Author's Notes:

The Usual Disclaimer:

The following is a work of parody, and is protected as Fair Use under section 17 U.S. Code § 107 of US Copyright Law. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and all affiliated characters are property of Hasbro Inc.

I own nothing. All characters, settings and other belong to their respective owners. This is purely a fan-work with no intent towards profit, slander or harm towards the characters, settings or other, or their respective owners. If the respective owners feel that this fan-work in any way, shape or form threatens or besmirches their property, please let me know so that it be can be removed asap.

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I have so many regrets for 2019 already, and this chapter is one of them.

CHAPTER 77

Sunset sighed and paced her room again. Being back in her personal quarters gave her a confusing maelstrom of emotions to process, mostly a blend of guilt, relief and self-loathing with hints of pride and satisfaction.

Despite everything, or perhaps in defiance of everything, that had happened between them, Celestia had kept the room immaculate and everything had remained exactly as Sunset had left it. Her clothes were far too small to fit, but then Sunset would have had to have had them replaced anyways with both her slow maturation in the other world making her too large for them, and of course the challenges her new physical form was forcing her to deal with.

I feel … lighter. Brighter, even, if that’s even an accurate term. The firey-maned Unicorn sighed and looked at her reflection in the mirror once again. Her eyes looked friendlier, her face less drawn and tense, her hooves were not made of gold anymore and yet the bat-like wings remained, albeit now covered in the same golden fur as the rest of her body rather than the pitch-black felt-like fur they once had, as had the lion-like tail, which still made her hips sway more than she was comfortable. And she wasn’t quite sure how to stop it twitching, wagging or curling around her whenever her emotions became too strong, which was troubling in its own right since it could clearly broadcast her moods to even the densest observer. Celestia promised the infestation of … whatever that thing was is gone, but that I need to make sure I remain within the wards, and that the less-magical alterations to my body are permanent. Confinement to my old quarters serves both as probation for my crimes and to protect me from another attempt to subvert me until the wounds on my spirit are healed and the holy warding array Celestia placed on my Cutie Mark is fully enmeshed with my magical aura.

Not that she objected to being punished for her many sins and crimes … or the lavishing of attention from Celestia before the affairs of state once again interfered. She’d even admitted as much to Celestia during a quiet moment after the last of the liquid gold had been tattooed into her skin, and nearly had her ribs broken when Celestia hugged her tightly.

Well that wasn’t entirely true, Sunset did mind the limitedness of her new confines, especially since Twilight was still out there and didn’t quite understand that Sunset was her … lover? Destined one? She still hungered for Twilight’s presence with an ache that nothing else in Sunset’s life had ever come close to, but the overwhelming urge to possess Twilight physically had been removed along with the fiendish infestation.

Not that Sunset would object to having Twilight under her hooves right now, but first she had to prove her intentions were pure before fully exploring the wonders of a marefriend as adorkable and cute as Twilight.

And then there was the whole ‘entire world about to be consumed by the Succuponies’ angle. Whatever her heart might feel about Twilight right now, the thought of the human-dopplegangers of the Bearers of Harmony being caught up in some fiendish plot and not being there to help them ate at her like a cancer.

Celestia had said something about the other Immortals doing a quick patch-job on Tartarus to prevent the event, but that still didn’t do anything about the three strange girls with their giant red gem pendants that had pushed Sunset through the portal to Equestria weeks in advance of the portal’s normal cycle. Even a Princess like Celestia would have struggled to force the connection open, and all those three had had to do was kick Sunset in the guts and then push her into the base of the statue to make it happen.

Bleak Mountain, that ever-sour mule of a Stallion who had been the bane of Sunset’s life as one of Celestia’s personal students, constantly harassing Sunset over what, even as a young filly, the sun-coloured Unicorn knew was a petty jealousy of learning directly from the Princess, had grudgingly allowed Sunset access to any materials related to these ‘Sirens’ and the two other Magi who worked with him had, after a few false starts, happily given Sunset whatever she asked for as she attempted to ferret out the truth of the Hippocampi sorceresses from the dross of fantasy and historical whimsy, with one of the Magi, an older mare called Bunny Steps amusingly enough, actively debating with Sunset when conflicting stories came together in the research.

