Metal Pony Sex Dimension

Horndog D

CHAPTER III
L'épée phallique a faim de chair vierge

"Honestly, I could really go for a few cheeseburgers and a good gangbang right now."
- Oprah Winfrey, moments after winning the Red Bull AMA Amateur National Motocross Championship

When it came to the pursuit of the all-important and ever-elusive prize that was her satisfaction, Rarity made it a policy not to waste time asking unnecessary questions. Her partners' political beliefs, their sexual histories, their names... Such trivial details failed to concern her. A sophisticated mare such as herself knew the only criteria by which she needed to judge a stallion's abilities as a lover was how well he sang karaoke.

In her nightly excursions hunting beefcake, Rarity often made the rounds hopping between the numerous dive bars located around Ponyville. Positioned defiantly near the furthest outskirts of the town, the Gelding Knife often marked an evening's final stop, her visits always made at some unearthly hour when desperation had robbed her of the dignity that would typically prevent her from being seen in such a squalid establishment. On one particularly depressing night, Rarity found herself sitting alone in a secluded corner where she nursed a Black Opal and watched a succession of half-drunk ponies take the stage to butcher the latest flavor-of-the-week pop singles. One by one, their sloppy performances failed to impress her. Disappointment ravaged her mind like a wake of vultures swarming the carcass of her hopes to get laid.

Rarity finally gave in to boredom after finishing the last of her cocktail. She started for the exit when her peripheral vision caught sight of a rather handsome saffron unicorn stepping up to the microphone. Moments later, the dingy tavern filled with the soulful lyrics of Rick Astley sung by the most erotic voice Rarity had ever heard. She could feel the raw passion the stallion put into each and every word, making her truly believe that he would never give her up, let her down, or run around and desert her.

When the song finished, she clacked her hooves enthusiastically against the floorboards. "Bravo, Darling! Bravo! Simply marvelous!"

The stallion flicked back his neon green mane as he stepped off the stage to approach her. "Glad you enjoyed the show. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm—"

Rarity raised a hoof to shush him. "No, no. No names. Let there only be... us."

"Well, alrighty then. We're obviously both lovers of music, so I can definitely get behind that. Speaking of, I'd also like to get behind that smokin' hot ass you've got back there."

"My goodness." Rarity blushed like a school filly. "You certainly are quite the charmer."

The stallion stared deeply into her eyes as he said, "I can't help it. I can tell you and I are... no strangers to love."

Rarity nearly fainted as her dripping slutbox fired a blast of mare juice over the back of a pony sitting at the bar behind her.

"Wha— What the eff?" the barfly pony slurred. "Somebody fuckin' piss on me!?" By the time he'd spun around on his stool, Rarity and the stallion had already departed. The pair continued to flirt as they walked together through the night, their giggling laughter joined by the sound of oil pumps rhythmically pounding into the earth like long steel penises raping what had once been the sacred burial grounds of a native buffalo tribe.

Back at Rarity's château, slender hallways echoed the shrill cries of a mattress being assaulted by two wildly thrashing equine bodies immersed in coital violence. The stallion's fleshy polearm impaled Rarity relentlessly, striking her every erogenous zone with expert precision. She shuddered with orgasmic pleasure as her vision became a field of stars revealing undiscovered constellations, the twinkling shapes of cocks and cunts and childhood acquaintances all cackling madly at her life's misfortunes. She screamed delightedly as her partner drove into her with an animalistic intensity, his repeated thrusts slamming the bed against the wall hard enough to chisel away the plaster and expose the interior plumbing.

Beside the bed, Sweetie Belle used her hind legs to push her tiny body along the floor, snorting up a long line of snow-white powder as she went. "Oh, shit. Holy shit," she squeaked, flipping onto her back.

"Sweetie Belle," Rarity panted, "your homework had better be finished."

The small filly pulled herself onto a leather armchair facing the bed, its back embroidered with a scene depicting Dumbledore spanking Sonic the Hedgehog. "Pssh, why bother? Ms. Cheerilee never checks it. She just wastes the whole class crying about how she never gets any dick."

The stallion railing her sister cast a sideways glance. "Hey. This Ms. Cheerilee... Is she hot?"

Sweetie Belle glowered. "You disgusting pig."

"Sweetie!" Rarity scolded. "Manners, young lady. This gentlecolt is a guest. Oh! Oh, right there!"

The stallion grunted as he jostled his sweaty meat tube into Rarity's overstuffed lunchbox. "Don't worry about it. Nngh! Say, kid? How about you fetch us some tortilla chips."

Sweetie Belle looked toward the bedroom door. Everything except the edge of the frame was obscured from her view by piles of rotting magazines and decaying wax figures, their features hideously deformed by the heat of the room. "Rarity, this is bullshit. You need to throw some of this stuff away."

"You throw away a single one of my treasures and I'll kill you," Rarity hissed. "I swear I'll do it."

"Those who linger in their intellectual infancy become mesmerized by the lure of worthless possessions," Sweetie murmured under her breath.

For several minutes, the filly sat and watched as Rarity and the anonymous stallion porked roughly. Their breathless panting and colliding genitals filled the room with a symphony of salacious noises. The mirror on the bedroom wall reflected the couple's writhing forms, their faces hidden behind smears of blood red lipstick that spelled out the words WHO IS JOHN GALT?

Sweetie Belle sniffed the air. "To think this is how you choose to spend your finite mortal existence... Sad."

"Sweetie, why don't you—Ah!—go play in your room," Rarity moaned.

"I can't. You filled it up with all those old lawn chairs and empty paint cans."

The stallion shook a coat of glistening sweat from his brow. "Hey kid, how about an ETA on those chips?"

"You're like the Ouroboros," Sweetie chirped adorably. "The serpent devours its own tail; greed begets greed. No sordid luxury found here will give you the freedom you want."

"Sweetie..." Rarity warned, her tone as firm as her jewel-imprinted buttocks.

"Seeking salvation inside an unending procession of earthly indulgences is its own form of damnation."

"Sweetie Belle. That's enough, now."

The filly wiped away a stream of blood trickling from her left nostril. "Is it working? Does this brief escape into physical pleasure help you forget we're doomed creatures trapped in a hostile universe?"

"ENOUGH!" Rarity ejaculated. When her sister fell silent, she turned her attention to the unicorn above her, who had ceased his brutal thrusting. "And you. Are you finished yet, or what?"

"Actually, I was wondering..." The stallion grinned sheepishly, even though he was a pony and not a sheep at all. "Could we try anal?"

Rarity rolled her eyes. "Augggh, fine. Sweetie Belle, climb up on the bed and bend over."

"Rarity! Help!" Sweetie Belle cried out as she was pinned against the ceiling, held in place by some unknowable force.

As the young pony struggled, the exposed beams to either side of her began to twist and warp, splintering under the stress. The room quaked mightily. Cracks shot across the hardwood floor, quickly separating into fissures that tipped the furniture and swallowed mountainous stacks of old newspapers. The entire structure bent inward, roaring with the sound of timber and concrete being torn apart.

"What the fuck is happening!?" The stallion scrambled backward in panic as his bladder unleashed a furious torrent of pee.

Rarity looked at the day calendar on the nightstand beside her, catching a brief glimpse before it toppled over. "Hell's bells," she sighed. "I forgot it was Wednesday."

"Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!" Sweetie Belle screamed.

The walls arched forward, huge chunks of plasterboard crumbling like the sun-bleached bones of an ancient beast. Windows stretched into impossible shapes until the glass burst in brilliant ecstasies of glittering shards. Support columns ruptured as the void flooded inside. The room turned, folded in on itself, and the darkness became everything.