He didn’t make her as big as the swimming pool outside, but by the time Blueblood was finally finished for the night, Trixie’s belly was big enough to leave her completely immobile. Her massive, cum-bloated gut towered above her, gurgling and churning as it struggled to cope with its enormous meal. Her stomach struggled to digest its own contents, dozens of gallons of hot, thick jizz sloshing inside from the remnants of a half-dozen blowjobs, not to mention an assfucking session that had left her asshole gaping wider than her pussy.

        Trixie groaned softly, then burped. A white bubble of cum popped around the edges of her mouth. Her entire face - no, her entire body was caked in Blueblood’s cum. As far as she knew, he hadn’t stopped because he’d been satisfied; he’d stopped because he’d been tired. And that was after more than twelve hours of constant, nonstop fucking.

        Beside her, Blueblood sighed in his sleep. Trixie turned her head to face his big muzzle, unable to move any other part of her body due to the overpowering weight keeping her flattened to the bed. His massive body held her in place, though even his big arms couldn’t reach even halfway around her blubbery boobs and gut. Her gigantic ass squished against his shaft, which throbbed and dribbled precum onto her neck every time he exhaled. Once or twice through the “night” - dawn had been an hour ago, and Trixie was beginning to wonder just how much of the day they would sleep through - her stirrings and efforts to make herself comfortable had induced another orgasm from the sleeping giant, leaving her further drenched in a coat of clean, dripping white.

        Trixie smiled, though, and curled up her head closer to her pillow. It was soft, like she was, and she tried to let her eyelids droop shut. The night had been fantastic - she’d never had sex like that - but she’d been more than exhausted by the second hour, her limp body little more than a vessel for Blueblood to use, to pump full of jizz. It didn’t seem to matter to him - he’d kept right on going - but she was thankful that she at least had some time to rest. She was done with sex for today, at least - and she’d never thought she’d say that.

        Her eyes drifted shut - and then she felt it. A shake, a jiggle, a lurch. Her eyes widened as Blueblood’s hands slid between her gut and breast and pulled her close to him. She could feel his hot, heavy breath on her shoulder, feel his big, rounded pecs flexing against her shoulderblades. His hips pulled back, then pushed forward, grinding his cock between her massive asscheeks.

        When Blueblood awoke several hours later to find a Trixie drenched with fresh cum, rather than just the dried, caked-on jizz of the previous night, he would deny consciously hotdogging her through the night - let alone a full five times in his sleep. As he ate his “breakfast,” downing tens of thousands of calories to fuel his massive body, Trixie was very aware of the way his full-mast cock twitched and flared toward her; as she made to request an afternoon kiss, a twitch of his finger sent her crouching beneath the table. Blueblood used her ass as a cushion for his stallionhood, a cradle for his thrusting hips even as he downed food enough to fuel his titanic, muscular form. And by the end of it, of course, Trixie was drenched in his spunk once again.

        She’d been excited by his offer of “wearing her like a cocksleeve” - it was a fantasy that had left her libido burning, her mind jittering with possibilities. But she hadn’t realized how seriously he would take it. Throughout the rest of the day, Blueblood brought her with him to every meeting, every party, every...encounter. And through it all, a mere twitch of his finger brought Trixie running. She came eagerly at first, for the idea of being publicly rutted by so magnificent a stallion with so curvy a body was the height of libidinous scandal. Oh, she adored the looks on the other nobles’ faces as Blueblood fucked her like a broodmare even as he casually discussed budgets and hors d'oeuvres.

        They were a magnificent setpiece: her, with her huge, jiggly body; and him, with his gigantic, beefy form. He wore no clothes - covering up one’s nakedness, he told her with a sneer, was for commoners to concern them with. The other nobles, the servants, butlers, visitors to the palace, eyed them with wide eyes and gaping muzzles as they made their way down the halls, often with Trixie firmly impaled upon Blueblood’s cock. He kept his word to wear her like a cocksleeve, her big, busty body slipping up and down his shaft as his mountainous form made the corridors shake with his size and weight. By the end of each day, she was as big and bloated as their first night at this size.

