Kirin did not freak out, as a rule. Kirin… considered. Kirin took a long view, and did not jump to conclusions if they could help it.
Kirin, confronting the mystery of the empty boat and the mysterious tracks in the sand, undertook to consider this as well… and did so, patiently.
And sometimes, unbeknownst to ponies, Kirin politely argued, abandoning their elaborate courtly diction, over the management of their charges and the extent of their responsibilities to their little ponies of all sorts.
“Good ponies are affectionate with each other,” said Yosuru. “Kawa is right to be puzzled, it is strange for a visiting pony not to seek shelter in the town. Why would he, or she, not look to the companionship and love of the townsponies?”
Kantokusha lifted an eyebrow, his horn glimmering thoughtfully. “The visiting pony arrived at Kabochaebi.”
“We enjoy Kabochaebi!” protested Yosuru. “What are you suggesting?”
“The visiting pony arrived at a town where all the ponies staggered home drunk in the small hours of the morning,” explained Kantokusha. “The town is named after the dreaded pirate captain and full of her former crew. A visiting pony’s expectations of companionship, or indeed love, might be seen differently through the lens of this famous history.”
“They DO love,” insisted Kawa, who’d discovered the boat and the curious tracks that led nowhere.
“Yes, I know,” said Kantokusha. “I healed a wandering colt who’d encountered their town. They’d loved him all night long, until he was exhausted and injured.”
Yosuru pouted. “That’s not fair. I remember the situation, and it was expecting too much of Kabochaebi, and that colt would have been perfectly fine if he didn’t keep on crawling back and demanding more. They’d put him to bed nicely three times and he repeatedly woke up and sought them out for repeated buggering. You said yourself part of his trouble was dehydration, because they were using his youthful orgasms for target practice. With his delighted approval, I might add. They said he seemed never to tire of that game.”
“They were responsible for attending to his well-being!” argued Kantokusha. “I’ll grant you that they had only rice-cider on hoof to drink, but somepony could have gone and got water. They could have recognized that he had gone far beyond acceptable limits for a pony!”
“He was a pegasus colt, they know nothing of limits, and it was many years ago!” said Kawa. “Why do you bring this up, anyway?”
Kantokusha frowned. “Only to explain that there may be a logical reason for this visiting stranger to shy away from Kabochaebi,” he said.
“Or to seek it out?” teased Yosuru. She smiled at the visiting, higher-ranking Kirin.
He nodded, reluctantly. “That is true. And I will admit that they have been more civilized in recent years. Do you have other explanations for this odd occurrence?”
Yosuru shook her head. “No. And it’s not the only odd occurrence. I appreciate your visiting, Kantokusha, even if you don’t love Kabochaebi as we do. There was rumor of a weird monster also reaching Neighpon’s shores. It was three bays east of Kabochaebi, and it was this morning, while Kawa discovered this curious boat mystery late last night.”
“Weird monster?” asked Kantokusha, with an indulgent smile.
“Forgive us,” said Yosuru. “Yes, we’re referring to Taikutsuna, the fishing village you yourself watch over. But the emanations of panic extended so far! It seemed that surely you were not at home, and the ponies were frightened…”
“Tell me more,” said Kantokusha, sternly.
Yosuru blushed, and scratched at the grass with a hoof, only to blush worse at the needless injury to grass. She glanced up at Kantokusha, with almost a resentful look. “They were frightened. We rushed over to help, and the little ponies were running about in all directions, whinnying and crying. We did soothe them, and I’m not sorry, and they told us what had happened. Where were you?”
“First tell me their story,” said Kantokusha, “and then I will tell you where I was.”
Yosuru took a deep breath. Kawa, loyally, hugged her. She continued.
“They told us a tale of this weird monster,” she said. “It had flown over the sea to attack their village. It flew in with multi-colored wings and a strange baggy body and a long tail that waved in the wind.”
“Go on,” said Kantokusha, with the hint of a smirk.
“Is this an evil dragon?” asked Yosuru. “Did you encounter it?”
“Did my ponies tell you anything else?”
“They did,” said Yosuru, truculently. “It emitted high pitched squeaks that caused ponies to fall over, stunned. It flies very fast, very very fast like the wind, while cursing and arguing loudly with itself. What?!”
Kantokusha could not repress his laughter. Yosuru scowled fretfully at him, while he contained himself.
“I’m sorry, Yosuru,” he said. “My ponies are so imaginative! But there’s a reason I am so protective of them, and so strict about interactions between them and your ponies of Kabochaebi. My ponies are artists and poets, and their minds roam wild and free even as their worlds are sheltered from harm.”
Yosuru pouted. “Well, my ponies run wild too. And they sing songs!”
“I’ve heard these songs,” chided Kantokusha. “My pegasus colt was the subject of not less than five of these songs, recounting his debaucheries in the most filthy manner.”
“For which he is still, to this day, extremely proud,” replied Yosuru. “I happen to know he sought to return and inspire more songs, and you had to carry him off by his tail because he was frightening my pirate-ponies. And that’s what inspired the fifth song, which you are in.”
“Don’t remind me,” moaned Kantokusha. “And it only goes to show you, Yosuru, that even the gentlest and most civilized ponies can produce fierce and brave warriors… so you needn’t be so proud of the barely-tamed savagery of your ponies. I am proud of the serenity of mine. And you’re welcome, by the way, for me rescuing your ponies from my pegasus colt. You’ve never thanked me for that, and the whole way back to Taikutsuna he was crying and kicking my face most uncomfortably with his little hooves.”
Yosuru’s eyes bugged out. “Really! Then I thank you, belatedly. Poor Kantokusha! I’m surprised you didn’t try to trade him to me for one of my pirate-ponies.”
Kantokusha frowned. “You are joking. My ponies make songs about your ponies too, you know. Quite romantic but impractical songs. That is not a reasonable suggestion, my ponies would likely treat one of your pirates as a celebrity, which would undo much of Daiyam’s work with them.”
Yosuru pouted. “Probably true.” Then her eyes widened. “I have become distracted! Kantokusha, what are we to do about the weird monster? Even now, it might be ravaging the countryside! Other ponies might be in danger. Our patrolling pegasi, even ones as brave as your debaucherous colt, could be injured or killed by a large evil monster!”
