Archive of Our Own ^beta

Your name was Rose Lalonde, and it was your birthday. Your age was irrelevant, at least compared to the facts at hand:

You were not on Earth. In fact, you were very far from it now. Far even from the meteor on which you had come to love Kanaya Maryam, come to know your brother, and come to develop a complex relationship with two women named Vriska and Terezi. Far from your childhood, and far from your mother.

There was little to remember her by now. With every year, the floor plan of her house – your house – slipped further and further out of memory. Sometimes, you forgot what was behind all those doors.

You had been clawing yourself out of another depressive episode, wasting away in your and your wife's flat that overlooked an ash-covered street where motor cars passed like insects through the hive. (G-d, you had even begun calling them motor cars like every other person on the planet.) As a welcome-home gift for your return to some semblance of happiness, Roxy presented you with a rather peculiar present. It was not, she clarified, with her right now.

Jade had built you a computer that functioned better than any in the shop down the road. Dave had found a skull left long ago by some creature that none of you recognised. Vriska and Terezi gave you a long, dangerous kind of knife that you suspected violated Besgue law. June had opted for clothing, no doubt merely eager for the opportunity to shop at a department store in one of the wealthier neighbourhoods of Besgue. A dress, long-sleeved and black. You appreciated it. Kanaya had been given stern instructions not to gift you anything, but she bestowed upon you a kiss and a kind of Besgue chocolate that you found yourself in an emotional affair with.

Roxy, on the other hand, led you out of your flat, into the small alley beside it, away from prying eyes. She was either going to reveal that the apocalypse was upon you, the meteors were already falling, and there was no time to save anyone but each other -- or she was going to confess to some strange, Oedipal love for you. No other possibilities crossed your mind.

Until, she grabbed your hand tight and willed the powers of Void to transport the two of you through the earth itself, into her research laboratory under the harbour…

ROSE: It's gloomier than I recall from my last visit.

She spun around as she walked, loving to watch you take in the sarcophagus of metal and concrete buckling under the weight of the sea. From the corridor she guided you down, blind turns fled away into the darkness, going who knows where – perhaps not even her.

ROXY: u no it is pretty spooky now that i think about it
ROXY: but cali just likes the dark better
ROXY: shes a little creature u no
ROSE: I suppose I know.
ROSE: Karkat is much the same.
ROXY: omg theyre kind of similar if you think about it
ROXY: rite???

She chattered as she wrenched a thick-wheeled handle around to open a door. You could never have imagined your mother doing anything like it, but you had learned so long ago that she had possessed her own laboratory. What you learned that day — none of it was new now, but still you could not make sense of it. There was your mother before the Game, and your mother after the Game. Two people with the same name and the same face...

Now three, you supposed, as you watched Roxy flick on the lights.

The laboratory's main atrium was cozier than on your last visit, oddly. Calliope waved to you from a couch before coming to Roxy's side. Furniture and rugs were strewn about the enormous concrete space. Above, faint, fairy-like light filtered through a glass ceiling. Not enough to light anything, but enough that you almost felt as though you were not in a cavern.

CALLIOPE: good afternoon, rose. ^u^
CALLIOPE: roxy and i have been very keen to introdUce this to yoU!
ROSE: Introduce it to me?
ROSE: Is it a pet?
ROXY: cali omg youre gonna ruin the surprise lmao
ROSE: Hm.
ROSE: I'll keep my speculations under check.
ROXY: good keep a tight lid on those things
ROXY: zip em up real nice
ROSE: Roxy.
ROXY: o rite

She led you to a garage door that stretched along the wall of the room. You did not keep your speculations in check. Your mind raced with possibilities. Most of them were, to be honest, stupid. A talking car, perhaps.

Calliope and she pulled the door open before you, with two heavy chains. It all seemed rather Frankenstein. You almost expected your eyes to fall upon a woman made from corpses. Some kind of homunculus wife.

But they fell upon a white tarp instead, thrown haphazardly over something. Your suspicions only deepened. Had it not been for the sheet, even a corpse-woman could have been taken for a joke. A prop. But this was far too real, far too grounded.

You stepped towards this great hidden mass. It was taller than you, and as wide as you were tall. Too large to be a motorcycle, or furniture. Too small to be a car. Some other machine, perhaps? What would Roxy imagine you wanted?

It couldn't be … a time machine?

You hand grasped the tarp.

ROSE: May I?

Her face lit up.

ROXY: yes go!!!!

You ripped it away.

It certainly stood taller than you. Taller by several hands, in fact.

Hands, the customary unit of height for horses.

ROSE: It's…

You were at a loss for words.

ROSE: It's Maplehoof.

But not a breathing Maplehoof. Not a moving Maplehoof. Its head was bowed in inanimacy, its eyes dim and black as if there was no light in them at all but what one could imagine was there.

It was not a living creature. Far from it. But it was unmistakably your horse. As white as snow, with hair like cotton. Roxy had even kept the ribbon. It was strange, not seeing it through the eyes of a child.

ROSE: It's … mechanical.
ROXY: yep!

She jumped over to its side, and brushed her hand along its flank. You joined her, curious about its nature. It looked like skin and fur; uncannily. But it was the touch that put you in your place like a butterfly nailed to a wall. It was Maplehoof, exactly as it had felt when you were a child. For a moment, Roxy seemed so much larger, so much older.

All that was missing was the warmth. With the reality gone from the memory, it was only a shell now, like a doll. Roxy watched for your every reaction.

ROXY: its amazing rite???
ROSE: Roxy…
ROSE: I don't mean to be unappreciative.
ROSE: But isn't it somewhat large for a stuffed animal?
ROXY: huh?
ROXY: wait omg right ahskfagk
ROXY: sorry!!!

She pressed her hand to it. Under the skin, lights glowed.

ROXY: me and cali have been working on this for so long
ROXY: i forgot i wld have to explain everything
ROXY: here…

Her fingers entered some command into the interface. With a spark, the eyes flashed on. The machine came to life, or to an imitation of it. Even the finest synthetic muscles in its neck moved with all the fluidity and imperfection that you remembered. Were they cybernetic? What had Roxy and Calliope done?

The robot horse, as you could only call it, turned its head to put you square in its binocular vision. A sign of unsureness. It wanted to know what you were. And then… It turned away. At its back, its tail flicked. What was driving all of this? You hesitated suddenly to anthropomorphise it. Or, hippomorphise it. It was a robot. It did not have impulses and intentions.

ROSE: It must be incredibly complex…
ROSE: Centuries beyond anything else on this planet.
ROXY: oh yah lol
ROXY: the interface took me aaaages to work out
ROXY: even di stri couldnt grok it

You reached for its head. It did not shy away from it. You would hope Roxy had programmed it to not be afraid of you. Though, did it even have simulated emotions at all? If the room began to flood, would it run? A thousand questions ran through your mind.

You told yourself: it must have been like a video game character. Like a mount in an MMO, with a few aesthetic amenities. It was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

ROSE: This is wonderful, Roxy.
ROSE: Though…
ROSE: I'm not sure Kanaya and I have space in our apartment.
ROXY: oh well its gonna stay here lol
ROSE: Oh.
ROSE: I suppose that makes sense.
ROSE: It would be dangerous if anyone on this planet learned of this technology.
ROXY: oh uh yeah
ROXY: that would be pretty bad…
ROXY: n e way
ROXY: i gave her some extra features to sweeten the deal
ROSE: It.
ROXY: huh?
ROSE: Gave it some extra features.
ROSE: Maplehoof wasn't a girl.
ROXY: oh whoops sorry
ROSE: It's fine.
ROSE: It happens.

You ran your fingers through its mane. The neck bucked into your touch. Unnervingly responsive. There was a heat under its flesh now. Waste from the internal components, no doubt.

It was a fake, but a good one. If you closed your eyes, forgot of the mechanisms you had seen, you could almost imagine Maplehoof was truly alive again. Breathing next to you, calm and noble and beloved.

Roxy whispered something.

ROXY: u can come visit us to see it
ROXY: me and cali both miss u rose
ROSE: I know I've been distant.
ROSE: Life on this planet is difficult.

The robot huffed, as if knowing how to express what you could not do with words.

ROXY: me u and maplehoof could have a tea party or something
ROXY: like a family

She reached her hand across the robot. You let her entwine her fingers with yours, let her in. It was frightening to look into her eyes. Pink and brilliant and so like your mother's. They were your mother's, from a different time, from a different world. Not a simulacrum, like the robot, but the real thing, saved from the destruction of Earth by the strange machinations of Skaia.

ROSE: I would like that.
ROSE: How about tomorrow night?
ROSE: It could be a sleepover.

The next day, you found yourself laying on the floor with two other women. The lights were dimmed, and your voices hushed now. The hours of night had arrived already. All the fun had already been had. There was only whispers left to pass around. Whispers and giggles.

ROXY: ok rose
ROXY: would u rather kiss…
ROXY: aradia
ROSE: A strong start.
ROXY: or…
ROXY: retula grazak?
ROSE: Who?
JADE: one of the candidates for the chancellery of the directory!

The third woman, Jade Harley. A peculiar fit for a sisterly sleepover, but it was not difficult to think of her like a family friend. A girl you had invited over to meet your mother. Kanaya would think it scandalous. (She wouldn't, but you imagined if she did.)

ROSE: I didn't know you kept up with Besgue politics, Jade.
JADE: why wouldnt i :?
JADE: we live here!
ROXY: rose u have 2 answer or im making you do cartwheels again
ROSE: The answer is obvious.
ROSE: Aradia.
ROSE: I value closeness.
ROSE: Even if Retula is the most beautiful woman in the world.
JADE: i think she would be your type actually :O
ROSE: Why?
ROSE: Does she command dark forces in secret with which she will revolutionise the political systems of this planet?
JADE: no! >:P
JADE: shes just tall and the same type of troll as kanaya
ROSE: You think me so shallow.
ROXY: ok rose ive seen the girls u think r hot in movies
ROXY: u start sweating when a scene is set in a brooding cavern
ROSE: I simply think women look attractive in aprons and thick plastic gloves.
JADE: if you say soooo hehe
JADE: :O we should watch that new movie about troll vampires
JADE: june told me it was really really good
ROXY: what like.. now?
JADE: yes! :D
ROSE: It sounds fun.
ROXY: not to be a downer but its like 1 am guys
ROSE: Can't we stay up just a bit longer, mother?
JADE: (hehe)
ROXY: i guess u n jade can but i need to go check on cali
ROXY: and im p exhausted n e way
ROXY: playing so many board games gives me board game itis
JADE: (its a lethal disease rose…)
ROSE: I thought the fun was only just beginning.
ROSE: I'm devastated.

Staring up at the darkness of your eyelids, the thought of sleep was distant at best. A jadeblood politician… You could not say the idea did not have some appeal. Fangs and a black suit…

Your tender-hearted half wondered what her policies were. Reform? Laissez-fairism?

