Equestrian rehab (Act 1, Part 1)


                                            >The clang of rusted chains carried over languid mewls of pleasure and pain as you walked between the filthy iron cages. The few remaining occupants either: stewing in their own filth, bodies huddled into the corners of their prison; or were ravenously presenting themselves, desperate for a chance to be removed from this fetid hell.

                                            >A man who looked like he hadn’t showered in weeks walked alongside you, trying to upsell you on leashes and muzzles. Every now and then he pulled on a cigarette, a slimy smile plastered on his face as he worked his copper tongue.

                                            >”And here she is, Mister… Mous?” He stops at the the end of the room in front of a solitary cage. It’s a slightly larger one than the others in the room

                                            “Anon will do fine, thanks mate. How did she find her way into your-” you eye his filthy yellow latex gloves. Small splotches of blood had dried alongside other murky substances. “-capable hands?”

                                            >”Well, you know how it goes mate. I hear about some offer from the old grapevine. Y’know, one that's too good to be true. Pay out my fucking ears for some popular pony cunt who has the weirdos -- no offense by the way mate -- slobbering over her.” He stops to take another deep drag from his cigarette.

                                            >”She’s on some new fucking drug and is cleaned up for the inspection so she’s like a roofied slut on a friday night. And then she falls apart the moment she arrives. Cunt’s a royal pain in the ass.” He gestures with a hand at the cage you’ve stopped at.


                                            “Falls apart?” You crouch down to look into the cage.

                                            >You spot her in the back, hiding in the shadows. She’s huddled in the corner, lying on a filthy rag that that’s too small, body visibly shaking as her frantic eyes lock onto you. Almost immediately the shaking stops as she stands up tall on too thin legs. You can confirm from her silhouette that you have the right pony, after all there weren’t that many with both wings and a horn.

                                            >Continuing towards you, she tries swaying her hips as she walks, but the act combined with her malnourishment only emphasises her janky hip bones. As she steps into the light, you quickly force a neutral expression on your face while you inwardly retch.

                                            >She’d tried to take on a sultry smile; but the pain in her purple bloodshot eyes, the filth in her mane and on her face, and the stain of dried blood around her muzzle just makes you feel sick.

                                            >She stops as she notices one of her wings is hanging limply by her side. She stops and looks at it, a brief panic sweeping across her face as she struggles to move it. After a few frantic jerks she manages to weakly tuck it into her side and lets out a sigh of relief.

                                            >“At the start --after I found out of course -- I tried selling her at a bit of a loss. But she’s too fucked in the head; and none of the dickheads who come checking her out are willing to put in that kind of cash for goods this damaged.” He seems to taken a few steps back to give you two space.


                                            “Yeah, right. That’s fair enough…” you swallow heavily as you soak in the sight in front of you.

                                            >Her coat and mane are heavily matted. A slick film of filth caked into both, slicking them against her anorexic body. She’s mostly skin and bones, and a few splotches of dried blood stand out on her forelegs. As she reaches the bars of her cage, she looks up at you. Her trembling lips twisted into a forced smile, while her buggy eyes trace an outline of your head. You can tell she’s desperately trying to make eye contact, but something’s wrong.

                                            >You look over at the handler, a flood of questions on your mind. However, he only has a grim look on his face. A small gasp from the pony makes you look back quickly.

                                            >Your eyes briefly meet hers before she can look away. Tears begin building in the corners. Her voice starts coming out in short shuddering yelps and wails as she desperately tries to talk. She stamps a cracked hoof in frustration and recoils in pain.

                                            “Shhhh, easy girl...” You coo gently to her and reach out a hand to her.

                                            >”Careful with that hand mate, or you might lose it.” The owner takes a few steps towards the cage. You glance at him but pull your hand back.

                                            >You stand up to the pony’s immense displeasure as she lets out a frustrated whinny.

                                            “How in gods name did she wind up like this?”

                                            >She starts turning in the cage.


                                            “And what the fu-” You gag as she presents her rear to you and starts swaying back and forth, her mangy tail raised and out of the way.

                                            >Feces and urine stain the fur running down to her hooves. Many sores and a few open cuts surround her swollen, puffy lips as her clit winks at you. She looks back at you and her face falls at your reaction. You watch on in horror as she slowly backs into the bars of the iron cage and starts grinding on them, her actions causing a murky liquid to run down their sides and begin pooling on the floor while she shamefully moans.

                                            >You turn to the handler, questions forming on the tip of tongue when the smell hits you. He must have known this was going to happen as he hands you a sick bag. You grab for it and deposit the contents of your stomach with a few painful retchs.

                                            “Christ almighty…” You wipe your mouth and pinch your nose. Feeling pricks of heat in your face as your anger builds at the situation, you look over at him. You’re almost at the point of yelling at him but stop yourself. His face is bent into a frown with what could be described as pity is written on it

                                            >”She wasn’t always this bad you know”. He stares at the deranged mare as she continues to stimulate herself. A pained mewling coming from her as she desperately tries to get herself off, her mind having forgotten about you. “It's the drugs that have made her this bad.”

                                            >You’re open your mouth but he pre-empts you.


                                            >”It wasn’t me mate. You know this is the end of the line for them right?” You nod in response.

                                            >If they didn’t get sold here, it was on to hard labour camps. If they were in too bad a shape, too dysfunctional for any use; they would be sent on to meet a bitter end in a glue factory.

                                            >”I run this place to make money sure, but I’m not heartless mate. And a rehabilitated pony makes more money than the other solutions.”

