Trixie patiently pulled the little cart along the Ponyville street.

Twilight Sparkle trotted alongside. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help with that, Trixie?”

“Trixie thanks Mistress, but Mistress has the really important job—holding the umbrella.”

Twilight was indeed holding an umbrella over the cart with her magic, as it rolled awkwardly and reluctantly along. “But… I could do both! You look tired, and I want to help. And it isn’t raining!”

“Please, Mistress! Humor Trixie. Protect her books!”

To this, Twilight had no answer, because she understood completely.

They’d struggled for miles, with Trixie pulling the little cart down from the mountains and Twilight accompanying her every step of the way with the umbrella. She’d offered to protect Trixie from the sun with the umbrella, but had abandoned the idea under a storm of very submissive protest, and so they’d come all the way with Trixie’s books sheltered from nonexistent rain.

Trixie’s life before meeting Twilight had been nightmarish—trapped in a strange sexual curse of her own devising by the original kinky magic bit she’d created, she had lived a series of episodes where the bit was discovered by strangers who’d used its penis-bestowing powers to enjoy themselves, and who then found themselves servicing her in spellbound compulsion. She’d been run out of town, had her cart destroyed more than once, had been responsible for the deaths of such ponies when she’d been unable to squirt magic in unicorn orgasm to trigger the curse’s off switch. Unicorn ejaculation was meant to be a profound intimacy, and Trixie’s mind had nearly snapped when she’d worked out she had to hit epic sexual peaks simply to switch to the ‘run out of town’ part of her life—or doom her ensorceled lovers.

She’d been a sadomasochistic ‘switch’ all along, but had drifted into a fearsomely dominant mode just to mask the self-loathing—and then she’d come to Ponyville, and met Twilight Sparkle. Their courtship had been impossibly twisted and perverse—which was perfect—and had, astonishingly, led to this stable relationship with another pony like her. A dark star, with even more power than Trixie could boast of, and ferocity coupled with tenderness. Trixie’s love was utter and complete—so complete, that she’d decided to fetch her library.

Twilight had been shocked. She’d seen Trixie’s cart smashed by an Ursa Minor, and saw no books in it—but upon explanation, she’d understood perfectly.

Trixie’s library was no more than a few hundred books—nothing compared to Twilight’s—but there was no room for more, because Trixie’s library, in the other sense, was a cave. It was a dry cave and hard to get into, defended against animals and birds by a serviceable warding cantrip, without even a chair or table because that would take space that could be devoted to books. It was hard even to get up to this cave, but Twilight had insisted on seeing inside, and she’d wept then, thinking of what it meant.

Through everything, through all the episodes of traveling magic performer and sexual curse bearer and being run out of town, Trixie had been able to return to this secret cave, and her library. It had been protected to the best of her ability, and had probably kept her sane—or what Trixie had in place of sane. The library was always out there, a secure place she could return to. She’d told Twilight that she spent thousands of bits and unguessable effort storing magical energy in arcane batteries, just to maintain the warding spell for centuries in the event of her death. Her idea had been that if she’d died, merciful fate might let her haunt the cave—she always left a book unfinished when she left it.

The curse was gone, Trixie’s desperate nomadic life was changed, and now the warding spell would guard nothing. Now all the books were on the cart Trixie pulled—bound for Twilight’s home. It made Twilight feel quite wobbly.

“I noticed your filing system was slightly different from my own,” said Twilight.

Trixie nodded, dragging the cart along with steady little hoofsteps. “Trixie developed a fondness for Canterlot Library filing, middle period. Mistress prefers a more current system.”

“It’s just that magic books make more sense when categorized that way, instead of chronologically…”

Trixie sniffed. “Practicality is not everything, Mistress. There is a sense of continuity when the history of unicorn magic is organized by time. One can almost feel the periods of great discovery and innovation—centuries or even decades where field after field broke through to new sophistications, and then the patient studying of what was learned, the refinement…”

Twilight nodded. “And even though the subjects are unrelated—it gives you more of a feeling about this?”

“Didn’t you feel it, Mistress?” asked Trixie.

