King and I - 4

You tremble slightly as the warm feeling of arousal blooms across your body. The cold air of the bathroom does little to cool the intense heat you feel from down below. Droplets of sweat roll down your coat as pins and needles prick and prod your skin.

You need to come, badly.

You shakily lock the door latch to prevent any untimely visitors and trot to the bathtub. You don’t want to spend too long cleaning up in the main room; in the bath you can easily wash it away. You briskly walk down the stairs and plop yourself down in the center.

You look to the white ceiling and close your eyes tight. A solitary hoof drifts down across your fur and towards your blazing honeypot. You flinch as you make contact before shivering in delight. This feels amazing!

You carefully stroke the outer lips of your needy marehood, the rough leathery skin desperate for contact. The heat only grows worse, welling up inside your chest and leaving an unpleasant taste on your tongue.

You grow bolder and place more pressure, the tip of your hoof pushing them aside and making first contact with the blazing hot interior. It feels like masturbating back when you were a guy, but much better, the surface area of your enormous zones being much larger. It’s like masturbating with five dicks at once.

Your muscles clench and relax as you rub up and down, a natural reflex to keep the stallion inside as he fills your womb with seed. You bite your lip and moan as you speed up, you can’t help but imagine being pounded by a strong stud, relentlessly slapping his pendulous balls against you.

You push more inside, nearly engulfing your entire hoof in juices. Your imagination only grows wilder, rapidly flickering between different scenarios and stallions with the common theme of you being ravaged by a massive cock. Soon it goes a step further as they unload their heavy balls into your receptive snatch.

Your arm begins to ache from fatigue, forcing you to slow down. You begin to alternate between long periods of stroking your entrance and short bursts of plunging back inside. Your orgasmic moans drown out everything else. You don’t care that you’re masturbating furiously under the eye of an evil dictator; all that matters is how good it feels.

He could be watching you right now through some kind of surveillance spell, but for some reason the thought only makes your condition worse. You grit your teeth and speed up again, determined to finish yourself off before anybody finds you. You pant like a dog in heat as pressure begins to build, your hoof moving at a blinding pace to bring you to finish.

You quiver as you feel it coming.

You scream to the heavens as a rush of pleasure unlike anything you’ve felt before fries your nerves. The internal muscles clamp down with crushing force and cause you to jolt. Your back arches as it releases in a flood of yellowish liquid that splatters against the ground, soaking your errant hoof. You twitch and moan hopelessly as you slide down the porcelain wall, lying in your own juices.

Your eyes remain fixed onto the ceiling. Every little movement gives an uncomfortable feeling, like blood rushing back to a limb. You are drenched in a sickly combination of your own sweat and piss yellow juices. Why did it have to be yellow?

You roll over and hobble to the taps, running them in order to wash it down the drain. You feel ashamed of yourself; you let Sombra get the advantage. You don’t know how he did it, but at the drop of a hat he turned you into a horny exhibitionist. You were lucky to retain the self-control needed to run away.

You scowl, what is his game? To fuck you into submission? He didn’t need to, he has all the power to simply brainwash you like everybody else. You scrub away the crust that has dried onto your back. You hold yourself under the tap to wash it away.

You need to get a move on. If you want any chance to escape you need to get the components for your rebel friend’s plan. If they’ve found the base already they must be under a lot of pressure. You worry for his safety as you towel off for the second time today.

You unlock the door and walk back into the bedroom, noting that the cart from earlier was mysteriously absent. You hope they didn’t take it away while you were “busy”.

Rumble.

Yet you still manage to be really damn hungry! You scarfed down an entire buffet earlier and you’re already eager for more. Getting food means leaving; leaving means a chance of running into the king. A risk you’d rather not take.

Then again, he was probably still busy with court. So you could either wait and starve, or take the chance to sneak out and grab something.

Rumble!

You really need that food. With a tired sigh you leave the room again, past the same guards, the same staff and the same corridors. You have no idea where the dining room is, they didn’t exactly give you a welcome tour when you arrived.

Nobody seems to look at you anymore, like the novelty has worn off. The real shock comes when several of the guards stand to attention as you pass them. You stare for a moment, before turning away and speeding up slightly. That was weird.

You spend several more minutes trying to find your way around this labyrinth of a castle with increasing frustration as time goes on. Just as you think of asking for help from a nearby servant, you notice an open door. Curious you peek inside, your jaw dropping at the sight of towering wooden bookshelves.

A library!

So many books! They shelves manage to make contact with the ceiling, an incredible feat considering the size of the room. They stretch on far beyond your vision, seemingly going on forever. Several rickety looking ladders cling onto the monolithic shelves, providing a risky way for prospective readers to grab a high up book.

