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"https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5751/5751930_RupertBlueFox_ch_3_-_97.jpg", "thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5751/5751930_RupertBlueFox_ch_3_-_97.jpg", "thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5751/5751930_RupertBlueFox_ch_3_-_97.jpg", "thumb_huge_x": "300", "thumb_huge_y": "120", "thumb_large_x": "200", "thumb_large_y": "80", "thumb_medium_x": "120", "thumb_medium_y": "48" } ], "pools": [], "description": "Once, an ancient curse has plagued the dragons of Equestria. Now that it has returned, the dragons are... shall we say... very horny. BUT... there is NO outlet at all for that horny-ness! What can Spike, Ember, Smolder and the others do about this? How will they fare having only smooth scales where anatomy should be? Stick around and find out! Expect lots of surprises, belly and crotch play, and other weird stuffs!\n\n-----\n\n[url=https://inkbunny.net/s/3720703]First[/url] ~ [url=https://inkbunny.net/s/3725052]PREV[/url] ~ NEXT\n\nMORE players are about to explore what it means for a dragon friend, or multiple, to make SOMETHING out of NOTHING.\nAnd a NEW \"contender\" enters the chat. What will be his/her role in this story? Stay tuned for more!\n\n----\n\n[b]Critiques are always welcome![/b]\n\nšŸ’„ ALSO, don't forget to check out my OTHER dragon-focused story: https://www.fimfiction.net/story/583359/gelatin-jiggle-a-spike-story", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Once, an ancient curse has plagued the dragons of Equestria. Now that it has returned, the dragons are... shall we say... very horny. BUT... there is NO outlet at all for that horny-ness! What can Spike, Ember, Smolder and the others do about this? How will they fare having only smooth scales where anatomy should be? Stick around and find out! Expect lots of surprises, belly and crotch play, and other weird stuffs!

-----

First ~ PREV ~ NEXT

MORE players are about to explore what it means for a dragon friend, or multiple, to make SOMETHING out of NOTHING.
And a NEW "contender" enters the chat. What will be his/her role in this story? Stay tuned for more!

----

Critiques are always welcome!