                                            “So you didn’t-”

                                            >”She was already hooked on them when she arrived, and it took a few days for the withdrawal symptoms to show.” He lets out a long and tired sigh. “First she started screaming and banging on the bars until she was hurting herself. She still doesn’t eat much at the moment, but back then she would just refuse to touch anything I gave her that wouldn’t feed her habit. Not being mean, but I think she prefers being on them.”

                                            >The mare shudders, her hips rocking violently against the abrs as she finally stimulates herself to completion, a gush of fluid  splattering near your feet. She crumples to the ground and begins lightly sobbing. You look over at him.

                                            >”I don’t think she can focus very well when she’s on them. Keeps her mind cloudy. And it seems like the pleasure is a nice distraction from her situation.”

                                            “You're telling me you actually look after her?”


                                            >“I’m saying I do what I can mate. It takes all I’ve got to keep her from going over the edge. Even to the point of neglecting the others here! The rest of the poor bastards in this place aren’t usually in this state.”

                                            >You look around at the other cages. You had noticed they had looked filthy, but what you didn’t notice were the unoccupied ones were still relatively clean.

                                            >”I think who she is disheartens a lot of the others. Few of them tried to bite her through the cages. Its why she’s on her own back here.”

                                            >”She won’t let me wash or touch her, keeps trying to take a fucking bite out of me everytime. I reckon she’s scared it's the end of the line everytime I go to touch her.” The pony hasn’t moved from where she collapsed in front of you. Her body constantly trembling as she took gasping breaths.

                                            >You look over her once more before turning to the man.

                                            “You said you wanted twenty grand for her?” He avoids your gaze and scratches the back of his head.

                                            >”Look I know she’s in bad shape, I told you as much before she arrived. But with the amount I spent on purchasing and supporting her, I really need this or all the ponies here are moving on to another place. Wherever that may be...”

                                            >You look back at the cages again, a few of the inhabitants had started listening in on your conversation. You could tell from the looks on their faces that silent prayers were being uttered.


                                            >You pinch the bridge of your nose as you mull it over. Money isn’t a question for you at this point, but the gears in your head start turning as you consider what you’ve seen today.

                                            ”Seventeen and a half-” The man voices his disagreement but you hold up your hand. “-with another seven and a half in two weeks if you get this place cleaned up and recommend a good vet I can take her to.”

                                            >He considers you carefully. Looking between you and the pony for a few moments before he lets out a deep sigh and offers his hand. You firmly clasp it, sealing the deal.

                                            “Thanks mate, but trust me; I’m good for it it.”

                                            >“You better be, or I might just as well have signed away the future of the rest of those poor mongrels. The name’s Mark by the way.”

                                            >He leads you into a back room where you can fill out the required paperwork and write him his cheque. As you sign where required, he disappears before re-emerging with a muzzle and a harness designed to restrain a pony during transport, only allowing small movement.

                                            >”I’ll get her ready for you. It should only take a few moments, but I’d like you to be there to keep her calm, mate.” He waves the fingers on his now gloveless, showing you bite marks that were bruising nicely.

                                            >You arrive back at the cage. The mare has retreated back into the shadows and has her head in her hoofs, her body visibly shaking again. Equine ears perk up as you approach, followed by her head as she hears the jingle of keys being pulled out of Mark’s pocket.


                                            >Her head flits back and forth between you, drug addled mind struggling to understand what's going on. As her former handler unlocks the cage, she pushes herself further into the corner of the cage, chipped and cracked hooves desperately struggling to put distance between herself and Mark as he opens the cage door. He takes a crouching step inside, causing her to instantly shriek out.

                                            >”N-No! No! Please! NO! NO!!!!” She cries out, making Mark flinch back, clutching his hand to his chest.

                                            >You’re finally able to hear her speak proper words but it makes your stomach curl. Hearing such a pained and distressed voice layered with panic spurs you forward. You move Mark out of the way as you stride towards the broken pony.

                                            >”Hey wait, don-” Mark tries to warn you but you ignore him.

                                            >Her eyes are still locked on Mark. Her wails turning incoherent as she mindlessly flails in the corner. The smell of her and the cage intensifies, flooding your nostrils. You hold back any bile. She finally notices you at a metre away and goes dead still, pupils pinpricks as she holds her breath. Taking care to move very slowly, you steadily drop to your knees in front of her. Her chest heaves rapidly and you begin to worry she’ll start hyperventilating if you don’t do something.

                                            >She screams as you suddenly lunge forward, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. Her wings instantly shoot out and weakly flap against you. One hand goes to the back of her head as you pull it in alongside your own.


                                            >You can feel the grime on her coat and your nose has already gone numb to the smell. She’s trying to push away from you, weak hooves striking daintily at your chest. You have her chin held securely on top of your shoulder with a hand so she can’t bite you.

                                            “Shhh, shhhh, it’s ok, it’s ok.” You whisper into her ear as she continues wailing.

                                            >While you console her gently, you idly take note that your clothes have probably been ruined by holding her filthy body against yours. Delicately stroking her barrel with your other hand you hold her close as she slowly winds down. Her struggling eventually ceases and her screams die down to whimpers as you continue to console her.

                                            “It’s ok girl, it's ok…”

                                            >You feel a dampness on your knees. Looking down you discover that she wet herself when you grabbed her. A few moments of silence pass between you as you wait for her to calm down.

                                            “My name’s Anon, would you like to tell me yours?”

                                            >You feel her tense up at the question and she lets out a sob before you react.

                                            “There there. It's alright if you don’t want to say it. But I do need you to answer another question for me.” You feel her body tense up. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m gonna let go of your head, and I want you to either shake or nod your head in response,is that alright?”

                                            >”Mmhmm.”

                                            “Good girl, I’m gonna let you up now.” Slowly you lower your hand and pull back your head. Her hooves are still pushing weakly against your chest, but she seems willing to cooperate.