You supposed Jade would not have been so light-hearted if she promised death squads on every street corner.

Was it any better if she still supported the very economic system which crushed this planet's peoples, which deprived your life of all meaning and substance?

Well. Perhaps it was good enough for hate sex.

This faceless woman, bathed in contempt and snobbishness, manhandling you for … messing up her coffee. Too much sugar. G-d, how trope-y… Her long fingers tangled up in your top, so tight that you could only draw in closer to her. Smell her perfume; the faint scent of sweat. Her days were so long, so exhausting. Perfection could hardly be expected. She was still flesh and blood. She still had bodily functions just like everyone else. Might she see you, in her grip, and feel a surge of something. The need to not stay her hand. The need not to show you mercy. To push you deeper in, drowning you in the water of workplace abuse, until there was peace in your features.

There was a better place for those long fingers. A warm, firey place beneath your skirt where impish things made their home. Your own needs – others' dreams. It would be insubordinate to push her hand away from it, even if the wetness would only make her more upset. Making her filthy – another mistake to punish.

You looked at your hand in the faint light left in the room. Your fingers were sticky. G-d, Roxy and Jade could probably smell you. You needed to hide yourself in the bathroom.

Thank goodness for door locks, your salvation since you were 9. You laid your head against the tiled wall, steadied yourself on the bathtub. Masturbating on a bed of nails would be easier, but there was too much murk in your head to complain – too much to focus on anything but peeling off your underwear and letting the cool air hit your spread ass.

The faceless woman – more and more like Kanaya – crawled in close in your dreams, brushed her hands up the soft undersides of your thighs, and pressed her tongue against your ass. You spasmed, expecting to feel it inside you, widening you and echoing every touch against your clit. There was nothing, like a deafness of touch.

In frustration, you wet the fingers on your free hand with saliva and rubbed at your asshole. Far too many fantasies were rushing through your half-waking unconscious to care about the mess. You were in a bathroom. Future Rose could handle it. But even saliva was not enough…

You groped about a shelf and found the first thing that looked vaguely like lube. Coconut oil. Sorry, Roxy. A shot of it was slathered over your fingers before you could wonder what she used it for; what you were corrupting.

If Kanaya had come with you, it could be her fingers inside of you, pushing you open, but there was only yourself. It was always more awkward with your own hand. The joints ached with every sloppy thrust inside. If only you were the smallest amount more of a nymphomaniac; you would already have one of Roxy's shampoo bottles inside of you instead.

A knock at the door – you banged your head into the tiles. You grit your teeth through the pain and blindly scrambled to sit on the toilet; the only explanation you could imagine for why your underwear were around your ankles.

ROXY: rose?

Her voice was faint through the steel. You bunched up toilet paper in your hand to wipe away the oil and cum. You had become Future Rose, and a keen kind of hatred filled you.

The stench of sweat would not fade unless you showered, but it was nothing between sisters, surely?

ROSE: Just a moment!

You flushed the toilet in a pantomime of normal activity. Your hands were barely dry from the sink when you opened the door.

ROSE: What?
ROXY: r u ok?

Your breath was heavy.

ROSE: I felt sick.
ROSE: I'm fine now.
ROXY: make sure to drink some water gurl…
ROXY: i wanted to ask if u would wanna come and see what sick techs i gave maplehoof
ROXY: im RILY excited abt one of them
ROXY: and i think it would totally be your thing
ROSE: What is it?
ROSE: Cupholders?
ROXY: it can fly!!!

The robot followed your every step out of the freight elevator onto the patch of dock that Roxy assured you was never surveilled. A blanket of void was thrown over the world, bright holes scraped it in by the city, and the many moons high above the world. Smoke rose on the horizon as if the entire peninsula were a woman's cigarette.

The air stung, in your underwear. The cold sent a rill of shock down your spine; a ghostly touch somewhere sensitive and rarely exposed. Thoughts of bodies in varying arrangements would not leave your mind. You needed distraction.

ROSE: How does it fly, anyway?
ROSE: Have you made it a pegasus?
ROXY: we thought abt it but wings r sooooo hard
ROXY: omg rose u have NO. IDEA.
ROXY: so instead i just installed jet engines lol

Her fingers typed away at the cybernetic skin. Chunks of its flesh clicked out of joint, like flush panels of wall. They slotted inwards, revealing a tangle of darkness and wires. From either side, fat, cone-pointed thrusters ratcheted out.

She hadn't exaggerated.

ROSE: I can't imagine the fuel for these is easy to acquire.
ROXY: oh theyre electric
ROXY: but lemme tell u
ROXY: the ppl around here do NOT like when you charge the battery

Roxy had seemed inexplicably embarrassed during the blackout last month…

As she looked over a stream of data that flashed across the robot's hide like fluorescent scars, she patted its flank. A bright look dawned on her face; more optimistic than yours.

ROXY: get on it!
ROSE: It doesn't have stirrups, Roxy.
ROSE: Do you expect me to climb it?
ROXY: ohhhh THATS how yr sposed to get on horses…

She knelt down to let you mount the machine with her as a block. You were, in recent memory, the birthday girl. You deserved at least some treatment like royalty.

As you slipped onto it, its back smacked into your crotch, as eager to make contact as a balance beam with prepubescent gymnastics students.

Saddles, it seemed, were outside of Roxy's field of expertise. Any turbulence, and your womb would be knocked out of place.

It helped little that nothing but a thin film of fabric was between you and the robotic horse's spine. Every adjustment of your hips became as stomach-churning as open-heart surgery. You cursed to yourself, that you failed to orgasm earlier, and wondered how it was that your mother avoided your childhood death, with such relaxed concern for safety.

ROXY: comfy?
ROSE: It's like silk.
ROSE: I only have one question.
ROSE: How do I avoid falling off?
ROXY: it has an antigrav field generator in its butt thats how!
ROXY: try leaning to the side

You grimaced, but wrapped your arms around its thick neck anyway. Slowly, you let yourself slip off, only to fall into a thick, invisible gel - that same gel between two like poles of a magnet.

ROXY: isnt it so cool!
ROXY: you could do handstands on it and be totally safe

Among other things…

ROXY: sooooo
ROXY: u ready???

Righting yourself, you stared out into the darkness. Only, it had yielded some of its dignity to the light of that foreign sun. The cigarette was burning again.

ROSE: I'm ready.
ROSE: Maplehoofbot.
ROSE: Up.

Roxy backed away into an alcove as a faint ringing came from the robot's flanks. There was no roar of fire. It looked like the glow of a nuclear reactor. You placed a hand over your stomach. Pregnancy always unnerved you anyway.

Over the tinny hum of the engines, Roxy bid you goodbye.

ROXY: dont stay out too long!!
ROXY: i do not wanna have to figure out a way to drag it back here lmao

The entire assembly lifted from the ground, like the lurch of an elevator. It stung between your thighs again, and before you could ask her how long the battery would last, the lights below had already shrunk and receded. There was no ground beneath you.

You breathed carefully, reminding yourself of the gravity field, or whatever Roxy called it. The faint breeze of the harbour became a torrent of unseeable whips. You clung to Maplehoofbot, and whispered to the machine.

ROSE: Heat up?

The synthetic flesh against your thighs warmed - the flesh against your core, where you held Maplehoofbot now.

ROSE: Thank you.

You found yourself saying the words without thinking. It was obviously pointless. Not that it mattered either way. No one could hear your silly mistake. The robot snorted. Whatever.

Your underwear chafed. You looked over the side of the robot, down to the lights. There was no sign of Roxy, but she may well have been the size of an insect now… Below the almost inaudible engines, the robot's legs dangled in the air. You could not help but feel they looked slightly stupid.

Without delicateness, you adjusted them - your panties - and put as far out of mind as you could any possibility of masturbating hundreds of feet in the air.

ROSE: How do I fly you?
ROSE: It feels ridiculous to control you with voice commands.
ROSE: But she never taught me to ride bridleless…

The head turned, one black beady eye staring at you.

ROSE: What is it?

The robotic horse did not answer you.

ROSE: I'm losing my mind.

You were losing your mind.

You sat up as straight as you could, hands on its back and your legs at its sides.

ROSE: Analyse my movements or something like that.
ROSE: You're a robot.
ROSE: You should understand when I want you to go forward.

Vague memories of watching others ride bridleless floated to the surface of your mind. It was all in the legs, you told you yourself.

You squeezed your thighs around the robot's torso - ignored the sick feeling in your core. It spread out its forelegs into long, gentle arcs. Only the fuzzy sensation in your head told you that you were moving forward.

The legs gallopped beneath it as though it did not know it was not on the ground. You would call it a silly effect, if you could not feel it bump into your crotch with every peak of its pace. Hitting, hitting, hitting you where you could only wince. You suspected it was not even a wince of pain, but of pure embarrassment.

ROSE: Can't you fly less turbulently?
ROSE: You're going to bruise my cervix.

The robot whined. You pouted.

Leaning forward, so that at least it hit you straight-on rather than glancing against you over and over, you pushed down on its neck. How would it enjoy being manhandled?

The wind lashed at your face. Even with the gravity field, you could tell that you were diving. The horse - the robot, was diving. You could vomit. You pulled your hands back, tangled in its mane, until it threw up its legs midair.

Below, close enough that you could hear music, a house party raged. Native Unutherans, dancing, drinking, kissing. You never saw a house party on Earth. It was strange, to be an adult woman and yet to have lived out your late teens and early adulthood in metallic caverns and isolated apartments. You drew your gaze up, to the other houses nestled in the hills around the city. There must have been a homeschooled thirteen-year-old behind one of those lit windows. She, you could relate to. She would understand.

You pressed yourself against Maplehoofbot again, gently drifting through the night sky. Like a weather balloon, you left the city behind. The hazy trails of motor cars disappeared behind rock and trees that had stood for millions of years. At least, the rocks had.

The itch, again. The itch of your underwear. Or, rather, of what was in them. Your hips rocked against the robot's chassis. Gently, as if it might, at any moment, announce: ERROR - PERVERSION DETECTED. EJECTING PASSENGER.

Oh G-d, the fear ate at you.

ROSE: Land for me.
ROSE: I can't see anything.
ROSE: I'm sure you have night vision cameras.

With a jolt, and a soft whine, it floated down onto some faintly illuminated hilltop, landing like the freight elevator. Slow, slow, slow, and then a sudden stop.

You were unnerved to find creaked planks of wood beneath you when you leapt clumsily from it. An observation platform, not a knoll as you had expected.

Superstitiously, you turned to the robot.

ROSE: Don't leave the area.
ROSE: I don't want to be stuck hitchhiking in my underwear.

Its side-eye gaze, you took as some kind of confirmation.

What were you talking about? It was a computer program. Why would it move anyway?