“I have not told you who I was with,” said Kantokusha, coolly.
“What has that to do with…” began Yosuru, and then calmed herself and looked expectantly at Kantokusha.
“Very good,” said Kantokusha. “Don’t be hotheaded like your ponies. There is a perfectly good explanation for all this. I was away, because I was meditating with Daiyam.”
“Daiyam!” exclaimed Kawa. “He was just here, to see the visiting Ponyville mare!”
“Yes, he told me about her,” said Kantokusha. “Is it not natural that he’d want to visit such a peaceful and good pony town afterward? And of course I was honored to receive him, and at his invitation, we went off to a nearby mountaintop and meditated for a while.”
“Did you catch the evil dragon?” pressed Yosuru.
“There is no evil dragon,” said Kantokusha imperturbably. “Remember the nature of my ponies, Yosuru. I told you they were imaginative. There is something to be said for your ponies, you know. They have a resilience and aren’t easily frightened… or perhaps they’re so afraid of your pirate queen, whom I believe is not tame at all, that they have no fear for anything else. My ponies are better protected, and in the absence of real danger they imagine dangers for themselves. It is a sad but harmless consequence of how very well I take care of all their needs. I think if you forgot your ponies, or they faced some threat in your absence, they’d have a wonderful time fighting back and not think anything of it. My ponies are far more sensitive, and you caught them imagining things.”
Yosuru had the hint of a sulky, truculent look again, for Kantokusha’s opinion of her ponies was not really flattering coming from him. “How do you know there was no dragon, or monster?” she objected.
“Daiyam was still with me when I returned to Taikutsuna,” explained Kantokusha. “My ponies immediately told me of their experience. I may say that Daiyam praised your actions highly, perhaps over-highly, but you did seem to calm them. However, they remained convinced they’d seen a Weird Monster.”
“And?”
“Daiyam and I melded minds, and extended our sense for wickedness and evil,” said Kantokusha. “You may not think my wisdom and power is profound, but you must surely trust Daiyam. He is Kirin of all the south of Neighpon. Daiyam is certain that no evil monster passed our way. My ponies believed him, and were calmed.”
Yosuru pouted. “They were already calmed, Kantokusha. Kawa and I saw to it.”
“Very well, then,” said Kantokusha, “they were convinced? Convinced they had been imagining things. Honestly, Yosuru! How did you not tell them they were making up wild stories to frighten themselves? They’re little ponies, and can’t be trusted to think! Who could imagine a flying monster with different colored wings that stuns ponies with high pitched squeaks? And why would it curse and argue as it went? Surely this is a metaphorical image of pony contentiousness come alive in the imaginations of my poets.”
Yosuru hesitated. “Or… hallucinations?”
“Oh, we checked,” said Kantokusha sternly. “No, Yosuru. Your ponies have not been bottling nautical fixture-cleaning fluid and selling it to my ponies, again. Due to the colorful nature of their story, that was the first thing Daiyam and I checked. I’m still not sure I’ve forgiven your pirates for that one.”
“They stopped right away!” protested Yosuru. “It’s been years!”
“Only through the combined efforts of Daiyam and your own Kabochaebi,” scolded Kantokusha. “I do appreciate that: I hadn’t expected that from her. Your little pirate princess is totally mad, but does wish to be good. I hope that continues.”
“Of course it does!” said Yosuru, defensively.
“See that it does,” said Kantokusha. “I know from Daiyam that your town still requires a great deal of rice cider, though it is improving. Daiyam says he is trying to teach your ponies to drink tea, and not to put twelve teabags in and then bounce all over the town like a pink demon. Though he did say it was adorable, and I suppose it was.”
“You still have those?” asked Yosuru, her ears perking up. “Pink demons? And of course it was adorable, Kantokusha. My ponies are still ponies. We love them dearly as they slowly return to their true natures. Talk to Daiyam again about that. But did you say you still have pink demons?”
Kantokusha frowned. “It’s another metaphor, Yosuru. Daiyam didn’t say that, I was indulging my own poetic nature. They aren’t a real thing, they’re a metaphor for a pony bouncing around manically. Usually they are a symbol for sugar, not tea. They don’t exist, Yosuru. Daiyam has never seen one, nor I.”
“I thought I did,” said Kawa, uncertainly. “They don’t seem to like Kabochaebi, we’ve had no sightings at all.”
“Because they do not exist,” asserted Kantokusha. “So, are you satisfied? There’s no Weird Monster, either. I apologize for the distractions of my little ponies, and I thank you for making at least some efforts to soothe them.”
“You’re welcome,” said Yosuru, her ears back. “And what about the pony who has come ashore and snuck away in the dead of night, like a spy, without greeting our ponies?”
“I’d call that sensible,” said Kantokusha, “and no concern of mine. Good day!”
Yosuru’s ears laid even further back at the unthinking insult to her ponies. Kantokusha didn’t deign to notice this. He turned decorously, flicked his tail, and trotted off into the sky on a gentle ramp made of magically-created mists.
Yosuru and Kawa watched him go. After he was well out of sight, Yosuru heaved a great sigh.
“So frustrating,” she said.
“Breathe, Yosuru,” urged Kawa. “You’ve done well. I believe you may put more effort into achieving harmony with him and Taikutsuna than he does, for all his power and wisdom.”
“Of course I do,” said Yosuru sourly. “He makes no effort at all. It’s a shame I can’t wake him up or get some humility into him, and I’m surprised Daiyam doesn’t see it.”
“Don’t you trust Daiyam to know best?” said Kawa. “Daiyam brought you… me.”
“I do,” grumbled Yosuru. “And I remain grateful for the help.” She turned, and gave her companion a little kiss. “Very well. There shall be harmony.”
He hesitated, uncertain, scuffing the ground, and then he said, “Yosuru?”
“Yes?”
“Did you ask him about hallucinations for a reason, Yosuru?”
At this, the older Kirin blushed.
