The bass throbbed. Lyra couldn’t think of a better way to describe it. She hadn’t been expecting that. She knew it would be loud, and had prepared herself to be bludgeoned by pounding drums: she’d wandered into a club in Canterlot once, and the experience was much like being repeatedly bucked in the head, while surrounded by hoity-toity rich unicorns that bounced up and down stiltedly, prodded by the harsh, jabbing beat.
DJ Pon-3 sounded a different call.
The floor was full of all types of ponies, gyrating and writhing to the beat like Lyra hadn’t seen outside the bedroom—indeed, she’d not seen the like even during sex. The distinct styles fascinated her until she could hardly dance for watching.
Her fellow unicorns seemed prone to flowing, liquid moves of the forelegs, like they were gesturing forth magic spells, and Lyra found herself entranced by a particularly unicornian detail—they danced with their necks and shoulders. She couldn’t begin to guess how, and didn’t dare try, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the result, for it meant the dancers were continually describing shapes in the air defined by their gesturing forehooves and their heads and horns. A few of the unicorns were actually lit up, though Lyra couldn’t see anypony having sex with them—without anyone touching them, they danced entranced, horns glimmering and making shapes in the cozy darkness from their twisting motions.
One writhed joyously past Lyra, and the amorous glow wasn’t just from her horn—she’d enchanted her hooves as well, and persistence of vision made colorful twisting patterns in the air after her. Lyra blinked, realizing there was more going on than sexual arousal—a whole area of unicorns were clearly casting lightspells on themselves. Lyra blushed, realizing she’d mistaken their glow for erotic release of the most intimate kind—and then blushed more, understanding that it was meant to resemble that.
It was hard to focus on the elegant gesturing moves of the unicorns, however, with the pegasi around.
At first, Lyra had squeaked and cowered away, afraid to even get on the floor—but earth ponies and unicorns alike seemed unconcerned, and eventually she inched out into the crowd, eyes wide, heart pounding.
Pegasi danced like dervishes, like fiends.
Hooves flew, wings flared and swirled—Lyra had to get used to being buffeted by winds, while trying to dance. She tried to keep clear but it didn’t seem to matter—powerful bodies, some glazed in fresh, piquant sweat, hurtled to within inches of her, never once touching her. The one time she bumped another dancer, it had been thanks to her own panicky lunge away from a twirling pegasus mare—she’d bumped into another pegasus while both were looking the other direction, and he had been the one to frantically apologize, looking horribly embarrassed! Somehow, his reaction helped her understand: the winged ponies danced wildly and physically, but with such unerring control that to run into a fellow dancer was the height of uncouth. From that point on, Lyra gritted her teeth, determined not to flinch, and surprisingly soon she relaxed to the experience as pegasus mares and stallions alike dove, tumbled and twirled around her, their limbs flashing through a dizzying array of bold moves, locking into rigid poses and popping from position to position with fierce dexterity.
And the earth ponies… Lyra had to admit, the earth ponies fully held their own. They seemed to draw on a little of everything, but where unicorns enjoyed gesturing with forelimbs and horns, and pegasi flung themselves into gymnastic displays, there was something a little special about the earth ponies too. Sweet Celestia, how they shook their asses! There was something extra earthy about them, that brought back the fondness Lyra’d once had for Bon Bon. She gawked at those erotic wriggles, taking in the sight of shamelessly squirming burnt-ochre hips, set off by spots of bright color. So visceral—it made you want to say, hell with horns, hell with wings, let me grab this pony and feel all over her ecstatically writhing body…
Lyra blinked. A blue pegasus was already on the case—a blue pegasus who wasn’t cutting loose like the others, a fat one—no, pregnant, very pregnant. Lyra realized she’d been ogling Applejack, and blushed hard. That was another celebrity pony… sort of. They’d never got along beyond basic social pleasantries, and Lyra didn’t relish explaining how she’d been ogling Applejack’s pony breasts and imagining her tongue caressing those pert swellings and encircling the cute nipples.
And of course, it could only be Rainbow Dash, amazingly pregnant, flushed and beaming, her hoof publically fondling those earth pony tits as Applejack laughed and tried to wriggle away. The pair migrated toward the edge of the dancefloor, and Lyra danced further into the crowd, unworried by flailing, athletic pegasi.
It was a funny thing. Lyra hadn’t danced before, and she’d stood intimidated at the edge of the crowd before summoning all her courage and awkwardly dancing a path right through it, out the other side—to stand gasping and trembling in an open space, her safe haven. She tried it again, and then she realized an amazing thing. There were open spaces in the middle of the dance floor—she’d been making for them as she tried to get through to what seemed like safety, for she was terrified she’d be run over, or shoved back out again. Yet, once she was in there, hopping up and down awkwardly and plotting her course back out of the scrum, the open spaces kept materializing around her, moment by moment.
She didn’t have to earn a space in there, or ask for one. A Lyra-shaped space would exist because she was there. It wouldn’t exist until she jumped in—she could watch all day and never see that Lyra-shaped hole in the dancefloor waiting for her—but the instant she trotted forward and began to dance, there it would be.