Unfiltered access to Celestia’s private historical records of every being that had passed through the Mirror Portal also gave Sunset a disturbing impression that any being that passed through the dimension between realities might also gain this ageless property, or be altered in some other way if the historical texts. That theory, combined with what she knew of the Succuponies’ plans for Earth and its dominant species, was enough to give Sunset nightmares about what would happen if the hairless, war-like ape-people of ‘Earth’ ever did gain access to magic and Equestria itself on a broader scale than six teenage females.

It also explained how the Sirens still existed despite being sealed away well over a thousand years ago. The Sirens had been merely mortal, if extraordinarily powerful, sorceresses in Equestria, and seaponies like themselves rarely lived past eighty or ninety years of age, especially the fish-types. The octopus and crab-types could live for longer, but their magic was internalized more often than not and thus their bodies could endure longer.

Even with their immense magical power and the stolen vitality of several nations that the three sisters had accumulated and used on themselves, living for thousands of years without turning themselves into Liches or some form of Undead was simply impossible. Age spells simply had an upper limit, and the longer one tried to live past their natural life-span, the more power they would have to burn to sustain the effect, and even taking into consideration all of their victims, the rate of diminishing returns involved with all forms of age spells would have meant the Sirens should have died out hundreds of years before Sunset ever stepped through the Portal. The only way the Hippocampi could have survived, especially with the time-dilation effect of the Portal and the two realities it bridged, was to have been altered by their brief trip through the Portal into ageless beings!

If that theory held true, that could mean any being who was exposed to the energies of the dimension between realities could become effectively untouched by the ravages of aging. Bleak Mountain’s eyes had narrowed at this, and then he’d snorted and left to ‘gather more research materials’ when Sunset had found several reports of Starswirl the Bearded and his allies crossing into the mirror to help seal away great evils that, for one reason or another, were incompatible with the prison-plane of Tartarus.

What that meant for a being like Twilight, who as an Alicorn was likely already immortal, was anypony’s guess. It could also mean that Sunset herself was now Ageless … which, while not being a Princess, would at least mean her attempts to woo Twilight could continue indefinitely.

A small victory, perhaps, but I shudder to think what it could mean if I wasn’t changed into an Ageless being, but something other. Sunset shivered as she remembered the voice from before, the one that had lurked in the depths of her mind and given her the task of restoring her ‘inner harmony’ before Sunset could even hope to stand by Twilight’s side for this prophesied moment the voice had spoken of.

And the fact it had called Celestia it’s daughter opened up a whole host of implications that rocked Sunset to her core.

‘Faust’, if that was what the Voice really was, called me the ‘Shimmering Light’, and said I had to light the way in our world’s darkest hour. I also have to defend against something called the Discordant Song and help some ‘Lonely Voice’ find it’s way back to Harmony. The sun-coloured Unicorn scowled and stopped pacing her room to sit herself down at her writing table. Hissing in pain as she banged a hoof against a box of scrolls in the process, the partially-transformed Unicorn took a closer look at her hoof, noticing the fractures, the chips and the beginnings of a nasty-looking crack … but no signs of the cloven golden hooves from before. I mean, Celestia is a God, right? So there’s tiers of godhood? But she always said she was merely immortal, not divine, yet I know when I tried to force my way through that other Princess’s barrier, I was burned by divine energies. And she moves the freaking sun and moon around, for Faust’s sake!

Is Celestia some sort of angel? Are all Alicorns just holy spirits come down to our level to guide and protect us? But I’ve seen Celestia bleed, and binge on cakes when she was feeling depressed, and get flustered. So she can’t be some sort of divine being, yet I’ve seen, and felt, her magic before, and knowing what I do now, it’s certainly not arcane magic and it’s definitely the opposite of the fiendish power I once held.