        At first, it was nearly a convenience for Trixie. Walking - waddling with her new breasts and ass was no simple task, and at first she was thankful for the “transport” if only for the ease of it. Even a light jog for Blueblood would send his member plunging in and out of her depths, constantly spasming with more and more cum as she herself clenched and came around it. The utter lack of shame and depravity of it fascinated her; the casualness of the arrangement left her amused, delighted, lustful.

        But even her libido was nothing compared to his. Long after the sloshing of her belly had ceased to pleasure and had begun to hurt, Trixie found herself pinned to a table beneath Blueblood’s muscular form. He rutted her mercilessly, grunting and snorting like an animal, his thoughts bereft of all but sex. She never refused him - how could she? She did enjoy it, and she adored the status it brought her. But it was mindless - pointless, she was beginning to think.

        Where was the love? Where was the romance? Pleasure was all well and good - she loved to sneer down at the other, less-endowed mares; far too large to be clothed in more than a thin-stringed “bra” and “thong,” she took great pains in ensuring that everypony she passed could see her huge, fat asscheeks slapping against each other as her boobs bounced and jiggled. They were tiny to her - but had she grown tiny to Blueblood? She satisfied him, and he went a ways to satisfy her; there wasn’t a minute when the sex was anything less than mindblowing.

        But the romance had gone out of it. She was his princess - if there was one thing she had long since determined, it was that one day she would wear a crown, and sit beside him in power, wealth, and luxury. A marefriend - the word “mistress” barely touched her mind, no matter how long it’d been since she’d tasted more than lust past his probing lips - must one day become a fiance, become a wife, become ever-more. They’d been together for months, and had met each other’s every pleasure. Yet where was his ring?

        Her fingers were bare. Her stomach was bloated, sloshing with cum every second of every minute of every day. Had she not employed a protection spell twenty-four hours a day, she would have become pregnant with his foal long ago. Some days, as much as she despised children, she wondered if she might not hate this limbo even more. She groaned, grit her teeth, and bore it, for if this was the price she was to pay for ascension to royalty, she would gladly pay it a thousand times over. And yet...when would that mountainous lummox propose?

        When had been the last time they had dined together, without his cock clamped between her mountainous buttcheeks? Where were the candlelit dinners, the gentle waltzes, the roses, the love letters and chocolates? Where was her prince - not this snorting, grunting beast of a stallion, but the romantic colt she’d dreamt would sweep her up since foalhood? She’d come too close to attaining her fantasies to let go now, especially when she was teetering on the edge of a precipice between victory and utter, degrading, loss.

        And Trixie Lulamoon, the Great and Powerful, did not lose.

        Trixie’s first hours without Blueblood came four days after their most recent operations. She had the day almost entirely to herself - the stallion himself had left that morning with her still asleep, and she’d rather savored the time alone. Why, after a peaceful breakfast (fit for royalty, of course), her belly had deflated enough that she thought she might take a swim. The warm water was utterly refreshing, especially as she didn’t have to worry about caked-on jizz filling the rippling water around her. Her obscenely large endowments made swimming properly a near impossibility, she discovered, but she found to her delight that they floated. She spent a rather lovely afternoon drifting atop the pool, a cocktail in hand, and found the only unpleasantness to be removing her body from the pool itself. Maneuvering an ass of her size took some doing - especially when said rear simply refused to bob beneath the surface level of the water.

        Still, she reflected, her lips pressed together primly as a trio of maids dried her off (her body was too vast, and her personage too important to possibly dry herself off - and besides, she enjoyed the attention); while it had been an altogether pleasant day, she did wonder where Blueblood had gone. The stallion’s libido was incredible, and his attraction to her - or at least her body, she thought, before crushing the thought ruthlessly - undeniable.