The moment she realized that, before she even took a step… was the moment Lyra really began to dance.
The thing was, it’d become hard to avoid. The beat wasn’t the jabbing, poking thing she’d heard in Canterlot. It swung, it throbbed—bright points of clarity emerged through a seductive, murky haze. Lyra’s brain couldn’t work out quite where the beat was, but her body instinctively knew, her tail lashed and it made her hips grind and it was making her wet and squirmy, the bass fondling her intimate regions when she danced over to the speaker stacks, which she did again and again.
If the Canterlot beat was a palace wall of neat white bricks, with sharp corners and a massive, unfeeling perfection that dared you to match its flawlessness, then DJ Pon-3’s beat was an urban wall—grimey, burnt out in places, darkened by haze and smoke and organic stains from the passions of countless ponies screwing while pressed up against it—or sitting on projecting rubble at leisure, making themselves at home. It was a wall you could live with, a beat that didn’t stand aloof like some special experience but enfolded you and insinuated itself into your life. Grimey like a casual urban neighborhood with earth ponies, pegasi and unicorn bustling up against each other all day every day, sharing each others’ joys and pleasures, torn by conflict, drawn together again by the sheer familiarity.
The bass throbbed, seeming to catch the rest of the music in giant paws and crack it like a whiplash—riffs flailing around as loosely yet as dexterously as the dancing pegasi, textures as sharp as a glittering unicorn horn but as flowing as their graceful moves. And when voices came through the din, they were as soulful and heartfelt as the capering earth ponies, unreserved and earnest.
Lyra danced until she staggered, and DJ Pon-3 goaded her and all the rest of the dancefloor on mercilessly, grinning down upon them from the bandstand, trademark sunglasses firmly in place. If she noticed when exhausted Lyra staggered off to find a quiet spot to rest, she didn’t show it.
It had all become too much. Lyra took a few minutes to recover, away from the dancefloor.
She explored the heaving pit of iniquity that had been Sugarcube Corner, looking for somewhere to decompress. A little room off to the side of the entrance beckoned, a cloakroom or something. Lyra quietly scooted into the inviting semidarkness—and froze, inside the doorway.
Not two feet in front of her trembling hooves lay Rainbow Dash, reclining on a heap of cloaks and capes the partiers had worn in the chill of early autumn, her eyes closed, her legs spread, her huge belly seeming round as a ball. The position was one to show off her pony tits and eager vag, but these things could not be seen. They could, however, be heard—for Applejack’s head pressed between Dash’s legs, moaning and nuzzling Dash’s crotch, tongue extended to lick and penetrate Rainbow’s treasure, face shoving hungrily forth to erotically devour the shuddering pegasus as Dash’s leg kicked weakly, drunkenly.
Lyra couldn’t move. Her eyes took in Rainbow’s twitches and cries, and glanced over to see that her earth pony lover seemed possessed, going after the pegasus vag in crazed fashion and writhing as she lay alongside Rainbow. Lyra’s gaze picked up details in the dark, like Applejack’s hat lying upside-down on the floor, the earth pony’s blonde mane strewn wildly across her shoulders as her head jockeyed for position, striving to suckle on pussy with ever louder cries of sweet frenzy against Rainbow Dash’s cute mound.
Lyra’s eyes roamed up Applejack’s squirming body to where her blonde tail thrashed against the spilled cloaks, and there was an extra limb there in the darkness—and it became clear that Applejack wasn’t motivated only by delight in her cunnilingus, though delighted she plainly was. Rainbow Dash’s hoof thrust right between Applejack’s legs, and could be seen working away relentlessly as the sweet earth pony yowled and squirmed and wrapped her lips around Rainbow Dash’s jutting vulva and clit. Dash was clopping her like mad, her buried hoof grinding and fondling at a fevered pace.
Lyra gulped, taking a step back, aroused by the intensity of the private little scene and horrified by her intrusion. As she watched, Applejack’s body jolted and she squealed against Dash’s pussy and redoubled her efforts. Rainbow’s eyes remained closed, but she was baring her teeth, arching her back, her hoof working away against Applejack’s wildly excited vagina, and Dash’s nostrils flared as she took a fierce, panting breath, then another…
Applejack’s hind legs kicked, her tail thrashing as she let out a wavering, sweet cry that took three deep breaths to get out, a cry that was itself muffled because her face kept pressing lovingly against Rainbow’s crotch, pleasuring her lover even as she came, seemingly all the more transported by the desire to please even as her own release overcame her.
Rainbow bore this sexual overload for a moment, wriggling on her back with wings splayed stiffly out to her sides against the pile of clothes, and then she gave a sharp squeal, kicking and thrashing, shrieking her pleasures and going purple in the face. Applejack’s head fell away, and Lyra could see that Dash’s tits had flushed purple as well, and her pussy was straight out of the seamiest clop-magazines, drenched with saliva and its own juices, swollen in savage arousal.
