Leftovers

Dashie still looked cranky, twelve hours later, and Applejack could bear it no longer.

“Would y’all quit glaring?” she said. “I got half a mind to give you a nip.”

“Sure!” snapped Dash. “A lot of use that would be, now!”

“Beg pardon?”

Rainbow Dash just glowered, with that sulk that was adorable… until it wasn’t. Until you needed to get past it—until being able to talk, mattered.

Applejack braced herself. “You have been awful all night, missy. What do you expect from me? I am surprised you’re even here, actin’ like you are. Ain’t you got a cloud somewhere to go sit on?”

“Well, excuse me if I don’t want to let you out of my sight!”

“Now, what the hay is that s’posed to mean?”

“Seriously, Applejack, sometimes you are just not very smart!”

This twist set Applejack back on her hooves. She began to snap back, stopped herself, gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut while the first three things that came to mind went unsaid, and finally looked sourly at her Dashie, her ears back.

“I reckon there must be some reason for you to say that to me, darlin’, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like that reason, right now. Spell it out for th’ unclever pony, Miss Clever. I thought I was bearin’ up pretty well, all things considered.”

That cracked Rainbow Dash’s shell of cranky-pony. Her eyes glistened for a moment, though her sigh was still of frustration and anger. “That’s just it! You are. I can’t stop loving you for that…”

“You ain’t showin’ it!”

“I’m a little on edge, Applejack, bear with me.”

“I am tryin’ to, but you won’t even say what burr y’all got up your ass!” Applejack stamped the ground. “I have had a hard day! You can go fly away RIGHT now, or you can tell me what is botherin’ you!”

“Fine!” said Rainbow Dash, nose-to-nose with her. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention? This. You nearly died!”

Applejack looked down, suddenly. “Oh. That. I think I heard Pinkie say somethin’ to that effect. I kinda missed everythin’ there.”

There was a quaver in Rainbow Dash’s voice. “You kinda promised I wouldn’t have to worry about that. It’s not fair. Pinkie told me all about what was happening while you were plowing. Your fields, I mean… but yeah, she was telling me what it did to you while you were plowing Trixie. How many times did you go back in there?”

“Ah don’t remember, to be honest, Dashie. Once I started, it were a blur, and I jes’ woke up later feelin’ sore. …wait a minute,” said Applejack. “You din’t look fresh as a daisy either. I remember Twilight looked real wrung out. Are you sayin’ we all risked death?”

“I can’t stand it, Applejack. I gave that thing to you. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have almost died. I’ve got to protect you better from now on.”

“But… what about me protectin’ you? And what about poor Twi, who ain’t as strong as us?”

“Bah, danger, Rainbow Dash—it’s like the same word. That’s not the point! It’s.. just… Please, even if I’m mad and upset, don’t tell me to go away? I need to be able to see you being still here.”

She got more than that, for Applejack teared up, and the next thing Rainbow Dash knew, she was clamped in a fierce hug, and Applejack was saying “Always. Always…” and both ponies were crying, releasing the tensions of the day.

When they parted, the anger was gone… until Applejack sighed, and said, “Come on up to bed, darlin’ love.” It was only a flash, and Rainbow Dash tried to shake it off, but it was too late—Applejack had seen it, and her weary eyes narrowed once more.

“All right. Now what? Out with it.”

Dash’s gaze was a heartwrenching blend of pique and sorrow as she dutifully answered.

“I just… I want to fuck you, and make you feel good. And now I can’t, anymore.”

“An’ that makes you mad? Aw, sugar. Ya know there’s still some stuff I can do with you. I’d like that. But I hear ya—I’m in th’ same boat.”

“I know,” said Rainbow Dash, sulking. “Now I’m mad at myself—because I’m mad about that, too, and I have no right to be.”

Applejack sighed, and hung her head for a moment.

“Come on, sugar,” she said, “come up to bed anyhow. One of th’ things we got to do is sleep.”

They plodded up the stairs, and crawled into bed as if carrying great burdens, and Applejack took Rainbow Dash into her embrace with determined strength, hugging her tightly. Dashie wouldn’t squirm or be sexy at first, until Applejack had stroked her belly for a while and nuzzled her from behind—then the sulking pegasus loosened up a little, and began to breathe heavily and wriggle.

