“Sooooo…” said Vinyl Scratch, “what do you want to see at the next gig?”

Octavia frowned. “What do you mean by that, Vinyl Scratch?”

“Whoa, hey, don’t get snippy, I was just making conversation!”

“Snippy? I, snippy? Certainly not,” said Octavia. “Forgive me, it just seemed that you were being… suggestive.”

Scratch lowered her shades, and gave Octavia a look. “Yeah, far be it from me to be suggestive when traveling around with a pony who plays ten thousand concertos all about her boyfriend’s dick. I’m totes the problem there.”

Octavia pouted. “Do not.”

“Sorry. Not quite ten thousand yet?”

“Some of them are cantatas. If you can’t tell the difference between a concerto and a cantata…”

“Ma’am?” said Big Macintosh, steadily pulling the cart full of musicians and gear to the next gig,

“Which?” snapped Vinyl Scratch.

“Both,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah’ve worked for mares all my life, y’know.”


“Y’all both kinda snippy,” said Big Macintosh. “No offense. Jes’… in a spirit of fairness. Am Ah pullin’ the cart too rough or somethin’?”

Vinyl gave him a stricken look. “Aw! Of course not, Big Macintosh. You’re fine. Really? Are we snippy?”

“I’m not,” sniffed Octavia. Upon receipt of an exasperated look from her lifelong friend and DJ, she pouted more. “I’m sorry, Scratchie. I promise it won’t harm my performances, rather the reverse. Please don’t mind me. Shall I sit farther away in the cart?”

Vinyl gasped. “Nuh-uh! I thought something was bothering you. Tell Scratchie! Was it the wrong note two gigs ago?”

Octavia’s ears laid back, hard. “There WAS no WRONG NOTE,” she declared, flatly.

“Aw! I was only thinking of the one near the end of the finale, where you hang on it, and it went all sharp and stuff.”

Octavia screwed her eyes shut in frustration. “Shouldn’t you be sticking to things that go thud? Who taught you about sharp and flat all of a sudden?”

“Not fair, Tavi! I know about that stuff, I can’t have stuff in different keys, it’d clash.”

“Well, DJ Pon-3, the note you’re thinking of is what we’d call somewhat microtonal. That means I get to lean on it, make it go more sharp for effect, and THAT means it’s on purpose. And next time, you can listen with your heart instead of your buttocks, and then maybe you’ll relate to the song of longing and frustration within the pre-penetration sonata that… WHAT, Big Macintosh?”

“This is you ladies not bein’ snippy? Ain’t sure you even need me right now. That cart’s liable to roll up th’ hills by itself, powered by sheer sass.”

Vinyl buried her head in her hooves for a moment. “Okay. Okay. We’re ALL snippy.”

“I’m…” began Octavia stubbornly.

“No, hear me out! I should have warned you,” said Vinyl Scratch. “Have either of you been on an extended tour before? I thought not. Listen, it’s okay, this happens. Road fatigue.”

“Ain’t tired,” said Big Macintosh. “I’ll pull this cart all day long.”

“As we learned!” accused Octavia.

“No, take it easy Tavi,” urged Vinyl, “he explained that. We woke up on the road because he had some trouble with a mare and had to beat hooves out of town. A Kirin said so, and we don’t argue with Kirin. If they wanted us to move on, that’s what we do, no arguments.”

Octavia glowered. “WE did nothing wrong.”

“Ah din’t do WRONG!” protested Big Macintosh. “Ah screwed a pegasus lady, kinda! It… it din’t go well, if I’m honest.”

Vinyl looked at him, quizzically. “You pretty much are honest, Big Macintosh. You didn’t talk about it. Are you in trouble?”

“Naw! …it’s complicated.”

“Let me guess. Neighponnese warrior pegasus, batshit crazy, really weird needs?”

Big Macintosh nodded gratefully. “Eyup!”

“Then let’s keep going, ‘cos that’s what the Kirin wanted you to do,” said Vinyl. “Better luck next time.”

“I’mma go back to practicin’ on unicorns next time!” snorted Big Macintosh.

“You do that. And Octavia, take it from me, when the road fatigue gets to you, just let off some steam however you can, okay? Drag off some nice earth pony or something, after the gig. I know you and Stout Heart are flexible that way, and it’ll make you feel better.”

Octavia stared off into space. “I’m fine, Scratchie.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you do it, and I had fun a couple times and Big Macintosh is leaving a trail of mares behind him…”

“I’m fine,” repeated Octavia. “Anyway, I had to comfort you after one of those times. Let’s focus on the music, dear heart.”

Scratch looked stricken. “Comes from mixing business with pleasure. And it was for both of us, everything’s riding on this tour…”

Octavia gave her a stern look. “Vinyl! Firstly, I did not ask you to practice blandishments upon anypony, on my behalf. And secondly, did you not listen? Let’s focus on the music. I have every faith in you, Scratchie. You’re beautiful, and gifted. Focus on the music and we’ll get through this tour gloriously. You mind your music and I’ll mind mine, and Big Macintosh will pull us from town to town, and then we’ll go home covered in laurels.”

Vinyl gulped. “Oh, Tavi, I hope so…”

“I know so, dear Scratchie.”

“Though ya know after the big post-final-gig party I usually go home covered in something else…”

“Of course you do, Scratchie,” soothed Octavia. “Now, let me tend to my inspiration and you’ll tend to yours, and everything will be fine.”

“I totally can hook you up with some inspiration…”

“NO, Vinyl Scratch,” said Octavia, and the discussion was over.

The road was indeed becoming fatiguing, thought Big Macintosh. It didn’t seem like that big a deal, until you saw a new town of eager strange faces for the eleventh day in a row. He reminded himself once again that his journey had a purpose: he was going to be reunited with Hina, who doubtless was pining for him, wasting away. Big Macintosh chided himself for fooling around with pegasi: even back in Ponyville, pegasi had been awkward, and here in Neighpon it seemed they were just about impossible. Clearly the only sensible thing was to practice on the unicorns, if he could find sensible ones that wouldn’t get him in trouble.

Big Macintosh frowned. It seemed he’d barely gotten away with his latest escapade, with the crazy pegasus mare. That had been frightening. Those Kirin had been the farthest cry imaginable from his sweet, vulnerable Hina, he thought. It seemed like he’d been inches away from some terrible punishment. And who could blame them? Big Macintosh vowed to himself that he would never do harm to Neighponnese mares again, no matter how crazy they were or how much they begged him to do it. The idea of marauding Kirin, lurking outside every door and ready to exact dreadful punishment upon him… it was hard to shake.

There was a flicker of movement up ahead, an odd phantasm of pink that seemed almost familiar. Big Macintosh reared, snorting, in startlement… but it was already gone.

“What happened?” called Vinyl Scratch

“Nothin’,” replied Big Macintosh, and continued on his way, thinking.