With every step on the lacquered wood, your feet cringed, but somehow you could not care. You placed the ridiculous toy horse in your rear blind spot, sunk to your bottom, and removed your underwear as though they were a medieval torture implement.

You were embarrassingly damp to the touch. Any longer on that thing's back and you would have spontaneously orgasmed like a nun staring at a statue of Jesus.

Your fingers played along your labia, and up onto your clit, where it should have been Kanaya's thigh grinding against you, or at least a dense pillow. Arousal was enough to put the cold out of mind, even the cold of your hands. Your cunt was a fire, into which you dumped your fingers.

There was nothing tactful or subtle about it now. There was no one around to hear the noise you made - not only the soft little grunts and moans, but the sound of wet flesh against wetter flesh. It was disgusting, and the faster your fingers became, the more you relished it. A confirmation of your need to be touched inside, and outside, and all over. A confirmation that you were giving yourself exactly what you needed.

Your scrunched eyes blinked open. The field of stars was covered by a long black shape.

ROSE: Don't come near me, you-!

Bolting up, and burying your filthy hand in your loose underwear, you softened your tone. It wasn't a real animal. Even if it were, it wasn't a person anyway.

ROSE: Maplehoofbot.
ROSE: Stay at a distance of-

Before you could think of a number, you noticed the citylight bending around the edge of a strange shape beneath its flanks. Something like an arm. It wasn't its tail. Your head drifted to the side, testing your binocular vision. The shape wasn't behind the robot either. It was…

You scrambled backwards. Your underwear did not come with you. It wasn't an arm or a tail. It was its … reproductive organ. If one could call it that, given that it evidently wasn't used for reproduction.

Was Roxy insane?

No, no, you told yourself, drawing your knees up to your chest. She didn't sculpt each individual part of the body. She must have used some template, and simply forgotten to remove … that. It was a replica of Maplehoof's body, after all, and it certainly had one.

You noticed it the first week you had Maplehoof. With your gumboots and raincoat, you had trudged outside to greet it in its little paddock. Maplehoof was always a ridiculous gift, but you did not blame the horse for that fact. It deserved a pleasant life as much as you or dear, departed Jaspers did.

As any girl would, you carried a blanket and a picnic basket under-arm. Store-bought cupcakes for yourself, and oats for Maplehoof. Perhaps your mother should have warned you not to sit on the ground next to a poorly-trained horse, but you tried not to hold that against her.

You had never learned what caught its attention, as you lay on your stomach silently regarding a sickeningly sweet cupcake. It had simply sprung out while you weren't looking. As you did look, you saw it grow longer, stretching like a radio antenna.

The feeling that first overwhelmed your child self was not fear or disgust, but ... indecision. You were too clever not to know what a penis was, and too interested in the world not to realise that animals possessed them all the same as humans, but you lacked a single instinct as to what to do. In the mind of your twelve-year-old self, the sight of a horse's penis could mean anything. Death, perhaps.

You packed everything up in a hurry and fled inside. As you lay in bed, your breath was ragged. For a single moment, you considered asking your mother. Your hedonistic, cosmopolitan mother. But, you saw her passed out on the sofa on the way in anyway. That left only one other option.

Your laptop flickered to life, and you carefully entered the words, “horse penis”, into the search bar.

You didn't even need to disable the filter. There they hung in every photo, framed as if portraits only of the phallus. So thick and fat, they could have been human arms. You could not touch the trackpad. Your eyes traced out those strange shapes. Each horse had its own. No two were truly alike. Some were black, darker than the coat. Others, as pink as a Swedish infant. Some had a gentle curve, like a thin, draping branch. Others were crooked at the ring about the midheft.

You imagined what it must be made of. Cartilage, surely. It needed to move, needed to expand. If you touched it… Placed your small hand around it…

You jammed your finger onto the power button and hid under the covers.

The door creaked open. Your mother poked her head inside. She called for you, voice shaky and dry but still not resigned from the world. You did not answer her. The rain came down outside.

You were 21 now. Yes, you had lied that your age was irrelevant. It mattered now, because now there was no one to check up on you. No mother to ensure you were not making bad decisions. You were alone in that night: only yourself, your body, and the towering thing before you.

There was no point questioning Roxy's design. Perhaps, you told yourself, your unconscious thoughts had been picked up by the machine. It had become erect for you, its master.

You mopped your hair from your eye. You hardly sweat, not in this cold, but you mopped at your face. Mopped at your vision, scrubbed at your eye. A nervous tic. With only monocular vision, it was surely all less real.

ROSE: Maplehoofbot, a light, please.

A faint, amber glow flickered from its chest, casting long shadows out from its legs, like a spider's. You could it properly now.

It wasn't real when you reached down to feel yourself again, while you scrutinised the shape of the robot's cock. It had always been an object of curiosity for you that its genitals were mottled black and pink, nothing like the rest of its body.

How had Roxy known that...?

Perhaps... Perhaps... The thoughts fled your mind as you viced your thighs together, straining to grab hold of your pleasure. Half-nude on the ground, your hand slick with whatever came out of you — you were unhinged. It was so easy to make friends with this feeling.

Was it better or worse that you had this girlhood excuse? The excuse that you had been masturbating to animals' cocks since before you were old enough to know right from wrong.

Not that you thought it immoral. It was only a robot. You could defend it before the whole of Unuther, and be let off with only a warning for public obscenity. But inside, you knew that those you loved would be less than understanding...

So be it. Every woman has her secrets. Her not-so-guilty pleasures.

You dug your fingers into yourself, letting your thumb grind your clitoris like it was insensate. You should have stolen a vibrator. Something to push you through orgasm after orgasm while the sight of horse cock filled the empty spaces of your mind.

Through the chilled air, you finally smelt it. It wasn't unfamiliar, even after so many years, but it saddened you how harshly the night masked it. You wanted to smell it at its full strength, just as you did whenever Maplehoof was in a mood.

When your mother bothered to question your sneaking out at night, you simply told her you were going to parties. Not that you knew what a party was in anything more than academic detail.

You shuffled closer to the robot's underside, letting that strange, urinary smell overwhelm you. There was no way to describe it that wouldn't disgust anyone without your predilections. Like sweat and urine and ejaculate but all the stronger. Too strong to be human. Everything about its phallus was more than human.

You found it offensive, that phrase, "hung like a horse." Men were nothing like horses.

Once, you had almost revealed your secret to Jade. You had found a game that suited her interests more than whatever John always begged her to play. A furry game, that is. As you fell deeper into the delirium of insomnia, the conversation turned to stranger topics.

Jade was never shy about her dreams of taking flight through the dark and tangled undergrowth, paw over paw, free and lithe and beautiful. If anyone could understand your own dreams, it was her. Drunk on blue light, you asked if she would even have sex in such a form. When she responded with something like hesitation, you struggled with yourself, whether to press her further on it. You let her be then, but at night, you had imagined a world in which you could be truthful with her.

A world in which she would look on your disgusting habit and type out in her adorable way, ":O i think thats really cool actually!"

Such dreams were for younger girls. You were 21, and you had only yourself in this perversion.

You inched closer to your robotic horse, inched closer to your oversized penile paper weight. You came so close that no stalker now could doubt your intentions. If the 48 squiddles who lived in some ancient universe were watching you through their terminals, you hoped they enjoyed.

Slowly, you stretched your arm out to touch the stove top. Your fingers grazed the heft of the cock, smooth and hot and-

An alarm sounded, cacophonous as a pan banging against the side of your skull.

Your hindbrain could offer up only one response: It was the pervert alarm, which was going off because your perversion had been detected.

In five minutes, the robot would disintegrate you with a laser beam installed in its forehead, and Roxy would lament the tragic loss of her sister to the depravity of animal sexual fetishism.

But as you pushed yourself to your foot, you noticed the words streaming across the horsebot's neck.

"Incoming call".

Of course she installed a phone in her ridiculous horse.

You shoved yourself into your underwear - already ice=pack-like from the cool air - and pulled yourself together. A deep breath, Rose.

ROSE: Maplehoofbot, accept call.

Your sister and her partner made no implication they knew of anything you had done, no implication that they had secretly watched you through cameras in the horse's undercarriage, nor received telemetry data indicating the distinctive chemical signature of a woman's pheromones.

You thanked God, and Skaia, and even the horrorterrors. When you returned to the laboratory, you slept as desperately as you could. But it would only be a short few days until your curiosity caught up with you...

You awoke in the middle of the night. This was not exceptional. Unutherans, like many people in Earth's history, slept twice. The first sleep was closer to a nap than slumber. For four hours, they let themself rest in bed with the lights dimmed. Then, they awoke, as Kanaya did beside you. It was as natural as breathing, to wake in this odd, twilight hour.

The flat was filled with a blue like ocean darkness. You pulled the pearled cord of the lamp and sat up by your wife, planting kisses on her cool, bare neck. She trailed her hand down to your side to rest on the hem of your underwear.

KANAYA: Are You Also In The Throes Of Concupiscence

You nodded at her soft words.

KANAYA: We Could Continue Rubbing Our Thighs Together Until One Of Us Orgasms
ROSE: Your bulge has such wonderful ideas, darling…
ROSE: I'll take your challenge if we have something to drink first.

She traced a finger over the oceanic curve of your ear.

KANAYA: You Drank At Junes Birthday The Other Week
KANAYA: Are You Sure That Is Enough Time To-
ROSE: It's enough.
ROSE: You know that wine only makes me horny now, anyway.
ROSE: The only addiction I could have is to your bulge.

You coiled yourself around her and ran a hand down the outline of her nook through her underwear.

KANAYA: Alright

You watched as the light flicked on in the kitchen. Her ass made gorgeous epicycles as she walked to the refrigerator for the cheap boxed swill you kept around. Who in Besgue owned anything better? She poured a finger or so for you. Enough to sip on. At the simple sight of her slender fingers held against the glass, you fruitlessly ground your thighs together.

When she returned with two little-endowed glasses, you put your headband on and threw off the blanket. It was hot in Besgue at this time of year. Two forms of sweat had pooled beneath the both of you. Yours made you feel dirty. Kanaya's made you dizzy. You took your glass from her and nuzzled against her shoulder, only for a moment.

ROSE: If only I could make wine of you and drink it, Kanaya.

Your hand played on her waist. Kanaya took a sip and raised an eyebrow in the way she knew you found cute.

KANAYA: Do You Want To Crush Me With Your Feet Like Earth Grapes
ROSE: Perhaps.
ROSE: But I had imagined it could be made from troll ejaculate.
KANAYA: That Seems Spurious
KANAYA: Forgive Me For Not Submitting To Your Campaign Of Milking
ROSE: Your cruelty knows no bounds.

You set your glass down after a sip of wine.

ROSE: Now, what are the rules of this game?

Between the two Unutheran sleeps was an hour of waking, which they called true rest. A time for reading, for having tea or light alcohol, or for having sex without the distractions of others. You and Kanaya were a traditional household, and had settled comfortably into the practice.

