Princess Celestia Haigure

Princess Celestia beamed at her subjects. A crowd of ponies of all colors and shapes, of myriad dreams and desires, of everything that makes a pony a pony, they all stood before her just as proud of being citizens of her beloved Equestria as she was proud of being its princess.

Or, no, that wasn’t quite the right terminology anymore.

Governess.

Yes, that was the right word. A much more suitable one, all things told. Yes, she was the ruling Governess of world P-3NY. The designation and her new position were both gifts of the great Lord Haigure, he who had converted their entire planet and all its beings into loyal Haigure soldiers.

Speaking of, it was about time for her to give her daily address. Celestia lifted herself off her throne and stood with the measured grace of one used to being in such a position. Indeed, she had performed just such a motion countless times before. A notable difference, however, was her form of attire. Instead of her flowing robes, she instead wore a skin-tight leotard.

The white leotard clung to her figure so snugly that nothing was left to the imagination. No pony in the audience need guess at the not-so-hidden bounty that lay beneath. No, they could all see her gigantic bosom. When Lord Haigure had converted her to being his loyal minion, he also modeled her body as he so desired. ‘Great white funbags,’ if Governess Celestia recalled correctly, was the term he had used to refer to her newly engorged breasts.

Her tits (she was still trying to get used to referring to them by more vulgar terminology) were also constantly lactating. Any normal woman would have run dry ages ago, or never even started unless they were pregnant. Not so for Celestia. No, the magic that Lord Haigure had used to convert her had also converted her very magic into a constant wellspring of milk. What need did she have to fly or move the sun, when she could instead have her tits be ready at all times for the Lord Haigure to suck on if he ever deigned to visit her planet?

It did make things a bit messy, but that’s what the maids were for after all. She spied a couple of them waiting on the sides of the throne room, dressed in their own leotards. Black ones with lovely frills. Governess Celestia recalled meeting with each and every one of them when they were hired and welcoming them to her abode. Unlike some of her more troublesome nobles, she treated her staff like family, just as she treated every pony in her lands. Now though they were family of a different kind. Why, just the other night, she had taken fair Spank Bottom to her bed. Even now she could taste the young lady’s nectar on her tongue.

While the Lord Haigure was absent, he enjoyed having his converted soldiers pleasure each other. Living as a Haigure soldier was no arduous task. Instead it was dedicating one’s self to a life of love, for fellow mare and the Lord Haigure. From the very first moment his conversion beam had struck her, Celestia had known his, had it etched into her innermost being.

She closed her eyes and mediated on this truth for a moment before opening them again. She had navel-gazed enough and her poor subjects were waiting ever so patiently. Time to begin the address in earnest.

She began as she always did, announcing clear and succinctly, “Haigure.” As she spoke, she began to piston her arms up and down, pointing at her crotch. The crowd, attentive, nodded at her sage words. Seeing them receptive, she continued. “Haigure haigure, haigure, haigure haigure haigure.”

With each utterance her motions become more rapid, more earnest. Here she demonstrated her faithfulness to the Lord Haigure. She extolled the virtues of his limitless power, his endless love. Her ever-leaking tits, sensing her excitement, began to spray faster and harder, drenching her outfit and pooling to the floor below.

“Haigure… haigure haigure.” She spoke about how all were equal under his banner. That even though she ruled as governess, she was a servant all the same. That she had no will outside of Lord Haigure’s. That if she could abandon her post, if it was no longer necessary to devote herself to maintaining the administrative structure that kept this resource world running (and providing both the slaves and goods that the Lord Haigure’s stellar empire required), then she would love nothing more than to live as the common folk did. To work through the day and then, needing no other hobby, fuck other Haigure soldiers to pass the time. But she was a true servant and so like all other true servants, she would continue to serve.

The assembled ponies applauded her speech, chants of “Haigure” ringing through the crowded throne room. It was customary, but it was also heartening. Sometimes, in the dark of night, when the sun has set and her thoughts crept in upon themselves, she would feel the tiniest sliver of a worry that something was wrong about this, that she shouldn’t be a Haigure soldier and that she should be assisting the rebels in overthrowing Lord Haigure. Any such doubts, however, were always squashed by this joyous harmony with which they together greeted the new day.

“Haigure,” she moaned. “Haigure haigure.” But today was special. In a wonderful way of its own. “Haigure haigure haigure.” Instead of ending her speech there and retreating to her office to toil away with paperwork (though toil was a harsh word when every act of service was pleasurable in its own way, and not to mention the fact that she had a maid eating her out at all times), today there was another task before her. “Haigure.” She motioned for her guards.

A moment later, the prisoner was brought in. Celestia was loathe to admit it, but the face before her was not one that was familiar to her. She would love it if she could remember each and every pony in her lands but she was not omniscient. As such, all she knew of the prisoner was that which the reports had documented of her. Green of coat, blue of mane, with a Cutie Mark of a house. Used to work as an interior designer prior to the invasion. An ordinary mare, no insult intended, turned to unordinary pursuits.

Celestia greeted the mare. “Haigure.”

