Zebra Crossings

“Dear pink and fluffy pony-style, why must your face refuse to smile?”

Zecora gazed solemnly at the heap of blankets, under which lurked a pony. A pink tail protruded.

Zecora considered herself an expert on pony tails: she’d even enchanted a special, magical one for the pony of her dreams. Well, something like that—if the lovely mare in question had stayed the pony of her dreams, Zecora would surely have worshipped her from afar and nothing would have happened. Waiting wasn’t wrong. Zebras were good at waiting, and sitting with their feelings.

But Fluttershy technically wasn’t a pony at all, not anymore. She’d been bitten and infected with vampirism, and had become a vampony, and one dark night Zecora had opened her door to find those huge lovely eyes gazing imploringly at her out of the scruffy bat-winged body of a monster… and heard, through that raspy voice, Fluttershy begging her for help.

Even if she had not been in love, she would still have agreed. Later, she’d learned that Shy could have compelled her with a gaze: but on that night there was only the lovely little pegasus mare, dreadfully changed, and in desperate need.

Zecora had ignored her own desperate need with the stoicism of a true zebra and worked on into the night, and by dawn they had a set of mane and tail extensions that masked Fluttershy’s condition, and when wearing them, Fluttershy returned to her devastatingly adorable appearance. And when she’d hugged Zecora, wings held high in delight, something had lurched inside Zecora and she knew she was lost forever, without undergoing a single vampiric compulsion. She knew that within the vampire was the pony girl she’d crushed on, and her path was set, fate established with a single enchanted pony tail.

But THIS pony tail before her wasn’t enchanted at all! It didn’t even fluff up, it stretched out straight, limp, and morose before Zecora’s disapproving gaze.

And ‘straight’ was the most unreasonable word imaginable for THIS little pony, thought Zecora. Even more than herself, Pinkie Pie was truly a raging lesbian, and had only fathered a foal with Fluttershy due to that quirk of pegasus biology that blended the magic of a stallion with a pegasus mare. They went in for wing-biting and it induced ovulation, just as the unicorns had to arc magic between their horns to ovulate. Zecora knew about ovulation, she’d brewed up enough ‘earth pony’s friend’ in her day. And Pinkie was quite capable of playing the stallion if it meant biting Fluttershy’s wing and kindling an egg to be fertilized by a stallion the usual way.

It made Zecora wonder, and she’d come to Pinkie’s Sugarcube Corner apartment carrying a little sack, prepared to experiment and see whether Pinkie Pie could play into some of her own fantasies. Zecora was a complicated mare, she knew, but she’d had time to think about herself and her sometimes contradictory urges, and she trusted her ebullient earth pony lover to not judge her.

That ebullience wasn’t very obvious at the moment. Zecora had not known Pinkie to mope with her head buried under all the blankets, as if hiding. If, she corrected herself, it even WAS Pinkie Pie: the tail color was right, but the poofiness was completely gone.

She poked the lump of blankets tenderly. “Perhaps your tummy’s feeling ill? I’ll brew a potion to make you well?”

There was no reaction. Zecora’s ears laid back. It seemed almost time to break out Elder voice: where you sat, and spoke without refinement or rhyme, unhurriedly thinking. Those words that were more about listening than talking, those times without judgement where all present knew to hear, and feel, and wait for fullness and understanding to placidly arrive.

This pony, if it was indeed Pinkie Pie, was the farthest thing from Elder voice that Zecora had ever imagined, and so Zecora hesitated, and prodded again with her hoof. “What’s the deal, lemon peel?”

The pile of blankets began shaking violently, and Zecora shied away, her ears laying back… and then in a flurry of activity, everything changed. The lank tail shook itself and foofed out into vast fluffiness and seemed to become even pinker, the pile of blankets rocketed towards the ceiling and fell in a shower of laundry all around them, and suddenly Zecora was confronted with a beaming pink pony, huge wide blue eyes blinking cutely at her, and a smile too joyous to be true.

“I am NOT lemon peel!” giggled Pinkie Pie. “Because lemon peel isn’t fun at all!”

Zecora bridled. “My recipes are quite abtruse! Indeed that peel is of some use!”

“Nah!” said Pinkie. “I think I’ll get Mrs. Cake to leave it out of the decorations and garnishes, ‘cos it’s just plain yucky! Like… Anyway, HI! What are you here for, Zecora? I bet I can guess! Let me tell you, sister, I am here to make you happy and that’s what makes me happier than anything, so your wish is my command! And the funny thing is, I never knew zebra pussy was so good until I met you so my wish is also your wish, how awesome is that?”

She bounced off all four hooves at once. Zecora regarded her suspiciously. “Thanks for your compliments, my dear—in truth your words have soothed my fear,” said the wary zebra mare.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of at all!” said Pinkie Pie, with a great big manic smile and an eye twitch.

“Oh? What about those times when you know not what you declare, or do?” demanded Zecora. “I’m pleased to see you’re feeling well. But ‘never fear’? Like pony hell!”

Pinkie was undaunted. “That’s just Pinkie Sense, silly! Everybody in Ponyville knows that! Now come over here. We’ll have the best day ever, ‘cos EVERY day deserves to be the best day ever!”