“Have you been…”
“No, Kawa,” interrupted Yosuru, blushing brightly. “I have not been helping our ponies smuggle cleaning fluid into Taikutsana. No matter how funny it would be, or how richly Kantokusha would deserve it. Don’t be silly.”
The younger Kirin held his ground. “I think you are missing a word.”
“Am I?”
“Why am I here, Yosuru? And before you fuss, I am grateful to be here, and I love you and enjoy your company. You and this town are a continuing education, and I owe it all to Daiyam’s wisdom. But I need a particular word from you, and you know what word that is.”
Yosuru sighed. “Of course, dear one. Very well. I have not been helping our ponies smuggle cleaning fluid into Taikutsana… AGAIN.”
“Thank you,” said Kawa. “I think I would know it if you did, but it means much to hear you say that.”
“It’s only distilled rice cider, for goodness’ sake,” grumbled Yosuru. “If it didn’t worry you so much, I would still be drinking it myself.”
“Yes, and the pirate ponies would still be competing with you,” said Kawa. “And that is an unhappy fate for a pony. They haven’t got your magic, and it’s an unfitting use for Kirin magic anyhow. Remember poor Bucket, who almost kept up with you that night!”
“I know,” sighed Yosuru. “I was only trying to meet them on their level!”
Kawa gave her a kiss in return. “Dearest Yosuru, I am sure they love you the best of all Kirin. And the reason is, you succeeded. Please be patient and gentle while we all lead them and you back to pony sweetness and love. I am personally convinced we would have lost this town if not for you… but some things are right for a time, and only for a time.”
“Yes,” said Yosuru reflectively. She contemplated for a moment, and then looked sidelong at him. “I was cross with Kantokusha for being ungrateful. When we helped soothe his ponies, this morning.”
“Yes,” said Kawa.
“I’m more grateful than that. Thank you again for rescuing me from Kabochaebi, Kawa. Between you and Daiyam, it made everything all right.”
Kawa grinned wryly. “Yikes! I shall never forget that day. It is another reason for you to be good, Yosuru: never again do naughty things with the pirate ponies, when the pirate queen has resolved that they will all be good. I feared for her.”
“I would never have hurt her!”
“She needed to have faith in her pirate crew,” said Kawa, “my worry was that she’d lose her balance. But she is only a pony, and a strange little mare besides: I think she expected them to purely obey her and follow her lead. It is a lesson in following the pattern of good that Kirin like Daiyam try to teach us: none of us see all of the pattern at once. Yet I believe that the ponies of Kabochaebi would not have stayed good, if they hadn’t been able to relate to you, as you… er… went native?”
“As the Pirate Kirin of Kabochaebi Bay?” teased Yosuru.
He winced. “Shush, please, dearest! You know Daiyam swore me to secrecy. I am still amazed it worked.”
Yosuru hugged him. “Of course it did. And really, partying with the ponies is not all that terribly wicked, though I suppose some of the pranks crossed a line, especially with Kantokusha who still frustrates me. But I was reminded of goodness and our higher purpose by Daiyam… and little Kabochaebi, how she raged at my transgressions… and by you.”
Kawa sighed. “I have to trust that pattern. I wonder if Daiyam sees it whole, or if he frets as I do?”
Yosuru gazed into his eyes, serenely. “Of course not. To both questions… I don’t see the pattern either. But we’ve helped Taikutsuna without mischief, and I’ve been kind to Kantokusha even though he doesn’t care for us, and from where I stand, I trust the pattern we weave as much as Daiyam does. And I can sense that he trusts it with all of his life, yet I am sure he too accepts its deep mystery.”
“Yes,” sighed Kawa. “It is all of that.”
“Come, Kawa,” said Yosuru. “Let us go home, and cuddle. All is well. Though I am still very curious about this Sneaking Spy!”
“And the Weird Monster,” suggested Kawa, “and, I suppose, the Pink Demons?”
“Of course,” said Yosuru. “But we can go chase those tomorrow.”
Kawa blinked. “What?”
Yosuru giggled. “Well, Kantokusha was right about one thing: our town can look after itself without us! Tomorrow we’ll set out to see what’s happening in Neighpon.”
Quietly, nuzzling each other, the Kirin headed off to snuggle and restore their serenities together.
Further north, and later that evening, a lot was happening. Octavia had performed, and DJ Pon-3 was in the house (or, rather, on the hillside), and she’d come up with some kind of new throb that was driving the crowd of dancing ponies berserk.
A group of unicorns had gathered at the front of the stage, and were producing flashy light displays from their horns. DJ Pon-3 had frowned at this at first, but then she seemed to take it as a challenge—and with a wicked little grin she amped up the energy of her mix until the hapless unicorns were going off like visual explosions. Some had passed out, only to be dragged off and cuddled by other ponies by the side of the impromptu stage.
Big Macintosh danced a galumphing dance, at the center of the festivities. His work was done for the evening. A few careful inquiries had told him that Hina-rin didn’t live in this town: there were apparently all of three Kirin, and everypony seemed to be extremely smug about the wonderfulness of their Kirin in their charming lakeside village. Big Macintosh supposed that was fine. The Kirin didn’t seem to be in evidence, but there seemed no need for them: for such an out-of-control DJ set, everything seemed very well in control.
And so, Big Macintosh galumphed about in the middle of a fascinated ring of mares plus a few stallions, having a grand old time despite his longing for Hina. She wasn’t in this town, so… more practice? He cast an increasingly practiced eye across the collected mares, wondering what awaited him later that evening. If he was any judge, Neighponnese horny mares didn’t leave you wondering. One of them… or perhaps several of them? …would surely drag off the Ponyville stranger to her bedroom.
As DJ Pon-3’s set worked itself into a bass frenzy, Big Macintosh prepared himself to be pony pounced.
The bass pounded its way to a final crescendo. The unicorns in front of the stage concentrated, melding themselves with the music. DJ Pon-3 smirked with delighted wickedness… and hit a last breakdown with a thundering crash, while leaving the first turntable at full volume and twirling it up to absurd pitch with her hoof, producing an effect like a techno explosion in the brain.
