Rainbow Dash lay in bed. It wasn’t unusual for Dash to be in bed mid-afternoon. It wasn’t even that unusual that she wasn’t having sex, because afternoon naps had always been a pleasure of hers.
This was different. It wasn’t pleasure—and she’d never actually got up.
Her wings were unpreened—desecrated. She could still feel the gentle throbbing of the Dog cock as it squirted thin bitter semen into her pony womb, fertile for foaling. She’d been feeling off for a while, but now she felt really sick—and that made no sense, for she was pretty sure that ponies and dogs couldn’t foal with each other. She told herself that, trying to remember the classes she’d napped through in Cloudsdale, and all the while she couldn’t forget those strange furry arms holding her while the deep-wedged cock did its biological work—after her lithe body, spurred to action, had done its part. Why, why did he have to bite her there?
He’d promised to tell the other Dog pony wings weren’t good eating. He should have ripped hers off and ate them and finished it. She was a monster. Even with the finest wings in the world, she couldn’t treat them right, so it was no wonder no pegasus would have her—no pony, even.
There was something uniquely disgusting about cultivating the perfect body to wrap around a rotted soul.
Rainbow Dash hadn’t eaten breakfast. She didn’t recognize the way her thoughts shriveled and turned on themselves for lack of sustenance, though her head throbbed a bit and her gut hurt dully. She lay between dirty bedsheets, her face half-buried in the pillow. It was a cloud-pillow, suitable for pegasi. Applejack couldn’t use them. Hers were even better, because they smelled of mare rather than mist…
Dash kicked the pillow away, and it scudded across the room and dissipated against the wall.
She laid her head uncomfortably on her forehooves as if she were lying out somewhere exposed to the elements. She considered kicking off the bedcoverings, and her wing shifted under them, but a wave of revulsion stopped her and she just stared at her bare walls.
Empty rooms were bad teachers, but she felt like a worthless student. She knew nothing, nothing. She ruined everything she touched. Best stay put, then.
Rainbow Dash lay there, eyes haunted, thinking for hour after hour about all the things she’d done, and seeing as if for the first time how others had reacted—how she’d demanded and taken whatever she wanted, always deciding how things should be, confident that she would win every struggle and that her winning would be best for everypony. And how had that worked out?
Empty rooms were bad teachers, but they were the only teacher she had left, and she listened hard to the emptiness.
“You’re doing really well,” said Twilight. “I’m wondering if we can do a real meld now—a big one.”
Trixie blinked. “Trixie will attempt anything Mistress wishes. What do you mean, a big one?”
“Something I can’t do alone. Teleport—with a non-local focus.”
Trixie’s jaw dropped. “Trixie can’t do that!”
“Neither can I, silly! That’s what a magemeld is for. I have a feeling you may have a natural aptitude for it. And you might enjoy it—it’ll be more like creating the bits. I want you to focus on our remote pattern, and draw me in. I’ll supply the power and run the teleport spell. What you’ll be doing… think of it as steering. You ride the magical power I’ll send through you, and direct it at the target.”
Trixie was panting. “Oh, Mistress!”
“Are you ready?”
Trixie wriggled, lying in Twilight’s bed. “Flood me with your magical power!”
Twilight narrowed her eyes sternly. “What is your focus?”
At this, Trixie dropped her gaze—and Twilight’s expression wavered between amusement and annoyance.
“The focus, Trixie! Locate a pony. If you’re really good you might be able to get somepony who’s in your thoughts a lot, or even one you’ve just seen somewhere—but to start, it had better be one you’ve magically handled yourself, directly.”
Trixie licked her lips, worriedly. “…handled?”
“Don’t play coy. I’ve seen you do it. That’s actually what gave me the idea. I can’t speak for kinky things you might have done on your own, but I’ve seen you handle three ponies and an Ursa Minor. Naturally, I don’t suggest you summon that. Maybe somepony you’ve played with, if they’re very familiar to you?”
Trixie grimaced. “Think about it, Mistress. Not a good idea!”
Twi was undaunted. “Well, it would have made a perfect test, because it would be a pony I didn’t know at all! That would prove you were putting as much into the meld as me. But if you’re sure…”
Trixie nodded, vehemently.