        Perhaps, she thought with a little gasp, he’d gone for the day to fetch a ring personally. Oh, that must be it, she decided with little bubbles of glee filling her ample bosom. Squeezing her bust and rear through the bathroom door took some doing, but she was more than happy to let the staff take care of such mundane matters as she fantasized about the ring her coltfriend was undoubtedly fetching for her.

        Would it be diamond? Ruby? Emerald? Perhaps all three - tied together with a magical lattice, enchanted to last forevermore. Trixie didn’t even bother to stop a giggle of delight as she hefted her hand, splaying her fingers as she pictured how such a ring would look. The size of the thing - oh, the two things anypony would notice upon seeing her for the first time would be her curves and her engagement. She shouldn’t have doubted Blueblood for a second; once he’d worked all of the excess lust out of his system, there was no question that such a powerful, virile stallion should fail to propose to such an equally attractive mare.

        She sat on the bed with her monumental ass squished out beneath her, positively buzzing as her thoughts soared with excitement. Oh, what would it look like - what would the wedding be like - and the honeymoon? Never again Trixie - never again, even “the Great and Powerful.” Princess Trixie, she would be called, as she’d always deserved. So excited was she that even when her nipples began to stiffen again for want of a good fondling, she ignored any pleasures of the flesh in order to focus more purely on her daydreams, each potential future glimmering with more possibility than the last.

        As the doorknob clicked out of place (they’d gotten the door replaced - though also enlarged - following Blueblood’s first explosive entrance into her penthouse), Trixie’s heart leapt to her throat. She made to leap to her feet, then winced as she felt her massive slabs of ass-meat slapping and smacking together from the sudden force. She stifled a moan, yearning to remain as regal as possible instead of giving into the bestial urges that her true love had surely now overcome.

        The door slammed open a moment later - not hard enough to break, but hard enough to send tiny tremors through the room. Hunched over just enough for his horn to miss the top of the doorway, but still broad enough for his shoulders to brush against the sides, Blueblood stumbled in, laughing and moaning all at once. A duo of mares stood in his arms, a bicep as wide as their waists curled around their hips. Breasts bounced and makeup sparkled as Blueblood lurched forward, his drooling, pre-slick shaft slapping between his slablike pecs.

        “A lovely evening, ladies,” he drawled, drawing his hand around the contours of one’s rear. He gave her a spank and she squeaked loudly, though not without drawing a blush from her cheeks first. “Let’s see if you can do that thing where you both hug it again, while I - “

        “Blueblood!”

        He didn’t quite stop short in his tracks, but he stumbled violently enough that it counted just as well. “Trixie,” he slurred, blinking down at her. He at least had the wherewithal to sound slightly guilty. “How - how are you doing? I’ve been hav - having a simply marvelous day.”

        No ring. No proposal. Trixie felt her heart shatter, then clenched her teeth and shoved the pieces back together. This would all be alright. She simply had to fix it. She was Great. She was Powerful. And she. Would. Not. Stand this.

        “You,” she snarled at the two mares - those two...hussies! “Leave my apartments at once!”

They both glanced timidly up at Blueblood. He hesitated, then gently lifted his arms, his pecs inflating impressively as he did so.

“You ladies can go,” he said, his massive cock throbbing. He grunted softly as one of his mares stroked it, and gave her fat ass a slap with his open hand. She squealed, and fled through the door after her companion, giggling all the way.

“Mares,” Blueblood said, chuckling. He turned back to Trixie, a lazy grin on his face. “Just want attention.”

Trixie prickled. “Do they, now?” she asked. “As opposed to me?”

“Trixie, dear.” Blueblood raised his hands, his grin twitching as she stalked toward him. Her hilariously oversized buttcheeks wobbled and bounced as she moved, forcing her into an awkward, angry sort of waddle that he was obviously trying hard not to laugh at. “What, you think I would forget about you? Trixie, darling, I’ve been saving my seed all day for you.”