                                            >Still shaking slightly, her eyes lock with yours. You feel distraught just looking at how she is now, compared to what you’ve seen of her from images of the day Equestria surrendered several years ago. You flinch and look away. She notices and looks to the ground, where she realizes that she’s soiled herself. Her face painted with shame, she hangs her head lower and lower.

                                            ”Hey,” you gently grab her muzzle by the chin and point it back up at you. “I need you to focus on what I’m about to ask you. I want to make sure you properly understand what I’m saying to you.

                                            >She sighs and takes a few deep, shaky breaths. Her eyes flicker briefly from you to mark, and then back again. After a few moments her body stops trembling. She steadies herself for a few moments before looking you right in the eyes. You can see a clarity shining briefly through the drug addled haze of her mind and figure this is the best moment.

                                            ”My name’s Anon, and I was wondering if you’d like to be in my care?”

                                            >Her eyes go wide as once again tears well in their sockets. Her eyes are frantically searching yours, desperate to find something that confirms the meaning of what you just said.. You smile at her and place a hand on her cheek.

                                            “I don’t care how much trouble you might end up causing me, and I might not be the most capable person myself; but if you’re willing to come live with me, then I’ll try my best to make it a place you can call home.”


                                            >You watch as her hard fought for composure crumbles in front of your eyes. A moment of relief sweeping her away as she collapses onto you, her forelegs move over your shoulders as she desperately pulls on your back. She tucks her head into your chest and starts crying. Not out of pain, nor out of sadness or shame.

                                            >You’d like to think, that for one fleeting moment, she had experienced some fleeting hope. You hold her close and start gently consoling her again.

                                            >After a few moments the sticky feeling of her coat makes you shift your body, breaking the magic. She slowly removes her head from your chest and looks at you.

                                            “Well, what do you think?” You hold a steady smile on your face.

                                            >“Mmhmm” Her face is haggard from all the crying she’s done.

                                            “What does mmhmm mean?” You ask teasingly.

                                            >“M-my n-names, C-c-cel-c-cele-” You can tell she’s struggling, so you just gently stroke her barrel and give her the time she needs. She hangs her head again and takes another ragged deep breath as she recovers from her emotional turbulence.

                                            >She noticeably calms, lifting her face once again to meet yours. She tucks her wings into her side and holds herself up as high as she can in her state. Your eyes go wide as for the first time you see a small smile adorning her face. Her current condition falls to the wayside as in this brief moment, you swear you can see a glimpse of the beautiful pony she once was.

                                            >My… My name is Cel… Celestia, and I would like to be in your c-c-care, Mr Anon.”


                                            ===================================================================


                                            “Atta girl. Atta girl.”

                                            >You leave your hands on her sides and face Mark. Your heart had risen. A small surge of confidence boosting your spirits before you notice his expression.

                                            “What?” He’s still slouched over near the door, holding his hand close to his chest.

                                            “What are you doing? I’ve got her calmed down mate. Come put the muzzle on her.” He just looks at you with tired eyes and shakes his head.

                                            >“Your...care...your...care…your care...your care...” You feel Celestia start moving as she repeats herself, her barrel slickly shifting in your grip. She pulls a hoof off your shoulder. Mark shakes his head again and chuckles at you. You frown at him and turn back to her.

                                            >”I told you she was fucked, mate.”

                                            >Celestia is still looking at you -- well more your body -- but something is different. Her small smile has stretched into a dopey grin. Nostrils flare as she takes in a deep breath before letting out a shuddering exhale. Her head is angled down as she stares through you with narrow eyes.

                                            >The remaining hoof on your shoulder starts pushing and pulling. Your gaze falls downward as you realize what she’s doing.

                                            “Oh no…”

                                            >“Your care… your care…” She repeats the mantra in a husky murmur. One hoof stroking gingerly against her winking clit.

                                            “Oh no, no, no… you poor thing.”

                                            >The estrus stricken mare is using your back as leverage to thrust her hips against her filthy appendage.

                                            >Small yelps and moans intermittently escape from her. You notice, with alarm, something you hadn’t been able to see until getting up close. The tell-tale signs of discoloration that indicate infection on the hoof she’s using to pleasure herself.

                                            “Celestia stop…” The mare’s ears flick at her name, folding back against her head. Her mouth slowly hangs open with her tongue lolling out.

                                            “Celestia please, I can’t let you do this…” Her chest starts heaving with strained panting.


                                            >”Anon’s... care… Anon’s care… Anon’s...CARE!” Her eyes suddenly go wide, a crazed look taking over her face.

                                            >With one brisk movement, she pulls her free foreleg off of you before she thrusts her head down. Her muzzle continues until it collides roughly with your crotch. One hoof goes beneath her to support her weight while the other intensifies in pace; until it’s frantically rubbing back and forth as she starts snorting wildly, drowning in your scent.

                                            “Hey! Celestia! STOP!” You reach down and grab her chin with your right arm.

                                            >“Whoa careful, mate!” Mark speaks out as you try to pull her face away, but she snarls. She gives your arm a feral look before twisting her head out of your grip and biting it.

                                            “FUCKIN- NNGHH” You stop, letting out a low grunt as you tolerate the agony in your arm. “Celestia! Let go of me!”

                                            >She’s got a tight grip. Your arm isn’t budging from her mouth without more pain. You can hear Mark moving behind you.

                                            >”Christ, I knew this would fucking happen. Gimme a sec.” He starts stomping through the cage.