And the voice said that Twilight was something called the ‘Pillar’. Now, I know pillars are meant to function as a support-structure, often to keep roofs up and walls in place… Sunset frowned and picked up a pen with her magic, quickly scratching down her thoughts on a piece of paper. So if Twilight is meant to hold something up, then the ‘Lover’ that Faust spoke of has to be Cadence. Ugh. There’s a reunion I am not looking forwards to. Which means that the Dreamer and the Hope-Bringer have to be this new Princess of the Night and Princess Mom-lestia, in that order. I don’t know enough about the blue Alicorn, but I sure as hell know that Celestia has always pushed ridiculously hard to spread peace and harmony across Equiss, to spread the ‘hope’ of a better future for all races, creeds and nations.

A series quick, scratchy sketch started to appear on the page as Sunset turned her theories over and over in her mind, poking at the holes in her guess-work to try and gauge how close she was to the truth as she drew the faces of the likely beings involved and a crude connective web between them. Discordant usually meant Discord had been meddling with mortals or something else in the older stories, but Celestia said he’d reformed, of all things, and nothing in the ancient tales or from Celestia’s stories ever said anything about Discord singing to do anything other than taunt others or amuse himself, so it could be something or someone that is connected to him in some form or fashion, or some sort of entity that was turned discordant … and then there’s the ‘Lonely Voice’ that needs to be guided back to Harmony.

So, something that sings that needs to be returned to either balance or actual Harmony … the Sirens? But Faust said the ‘Lonely Voice’, meaning a singular entity, and those three seemed close as poisonous peas in a pod. Sunset’s quill scratched at the page, drawing three crude hippocampi before drawing a line through each of them in turn. I’ll have to pick Celestia’s brain when I see her next, maybe there’s some other singing sorceress or wizard that fell afoul of Discord and needs to be restored … but Discord’s reign was over a thousand years ago, and once again we run into the problem of most beings unable to survive for over a thousand years without either divine intervention or some other sort of multi-dimensional alteration to their biology.

Sunset was so caught up in her musing that she jumped in shock as a heavy hoof slammed down on the small writing desk, whipping her head around to give a startled look at the offending party.

Bleak Mountain glared down at her, while behind her the two Fourth Circle Magi dithered back and forth on their hooves, a pony-sized load of scrolls, tomes and books levitated between them and looks of alarm on their faces.

“Whu-huh? S-sorry, I was lost in …” Sunset began, before the scowling Fifth Circle Magi swept his hoof across the table, scattering the loose pieces of paper and scrolls in the process and making Sunset jump back from her seat, tripping and falling onto her back, yelping as her bat-like wings slammed against the floor.

“Make no mistake, abomination, the Princess’s misguided affection for the Pony you used to be is the only reason you still exist in this world. When the leader of Equestria’s Magi speaks to you, you will answer, and answer immediately, am I clear?”

Startled and stunned from the pain of her wings being squashed under her, Sunset could only gape as the old Unicorn scowled at her, papers still fluttering through the air, before stalking from the room. The other two Magi waited, frozen, until Bleak Mountain left, slamming the door behind him, before rushing to Sunset’s side. Bunny Steps immediately began fussing over Sunset’s physical ailments, while the younger Stallion, Rolling Moss, bathed her in a battery of detection and healing spells, his narrow, gaunt face drawn into a tense frown.

In between the stammering and the outrage, Sunset was helped back onto her hooves and the two Fourth Circle Magi helped Sunset try to re-arrange her notes amidst the mess left by Bleak Mountain’s assault, but between the mass of research material they had brought with them, and the loss of cohesion from her own shock, Sunset couldn’t find her quickly scribbled notes on the ‘prophecy’ and was too afraid that the remaining Magi, torn between obeying their notoriously strict and demanding master, who had already shown great hostility and contempt to Sunset and obeying their Princess’s commands towards Sunset, might reject her if she tried to tell them about another voice in her head to speak of it.

