Deep Rest Story for /emo/ - Not finished


                                            >Once again you find yourself before the entrance of this dreadful cave you've learned to hate and despise in your short life.

                                            >Formless shadows creep out of its dark maw and try to drag you inside with ethereal claws, their frigid touch draining your body of all its life-giving warmth as they grasp for you.

                                            >A very versant sensation for you now... It almost doesn't bother you any more.

                                            >With a shake of your hooves you break their hold on you and banish them back to the murky depths from which they came.

                                            >That's it...

                                            >Maybe you will succeed this time?

                                            >There is only one way to find out, isn't there?

                                            >One last time you check the things you have brought with you to aid you on this dangerous journey:

                                            >An old, worn out woollen coat... Tattered to the point of near complete uselessness, but it will provide you with at least some protection from the things that lurk in there.

                                            >A pouch full of medicinal herbs and bandages... Enough to stop minor bleedings and maybe treat some small cuts, but nothing more.

                                            >And last but not least...

                                            >The hoofblade that dangles from your side. Its blade may be dull and rusty, but it is still sharp enough to cut any creature down that may attack you in this sombre hell.

                                            >If it doesn't overwhelm you first that is... You're just a pony after all.

                                            >That's what your father always said... You're just a pony.

                                            "I'm just a pony..."

                                            >These were his last words to you...

                                            "I'm just a po-pony..."

                                            >Something wet rolls down your cheek and drops down to the dusty soil, its ever so quiet impact ripping you out of your world of thoughts.

                                            "N-No... I'm fine... Fine... I'm ready."

                                            >No use in revelling in old memories...

                                            >Filling your lungs with the cold, foul smelling air, you wipe your face clean and take your first step into the all devouring darkness ahead of you.

                                            >And it is just like you remember it to be...

                                            >Twisted, malformed stalactites adorn the ceiling, soaking your coat with the fetid liquid they extrude and clusters of sickly green glowing mushrooms litter the slick ground.

                                            >You know that they will eventually lead you to that what you seek in here, but as useful as those fungi are even they pose a threat to your well being.

                                            >One step taken too close to them and they will taint the air with their toxic spores, dooming you to a slow death and a fate as their next generation's source of nourishment.

                                            >In fact... Each cluster is one of your former incarnations who found its end in a different yet nevertheless very gruesome way.

                                            >Grotesque worm-like creatures inhabit the many holes that perforate the cave's walls... Like this deformed and sucked dry corpse to the left of you had to learn.

                                            >Her... Your... No... Her head is still lodged firmly into the round crack and you can hear the beast that dwells in it indulging on what little flesh still might be on it.

                                            >A cold shiver runs down your spine and you increase your pace to leave this terrible sight behind you as fast as you can.

                                            >Your mind shuts down as you do this and switches to autopilot, directing you somewhat safely through this treacherous terrain.

                                            >So many times you had to traverse it... So it's no wonder you know it like the back of your hoof.

                                            >You arrive at a small cavern that you know is safe and come instinctively to a halt, allowing yourself to recollect your senses before you carry on.

                                            >But no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to get those sickening noises of the worm's jagged mandibles out of your head.

                                            >Like... It's still gnawing on your soft flesh... Right next to you.

                                            "Buck!"

                                            >In an instant your hoof find its way to the hoofblade's strap and once you can feel the brass locks on it snap shut, you lunge out and stab at the source of the noise.

                                            >With a blood curdling scream the disgusting monster jumps at you but instead of finding its next meal, it perishes on the tip of your raddled blade.

                                            >The oh so familiar sound of forged steel meeting defenceless tissue invades your ears and you watch the worm's death throes as it still tries to get hold of you.

                                            >From side to side it wildly flails around in a blood crazed fury, snapping at you with desperate bites of its massive mandibles but no amount of aggression brings it any closer to its goal and soon all strength leaves its form and it goes limp.

                                            >Carefully you shove it off your weapon and take a few steps back.

                                            >Those things are smart enough to feign their death... Another thing you had to learn the hard way.

                                            >But luckily it seems to be dead...

                                            >Agitated and trembling like crazy, you plop down on your haunches and sigh in relief.

                                            "Thank Celestia..."

                                            >This could have ended very, very badly... You don't want to die like this again.

                                            >You take several deep breathes until you feel calmer and then take a look at the dark passage that lies ahead of you.

