WARNING: Sudden sexual themes ahead! If you don't want such view-breaking scenes in your head, leave now!

In other news, welcome back to the story, everyone! Sorry for the long wait as well as for any errors, me and Nova had to rush the last bits of this chapter out, so I'll go over it and any errors it has with a fine comb later on.

However, with this chapter done, I can now post some of the others we've had finished for so long! Hope you all enjoy them!

Ciao!

-Timeless

“Alright,” Durin opened the cabinet doors in his pantry. “I’ve got whiskey, rum, vodka, beer, sake, and a few others. Take your pick of the poison, Tora.”

“Hmm...vodka. Shit’s easier goin’ down m’ gullet than most types o’ booze,” the tigress replied from her spot on the table, already eager to get completely shit-faced and potentially die of liver failure.

Durin chuckled. “I’m partial to whiskey myself.” He said, taking a bottle of said whiskey down along with some vodka. After leading her towards the dining room, he handed Tora the bottle of vodka. “Give it a shot. It’s been aged for...well, I don’t know how long. Only know that I found it underground, so it’s probably pretty damn old.” They sat down at the table.

“Yeah, that’d be right,” Tora snorted with a smirk, picking up the bottle and raising it above her head for a moment. “Cheers, mate!”

Then she leaned back and chugged the vodka for all of two seconds before she stopped, slowly returned to proper sitting position, calmly set down the bottle...and slammed her head down onto the table, “CRIKEY, I can feel m’ fucking liver carkin’ it! M’ fucking insides are meltin’! That shite’s fuckin’ drain cleaner!”

“Let me give it a shot,” Durin said, taking the bottle from her. Throwing caution to the wind, Durin chugged the drink...for a full twenty seconds. Afterwards, he let out a light burp and lowered the bottle from his lips. “Hm, not bad for vodka.”

“...Yer fuckin’ species is bullshit, Durin,” Tora grumbled with crossed arms, taking the bottle and raising it to her lips...only to stop when she realized that that had basically been an indirect kiss from her to him. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him. “...Mate. Y’ just kissed me indirectly doin’ that shite.”

Durin paused at that. Then, his cheeks rapidly flushed. “Oh. Oh shit, sorry, Tora!”

She stared at him for a few more moments as she used a rag to clean off the bottle’s neck...then leaned over the table and bonked him on the head with the bottle - not hard, mind you, but enough for it to hurt an appreciable amount, “If y’ wanna snog me again, mate, yer gonna have t’ earn it.”

Durin blinked. “Wait, what? You’re not gonna try and shoot my head off or anything?” He gestured to her. “Most times I do something like that you at least growl at me and brandish a weapon or your claws or something.”

“If’n y’ want, I can smash th’ bottle against yer head an’ hold it t’ yer jugular,” Tora said, raising and lowering the bottle over the edge of the table with a raised brow. “Hate t’ waste booze that’ll let me forget years of slavery an’ bad shit fer a couple hours.”

Durin shook his head rapidly. “No no, that’s fine.” He grabbed his bottle of whiskey. “Let’s just...drink, yeah?”

“Aye, siwmae!” Tora grinned, kicking back and downing more of the delicious drain cleaner-level vodka that was sure to cause her liver to fucking melt in a few hours.

Durin sighed in relief, then started to chug his own bottle of booze. After a short while, he sighed again, getting up from his seat. “Well, this isn’t doing too well for me either.” He turned to the entrance of the room. “I’m gonna go grab a few poisons, be back in a bit.”

“...Fuckin’ wot, mate?” Tora blinked incredulously.

Durin shrugged. “Normal alcohol, even the stronger stuff, doesn’t phase me. I have to poison myself to get drunk, or drink enough to put me into debt.” Durin explained. He waved it off. “Just wait here. I’ll be back soon.”