Come home soon, Celestia. This new cell might be worse than the last one!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the other side of the door, Bleak Mountain sighed and reinforced the locking spell on the door, hearing Bunny Step’s maternal fussing and the pained complaining of the Succuponi.

The Goddess had failed to recognize his greatness and relegated him to being little more than her errand boy. His subordinates were too busy jockeying for his position or pursuing fruitless lines of research. The Bearers were frustratingly kept just out of reach for him to use. And now the Shining Sun had all but slapped him in the face with the knowledge she was not only aware of his indiscretions with Tartarus, but that the strides he had made over the past three decades towards attaining his rightful place in the Celestial Bureaucracy had been completely wiped away in a single day by the other, lesser members of the divine hierarchy that controlled and shaped the world.

His oaths bound him, both physically and mentally. Strain too far and not only would he be afflicted with terrible agony and the loss of his magic, but the Shining Sun would know immediately of his overstepping his bounds, and spending a few centuries as a pigeon-roost in her gardens would be one of her more merciful punishments. It had taken decades to learn the exact boundaries of his role, to know where he had to abide and where he could strain the terms and wording of the Blood-Oath, and to apply subtle sorcery to tease those weaker boundaries apart to allow himself more freedoms … and even then, he’d barely made a dent, and the Shining Sun probably was aware of that too!

And yet, his long service, however bitterly unrewarded, had afforded Bleak Mountain access to knowledge not even the personal libraries of the Empress's bloodline ancestors back in Neighpone could boast, tomes, scrolls, tablets and other, older records preserved by the divine power of the Shining Sun and the efforts of the Fifth Circle Magi before him. Hints of prophecies so dire the fate of the world hung in the balance danced just outside of reach, whispers of doom and salvation alike haunted both his waking hours and his dreams, but always the Shining Sun deflected him, telling Bleak Mountain such burdens were for the Immortals, that the prophecies held the seed of their own undoing, as all such things did, and meddling by well-meaning mortals had helped cause many such prophecies to unfold into their very worst incarnations time and time again.

But now, with the Succupony’s unwitting aid, the first real break in decades had landed in his lap. The Mirror Portal, Tartarus, both these things broke the normal rules of the Universe and defied the Endless Cycle, one a device that could bridge two realities and bathe the crosser in the unfathomable energies of the Between, and the other, the demi-plane ruled by the Goddess of Death and Judgement, Gothica, where time was immaterial and all the rules of creation were subject to the whim of the demi-plane’s ever-cloaked mistress.

Ironic, that the failure that the Shining Sun so wishes to bring back into the fold should give me the first key to securing my rightful destiny as Celestia’s Lord and Master. Once I am beyond the confines of age and no longer need to use all of my internal alchemy to keep my mind and body from aging beyond use, I can break the bonds of the Blood-Oath, prove my worthiness to the Shining Sun, marry her and become the Emperor that this soft, decadent land needs to fulfil its destiny. Bleak Mountain smiled grimly as he lifted the hoof he’d used to knock all those scrolls and papers off the Succupony’s desk, and the sketch-covered page he’d stuck to his hoof in the process …

The Pillar, the Lover, the Dreamer and the Hope-Bringer. Four of the five Princesses the prophecy speaks of that we need to save ourselves from the Unspoken One. Sunset may have just given me the cipher I need to unlock the Princess Prophecies without needing to wheedle and plead with Celestia, and save the world with my own hooves. Chuckling, Bleak Mountain used his magic to fold up the paper neatly and slipped it under his robes, his runic tattoos flickering as he drew on the ley-lines under the castle to bolster his own magic for a teleportation spell back to his own, heavily shielded quarters. A fitting reward for all these long years of service, for a prodigy who never truly got the acclaim I deserved. Once I have proven my worth, brought all the Alicorns to heel and Equestria with them, I will bring order to this world, by spell, steel and law, and finally fulfil my rightful destiny!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike tried very, very hard.

There were few beings in Ponyville who could deny that, whatever Spike put his efforts towards, the young Drake held back little in the way of effort or enthusiasm.