“Perhaps we may,” said Zecora. “Perhaps we might. I bring fantasies of the night… for things you’ve done with Fluttershy suggest some things I’d like…” and she gulped, “…to try.”

Pinkie had twitched again at the name, but brazened right through it. “You bet! You’ll get the works, stripey lady, bottomless enchantress!”

Zecora’s ears were splayed to the sides in pitiable flusteration. As always, Pinkie was charging ahead and sweeping everything along in her enthusiasm, and Zecora was sure it would end in hysterics and really copious orgasm. And this was not to be scorned, but all the same her private wishes needed to be honored—and if Pinkie would not wait up, then Zecora would have to jump ahead in her attempt to steer matters.

“Cease, fluff! ‘Tis enough!”

“You’re not supposed to say that until you can’t walk anymore!” giggled Pinkie, confidently.

Zecora caught her eye with a dark zebra stare that checked the torrent of words, and began to speak with a rising passion.

“Pinkie Pie, I do not doubt your special gifts to lay me out. I revel in your tender care as much as any Zebra mare, and I am grateful for your gifts, which always give my day a lift. But this can be a special thing, a secret present that I bring… an intimacy we can share, but only between mare and mare.”

“Mare and mare is the best way to share!” squeaked Pinkie, bouncing again. “And I’m the best at it that ever was, so lay back and I’ll get busy!”

Zecora shook her head, desperately trying to keep hold of the conversation as it kept wrenching itself towards frenzied cunnilingus. “Let me explain! And don’t reveal the things I will admit I feel: it’s taken years to understand what my libido does demand. Do not mistake the things you see, intended to be used on me, and draw conclusions from the sight to infer things that just aren’t right! I swear to you, I am not sick. I brought…”

She trailed off, looking nervous. She walked quietly back to the doorway, took hold of a large sack and carried it to Pinkie with her teeth. She opened the top of the sack, redolent of the herbs and potion ingredients of her lavishly decorated hut, and drew the cloth back to expose the contents: first sturdy fabric harnesswork as finely crafted as any bondage gear of Rarity’s, then revealing more and more of a thick and lovingly carved expanse of ebony, quite literally. Its girth was astonishing, its length spectacular.

It became impossible to ignore what Zecora had brought, and the big zebra scuffed the floor with a forehoof, blushing red-and-black, unable to complete her rhyme, and not needing to.

For indeed, the thing she’d brought intending to be used on herself was a big, black wooden dick.

Just as her eyes lifted and dared to meet her lover’s, Pinkie Pie burst into loud laughter.

Zecora froze, blushing even worse if that were possible, going nearly black on black in her humiliation. She couldn’t look up, but then she felt a little hoof lifting her chin, and Pinkie Pie was kissing her, kissing with a passion to set cities ablaze.

“I don’t NEED that,” asserted Pinkie, every word a monument of her personal truth. “And you don’t either!”

Zecora shook her head weakly, her eyes apologetic. “Pray take no offense. My longing’s intense… but never, of course, for a real male horse! Don’t think that of me! I just wished to see…”

Pinkie’s eyes were triumphant. “Oh, you’ll see, all right! You know what this tells me?”

Zecora blinked. “What?” she said, forgetting to rhyme in her confusion.

“You need a stronger dose!” declared Pinkie. “I remember once I got to play with Rarity as a present, from…” She twitched, and carried on, “…and I knew she wanted me to go all out and it gave her a nosebleed and shook her up something fierce! And she really liked it though I don’t think I really did all I could. And you’re so roomy and big, how did I never think of that before? I’ve just been pleasing myself with the deliciousness of you without thinking of your needs!”

Zecora’s ears wilted. “My offer, it dismays. There will be other days…”

Pinkie gave her another kiss. “Not at all! I’m not the least teeny itty bitty bit dismayed, or sad, or anything like that! Not ever! But this is a very special day for you, stripeybutt. Today you LEARN!”

Zecora’s eyes were wide, and though she remained frustrated at the rebuff, as always Pinkie’s onslaught had her feeling submissive and mare-ly. So, rather than argue (and argue in a very ponyish, contentious way that didn’t sit well with a zebra), she batted her eyelashes and inquired demurely, “Learn what, fluffy-butt?”

The glint in Pinkie’s eyes melted Zecora’s pelvis, and her resistance. So fucking stallionish, for a raging lesbian. If only! She tried to figure out what a gentle tender stallesbian would be like—but there was no time. She was very aroused, and very mare-ish, and her earth pony wasn’t looking gentle at all. A mad light danced in those blue eyes. Zecora hesitated, then surrendered to the advances of her lover.

“Today,” said Pinkie, “you’re gonna learn just how much you don’t need…”

Slowly, solemnly, Zecora lay back onto Pinkie Pie’s bed and watched those bright blue eyes move closer and closer.

“No, darling,” said Rarity. “Not in the least. Nothing of the sort.” Her voice shook with every syllable.

Fluttershy gulped, wincing. “B… but I think it maybe is just the teensiest bit pushy?”