“Your seed,” she spat. “As opposed to your ring?”

Blueblood’s eyebrows went up. In a flash of motion, he reached out and grabbed her, squeezing her to his chest. Trixie moaned involuntarily when she felt his cock grinding up between her asscheeks. She was sore, she was exhausted, she was tired of servicing his every whim - and yet something primal in her burned all the same at the touch of that throbbing stallionhood to her taint.

“My dear,” Blueblood purred, grinding his shaft against her. Precum oozed down the back of her neck, matting her mane and fur. His thick, pulsing, medial ring rubbed against the small of her back, eliciting another squeak from her throat. “I have every intention of giving you my ring - many times over.”

He slapped her ass - hard. Trixie gave a squeak of indignation, but was unable to stifle a soft moan of pleasure as her huge, rippling rump stimulated her puffy labia. Blueblood's smirk widened, and his voice rumbled in his inflated chest as he said, "Get on the bed. I'll be happy to rut you like the cockslut you are."

Trixie didn't even open her mouth to respond. Demurely, she stepped forward and heaved herself up onto the mattress. It took some doing, but she managed to get her titanic boobs up over the side, though she looked fairly ridiculous with her mammoth ass wobbling and bouncing as she struggled to pull herself up. Blueblood didn't help her up; instead, he snickered at her, and she saw him all but choking his cock in his hands out of the corner of her eye.

Meekly, Trixie shifted her huge rear up into the air, presenting herself to her much larger partner. Blueblood leered at her and stepped forward, the floor shaking beneath his tremendous weight. Trixie had barely a second of warning - there was only a slight hint of pressure, and then Blueblood's monstrous shaft had shoved its way forward, not into her cunt, but through her round, puckered hole.

Trixie's eyes bulged as Blueblood forced his way forward, the quarts of pre slicking his shaft the only lubricant easing his entry. Tears came to her eyes, and she gasped as she felt her insides rearrange themselves around each fresh inch of his mammoth member. Pre oozed and gushed into her like the rush of a waterfall, filling her belly and rounding it out with barely even a twitch of exertion or arousal. Something between a moan and a short, bestial grunt echoed from her throat. Trixie was no stranger to anal - in fact, she'd grown to adore the cold, slick sensation of being stuffed at this size - but Blueblood had skipped the foreplay and gone straight to penetration. Where was the warm-up? The preparation? The mutual arousal and play?

"Such a fat rump," Blueblood said, his deep voice taunting and slick. He gave her another slap, and she moaned again as the force of her jiggling rump set another volley of pre splattering against her insides. "You're nothing more than a pair of tits and a glorious, fat booty, are you, dear Titsie?" He pumped his hips forward, ramming his entire length inside of her; Trixie gurgled, her belly distorting obscenely as Blueblood's length gobbled up more room than even her body could provide. "The perfect sleeve for my cock."

A cocksleeve. Was that all she was? Tears came to Trixie's eyes, but she wasn't sure whether it was from the pressure in her asshole or the words striking at her heart. She cried out, her eyes rolling back in a mixture of pleasure and piercing, throbbing pain as he fucked her roughly, each of his thrusts making the entire mattress shake beneath her weight. His hips jerked forward, his massive shaft flexing and bending her body around its length. Trixie groaned and gurgled, more and more pre churning up to fill her belly as Blueblood's organ throbbed and swelled and tensed -

With a low, bestial roar, Blueblood flung his hips forward. Trixie's eyes flung wide open just an instant before his orgasm began - and then his flood of cum hit her like a tsunami. The pressure and force of it were so great that she actually found her pussy clenching around thin air an instant later - he'd cum so hard as to actually send her flying off of the end of his cock!

She barely had time enough to register it before she found something wide, shiny, and hard rushing up to meet her. Trixie slammed onto the headboard of the bed, colliding with it head-on as the momentum imparted by Blueblood's orgasm forced her forward. Only the vast pillows of her breasts saved her from any real harm, a good amount of firm bust coming up below her chin and cushioning her impact.