                                            >From here... It's not too far any more.

                                            >Five or ten minutes give or take... That's it.

                                            >Then you will come upon your destination and confront the terror that guards and tortures it once more.

                                            >And maybe... Just maybe... You can finally put an end to all this.


                                            >Slowly you get on your four hooves again and continue your journey through this saturnine labyrinth.

                                            >For the moment you stowed the hoofblade away again... You can't walk with it anyway.

                                            >If you were an unicorn this... Everything would be so much easier.

                                            >Perhaps you even would have been able to prevent your...

                                            >No. Don't think like that. You're just a pony after all.

                                            >And a foal back then at that too... Even as an unicorn you wouldn't have been able to prevent shit.

                                            >You would have been just as useless as you were back then and are now.

                                            >"Useless... Worthless... Feckless...", the darkness around you whispers.

                                            "Useless... Worthless... Feckless...", you mindlessly repeat.

                                            >Nothing has changed since your last visit here... You neither have grown physically, nor mentally. What makes you think you have a chance now?

                                            >She will just... It will... You?... No... She.

                                            >It will just tear you to shreds before you even can grasp what happens just like all those times you faced her before.

                                            "No... Not her... It."

                                            >"That's a lie and you know it."

                                            "Go away..."

                                            >An ear piercing laughter echoes through the narrow stony corridor and from the corner of your eye you can see a shadowy figure slowly taking form.

                                            >"How endearing... Got nothing new? Last time you at least tried to murder me with that pathetic excuse for a sword."

                                            >It titters and swirls around you, its ghostly body leaving burning marks and re-opening old scars wherever it touches you.

                                            >"Mhmm~ I love it when you bleed. You like it too, don'tcha Rest?"

                                            >You stay quiet, knowing that it feeds off your anger and despair and that it will go away once you reach the end of this godforsaken cave.

                                            >"Aww, come on. I'm not even teasing you, my dear.", it cackles, "Okay... Maybe a just a teeny weeny tiny bit! But that's a given between us, isn't it?"

                                            "I don't want to talk to you. Get lost!"

                                            >The shadow giggles and settles down on your back, idly stroking your mane with its deathly cold claw.

                                            >"I just want to talk... It can get so awfully lonely in here, yunno?", it taps your head, "Let's chat the nightmare away!"

                                            "Not interested.", you coldly state.

                                            >"Don't be like that, Resty Besty... I even shooed all those other nasty beasties away, just so we can talk in peace!"

                                            "..."

                                            >"Just imagine I'm your best... How do you ponyfolk call this? Friend? Yeah! I think that's it!", it lets out another cackle, "Just imagine I'm your best friend and tell me what cute colt currently occupies your mind or some shit like that."

                                            "None of your business. Now leave me alone, you fiend."

                                            >"Fiend?! That's a new one! And you're right... That's none of my business. Not like anypony could love you anyways. So I guess I would just be wasting my time with this endeavour."

                                            "Bugger off... Please... Just leave."

                                            >"Hmm... Did I strike a nerve there? I think I did!", the shadow triumphantly laughs, "Aren't you just a poor little filly? Can't find the love of her life and all the stallions she meets are only ever interested in her body... Most of them can't even satisfy that perverted little kink of yours!"

                                            >It pushes itself off of you and flies in front of you, shooting you a wide, misty grin.

                                            >"I mean... Blood?! Who in the name of those whores you call gods is into blood? I bet you get all hot and bothered down there when you're changing bandages!"

                                            "That's... That's not true! I'm... I'm a..."

                                            >"Good nurse?!", it interrupts you, "Hell you are! Couldn't even save that colt last week! He died ever so sweetly far, far away from his parents warm embrace!"

                                            >The shadow clutches your head tightly and forces you to meet its blood red gaze.

                                            >"You didn't even bother to soothe his pain..."

                                            "He... A... A manticore stung him! Painkillers don't..."

                                            >"P-Pai-Painkillers d-don't work f-for manticore p-poison!", it apes you, "Don't give me that shit! You enjoyed watching him suffer, you insolent bitch!"

                                            "NO!", you scream out and break away from its cold grasp.

                                            >As you rapidly increase the distance between you and the shadow, you can hear it manically laughing.

                                            >You know that it won't follow you any more now... It already has achieved what it wanted to achieve.

                                            >And like the dumb foal you are, you couldn't do anything against it.