“You know, I really did, though I didn’t think about it in those terms. I’m beginning to wonder whether… I mean, as nice as it would be to see these books among my shelves…”

She stopped—because Trixie had stopped, in her tracks. “Um. I phrased that wrong, didn’t I?”

“Mistress!” sputtered Trixie, horrified.

Twilight studied her lover. “I take it we’re not breaking up the collection—or shall we say, merging them? Forgive me, Trixie, I wasn’t thinking. Maybe I jumped to conclusions with that whole being-my-willing-slave thing that you do?”

Trixie calmed herself, slowed her breathing, resumed her steady walk. “Mistress, Trixie’s soul is yours. Trixie would lay down her life for you. That shall not change in any particular—but hooves off my library! Mistress may read it. Just know—Trixie’s library stays intact, as she has known it. Please?”

“Of course, my love!”

“Trixie admits that saying please is merely politeness, as she would turn this cart around if it’s a problem…”

“It’ll be however you want, Trixie,” said Twilight Sparkle. “I just didn’t realize we had that much in common.”

Trixie glanced at her Mistress and smiled, and kept going.

Twilight thought. “I think I can give you the best shelves. Absolutely no direct sunlight on the shelves, but there’s a nice spot nearby where you can sit on a cushion and read and there’s a sunbeam around ten in the morning on nice days… of course, I’ll have to empty them. Hmmm… you know we’re going to have stacks of books that won’t fit the shelves.”

“Of course,” said Trixie happily. “Mistress already has that.”

Twilight blinked. “Spike complains when I do it. You don’t mind books overflowing everywhere?”

Trixie just smiled, radiant.

They paced along some more, and then Twilight nuzzled Trixie’s flank. “You smell awfully good.”

Trixie snickered. “Mistress! Voracious!”

“Well, you do!”

“What does this suggest to Mistress?”

Twilight smirked. “I could go either way, honestly. I hope you’re not too tired from all the pulling? It’s okay if you are. I can wait. …briefly.”

Trixie smirked right back. “Mistress need not worry. Trixie is filled with enthusiasm.” She blinked. “Come to think of it, isn’t that odd?”

“What, that you want to jump me? Or be jumped?” Twilight glanced around, realizing she was having the conversation on a Ponyville street, within sight of her home. She went on, lowering her voice. “How can that be odd when we’re doing that every chance we get?”

“Well,” said Trixie, “was Mistress always like this? Trixie has a feeling that she is more amorous lately than she used to be. Trixie wonders if our Mark Three bits might be… leaking.”

This time, it was Twilight’s turn to stop and stare. “Define ‘leaking’!”

“Magical artifacts can emanate subtle purpose. Do not worry, Mistress, Trixie was fine even being around the Mark One bit for years, but… it did tend to bring a lustfulness, this is how it found such eager use. The ones we’ve made thrive on love, they may even be making us more loving by their influence—which comes originally from us, remember—but still! Mistress, face it, we’re horny.”

Twilight licked her lips, but in concern—though Trixie’s eyes dilated, just seeing that cute little scrap of pony tongue. “I can’t argue that. Do you think it’ll build up in a negative way?”

“Trixie does not think so. Trixie thinks it is more of a gentle predisposition… we could… study it?” The blue unicorn kept a straight face for a few seconds, and then a wicked smirk crept over her face, as expected, for she understood Twilight far too well.

“Oh, you!” giggled Twilight, but she broke off at a cry of “Twiliiight!”

It was Pinkie Pie, running—no, staggering—towards them.

“You’ve got to help, Twilight!”

“Pinkie! What’s the matter?”

The two unicorns stared in shock at Pinkie. As she approached, her condition became more apparent. Pinkie looked like she’d been dragged backwards through a hedge of tongues. Her eyes were wild, her mane unkempt, and her body was covered with lick and bite marks.

“Applejack broke up with Rainbow Dash!” she cried.

Twilight and Trixie glanced at each other in alarm, and Twilight’s first reaction was, “What do you expect me to do about that?”

