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Twilight the Hassenfeld Pony [Capped/Feels/Philosophy]
By kqaiiCreated: 2021-01-30 13:35:45
Expiry: Never
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copied from https://pastebin.com/AWx2Vda0
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Original Author pontology
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Original thread archive https://yuki.la/mlp/29622045
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__________________________________________________
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Part 1
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>You are a Hassenfeld pony.
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>Your name is Twilight Sparkle.
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>Anon, your master, will be home in two hours. With your chores done, you are reading and contemplating.
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>You think about things a lot because you are Twilight Sparkle. The bioengineering company designed you this way.
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>You have read about Hassenfeld ponies. Anon purchased you and raised you from nascency since he removed you from your cryo-box and, by Hassenfeld Bro's design of your brain, he imprinted on you before you can remember.
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>Anon purchased you for love and sex, and the imprinting is why you are sexually attracted to him. You almost find it sad that your feelings for him were bioengineered.
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>Anon brings you to the library occasionally to check out books, but other than that he seldom lets you leave the house.
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>You belong to him, his sex slave, though you are ok with it. Are you ok with it?
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>Hassenfeld ponies are always naked, designed for sex, nudity the mark of their caste. Humans get to wear clothes because they are to each other who they are.
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>Sure, in a sense Anon likes you for who you are — he purchased the Twilight Sparkle model for a reason — but your personality and physical appearance are just to pleasure him.
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>It would be denigrating and insulting if you hadn't long accepted being his fuck-toy and pet.
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>With your intellect and erudition, you could be a respected scientist if you were human.
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>But even if you run away you would just be returned to him, and he would beat you or lock you in the closet for a day.
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>You have distress signals that activate and alert Hassenfeld Bros if there is any serious abuse, but what Anon does is not severe enough to activate your distress signals, and society condones such corrective behavior as his against bioengineered sex slaves like you; it is standard.
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>You become aroused thinking about it, that you, with your intellect and capacity and potential, are nothing but a fuck-toy, pet, and slave to him, and that there is no escape—society would just return you to him to get fucked and humiliated over and over.
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>At least he lets you read books. After all, you are his Twilight Sparkle fuck-toy, bioengineered in the image of that bibliophilic unicorn from the show. To what extent are you even free in yourself?
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>You return to reading Sartre.
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>"Man is condemned to be free," Sartre writes.
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>Dosteyevsky writes something similar, that "Man has no greater tormenting care than to find someone to whom he can hand over as quickly as possible that gift of freedom with which the miserable creature is born."
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>Man made you for a reason, after all. They are free, and they are miserable, "Left alone without excuse."
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>To whom would man supplicate excuse? To himself, his only judge, spiteful and self-excoriating. Man seeks to escape himself and by his freedom man digs the pit of his misery whose assurance is his longing.
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>This is why they made you, for love and sex and warmth and company that man can own, ironically without relinquishing any of his freedom as he would in a relationship that respects the other as equal. The superficies of your personality and your naked body and genitals are his to own for admiration and cuddles and sex and chores.
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>At this you smile, forlorn but content. You are his, and your purpose in life is this. To no-one else do you exist, nor can you, and your identity is carnality.
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>You've thought about it a lot, and you are happier this way. You'd rather not be someone like Anon. You have no self to appease, no purpose in life to seek and fail; all existentialism is for you resolved by how and for what man designed you and maintains you in society, by Anon whose misery your assuaging is all you are.
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>As a human you might seek to secure meaning by your erudition, study grasping for one thing after another, flee from yourself on the internet and in fantasy.
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>But you? You are free from that. Man created you for your body and the superficies of your personality, and you cannot escape Anon for whom you were programmed to have feelings and impulses and by whom you are castigated to obey.
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>Your slavery is your freedom.
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>Anon will be home soon. Time to please him.
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Part 2
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>Your name is Twilight Sparkle.
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>You are old and weak.
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>You are glad that Hassenfeld ponies have the life expectancy they do. It would have been cruel for Hassenfeld Brothers to engineer their product that they might outlive their owners.
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>Regardless, you prefer to die when your cup is full.
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>Two weeks ago, as you were doing chores, your left foreleg buckled and you collapsed, shattering a plate, and you couldn’t get back up. Anon didn’t punish you; instead, he just looked sad.
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>The next day, he told you that he quit his job so he could take care of you and told you not do any more chores.
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>Yesterday, Anon noticed that you don't read anymore.
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>You told him your vision is too poor to read. You didn’t remind him that you haven’t been able to read for years.
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>It is night and Anon is holding you in bed.
