Maud's New Saddle (WIP)

>Today is another wonderful day!
>It's pitch black outside and the winter chill has turned your uncovered toes blue.
>You can barely feel the little piggies!
>You don't even need to look at the clock to know it's 5:17 in the morning. You have the best alarm clock in all Equestria compressing your lungs, kneading your chest.
>Maud Pie pauses her kneading to lick the sleep-goobers from your shut eyes.
>"Anonymous."
"Fuck off, Maud."
>"It is morning."
"Sun's not up."
>"You're up."
>Maud pushes backwards, and through your thin sheets you become aware of her flexed rump surrounding your morning wood.
>She does this—this thing—where she relaxes and contracts her rump from dock to the plush excess spilling across your pelvis. It feels like she pumped your entire shaft with flesh-coated steel.
>Your mind blanks for an instant before you bolt upright and shove Maud off your bed.
>She rolls and lands on her feet. You exchange your glare with her stare. That cold, unblinking stare.
>She's like a rocking horse, an expressionless face carved out of furred wood with two deep-seated buttons ringed with light turqoise nailed to her sockets.
>Unreadable. Unfathomable. An abyss.
>While you're distracted, she bites your threadbare sheets and yanks them off you. You ball up and shiver from the sudden exposure to cold.
"Shit, it's freezing! Give that back!"
>Maud's already trotted off to your bathroom, no doubt to throw the sheets in the hamper and prepare for your morning routine.
>This little rock-obsessed stalker has completely taken over your life in three weeks.
>You have no idea why she wants to jump your bones so bad, but goddammit, you are not a horsefucker.
>Of course, the pony wouldn't take no for an answer, so she's made herself part of your life.
>You hear the rush of your shower turning on. You rise from bed and walk to your bathroom.
>At least your lil' buddy wilted from the frigid draft. Maud doesn't get a show.
>Thank Celestia for small blessings.

>Oh no, you're starting to use their language now.
>These little ponies have a way of rubbing off on you in the worst ways.
>Take, for example, Maud. You can't bring yourself to hurt the adorable little turd, creepy as she is.
>And she is the most stubborn creature in existence.
>So, because you can't get physical with her, and her will always outlasts yours, you've had to get used to her being part of your life now.
>Case in point: she's standing on your granite countertop in the bathroom, your toothbrush in her mouth, a strand of saliva linking the brush to her lips. A small pearl of white paste sits in the center.
>All you can manage is a scowl as you lean against the counter, jaw slack.
>"Open wider."
>You grunt and comply. Maud leans in and begins cleaning your teeth.
>You meet your angry stare in the mirror as she makes smooth, tight circles on your molars and over your canines and incisors.
>Stare at your nose, Anon. Don't look at her ass. Don't give in.
>She presents herself to you every morning, tail flying high like a flag, dress hitched, sweet nectar dripping from the winking fruit of h-
>SLAP
>You lift your hand from your forehead, a bright red palm imprinted on it.
>Get your shit together, Anon.
>You're not getting excited from a hot, dripping horse pussy.
>That steam forming on the mirror is from the shower.
>This is another way Maud's rubbed off on you: you haven't made a deposit to the spank bank ever since she started her home invasions.
>And she's the reason you sleep buck naked in the middle of winter. She'll eat your clothes if you wear them to bed.
>You may have accepted a rock pony being able to eat rocks, but you refuse to accept her slurping your boxer's elastic band like spaghetti.
>"Bite down."
>She's delicate, but thorough. Your teeth have whitened since Maud's taken over your oral hygiene.

>When you asked her why in the nine circles of Tartarus she wanted to brush your teeth, she said they were like rocks that grew in your mouth. She wanted to take care of them so they could be the best rocks they could be.
>That explains the flossing, but it doesn't explain why she fucks your tongue with the brush.
>You take your eyes away from her ass (Down, boy! Down!) and watch the back of Maud's head as she moves it back and forth out of your mouth. Looking down, you can imagine this being the same motion if her head was a few feet lower, between your thi-
"OKEH! Thash enuf, Mauth!"
>Jerking your head away, you push her aside and spit into the sink. Good, the drain's open. You didn't want her saving your... fluids.
>Maud rinses the brush head off in your cup of rinse water and sets it aside, "Let me shower with you, please."
"Fuck off, Maud."
>You glare at her. She stares back.
>Blink, motherfucker! Do something!
>You shake your head and part the shower curtain, groaning in pleasure as water heated to the perfect temperature washes over you.
>You were able to get concessions out of her. This was one you were adamant about: being able to shower alone.
>She was right outside the curtain, yes.
>You see her silhouette cast against the curtain, the movement of a fore-hoof reaching for her nethers.
>She may as well have been in there with you. You were already forced to walk around naked before your showered, anyway.
>Still, it was the principle of the matter! This was your house, and you were going to enjoy what little privacy you could get.
>What you wouldn't give for an hour to yourself to jerk all this tension out of your body, though.
>Your dick. That's what you wouldn't give.
>You would not give your dick to this horse.
>Not for a masturbation vacation, not for all the bits in the world, not for a pool of lime green jello.
>You were going to take this dick to the grave, unsucked and unfucked by any behoofed demon, so help you Luna.