“I don’t know! Talk some sense into them, hit them with a spell or something…”

Trixie opened her mouth, but caught another glance from Twilight and didn’t speak. Twilight said, “Pinkie, it’s not fair to ask that! What gave you that idea?”

“It isn’t?” said Pinkie. “If you can magic a doll and have all of Ponyville fighting over it, can’t you magic their pussies the same way? They’re both almost that good already, take it from an expert! Maybe they just need a little old nudge!”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” snapped Twilight, “I got in all kinds of trouble over that one! I can still hear Princess Celestia saying ‘Twilight Sparkle!’ and coming down from above to fix everything. I was lucky not to be sent to magic kindergarten!”

“Mistress would never be sent back to magic kindergarten!” protested Trixie. “What is Mistress talking about?”

“It’s a long story…”

“Well then,” suggested Pinkie, “you could… we’ll make a cake, and I can get them to eat it. But secretly, you’ve magiced the cake to cause them to be unbearably horny, and then we lock them in a room with toys and a big vat of pudding…”

“No, Pinkie! No magic matchmaking of any kind! And do you really think Rainbow Dash needs help to be unbearably horny? Look at you! Do I need to guess what you’ve been doing?”

Pinkie batted her eyelashes. “Oh. That. You’ve got a point, Twilight. Hey, come to think of it, I’ve been unbearably horny myself too, more than usual. What’s up with that?”

Twilight and Trixie looked at each other worriedly, and Twilight turned back to Pinkie.

“We should talk about that more, later. But for right now, please don’t ask me to do magic things to interfere in Applejack’s and Rainbow Dash’s relationship. I mustn’t get in trouble right now. Princess Celestia is coming!”

Pinkie’s eyes bugged out. “She’s coming here? Again? And you didn’t tell me? Do you realize how much planning it takes to make pastries of that quality? I’ve got to get started immediately, if not sooner! What’s the occasion?”

“It’s not an occasion! Princess Celestia is coming to visit me tomorrow. I’ve told her about my new marefriend—that’s Trixie, here, of course—and she wants to meet her.”

Pinkie bounced. “Wow! What an occasion!”

Twilight’s eyes were frantic. “There is no occasion, it is nothing but a simple social call! Please excuse us, I have to get home and clean everything I own…”

“So,” said Pinkie, “not even one little love spell, just to sort of remind them…”

“No! They’ll just have to work things out between themselves! And maybe you’d better clean yourself up before then,” said Twilight. “You… look like you’ve been fucking a pack of wild pegasuses.”

“Or Diamond Dogs,” offered Trixie, cattily, before shutting up at another glance from Twilight.

Pinkie didn’t object. “Tell me about it,” she sighed. “That’s exactly what it’s like, that’s why I wanted help. If you won’t help with magic, maybe you could come and…”

“Pinkiiieee!” came a distant call—a particular scratchy little voice.

“That’s… really not a good idea,” said Twilight.

Pinkie gave her a weary glance. “Okay. But I hope you can come up with something to do—I’m just one pony, you know! Promise you’ll help.”


“Pinkiieeeeee!!” cried Rainbow Dash, in the distance.

“Pinkie Promise!” demanded Pinkie, glancing nervously back over her shoulder.

“Fine! Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a cupcake in my ARGH!” squeaked Twilight, who’d poked herself in the eye again attempting the promise. “You happy?”

“It’s other ponies’ happy that I’m concerned about,” said Pinkie simply. “Thank you! Gotta run!”

“Don’t expect too much!” called Twilight, but Pinkie was already running back to Sugarcube Corner.

“Coming, Dashie!”

Twilight and Trixie stared at each other, until Trixie spoke. “Well… that was a romance for the ages.”

“Don’t joke about it! I went through a lot over that stuff. I thought those two were supposed to be perfect for each other, in love and everything! Now she’s telling me they’re—pffft?”

Trixie considered this. “Doesn’t have to matter to you.” Then, she blinked, and looked stricken. “Um… does it matter to you? Mistress?”