“...I got a little somethin’, actually,” Tora spoke up, rummaging around in one of the pouches on her shapely hips, then pulling out a small bottle - about the size of one of those smaller Skyy vodka bottles they sold back on Earth - made of some blood red crystal with an almost black fluid inside. “Wyrm’s Breath. Dragons make it fer themselves in huge batches t’ get fuckin’ wasted, but they sell it t’ th’ other races fer a price Got this little fucker when I saved some l’il baby dragon princess from a buncha mino raiders who hatchlin’-napped her a few years back. Th’ little anklebiter’s name was ‘Emily’ or somethin’, can’t give a fuck t’ remember it at th’ mo.”

Tora shrugged and slid the bottle across the table to him, “This shit kills anyone but a dragon who drinks it in servings bigger than this l’il thing. Was told not t’ drink this all in one go or I’d go comatose. Should work fer y’, mate.”

Durin hummed, stroking his beard. “Well…” He gingerly took the bottle. “Thanks, Torry.” Walking back to his seat, he mixed a quarter of it into his whiskey, then chugged. Soon after he let out a loud burp, and visibly relaxed. “Now that was a nice burn.”

“Aye, I bet it is, bastard,” Tora chuckled, taking another brief chug from her vodka before continuing. “‘Cuz it’s made with dragon blood, an’ that shit’s near-boilin’ in their bodies.”

“Explains a lot,” Durin mused, pausing in his drinking to reply. “It certainly tastes like blood.” He chuckled. “Starting to see why Yharnamites liked blood more than rum or spirits.”

“Yharna-what-now?” the Abyssinian replied, head cocked to the side rather adorably.

“They’re a bunch of people from a game I played back home,” Durin began, leaning back in his seat as he took a sip of his beverage.

“...Game? Like that Orcs an’ Oubliettes thing?” the tigress asked as she took a smaller swig of her drink.

“I’m gonna assume that’s like D&D. But no, more advanced, actually. Imagine physically controlling the character with a device instead of just saying ‘my character does this’,” Durin explained, waving a hand airily.

“...Yer not talkin’ about mind controllin’ shit them deviants in Canterlot like t’ write porn about, right?”

Durin shook his head. “No no no. More like…” He paused, then spoke again. “..think of it like a virtual reality, but one where you can control the character of the story, if not more than one character.”

“Ooooh, okay, then,” Tora nodded, even if internally she was calling bullshit on his explanation. ‘Virtual reality’, her fluffy orange-and-white ass!

Durin shrugged. “You can believe what you want, but trust me when I say my world had the tech to do it and more.” He took another swig of his drink. “Have a bunch of creeps back home in their mom’s basements playing those games to prove it.”

“So y’ say, y’ hairless ape,” Tora chuckles, raising the bottle to her lips to take another drink, only to almost drop it when her body shuddered and she had to repress her gag reflex from emptying the contents of her stomach onto the table. “...Fffuuuuck, this shite is jus’ killer.”

Durin chuckled, taking another swig before letting out another burp. “Heh. Lightweight.”

“Y’ wanted t’ get fucking POISON t’ get wasted. Yer opinion ‘bout this shite ain’t worth diddly, Mr. Fuckin’ Mutant Dickhead,” Tora shot back, raising the bottle to smash it and make it a weapon, but stopping before she made the downward swing and wasted a good repression mechanism.

Durin frowned. “Ya don’t have to go that far with the name calling to prove a point.”

“Lightly Buzzed Tora is Bloody Bitch Tora ‘cause o’ lots of shite. Drunk Tora’s right nice, so jus’ wait ‘til she’s out,” Tora snorted, downing more of the bottle...and frowning when she found it was empty.

Durin grunted. “Fair enough.” He stood up, walking to the pantry again. “I’ve got more vodka if you want it.”

Tora nodded...then chucked the bottle down at the ground like a certain god of thunder, where it shattered like a hand grenade, “More booze, ya brick shithouse of a bloke!”

Durin rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine.” Taking another bottle from his pantry, he handed it to the Abyssinian.

