.
>"Ngh…still feeling a little *goopy* up there, though." She looks back to you. "Think you can clean me up, humie?"
>You nod without thinking.
"Sure, I…"
>You look around the room.
>The towel is but a short distance away.
>Yet it'd be so easy to just…
>You act on this errant thought the very moment it enters your mind, leaning in and quickly wrapping your lips around the tip of Luster's gunked-up horn.
>She gasps.
>"Wh-whoa! Humie! Hey…"
>You pay no heed to her shock, instead choosing to diligently suckle and slurp her horn clean.
>She lets out a breathy moan, warm exhalations directly tickling your collarbone.
>Even when you lap it up straight from the source, her magic still tastes like mango.
>Pulling away from her now-spotless horn, you look back to her.
"It's done."

>She slowly opens her mouth—
"Wait, no. Hold on."
>Using your index and middle fingers, you carefully scoop up the goop that had dripped onto her snout.
>Upon bringing your fingers up to your lips, you lick it off, humming to yourself.
>Still tastes like mango.
>God, you love mango.
"Now it's done."
>She blinks at you, looking both wide-eyed and dumbfounded.
>"W-wow. No hesitation, huh?"
"It was faster this way."
>"Uh, guess so…"
>Her brows knit together as she soberly scrutinises your nonchalant visage.
>"Actually," she speaks up with a firm tone, "let me get a good look at you, humie."
"Okay."
>Rolling onto her left side, she extends a hoof out towards you, soon resting it under your chin.
>Carefully pulling you in, she brings your face close to hers; you don't resist.
>She then peers deep into your eyes, as if looking for something.
>You silently let Luster examine your expression while her supple snout brushes up against your nose; you see no reason to refuse her.
>This intimately personal eye contact continues for several drawn-out seconds.
>It only ends when she suddenly blows a breath of hot air directly into your face.
>Or, at least, it *would've* ended—had your reflexes pulled you away.
>Yet they didn't. You didn't.
>Instead, you continue to crouch there, passively breathing in her marely exhalations through your flared-out nostrils.
>Her breath smells like greasy fast food, hay, and that blueberry muffin you bought for her.
>It's not bad.
>Actually, it's quite pleasant.
>Luster's lips curl into a sly grin.
>"…Heh."
>She gently pushes you away, seemingly satisfied with what she's gleaned within you.
>"Guess that marks the end of our session, huh?"
>Your eyes widen.
"I-it does?"
>"Mm-hmm." She nods. "Check the clock."
>You do as she suggests, peering at the clock hanging on the wall.
>Indeed, the hands point to a time beyond that of her allotted appointment.
>The massage is over.
>Damn it.

>Luster's eyes leisurely drift around your orange-tinted parlour before flitting back to you.
>"Say, humie, you ever had a horn massage go this far with one of your clients?"
"No, I haven't." You shake your head. "This is the first time."
>Her grin widens all the more.
>"Heh, nice."
>She shoots you a playful wink.
>"First time for me, too~"
"I-I see."
>Letting out an indulgently loud yawn, Luster stretches herself along your table; she extends both forelegs above her head and lifts her right hindleg up into the air, lightly jittering it as she does.
>"Mmmm~" she throatily hums. "Now *that* was a five-star massage—and it's all thanks to my favourite humie~"
>Since she's now lying on her left side, you can't help but notice the way her pony pudge shamelessly spills out onto the table.
>It makes you…it makes you want to…
>It makes you want to worship it.
>To kiss it to knead it to hug it to pamper it to lick—
>"Hey, humie."
>Her raspily chiding voice snaps you out of your stupor.
"A-ah."
>Letting out a light gasp, your eyes dart along her body to meet her face.
>She wears a smirk on her lips—an incredibly knowing smirk.
"Y-yes?"
>"Y'know, I've been thinking…"
>She shifts the position of her forelegs, bending the knee of her left one so as to laxly rest the left side of her face upon her forehoof.
>"…it'd be a real shame to end our massage here, yeah?"
>Her right foreleg lazily travels down her body, soon resting atop her provocative pudge.
>"I've still got a few burning *aches* that need tending to."
>She tantalisingly trails her forehoof around her chub, drawing circles around it, lifting it up by the bottom—and then letting it flop back onto the padded table with a meaty *thwap.*
"Nn…" You bite your lip.
>"And, heh, I'm sure you'd like to keep running your hands over my body too, right?"
>Your brows knit.
"I-I…"
>She suddenly slaps her belly.
>It jiggles.
>You gulp.
>And you hurriedly nod.
"Y-yeah. I'd love to."
>She lets out a low, throaty chuckle.
>"Now that's a good humie~"
>Her raspy tones send shivers up your spine.
>Grazing up against your eardrums in just the right way.
>"Gotta say," she continues, "I'm liking this more *honest* side of you."
>You tilt your head.
"Am I acting different?"
>She shakes her head.
>"Nah, you're acting just fine for me."
"Oh, good."
>She gestures her right forehoof towards the entrance of your parlour.
>"So, how about we take this to your bedroom, then?"
>The bedroom? Just you and her?
>You hummingly consider her proposal.
>As enticing as it sounds, you can't help but feel like there's something slightly off about this whole situation.
>Then again, the bedroom should provide you with the…opportunity that you're looking for, you think.

>Yeah. Bedroom it is.
>You nod to Luster.
"Let's go."
>With a chuckle, she shakily makes to stand up—
>"Alright, here we—oop!"
>—and promptly collapses onto her belly.
"L-luster?"
>Curious, you examine her hindlegs—and you quickly find the causation of her clumsiness.
>It comes in the form of a muskily slimy substance that drools out from between her thighs and leaks onto your table.
>This smelly sight is one audibly corroborated by the squelching sounds of her wetly winking marepussy right above it.
>It's clear that Luster's "horngasm" has thoroughly stimulated her in manners more than magical.
>Yet the stain doesn't bother you in the least, for you can simply clean it off later.
>Instead, you're more worried about her.
"Are you alright?"
>With a huffy groan, she gingerly wiggles and stretches her jittery hindlegs out and about behind her.
>She soon bursts into a series of laughing snorts.
>"Hehe, my legs feel like jellooo~"
>She promptly flips onto her back, gazing up at you with an expectantly toothy grin.
>"And it's all your fault, humie~!" She extends both forelegs towards you. "You're gonna have to carry me."
"Carry you…?"
>You cast your cautious gaze over this immobile mare.
>Starting from her seriously smug veneer—
>Down to her proudly protruding pudge.
"O-okay."

>Making your way to her left side, you lean over her body, resting your hands by either side of her on the table.
>Her expression falters for a second as she gently presses a forehoof against your chest.
>"Um, w-wait a sec."
"Yes?"
>Her self-assured smirk softens into a self-conscious simper as she nervously glances to the side.
>"Carry me like…uh…like you wanna hold me close to your chest and never let go."
"Oh."
>Your mind races through a few different carrying positions before you settle on a suitable one for her.
"Okay."
>Nodding to yourself, you make your move.
>Sliding your left arm behind her upper back, you position your right arm just below her thighs and underneath her bent hocks.
>Then, you lift.
>"Oo—!"
>It takes no small amount of effort, but—with a heaving grunt—you succeed in bearing the full weight of this portly unicorn.
>You scoop her up in a bridal carry, hoisting her close to your chest.
>She lets out a breathy gasp, yet her body naturally nestles into yours.
"Like this?"
>She blinks a few times, before closing her eyes and nuzzling into your left pec.
>You hear her hum to herself as she listens to your placid heartbeat.
>"Mm, yeah…juuust like this~"
>She lets out a long hearty sigh as her eyes slowly open, her lips soon curling into a satisfied smile.
>"C'mon, humie. Let's go."
>You turn to face the door—
>"Oh, wait!"
>You stop.
>Her horn lights up, and she magically plucks her partly-eaten blueberry muffin up from your kitchen counter.
>"Almost forgot about your gracious gift to me, eheh."
>She hovers the confection in the air, holding it just above your left shoulder.
>"Okay, now we can go."

***

>"Mmm…ooh…this is niiice~"
>Resting prone on top of your bed, Luster leisurely stretches her limbs out along your mattress.
>"Lying on a nice, comfy bed…"
>She buries her snout right into your pillow.
>"Taking in the smells…"
>She takes an indulgently deep whiff of your sheets.
>"Hm?"
>Nose wrinkling, she cautiously sniffs at your pillow some more, and a slight frown soon forms on her face.
>"…Hey, wait a minute." She throws a glance your way. "Are these sheets fresh?"
"Yes."
>"Aw, c'mon, humie," she groans. "Now why'd you go and do a thing like that…?"
>You bow your head in shame.
"Sorry."
>Luster huffs in disappointment.
>"Well, whatever."
>She rolls onto her back and lifts up her head, flashing you a confident grin.
>"At least I've got a hot piece of humie eye-candy to freely ogle whenever I like~"
>Naturally, you are said hot piece of humie eye-candy, and you are currently standing by the right side of your own bed.
>You are also both shirtless and pantsless—only your boxers remain.
>Why?
>Because Luster had instructed you to remove your clothes shortly after you brought her into your bedroom.
>Apparently, the sight of your bare body helps her relax.
>You feel naked, but as a masseur, it is your duty—no, your *pleasure*—to ensure that your client is as comfortable as ponily possible.
>The client in question makes a come hither gesture with her forehoof.
>"Hey, humie," Luster addresses you, "come up here and join me. Bed's big enough for the both of us."
>You nod.
"Of course."
>Obeying her order, you clamber onto your bed and sit up on your knees.
>Luster beckons to you, continuing to issue commands your way—you follow every one:
>"Come a little closer."
>"Closer."
>"Bit more."
>Luster's grin widens.
>"Heh heh, yeah~"
>After having got sufficiently close to your client, you once again sit up on your knees—but now, you are effectively straddling Luster's body.
>Your bare thighs encompass her own, while your clothed crotch hovers mere inches above her flagrantly winking one.
>"Nnf…" She bites her bottom lip as she eyes you up. "…yeah, this'll be *just* fine, eheh~"
>From your heightened point of vantage, you find yourself catching a generous eyeful of your portly client:
>Such as the way her messy, fiery orange mane spills out across your bed, with small unkempt clumps of it shedding onto your sheets;
>How her nostrils flare out in excitement as she drinks in your bare body using all of her senses;
>The foxy positioning of her pink forelegs, which are currently coquettishly curled up to her floofy chest;
>And of course—her proudly protruding pudgy belly, lightly sagging downwards.
>You really want to grope it.
>…
>So you do.
>"Ooh~"
>Freely following your basest of handsy impulses, you allow your digits to sink deep into her bellyfat.
>You grope and grunt and fondle and pat and squish and *squeeze.*