How did the Kirin thing even work? He pondered this, frowning. They were all over the place, unless of course they were stalking him and his friends. They sure came to the rescue in a big hurry when he’d screwed a Neighponnese pony too much… but then, it wasn’t as simple as that, was it? Seemed like they also did the same thing, to power up. What did they need with all that power? If it was just about the power, why did they care about the pegasus ponies? What was up with the Neighponnese earth ponies? They were cute and all, seemed happy and nice, but was it just their way of doing whatever the Kirin told ‘em to? Big Macintosh frowned again. He wouldn’t be able to ask Vinyl Scratch. She got upset when he acted like the Kirin were there to boss the lesser ponies around. But then, she’d got upset when she couldn’t squirt magic for the Kirin that screwed her, and what was the deal with that? Couldn’t she just enjoy it? But no, she’d been terribly guilty, even run away from Neighpon to get away from her shame.

Was he supposed to be that ashamed if he couldn’t get unicorns to squirt for Hina? Big Macintosh snorted, again. It’d be a cold day in Tartarus if he couldn’t get unicorns to squirt for Hina. But was there supposed to be an extra level to it, was he supposed to devote himself to his Kirin?

And of course he would, thought Big Macintosh! He was bringin’ all kinds of farm horse devotion to her what captured his natural born earth pony heart! But, all the same, he felt that his lumbering thoughts weren’t really keeping up with things. The Kirin, for instance. It did seem strange that his Kirin was a charming, innocent little darling who couldn’t sleep for how much she missed him and longed to see him again, yet all them other Kirin ran around being very bossy and punishing ponies. Seemed almost like the Kirin he loved was a whole other breed, and the ones they kept meeting in the small Neighpon towns were much more petty and judging.

But that was what they were for, to hear folks tell it: they passed judgement, and then they killed your pony ass if you were bad. Big Macintosh frowned for pret-near the fifth time, or the ninth, or the eleventh. It seemed like a dangerous, lonely journey through all the frightening Kirin just to get to his true love.

He trotted on, pulling the cart. He was nothing if not determined.

In the cart, Vinyl Scratch stared out at the passing foliage as the cart bumped along.

Road fatigue was a bitch, she thought. Ponies went kind of wacky under the strain. She sighed. She wasn’t really worried: there was something soothing about being back in Neighpon, cared for by Kirin. You could get pretty wacky in safety when you lived in Neighpon, she knew. The Kirin kept an eye on you, with their superior wisdom, and acted as sort of a referee for your wackiness: they’d urge you to the path of good, and see to it that you weren’t hurting anypony, to the best of their ability. You bore some responsibility for continuing to mean well, but the Kirin were endlessly patient so long as there was a chance of a harmonious outcome.

On the other side of the cart, Octavia wriggled upon her seat and gritted her teeth. She was humming to herself. Music being her outlet, she allowed it to fountain forth, and her weary brain catalogued the ideas as they came.

The day rumbled past on wooden wheels as they made their way to their next stop, and their next concert.

It hadn’t affected Octavia’s performance, at any rate. Shreds of broken ponyhair frayed off her bow as she held it aloft, her climactic final notes still hanging in the air, the audience cheering madly.

Vinyl Scratch slipped behind her decks, a glint in her eye, the background hiss of live decks mingling with the cheering of the crowd.

Big Macintosh watched his musician friends ply their craft, but then he gave a whinny and lifted a hind leg, for something had touched him in a rather sensitive place. He glanced back, to see a Neighpon-dainty unicorn behind him. Most of her, anyhow. She was a pretty pearl-gray color, with a lighter gray mane and tail that had darker gray highlights to form a sort of outline, and he couldn’t see her eyes, because she was nuzzling his testicles. Just the tip of her horn showed over his massive red rump.

Here we go again, thought Big Macintosh. His brow scrunched up as he watched the tip of that horn make thoughtful, meditative little arcs behind his hindquarters. He lifted his leg higher, feeling her muzzle tenderly prod his balls. He cleared his throat.

“Uh… ma’am?”

She peeked from behind him as if they were both privy to a wonderful surprise, and her clear blue eyes crinkled up at the edges with good nature and more than a bit of mischief.

“Hi!” she said, and the bass dropped.

As the crowd lifted with a shout and began to dance, Big Macintosh cringed at the aural assault. DJ Pon-3 was in the house, and she apparently meant to level it and prance on the rubble. He backed up, ear-flattened, even as the ponies around him pressed forward.

“Not your jam, huh?” said the little unicorn wryly. Big Macintosh looked again. She wasn’t that little, she’d been crouching down to nuzzle him better. Kind of leggy. Seemed normal enough: smaller than most Ponyville mares, cute little horn, slim and well groomed. She looked back at him, and he didn’t see much in the way of creepy madness in her eyes.

“Depends how y’mean,” said Big Macintosh. “Happens I ain’t missed a show yet.”

She gave him a wicked little grin. “I hope not. I think these musical ponies would be sad if you did. I saw you pulling their cart into town.”

Big Macintosh took a moment to scan the crowd. Before his eyes had got halfway, they were interrupted: she’d scooted in front of him with a lithe wriggle, and reared slightly, to smile into his face with her hooves gently on his shoulders. “They should thank you, a big strong horse like you. Do they thank you?”

“Uh, uh, sometimes?” stammered Big Macintosh.

“HOW do they thank you?” pressed the mare, tilting her head coyly. She really was cute, with her blunt little horn: kind of like Lyra back home, but less green.

“Uh, they let me have first pick of th’ best grass to graze on, an’ Miss Octavia rubbed my back once when I’d been pullin’ up hills a lot and Ah got sore.”

“Just that?” said the mare. “Oh, and where are my manners? I’m Suru. And you are?”

“Big Macintosh, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh, and waited for it. Sometimes when they heard his name, the creepy madness flared up in their eyes. The tiny one he’d laid by the beach… no, she hadn’t even asked his name. Maybe as he got nearer the capital of Neighpon, the ponies got more civilized?

“I’m pleased to meet you,” said Suru. “Can I get you a drink of water?”

Apparently they did. Big Macintosh studied the friendly, solicitous unicorn. “That ain’t a bad idea, ma’am, thankee. Been workin’ to set this place up, and a drink of water does sound nice.”

“The musician ponies don’t give you water?” inquired Suru.

“Be fair, they were busy!” protested Big Macintosh. “They’re workin’ now, it’s their turn!”

She lifted an eyebrow elegantly. “Do they… play?”

“Am Ah readin’ too much into that, ma’am?”

“Oh, no no,” said Suru. “Don’t mind me. I’m just nosy.”

“As Ah learned!” snorted Big Macintosh.

She giggled, an adorably wicked look on her face. “You noticed? I can do more. Unless the lovely musicians have played you as well as they play their instruments, and drained you. So tragic. Poor thing. It didn’t look as though they had, though it’s not my business.”

That seemed relatively normal for a lecherous but sane pony untroubled by creepy madness. Big Macintosh sighed. “Naw. Funny you should ask, ma’am. Ah play with ponies my own self, but we don’t do none of that between musicians an’ road crew. That’s me, I’m road crew.”

“But you get to play with ponies once your work is done?” pressed the pretty unicorn mare.

“Except last night it went all wrong and Ah din’t get off or nothin’. So if I was more blue-balled, ma’am, that would be why.”

Ah, THERE it was. Big Macintosh wearily saw Suru’s eyes dilate and widen. Creepy madness, acquired. At least she seemed pretty and not too small for him, and she had behaved sort of normal… at least, so far.