“Oh shut it,” snarled Bonne Hearth, her voice dripping with disdain. “Not like I can understand anyways.” Or perhaps it wasn’t disdain, but rather resignation.

“Haigure,” Celestia agreed. Not to the shutting up part, for how could she bear to not speak the words her Lord Haigure had gifted her? But rather the knowledge of the inevitable. The captured mare and Celestia both knew there was no escape. “Haigure haigure haigure. Haigure haigure.” Where they differed, however, was on whether that was a good thing or not.

“Yeah? Well fuck yourself too.” Oh, she was one of those kind of mares. Well, Celestia could certainly find a better use for such a dirty tongue. The mare, seeing her fate in Celestia’s eyes, shuddered. “Can’t even have the good grace to get it over with, can you? Just have to rub it in.”

Celestia pistoned her hands in the Haigure pose, gesturing assertively that this was no cruel punishment. “Haigure,” she said, highlighting that any delay served a good purpose. Indeed, she motioned to a pony on the other side of the room. A mare with a videocamera for a Cutie Mark. The mare, one Porn Grapher, was recording the proceedings. These sentences were distributed far and wide so that every pony might enjoy second-hand seeing the Lord Haigure’s will enacted, and on rare occasion, the tapes were requested by members of the Lord Haigure’s interstellar soldiers and once even by the Lord Haigure himself.

“Still don’t know what you’re saying,” Bonne Hearth muttered under her breath, mostly to herself at this point, seeing that the still posing Celestia was not inclined to listen more than superficially.

Celestia nodded. It was true that the lovely mare was bereft of the true language, but that was easy enough to rectify. The Governess took out her Haigure raygun (a tool provided to her after conversion, and by now well-worn with use) and pointed it at the green-hued mare.

“Haigure?” she asked. It was only fair to let the accused have one final say.

Bonne Hearth eyed the gun pointed at her. Celestia often wondered at what went on in the rebels’ heads, what possessed them to defy the Lord Haigure’s authority, and at moments like these, what they were thinking of their soon to be fate. The mare declined to answer her thoughts, instead remaining silent like the grave.

“Haigure.” Celestia nodded, and then pulled the trigger. A bright beam shot out of the gun and enveloped Bonne Hearth in a blinding flash of light. Almost before the brain could process what had happened, the light disappeared and in Bonne Hearth’s place stood a transformed mare. Gone were the tattered brown rags of a **** rebel. In their place was a pristine latex leotard, orange to offset her lovely emerald coat. It clung to her fur as tightly as Celestia’s own did, showing off the beauty that had been so tarnished with rebellion and now polished to perfection with obedience.

An obedience that was on swift display, as Bonne Hearth recited her mantra. “Haigure.” I am Lord Haigure’s soldier. “Haigure.” I serve the Haigure army and Lord Haigure. “Haigure.” My body and my mind are Lord Haigure’s to do with as he pleases. “Haigure.” I will never betray the Lord Haigure. To my dying breath, I am his.

Bonne Hearth pistoned her hands against her now barely covered crotch. Celestia could see that the mare’s cunt glistened with the joy of servitude, primed to gush at the slightest push. The only thing that held her back was the freshness of her conversion, the brief uncertainty as she adapted to her new world. Celestia had felt that herself once, and seen it plenty of times since her own conversion. Best to help the mare along.

She glided down from the slightly elevated throne and alighted before the mare. “Haigure, haigure haigure.”

“Haigure, haigure!” Oh, ever so eager this one. Celestia nodded, and before she could get in a Haigure of her own, Bonne Hearth’s head was in between the Governess’ legs. What the mare lacked in experience, she made up for with eagerness, pressing her tongue against Celestia’s latex covered marehood. And oh was there any better feeling than having one’s own uniform pressed into one’s cunt by a newly converted minion? Celestia doubted it.

“Haigure,” grunted Bonne Hearth, her statement somewhat muffled by having her face stuffed full of Celestia’s mound. It was clear enough though that the mare was expressing how good the Governess tasted, how she was so happy to be munching carpet for their Lord. Celestia patted her head, and then moved her hand further around to the back of the mares head. With a forceful push, she sent the mare’s delightful little tongue deeper inside.

As she enjoyed the fruits of her labors, she continued where she had left off, turning to face the crowd once more. “Haigure, haigure haigure.” While this was a happy day, the truth was that the rebellion still had plenty of members left, and while even one remained unconverted there would be no rest for the righteous. Indeed, it was the duty and pleasure of all those gathered to best administrate their own holdings if they so had them to better devote themselves to the task of uncovering the locations of the dissidents. And if they were a functionary or guard or even a simple farmer, then it was their job to work with the appropriate agents and report anything that was suspicious.

A brief glimmer of a purple coated mare surfaced in her mind. That smiling, adoring face turned into most grievous pain and pity. For now the memory of her student brought her pain, but this too would pass. When her most faithful student knew the love of Haigure, when she spoke his words and posed for him like her mentor did, then and only then will Celestia let herself rest. Until then, well, as the mare between her legs so artfully puts it whenever she has a second to catch her breath.

“Haigure.”