>Her pleasantly soft fatty tissue spills out all around your outstretched fingers.
>Your heart pounds and your breath hastens as you liberally indulge yourself in your client's pliant pudge.
>It is the most provocative playdough known to man.
>You are absolutely shameless.
>Luster simply chuckles at the sight of your grabby self.
>"Heh, enjoying yourself, humie?"
>With a *firm* handful of mare chub in each palm, you look up at her and answer:
"Y-yes."
>She snorts with a smirk.
>"Good~"
>Several *stimulating* minutes are spent just like this—with you grasping and *stretching* at the very definition of what a belly rub can be, while Luster smugly watches on.
>Eventually, she lets out another chuckle.
>"Y'know, I could watch you play with my chub for hours~"
>She turns her head to the side, letting out a hearty huff.
>"Buuut…"
>Her gaze shifts towards your nightstand—and the half-eaten blueberry muffin on top of it; she placed it there once you brought her in here.
>"…all of this *watching* is starting to make me feel a little…" She lightly licks her lips. "…peckish~"
>Bringing her horn to life, she leisurely lifts up her muffin, soon hovering it over to you.
>She jovially jostles it in front of your chest, causing some of the muffin crumbs to subsequently break free and fall onto her fat belly.
>"So feed me, humie."
>Moving your hands away from her crumby pudge, you cup your palms just below that floating muffin.
"At once."
>The amber aura dissipates, and the muffin promptly drops into your cupped hands.
>"Mhm."
>Using her forehooves, she pushes the upper half of her body into an upright position and gazes at you expectantly.
>Shifting said confection's weight onto your right hand, you hold it in between your fingers.
>You then slowly bring the muffin up to her mouth.
>She lids her eyes and parts her lips in avid anticipation.
>Carefully pushing it in, you feed the top of the muffin into her open maw, going in head-first.
>She gradually clamps her teeth around your crumbly payload, taking a large chunk off the top.
>You can tell that she's being ever so gentle with the way her teeth bite into the muffin, making extra sure she doesn't accidentally chomp off a finger or two.
>Upon closing her mouth, she deliberately savours your blueberry-flavoured gift with loud chews and pleased hums.
>"Nom…nom…nom…"

>Soon enough, she parts her lips once more, calmly expecting the next part of her meal.
>Looking right into her maw, you see that she still hasn't swallowed the previous chunk of her blueberry muffin—only chewed it up into a wet colourless mush.
>However, you nonetheless deliver another piece of baked bread unto her tastebuds.
>She savours it much the same way.
>"Nom…nom…nom…"
>And she opens her mouth again.
>With just one small chunk of muffin left in your hand—you pop it into her waiting maw.
>"Nom…nom…nom…"
>When she opens her mouth for a fourth time, she does it with a playful waggle of her horsey tongue.
>Yet as you stare back into your empty palm, you realise that you've given her all you have to give—only a few crumbs remain.
>What could she…?
>A few seconds pass, and when Luster deems that you haven't reacted accordingly—
>"Mmgr…"
>—her brows knit, and she magically yanks your fingers right into her warmly moist maw.
"A-ah."
>She then promptly seals her supple lips around your bony appendages, ensuring that you are powerless to pull them out.
>All you can do is feel how your defenceless digits stick straight into chewed-up muffin mush, doubtless about to meet the same fate…
>…
>"Slrp…slrp…mm~"
>But instead of crushing teeth—you feel slimy tongue.
>Luster suckles at your crumbed-up fingers, lovingly licking them clean and leaving them slickly wet.
>Eventually, she opens her mouth, freeing your fingers from their soggy cell.
>Pulling your digits out and examining them, you see that they've been completely cleared of bread crumbs—though absolutely lathered in warm saliva.
>Horn lighting up yet again, Luster gently guides both of your hands to the sides of her neck; she positions you such so that two of your fingers rest at either side of her throat.
>Flashing you an expectant gaze, she curtly hums at you:
>"Mm."
>Quickly understanding her inference, you nod to her.
>She closes her eyes and snorts with confidence.
>Your fingers immediately get to work, delicately drawing circles around her neck and massaging her hard-working gullet.
>"Mhm~"
>With her tender throat now under your masseurly touch, she finally swallows her masticated muffin.
>"Ulp…ulp…ulp…"
>Through your kneading fingers, you can feel her neck briefly bulge out as that chewed-up confection slowly travels down her oesophagus.
>Luster contentedly breathes in and out through her flaring nostrils as you aid in her gurgitation with your patented neck rub.
>Soon enough, though, she swallows all there is to swallow, and she lets out a most-satisfied sigh from her gaping mouth.
>"Mm… That was delish~"
>Opening her eyes, she gently rests her left forehoof upon your right wrist, and she looks up at you with a lazy smile.
>"Now give me a belly rub~"
>You nod.
"Right away."

>Your hands move down from her throat, following a similar path to the one that her food took—just on the outside rather than the inside.
>Before long, your grabby grippers find her globular gut, which is currently in the process of digesting her latest snack.
>With outstretched palms, your fingers soon fully sink into her flab.
>You knead and grope at her churning tummy, feeling it grumble and groan underneath your hands.
>Luster takes in a large snort of air—
>"Aaah~"
>—and promptly flops back onto the bed, splaying out her limbs and sighing happily.
>"This is the life~"
>Her tail blissfully thwips against the bedsheets.
>"Got my own personal humie belly rubber, heh heh heh~"
>As she merrily muses to herself, you absent-mindedly squish and squash her charming chub, your body and brain both being driven by pure bellylust.
>"We're definitely gonna be doing this every day—that's for sure~"
>Her fuzzily fatty flesh feels like marshmallow heaven under your fingertips—and you just can't help but *squeeze.*
>"Have you handfeed me my meals~"
>Squeeze.
>"Get my tummy rubbed right afterwards~"
>Squueeeeze.
>"And sneak in a few sloppy smooches while we—"
>Squuueeeeeeze.
>Her stirred-up stomach rumbles.
>And a loud, unabashed *BUUURRRP* suddenly escapes Luster's lips.
>"O-oop—!"
>She quickly covers her mouth with both forehooves, cheeks fiercely flushing crimson.
>You promptly stop your indulgent "massage" and pull your hands away, feeling a similarly bright shade of red cross your own cheeks as a result of your gauche gut groping.
>The two of you stare at each other in silence for several seconds.
>…
>"Snrrk…"
>The silence is eventually broken by the sound of a snorting snicker breaking through Luster's hoof-covered muzzle.
>Said snickers swiftly surge into a full-on cacophony of snorts and laughs when she takes both hooves away from her mouth.
>"Phew…" she sighs out. "You did a really good job with that belly rub, humie…"
>She idly rubs her own belly with a forehoof, smiling to herself.
>"…a really, *really* good job."
>She then flashes you a devious grin.
>"So you better start getting used to the sound of my burps~"
>Licking her lips, she lowers her tone:
>"'Cause you and me are about to get *real* close from now on."
>She lets out a dark chuckle, and a creeping sense of deep unease begins to prod at your thoughts.
>Why are you so quick to go along with whatever she asks?
>Sure, she *is* your valued client.
>And you really *do* love that belly of hers.
>But…is this right?
>Isn't there something else you would rather be doing?

>"Anyway," Luster speaks up, snapping your attention straight back to her, "think that'll just about do it for the belly rub."
>She playfully smushes her tummy's pudge between both forehooves, squishing it out in your direction.
>"How about you give her a parting kiss before we move on~?" she finishes with a wink.
>As you listen to her charmingly raspy tones and gaze upon that delectably chubby belly…
>All of your prior misgivings fade away like whispers in the wind.
>So, like always, you nod.
"Of course."
>You lower your face down to her gut—and you plant one peck right on her navel.
>…
>Followed by an additional kiss, just to the right of her navel.
>Then another, this time on the left.
>And then one more, again on the navel—
>But with some slipped tongue.
>"M-mmph~!"
>You promptly pull away at the sound of her sudden moan.
>Perhaps you took things too far.
>"Phew~!" she sighs up at the ceiling. "Spell's even more effective than I thought~!"
>You blink at her.
"Spell?"
>Her eyes widen for a brief moment, before she quickly waves you off.
>"Oh, heh, don't worry about it."
>You blink once more.
>If she says that there's nothing to worry about, then there's nothing to worry about.
"Okay."
>Crossing both forelegs over her chest, she shoots you a confident wink.
>"You just focus on giving your most-esteemed client her best massage yet, alright?"
>You nod, leaning back into an upright sitting position.
"What else would you like massaged?"
>"Hm…"
>She looks thoughtful glint in her eyes.
>"…move those hands lower."
>With another nod, you slowly trail your hands down from her navel.
>It doesn't take much longer until your fingers come across two sizeable mounds of furless flesh.
>"There."
>You stop, gazing upon these supple mounds with shaky breaths.
>Unlike her cerise pink coat, the bare skin that comprises these leathery lumps are coloured a dark shade of purple.
>"Go on," she states with a smirk, "have a feel of 'em~"
>You do as she commands, cupping one in each hand.
>They're hefty, heftier than any others you've seen—magazines included.
>They're large enough that you're able to grab a firm handful of each mound—with some fatty flesh spilling out between your fingers.
>"You know what these are, right?"
>You respond with a gulp and nod.
>She chuckles.
>"Glad to see you're enjoying my teats, humie~"
>You are enjoying them.
>You are enjoying them a lot.
>"Not to brag, but, heh, I'm pretty proud of these babies."
>You freely grope at her utterly outstanding mammaries, squeezing her teatflesh between your fingers and circling her nipples with your thumbs.
>Merely calling these bountiful breasts "teats" would be doing them a great disservice.
>These are crotch *boobs*—no doubt about it.

>"Way bigger than any of my peers—and I made sure to check."
>She lets out a loud snort; it's a deep, dominant, *mare-ish* snort—one that knows exactly what it's been blessed with.
>"And they'll only grow fatter with foal~"
>Your breath hitches—and your gaze snaps up to hers.
"F-foal?"
>"Mhm," she affirmatively hums, flashing you a grin. "After all, when life gives you a body like this—" She pats her belly. "—why waste it, am I right?"
>She slowly lifts her upper body up at an angle, and she gently strokes at your chest with her right forehoof.
>"Whether you're a natural prodigy with a *rocking* bod, or the only known member of an alien species—I'd say it's our Equestria-given duty to pass our genes onto the next generation~"
>Her hoof glides up your chest to rest under your chin.
>She then looks you straight in the eyes.
>"Wouldn't you agree, humie?"
>You blink in thought.
>It's your *duty* to pass on your genes?
>You don't know how she does it—but everything that she says sounds so convincing to your ears.
>Perhaps it's due to the melodiously raspy voice that carries her words.
>Or perhaps it's due to those sweet amber eyes you can't bring yourself to look away from.
>Either way, you see no reason to disagree with her declaration.
"Yeah, I do."
>She takes her hoof away from your chin, chuckling to herself:
>"Heh heh, knew you would."
>She flops back onto the bed, just like before.
>This time, however, her ever present grin takes on a lustier shade.
>"Hey, take off that piece of clothing you got there."
>She thrusts a forehoof in the direction of your boxers.
>"I wanna see *exactly* what my humie is working with."
>You look down at your undergarments.
>Both the visual and physical stimulation that you've experienced has turned your clothed crotch into a *stiffly* tented sight.
>A natural reaction, really.
"Ah, these…"
>Since you're currently sitting up on your knees, it'd be a hassle to take them off completely—
>But you *are* able to slide them down to the lower parts of your thighs, exposing your sceptre and jewels both.
>Thus, your dick promptly *springs* out from its cloth prison and fleshily *flops* onto her bare pelvis, already ready for action.
>The sight of your erect meat causes Luster to let out a loud, steamy snort:
>"Mmph~!"
>You see her ogling eyes grow to lecherous saucers.
>And with your balls hanging right in front of her marehood—you're close enough that you can feel it frequently *greeting* your sack with soft, fleshy kisses.
>"So *that's* my humie's meat, heh~"
>Her nostrils remain fully flared—while her eyes dart up to yours.
>"Hey, let's give that thing a test drive."