“Thanks, mate,” Tora said, taking the bottle from him. “So, uh, thoughts on that Dustan bloke an’ this here fancy hysteria or whatever th’ fuck I’ve got?”

Durin frowned as he sat down, nursing the whiskey in his hands. “Well, the guy talks a lot, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders.” He took a swig of his drink before continuing. “As for that Materia thing...Well, having a wider arsenal never hurts.” Durin let a small smile creep onto his face. “It was...nice, to talk to someone who understood my situation, too.”

“...An’ I don’t?” Tora asked, her expression one of hurt.

Durin smirked at her. “You kiddin’? You’ve helped me way more than he did. Of course you count, you silly feline.”

Her expression instantly turned into a smug smirk, “Mree-hee-hee! Good boy. Now, cheers?”

She held her bottle over the table and titled the neck towards him. Durin chuckled, and clinked his bottle with hers. “Cheers, Torry.”

Laughing, the Abyssinian downed yet more liver-killer and let out a ragged breath at the sheer burn in her throat, “HAAAAAA, thaaat shit’s ssso good! Almost makes me forget th’ bad shit!”

Durin chuckled as he gulped down the last of his bottle, then sighed in contentment as he finished it off. “You’re tellin’ me. Haven’t had a burn this good for a while.”

“Ssso! Got any giiirls y’ got yer eyes on, Durin?~” Tora asked teasingly, leaning over the table with a rather smug look on her face.

Durin shrugged. “Not around here, no.” He paused. “Well, save one.”

“Oooh? Gonna tell this liiittle kitty who th’ sheila is?~” Tora asked in a rather seductive purr.

Durin shook his head. “Nnnope.”

“Tch, fiiine. Asshole,” the tigress snorted.

Durin chuckled. “You have your secrets, I have mine.” Durin then opened his Inventory and summoned a familiar (to him, at least) cardboard package. Flipping the lid open, he pulled a white and orange stick from it and stuffed it in his mouth before lighting the end of it with a finger and a burst of Will, then sucking on it. Soon after, he let out a breath of smoke and sighed in bliss. “Ahhh...now this is nice. Always feels good to have a smoke when getting shit-faced.”

“Feeeh, you an’ yer fffucking cancer doobies,” Tora muttered as she hurriedly pinched her nostrils shut to avoid inhaling secondhand smoke. “Y’ do that around me an’ blow that cyanide-filled shite int’ m’ face, an’ you’ll find out wot gettin’ sounded with a lit tumor stick feels like.”

Durin chuckled. “Sorry. Just figured I’d reminisce while I got shit-faced with a friend.”

“M’ sniffer don’t like that shite, an’ I’ve seen wot it does t’ people. Y’ gonna do it, do it somewhere not ‘round me, savvy?” Tora asked, nostrils still pinched shut and her muzzle scrunched in disgust at the sickly sweet smell that had managed to get in.

Durin sighed out smoke, then snuffed out the cigarette’s flame by way of his magic, before flicking it into a nearby trash can. “Alright, alright, sorry.” ‘Note to self, make a smoking room or something.’

“...Y’ know wot’d be ace? Raidin’ those two prime prissy pony princess pussies’ fuckin’ wine cellar, an’ drinking their stores like a couple o’ rats in a dairy,” Tora suddenly suggested with a devilish grin even as something seemed to take effect and Tora’s eyes became just a liiittle bit unfocused.

Durin gained a grin to rival hers. “I have been thinking of trying to get some kind of payback, so let’s do it!” He raised a fist to her.

The tigress snickered and fist-bumped him...after a second go at it, “Le’s go an’ fuckin’ RAID them cunts!”

Tora stumbled after the natural lurching effect of Durin’s magic on her, and Durin was only marginally better in that sense. The golden glow from Durin’s hand was dismissed as he held onto his partner in crime, both staring up at the gates to Canterlot.

“Ya good?” Durin asked, looking down at the feline.

