Title:           Prostitute Anon, Ch 1: Lyra clop
Author:          Navarone
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/d63ifujE
First Edit:      Sunday 5th of August 2012 06:55:27 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Sunday 5th of August 2012 06:55:27 PM CDT

New story time!
 
>Month six in Equestria.
>You are Anonymous.
>And you are fucking broke.
>None of the ponies will hire you because you don’t have a Cutie Mark. On the surface it seems discriminatory, but in all honesty it does make a bit of sense. That’s like a fucking resume for ponies. Who needs a job history when you can just look at that thing and tell that they’re good at something?
>And you don’t have one. You had been living off a small royal stipend while you tried to get on your feet, but one of the stipulations was that you find a job within six months.
>How the fuck are you supposed to find a job if none of the ponies will ever give you a chance?
>You really don’t think the ponies would let you just starve to death, but on the same vein you don’t want to live off their charity. You already live with one of your best friends here, a mare named Rarity. She didn’t even charge rent.
>Stealing is an option, but your mother raised you better than that. You’ve actually checked a few doors during some late night walks to see if they were unlocked. They always were. These ponies are really trusting, and you weren’t about to abuse that trust.
>Moving was also an option. You couldn’t find work with the ponies, but you might be luckier with the griffins. You do like the ponies a lot, though… Even if they are herbivores.
>You could also ask for more royal aid. You haven’t met Celestia yet, but from what all the ponies said she seemed like a pretty decent lady. You were sure she could understand not being able to find a job in a whole new world.
>But asking for more handouts is not something you really want.
 
 
>You were currently contemplating this while sitting on a bench in the park. It was a nice day out. Kids were playing in the park, pegasi were floating lazily among the clouds, and an aquamarine mare was—JESUS!
>You jerked back. An aquamarine unicorn mare was staring dead at you with some creepy stalker eyes. You’ve seen her watching you before, but she’s never gotten in your face like this.
“Hi. Can I help you?”
>Her eyes jerked down to your hands for a second before whipping back up. “Maaaaybe.”
>You awkwardly folded your hands and tried hiding them. Her grin faltered a bit and you leaned away from her. She leaned in closer. “Can I play with your claws?”
“…What?”
>”Your claws. Your paws. Your hands. I want to play with them. Pleeeeease?”
“Um. Do you have a name?”
>She finally leaned back a bit, giving you some room to breathe. “Lyra Heartstrings! And you’re Anonymous the human! Owner of the best hands in Ponyville!” She leaned in again. “And I want to play with them.”
>You blinked a few times.
“What kind of playing did you have in mind, exactly?”
>Please don’t be sexual please don’t be sexual…
>Her grin somehow widened. “I want to do /everything/.” God dammit.
>You sigh and drop your head in your hands. This isn’t how you wanted your day to go. You just wanted a job, not to be sexually harassed by a mint unicorn.
>You snort, thinking of a silly idea.
“Hundred bits and you can do whatever you want.”
 
 
>Your tone was dark and sarcastic. A hundred bits totaled everything you had been given so far in the royal stipends. Barely enough to live on, but you were poor back home so you knew how to squeeze yourself.
>You expected her to scoff at the offer and leave you. Or slap you.
>You did not expect “Deal!”
>You jerked your head up, eyes opened wide in surprise. She was still grinning, eyeing your hands with a… /hunger/… that scared you.
“I… what?”
>”One hundred bits for a night with your hands? Seems fair to me! When do we start?”
>There aren’t enough whats in the world.
“I was being—”
>You stopped yourself.
>You needed a job.
>She was offering money.
>A hundred bits lasted you six months. Another hundred… it might last you long enough to find a real job.
>You don’t like the idea of doing anything like this with a pony. The entire concept seems disgusting to you.
>But you really needed the money…
>What’s one night?
>You sigh and look up to Lyra.
“Whenever you’re ready. But I want to see the money first!”
>The only warning you had was her horn glowing before magic took you by the hands and she started dragging you away from the park, a grin still plastered across her face.
>What’s one night, huh? Tell that to your nightmares…
 