All the unicorns shrieked in excitement and seemed to explode in light, mostly following the accelerating surge of wild synthesizers on the fast turntable, but also reacting to the huge final beat on the other turntable.
All the unicorns fainted dead away, to be cuddled and praised by fellow ponies. The night became dark, with only the ebbing electronic purrs of DJ Pon-3’s mighty decks, and the dim view of the little expatriate unicorn, head bowed, bass drops spent. Her shades glinted faintly in the night.
The applause was like a force of nature… at first, the silence of shock, and then the building cheer, and DJ Pon-3 lifted her head and looked out upon her people, a sea of madly grinning pony faces, drenched in sweat.
“Take care of those unicorns, okay?” said DJ Pon-3. “Even if they couldn’t keep up. Good night, everypony.”
She staggered as she walked away from the decks, herself drained to the limit, but Octavia was right there to catch her and the two made their way backstage amidst a tsunami of cheering.
Big Macintosh blinked. While he’d been watching his employers, he’d been surrounded. No… mobbed, by mares. Eager, hungry-looking mares, with a scent of clean sweat and very dirty-minded personal bits. So, just about the best scent ever. Mostly earth ponies, a couple pegasi, no unicorns of course as they were all spent…
No, there was one unicorn, a tiny one. Other ponies seemed to look down at her, gasp, and make way. A very determined tiny little unicorn, by proportions not a filly, but still rather lost in the crowd. What was she after?
She made a beeline for Big Macintosh, other ponies moving hastily out of her way and pretending they’d just remembered important appointments.
“You!” she cried, delightedly. “You’re magnificent!”
“Uhh… thanks?” said Big Macintosh.
“Come with me!” announced the diminutive unicorn. “I am Yutakana! I am excited to meet you!”
Big Macintosh blinked. The crowd seemed to be giggling, shaking their heads, amused. He looked around in perplexity. The expressions around him were hard to interpret. It wasn’t all amusement: a few faces looked worried, some looked angry and frustrated. One of the latter mares cried, “No, Yutakana, share!”
The tiny unicorn whirled. “After all I do for you? Mikaitaku! Behave!”
It seemed to be a persuasive argument. Big Macintosh found himself standing with the tiny mare, as all the other ponies wandered off to party elsewhere. He gazed down at Yutakana, perplexed. She gazed up at him, triumphantly, and the look in her eyes was parades and brass fanfares.
“Yay!” she said, her hocks quivering.
“Y’think?” said Big Macintosh, wrinkling his brow.
“Come with me! I am very important! And you are very exciting!” she announced.
Without another word, she turned and began trotting away, down the hill. Big Macintosh followed, and his nostrils flared. In the moonlight, he could see that little feisty Yutakana was drippingly aroused, winking at him with every third step or so. It seemed his decision had been made for him, though it seemed a strange and perhaps alarming decision.
Yutakana didn’t even slow down. She nearly galloped all the way to the lakeside, and trotted well out onto the beach. Following, Big Macintosh wondered if she meant to enjoy a romantic evening with the moon reflecting off the water.
She turned her head. She was a pale minty green, with vivid emerald eyes well used to command, and Big Macintosh took in everything about her from her high and mighty chin to her curiously long horn to the roundness of her disturbingly dainty rump… and the explosion in an ooze factory that made her vulva, the insides of her rump-cheeks, and the insides of her legs glisten wetly in the moonlight from her heedless galloping.
“I want you to push your cock all the way into me, as hard as you possibly can,” ordered Yutakana.
Big Macintosh blinked. “Ma’am, that ain’t nice to do to a mare. I have a… uhhh, I knew a fella who taught me how to please a mare, and it ain’t about that, honest it ain’t.”
“Yes it is,” retorted Yutakana.
“It ain’t! Am I missin’ somethin’ here? Dang it, miss, look at me!”
“Yay!” squeed the tiny unicorn, doing just that.
“Naw, Ah’m serious!” protested Big Macintosh. “I am a big pony and I’m gittin’ excited and you’re gonna be dealin’ with a big ol’ horsecock that… dern it, I’m not helping things, am I?”
Yutakana swayed, drooling, her eyes fevered and locked on Big Macintosh’s massive cock as it swelled and swung forward at her. Nothing in her manner suggested any sort of caution. She trembled with obvious desire, if that wasn’t already too feeble a word to express her ravenousness.
“I want you to push THAT into me, all the way, as HARD as you POSSIBLY CAN,” clarified Yutakana. She stamped a forehoof in the moonlit beach sand, and then wobbled, overcome with lust.
Big Macintosh gulped, looking at her pert little pussy. “Okay, um, language check ma’am? Do you p’raps mean, ya want me to GIT as hard as I possibly can, and then fill you up nice? Uh, always assumin’ it even fits…”
Yutakana gave a little shriek. “Aaaah! Language check, yes. I want you to put your cock in me, and push forward until there is no room, and then push forward more with all the strength of your body. I want all of the pressure ever! All of the cock pressure pushing deeper into me, AHHH! Now, now!”
“Well jes’ a moment,” objected Big Macintosh, his ears back. “First of all that’s gosh dern crazy, look at th’ size of me…”
“Yay!”
“Aw, shut up with that!” blurted Big Macintosh. “And second of all look at the size of you! How am I supposed to mount on you, ain’t no way you can support my weight or nothin’, and if I do like what you’re askin’ I’ll just fall over on my face from pushin’ you down under my nuts!”
This stopped the manic pixie pony. She frowned, wrinkling her brow, and then brightened. “Sit down on your rump! You will pull me down onto yourself, with all of your strength!”
Big Macintosh regarded her in disbelief. “It’s almost like you done this dance before, ma’am.”
“Of course I have done this before!” squealed Yutakana, fretfully. “Why are you waiting?”
“Is this a magic thing?” pressed Big Macintosh, still staring at the lust-maddened, tiny, lube-soaked unicorn mare.
“It is the most magic thing!”
“Then what’s th’ magic word?” said Big Macintosh, sitting back onto his rump and crossing his forelegs.
“Whee!” cried Yutakana, trying to trot backwards.
“Uht!”
A hoof met her petite rump and blocked her.