The scent wafted to Lyra and froze her again. Sometimes you got a hit of the pheromones when things went extra well. Lyra breathed in raw Apple-Dash, a concentrated feedback loop of mare perfumes, heady scents that told a tale of utter, eager devotion, of two ponies who’d dove so far into each other that they needed nothing so rude as common air.
Applejack panted, stirring, inhaling the joys of her lover’s marehood, as Rainbow’s hoof withdrew tenderly from between her legs. She reached out for her hat, without looking, and mumbled, “My sakes… now, we got to get you off your back, honey…”
Rainbow’s eyes opened—and met Lyra’s.
“Oh, hi, Lyra!” came the scratchy, wry little voice. “Enjoying the party?”
At this, Applejack’s head jerked upright, and she gazed wide-eyed at their observer, looking like she’d been caught stealing. Her lip quivered, and she seemed torn between anger and guilt.
“Or should I say… enjoying the show?” teased Dash.
“I’m so sorry,” stammered Lyra. “I was trying to find a quiet place!”
Applejack wriggled, and Lyra realized the country pony was trying to get up—but she was too wrung out by the intensity of her orgasms whilst pleasuring her pregnant pegasus, and she just flopped over, her hat falling off again, staring up at Lyra with a vulnerable, stricken look, blonde mane falling across her face. Lyra knew that look. Once upon a time, Bon Bon had worn it regularly, though her vulnerability had been more worshipfulness and less being caught in public.
Applejack laughed softly, blushing.
“Aw. I hope we weren’t too noisy? We’re sorry too, honey. Now I gotta… oof.. get up and get this here varmint… oof! onto her hooves!”
“Maybe I’ll just lie here,” teased Rainbow Dash. “Do it again!”
“Oh no!” said Applejack, struggling harder to rise. Lyra backed away another step, as the earth pony got up and began nuzzling her limp, inflated pegasus, trying to flip her over. “Ya feelin’ tingles? Numbness? Numbskull, more like! Ya can’t lay like that, you miscreant, Spy’s squishin’ your inside parts! Granny told you when it tingles or goes numb, ya gotta flip over!”
Grumbling, squishing, Rainbow Dash rolled her bulk onto her side, kicking a leg in cranky protest. “All right, all right…”
“Do you need help?” said Lyra, her head still spinning from the bath of erotic mare perfumes that wafted forth when the lovers moved.
Applejack cocked a sharp eye.
“We’re good, honey. An’ we’re done, whatever this featherbrain thinks! Sorry for th’ trouble…”
“Oh, it was… you were… uh…” Lyra gulped, as Applejack’s gaze held her. “Beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
The stern earth pony gaze softened.
“Well… thank you. And you can thank this crazy lil’ girl for that, she’s the one who couldn’t wait to get home. I reckon I’m okay with that—jes’ this once. Feelin’ kinda generous, I guess you could say.”
She shook her head, astonished or amused. She snagged her hat with a fore-hoof and flipped it onto her head, gazing out from under it with a sharp, capable eye.
“You run along now, Lyra honey. Go fetch your sweetie and do your own dances. We’re goin’ home as we shoulda done if I wasn’t a consarned sentimental fool—we gotta get to sleep, it’s mighty late!”
Rainbow Dash had struggled, grimacing, to her hooves, flapping chaotically and sending gusts of perfumed air around the little room. “Bah. You loved it and you know it. Am I right? You saw her, didn’t you, Lyra? Look, her hind legs are shaking!”
Applejack glared at her mate indignantly, and then snorted, a smirk stealing across her face. It was true—Rainbow’s hungry clopping and delectable marehood had left Applejack staggered, and her rump quivered as she barely maintained her upright position. Lyra sympathized. She’d been worked over that thoroughly at times, and she wouldn’t have dared to try and stand, right afterwards.
“Still your fault, Dashie.”
“Oh yes,” said Rainbow Dash, proudly—and they set off, making their way past Lyra, their sated, sex-wracked bodies giving off enticing heat and scent, their legs wobbling as they walked sedately out of the cloakroom, down the hall, and carefully out the door to head for home at Sweet Apple Acres.
Lyra listened to them go, and bit her lip.
Sweet Celestia, did she need a lay, after that…
The dance floor churned, but the groove had changed. It felt harder, less organic, the wall of sound no longer bore vines and the stains of pony pleasures. It was simpler, tougher, and the mass of dancing ponies felt opaque—like there would be no space to jump into, though Lyra knew there would be. She studied the gyrating bodies, and glanced up at the bandstand to see a pegasus shaking his forehoof in the air…
“Hey, there you are!” came the perky little voice. Lyra glanced over, startled, and Vinyl Scratch was standing there, with a gawking pony to either side of her. They looked sick with envy as Vinyl trotted over to greet Lyra.
“Whatcha think? Whoof!” gasped Vinyl, stepping back. “What’ve YOU been doing, there, Lyra? I think maybe you’re learning too quick!” She poked Lyra in the chest playfully, with a wicked grin.