“HRK! Yyyep, ‘m apples, mate,” Tora said, hiking a thumb-claw-thing up. “Jus’, urgh...gimme a tick or so.”

“Try to,” Durin suppressed a burp. “Try to make it quick,” He gestured to the guards as they were rotating shifts. “We’ve only got a few minutes of a window right now.”

“A’ight, Ah- erk, I’m aces, now. Let’s go an’ fahking destrooooy their dignity,” the Abyssinian purred diabolically, already slinking forward like a cat - silent as fuckin’ death itself.

Durin grinned, getting into a different stance, more akin to a bald eagle ready to strike. “Three…two...one!” With that utterance, Durin summoned his Silken Hammer Hook and tossed it, the hook landing a fair ways away from the guards. With a yank and a jump, he pulled the rope taut, then ran towards the white brick wall and started to run up it.

Tora peered down at Durin from the top of the wall, like a certain cat in a ceiling he’d seen before, “Y’ gonna get up here ‘fore sunrise, mate?”

Durin rolled his eyes. “I can’t fly yet, cut me some slack,” he shot back, steadily making his way up before dropping boot first down on the parapets.

“Yet? Y’mean ya can grow wings like a birdy? Th’ fock?” Tora blinked slowly, internally (and drunkenly) wondering how that’d work...

Durin waved it off. “Eventually, kinda. It’d be more like an item I’d have to physically make, and I’d need materials to make them.”

“Who goes there?” a stern voice called, bringing their attention to the lantern wielding guards encroaching on their position.

“Quick, off the walls!” Durin urged, grabbing Tora’s hand and literally jumping off the city side of the wall.

Tora’s eyes bored a hole through Durin’s head as she held him and herself flush against the wall Durin forcefully dragged her off of, claws dug deep into solid stone.

“Yer a fockin’ twat,” Tora whispered in a deadpan, ‘accidentally’ loosening her grip on his top and then tightening it just to let him know how easily she could drop him.

Durin paused, a familiar light blue potion in his hand. “I was going to use a potion, but I guess this works too,” he reasoned as he dismissed the potion, trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks...and failing. Being buzzed really didn’t help.

Her claws loosened again, and he almost fell from her grasp, were it not for a single claw hooked through his top’s collar.

“Hello?” a guard called from directly above them, shutting them both up. Lantern light and hoofsteps were the only things heard or seen for a moment. “Huh. Weird. Must be going stir crazy with all these monster attacks.” The guard reasoned, turning and heading back the way he came, away from their spot.

The tigress looked down at Durin, her ears twitching as she listened until the hoofsteps faded away entirely, then she reared the arm holding him up ‘behind’ her, “Heeeave…”

“Tora, please tell me you aren’t-WOAHMYGOD!” Durin cried as she chucked him over to the nearest rooftop.

“Ho.”

Durin landed bodily on the rooftop, shingles falling one by one as he rolled and just barely grabbed on before he fell to the streets below. “The fuck was that for?!” Durin whisper-yelled.

Tora landed right beside him and looked him dead in the eyes, “Expediency for our conquest of the royalty’s alcohol stores during a most clandestine operation.”

Durin sighed. “Ya know, I’m not even gonna question how you said that so straight despite being obviously only a few liters short of utterly shit-faced.”

“Fock y’ too, mate,” was her far more eloquent reply.

Durin rolled his eyes. “You and your cursing.” He said, before his gaze snapped to a street ahead. “Guards are coming. We need to move, fast.” With that, he hopped off the roof, fell and tucked into a roll, then popped back to a standing position. “Come on!”

Tora fell to the floor with all the grace of a cat, and none of the hassle that Durin had to go through, “Mate, I’mmm a ffff-AHK-ing meow-meow. Y’ think ‘m gonna be asss sloooow as your tight ass?”

Durin paused at that, looking back at her and standing just by the edge of the alleyway. “You think my ass is tight? Since when?”