>Your own eyes widen.
"T-test drive?"
>"Yeah."
>With a breathy grunt and toothy grin, she wiggles her hips ever so closer to your body, spreading her hindlegs as wide as they can go.
>Your tip now presses right up against the valley between her marely mammaries.
>Luster looks you dead in the eye as she issues her next order:
>"I want you to rut my teats, right now…"
>Her next words are especially husky:
>"…my humie stud~"
>You can feel your own nostrils flare and breath quicken at your client's carnal command.
>This amorous act will no doubt push well past the definition of a professional massage.
>Yet you have long stopped caring about such trivialities.
>After all, you live—and love—to serve your most valued customer's needs, whatever they may be.
>And as such—your answer could not be any more obvious:
"At once."
>She bites her bottom lip, no doubt impressed by your due dedication; you can also hear her tail heatedly *thwack* the sheets behind you.
>Tightening your grip on her teats, you spread them apart, steadying them for the foray that is about to come.
>Wasting no more time, you thrust your hips forwards with a huff—
>Plunging your pecker *deep* within the soft and supple schism that has formed between her massive mounds.
>"Nnf~"
>Her tender teatflesh quickly gives way to your mighty manmeat, and you can feel her mammaries massaging you at both sides as you pave your own way through her bountiful canyon.
>Your hanging balls glide across the darkened strip of flexible flesh between her marehood and milkers as you push straight through her titzone.
>With a grunt, you soon "hilt" in between your client's teats, with the tip of your penis proudly poking out from the other end of her supple valley—and tentatively prodding at the bottom of her chubby belly.
"P-phew…"
>Luster chuckles with a wide grin, clearly enjoying this just as much as you are.
>"So," she begins, "how are you finding 'em, humie?"
>Her teats feel like warm, silken pillows lovingly wrapped around your dick's length.
>Your tip sinks into the pleasantly pliant flesh of her pudge; it feels reminiscent of pushing up against a mare's waiting cervix.
>The only difference you can note is that instead of having your shaft lubricated with mare juice—it's your sweat on hers.
>This situation simply feels, in a word:
"H-heavenly…"
>"Heh!"
>She throws her head back and lets loose a victorious snort:
>"Figured~"
>Bringing her smug gaze back down to you, she slyly pats her belly.
>"Don't be afraid to enjoy 'em, humie. Go ahead—hump my teats to your heart's content~"

>After being given her *generous* go-ahead—how could you say no?
>Painstakingly dragging your spear out from this natural nirvana, you slowly retreat to the entrance of the bounteous valley.
>You gingerly rub the tip of your penis against that all-too-pliable passage…
>And you quickly plunge right back in, the force of your thrust sending a rippling vibration through her teatflesh.
>Swiftly settling into a raunchy rhythm, you pound her pillowy teatpussy just as if it were a regular snatch.
>Not to be lain idle, your hands continue to grope and squeeze at her jiggling mammaries, rubbing them in a circular motion around your meat to provide it with some extra stimulation.
>Luster observes your amorous actions with hastened breaths and lidded eyes.
>"Nnf…yeah…squish 'em around, just like that~"
>Your head continuously bumps up against the bottom of her bellyfat, leaving a penis-shaped indent in her soft pink coat.
>With grunting humps and huffing pumps, you desperately plap those sweaty maretits like a dog stuck in senseless rut.
>But you're *her* dog—*her* humie.
>It feels natural. It feels right. This is how things were always meant to be.
>Your balls, resting atop her pelvis, start to hitch and clench.
>You frantically flit your sights up to Luster's sensually smug smirk.
"L-luster, I…" you gasp out.
>"Mmyeah?" she casually answers back.
"I'm going t-to…"
>"Do it~"
>She shoots you a wink.
>"Shoot your spunk all over me, humie. Gimme a nice, *creamy* treat~"
>If words could push you over the edge—
>Then hers just did.
"Nngh—!"
>Throbbing past the threshold, you blast ropes of steamy seed straight through her crotchboob canyon.
>Most of your cumshots pelt the underside of her chubby tummy right in front of you.
>But—with a heaving, straining grunt—you manage to angle your pulsating penis upwards, arcing one final stream of semen over her pudgy peak.
>It sails across her body—
>"Wh-whoa!"
>—and lands on her face, right between the eyes.
>Even in the midst of your climactic brain fog, you can't help but let out a worried gasp.
"Luster! S-sorry, I didn't mean to…"
>She doesn't answer.
>Instead, Luster lies in stunned silence on your sheets, slowly blinking a few times as a gloopy glob of white cum gradually dribbles down her pink snout.
>Just as it travels past her closed mouth, her amber eyes suddenly bulge wide open—and her tongue rushes out to slurp all around her snout.
>With circular laps and licks, she quickly cleans her mucky muzzle of your man-goo.
>"Ooh…"
>She licks her lips, grinning right at you.
>"Salty~"

>Gingerly lowering her right forehoof down to her belly, she scoops up a sizeable chunk of your freshly shot ejaculate.
>Raising said hoof back up to her face, she examines it.
>"Hm…" she hums, lightly knitting her brows.
>She then licks and sniffs at her cum-covered appendage with a curious expression.
>Her horn soon lights up.
>And all of your jizz that's currently splattered onto her body—including the chunky coagulate plastering the underside of her belly—slowly rises up into the air, encapsulated within an amber aura.
>With a heated huff on her part, she merges it all into one gooey glob of pure human virility, and she levitates it over to the space above her face.
>"Heh~"
>Opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue, she lowers this sphere of semen down into her gaping maw.
>As soon as your cum makes contact with her taste buds—she greedily slurps it all up.
>With cheek-bulging chews and indulgently throaty moans, she noisily savours your immense load.
>And once she's *wholly* satisfied with her oral exercise, she gleefully swallows it all, humming in delight as your collated nut slides down her gullet.
>With her mouth now fully cleared of cum, she lets out a sigh of deep satisfaction.
>"Whew…delish~"
>Watching her down your cum like that was…
>It was really hot.
>And you…
>…you are exhausted.
>You let out a sigh of post-coital lethargy.
>Naturally, such loud exhalations are quickly caught by Luster's finely-tuned ears.
>"Hey, humie…"
>She shuffles out from under your body and over to the right.
>"Don't wantcha getting tired sitting up on your knees all day."
>She pats the spot on the bed where she just was.
>"C'mon and lie down with me."
>At this point, agreeing to her commands comes as naturally as breathing to you.
"Of course." You nod.
>You lower yourself down onto the duvet, smoothly turning around to lie on your back and rest your head against the pillow.
>The splotchy ceiling up above greets your sights.
>You gaze at it as you steadily recuperate from that totally titillating teat-fucking session.
>As you slowly breathe in and out through your mouth—you can hear the mare lying next to your left side doing much the same.
>Several breathy seconds are spent just like this.
>It is nice.
>You are lying with the mare who is…who is…
>Who is very important to you.
>She is your most valued customer within this whole parlour.
>You would do anything for her.
>"Mm…"
>You can hear her shuffling even closer to you.
>You can feel her body gradually clamber atop yours.
>And you can see her pink pony face soon take up the entirety your vision.
>She smiles down at you and whispers:
>"Hey there~"
>You open your mouth to respond—
>But her mouth quickly silences your own.
>She subtly snakes her forehooves around the back of your head, lifting your face up and into her kiss.

>Her softly supple lips aggressively brush against and suck on yours, making this amorous affair one that crosses honest passion with humble chasteness.
>But such celibacy never lasts for long—not with this mare—as her tongue promptly barges past your lips and greedily pillages your mouth.
>Her powerfully slimy muscle quickly wrestles down your own tongue with no hesitation, dominating the inside of your maw with ease.
>She wantonly moans into your mouth, thoroughly enjoying the oral siege that she's laying upon her "humie."
>Gustatory senses mashed together, you can *keenly* taste this mare's diet as if it was your very own.
>You can taste the greasy hayburgers that she must have gorged on just before coming here;
>The blueberry muffin that you fed her by hand not too long ago;
>And—of course—the salty taste of your own semen.
>With the addition of her natural marely breath—these tastes all come together to form a potently pungent cocktail that tickles the senses.
>This…*unique* fusion of flavours could easily drive a less fortitudinous man to reflexive regurgitation.
>But not you.
>For you readily indulge in it—just as you readily indulge in her.
>Just as she gleefully gratifies herself with the milder taste of your own mouth.
>"Mm~"
>Lying on top of you, her body grinds against yours—as does her deliciously squishy belly.
>This sensual sensation makes you feel like your gut is being massaged by a beanbag; you love it.
>Her nostrils flare in and out as she wildly snorts directly into your face, ensuring that your sense of smell is *just* as dominated as your sense of taste.
>While she continues to assert complete control over your mouth, it is all you can do is sniff her musky, sweaty, *excited* scent up close; it intoxicates you, revitalises you—*engorges* you.
>Luster rubs her body against yours with increased fervour while she happily sniffs up your scent, making sure you know that this fervid feeling is entirely mutual.
>As time passes, her soft and oh-so-sensitive belly begins to squish and grind against you at a faster rate.
>You have no complaints as to how her pleasant pudge feels against your bare flesh, but you can tell that this increased movement is beginning to upset her stomach—churning it up in ways that can only spell disaster.
>With both harsh grumbles and vexed rumbles, you can feel her doughy gut complain directly to your stomach regarding its maltreatment.
>You know that it's only a matter of time before those complaints become *more* than mere noise…
>*Groooaaan*
>That time happens to be right now.
>Luster's eyes suddenly widen, while her hoofgrip around the back of your head tightens—
>"Urp—!"
>And she violently belches down your throat, sending your oesophagus shuddering and your eyes shooting open.
>She quickly pulls away from your mouth with flushed cheeks, covering her muzzle with a forehoof.

>Reflexively jerking your head off to the side, you cough and hack out her utterly intrusive eructation.
>This mare may be your everything—but your digestive tract simply isn't equipped to digest gas.
>Despite your inability to properly appreciate her impromptu belch—you don't hate it at all.
>It manages to be an even more *poignant* mix of her daytime diet and marely breath—and it *electrifies* you in a way nothing else can.
>Everything related to this mare has become your sensatory ambrosia—even the taste of her burps.
>…
>What have you become?
>And why do you revel in it so?
>Is…
>Is this really your lot in life?
>"Eheh heh heh~"
>Luster awkwardly chuckles to herself as you steadily recover from her sudden moment of gustatory glee.
>Lowering her hoof, she reveals a grin that blends sheepishness with impishness.
>"Sorry, humie! I couldn't help it; there's just something about you that really gets my tummy singing~"
>You force out one more cough before responding:
"It's…it's fine, I think."
>"Oh?"
>She cautiously eyes you over, slightly tilting her head as she does.
>"You…think?"
>Sliding off of your body, she cosies up to your left side.
>Using her left forehoof, she gently tilts your head her way, forcing you to gaze deep into those inquisitive amber eyes of hers.
>"Hm…"
>Her lips are pursed, while her eyes are slightly narrowed.
>Did you say something to offend her?
"Um…"
>"Hey, humie," she cuts you off, "what do you think of me?"
"You're…"
>You take a second to think about your answer.
"…you're my most valued customer."
>"And the most important mare in your life, right?"
"Y-yes. Of course."
>She grins.
>"Don'tcha wanna do this every day?"
"This…?"
>"Mm-hmm," she hums affirmatively. "Pampering your mare whenever she pleases, taking care of her every need, and…"
>Leaning forward, she plants a small yet strong smooch upon your lips.
>*Mwah*
>"…raising a great big family with her~"
>You blink a few times.
"A…a family…" you breathe out.
>"Yeah…" she breathes back.
>She slowly and steadily nuzzles your face, rubbing her supple snout against your tender nose.
>"You wanna be my doting humie husband, don'tcha~?"
"I-I…"
>"Say it, humie," she suddenly growls out.
"H-huh?"
>Her nuzzles temporarily stop, and her amber stare becomes piercingly sharp.
>"Say that you wanna be my husband."
>The idea of becoming this slobby mare's spouse sounds so pleasing to your ears.
>But it also…it also…
>Doesn't?
"U-ugh…" you groan out.
>"Just *say* it…" she growls with an almost-primal ferocity.
>Her resumed nuzzles also carry that same level of aggressiveness, almost chafing your nose with how harshly she rubs against it.
>Is…is this really the mare you want to spend the rest of your life with?
>Didn't you come up here to do something else?