“The other magic word,” demanded Big Macintosh, his ears plastered back in disconcerted amazement.
It only took her a moment.
“PLEASE!” cried Yutakana happily. “Please shove that cock all the way into me and then grab on and pull me farther onto it until the magic happens!”
Big Macintosh’s ears couldn’t possibly lay any farther back. But, at the same time, he had never seen or even imagined a mare of any size or shape being this enthusiastic or this confident. “Must be some kinda magic,” he muttered.
“Eeee! Ee! Ee!” squeed Yutakana, and her horn began to glitter and ooze magic much as her vagina oozed slippery lube.
“All right, sugarcube,” sighed Big Macintosh. “Let’s see what ya got.”
His eyes bugged out, as he learned.
Yutakana lunged back at his rapidly hardening erection, her itty-bitty rump-cheeks quivering with desire, and indeed she seemed well-practiced, for she landed with his cock dead-centered across her diminutive vulva. Big Macintosh had just one moment to realize that, no, the dainty unicorn was not built with a massive cavernous vagina, that indeed he wasn’t exactly going to fit.
Then, with a warrior shriek, Yutakana had shoved back onto him, with a sharp prying sensation and a feeling like corking a bottle… and his flare was inside her, swelling up quick as a wink until it could not be withdrawn.
“Dang! You okay, ma’am?”
“NggARRRGH!” howled Yutakana.
“Jes’ a moment, I’ll… well dang…”
Big Macintosh’s eyes crossed. The tiny pale-mint unicorn was in fact shoving herself backwards onto him with all her strength. He could feel his throbbing cock, trapped in cramped confines, sliding through strained, slick mareflesh. She was considerably deeper than he expected. Her depths felt odd, but amazing. The compression was astonishing inside the petite, frantic mare. Tenderly, he wrapped his forelegs around her fiercely shaking body, seeing sparks come off her horn as if it was a fuse.
“Th’ magic?”
Her eyes were squeezed tight shut, tears leaking from them, her teeth gritted. “MORE!” she squealed. “ALL!”
“You’re sure about this magic?”
Yutakana just wrapped her own forelegs around his, clenched her dainty rump against his cockbase, and howled like a timberwolf.
Big Macintosh shrugged… and did as he was told.
He could feel her heart pounding as his forelegs tightened against her. At first gently, and then with increasing power, he wrapped himself around his petite lover, and thrust deeper and deeper into her with all the strength of his mighty back, all the clutch of his powerful forelegs.
As he did, he saw the magic she’d talked about.
Yutakana’s heart-rate seemed to explode, hammering like a rabid chipmunk as Big Macintosh’s cock took up all the elasticity inside her and kept pushing. She had just enough breath to begin to shriek, and then as soon as Big Macintosh impaled her beyond that point, as soon as there was no more space for the little unicorn mare to give and her lover’s hardness demanded more and more and MORE, that was when Big Macintosh had to strain her even more tightly to his massive chest, for Yutakana thrashed in his grip as if having a seizure, just for an instant.
Then, a thick gout of horngasm blasted violently from her horn, as an expression of anguished ecstacy came to her face.
She screamed a croaking yowl of breathless orgiastic release, painful but epic sounding. Big Macintosh twisted his face away from the magic inferno he was causing, holding her body tightly against the thrashing and spasms.
It wouldn’t stop!
Awed, he squinted against the glare. She couldn’t even cry out any more. She only shook in his tight embrace, her body wildly alive against him, spasming on and on in impossibly intense orgasm, and her horn gushing magic in torrents out into the middle of the lake. Was this the secret? He’d never heard of anything like this.
His cock throbbed, painfully, locked in its tiny prison. Yutakana drew half a breath, and keened, fevered, still blasting magic unceasingly.
Big Macintosh nuzzled her mane trustingly, squeezed his eyes shut, and went to finish her off by dragging her down onto his cock with his full strength, just as she’d repeatedly asked him to do.
Her little body went absolutely rigid. Her hoarse squall went instantly up in pitch to a supersonic shriek. The orgasms ravaging her turned to a state of unyielding, full clench, like they’d stacked upon themselves to produce a single unbearable peak. The glare against his eyelids became impossibly bright, a continuing explosion of horngasm into the receptive lake, like he was inside the heart of a star, with other stars circling and swooping before his eyes as little Yutakana hit her ultimate climax…
A hoof cracked him across the skull, and his eyes flew open and he released his fierce grip.
“Don’t pull out!” demanded a voice. “Don’t even move! Hold still, don’t speak!”
“Aw horseapples, am Ah under arrest?” wailed Big Macintosh. He looked around frantically. The town’s three Kirin were in evidence. They were fat and sleek and seemed to be bursting with energy. He began to realize why.
He looked down at the tiny unicorn he held in his forelegs.
Yutakana appeared to be smouldering. Her horn seemed partly burned away. Her tongue hung out, and her eyes were rolled back in her head, and he’d never seen such a sated, sex-ravaged unicorn.
He glanced around at the angry Kirin. No, not just angry… worried, desperately worried.
“She done asked for this,” said Big Macintosh. “She said she had magic that would protect her.”
“Yes,” said one of the Kirin curtly. “Us.”
There seemed little to add to that. Big Macintosh watched as the Kirin consulted, very rapidly, with flashes of magic between them.
“Do NOT pull out. We’ll control that. This may feel strange,” ordered another Kirin.
“Yessir,” replied Big Macintosh. “Whatever you need, all you gotta do is ask… aw SWEET Celestia!”
The beams of magic locked onto little Yutakana and she shuddered in his forelegs, and immediately he felt her vagina contract and crush his still-hard penis back onto itself. The vise-like grip she’d had before was nothing compared to this. It was agonizing, but he gritted his teeth, because he felt it was possible the magical Kirin were doing it for a reason, and if they could fix her pussy from sex-related damages, they might spare a thought for his dick.
One spoke. “There is a thing called a cock ring. Our apologies, our Yutakana is also a cock ring. Don’t tense or swell yourself, and endure it.”
“Yessir… eeeeeff! rrrg! whatever ya… arrgh! need!”
“Hurts, does it?”