Her body was as delicious as ever, and Applejack felt the longing to penetrate her, and ignored it. She deliberately sought out the feeling of the old days, days when she’d longed for Rainbow Dash and knew nothing of perverted magical artifacts. Days when she’d explored the idea of just touching Rainbow Dash intimately, just as another mare—days when she’d clopped herself senseless to such thoughts, and it had been enough of a fantasy all by itself.

Now, the reality was there between her forelegs, warm, wriggling and making little pleasure-cries. Applejack’s hoof wandered gently down between Dash’s hind legs, caressing her tidy little breasts, and moved onwards—until she was petting and twiddling the outside of Dash’s puss.

Dash crooned, and her leg kicked the air dreamily as Applejack clopped her. Dash’s clitoral hood swelled and jutted, and Applejack could feel her own doing the same thing—pouting and slickening for a thrust that would not arrive. She thought of the thing Lyra had talked about, when Dash confronted her—the strapped-on wooden thing that the unicorn had hated so. Perhaps they’d be able to resort to such a thing, at least between each other. Dashie was unlikely to make those objections. It would be a shame not to feel her…

Or perhaps the best course might be to beg Twilight to help. Twi was such a strong magic user—perhaps she could re-make the magic bit, somehow. Applejack nodded to herself. Tomorrow, she would go and put the idea in Twi’s head. It seemed likely that she would like that idea—she sure seemed to like the dickin’, at least. It also seemed like maybe bringing Dashie along wouldn’t be the best move. How could she tell Twilight, ‘please make me a magic dick, but it’s because I’m in love with somepony else’? Applejack frowned, considering that. Twilight would never go for that. You might as well ask Trixie, except she was doubtless long gone.

Rainbow Dash made an inquisitive noise, and Applejack realized she’d paused while thinking. She gave a snort, and her hoof got busy again, to appreciative cries from her slutty pegasus—and, hesitantly, shyly, but unmistakably, Rainbow Dash’s wing began to lift, until it projected up, quivering and expectant.

Applejack smiled. If they’d lost half of their erotic language with each other—two mares who liked to switch things up and were real good at it—they hadn’t lost this.

While Applejack still clopped Rainbow’s shuddering body, her head bent down, and her lips tenderly embraced the shank of Rainbow’s wing.

Dash gasped, and her vag pouted harder and went extra slick, winking fiercely. Applejack’s lips munched softly on cerulean feathers. She remembered how explosive things could get, and she wasn’t aiming to explode her pegasus all at once. She nuzzled and licked Dash’s wing shank, and then returned to her gentle mouthing, her strong teeth not even in play.

Dashie shook, moaning drunkenly. She began to pant, seeing double, losing coordination as her body was flooded with waves of unbearable arousal, but in the form of a tide, not a crashing wave. Her heart pounded.

“Mmmmmm…” teased Applejack. She clopped more firmly with her hoof, and was gratified to feel a jolting and shuddering through Dash’s fevered body. It took that little to bring her slutty pegasus off, and now Dash was coming steadily, her juices coating Applejack’s tender hoof, and her wing was still imprisoned willingly between Applejack’s lips.

Applejack began to close her jaw, so delicately, just enough to provide the hint of a grip—firm hard teeth, gently grasping Rainbow Dash’s wing-shank, Applejack’s jaw lazily shifting from side to side against its feathery prey.

“…aaaaaaaahhh!” cried Dash, after fighting to draw a breath. She’d gone purple in the face and chest, and the ponypussy Applejack kneaded was now a sculptural scandal of swollen mare-parts glazed with pony juice, which Applejack’s hoof smeared heedlessly all over—but Applejack’s and Rainbow Dash’s attention was held on just one thing—the sky-blue wing pointing quiveringly at the ceiling, as Applejack’s teeth slowly chewed harder and harder on its base. Feathers flared out, trembled, as if the hapless pegasus was electrified.

She might as well have been. Rainbow Dash shook and sobbed as orgasms romped more and more boldly through her trim body, helpless in the slowly tightening grip of her earth pony lover. She wailed, and then bucked her head back and forth hard enough that, if Applejack’s head wasn’t elsewhere, it would’ve risked a concussion. But her mare’s head wasn’t right behind hers, it rested behind her shoulder with mouth wrapped around her wing base, and teeth bearing down more and more firmly as Applejack’s hoof worked away.