                                            >You hear the sound of a zipper followed by a switch and a clacking sound. You twist your head and see him holding out a Taser, the blue arc of electricity violently dancing between two metal nodes. You look back at the broken pony. With each step he gets closer, Celestia bites down harder. A small whimper escapes from the mouth clenched around your arm. Her pupils are pinpricks of fear as she eyes the vicious dancing light.

                                            “Wait, wait, wait!” You hold up your free hand in protest at Mark. He scowls at you, but halts his advance.

                                            >You look back down at Celestia. She stopped tending to herself the moment the device was pulled out. Now small tremors have begun rocking through her body as the scared whimpering grows.


                                            “Put that shit away, cunt. You’re just making it worse. She’s fucking terrified.”

                                            >”Are you cooked, mate? She’s gone fucking feral on you! She’s trying to tear your arm off just so she can get her rocks off!”

                                            “Look, just… just give me a few moments.” He grunts, but ultimately takes a step back. You sigh in relief. “And put that fucking thing away, would you!”

                                            >“...Fine.” He takes another step back and sheaths the Taser in his pocket.

                                            >Like a spell being broken, Celestia stops shaking and her jaw loosens. She looks back down at your arm and her body jolts. Her gaze slowly drifts up to your face. Her eyes meet yours. You smile at her, but she just looks away in shame. You slowly move your left hand to her head and stroke her filthy mane.

                                            “Could you please let my arm go, girl?” She hesitates, flicking her eyes to Mark then back at you, before she gives a slight nod and opens her maw. Saliva forms thin strands between her mouth and your arm as she pulls her head back and closes her mouth.

                                            >You tenderly rub your arm. A bruise can be felt forming, and there’s some damaged skin that might start bleeding if you rub it too hard. But you’ve had worse. Celestia’s lips tremble as she stares at your arm, taking in what she’s done.

                                            >You close your eyes.

                                            >This is it. You can see clear as day how bad she’s doing on a physical level, and she just showed you how deep her mental problems go. Although getting her off the drugs will help her, there is going to be a lot of pain -- for both of you -- on the road to rehabilitation. Once you start down this path you won’t let yourself back down. So are you going forward with it?

                                            >You process everything you’ve seen today: the state she is in, the state this place is in, the worn out look on Mark’s face and his filthy gloves, your arm. Above all that though is the promise you made to her, and that image of the mare she could become again when she showed you that lovely smile.


                                            >Gods damned fucking right you’re going to help this poor mare out!

                                            >You open your eyes and scratch Celestia’s ear. She looks up at you and cocks her head to the side. Pupils flicking back and forth over your face, trying to understand what you could be thinking.

                                            “Could you toss me that muzzle, Mark?”

                                            >He fumbles at a clip on his belt before tossing a leather muzzle at you. Catching it awkwardly in your left, you place it on the ground. Celestia’s eyes track it the entire way before returning to you.

                                            “Are you back with me again, Celestia?” She flinches at her name, though gives a short nod in response.

                                            “I want to get you home.” You begin, her un-tended to ear perking up.

                                            “And give you a bath, you smelly horse.” You flick her on the nose with your free hand.

                                            >She goes cross-eyed and scrunches her blood stained mouth. Even with the wretched state of her coat and mane, you can’t help but chuckle at her visage.

                                            “That’s payback for my arm.” She recovers and hangs her head in shame. You continue to scratch her ear.

                                            >”Y-you’re not gonna turn me i-into g-... into glue?” There is no doubt in her voice, but you know she needs to hear the answer from you.

                                            “Not in a million years.” She sighs and visibly relaxes. The tension leaving her body as she sits back on her hindquarters while steadying her breathing.

                                            >”Y-you’re going to take me home now?” You nod.

                                            “I told you I’d do my best to take care of you. You ain’t getting rid of me that easy, Celly.” She chuckles, though her eyes wander to the muzzle.

                                            >”I suppose you’ll be needing me to put that on?” You carefully grab the muzzle, holding it out in front of her so she can get a closer look.

                                            “This... And a restraining harness.”  She flinches again. After a few brief moments of staring at the muzzle she nods. You and Mark both let out a sigh of relief.


                                            “Mark, I’ll put the muzzle on her and bring her out of the cage. Could you go get the harness and meet us out the front?”

                                            >“Sure thing, boss.” Mark scurries out, leaving you two alone. You firmly grip the muzzle in both hands and hold it at her head height. She quickly leans down and drinks deeply from a bowl of water on the floor near her rag of a bed before bringing herself back up.

                                            “Alright girl, I know you’re in a rough place at the moment, but I need you to try your best to stay with me. Can you do that?” She takes a few deep breaths before nodding.

                                            >You slowly pull the leather cone over her mouth and loop the straps around her cheek and head. Slowly tightening them until they’re taut, you give the entire thing a gentle tug to confirm it’s secure.

                                            “Now I know this is going to suck, but you’re going to encounter a lot of... Aromas between here and home.” She eyes you carefully and nods.

                                            “I was thinking if we rubbed some of your uh, scent? From the floor? If we rubbed some of that around the muzzle it might help you cope.”

                                            >She gazes at the stain she earlier made on the floor. She narrows her eyes slightly but gives a curt nod all the same. Soaking the rag she had been sleeping on in her shame, you dab it lightly on and around the muzzle. Once you think you’ve done a good enough job, you throw it into the corner and stroke her neck a few times.

                                            “There we go, now how about we get moving so you don’t have to put up with that smell.” She snorts at you in agreement.

                                            >You stand up, straightening too quickly as you bang your head on the cage roof. As you swear in pain, Celestia gives a throaty chuckle. The mare herself slowly raises on shaky legs, her steps unsure as she follows you out of the cage. You stop outside its entrance to make sure she’s alright. She stops at the precipice.