“Nothing!” squeaked Lyra. “Or… well, not as much as I’d like!”
DJ Pon-3 cackled, and bounced in place on her hooves, and Lyra began to grin just to see the little unicorn’s energy. Vinyl was bubbling with it. She looked like she was about to caper madly around her two companions—if they even were companions. They stood awkwardly, seemingly afraid to even look DJ Pon-3 in the eye, which would be impossible anyhow due to the big sunglasses. Lyra grinned more, just looking at the group, and Vinyl’s smile threatened to burst off her face, teeth glittering in the warm darkness of the dancefloor, and the two flanking ponies began to look sullen and turn away, unable to grin so happily at a pony celebrity…
“So!” said Vinyl. “Ya line me up a nice stallion?” She said it with complete unconcern, though one of the two awkward ponies was a unicorn stallion. He visibly sulked. The other fan-pony glanced sympathetically at him. She inclined her head. He brightened, and the two began to sidle off, leaving Vinyl and Lyra facing each other.
Lyra gulped. “Y… y… yes?” She couldn’t tear her eyes from those shades. Somehow, she felt the bright gaze transfixing her, even without being able to see it directly.
Vinyl’s horn was glimmering, scintillating faintly. Lyra tried not to stare. She wondered if hers was doing the same, and then corrected herself—she was far too frightened for that.
“Yes is good,” said Vinyl. “I like yes! Where is he? Did you find something nice for yourself?”
“Oh, how I hope so,” breathed Lyra.
“Lead me to him!”
Lyra gulped. “Step outside?”
They walked—or, rather, Lyra walked with shaking hooves, and Vinyl pranced—to the door, and emerged into the cool autumn air. Lyra led the prancing DJ a few paces away, and turned to face the little Neighponnese, feeling her blood turn to water, her knees shaking.
“So where is he?” chirped DJ Pon-3, grinning madly.
Lyra gulped. “I… I would like to be him. For you.”
She died thousands of deaths in the few seconds Vinyl Scratch took to answer. Her grin never wavered, but that was no help.
“I watched you dance,” said the DJ. “You never danced before, did you?”
Lyra shook her head. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she thought she would faint.
“You danced for me,” said Vinyl, and her voice smiled.
Lyra stared, speechless.
“I’m flexible,” said Vinyl. “And you’re ridiculously cute—for a mare, that is.”
Lyra bit her lip, still too terrified to move. Seeing this, DJ Pon-3 heaved an exasperated sigh, dipped her head, and peeked over her lowered sunglasses at Lyra.
Her eyes were to die for, just to die for.
“Care to fuck me?” said DJ Pon-3, with a wry, provocative grin.
Lyra blinked, and Vinyl watched happily as the golden eyes glowed with recognition and delight, as the luminous, radiant unicorn seemed to light up from inside, suffused with excitement and glee until she could hardly stand it.
Vinyl grinned more, as Lyra bounced on four hooves, hopping foolishly in place, frisking like a filly.
“Eeeeeee!” squealed Lyra. “Eeeeeee!”
“C’mon!” grinned Vinyl. Her face hurt from grinning. Well, that was a great gig for you… She set off, prancing like a show-pony. “Pinkie will watch my gear. My place ain’t far!”
Lyra’s trot barely touched the ground.
“No! Not in there, Lyra honey. In here.”
Lyra lingered, staring into the pristine, neat room. “But… spacious!”
Vinyl giggled. “You’re gonna be that rowdy? Might be fun. Seriously, not there. That would be a big no. C’mere.”
She led Lyra into another cluttered room, but this one had a cleared space on the floor. Lyra looked again. No, not the floor—it was a raised platform. With… bedsheets? Except it wasn’t, because it appeared uneven, rumpled…
Vinyl trotted right onto whatever it was, and lay down, grinning up at Lyra, who walked hesitantly forward and felt the surface yield beneath her hooves.
“What’s this?”
“Futon.”
“You sleep on the floor?”
“Not just sleep!” smirked Vinyl Scratch.
Lyra lay down beside her. The material was very firm.
“Thing is,” said Vinyl, “I’m not sure it matters with you. I know what I’m getting into, and it shouldn’t involve a lot of jumping around. Unless you have a wooden dick in that little bag of yours? I wouldn’t think so. Not that there’s anything wrong with that if you do it! Takes all kinds! I just—maybe not so into the wooden dick thing, okay?”
“For what reason?” said Lyra, blinking rapidly, and most discombobulated.
“Oh GAWWWD you do, don’t you?” moaned Vinyl. “All right, what the hell, do me, just no fucking splinters, okay? It goddamn well better be varnished, baby, and go gentle…”
“No, I mean what kind do you like?” said Lyra. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“But I already told you. Soarin’ cock,” smirked Vinyl. “If you have that, I’m gonna be really mad, because I want it attached to his luscious, muscular body. Are you putting me on?”
In answer, Lyra opened her bag and levitated out the magic bit, floating it before Vinyl’s eyes. Her forehead suggested that she was squinting at it, though the sunglasses hid everything.