So needless to say, trying to rally the Crusaders to taking care of Fluttershy’s animal residents was something he’d tackled with his best claw forwards, despite his trepidation about a great many things he’d be dealing with under the current situation.

No Twilight to run to for when the inevitable Crusade-themed disaster hit.

No Applejack to be the voice of common sense and reason that the Crusaders would listen to.

No Rarity to whine them into submission.

And of course, three young mares to whom he had some very strong and complication feelings towards all in the effects of a false estrus and, judging from the messes he’d had to clean up over the past few days, very sexually active and wielding both sets of equipment on each other with wild abandon, without any ‘adult’ supervision worth a damn, all running around and doing their own thing.

Trixie had tagged along, her golden torc and new tail drawing more attention that the Showmare herself had from the townsponies, but apparently having the long-term residents of Ponyville being told that Trixie was on permanent Crusader-watching duties under Twilight’s orders was apparently punishment enough that even her most vocal opponents swallowed their complaints or wished her the best.

Of course, Spike had hit a snag when they’d hit Fluttershy’s cottage: Zecora. The Zebra shaman apparently had some sort of business proposition for the blue Unicorn, and after a whispered conversation, Trixie had asked Spike in a polite but very forceful tone to kindly keep the Crusaders away from the cottage for an hour while she and Zecora finished their ‘transaction’.

“An hour you say, I think that you lie, I need but two minutes to let that seed fly.” The Shaman had smirked, with Trixie whipping her head around, glaring at the Zebra, then turning back to Spike with a dangerous twinkle in her eyes.

“Spike, the Humble and Gracious Trixie requests you keep the Crusaders far away from the cottage. We’re going to be quite loud before the end of Zecora’s transaction and Trixie doesn’t need an audience for this kind of show.”

“A poor performer is one who can’t handle a crowd, but I suppose my treatments would make one be loud.” Zecora had piped up again, still grinning wickedly, and again Trixie’s head had whipped around to give the Zebra a seething look.

“And Trixie does not think that Zecora the soon-to-be-limping would not wish to have the Crusaders involved in our transaction, yes? If Zecora does wish this … Trixie thinks you’re going to have to be waiting for a few more months at the very least! Also that Trixie should probably go find Officer Rulebook right away!”

Zecora cocked a head at Trixie, then blanched and shook her head rapidly. “Not what this one meant, my words went with the wrong flow, I only thought that the Crusaders would appreciate a show.”

“Trixie does … not exactly object, but Trixie has since learned the Crusaders lack control. Audience participation would not be wise for Trixie or the Crusaders right now, and Trixie doubts that the Crusaders would remain just bystanders!”

Leaving the two older mares to whatever act or transaction or whatever it was they had been bickering about, Spike had left, quickly dragging the Crusaders out to the border of the Everfree to check on the songbirds and rabbits. Surely repairing bird-houses and removing refuse from around the burrows would have been safe, but inevitably, three dirty Crusaders and a even dirtier Drake decided that they’d had enough of being pelted with seeds, grass and the occasional acorn and headed back to Fluttershy’s cottage.

The moans should have been Spike’s first warning that he’d missed the signals from Zecora and Trixie, but being hot, dirty, hungry and frustrated with the touchy-feely antics of the girls, and the knowledge that it had to be the aphrodisiacs and the Spear Maiden Spell making them act so towards him, leaving Spike cursing his own strong moral code, the young Drake had been absolutely fixated on getting some privacy and taking matters into his own claws under a hot shower before his already fraying control slipped.

But no, now here he was, crammed in-between the Crusaders as all three of them crowded around him to watch, wide-eyed, the show being put on by the two older mares in the middle of Fluttershy’s couch.