                                            >You never can...

                                            >It's stronger than you... Smarter too.

                                            >Your mind switches once again over to autopilot and you let your hooves guide you.

                                            >Hopefully something catches you so this nightmare can finally end.

                                            >The sooner the better...


                                            >After a short yet very exhausting sprint, you come to a halt and take a moment to catch your breath again.

                                            >Your coat is damp from sweat and matted with blood, giving you that unclean feeling you hate so much.

                                            >The things you would give right now for a shower or just a bucket of water...

                                            >But it's no use complaining about it... Especially not here.

                                            >Soon enough this will be over and you can wash all this filth off your body.

                                            >With a shake of your head and a shiver down your spine, you regain your senses and look at the gate wreathed in mist in front of you.

                                            >You've made it... At last.

                                            >Behind this fog-shrouded portal awaits you the reason why you undertake this foolish journey over and over again.

                                            >How many times have you stood before it now? Thirty? Forty? Perhaps even fifty times?

                                            >It doesn't matter... You won't be able to overcome what lurks behind it anyway.

                                            >Just like all those times before...

                                            >The shadow has sapped all your will to fight away... That is its only intention and purpose in this hellish dreamscape.

                                            "I don't feel ready..."

                                            >Nevertheless you step forward and put a hoof on the cold wooden gateway, slowly but steadily pushing it open.

                                            >Piece by piece you reveal the familiar glade that somehow exists in this cave and begin to look around in it.

                                            >Like the cave it always stays the same... Never changing, never altering itself.

                                            >Morbid, distorted trees carrying vivid orange leaves in their crowns bound it and a small lilac stream flows through the cyan greensward, splitting it in two.

                                            >And in its centre lies an old stallion... His form devoid of any colour and signs of life.

                                            >Your father.

                                            "D-Dad..."

                                            >An anthracite mare, far taller than you and abnormally thin, straddles over your father, lacerating him with her monstrous bladed tongue and filling her bloated belly with the blood she draws from him.

                                            >From each of her spindly legs sprout several long and knife-like claws. Their edges sharp enough to cut through the few boulders that grace the banks and even the blade of your weapon.

                                            >Neither mane nor tail adorns her body... Hard, spiky scales replace them and provide further offensive potential and some extra protection for her.

                                            "This is it...", you whisper to yourself.

                                            >Strapping the hoofblade onto your right hoof, you start to gradually approach her. Gulping and suppressing tears with every step you take.

                                            >She doesn't notice you... She never does. For that she's far too occupied with sucking your father's life essence out of him.

                                            >So you always get the first strike, but it never is of any help to you.

                                            >Perhaps this time..?

                                            >You've faced her countless times by now... And you have analysed each encounter afterwards if you could remember it and wrote what you learned down in your little book.

                                            >Her cranium is too thick to penetrate with your blade thanks to her spines... So is her thorax... But you had some success with cutting the beast's flank and legs.

                                            >Especially wounding the latter seemed to bother her somewhat fierce.

                                            >The irony is not lost on you...

                                            >So if you ju-

                                            >* crack *

                                            >W-What?!

                                            >Roused out of her blood-letting trance by the sound of a breaking twig, her head shoots around and she stares at you with tear-stained eyes and a blood-smeared maw.

                                            >Your tear-stained eyes and your blood-smeared maw...

                                            >She lets out a piercing shriek and pounces at you, her forelegs spread wide and ready to impale you with their claws.

                                            >Before you could even jump to the side or defend yourself in any other way, the world goes black and all your senses leave you one by one.

                                            >The last thing you feel is something sharp and long entering your neck...

                                            >Oh sweet, sweet death... It finally has found you again.

                                            >...

                                            >..

                                            >.


                                            "NO!", you scream out and jolt awake from your uneasy slumber.

                                            >Blackness, darkness... All consuming caliginosity still surrounds you and fills your very soul with fear and terror.

                                            >Panic-stricken you reach out to your left and tear the thick linen curtain open, flooding your bedroom with soothing sunlight.

                                            >A small smile appears on your lips and you plop down on your mattress.

                                            >Your whole form is drenched in sweat and your heart is thumping like mad, but the realization that you at last managed to escape this nightmare once again imbues you with a sense of joy.

                                            >Quietly giggling to yourself, you roll onto your side and decide to enjoy the warm confines of your bed for a few moments more before you eventually have to get up.