>Wanna know why? Fuck Maud. That's why.
>You're at a painfully full mast after soaping up your balls. This is why. This erection right here is why you will never, EVER fuck Maud.
>That'd be giving her what she wants.
>And she's done her damnedest to force you to hand it over.
>Well, guess what, the best way to make sure you never do something is to demand you do it.
>Who does she think she is, attaching herself at the hip to you? Following you around, paying for your expenses, carrying around a scarf and mittens to keep you warm in the snow?
>Invading your pig sty of a home without breaking any windows or locks, cleaning until it sparkled, laundering thrice-worn clothes, cooking breakfast that wasn't soggy oats, cleaning those dishes growing anthrax?
>Who is she, your mom?
>You can take care of yourself!
>You are a grown-ass man and you don't need no little marshmallow pone-cum-parent cleaning up behind you like you're some sort of child.
>You liked living like that, actually. Yeah.
>It was, like, a fashion statement. It was (You).
>As protest, you gave up on doing anything for yourself. You didn't throw your trash out, you left dirty clothes wherever they landed, hell, you didn't even put your dishes in the sink.
>Yes, this was your cunning plan. Soon enough, Maud is gonna get sick of picking up after you and she'll fuck off back to staring at rocks, or whatever it is geologists do.
>A chuckle escapes your throat as you rinse off the suds.
>Hope you're up for a war, Maud, because it's on.
>You've ordered something special that Derpy should be bringing you in a few hours.
>Taking advantage of one of Maud's rare absences when she, herself, had to use the bathroom, you rushed out and ordered a saddle.
>You knew how big it should be from throwing her off of you every night. You had memorized the size, shape, and give of her withers and back.
>Maybe Maud can put up with picking up after you.
>But can she put up with *walking* for you?

>Your chuckle becomes unhealthy chortling.
"Towel!"
>Maud complies, a towel parting the curtain. You dry yourself off in the shower before wrapping the towel around your waist, still smiling. Oh, yes. Today was the day Maud was going to give in.
>You could feel it in your bones. Today was going to end in defeat.
>Her defeat.
>"Why are you laughing?"
"It's a surprise."
>"What did you buy me?"
"You're going to have to wait and find out!"
>You pull your towel free, holding it in front of you as you park your ass on the toilet.
>Maud stands in front of you, staring.
>Normally, she'd step out of the bathroom by now.
>You cough.
"Privacy, Maud?"
>"Is it a field notebook?"
>You blink, then smile. You finally, finally have the upper hand. This was gonna torture her for hours. You shake your head and rest the towel across your lap, perching your chin on your fist.
"Nope."
>"Is it a rock pick?"
"Nu-uh."
>"Is it a wedding ring?"
"I'm not telling you, Maud. That would ruin the surprise. You'll have to wait."
>"I can't wait any longer."
"I can tell."
>There's no small amount of sarcasm in your voice.
>Wait. Is she smiling? Her expression can change?
>That's the first time you've ever seen the rock pony's stoic facade break.
>Your smile transforms into a devilish grin. Everything is lining up.
"Trust me, Maud. You are going to love it."
>"Okay, Anonymous."
>Maud wears a tiny smile as she turns around and exits the bathroom.
>The way she sways those hips of hers is downright sinful. And she is not shy about the mess leaking from beneath her dress, either.
>Finally, privacy. The door remains cracked, and you can see her sitting there, back to you. An ear swiveled to
>You take what you can get when it comes to Maud. For now.
>You allow yourself another laugh. Soon, the nuissance will be gone! You'll be able to shit in peace once again! To others, your laugh may sound deranged.
>It was not!
>It was the laughter of a man who knows he will be free.