“Jes’ a bit!”
“So did she,” retorted the Kirin, sweating and concentrating.
Big Macintosh fell silent. His lip quivered, even as he winced from the torturous treatment he was receiving.
“She LIKED it!” he protested, finally, as his stiffened cock began to emerge from its cramped confines.
“It wasn’t for you,” said a Kirin. He glanced at the others, both also males. “We must blame ourselves. But it did not occur to us that so large a horse would come to tempt her.”
“Or so unwise,” added another.
“The townsponies all know they mustn’t let her push them around,” said the third. “We do blame ourselves. She is headstrong and should only do this when…”
He caught the urgent glances of the others.
“She should not do this,” concluded the third, blushing slightly. “Naughty Yutakana.”
Big Macintosh was blushing as well, but his mouth was a hard line. “That so? Never, huh? Not for the naughty lil’ bitty unicorn?”
The first Kirin hesitated, and then said, “It’s private. She’s very important. If it helps, she is normally more well cared for. She is safe. Healing, monitoring, is on hoof for her. You weren’t to know about her ways. We blame ourselves.”
Big Macintosh looked truculently back and forth between the sleek, fat Kirin bursting with magic. It didn’t trouble him that he’d laid a wildly promiscuous mare. What troubled him was simpler.
“Kin I ask you one thing? An’ then I better go. I think I know enough, fellas. Thanks for th’ warning you din’t give me. I would jes’ like to do one more thing if y’all would be so good.”
The Kirin looked at each other. “What thing is this?” said one.
“Did ya heal her up? Like, is she fine, other than bein’ stunned outta her silly mind from foolish over-fuckin’?”
“We did heal her,” said the Kirin. “Please tell us exactly what you’re proposing to do.”
Big Macintosh lifted his chin.
“This.”
He stepped forward, lifted up the dainty little unicorn’s fevered, trembling body, and gave her a big firm farm-pony hug, tears leaking from his eyes. He nuzzled the side of her cheek, to which she responded with a cute little coo, then a snore. He kissed her, bowing his head.
“Thankee, ma’am. Be good. An’ don’t play too rough! Sleep happy, now, and get back to them as understand you best.”
The Kirin didn’t say a word as Big Macintosh laid his tiny lover down comfortably on the beach, with great care not to wake her… though from the look and feel of her, it’d take a party cannon to wake her. He rose, looking down on her as she slept. He looked at the three Kirin.
“Gentlemen,” said Big Macintosh, and walked solemnly away, leaving them to attend their special little unicorn without him.
And he walked with a steady tread all the way back to where they’d made camp, complete with their tent. Vinyl wasn’t in it, but Octavia was, sleeping.
And Big Macintosh crawled into his sleeping bag, wrapped it around his head, and gave way to silent, torrential weeping, his massive body shaking almost as fiercely as his tiny lover’s had been. Guilt, desire, longing all tangled within him. Worst of all, he hadn’t even got off, and couldn’t tell for the life of him whether that was good or bad. He sobbed, trying to make no sound, uttering not a word… except for one, anguished, yearning plea that called out toward he knew not where.
“Hina…”
Braeburn skulked through the dark. He stuck mainly to bushes and natural cover, but the derned country seemed full of lovely little meadows he had to cross. At least they seemed like they must be lovely, even though he could see them only by moonlight. His ear twitched, for the countryside wasn’t entirely empty, even in the darkest night. Hunters of the night were out: he was pretty sure he heard an owl swooping in the distance.
Or… maybe not as distant as all th… what the?
In a rush of near-silent wings, she was upon him, slamming him to the grass and pinning him down.
“Do not try to escape! I will question you, strange sneaking horse!”
She was a gray pegasus, with even her eyes a pale gray, though the moonlight did play tricks with his vision. Gasping for breath, Braeburn stammered, “What the buck are you, a pegasus or an owl?”
“Yes!” she exulted. “I am Fukuro, the owl warrior, and you are my prisoner!”
“If ya say so,” retorted Braeburn, and then blinked. “Say that again? Fuck-uro?”
“The owl pegasus warrior!” boasted the grey mare. “Famous for my hunting abilities, which have captured another never-do-well!”
“Th’ hell I don’t!”
“What?” she said.
Braeburn grinned up at her. “Happens I do very well. Very well indeed, Miss Fuck-you’re-sexy. How about I demonstrate?”
Straddling him, Fukuro frowned down, her brow wrinkling. “Do you propose to enter captivity by sexually rewarding your captor? Your idea of submission to my authority is pleasuring me? Is that it?”
“Yes!” said Braeburn, with conviction.
Fukuro squeed. “Yay! Best prisoner all week. Let’s go over to those trees, there’s a bed of soft moss we can use!”
Braeburn grinned. “Now you’re talkin’. So, are you gonna let me up? I do my best movin’ with, y’know, freedom of motion. I suppose you kin do that, because it ain’t no use for me to run away as fast as I kin?”
Fukuro beamed happily at him. “No use at all! My wings are swift, silent and sure. You cannot escape, so let’s go over there and have some fun and then you can be my prisoner and there’s delicious fermented bean soup for breakfast. Yay, how wonderful I captured you!”
Braeburn’s grin didn’t waver, though his ears went back at the Neighponnese mare’s ideas of a good breakfast. “You go on thinkin’ that. I promise I won’t touch them wings, now let me up and I’ll give you a night you won’t soon forget.”
“Oh, no!”
“What?” said Braeburn.
“Don’t skip the wings! That’s the best part!” protested Fukuro. “Why are you so mean?”
“Because you probably don’t want no wild cowpony foal,” said Braeburn. “Trust me, I’ve made one. An’ even if she is a gosh dern amazin’ filly, an’ beautiful as the sunrise over the prairie, an’ even more feisty than her moth…” He coughed, for there seemed to be a lump in his throat. “Dammit! I don’t want to tell you no more. Don’t you understand that foolin’ with your wings could make you pregnant? I’m jes’ sayin’ maybe you’d prefer a cowpony ride for the sport of it.”
She blinked those big grey eyes. “This is Neighpon. I am a pegasus warrior. The Kirin have taken care of that. Where do you come from, that your pegasus mares can’t enjoy their bodies?”