                                            >How late is it anyway?

                                            "Half past nine... Mmhh..."

                                            >Yeah, should be fine to stay like this for a while more. Your shift doesn't begin until noon anyway.

                                            >Sighing contentedly, you cover yourself with the soaked blanket again and let the events of the nightmare go through your aching head.

                                            >Yet again the same dream... And yet again it ended in the same way.

                                            >For roughly two years now you are forced to dream it. Ever since you visited your father's grave for the tenth anniversary of his unfair and untimely death.

                                            >It never changes... Just altering itself enough to reflect whatever obscure thing happened the last time you had the fortune to visit it..

                                            >So most times you just find another mangled and mutilated corpse of yours...

                                            >Yawning, you turn over onto your belly and bury your head into the soft pillows.

                                            >They smell like sweat.

                                            >You hate your scent... It's too similar to his.

                                            "Urgh.", you groan and free your muzzle from the source of the offensive smell.

                                            >Strangely enough, you are almost always in complete control of yourself while dreaming this particular dream.

                                            >Like it wants you to experience every bizarre creature and every devious trap it conjured unfiltered and in all their perverse glory.

                                            >You don't why it does this, but you do know that it isn't a lucid dream since you can't manipulate anything in it.

                                            >No matter how hard you try... And by Celestia did you try.

                                            >But it refuses to bend to your will and sometimes even kills you on the spot when you try to do so and feels like it.

                                            "When will this finally end?"

                                            >When you managed to kill the beast that butchers your father in that surreal groove?

                                            >When it drove you into suicide?

                                            >That would be the easiest way out... Just a cut carved too deep, a pill taken too much or a bottle of wine drank too many near a cliff and it all would be over.

                                            >Sooner or later this dream will drive you insane if you can't put an end to it. So the coward's way out is a viable option, isn't it?

                                            >And you can't deny that it has some tragic elegance to it. Maybe even something empowering.

                                            >After all you choose to die on your terms, don't you? Not many ponies have the opportunity to do that.

                                            >Yeah... All is in your control... The when, the where and the how.

                                            >You could even leave a little note that explains why you did it... Just like in those novels you like to read.

                                            >Maybe in the bathtub... Tinting the water redder and redder with your blood while your consciousness slowly slips away from you.

                                            >Reminiscing on all the good and bad things that happened in your short and bitter-sweet existence on this planet.

                                            >And then... Finally... Long awaited and much anticipated... It's over. Just like that.

                                            >No more pain... No more dreams... No more blames.

                                            >Just the ever so sweet unending nothingness that is death, embracing you with no questions asked.

                                            >"Ach... Wouldn't that be nice..."

                                            "Huh?"

                                            >"Resty Besty?"

                                            >For the fraction of a second, the shadow from your dreams appears before your eyes. beaming you a sinister smile.

                                            >A shrill scream escapes you and you throw the blankets at the figment of your imagination, jumping out of your bed and storming into your bathroom.

                                            >The moment you reach it, you lock the door behind you and slump down to the cold floor, holding your head in your hooves.

                                            "Nonononono..."

                                            >Nothing can find purchase in your mind... All in it just resolves about one thought:

                                            >It... It followed you?

                                            >How? Why?

                                            "This can't be possible... What did I do to deserve this?"

                                            >You think and think and think for what seems like hours, but in the end it always boils down to the same thing.

                                            >Something you were told isn't true over and over again from your mother and all your friends... But nevertheless never truly left your head.

                                            >For reasons unknown to you, you suddenly recall the Drak'ar classes you had in nurse-school.

                                            >Specifically one word you learned in them.

                                            "Patricida..."

                                            >Tears begin to form in your eyes and your lips start to tremble.

                                            "Patricida... Patricidae..."

                                            >Yeah...

                                            "Patricidae... P-Patri-Patricidam..."

                                            >That's why.


                                            >For a span that you can't determine, you just lie curled into a ball on the white tiled floor of your bathroom and quietly sob into your tail, trying to isolate yourself from everything around you.

                                            >Again and again you relive the fateful day of your father's death in your mind. Each and every attempt at fleeing from this vicious cycle of self-blame and misery immediately thwarted by the former and made even worse than the last one by the latter.

                                            >Over and over again you see him drawing his last breath and your mother breaking down when she can't feel him taking another one.