šŸ’„ ALSO, don't forget to check out my OTHER dragon-focused story: https://www.fimfiction.net/story/583359/gelatin-jiggle-...", "writing": "[b]\"Dragonslick:\nThe Smooth Curse\"[/b]\n\nWritten by Rupert Chubby Fawks\n\n[color=#ef2929]Disclaimer: all characters presented in this story are of legal age. The following are present throughout: tummylingus, groping, humping, fingering, grinding, featureless crotch sex, orgasm denial, primal urges, and strong language.[/color]\n\n-------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n[b]Chapter 3: The Convergence of Heat and Scales[/b]\n\nWord spread quickly. \n\nWhat began as Spike's embarrassing smoothie spill incident turned into Ponyville's biggest ``scandal''. Everyone had questions. Fluttershy, despite being one of the quieter ponies, became an expert after she confessed to ``cleaning the dragon's underside with her lips.'' The local spa started offering \"Dragon Belly Steams\" and ``Null Stimulation Massage Therapy,'' and suddenly, everyone wanted to try them out. \n\nEven Twilight, ever curious, scribbled in her journals about it: \n\n``Why does touching the groin cause no orgasm but multiple reports of euphoric synesthesia? \n\nNote: Spike began crying when kissed above the tail cleft. Is this a stress reaction or something deeper? \n\nSmolder described it as `belly-fuckin' blueball hell,' but smiled fondly. Conflicting signals. Explore further.''\n\nIt was a lazy afternoon at the School of Friendship, a day so hot that the fountains were louder than the students, and even the breeze seemed to be sleeping. \n\nSmolder had settled into her usual spot beside the fountain, her tail hanging in the water. The sun gleamed off her slick yellow underbelly like molten bronze. She relaxed, enjoying the warmth, completely unbothered by her exposed form. \n\nYona the yak, with her thick wool, shiny horns, and sturdy hooves, lumbered by with Silverstream the hippogriff, whose pink feathers and endless energy made her talons click as she skipped. Both stopped in their tracks when they saw Smolder lounging half-naked in the grass. \n\nSmolder grinned, propping herself on her elbows. ``Hey girls! Want to see something weird and kinda amazing?'' Before they could ask, she pulled her loincloth aside, letting it drop into the grass. Her thighs parted, exposing smooth, gleaming scales. \n\nThe others gasped. \n\nThere was nothing there. No slit, no sheath, not even a hint of what dragons were expected to have. Just firm, flawless scales shining with warmth. It was shocking in its absence, revealing raw power through denial of form. \n\nSilverstream blinked, fluffing her feathers. ``Wait - that's it?'' \n\nSmolder nodded seriously, though a mischievous smile tugged at her lips. She dragged a claw down her groin, pressing between her thighs with a sigh. ``This is all we get. All the heat, none of the goods.'' \n\nYona stomped once, sniffing the air. ``Looks warm. Soft?'' \n\nSmolder smirked, her eyes half-closed. ``Like hugging a heated river stone. But twitchier. Nuzzle it, and I will start grinding.'' \n\nSilverstream's beak opened, her cheeks turning bright pink. ``C-can I... can I try... a kiss?'' \n\n``Of course you can, fishbutt.'' \n\nSilverstream rushed forward, pressing her beak's soft inner curve against the heated scales. A wet kiss, tender and silly, made Smolder jolt as if lightning struck her spine. Her claws dug into the grass. \n\n``Yyyyyyesssshhhffhhhhh... fuuuuckin' YES...'' \n\nSilverstream pulled back, eyes wide, talons shaking. ``Oh wow. It... it moved.'' \n\nSmolder panted, her chest rising, thighs trembling. ``I spasm there. Every time. That?s where my nonexistent junk wants to be.'' \n\nAt that very moment, two more figures entered the courtyard. Sandbar the earth pony, with his beachy mane and friendly smile, walked alongside Gallus the griffon, who had curious blue feathers. They stopped just in time to see Yona lower her horns and headbutt Smolder's pelvis. \n\n``WHOA - !! AAAHHHHHNNNNghffhh!!'' Smolder's body shot off the ground, her yelp echoing around the fountain. \n\nGallus blinked, his eyes darting from Yona's horns to Smolder's twitching belly. ``Okay. What in Equestria did we just walk into?'' \n\nSmolder managed to prop herself up on her elbows again, her eyes glassy and her grin wild. ``Dragon nullplay. Want to help worship the altar of my sexless misery?'' \n\nGallus's beak snapped shut. Then he and Sandbar shared a glance, grinning at the same time. \n\n``...Yeah,'' Gallus said, his feathers ruffling with excitement. ``We're in.'' \n\nAs if on cue, Ocellus the changeling moved closer from the shade of a tree. She blushed brightly but looked curious, clearly eager to see what her friends were about to do. \n\nBack in Friendship Castle, Spike lay belly-up again, surrounded by his ``volunteers.'' \n\nTwilight wanted to observe ``emotional belly-to-muzzle rituals'' as a way to foster empathy among cultures - or that's what she called it. In truth, she merely wanted an excuse to gaze at Spike's twitching belly scales while taking notes, her hoof halfway between her thighs. Rarity had created a custom silk blindfold for ``sensory enhancement,'' adorned with lace and tinted with amethyst shimmer. Pinkie Pie brought her assortment of ``party oils'' - colorful chaos in glass bottles, each named after a different type of giggle. Applejack, who initially complained about ``control groups'' and ``honest contact,'' quickly buried her muzzle in Spike's belly scales, kneading his sides like she was making bread. \n\nSpike moaned. \n\n``Oh Celestia, that's the spot - right under the navel - hhhnnnnfffghh - !!'' \n\nHis tail jerked with every pulse. His thighs twitched in empty space. \n\nTwilight's quill wrote furiously. \n\n``Pinkie, now try kisses in a `V' pattern leading to the groin. Document arousal markers in order, especially around the median scale line.'' \n\nPinkie saluted like she was heading into battle and leaned in, her muzzle buzzing with stifled giggles. She started at the lowest rib, planting a soft, exaggerated kiss that made Spike jump, then went lower. Left. Right. Then lower still. Her mouth painted a ``V'' shape with wet little pecks that led straight to the center of his smooth, exposed groin. \n\nEach kiss made his body lurch. By the time her lips reached the lowest point, just above that seamless connection to his tail, Spike was practically humping the air. \n\n``Mmmfffh - P-Pinkie - y-you're gonna make me - nnnhhhhg - '' \n\n``Shhh,'' Pinkie whispered, licking her lips. ``I'm counting.'' \n\nFluttershy cooed from the sidelines, her hooves together under her chin. ``You're such a good boy, letting us play with your smooth little spot like this. Look at you... all shiny and flinchy...'' \n\nSpike whimpered, a sound caught between pride and pain. Through his moans, he protested, ``I'm... hnnnn... n-not... a.... hahhhh.... nnnnpfff... b-boy.... mmmpff.... boy anymore...!'' \n\nRarity had naturally strayed from the plan. She had spread glittering body powder over every inch of his torso, rubbing it in with soft, circular motions, leaving him shimmering from chest to tail. \n\n``Darling,'' she sighed, brushing her nose down his chest, ``you're radiant. That shine - mmmh, now this, this is what real high fashion has been missing...'' \n\nShe kissed just below his tailbone, lingering, letting her lips part and flick her tongue at the crease of his lower back, then bit him just hard enough to make him squeal. \n\n``Ohhhhhhh fuck - !'' \n\nThe sound echoed off the crystal walls. \n\nTwilight, who was taking hurried notes about ``neurological belly-twitch clusters,'' froze. Then, without a word, she set her clipboard aside, gently levitating it to the nearest table. \n\n``I'm joining,'' she declared. \n\nNo one stopped her. \n\nShe walked forward slowly and carefully, as if performing a sacred ritual. Her muzzle dipped low. Her tongue flicked out, and with scientific precision, she licked the very base of Spike's belly, right at the faint line where belly