Applejack’s nostrils flared, and she felt herself begin to climax as well, just a bit, from nothing more than her adoration and the intensity with which she resonated with her lover. Dash was writhing and wailing, firm and hot and mad with passion, and it was everything Applejack had ever fantasied and more, and Applejack let herself go and threw herself into the experience.

Rainbow Dash shrieked. Applejack was twisting her neck, as if tenderly trying to rip Dash’s wing clean off, nudging Dash’s body back and forth by it. Dash felt the twisting send jolts through the thick layers of muscle supporting her wings, the sensation flooding her upper back. It was as if Applejack had found a way to gnaw both wings at once—or as if she was playing a game of devouring Rainbow Dash’s body, wings first. Every gentle twist sent outrageous, obscene, intimate sensations deep into Rainbow Dash’s back, and she could only scream breathlessly, rocked by the irresistible building of her orgasm until it reached an unthinkable point where she reeled and gave herself over utterly to it, her spirit crying out ‘yes! turn me to jelly, devour me, do everything we mustn’t do, rip my wings right off, eat me up’ as her voice flagged and failed…

Applejack paused—and softly released the wing held in her mouth. Dashie had passed out, her breath harsh and shallow, so wrung out that even her aftershocks were little more than exhausted twitches. Applejack stared at the back of her head for a minute, then carefully drew the beloved pegasus’s body closer, and lay her head against the pillow beside Dash’s.

It was all right that Dashie got the best part of things, felt Applejack. It was going to be tough to deal with never being mare to Dash’s stallion again. It’d be tough for Dash to cope, as well—Applejack remembered that very first day, with proud Dashie showing her new toy, and insisting with a stomp of the hoof that Applejack be the one to use it on her, first. And such a reward it had turned out to be, as both mares got in touch with all sides of themselves… only to have the gift turn treacherous, and then be taken away entirely.

Applejack shut her eyes against the tears. She’d wanted so many incompatible things. She’d wanted a stallion, or at least dickings, but she’d longed for Rainbow Dash. And now she had Dash, but there would be no more stallion for her—she was a fillyfooler and had better like it, because she was not going to leave Dashie—ever.

“Please, Celestia,” breathed Applejack almost inaudibly, “if this is all we have now, let it be enough.”

Rainbow Dash’s lovely ear twitched weakly. Applejack nuzzled against her, and fell asleep.


It was strange that anypony would knock, so late. Lyra trotted over, glowering, to open the door, preparing to deliver a withering verbal beatdown to the foal who interrupted her miserable evening, but she didn’t even get a word out.

“Hi!” went Pinkie Pie, and blew a party squeaker in her face, the thing unrolling to poke her in the nose.

Lyra’s eyes crossed as she stared at it, and then she moved to shut the door, but Pinkie had already trotted in. Lyra stamped a hoof. “Beat it!”

“I don’t think we need to be kinky that way!” replied Pinkie. “I think we need more lovings and less beatings, tonight!”

“Oh, you think so?”

“I think you need more lovings, but you’re not the only one that needs them! Be nice, I’m real nervous ‘cause this is like the biggest challenge ever, but it’s so important that I just had to come and give it my very best shot!”

Lyra glared. “I think you’ve done enough to ruin my day, Pinkie Pie. This is all your fault! Go away.”

“Oh, no, oh no no no no! First of all, I’m here to UN-ruin your day, and second, you did what you did on purpose and you know it! You ordered me to do it. And you made me a promise!”

Lyra sagged. “Yeah. But… You’ve gotta let me off the hook. I’ve done enough damage, Pinkie. I had to, our friends were in danger, and it worked. That’s kinda the problem… it worked, and SOMEpony found that a little upsetting.”

“Ya think?” said Pinkie Pie.

Lyra glanced bitterly into the other room. “Somepony who is lying on the couch, pretending not to listen!”

There was a little pause, and then, from the other room—“You think?”, mockingly.

“Well, that’s what your Auntie Pinkie is here to fix! Except not Auntie really,” said Pinkie in haste, “because that would be creepy and anyways Bon Bon’s old enough to be my auntie…”

“Would you DO it already, and then get out of MY HOUSE?” came the voice from the other room.