It was with half of true rest remaining that you realised the advantage your wife had. As you pinched your nipples harder and harder between your fingers, you glanced over to see her bulge slithering out of its sheath, poking out over her underwear. With your clit throbbing against the fabric of your own pair, and your cunt soaking the front and the bed below you, a hot jealousy burned inside you. You willed your clitoris to come out from inside you and show its full length. The length you knew it hid. Just enough – just enough that when you bucked your hips, the hem of your underwear could catch on its tip and finally let you climax.

Though you watched her, Kanaya lay in her own world. She rubbed her breasts with the subtlety of a lady, if one ignored the squirming of her against the sheets. It was when you mustered up your voice to tell her that five minutes remained, that a wicked grin grew across her face.

She threw one hand clumsily over your mouth. Her fingers tangled between your teeth and you could not speak without them tickling your tongue. Her other hand had come down to your crotch as you were distracted. She shoved her fingers inside you, not bothering to move your underwear aside. It was ridiculous. It was impractical. And, you would never have guessed that wetting yourself in bed could be so very sensual. Your whole back tightened and arched up to the dark ceiling. Your throat made nonsense noises that her fingers only muffled. They were ancient, unknowable words; the only that could be assigned to the spray of urine and cum that leaked out around Kanaya's fingers.

When you found the strength to open your eyes, what first you saw was a pool of Kanaya's cum on her stomach, like the moon on the water's surface. The result of a modest orgasm. You were a mess.

ROSE: I hope that we have a spare set of clean sheets.

It was not exceptional to wake after your first sleep, nor to spend it in one another's embrace, however messy. What was exceptional was that when Kanaya said to you, goodnight, darling, and you laid down beside her, you remained wide awake. The fantasies and incoherent delights that swam in your mind as you crawled along to an orgasm, they came to the surface again. You remembered a dream you had already forgotten. One that had originated in childhood, but which had remained in your skull and transmuted itself to survive.

As you had laid with your cunt soaking between your thighs, there was a singular image you could not remove from your mind. Maplehoofbot's long, terribly realistic cock. But if it were only that, you would attribute it to free association. Something else bubbled within your subconscious. Not merely the cock, but you with it. Basking in it. The scent, the heat, the mere taboo of being seen with it. Feeling it. Running your hands along its length. Tasting it. Placing your lips on the base of the shaft and planting kisses up to its firm and perfectly-constructed balls. Your clit had throbbed the hardest as you dreamt of worshipping it. You hadn't changed since you were a young girl. At least now you had a more ethical outlet.

Your name was Rose Lalonde, and you could not return to sleep. You were needed in the laboratory.

You did not have time to spare. Showering was not a necessity. It was only a robot, after all. One did not shower for a dildo. You stripped and threw on the skimpiest lingerie you owned. A set so revealing that even on a mannequin, it would be too scandalous for a street-facing window. Over that, you bundled yourself in a loose coat. As you mentally planned your route to the laboratory, the thought of being rocked to orgasm by a robotic horse was joined by the thought that you would be walking around practically nude on the streets. If only there had been time to dress yourself in something even more outrageous. Your hands were shaking. Goosebumps covered your hidden flesh. Tonight was going to be exciting.

You had almost reached the hallway outside before Kanaya stopped you.

KANAYA: Rose
KANAYA: Where Are You Going

She spoke sleepily, flicking on the lounge room light to expose your terribleness to sight.

KANAYA: Are You Wearing Heels

For a moment, you searched your mind for any excuse that would make sense of this. “You were a sex worker.” You were not shameful about the idea but it raised too many more questions. “You were an exhibitionist.” Arguably true, but she might insist on helping you as your loving wife. Another time. “You were going for a walk in heels, and no, you would not show her what was underneath the trench coat.”

You submitted to the shame.

ROSE: I am going to have sex with a robot that Roxy made.

The coat was unzipped and your body was bared.

KANAYA: I Do Not Know What Else I Expected

Kanaya stepped close to you. She marvelled with tired eyes at your lingerie.

KANAYA: Why Are You Going On Your Own
KANAYA: I Like Sex Robots
ROSE: You may not approve if you knew the details.
KANAYA: Does This Concern Your Human Taboo Regarding Familial Relatives
KANAYA: A Robot Does Not Count As A Relative I Believe
ROSE: No, I don't care that Roxy made it.
ROSE: It is a taboo that trolls share.
ROSE: At least, I presume so given how you talk of Equius.
KANAYA: Oh

She was taken aback in a manner that frightened you. Her hands left you.

KANAYA: Rose
KANAYA: We Should Discuss This
ROSE: My suspicions were correct, then.
KANAYA: This Is Very Serious
KANAYA: Casteplay Is Problematic In Several Ways
KANAYA: We Should Call Aradia
ROSE: Casteplay?
ROSE: Kanaya, I am referring to robot horses.
KANAYA: Oh

You wrapped your coat tight around yourself, hurt and vulnerable suddenly.

KANAYA: You Were Very Vague Dear
KANAYA: I Thought You Were Going To The Kind Of Brothel In Which Highbloods Put Lowblood Girls In Bondage And Call Them Slurs
ROSE: Why would I be interested in such a thing?
KANAYA: This Is Beside The Point
KANAYA: It Was Odd For A Six Sweep Old Troll To Make Robot Hoofbeasts With Realistic Genitalia
KANAYA: But It Is Not A Big Deal
KANAYA: You Are A Grown Woman
KANAYA: You Can Have Sex With Any Robots You Like
ROSE: You don't find it strange to fantasise about them on the basis of their similarity to the real animal?

She looked at you as though you were stupid.

KANAYA: Rose You Already Have A Hoofbeast Dildo
KANAYA: You Look At It Very Fondly
KANAYA: The Way Soldiers Look At Their Swords
ROSE: That is different, Kanaya.
KANAYA: No It Isnt
ROSE: Yes, it is.
KANAYA: It Is Identical
ROSE: It's entirely distinct beyond the superficial similarities.
KANAYA: Okay Rose
ROSE: Let's simply return to bed.
ROSE: I have soured on the idea anyway.
KANAYA: Rose Do Not Be A Grub
KANAYA: Show Me Roxys Sexbot At Least
ROSE: Fine.
KANAYA: It Is Not The End Of The World
KANAYA: I Have One Question
ROSE: Yes, dear?
KANAYA: Should I Wear Lingerie As Well

You smirked sheepishly.

ROSE: I would be an idiot to answer no.

As the two of you reached the hatch to the laboratory, nestled somewhere in the harbour, the heat under your trench coat had come to be intolerable. You typed in the passcode – the shaking in your hands had subsided at least for now – and descended. The moment you were safe from cameras or lecherous security personnel, you stripped off the coat and let yourself breathe.

Sweat dripped down your torso, over your stomach. It glid down your back, where the coat had been touching your skin, and over the curve of your ass. Every part of you was glossy. One could triangulate every source of light by the shimmering reflections on your pale curves. All the humid air that had been trapped under your clothes filled the poorly ventilated concrete tunnel with your hot, awkward scent.

KANAYA: You Smell As Though You Have Been Having Sex For Hours Rose
KANAYA: I Didnt Know You Enjoyed Exposing Yourself
ROSE: Forgive me.
ROSE: There is ventilation in the lab.
ROSE: You will only need suffer it until we reach the bottom of the stairs.

Wary of your heels, you took heavy, slow steps downwards. The air was cool and liberating against your skin. Though, with the sweat wicked into your pubic hair, you wondered whether you would need to shower after all. There were hoses in the laboratory. Perhaps Kanaya could help to make the night even more of a cliché. She followed you deftly, far less of a mess under her own overcoat. During the walk, you had admired how the collar of the coat fit around her beautiful neck, sat just below her short, dark hair. She took your clammy hand as she spoke.

KANAYA: I Appreciate Your Scent Rose
KANAYA: You Are My Matesprit
KANAYA: I Smell You Everyday
KANAYA: You Sweat Quite A Lot

You were overheating too much to listen properly.

ROSE: Your backhanded compliments are very sweet, dear.

She tightened her grip on your wrist, and spoke your name firmly. You stopped. Kanaya pressed you against the wall as she came close. You could not move. Did not want to. She knelt down, hands trailing along your ticklish sides. There was little between her and your cunt when her knees touched the still cooling concrete. It was vertigo-inducing to look down on your wife like this. What to do with your hands but hold them against the wall for balance? You were at her mercy.

You flinched as she used a long-nailed finger to pull your lingerie bottoms aside. You saw your own bush first. Thick, and darker than your head hair; you had always been proud of that. Strands of cunt-spittle came away as she revealed your lips and pink pearl of a clitoris.

In her infinite cruelty, she left them alone, and pressed her long, troll-Roman nose into your bush, inhaling as if it were a bushel of the most faecal and intoxicating of roses. She drew back, face painted with the manner of aesthetic contemplation consigned otherwise to decrepit books by 18th century philosophers.

KANAYA: Do You Believe Me Now Rose
KANAYA: Or Must I Smell Your Ass As Well
ROSE: I'm torn…
ROSE: Some doubt still remains.

Kanaya glared at you.

KANAYA: Rose Do Not Climax In The Stairwell
KANAYA: Focus On The Robot
ROSE: Controlling whether I come now?
ROSE: You are becoming so domineering, Kanaya.
KANAYA: I Would Carry You If I Knew The Way

She tucked your cunt back in and stood to let you pass, as if nothing had transpired.

You found the lab in total darkness. As you walked cautiously through the maze of halls, you flicked the lights on, leaving a trail of buzzing chemical lamps behind you. It felt almost as if only Roxy would be waiting at the end of the labyrinth, ready to probe and experiment upon you. Had the robot horse merely been the bait? You pushed the thought away as you realised you were imagining your mother-cum-sister “probing” you.

The garden was the only room that remained lit. You stepped tentatively into it in case Calliope was pruning branches or repotting flowers. But there were no such things. Kanaya trailed her hands along the flowers that had begun to bloom deep under the city, away from the ash and the runoff.

KANAYA: Theyre Beautiful
ROSE: You could ask Calliope to help sometime.
ROSE: I'm sure she would appreciate another green thumb.
KANAYA: What Is A Green Thumb
KANAYA: My Thumbs Are Grey
ROSE: It's an idiom, dear.
KANAYA: Humans Are Very Strange
KANAYA: Green Thumbs And White Lies And Blue Balls
ROSE: Have you been speaking to Dave?
KANAYA: Why Do You Ask
KANAYA: Is A White Lie Something Sexual

She let the flowers go and threw her arms about your bared waist.

KANAYA: Does It Refer To Your Noticeably Large Behind
ROSE: I will have you know that these hips do not lie.
KANAYA: Presumably
KANAYA: The Hips And Bottom Are Different Body Parts
ROSE: Nevermind, dear.