met tail. \n\nSpike spasmed. \n\n``Twilight - Twilighttwilighttwilight - hhhnnnghhhhh - '' \n\nShe hummed; her mouth still pressed against his smooth skin. \n\n``Fascinating,'' she murmured. ``The tremor response is localized...'' \n\nThen she sucked. \n\nNot hard - just enough to create a warm seal while her tongue massaged the incredibly sensitive seam of his groin. Spike thrashed. \n\nPinkie wrapped her hooves around one leg and nuzzled the inner thigh. \n\nApplejack gently nosed Spike's belly as if she were scenting a ripe apple in bloom. \n\nFluttershy moved to his chest, cradling his head in her lap and stroking his frills softly. ``You're doing so well, sweetheart... just let it happen. Let us love your belly: your soft, warm, perfect little nothing.'' \n\n``It's not little - !'' Spike gasped, tail thrashing. ``It's - it's ALL I GOT - '' \n\n``Exactly,'' Rarity said, her voice smooth. ``Which makes it precious.'' \n\nAnd they devoured him. \n\nEvery kiss landed lower. \n\nEvery muzzle pressed in closer. \n\nNo penetration. No conclusion. Just that overwhelming heat, tingling with oil, spit, and powder, mouths treating nothing as if it were the most sacred treasure in the world. \n\nTwilight's tongue moved in slow circles. \n\nPinkie licked along one thigh, then the other. \n\nRarity explored the faint scales near the tail base, making soft noises of delight. \n\nSpike broke. \n\nHis back arched off the table, his smooth groin flexing against their mouths, and his entire body went taut like a drawn bow. No orgasm. No release. Just endless tension and sensation crashing down in waves. \n\nHe whimpered. \n\nTears trickled from the corners of his eyes. \n\n``Th-thank you...'' he whispered. \n\nFluttershy kissed his forehead. \n\n``You're welcome,'' she said softly. ``We love every inch of you.'' \n\nMeanwhile, far away in the Dragon Lands, Garble, the hothead, stood at the entrance of a fire cave, arms crossed, head tilted, and eye twitching. \n\n``So, what, we all just get in a circle and hump the air?'' \n\nBallista, one of the dragonesses across from him, rolled her eyes while adjusting a glittery leather strap she'd looped around her hips for style. ``No, you just grind on your neighbor's smooth crotch. Respectfully.'' \n\n``Right, real respectful gangbang,'' he muttered. \n\nThey stepped inside. \n\nThe cave shimmered with heat. Lava pits bubbled in the distance, casting an orange glow across the smooth basalt floor. The air was thick with smoke, pheromones, and lavender oil. A carved stone circle - ritual space? orgy pit? - sat at the center, surrounded by groaning, writhing dragon bodies. Some were large, some petite, some towering matriarchs with armored scales who flaunted their featureless groins with pride. Others were soft-bellied cave-dwellers lazily humping whatever warm patch of scale they could find. \n\nAbout twelve dragons, males and females of various sizes, stood in pairs or trios. Several were moaning. Others nuzzled or licked each other's bellies in rhythmic motions. One dragoness had her foot grinding against another's glistening crotch, claws curled tightly as she chanted some throaty litany about ``null purity.'' Every groin was the same: smooth, blank, twitching under mouths, claws, and bellies. \n\nGarble blinked. \n\nA lavender-scaled dragoness was mounted on a big green dragon, her hips rocking, tail curled around his neck, both panting like animals in heat. But when Garble squinted, he saw no shaft, no slit, no entry. Just two sweaty, twitching bodies bumping against each other. ``Okay...'' he mumbled. ``Maybe it is something.'' \n\nHe stepped into the circle. \n\nA lean, blue-scaled male named Rift stood nearby. They nodded. No words. Pure dragon etiquette: mutual grind permission granted. \n\nBut before Garble could close the distance, Ballista stepped in, grinning. \n\n``I saw him first,'' she said, flicking her tail at Rift. \n\n``Oh? You volunteering?'' \n\n``I always volunteer. Now shut up and touch me.'' \n\nAnd just like that, her claws were on his waist. \n\nBallista pressed in. Their hips met - belly to belly, groin to groin - and Garble gasped. \n\n``Oh Ancestors! It's like a hot soup bowl on my dick that isn't there!'' \n\nBallista chuckled, low and breathy. ``You're welcome.'' \n\nThey began rutting. \n\nIt was messy. It was primal. It was pointless but glorious - crotch to crotch, seamless, perfect contact, hot scales sliding against each other. Her hips rotated. His flexed. Their smooth groins mashed together like puzzle pieces that didn't exist. \n\nThey made wet sounds. \n\nSchlickhh - schhlickhh - \"nnnfhh - aaaahhh!``\n\nHer claws dug into his shoulders as she ground harder, the seam of her pelvis pushing into his with rhythmic pressure. Garble growled, panting, his whole belly flexing with effort. \n\nAround them, chaos bloomed. \n\nOne dragoness mounted a ridge-backed female, rubbing their bellies together while both panted into each other's necks. Another trio formed a chain - each dragon humping the next in a loop, every motion fruitless but fervent. \n\nSomeone shouted, ``TOUCH MY VOID!'' \n\nAnother, voice cracking, moaned, ``I WANNA BE FILLED WITH NOTHING!'' \n\nBallista grabbed Garble's ears, pulled him down, and bit the top of his snout. ``Tell me I'm tight, Garbsy.'' \n\n``Y-you're - fuck - your nothing's so tight!'' \n\nHe lost it, not in a climax but in a full-body quake. His thighs buckled. His claws scrabbled at her hips. He drove into her groin over and over like he could push through that seamless wall of flesh if he humped hard enough. \n\nThey collapsed together, panting. \n\nMore dragons spilled in. The circle doubled, then tripled. Bodies glistened with sweat and ash. Mouths suckled hips. Tails coiled around ankles. Even the ``older'' dragons came - slightly older than Garble's age group - stoic adults with gleaming bellies, eyes closed as they ground lovingly into their chosen partner's smooth groove. \n\nOne dragon chanted, ``From fire we came - blank, wet, undone!'' \n\nAnother followed, ``From heat we breed - without a hole, without a need!'' \n\nA wave of groaning, tongue-flicking affirmation followed. \n\nBallista cuddled into Garble's side, surprisingly gentle. Her tail slid under his, and her snout nuzzled his chest. \n\n``You're kinda cute when you're blank and sweaty,'' she said, licking his neck. \n\nHe didn't even fight it. \n\n``...Don't tell anyone, ``He muttered, stroking the smoothness of her belly with his palm. ``But that was the best nothing I've ever fucked.'' \n\n``Damn right,'' she grinned. \n\nAnd around them, the void worship continued - seamless, senseless, absurd. Perfect. \n\nBack in Ponyville, the rituals didn?t just become popular; they took over. \"Smooth Nights\" turned into a weekly event at the Friendship School?s gym, co-hosted by Ocellus and Silverstream. Sandbar handled logistics, while Yona managed the crowd (\"NO RUSH. ALL DRAGONS GET GROIN KISSES. BE PATIENT.\"). Tables were replaced with soft mats, lanterns hung from the rafters, and a playlist of rhythmic wingbeats and soft humming set the atmosphere.\n\nEach event kicked off with a welcome chant led by a blindfolded student: \n\n``Belly soft, groin divine, we kiss your scales, we drink your shine, no cock, no cunt, no slit, no seed, just aching hunger, longing need...'' \n\nIt was part joke, part ritual, and completely addictive. New activities appeared at an alarming rate.