Seeing the wince, Aloe hastily withdrew her hooves. “Too firm?”

Fluttershy shook her head. “No, that’s just right, Aloe, thank you. I was thinking of something else.”

Under Vera’s pummelling hooves, Rarity struggled to speak with authority, sounding extremely odd as a result. “Fluttershy, y-y-y-you must trust me about this. We-e-e-e-’ve spoken of it befo-o-o-o-re.” As Vera switched to kneading Rarity’s back with her full weight on her forelegs, Rarity hastened to make herself clear. “You’ve got to communicate! I entirely understand you wish to feel mastered. There’s nothing wrong with that, nor in the desire for piquant stimulation, even if it crosses lines for some ponies.”

“But I haven’t even told you all of it,” protested Fluttershy, “and I still feel even this much is being pushy!”

“Eeee!” squeaked Rarity as Vera’s hoof found and flattened a knot of muscular tension. “You see? I am living proof that pain and pleasure can be inextricably linked. The key is communication! I am inexpressibly grateful to dear Vera for this, yet it eeeEEEP! would not be suitable to do just walking down the street, or without permission! They’d lock her right up in fact!”

Vera was panting with effort, but took a moment to ask, “Is this too harsh, miss? Is it a complaint?”

Rarity gave her a hideous grin. “Don’t you dare let up! Ahhnnn!”

“Yes, miss,” said Vera, redoubling her efforts. Rarity’s eyes rolled back in her head, while her gentle friend composed her thoughts, and for a while the only sound was the fashionista’s gasps and squeaks, interspersed with occasional tiny wet noises. All the ponies politely ignored this. The spa ponies did not deliver more personal services, but Rarity often came to them with dreadful stresses and tensions that required Vera’s fiercest attacks upon her aching body. They’d long since established that Rarity’s personal reactions to delicious pain were her business and not grounds for cessation of the deep-tissue massage. Weeping and pleading and grovelling had been part of this negotiation.

As a result of their bargain, Vera did not notice or remark upon Rarity’s orgiastic responses, nor did she attend to the little rag that Rarity decorously laid across the massage table in an appropriate spot to catch her marehood’s enthusiastic juices. Rarity, in turn, had promised never again to moan “Was it good for you too?” afterwards, but had insisted on permission to cry out wordlessly. This, she pointed out, was valid feedback on the massage technique that might be expressed by any spa recipient.

They tactfully didn’t discuss the hypocrisy of this. Cries of obvious pain, that would be grounds for caution from other ponies, were just precursors to Rarity orgasms. Since she’d walked away from most of her secret sadomasochistic life, the spa was one of the few places where Rarity could get off to physical torment. This wouldn’t have swayed Vera in the least, but on the other hoof Rarity orgasms worked wonders at softening her cramped muscles and helped the massage go much quicker, and so the arrangement persisted.

Fluttershy watched thoughtfully as Vera leaned into her work, and made no observations as her elegant friend gasped and squeaked and shuddered, and privately deemed Vera something of a prude. Yes, Rarity was getting off, her lovely alabaster body quivering in pretty little spasms, but she just as clearly didn’t mean to, whatever silly Vera might think.

Fluttershy had watched Rarity come on the end of Pinkie Pie’s tongue. She’d arranged it for them, in fact. The things Pinkie had done inside Rarity’s body had doubtless been just as painful as a deep tissue massage, but on that occasion the fashionista had flung herself into the experience with explosive results, and there was really no comparison.

The combination of stolid back-massage and unicorn gratification did its happy work. Soon, Rarity lay relaxed, her tongue lolling slightly as evidence of the technique’s effectiveness.

“My concern,” said Fluttershy primly, “is that my Dursaa doesn’t wish to harm me. How can it be right to go against his wishes, or trick him? It feels wrong and unkind.”

Rarity drew in her tongue, and gave Fluttershy a sharp glance. “And you know this how?”

Fluttershy blushed.

“You do it anyway,” accused Rarity. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be seeking my advice, would you? I bet you’re going to go straight home and do it again, hmm?”

Fluttershy didn’t answer, but her lovely butter-yellow wings stubbornly lifted to stand erect. She looked away. Aloe and Vera glanced at each other, and Rarity caught their glance.

“Yes, darlings, I believe your labors are completed,” said Rarity crisply. “We will enjoy the hot tub, thanks ever so much. Bill me. Now, it seems our conversation may become private. Hmm?”

Aloe and Vera shared another glance. Aloe smiled. Vera scowled. Together, they tactfully retreated.

“Now, Fluttershy,” cajoled Rarity. “Out with it! Mama Rarity will help you solve this, yes she will! I think you mentioned that you were persuading your husband into sex whilst you were in pony form?”

Fluttershy blushed worse. It was only their privacy that allowed her friend to refer so bluntly to her vampirism and its accomodations. She relied upon the enchanted mane and tail extensions Zecora had made for her, and few in Ponyville had ever seen her true nature. The trouble was, her zebra husband Dursaa had seen it and liked it, for various reasons, one of which had become a bone of contention—and Fluttershy, as always, wasn’t good at contention.