Lyra’s mood swung again. “YOUR house? Seriously? Your house? You know perfectly well I…”

“Stop!” squeaked Pinkie. “Both of you! I have a brilliant idea to fix everything. It’s a kind of party!”

Silence fell. Then, from the other room, flatly—“A party.”

Pinkie bounced into the other room, to beam happy smiles at Bon Bon, who sprawled across the couch in abject misery. “Yes! Ask me what kind, ask me ask me ask me!”

“An orgy,” said Bon Bon, dejectedly.

“Not exactly!”

Lyra came in, looking suspicious. “A wife-swapping party. No, you didn’t bring Rainbow Dash. For Celestia’s sake tell me you didn’t bring Rainbow Dash…”

“Nope! Dashie would be a distraction for this! Nobody else is here, it has to be private!”

Lyra and Bon Bon stared at each other, perplexed.

“Did she bring a cake, or something? She’s gonna smear frosting all over us and that’s the party?” said Bon Bon.

“Ooooh, good thought! But no, not even that! I needed to bring only ME or it wouldn’t work! Do you give up? Huh? Do ya?”

Lyra set her jaw. “Pinkie Pie, there is no way you’re going to come between us even worse. You are not my marefriend. Me and Bon Bon are mates and just because you helped me do something that was both good and bad, doesn’t mean…”

“Well DUH!” said Pinkie. “That’s the whole point! I have enough marefriends, I can’t be that for you girls. Hence, the special party!”

“What party?” demanded Lyra.

“The ‘Pinkie Pie is your sex toy to use on each other!’ party!”

Lyra’s jaw dropped. So did Bon Bon’s. Pinkie pressed on, a mad light in her merry eyes.

“It’s perfect! It’s all natural, so no mechanical things. It’s the best toy ever, trust me on this! It’s already been tried on Lyra, sort of, so we’re good there. It’s time for the wonderful sex toy to be used, BY Lyra, ON Bon Bon, and then you’ll be even! Or more even. And you’ll feel better! And I’ll have nice memories which I promise will be enough for me, and the day can end on a happy note after all!”

The two quarreling lovers stared at her as if she had gone mad. Pinkie continued.

“Bon Bon, you know perfectly well you’d like to write what happened off as something that doesn’t count—that isn’t as meaningful as what you and Lyra share. Lyra, you know perfectly well that it annoys you how Dashie teases you and doesn’t want any of the love of your life, and you secretly are offended when ponies crush on you and overlook Bon Bon. Well, this is your chance to have make-up sex in a special way, like nothing you’ve ever had, and mend things with each other thanks to the use of the amazing Pinkie Pie!”

She went on in a rapid undertone, “…offer limited to mares who deserve to mend things with each other. no responsibility can be taken for making wet spots on the bed, burn marks on the ceiling, or lost voices through ecstatic screaming. rainbow dash not included and must be purchased separately. pinkie pie can cause shortness of breath, unconsciousness, unsteady gait, and dizziness. do not operate heavy machinery. …like, ever. stupid machinery.”

Lyra blinked. “What was that? Why not?”

“No explaining!” cried Pinkie. “Time to become your willing tool!” She stuck out her tongue, stiffened, and toppled over on her side like a stuffed toy falling over. “Ow.”

“Is she completely crazy?” asked Bon Bon.

Lyra glanced wryly at Bon Bon. “Yes. Your point being?”

“She’s just lying there. Was she serious? Do you want my help carrying her out?”

“I think she was serious,” said Lyra, thoughtfully. “She’s got an interesting idea. I know I’d have been happier if you were using her on me… um, this morning, during that time we’re not going to talk about.”

“Mmm,” said Bon Bon, guardedly.

Lyra hesitated. “You did say once… you wanted to watch me ride on one of those machine things they had…”

“Watch it,” said Bon Bon, with a glance at Pinkie, who seemed to quiver eagerly. “And you brought it up, not me. The things you said!”

“Well, you did want to watch that! We’ve discussed it. I’ll be polite now… but isn’t this sort of like it?”

“Mm,” said Bon Bon. “Do not operate heavy machinery, huh? I admit it would’ve been easier if they weren’t ponies, this morning.”