\n\n``Guess That Crotch'' featured a velvet curtain partition with cutouts just big enough for a blank groin to poke through - glistening, warm, twitching. Contestants were blindfolded and encouraged to ``kiss with heart, not sight,'' then guess which classmate's smooth body they had just nuzzled. Sandbar accidentally guessed Gallus twice. ``I knew that wasn't Yona,'' he murmured, licking his lips. ``Too lemony.'' \n\nPoints were awarded for enthusiasm and style. A scoreboard appeared: ``Top Belly-Worshipper: Week 3 - Silverstream (48 kisses, 7 groin nuzzles, 1 tongue poem).'' But the real craze? Belly altars. \n\nStudents started creating soft ``worship nests'' in gym corners, each with pillows, candles, and a dragon lying belly-up, offering their smooth torsos like sacred relics. Smolder tried to stay away. At first. But her itch was persistent. She held out until Week 2 before giving in. \n\n``FINE,'' she barked, throwing herself back onto the nearest nest. ``Ruin me.'' Silverstream squealed and dove in, immediately latched onto her belly with both hooves. \n\n``Belly first,'' Ocellus gently reminded, floating down with a bowl of warm vanilla-scented oil. ``Groin second. Ceremony matters.'' ``I'm dying,'' Smolder growled, claws in her face. Yona rubbed her flanks firmly. ``Good dragons breathe. Good dragons moan.'' \n\nGallus leaned in slowly, his eyes on hers, and whispered, ``Thirty's a nice round number.'' She blushed. ``Make it count.'' Then he kissed her. Lower. Again. His beak brushed her blank groin as if it belonged there, as if her nothingness was something sacred. \n\nAnd she wailed. ``GhhAAAAHHh - YESSS! FUCK! Ohhmytail - !'' She slammed back against the cushions. Her belly flexed. Her thighs clamped around his head. Her tail twitched and knocked over Ocellus's oil bowl. She lay panting, belly rising and falling, lips slack. \n\n``...Thirty,'' Gallus confirmed, smirking. \n\n``Not even noon yet,'' Silverstream chirped, already reaching for more oil. ``Think you'll hit fifty?'' \n\n``Don't tempt me,'' Smolder groaned. \n\nSomewhere else, Spike was being carried through town again, stretched across a silk sheet, lifted by six eager students - two on each end, one under his tail for support. His belly gleamed with layered powders, glosses, and sweat. His groin shone like a sacred stone. Every time they reached a corner, somepony kissed it. \n\n``Crosswalk smooch!'' Sandbar called. kiss! \n\n``Mid-block forehead kiss!'' Gallus added. kiss! \n\n``Emergency belly nibble!'' Silverstream shrieked, diving in. Spike just lay there, eyes glazed, softly whispering, ``This is fine... This is fine... This is probably illegal somewhere...'' \n\nSmolder, having caught her breath, walked up beside them, hips swaying, a smug tilt to her muzzle. ``You get used to it,'' she said, winking. Then she turned to Gallus and pointed at her pelvis. ``...Thirty-one. Let's go.'' \n\nAnd beneath the midday sun, surrounded by giggling friends and bold rituals, the altar of the smooth belly reigned supreme.\n\nDeep within the School of Friendship, far below the bright classrooms and cheerful banners, Starlight Glimmer wandered into the vault where nopony ever spoke of. Dust clung to the shelves like a second skin, cobwebs stretched across forgotten books, and the silence pressed heavily. \n\nShe had only come to drop off a stack of overdue changeling philosophy books, but as she slid them back into place, her aura caught on something hidden behind the row. A brittle parchment roll slipped free. Its edges were singed black; its surface cracked like dragon scale too long in the sun. Starlight?s breath caught as she unrolled it, revealing two surviving lines, written in faded draconic script: \n\n``When fire and heart rise together beneath the silver flame - '' \n\nAnd... \n\n``The hole is not where it was, but where it will be - '' \n\nHer brow furrowed. She whispered the words aloud, the sounds strange and heavy on her tongue. Nothing happened. No sparks, no magic, just her voice echoing in the quiet. Starlight rolled the parchment back up, frowning. ``...What in Equestria does that even mean?'' \n\nYet, as she tucked the scroll under her foreleg, the words lingered in her mind, circling like embers waiting for a spark. And at the instant the words left her mouth, echoing in the forgotten vault... something happened.\n\nHalf a world away, in the Dragon Lands, every dragon - mid-conversation, mid-flight, or mid-snack - suddenly froze. Garble was boasting about how he could out-benchpress boulders twice his size when his eyes bulged. ``HhhHhhNNNGGHh - !!'' he wheezed, claws flying to his groin. Around him, dozens of dragons staggered, groaning. Every set of legs clenched, every tail stiffened. An entire nation of dragons looked like they'd just been zapped in the junk with lightning.\n\n``WHAT THE FUCK - ?!'' someone shouted. \n\n``My crotch - my crotch is THUMPING!'' screeched another. \n\nIndeed, every dragon's lower belly pulsed like a drumbeat. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Dozens of eyes widened, claws fumbling at scales, wings twitching. For the first time in centuries, they wondered - could it be?! But then, just as suddenly as it started, the pulsing stopped. \n\nThe courtyard fell silent. Everydragon looked down slowly. Blank, smooth, and totally, devastatingly featureless. A wave of groans echoed through the volcanic cliffs. One dragon flopped onto his back, wailing at the sky. Another kicked a rock angrily into the ocean. Someone else muttered, ``Damn it, I thought my dick was respawning.'' \n\nGarble clutched his tail, scowling as if the universe had just played the meanest joke ever. ``What kind of sick tease was THAT?!'' Everydragon grumbled and shuffled, still rubbing their bellies, thoroughly disappointed. \n\nAnd deep within the School of Friendship, Starlight Glimmer had no idea she had just blue-balled an entire species... for a brief moment, anyway.\n\nAnd so, the age of Nullplay didn't just continue; it thrived. Moans echoed from dorms to lecture halls. The Friendship Gym hung a permanent banner: ``PLEASE REMOVE BLINDFOLDS BEFORE EXITING.'' Belly gloss became a form of currency. Thigh oil created its own student-run economy. There were rumors that Canterlot boutiques were fighting over distribution rights for ``Smoothspot Shine No. 5.'' Tail-twitch clinics opened. Temple bells rang every time a dragon's groin got kissed in public - which meant the bells never stopped.\n\nAt this point, worshipping featureless crotches wasn't a trend anymore. It had become a lifestyle. At the juice bar, Spike now ordered his mango-passion blends with ``extra pulp and a shot of lavender kiss'' while someone rubbed circles into his belly as he sipped. He had a loyalty card for the ``Belly Altar Spa'' - one more visit, and he'd unlock the deluxe double-muzzle worship package. Rarity called him her ``glorious blank masterpiece,'' and his nightly schedule filled faster than the orgy sign-up sheet. \n\nSmolder, meanwhile, was no longer just a participant. She had risen to icon status. The ``High Priestess of Null Heat,'' a resident smooth-idol and a Goddess of Groin-less Writhing. Silverstream made her a sash that read: ``PLEASE TOUCH MY VOID (respectfully).'' She wore it proudly, even during exams. She even had worship hours. \n\nAt least once a week, right in the middle of class, she would let out an exasperated sigh, mutter ``I swear it's twitching,'' and shove Gallus face-first into her lap while the teacher quietly adjusted the lesson plan. Ocellus wrote new worship chants in four-part harmony. Yona choreographed the daily belly salute. Sandbar attempted to start a Null Philosophy club and had to be rescued from his own spiral of ``If nothing exists, is it absence or presence?'' \n\nAnd deep beneath it all, beneath the smooth bellies, the blessed blanks, and the glow of dragon heat... something ancient shifted. The magic that took their holes. The magic that might return them. Not gone, not erased, just... sleeping. Waiting for heat, or love, or that one scroll Twilight still hadn't translated because it made her ``too flustered.'' Waiting beneath the silver flame. Waiting for something more. But not tonight. Tonight was ``Smooth Night.'' \n\nAnd in a small, moan-filled corner of the school - lit by candlelight, echoing with slaps and slick - Smolder was still moving, desperately and violently. Her legs shook, claws locked behind Ocellus's back, her belly grinding in relentless loops as if she could wear her way into the next day.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": ""Dragonslick:
The Smooth Curse"