                A floor-shaking thump reached her ears, just seconds after they had started to ring. Trixie groaned, her head throbbing with pain. She gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as the good-sized knot on her forehead pulsed. She could feel her gaping asshole leaking cum beneath her, a waterfall of Blueblood's hot, thick load leaking out from her foot-wide ring onto the stained sheets below.

She tried opening her eyes, and immediately regretted it as the world swam around her. A few seconds later, she chanced it again, and sighed in relief when she found that most of the pain had subsided. Grinding her teeth together - and then grunting in pain when her jaw cracked from the force - she tenderly turned herself over so that she was sitting atop her enormous rump, her buttcheeks squishing like a pair of beanbag chairs as her legs dangled over the side of the bed.

Blueblood was no longer standing at the foot of the bed. Instead, the source of the second thump made itself clear as Trixie's gaze traced across the floor, ending at the squishy armchair not five feet away. Blueblood had evidently stumbled back and crashed into its leather embrace, too overcome by pleasure and alcohol to do much more than land head-upright. His huge body dominated the too-small chair, dominating it completely. One of his massive legs was slung over one of the arms, and his even-larger shaft - exactly when had it grown longer and thicker than one of his legs? - was draped lazily over it, slowly going flaccid as a few remaining pints of jizz drooled out onto the floor below.

Trixie's jaw clenched. Tenderly, taking care not to disturb her aching head, she did her best to sit upright. Blueblood's snores, filled her ears, and she scowled. So that was it, then? He came home from a day of partying and whores and fucked her once without so much as a by-your-leave, and then feel right to sleep? She glared at him in his drunken stupor, a vein throbbing beneath the good-sized egg on her forehead. She couldn't even call what they had "sex" - or, as she'd once dreamed, "making love." No, that was fucking - raw and primal and objectifying. She felt bile rising in her throat as tears rose to her eyes, but shoved both back down. She was better than this.

Somewhat awkwardly, she slipped off of the bed. The soles of her feet hit the carpet, and every mound of flesh on her hyper-voluptuous body jiggled and bounced in a symphony of motion. She was so heavy at the rear that only the counterweight of her breasts kept her from falling back onto the bed; as it was, Trixie barely managed to keep her balance while waiting for the motion to subside. Once it had, she took a deep breath, and grabbed a bathrobe from a hook beside the bedroom closet. She slipped it on, and eyed the glass doors leading outside to the balcony. A moment later, she slipped outside into the warm night air.

Trixie laid both hands onto the railing. She could barely grasp it given the size of her tits - they spread out so far ahead of her and so wide on either side that she had to squeeze them together to even hold anything in front of her. Her knuckles tightened on the wood of the railing, her breasts weighing heavily on its surface as she stared off into the distance, watching the stars above glimmer with a mournful expression.

She wondered if she should feel angry. Lost, perhaps? Upset? Instead she just felt tired.

Somewhat dully, she glanced down at her hand. Five naked fingers absolutely failed to glimmer with the shine of a diamond, or any other precious gem. With a sigh, she let it fall to her side, then winced when it instead came to rest atop her huge, rounded hips.

No ring. Not even a consideration of a proposal. Trixie stared glumly off into the distance, staring past the hundreds of flickering lights that painted the Canterlot skyline like fireflies. They were so far beneath her now...and yet so infinitely far above. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry at her situation. The personal marefriend - even now, she refused to consider the word "mistress" - of the most attractive stallion in the land, and she was barely more than a fucktoy to him.

Oh, he certainly was attractive. Even the very thought of him - though she felt no urge to turn around, to glance backward and see his massive, fluid-covered body crushing the chair beneath him - made her thighs slick with arousal once more. Trixie gritted her teeth, and spread her legs a little further apart to accommodate her still-tightening asshole. Some ropes of spunk still clung to the insides of her thighs and rear, but some magic had cleaned up the most of it.