                                            >Daintily lifting one shaky hoof, she carefully extends it before placing it on the concrete ground. She shudders and you brace yourself to catch her. Shaking her head at you, Celestia stumbles forward until she’s completely out of the cage, catching herself from falling at the last moment. She stands proud and beams up at you before looking around, her eyes quickly losing their shine as she spies the other ponies in cages.

                                            >You’re about to start moving before she rubs her face on your leg, blinking away tears. You look down at her and smile, giving her a moment before you two move on.

                                            >You take a few steps, but you’re stopped by a whinny from Celestia. Facing her, your heart nearly breaks at how violently her legs are shaking. She looks up at you with frustration written on her face and you nod at her. You walk back to her front and kneel down to eye level.

                                            ”No funny business.” She nods once, sitting on her rear.

                                            >Forelegs reach out and cross over your shoulders for balance. Once her hooves are hooked, you bend further and grab her by the haunches. She gives a slight squeak and pulls on your back as you hoist her into the air. You try to ignore the fetid materials mixed into her coat that you can now feel under your fingers.

                                            >She’s a bit heavy in your grip and you let her know as much, causing her to lightly slap your back. Although, under normal circumstances a pony of this size should be much heavier.

                                            >Her head is hooked over your shoulder as you start exiting the compound, walking past the rest of the occupied cages. Several of the inhabitants stare in shock and awe while whispering to their sleeping neighbours to wake up. Unfortunately, one of them decides that it's now or never to get something off their chest.


                                            >”TRAITOR!!” One stallion yells out.

                                            >Celestia flinches in your grip

                                            ”Easy girl.” You whisper into her ear as she pushes her chin harder into your shoulder.

                                            >“SHE’S LEAVING US TO DIE, WHILE SHE GETS A NEW HOME!!” A mare screams out while murmurs start spreading amongst the cages.

                                            >“SHE’S ABANDONING US AGAIN!!”

                                            >”DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT THE PRINCESS LIKE THAT!!”

                                            >”I’LL SAY WHAT I WANT, YOU GODS DAMNED REAR-RAISING CHAIN-LICKER!”

                                            >”IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP ABOUT HER, I’LL SEND YOU TO THE FUCKING GLUE FACTORY MYSELF, YOU FUCKING GELDED STONE-BREAKER.”

                                            >”OH, YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT NOW, YOU STRIPED, DRUGGED UP, BITCH.”

                                            >”WE’RE ALL DRUGGED UP, YOU FUCKING DOPEY RETARD” With that, the cages explode in an uproar of insults mixed with traces of either praise or condemnation for the pony now shaking violently in your arms.

                                            “Easy… easy… we’re almost out” You whisper softly into her ear.

                                            >After a few more moments you exit the warehouse, leaving the chorus of abuse behind the both of you. You see Mark near your car and begin making your way over to him, consoling the poor mare as best you can the whole way.

                                            >He gives you a curt nod as you approach. You return it and gently set the shaking pony down in the boot filled with blankets. Her coat and filthy rear instantly staining them. She doesn’t make eye contact with either of you and hangs her head as you slowly wrap her in the restraining harness. The leather straps of the device loop around her bony arms and legs, weaving back and forth across her malnourished barrel and neck before being tied off securely onto metal railings and folded up seats on the sides of the boot’s interior. It forces her into a crouching position, but it does take some of the weight of her legs as she sags in the bindings.


                                            “I’m gonna have a quick chat with Mark before we go, Celestia. Will you be alright by yourself for a moment?” She can’t even look at you when you’re standing behind her like this, but after a short while her hanging head makes a small up-down motion.

                                            >You close the boot and pull Mark off to the side. The man himself looks like a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

                                            “Two weeks Mark, and you better have this place cleaned up.”

                                            >”Yeah, nah, no worries, mate. With the money you’ve given me so far, I’ll actually be able to get the water turned back on and give them some actual food.

                                            “Wait, the fuck? You haven’t been giving them water?”

                                            >”Yeah, nah, nah, nah. I’ve been giving them water for sure, but as you can see from that one, I haven’t been able to afford the amenities or supplies for a long time. Not that I would have the time to wash them, what with all my efforts going towards keeping her from keeling over…” You quickly glance back at the pony in your car.

                                            “So, what the fuck have you been spending it all on then?”

                                            >”To be honest mate, drugs to keep these bastards under control. Especially for the one you just bought.” You frown in thought.

                                            >“Now, I know you probably want to push her straight through detox, but…” He looks around, as if checking to make sure no one else was listening in. “Just in case you want to have a backup plan while you get her set up at home, or Y’know, in case things don’t go exactly as planned. I can get you some on the cheap.”

                                            >You want to rebuke him but you pause. Everything up until now has been bad, but manageable. You yourself are also dreading the detox process. If you’re being completely honest though, not having more would be irresponsible in the face of what’s to come.


                                            “Tell you what, you must still have some left over here right?” He nods.

                                            ”You give me a week or so worth of pills, and I bump up the payment two weeks from now to nine grand.” He scoffs loudly.

                                            >”You having a laugh mate?! That shit cost me too much to just… to just hand it out without payment! I ain’t a fucking charity here! I mean-”

                                            “Do you have any other ponies here that need that kind of ‘medicine’?” He stops his rant and glares at you. You match his stare and wait a few moments before he huffs and raises his arms in surrender.

                                            >”Alright, alright, I’ll give you the fucking things. But I want ten grand.”

                                            “Deal.” You reach out a hand. He eyes it for a few moments before clasping it. You both know this kind of deal can’t be on the radar as the estrus drugs are classed as an illegal substance.

                                            “Also, I need the details of that vet.” You pull out your phone.