“Well… she’s not heavy machinery, right? But she’s offering to be like it—for you. Eh?”

“She’s pretty heavy,” said Bon Bon. “Fat pink ass on that one.”

Lyra smirked. “Just the way you like it.”

“Watch it!” snapped Bon Bon, as Pinkie’s ear twitched.

“Oops. Well… dammit, Bon Bon, why not? It’s true. I know you love me, but I’m not built like that and I don’t want to be. Just this once, can I give you something I don’t usually get to give you? I owe you, obviously I owe you. Since we can’t go back and un-do this morning… can we go forward?”

“Mm,” said Bon Bon. “Supposing I said yes—how, exactly, does that work, then?”

Lyra blinked. “I don’t know. She’s acting like an inanimate object. Does it come with an instruction manual?”

Pinkie cleared her throat, and began reciting, in a silly, robotic voice. “Use of PinkieTron 9000: engage modes with voice command, steer PinkieTron with hoof guidance. Modes available: spin, pulsate, ridge, paint, such-a-waste, target-acquire, and happy fun mode. Happy fun mode not to be used on virgins or Applejack.”

Both Lyra and Bon Bon blinked at that. “Applejack?” they both cried.

“Um… beep! does not compute!” said Pinkie, and fell silent again.

“Applejack!” said Bon Bon in disbelief.

Lyra smirked. “I bet you could stand it, though. Whatever it is.”

“What the hell is all that stuff, anyway?”

“Let’s see,” said Lyra. She reached down, and tilted Pinkie’s head up a little. “All right, engage mode spin!”

Pinkie’s tongue stuck out and bent into gentle S curves—which began to rotate. It didn’t look like her tongue was really swivelling—instead, her astonishing muscle control was making the tongue do that. Bon Bon stared in shock. “That’s insane! How is that even possible?”

“And I thought I was pretty good,” breathed Lyra. She smirked at Bon Bon. “Interested? It’s starting to look more fun than I thought.”

Bon Bon glared at her. “Hmph!”

“It’s almost exactly like stuff you wanted me to do to you—just in a way I can deal with!” added Lyra.

“Bite your tongue, girl!” said Bon Bon, squirming.

“I won’t need MY tongue. Right? PinkieTron, engage mode pulsate!”

Pinkie’s tongue extended straight, and began to thin and swell in a regular rhythm. Lyra stared. “Wow. I don’t even know how I’d do that.”

“Thow yw,” said Pinkie quietly, without stopping.

“What? Show me?”

Pinkie nodded, and looked straight ahead again, obligingly.

“Now, what else was there… Engage mode ridge!” said Lyra.

Pinkie’s tongue developed a ridge, which worked its way from base to tip—and then began rippling backwards from the tip to the base, over and over. Lyra gulped, looking at it. “I’m starting to feel really, really inadequate here.”

“Thow yw.”

Lyra bent and hugged Pinkie, still staring at the astonishing tongue motions. Bon Bon gulped, and squirmed again. “Lyra, I’ve never seen a machine do that one. And I’d give a lot of bits for one, if you must know.”

“Oh?” said Lyra, winking, and lifting Pinkie’s head. “I think somepony might need a special treat. Somepony who’s had a hard day and should let her mare please her…”

“This is too weird,” said Bon Bon. Yet, she wriggled around, and lay back on the couch, legs parted. “Damn right I deserve a treat, though.”

“That does look a little harsh to start off with. What else was there?” said Lyra. “Let’s see—I think the next one was, engage mode Paint!”

At this, Pinkie’s tongue stopped its strange motions, relaxed, and proceeded to lick and slurp the air.

“Ha!” cried Lyra triumphantly. “Now that, I can do!”

With that, she dropped Pinkie’s head, and dove between her mate’s legs, her eyes closed in delight as she licked, making yummy noises. Bon Bon shuddered, her legs spreading wider, and reached quickly out to touch Lyra’s bobbing head, then caress her light green and white mane. Lyra’s golden eyes opened, fondly, peering up into her lover’s eyes as she murmured and tongued Bon Bon’s treasure, and Bon Bon gasped, and then let out a low moan of ecstacy.

Then, she glanced over, and stroked Lyra’s head. “She’s still lying there, tight-strings.”