“It’sss an innnsult, mate. I mean yer ass is tight cuz yer a...urp...fuckin’...uhhh...w-wot was I talkin’ bout again…?” the Abyssinian asked, looking around. “...When th’ fuck did we get t’...Cuntsalot, again?”

Durin winced. “Well, that’s a good sign.” Sighing, Durin grabbed her by the paw. “Just hold on to me and follow my lead.”

“...Oh yeeeeah, raidin’ th’ Princesses’ pussies an’ panties!” Tora said in apparent remembrance, giving a not-so-sage nod to no one in particular.

“Not into quadrupeds, but close enough!” Durin shot back as they ran through from alleyway to alleyway, steadily making their way through the city.

Tora was naturally as silent as any feline, paws barely even making a sound as they ran, walked and tiptoed across tile, cobblestone and more besides in their quest to reach the castle. Even if she stumbled or wavered in her stride from time to time as a result of her inebriation, she never once faltered enough to risk the operation.

Durin was occasionally faltering himself, as every now and again he flung them forward in time itself with his magic, the act and the inebriation draining him, and it didn’t help that they’d used his magic to get to Canterlot. Nonetheless, he was at least more coherent than Tora was when they finally reached the gates of Canterlot Castle.

Which had barbed wire on its parapets.

And many more guards than those on the city’s walls.

“Hmm…” Tora scratched her chin amidst her inspection of the castle’s defenses...then pointed at a runoff drain on the side of the road leading to the castle gate. “Big fuckkkin’ walled-off place exposed t’ th’ weather that prolly comes over th’ mountain? Unless they want floodin’ an’ an extra moat, they’ll have drains inside the walls.”

Durin frowned. “And they don’t even have any guards stationed there?” He groaned. “That’s just asking for a Toad Prince.”

“A wha’?” the cat asked in utter fucking confusion.

Durin sighed. “A very dangerous kind of monster. Spits venom, has so much blubber that most blades bounce off, pierces you with its tongue, has a fanged mandible-like mouth...very unfun creature to fight.”

“...Much as I dislike th’ cunts...what if’n one o’ them Frog Prince fucks actually ends up in there cuz y’ jinxed it? Shou...huuuh...should we give ‘em a rrreason t’ fortify th’ drains?”

“Only way to know for sure that there’s one there is to either go in and find out...or when the entire water system is filled with the poisonous fluids the damn thing seeps off,” Durin said, shaking his head.

Tora blinked and glanced down at the drain, where a little water had backed up from the torrential rains that had come by in the past few months. With a city as big as Canterlot, there’d likely be places maintenance folks missed.

A rat scurried up to the puddle of water and greedily drank of the runoff, then fucked off elsewhere after having its fill.

“...I think we’re apples, there. No ugly fucks in th’ sewers. So, shaaall we take a stroll through th’ - hck - urgh...runoff tunnels an’ see if we can get in that way?”

Durin nodded. “Might as well. No other avenues to take, after all.” With Tora’s paw still in hand, Durin led her into the tunnels.

Instantly the smell hit their noses. Whilst cleaner than most other sewers that Tora had had to trudge through, it was by no means full of roses and bouquets. Rats still frequented the tunnels, and a thin veneer of slime, likely born of the various waste products depositing into the walls over many years, covered nigh every surface.

“‘Least sober Tora don’ gotta smell this shhhite. Lucky fuckin’ bitch…” the Abyssinian mumbled and pinched her nostrils shut, continuing onward even if she knew she’d have to get a shower in once this was over.

Durin nodded slowly. “You’re tellin’ me. My senses are hating this place. Let’s just hurry through.”

He was still holding her paw.

“Y’ gonna let gooo or we gonna shaaag in the sewers, Grumpy McCurm...Kermi...Curmudgeon?” she asked with a raised brow and an expression that also expressed a concern if she pronounced that right.