                                            >Over and over again you see yourself climbing on his still warm form and screaming at him to wake up.

                                            >Over and over again you feel your heart shattering into a thousand pieces.

                                            >Why are you so useless?

                                            >He could be still be alive today if it wasn't for your fecklessness.

                                            >Maybe you should have went out and looked for help instead of watching him slowly die for hours... Your mother was there with him so there was no reason for you to be at his bedside too.

                                            >Surely you would have found somepony that could have helped you... But you didn't even bother.

                                            >The storm wasn't even that bad.

                                            >What is a little snow and hail compared to the life of somepony you love dearly?

                                            >Nothing... But you didn't even bother.

                                            >You didn't even bother...

                                            >You never did. Not back then and certainly not now.

                                            >What kind of nurse are you?

                                            >Patients of yours come and go, live and die and more often than not you don't feel a single fucking thing.

                                            >No empathy, no compassion, no nothing...

                                            >Once you're home, you just shrug it off and continue living that miserable existence you dare to call your life.

                                            >Honestly... You are better off dead. Purged from this world you don't deserve to be on with no traces left.

                                            >"Just do it now."

                                            >Something punishingly cold creeps towards you, its unbearable frigidness taking your breath away.

                                            >"Nopony will miss you."

                                            >Carefully it probes the exposed flesh of your chest, searching for a way in.

                                            >"Remember those scalpels you stole?"

                                            >And then finally finds one... Reaching for your still beating heart.

                                            >"They are in the mirror cabinet."

                                            >Then suddenly and without warning, the distant chime of a bell struck far away rouses you from your preying worry.

                                            >The sunless being vanishes and you look up at small kitty clock mounted on the wall opposite of you.

                                            >It offers you the same smile as it does every other day and meows quietly when the timepiece in its belly strikes eleven o'clock.

                                            "T-That late already?"

                                            >You pick yourself up and sluggishly trot towards the sink, taking a look at yourself in the mirror.

                                            >A tear-stained filly stares back at you. Her mane messy and unkempt and dark bags under her weary eyes.

                                            >She looks miserable... You can't stand the sight of her.

                                            >It makes your head hurt...

                                            >So you open the mirror cabinet up in search of some stray painkillers that may hide in it, but find nothing more than a yawning void and a few toothbrushes.

                                            "Just my luck..."

                                            >Your eyes scan the contents of the cabinet for a while longer and their gaze eventually falls on the still sealed box of disposable scalpels.

                                            >That's the one it told you about... Whatever it might be.

                                            >With shaking hooves you take the small carton out and rip it open, the sheen of polished surgical steel immediately capturing your imagination.

                                            >Sharp enough to cut through skin and muscle alike... Drawing blood from you would be such an easy task.

                                            >And almost no risk of getting an infection... Not that this would matter for the purpose you just intended for them.

                                            >You take one of the cutting devices into your mouth and sprawl a foreleg out.

                                            >Gradually and almost teasingly slow, you begin to trace the various arteries and veins that run through it with the blade.

                                            >The collateral ulnar vein on your forearm....

                                            >The medial palmar artery running through your canon...

                                            >And finally and most importantly...

                                            >The cephalic vein sprouting at your elbow.

                                            >All of them are thick and full of your life's very essence and all of them are free of any scars or self inflicted blemishes.

                                            >But you just might decide to change that now.


                                            >Throwing your head back, you sink your teeth into the scalpel's cheap wooden handle and stare vacantly at your exposed leg as thousands of different thoughts flash through your mind.

                                            >But none can find any hold in it, leaving as quickly as they come and rapidly turning it into a scrambled mess of unfinished ideas and notions.

                                            >You are just at your wit's end... Knowing neither how to proceed nor what to do next.

                                            >This is so terribly, terribly stupid and thoughtless but yet you want nothing more than to be finally free from the guilt that haunts you every night and the ever growing pain that slowly chips away at your sanity.

                                            >To just feel nothing... Peace, tranquillity, ataraxia for all eternity... That is what you desire.

                                            >And it could be yours with just one cut at the right place...

                                            >"Remember, Rest! It's down the road not across the street!", an old memory of a beastly drunk friend resounds in your head.

                                            "..."

                                            >What would she think about this?

                                            >Would she countenance that what you are about to do?

                                            >Probably... You know her past and she knows yours. She even asked you once to get soporifics for her.