Never going to be able to sit on that couch and drink Fluttershy’s tea without wondering if the stains ever really come out. The last sane, rational part of Spike’s mind snarked as his claws sank into the wooden window-frame for fear of grabbing at himself, or worse yet, the quivering Crusaders around him, at least one of which was clopping furiously from the sounds coming behind him, but the way they’d packed themselves in around and behind him made it impossible to see whom without gouging somepony in the face with his ear-frills or head-ridge. At the very least, at this angle, the girls can’t see I’m also happy to see the show!

And what a damn show it was. Whatever he might have felt about Trixie as a fellow being, Spike would never have denied that Trixie filled out in all the right places, not enough to be lush but more than enough that svelte was not an appropriate term for her. And Zecora’s giant ass had long been a secret talking point between himself, Snips and Snails. So to see Zecora on her back, back-legs kicking and thrashing in the air and a steady stream of moans and half-mumbled encouragements as Trixie fairly pounded down into the prone, meaty Zebra shaman, causing ripples of skin and fur on both parties whenever their bodies collided, was something of a dark dream come true.

“We. Have. To. Go.” Spike hissed under his breath, gingerly pulling his claws out of the window-frame and none-too-gently elbowing the Crusaders back.

“But …” Sweetie Belle whispered back with such longing in her voice, before rationality apparently returned to at least one of the other Crusaders, and softly bickering, the foursome tried to untangle themselves as both of the older mares inside the cottage grew louder and louder. Being the closest to the window and thus the last to leave, Spike was treated to seeing Zecora lock her legs around Trixie’s back, shouting out loud as the blue show-mare’s hips shook once, twice, thrice and then collapsed on-top of her, a steady stream of nectar pouring down the insides of Trixie’s thighs.

“T-told you it would not be two mih-whoo-minutes, did Trixie not?” The group froze as they heard Trixie’s bold, if fatigued, words, fearing that if they moved now, a single mis-step would expose their involuntary peeping.

“Proud though you are, many shots did you give, but don’t you pull out or I will leak like a sieve!” The Zebra panted back, and Spike’s eyes widened as he watched Trixie stand up … with Zecora clinging to her underside like a leech. “Carry me to the kitchen with all haste and speed, my cauldron I need to catch all of this seed!”

“Trixie the Enduring and Potent will comply, but your ass is heavy!”

“You did not complain with two hoof-fuls of my ass, so move your plot and stow away the sass!”

Watching the awkward scene, and the appreciative grunts from both mares as, with each step, Zecora bounced down and then back up, impaling herself again and again on the turgid black shaft that grew from just ahead Trixie’s twitching treasure, Spike winced as he felt his own weapon finally disobey him, sliding out from between his pale olive-green underscales and begin steaming as his hot dragon blood began to pulse through it.

Terrific. I just popped a boner in-front of the Crusaders. Who probably are already at half-mast at the very least. After catching the tail-end of Trixie stuffing Zecora like a Hearthswarming Tofu Turkey. The young Drake sighed softly and ducked beneath the window-frame as the sloshing couple staggered on Trixie’s shaking legs into the cottage’s kitchen, risking a glance behind him.

Sure enough, being slightly shorter than the three Crusaders, who were now standing on their hind-legs to look over his shoulders and into the cottage, all three were standing ‘at attention’ and Sweetie had a hoof firmly fretting away between the cleft of her legs, while Scootaloo and Applebloom had settled for wrapping a hoof around each other’s ‘spears’ and were jerking away madly.

And just like that, Spike snapped. The frustration, the repressment of his own desires due to living with Twilight, the arousal he constantly fought down, all bubbled up to the surface, and for a split second Spike feared he was going to suffer another Greed-growth.

Except it wasn’t greed for material wealth to possess. No, this was far more primal, more immediate than any need for a Horde as Spike’s body trembled, shuddered and grew, however slightly, his belly slowly going flat as his legs lengthened and his spike stretched …until all three Crusaders piled down on top of him with muffled yelps.

“Get off me!” Spike hissed in alarm, feeling his scales and claws itch madly as the growth-spurt continued at it’s own laborious pace, not aided in the slightest by three hot bodies pressing down on him in interesting ways.

