A Royal Pain

By Alaborn

Standard disclaimer: This is a not for profit fan work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro, Inc. I make no claim to any copyrighted material mentioned herein.

Further disclaimer: Contains clop. For mature audiences only. All characters, although fictional, are intended to portray consenting adults.

Chapter 4: A Royal Plot

“I’m so excited!” Twilight Sparkle said. “To present my findings at Royal Canterlot University, in front of some of the most prominent historians and archaeologists in Equestria, is a remarkable opportunity!”

“This is the castle in the Everfree you were telling me about, right?”

“Yes, the ancient Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. It was abandoned for a thousand years, and already the items we’ve recovered are changing what we know about history!”

“And you’re going with the rest of the Elements of Harmony?”

“Yes. We’ve all played a part in the excavation, so we’re all going. Spike, too.” Twilight Sparkle turned to the stairs. “Spike, are you ready?” she shouted.

“Almost,” he replied from upstairs.

“You better not be reading comic books up there!”

Prince Blueblood thought he heard the sound of a comic book falling to the floor. There were a few shuffling sounds, and then Spike came down, a small bag slung over his shoulder.

“You’ll be gone three days, right?” Blueblood asked.

“According to the schedule, yes. It’s nice to be called to Canterlot and not have the fate of Equestria be at stake,” she said. “But given our track history, I wouldn’t be surprised if something happened.”

“I hope you have a good trip, Princess,” Blueblood said.

“Thanks, Prince Blueblood. Don’t get into any trouble when I’m gone!”

“Of course not,” he replied with a smile. Twilight Sparkle’s tone was pleasant and teasing. She didn’t know what he was planning.

“Well, it looks like everypony is here. Spike, let’s go,” Twilight Sparkle said.

“And I’m off to work,” Blueblood said.

Blueblood’s heart wasn’t in his work as he surveyed one of the farms outside Ponyville. He kept thinking to the freedom waiting for him at home. But he didn’t want to raise any questions by being unexpectedly absent. No, he would go to work, come home to a closed library, and then enact his plan.

That evening, following a light supper at one of the cafes in town, he returned to the library. “Twilight Sparkle? Spike?” he called. Silence greeted him. Fortunately, nothing had happened to disrupt her plans, and Blueblood was alone.

He headed to his bedroom. From within his many trunks of clothes, he pulled out small bundles. Each contained a potent magical crystal, wrapped in a fabric that deadened its magical aura. The crystals were expensive, but their result would be priceless. He then recovered his notes from their hiding position in his textbook.

Next, Blueblood headed back to the library. His notes indicated the spellbooks he needed to find. Once all were gathered, he headed into the basement.

Blueblood reviewed his notes. He organized the spells in the order in which they would be cast, and then matched the crystals to the spells. He then reviewed his notes a second time, to ensure he wasn’t forgetting anything. Confident he was ready, he activated Twilight Sparkle’s spell matrix.

The first spell Blueblood used was a morphic spell. Used to alter one’s shape, it was one of the spells he had learned from Twilight Sparkle. It would tax his magical talents too much to maintain that spell while casting another. Fortunately, a basic quartz crystal powered the maintenance of that spell.

The next spell was a powerful organic creation spell. He found it in, of all places, a medical text. It was used to create organic material for medical students to study, from individual organs all the way to entire bodies, biologically complete but inert. This spell required a powerful ruby heart crystal. Blueblood concentrated, feeling the power of Twilight Sparkle’s spell matrix keeping the difficult spell on track. Using his own body as a template, the spell created what was in effect a clone of his body. However, he had woven one specific change into the spell, reversing one particular characteristic.

If his body would fight any attempt to remove the foal he was carrying, then the only solution would be to transfer it via the original mechanism that had caused the implantation. And so he watched with curiosity as the spell fashioned a female body.

Blueblood prepped the next spell by inserting a sapphire thought crystal into Twilight Sparkle’s machine. The animation spell that came next was crude. No spell can create an artificial intelligence, but thought programs could be created, patterns of behavior responding to stimuli according to well-understood principles. And the biological urge to reproduce was one of those.

Blueblood closed his eyes and breathed slowly as he tried to recover from the most difficult spellcasting he had ever done. The throbbing at the base of his horn slowly eased. When he finally opened his eyes, the clone was beginning to move.