“I don’t know what ponies have been telling you about Neighponnese,” said DJ Pon-3, “but listen carefully: we are not THAT small in the snatch. Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
“No, no! This is a magical thing. Perfect for unicorns. You bite it, and it turns you into a guy.”
At that, DJ Pon-3 dipped her head and peered over the top of her sunglasses. “Do I get to pick the guy? Do Soarin’. …she said, predictably.”
Lyra sagged. “Uhh… it doesn’t work like that. Here, try it, you’ll see.”
She levitated the bit towards Vinyl’s mouth, but the reaction she got was startling. “Whoa!” yelled the DJ, turning her head aside, scrambling back awkwardly against the wall. Her glasses were askew, and one eye stared in alarm at the floating bit.
“What’s the matter? I’m sorry! Did it scare you?”
Vinyl licked her lips, blinking. “Nah. I’m OK. Just… okay, swear you’ll never tell anypony this. It shouldn’t matter, but… yeah, never tell anypony. Promise?”
“Sure,” said Lyra. She floated the bit back over towards herself, just in case.
“Okay. Wow, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. You’re gonna be part of a very small circle, sweetie, understand… so here’s the thing. I don’t touch any artifact magic, ever.”
Lyra blinked. “But…”
“You got it. Except my decks. My wonderful decks.” She gulped. “We have a thing going. If you called it superstitious you wouldn’t be the first… you can do what you want, I don’t mind any of it, but don’t ask me to work artifact magic, okay? Freaks me out. Now I kinda want to go get my decks… left them at Pinkie’s, and here I am hangin’ out with a strange magic artifact in the bedroom and everything…”
Lyra stood. “Let’s do it!”
“Eeee!” squealed DJ Pon-3. “Really? That’s so understanding. Seriously? You’ll put off sex just to help me out?”
Lyra batted her eyelashes. “For you, my darling, of course!”
Vinyl hopped up and nuzzled under Lyra’s chin. “That’s it, you’re getting the full DJ workout. That’s awesome! I totally appreciate it. Let’s go get ‘em!”
The autumn air seemed even cooler, nipping playfully at unicorn rumps as they trotted back to rejoin the distant thumping of the party.
“Will your decks be… jealous? If the bit lets me… have my way, with you?” asked Lyra.
“Nah. Just humor me. Which you are—so sweet of you! Won’t be a moment. Wait here!”
Vinyl dashed inside, scooting right past several ponies who tried to speak to her, and Lyra waited. Soon, the DJ reappeared, horn glowing brightly as she levitated both turntables and the mixer all by herself.
“Do you want me to get that?” said Lyra.
“Nah. It’s not far—and I want to be carrying them, all of them. Okay?”
Lyra nodded, and they headed back.
The shelves where the gear was kept weren’t just shelves—Lyra hadn’t noticed the first time, but the decks lived on folded velvet fabric, like little bedspreads for the shelves. The fabric was a little nicer than the bedsheets Vinyl slept on. Lyra didn’t comment, as DJ Pon-3 tucked her decks in for the night, covering them with velvet drop-cloths.
She sighed, contentedly, and turned, smiling, walking deliberately over to Lyra and kissing her. “You’re a star, cutie. C’mon, let me show you a good time.”
They returned to Vinyl’s bedroom and the futon, which Vinyl lounged upon, rolling playfully on her back. “Too bad it’s a magic dildo. I wish you could feel this. I’ll let you play other ways, too, okay?”
Lyra blinked. “Oh, I can. I mean I will. It does.”
“Really? Whoa! Now that, I never heard of. How’s that even possible? Lemme see!”
Lyra floated the bit out of her bag again, and took it between her teeth. DJ Pon-3’s jaw dropped, as she watched the fine green erection emerge from between Lyra’s hind legs. Lyra suspected that behind the glasses, Vinyl’s eyes had bugged out. She scooted forward, nosing under Lyra’s body, sniffing and investigating.
“I kn’w it’s n’t th’t big…” said Lyra apologetically. “My… s’meone I knew, w’s bigger…”
“Nice,” said DJ Pon-3. “Oh, don’t you worry—you’re gettin’ Pon-3ed, cutie-pie. You totally won’t feel small, trust me. Besides, that’s not really small, just comfy. Or at least you’re used to thinking of it as comfy… muahahaha…”
Lyra spat the bit out. “Yikes! ‘muahahaha’? Are you gonna bite it?”
Vinyl smirked like mad. “Not exactly. Have you seen this thing before?”
She turned aside, and bent down to grab something out of a pile of blankets, something shiny. It was apparently heavy, for her neck tensed to support its weight, and her teeth gritted to hold onto it. It was a gleaming metal thingy, with a large heavy lump on one end. The shaft was about twice the girth of the magic bit, and made of the same metal. Then, on the far end, there was a much smaller lump. A nub, really.