Durin looked down at her paw in his hand. “...” He looked up to her, blush on his face. “...Maybe when we’re both ready for that,” he said hastily, letting go and hurriedly picking up his pace.

“When we’re ready t’ shag in a fuckin’ sewer? Mate, yer aaall kindsa - urrrp - fucked in th’ heeead,” Tora shook her head but followed him nonetheless.

Durin’s feverish blush only grew. “Y-You know what I- Ugh, nevermind, you’re too drunk right now.” To himself, he added, “And right now I think I need to be too, to forget this conversation.”

“...f’get wha?” she asked, blinking as if this was the first time they’d spoken to one another.

Durin gave her a blank look. “Nevermind.”

After some time, and many twists and turns, Durin stopped them both at a deadend. He sniffed the air a number of times. “Smells like...alcohol?” He grinned. “More than we do, too. Good.” He summoned his Hammer. “Hopefully this doesn’t alert anyone!”

“Yeeeeah, he...here’s hopun.”

With that, he slammed the Silken Hook Hammer home, cracking the brick wall. He slammed it home two more times, and the wall turned into a small block that soon got sucked into Durin and disappeared.

He blinked a few times. He looked at Tora. “I forgot I’m a Terrarian.”

“...An’ I f’got how loaded th’ princesses were, cuz this be a loootta hooch,” the tigress’s muzzle curled into a manic grin at the sight of dozens of casks, kegs, barrels, bottles and containers aplenty filled with potentially exotic and strong fuckin’ booze and such. “Good snifffer y’ got, mate.”

Durin looked to the exposed load of alcohol. “...Tell me that again after I’ve gotten truly drunk.” He said, immediately pulling a bottle out.

“Bu’wha ‘bout th’ moonbutt an’ sunarse? Weren’ we...gonna prank ‘em or summat?” Tora asked even as she grabbed a bottle of booze and took a swig that left her shivering violently from the kick.

Durin blinked as he lowered his own bottle from his lips. “Oh yeah…” He blinked again. “Wait, how did you forget everything else but remember that?”

“Drunk Tora don’t need t’ maaaake seeense, bruv.”

Durin frowned, shrugged, then drained his first bottle. And tossed it over his shoulder. “Right, then. First prank; we see how much we can drink them out of their stores before we head up into the castle proper.”

“...Bu’ th’ guaaards.”

“As many youths of my world would say, ‘Fuck da police’.”

“...Eh, fuck it,” the cat gave up on what little common sense her drunken self could muster in favor of downing the entire rest of the 176 year old bottle (if her eyes read that label right) in one go, then tossing it aside and popping the cork off a wine bottle.

“H...Hey…Torry…” Durin hiccuped as he looked across the floor covered with bottles and smashed casks and kegs. “How...Urp, how meny days hev pass'd?”

“Since we g’t ‘ere? Uhhhhgghhh...two hoursch?” the she-cat mumbled, balancing five whole bottles of beer neck-to-base on her head through some Lovecraftian ritual known only to sloshed Abyssinians.

Durin nodded slowly. “Ah...hokay…” He then grabbed a keg with one hand and started to chug it’s contents. Tora noted the label, and how it denoted the brew as ‘Iron Drakeblood’.

“That’ll tuuurn yeeer insidech t’ sssshlush, dude. Hasch...uh...fuckin’...actual iron in ‘ere. Like...chunnks of iron.”

Durin lifted the keg from his lips, then spat a wad of black stone out. “Izzat what dat is? Thought it wuz black choco…”

“Nah, it’sch iron oooore.”

“Ah, hokay,” he then proceeded to keep chugging from the keg.

“...weren’...w’eren’ we s’posched t’...t’ - buuuh - d-do schomething elsch? Pranksch...Franksch? Tanksch? Bleh…”

Durin blinked blearily a few times, then his eyes widened, even sparkled. Tossing the keg away and burping up a not-so-healthy amount of black chunks, he looked to Tora with an almost manic glee that she’d never seen from him.