You took Kanaya to the small room where Maplehoofbot was kept. You had expected to find it powered down and in a charging station, but instead it lay on the floor of its stall, legs splayed out. Roxy had deprived it of nothing that a real horse would not have. Though, you did not know whether real horses slept on their sides, nor did Kanaya. From behind the gate, the two of you peeked at it.

KANAYA: I Didnt Expect It To Be So Fleshlike
KANAYA: Equius' Robots Were Entirely Metal
ROSE: I imagine it is a synthetic layer over a metal chassis.
KANAYA: Did Roxy Explain Why It is So Realistic
ROSE: It was meant as a comfort to me.
ROSE: Maplehoof was my childhood horse.
ROSE: It would hardly be pleasant to hug metal.
KANAYA: So It Is An Oversized Plush Animal
ROSE: I suppose that would describe it, yes.
ROSE: Shall we wake it up?
KANAYA: It Is Slightly Unnerving Rose
KANAYA: What If It Is A Real Horse
KANAYA: And Roxy Is Tricking You
ROSE: A real horse that just so happens to look identical to Maplehoof?
ROSE: A real horse with rockets in its flanks?
KANAYA: Rockets
KANAYA: :?
ROSE: I will show you another time.

You opened the latch and swung the gate out. The robot huffed its nostrils, but lay still, eyelids down over its black eyes. As you approached it, the night's plan unravelled in your mind. This was ridiculous. Did you truly want to have sex with the thing in sleep mode on the ground? Rationally, you knew it was not a horse, could not be, but to large parts of your brain, they were indistinguishable. It even smelt like a horse. Like dirt and hot flesh and sweat. You drew your coat across your half-nude body again.

KANAYA: Are You Also Having Second Thoughts Rose
ROSE: Perhaps.
ROSE: But…

There was far too much pride in you. You already knew it would look like a horse. Smell like one… Taste like… It began to dawn on you that it would taste like one. Perhaps pride was too little.

You knelt down, and placed your hand on its flank, as you had watched Roxy do. Its fur was ticklish on your palm, and you felt the rising and falling of its robotic lungs. You said the passphrase in a clear voice. A network of pink lines glowed suddenly across its fur, from under its skin. They resolved into a small display just above its hind legs.

KANAYA: It Is Real Then
KANAYA: A Real Fake Horse
ROSE: It is all simulated.
ROSE: Simulated flesh. Simulated scent. Simulated heat.
KANAYA: Regardless Rose It Is Quite Weird
ROSE: You married a “weird” woman, dear.
ROSE: If you cannot accept me having sex with a robotic horse, then you cannot accept me.
ROSE: This has been a fantasy of mine since I was a child.

You said the words to convince not Kanaya, but yourself. Wobbling on your heels, you stripped your coat off again. After setting down the bottle of lube on the floor, it was cast into the corner, so you could not depend on it to hide yourself. Sitting down, your lingerie bottoms dug into your cunt. Lingerie always seemed to make moments of seriousness more difficult. You suffered it until Kanaya spoke.

KANAYA: Hm
KANAYA: I Will Not Stop You Rose
KANAYA: But I Will Hose You Down Afterwards
KANAYA: So That Our House Does Not Smell Like Dirt
ROSE: Thank you, dear.

No gratitude had ever been more sincere. The lights inside Maplehoofbot flickered off, and it appeared again like a horse, nothing more, nothing less. Nothing more, that is, except for what you noticed growing between its legs. Nestled within Maplehoofbot's white fur, its dark sheath unfurled itself, even as it slept. The head, dappled with pink and black, inched out. You had not seen the process earlier, only the result. As another inch appeared from within the sheath, the crowned head growing more and more definite, you could only think of bulges slithering out from nooks. You had always found Kanaya's beautiful, like a blooming flower.

ROSE: It must be reacting to my scent.
ROSE: I smell like sex.
KANAYA: Why Would Roxy Program It To Do That
ROSE: Perhaps I am not the only one with such fantasies…

Your hand had already settled upon the soaked front of your lingerie bottoms. Few active mechanisms of thought remained as your fingers fiddled to bypass it, desperate to rub at your clit, to make yourself smell even more of desire. Your child self had lain in bed, reading of equine anatomy, imagining how it might all work with a hand under her skirt. The mere taboo-knowing now was enough to make you hot inside. As you felt the first rushes of stimulation, something else flooded into your consciousness like blood in seawater.

KANAYA: Oh Gog The Smell

She stepped back, stumbling against the gate in a clatter. You were too enraptured even to rub your clit probably, hand slipping in and out of yourself, struggling now to balance on your knees and heels.

ROSE: It is intoxicating.
ROSE: Like wine.
KANAYA: Rose…

She spoke as if afraid to disappoint you.

KANAYA: It Is Like Rancid Wine
ROSE: Perhaps it is an acquired taste.
ROSE: I could help you acquire it, dear.

It was a marvel of biology that your lower organs could produce such complex verbiage, in the absence of your brain's guidance. Maplehoofbot huffed again, and flicked its fine, white tail. Kanaya hid behind the gate as if afraid to come closer. You commanded it firmly, hoping the words would register with the AI.

ROSE: Maplehoofbot, wake up.
ROSE: Wake up.

The robot horse blinkered its eyes open and looked about. It was almost fully erect, its cock tucked gently against its belly. You kept your free hand gripped about your clammy thigh so you would not reach out compulsively. With a nicker, Maplehoofbot clambered up on awkward footing.

You, of course, remained on the ground, the horse looming over you. Even if you stood, it would be taller. You were dwarfed. Its cock now hung like a weight from underneath it, with two dark fist-sized balls at its shaft. They were as round as sculpted marble, but you knew they must have been warmer to the touch than your own insides. You stood carefully, but only to pull your bottoms down your legs and throw them aside with your coat. Only to step close, and run your hand down its soft flank as you sank to your knees again to be beside Maplehoofbot's cock.

KANAYA: Be Careful Rose
ROSE: I am sure that Roxy programmed it not to hurt me.
KANAYA: Did She Program It To Not Let You Hurt Yourself

The smell was even stronger, so close now. The word “dizzying” had always seemed only like a metaphor in application to scent, but you felt as though you had lost a litre of blood. It was the same stomach-dropping feeling that overwhelmed you when Kanaya brought you to your limits, pushed your body as far as it could go. When she stretched you out, and yet kept pounding.

You realised with thrill plucking at your heartstrings that the sex toy you kept in the bottom drawer had been a perfect imitation. Every ridge, every shadowed vein, every Romanesque curve. It was there. A forearm-and-more of cock sat heavy a few thin layers of air from your face. You stared at it until you remembered Kanaya's eyes were upon you. Your face grew flushed and even hotter. It almost began to ache.

ROSE: I have trained to take this much, Kanaya.
KANAYA: You Are Frightening Sometimes Dear
ROSE: I know that you enjoy it.
ROSE: Watching me open myself wide…

“What first?” was not a question that passed through your consciousness for even a moment. Nor, at that, “which hole?” It was a foregone conclusion. You opened the stopper on the bottle of lube and squeezed a droplet or so into your hand. Your clit could wait. Something more important needed attendance. You reached between your thighs and rubbed your over-lubed fingers against your sweat-slick asshole, tracing wet circles around it, until you could sink a single finger inside. It was like stepping into a warm bath. If only Kanaya could hold your hand as you slipped into the water. Maplehoofbot nickered, more harshly now. The impatience, the need, even if merely programmed, was directed at you. It was your body that Maplehoofbot's electronic routines were driven towards. You pushed another finger into your ass. It was a challenge now.

Of the classical sins, you had excelled in several. Pride – the need to prove yourself; prove your body; show that you were not afraid of a little sexuality. Envy – the need to exceed other women in every way they used their body; to take what they could take; to give your wife what Vriska could give her. Lust – the purest need; for filling; for heat; for sensation, even pain. But as your second row of knuckles forced themselves against the rim of your asshole, as you became loosened beyond any purpose that nature could have imagined, what you felt most was greed. As ever, you wanted more than you were meant to have. The knuckles squeezed in. You took your fist completely. Whatever could be taken, you would take, whether it was natural or not.

Maplehoofbot was becoming more agitated, striking its hooves against the ground as you punched your fist in and out between your cheeks. You knew that the absence of pain was a result of the adrenaline and the arousal, and you knew that those were only compounded by its absence, by the unrockable pliability of your asshole. The final gesture of foreplay you allowed yourself was to dump half of the bottle of lube over its shaft. It was your first touch, rubbing it across its length, and it was so utilitarian. The both of you deserved more; deserved to become properly acquainted by touch. But the both of you had no time for lovemaking.

You smacked Maplehoofbot's side and led it over to the gate. The photos on those websites about husbandry had shown the horses with their forelegs raised. They must need it for leverage in their hips. You suspected the same was true of Roxy's robotic horse. You did not merely want its cock to sit inside you. Every servo in its body would be wasted unless it fucked you. You almost felt a sting of sympathy for smacking its ass, hoping the shared gift of anal sex would make up for it, until you remembered it was only a machine.

Kanaya watched you with starry eyes from the other side of the open gate. Caution remained in her movements, in her little flinches, but she was not holding her nose anymore. She wanted to know what would happen next.

You wanted nothing more than to show her. You crawled underneath the robot's mass, focusing on the pace of your breaths, Something primordial made you avoid any contact with its lubed cock before you were ready, like waiting outside the shower as the water in the pipes warmed. There was no pussyfooting any longer. Either you would leave and never return, or you would feel that length inside you. Kanaya's knees buckled, and she slid to the ground gracefully. She held herself up against the gate post as if too busy to stand.

KANAYA: Are You Ready Rose
KANAYA: You Can Stop If It Is Too Much

You blew your messy blonde hair out of your hairs and stared at her. You smiled with pursed lips, for your wife, and for yourself.

ROSE: Are you ready to watch me take another cock yours will never compare to, dear?

The words struck her like an arrow to the breast. Her breathing skipped for a moment. Kanaya let a hand fall to her front.

KANAYA: I Would Hate You If You Hesitated Now For My Sake
KANAYA: Please Show Me What You Have Been Dreaming About

As she rubbed herself through synthetic fabrics, you reached behind yourself and grasped Maplehoofbot's cockhead, slippery and firm like muscle. You blindly bent it towards your ass. Your asshole had puckered up again, but nothing would stop it as it pushed its way inside. It would be easy once the head was in… You bit down hard on your lip as you arched your hips back. The pressure built. You braced for the shock as it popped inside of you. Pop was so small a word to describe how it would feel.