>The two of went through your morning routine as usual, with one small change: Maud had to do every little thing for you.
>She had to shave you and comb your hair. She had to dress you, socks and all. She had to spoon her delicious Eggs Benedict directly into your mouth so you would eat it.
>You don't want to admit it, but being waited on hand and foot felt... really good.
>Then you remember your cause. This was a temporary situation. You were going to get your life back in your hands by the end of the day.
>Enrage, Anon! Don't play into her hooves. That's exactly what she wants you to do.
>A crash against your front door disrupts your self-hyping. Maud turns her head to look up at you, waiting for your command.
>You wave your hand towards the door. She slides off your lap and answers it.
>"It's Derpy. She brought the newspaper." The gray mare can be seen flapping above Maud in the doorway, a large package hanging from her saddle bags. She presses a clip and the package lands on Maud's back. "And my present."
>With a salute, Derpy smashes her head against the doorframe, then leaves to continue her deliveries.
"Bring me the paper and read it for me."
>Maud wears the briefest frown before her face turns back into stone. She picks the paper up and comes to your side, sliding her present onto the floor and hopping back into your lap.
>She parks that fat ass right over the gold zone, sitting upright against you, her pheremone-laden mane smelling of charcoal and blueberries.
>Her droning voice reading aloud about the ecology of beavers thinning trees for Hearth's Warming Eve would put you right to sleep if she didn't keep swirling and shimmying that bountiful backside up, down, and around your crotch.
>It takes everything in your power to not give that ass a proper spanking for bad behavior. No man, however hot-blooded for humares he may be, can resist an erection with this downtown action.
>Maud glances backwards, dead eyes observing your contorting face.

>"Anonymous,"
>Maud swivels, grinding into your cotton jeans,
>"what's,"
>she sliiiides that ass forward, pressing the tuft of her chest to yours, dampness and heat leaking through your brass zipper,
>"the matter?"
>She blinks slowly, leaving her eyelids at half-mast, taking you to full.
>Her mouth hangs ajar ever so slightly, hot puffs tickling your clean-shaven neck,
>"Your body is stiff..."
>she hooks her fore-legs over your shoulders, staring you down.
>You feel so small beneath that stare.
>She's so soft. Sweet baby Flurry Hearts, you can SMELL how soft she is.
>Your hands betray you and weld themselves to that velvety steel rump, sinking deep enough to feel the iron bones supporting this beshemoth of brutalist anatomy.
"Fffff..."
>Another slow blink. This time, her eyes are barely cracked. There's no iris or white left, her pupils having totally dilated. She's sucking out your soul.
>Your soul!
>You're being seduced by this succubus!
>THAT'S NOT HOW IT'S GOING DOWN.
"FUCK OFF, MAUD!"
>You throw your arms up and backwards, muscles snapping with the force required to lift the pony of prodigal girth.
>Maud's hooves hold onto your shirt, causing her to flip over you. Your shirt tears, two white strips hanging off your back and you leap atop the back of the couch, nostrils flared, veins bulging all over your body.
"KEEP YOUR DAMN DIRTY HOOVES OFF MY MANA FACTORY!"
>You're about to have a fucking hernia you swear to shit
>Your arms and legs are spread wide, outwards, like a gorilla intimidating a preadtor coming for its young. All you get in return is Maud's deadpan stare.
>"Mana factory?"
>Deep breaths, Anon. You didn't give in. You got this.
>Hooo.
>You only now realize how ridiculous you must look standing on the back of your couch, chimping out, the angry inch threatening the sartorial integrity of your Dickie's crotch seam.
>You cough and step off the couch.
"Want to open your present now, Maud?"
>Hey, where did she g-

>RRRRRRRIP
>You turn around and there she is, tearing open the package.
>If she wanted to kill you, you'd never see her coming.
>Good thing she'd never kill you!
>Maud stands over the open box, staring down into it.
"Well? Do you like it?"
>"It's a saddle."
"It's not just a saddle, Maud. It's your saddle, custom-built just for you. That's made of woven birch bark and microfiber, silver-threaded trim, dual-layered wicking cotton for your comfort, and comes with no fewer than six universal attachement points per side for all manner of saddlebags, belts, holsters, bandoleirs, and lanyard you can find at any hardware sto-"
>Maud is hugging your leg.
>Her snout is rubbing up and down your thigh.
>Her eyes are closed, relaxed.
>Is the light playing tricks on you, or...
>Or is she... blushing?
>HNNNNNNNNGGG-
>Anon.exe has stopped working.
>Anon is restarting...
>Blinking the blue screen out of your eyes, you see Maud has already put her saddle on and is looking at herself in the hallway mirror.
>You had to buy that after one too many incidents where ponies informed you of mysterious stains on your clothes.
>Stains that did not exist when you inspected them.
>You had no idea where the stains came from, but it must involve Maud somehow.
>Perhaps her lust for the hot monkey dick is so powerful it became a poltergeist?
>Oh, she's talking to you. You should pay attention.
>"Ride me."
>Yup.
"That's why I wanted the saddle, yes. Let me get a new shirt and my coat. First stop will be the Carousel Boutique, both to fix my shirt," You glare, "and to pick up my suit. You should put on some boots or something, too. We'll be outside for a while."
>You look down at Maud, making sure she understooh she already has on a purple parka and matching fluffy booties. Did she even move? You were looking at her the whole time.
"... Yeah. I'll be right back."
>Maud, of course, trots follows you.
>Your plan isn't going well, but it can be saved.
>Just wait, Maud.