She gave a little laugh, tensely. “Poor thing! Does that usually happen?” This time, it was she who scanned the crowd, her ears back in anxiety.

“Ma’am? Uh, Suru?”

“Yes?” she said, eyes locked to his, lips parted expectantly.

“Do you want to go off an’ have a lil’ fun? But we gotta talk first.”

“I would be delighted,” said Suru, her eyes shining. “Can I get you that drink of water? Plenty of water, for you.”

“Sure,” said Big Macintosh, “jes’ as long as you talk.”

“Just talk?”

“FIRST talk.”

Behind DJ Pon-3’s shades, Vinyl Scratch watched Big Macintosh leave early with the pearl-gray unicorn.

“What Ah’m askin’, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh, “is whether you got some creepy kink goin’ on where you want me to hurt you. Cos’ you’d be surprised how often that’s been happening with a big Ponyville fella like me, comin’ to town.”

“Oh!” blinked Suru. “Does that mean you’re distressed, because you’re not really hung on an epic scale as your size would suggest, and your feelings are hurt? I promise, that wouldn’t worry me.”

“Naw,” admitted Big Macintosh, “Ah kind of am.” He watched her warily, expecting at least a ‘yay!’

She cocked her head. “Well, I’d like to try the challenge, if it’s not unwise. It can hardly be that dangerous unless you’re rough, and that’s not what I’m about. You being rough, I mean. It sounds like you don’t want to be? That’s good, the Kirin would like you.”

“Sometimes they do,” said Big Macintosh.

Her eyes narrowed. “Sometimes they do not?”

“Din’t say that,” protested Big Macintosh. “But that’s what Ah mean. Ma’am, I got to be careful cos’ I’ve had some pretty wild mares in Neighpon and it ain’t always nice, how they want it. Especially this one unicorn.”

Suru’s eyes widened. “What did she do?”

“Went off like a firework display an’ hurt herself,” said Big Macintosh. “Er… kinda. I shoulda known better, honest. She was real little, an’ they’d done something to her so’s she could enjoy fuckin’…”

Suru’s eyes roamed over his body. “Oh, my. I’ve heard of her, yes. She is all right?”

“Whole team of Kirin around her,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah reckon she’s fine by now. Gonna take a while for that horn to grow back.”

“I have plenty left!” protested Suru. “You can’t fault me for that, I am responsible, I understand my limits!”

Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “Ah mean hers, ma’am. Somethin’ you need to tell me?”

Suru’s gaze dropped. She was blushing. She muttered, “You’ve caught me out…”

She gasped. This time, the nuzzle was returned… but Big Macintosh was nuzzling the top of her head, her ears, that cute little blunted horn: that being all he could reach of her, while she looked down.

Her head came up quick, so quick he had to dodge the swinging hornlet, her eyes wide as they stared at him. “Oh my goodness…”

“You got to tell me, though,” he said. “Ain’t fair to me, otherwise.”

Suru pouted. “Oh, all right. I like orgasming.”

“Most ponies do,” suggested Big Macintosh.

“I like orgasming a LOT. Don’t you see how I’ve decorated my bedroom?”

Big Macintosh looked around. It did seem rather… padded. He lifted an eyebrow. “Bouncin’ off the walls, much?”

“Flameproof,” said Suru.

He boggled. “You set FIRE to your lil’ house? That’s your fetish? You’re a pyro-pony? Ma’am, I…”

“No, no!” she protested. “Not that way! Oh, how am I ever going to explain this to a foreign earth pony who’s never seen a…”

She trailed off, looking at his wicked smile.

“Gotcha,” said Big Macintosh. “You ain’t so clever as all that, ya silly pony. I know all about unicorns, an’ more. I knew what that stuff was soon as I looked at it.”


He nodded. “Ah’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe, Miss Suru. I’ve seen that stuff blasted away faster than you could blink. In fact, happens I was responsible for it.”

Suru’s eyes kept getting wider and wider. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” said Big Macintosh. “I made love nice and gentle to Princess Luna, but what she done with her horn, well, that weren’t gentle at all.” He winced. “Also, I made another fine lady set fire to her lacy curtains, an awful long time ago. An’ was she ever mad! She didn’t think she had any squirt in her, but I fixed that.” Big Macintosh brooded for a moment. “Dang, that was a long time ago. Still, she’s well fixed now. Guess it all worked out.”

Suru looked about ready to faint, regarding him with awed terror and fascination. “Oooooh!”

“So don’t you fret, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh. “I know there ain’t no fetish. Jes’ how you unicorns do.”

At that, she blushed hard again. “No, there is.”


“It’s okay!” protested Suru. “It will be okay, don’t worry. I think you can do it, and there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Ma’am, if you knew what I been through in this crazy country,” rumbled Big Macintosh, “you wouldn’t say that so easy! All right then. Let me make some wild-ass guesses. You got a ball fetish. You fixin’ to kick me in them?”

“No, no!”

“You want me to drink a lotta water. You fixin’ to have me pee on you?”

“Ew! No!”

Big Macintosh relented. He’d been expecting something just as outlandish or worse. “Okay. Okay. What’s your pleasure, then?”

She was blushing a flaming red, and pouted, sticking out her lower lip. She looked up at him, sulky. “I want you to come in me. A lot. I would never kick you there, what a horrible idea! And pee, ew, that’s not how my fantasy works!”

“It ain’t?”

“It most certainly ‘aint’,” sniffed Suru. “I think I’ve heard that idiom, it’s a barbarian pony thing.” She fixed him with a sultry gaze from under half-lidded eyes, and her knees were trembling. “I want you to blow me up like a balloon. With come.”

It was Big Macintosh’s turn to pout. He was gazing off into space, a sour expression on his lips, thinking hard. “Y’all forgive me for bein’ cautious about them self-destructive ways of Neighponnese mares…”

“To a point, I mean!” squeaked Suru. “Oh my goodness. You… Mister Macintosh, you really think you’re so pent up that you could do me injury? From… from coming TOO much in me?”

“Let’s jes’ say I ain’t messin’ around, ma’am,” replied Big Macintosh. “And it ain’t just emptyin’ my nuts, either. Any zebra could outdo me there…”

“What are those?” she asked quickly.

Big Macintosh stared at her.

“I cain’t be responsible for tellin’ you,” he said, “I din’t say nothin’, ain’t no such thing as a Z-word. Never you mind. I mean, I’m a big fella. I reckon with a normal stallion from these parts, it’s gonna squirt out, you know? Ah’m bigger, take up more room. It’s liable to git all corked up an’ under pressure an’… aw horseapples.”

She couldn’t even speak, for hyperventilating.

“Ah done fucked up, din’t I?” sighed Big Macintosh.

Suru sidled forward. Her every step suggested a quivery explosiveness, like her pelvis had melted down into a puddle of willing-mare the instant she’d understood what he said. She kissed him on the nose, and spoke intensely.

“I swear I am not irresponsible,” she said. “We must do this, I can’t bear it if we don’t, but we must do it responsibly. I think if I position myself well, I can avoid danger. You are not some pony-shaped Weird Monster out of legend? You are not so swollen and huge that mere penetration would burst me asunder?”

“Naw,” said Big Macintosh. “I’m still a pony. Honest.”