It was like touching an electric fence. All you could do to stop yourself being slammed forward against the gate was to push your hips back. Every part of you tensed up and spasmed as Maplehoofbot's flared crown filled your ass. You dragged your nails against the floor, desperate for anything to hold onto. Your insides shut involuntarily around that pitiful portion of its full length, and you willed yourself to focus, focus, focus, just enough to relax the tightness. The vast reserves of composure within you opened, flooding into your nervous system. A horse's cock could not make you stumble. You – Rose Lalonde – you were made for this. You only needed to stop your naive body from fighting it. A mental immunosuppressant, that was what you needed. Soft words in your ear telling you that you were making a wonderful decision. The squelching sound of your fingers against your labia would suffice. Not a single finger would slip inside. The thin wall of flesh between your cunt and ass – horsecock stretching it out like the surface of a balloon – squeezed you shut. It was poetic. Why would you need to have sex in so parochial, so domestic a manner now?

There was no use distinguishing your thoughts from your verbal spewing.

ROSE: Oh, G-d.
ROSE: It's inside, Kanaya.

She crawled to you, breath almost as ragged as yours. Her limbs fought as she tried to tear her clothes off in the same motion. She needed to set her bulge free. It flicked and struggled beneath her, ripping the very seams of her underwear. Her beautiful hand cupped your cheek. Your sweat mixed with hers. Underneath the robot horse, she felt like a woman reaching over the edge of a cliff. It was so dizzyingly close… Maplehoofbot snorted, struck a hoof on the ground. A real horse would have no patience for you, but it must have been programmed to ensure you were not crushed beneath it in a tragic, cock-related accident.

KANAYA: You Are The Only Woman Who Can Appear So Regal With A Hoofbeast Bulge Inside Her Rose

You slowed your breathing, collected up all the writhing, pulsating electrical impulses inside you to direct them into short, controlled bursts of frenzy. With the smallest twist of your hips, Maplehoofbot's head would grind against all the small bundles of nerves in your ass. Rose Lalonde was a woman who enjoyed letting go, but only for a moment. Long enough for the muscles and webbing of innervation tangled through your body to be assaulted with force, heat, friction, jolt, but all within your grasp. It was all for nought if you could not still look up into your wife's amber eyes and say:

ROSE: You are the only woman who understands how much more tantalising a compliment that is than all the lazy clichés of wetness and turgidity in the world.
KANAYA: You Can Take More
KANAYA: You Will Regret It If You Stop At The Head

Her excitement was electrifying.

ROSE: Do you so wish for my poor asshole to be stretched even further?
ROSE: I won't be able to walk.
ROSE: I will need call in sick for the next week.
ROSE: You will have to stay by my bedside and care for me until my innocent, abused hole is recovered.

A sputter of breath, as you mistimed your grinding. The pressure was like a drug. If you were not aware of the 425 cubic centimetres of horse in your girlish, practically virginal rectum, you would assume a woman in thick, black boots were pressing her heel into your soft stomach, with no intentions other than watching your bladder empty. As another crash of pleasure wracked through you, felt first in your hands and only immediately afterwards in your asshole, you thought distantly that you deserved a medal for enduring so long without squirting across the floor. That could wait until you had proven yourself on Maplehoofbot's full length. Full length? A delusional thought…

ROSE: G-d, Kanaya.
ROSE: You will have to use my horse dildo even for a quickie.
ROSE: How will you fit it in your bag?
KANAYA: Rose I Will Pleasure You With A Dough Rolling Cylinder If You Ask
ROSE: I hadn't-

Teeth grit. Eyelids fell shut, for a long moment.

ROSE: …considered that idea…
ROSE: G-d, I need more.

Your wife took one of your hands into hers, gripped it tight. You let it be your anchor. The muscles in your back and hips and forearms unwound themselves. You forced your asshole further down that monumental length of horsecock. The pressure on your bladder only increased. G-d. Enough sex chemicals rushed through your blood-brain barrier that you swore — in pseudo-scientific delirium — that the rim of its fat, flared cock was grazing against your G-spot through your perineal wall.

You pressed your hips back further. Those invisible points of tension inside you opened up, letting it slide just further in each time. No matter how acquainted you became with your anatomy, you could not shake the visceral feeling that it must have been halfway inside your intestine already, straightening it out around itself, reshaping you. Something about the medical athleticism of it made you quiver. Perhaps long ago it had been a quiver of queasiness, like that elicited by body horror films, but it had been replaced by a carnal joy. An ego-heavy fantasy that someday you would present before a doctor and wow her with the unnatural pliability of your ass. Your mailbox would be stuffed with letters from adoring fans. You had already ensnared several of your friends with such demonstrations. June had looked like an animal about to be eaten.

As the thick, architectural band about the midsection of horsecock finally touched your ass, you stopped. You clenched and unclenched and let its bumpy, inhuman shape trace out new shapes with your insides, feeling your ass conform to it before it relaxed again. It was therapeutic, like kneading a stress ball in your hand, only it was your precious bladder and cunt and rectum that were kneaded as if they were material for shaping. Maplehoofbot nickered again. For a moment, in the whirlwind of sensations, you thought you had said something aloud, aroused its interest, as if it could understand you anyway. You knew, of course, the true source of its agitation. Even a robot could become impatient. You gave it the command:

ROSE: Maplehoofbot, breed.

It was an intelligent robot. You knew it would not try fruitlessly to push further inside you, but you could not have anticipated the speed. Before you could get the last puffs of breath out, it reared its hips back, yanking its cock out of you. You shook as if caught in a car crash. The crown dragged along your bladder and, G-d, you should have used the toilet before coming here – or perhaps you should have drunk even more. As all the pressure let go of its vice grip on you, its cock was followed by a squelch of flesh and lube. The only sound that came from your mouth was a moan through gritted teeth. The only sound before Maplehoofbot bounced back, thrusting forward to breech your ass as if it had never left. The pressure was too much. Hot, amber piss sprayed from your cunt. With your organs so compressed, it could hardly escape. Droplets painted your knees and the floor underneath you. The horsecock stopped just as the medial ring pressed again on your rim. The robot knew exactly how much you could take and it would not give you any less.

Once it had measured that magical distance from asshole to bottom, it exploded into action like a steam engine, pounding inside your ass as no one had ever done before. Even a fucking machine on the highest settings could never replicate that … that naturalness, the way it bent its hips, the way its cock tilted just slightly as it fucked you in and out and in and out. You shook whole-bodily with every thrust, forced to close your eyes so you did not become dizzy. You had thought the pressure on your bladder was unbearable before, now your piss spurted out in all those blink-long windows of time in which your ass was gaping and empty and waiting for horsecock again. The moment it rammed inside you, returned to its home, your whole cunt was slammed shut once more and the piss only dribbled out over your lips. What should have been thirty seconds of urination stretched into minutes as Maplehoofbot let you squirt over and over. It pooled under your feet, trickled downwards to wet your palms. Even Terezi had never made you such a mess.

You struggled until you could turn your head to the side – Maplehoofbot fucked you forward and slammed your cheek into the piss-soaked ground – and look at Kanaya. One hand teasing her breast, the other rubbing her bulge like a sore muscle, she was captivated. If there was one fact that most summarised your sexuality, it was that you loved for your ass to be filled. If there was one fact that most summarised Kanaya's, it was that she loved to be there to watch. And you loved almost as much to see her stare, hungry and filled with shaking, nervous energy. Your libidos entwined, throbbed and grew like an ouroboros, as so many couples dreamed of.

With Maplehoofbot ruining your asshole, with your wife's searing hot eyes on your sweaty, rocking body, there was no need to care about orgasming. Every so often, as horsecock slammed through you like a diesel train, your muscles would seize up, feet tensing as if you had been hit with a stun prod. Each shudder might have been minutes apart. Ten of minutes. Hours. It was not that time passed more quickly underneath the colossal robot horse, but that there was simply too much happening for you to notice even the smallest quantum of temporal void. Nature, after all, abhors a vacuum. Maplehoofbot's robotic musculature left you only the most minute of moments in which you were not filled with horsecock. Like a blindspot in your vision, you could not see it. Only your own urine pouring down your legs. If you could be surveyed, you would tell them you had already come thousands of times. Any mundane number like ‘seven orgasms’ would only be an insult to the totalising, world-stopping pleasure that filled every part of you from your skull to your toes.

Only one thing remained to grasp time by: Maplehoofbot's electronic vigour. Harder and harder it slammed into you. Its strokes had become so rapid that you struggled almost to breathe, diaphragm like a thunder sheet. Only slowly did the realisation reach your brain that cacophonous noises were coming out of your mouth. It was no mere moaning. You were wailing in agonising stimulation, like a woman in labour. A single breathy drone of pitch, modulated with every thrust inside you, growing in fervour as everything drew nearer, as the train rushed into its stop to explode.

Kanaya must have felt something ripple through the air, the soft hairs on her neck responding to the oncoming calamity. She leaned in close and locked her lips to yours, drowning out your groaning with the thick, hot body of her tongue. Her hand was slick with her alien cum. That was all you could focus on as a pressure welled up inside you, as if Maplehoofbot had fucked you deeper than your body could handle. The adrenaline had already melted your higher nervous system when the robot horse pulled itself out of you in one final outpouring of cock. Having it inside of you was all that had allowed you to balance. You collapsed onto the floor, the room filling with whinnies and gentle stomping.

With all the difficulty of withstanding torture, you denied the urge to fall asleep on that floor. It was always so after sex like this. Kanaya dragged you up into her lap, let you sit properly. Images washed before your eyes – a horsecock swinging in the air, a pool of pale liquid on the floor, your stomach, wet – but you could focus only upon the sensations against your skin, against your organs. Your wife cooed to you through the hot and clammy darkness.

KANAYA: Have You Ever Considered Being A Pornography Actress Rose

You reached up to drape your hand over her cheek.

ROSE: Occasionally.
ROSE: But it may be difficult to find work after graduating if my asshole has been downloaded onto every radio-computer in the city.
ROSE: Not everyone is as loving as you, Kanaya.
KANAYA: You Would Not Need To Work In Your Life If We Recorded This
ROSE: Kanaya…
ROSE: How immoral.
ROSE: Deceiving the public into thinking I took a real horse…
KANAYA: Forgive Me
KANAYA: You Are A Paragon Of Virtue

Maplehoofbot set its hooves down and paced, allowing you the grace to be alone with Kanaya.

ROSE: I did not know sex could make one's legs ache so much.
KANAYA: If Anyone Asks You Should Tell Them It Was A Riding Accident
ROSE: I carelessly slipped off my horse while my underwear were around my ankles…
KANAYA: You Would Be Very Beautiful While Naked And On A Horse
ROSE: Are you certain the horse contributes anything?
KANAYA: It Would Make You Sweaty and Jiggly
KANAYA: Not To Mention Aroused
ROSE: Hm…
ROSE: Perhaps next time.
ROSE: We can find an islet around Besgue that no one pays attention to.
KANAYA: Are You Satisfied For Now Then
ROSE: G-d, no.

You pushed yourself awkwardly forward and onto your feet. A dizziness set in as though your body had sacrificed its sense of balance to save energy for pleasure. Kanaya took your hand to steady you, and you used the opportunity to pull her close, shaking hands around her soft waist.