Lyra licked her lips, and looked as well. “She’s PinkieTron 9000. Looks like she wasn’t kidding about that.”

“Do you think she’s sad?” asked Bon Bon.

“I doubt it. I think this is what she wanted.”

Bon Bon licked her lips. “Um. It’s got me curious now. What do you think those other modes were?”

Lyra’s eyes glinted with wickedness. “Maybe I should… SHOW you.”

“Maybe you… owe me,” murmured Bon Bon, lying back.

Lyra didn’t hesitate. Pinkie Pie squeaked as she was pounced upon, and then went rigid and staring again, doing her best to impersonate an impersonal sex toy, and Lyra brandished her, grinning. “Let’s see now. Mode Such A Waste!”

Pinkie’s tongue projected, stiffened, erect and solid. After a moment, it developed a little medial ring, and the tip tried to flare out. It glistened with her saliva. Bon Bon stared—and her marehood glistened in response. “Ohhhh…”

“Hah!” said Lyra. “Lay back, my love. You’ve asked for this before, and now you’re going to… wait. Just a second. Mode target acquire! I have a suspicion…”

At that, the end of Pinkie’s tongue stopped trying to imitate a stallion flare. It pointed, limbered itself, and then hooked up sharply, pointing itself and wriggling as if searching for something.

Bon Bon and Lyra stared at this display for a moment, and then both mares’ eyes widened as they realized what it meant. Bon Bon sagged against the couch. “Ohhhh!”

Lyra’s grin was so wicked it deserved to have fangs. “You first! Mode Such A… no, wait, Mode Ridge!”

Pinkie resumed the astonishing travelling-ridge technique, and Lyra tugged her head towards Bon Bon’s marehood, now pouting hard and engorged with its intense arousal. She touched the end of Pinkie’s tongue to Bon Bon, and then blinked. “I bet I know something you’d like, PinkieTron. Mode Paint!”

Obediently, Pinkie began making the sloppy licking motions, and Lyra, grinning, guided her closer. Pinkie’s tongue began to caress and stroke Bon Bon’s erect clitoral hood, and Bon Bon cried out, writhing as the tongue slathered her. Lyra looked on, approvingly, and felt Pinkie tremble as her tongue explored Bon Bon’s amazing contours. The mare’s clit was indeed huge, and Pinkie was all over it, to Bon Bon’s obvious delight. Lyra gave her a little while to savor it, and then said, “All right—mode such a waste! This is me, love. Pinkie, make it like what I had.”

Pinkie glanced up at Lyra, thought for a moment, concentrated—and suddenly, her tongue was the very form she’d seen and licked earlier that day. The color was different, but the shape was as identical as Pinkie Pie could make it, and Lyra guided her head forward, pressing the false stallionhood into her lover.

Bon Bon looked only in Lyra’s eyes, and she drew a quavering breath, biting her lip, letting out a suppressed squeal as the apparent Lyra-cock sunk deeper and deeper. Pinkie reeled, her eyes crossing, mind blown as her tongue penetrated Bon Bon’s delicious, quivering depths. She was so tender, so deep and yielding! Pinkie’s nose was nuzzling Bon Bon’s amazing clit by the time Lyra was done pushing, and Pinkie’s tongue was sunk more deeply than she’d ever penetrated a mare before. It seemed like maybe nopony had ever tasted that far into Bon Bon before, and Pinkie could feel the quivers of erotic release she was causing.

Silently, trying not to give herself away, Pinkie Pie started to come.

“How’s that, sweetest treat?” said Lyra, and thrust Pinkie’s head experimentally. Bon Bon wailed, shuddering, and parted her legs even more. “Oh, you liked that? Finally getting that? Brace yourself… Pinkie, Mode Target Acquire!”

Inside Bon Bon, Pinkie curled the end of her tongue up. She made a little noise of dismay, but Lyra was way ahead of her—the bright green unicorn drew Pinkie’s head back, positioning it with obvious calculation. She knew exactly where it had to go… and Pinkie’s tongue-tip stiffened, and began probing the upper wall of Bon Bon’s vagina, hunting for the hapless pony’s G-spot.