>Right now, it feels as if there is a very deep fog clouding your mind.
>But, little by little, you think…
>…
"I-I don't…" you weakly sputter out. "I'm not sure…"
>She sharply recoils at your reply.
>"What?"
>She takes a slow, shocked blink.
>"You're…not sure, huh?"
>She lets out a sigh, one intoned with clear disappointment.
>"Can't believe the spell's running out already."
>Your brows shakily knit.
"Huh, spell…?"
>Paying no heed to your quiet words, Luster slowly lights up her horn.
>"Gonna need to strengthen it."
"Strengthen…?"
>Amber light gradually creeps in on the corners of your vision.
>It's the same colour as her eyes—
>And the same colour as her magic.
>This intrusive pigment soon coats your sights entirely, filtering your whole world through a murky shade of orange.
>Your breathing rapidly quickens in response.
"W-wait, Luster," you worriedly begin, "wh-what are you—"
>"Relax."
>Her whispered command, stern yet soft, reverberates through your very soul.
>Despite your misgivings, you find it nigh-on-impossible to ignore its sway.
>"Focus on the sound of my voice."
"Your…voice?"
>"That's right, this voice belongs to the mare that you cherish most—and the one you live to make happy."
>You recognise this voice.
>"Keep listening to it, Anon."
>It's a voice that's outwardly raspy and coarse to listen to, yet there's also a subtle tenderness to it that your ears can easily pick up on.
>You adore that tenderness. You love and you trust it.
>"Let it guide you."
>It's the voice that's been with you throughout this whole massage.
>"And relax…relax…"
>It's the voice of the mare that you love oh-so-dearly…
"Hah…"
>It's Luster Dawn's voice.
>"Yeah… Deep, slow breaths."
>Your frantic breathing soon relaxes itself at her soporific suggestion, becoming controlled and steady.
>Within this amber haze, you can see Luster casting you a serenely beautiful smile.
>Her eyes shine out like beacons, comforting your troubled soul with their warm gaze.
>She leans in, squishing her fuzzy snout right up against your nose, and gives you a slow, soothing nuzzle.
>You find yourself instinctively returning her Eskimo kiss, rubbing mouth to muzzle.
>"Let's sniff each other up," she raspily coos. "remind ourselves of our favourite smells~"
"Yeah…"
>You can feel her nostrils press right up against yours, silently sniffing up your scent.
>Even now, in this tender moment: she gently and lovingly takes what she wants from you.
>You passively sniff up her scent while she actively claims yours; your flared-out nostrils take in that familiar sweaty musk of hers—masked by only the slightest hint of sweetness.
>You could smell her natural aroma forever; it tickles your brain in just the right way.

>"Mm…" she quietly hums against your lips. "What else…"
>While you deeply inundate yourself with her mareish scent, Luster takes the opportunity to consider her next plan of action.
>"…Oh. I know~"
>You can sense your right hand being lifted up by an ethereal force; this force gently floats your hand over to rest upon her chubby tummy—which is currently squished up to your left side.
>"Here, make sure to get a good feel of my belly, too," she cooingly commands. "I know you love her~"
"Mm…"
>Following her instruction, you slowly caress her soft pudge; you do it with a tender hand, careful not agitate her stomach any further.
>Her gut lightly gurgles under your fondling fingers; if you were a stomach whisperer—you'd swear it was a happy sound.
>Luster herself coos and purrs at your attentive touch.
>"Mmf…yeah…just like that. She loves you too, Anon—and she misses her hubby's belly rubs~"
>She continues to affectionately nuzzle your face, working in a few lovey-dovey smooches here and there.
>It feels as if your vision is growing even more orange—to the point where it becomes hard to see much of anything other than Luster's pink-furred face rubbing against your own.
>"Concentrate on me, Anon," she whispers to you. "Focus on what you're feeling right now…"
>Her softly spoken words both hone and guide your other senses.
"What I'm…feeling…"
>"The sound of my voice…"
>Melodiously soothing.
>"The smell of my body…"
>Familiarly fragrant.
>"The feel of my belly…"
>Soft, warm, and squishy.
>"Focus on those three sensations; cast everything else aside…"
>She blows a sweet breeze unto your face, and you see her lips slowly curl upwards.
>"…and fall under my spell once more~"
>You feel a comforting aura wash over your corporeal being; it reminds you of her.
>It gently grasps at every part of you, whispering sweet nothings into your very soul.
>It wholly envelops you in her loving embrace.
>"Obey my every command~"
"Obey your…every command…"
>"Yeah… Good humie…"
>Her potent magic pulses into your body—and your mind.
>It feels throbbingly pleasant, as if all of your worldly worries are being drained away.
>Throughout it all—Luster continuously reminds you of her presence.
>Her nose rubs against yours; your fingers fondle her pliant pudge—and she breathes passionate confessions into your mouth:
>"Be mine, Anon."
>"Accept me as your one and only."
>"We're meant for each other."
>Overwhelmed by her adulation, you give yourself to her completely.
>The amber fog gradually fades away, and your sight is soon returned to you.
>Your mind could not be any more clearer.
>Because right in front of you, you can see the curious amber eyes of the mare that you've happily devoted your everything to.

>She pulls away from you, letting out a light sigh.
>"Now," she muses to herself, "what's the best way to check if the spell's still working…?"
>She hums in thought—and a devious grin soon forms on her face.
>"Oooh, I have an idea~"
>Pushing up her body with both of her forehooves, Luster steadily positions her face several inches above yours.
>She looks down upon you with a smirk.
"Luster?"
>"Stay still, humie."
"O-okay."
>She begins wetly swishing something about in her mouth.
>"Open your mouth," she commands with a slightly muffled tone.
>You obey her without question, opening your jaw as wide as it can go while still looking her in the eyes.
>She continues swirling and swishing that watery-sounding something within in her mouth.
>It audibly bulges out her cheeks, alternating between her left and right—and gradually growing in size.
>"Stick out your tongue," she commands with an even more muffled tone.
>You do so, presenting your open mouth and dangling tongue to Luster like a baby bird awaiting a nutritious meal.
>After a great deal more swishing of fluids from within the confines of her maw—she makes a loud hocking noise, drawing in as much phlegm as possible.
>Satisfied with her spit gathering, she slowly opens her mouth—and a goopy glob of mucusy saliva drools down from the tip of her tongue; it steadily droops through the air, soon splashing onto your own tongue and spilling into your maw.
>Some of it slides straight down your throat, but most of it pools in your mouth, submerging your tongue, sticking to your teeth, and filling your cheeks.
>Part of you wants to gag—but all of you loves to submit.
>With a gaping smile on her face, Luster finishes dribbling the last of her gloopy spittle into your open maw.
>She closes her mouth and looks down at you.
>"Close your mouth."
>You conform, sealing your lips airtight.
>She gently rests her right forehoof under your chin.
>"Chew on it. Savour it."
>You comply, slowly chewing on her slimy glob of mucusy marespit like you would any other snack; you roll it across your tongue and swish it around your own cheeks.
>It tastes tasteless—yet is intrusively slimy and warmly wet.
>Lecherously licking her lips, Luster amorously eyes your mouth movements with an unrestrained sense of self-satisfaction.
>Once she's finally had enough of watching you savouring her slobber, she issues to you her next command:
>"Swallow."
>You promptly gulp down her glob of spit.
"Gluk…gluk…gluk…"
>Her frothy, bubbly spittle slithers down your gullet with little resistance.
>With a smirk on her face, Luster gleefully watches her slimy saliva bulge out your throat on the way down to your stomach.
>"Heh," she snorts, thrashing her tail about behind her.
>After fully downing her maredrool, you take in a big gasp of air.
"A-aaah…"
>Luster playfully pats your right cheek with her left forehoof.
>"You loved that, didn't you, humie?"

"Y-yes."
>"Heh heh, don't worry; there'll be tons more where that came from~"
>Leaning in close, she gives your lips a quick smooch.
>"'Cause you're all mine, my hubby humie~"
>After letting out a confident chuckle, she lowers her face down to your neck and press her snout up against it.
>As she spiritedly sniffs up your necksmell, she muses to herself:
>"Y'see, I've been softening up your mind here and there to make you more agreeable for me."
>She licks at your neck, indulging herself with your salty taste.
>"A little bit of magic back at the library."
>Lick lick lick.
>"A little bit over here at the parlour."
>Smooch.
>"And when you gave me that *orgasmic* hornjob—"
>She takes a *deep* whiff of your neck, making you shiver with submissive delight.
>"—I got to thinking about how *badly* I needed to make you *mine*—to make my humie *submit* to me completely~"
>She happily sighs against your throat, tickling your bare skin with warm air.
>"And it looks like my magical *release* carried my desires over into your humie head just fine, heh~"
>She gives your neck one last parting nuzzle before pulling away and looking down at you.
>"This is for the best, you know."
>She flashes you a self-assured grin, while her tone is just as cocky:
>"After all, it's only *right* that an exotic, one-of-a-kind stallion such as yourself ought to be properly *tamed* and *claimed* by a powerful mare like me, wouldn't you agree?"
>You nod in agreement; her logic makes perfect sense to you.
>Perhaps you wished to aspire to something else before this—that doesn't matter now.
>You belong to her—as it should be.
"You're right."
>"Exactly. You get it." She nods, wholly pleased with your affirmation. "See, this is just the natural order of things."
>She stands up and turns around, flashing you a hiked glimpse of her soppily winking marepussy.
>"You need a *strong* mare with equally *strong* genes to rein you in and carry on your lineage to the next generation."
>She saunters along the left side of your supine form.
>With every saucy sashay of her hips comes a eye-catching jiggle of her pudgy belly.
>You bite your lip at this utterly stimulating sight.
>Luster stops by your legs.
>"And I…"
>Turning her head to look over her right shoulder, she flashes you a smug grin.
>"…I *deserve* to have a hunky humie husband all for myself~"
>Spinning around, she crosses over your body, positioning her generous thighs just atop yours.
>She then straddles you, sitting upright on your lap— and *firmly* pressing her lower lips against the underside of your naked snake.
>"Also doesn't hurt that I called dibs on you, way back when~"
>Your eyes flit up to her face.
"'Way back when?'" You blink. "What do you mean?"