                                            >Of course you denied her that wish, knowing for what purpose she would have used them.

                                            >And knowing that the ones you have on your ward don't work too well for this specific purpose out of experience...

                                            >You shake your head and snort in an attempt to banish this dark memory.

                                            >It lingers for a while more but then finally vanishes and you sigh in relief.

                                            >Thank the celestial sisters they are this weak...

                                            >Gradually you lower your head, drawing closer to the vessel you chose and still being unsure what to do.

                                            >What would she feel? Would she be sad? Devastated even? Or would she be totally unmoved by your death?

                                            >Of course not.

                                            >That's beyond all question... Why do you even need to ask yourself this?

                                            >She would be the first pony to show up and the last to leave your funeral... Mourning her good friend and weeping ever so sorrowfully as the sun slowly sets.

                                            >Somehow this thought makes you happy... As morbid and sick as it might sound and may be.

                                            >But...

                                            >Would you even want that?

                                            >Only Celestia knows what she would do after your untimely and sudden demise.

                                            >All happiness leaves your form thinking about this and you recede the blade from your ankle again.

                                            >You are pretty much her to go pony for any kind of physical or emotional distress... Too many of your nights were spent consoling a crying mare and patching the crude cuts she inflicted on herself up.

                                            >She's dependent on you...

                                            >And in a strange and kinda absurd way you are dependent on her.

                                            >Immensely so, to be perfectly honest...

                                            >She makes you feel... Important and needed. Like you are worth a damn for a change and not just a waste of blood and skin.

                                            >No... You can't do this.

                                            >Not now. Not until you fixed this... Her... You... Whatever!

                                            >Spitting the scalpel into the sink, you slam the mirror cabinet shut and once again behold your reflection in its polished surface.

                                            >The mare you see now doesn't fill you with disgust and hatred any more.

                                            >No signs of worry or sadness adorn her face, she looks at you with a determined expression. Like somepony who just realized something.

                                            >Something that she should have realized a long time ago.

                                            >She makes you... Smile.

                                            "Hah."

                                            >See hears you laugh and her smile grows wider and wider.

                                            "Hahah!"

                                            >You didn't see her smile like that in a long time.


                                            >Such a rare sight... Delightful!

                                            "Ahahahaha!"

                                            >Both you and your reflection break out into braying laughter, causing you to collapse onto the ceramic washbasin.

                                            >Just barely you avoid cutting yourself with the razor-sharp blade that lies in it.

                                            >Nestling your head into your crossed forelegs, you sit down on your haunches and decide to continue staring at the content seeming mare in the mirror for a while more.

                                            >It's just such a rare sight... Yeah... Who knows when you get to see her like this again?

                                            >Her eyes might be red and puffy and the bags under them could be a little bit less prominent, but it  doesn't seem to bother her.

                                            >Not in the slightest...

                                            >And it makes you happy seeing her like this.

                                            >She's by far not perfect... But who truly is?

                                            >A quiet yawn escapes you and you smack your lips.

                                            >By Celestia... You could fall asleep right now... Last night has been rough.

                                            >You've felt sleepless, restless and for some strange reason very, very uneasy yesterday night, rolling around in your bed like a caterpillar in its cocoon.

                                            >Almost like your subconscious mind already knew that you would dream this horrible dream again and tried to prevent that by any means necessary.

                                            >But the sandmare eventually finds everypony and with her comes more often than not sleep's sweet embrace, thus foiling your intellect's endeavours.

                                            >Sucks to be it, you guess.

                                            >Another yawn leaves you and you aimlessly let your gaze wanders trough the reflection of the bathroom until it falls on the wall-mounted clock.

                                            >Ten past eleven... In fifty minutes you have to go to work.

                                            "Oh well..."

                                            >Time to bid farewell to the mirrored you and take a much needed shower.

                                            >You reek of sweat and... Other fluids that you educed your body last night in an attempt to get yourself tired.

                                            >Didn't work too well, but it at least took your mind off things for a short while.

                                            >That reminds you... You absolutely need to change the bedsheets and duvet covers before you leave. Your personal brand of juice has the tendency to be quite strong odourwise.

                                            >How she isn't bothered by it is beyond you... Anyway... Smelly things aside, time is running.

                                            >With a sigh you push yourself off the sink and get on your four hooves again.