She bit her lip, anxiously. “You’re very masculine. Can you bear the shame of lying back and allowing me to position myself? That would be wisest. I realize some barbarian ponies, even some Neighponnese, they must be on top as the dominant stallion…”

Big Macintosh laughed. “Are ya kidding? Ma’am, I done it every which way you kin imagine. I was about to suggest that.”

Her smile appeared, and it was lovely. It grew. “It doesn’t bother you? I’m sure I’ll be all right if you can do that. I think it can still be rewarding. For you, I mean.”

“An’ for you?” inquired Big Macintosh, settling back onto her bed.

Her legs were shaking worse and worse, and the scent of her mad winking filled the air. She bit her lip again, couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m not sure the word ‘rewarding’ will be enough…”

“C’mere,” rumbled Big Macintosh, and eagerly, wobblingly, Suru came.

To a point, anyhow: Mac rolled his eyes, thinking he should have seen it coming. He’d settled back onto his back, legs spread, expecting to be mounted by a sex-crazed mare. But he’d forgotten the essential point: she was a testicle-crazed mare, and even as his cock thrust forth and hardened before her, Suru had eyes only for his balls, and ecstatically nuzzled their turgid massiveness, pressing her face against them with croons of delight.

“Ah’m up here,” suggested Big Macintosh.

“You’re even better down here,” purred Suru, her stubby blunt horn making cozy little arcs in the air as she made love to his balls, licking them and prodding them lovingly with her muzzle.

“Heh. You ain’t bad down there yourself,” said Big Macintosh, stiffening further with every lick and caress.


“But you might wanna be up here before you git too frisky down there,” suggested Big Macintosh.

She looked up. Her eyes widened, as she saw what she’d wrought. “Um. Why is that?”

“Well, ma’am, Ah am mighty pent up an’ frustrated, and if you get me off from jes’ that there…”

Suru squealed in alarm and pulled back, frantic. “Noooo! What must I do, you mustn’t, I have to…”

“Shhh,” soothed Big Macintosh, reaching for her. “Ah tole you already, you wouldn’t listen. Come here. I know how this goes.” He made a face. “Y’all made it worse for yourself, though. Ah’m flared up perty good. We kin probably do it anyhoof, specially if you’re brave.”

Suru scrambled up to mount him, biting her lip in chagrin. “I’m so foolish… oh, my! Yes you are. Please, if you can at all, please please try to re…”

“Way ahead of ya,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah am tryin’ to relax for all I’m worth.”

“Fuck,” said Suru, wide-eyed. “What does it look like when you tense? No, wait! Don’t, or I’ll never get on. Fuck. This is intimidating, very intimidating.”

“I swear I’ll be gentle with you,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah learned it from… from somepony that I used to know, is who. Don’t wanna talk about it. You just settle back, ma’am, and we can start.”

She’d already started: it was a wonder she hadn’t dehydrated completely, for her extreme arousal at nuzzling his balls had left a puddle of mare-juice beneath her. It dripped down the inside of her legs, and when his cock-head touched her vulva, she shuddered and began to pant again… but thankfully, Suru was far too horny to tense up. This posed its own challenges. The wave of desire that rocked her was triggering a reaction too primitive for her stallion-topping position: she painted his flare with lube, but tended to freeze, straddling him expectantly, her body expecting a stallionish thrust and bracing itself stable and motionless as she panted. Big Macintosh, ears perked, began to consider his options for thrusting up into her and solving the problem that way, when…

“Gheeeh! hh!”

With a filthy squelch, Suru heaved herself back onto him and pushed his hardening flare into herself.

“OH! my! love!” she wailed, bearing down and pinching at him.

“Are you okay?” pressed Big Macintosh, fighting not to tense or swell himself. She was damned pinchy, and he knew to be careful, knew he should ask. She’d been wet and slippery as anything, but that iron grip she had suggested he’d made a mistake.

“Givemeamoment!” she gasped. She bared her teeth, but her mouth didn’t curl down in anguish. There were tears in her eyes, but her face bore a rather frightening grin, showing a different flavor of anguish. He’d seen Rarity do that time after time, and there was no mistaking the shameless wallowing in too-sharp pleasure-pain.

There was still the issue of her tension, though. “Yes, ma’am. I got to say, though, judgin’ by your snappin’ pussy, I best stay there. Is that okay? Ah’ll hurt you, ma’am, and that’s a fact. You ain’t big enough for me.”

“No, I… hh… nnnghh…”

“No?” asked Big Macintosh.

“I said, give me a moment,” managed Suru. “There’s something you don’t know about me.”

“Whut’s that?”

She grinned down at him. “I do exercises. Let me focus. I’ll show you.”

Big Macintosh watched, wide-eyed. Suru grimaced, arched her neck, wriggled slightly… and showed him, showed him until his eyes bugged out in shock.

Inside her, the fierce tightness began to relax. She’d had it under control, mostly, and now she knit her brow, heaved deep breaths, and forced herself to loosen. With little wriggles of her hips, little jittery flicks of her tail, Suru softened up until the pressure around him was no more than general slippery snugness, the iron band of tension completely gone. He felt himself expand into the new softness, and saw her heart pounding in a vein in her neck: to her, this relaxing was a bold surrender to his potent occupancy of her body, and though she felt the strain of it, it did not dissuade her.

That became even more obvious once she’d taken her moment. Once Suru had melted herself upon him, she swished her tail once, twice as she took a breath and let it out… and then, her eyes squeezed tight shut, the little unicorn mare slid back onto his throbbing erection seemingly without ever having to stop, and his bulk smoothly penetrated her.

Big Macintosh’s eyes bugged out in shock not so much because of that alone… but because he felt her taut labia juicily slip over and cover his medial ring. Suru liked it incredibly deep.

He nervously petted her mane. “Ya okay?” he asked, as his cock throbbed excitedly in its tender confines.

Suru looked up at him, her mouth hanging open in awe, her eyes wide and adoring and not quite focussing on him.

Big Macintosh booped her gently on the nose. “Is that a yes?”

“Uhhh! Eeeh! Oooh! Mmmmh!”

He grunted. Suru had come instantly just from his nose-boop, possibly because she was crammed full of Big Macintosh throbbing away, possibly because she’d never had anything like him. When she did, that snapping pussy went into action, and delivered punishingly sharp clenches to his cockbase behind the medial ring. His ears laid back, but he bore it uncomplainingly, thinking to himself that if she wanted to be come in, she’d have to take it down a notch. It felt like she was very capable of pinching him off so that even his mighty testicles couldn’t blast through.

Big Macintosh stroked her mane while she came, his eyes roaming over the beauty of her shuddering, quivering form. She sure was a cutie, and seemed awful happy with him. His eyes strayed farther, to all the magic-proof padding surrounding them. He glanced at the floor. Even the carpet was made of the same material.

There were cloven hoofprints on her carpet… several different sizes. Big Macintosh glanced back at Suru. Practice: it seemed like this was what she was for? Well then, he’d see if he could do the pretty unicorn even better than the two… no, three… however many Kirin came to ball her and get filled up with unicorn horn-come.