>For a very brief moment, she bites the corner of her bottom lip, and her gaze shifts to the side.
>'Very brief' is all it was, though, as her countenance quickly recovers—and she shoots you a cocksure grin.
>"Eh, don't worry about it." She shrugs her shoulders. "The past is past."
>She slowly grinds her hips against yours, slathering up your turgid meat with the musky secretions of her drooling snatch and thoroughly lubricating you with her lust.
>"Let's start thinking about our *future*—and our *foals.*"
"Y-yeah."
>As your hands firmly grip the sheets at your sides, you take in the wondrous sight of Luster's sweatily voluptuous body riding yours.
>Her right foreleg lays limp at her side, while her left foreleg rests upon her belly.
>Her pudgy paunch proudly protrudes out towards you, unashamed of its size.
>Her meaty mare mammaries lightly squish together, having enough heft to them that they noticeably obey gravity's pull and sag downwards.
"Nnf…"
>God, what a perfect mare. You would happily serve her until the end of your days.
>She chuckles to herself as you freely ogle her fertile form.
>Her horn lights up, soon enveloping your rigid rod within an amber caress.
>Thus, you are able to feel her magic *engorge* and *stiffen* you even further—yet you can also feel a strange tightness wrapping around your base.
>"Well then…"
>With a heaving snort, Luster lifts her hips, sliding her winking marehood up along the underside your length.
>"…let's…"
>She positions her entrance atop your tip, lightly rubbing against it.
>"…get…nnf…"
>Then, she slowly takes you in, engulfing your engorgement inch by girthy inch.
>"…started…!"
>Only partway in do you feel your sweltering journey being halted by a frail, fleshy passage.
>"Hah…!"
>But she promptly forces you through, hilting you straight to the base.
>"Hff—!"
>She hisses in pain, wincing her eyes shut.
>Concern taking hold of your senses, you worriedly rest your right hand upon her belly and call out to her:
"L-luster? Are you alright?"
>Slowly opening her eyes, she shoots you a wry grin.
>"Worried about me? Aw, how sweet~"
>Her eyes drift down to your outstretched hand, and she lets out an amused snort.
>"Or maybe you just wanted to cop a feel of my chub, heh~"
"U-um…"
>Shamefully, you try to yank your hand away—
>Only to find it being forcefully kept there by Luster's right forehoof.
>"Not that I don't approve~"
>She shoots you a wink, and your heart skips a beat.
>Trapped between supple pudge and solid keratin, you let your hand cop a feel of her tummy.
>Her chubby belly is as delectably soft as ever.

>"Nnf…anyway…"
>She steadily lifts up her hips, carefully unsheathing about half of your length.
>"You see it, right?"
"Ah…"
>Your eyes drift down to the area where your meat meets her maidenhood.
>And you catch sight of a certain crimson liquid trickling down your half-buried member.
"Blood…" you breathe out.
>"Mhm."
>She nods.
>"First hornjob, first kiss…"
>With her right forehoof still holding your groping hand in place, she tenderly caresses your extended arm with her left forehoof, casting you a soft smile.
>"…and now my first time, too~"
>Taking in a snorty exhale through her nose, she gives her hips a confident wiggle.
>"First time, but I can…hff…"
>With a marely huff and a fleshy *plap,* she hilts you back inside her deepest depths.
>"…take you all the way down to the base, no prob~"
>You hiss in air through clenched teeth as her tight, undulating canal ripples all around your pulsating member.
>You can also *keenly* feel your head bumping right up against her fleshy foalmaker.
>It's both a snug and slimy fit.
>"That right there is proof that…mmf…"
>Luster lets loose a triumphant snort.
>"…humie penis was *made* for mare pussy~"
>Once again, she slowly lifts herself up.
>"'Specially…"
>And promptly *slams* herself back down, sheathing you right where you belong.
>"…mares like me~!"
>This sloppily squishy impact squeezes the air right out of you.
>Yet you're given little time to recover—as she quickly works herself into a raunchy rhythm, wildly bucking her hips against yours.
>You can feel her tight tunnel clasp around your dick at all sides, splashing you with lubricating heat.
>Her right forehoof lovingly paws at your belly-fondling fingers, while her left forehoof somewhat-uncomfortably digs into your own belly as she steadies herself.
>She rides you ferociously yet clumsily, clearly prioritising her own freshly filled pleasure over yours.
>However, her earnest moans and happy huffs are reward enough for your ears.
>That—and her smelly mare squirts as she cums all over your cock for the first time.
>"O-ooh…!"
>She *gushes* all over you, shuddering intensely as she wholly indulges in her full-body maregasm.
>Those thin streaks of painful red from before are completely washed over by a frenetic flood of yellowish white.
>"Hff…hff…hff…"
>Resting your left hand upon her right hip, you steady Luster while she shamelessly soups all over your pelvis.
>It dribbles down your length, drips onto your balls—some of it even splashes onto your midriff.
>Your bedroom now utterly *stinks* of sweat, marecum and marepiss.
>It's an absolute treat to your senses.

>Luster shakily recovers from her squashfest with a confident chuckle.
>Her loopy forelock currently covers up one of her eyes, with the tip dipping into her mouth.
>Reaching up her left forehoof, she casually brushes her mane aside and shoots you a sly grin.
>"M-made for…mmf…made for mare pussy…eheh heh heh…"
>You couldn't agree more.
>This is the mare who will mother your children.
>The one who you will pledge your *everything* to.
>And you wouldn't have it any other way.
>"Let's…nnf…let's keep going."
>She steadily resumes her previous pace of pumping your penis with her pony pussy.
>This time, however, she slightly leans forward, resting both of her forehooves on the sheets by your sides; thus, it is now you who endeavours to support her, with your right hand pressing against her belly and your left hand resting on her right hip.
>With hearty, panting breaths, she hunchedly hops up and down your still-rigid member, engulfing your whole length inside her fat, squashy pussy.
>At this downward angle, you can also feel her ample, sweaty teats lightly squish into your pelvis with every horny hump.
>Slick with marely excitement, the wet slaps of her flesh against yours fill this bedroom's amorous ambience.
>And with the aid of her squashy lubricant, it doesn't take much longer until you can feel your own peak rapidly approaching.
"Luster…I…"
>You heave out a hitched gasp.
"I'm…I'm going to…!"
>Luster responds with a low chuckle:
>"Heh heh, let's see it then."
>Smoothly leaning back into an upright position, she calmly examines your orgasmic expression with a sly half-smile on her face.
>In contrast to her aloof exterior—her insides continue to work you over with *unparalleled* ferocity.
>You cannot hold it in any longer.
>Your dick throbs.
>Your balls clench.
>You bracingly buck your hips upwards and…
>…
>Nothing.
"Wh-wha…?"
>You teeter on the precipice of an explosive climax—
>Yet it never comes.
>There's that tension—that strange tightness wrapped around the base of your dick.
>It feels far more poignant now.
"I…I can't…"
>"Heh."
>Luster's raspy voice rings out to you as you desperately try to reach this obfuscated orgasm.
>"That's right, humie—you can't," she states. "I made sure of it."

"Y-you did…?" you gasp out.
>She hums in affirmation.
>"Just another spell I put on you before we got started."
>Luster's calm and collected demeanour twists into a smirk.
>"You don't get to finish without my say so~"
"Wh-why…?"
>She stops, and takes a long, pregnant pause.
>This drawn-out silence keeps you on an edge that rivals the one you're feeling down below.
>But finally, she answers you:
>"Y'see, I wanna make sure the load you're churning up right now is the fattest, most potent, most *virile* spunk thatcha got."
>Lifting up her right forehoof, she tenderly rubs her own belly.
>"Something that's gonna punch straight through that pesky species barrier of ours and leave me totally *gravid* with quadruplets~"
>She then playfully pats your stomach.
>"So do your best to hold out, humie, for me—and our foals~"
>She snickers to herself.
>"Not that you have a choice, heh~"
>Your arms limply fall back to your sides.
>You don't have a choice.
>And that makes total sense—why *should* you have a choice?
>Luster knows what's best for you—she always has.
>This is but another trial of your devotion to her—one that shall enable you to provide her the foals that she deserves.
>So you nod to her through a pained grunt.
"O-of course, Luster. I-I will—ah!"
>Your thighs spontaneously clench as Luster vigorously grinds her groin against yours.
>You take a shaky sigh.
"I-I will do my best to give you the…ngh…best load possible…!"
>She shoots you a playful wink.
>"Good humie~!"
>She adopts a more leisurely pace, casually rocking her hips back and forth—while painstakingly dragging out the aches of your needy throbs.
>"You get to hold it in, while I…"
>Luster throws her head back as her entire body shivers—and she gushes another round of squash soup over your already drenched pelvis.
>"Aaah~"
>She sighs in delight, cumming as she pleases.
>"I can finish whenever I like~"
>While you can only cum at her command.
>A command that won't come any time soon, you surmise.

>Your head hangs low, eyes feebly fixated on the way your edging manhood is utterly engulfed by an overly excited marepussy.
>Your balls feel like heavy stones, burdened by all the constrained swimmers weighing them down.
>Your dick feels like it's on fire, constantly pulsing out pre in lieu of a proper nut.
>You desire *release.*
>But you cannot—should not—attain it without your mare's express approval.
>So you endure.
>For her.
>For your mare.
>"How're you hanging in there, humie?"
"I…I will endure…" you frailly moan.
>She snickers, clearly having found some sense of sadistic delight in your strained situation.
>Yet you happily live for all of her delights—no matter how cruel.
>"Say," she speaks up, "while we're here…nnf…got something I wanna ask you."
>You weakly lift your head to meet her gaze.
"Y-yeah…?"
>"What's this? Noticed you stealing glances at it earlier."
>You squint your eyes, vision somewhat hazy.
>Luster's horn is lit up, and she's currently levitating a small object in front of her chest.
>You blink a few times to clear away the optical fog and examine said object.
>It looks like…
>A black strap of some kind, one that's inlaid with spherically cut crimson gemstones.
>Oh. You know what this is.
"That's a collar."
>"Collar?"
>She tilts her head.
>"What, you thinking of buying a pet or something?"
>You answer her without a hint of restraint:
"I was planning to use it on you; it's a magical collar that enslaves the mind of whoever wears it."
>Her eyes widen, while her tone is nonplussed:
>"Is that right…?"
>You nod with an affirmative hum.
>She gives you a few lax blinks—before lightly chuckling to herself.
>"Well, looks like that didn't work out too well for you, now, did it? Eheh."
"Y-yes. I was a fool to even think of taking advantage of you."
>She grins.
>"Mhm, it's only fair that you fall under *my* control instead."
>As if to emphasise her point, she deliberately rolls her hips atop yours, slowing her pace down to an agonising crawl.
>Smushing her fat lips up to your tight base, she teasingly rubs your sensitive, drooling penis tip against her fleshy cervix.
>You oh-so-dearly wish to blow everything that you have—yet all you can do is pathetically leak pre.
>Perhaps this is your punishment for daring to defy her.
>You accept it.

