Smidget & Bit VIII

Bit & Smidget: Fuck the Pain Away
>be Bit, the homicidal fluffy unicorn
>you cannot explain it, but you are feeling very much on edge as of late
>the spring air is somehow even more hot and cloying
>your teeth are gritted all the time and you feel this irrepressible need to be held or to hold someone
>despite yourself, you've been having a bestial urge to piss in your owner's home, and not in the litter box
>fearful, you turn to you truest friend, your human
>he explains that every year, fluffy ponies undergo a 'mating season'
>the odd needs have started to make sense, and he even tells you how to relieve it with Smidget's help
>then he tells you a terrible fact of your biology
You'll probably die if you mate, and Smidget too if it takes
>your fluffy veins pump ice water and the smothering heat of your animal lust subsides in the sea of terror
>you have to stay away from Smidget for your safety and hers

>be Smidget
>you are also feeling the heat
>at night you hug tightly the ratty old teddy bear that a stupid fluffy pony left when it wanted to play with the elusive "pond pony"
>Bit also seems... more friendly somehow
>he still never plays with you, but something is different
>you might care about that if the aching in your rear would stop
>the pale blue unicorn totters in, a determined look on his fluffy little face
>"Hi Bit! Wan' hug?"
>he casts a frankly withering look at you
>"We have a pwobwem..."
>in a cold, focused voice he explains the gravity of the situation
>eyes wide with fear, you grab Bit's wad of bedding with your teeth and start dragging it out
>"What you think you awe doing?" he asks, brow furrowed
>spitting out the spar spangled microfiber blanket, "We bofe awe safe if we sweep in diffewent wooms!"
>"I know dat, but I sweep in hewe. I can wock da gate."
>"I was hewe fust!" you retort
>"Den you twied to bwackmaiw fwiend for sketties! Bad fwuffy pony fow dat!" he snorts, lowering his head
>"I'm sweeping hewe if I gotta beat you to a puwp!"
>you charge at Bit, leaping over his blunt little horn
>"BWING IT ON! I KIWWED BETTAH DAN YOU!"
>you tumble over him
>you may be smarter than normal fluffy ponies, but you are still about as coordinated
>Bit seizes the opportunity, charging at his top speed towards your soft belly
>of course, the fluff and the pathetically dull point of his horn makes it so he's only pushing pointless into your tummy
>you're trying your damnedest to bludgeon the unicorn with your hooves
>just like your first encounter, you limbs are too snuggly-soft to do anything but a gentle face massage
>still, he has the upper hand, you're on your back and Bit is trying to trample you with his forehooves
>suddenly, you feel like an itch is being scratched
>in your rear
>Bit looks similarly confused
>the realization hits you both like a shovel to the forehead
>"Bit... weuh mating awen't we?"
>like scared little babies you start crying
>"I'm sowwy Smidget! M-m-my hips awe moving... on der own!"
>you try batting at Bit's face to force him off, but he's clinging desperately
>despite the fear and imminent death, the tension and the aching fades as the unicorn humps away
>this could almost be fun
>if it weren't for the whole agonizing explosion part
>what if the babies were retarded like other fluffies?
>the gallows humor of how much that would enrage Bit is not lost on you
>"Why awe you gwinning?! I'm gonna DIE!"
>you explain your joke
>Bit starts crying, and actually breaks down into crying for his master
>feel something wet in your fluff

>you are now Bit
>fatigue washes over you
>it's the end
>you can feel that, and you are afraid of whatever void awaits you
>your eyes are heavy, and you have never felt this tired
>killed by some dirty need to procreate
>you had hoped for something better
>not that you spent much thought on your own death; it was those you planned for others that really took up your attention
>no, not like this
>Smidget is actually looking a little sad
>then again, it could just be a ploy
>she covets your memory foam pillow
>your eyes close
>so this is death

>be the owner
>you heard pitiful crying from the safe room
>one the floor is limp and sticky Bit next to Smidget
>"Just kinda happened..."
>Smidget's big eyes are watery as you check Bit for signs of life
>niggayouserious.html
>you lift Bit up by the scruff of and plop him onto his nest
>"Smidget s-sowwy! Bit said what the hutting was, and I twied to move his bed..."
Smidget, he's just asleep. Apparently I was wrong, and you aren't the kind that dies when you breed.
>Smidget immediately brightens and starts capering around as only a supremely pleased fluffy pony
>that is, very clumsily
>Bit though, is obviously very tuckered and you carry Smidget to the kitchen to wash her off in the sink

>you are Bit
>your stir in your nest, feeling more comfortable than you have in weeks
>you shake your head and look around
>Smidget is snoozing in her bundle
>you, however, are glued to yours by a crust of fluffy semen