 
>You and Lyra got several odd looks as she pulled you through the town. Given the ecstatic look on her face, you couldn’t blame some ponies. And you were quite sure the look on your face was definitely unique.
>Given that you just accidentally sold your hands for sex, you could understand all the ponies giving you odd looks. You would, if you were them.
>Maybe you’ll be lucky and none of them will learn of this sordid act.
>You are quite certain you know how some of your friends would react. Rarity would likely kick you out of her house. You wouldn’t blame her, honestly.
>The rest of them would be disappointed. Some, like Applejack, might understand. She understands the need to make a living for herself, though you are quite certain she wouldn’t approve of how you had to do it.
>Your thoughts were put on hold when you arrived at a house and were unceremoniously pulled inside. You were met inside by a cream earth pony.
>”Lyra, why is the human in our house?”
>Lyra: “Don’t worry, Bon Bon, he just agreed to let me play with his hands!”
>Bon Bon looked you up and down and face hooved. “If you ruin your bed sheets, you better not wash them with any of my laundry. I remember what happened when you had that minotaur here.”
>Minotaur? What the fuck?
>Your thoughts were again put on hold as you were dragged further into the abode of Lyra the hand molester.
>You were led right to a room. The door slammed shut behind you. You saw the mattress lift and Lyra leaned under it. A second later she dragged a heavy bag out by her teeth and threw it on the floor. It spilled open and you saw gold coins spill out.
 
 
>Your knees felt weak. Sweet Jesus, you were actually going to do this.
>The mattress fell back to the bed with a low thump. “On the bed, Mr. Anon!”
>You gulp and shakily move to the bed. You slowly sit down. She jumped across your lap. “Pet me. Slowly.”
>You set a hand on the top of her head and slowly drew it down her back. She sighed and seemed to melt into your lap as you stroked her. You repeated the gesture a few times and she seemed to grow more and more relaxed.
>L: “Play with my ears,” she whispered.
>You moved one hand to her ears while you continued gently petting her with the other. The hand on her ears scratched at them, rubbed them, and occasionally just tweaked them. Her entire body seemed to shudder.
>You lost track of time as you just played with her ears and pet her. You were hoping this is all she asked you to do.
>You wouldn’t be so lucky.
>L: “Touch… no, stroke my horn.”
>All of your what. Rarity had asked you to polish her horn in the past. She said it was just a bone sticking out of her head, nothing sensitive about it. You couldn’t help but make a joke about it anyway, but she seemed quite serious when she said that unicorns were very meticulous about their horn maintenance.
>She also asked you to never tell anyone, as it was considered highly inappropriate for unicorns to allow their horns to fall into such disrepair as to require a polish.
>With a shaking hand, you reached out to touch Lyra’s horn. She flinched when you did. You squeezed your eyes shut and stroked it, dreading what you would see if you looked at Lyra’s face. When you reached the base of her horn, she let out a moan.
 
 
>Oh God Rarity lied to you. You felt your body sag down as you realized that you had essentially been molested by what you had thought of as the most generous soul in this place.
>Well, now you knew why she was always blushing after your sessions.
>Lyra must have noticed your sluggishness, as you felt her shift against you, pushing her head up against your hand.
>You shudder and continue your ‘horn job.’ She sighs in pleasure and you can see her eyelids flutter.
>You started to smell a musk in the room. Unfortunately, you knew where it was coming from. With the unpleasant smell of the musk, you also started hearing a nasty schlicking sound. That, you didn’t know anything about.
>Lyra was getting more into it, now. “Faster!”
>You gulped and picked up the speed of your horn rubbing. You were still petting her body softly, trying to zone out and pretend that this was a large dog or something.
>A dog with a horn.
>That could talk.
>And didn’t look at all like a dog.
>Dammit.
>You jump as she lets out a loud squeal and something shoots from her horn and splatters against the wall.
“Oh God what was that!”
>She sighed again and put her head on the bed. “Magical discharge,” she panted. “Some random effect happens when our horn gets rubbed. And it feels sooooo good!”
>You look over at the wall and see… noodles?
“Is that penne?”
>She looks over at it. “Yep. Last time it was linguini.” She giggled huskily. “Bon Bon and I were eating Ponytalian for days.”
>That is so fucking nasty.
>…Then why are you suddenly craving spaghetti?
>Thankfully—well, not thankfully, actually—your thoughts were interrupted by Lyra pushing you back on the bed and jumping on your chest.
 
 
>She was giving you some scary golden bedroom eyes, her tail wagging behind her and her ears drooping a bit. You tried to put on a smile in return, but it was probably more of a terrified grimace.
>She didn’t care, breaking through your clenched teeth with a deep kiss. You felt her tongue pushing past yours and going down your throat a bit. You fought from gagging, trying not to throw up at the slimy and unwelcome feeling.
>You put your hands on her… shoulders? Yeah, that sounds right. You put your hands on her shoulders and pushed her off you. She came away, grinning as you held her up.
>L: “I knew you’d get into it! Throw me on the bed, rub my tummy violently, and call me a /bad/ pony!”
>You just died a little inside.
>You throw her on the bed a little more roughly than she was expecting, but she didn’t seem to mind. You pick yourself up, wishing you could just give the money back and try to pretend this never happened.
>But if you want to be able to afford enough alcohol—if ponies even have alcohol, you haven’t seen any bars—you’ll need that hundred bits.
>Your eyes close for a moment as you get up and loom over Lyra on the bed. She’s looking up at you with such an innocent look on her face that it’s hard to tell she’s asking you to do terrible things to her.
>With a hefty dose of mental resignation, you open your eyes and look at her—Oh God what are those.
>On her stomach are two fleshy sacs with… nipples.
>Why.
>You can do this.
>You reach a hand out and put it on her upper belly.
>How bad could it be?
 