Big Macintosh’s ears quirked. Seemed kinda funny to have all that protective stuff, if she was supposed to be squealing and having her horn sucked. Wouldn’t they be able to drink it all? The tiny unicorn could squirt buckets, gushers. Lyra back home was like that, too.

Suru, heaving deep breaths, began to subside from her first orgasms, her pussy relaxing around him again. “Ooooh fuck!”

“I din’t come yet,” said Big Macintosh. “Ya good?”

Her body was sweating, beautifully, giving her a glisteny silvery look. It somehow smelled of her ecstacy, inflamed his desire: so clean and lusty and fresh. As she relaxed around him, the impression he got was of her power and strength, that she revelled in all of this and it fulfilled a need in her so deep that she could barely express it. The look in her eyes gave a mighty good hint of it, though.

“No you didn’t,” she confirmed. “I’d know, believe me I’d know. Mmmmm! You look surprised. Does my body surprise you?”

“A lil’!”

Suru nuzzled his face lovingly. “Deep vestibule, small treasure-chest. I’m just built that way—Neighponnese find me, erm, roomy. I’ve never felt so full in my whole entire life. Are you good? Did I hurt you? I can try not to tense up. I’m very strong inside.”

Big Macintosh quirked an ear. “Ah’m fine. I will say one thing, on account of you want me comin’ inside. When the time is right I reckon you best relax, or you’ll pinch me like a dang milkshake straw.”

She blinked. “Won’t it still work? I mean, in general terms? I doubt I can pinch tight enough to keep the come out, nor would I wish to.”

“No,” said Big Macintosh, “that’s true enough. It’ll git there. All’s I meant was, you might not want it squirtin’ and sprayin’ like it was pinched off.”

She licked her lips, her eyelids flickering like a wild sequence of fantasies raced through her brain. “Why would I not want that? It’s everything I desire.”

“Because if ya relax all the way,” said Big Macintosh, “Ah’m feeling like my nuts are fixin’ to throw it all at once. Got me a big thingy, an’ a big tube in there, an’ if you DID want to be pumped full of horsecome in one big fat splodge… heh! Heh, heh heh!”

He had to laugh for joy, stroking her mane affectionately. Suru’s eyes had widened as she understood what he was suggesting, and by the time he’d reached the word splodge, she was coming with pretty squeals and fierce clenches, popping all her corks at his description alone. Granted, she felt really good on him and he reckoned he felt amazing in her, especially as he got more throbbing and erect, but it was a mighty funny thing that he’d given a mare a spectacular orgasm by saying ‘splodge’ to her.

Cuddling her squeaking, spasming form to his chest, Big Macintosh wondered what it would be like randomly saying ‘Splodge!’ to mares on the street. Would any of them have orgasms? Probably not. It just made him feel luckier that he’d found this nice mare. He glanced at the cloven hoofprints on the carpet again. Them Kirin knew when they had a good thing goin’.

She subsided again, looking adorably disheveled, her blunted horn glittering. “Oh my!”

“Sounds good, huh?”

Suru nodded delightedly. “Yes, yes, YES! I’ll do everything I can to help. Oh my! Let’s start, let’s start right away! Don’t let my horn point at you. I… um… hm.”

“Somethin’ the matter?” asked Big Macintosh.

“Perhaps,” said Suru, frowning a cute little frown and still looking like she’d just woke up from a whole night of happy debauchery. “I… Big Macintosh, how good are you at sensing things? I mean, inside?”

“Go on…”

She knit her brow. “I assumed I would do all the moving. Sort of ride you, milk you… and I can do that, I know I can, but I’m also sure I would tense up. And that is okay, too, but if you… splodge! hh! mmh! excuse me… If you… THAT, I would need to be so deeply relaxed that I wouldn’t be supporting my own weight.”

“Got lots o’ support, darlin’,” rumbled Big Macintosh. “You go right ahead.”

“But I mean, I was hoping to do some moving. Nothing so rough, but moving. And then afterwards I would need to scooch forward if you c—came too much in me…”

“Easy there, ma’am!” laughed Big Macintosh. “Ah know about that. I kin tug out as needed if things get too pressured in there. Never you fear!”

Suru regarded him with astonishment. “Fuck me, you do it that often that you’re USED to it? Seriously? You come so much that you learned THAT?”

Big Macintosh blushed. “Aw. Yeah, but it ain’t me bein’ so clever. A very special pony I knew once. That’s who taught me. Ah owe him… a lot, really.”

“Are you okay?”

“Got somethin’ in m’ eye. Never you mind.”

The next thing he knew, he was being kissed very sweetly on the muzzle by Suru, and her heart was in her luminous, loving eyes.

“I trust you,” she said. “If you mean it, then I would be delighted to place myself in your care. Make love to me, and fill me with come. This may be the most beautiful moment in my life.”

“Aw,” said Big Macintosh, “don’t git carried away. It’s jes’ me down here, is all.”

“Shh,” said Suru. “Love me.”

She lay her head against his chest, eyes blissfully closed, and flipped her tail a few times, wriggling, trying to relax. She arched her neck prettily, as if she was a cat looking for a nuzzle under the chin, and then Big Macintosh realized it was to point her horn at a nearby magic-resistant pad. He also realized that he’d gone a bit soft inside her, and wiped away a tear, and set his jaw.

“For you,” he said, and he didn’t mean Hina. “An’ all I learned.”

Tenderly, his hips began to nudge.

Suru shivered and let out a breathy cry as the massive, warm presence inside her pussy began to shift. She clenched, then forced herself to relax, and just in time: with the slick magic of marehood around stallionhood sending immediate jolts of sensation into both ponies, Big Macintosh’s huge cock remembered what it was doing in a fearsome hurry. Suru gasped in thrilled shock as his cock swelled every bit as quick as she could relax, seeming to inflate inside her to half again its size until her ears laid back in delighted alarm.

Big Macintosh caressed her mane, stroked her ears until they stopped being flattened against her head in fear. All the while, he kept up tender soft motions of his increasingly un-tender phallus, letting it nudge and slip gently inside her even as every contour and bulge became hard and unyielding. Suru’s ears gradually relaxed as Big Macintosh fondled them, until they stood up, quirked to the sides in an expression of awe and disbelief, but showing no strain.

That was when Big Macintosh deepened his stroke.

Suru licked her lips wildly, her eye twitching. Her horn fizzed and shimmered, a spark of magic springing off it with a dry pop. Hastily, she laid her head against Big Macintosh’s chest so her horn wouldn’t endanger him, and felt his mighty heart pounding much like hers. So controlled, so gentle, but such power! With a little cry, Suru began to orgasm again, fighting not to tense up.

Big Macintosh’s stroking grew firmer, and he caressed and stroked her pony body as she lay quiveringly across him in orgasm. He could feel her efforts to not tighten, and his weighty caresses urged her to melt away in his embrace.

“Ahh! Aaaahhh… aaaAAAaahhh…” wailed Suru, coming so hard she saw double, melting across the barrel of the mightiest horse she’d ever imagined, and feeling his huge throbbing horsecock thrust deep inside her again and again, never hurrying, never relenting, as he so powerfully caressed and stroked her shuddering body.

Big Macintosh gritted his teeth, feeling it build, determined to get it just perfect.