“Did yew fuckin’ say pranks?! Whuh are weh doin’,” he burped up another wad of iron, but seemed to not care as he continued. “Sitting on ‘r asses, the’?! There’s chaos to beh ma’e!”

“Pantiesch t’ plunder, facesh t’ schlappp...pony cunt t’ ginger?”

Durin’s grin only widened. “Bish y’ noe eet. Noe cum on!” He picked her up by her paw and started to run up the cellar’s stares, somehow not tripping on the countless bottles and slippery alcohol on the floor.

“ADVENCHUUURE!” Tora giggled in drunken delight, machinations unspeakable going through her fuzzy head at a kilometer a picosecond.

They stopped at the top of the stairwell, finding a Guardsmare sleeping against the wall. Durin turned his grin to Tora once again, summoning an inkwell and quill to his hands as well as a mustache of false make.

Tora, for her part, pulled out her knife with her eyes on the guardsmare’s tail.

Durin nodded vigorously, then as sneakily as a drunk and surprisingly manic Witcher could, walked over to the Guardsmare and started to draw on her furry face with the ink and quill.

The poor guard’s tail was cut into the shape of a heart with a bit of hair inside the heart cut out to make an indentation in the shape of a butt by a silently wheezing Tora.

Durin, for his part, drew muttonchops on the mare along with a savage crow’s peak peeking out from her helmet, complete with a Japanese symbol for the word ‘love’.

“She gooood? Move on, or wha?”

Durin nodded firmly to himself. “Yeh, le’s git moovin’. I wanna shev Moonbutt!” The cat grinned like a certain Cheshire feline and gestured for the man to lead the way. Tossing his remaining materials aside, Durin offered her his arm. “Shall weh be off?”

Tora hooked her arm around his and the two all but danced their way to the wing of the castle containing the royal chambers.

It took a fair bit longer than either of the duo would’ve liked - mostly filled with knocking out and sneaking around Guardsmares as well as throwing up a few times - but finally the duo had made it to the Royal Wing of the castle.

They stood at the crossroads between the Solar and Lunar Quarters of said Wing, and Durin turned to Tora with that same, manic grin.

“Aw’right, yew go git Sunbbutticus, I’m,” He burped, then wiped his mouth. “I’mma goh shev Loonatits.”

“Gib ‘em a squeeze fer me!” Tora snickered and slinked inside of Celestia’s room.

Durin blinked a few times. “Oh roight, horses hev teets.” He shrugged. “I’ll jus’ poot hot sos on ‘em.”

Slinking into Luna’s chambers, he found the immaculate lunar quarters decorated with dark wooden furniture, an astrolabe, a large telescope out on the balcony, and a ceiling decorated with an ever shifting constellation map.

And, one lunar princess asleep with her face in the pillows and ass in the air, various royal satin and deep blue sheets tossed to the side.

Durin’s grin only grew as he summoned a razor and shaving cream and set to work shaving Luna’s mane.

It took some time, as he had to keep from burping and he also had to be careful to not wake her, but soon enough her lustrous ethereal mane was gone, and, safely in his Inventory. He smiled proudly at his work, seeing her without her mane, then set to shaving her tail.

Heavens knew more ‘Lunar Mane’ could only be good for whatever crafting recipes he tried out.

In Celestia’s room, Tora was busy chewing on Celestia’s mane, having mistaken it for cotton candy. That didn’t mean she’d forgotten whose room she was in, oh no; she knew who she was chewing the mane of, and who she was shoving/rubbing ginger into the unmentionables of.

Who knew that ponies got off to shoving spices/irritants into their orifices?

Regardless, she gave the pony princess no mercy and gingered aaall of the appropriate parts of her thoroughly.

Even her head-sized teats got a helping of ginger root rubbed against the nubs capping them off.

Sunbutt was gonna feel like she was sunburnt come morning.

And to top things off...she shoved a carrot into the cunt’s cunt and an apple in her mouth.