>Luster stops her movements entirely, fixing upon you with another question:
>"…Say, humie—how did you manage to get those hands of yours on something like this?"
"C-cozy Glow gave it me."
>"Cozy Glow, huh…?"
>She blinks, her expression betraying only the mildest amount of surprise.
>Absent-mindedly twirling the collar about in the air, she leans back and continues:
>"And—let me guess—she was the scheming little pegasus who sweet-talked you into slipping this collar around my neck, right?"
"Yes." You nod. "She said that if I enslaved you—She and I would rule over Equestria as partners."
>"Pfft. Figures…"
>She throws a narrowed glance towards the collar and sighs, shaking her head in disappointment.
>"Once a villain, always a villain…"
>She shrugs her shoulders with a huff.
>"Eh, I'll deal with her later."
>Turning her head back your way, she gazes at you in contemplative silence for a few seconds.
>She then leans forward, and you see a small half-smile form on her face.
>"…Say, why don't you tell me how this thing works?" She waggles the collar your way.
>You nod, ready to tell her whatever she wants.
"Whoever wears this collar becomes completely subservient towards the one who put it on."
>"Oho…"
>Resting her chin on a raised forehoof, she hums in thought as she examines the floating collar.
>"So," she muses, "if I were to place this collar on a certain heinous humie with world-dominating intent…"
>She taps her chin, smile widening.
>"…I wouldn't even need to worry about maintaining my spell."
>She lowers her hoof, smug smile having been transformed into a sinister smirk.
>"Well, what do you know—Cozy's latest scheme worked out for the both of us just fine~"
>You blink.
"The…the both of us?"
>"Uh huh." She nods at you. "Me and you, obviously."
>She gestures to herself.
>"*I* get to relax and enjoy my humie whenever I want—without any worry of you suddenly breaking free of my control."
>She then gestures to you.
>"And *you* get to empty that pretty little humie head of yours and become mine forever—doesn't that sound nice?"
>If Luster puts that collar on you—there will truly be no coming back.
>The Magic of Submission will meld with your very being, and you will live purely for her sake.
>Your mind will be her personal plaything; your body will be her stress relief.
>You'll be hers forever—just as she says.
>And that…
>That sounds truly wonderful.
"I-it does…" you shakily mumble.

>She snorts at your response, leaning back with a smug veneer on her face.
>"Heh~"
>She lazily rocks her hips atop yours, taking you at her own pace—and teasing out your painfully leaking sensitivity.
>"Y'know, back over in Canterlot, we tend to call this kind of thing 'reformation.'"
>Pump. Pump. Pump.
"Grk…"
>"Every now and then, a would-be *supervillain* crops up and thinks they can take Equestria for themselves."
>Floating the collar down to your face, she tenderly caresses your chin with its black pleather strap.
>"And that leaves Equestria's stalwart defenders—ponies like *me*—to *swiftly* put you back in your *place.*"
>She slightly tilts her head upwards, glaring down at you—
>And she suddenly whips you across the cheek with the collar strap.
"Nn—!" you wince in pain.
>It stings.
>It stings good.
>"We thoroughly *humble* you—and then we properly *retrain* that villainous mind of yours on how to be a respectable, *useful* member of society."
>She leans all the way forward, softly squishing her upper body right up against yours.
>With a tender forehoof, she caresses the stinging red mark on your cheek.
>"And what could more virtuous than serving my every whim and want, eh? Heh heh."
"Y-yes. Of…of course."
>She huffs in your face and slowly pulls herself up, soon uprighting herself once more.
>Meticulously and methodically, she aligns the collar's strap along your neck…
>You gulp with trepidation, breath rapidly quickening.
>She's going to make you hers.
>This is exactly what you deserve.
>"Hm…"
>She purses her lips, lowering the enchanted collar further.
>It's close enough that you can feel its magical touch reaching out to you, desperately yearning to merge with your very being.
>Just a little more…
>"Nah." She shakes her head. "Not yet."
>She suddenly takes it away, lifting it high in the air and tauntingly dangling it above you.
"Wh-wha…?"
>"Humie," she calls out to you.
>Your shaking pupils dart to a sadistically smirking Luster, who still calmly rides your throbbing, edging dick.
>"You *need* this, don't you?"
>You nod, near hyperventilating at this point.
"Y-yes! I do! I do!"
>She turns up her nose.
>"Then beg me for it. Beg for me to collar you like the submissive little humie you are."
"A-ah…I-I—!"
>Your wormlike words freely spill out from your lowly lips:
"P-please collar me, Luster! Make me yours! Turn me into your docile little humie slave! I want to serve you! I want to serve your every need, no matter how debased! Please collar me! Please—!"
>Her magic suddenly seals your lips shut.
"—mmf!"

>You only wish that you could've verbalised your submission even more.
>Embracing your own subservience to this mare *fulfils* you on a primal level—this is what you were born to do.
>Luster loudly snorts out in laughter.
>"Eheh heh heh! Alright, alright! Calm down, my little humie~!"
>She lets out a deeply amused sigh, and she addresses you once again:
>"Now, here's how we're gonna do this."
>She slowly lifts her hips, unsheathing you in your entirety.
>As your throbbingly sensitive dick is dragged out of your mare's warm, slushy depths and exposed to the cold, unforgiving bedroom air—you can't help but wince out in both emotional and physical pain.
>Once she has completely taken you out of her tunnel, her drooling lips hover just above your leaky tip.
>"On the count of three," she continues, "I'm gonna drop down and collar you at the same time—then you'll be well and truly mine~"
>She releases her magical seal on your mouth.
>You desperately gulp in air.
"T-truly yours…" you breathe out.
>"Heh heh, that's right. And I'll also let you cum, too—so it'll be a magical moment for the both of us~"
>The act of becoming hers in both body and mind would be magical enough for you.
>But being able to finally cum and give her foals isn't so bad, either.
>"Alright then…"
>Luster casts her eyes straight down her own body, lovingly gazing at where her winking genitals teasingly graze against yours.
>Taking a deep, confident breath, she slowly rubs herself along your head and begins her countdown:
>"One…n-nnf…!"
>She winks out a short orgasm, dripping out another round of molten ambrosia over your restrained rod.
>"Ph-phew… Two…"
>*Creak*
>Lifting her head, Luster looks you dead in the eyes.
>You can see that now-unfurled collar float straight towards your neck, ready to seize your very sense of self.
>With a triumphant grin upon her face, she opens her mouth to seal your fate:
>"Thr—"
>Luster is suddenly sent flying across the room.

>She smashes into your left wall—right between your two windows—and drops onto the floor with a painful-sounding *THUNK.*
>Having lost control of her magic, the collar drops onto your chest and harmlessly slides off to the side.
>You shakily shoot up into a sitting position and throw a worried glance her way.
"L-luster?!"
>"U-urgh…"
>Hastily yet clumsily, she rises to all four wobbly hooves.
>With panicked breaths, her eyes frantically flit around the room.
>"Wh-wha—wh-who—how—?"
>*Creak*
>You hear a low magical hum coming over from the right side of the bedroom—where the door is.
>Luster's eyes dart over to your door.
>And her expression quickly twists into one of pure fear, eyes turning to pinpricks.
>"A-AH!"
>With a shrill yelp, Luster's horn sparks up—causing her entire form to be swiftly engulfed in a bright flash of amber magic.
>She disappears from sight, teleporting out of your room—
>Moments before a yellow laser beam sears the spot where she just was, leaving a sizzling scorch mark in its wake.
>"Hmph, cowardly sow…" a nearby voice spits.
"H-huh…?"
>What…what just happened?
>A splitting migraine suddenly takes firm hold of your head.
>Luster has left the building, taking your clarity along with her.
>It's getting harder and harder to think about your current situation—or anything, really.
>The only thing you have to go on is the source of that yellow magic.
>So you wearily turn your squinted gaze over to the right.
>You can see that some…other pony is standing by the door.
>Wait, you recognise this pony.
>She's your assistant:
"Jimmy…Cart?"

>Her bespectacled, wide-eyed gaze is focused entirely on you.
>Quickly looking you over, she lets out a shocked gasp.
>"Master…!"
>Using her magic, she quickly strips away her articles of clothing:
>Her Groucho glasses. Her bowler hat. Her trench coat.
>She carelessly tosses all of them into the nearest corner and gallops over to you, hastily hopping onto the bed and crawling over to your side.
>Your strength rapidly dwindles by the second; to the point where you find yourself fighting simply to stay conscious.
>Through your blurred, deteriorating vision—all you can make out are a pair of worried blue eyes peering deep into yours.
>"Master, I'm here! I-I'm here…!"
>You feel one of her forelegs loop around your body to support you from behind, preventing your complete collapse.
"U-ugh…" you groan.
>Her other foreleg carefully strokes at your bare chest.
>"Oh, Master…"
>A warm magical hum fills the air.
>Pulses of light yellow swirl around your spotted vision; they probe at your eyes, your mind—your heart.
>And you hear her growl out:
>"How DARE she do this to you…"
>Your world is suddenly drowned in deep, vengeful crimson.
>Like stone, you sink straight to the bottom of this sanguine sea, touching down upon the sands of sorrow.
>Your senses are chokingly caressed—sights blotted with hate; smells singed with blood; sounds swamped with screams.
>It brings you to the very cusp and keeps you there—revelling in remorse.
>Yet just before the last star shines out, you feel familiar waves of lemon wash over you, sublimating the spite.
>Through wavering wits, you feel her gently sigh into your bare chest.
>"I'll…I'll fix this, Master. I'll fix what she's done to you. I'll bring you back."
>She brings her snout up to your ear and whispers:
>"My Master. My King. My Anon."
>She slowly and tenderly nuzzles her snout against your drooping face, lifting it up.
>"Your Queen is here for you, Master."
>Her soft lips press against yours, and just before you black out, she speaks straight into your soul with a resolute tone:
>"And I'll never abandon you again."

*** 13 ***

>"H-hey, Anon! Fancy meeting you here!"
"Uh…"
>It's been…about a few weeks now since you had popped out of that spontaneous space-time portal and subsequently settled into the Crystal Empire.
>Shit has been hectic—but pretty cash, all things considered.
>As the only gangly looking ape thing around, you're basically a local celebrity.
>Drinks are on the house, ponies regularly stop you for autographs, and shopkeepers slash the prices of their wares so as to entice the cool alien dude into shopping at *their* stall.
>Life is dope.
>That being said, you know that such interdimensional notoriety can never last forever—but you'll enjoy it while you still can.
>Today, you're in the local marketplace, shopping for some also-local groceries—and you're currently waiting in the middle of a long queue that leads straight to the asparagus stall.
>Bitches love asparagus.
>You are one of said bitches.
>Incidentally, a unicorn has just accosted you whilst you were haplessly waiting in line.
>Her amber eyes display clear conversational intent.
>And it's the worst kind of conversation—meaningless small talk.
"…hey…"
>You vaguely recognise this mare to be one of the very first technicoloured ponies who greeted you in this foreign land.
>She has a pink coat, an orange mane—and a name you can't quite remember off the top of your head.
>Seriously, pony names are so weird.
>There aren't any "Jimmy Lee"'s or "John Doe"'s over here.
>They're always named something like "Twinkle Sprinkle" or "Nightlight Shimmer."
>Anyway, let's see if you get this one right…
"…Lusty Prawn, yeah?"
>Her ears flatten, and her lips curl downwards.
>"U-um, th-that's not…"
>Your eyes dart back to the queue, and you quickly notice a concerning amount of space between you and the next pony in line.
"Oh shit—queue's moving."
>You swiftly close the distance, preventing any line cutters from pulling a fast one on you.
>Ponies, man.
>They *will* try to pull that shit if you're not looking.
>You look back to Lusty, who is cloppily keeping pace at your side.
"Anyway," you address her, "what were you saying, Lusty?"
>"M-my name is…"
>You throw another glance towards the moving queue and then back to her.
"Yeah?"
>"I, u-um…" she looks to the side and mumbles: "…n-never mind…"
>After a slight huff, she forces out a smile towards you.
>"So, um, seeing as you've lived here a few weeks now—how have you been settling into the Crystal Empire? Everything alright? Nopony has been giving you any trouble, have they?"
>You raise an eyebrow while also moving forward in line.
"I dunno, should they be?" you take on a slightly conspiratorial tone, "Is there an 'anti-humie-clan' lurking around here somewhere?"
>"I, er…"
>She sucks in part of her lips, while one ear anxiously flicks.
>"…I don't think so?"
>You chuckle.
"T'was a joke, by the way."
>"O-oh. A-a joke. Haha…good one…"