Suru vibrated, and for a startling moment saw triple. Her nostrils flared, she heaved deep breaths as her orgasms ramped up in a sudden frenzied escalation and she fought to not clamp down, fought to open herself completely to this wonderful huge horse, and…


As her orgasms hit a new peak of ferocity, a spurt of glittering magic arced from her little hornlet, to splash thickly against the magic-resistant material.


Another spurt of magic came out of her horn. For a moment, the only sound was the faint crackle of magic dripping down the wall, and the steady taut slurping of Big Macintosh’s achingly hard cock gently penetrating to Suru’s deepest treasure, over and over and over. And then…


She’d been exhaling. Her eyes flew wide, but she didn’t have breath to scream. Instead, she saw quadruple, quintuple, just a nonsense of meaningless shapes, as a tidal wave of semen gushed through the horsecock that transfixed her, catching her at a relaxed moment when she’d been most open and receptive, and the stallionhood shoved firmly up against her cervix, and hot spunk crammed in all at once to fill her palpably, more than she’d even imagined was possible.

Suru’s horn seemed to explode with magic, blasting off the protective padding and ricocheting across other padding to fill the room with light.

Big Macintosh, wild-eyed, watched the fireworks. There seemed to be enough room that it wasn’t hitting him or splashing over him. He held Suru close, though she seemed stunned into total limpness with only her horngasm showing her reaction. No, not quite: she’d managed to relax, but he could feel her body thundering away like a storm was inside. She didn’t struggle or cry out, but the orgasms churned her to a puddle and that horn was still going like it’d never stop.

He gritted his teeth, and his balls convulsed and fired another thick, sticky load of horsecome into Suru. She writhed weakly, and her horngasm in turn thickened and grew brighter, impossibly brighter, accompanied by a burning smell. Big Macintosh decided he’d have to trust that her room could stand it, and that nothing too important was on fire. He quickly gauged the feelings of pressure against his throbbing cock, and pulled back half an inch until he felt less solidness against the front face of his flare.

As he did, Suru’s brain returned from total and complete white-out. Between the time his second load pumped into her, and the time he’d pulled back, she had gone to heaven and hell at the same time, a shatteringly intense climax where she couldn’t even think. There was just the orgasm rampaging merrily through her body, and down in her vagina, the mighty throb of Big Macintosh’s huge erection and the huge pool of horsecome that literally stuffed her, filled her every crevice until she felt every nerve squealing at once, inflated her until the mass of semen felt like a solid object that made her womb some kind of casting, a statue… or, rather, her uterus and tubes and such all painted over such a statue, so tight and hard she couldn’t even breathe, could only come her tail off and gush magic from her horn.

Relieved of that pressure, Suru heaved huge, frantic breaths. “Haaaaaaahhh! haaaaaahh!”

“Y’ okay?” panted Big Macintosh.

She gazed up at him, drenched in sweat, as if he’d become some monster or deity. She licked her lips, an ear twitching. Her lips kept curling up into dazed smiles, and going blank in awe again.

Big Macintosh scritched her ear, and smiled. “Hey, Braeburn, Ah think she liked it…”

Suru’s eyes were so wide. “Who?” she panted.

“Never you mind. I honored that name. Again, you okay? Feelin’ happy?”

“Oh, my!” managed Suru. “It… you… yes! So good, so good…” She felt charred, stunned, quivering in some utterly vulnerable state, and it felt better than anything ever had in her whole life.

“Tired?” asked Big Macintosh playfully.

“What?” panted Suru.

He nudged with his hips, just a little.

Suru’s eyes flew wide, and her horn erupted in light once more, blindingly. His careful little nudge had been transmitted through the sea of horsecome inside her, and everywhere she’d been inflated on a tide of warm spunk, not painfully but just to the point where her breath was taken away. It was like the blinding white universe of total orgasm that she’d been burning in while his second volley pumped her full, had receded when he’d withdrawn. And then, unexpectedly, with just a little nudge, Suru felt herself yanked up like some carnival ride and physically plunged into that world of blinding orgasm, and then back out to the real world and the blurry image of a titanic red stallion upon which she straddled.

She gawked at him, uncomprehending. As she became able to focus, she saw how amused and pleased he was. His smile was like a colt on Hearth’s Warming Morning.

It hadn’t hurt, not exactly hurt. Even her womb didn’t hurt. Now that she thought about it, now that the crushing intensity of sexual ultimate peak had receded again, she could feel herself, and in awe she felt the truth: she was utterly relaxed, being fondled openly by an amazingly sexy stallion, and his hard-on was persisting so well that it still walled up an ocean of spunk. And that ocean felt warm and cozy and glowing inside her womb’s every crevice, but all the same, it was an incredibly vulnerable feeling because he only had to nudge and she could feel she would just explode in orgasm, helpless to do anything else until the tender pressure relented.

It was her deepest fetish, on a scale she’d not even imagined.

“This is where you might do th’ thing,” suggested Big Macintosh, and his voice rumbled through her limp body and gave her another orgasm, and she tried to meet his eyes and talk coherently.

“What thing?” she managed.

“Y’know, what the DJ do. So they say. Ya showed me.”

“Wuh?” sighed Suru, feeling like she was melting into sex candy.

Big Macintosh scratched his head with a free hoof. “Ah kin keep doing that, real gentle-like, but Ah will flag. I jes’ thought since you got the snappin’ pussy and all, you can be your own cock ring an’ it will help me go longer. Or not if ya don’t want. You look happy.”

Suru, dazed, looked up at him, feebly knitting her brow as she made sense of his words through the waves of inexorable pleasure that flooded her.

“If… I tense… you can do it again?” she managed. She felt his erection, still remarkably vast, plunged deeply up her and resting quietly.

“Ma’am, Ah’m honored.”

Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. With an adorable little scrunchy-face of effort, his little unicorn mare was bearing down harder and harder on him, and his cock stiffened inside her as she clamped around it in grim earnest. His jaw dropped, politely, as Suru made her intentions clear.

“Dang,” he said. “That would be a yes. Poss’bly a please. All righty, ma’am, it’s my pleasure. How long would you like to ride into th’ sunset?”

Suru gazed blearily up at him, face wreathed in quivery smiles.

“Forever!” she sighed, and then she carefully nestled her head against his chest, so her horn pointed at the wall, and melted into his embrace… all of her, except where her pussy locked down behind his medial ring like it’d never let go.

“That’s a long time, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh.

“Until I release you,” she said, muffled against his chestfur. She pinched at him happily, to demonstrate what she meant.

“Who knew there was a Wild West in Neighpon?” marvelled Big Macintosh.

“Whut?” mumbled Suru, dazedly.

“Never you mind,” he said. “Hold on. Here it comes.”

He tenderly nudged into her again, and her mind exploded in pleasure as her horn erupted in horngasm, and there were no further questions to be had.

Big Macintosh lay, blissed out, stroking the back of his quivering lover, his eyes contentedly closed. It was partly due to pleasure, and partly because Suru’s orgasms hurt his eyes after a while.

It was awe-inspiring, really. She just wouldn’t let up. And since her natural gifts included a vagina with extraordinary gripping power, she was quite capable of trapping his cock and keeping it hard, so long as she didn’t relent. His only option was to tenderly make love to her until she was so exhausted that she had to let go. And this, Suru seemed determined not to do.