The next thing she knew, Twilight’s eyes were gazing deeply into hers, and she felt the gentle clunks and scrapings of Twilight’s horn rubbing hers—a unicorn’s kiss, in public this time, and Twilight said, “Absolutely not. I don’t have to pretend anything with you, Trixie. Give me credit for being smart enough to know that. Please.”

Trixie quivered, and sat back on her haunches, the heavily laden cart rolling back a foot as she dropped. “Oooh… But Mistress, what is a Pinkie Promise? And why does it involve poking your eye with your hoof?”

Twilight glowered. “The important thing is, it’s serious. Darn it, why did this have to come up today? We have to get back, set up the shelves for your books, clean the whole house for the Princess’s visit, and now I have to get Applejack and Rainbow Dash back together? And yes, now I have to—I promised. Pinkie Promised.”

“Trixie will have to take your word for it. And it sounds like a good idea—if you don’t mind Trixie saying so.”

“No, I don’t mind,” said Twilight. “Even I can see it now—they’re a cute couple, perfect. Or they were… Trixie, do you think it’s the bits causing that? We’re all horny, Pinkie said she is too—what if Applejack and Rainbow Dash broke up because of being too horny?”

Trixie looked skeptical. “Trixie finds it hard to imagine THOSE ponies being too horny—or at least, Trixie finds it hard to imagine that causing any problems for them.”

“I don’t know. When I came into my full marehood,” said Twilight, “it made me pretty crazy for a while. I didn’t do anything until—well, until I met you and Applejack and found all of this bit stuff, but some of the things I wanted to do would’ve gotten me in big trouble. I wonder if being too horny caused Applejack to have bad judgement or make bad decisions? She’s done it before, and sometimes it takes all of us to snap her out of it.”

“Trixie fears she won’t able to be much help there,” said Trixie, and hung her head.

Twilight’s horn gently rubbed hers, again.

“You be there for me,” said Twilight. “That can be your job. That’s an order, in fact. I’ll see what I can do for them… and right now, let’s get these books moved.”

Trixie got to her hooves, and the cart began to move again, the umbrella hovering over it as before.


“I’m here! I’m here!” cried Pinkie Pie, galloping up the stairs and through the door.

Rainbow Dash lay on the bed. Both were a sight. Rumpled, unkempt, covered with fluids—and the bed was no better off. The bed, however, was not crying, and Dashie was.

“More!” she sobbed.

“Oh, Dashie!” said Pinkie Pie, and rushed to her, gathering the exhausted pegasus up in a fierce hug. “I’m here!”

Dash was so wrung out that she was limp in Pinkie’s embrace, but she jerked as Pinkie’s sturdy earth pony forelegs wrapped her body, for they’d shoved one of her limp wings up awkwardly.

“Gyaahh!” squeaked Rainbow. “No touchie! No touchie!”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” said Pinkie, readjusting her hug, pressing Dash’s fevered body to hers. “I know you don’t like that, Dashie. I’ll be more careful.”

Rainbow weakly nuzzled under her chin, her face a mask of woe.

“It’s really weird, though, Dashie, because you know Fluttershy isn’t like that at all…”

Rainbow’s face twisted, and she muttered, “Figures…”

“I don’t know if she would be willing to help me with this,” said Pinkie, “because what she likes is so different, but I could…”

“No!” said Rainbow Dash.


Rainbow tried to explain. “Not her! Not now! After the thing she did…” She choked up again, thinking about it. She’d trusted Fluttershy to be with Applejack in bodysex, and found out too late that she’d got all wing-fondley on the country mare. And now, with Applejack having a taste for pegasus wings, and being available, thought Rainbow… her lips could be tugging Fluttershy’s feathers even now…

Pinkie looked shocked. “Rainbow, was it Fluttershy who came between you two? I’m really surprised! I thought I was taking care of her! What is she doing breaking you two up?”

Dash shook her head. “No, no, she isn’t. She didn’t. It’s complicated…”

“But what happened? You never told me, Dashie. Just that Applejack had dumped you. I’m sorry!” said Pinkie, for that had provoked another storm of weeping.

“I don’t want to talk about that. I don’t want to think about it. Can’t you just do me some more? Pleeeease! Wear me out!”