“Tell me!” demanded Rarity. “Then we can properly discuss this! Why specifically are you trying to entice his lovemaking in pony form, when we’ve already settled that he prefers you in vampony form?”

Fluttershy couldn’t meet her eyes. “It hurts.”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction. “And by that, poor darling, you mean that your true form is made of sterner stuff. It’s far stronger and more durable, and you can take a zebra husband in that form and not even flinch. And he likes it that way, but you want to flinch, don’t you? Come on, confess, you’ll feel better. It’s only Rarity, we have been through much! Tell the truth.”

Fluttershy nodded, sulky. “I’m not sure I should feel better…”

“Note whom you are talking to!” said Rarity. “Don’t insult me, darling, it’s for your own good. You wish to be in pony form with him because…”

Fluttershy pouted. “It hurts a LOT.”

“He’s too big?” pressed Rarity, her eyes dancing.

“Oh yes,” said Fluttershy, her wings stiffly erect. “If I let him notice it’s hurting me, he stops right away.”

Rarity licked her lips. Some kinds of girl talk were just too much fun. “Soooo… how hard do you fight to keep him from noticing?”

Fluttershy blushed scarlet. “Hard,” she said, grimly.

The next thing she knew, she was being hugged. Rarity’d zipped over to embrace her, and gave her a little shake. “Listen! It’s your husband, darling, for your well being you should sort this out. He’s making you the delicate flower, is he?”

Fluttershy nodded, pouting again.

Rarity glanced around, checking the doorway, the windows, and bent to whisper in Fluttershy’s blushing ear. “Am I correct that in your pony form, your vampire healing powers still function?”

Fluttershy’s eyes widened. “Well… yes! Of course they do! Please don’t say that again, it’s hard enough getting Dursaa not to say it.”

Rarity scoffed. “But that’s my point exactly!”

“What is?” blinked Fluttershy.

Rarity fixed her with a stern gaze, after checking again for listeners. “Darling, really. As much as you adore Dursaa, you cannot let his whims dictate this. You and I both know he could split you asunder and you’d not die. Er, die more? My point being, dear, you are a formidable submissive. You’re essentially undamageable!”

Fluttershy gasped. “I am not! Not submissive, I mean. Maybe I am? I’m sorry.” She shook herself. “What I mean, Rarity, is that I don’t go do the things you used to do in bondage clubs! Maybe I am very submissive but it doesn’t matter if mean ponies could tear me to shreds and I wouldn’t die. I don’t want them to do that! And it would be such a strain on my pegasus magic to put my pieces back together and heal them, it would take weeks, months if I was in many pieces! No!”

Rarity blinked. “Don’t you mean vampire magic?”

“Shh! And no, that stops me from ever dying. More, I mean. I’m pretty sure it’s my pegasus magic that heals my injuries, and it’s a big strain too!”

Rarity gave her a look. “Are you doing it right now?”

“No!” denied Fluttershy. When Rarity’s gaze didn’t waver, she flinched. “Maybe. Oh all right, yes. I haven’t been beating my heart all morning or I’d leak from there, deep inside. I’m not quite done fixing it.”

Rarity licked her lips. “Damn. It’s almost a shame Discord destroyed my old club. You’d be incomparable. Just as well, really, I’d be tempted myself to beg you for, you know… just a little nip…”

Fluttershy went from red to white. “Rarity, no! Don’t ever say such things!” Her eyes glistened. “I don’t want you to suffer, I’ll never pass on this curse to anything ever, so don’t even joke!”

Chastened, Rarity bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy. You’re right, and I am wrong. And anyhow, it’s more exciting to flirt with boundaries when there are consequences.” She glanced at Fluttershy, sidelong. “You know, we are not as different as you might think. I have a similar problem with my Derpy Hooves. She’s happy to take a turn with our magic bit on occasion and I can excite her into heedless passion, but like you I have to suppress my reactions. She only plays that rough if she doesn’t know she’s hurting me. And I like her to hurt me, very much.”

“It hurts very much?” gasped Fluttershy.

Rarity made a sour face. “No, no! Not really. It’s just piquant, dramatic, you know? Being overpowered. You do know, it’s written all over your face. Your Dursaa is quite a lot bigger and stronger than Derpy Hooves could ever hope to be. On the other hand, you have dark vampiric regenerating powers and can get away with more. Lots more.” She twitched. “Sweet Celestia, I must admit I am envious.”

Fluttershy didn’t reply, she just gave a look so miserable that Rarity shook herself and pressed on urgently. “Don’t cry! But do listen, please! We want to maximize your satisfaction, and by that I mean your satisfaction with your husband. He’s not in the least dismayed by your true form. You have got to explain to him that when he is harming you in your pony form, he’s not really harming you! You are indestructible, darling, you can write your own ticket!”

“But he IS harming me,” protested Fluttershy.

“And you like it.”

Fluttershy dropped her gaze, blushing again. “I LOVE it.”

“You shall have it! Communicate, you must communicate. That is always the answer. Go at once and explain to him!”