Prince Blueblood couldn’t help but chuckle. He had succeeded at creating every horny teenage colt’s fantasy, a living sex doll. It only took twelve thousand bits’ worth of extremely dangerous magical crystals and the genius machine developed by one of the most powerful magic users in history.

While Blueblood waited for the animation spell to complete, he removed his clothes. He studied the clone, a look at how he would have appeared as a mare. The clone’s horn looked more delicate. It had graceful curves and slender legs. Its mane and tail were his gold, but looked in desperate need of being styled.

He felt the animation spell complete, a sensation in his head akin to the vibration of a bell that had just been rung. And the clone watched him with dull eyes, more animal than pony. Blueblood approached, brushing its body with his own. He leaned over and nuzzled the clone, and then nipped its ear. Responding to his stimulus, the clone bowed its head submissively. He’d had more than a few marefriends who liked this kind of play, so he knew what techniques to use.

He walked behind the pony clone, rubbing his muzzle under its tail. It raised its tail, presenting itself to him. Blueblood looked down, and despite the lack of passion in this situation, found himself hard. Without further ado, he mounted the clone.

Blueblood initially met resistance; apparently, the clone spell was very thorough. With a firm push, he broke through its hymen. The clone bowed its head and whinnied. It was a slightly disturbing reaction, not at all like the mares whose virginity he had taken. Missing were the cries of pain, and the comforting words he used in response as he urged the mare to continue.

Blueblood continued to thrust. Thirty seconds later, he felt the familiar pressure build in his balls, and he came hard in the clone, but not long. He was glad a real mare didn’t see his embarrassing performance, but then again, it had been two months.

He dismounted, and again, the clone stood still. Time for phase two. He nudged the clone, moving it to the bed, maintaining an instinctual relationship with it via nuzzles and bites. Once it reached the bed, he pushed it onto its back.

That was the point when a mare would normally help him recover, using her mouth. But the clone knew nothing, so Blueblood was forced to use his hooves, stroking himself until he was hard again. He positioned himself over the clone, using his legs to spread its hind legs, and slid in.

The mares he knew who liked seapony style were big on kissing, and loved being muzzle to muzzle. Again, the clone didn’t react like a mare. It exposed its neck. Blueblood nipped its neck and ears as he thrust into the clone’s tight tunnel. He was lasting a lot longer, but without the normal passion of a thinking mare, he just wanted it to be over. He picked up his speed, thrusting roughly, not that the clone reacted to the change in speed. It took ten long minutes before he felt his second orgasm arrive. He wrapped his forelegs tightly around the clone as he fired, the orgasm feeling less intense.

Now, the morphic magic should kick in. Remembering his night with Melodia, he brushed his horn against the clone’s. He reached to his seapony magic and imagined the ovipositor taking shape. He envisioned the transfer of the embryo from him to his partner.

He waited for a long time. Nothing happened. None of the books on seaponies had given technical specifications about how the transfer happened. He didn’t know how long it was supposed to take, but he was fairly certain he had been near Melodia for a much shorter time. But more importantly, he didn’t feel any magic at work.

What went wrong? He replayed that summer tryst in his mind, the powerful orgasm, the heightened sensation provided by her magic at work, the feeling that was powerful enough to cover up the feeling of her impregnating him.

That’s it. She did the impregnating. For the spell to work, it had to go from mare to stallion.

Blueblood pulled away from the clone as he felt a powerful pain in his abdomen. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as a feeling, at first like a leg cramp but twenty times worse, wracked his body. He tried moving, stretching, twisting, anything. The pain changed to a strange pulling feeling. A tingling feeling then spread over his body.

Had Blueblood been able to think clearly, he might have recalled that a spell matrix is designed to keep spells active, and this matrix was maintaining a morphic spell that reacted to his thoughts. He might also have remembered that a spell matrix keeps the spells within its crystals linked, and that he had defined the organic creation spell to be in relation to his own body. But none of that registered. He was barely aware of his own screams and the whinnies of the clone.

Then the pain stopped. Panting heavily, he dared to open his eyes. He was lying on his back, limbs akimbo, a sheen of sweat covering his coat. He felt moisture trickle between his legs. He inhaled sharply as he felt a pleasurable feeling he had never experienced before, from his lower lips.