                                            >”Christ almighty, cunt. I might as well give you the fucking warehouse with all the mongrels at this rate.” You smirk at him as he pulls out his own phone, sharing with you the contact details of a certain ‘Emily’ before storming back to the compound.

                                            >You hear a few ponies yell out to him about their princess, only to be screamed at and threatened by Mark before shutting their mouths. You briefly check on Celestia while you wait. The pony has thankfully stopped shaking. Although it seems the drugs are kicking in again as a clear, slightly viscous liquid trails down the inside of her hind legs, staining the leather straps of the harness. She’s also squirming a bit in her bindings, and ragged breathing can be heard coming from her front.

                                            “Hold on girl, we’ll be off soon.” You reach out to pat her, but you hesitate at the last second. It’s probably best if you don't touch her when she’s in this state.


                                            >Before long Mark comes stomping back, a scrunched up plastic bag in his grip.

                                            >”Here ya go you bastard. Now, I don’t want to see you again, cunt, till you're back here with my fucking money!” He thrusts the bag into your hand and you quickly check it, finding 13 nondescript pills with white shells.

                                            >“Oh and one more thing.” You look up as Mark starts walking away. “You better clean that Pony up before taking her to Emily. She hates people who don’t treat them right!” He raises a hand in goodbye before disappearing back into the warehouse.

                                            >You tuck the pills into a pocket and spin on the spot, mulling over what happened here as you head back to the car. You close the boot, noticing in the process that Celestia seems to have pushed herself over the edge in her excitement. A great big stain rests on the blanket, between her legs. Hopping in the driver seat, you turn around to check on your new acquisition. Her eyes are glazed over and you can tell she has that big dopey grin back on her face under the muzzle.

                                            “You ready to go home, girl?” Her eyes lazily roll over to where you’re sitting. She nods dreamily in her agreement.


                                            Turning the ignition, the engine roars to life as you slowly pull out of the parking lot and take your new slave pony home.


                                            >You drove in silence, ears keen for any sounds that Celestia might make in her restraints. You would check on her every so often. Turning around at a red light, or quickly glimpsing in slow traffic to tell the filthy pony crouched in the back seat that she would be home soon, and to just hold on for a little bit longer. Every time she would have the same foggy look in her eyes and be staring straight through the windshield.

                                            >The fresh and open air outside the warehouse had masked her putrid smell briefly. The sealed car had not. You had almost crashed when your nostrils had picked it up again, the car swerving dangerously in the lane before bringing yourself under control. Opening the windows had been an instant relief, also providing an additional hidden benefit. To your growing surprise her wings had slowly unfolded, bobbing up and down in breeze. The wind whipped her mane about and you examined the doped princess.

                                            >Although you were no expert on what they should look like; the more you looked at the misaligned, dirty, and sometimes broken feathers; the less confidence you felt in their condition. Your mood was quickly turning sour once again, until -- so quietly you could barely hear it -- Celestia started humming.

                                            >Craning your neck at another red light. You watched her for a few moments. Her eyes were now closed and the contours of a smile could be seen on her cheek. You kept your silence, making no comment as she produced the sounds.

                                            >At first the notes would come intermittently in short monotone vibrations of a few seconds or less. Before long though, a tune began to form. It slowly grew into a gentle melody, making you smile. You relaxed in your seat as a gentle calmness swept over your body for the first time today. She continued like that as you pulled onto the motorway.


                                            >It ultimately died down though, leaving a serene silence despite the wind roaring through the car. You checked her to find a few of her crooked and broken feathers had been pulled out by the breeze and deposited in the back of the boot. She had the same look on her face as before, with the exception of a single tear rolling down the side of her cheek as her wings slowly tucked back into her side.

                                            >You continued on for a while, only stopping when Celestia had started acting funny in the back. She had suddenly started whinnying at you and stabbing at the roof with her horn, frantic eyes constantly flicking behind to her shaking rear. After realizing something was wrong, you hastily pulled into a stopping lane and spun in your seat.

                                            “What is it, Celestia? What’s wrong, girl?”

                                            >A nod back to her rear end, legs criss-crossing as she slightly trembled. Loud horse noises escaping her mouth.

                                            “No, I’m not gonna touch you there.”

                                            >Angry horse noises and a glare were your response.

                                            “Hey! This is for your own good!”

                                            >Here stare was getting more desperate as she looked back and forth and urgently bounced her rear up and down to the tune of sad horse noises.

                                            “Nope, I don’t care how upset you get at me.”

                                            >The horse noises got more frantic until she suddenly shut her eyes and softly whimpered.

                                            “Look. The sooner we get home, the sooner we can…” you were interrupted by the sound of liquid hitting the blanket. “Fucking hell...”

                                            >You grabbed a bucket from the front seat. Bolted to the back of the car. Slammed the boot open. And caught the remainder. You said nothing until she finished and held that silence while dumping the contents on the side of the road.

                                            “Sorry about that, girl.” You muttered once you had gotten back in the driver’s seat.

                                            >Celestia had only looked away, crimson cheeks peeking out from under the restraining mask on her face.


                                            >Another hour passed on the motorway before you exited onto winding suburban roads. The twists and turns swaying Celestia in her bindings (to her apparent discomfort, as she gave a rather displeased whinny after one particular sharp turn).

                                            >Before long you slowed down and pulled into the driveway of a two story house. Opening the garage door remotely, you come to a stop inside and close it behind you.

                                            “Hey, we’re here.” Her eye’s pupils continued to stare into space despite the change in scenery.

                                            “Hey... heeeeey! Hey Celly, we’re home!” You place an arm on her shoulder and gently shake.

                                            >Celestia started shaking slightly in her bindings as her eyes regained their focus.