Fluttershy hesitated. “But that’s not the only thing I…”

Rarity glared sternly at her dear friend. “One thing at a time! You must go and speak to your husband. Our spa visit will have relaxed you, I can see our discussion has aroused you, but we should not continue it in a public spa! Scat!”

She smacked Fluttershy on the bottom with a hoof, sharply. The gentle vampegasus squeaked and zipped off out the door almost before Rarity could blink, and Rarity smiled.

That ought to do it. Fluttershy’s other concerns could be attended to later. No wonder she’d been fretful: Dursaa did tend to treat her like a fragile flower, while also enjoying every bit of indulgence a besotted vampony could provide. It was plain to see his idea of a domestic princess didn’t involve a good hard bucking.

Rarity shook herself, and headed home. After Vera’s attentions, she’d not need a good hard bucking for at least a day or two.

Zecora melted back against the pillows, her legs falling open. Pinkie Pie zoomed in like a vagina-seeking missile. Her mouth opened…

A thick mass of extruded tongue slammed against Zecora’s pussy, prying it wide and plunging into her with forcible urgency.

Zecora whinnied shrilly, twisting on the bed, her eyes showing their whites. She shivered, balancing between erotic excitement and alarm. Excitement quickly won, because she’d not felt anything that thick and hard enter her, just like…

Pinkie’s eyes shut, and her face contorted with effort.

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeehhh!” squealed Zecora.

Just as she’d begun to get really excited about the stallionish qualities of that massive tongue, it had changed. Without losing any bulk, it writhed, writhed inside her body like some savage anaconda, churning her. She kicked, writhed herself, to no avail. She felt the hot breath from Pinkie’s nose against her winking clitoris, and then the mad pink earth pony began nuzzling it without slackening her efforts.

Zecora heaved two deep breaths, screamed, flailed… and melted down completely, exploding in orgasm, all coordination lost as her body gave way to a flurry of spasms, nearly passing out. The thick writhing tongue didn’t stop, stretching her out in all directions with cruel force.

Pinkie wailed something, sweating. It could have been ‘more!’ if a pony could articulate that word with all their tongue somewhere else.

Zecora struggled. She’d lost control of her body and her voice, and let out another wild whinnying cry. There was an overtone of anguish to it. While she invited a lesbian tongue-lashing, loved feminine lovemaking, and also craved a big stiff one, she’d hoped to get all of those blended together in a particular way, rather than a big squirming snakey tongue up her, delivered with stallionish ferocity and aggression. It was the best and the worst of all things, all at once, and Pinkie would not let her rest and kept shoving against her G-spot and nuzzling her clit…

Zecora screamed and fainted.

Pinkie sagged. After a while, she reeled in that enormous tongue, wearily.

“…best day ever?” she croaked, and coughed. She turned to arranging pillows under Zecora’s head.

Fun didn’t used to be so hard.

Fluttershy hovered outside her cottage, a few hundred feet up, peering in the window. She often did: while she’d always peeped in windows while flying around Ponyville, there was something peculiarly fascinating about peeping in her very own window.

Inside, the dance of grey, white and black unfolded for another precious evening.

Dursaa wasn’t literally black and white, though his mane and tail stripes got close. Like Zecora, he was stripey shades of grey, his mane going paler, his deep aqua eyes bringing color to the equation. He moved calmly, with authority, the bulky muscles playing supple under his coat and bulging as he moved. Fluttershy quivered to see it, but her husband wasn’t the only part of the choreography.

Off to the side, a white dot hopped. This was Angel, light of Fluttershy’s life, source of all radiance, her beloved bunny and the so-reasonable pet who allowed Fluttershy things like a husband and foals and life itself.

Well… unlife. Logically, Fluttershy knew this was an odd attitude, as she considered her vampirism a curse. But it hadn’t been Angel’s fault when he got drunk off fermented apples, got in a fight with a vampire fruitbat, and bit it. And of course he had still been drunk and obstreperous when she’d come to fetch him and he’d bit HER. And that was it, really. He was the most wonderful and enthralling bunny ever, and his demands for salads were very reasonable, and he did love her very much. And Fluttershy couldn’t help but love him forever. She twitched, realizing this thought was being literally expressed. But who better to spend an eternity of cursed unlife with?

Shaking off the insidious waves of affection, she saw more black and white, and found herself emotionally enchanted for yet another reason. Another little spot of grey stripes flashed across the window, but this time with higher-contrast streaks. It came to a landing in front of her Dursaa, and bounced, and it too was Dursaa: she’d named him after his father, because it had been up to her and she wanted nothing better than to serve Big Dursaa in all things. He was a tiny pegasus foal, and unique among pegasus crossbreeds with earth ponies, he was a true pegasus with tiny black-and-white feathered wings.

He bounced again, crying out something Fluttershy couldn’t hear. It didn’t matter, for he had as yet only one word. Her foal Rock Candy by Pinkie Pie and Big Macintosh had begun speaking with a sentence: ‘when it’s funny?’. There was always something uncanny about little Rock. Rainbow Dash’s Northern Spy had begun with ‘okay!’ and stuck on that for a while. Little Dursaa didn’t need more than his one word for the time being, and certainly not when fluttering into his father’s firm hug: he was all set. Fluttershy imagined she could hear that adorable little chirp, so thrilled.