Where was the romance? Where was the ring? "I'll be a princess someday," she'd promised herself at the ripe, wise age of six. Every filly had that dream at one point - but she was the only one who'd come so close to living it (she very carefully ignored any thought of Twilight Sparkle). And yet, without Blueblood's interest, it seemed as though she was doomed to be nothing more than a warm hole for him, plump and soft enough to be a sleeve for his ever-growing stallionhood.

Trixie growled under her breath. Damn it! That wasn't good enough! She wanted to be Mrs. Blueblood the Sixteenth - she'd made sure to study his heritage very closely; after all, she was going to be family someday - and wouldn't settle for anything less.

But how?

Somewhat deflated, Trixie slumped forward against the railing. She sighed, and stared glumly out over the skyline.

The steady thwump-thwump of feathery wings, so quiet as to be almost unnoticeable, pulled her from her thoughts. Trixie blinked, and whirled around just as a tall, dark form set down onto the balcony behind her. A cloud pulled away from the moon, and a beam of moonlight descended down to strike the shadow on the cheek.

Luna.

Trixie's eyes widened. "Princess - Princess Luna," she stammered. Gone were the sneers, the boasts, the taunts. She felt exposed - vulnerable, even. She moved to pull her bathrobe around her chest - what an odd moment for modesty! - and flushed when she realized that it didn't even come halfway around the width of her bust.

Luna smiled faintly down at her. At a monumental nine and a half feet tall, the jet-blue alicorn was a titan of feminine size. She wore a simple gown of deep mauve that clung to her curves - and what curves they were. Her breasts and rear were just as large as Trixie's, though being a full three feet taller, she tended to wear them quite a bit more comfortable. Each breath brought her well-endowed chest inflating impressively, and Trixie found her eyes widening as she struggled to take in every inch of the magnificent mare in front of her. Twilight Sparkle had been large. Seen outside of a meeting, in the primal element of night, Luna was...magnificent.

"Greetings," Luna said. She inclined her head and smiled, her long mane sweeping over her shoulder. "A pleasant night to spend outdoors, isn't it?"

Trixie's mouth twisted. She tried to ignore the fact that her thumb-sized nipples were pointing at the Princess' abdomen like a pair of accusatory fingers. "Lovely," she said, only somewhat bitterly.

Luna cocked her head in awe. "I do not with to intrude," she said. Her voice was soft, dark, rich like chocolate wrapped lovingly in velvet. "But I have wandered the edges of your dreams as of late, and have found some distress. And tonight..." She nodded toward the snoring Blueblood, his hulking figure looking almost slobbish and slovenly beside her divine figure. "I see him in there, and you out here. Is there something wrong, Miss Lulamoon?"

Trixie grunted, and turned back to face the skyline. "Why do you care?"

"Because," Luna said, "Blueblood is..." She paused. "He may not be a nephew, not as such, but he is close enough to the line to be considered such. And his mistress - "

"Marefriend," Trixie bit out. She'd keep that much, at least.

" - marefriend," Luna said smoothly, without even missing a beat, "is of interest to myself - especially when she and her mate have taken on such interesting changes as of late."

Trixie blinked. "What?" she said. She gave her monumental ass a tap, and winced, partly out of pleasure, partly out of some bizarre sense of shame, when it wobbled and jiggled like a bowlful of pudding. "This?"

"And his..." Luna's mouth twisted. "Size." Blueblood's massive pillar of cock was unmistakable, even from here. It towered above his head, even flaccid, and drooled a steady stream of milky white precum onto the carpet behind him.

"So?" Trixie said, after a moment. "What about it?"

Luna said nothing. She merely waited. After a full twenty seconds, Trixie just grunted, turned back to face her, and sighed.