“…then I can think of three candidates. I saw you handle Rarity, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash. Though in a way, all you handled of Rarity was her hair…”
Trixie shook her head in dismay. “Please, not Rarity? She was so kind. When you selected the crop and swished it in the air, she threw in a rod and complimented you on your form, and all because…”
Twilight glared. “Oh, I know ‘all because’! I might need to have a word with her. Yes, I could tell you wanted the rod, but I’m having a lot of second thoughts about it. What if I’m not ready for that sort of thing, huh?”
“Mistress will know best what her comfort level is. Please keep Trixie aware of it as it… develops?”
Twilight looked cranky. “Comfort level! Hah! Okay, so you’d rather not target Rarity. We could try Applejack?”
“Wouldn’t she be working?”
“I’m sure once we explain it she’ll be fine—and we’ve got to pick somepony, if we’re testing a remote-focus pony teleport! It’s not like we’re going to be doing this all the time, this is important research to study the range and scope of the Twilight and Trixie magemeld. There aren’t that many really hard things to do that we can test it on, because whatever we choose has to be harder than either I or you could manage on our own! I know, Rainbow Dash. How about Rainbow Dash? She’s probably napping anyway.”
Trixie lifted an eyebrow, and Twilight argued harder. “Come on, it’s perfect! Dash is always up for something new. I guess you could say we found out more about that lately, huh? And do you know how many times she’s crashed into my place unexpectedly through the window? It’s the same thing! It’s just that this time, no windows need to be smashed. Come on, let’s try it…”
“Mistress is… hungry for magic.”
Twilight narrowed her eyes. “It’s research. This could be important! What if we had to rescue somepony from a desperate situation, or take on some other task in a mage-meld? If we can’t rely on Princess Celestia we have to be able to take care of ourselves. Or, I guess, if we don’t want to rely on Princess Celestia for everything?”
Trixie nodded slowly. “Mistress has a point… so it’s time for us to learn the limits of our power, together?”
“I think it’s very important, Trixie. Are you okay with focussing on Rainbow Dash? I’ll try really hard not to direct the focus. The funny thing is, I haven’t handled Rainbow in that way.” Twilight flushed a bit. “Which is not to say she hasn’t, erm, handled me… but that was a long time ago. It seems like another lifetime.”
Trixie gave Twilight a very skeptical look. “That pony would not make a good top at all, Mistress. Not enough humility and perspective.”
“It wasn’t like that!” protested Twilight. “Not exactly.”
“Does Mistress wish this Rainbow pony to be the focus?”
Twilight was still a faintly reddish lavender. “Yes. Please direct your focus onto her gestalt, seek for it—give me a second, and get ready for some Twilight magepower.”
Trixie’s sulky look softened. “That, at least, makes it all worthwhile… okay… okay… ready.”
Twilight Sparkle took two deep breaths, shutting her eyes, and her horn lit up and began to coruscate.
Trixie’s head lifted, her jaw set, staring into space at nothing, her neck and body tensing, the corners of her mouth turning up in anticipation. “Yes…”
A beam of magical power leapt from Twilight’s horn to Trixie’s, and the blue unicorn shuddered, panting. “Yes! hhhh… yes! More!”
Twilight let out a little squeak of effort, grinding her teeth, and her energies grew even more intense, causing Trixie to begin trembling. Gradually, Trixie’s whole body was haloed in Twilight’s magic aura, and it seethed across her as if pent up and seeking an outlet.
“Oh, yes, yes… almost… almost… GYAHH!”
As Trixie squealed, a shockwave of her own magic flared out from her horn with blinding speed, racing beyond the walls of Twilight’s bedroom instantaneously. Then, as if reflected from somewhere, it reappeared, contracting onto Trixie once more, and for an instant the blue unicorn glowed from within—a color mingling her magic and Twilight’s—while she served as the fulcrum for the spell, channeling the overwhelming flood of Twilight’s power to its distant focal point.
Rainbow Dash appeared in a flare of melded magic beside them, dropping with a pegasus flump onto the bed. Trixie collapsed next to her, panting and quivering and smelling of sexual arousal, and Twilight bowed her head and took a deep breath.