And his ‘Da’ cuddled him with a gentleness that belied his great size, and carried him up to bed. Fluttershy lost sight of them for a moment, and then Big Dursaa returned alone. Angel gave him a sour look and hopped upstairs too, for he got bunny-jealous at times, but he was such a good bunny and remembered the best thing to do. And Big Dursaa sat down to wait.

Fluttershy flew sedately down to rejoin her family, so well-adjusted and solid and alive. Well, except for Angel and herself, but Angel was so truly wonderful that he couldn’t be faulted for that. She pulled open the door, and walked demurely in, feeling Dursaa’s warm gaze, shyly peeking up from under lowered eyelashes to submissively meet that gaze.

“My hooves, dear wife, are passing sore,” rumbled Dursaa. “When you’ve rubbed mine, shall I rub yours?”

Fluttershy trotted over, and began to knead his weary hooves between her own. “Does that properly rhyme, dear? You’d have to call them ‘sores’, I think, and I’m sure we’re both very grateful they are hooves rather than actually sores.”

He shrugged, and she swooned to see the muscles bulge and shift under his striped coat. “A hard day’s work has tired my brain, it’s true! My secret’s safe when shared with such as you.”

“Oh, you’re tired, poor darling?” crooned Fluttershy. “How tired would that be?”

Dursaa rumbled a wordless dismissal, and shook his mane. The gesture seemed to shake the whole room, and Fluttershy got quivery feeling it, and more quivery when he elaborated, “I’d pull a plow from break of dawn to sunset’s close, and still return to rub your tiny precious toes!”

“My hooves are perfectly fine, dear,” replied Fluttershy.

“Is there nothing I c…”

Dursaa broke off, rhyme unrhymed. Shy had peered up from under those long eyelashes and froze him with a glance. It wasn’t a Stare, wasn’t any form of vampiric compulsion at all, but for all that he found himself speechless.

“If you’d like,” said Fluttershy, and dropped her gaze, blushing.

Big Dursaa sniffed the air, and gave a jerk, rocking the house again slightly. “Mm. Mmmm!”

“I suppose that counted as a rhyme,” said Fluttershy, “but if you ask me it’s not a very difficult one.” She flicked her tail, coquettishly, and winked, not using her eyes. He couldn’t see it, but he sniffed the air again with great interest.

“Shall we spend some happy minutes, ‘tween just me and you,” said Dursaa, “celebrating pleasures given to the form that’s true?”

Fluttershy frowned. “Must I? I’m used to wearing this mane and tail. Can’t you love me for how I am?”

Dursaa’s eyes widened. “My preciousest lover, won’t you reconsider? Do please think again! I fear that our coupling with you in this body can cause quite a strain!”

Fluttershy stamped a hoof, and then immediately dropped her gaze again. “Oh, fine. Then you take them off. Just like you did once, remember? Go on. I love you.”

He hesitated. “But… why do you mope? It’s my fervent hope to cause you no slight, to bring you delight. Oh, Fluttershy, I’m terrified our mating is travail. Why must a Zebra stallion try to tap that pony tail?”

Fluttershy heaved a small and fluffy sigh. “Fine,” she said, flicking the tail in question. “We’ll use the butter again. Since you don’t trust me with zebra penis without artificial help.” She pouted.

Dursaa’s eyebrows expressed pitiable uncertainty. “Are you sure, darling mare, that’s the cure for fitting in there?”

“Of course I am. And that wasn’t a very good rhyme,” chided Fluttershy. Then, she winced. “I’m sorry! Technically it was fine and it was the scansion which was off, but more importantly I’m being manipulative and trying to vex you! Please forgive me?”

Dursaa snatched her up bodily and hugged her, and she felt like a tuft of feathers snuggled by a draft-horse. “Of course I shall! I don’t begrudge the ploy! My only wishes are to bring you joy!”

“Ooooh!” gasped Fluttershy, and winked again. Being seized by Dursaa always excited her, though it never led to anything as fierce as she wished. It was always this strange tension between the warm glow of his love, and the fiery passion of feeling her small and vampiric body grabbed up by a vast and good creature that could seemingly destroy her without effort. This balance haunted her fantasies.

The fantasies kicked in, hard.

“Go get the butter, NOW,” ordered Fluttershy. “Hurry!”

She stood, legs trembling and set well apart, as he thundered into the kitchen, wrinkling his upper lip to hang on to the pheremones she was winking into the air with soft wet kissing noises. Every time he grabbed her that way, Fluttershy lost all control of her libido, and it was all she could do not to manipulate and coerce him into screwing her violently. But not coerce, no! Never a Stare, never her powers, it was bad enough that she wanted to wheedle and con and trick him into doing it. Fluttershy fought to be good, feeling bad, awaiting the sanctity of his erotic blessing and punishment. It was wonderfully hard to tell the difference at times, and it triggered her on every level at once.