Pinkie gulped. “Rainbow Dash, you are an athlete! Do you know how hard you are to wear out? And I’m not sure I should even be doing it, silly filly! Can’t I just hold you?”

Rainbow sniffled. “Pleeeeease! It makes me feel better MORE…”

Pinkie’s eyes glistened. She kissed Dash hard on the lips, and tenderly settled her back onto the rumpled bed, Rainbow’s frazzled wings blending with the disheveled sheets.

“Well, if you put it that way…”

Dash nodded, her eyes huge and pitiful to behold. “Pleeeease! Please can I have more? I’m not passed out yet.”

“You mean,” said Pinkie, “you didn’t STAY passed out.”

Dash gazed imploringly at her, and Pinkie sighed. “I have a sneaky feeling I shouldn’t be doing this, but… for you, Dashie, I’ll try.”

She set her jaw, and worked it from side to side, staring determinedly into space. She extruded her tongue, watched closely by Rainbow Dash, and formed it into loops, then stairsteps. She gave a little nod—and lowered herself to the bed, between Dash’s legs.

“And you, you try to feel better, okay?” said Pinkie.

Dash sniffled. “Mmkay…” she said, and then her head went back, her teeth bared in a grimace, to the sound of a bold slurp.

Pinkie Pie knew her target, knew her intimately, had been working on Dash’s body all afternoon: she knew she didn’t have to be gentle, rather the contrary. And so the full length of Pinkie’s astonishing tongue, in all its reality-defying bulk, had plunged into Rainbow Dash’s pussy with a single rambunctious plunge. It pried her vagina wide as the bulbous form of Pinkie’s tongue thrust into her, and then tapered down by the base for the time being, as that mass got accustomed to the familiar pegasus-pussy surroundings it had known so many times before.

Pinkie took a few deep breaths, staring at nothing with a wearied expression on her face. Her tongue twitched, and the base thickened for a moment as her muscles tensed and relaxed. Dash squirmed as that slithery bulk expanded in her briefly, and gave a soft breathy cry that mingled grief and surrender.

Pinkie nuzzled Rainbow’s jutting clitoris gently with her nose, feeling sorrow for her poor, wounded play-lover—and set about trying to bring her the release she’d pleaded for.

After all, thought Pinkie—Rainbow isn’t the only athlete in here, is she?

Rainbow’s legs tensed, as the tongue began to work inside her, and she bit her lip. Pinkie knew what she liked, and she liked it wild. Some mares weren’t up to the challenge—Pinkie had shared her gifts with Applejack once, and Dash had to go after Pinkie at the same time to knock her off her ‘Such A Waste’ groove. She’d made her tongue imitate a rigid, unvarying penis to soothe the panicky country mare, and that was ‘Such A Waste Mode’.

Dash required no such restraint, and Pinkie knew it.

Inside Dash’s womb, the tongue writhed like a snake.

Rainbow panted, her eyes blurring and seeing double, her body jolting into a state of erotic overload—partly by the sensation, and partly by knowing that she’d kicked Pinkie into full effort, a thing the pink pony rarely got to deliver. Pinkie liked letting herself go, and was careful to avoid it with most partners. Rainbow had demanded it all afternoon until she was a churned puddle of feathers and ponyflesh, and was demanding it again.

She arched her back, pounding the bed with a forehoof, her head twisting and lashing from side to side as Pinkie’s slippery muscle contorted within her. It licked her insides all over, then doubled itself, swelling and surging until she felt stuffed to bursting—and just as she began to squeal and shake in orgasm, she felt the tongue subside, and Dash dropped back down to the bed, panting. She tried to focus, and looked down to see what Pinkie was doing.

She saw Pinkie Pie looking back at her with an intense, concentrated gaze, as if she was trying to think of something very tricky. Rainbow’s heart lurched deliciously as that amazing tongue, sunk deeply into her pussy, twitched—and changed.

Dash couldn’t blink. She stared down at Pinkie’s head between her legs, Pinkie’s eyes shut in concentration—and Dash began to shake again, and moan in shock, and then scream breathlessly at what Pinkie was doing to her.

