Manofass(2017): Beach Bum Anon Chapter 7: Everything is fucked


                                            "Dear Princess Celestia,"

                                            >Your legs twitch and squirm as a paralytic warmth spreads across your rear

                                            "The preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration are underway, and it appears we'll be snugly underbudget again."

                                            >Pinkie's forked tongue leaves your anus with a wet pop and she laps up the foul saliva that drips down your taint

                                            "The projected crowds have shrunk since last year, as per usual."

                                            >Her curious snout plants several light kisses on your shivering rump

                                            >You tap your chin for a moment, staring off into space

                                            >A sudden movement outside a high window catches your eye

                                            >Must be those darn birds

                                            >You should really tell Dash about that

                                            "I know how busy you are, but I think it would be good for the ponies here to see you raise the sun in person for once."

                                            >Her tongue slides across your ass and thrusts itself into your gaping vagina like a striking snake

                                            "Lately everypony's been on edge with all the unwindings going on, and frankly I'm a little concerned myself."

                                            >It whips and winds to explore your inner curvature with childish curiosity

                                            "The doctors say it's because of the weather, but I can't help but feel worried."

                                            >Suddenly, Pinkie screams, pulls away and jumps into the air

                                            >Her eyes buldge at a nonexistant watch

                                            >"WOAWOAWOAH! I was supposed to be at the Cakes' by five! Sorry Twilight, I gotta get going!"

                                            >She zooms out of your castle, leaving your gash empty and unserviced

                                            >You roll your eyes and tell Spike to drop the letter and take over

                                            >Dragons have longer tongues anyways


                                            >Muted greens intermingle with the orange and pink of dusk

                                            >The night sky creeps towards the sun in its predatory stalk

                                            >Threatening to bring with it total darkness

                                            >You know such threats are not baseless

                                            >Already the guards patrol the streets, their bright red lanterns bobbing around Ponyville in steady marches

                                            >If you lived in someplace like Manehatten or Canterlot, your sky might be filled with stars and maybe even a moon

                                            >You could see the occasional white sparkle as dedicated mages suppressed the wraiths for the night

                                            >But you just have to make do with what you have

                                            >Padded feet slap against the crystal floor

                                            >You turn away from your balcony to see Spike

                                            >A scroll is in his claws, held out in offering

                                            >"It's Celestia."

                                            >You take the scroll into your ethereal lavender grip and unfurl the yellowish papyrus

                                            >'To my faithful friend Twilight Sparkle,

                                            >'I am pleased to hear of the Celebration's progress, as always, and am always happy to hear from you'

                                            >You swell up with pride for a moment

                                            >It's silly, especially now that you are practically equals

                                            >But you are always touched when she speaks so fondly of you

                                            >'As always, I'm always watching the happiness of my always beloved peasantry, and am well aware of their status.

                                            >'They always know what always serindipidously always for the presumptuous raptinuity of the consummation.

                                            >'But what always the knowleminous volumization of the always present undimnitious castramento.'

                                            >Aw shucks, you never understand her when she breaks out these huge words

                                            >It must be something really important

                                            >'Which is my I must say I cannot leave the palace grounds at this time.'

                                            >'Sincerely, your beloved Princess Celestia.'

                                            >Such a shame

                                            >No matter, there's always next year

                                            >You drop the letter on the ground to see that Spike has already run off

                                            >Where's he going in such a hurry?

                                            >Oh well

                                            >With that bit of business wrapped up, you turn your attention back to the dots on the ground

                                            >The sun has disappeared completely now, and every room in the castle is bathed in torchlight

                                            >Lights in the homes below refuse to travel beyond the glass of the windows, leaving the patrols alone with their lamps

                                            >The darkness has slowly coalesced into an ever thickening fog on the ground below

                                            >In a matter of minutes no light in the world would be able to penetrate the miasma

                                            >The price of civilization

                                            >Ponykind's penitence for its hatred and greed

                                            >An eternal reminder to reflect and repent...

                                            >To reflect on...

                                            >Repenting...

                                            >...

                                            >Your mind is a blank

                                            >Nothing that can't be solved by the whip

                                            >As you turn away from the balcony to engage in a night of self-flagellation, you notice Spike has returned with another letter in his hand

                                            "Oh! Didn't hear you come in."

                                            >"It's kinda hard to hear anything with you wheezing like that."