Bon Bon gasped—and then, began banging the couch with her forehoof—and then screamed, her face going red, all the veins and tendons standing out on her neck. She ran out of breath, heaved in another, and screamed again… and then, a gush of fluid squirted out around Pinkie’s tongue, mare ejaculate drenching the couch. Pinkie noticed that there were stains—this hadn’t been the first time, though the couch had been cleaned up nicely after each incident.

“We better let her rest,” said Lyra, pulling Pinkie’s head back. The tongue emerged, still with tip pointing up and prodding. “Oh! Um, mode stand down? Mode you can rest now?”

Pinkie did rest, staring at nothing and imitating furniture as Lyra embraced her mate. “Oh, baby, I love you so much…”

Bon Bon groaned with bliss. “Mmmmmh. Amazing… now wait a minute.”

“What, sweetest treat?”

“Well, you don’t think you’re going to escape… do you?”

“But we’re even!” protested Lyra. “It’s cool, right?”

“Oh, no, heart-strings, fat chance. Call it the other half of your punishment? You’re going to lay back—and I’m going to lay it DOWN. Pinkie bot!”

“Um… beep!”

Bon Bon struggled to her hooves, unsteadily, as Lyra lay back. “Mode such a waste, now! Make it like the one I’d have!”

This was a puzzler. Pinkie looked over Bon Bon rapidly, made some guesses based on what Dashie’d shown compared to the insides of Dashie’s vag, and stuck her tongue out again, this time a little bit bulkier.

Bon Bon stared, critically. Pinkie glanced up. “Nnn?”

“More,” demanded Bon Bon, and Pinkie Pie complied, with a private thought about the ridiculousness of penis-obsessed lesbians. Honestly, she thought, it’s as if they had no appreciation at all…

But her attention was quickly distracted in the nicest way, for Bon Bon was roughly guiding her head towards the couch, and a dream awaited.

Lyra reclined, wriggling and stretching, clearly very turned on, and Pinkie’s eyes fixed on one of her Holy Grails—Lyra’s glistening vagina. The unicorn’s coat was such a light green that the dainty unicorn-vag seemed almost to glow. Even as Pinkie watched, it pouted a little bit more. Its scent was almost too pure to be real—where Bon Bon had a sensuous musky smell and a bold robust taste, Lyra seemed like she’d be the nectar of the gods.

Bon Bon’s hooves thrust Pinkie’s head, tongue outstretched, against the trim, elegant unicorn’s crotch, and her stiffened tongue made contact and wedged its way in.

Pinkie’s eyes widened in alarm. Lyra was indeed nectar of the gods—like the imagined ultimate unicorn mare who’d never even seen a stallion, the taste slick and luminous and unforgettable—but Bon Bon had called her ‘tight-strings’ and Pinkie learned why instantly. Lyra was—or had been! a virgin to penis, and it was obvious that Bon Bon had never tried anything like this on her before.

Lyra shuddered as if she’d been struck by lightning, and emitted a sharp whinny that was somewhere between pleasure and pain—or combined elements of both. Pinkie began to adjust her tongue, but Bon Bon held her head tightly, hissing, “Don’t you dare! I know her. Keep it like it was!”

Pinkie gulped, though it was awkward to do it with her tongue outthrust, and allowed Bon Bon to guide her head closer. Inch after inch of stiffened tongue slid between Lyra’s legs, compressed by dainty unicorn vag that squeezed frantically, lubricated by that unthinkably delicious nectar that kept slickening the tight passage more and more. Lyra kicked and writhed, squealing as Bon Bon pressed her vicarious cock deeper, and soon Pinkie felt solidness opposing her, sooner than she expected. That glorious unicorn was nothing like Bon Bon. She had virtually no room in her and Pinkie’s ‘Such A Waste’ mode was driving her to teeth-gritted shrieking, and racking her slim body with edge-crossing sensation.

Just as Pinkie was about to get up the courage to protest, Bon Bon spoke.

“And you missed one, heart-strings. Pinkie Bot! Happy Fun Mode!”

Pinkie rejoiced—and everything seemed to happen at once.

While Bon Bon watched, Pinkie took a deep breath. Bon Bon could see the stiffened tongue as it transfixed Lyra’s vagina, could see how it stretched her cruelly—and then, suddenly, it had narrowed and softened, but there was some kind of dreadful commotion, and though the base of the tongue wasn’t moving, it seemed to be working like mad anyhow—and Lyra screamed, her body shuddering, and screamed again, her eyes squeezed shut…

And all the while, inside her, Pinkie Pie’s tongue writhed like a snake, lovingly caressing and licking every possible inch of Lyra’s exquisite little vagina.