His cock felt inflamed, real sensitive, but that was okay: no doubt so did she, and it helped him keep everything so very gentle and tender. They were both exhausted. It’d been… hours? A long time, an impossibly long time, but a time spent floating in sensual ecstacy. He’d fondle his unicorn lover. She’d quiver, maybe wriggle, she’d long since become unable to move a hoof but she still hung onto him determinedly, unwilling for the ecstacy to end. Sometimes she’d relax for a moment, and then wriggle and tense her pussy up once more. And on those lovely pony lips, on the cute little muzzle, he’d see her feebly mouthing the word, ‘again!’.

And with the utmost tenderhearted caution, since at this point it jolted the both of them, Big Macintosh would nudge his hips forward, and cuddle his unicorn mare to him as she wordlessly gushed a blinding blast of horngasm at the wall. There must have been some object in the room that hadn’t survived their lovemaking, for he continued to smell burning but saw no fire. He’d asked if it was okay, checked with Suru, and she’d lifted her head with the last of her strength not reserved for cock-ring duties and told him everything was okay and never to stop, ever.

And so, Big Macintosh, his eyes closed against the glare, tenderly pressed upwards into Suru and felt her shudder in pleasure, her physical orgasms so exhausted by now that she could only quiver bonelessly… and the one bone they had left between them—the stallion-bone kept erect by Suru’s intense dedication and constriction—pressed deeper into her molten vagina, and compressed the sea of warm horsecome, and pressed outward against all her female-bits at once, and as she let out a feeble croak of joy the horngasm burst forth as she vented still more magic.

At one point, he’d tried rocking his hips gently into her so that the sensation became a continuing thing: not just a pressure, but tenderly balling both her and the reservoir of come, at once. That was when he’d learned to shut his eyes against the glare. It had also been where her voice gave out, and when he thought he’d had her. He’d gone for a couple minutes that way, amazed at her stamina, and in no more than a couple minutes Suru’s pussy had unclenched in sheer exhaustion, overwhelmed by the intensity of the unending orgasm.

Then, as he began to withdraw, somehow impossibly she’d grabbed him. She’d clenched onto him with what remained of her strength, and he could only see her eyes in the dimness of the room: her horngasm had taken out a light fixture, though it didn’t seem to worry her.

“…gentler…” she’d croaked, and hung on, waiting.

Big Macintosh had bowed his head, snuggled her, closed his eyes, and proceeded to do just that as long as he had strength to do it.

He heard some kind of noise outside, but surely that was normal on a nice cool Neighpon evening. He felt Suru wriggle feebly against him, and in the nonverbal harmony they shared, he ever-so-tenderly nudged upward into her for what seemed the thousandth time. She tensed as the horngasm burst forth, blinding against his closed eyelids…

Shouting. There was shouting outside.

Big Macintosh opened his eyes, and saw that Suru’s horngasm had blasted a hole in the wall when he wasn’t looking. It was her exhausted stillness that had done it: she’d been aiming at the same spot, her horn had been pointing unwaveringly at just one point.

Big Macintosh’s eyes returned from the hole in the wall, through which horngasm gushed to outdoors, back to its source…

With a spray of sparks and that burning smell, the last shreds of Suru’s horn burned away, and there was no more horngasm.

He froze, his mare wrapped in his forelegs, staring. It was a worrying little crater in her head. He was sure he’d heard somepony talking about how that was bad for a unicorn: how if you burned their horn up, they died. But Suru wasn’t dead: as the last sparks settled to the floor, she stirred, at first tensing her pussy onto him as she’d been doing, and then nuzzling against his chest as if waking from a long, wearying dream.

She looked up at him, her eyes dazed, questioning. That cute little tongue came out again, licked her lips.

The sound of hooves trotting through the house, coming nearer. A magic glow lifted the latch, the special unicorns-only door-fastening that had secured Suru’s inner sanctum from intrusion.

A very worried-looking Kirin came in and stopped, staring at Suru and Big Macintosh just as Suru finally relaxed her grip.

Alarmed, Big Macintosh tugged his sore and throbbing erection out of her, and an ocean of horsecome poured out of Suru. She shuddered and cried out a lewd little cry as her pussy was vacated, and then sagged across Big Macintosh’s barrel, indecently satiated.

“Aw, horseapples,” moaned Big Macintosh, unable to get up while she sprawled across him. “Jes’ tell me how much trouble Ah’m in.”

At this, Suru twitched. She squirmed weakly, then managed to lift her head. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Behind her, the Kirin spoke. “There’s no trouble, Mister Horse. We know our Suru, of course. Don’t assume that other mares prefer this fate… but our Suru will be fine, I’m sure it’s not too l…”

He trailed off, shocked. As he spoke, Suru had turned to face him, as if she’d been caught by some parent or authority. It broke Big Macintosh’s heart to see her face slip from deep waves of joy and bliss, to guilt and resentment. Something was wrong… but by the reaction of the Kirin, the horror in his eyes, something else was even wronger.

The Kirin rushed forward, to his side. In the glow of that curious horn, Big Macintosh’s and Suru’s faces were illuminated. The Kirin had eyes only for what remained of Suru’s horn, and as Suru’s eyes went wide in alarm, the Kirin’s horn flamed to brilliance and formed a magical tendril that reached forward delicately to where her horn had been…

She jolted in Big Macintosh’s embrace, with a cry of pain, and the magical tendril flicked off instantly.

Her eyes were so wide, as she glanced between Big Macintosh and the Kirin. She lifted a hoof to her head, wincing, and the Kirin watched as if this was itself a horrifying thing. And she looked back at him, an intense and mysterious gaze that he couldn’t break from… and Big Macintosh saw a quavery smile begin to come to her lips.

“It IS too late,” she said gently, to the Kirin.

He shook his head, dismayed, appalled.

The smile grew. “I’m sorry.”

“But…” said the Kirin.

“There are others,” said Suru gently. That smile glowed. Big Macintosh felt her whole body relaxing… and then she’d tucked her head under his chin, nuzzling up to him, that little burned crater right up against his throat, and she melted against her barbarian lover, still smiling.

The Kirin ran madly back through the house and outside, terror in his eyes, and then Big Macintosh heard his hooves hitting the roof, climbing until the freaked-out Kirin stood on the highest point… and the sound of a magical discharge, like something sending off a desperate beacon, was heard.

“Am too, in trouble,” said Big Macintosh.

Suru lifted her head, and kissed him full on the lips. She seemed unable to stop smiling. “No, you’re not.”

“Am too!”

The Kirin clattered back inside, his cloven hoofprints mingling with the others on the carpet. “I’ve sent for Daiyam!”

“Won’t help,” said Suru gently. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, you’re not!” wailed the Kirin.

Suru shut her mouth. She looked faintly shocked. She glanced at Big Macintosh, then back at the frantic Kirin.

“It’s true,” she said. “You’re right. I’m not. But… but I’m a little bit sorry about not being sorry? Does that help, Gimu?”

Before he could answer, there was a sound from outside, like some pony splitting the sky with speed and urgency, and it whooshed right up close and then stopped. All doors in the house flew open in a glow of magic, and into the room charged a noble old Kirin, even his rescue-charge a thing of grace and poetry.