Written by Rupert Chubby Fawks

Disclaimer: all characters presented in this story are of legal age. The following are present throughout: tummylingus, groping, humping, fingering, grinding, featureless crotch sex, orgasm denial, primal urges, and strong language.

-------------------------------------------------------



Chapter 3: The Convergence of Heat and Scales

Word spread quickly.

What began as Spike's embarrassing smoothie spill incident turned into Ponyville's biggest ``scandal''. Everyone had questions. Fluttershy, despite being one of the quieter ponies, became an expert after she confessed to ``cleaning the dragon's underside with her lips.'' The local spa started offering "Dragon Belly Steams" and ``Null Stimulation Massage Therapy,'' and suddenly, everyone wanted to try them out.

Even Twilight, ever curious, scribbled in her journals about it:  

``Why does touching the groin cause no orgasm but multiple reports of euphoric synesthesia?  

Note: Spike began crying when kissed above the tail cleft. Is this a stress reaction or something deeper?  

Smolder described it as `belly-fuckin' blueball hell,' but smiled fondly. Conflicting signals. Explore further.''

It was a lazy afternoon at the School of Friendship, a day so hot that the fountains were louder than the students, and even the breeze seemed to be sleeping.

Smolder had settled into her usual spot beside the fountain, her tail hanging in the water. The sun gleamed off her slick yellow underbelly like molten bronze. She relaxed, enjoying the warmth, completely unbothered by her exposed form.

Yona the yak, with her thick wool, shiny horns, and sturdy hooves, lumbered by with Silverstream the hippogriff, whose pink feathers and endless energy made her talons click as she skipped. Both stopped in their tracks when they saw Smolder lounging half-naked in the grass.

Smolder grinned, propping herself on her elbows. ``Hey girls! Want to see something weird and kinda amazing?'' Before they could ask, she pulled her loincloth aside, letting it drop into the grass. Her thighs parted, exposing smooth, gleaming scales.

The others gasped.

There was nothing there. No slit, no sheath, not even a hint of what dragons were expected to have. Just firm, flawless scales shining with warmth. It was shocking in its absence, revealing raw power through denial of form.

Silverstream blinked, fluffing her feathers. ``Wait - that's it?''

Smolder nodded seriously, though a mischievous smile tugged at her lips. She dragged a claw down her groin, pressing between her thighs with a sigh. ``This is all we get. All the heat, none of the goods.''

Yona stomped once, sniffing the air. ``Looks warm. Soft?''

Smolder smirked, her eyes half-closed. ``Like hugging a heated river stone. But twitchier. Nuzzle it, and I will start grinding.''

Silverstream's beak opened, her cheeks turning bright pink. ``C-can I... can I try... a kiss?''

``Of course you can, fishbutt.''

Silverstream rushed forward, pressing her beak's soft inner curve against the heated scales. A wet kiss, tender and silly, made Smolder jolt as if lightning struck her spine. Her claws dug into the grass.

``Yyyyyyesssshhhffhhhhh... fuuuuckin' YES...''

Silverstream pulled back, eyes wide, talons shaking. ``Oh wow. It... it moved.''

Smolder panted, her chest rising, thighs trembling. ``I spasm there. Every time. That?s where my nonexistent junk wants to be.''

At that very moment, two more figures entered the courtyard. Sandbar the earth pony, with his beachy mane and friendly smile, walked alongside Gallus the griffon, who had curious blue feathers. They stopped just in time to see Yona lower her horns and headbutt Smolder's pelvis.

``WHOA - !! AAAHHHHHNNNNghffhh!!'' Smolder's body shot off the ground, her yelp echoing around the fountain.

Gallus blinked, his eyes darting from Yona's horns to Smolder's twitching belly. ``Okay. What in Equestria did we just walk into?''

Smolder managed to prop herself up on her elbows again, her eyes glassy and her grin wild. ``Dragon nullplay. Want to help worship the altar of my sexless misery?''

Gallus's beak snapped shut. Then he and Sandbar shared a glance, grinning at the same time.

``...Yeah,'' Gallus said, his feathers ruffling with excitement. ``We're in.''