“Ain’t tellin’,” said Braeburn. “Let me get this straight. You want to go over there, to a bed of moss… an’ screw you until you’re a puddle of feathers… AND touch your wings? Are you serious?”
“Yes!” replied Fukuro, with conviction.
For a moment, Braeburn was speechless. Finally, he said, “I’mma be holdin’ you close with my forelegs, just so’s you understand. By touch your wings, you mean I should open my mouth and do it the way a boy pegasus would make you pregnant? If not for them Kirin, I mean?”
“Of course,” said Fukuro. “And then I’ll take you home and we’ll sleep together so it will alert me if you try to escape, and in the morning I’ll make you soup and maybe you can do it all over again, if you’re good.”
Braeburn’s ears were back. “Ah don’t believe there’s much argument, ma’am. About me bein’ good, that is. I… huh. Hmph!”
“Why do you look so cross?” asked Fukuro. “Is it because you’ve been captured by a girl? Don’t be sad. I am the silent huntress, and none escape me.”
“Naw,” said Braeburn. “It jes’ seems like cheatin’, that’s all.”
“Huh?”
“You ever heard of a Princess, miss Fuckin’-sexy-pony?” said Braeburn. “Is that a thing, to you?”
“Isn’t it a kind of pony in Western lands?”
Braeburn winced. “That’s as may be. Well… Ah go to my fate now, miss. Just remember, I’m doing this for my Princess.”
“I’m sure she will approve of you being a good prisoner,” soothed Fukuro, letting him up.
“You keep usin’ that word,” said Braeburn. “C’mon over there. I do believe soon you’ll be callin’ me great.”
“Oh, yes!” cooed Fukuro, her wings fluttering in excitement. “Now make love to me nicely, sexy prisoner!”
Braeburn straddled her fine, toned rump, and was grateful she couldn’t see the expression on his face. It was one thing to cope with her attitude, behaving as if she was gonna teach him, Braeburn, how to fuck. His ears were well back, while she wasn’t looking. It riled him up more than he could credit. Didn’t she know who he was? But of course, she didn’t. That was part of it.
The other part was this: he’d given that pony rump one, just ONE good ol’ mare-settlin’ bite to make her hold still, and the next thing he knew there was a whirl of feathers and a hoof comin’ at him and BAM! He was out cold. When he opened his eyes, Fukuro was right there kissing him, licking the place on his noggin where she’d socked him. But not to say she was sorry, oh no! Instead, she said “Now be a good pony, or I’ll knock you out again and again until you learn or you stop waking up ever again!”
He’d gulped. She meant every word. He’d asked, “You still want a fuckin’?” and she’d said, “Now you owe me two.”
All righty then.
Braeburn straddled her fine, toned rump. One thing about it, he thought: at least it wasn’t no hardship. Maybe it was her unusual level of pegasus fluff, but Fukuro combined healthy fitness with a soft, plushy quality that was incredibly feminine. Her butt was shapely like no pegasus he’d been on since Fluttershy, her winking exposed a silky pinkness that got him going real nice, and apart from the unstallionly weakness he was forced to be in, it looked like a mighty fine evening to be having.
Pretending that her quivering readiness was because he’d made her submit, Braeburn pressed his hips forward, and felt his mare shudder in his embrace. This, at least, wasn’t different. He’d always professed that careless fuckin’ was rude and an insult to the name of pleasure, especially when you were hung like such as him… and so, his entry always took it nice and easy. It felt better to all involved. Why get a mare submissive as a puddle, only to splash it and not have a puddle no more?
His ears perked, and he warned himself to be careful. Fukuro was no puddle… not yet. He was greeted not with those shakes and the renewed passiveness, that moment of oh-my-gosh where his mare couldn’t quite believe her luck… nope, the owl-pony warrior was more active. With a series of moans, she tensed and bore down on him, only to ease up and allow more of his erection to press into her.
“That’s good!” she moaned. “That feels good!”
Y’think? thought Braeburn, and then caught himself: he’d been about to deal her a jab, and wasn’t sure if it would get him another hoof to the head. He quickly reconsidered. Logically, what he proposed to do would work just fine even if he was real soft with her, as if she was… Braeburn winced, and put the thought out of his mind, but kept the intention. It was for a good cause. He’d make love to this fluffy pegasus like she was the only pony in the world for him, or at least he’d restrict his range of tricks and leave out everything dominant. He reckoned that when he went to the final stage, it wouldn’t matter. And who knew? Maybe it’d be fun.
Fukuro squirmed, panting, as Braeburn slid to full penetration, expertly drawing up short of poking her insides. Her eyes rolled back in her head a little. It was so huge, yet the stallion was so tender with it! Surely he was a great discovery. She gritted her teeth as he tugged half his length out of her in a firm, steady motion, and squeed a little squee of glee as he slid back to fill her completely.
“I will keep you forever!” squeed Fukuro. “Don’t forget the wings!”
As if, thought Braeburn, and got to work making love like his life depended on it. It sort of did, in a sense: while it was a rare and unusual pleasure to fuck this proud, powerful pegasus mare and feel her wriggling and active underneath him, fucking him back in a way he rarely experienced, he really couldn’t be trapped with her forever. There was good fucking, and then there was the call of his heart, and it would not be denied. All the more since he was channeling his feelings for his beloved Princess into this strange though undeniably sexy mare… he set up an insistent, exploratory motion and nestled his head against her neck, for all the world like she was Big Macintosh, like he longed to feel every heartbeat and savor every quiver.
What he got was worth savoring, all the same.
“Oh it’s GOOD!” cried out Fukuro, her sweet mare voice a poem of grateful delight. “So good! I love you, sexy prisoner, do it just like that!”