                                            ”Hey, hey, hey. Easy there. It’s alright, remember?” She looks over at you, swallowing heavily before giving a slight nod. The slight tremors in her sides and legs persist though.

                                            “Look, how about this. I’ll take off the muzzle and we’ll wait here ‘till you feel ready. How about that?”

                                            >She stares you down for a few moments before nodding again.

                                            “Alright, just take a few moments, and let me know when you’re ready.”

                                            >You did your best to sound relaxed. Forcing her along might not fall into the category of good first experiences in her new home.

                                            >She didn’t take long. Following a few steady breaths with closed eyes, the shaking stopped. She looked at you and nodded.

                                            >You slowly reach back to her, unclipping the mouth guard from the leather straps which were too far back to unhook from the front seat. As it was pulled away, her nostrils flared and she shuddered. Her eyes narrowed at you.

                                            >”Thank you, Master Anon.”

                                            “No worries. You feeling ok?” She glares at you. “Right.”

                                            >”What’s going to happen now?”

                                            “Well, I’m going to unstrap you, and the first thing we’re doing is getting you cleaned up.” You undo your seatbelt.

                                            >”WAIT!” She cries out. You freeze in your motions.


                                            >”No washing, I’m fine!” You stare deadpan at the filthy mare. Even now the smell is slowly creeping through the car, getting stronger and making bile rise in your throat. You stare dead pan at her for a few moments. She scrunches her mouth and tries to look anywhere else.

                                            >”Honestly, I’m alright! See?” She bends her head down to where she can barely reach her forelegs. You’re curious as to what she means.

                                            >That curiosity changes to horror, and then soon to disgust.

                                            >She cautiously sniffs her foreleg, the fur matted and slick with some indistinct grime. You both blanch at the same time. She looks back up at you, a nervous look in her eyes as she forces herself to smile.

                                            >You clench the seatbelt tight in your fists and hold your breath as she slowly reaches back down. You want to tell her to stop but you're too caught up in the moment. Too hypnotized in disbelief. She pauses briefly, before opening her mouth and taking a quick lick of the brown and yellow-fur.

                                            >You want to throw up as you see what looks like some of the disgusting substance on her tongue as she pulls it back into her mouth. She pulls her head back up and stares past you. Her jaw moves as you can see she’s trying to get the substance off her tongue. By licking the roof of her mouth.

                                            >With smack of her tongue, she convulses. Her head shakes. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. The last bit of color in her face drains as she suddenly stops. She looks at you. A silent plea for help on her face.

                                            >You stare dumbstruck at her, lazily offering the bucket she relieved herself into. She thrusts her head forward and hurls the contents of her stomach into it. You want to do the same, but you feel like some part of you is dying as some slimy chunks splash against your thumbs, the bucket getting heavier with each terrible splatter. You’re too busy mourning its loss to care anymore.


                                            >A few pathetic moments and some sad whimpering later, Celestia is finished. Now -- in addition to all the other stains on her face -- is the distinct smear (with the accompanying smell) of vomit. She woozily pulls herself out of the bucket. Some of it seems to have gotten in her greasy mane as well.

                                            >Her head sways precariously and she tries to smile at you. You just stare back with a neutral look.

                                            “Are you done?”

                                            >She tries to nod at you, but her eyes go wide and her cheeks bulge as she sticks her head back into the bucket and exorcises the last few remnants of her stomach. She dry retches for another short while before pulling her head back out. Haggard eyes now look over at you.

                                            >”Y-you have no idea-” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “-h-how bad that was.”

                                            “I can imagine.” You say as you deposit the bucket on the passenger seat and wipe your messy hands on her coat.

                                            “Now, I’m not sure why you have this... aversion to being washed. Still, I’m not going to let you into the house until you let me clean you up, you damned smelly horse. I’ll drag you kicking and screaming if I have to.”

                                            >She looks you in the eyes, a small panic dancing across her before she sighs and nods at you.

                                            “And please, don’t get any more bright ideas like that again.” Celestia just hangs her head, letting her body sag against the bindings while she still can.

                                            >You hop out and get to work, carefully unhooking the harness from the walls of the boot. Undoing the various restraints tied to her body, the leather straps prove a minor annoyance. The damn things had adhered to her sticky coat somewhat.


                                            >Once you’re done, Celestia gradually spins and faces you in her crouched position in the boot. Careful of her horn, she gingerly scooches forward on shaky legs until she’s standing with you at the edge of the car. The precariously perched pony stares down at the concrete ground before looking up at you. You look back down at her questioningly and she shuffles her damaged hooves. You’re reminded of the state she’s in.

                                            “Alright then.”

                                            >The mare smiles and falls onto her rump. She turns to face you and holds her forelegs up expectantly.

                                            “Hold on a second, if I’m going to carry you the whole way, I’ve got to open the doors to the bathroom.” She frowns, then lowers her hooves, allowing you to go off and clear the way to the bottom floor bathroom.

                                            >On the way, you pull several large towels from the linen cupboard and place them on the ground outside the door to the bathroom. You also start running the water, pull out the collection of horse care products you picked up last week, and place them next the bathtub. Exiting and moving quickly down to your room, you take of your clothes and pulling on some board shorts.

                                            >Before long you’re back. You can see Celestia through the car windows from here.

                                            >She tilts her head as you enter the room. Still facing the same way you left her, but her ears are flicking back and forth as your feet pad along the cold concrete.

                                            ”Alright, no time like the present.” You declare with a grin as you come around the corner of the car.

                                            >Celestia takes one look at you and goes red as an apple. Her mouth hangs open for a few moments before sliding into a sultry smile. Her bony hips start grinding on the rug.