“Hi, Rainbow Dash,” she said. “I guess you’re wondering why we brought… you… um… here?”
She’d looked at Dash and her words stuck in her throat.
Rainbow was looking back at her in such a peculiar way. Perhaps the most worrying thing was the total lack of anger. Something horrible was wrong.
“Why would you want me?” she said, and there was the anger—but it wasn’t pointed the right direction for Dash. Her eyes had dropped, the anger was turned inward, the line of her mouth spoke of bitterness.
“Rainbow? What’s the matter?” said Twilight.
Dash looked up, tearful, resentful. “You shouldn’t have brought me here. I should go away.”
“What happened? What happened, Rainbow?”
She couldn’t face Twilight’s anxious eyes. “I need to leave, okay? I have some stuff to think about. Which isn’t helping. Bye, I’ll, I’ll… I’ll see you if I can be a decent pony, okay? Maybe not for a while. I have to go.”
Twilight’s jaw dropped, but Dash was already moving. She got to her hooves as if she was inexplicably very old, and took to her wings as if they were unfamiliar to her. To Twilight’s inexperienced eyes, they looked a little unkempt, which also seemed strange for Rainbow Dash. It all added up to an ominous and unexplained picture.
Rainbow Dash left. The absence of ceremony only drew attention to how larger than life Dashie’s usual ways were. She wasn’t even moping larger than life: she just left, seemingly very preoccupied.
Twilight stared at Trixie, aghast. “I knew she was having a hard time with things, but…”
“That was amazing!”
The contrast couldn’t be greater. Trixie was glowing. Her eyes shone, a little too wild, and she was panting, her little unicorn tongue peeking out of her muzzle. Trixie had tasted Twilight’s magic surging through her, and had steered and directed it. From the looks of it she’d steered it with her vag—except that for a unicorn, there were intimacies beyond the physical.
“We have to do it again, Twilight!”
“I don’t know—can you wait a minute? I want to go after Rainbow Dash and find out what’s the matter. You realize I don’t always pick up on things like that? I have a feeling that if I’m noticing her bad mood, it’s really bad.”
“No, that can wait!” demanded Trixie. She stamped a forehoof, but since she was on Twilight’s bed, it made a little fluffy sound rather than the strident bang she’d intended. “More practice!”
Twilight gave her a sidelong glance. “So determined! Well, miss unicorn pony, I’m a little tired now. That was a big deal, even for me. I’d say I can’t imagine what it was like for you… but I think can guess.”
Trixie glared. “Trixie wishes this to continue. Immediately.”
“Sweet Celestia, it was that good for you?”
To this, Trixie responded only with a rolling of the eyes.
Twilight smirked. “Maybe this dom-mood of yours has its uses. There’s another step, but it’s far beyond your abilities. I bet you can’t do it. Instead of me flooding you with power, you handle the focus and draw directly from me rather than yourself. I can be willing but I won’t push, this time. You’ll find your maximum energies will be those of my powers rather than yours. But you’ll never do it.”
Twilight’s tone had slipped into a teasing, provocative mode, following the ever-changing dynamic of their relationship into another zone where Twilight was the playful, balky servant and Trixie the domineering but captivated mistress. Trixie responded with enthusiasm and a haughty sneer. “The little pony does not intend to make the effort?”
Twilight smirked—a little distracted from worry about Dash, but responding in turn. Trixie didn’t have her kind of power, but the hyper-confidence of the dominatrix was just the sort of thing that would help with the next lesson. A big dose of arrogance was needed for reaching into another pony’s head and just helping yourself to their power—it wasn’t very ponylike at all, and was normally hard to learn.
A little provocation might help.
Twilight winked. “This little pony doubts Trixie has it in her. I mean, I’ll open myself to it—but you won’t just be channeling, this time. You have to open the channel, but also get a momentum going with the psychic force. But it won’t matter because you can’t do it. Can you?”
Trixie had seen where that was headed from the first three words. “I shall! Prepare your mind to be drained utterly at the behest of the Great and Powerful Trixie!”
“Mmmmm…” crooned Twilight teasingly, and closed her eyes, going quiet.