You head inside, past the empty reception desk and towards the section guides. You squint and read down the list, there must be at least two hundred different sections on everything from cooking, aviation and… magical artifacts?

Row fifty, shelf two.

You depart and canter past thousands of differently colored books. You keep a close eye on which row you’re at, eventually coming to a stop at fifty. You make a left and scan the second shelf for anything which could help you.

“Novices Guide to Crystal Artifacts” comes to your attention, written in gold cursive lettering. You pull the blue book from the shelf and lay it on the ground. Flipping open to the index as you try to recall the list you were given.

Crystal Ball, Crystal Glasses, Crystal Armor, Crystal Affectus Amplifier, Storage Crystal, Spell Catalyst!

Pages 101 and 106 you note, flipping through the large pages. It’s a very detailed book complete with images, descriptions and uses for every single piece of equipment. You stop at page 101 and begin to read with the new language Sombra had implanted in you.

You never realized until now, but pony is very different to English. It’s difficult to describe in your own terms, as it feels like you’ve known how to speak Pony your entire life

The notes of the storage crystal are much shorter than all the others. It acts like a magic capacitor, storing up magic energy before releasing it. From what little you know about magic it acts more like a liquid than a type of electricity.

The storage crystal will hold as much magic as it can, but releases it into other components when they run dry via some kind of energy pressure calculation you can’t figure out. It’s not like you’re putting the thing together anyway. All you need to know is what it looks like.

The image is thankfully in color, as the shape of the crystal is less than distinctive. It glows a soft blue on the image, but the captions warn that depending on who charges it up that glow will vary. They’re frequently used in kitchens to power magical appliances and as a primitive and rather inefficient light source in remote areas.

You wonder why the blue stallion can’t just grab a few from the kitchen. Maybe he’s trying to hide his treachery for as long as possible. Easy enough to obtain, just look for the sparkly things.

The Catalyst on the other hand is another story.

It’s very pointy, for one thing. Like the North Star. The abundance of points, according to the book, is to increase its surface area and speed up magical reactions. They’re made of an incredibly conductive and rare crystal that can only be found deep in the bowels of the frozen north. How convenient, you ponder.

There aren’t any suggestions on how to obtain one, only listing a series of locations and dates of known quantities. Unfortunately for you, none of them are within the Crystal empire, that or the book is severely out of date.

You huff and growl. You hate having to look for things! You could never find your damn keys when you lost them, so how are you going to find one of the rarest crystals in existence? You slam the book shut.

You place the book back onto the shelf. It takes a moment for you to orient yourself between the identical isles but you soon find yourself back at the desk. Thankfully nobody is here to catch you snooping around. What to do now?

Rumble. Oh right, food.

You head back into the corridor and approach a burly guard. You can see his muscles tense as you approach him.

“Do you know the way to the kitchens?” You ask.

He relaxes and points an armored hoof behind him. “Behind me, first left, second right.” He instructs. You thank him and leave him to his business. You have no idea how the staff manage to get around this place. Everything looks so similar.

The sound of clanking cutlery and a very angry lead chef reach your ears. His boisterous tone layered with anger as he scolds a whimpering waiter.

The hall was actually smaller than you were expecting. With a large dark wood table that stretches from end to end. A pair of swinging double doors at the far side of the room seems to lead to the palace kitchen.

The seats are lavish, the backs reaching past your own height and adorned with comfortable red padding. The seat at the end is by far the biggest, and presumably belongs to Sombra, as indicated by its ugly black finish.

You choose one of the chairs near the middle. Pulling it out awkwardly with your front hooves before scooting forwards once you’re sat down. A little bell lies near the center. You stretch for it and tap the button, a loud ding echoing in the empty room.

The doors swing open as the suit wearing waiter approaches. “What would you like to order Milady?” He asks in a refined accent. “Our special today is a delicious Lasagna and a new berry pie recipe coined by one of the new workers.”

You don’t have a menu, you clop your hooves together. “I’ll just take the special.” You say. He nods and swiftly returns to the kitchen. You sit in silence. You’d kill for some good company right now. The sounds of hooves roll in from the door, the occasional greeting or discussion being muted by the thick crystal walls.

You zone out, thinking about everything that’s happened up to now. You feel kind of optimistic, the hero always wins, so why wouldn’t be any different now. You have a plan, somebody to help and the knowledge of an organized resistance against Sombra’s rule. It could all go horribly wrong, but in the end it has to work out for the better.

A plate is placed in front of you, wiping away your wishful thinking. The waiter places a knife and fork at both sides of the plate, bows and leaves.

You can worry about the plan later. You are hungry.