ROSE: We have yet to have our dessert, Kanaya.
KANAYA: And What Does That Consist Of
ROSE: The same as always, dear.
ROSE: I taste and pamper the cock.
ROSE: You taste and pamper my ruined ass and cunt.
ROSE: We all get what we want.
KANAYA: I Am Not Sure About This
KANAYA: I Would Usually Be Happy To
KANAYA: But The Hoofbeast Cum Is A Confounding Factor
ROSE: Kanaya.
ROSE: Do you smell that?
KANAYA: Smell What
ROSE: The smell of horse cock and semen in the air.
ROSE: Anyone else would gag.

An emerald undertone of flush filled her sweet face. You pressed your lips to hers. They were dry, chapped. The heat and the exertion had unravelled the both of you.

ROSE: I trust I have already converted you.
KANAYA: You Mean Corrupted
ROSE: You want me to mean corrupted.
ROSE: What excites an innocent jadeblooded virginess more than being cruelly indoctrinated with strange and unnatural desires?
KANAYA: Then Why Have You Not Invited Vriska To Our Flat For A Night
ROSE: I perfectly well understand the fantasy, dear, but let me remind you:
ROSE: You told me it would be a terrible idea.
KANAYA: I Changed My Mind
KANAYA: Just As I Changed My Mind About This
ROSE: Are you so eager to eat me out already?
KANAYA: Well Actually

She dithered.

ROSE: Hm… that isn't apprehension I detect in your voice.
ROSE: It is something else…
ROSE: It almost seems like greed, dearest
KANAYA: Would You Be Amenable To Sharing Rose
ROSE: I worried you would never ask.
ROSE: But first…
KANAYA: Yes What
ROSE: Do you have your lipstick?
KANAYA: I Dont Leave The Hive Without It

She reached out into the air, and a tube of black lipstick popped into existence.

ROSE: How did you do that?
ROSE: Have you been learning slight of hand?
KANAYA: Why Doesnt Anyone Remember Sylladices
ROSE: I suppose it slipped my mind once we became gods.

You took the lipstick from her and used the metallic reflection of a wall to apply it. Kanaya followed suit, but only before questioning you.

KANAYA: Is That Essential
KANAYA: Or Are You Just Being Vain
ROSE: You will see, my mothwing darling.
KANAYA: Well Lead The Way I Guess

You took her hand – a smile – and led to her back to Maplehoofbot. At the sight of you, it flicked its snow-white ears, but huffed at Kanaya.

ROSE: Perhaps Roxy only programmed it to recognise me…
ROSE: Maplehoofbot, this is Kanaya, my wife.

The robot horse turned to her and sniffed the air around her. Apparently pleased with her, it pressed its muzzle into her chest. She jumped, and you squeezed her hand hard to keep her close.

KANAYA: This Is Definitely Among Your Strangest Sex Toys Rose
ROSE: Think of it as roleplay.
KANAYA: Inanimate Object Roleplay
KANAYA: Well I Guess It Is Animate But It Is Not Alive
ROSE: Semi-animate object roleplay seems fitting.
ROSE: Now…

You ran your hand along its flank again as you hid yourself behind it, between its back legs. Were it a real horse, it would be a dangerous place for two young women to sit, but you trusted the machine. You and Kanaya got on your knees, a posture of worship or contemplation. Though Maplehoofbot's cock had become limp, the muscles in its sheathe had yet to hide it again. It hung weightily before you, like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

Kanaya brushed its tail out of the way as you traced a thin line down from its perineum to the lip of its crowned cockhead. The shaft remained glossy-wet with lube. You felt a buzzing in your midsection, vision dwarfed by it all.

KANAYA: Rose Do You Have A Plan For Performing Oral Or Manual Sex On A Beast With A Bulge Larger Than Your Leg
ROSE: Of course.
ROSE: The first rule of horse sex is not to take the horsecock in one's mouth.
ROSE: But rather, introduce the mouth to the cock.
KANAYA: I Am Not Following
ROSE: I will show you, darling.

You placed a hand around its black-and-pink shaft. There was no possibility of your hands fitting. But that was not a problem. All you needed to do was bring it close, so that you could lean forward and plant a loving kiss on Maplehoofbot's ridged and veined penis. The lipstick left an imprint, just as you had fantasised about. A single lipstick mark across its entire enormous length. How many kisses might it take to cover everything? You let the horsecock go, its taste still on your tongue, and looked to your wife. Quickly enough to catch her grinding her thighs together, bulge leaving green slick over her legs. She spoke in a breathy murmur.

KANAYA: Perhaps You Should Demonstrate More
KANAYA: I Dont Understand It Entirely

Not a small kiss now; you pressed your open mouth to the shaft, to run the flat of your tongue around its hard, uneven circumference. The lipstick mark you left recorded the act like a footprint. If only you had used purple lipstick, so that entire future civilisations might know that it was you who had salivated over it.

Another lipstick mark, higher up. Then, a trail. Leading up to its testicles, swaddled in lean, hairless black skin. There, the lipstick became invisible, but for the slight gloss and texture. A record written in invisible ink: here was Rose Maryam-Lalonde, queen of the hippophiles. Something throbbed within you as you idly indulged a new fantasy: a tattoo on the small of your back, just above the curve of your ass, reading “HORSE CHAMPION".

Perhaps a temporary one could suffice.

You pulled your lips away to admire your scribal illumination of so rich a manuscript. Kanaya squeezed your thigh, and spoke.

KANAYA: Rose
KANAYA: May I

There was no possibility of denying her this now. You bent Maplehoofbot's cock towards her, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. You would be there with her. She leant forward, jittery on her knees. The smallest tilt of her head, readjusting to bring the shaft as close to her lips and tongue as possible. It was so charming how she closed her eyes habitually, as her lips pecked its cock.

But even blind, her mouth could feel what it was tasting. Not a bulge, nor human genitalia, but an overwhelming presence of flesh. An organ that's only purpose was fucking, and not the quaint and hidden-away penetration of a woman's private parts, but the flagrant opening-wide and making-vulnerable of anything it could find. It was the phallus refined, purified into a nuclear device for sexualisation. Any part of you that touched it became a sex organ, at the sight of which your wife could only yearn.

And there on its flesh was recorded her giving-in to that most fundamental urge. The urge of your prehistoric ancestor who looked to the plains with a faint weakness in her legs. Beside Kanaya's lipstick mark, you placed another of your own. Here was written your hero's journey. You had walked proudly into the underworld, given up your body to the throes of madness, and yet emerged reborn and whole. Something more than human, and yet still a woman. This was your rite, this was your labour, this was your gift.

You cradled Kanaya from behind, and rubbed gently at her bulge as she played, as she wet her tongue with horse semen and sweat and your own wetness. You had made a slut of your poor, delicate wife. The raciest of jadeblood bodice rippers could never compare.

And so much still remained for her to taste… However immiserating this planet was, you were very, very happy with your marriage. Deep into the night, you played with your love.

When you awoke to the sound of the box fan perched at the end of the bed, you rolled over to see your wife. She was still there beside you. Unuther's xanthous sun filtered through the blinds and cast long, honey-coloured streaks across her in her gauzey black nightgown. For now, you did not need to dwell on what the two of you had done. You stretched full-bodily, like a cat, and rose to make her breakfast. Kanaya trusted you more than anyone. You would never stop wishing you could return that love properly.

You turned on the radio in the kitchen just enough to make out the words. During the night, the city had slumbered peacefully. Today was a new day. Another day like all the others. You added oats and milk to a bowl while a woman spoke about the harbour strikes. The 15th day of shutdown had come and passed. The police were kept back another night more. You thought distantly of calling Terezi and advising her to quit her job, but you knew already how she would answer: I hunt serial killers, Lalonde. Not strikers. Even if her conceit were honest, it was a poor look for a teacher to associate with a special detective inspector in Besgue. At times, you wondered for how much longer you could all maintain this game of house you played.

Your wife called to you from the bedroom doorway.

KANAYA: Good Morning Rose

You took her hand in yours and kissed her quick on the cheek.

ROSE: Good morning, my vampirical darling.
ROSE: Was your slumber peaceful?
KANAYA: Peacefully Sweaty
KANAYA: You Should Wear A Top
KANAYA: So That You Do Not Answer The Door Nude Again
ROSE: That only happened once, dear.
ROSE: It was Aradia, anyway.
ROSE: I am sure she was pleased.

You had heard from a little bird (Jade Harley) that she was practically smitten with you. With her boyfriend lost in the depths of space, you were not eager to crush Aradia's dreams. You could read them on her face when she looked at you in a nice dress, or on a muggy day, or when you bent over. That hot, leering gaze that let you know she might explode if her hands did not search your body. Though you always thanked the powers-that-be that you had married a beautiful troll woman for whom the notion of adultery was a nothing – so long as you still woke up in her bedroom and ate at her breakfast table – you had yet to officiate anything with Aradia. Everything had its proper time. You did not like to rush such things. There were years yet for the two of you to bump innocently into one another at a hen night while vaguely intoxicated.

Kanaya sat down on the couch, leaning over the armrest to watch you.

KANAYA: Are You Sure That Aradia Wants To Have Sex With You
KANAYA: And Not To Kill You
ROSE: It is a risk worth taking.
ROSE: I do happen to be unkillable, my love.
KANAYA: Rose We Agreed Not To Abuse Our Immortality

Your toast sprung out of the toaster as you nagged back.

ROSE: I was only joking, dear.

You sat down with Kanaya in front of the hunking box of a television – the optic – and handed her the porridge you had made her. It was hardly a traditional Alternian breakfast food, but she had told you that eating those always felt wrong. On Alternia, one woke as night fell. Lususfruit and fairybat eggs were for eating when the sky was filled with stars, not as everything was awash with amber and white. You supposed that was sensible. You watched your wife as she brought the spoon to her lips. There was something horribly attractive in the way the searing heat did not affect her.

She took a first taste before thanking you.

KANAYA: Thank You Sweetheart
KANAYA: The Television Show You Enjoy Is On Now

She picked up the television remote and flicked through channels.

ROSE: Oh?

You could only stare into her features, absentmindedly taking a bite out of your toast. In the sunlight now, with something in your stomach, the sound of the television droning – the night before could finally be remembered. You watched her lips as she sipped her porridge. Lips that you had watched plant wet, spittled kisses on a robot horse's cock. The memories always needed to sit in the back of your mind in the morning. Facing them the moment you woke only left you overwhelmed. They needed to feel like a dream, so that you and Kanaya could remain the kindly gods who lived on Saint Lola's Road in grand, old Besgue. It was only in the dark, only where the world couldn't see, in your memory and in the moments alone with one another in a bedroom, or a closet, or a laboratory, that the ledger book of reality could remember what disgusting things you had done.