Trixie gritted her teeth, and her horn flared into brightness as she seized on the channeling technique she’d used, and tugged at Twilight’s power experimentally, trying to get the feel of the process.
Twilight sighed with pleasure, and felt her body wink this time. Feeling Trixie’s power touching her mind was unexpectedly arousing. Her muzzle quirked into a wicked smile as she provoked just a little bit more. “Did you forget to specify a focus again?”
At this, Trixie’s eyes widened, and then flashed with decision. The glow from her horn doubled, and Twilight felt a fierce tug on her magic, drawing on every bit as much as she’d used for summoning Rainbow Dash.
And then, Twilight recognized the taste of the focus Trixie had. Her eyes flew open and she cried out, even as the meld drained her power in a sudden debilitating surge.
“…no!”
Princess Celestia appeared in mid-air, and dropped to the bed between them in a confused flapping of huge alicorn wings.
Her weight crushed the center of the bed down, and one foreleg splayed off the bed awkwardly. Twilight and Trixie were toppled against her by the changed weight distribution on the mattress, their bodies pressing hers, nestled suddenly under her vast wingspan—she couldn’t fold her wings unless they moved.
Twilight did, frantically scrambling free, scarlet with shame. Trixie’d had her so worked up, and she knew she whiffed of mare lust, and being suddenly thrown against Princess Celestia had nearly stopped her heart—certain secret fantasies leapt to the front of her mind and cavorted for an instant before Twilight’s psyche beat them back in squealing dismay. Twi was speechless, standing before Celestia in trembling horror.
Trixie wasn’t.
“…oh, gooood…”
Princess Celestia didn’t look at Trixie. She did bow her head and sniff the air, with results apparently unsurprising to her, but her eyes were fixed only on Twilight’s—and she was one word away from speechless, but got several uses out of that word.
“What… what… What?!”
“So gooood…” sighed Trixie, apparently boneless with satiation and unable to roll away from her cozy spot against the Princess’s side.
Celestia glanced downward at the little blue unicorn pony, and returned her gaze to Twilight’s, and anger began to force words out of her. “I—I would have thought not! Twilight Sparkle, what have you done?”
“We… we were practicing…”
Celestia got her hooves under her, struggling to rise. Her discomfiture was more frightening to Twilight than her anger. She got up, began to move off the bed, and Trixie rolled under her, sensuously limp. It wasn’t helping Princess Celestia’s anger at all to have a floppy, sated Lulamoon rubbing against her legs.
“While I, I… understand the desire to practice your developing powers, it… the… Twilight Sparkle, what were you thinking?”
Twilight couldn’t face the Princess at all, and scraped her hoof along the floor as she tried to think of what to say. “Um… we have to be able to take care of ourselves…”
“By, by interfering with me? Twilight, you can reach me through Spike’s ability to send scrolls! What purpose is served by teleporting me here against my will? I confess I am astonished that you were able to do it at all!”
“I didn’t do it all by myself,” mumbled Twilight.
Celestia’s eyes narrowed further as she glanced down at Trixie, whose body still lay against her legs. “Your companion appears to be quite drained by the experience.”
That was putting it gently. Trixie was a puddle, as if she’d had a massive unicorngasm all packed into one burst of impossibly potent magic. Her tongue lolled and her eyes were half-lidded. Both the Princess and Twilight could see she was in no condition to reason with.
Celestia’s gaze returned to Twilight, who whimpered—the alicorn was trembling with building rage, and began by speaking softly, but her voice rose and rose as she went on.
“Listen carefully, Twilight Sparkle. You will have to convey my instructions to your companion when you feel they will be heard. As much as I respect your abilities, they come with responsibility as to their use, responsibility you are blithely ignoring!”
Twilight began to cower back, lip quivering as Celestia’s voice lashed her.
“As you work with other powerful magic users you will find that some of them have duties beyond pleasuring a companion in idleness! It is not so much the personal indignity—I could have been doing something delicate, something that ill befits interference! Twilight Sparkle, I raise the SUN! I have responsibilities!”
Twilight had scrabbled backwards until her rump pressed the wall, unable to bear Princess Celestia’s rising anger. She had never seen the Princess lose control of her temper before. Somehow it was worse that Celestia was not simply cursing her out…
“Will you interfere with me as I enable the workings of the very world?”