Scootaloo had landed on his right claw, crotch-first, while one of Sweetie’s small, perky breasts was currently molding itself to the other, while Applebloom had, by dint of being the middle-mare, found herself belly to belly with Spike, and the young Drake could barely hold back his groan as the growing, steaming head of his sceptre slid against the equally-hot entrance to the Apple’s vault, catching for a precious moment on her entrance before grinding past, it’s upper surface clamped down on by Applebloom’s snatch.

And judging by the look in her eyes as the two unfortunate, horny teens started into each other’s eyes, muzzles almost touching, the chance meeting of their lower halves had been both as shocking and pleasant for Applebloom as it had been for Spike.

That, or she had noticed his growth spurt and was worried he’d explode in size and blow their cover.

“Ssssh! Trixie is back!” Scootaloo hissed back, but squirmed nonetheless as Spike’s claw strained and pressed against the trap of the fold between her legs, the orange Pegasus hunching low to avoid detection even as her wings shot up into the air, while Sweetie just whimpered and folded up next to Applebloom and Spike, eyes wide but unseeing.

“Hmmmph. Trixie does not like this. Can you hurry up, Zecora?” The blue show-mare’s hoof appeared on the edge of the windowsill and the sharp point of her horn loomed out the opening. “Young Spike can only keep the Crusaders busy for so long, and the house reeks of your musk!”

“Your scent is strong too, do not deny, not stop dodging your work and make this mess fly!” the Zebra shouted back from deeper within the cottage, and with a loud huff, Trixie’s horn was surrounded with a pale blue glow, levitating the covers closed over the window. The foursome didn’t move so much as an inch, holding their breaths for a variety of reasons, as Trixie’s hoof-steps faded back into Fluttershy’s kitchen.

“We-we’ve got to move! Ssssspike, can you get your claw out of me?” Scootaloo managed to squeak out, face bright red, as she squirmed on the offending digits, while Sweetie just laid in a lump next to Spike, biting her bottom lip and worrying at it with her teeth.

“C-can you get off of me first? K-kinda scared to move right now.” Spike stammered back, blinking as he felt his ‘growth spurt’ start to sputter and fail. “Bloom, can you get off?”

“I think I just did …” The blushing farm-mare whispered back, getting up onto her knees and trying to stand, before her legs failed, dropping her back onto her belly and firmly onto Spike’s erection.

Spike had expected many things upon his graduation to adulthood. A rose-petal covered bed, Rarity in a gorgeous white wedding dress, soft classical music in the background.

Having his first taken by accident by the convulsing body of Applebloom, muffling her cry as her body struggled to contain his newly-enlarged length inside her body by biting down onto his collar-bone was not one of them, but he could certainly not fault the sensations as everything the rumours and secret meetings had talked them up to be, his body arching and claws flexing as he struggled in turn to not shout in delight at the hot, tight, wet embrace around his most sensitive place.

Scootaloo and to a lesser extent, Sweetie Belle also were caught up in the happy disaster, one of Spike’s larger digits flexing just right to press hard against a now-familiar target deep in Scootaloo’s depths, while Sweetie found herself letting go of her bottom lip to bite at her hoof as Spike’s large, warm claw grasped her breast and squeezed.

For several moments they stayed just like that, Spike’s body slowly slumping to the ground with Applebloom’s form still plastered over his, the young Drake desperately trying to rally his confused and now very conflicted mind to a sane and rational angle from which to approach this untenable situation, how to salvage his friendship with the Crusaders after such a debacle, when Applebloom, still impaled on him, shifted her head down to Spike’s ear-frill and whispered.

“Want to continue this at the club-house?”

Logic, go take a walk. A large, club-wielding, animal skin-wearing version of Spike grunted in his mind.

Fuck that, we’re going all in, boys! A slender, elegantly-dressed idealized version of Spike said back in a culture tone.

“Spike. Want.” The young Drake whispered back, claws growing bolder as both Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle squeaked in surprise before leaning in to peck Spike on the cheeks.