You thought of your own mouth. Your lips, and tongue. Was the taste of horse still there? Had you simply ceased noticing? If you planted a playful kiss on Jade's lips, would a quizzical look occur across her face? After a moment of silent thought, would she place that strange, salty taste as cock? Would she blush, not knowing how much more she would blush if she knew where it had come from? You were thankful to be a lesbian. There was nothing a straight man hated more than the taste of phallus on a woman's lips.

KANAYA: Rose
KANAYA: Are You Going To Watch

A soft voice was coming from the television. A historian on a documentary series. You took another bite of your toast.

ROSE: I am watching.
KANAYA: You Are Watching Me
KANAYA: Are You Thinking About Last Night
ROSE: Perhaps.
ROSE: One could hardly stand not to.
KANAYA: Do You Regret It
ROSE: Do you?
KANAYA: My Answer Depends on Yours

You smirked, and set down your toast to crawl towards your love like a tigress. Your mouth came up to her ear, and you whispered in a low, dark voice.

ROSE: Am I correct in assuming that means you enjoyed every moment of servicing a robot horse?

The night-black hair on the back of her neck rose up. Her face was frozen in an implaceable expression, like a woman in a renaissance painting. Kanaya's long eyelashes batted at you innocently. After what seemed like a long time, she spoke softly.

KANAYA: I Will Tell You After We Eat
ROSE: Of course, dear.

Your voice returned to its natural tone, and you returned to your toast.

The telephone rang, and you bounced across the room in your bare feet to silence it. You returned to Kanaya on the couch with the unit in your hands.

ROSE: This is Rose Maryam-Lalonde.
ROXY: heyyyy rose
ROXY: tell kanaya i said good morning!

You relayed the message faithfully, and quickly inquired.

ROSE: She waved.
ROSE: Is something the matter?
ROSE: You do not usually call at 8 AM.

A furtive glance over to Kanaya, communicating something with your eyes. Something in the vein of: I am happy to be the murderer in our murder-suicide, darling.

ROXY: its just smth weird
ROXY: i was looking at the labs security logs for last night
ROXY: yknow to make sure no one is snooping
ROXY: n i saw that your password was used to open one of the doors
ROXY: did u do that??

You took in a deep breath. Kanaya seemed frightened by your reaction. You wanted to whisper discreetly that if Roxy knew already that you had indulged in robot horse sex, she would mention it first, but the receivers in Unutheran domestic telephones were notoriously sensitive. Instead, you spoke in the imitation of calm.

ROSE: Yes.
ROXY: oh thank gog lol!
ROXY: i was worried someone broke in
ROXY: phew
ROXY: what were u doin neway??
ROXY: did you leave ur keys or smth
ROSE: No, it was Kanaya and I.
ROSE: I was showing Maplehoofbot to her.

It was best to be as honest as possible. Your mother had taught you that lesson.

ROXY: oh rly? :3
ROXY: what did mrs beautifangs think?

The gambit succeeded. It would be easier to woo her by complimenting her work and encouraging her flagrant attraction to your wife.

ROSE: She said it was…

You looked to Kanaya, only for her to shrug. You searched your mind. Alternian horses. Hoofbeasts, they were called. Did they raise children? You did not know. But you recalled one of the trolls Kanaya knew made robot horses as well. That would suffice.

ROSE: Very reminiscent of the ones Equius made.
ROSE: She was quite impressed.
ROXY: oh lol i remember him
ROXY: the dirk troll rite
ROXY: well tell her that maplehoof is way cooler!!
ROXY: those guys just made robots
ROXY: im in a whole different league
ROSE: What do you mean “just robots”?
ROXY: uh i mean they were just robots with some crappy ai thrown in
ROXY: instead of cyborgs
ROSE: What?
ROSE: Maplehoof is a robot as well.
ROXY: wait……..
ROXY: rose is that why you keep calling it maplehoofbot like a weirdo
ROXY: maplehoof isnt a robot, gurl!
ROSE: Roxy, what?
ROSE: What do you mean?

Your voice had grown more rabid, more animal. A thousand horrid, vague possibilities raced through your mind. They were all too indefinite to even consider rationally. Your mind latched on to the most immediate. Was it remote controlled? What if it had been a man controlling it, some boyfriend of Roxy's? If it Calliope, that would be more tolerable, though she, and soon your sister-mother-daughter, would know what degenerate things you had done in that room.

Cyborg. She said the word cyborg. Partly robotic, partly organic. Your tongue began to feel toxic in your mouth. Had the body been too lifelike? Too indistinguishable from flesh? But, it was too much like Maplehoof. It did not make sense…

Even with the pace of your thoughts, with blood rushing to your head so violently that you felt faint, your process of wild speculation could not complete before Roxy began to speak.

ROXY: i guess i forgot to mention it whoops
ROXY: ive been working on it for so long that it stopped being a big new thing for me
ROXY: neway yeah maplehoof isnt a robot
ROXY: its a cybernetic clone with maplehoofs real brain in it
ROXY: its actual scifi stuff!!

Your sense of hearing turned off entirely as Roxy said something about ectobiology and “brain in a jar”. The ringing began. You hadn't had sex with a robot. You hadn't had sex with an “oversized, realistic sex toy”. It was not Maplehoofbot. It was Maplehoof. The same Maplehoof your mother had given you for your 12th birthday. The same Maplehoof you had lain and cried with. The same Maplehoof that you had missed as a girl, lost in the Game.

You had let your childhood horse fuck you. Your childhood horse had groaned as it entered your gut. Everything span, as if the planet forgot to drag you along with it.

You did not know if it would have been better if it were the brain of a horse you had never known. You thought, perhaps, that some questions did not have answers. You knew, however, that one question had a firm and definite answer: Were you utterly and singularly disturbed?

Yes, for as a thick and suffocating shame bubbled up inside of you, something else burned alongside it. A dangerous curiosity. The faintest, smallest feeling of pride. It was the pride of Kanaya watching when you first had sex with another woman. It was the pride of at last being able to take her fist in your ass. It was the pride of letting Vriska practice her mind control on you, having you do things you would never otherwise do. It was the pride of losing your virginity, during that first time with Kanaya in that cramped little room on the meteor.

Your childhood horse had been inside you, and you had liked it. Even more, it had liked you. Maplehoof had fucked you into the ground like a mare, its nostrils filled with your scent, its soft fur against your back. Your every repressed girlhood fantasy had come true. What would your mother think? The heat began in your head, but after it passed through your throat and your lungs, it reached the small place below your stomach. Your favourite organs were tied in knots, almost to bursting.

ROXY: rose??
ROXY: roooooooooooose?

The sound of the world mixed in slowly with the ringing in your ears. You spoke grimly.

ROSE: Yes, Roxy?
ROXY: damn gurl i saidddd
ROXY: i looked on the security log and it said you were in there for hours
ROXY: what happened??
ROXY: you didnt fly on maplehoof rite
ROXY: u no thats dangerous
ROXY: it could mess up its servos
ROSE: No.
ROSE: We were simply…
ROSE: Examining Maplehoofbot.
ROSE: *Maplehoof.
ROSE: Closely.
ROXY: for 4 hours?
ROSE: It's a rather intricate machine.
ROXY: alrite lol
ROXY: well dont let me keep u :3
ROXY: me and cali have work to do
ROXY: baiiii
ROSE: Goodbye, Roxy.

You put the phone down. A question bubbled up in your hind brain. Whether to keep this from her, at least long enough for you to sneak away to the bedroom and rub yourself until every ounce of guilt had been redeemed for pleasure… No. Either you would masturbate together or not at all. Kanaya was your wife.

The End… Or Is It?

Your name was Roxy Lalonde, and you weren't an idiot. If the security log records an entry in the middle of the night, you review the security tapes first. Duh. It's dumb to waste time wondering if something happened when you can just check.

You put down your cellphone, and let yourself moan as loud as you needed in the empty laboratory. Your other hand worked deftly at your clit, legs spread and up on the desk. It was hard to hold it in the whole time, but you had lots of practice. It was your guilty pleasure, and no one but Calliope knew. At first, it was just with Dirk. Holding your mom's vibrator against your pussy while he went on and on about random things over Pesterchum. Typing with one hand while he was blissfully unaware. The thrill of it was electric. You'd missed it during the Game. Dirk was too busy and stressed for it not to feel really wrong then. But on Unuther, when you were all safe again, the urges returned. There was no Pesterchum now, but doing it over the phone was even better. A vibrator was too loud, so you had to use your hand. Hiding the sound of your slick, and holding back your moans. You made a game of it. Rubbing and fingering yourself and drawing out the call for as long as possible without stopping. If you kept on doing it, eventually you would cum just from hearing the end-of-call sound. Cali hoped so, at least.

It had taken long midnight conversations with her about cultural mores and the meaning of ethics, for you to feel comfortable doing it while calling Rose. You'd masturbated while thinking about your mom since you were a kid. That didn't count as incest. It was just a fantasy. And when you called Rose, and rubbed yourself through your panties, you weren't touching her. It was fine, as long as she didn't know. And that was all you did the first time. No edging, no holding back your moans; just that light sensation. It was only later that you became daring. She began to ask what that noise was? and if you were eating something? It must just be a bad signal, you told her. With Rose, the thrill was magnified. If she caught you, she wouldn't just know you were a slut addicted to touching yourself. You were an incest-addicted slut who fingerfucked herself to the sound of her sister's voice. It excited you to know that some part of her would want to study your brain.

But today was different. You didn't cum your brains out over the floor the moment you hung up. You still had four hours of tape to watch. You let your free fingers wander down to your pussy and slip inside while you watched your Maplehoof – Rose's horse, your creation – fuck her ass like an animal. This was only your fourth time seeing Rose fully naked, and you were already so spoiled. Every part of her was just like yours. Every curve, every inch, every hole. The two of you could interlock.

You took your hand off of your throbbing clit for just long enough to zoom in on the picture. Your sister's ass opened like it was made to take horse cock. You wondered, your brain very far away from you now, your skull filled with nothing but pussy, if Rose's mom ever looked at her and wondered the same thing. It was only then that you couldn't hold back anymore. A wave like a shot from a gun forced itself through your entire body. Convulsion after convulsion twisted you into more and more strained and aching shapes. Your legs crossed involuntarily as if to hide just how wet and swollen you were below, all from the thought of your mother-sister-whatever.

When you came to, startled by the sound of your own ragged breathing, your own squirt dripped from the desk and slid down the monitor in long streaks. Calliope stood behind you in the reflection. She closed the viewfinder on the camcorder she held, and tussled your hair with her clawed hand.

CALLIOPE: do yoU think we have enoUgh footage for jUne's birthday?

You gathered together every last bit of energy you had to respond.

ROXY: cali….
ROXY: if we do anything more extreme
ROXY: i might cum so hard i die :(
CALLIOPE: what a wonderfUl idea! ^u^