His hooves came clopping back, and the house shook again as he thudded down onto his butt. Fluttershy whimpered and winked again, looking behind her to see her zebra husband, with a look of intense concentration, smearing butter with his hooves onto every inch of his massive and hardening erection. He didn’t want to leave the tiniest bit unlubed, except…

“Farther down,” ordered Fluttershy, with a shaking voice.

Dursaa’s eyes bugged out. “Exquisite mare… I would not dare!”

“Do it!” squealed Fluttershy. She panted. “I can take it. I promise. Please, please, please…”

Dursaa bit his lip, and smeared butter a few inches lower. Then, as he held her gaze, he continued, watching her lovely hindquarters tremble and her pussy wink, until he was lubing up his swollen medial ring with a questioning look.

Fluttershy moaned. “Yes! Give me that.”

Dursaa paled beneath his stripes. “You give me far too free a rein. Such madness I won’t entertain.”

“No rhymes!” squealed Fluttershy. “No thinking. Oh, my husband… fuck me!”

Dursaa shut his mouth. His eyes were wide, his nostrils flared… and he walked, step by step, over to his pegasus wife, dwarfing her.

Fluttershy screwed her eyes shut with a little ‘eeee!’ and set her hooves farther apart, bracing herself against his great weight. Behind her, she heard him speak softly. “You’re sure the butter is enough?” He sounded frightened.

An impassioned squeal was the only answer he got. He glanced up the stairs anxiously, but little Dursaa slept like a rock and had been accustomed to night noises nearly from birth.

Dursaa mounted.

Fluttershy gasped as her zebra’s weight crushed down on her dainty hindquarters. That wasn’t a problem, she could bear that sort of load if she was braced and didn’t try to move. What turned her to jelly was the fact that with his weight bearing down on her, she couldn’t move even if she did try to. Helplessness… or at least it seemed like it as long as she felt like a frail and delicate pegasus mare and not an undead monster.

Helplessness it was, then. Fluttershy found it much easier to pretend if she wasn’t showing scruffy ears and fangs and exuding vampiric toughness. With Dursaa mounting her, she felt very small and weak again.

That wasn’t all that felt small. Fluttershy had known stallions, but rarely. She’d started a foal with Big Macintosh, but he’d been on his back and passive at the time. She’d had a rather nervous farm worker stallion, once, and she’d goaded a pack of stallions into a gangbang. Dursaa was like the most mind-blowingly intense experiences of her life, but that way every time… and if she was careful not to reveal too much, Dursaa had some very special qualities.

He didn’t know his own vast strength, and he didn’t really understand what it felt like on the other end of his dick. To him, pinching or wedging or cramping sensations around him didn’t mean a lot. Even Big Macintosh couldn’t claim that: the Apple stud-horse had worked the other side of the fence with Braeburn, his second cousin, and knew the alarming results of a big dick poking too far.

Dursaa, the hulking zebra, was a hopeless romantic but had no sense of this at all—and Fluttershy waited, heart pounding, to experience his inexperience. Every time was like dying… again, she supposed. It was so wrong, and so right.

He prodded, and she fought back a shriek, her body winking frantically against the blunt fleshy surface that jabbed her entrance.

He took a deep breath.

Then, Dursaa’s hips slowly pressed forward and Fluttershy felt her frantic vagina get wedged ruthlessly wide, the hot hard bulk scraping into her like some huge uncompromising machine. He moved with care, but he so obviously didn’t understand. What was a stiff tight band to him, uncomfortable yet piquant, was a battering ram to her, searing fire.

Fluttershy made a feeble croaking noise, and her husband instantly stopped.

“All right?” he murmured. He never rhymed while having sex. He’d said it was a moment of great importance and attention. It wasn’t a moment, it was typically seconds, but even counted in mere seconds Fluttershy knew it would take her to her utter limits… especially the end.

She forced herself to be silent and make no more pain noises, and she wriggled her butt under him, as best she could.

He sighed, the poor fool, and with a tender shove he sank the rest of his stallionhood into Fluttershy, to his usual depth.

Fluttershy’s eyes bugged out. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. The sensation of getting penetrated by a fence-post had in a single powerful gesture become the sensation of getting penetrated by Canterlot, or at least a tree-trunk. He might as well have been a dragon. She felt like a thin scrap of pegasus stretched agonizingly over a burning phallus the size of her whole body. It wasn’t true, his cock wasn’t even the size of a foal’s head, but she’d had foals and one thing about them was they started out buried deep in a mare’s womb where penises did not go.

Dursaa’s penis hadn’t got the memo.

She felt his weight shift, and with a soft infatuated grunt he began moving. He’d learned through repeated experience that his mare seemed to get excited by taking a lot of dick, taking it very deeply, a good hard shove. Nopony had told him otherwise, and he had not made love to any other mare.

For what it was worth, it was true, but Fluttershy had her own reasons for things, some of which she did not reveal. She adored Dursaa’s infatuation and tenderness, but there was a part of her that wished her cursed body to be destroyed.