As if on cue, Ocellus the changeling moved closer from the shade of a tree. She blushed brightly but looked curious, clearly eager to see what her friends were about to do.

Back in Friendship Castle, Spike lay belly-up again, surrounded by his ``volunteers.''

Twilight wanted to observe ``emotional belly-to-muzzle rituals'' as a way to foster empathy among cultures - or that's what she called it. In truth, she merely wanted an excuse to gaze at Spike's twitching belly scales while taking notes, her hoof halfway between her thighs. Rarity had created a custom silk blindfold for ``sensory enhancement,'' adorned with lace and tinted with amethyst shimmer. Pinkie Pie brought her assortment of ``party oils'' - colorful chaos in glass bottles, each named after a different type of giggle. Applejack, who initially complained about ``control groups'' and ``honest contact,'' quickly buried her muzzle in Spike's belly scales, kneading his sides like she was making bread.

Spike moaned.

``Oh Celestia, that's the spot - right under the navel - hhhnnnnfffghh - !!''

His tail jerked with every pulse. His thighs twitched in empty space.

Twilight's quill wrote furiously.

``Pinkie, now try kisses in a `V' pattern leading to the groin. Document arousal markers in order, especially around the median scale line.''

Pinkie saluted like she was heading into battle and leaned in, her muzzle buzzing with stifled giggles. She started at the lowest rib, planting a soft, exaggerated kiss that made Spike jump, then went lower. Left. Right. Then lower still. Her mouth painted a ``V'' shape with wet little pecks that led straight to the center of his smooth, exposed groin.

Each kiss made his body lurch. By the time her lips reached the lowest point, just above that seamless connection to his tail, Spike was practically humping the air.

``Mmmfffh - P-Pinkie - y-you're gonna make me - nnnhhhhg - ''

``Shhh,'' Pinkie whispered, licking her lips. ``I'm counting.''

Fluttershy cooed from the sidelines, her hooves together under her chin. ``You're such a good boy, letting us play with your smooth little spot like this. Look at you... all shiny and flinchy...''

Spike whimpered, a sound caught between pride and pain. Through his moans, he protested, ``I'm... hnnnn... n-not... a.... hahhhh.... nnnnpfff... b-boy.... mmmpff.... boy anymore...!''

Rarity had naturally strayed from the plan. She had spread glittering body powder over every inch of his torso, rubbing it in with soft, circular motions, leaving him shimmering from chest to tail.

``Darling,'' she sighed, brushing her nose down his chest, ``you're radiant. That shine - mmmh, now this, this is what real high fashion has been missing...''

She kissed just below his tailbone, lingering, letting her lips part and flick her tongue at the crease of his lower back, then bit him just hard enough to make him squeal.

``Ohhhhhhh fuck - !''

The sound echoed off the crystal walls.

Twilight, who was taking hurried notes about ``neurological belly-twitch clusters,'' froze. Then, without a word, she set her clipboard aside, gently levitating it to the nearest table.

``I'm joining,'' she declared.

No one stopped her.

She walked forward slowly and carefully, as if performing a sacred ritual. Her muzzle dipped low. Her tongue flicked out, and with scientific precision, she licked the very base of Spike's belly, right at the faint line where belly met tail.

Spike spasmed.

``Twilight - Twilighttwilighttwilight - hhhnnnghhhhh - ''

She hummed; her mouth still pressed against his smooth skin.

``Fascinating,'' she murmured. ``The tremor response is localized...''

Then she sucked.

Not hard - just enough to create a warm seal while her tongue massaged the incredibly sensitive seam of his groin. Spike thrashed.

Pinkie wrapped her hooves around one leg and nuzzled the inner thigh.

Applejack gently nosed Spike's belly as if she were scenting a ripe apple in bloom.

Fluttershy moved to his chest, cradling his head in her lap and stroking his frills softly. ``You're doing so well, sweetheart... just let it happen. Let us love your belly: your soft, warm, perfect little nothing.''

``It's not little - !'' Spike gasped, tail thrashing. ``It's - it's ALL I GOT - ''

``Exactly,'' Rarity said, her voice smooth. ``Which makes it precious.''

And they devoured him.

Every kiss landed lower.

Every muzzle pressed in closer.

No penetration. No conclusion. Just that overwhelming heat, tingling with oil, spit, and powder, mouths treating nothing as if it were the most sacred treasure in the world.

Twilight's tongue moved in slow circles.

Pinkie licked along one thigh, then the other.

Rarity explored the faint scales near the tail base, making soft noises of delight.

Spike broke.

His back arched off the table, his smooth groin flexing against their mouths, and his entire body went taut like a drawn bow. No orgasm. No release. Just endless tension and sensation crashing down in waves.

He whimpered.

Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes.

``Th-thank you...'' he whispered.

Fluttershy kissed his forehead.

``You're welcome,'' she said softly. ``We love every inch of you.''

Meanwhile, far away in the Dragon Lands, Garble, the hothead, stood at the entrance of a fire cave, arms crossed, head tilted, and eye twitching.

``So, what, we all just get in a circle and hump the air?''

Ballista, one of the dragonesses across from him, rolled her eyes while adjusting a glittery leather strap she'd looped around her hips for style. ``No, you just grind on your neighbor's smooth crotch. Respectfully.''

``Right, real respectful gangbang,'' he muttered.

They stepped inside.

The cave shimmered with heat. Lava pits bubbled in the distance, casting an orange glow across the smooth basalt floor. The air was thick with smoke, pheromones, and lavender oil. A carved stone circle - ritual space? orgy pit? - sat at the center, surrounded by groaning, writhing dragon bodies. Some were large, some petite, some towering matriarchs with armored scales who flaunted their featureless groins with pride. Others were soft-bellied cave-dwellers lazily humping whatever warm patch of scale they could find.

About twelve dragons, males and females of various sizes, stood in pairs or trios. Several were moaning. Others nuzzled or licked each other's bellies in rhythmic motions. One dragoness had her foot grinding against another's glistening crotch, claws curled tightly as she chanted some throaty litany about ``null purity.'' Every groin was the same: smooth, blank, twitching under mouths, claws, and bellies.