>You once again move forward in line; Lusty hurriedly follows you.
"For real, though," you continue, "life has been a total dream in this place—way better than the monotony I had to sit through back home."
>She beams at you.
>"Oh! Good—great, even! I'm happy for you—happy that things are going well, that is!"
>Your brain turns on auto-pilot as you move through the queue.
>Lusty Prawn is quite the awkward equine.
>She has a strange habit of randomly showing up at inopportune times to ask how you've been getting on.
>You know that she means well—but you've also *really* gotta buy this asparagus.
>This active marketplace happens to be a sprawling place awash with idle chatter; here and there, ponies and creatures alike talk about this and that.
>"…so I'll be heading back to Canterlot to continue my studies there, which means this'll probably be the last time that you and I, um, yeah…"
"Uh…"
>Oh shit. Lusty is currently part of said idle chatter—and she's still trying to talk to you.
>You are a bad listener.
>…However, you *can* be a convincing answerer.
>So you clear your throat.
"…Canterlot, you say?"
>She nods with a smile, pleased that you were indeed paying attention to her.
>"Y-yeah! It's for, um…" She weakly puffs out her chest. "im-important mare stuff."
"Important mare stuff." You casually nod. "Cool."
>You look back at the queue.
>Just two ponies left.
>That asparagus is as good as yours.
>"H-hey," Lusty speaks up, "have you ever been to Canterlot?"
>You raise a confused eyebrow.
"Um, no?"
>She tilts her head—before quickly realising her mistake.
>"O-oh yeah, because you've only—yeah. O-of course, haha…"
>Lusty stays quiet for a time, silently ruminating to herself as she stares down into the pavement.
>Eventually, she raises her head to speak up once more:
>"M-maybe you could come—"
>"That'll be twenty bits," the stallkeep stallion gruffly barks at you.
"Twenty?!"
>You scoff, looking down at your bundled prize of ten asparagus.
>Then, you look back up at the stallkeep.
"It was ten bits last time! What happened to my 'super-special alien discount?'"
>He shakes his head.
>"Ran out about a week ago, buddy. Pay up or clop off."
"Balls…" you curse under your breath.
>Regretfully rummaging around in your wallet, you soon pull out the calculated coinage.
"Fine, have your twenty bits," you spit, slamming your bits onto the stall counter.
>"And have your ten asparagus," he spits back, gently nudging the bundle towards you. "Pleasure doing business with ya."
>You grumpily pocket the asparagus and move on.

>After passing by a few more stalls, you stop dead in your tracks to carefully survey the area, looking for the next item in your shopping list.
>"Wow! What a jerk, am I right?"
"Huh?"
>You turn around.
>Oh right, Lusty is still following you around like some kind of lost puppy.
>You shrug at her.
"Eh, it is what it is."
>"O-oh. I see."
>You turn away from her.
>As you continue to scan the stalls in this marketplace, your ears can only barely catch the sound of her mumbling to you:
>"Um, hey, if you're not busy…maybe we could…do something? Hang out? G-go for a walk? Maybe ch-check out the library and read and t-talk about s-stuff?"
>Ah, target spotted.
>You turn back to Lusty.
"Look, Lusty, I'd love to stay and chat, but…"
>You tilt your head towards a stall that specialises in succulent, sweet-tasting fruits.
"…those mangos aren't gonna buy themselves. We'll catch up later, alright?"
>"Oh, um, sure, whatever…"
"Cool, peace."
>You wave to her and walk away.
>She sighs, watching you leave.
>"…Great job, Luster. That was your last chance—and you blew it."
>She angrily scuffs her forehoof along the pavement.
>"Stupid, stupid, stupid…!"
>"Hey, out of the way! You're blocking the line!"
>"O-oh, sorry!"
>After clearing herself away from the hustle and bustle of any nearby queues, Lusty lets her head hang low, while her ears flop down in defeat.
>"Ugh…if only I was more confident…"

***

>"Phew… Phew… Phew…"
>You steadily awake to a sensation of being wholly wrapped up by warmth at all sides and angles.
>It is a fluffy, feathery warmth.
>It massages your back, kisses your neck, and tickles your toes.
>Like a lover's caress, it feels both rejuvenating and relaxing.
>"Phew… Phew… Phew…"
>You could easily fall asleep in an embrace like this.
>Yet slumber is the furthest thing from your mind right now—for you must first take stock of your current situation.
>Thus, you forcefully flutter your eyes open, soon greeting the world beyond your lids.
>Princess Flurry Heart's face is right in front of yours.
>Her eyes are serenely closed shut, while her nostrils gently flare in and out.
>Her horn glows a soothing blue light, quite unlike anything you've ever seen before.
>Her lips are locked around yours, and she's…
>"Phew… Phew… Phew…"
>…she's breathing into you.
>Mouth to mouth, she blows the sweetest-tasting breeze directly into your lungs.
>It fills you with love.
>It fills you with life.
>It fills you with authority—the very same authority that had been cruelly stolen from you.
>Yes…that's right.
>You are Anonymous.
>Masseur. Master. King.
>You are a human—the only human of this world—one who possesses a most grand ambition:
>Some day, you shall take this world as your own.
>To think, you almost lost sight of that ambition—you almost lost your very sense of self.
>And it's all because of her—that tricksome cerise unicorn:
>Lusty—no—Luster Dawn.
>She caught you off guard, and with her potent magic—she cruelly twisted your mind into something more akin to a beast's rather than a man's.
>You were used and abused to suit her own selfish ends, and she almost broke you in completely.
>"Phew… Phew… Phew…"
>However, instead of falling deep into that amber abyss, you were brought back from the brink—and saved from a most wretched fate.
>You owe your good fortune to the light-pink alicorn sharing breath with you right now.
>She saved you and pieced you back together—recovering your Kingly self.
>She is your saviour, yet still your slave.
>She is a princess in title, but a Queen in your heart.
>She is Flurry Heart, your beloved and faithful slave.
>And you love her.
"Mm…" you hum into her mouth.
>"Phew…" she breathes into yours.
>With her eyes still closed, Flurry continues to blow her life-giving breath into your mouth, lost in her own little world of servitude as she is.
>You find yourself instinctively returning the favour, gently blowing back into her mouth at the same time.
>Her entire body shivers each time you do, undulating in quiet ecstasy.
>She's wholly at ease—and so are you.

>Whilst the two of you calmly enjoy each other's palliative presence, you decide to examine your immediate surroundings.
>Firstly, you take stock of Flurry herself.
>As you have already surmised—her lips are presently pressed up to yours, being parted enough so that the two of you can share breath both mouthily and nasally; you note that her marely exhalations taste just as sweet as she is.
>The two of you are locked in a lover's embrace; her forelegs are lovingly wrapped around your back, while your arms are lazily wrapped around hers.
>Her hindlegs feel as if they're protectively coiled around your legs, with her slender cannons looping around your calves so that her hooves rest right by your feet.
>In this intimately interlinked position, your bare bodies are perfectly aligned with one another's, and…
>…
>Well, you feel a little embarrassed at having only noticed it just now, but the two of you are basically conjoined at the hip—and you are currently hilted *deep* inside of her warm, comforting depths.
>Then again, perhaps the reason it took so long to realise this is because of how *natural* it feels to have this part of yourself buried inside your Queen.
>This sublimely snug sensation is quite akin to that of a key fitting into a perfectly shaped lock.
>Her love tunnel peacefully works you over, gently splishing and splashing over your length as your tip nuzzles right up against the entrance to her inner sanctum.
>Any tense traces of the cruel capitulation that Luster had subjected you to are completely gone now; for that reason, you suspect that your slave has been dutifully draining you of all your "stresses" whilst you were slumbering.
>"Phew…"
"Phew…"
>She tightens up at the familiar scent of your human breath, giving your utterly submerged meat a most tender squeeze.
>Strangely enough, these ministrations manage to feel more therapeutic then titillating—you never knew sex could be so relaxing.
>Alas, as delightful as this repose is…
>You know that there's still work to be done.
>Plus, you need to figure out where you are; it doesn't feel like you're in your bedroom any more.
>The world around you is coloured light pink—just like your pretty princess herself.
>But you need more info.
>So, regretfully, you pull your lips away from Flurry's, breaking the pleasantly breathy seal that the both of you have been mutually indulging in.
>"Nn—!"
>She winces as she loses the breath of her Master; thus, her face quickly trails after yours, desperate to reclaim her lover's lips—
>Instead, what actually happens is that her snout falls forward and plants itself into your left shoulder.
>"Mrg…mgrgr…" she groans against your bare flesh.
>Cute.
>Her lips now gently suck on your shoulder, laying smooch after soft smooth upon your skin.
>Also cute.
>She then begins to clumsily lick at your shoulder, lolling her tongue all around and moaning to herself.
>Okay, that's kind of weird.

>You decide to stop her before your shoulder gets too soggy.
"Um, Flurry?"
>"Mm…?"
>Her light-blue eyes slowly open, and her sights soon fall upon you.
>"Oh…"
>Her gaze swiftly widens all the way.
>"Oh…!"
>Her head shoots up.
>"M-master! You're back!"
"Yes, I'm—"
>She—very rudely—interrupts you by passionately nuzzling your face.
>Quickly realising her mistake, she pulls away from you with a sheepish grin.
"—I'm back. Thank you, Flurry."
>Exhaling a tittery sigh, she leans forward and excitedly nuzzles you again.
>In the process, she lines up her face with yours, going nose to nose—and mouth to mouth.
>It really shouldn't surprise you that an enslaved Princess of Love is *this* openly affectionate towards her darling Master.
>Perhaps too affectionate, as she soon lids her eyes and attempts to part your lips with her tongue once more—
>Yet you tersely push her away with your right hand, blocking her mouth.
"Wait a second."
>She impatiently whines into your palm.
>Such an unruly slave…
"I have questions."
>Her eyes widen with an obedient curiosity.
>"Mm?"
>Now that you've safely detached her face from yours, you take another good look at your surroundings.
>The world around you is remarkably rosy—and quite claustrophobic.
>As it so happens, you are surrounded by light pink pinions at all sides.
>This pod of pink plumage keeps you firmly confined within its constraints, yet it manages to feel pleasantly pliant and whimsically weightless all the same.
>You can't tell whether you're lying on her or if she's lying on you; your spatial orientation has been completely waylaid.
>Moving your hand away from Flurry's mouth, you gingerly prod at this palisade of pinions, noting both its sublime softness and its sturdy elasticity.
>You then glance back to Flurry, who luckily looks less like to lip-lock you.
"First off," you begin, "where are we?"
>She nods.
>"I've cocooned us both within my wings, Master."
"I see…"
>You had a hunch that it had something to with her own pink wings.
>But something within this plumage gives you pause:
>Her alicorn wings may be larger than most—but they were never *this* big.
>They could never extend far enough to cover, well, *everywhere.*
>This is a logistically impossible feather dome; even as you glance down her body, you can't even properly parse where her wings begin or end.
>The surrealness of your surroundings leaves you only one possible explanation, really:
"This…wing cocoon of yours…is this a result of your magic?"
>She hums affirmatively.
>"That's right."
>She leans forward and nuzzles…your left cheek, this time.
>"This is a world meant for only you and I, Master. This is a world where you may recover your strength—and a world where a Queen can freely tend to her King."
"Mm-hmm…"
>"Take as much time as you need to recuperate, Master…"
>Her next words come as a very faint whisper in your left ear:
>"…even all of it, should it please you."