Twilight whimpered, tears coming to her eyes.
“Do not DARE to do this ever again!”
The words echoed through Twilight’s library house, but before the sound had even died away, Celestia was gone—teleporting back to Canterlot, too angry to depart graciously. There was no soaring upward to teleport against the moon or a cloud, no elegant pose. She’d teleported away with the abruptness of a slammed door.
Twilight blubbered on the floor for a moment, and then bawled, her head in her hooves, inconsolable, her wail filling the emptiness left after Celestia’s angry words.
Trixie blinked groggily, and crawled off the bed, going to Twilight and hugging her. “Oh, Mistress…”
Twilight was having trouble breathing, she was crying so hard. She shuddered and sobbed, getting hiccups, a little purple unicorn pony helpless to even get up or talk coherently, and Trixie clung to her, offering what comfort she could. “Trixie is sorry…”
“She hates me! She hates me!” wailed Twilight, and Trixie’s heart sank.
All she could think of to say was the worst possible thing to say, and so she bit her lip, stared angrily at nothing, tried her best, but finally… Trixie said it anyway. “Trixie hates her right back!”
That got Twilight’s attention in a big hurry. “But… How dare you? She hates me, and it’s your fault!”
“Trixie is sorry. But she’s a big jerk, and doesn’t deserve you…”
“No no. Oh no no no…” Twilight wiped her tears, and glared through them. “I ought to…”
Trixie’s lips parted—on two parts of her. She glanced at the rod that sat on a table across the room, looking deceptively innocent. Twilight followed the glance, and her jaw dropped.
“You think I’m going to… you did ALL THAT just so I would…”
“No, Mistress! No! Trixie really didn’t! But if it would help you feel better…”
Twilight screwed her eyes shut, her teeth gritted. “I do not believe this, I do not believe this…”
“Because even though Trixie wasn’t thinking of that at all, she deserves to be punished very hard for her foolish mistake…”
“I’ll break it,” said Twilight flatly. “I’ll snap it in two. How’s that for punishment, Trixie?”
Trixie gasped, and then turned sullen. “It’s mine. It was a gift. It’s mine, Mistress…”
“True,” said Twilight. “Yeah. It is. You’re right. I can’t do that. Even if I did, I can’t figure out if that would just reward you in some twisted way…”
Trixie dropped her gaze, sulky. “Mistress shall do as she pleases. The Princess is still a big jerk. Move the sun, my blue bottom. As if it were made of glass, or fine china. Does she think it will fall down if she drops it?”
“Enough! Go sit in the corner! Don’t do anything, don’t say anything. Princess Celestia talked about responsibility. Between you and me, we can do amazing magical feats. I’m still not sure how far that extends but it might prove very important in the future,” said Twilight Sparkle. Her face twisted for a moment. “Especially if I’ve pissed our Princess off and made her not want to help us any more. So we need you… but right now I don’t even want to see you, I’m so angry.”
Trixie glared. “Angry just because you’ve offended a big…”
“Enough!”
Trixie trudged over to the indicated corner, with dragging hooves, and sat obediently. She pouted. Why couldn’t Twilight be a proper Mistress and be strong, laugh at everything? Why did she have to turn into such a quivering ninny over stupid Princesses? She was probably just as powerful as they were, thought Trixie, and much more beautiful. It was so unfair, heartbreakingly so.
Trixie then bit her lip and revised her concept of ‘heartbreaking’, for Twilight had sprawled in her bed and begun to cry again, and Trixie knew she had nothing whatever to say that would help.
“Sister! Pray unburden yourself, what troubles you? We have not seen this mood upon you in centuries! Or, well, a thousand years and then centuries… Whatever is the matter?”
Princess Celestia gave Luna a hard look, her jaw set. “Lulamoons! That’s what’s the matter!”
On seeing Luna’s obvious dismay, Celestia collected herself. “I’m sorry. I’m letting it get to me. Do you know what that Trixie Lulamoon has done?”
“Please, tell me, sister.”