He stared. Between his legs, he no longer had his normal equipment, but a mare’s vagina. He saw two teats above them, glistening. And then he saw the clone. It was now in male form, looking like Blueblood in every detail save for the lack of cutie marks. And one such detail was its hard shaft.

Seeing a mare presenting herself, the clone reacted to instinct. It leaned in to nip her neck. But she scurried away. It would chase her, and prove itself to be a worthy mate by winning the chase.

From his position, Blueblood felt pure, unadulterated panic. He needed to get away, and now. He crawled off the bed, but stumbled. His legs, still weak from the transformation, got caught up in the blankets and sheets. He kicked them away, but his forehooves lost their purchase on the basement floor. He landed hard on his face, rump stuck in the air.

The clone saw its conquest submit to its majesty. It moved its muzzle under her tail and inhaled, and then whinnied in triumph.

Blueblood shivered as he felt the clone’s hot breath on his sensitive nethers. He freaked and fought his way back to his hooves. But before he could move, he felt the clone press against his side, squeezing him against the bed.

The clone pressed against its mare. It leaned down and bit her neck and ear, knowing she would submit.

Blueblood yelped as he felt the clone bite him twice. With the bite on his ear, he lowered his head and lifted his tail. It took him a moment to realize he had done that. These instincts of ancient ponykind were buried deep in his mind, and being unused to the sensations of his female body, they came to the surface and guided his actions. And before he could recover, he felt a pony’s weight upon him.

The clone saw its mare had fully submitted. It reared and placed his legs on its mare’s withers. It would breed her and mark her with its scent.

Blueblood opened his mouth in a silent scream as the clone mounted him. With its first thrust, he was sure it wouldn’t fit. Its second thrust proved him wrong, and he felt a twinge as its shaft pressed against a membrane. The third thrust broke his hymen, and he screamed for real. When he finished screaming, his pain was fading, being replaced by an alien feeling that was beginning to feel pleasurable. He shook his head and tried to get away, but the clone had a firm grasp just above his neck. As he moved, it followed suit. He turned around to get a better look, but felt another bite on his abused ear.

The mare moved, but the clone understood its role. It was the master, and it would not let go until it released its seed. The mare moved her head, so she needed to be reminded to submit.

Blueblood felt his neck bow instinctively, lower than before. With that subtle shift in his stance, the clone’s shaft rubbed a spot within Blueblood. He gasped in pleasure. Nothing he knew as a stallion could match this feeling! He closed his eyes and reveled in the bliss. The wrongness of the whole situation was no longer on his mind. There was just him and this cock, and it was so very very right. He felt a wonderful pressure grow within him. And when the clone bit his neck one last time, the pressure burst. Pleasure flooded his body, radiating out from his center. He felt his inner walls pull greedily on the cock within him. It continued to push through the pressure. Just as Blueblood came down from his high, he felt the clone hilt within him and not pull out. Something warm and wet filled him in brief pulses. There was so much, and it felt wonderful!

The clone bit the mare one more time. It felt the end of the mating nearing. When its body felt ready, it thrust in the mare, releasing its seed, whinnying in triumph. It pulled out, and looked for any other mares to mark as its property. Seeing none, it stood still.

Blueblood felt the clone pull out. Cool air brushed his lower lips, and he felt very empty. He came down from his high, and nearly vomited when he thought about what happened. He was treated like a common mare by a beast no better than an animal. The clone’s semen dripped out of him, white tinged with the red of his own blood, and he could feel it drying into a crust. His legs felt weak, and he didn’t know if it was because of being ridden or because of the orgasm he had felt. He chanced a look back, and saw the clone standing there, just an unthinking animal.

Blueblood curled into a ball, wrapping himself in the blankets and sheets. He pressed on his belly. His foal was still there. All he went through, for nothing. The magic wasn’t working to move the foal, even though he was now a mare. He had failed.

Prince Blueblood concentrated on the three spells he had cast, commanding them in turn to unwind. At least nopony had seen him in this moment of abject failure.

And then he heard a pop.

Author's Notes:

Ah, the awkwardness of pronouns when writing transformation scenes.