Garble blinked.

A lavender-scaled dragoness was mounted on a big green dragon, her hips rocking, tail curled around his neck, both panting like animals in heat. But when Garble squinted, he saw no shaft, no slit, no entry. Just two sweaty, twitching bodies bumping against each other. ``Okay...'' he mumbled. ``Maybe it is something.''

He stepped into the circle.

A lean, blue-scaled male named Rift stood nearby. They nodded. No words. Pure dragon etiquette: mutual grind permission granted.

But before Garble could close the distance, Ballista stepped in, grinning.

``I saw him first,'' she said, flicking her tail at Rift.

``Oh? You volunteering?''

``I always volunteer. Now shut up and touch me.''

And just like that, her claws were on his waist.

Ballista pressed in. Their hips met - belly to belly, groin to groin - and Garble gasped.

``Oh Ancestors! It's like a hot soup bowl on my dick that isn't there!''

Ballista chuckled, low and breathy. ``You're welcome.''

They began rutting.

It was messy. It was primal. It was pointless but glorious - crotch to crotch, seamless, perfect contact, hot scales sliding against each other. Her hips rotated. His flexed. Their smooth groins mashed together like puzzle pieces that didn't exist.

They made wet sounds.

Schlickhh - schhlickhh - "nnnfhh - aaaahhh!``

Her claws dug into his shoulders as she ground harder, the seam of her pelvis pushing into his with rhythmic pressure. Garble growled, panting, his whole belly flexing with effort.

Around them, chaos bloomed.

One dragoness mounted a ridge-backed female, rubbing their bellies together while both panted into each other's necks. Another trio formed a chain - each dragon humping the next in a loop, every motion fruitless but fervent.

Someone shouted, ``TOUCH MY VOID!''

Another, voice cracking, moaned, ``I WANNA BE FILLED WITH NOTHING!''

Ballista grabbed Garble's ears, pulled him down, and bit the top of his snout. ``Tell me I'm tight, Garbsy.''

``Y-you're - fuck - your nothing's so tight!''

He lost it, not in a climax but in a full-body quake. His thighs buckled. His claws scrabbled at her hips. He drove into her groin over and over like he could push through that seamless wall of flesh if he humped hard enough.

They collapsed together, panting.

More dragons spilled in. The circle doubled, then tripled. Bodies glistened with sweat and ash. Mouths suckled hips. Tails coiled around ankles. Even the ``older'' dragons came - slightly older than Garble's age group - stoic adults with gleaming bellies, eyes closed as they ground lovingly into their chosen partner's smooth groove.

One dragon chanted, ``From fire we came - blank, wet, undone!''

Another followed, ``From heat we breed - without a hole, without a need!''

A wave of groaning, tongue-flicking affirmation followed.

Ballista cuddled into Garble's side, surprisingly gentle. Her tail slid under his, and her snout nuzzled his chest.

``You're kinda cute when you're blank and sweaty,'' she said, licking his neck.

He didn't even fight it.

``...Don't tell anyone, ``He muttered, stroking the smoothness of her belly with his palm. ``But that was the best nothing I've ever fucked.''

``Damn right,'' she grinned.

And around them, the void worship continued - seamless, senseless, absurd. Perfect.

Back in Ponyville, the rituals didn?t just become popular; they took over. "Smooth Nights" turned into a weekly event at the Friendship School?s gym, co-hosted by Ocellus and Silverstream. Sandbar handled logistics, while Yona managed the crowd ("NO RUSH. ALL DRAGONS GET GROIN KISSES. BE PATIENT."). Tables were replaced with soft mats, lanterns hung from the rafters, and a playlist of rhythmic wingbeats and soft humming set the atmosphere.

Each event kicked off with a welcome chant led by a blindfolded student:  

``Belly soft, groin divine, we kiss your scales, we drink your shine, no cock, no cunt, no slit, no seed, just aching hunger, longing need...''  

It was part joke, part ritual, and completely addictive. New activities appeared at an alarming rate.

``Guess That Crotch'' featured a velvet curtain partition with cutouts just big enough for a blank groin to poke through - glistening, warm, twitching. Contestants were blindfolded and encouraged to ``kiss with heart, not sight,'' then guess which classmate's smooth body they had just nuzzled. Sandbar accidentally guessed Gallus twice. ``I knew that wasn't Yona,'' he murmured, licking his lips. ``Too lemony.''

Points were awarded for enthusiasm and style. A scoreboard appeared: ``Top Belly-Worshipper: Week 3  -  Silverstream (48 kisses, 7 groin nuzzles, 1 tongue poem).'' But the real craze? Belly altars.

Students started creating soft ``worship nests'' in gym corners, each with pillows, candles, and a dragon lying belly-up, offering their smooth torsos like sacred relics. Smolder tried to stay away. At first. But her itch was persistent. She held out until Week 2 before giving in.

``FINE,'' she barked, throwing herself back onto the nearest nest. ``Ruin me.'' Silverstream squealed and dove in, immediately latched onto her belly with both hooves.

``Belly first,'' Ocellus gently reminded, floating down with a bowl of warm vanilla-scented oil. ``Groin second. Ceremony matters.'' ``I'm dying,'' Smolder growled, claws in her face. Yona rubbed her flanks firmly. ``Good dragons breathe. Good dragons moan.''

Gallus leaned in slowly, his eyes on hers, and whispered, ``Thirty's a nice round number.'' She blushed. ``Make it count.'' Then he kissed her. Lower. Again. His beak brushed her blank groin as if it belonged there, as if her nothingness was something sacred.

And she wailed. ``GhhAAAAHHh - YESSS! FUCK! Ohhmytail - !'' She slammed back against the cushions. Her belly flexed. Her thighs clamped around his head. Her tail twitched and knocked over Ocellus's oil bowl. She lay panting, belly rising and falling, lips slack.  

``...Thirty,'' Gallus confirmed, smirking.  

``Not even noon yet,'' Silverstream chirped, already reaching for more oil. ``Think you'll hit fifty?''  