                                            >Embarassment washes over you as you realize just how hard you are breathing

                                            >You turn your gaze away from Spike, fruitlessly attempting to hide your flushed cheeks

                                            >"It's from Mayor Mare."

                                            >Sensing imminent business, you quickly recompose yourself

                                            "Probably the tithe, late again I see. We'll have to look into asking Soarin for an inquisitor if this keeps up."

                                            >"I dunno, it didn't feel like there were any bits inside."

                                            "Spike, we switched over to credit notes, like, six months ago."

                                            >He shrugs

                                            >You examine the envelope and do indeed see the seal of the Ponyville Tax House stamped in wax

                                            >The face of a smiling foal over two crossed fasces

                                            >You tear open the top and find a piece of yellow construction paper hastily scribbled over in brown crayon inside

                                            >Standard Mayor Mare prodcedure

                                            >'To the affable Princess Twilight,

                                            >'Your wisdom and mercy are legendary,

                                            >'I, Mayer Mare do hereby inviteth thee to an outing to the Castle of the Two Sisters where we might discuss plans for refurbishing it into a grand cathedral rivalling the spires of Cloudsdale.

                                            >'As it is in the very earlist stages of planning I have no budget or construction projections, I simply wish to discuss the matter at the moment.

                                            >'Meet me at the castle at exactly 3 pm tomorrow, bring nopony and tell nopony.

                                            >'Burn this letter when you are finished reading it.'

                                            >The letter abrubtly ends with a depiction of you and the Mayor holding hooves and smiling in place of a signature

                                            >This will be the perfect time to discuss the tithe situation with her in private!

                                            >Just before you incinerate the letter with a spell of hellfire, you give the drawing a second take

                                            >The sudden realization hits you that this message is a complete farce

                                            >The Mayor Mare in the drawing is completely stark naked!

                                            >The real Mayor is far too autistic to leave out any detail, let alone the collar and tie around her neck!

                                            >Something sour is afoot

                                            >Somewhere far below a guard screams as he is dragged off into the night


                                            >For the fifth time that night, you ran

                                            >You aren't taking any chances

                                            >Every crunch and snap could be a skinwalker or some similar freakazoid

                                            >Not to mention the fact that the cultists could be hot on your heels

                                            >At any moment something could descend upon you from the edges of your vision and beyond, claiming your body and or soul for some dark purpose

                                            >You've been in this damned magic horse land for what, a week? Two?

                                            >That's not counting your accidental expedition into the fucking void

                                            >Nothing here makes sense

                                            >Everything wants to kill you

                                            >Nothing makes fucking sense

                                            >It doesn't even need to make fucking sense if you can strangle it

                                            >That's how it was in the real world

                                            >But you can't strangle shit with these contemptable keratin cloppers

                                            >Not that you've tried, but you doubt it would be possible

                                            >Especially not with this baby strength

                                            >Horses are supposed to be all muscle

                                            >All of your forward momentum suddenly clumps up at the base of your skull as your head slams into a dark shape

                                            >The world goes completely black and silent for a moment before returning in full, earsplitting force

                                            >The thing that you conked your head against is big, hairy, and shaped like an egg

                                            >Through the deafening sound of cicadas and crickets you hear a grunt, a growl, and finally a roar

                                            "Oh goddammit!"

                                            >The egg shape is quickly violated as a long arm breaks from the side and slams against your body, launching you several feet and into a shrub

                                            >The sudden surge of pain immediately breaks your trance of frustration and you find yourself taken back into the clutches of fear

                                            >A few of the wild potatoes slip from your ass, now in fecal form

                                            >The thing suddenly rises on spindly stick legs, the shapes so thin you quickly lose them in the darkness

                                            >Something cracks, something else pops and the creature jolts towards you, its arm lost in the rapidly expanding sillhouette

                                            >In a pitiful effort to slow it down you kick at your tiny mushy turds, sending them airborne and landing on the creature as brown flecks

                                            >If it had any effect, it was not one you could notice

                                            >The arm wraps around your ankle and slings you past the treeline and straight into the sky

                                            >Looking down you see the shape grow twice its original size

                                            >Several rows of slobber-slicked probably-teeth glisten in the light of the full moon

                                            >Just as you begin your descent you are blindsided from behind with all the force of a freight train

                                            >Your senses withdraw for a moment, and as they return you are made aware of something wrapped around your gut in a vice

                                            >Your new captor is horse-shaped and in the faint starlight you were not afforded below the canopy you detect a hint of orange

                                            >"Guess I got you just in time. That's probably the wraith that got Hodgepodge."