How the Solar Princess didn’t wake up from having her mouth-breathing means of oxygen intake cut off, the Abyssinian had no idea and didn’t care.

She pulled away after a bit with drool absolutely soaking Celestia’s mane mere moments before she cut it into a mohawk.

She was about to leave when her stomach grumbled quietly and her eyes fell on not only a glass nearby probably meant for water...but also the teats she’d rubbed raw.

Tora grinned.

Durin sighed happily as he looked upon his work, a now maneless and tailless Luna. He hummed, however, as he recalled Tora’s words...and then grinned. Summoning some hot sauce he’d grabbed on their way through the castle, he poured a fair layer on the mattress below her modest teats, trying to hold back a snicker as he next placed a chocolate donut in front of her snout, the inside secretly filled with salt cubes.

After that, he noticed a coffee machine in a small, personal kitchen to the side, and grinned again. Walking over, he noticed the various cups available, both foam and ceramic, and proceeded to punch holes in the bottom of every one he could find.

Satisfied, he soon snuck out of the room, eagerly awaiting the news that would come of this event later. After making it out of the room, he walked into Celestia’s room, finding Tora...sipping from one of several glasses filled with what smelled like milk, a milk moustache on her satisfied muzzle.

She saw him come in and gestured to one of the glasses, then motioned with her free hand for him to drink up.

Too drunk to really know or care, he took the cup and drank deeply, before smacking his lips and giving Tora a questioning look, raising the cup in further question.

She only gestured to the pair of orbs squished oh-so-pleasantly between Celestia’s hindlegs.

Durin paused at that, looked to his cup, then slowly stood up, walked over to Celestia’s hindquarters...and poured the rest of the liquid over her unmentionables.

His companion snickered, then her eyes flew open as an idea entered her head. She pointed at his hand, then at her ass, and mimed smacking it.

He blinked a few times at her. Then, he tossed his cup the side, being once again too drunk to care, threw caution to the wind andopen-hand smacked Celestia’s rear with an echoing CRACK followed by a very pleasant jiggle...and a very surprisingly aroused giggle from Celestia before she snuggled back into her bed.

Durin turned his red-cheeked face to Tora, then mimed them leaving.

Tora held up three fingers, then shooed him away.

Durin blushed a bit, and, seeming to have been too drunk to fully understand, smacked Celestia’s rear three more times...which prompted a hearty yet tiny squirt from a certain part of Celestia, and a long drawn out moan from the mare. How she didn’t waken was anyone’s guess as Durin stared at the scene in shock.

Tora palmed her face and pointed from him and then to the door. A claw aimed at a clock was followed by three held up...three minutes, perhaps.

Durin’s eyes widened and he rushed out the door without any other explanation needed.

She came out three minutes later...with an entire tiny keg shaped from platinum filled with white, then shoved it into his hands, “Inventooory.”

Durin’s face flushed again, and slowly, he nodded, and the keg disappeared in a brief and tiny flash of light. He then pulled out a mirror.

“Weh should goh now.” He yawned and glanced pointedly to Celestia’s slightly ajar door, where muffled whimpers were coming from. “I tink we went tew far wit her.” He yawned again. “And I sleepy.”

“Sho am I. T’ ffffuckin’ home we goooo!” Tora mewled lazily, tail flicking and curling as she all but skipped back the way they came.

He grabbed her arm at this. “No walk, too tired.” Yawning, he raised the mirror, and they were gone in a flash of blue light and particles as he pressed the Teleport Home button on his Cell Phone.

Ten minutes later, Celestia awoke, moaned, and spat out the apple in her mouth. She looked around. “Oregano? Why did you-?” She stopped as she noticed the specially selected...ahem, Guardsman, was not present. She blinked again. “Why do my nipples burn if he didn’t…” She soon flushed red.

“GUAAAAAAAAAAAAARDS!!!”

Nary five seconds later, a similar yell came from her sister’s room, though with far more yelping.