                                            >One last time you shoot the mare in the mirror a quick smile, wait for her to return it and then climb into your bathtub.

                                            "Brr..."

                                            >By Celestia... It's as cold as marble!


                                            >And your tub isn't even made out of marble... So you waste no time and turn the water on, sighing in delight when the first few droplets hit your awaiting form.

                                            >For a good minute or two, you just sit there and enjoy the soothing feeling the warm downpour gives you, softly humming every so often as your muscles slowly relax.

                                            "Ahh..."

                                            >The eighty bits you had to fork out for this rain shower were really worth it... It's like standing in a warm summer rain...

                                            >With the invaluable benefit of it being in the comfy confines of your home.

                                            >No cold breezes casting a chill on you... No muddy hooves... And no other ponies staring at you and making you feel awkward.

                                            >It's just perfect~

                                            >One short moment more you relish this sensation before taking a loofah into your hooves and squirting some of your favourite shampoo onto it.

                                            >For whatever reason you feel like singing today... So you begin to sing quietly to yourself.

                                            >Nothing specific or even something you know the name of... Just some random song you heard some random mare singing the other day.

                                            "All the mountains high~"

                                            >The smell of gardenia, grapefruit, amber and vanilla invades your nostrils and fills your mind with old memories of holidays long bygone.

                                            >Specifically the crystal gardens of Mensis... An ancient city far, far away in the east.

                                            >Usually you aren't a mare for things too girlie or cute or dainty or what not, but you made an exception for this special shampoo.

                                            "The clouds across the sky~"

                                            >It smells just too... Fantastic.

                                            >Also your friend likes it a lot as well... So you always make sure to use it when you know she's coming by.

                                            >More often than not for mere base motives... But you digress and you won't see her today anyways.

                                            >She has got some... Things to sort out.

                                            >And you better leave her alone when this is the case, you learned that the hard and tearful way.

                                            "The grand horizon beckons me~"

                                            >You bring the now foamy bathing device to your face and take a deep whiff at it, trying to suppress a shiver from the flowery and fruity sensory overload before starting to slowly lather yourself with it.

                                            >Some extra care and attention is given to the area between and around your flanks... Lest you smell like you are at the apex of your heat at work.

                                            >Again...

                                            >Celestia... The looks your male co-workers have given you back then made you fear for your life. Staring at you with eyes addled by lust and following you with strides taken too close to your own.

                                            >A cold shiver runs down your spine.

                                            >Never, ever again...

                                            >Quickly you focus on scrubbing yourself again, managing to successfully expelling those unsettling memories out of your head whilst also covering your whole body in a rosy and fragrant foam.

                                            >Much, much better.

                                            "The rain comes falling down~"

                                            >It really does... Maybe a bit too hard. So you turn the water off for the moment lest you waste this rather expensive shampoo.

                                            >Okay that was your coat... Now for your mane and tail.

                                            "Upon the thirsty ground~"

                                            >Sitting down on your soaped haunches, you scrape some of the bubbly lather off and grab your tail... Or at least try do to so.

                                            >That stupid, slippery thing just doesn't want to... Ah! There you go!

                                            "Wash away my frailty~"

                                            >Before your tail can escape your soapy grasp once more, you give it the same treatment as the rest of your body and then let it have its own way again.

                                            "The wind blows through my mane~"

                                            >Now comes the part you dislike the most:

                                            >Washing your head and mane...

                                            >Your hooves are quite rough and chipped from work and the disinfectant you have to use there, so you tend to rip your own hairs out.

                                            >That's why you like to ask your friends or the manestylist of your trust to do this for you, but today it can't be helped...

                                            >Your friend isn't here and you have neither the time nor the money to visit the manedresser...

                                            >So you and your damaged hooves it is.

                                            "It courses through my veins...", you sing under gritted teeth and begin to lather your mane after a fashion.

                                            >After a whole twenty seconds you decide that this is enough and rinse everything out before something can get into your eyes.

                                            >By gone are the days of tear-free shampoos and formulas for sensitive fillies... Tcha. That's the price you have to pay for being allowed to drink as much alcohol as you want.

                                            >Or... Well... For being an adult in general.

                                            "Awakens me to worlds unseen~"

                                            >So you turn the water on again you indulge yourself in the toasty torrent, virtually being able to feel how all the dirt, grime and sweat of last night gets washed off you.