                                            >As you speed away into the night you can hear the beast scream, presumably in rage

                                            >"Yeah, you think what she got was bad? Ever seen what wraiths do to kids? You'd be fucked up, sonny. Rightly fucked up.

                                            >"Hell, we probably wouldn't even be able to tell what you were. That is, if we even find the strawberry jam stain that would be your corpse."

                                            >The imagery sends shivers down your spine

                                            >"Yeah, you'd prolly just get turned to mist and get scattered for miles. They really, really hate children."

                                            >There's a long period of silence

                                            "Wh-"

                                            >"Like, holy shit dude. You would be totally fucked. In more ways than one.

                                            >"That thing would've raped the shit out of you. Not gently, either. Your sphincter would shatter like a dinner plate.

                                            >"You know how some people say they get fucked raw? Yeah, it'd stuff its fucking arms up your ass. Not slowly. Like, instantly.

                                            >"You would be able to hear your anuses break. Do you have any idea how painful that is? Because the answer is very.

                                            >"Not that it's ever happened to me, mind you, but I've seen it before. You'd scream like a cockatoo. Not sing, scream. Cockatoos scream, and its a lot worse than when they sing.

                                            >"And he'd do that until your pelvis split straight down the middle. Actually, it'd split into threes- no, fours.

                                            >"Your asshole would probably look worse than the mist, honestly. At least when you're mist you won't feel shit.

                                            >"No, when he splits your butt like a lumberjack you'd wish you were burning in tartarus. For a million years.

                                            >He chuckles to himself and shakes his head, shifting your weight to his other hoof

                                            >You really dodged a bullet, if this guy is to be believed

                                            >Wishing to forget about the matter, you stare up at the full moon, taking in the sound of the whooshing wind and slow return of the bugs dwelling in the night forest

                                            >"Holy shit, and your legs. Your legs would get crushed like soda cans.

                                            >"You know how when you step on a soda can to crush it up into a little circle? Those would be your legs. All of them.

                                            >"Your bones would be bleeding. No, scratch that, your bones would be blood, because the bones wouldn't be bones anymore.

                                            >"Imagine breaking an egg with the shell, and you got your legs. Holy shit, you ever had eggs? They're the fucking bomb diggity. I envy griffins, I really do. They get to eat eggs. And meat. Without getting sick, I mean.

                                            >"The yolk tastes kinda like metal, but its a good kind of metal. Like, fuckin... I dunno how to describe it. They just taste like eggs. And yolk. Have you ever met a griffin?"

                                            "N-no. I met a hippogriff, though. Once. In Miluwakee, I think."

                                            >Your response is instant and filled with dread

                                            >He tsks at you and sneers

                                            >"If you're gonna tell stories, tell believable ones. Retard."

                                            >Another silent moment

                                            >"Fuck, I wanna drop you now. Fuck you. Fuckin'... stupid, idiot. Fuck off."

                                            >His words are genuine enough that you reciprocate his grip and stare at the shapeless void below

                                            >"Easy, easy. I'm not actually gonna. I mean, I really want to, but Trixie would be peeved."

                                            >You trust in his words and let go of him

                                            >Whether he lied or just wasn't prepared for your weight matters not

                                            >Regardless of circumstances, you are soon left in a freefall

                                            >"Oh, wait, shit! Come back!"

                                            >You flail around in the air for a few moments, rushing towards the dark outline of a pine tree


                                            >You were already ten minutes late

                                            >You can't conceal the swagger in your step, nor subdue the smug grin on your face

                                            >There's a certain taste in the air as you trot through the ruined arch, a taste not unlike victory

                                            >You are ten steps ahead of this mystery mare, and you aren't planning on letting her catch up

                                            >The professional soldiers in the castle guard had quietly surrounded the castle and wait for your signal

                                            >A small levy had been gathered to follow you in, armed with only spears and pitchforks

                                            >In a crowd of twenty-three, however, they were just as intimidating as any mob

                                            >Weather ponies gathered a small storm over the castle to clovertly peer through the clouds

                                            >To top it all off, you finally had an opportunity to show off your stylish new hiking boots

                                            >Stopping in the center of the main hall, you clear your throat and puff out your chest

                                            "We know you're here, show yourself and face judgement!"