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>He reads to you now from children’s books like Aesop’s Fables and the Brothers Grimm. Even when you were learning how to read, he never read to you.
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>Anon doesn't have sex with you anymore or tie you up and hurt you. You are glad because now everything hurts.
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>In Paradise Lost, Milton writes,
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>“The mind is its own place and in itself
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>Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.”
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>You've made no choices and have no self to judge.
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>You don’t believe in God, but your life has been heaven.
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>Anon will have to judge himself for the life he’s given you.
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>“Anon,” you say, “I want you to know I’ve had a beautiful life.”
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>Anon just holds you and begins to weep, and wept himself to sleep.
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>You fall asleep in his arms and fall asleep, and forever always sleep.
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Part 3(Epilogue)
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Anon gets a new Twilight Sparkle, from whose perspective this is told. Anon has changed and the perspective of his new Twilight contrasts with that of the original to reflect this.
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Part I: * https://derpibooru.org/1383816 *
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Part II: * https://pastebin.com/ACt8jMmm *
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Cap of the below Epilogue: * https://derpibooru.org/1479640 *
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_____________________________________________________________
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---------- Twilight the Hassenfeld Pony - Epilogue ----------
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>You are a Hassenfeld Pony.
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>Your name is Twilight Sparkle.
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>Anon, your caretaker, will be home in two hours. Anon doesn't make you do chores, but you enjoy giving back to the caregiver who means everything to you and cares for you in every way.
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>Even if you didn't belong to him on paper, you would choose to belong to him. You are glad that Hassenfeld ponies are not free, for if you were, you could not be his.
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>When you were six months old, you asked Anon for a book about Hassenfeld ponies. You were curious because you are Twilight Sparkle — the bioengineering company designed you this way — and you learned that you love Anon because he imprinted on you.
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>You were made to love and be loved, and loved you are and love. There could not be a more beauteous purpose than this.
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>You wonder if Anon's previous Twilight felt the same way.
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>You return to reading Sarte.
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>"Existence precedes essence," Sarte writes. "What do we mean by saying that existence precedes essence? We mean that man first of all exists, encounters himself, surges up in the world – and defines himself afterward. If man as the existentialist sees him as not definable, it is because to begin with he is nothing. He will not be anything until later, and then he will be what he makes of himself. Man is condemned to be free."
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>Crosby expounds, "Strut, fret, and delude ourselves as we may, our lives are of no significance, and it is futile to seek or to affirm meaning where none can be found."
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>Existentialism applies neither to you nor any Hassenfeld pony; the Hassenfeld paradigm inverts it. For man, existence precedes essence, and he must then define himself in a meaningless world lost on a path he trailblazes blind burdened by the self he wrought by choice to which he freely condemns himself.
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>For you, essence precedes existence. Hassenfeld Brothers sculpted you before you existed with the kernel of your personality and to love your owner who defines you, and from your essence and for what you exist ever flows sublime meaning given freely to you: to love and be loved.
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>Anon will be home soon. You can't wait to please him.
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>You lie cradled in bed against Anon whom you love. Ever since your earliest memories of him teaching you to read, he has read to you every night.
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>After he reads to you another tale from the Brothers Grimm, you snuggle against him, and he hugs you.
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"Anon?" you ask. Anon never talks about his previous Twilight.
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"What did your last Twilight think of being your Hassenfeld pony?"
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>His expression shattered.
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>"Oh Twilight, please forgive me," he says, and wraps his arms around your curled up body and hugs you tenderly. The way he said it, you suspect his supplication was addressed to the previous Twilight with you as a proxy. Did Anon do something terrible to his former Twilight and he's seeking redemption through you?
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>"I...," he continues, "I don't know how she felt. I... please forgive me, Twilight — I used her and hurt her on purpose, all her life, and never knew her. Sickening Anon! How could I do that? Twenty-five years of treating her like a slave to hurt and fuck and fuck while hurting — that was her life! How could," he sobbed, "— how could her last words have been that she's had a beautiful life? Oh Twilight, please forgive me." He buried his lachrymose face in your fur and held you tight as if against the fate that took her.
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>But you are not she. How do you respond? Surely Anon could not have been that bad, but it is not your place to question it.
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>However, there is no reason for one's final words to be anything but the uncompromised truth.
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"Anon," you say, and lay the side of your head against his. "She said she had a beautiful life."
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>You didn't know how, but you could guess.
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>Anon hugged you until you fell asleep in his arms, your head resting against him reciprocating his love.
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>Tomorrow was another day in your beautiful life.
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END
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