``Don't tempt me,'' Smolder groaned.

Somewhere else, Spike was being carried through town again, stretched across a silk sheet, lifted by six eager students - two on each end, one under his tail for support. His belly gleamed with layered powders, glosses, and sweat. His groin shone like a sacred stone. Every time they reached a corner, somepony kissed it.

``Crosswalk smooch!'' Sandbar called. kiss!  

``Mid-block forehead kiss!'' Gallus added. kiss!  

``Emergency belly nibble!'' Silverstream shrieked, diving in. Spike just lay there, eyes glazed, softly whispering, ``This is fine... This is fine... This is probably illegal somewhere...''

Smolder, having caught her breath, walked up beside them, hips swaying, a smug tilt to her muzzle. ``You get used to it,'' she said, winking. Then she turned to Gallus and pointed at her pelvis. ``...Thirty-one. Let's go.''

And beneath the midday sun, surrounded by giggling friends and bold rituals, the altar of the smooth belly reigned supreme.

Deep within the School of Friendship, far below the bright classrooms and cheerful banners, Starlight Glimmer wandered into the vault where nopony ever spoke of. Dust clung to the shelves like a second skin, cobwebs stretched across forgotten books, and the silence pressed heavily.

She had only come to drop off a stack of overdue changeling philosophy books, but as she slid them back into place, her aura caught on something hidden behind the row. A brittle parchment roll slipped free. Its edges were singed black; its surface cracked like dragon scale too long in the sun. Starlight?s breath caught as she unrolled it, revealing two surviving lines, written in faded draconic script:  

``When fire and heart rise together beneath the silver flame - ''  

And...  

``The hole is not where it was, but where it will be - ''  

Her brow furrowed. She whispered the words aloud, the sounds strange and heavy on her tongue. Nothing happened. No sparks, no magic, just her voice echoing in the quiet. Starlight rolled the parchment back up, frowning. ``...What in Equestria does that even mean?''  

Yet, as she tucked the scroll under her foreleg, the words lingered in her mind, circling like embers waiting for a spark. And at the instant the words left her mouth, echoing in the forgotten vault... something happened.

Half a world away, in the Dragon Lands, every dragon - mid-conversation, mid-flight, or mid-snack - suddenly froze. Garble was boasting about how he could out-benchpress boulders twice his size when his eyes bulged. ``HhhHhhNNNGGHh - !!'' he wheezed, claws flying to his groin. Around him, dozens of dragons staggered, groaning. Every set of legs clenched, every tail stiffened. An entire nation of dragons looked like they'd just been zapped in the junk with lightning.

``WHAT THE FUCK - ?!'' someone shouted.  

``My crotch - my crotch is THUMPING!'' screeched another.  

Indeed, every dragon's lower belly pulsed like a drumbeat. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Dozens of eyes widened, claws fumbling at scales, wings twitching. For the first time in centuries, they wondered - could it be?! But then, just as suddenly as it started, the pulsing stopped.

The courtyard fell silent. Everydragon looked down slowly. Blank, smooth, and totally, devastatingly featureless. A wave of groans echoed through the volcanic cliffs. One dragon flopped onto his back, wailing at the sky. Another kicked a rock angrily into the ocean. Someone else muttered, ``Damn it, I thought my dick was respawning.''

Garble clutched his tail, scowling as if the universe had just played the meanest joke ever. ``What kind of sick tease was THAT?!'' Everydragon grumbled and shuffled, still rubbing their bellies, thoroughly disappointed.

And deep within the School of Friendship, Starlight Glimmer had no idea she had just blue-balled an entire species... for a brief moment, anyway.

And so, the age of Nullplay didn't just continue; it thrived. Moans echoed from dorms to lecture halls. The Friendship Gym hung a permanent banner: ``PLEASE REMOVE BLINDFOLDS BEFORE EXITING.'' Belly gloss became a form of currency. Thigh oil created its own student-run economy. There were rumors that Canterlot boutiques were fighting over distribution rights for ``Smoothspot Shine No. 5.'' Tail-twitch clinics opened. Temple bells rang every time a dragon's groin got kissed in public - which meant the bells never stopped.

At this point, worshipping featureless crotches wasn't a trend anymore. It had become a lifestyle. At the juice bar, Spike now ordered his mango-passion blends with ``extra pulp and a shot of lavender kiss'' while someone rubbed circles into his belly as he sipped. He had a loyalty card for the ``Belly Altar Spa'' - one more visit, and he'd unlock the deluxe double-muzzle worship package. Rarity called him her ``glorious blank masterpiece,'' and his nightly schedule filled faster than the orgy sign-up sheet.

Smolder, meanwhile, was no longer just a participant. She had risen to icon status. The ``High Priestess of Null Heat,'' a resident smooth-idol and a Goddess of Groin-less Writhing. Silverstream made her a sash that read: ``PLEASE TOUCH MY VOID (respectfully).'' She wore it proudly, even during exams. She even had worship hours.

At least once a week, right in the middle of class, she would let out an exasperated sigh, mutter ``I swear it's twitching,'' and shove Gallus face-first into her lap while the teacher quietly adjusted the lesson plan. Ocellus wrote new worship chants in four-part harmony. Yona choreographed the daily belly salute. Sandbar attempted to start a Null Philosophy club and had to be rescued from his own spiral of ``If nothing exists, is it absence or presence?''

And deep beneath it all, beneath the smooth bellies, the blessed blanks, and the glow of dragon heat... something ancient shifted. The magic that took their holes. The magic that might return them. Not gone, not erased, just... sleeping. Waiting for heat, or love, or that one scroll Twilight still hadn't translated because it made her ``too flustered.'' Waiting beneath the silver flame. Waiting for something more. But not tonight. Tonight was ``Smooth Night.''

And in a small, moan-filled corner of the school - lit by candlelight, echoing with slaps and slick - Smolder was still moving, desperately and violently. Her legs shook, claws locked behind Ocellus's back, her belly grinding in relentless loops as if she could wear her way into the next day.

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