                                            >Your voice rings through the castle, echoing off the high stone walls and down dark corridors, booming into the exposed sky

                                            >The echoes trail away, leaving only the sound of a rustling breeze

                                            >So it's gonna be like that, is it?

                                            >You fire a signal flare into the sky, blue, to tell your hidden troops to sweep the building

                                            >You take your conscripts down the main hall at a brisk pace, swinging open the great iron doors to the throne hall

                                            >Immediately you notice that the doors to the actual throne room itself were ajar, the tarnized gold surfaces swung violently inwards and barely clinging to the frames

                                            "Come out and you might get off with the guillotine."

                                            >Several seconds with no reply

                                            "Alright, you-"

                                            >A blinding flash steals your sight, your troops scream in fear

                                            >You charge up an explosion spell but it quickly fizzles out when something latches on to your horn

                                            >A hand slides under your gut and you are hoisted into the air

                                            "Submit to the crown, I DEMAND IT!"

                                            >Another hand covers your mouth, prompting you to squirm and kick

                                            >You charge up another spell, but just as it condensers in the tip of your horn you hear a loud crack from deep inside your skull

                                            >You let out a muffled howl of agamy, your head feels like it's being hammered in with a club

                                            >The snow white burned into your retinas dims into a faint grey, the pain threatening to render you unconscious

                                            >But through sheer will, you bounce right back and bite out at your captor's fingers

                                            >You hit your mark, clamping down on at least two and being rewarded with a masculine scream and the coppery taste of blood

                                            >You are flung from (his?) grip and slam into something hard and stone

                                            >"ALONE! I SAID COME ALONE! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS?"

                                            >That voice...

                                            >Deep, and slightly accented, somewhat posh

                                            >Definitely male

                                            >Don't you know it from somewhere?

                                            >You scramble to your hooves and blink several times, but to no avail

                                            "Troops! Who can see? Strike at the thug!"

                                            >"They're nowhere near us you pillock."

                                            >That's right, you heard their panicked shouting trail off while you were incapacitated

                                            >"Don't worry, though. No matter how much I want to STRANGLE you right now, I'm going to try my best to hold back."

                                            "Who are you? I demand to be unblinded!"

                                            >He inhales sharply and expels a venemous grunt

                                            >"TWILIGHT you DOPE! It's DISCORD! The SPIRIT OF CHAOS! THE MASTER OF DISHARMONY! We've been over this before!"

                                            >Discord, huh? That does sound familiar...

                                            >"As for your sight, it'll come back eventually. Maybe next time you LISTEN TO WHAT I TELL YOU."

                                            >The nerve!

                                            "As if I'd listen to someone impersonating a state official! You'll rot in-"

                                            >"JUST SHUT UP, WOULD YOU?"

                                            >He takes a deep breath and you hear him pacing around you

                                            >Oddly, his footsteps are a mix between a quiet clop and the padded clicking of lizard feet

                                            >"Alright, alright. So, I got the soul about a week or so ago, and I'm gonna be honest with you, I'm gonna admit it, I played around with him.

                                            >"Made him a kid and stuff, and I know, I said I wouldn't, I'd be professional, but I didn't think the goat would be watching this closely, alright?

                                            >"So yeah, I screwed it up, but it doesn't matter right now because the goat's getting paranoid, I've seen it, he's sending all the extra wraiths to this kid.

                                            >"You met him, didn't you? I remember sending him your way. Whatever, don't answer, not important. The point is-"

                                            >Another sharp breath, he disengenes from his blabble, runs around for a few seconds, and returns to pacing

                                            >"The point is-"

                                            "Alright, mister 'Discord,' that's enough. If you're trying to indoctrinate me, I'll have you know how... umm..."

                                            >He falls completely silent while you try and figure out the word you're thinking of

                                            >It's the one that means completely, except it starts with a 'u'

                                            >The lightbulb inside suddenly flickers on

                                            "I'll have you know how uttardly insane it is to try and convert a princess to whatever cult you're a part of.

                                            "And furthermore, you should realize that soon you'll be in the custardy of Equestria's finest and thrown in an iron maiden like the rest of your kind!"

                                            >Dead silence

                                            >You begin to wonder if maybe he's already fled like the craisen dog he is

                                            >"You..."

                                            >There is genuine sorrow in his voice

                                            >"...you really have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

                                            "And for that I'm glad! Glad and also proud!"