“Where is the…” he began, and then even he trailed off.

Gimu, the younger Kirin, began to blush. Daiyam, for it was he, walked up to look at Big Macintosh and Suru. He refrained from stepping in the large puddle of horse semen, but didn’t flinch from their obvious post-coital sweaty disheveledness. He stepped all around the bed, looking under it, on the floor, searching the room. Having done this, he turned to the younger Kirin.

“‘Death and loss and woe’. That is why you brought me here. Have you not made a mistake, dear young Gimu?”

Gimu, the younger Kirin, gulped.

“Be kind!” implored Suru. “Don’t punish him!”

Daiyam glanced at her, those ageless eyes holding hers. “Have no fear.”

“Gimu’s frightened!” protested Suru, her eyes glistening.

Hearing this, the old Kirin walked over to her, even stepping in the puddle of spooge on his way, as if it had become beneath his notice. He gazed into her eyes, bent, and he kissed her forehead… where her horn had been. “Have no fear,” he repeated.

“All is lost!” wailed Gimu, the younger Kirin. “And yes, I have fear!”

Big Macintosh and Suru both flinched. In a single move, old Daiyam had whirled to confront the younger Kirin, and his mane and tail flared brightly, and the anger in his eyes was as terrible as his usual peace was wonderful.

“And THAT,” roared the elder Kirin, “is the harm you’ve caused!”

They stared, frozen, while Daiyam faced Gimu down. Then, slowly, Gimu knelt, abasing himself before the old Kirin, pressing his chest to the carpet. He, at least, still took pains to avoid the puddle of spooge.

“Teach me, my teacher,” said Gimi, trembling.

Daiyam took a deep breath, calming himself. Big Macintosh and Suru watched, far too intimidated to say anything. Gimi remained abased, and listened intently.

“I cannot heal this,” said Daiyam. “No trace of horn has she left. But I would not do so, even if I could. I’ve seen this before.”

Gimu stirred, but didn’t speak. Daiyam continued.

“Five thousand years in the past, there was a Kirin who wanted to be safe. A Kirin like you,” intoned Daiyam. “Five thousand years in the past, there was a pony like this. Her gifts were special.”

He paused in his recitation, but Gimu didn’t look up.

“And five thousand years ago,” continued Daiyam, “that Kirin arranged for his peers to drink deep. He meant only well. Certain he was that the Kirin would prevail.”

“Prevail against what?” asked Suru in a tiny voice. Her eyes were still tearful, and she gazed worriedly at Gimu, who still stared at the floor.

Daiyam turned, and his eyes were soft and sad as they met hers. “Nothing, child.”

He continued. “Five thousand years in the past, that Kirin protected from what had not happened yet. From what might never happen. That Kirin cherished the unicorn mare that fueled him. Surely he could keep all ponies from harm, in this way.”

Gimu sobbed, quietly, and did not look up.

Daiyam continued, more and more solemnly. “That Kirin built a world around his mare friend. She could power an army. On her withers rested the future of all Neighpon.”

He bowed his head. “He let her know that,” said Daiyam. “He thought she’d be proud.”

Suru was crying now, but she didn’t stop him.

“And one day,” said Daiyam gravely, “he rushed to the scene. She had been injured. But it was not as he thought. Five thousand years in the past, ponies were more fierce. She had burned off her poor horn… but she’d smashed it first. Mere fragments remained.”

Both Suru and Gimu gasped, shocked. Daiyam stared them down, and they returned to listening.

“In his madness, the Kirin wanted to fix her horn,” said Daiyam. “The mare, no longer a unicorn, refused. She loved him. But she could not carry the weight of all of Neighpon.”

He bowed his head again. After a moment, Suru asked, “What happened to her?”

“The mare died,” said Daiyam.

Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “Now jes’ an apple-pickin’ minute!”

Daiyam’s eyes silenced him. “Of old age,” he explained. “Still loved by Kirin. But as just a mare. Not as a weapon.”

Gimu sobbed, again.

“Do you understand,” said Daiyam, “what I have told you?”

Gimu remained abased. He looked at the floor, and he said, “You may destroy me. I am just as bad.”

“You have understood nothing,” said Daiyam, sadly.

“Did you not destroy that evil, cruel Kirin?”

“Look at me,” said Daiyam.

Gimu’s chin lifted, to be met halfway by a kiss on top of his muzzle. It was the elder Kirin. Daiyam was weeping, smiling, forgiving. His eyes were pools of love and acceptance, though still with a hint of authority that said: this is how things shall be. Gimu stared, unable to understand.

“I was that Kirin,” said Daiyam.

“Ah still feel like I ought to be gallopin’ out of town as fast as I kin,” said Big Macintosh.

Suru snuggled closer. Now that she had no horn, she seemed to like nothing better than spooning with him and tucking her head under his chin.

“You mustn’t!” she said. “You said the cello-playing mare would be cross if you did that twice in a row. And what if she, or the record-playing mare, were doing like you and sleeping with townsponies?”

“You shouldn’t call her that,” said Big Macintosh. “She’s a DJ, seems like that’s more than jes’ a record-playing mare. Anyhoof, they ain’t. Least, Vinyl does it rarely and frets about it when she do, and I ain’t seen Octavia with townsponies even once. Which is kinda funny, back home she’s more adventurous.”

“You’re adventurous,” crooned Suru, nuzzling under his chin.

“Too dang adventurous,” grumbled Big Macintosh.

“What’s bothering you?” asked Suru.

She turned to look at him. He frowned. “Ah hurt them.”


“Them Kirin. All’s I wanted was to get practice, uh, milkin’ unicorns, an’ look what happened. Ah bet they hate me now.”

Suru pouted. Then she bopped him on the nose with a hoof.


The blow was immediately followed by a kiss, and then she turned around and snuggled up again.

Big Macintosh shook his head, astonished. “What th’ HAY was that for? Mixed messages, ma’am?”

Suru sighed. “Shame on you, huge sexy horse. Unicorns are people, not things. I understood everything Daiyam had to teach us, because he was telling my story. Poor Gimu! I don’t hate him, but it was just like that. Look at this room! I’m just a little pony, it was scary to have so much responsibility, to feed so many. You were seeing things like Gimu saw them. You were milking unicorns for magic and found a special one and milked her dry, just because you could.”

Big Macintosh was speechless for a moment.

“So why did you kiss me?” he said.

“Because you did. You set me free,” said Suru, snuggling back against him. “Now I’m just me. I don’t have to be anything else.”

“Gimu prob’ly hates me now,” said Big Macintosh.

“Daiyam doesn’t,” said Suru. “And I don’t.”

Even hours after Suru had cuddled up and gone to sleep, dreaming blissfully of her freedom and future as a simple earth pony, Big Macintosh still lay awake trying to make sense of it all. He could have fed Hina for years, decades on what he’d got out of Suru while he used her up. Assuming she didn’t choke on all that raw magic, he could have gone all the way, stuffing any imaginable Kirin with magic and giving Suru the boon she wanted, by burning her horn entirely away through her own discharges. He could have done all that with Hina, and in some ways it was exactly what he’d set out to prove.

But for the life of him, he couldn’t work out whether Hina would have made him stop.