He felt her vagina gripping him, but much like his motions it wasn’t with harshness: it really was a new sort of thing, and his ears perked further as he experienced it. He had a healthy respect for the power of the mare pussy and much of his loving dominance routine was geared to making sure she didn’t get bitey in there: Braeburn was comfortable with mares so melted they could barely stand, but he didn’t trust an interplay when it came to fucking. Now, he was forced to accept one, and to his surprise found it good. He moved with a compliant thoughtfulness, sensing how things stood moment by moment: Fukuro melted and accepted him, then got excited and wriggled and bore down to restrict him, only to cry out in pleasure and arch her neck and relax again, to be plumbed to her depths when she was ready for it. It came and went like ocean waves, a whole mighty swelling that was bigger than both of them.
Braeburn’s ears quirked extra hard at that thought, but there was no mistaking it. The idea rocked him. On the other hand, Fukuro seemed completely happy with it. She wouldn’t let him become the ocean all by himself, but she let his waves build along with hers, giddy with the ecstacy of it.
“I will share you with ALL my friends!” she cried. “YES, wonderful prisoner horse! Yes!”
That was interesting, thought Braeburn… but he had only a moment for the thought, because her pussy was powerful and excited and she’d gripped onto him again with a glorious scrunch, and he instinctively understood how to match her ebullient heaving pressure with his own powerful confined shifting: while they were tied into a knot of each other, Braeburn hugged her tighter and used the strength of his hips to get little motions through in spite of her clench. He could feel in the hammering of her loving heart, the bolt erectness of her fluffy wings, that this was ringing all her bells, and as she kept on bearing down, he kept on firmly bearing her up to the orgasmic skies on wings of massive outlaw cowpony horsecock…
Braeburn blinked.
Wings, y’say?
Without switching gears, without altering the tone and feel of his lovemaking in the least, he courteously bent his neck and closed his mouth around the base of Fukuro’s wing.
Her eyes flew wide open, and with a convulsive shudder, Fukuro melted away completely, her pussy unclenching as if it had turned to jelly at a stroke and gotten a few inches deeper from sheer willingness. She stared out at the quiet Neighpon night, stunned into awe, a mare volcano on the brink of eruption.
“I will share you with all the world…” she vowed, like a prayer.
And then, Braeburn began to make love: not at her, but with her, just as he had been doing. His hips did not pound, his cock did not plunge, though from the squelching sounds it seemed like it had: and his jaws did not gnaw or bite controllingly.
Instead, the outlaw stallion bent his head and worked his hips and simply rode along, matching the eruption and becoming part of it, a true partner right to the climax.
Fukuro squealed breathlessly, her body juddering and shaking: the power of her mare vagina wasn’t directed at fierce clenching anymore. Neither was she melting into a formless puddle inside—to Braeburn, it felt as if mighty forces were thundering around inside her, orgasmic explosions going off, and it was those aftershocks that he felt surging and thumping against his stiffened cock. He, in turn, allowed the energies to buoy him, and as he neared his own climax, his strength spent itself in bold, deep, joyous thrusts, convulsive hugs that strained her body to him, and happy chewing of that fluffy, wriggling wing. Every time he bore down on it, Fukuro melted a little more, but her frenzy also arced higher and her pussy churned harder with exquisite spasms…
“NNNghh!”
Fukuro’s eyes flew wide in astonishment… and she went totally limp, barely able to stand, as Braeburn chomped down hard and thrust deep, swelling up more than she could believe. And her ears laid back, more and more, her eyes going out of focus, while he held that pose and somehow withheld his release, somehow did not unload even as roaring filled her ears and her orgasms flared up into an impossible eruption that turned her brain into an exploding white-out of pleasure, balanced on that brink with a super-stallion seemingly bursting her delighted pussy with pure rock-like hardness that throbbed inside her even as her body melted down in hyper-fast spasms that accelerated and didn’t stop…
“Ghhh!” grunted Braeburn, as his jaws crunched her wing still harder while his own peak finally hit.
“EEEEEE!” howled Fukuro, as Braeburn unloaded into her, a stallion cannon-blast. She reeled, her mind a confetti of orgasmic sensations, and she staggered but it seemed he was right there with her, and she spasmed and wailed incoherently and it seemed to go on and on, because even after he’d drenched her with stallion-come, it was like he didn’t let up, like he was keeping himself hard and continuing to move in there and wrench her wing lovingly around… and it did feel loving, and that kept her going and going, the moment persisting longer than she could even imagine, her orgasms stretching on and on, and even when her body tired, the stallion teeth giving her wing a thorough work-over couldn’t let her rest, and even when her churns and spasms gave way to feeble twitches the horsecock held mostly firm somehow and her lover persisted, now matching her energy level but carrying her now, the tender gnawings and gentle nudges sustaining her for just one… more… moment…
Braeburn loosened his jaws, panting. The frizzled-out pegasus wing between his teeth flopped bonelessly to the bed of moss beneath them.
It sure was soft. That seemed… good.
He got up, and gazed down at his victory. Fukuro lay, tongue hanging out, a foolish and huge grin on her face, her eyes staring at nothing. She blinked, or tried to, and her eyelid moved at about half speed, and then wouldn’t lift back up, and she peered sort of near him, from sultry, heavily-lidded eyes.
“How… ‘bout a bargain,” panted Braeburn. “Never mind all the world… you’re gonna give me to jes’ one special somepony. And he ain’t here. But I’m gonna find him.”
Fukuro tried to twitch an ear. Nothing happened. A breeze passed over her, and she quivered from one more orgasm, and melted even more thoroughly into the soft moss.
Then she felt something else… the prisoner, except he obviously wasn’t going to remain her prisoner, was bending over her. And she emitted little squeaks and coos, involuntary cries, as he adjusted her boneless sprawl to be more comfortable. Were those tears in his eyes? He looked happy and sad at the same time. She orgasmed five times as he straightened and settled her wings. It would have been twice, except he tried to preen her feathers. He was terrible at it, and by the time he stopped, she knew the only other thing she’d be able to do that night was sleep. She fought to keep her eyes even half-open, though she no longer knew what she wanted to do about him: it was enough just to continue seeing him for a few more seconds.
Braeburn bent to gaze into her dreamy eyes, and his own did glisten a little.
“Ah learned somethin’,” he told her. “Thank you.”
He kissed her nose, and her eyes slowly sagged and closed, and the last thing she saw was his sad, brave, romantic smile.