Celestia sighed. “They’re… or I should say she’s… at the mage melding again. She’s got Twilight doing it. Can you imagine? I’m convinced Trixie has more power than she knows. I suspect she’s not very well trained, but her latent power is formidable, and we both know Twilight is a force to be reckoned with. They teleported me, against my will, sister.”
Luna gasped. “With hostile intent? You battled them?”
“For fun! No, sister, I did not battle them. I scolded them.” Celestia winced. “I may have an apology to make—I quite lost my temper with Twilight. The poor thing didn’t know what hit her, she has never seen me angry, except at powerful foes. And this was more personal—dear me, yes. I shall have to apologize to Twilight. Perhaps with a scroll, it might frighten her if I turned up in person…”
“How is it more personal?” began Luna, and then stopped, for Celestia was blushing.
“I was in the smallest room of the palace, that’s how. I very nearly made water on Twilight’s paramour. From what I’ve seen of her, she would probably like it—no, that’s unfair to her, I cannot assume. I fear I’m assuming far too many things—I must think. And I must hasten to that smallest room again!”
Luna had knit her brow. “I must say, sister, if these ponies have misbehaved thus, surely no apology is warranted. You have chastised them?”
“Oh, sister. Of course I did, but I am afraid I suggested to Twilight that she’d endangered the Sun—I made a great commotion about the fact that it’s my duty to raise the Sun. I fear I implied that if she jostled my hocks in that duty, I might drop it.”
Luna blinked. “Oh, come on!”
“Indeed,” sighed Celestia. “Such an effort it would be to bring it across the heavens! It is much accustomed to its usual path, as am I. The very concept of such a disaster is absurd, and terribly unfair to poor Twilight. I really will have to make some manner of polite amends.”
“And this Lulamoon?”
Celestia sighed again. “Is it not the same as of old, that they want their freedom and independence? I promised Twilight I would allow them that. I must, must, must work harder on being tolerant when they exercise it in unseemly ways. Sister, please! Don’t ask me more questions now. Silly Twilight interrupted important royal business! It will have to be our secret that such business hardly involves raising the Sun—but for all that, this business still cannot wait!”
Celestia trotted off, and Luna remained, looking out the palace window over Equestria and Ponyville, off in the distance.
Her face was grave. Some secrets died awfully hard. Celestia had spoken of her responsibilities—but as always, she was talking herself into the softer, gentler path, speaking of apologies owed, amends to be made.
Luna remembered her beloved, recalcitrant Lulamoons, and she did not think this Trixie would respond to apologies usefully. Yes, Twilight would be soothed by the amends, and Twilight was a nice little unicorn who deserved that kindness—but if Trixie was anything like the Lulamoons Luna had known and loved, she would likely learn quite the wrong moral from that lesson.
And though the Sun would not be in danger, Luna considered what her sister had told her about the Lulamoon clan who had wrested the moon from her grasp. Now, a Lulamoon was exploring her mage-meld abilities using Princess Celestia’s pet student, Twilight Sparkle, as a power source.
Luna’s expression darkened. And, since it would not be Twilight to make Celestia the focus—of that, Princess Luna was absolutely certain—then it had to be Trixie, the Lulamoon, who’d channeled Twilight’s power to do it. More than that—Trixie had to have been drawing directly on Twilight, and it would have had to be sudden or Twilight would have rejected the meld.
These things depended so much on personality and attitude. Trixie had seemed charming in person, but some of Celestia’s fears seemed well founded. They had a rogue mage on their hooves who cared nothing for royalty’s dignity, and who was able to mage-meld as well as Luna had ever seen—with a nearly limitless, willing power source right there in the person of Celestia’s favorite pet pony—who had to be very hurt and distressed. She was no Lulamoon at heart, she’d always seemed so eager to please… of course, thought Luna, in other ways that was very Lulamoon indeed.
Princess Celestia was losing her pet over this rogue Lulamoon. Her Twilight was getting sucked into actions and situations that would upset her, even endanger her, all because she’d shacked up with this one throwback Lulamoon.
Princess Luna’s eyes narrowed.
Sometimes one’s pleasures were also one’s responsibilities. Sister was not the only one with messes to clean up.
But, to be kindest to everypony, Luna’s clean-up methods would have to be… different.