"I'm supposed to be his fiancee," she said. She threw out her hands to her sides. "His princess! But he won't look at me without a damned erection! I'm waiting for him to sweep me off my feet - not sweep me onto his fucking cock. I'm more than that! I deserve more than that! I'm more than just some hussy to come suck him off whenever he calls!"

"So you are," Luna said softly. Trixie realized that she was trembling, and clamped her jaw tightly shut. Her hands balled into fists as Luna regarded her coolly, those deep, blue eyes glittering with bemusement. "An odd arrangement, I would say."

"Odd?" Trixie spat. "Feh. Disgraceful."

Luna nodded. "Indeed," she said. "It is most peculiar for a stallion to be the one in command here."

Trixie stopped. "Wait," she said, slowly looking up - and up, and up - at Luna. "What do you mean?"

Luna didn't answer at first. Instead, her horn glimmered a soft, starry blue. Trixie felt a strange coolness at her behind, and yelped when she felt something shift around her asshole and marehood.        

"I have...tightened you, somewhat," Luna said. She looked caught between a smile and a frown. "My 'nephew' seemed to have left you a bit stretched, you poor thing."

Ordinarily, Trixie would have bit back after her choice of words. But she felt no venom on her tongue tonight. Instead, she held back, standing quietly and waiting for Luna to continue.

And she did, after a moment. "I am still adjusting to modern customs," Luna said. "But in my time, it was the mare who held the power in any relationship. She leashed her stallion like a loyal dog, pointed him to where she would, and he would follow happily. Not unwillingly," she added, "but it was our way."

Her lip curled, and her eyes shifted back toward Blueblood. "His type did exist then," she murmured, "but even so, the mare's authority - superiority, even - was never in question." She thumped her large bust, her massive breasts bouncing slightly in their tight bounds. Even so, a quick flex of Luna's arm brought a massive, beach-ball-sized bicep bulging just below her shoulder. Luna smiled grimly as Trixie gaped. That whole arm had to be more than twice the size of her waist!

"As you can imagine," Luna said dryly, "maintaining control was never an issue." She inclined her head in Blueblood's direction. "Perhaps he requires someone to put him in his place."

"But how?" Trixie's mind turned, spun, and did its best impression of a belly-flop. She frowned, considering. "What can I do?"

Luna smiled mysteriously. "More than bust and rear make a mare," she said, with a wink at Trixie's over-exposed curves. "Size. Strength. Power." She flexed the other arm, pushing into a most muscular pose that made her tree-trunk thighs swell with definition. "These are the marks of a true princess. And I think," she added, "the tools to access all three are well within your reach."

Trixie thought for a moment. Then her mouth slowly opened. Luna's smile widened. As she straightened up to her full height, Trixie was reminded of just how huge she really was. Nearly ten feet of mare - muscled, busty, sexual - loomed before her. Beneath her, Trixie felt like an exaggerated parody, a tiny little loofah that may as well have been a stuffed toy. Her cheeks reddened, and she looked away.

"Be sure that Prince Blueblood knows who owns him," Luna said. Her wings flared out wide behind her, her wingspan easily taking up the entire balcony. A single flap sent her soaring up ten feet into the air; Trixie only caught her final parting words, a tinkling, musical tone that mixed with the soft rush of the summer breeze.

"Be the mare that holds him," Luna called down. "Own him, and so own yourself." Another flap, and she vanished over the rooftops.

Trixie watched her go, her eyes wide. As soon as Luna's shadow disappeared, Trixie slid down the railing, finally coming to sit on the cold ground. Her thoughts spun, her mind turning over and over as she calculated and recalculated. She could - but then she'd have to - but she could use that, and -

Two minutes later, the door to her suites clicked shut behind her. Five minutes later, she was packed into a royal carriage, the wheels clicking down the cobblestone street as the driver pushed the way toward her destination.

And back in the bedroom, Blueblood slept on, snoring, dreaming, ignorant of what tomorrow would bring.

Next Chapter: Chapter Five: Looking Up Estimated time remaining: 45 Minutes