Inside her pony vag, that strange tongue formed shapes it had never formed before, shapes like incongruous objects or machinery. Knobs poking out, creating bulges on her lower belly as they shoved and pried against her inner walls. Eggbeater-like objects that rotated in two directions at once. And finally, as Pinkie panted with exertion, a large triangular something wedged uncomfortably into Dash’s vag, that first twisted, causing Dash to shriek in shock as pleasure-pain stabbed her… and then began to rotate inside Dash like some obscene machine.

Pinkie was pouring sweat. Her eyes were half-open, crossed, and her face grimaced as she kept it going.

The triangle shape was like a triangular wheel, upright, rolling its way out of Rainbow’s vagina while being held in place. The slightly blunted points of the thing pried Rainbow’s pussy all out of shape as they stubbornly rotated against her inner walls—and every time a point went by, a little bulge appeared on her lower belly and shifted downward towards Pinkie’s sweating face, to disappear and be replaced by another.

And every single bulge meant a fleshy triangle-point dragged firmly across Dash’s g-spot…

Rainbow thrashed. She blew her voice out in three appalling shrieks, going purple in the face, and still Pinkie didn’t stop. She kept it up, eyes clamped shut with the final extremity of her exertion, until she felt Rainbow’s body sag against the bed, her vagina unclench—though it still shuddered against her with aftershocks—and until she heard Rainbow’s screams die away into deep, unconscious gasping for air.

Then, Pinkie collapsed, letting her tongue go limp all at once.

“Ow…” she said quietly to herself, and began withdrawing her tongue in satisfaction—only to freeze, for out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rainbow Dash’s head begin to come up.

It didn’t make it—it fell back onto the pillow. Pinkie pulled her tongue back into her mouth, wincing at the muscle strain she’d given herself, and sat up, leaning over Rainbow’s limp, quivering body. She crooned, very quietly, “Sleep now, darling m…”

“More,” managed Dash.

Pinkie blinked in shock. “What?”

Dash panted, and tried to speak, but it was just a croak. She swallowed, and tried again. “More. Please…”

Pinkie, horrified, shook her head. “There is no more. I can’t do more.”

“Pleeease?” sobbed Dash.

“Well, I can’t!” squeaked Pinkie. “You should just let me hold you! I can’t believe this. You need to rest now! You and me both, sister!”


“Something tells me you are turning to sex like it is a hoof to the head! I should have seen that coming! Rainbow Dash, I am not going to let you turn to sex in a way that you obviously shouldn’t! There is nothing more that I can do for you. No pony could do what you ask!”

“Is that so?” managed Rainbow Dash, trying to sit up and having a tough time of it.

“And they shouldn’t! Dashie, behave, let me hold you, this is wrong. I’m not going to fuck you until your feelings go away!” cried Pinkie Pie.

That sank home. Rainbow Dash shrank back, as if Pinkie had struck her—but then her eyes narrowed, and she began fighting to get up. She rolled over to the side of the bed, and fell off it with a fluffy thump, in a flurry of ragged feathers and disheveled tail.

“Where do you think you’re going?” demanded Pinkie.

Rainbow Dash got to her hooves, glaring down at Pinkie even as she wobbled back and forth.

“I’ll just have to go and find somepony who will, then, won’t I? If it even has to BE a…”

Her eyes glittered, as if she’d had a thought, and she turned and staggered across the room.

“Dashie! No!”

Rainbow Dash heaved herself through the window with a crashing of glass, and dropped out of sight.

Pinkie scrambled after her, horrified, and looked down. Below her, she saw Dash—not on the ground, but lurching into the sky as if blind drunk, barely able to cling to the air, but fighting her way along regardless.

Pinkie watched silently as Dash made her unsteady way up into the clouds, bearing to the south. Eventually she was lost to sight.

Pinkie banged the window frame with a hoof in frustration, fell back, and collapsed into her bed, damp with sweat and Rainbow Dash’s juices.

“This won’t end well,” she sighed. “Twilight, I am so counting on you now! Don’t fail me!”