>So, she put you in this place so she could personally resuscitate you.
>Mixing both comfort and recuperation, perhaps this "wing cocoon" is more akin to a Palace of Plumage for the both of you.
>Sliding your right hand down to her withers, you give her a few appreciative back scritches.
>"O-ooo…" she breathily coos against your left cheek.
"You've done well, Flurry."
>"Ah…"
>She rubs her whole body against yours and sighs.
>"Thank you, Master…"
"Another question, then."
>She pulls away from your cheek and looks at you attentively.
>You take a deep breath before continuing:
"What happened to me?"
>Her brows furrow as she looks to the side.
>"That…*wicked* unicorn cast a spell on you, Master. She wove disgusting hexes in an attempt to corrupt your mind—in order to try and twist it into something well past saving."
>She lets out a huff.
>"I was able to stop her before she…" She takes a hard blink. "…before she did something truly irreversibly vile to your psyche."
>Her teeth grit, and you swear that her eyes flicker a deep red for the briefest of moments.
>"I only wish that I could've landed a few more direct hits on her, that I could've made her TRULY suffer for what she did to you, but I…"
>She shakes her head, and her blue eyes flit back to you.
>"…I had to prioritise saving you. I had to bring you into our shared sanctum so that I could cleanse you—to purify you of her rotten influence. I had to bring back my King."
>She lays a small peck on your nose.
>"Never again, Master. I won't let anything like this happen ever again. I promise."
>Lowering her head, she gently rests the underside of her glowing horn against the tip of your forehead.
>"To that end," she continues, "I have cast a protective ward upon your mind."
>Raising her head, she casts you a warm smile.
>"It's imbued with my feelings for you, Master, and with it—your mind shall always remain your own."
"Is that so…"
>You move your left hand up to your dome and give it a few thoughtful taps, humming to yourself as you do.
>You don't *feel* any more cerebrally safeguarded than you usually do.
>But you doubt your slave has any reason to lie to you—so you'll take her word for it.
>…That being said, she apparently *did* have a reason to directly disobey you.
>Even if her actions ultimately worked out in your liberation—the sudden autonomy of your slave is not something to be ignored by your Masterly sensibilities.
>Thus, you must address her rebellious behaviour posthaste:
"By the way, Flurry."
>"Yes, Master?"
"I believe I told you to stay at the castle for today."
>"Th-that…"
>Her eyes shut and her ears flatten.
>"…you did, Master."
>She takes a slow, methodically deep breath, before opening her eyes to continue:
>"And so I went against your orders."

>Eyes narrowing, you cup her chin with your left hand.
>You lift her face up, forcing her to look at you.
"Explain yourself."
>"You…you had me wait in the castle—all alone."
>She takes a shaky sigh and stares directly at you.
>"A Queen bereft of her King."
"And? Did this solitude prove to be too tasking for you, slave?"
>She winces.
>"I-it…it…"
>She gulps.
>"…it did."
>She pauses for a second.
>"I grew anxious without you, Master. Restless. I needed you. I needed to be by your side—to make sure that you were safe."
>You slowly open your mouth, but she continues her spiel:
>"Especially…especially what had happened yesterday. I was a fool to disregard your recent behaviour."
>Sliding your left hand down from her chin, you rest it upon her back—and you raise an inquisitive eyebrow her way.
"My…'recent behaviour?'"
>"Mhm." She nods. "I could sense it; our souls were *aching* for each other, Master—they were calling out to one another both in pain and love."
>She pushes her furry chest up against your bare one.
>You can feel her heartbeat resonating with yours.
>"I could feel you yearning for me—just as I was yearning for you—yet I could also sense this deep veil of uncertainty that had shrouded your heart."
>She leans forward and softly nuzzles your face.
>"My Master—My King—he needed his Queen right by his side. He needed her to soothe his woes."
>She pulls away from your face and continues:
>"Once I realised that. I…I chose to disobey your spoken orders, Master. I chose to follow the commands your heart gave me instead."
>Taking a few moments to digest her words, you sigh.
"…And so you saved me."
>She nods.
>"Yes…"
>Her left ear folds downwards, and she shamefully glances to the side.
>"But…no matter my excuse, I know that I still defied your will—and so I shall gracefully accept whatever punishment you deem fit for my insubordination."
>She lowers her head.
>"Just, p-please…whatever it is—I beg that you keep me by your side throughout it all."
"…That's a big ask."
>"Nn…" she whimpers with a wince.
>With no immediate response from you, a long, breathy silence takes hold within this pocket dimension of pink pinions.
>You take as long as you need to consider your options; after all, time matters little in a world of wings.
>…
>Flurry didn't betray you—that much is clear.
>She simply followed her heart—the very same one that you had so cruelly cast aside at Cozy's suggestion.
>You had assumed your brainwashed Princess of Love was a mere tool to follow your whims—an unthinking slave.
>But you couldn't have been more wrong.
>Flurry is a far more complicated underling than you could have ever imagined.
>They certainly don't teach you this stuff in slave school.
>Incidentally, you have been balls deep in Flurry this entire time—and neither of you have cum once.
>Wingworld must be one hell of a drug.

>…
"I have decided on your punishment."
>"A-ah…"
>She raises her snout to look up at you, pupils shaking.
>"Wh-what is it?"
>She trembles in trepidation, fearing the worst.
>Sliding your right hand up her neck, you rest it against the back of her head.
"This."
>Leaning in and pushing forwards, your mouth quickly meets hers.
>"Mm…"
>She closes her eyes, and you feel her plush lips part to breathe some more of her sweet-scented submission straight into your lungs.
>Her warm mare air rushes through your system like a galvanising gale—you're pretty sure you could forego oxygen entirely to live off this stuff.
>She hums into your mouth, perhaps expecting you to blow in the sweet breeze of forgiveness.
>Unfortunately for her, you have other ideas.
>Masterly desires taking hold, your tongue suddenly darts into her mouth—and you *furiously* lay siege to the inside of her maw with your sloppily thrashing organ.
>"Mmph!"
>You lick at her roof, taste her inner cheeks, and ruthlessly lap at the gummy area in between her lips and teeth.
>Wherever you go, you leave a thick, heady trail of drool in your wake, funnelling it into her mouth through your tongue and splashing it around as you please.
>"Glk…glk…"
>She swallows most of it, of course—like the loyal little slave that she is.
>As you slather up her mouth like your own personal playground, some of your saliva sticks to her teeth, marring her pearly whites like slimy grime.
>Refusing to wrestle it down outright, you tease her thick horsey tongue with drips of spit and laps of love, making her whole body shudder in blissful submission.
>The more you taunt her tongue with yours, the more it reaches out towards you—towards your own mouth, yearning to intertwine her organ with yours.
>You continue to lead her into your domain, poking and prodding at her slowly advancing muscle—and flicking globs of spittle down her gulping throat.
>It is only once her tongue finds its way into your mouth do you promptly close your lips around it, trapping it within your moist maw.
>Flurry's eyes bulge open.
>"Mm—!"
>Yes, this shall be your "punishment."
>To orally defile your utterly enamoured princess—to ensure every single part of her remembers your Masterly presence.

>After sucking her tongue all the way into your mouth, you *mercilessly* suckle upon her captured muscle.
>You roll your own tongue all around her organ's fleshy tip—leaving it slick and span with heaps upon heaps of your own slimy spit.
>As your lips maintain a vacuum-like seal around her taste buds, Flurry is wholly unable to escape your sucking, lapping, *drooling* punishment.
>To seal the deal, you gently graze her tongue with the pointed tips of your carnivorous teeth, providing her with a *sharp* reminder of how dangerous her King can be.
>Eyes rolling over, Flurry's nostrils wildly flare in and out while you continue to ruthlessly tickle her sensitive, *writhing* tongue with yours, lapping around its wiggling apex.
>Lost in unrestrained passion, her body undulates and writhes against yours—soft fur caressing bare skin.
>All the while, your hilted member *throbs* inside of her sweltering, rippling canal, unwilling to move—yet yearning to cum.
>Desperate to coax out your load, her contracting cervix suckles at your penis tip with *almost* the same amount of ferocity that you're using to suckle on her tongue.
>Using her captured tongue as a muscly medium of sensual sound, you moan into her mouth while she moans into yours.
>"Mmph~!"
>Through mutually flared nostrils, you and Flurry blast hot snorts in each other's faces as your lover's embrace quickly becomes a lover's constriction; her wriggling hooves worm around your back while your clawed hands *fiercely* grip hers.
>Writhing and suckling against the other, you can feel your bodies almost becoming one in this pristine, white-hot moment.
>Flicking the tip of her tongue one more time—you reach your throbbing apex.
>You violently erupt, blasting equally white-hot loads for this white-hot moment—and filling up her Queenly womb with your Kingly seed.
>Shuddering and undulating against your embraced form, Flurry experiences a full-body maregasm at the exact same time you experience a full-on nut busting.
>She gushes, squirts, and completely *squashes* all over your midriff, staining you with her unreserved adoration and draining you for everything that you've got.
>Throughout it all, you savagely slurp your tongue around her trapped taste buds, suckling on it like a pacifier while you continue to blow countless frothy loads inside of her fertile core.
>As her canal clenches in time with your pulsing throbs, you note that her beats of pleasure are perfectly synchronised with yours—right down to the very second.
>Perhaps this is made possible thanks to the magic of this pink pocket dimension you reside in…
>Or perhaps your bodies are simply attuned to one another's at every possible level.
>You're beginning to think that it's the latter.

>Thus, as your shared orgasms also die down at the exact same time, your pulsing penis leaves your Queen's womb one more parting kiss of creamy hot filling before nuzzling right up against her satiated cervix.
>During the afterglow, you lazily lick at your slave's submissively ensnared tongue, slowly drawing out her weary, shuddering moans.
>And eventually, wholly satisfied with your sloppy sanction, you finally release your hold on her tongue and pull away from her, letting her thoroughly lapped organ retreat back into the drooling confines of her own open mouth.
>"Mah…M-mash…" She gulps. "…M-mashtuh~"
>Through shaky, saliva-laden breaths, she gazes at you with pure, unfiltered adoration in her big blue eyes.
>'A brainwashed slave can't ever *truly* fall in love with her master.'
>'You'll always be a "pleb" to her.'
>What an utter fool you were to heed Cozy's words back then.
>There is now no doubt in your mind—the eyes presently peering into your own are the dreamy eyes of a lovestruck princess.
>Collar or no—the indelible mark that you've left upon her maidenly heart has rendered her completely and utterly *yours.*
>Humming to yourself, you rest your right hand upon her left cheek and caress it.
"I reckon we could go for another round of 'punishment,' don't you?"
>She clumsily nods with a dopey smile on her face.
>"Y-yesh, Mashtuh~"
>You heartily chuckle at her earnest enthusiasm.
>Truly, you couldn't have asked for a better slave—or a better Queen.
>…
>The two of you would later emerge from your winged cocoon together:
>Renewed. Rejuvenated. Reborn.
>As King and Queen.
>Alas, there is but one *wicked* matter you must attend to before you can truly start thinking about your rightful throne.
>But with your loyal Queen by your side—you intend to enact a most *ravishing* revenge.

*** END OF PART 1 ***

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