On closer inspection, it looked as if the thing had started off much like it appeared, but the thickness of the shaft revealed discrepancies. It looked very much like a unicorn transformation spell had taken the large end, and expanded it to be that much bigger and heavier. And, on the other end, had taken the smaller lump, and shrunk it until it was very small. Very very small, relative to the girth of the shaft. So small, that if it had been an equine penis, it would be a true flareless wonder that would pull out immediately at the slightest tug.
Of course, it clearly was not an equine penis. It looked like exercise equipment.
Vinyl smirked terribly, holding her prize. Then she dropped it back where it came from, with a heavy thud. “Well?”
“I have no idea. Is it some sort of dumb-bell? For neck exercises?” said Lyra.
Vinyl cackled. “Not exactly! This is gonna be such fun. I promise I’ll be gentle. To a point… Trust me. We’re gonna have a good time.”
Lyra began to smile. “Oh, you want a good time?” Her smile grew in size and smugness.
“I want you to have a good time! You’re adorable, toots!”
“Lay back,” said Lyra firmly.
DJ Pon-3 straightened her glasses—and laid back, her legs parting—and Lyra moved in, bit-less.
There was no question about it—the celebrity pony understood what Lyra was up to. She wriggled, making herself more comfortable, tilting her hips back and exposing herself to Lyra, whose golden eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the prize before her.
It was such a cute little pussy, too. Just like Vinyl Scratch herself, it was less tall than the usual type, its aperture less elongated… the labia tidy, well shaped, but seeming very small. Lyra felt her own pussy pouting and showing its arousal and approval, but where hers swelled up, where her clitoris jutted out to form an arch of vagina between her legs, Vinyl Scratch’s seemed like it didn’t have enough vulva to do that. So contained, so strangely refined on the little mare…
As Lyra watched, DJ Pon-3’s lips parted, with a vanishingly faint wet sound, revealing moist pinkness that glowed with health and vigor. She squirmed gently, and winked, those little labia flipping outward and then relaxing before Lyra’s entranced eyes.
“Told you I was flexible—c’mon, help yourself!”
Lyra didn’t need two invitations.
Reverently, Lyra’s head dipped, tongue outstretched, and DJ Pon-3’s teeth gritted in pleasure as Lyra’s adoring tongue traced her diminutive labia, stroked inside, pressed a little deeper to savor the heat and dark inner folds of her Neighponnese treasure that she was so proud of. Her tail twitched—this was gonna be good, she could tell. The pretty mare was obviously such a raging lesbian, she knew pussy inside and out—it was like one of those special dudes who really paid close attention. She hoped like hell it wasn’t the kind that took it too far—she didn’t want to be giving direction the whole time—but it was a great start.
Lyra breathed in the exquisite, delicate scents, drank mare nectar, marvelled. What Pinkie Pie always said—it was true—straight girl pussies had less character, but they were sweet like candy. She took a moment to thrust her tongue into Vinyl as deeply as she could manage, sure that the straight mare wanted and needed that reminder of maleness, and marvelled again, for Vinyl Scratch was so bizarrely snug. Lyra knew that she herself wasn’t the roomiest girl, but there was something weird about Vinyl. It didn’t feel just like a small pussy—it felt like she was thrusting her tongue into a yielding space that nevertheless contained unexpected power, positively twitching with expectant, reserved strength.
Lyra’s exploring tongue withdrew from the fevered depths, and her mouth tenderly enfolded Vinyl’s small clitoris, tongue casually stroking up the front wall of her pussy to caress the underside of the small, stiffened nub.
“Gnnnh!”
DJ Pon-3 stiffened, every limb going tense, arching slightly under Lyra’s ministrations. A wave of fresh nectar appeared as if like magic, glistening against Lyra’s tenderly nuzzling chin.
“Oh FUCK babe oh gawwwwd…”
Lyra mmmed as she continued to lick, but DJ Pon-3 had other ideas.
“Oh sweet fucking Celestia… wait wait hold it, save it… nggh! gonna bring me off…”
Lyra looked up and smiled, licking her lips. “You think?”
DJ Pon-3’s glasses were slightly crooked, her mane frazzled. “Wait! Fuck me. You said you can feel it, right?”
Lyra nodded.
“Let me come on you, then!”
Lyra smirked. “But you were about to! I won’t mind if you do. It’s the highest sort of compliment. Just get me a towel and it’ll be fine…”
“No, no, I mean… okay, look, I’ll show you. Enter me again.”
“What?”
“With your tongue! Try and keep it in.”
Lyra blinked, and stuck her tongue out, and dipped her head. It wasn’t difficult to push her tongue into the warmth and wetness of Vinyl’s pussy—in fact, it seemed almost mockingly easy, like the little Neighponnese mare was melting away for her and inviting her flesh deeper and deeper.
Right up to the point where she tensed—and crushed down upon Lyra’s startled tongue, forcing it back out no matter how Lyra struggled.
DJ Pon-3 cackled, gleefully, and then squealed, for Lyra fought back by suckling greedily on her clit some more. “Ngahhh! Oh gawwwd! Stoppit!”