So, as Dursaa drew his stiff erection partway from its cramped confines and then slid it in to where his wife liked it, Fluttershy’s eyes instantly crossed with agony… and she also began to orgasm ferociously. It seemed to ram way up inside her, beyond her womb and female parts, though what was happening was simpler and scarier. Her vagina was being stretched on the end of that hard horsecock, shoved up into her chest. It didn’t open to let him deeper, because it couldn’t. He’d just pushed deeper anyway, puzzled at the solidness inside her, reassured by her frenzied shudders and clenches.

Fluttershy could really clamp down at extreme moments. It didn’t do much against an aroused zebra cock. Dursaa was incompressible, like granite with his infatuation. He made tender little nudges way deep inside her, harrowingly rammed against her displaced womb, nuzzling her mane as she shook and gritted her teeth.

If she screamed, he’d stop instantly, or even withdraw. Fluttershy absolutely, utterly refused to scream.

Instead, leaking tears she was desperate not to let him see, she wriggled her shuddering rump against his crotch again.

Dursaa moaned, taking the hint. Fluttershy felt like the top of her head was getting ripped off as he set up another languid thrusting, dragging the monstrous thing out through her tight-strained pelvis and the searing band of slick labia that strained her clit right up against the moving shaft, and then with an easy unhurried motion, cramming Fluttershy’s helpless body full of stallion-meat beyond imagining again. She knew she wouldn’t get him to move roughly no matter what she did. And there was nothing she could do, anyhow, besides that ridiculous little wriggle. Her voice would betray her, she was pinned down with no hope of moving, and in some ways that excited Fluttershy most of all: she was rendered utterly passive, and her stallion was just taking her as if he didn’t care.

And he cared, he cared so much, but as long as he didn’t know the truth he would keep on grunting softly, shifting those massive hips, and the whole country of Equestria would continue to shove into her hated vampiric body, agonizingly splitting her down the middle, sucking back out with a huge hollowing-out sensation, and then shoving heedlessly too far again until she nearly felt that medial ring enter her, and all too soon her eyes widened with a stricken, doomed look as she felt him throb and his flare expand out where there was no room for it to expand, searing her with tearing sensations inside and…

Dursaa grunted, and began to come.

Inside Fluttershy, thick gouts of zebra come began to pump, irresistibly. Zebra magic included the copious ejaculation of the stallions. It was a mating thing, one of the sexual peculiarities of equines, meant to squirt in and wash out competing stallions’ issue.

Fluttershy had never told Dursaa what it felt like if you were a smaller pegasus mare, with a zebra crammed up to your neck, feeling him begin to do that even while you were too tight to allow the fluid to spurt out.

Silently, in the privacy of her own mind, Fluttershy died—her body burst asunder, exploding from the internal pressures even while clasped lovingly in her zebra husband’s forelegs. Her body turned to fire, then light, a milky white light like the bountiful zebra semen that pumped in tighter and tighter to displace the vampire parts and crush them, leaving only the physical evidence of his love for her unworthy self, or the pony she could have been had things gone differently. In that wild mixture of agony and orgasm, Fluttershy felt herself that little pegasus pony, frail and delicate and not equal to the forces of her virile husband, and she cried out at last in sweet anguish as the white fire flooded her brain, and tottered under his weight, her vision dimming…

She came to, still braced, still impaled, but Dursaa seemed to be trying to take some of his weight on his hind legs.

Her eyes were still crossing from the physical agony. She could feel her vampire nature kicking in, a powerful and insidious sensation of strength. It took no pain away, but suddenly there was no unsteadiness and she could have supported his whole weight if she’d had to. She loathed the feeling, but there it was. She could have gone again, but already she felt him softening, and the equine flare that had rent her asunder was dislodging itself.

Dursaa nudged her ear, and unthinkingly she turned to look at him, forgetting her eyes.

His face crashed in dismay as he saw the pain and tears. He opened his mouth and no words came, and Fluttershy panicked as she saw his dreams collapse around him.

“I’m fine,” she rasped, the stress rendering her pony voice nearly vampony-like. “It’s good. Was… it good for you?”

He gulped, his ears laid back, the whites of his eyes showing. “But… don’t cry…”

His cock had fled the instant he saw her pain, as usual. It’d shrunk away and popped out of her, followed by a torrent of zebra semen. Slightly pink zebra semen, even though she’d stopped her heart to try and avoid revealing any damage he did.

Fluttershy fought through the pain she’d been welcoming, scrambled for an answer, but all that came to mind was Rarity’s advice, that she’d ignored. She hadn’t communicated. She’d made a big point of not communicating, because there was no way he’d understand, and now here she was, with her husband who probably wouldn’t have sex with her anymore, and so what more was there to lose?

“We need to talk,” she said apologetically, still shivering and twitching from the forces that had briefly ruined her.

Dursaa’s eyes were anguished, tragic. He couldn’t even rhyme. “What?” he said.

“About what I need from sex,” explained Fluttershy, very gently. “I’m sorry, it might upset you.”

Dursaa gulped. “Is it… you are a pony, after all. You do not wish a zebra lover?”

“Oh, no! It’s not that,” said Fluttershy. She hesitated, and glanced up at him. “I’d like… two.”