                                            "Mmmh~"

                                            >Your friend was right... Sometimes a shower is all a pony needs to feel like one again.

                                            >Watching the foamy suit that fully coated your body just mere moments ago running down the drain, something on your left foreleg catches your attention.

                                            >Not just anything... More or less recent scars to be exact.

                                            "Hmm... Well..."

                                            >They don't look all too bad any more... Yeah, they are slightly visible but your coat should hide them well enough.

                                            >So perhaps today you won't need to wear a wristband?

                                            "Hmm..."

                                            >Your co-workers might notice though... And then start to ask some very inconvenient and very awkward questions.

                                            >Happened already and you were barely able to safe your sorry ass back then by blaming your cooking skills, or the lack of them to be exact.

                                            >You fear that this won't work again... Even if those scars weren't born out of grief or misery this time.

                                            >No... You just wanted to debauch in your depraved kink for just one night again.

                                            >And you foolishly decided to do this under the influence of alcohol.

                                            >At first it was just one tiny incision... Barely enough to draw a small trickle of your blood and ignite a spark in your nethers. So you downed another glass of wine and carved another, this time far deeper, cut.

                                            >Things quickly went out of your control after that and the alcohol took over you completely.

                                            >By the celestial sisters...

                                            >You were literally swimming in your own blood. Smearing it all over your trembling form, imbibing it directly from its pulsating source and even using it to lubricate playthings to enhance your lust even more.

                                            >Blood may make for a bad lubricant... But you know how to make it work.

                                            >And did it ever work...

                                            >Nothing in your life is more satisfying to you than mixing what you leak down there in such galore with your life essence and lapping the disgusting cocktail of bodily fluids up afterwards.

                                            >The taste is... Indescribable.

                                            >Iron, hay, musk and so much more...

                                            "Hnngah..."

                                            >A pleasant shiver rocks your form and you catch your hooves slowly running down your front, searching for a place where they can have more fun.

                                            >You feel them brushing over the soft mounds of your teats, kneading them and flicking their stiff tips before wandering further down.

                                            "Ahh... Yah..."

                                            >Just a quick... Yeah...

                                            >Leaning back, you spread your legs to give your hooves better access to where you want to feel them the most.

                                            >Memories of you playing with your blood flood your mind and haze your thoughts, coaxing your body to prepare itself for a mate it will never get.

                                            >So sick... So depraved... So unnatural... But you just can't help it.

                                            >A hiss escapes your through gritted teeth when your rough hooves first touch your soft, puffy lips and ever so slightly graze the pearl that lies between them.

                                            "Ah!"

                                            >You begin to part and rub them, venturing just a bit deeper into your wet depths with each stroke you take.

                                            >More and more you feel your hoof getting soiled with that what you leak down there in abundance as it gets bolder in its advances.

                                            >With one final push and probe you let it depart from your honey part and bring it to your awaiting maw.

                                            >The sight of it dripping with what it collected in its flat surface sends a shiver down your spine and makes your mouth water.

                                            >Your tongue crawls out and takes a lap at the slightly oily, clear substance that sticks to it.

                                            >Immediately the familiar taste of your own nectar fills your mouth and you shiver in delight.

                                            >It's not all that bad after all... Your very own distinctive taste... Your very own acquired taste.

                                            >Almost overwhelmingly strong yet still with a subtle sweetness to it and a just hint of salt and other excretions you don't want to elaborate on right now.

                                            >But...

                                            >You think you can understand now why she likes it so much.

                                            >Another time your tongue shoots out and greedily gathers what it can reach.

                                            "Aaaahhh....", you smack your lips.

                                            >What would you give to feel something inside you now... Or somepony... No, her caress you... Or taste the ferric smack of your blood.

                                            >But all those things are out of your reach now... Except for the latter.

                                            >Just a tiny cut... A small incision... Just enough to coat your tongue.

                                            >That would be more than sufficient.

                                            >Your head slowly turns around until you can see the mirror cabinet and the small box full of sharp scalpels that still lies underneath it.

                                            >Three steps... Just three steps and what you desire most right now could be yours.

                                            >The warm water would even prevent or at least prolong the crimson spring from petering out too quickly.

                                            "..."

                                            >No...

                                            >You can't do that.

                                            >Not today...

                                            >You have to wait... At least for a week more.

                                            >As much as you want to indulge in it and play it out now, you can't allow it to overpower and take control of you.