“I will if you tell me what the hell was that?” challenged Lyra, breathing on Vinyl’s quivering, overwhelmed clit.
Vinyl panted, her glasses even more crooked. “Exer. Cises. Hhhh! I… I can make your cock feel incredible. I love it.” She panted more, gathering her wits. “I love what you did, yeah… but come on, babe. Let me show you my stuff. I’m special. I promised you a real DJ Pon-3 workout. You totally earned it. Like, three times over by now, okay?”
Lyra gave her a look, and then didn’t argue further—she rolled away, digging through the rumpled sheets to find the discarded magic bit, taking it in her teeth.
“Wahoo!” squealed DJ Pon-3, flipping over and bouncing to her hooves in the middle of the bed. “Let the serious laying commence!”
As the magic stallionhood eagerly extended itself underneath her, Lyra rolled her eyes. Serious, huh? She licked her lips, savoring the amazing, delicate flavors. Fair enough, she thought.
Vinyl was enticing beyond anything Lyra had seen. Her mane was disheveled, her glasses still askew, her pert rump quivered around the target of a pouting, juicy little marehood that was like a beautiful flowerbud, curiously round like the hot little hole it was, dripping that delectable mare-juice and winking its longings and demands.
Lyra had no desire to hesitate or tease. She mounted onto DJ’s quivering ass, wrapping her forelegs around the little mare’s shapely body, and began to prod with her hips, finding her target. Her luck was in—almost at once, the head of her slender, flared cock touched slippery hotness, and Vinyl shuddered at the touch.
Lyra’s hips shoved firmly, and she’d penetrated DJ Pon-3 with her magic stallionhood.
Her eyes widened. Yes, this was special… Vinyl panted under her, and she could feel the DJ mare gripping her shaft, a peculiar sensation. It wasn’t a narrow band of tautness, either. Felt like she’d thrust into an eager knot of pussy, supple and healthy—like there was room for her to swell up even fatter than she was, but it held, it clung…
Lyra tugged her hips backward, her slender taper going thinner towards the tip, flare coming to life. She gasped, around the bit in her teeth. DJ Pon-3 had felt her doing it, and her unicorn pussy had locked down with effortless strength, clamping onto Lyra’s cock. It locked onto the shaft just behind the flare, and there was no chance that would be tugged out. Lyra’s breath hissed through her teeth, and she hesitated, startled by the tightness of the grip.
DJ Pon-3’s rump wriggled. “Go on!” she moaned. “Go on, stallion. Do it!”
Slowly, firmly, Lyra’s hips pressed forward, and her tapering shaft thrust inch by inch into the numbingly tight, slippery confines of DJ Pon-3’s straining vagina.
Lyra whinnied, senses overwhelming her—things were getting just too damned cramped—but the next thing she knew, Vinyl was wriggling under her and the harshness had melted away. It seemed the DJ had been showing her a trick. Lyra’s crotch pressed Vinyl’s ass, and she felt that amazing snatch grasping at her cock-base with eager tensings, but gentler, without the painful harshness. Lyra realized motion was awfully easy, and heard juicy squelches from each shift of her hips—the trick had turned DJ Pon-3 on, perhaps delivered a sensory jolt as intense for her as it was for her stallion, and it had turned her into a juicy squidge-pot of a little unicorn.
“Oh GAWWWD yes, yes…”
Lyra prodded Vinyl’s depths, rewarded by lewd, voluptuous shudders and wails, and then she had a thought—she knew some things about mares, being one, and she felt her flare getting really hard inside Vinyl. Some part of her, perhaps answering a stallion’s call, was telling her to shove the thing deep, blast away, and dismount—but she thought she might just combine the earthy hunger of the stallion with the sensuous cunning of the mare.
Lyra tugged her hips back, rather than shoving them forward—and carefully positioned the end of her stiffened cock at a certain depth. She bore down on the bit with extra pressure from her teeth, did all she could to stiffen herself—and began working that expanded flare back and forth inside Vinyl, exploring, searching. It wasn’t where the squeezing pussy clamped her with suddenly heightened frenzy. Just a few inches deeper… Lyra thought she almost felt something in there, though of course one didn’t feel it as a lump or object. Just a location she knew might be there, just a stiffened stallion-flare unexpectedly working back and forth across that trigger point in a way natural stallions wouldn’t think to do…
Vinyl Scratch’s body jolted like she’d been struck by lightning. She squealed in shock, jolting again… and then the air was split by wild screams, and Lyra’s cock was being wailed upon with mad, savage clenches.
“AUGH! GAWD! FUCK! OH FUCK! AAAAHHH!”
Lyra grinned around the bit, even though it hurt to receive such punishing erotic rewards, for she knew she’d guessed right—but then her ears quirked, for things had got complicated.
“AGH! DEEPER! NO! WAIT, NOT YET! AHHH!”
Vinyl was trying to pull away, still coming her hooves off. Lyra hugged her body, and said “W’ht? What’s th’ m’tter?”