 
>Your hand slides down her stomach. You can’t help but marvel at how soft her fur feels.
>Just a little farther.
>Her entire body sags against the bed as your hand hits her right nipple. Her tail finally sinks against the bed, eliminating all protection of her… very wet marehood.
>You just threw up a little in your mouth.
>Coincidentally, you now know what that schlicking noise was: Her hole was clenching shut and opening slowly, a few fluids leaking down.
>Now that you think about it, you can feel a few wet spots on your shirt from where she was laying on your chest.
>Your hand is on autopilot as you try to contain your mental freak out. You don’t notice her horn glowing and your other hand getting pulled up to her other nipple. You absentmindedly tweak at them while trying to pretend you’re in hell.
>You are brought back to reality by a gushing noise. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to find out what new horrors the equine body will have for you.
>Lyra’s panting and moaning are bad enough. You don’t want to know what you caused now.
>But you wouldn’t be so lucky as to be able to leave yet. Of course not. She said ‘all night’ when she promised you those bits.
>Besides, your imagination is always worse than reality. With that hopeful thought, you opened your eyes.
>Your imagination was not worse than reality.
>Lyra’s tail is slick with thick looking juices that might be about the consistency of oil. You were afraid to touch it.
>L: “Lower!” Her voice was getting deep and husky. You were now afraid to disobey her.
>But you were also afraid of putting your hand anywhere near that winking, wet, juicy… thing.
 
 
>Might as well do it now, before she forces your hands down there with magic.
>With a shuddering sigh, you lower one of your hands to her slit. You gently caress her lips and can’t help but feel horror at how her entire body seems to react. The winking even picks up.
>You continue toying with her lips, knowing that she would eventually order you inside. You wanted to try to prolong your innocence for as long as possible.
>Oh, who are you kidding? You were defiled as soon as you made that offer.
>Finally, she commanded, “I want to feel you inside.”
>An errant thought struck you. Do ponies know what fisting is?
>Your body slips two fingers inside while you were distracted with the thought of slamming your arm into this pony just to see what would happen. You come back to reality at the sound of her hissing. You look up to see her back arching.
>With a gulp, you twist your fingers and curl them. She mewls in pleasure. You pull the hand that was toying with her nipple down and poke at what you think is her clit.
>You flinch as her walls wink around your hand, and for a moment you thought you were never going to see your fingers again.
>You sigh when she releases you from her vaginal death grip. At least she doesn’t have vagina dentata. You would have let her keep the fucking bits and run from the building screaming.
>Your distracted thoughts allowed you to not notice her starting to buck a bit, trying to ride something that most definitely was not there. You quickly slip another finger inside, hoping you could get her to not ask you to actually fuck her.
>L: “Deeper!” she commands, her voice dripping with lust.
>You push your hand in a bit, gritting your teeth against the horror.
 
 
>She clenched down even harder on your hand as your fingers started feeling around for new depths and pleasure spots.
>L: “There! Right there!”
>You froze your hand, not knowing which ‘there’ she meant; you had several fingers in there. You just started twitching each one, hoping that would be what she wanted.
>Apparently it was. With a loud moan, she drenched your hand and lower arm in fluid.
>Yep, that feels like vegetable oil. And it smells fucking terrible.
>You pull your hand out. The air feels cool around your soaked hand and you feel sick when you realize your arm hair is plastered down.
>You start to sling the filth off when she said, “Lick it.”
>Your head shoots her direction.
“W-what?”
>L: “Taste it. Taste… me.”
>You look her dead in the eyes. Your hand slowly raises to your face, still dripping. You gulp, and slowly extend your tongue. You try to keep eye contact, but your eyes squeeze shut when you feel your tongue hit flesh.
>It’s minty.
>You don’t even fucking care. You’re just happy it doesn’t taste as horrible as it smelled. Your eyes ease open as you lick your hand, trying to get as little of it as possible while looking as though you got all of it.
>When you think you have enough for her, you let your arm lower. She was still smiling, so you assumed you did good enough.
“So I’m just gonna...” You start to stand up before her horn glows and stops you.
>L: “The night’s only just begun, big boy. Those hands of yours are in for one wild night of bucking.”
>Why had God forsaken you?