Lyra’s horn flickered. It sputtered… and Pinkie squeaked, “ake oovvvr!”

“What?” snapped Bon Bon.

Pinkie yanked her head back, the tongue slithering out, and repeated, “Take over! take over take over take over…”

Bon Bon didn’t need any more explaining. It had been mere seconds since she engaged Happy Fun Mode, but she knew exactly what she was seeing—and she fell upon Lyra, her mouth devouring the dainty unicorn vag, and Bon Bon rowred with lust as she suckled Lyra’s clit and lapped up her juices.

Lyra squealed, an earsplitting soprano cry, her body convulsing—and a spray of magic blasted from her horn, scorching the wall, and kept going. Awed, Pinkie watched as Lyra’s mate hungrily ate her pussy, boldly driving her beyond anything Pinkie would have dared risk, and the spray of magic impossibly continued, lighting up the room as every muscle and tendon on Lyra’s exquisite body stood out… and then, as the spurting of magic ran out of steam and Lyra’s squeal turned to an agonized breathless croak, only then did Bon Bon relent.

Lyra lay like a dead thing, rasping shallow breaths. Bon Bon panted, and glanced over at Pinkie, who stared in horror.

“Thank you… seriously… couldn’t have done it on my own…”

Pinkie blinked. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Bon Bon smirked. “Pinkie… this is her fetish. I’m sorry if it frightened you. I do thank you, I really do, though. I’ve never given her nearly that many seconds of it before—and you let me be the one to give it.”

“Well, duh!” said Pinkie.

At that, Bon Bon dropped her eyes. “Sorry I misjudged you… and very glad you let me take over. Out of curiosity… how many seconds of it would you have given her?”

Pinkie thought. “Gosh. I thought they only squirted a little. And it’s kind of a big deal for them, which is why I got out of the way. And it wears them out. A couple seconds?”

Bon Bon embraced her quivering unicorn lover, who twitched a hoof feebly in response. “My darling Lyra went NINE seconds. Nine! She’s going to be so proud, you have no idea… thank you.”

Pinkie’s eyes softened. “Awwww… and she calls you sweetest treat, and you call her heart-strings? When you’re not calling her tight-strings? Is it because she is a lyre—or like your instrument to play on? That’s so sweet! And sexy. Hey, I figured out how come you call her tight-strings!”

Bon Bon blinked. “Oh. That. We’re a little romantic with each other…”

“You’re beautiful,” said Pinkie Pie, her eyes glowing with affection.

“But honey… that’s private. We’re not used to mixing private with public. I guess I’m okay with you knowing… but please, please, promise me you won’t tell anypony our little bed-names? We only use them during sex, Pinkie.” Bon Bon paused, blinked, and then added, “…what?”

For a brief moment, Pinkie Pie’s face had been filled with the most tremendous amusement. Then she set her jaw, and put on a determined look—though the corners of her mouth twitched up.

“I promise—Pinkie Pie Promise! cross my heart and hope to die, stick a cupcake in my eye! that I, Pinkie Pie, will not tell anypony, or zebra or bunny or anything at all, anywhere, anytime, ever. Your secret is safe with me!”

Bon Bon heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“I’ll just leave you two lovebirds to enjoy each other now—and thank you!”

Bon Bon watched, tired and satisfied, as Pinkie bounced out of the room. She drew Lyra’s fevered body closer, and nuzzled her limp unicorn, imagining the joy she’d show when she was told of her impossible new record. She began to plan how she’d care for her lover as Lyra recovered from her debilitatingly ultimate climax, while Pinkie left the house and shut the door, and she listened as Pinkie apparently galloped away as fast as her hooves could carry her, perhaps to some other strangely perverse good deed somewhere.

And she blinked sleepily at the strange noise in the distance, just before she nodded off. It was like the cry of some strange bird, or the squawking of a griffon having a massive fit, or possibly like a pony rendered helpless by hysterical, shrieking laughter.

But whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

Bon Bon and Lyra slept.