DJ Pon-3 shook her head wildly, her glasses almost coming off. “Please! Flip over! Please, oh please, quick!”
Startled, Lyra allowed herself to dismount. Vinyl’s pussy yanked at the flare, coming out, but still relaxed enough to permit its withdrawal. As quickly and gracefully as she could, all the while watching the shuddering, reeling mare beside her, Lyra rolled onto her back, stallionhood jutting eagerly up into the air and glistening with Vinyl’s ooze.
DJ Pon-3 trembled, straightening her glasses, and though she staggered, she managed to straddle Lyra. “Best way… we’ll stay together. Ohhhh… hang on!”
With that, she pressed herself back onto Lyra’s stallionhood, flare wedging through her cute gaping entrance, giving one more jolt to her frame as it pushed past that sensitive internal spot, and plunging deeper and deeper until Lyra had sank to the hilt in her lover—who sat up, trembling, a quivery smile on her face, and began to squirm and writhe.
As she did, Lyra felt that amazing unicorn pussy begin to work like it was milking her, urging her stallionhood to go ever harder, coaxing a release with more and more insistence.
She stared up at DJ Pon-3, amazed. The Neighponnese mare was getting into her thing, and she’d begun to jolt and shudder in orgasm again, feeling that stallionhood pressing so deep, pushed snugly against her cervix but with only the pressure that she gave it—though Lyra felt herself begin to make eager hunching, shoving motions, and that apparently wasn’t a bad thing.
Vinyl slowly writhed, singing a lewd wordless song of gasps and wails, grasping onto Lyra’s cockbase with eerie dexterity, her inner walls seemingly fondling Lyra’s cock-head by her gyrations and the way she pressed back onto it. It was like she was masturbating all the spots in her hungry snug marehood at once, against the unyielding stiffness of Lyra’s erection. Perhaps it was more of her special tricks, things that weren’t as relevant used on an artificial stallion made of a mare and a bit, things that would be mind-blowing for a real stallion with only natural urges to drive him. That was surely it…
He would expect to unload in a heaving spurt, and hop off his quivering mare, and yet this time it would be impossible. He’d be lying on his back, stiff as a rock, perhaps impeded a little by the unfamiliarity of it, and atop him, DJ Pon-3 would be writhing, crooning, bringing herself off and pinning him down with her slight body. Perhaps he’d buck and shove, and she’d ride him, and when he came, she’d quiet down and hold very still, and he’d realize he wasn’t dismounting this time, and his eyes would roll back in his head as his huge stallion cock throbbed, enclosed by slick wetness, a tight eager grip holding him at the base and keeping him hard, and that grasp would begin to clench and milk his spasms as they were dragged on beyond anything he could imagine… and when he fainted, she would still be riding him, and she’d sag over his shuddering body, still penetrated, mercifully not squirming any longer, and as he softened he’d shake and quiver all over as the too-intense sensation began to subside with teasing, maddening slowness…
Lyra saw it all in an instant as she took in a sudden breath, her body answering Vinyl’s with a mad surge of arousal… and she felt Vinyl press firmly backwards, taking up all the space inside herself with throbbing hard stallionhood… and Lyra came, slamming her head back against the futon as her body cut loose.
She felt her body spurting into Vinyl’s, felt Vinyl go still and begin to quiver madly all over, she thought she could even feel Vinyl’s tail twitch violently and was sure she heard its dry swishing—the little mare’s tail must have cracked like a whip—and Lyra grinned harder as her sudden fantasy began to play out. She knew there was a twist in store.
Vinyl’s lips parted in a sweet wordless cry, and Lyra drank in the sight, eyes roaming up and down the dainty unicorn body that straddled her. It was ravishing—and she felt ravished, in the nicest way. Lyra also felt pinned down more than she believed possible—Vinyl had to be ramming that cock-head against her cervix with great force, their crotches practically occupied the same spot. There was barely an inch of shaft left glistening in the air. Vinyl’s head swayed dreamily, and it looked like she was riding out her phenomenal orgasm, waiting to gently come back down…
Vinyl blinked, dazedly.
Lyra grinned up at her, around the bit, as Vinyl quivered and continued to twitch in aftershocks that wouldn’t quite stop as she’d expected.
“Fake, r’memb’r? Doesn’t g’t soft.”
DJ Pon-3 stared down at her, mane totally frazzled, glasses askew again, a look of shock on her adorable face.
“So, when y’re tired…” said Lyra, and held out her forelegs invitingly.
Vinyl twitched again. She laughed, breathlessly. With care, she eased herself up, impaling herself less fiercely on the unexpectedly erect stallionhood. She straightened her trademark sunglasses with a look of amused chagrin, and she nestled forward into Lyra’s embrace, moving cautiously, for it wasn’t the stallion’s parts this time that were left an oversensitive wreck of shrieking nerves.
Actually, thought Lyra, they kind of were—but it was so worth it.
“You win,” breathed DJ Pon-3, and laid her head down to sleep, still entwined with her lover.