                                            >You’re not too dense to realize that the drugs in her system are the main culprit for this response, but there’s no harm in enjoying a little appreciation now and then.


                                            “Whoa, whoa, easy girl.” You snap your fingers a few times in front of her face. “Remember what we’re doing here.”

                                            >She gazes at your smiling face for a while before her eyes go wide. The mare shakes her head and takes a few steady breaths to calm herself.

                                            >”S-Sorry, I’m, uh, not quite, um, myself at the moment.” She shifts on her rear -- while you pretend not to notice -- and then sticks out her forelegs again.

                                            “If you insist. Now, remember, no funny business!” You pick her up like you did at the warehouse, arm hooking under her rear while she holds onto you. You can feel the slimy wetness on her muzzle that hasn’t fully dried yet as she rests her chin on your shoulder.

                                            >She takes the chance to breath in your scent again. You try not to pay any attention to it and carry her into the house, heading towards the bathroom.

                                            >”Have I told you yet how pleasant your scent is?” She purrs into your ear, one of her hooves tracing a small circle on your back.

                                            “I don’t think Mark is a fair comparison, to be honest.”

                                            >She goes quiet on your shoulder.

                                            >You worry that you’ve said something wrong. You’re trying to get her to go into water, something she seems hesitant to do, and you need her in the best mental shape to handle it. You need to fix whatever mistake you made.

                                            >Halting in the hallway, a few doors down from the bathroom, you open your mouth to apologize. Although, something happens before you can.

                                            >A deep chuckle has started in Celestia’s throat. She’s pressing her mouth into your collar, trying to keep a hold of herself. The chuckle grows as her body joins in, heaving as she tries to settle down. It’s no use, and soon she lets out a guffaw which erupts into a loud barking laugh.

                                            >https://youtu.be/kNtQPYyPJLg?t=15s

                                            >”PFFHAHAHAHAHAHA”

                                            “All right, it wasn’t that funny…”

                                            >She doesn’t care as she lets the laugh take her.


                                            >You scowl and try to be grumpy, but it’s infectious. Before long you’ve joined in with her and you’re laughing your heart out. The stress of the day melts away and you slide down a wall till you hit the ground with a grunt, still holding Celestia in your lap.

                                            >She pulls herself off your shoulder and stares at you. Her lips quivering as she tries to regain her composure. Her resistance crumbles to dust the moment you make eye contact with her.

                                            “BAHAHAHAHA”

                                            >”BAHAHAHAHA”

                                            >You both lose yourself in the moment. The laughter carrying on far beyond any normal joke ever should. As you both begin to settle down, one of you smirks, setting the other off for another round. This continues for what feels like several minutes until your jaw and your sides hurt.

                                            >After a while, you both finally begin to settle down. The voracious laughter deflating into a small chuckle here and there. You wipe the tears from your eyes and open them.

                                            >Shit.

                                            >You wanted to enjoy this moment a bit longer, but the sight in front of you brings you back to earth. Hard.

                                            >Celestia is showing you that natural smile again, the one that makes you want to keep her smiling forever. This time all you can see is the sorry condition she’s in. From the wiry and bedraggled greasy mane that hangs over the side of her face and body in a multi-hued brown and green, to the depressingly tired eyes in sunken sockets and the bloody mouth.

                                            >Sitting here holding her, your hands can feel the outlines of the ribs of her barrel. You can see the tautness of skin around her cheekbones. These are things that you’ve been ignoring for both your benefits for a while now. Your lips form a tight line and you nod to yourself.

                                            “Time to get you cleaned up, Celly.”

                                            >Her body jolts, though the smile doesn’t disappear from her face.


                                            >She nods in return and pulls herself into you again, head resting on your shoulder. You carefully stand up while holding her and take the poor pony the rest of the way. The whole time your free hand stroking the back of her neck.

                                            >You turn at the doorway to the bathroom, the sound of running water in the shower meeting your ears. You stop as Celestia starts shaking.

                                            “Hey, hey, hey.” She doesn’t respond.

                                            “We need to do this, yes... But we can do it at your pace, okay?” She stays silent. A few moments of deep breathing pass between you.

                                            >”Mmhmm” She finally responds.

                                            “Hey, what does ‘mmhmm’ mean again?” You lightly tease.

                                            >”Al… A-alright A-anon, I can do this.”

                                            >She sounds terrified.

                                            “We can do this. Don’t forget about me, you silly mare. I’ll tell you what's happening every step of the way, and you tap on my back when you want me to stop. That sound good?”

                                            >“... Okay… Let’s get this over with.”

                                            >You move at a snail's pace through the room. Your attention completely on the shaking pony in your arms. Her breathing intensifying with each step closer to the water.

                                            >She sniffles as you pass the mirror. Her pained eyes looking over the reflection of her disgusting crestfallen visage.

                                            By the time the water is a few feet away, she’s begun smacking your back repeatedly with her hoof. You immediate halt.

                                            “Easy girl… Easy… You’re okay… You’re okay… Just take a deep breath, and we’ll take as long as you need.” She intermittently taps your back while you stroke her neck.

                                            >You wait. And wait. And wait some more. A few minutes pass and your arm is starting to get sore from holding her, but you’ll wait as long as it takes.


                                            >Eventually, she stops tapping your back and lets out a whispered “okay,” allowing you take the last few steps towards the bath where a shower head is spraying a steady stream of warm steaming water. Now you’re less than an arm's length away from it. Celestia has begun lightly tapping your back again.

                                            “There, there. It’s ok. We made it all this way and nothing bad has happened.” She still limply slaps you with her hoof. You feel like taking her straight in might be a bit too much.

                                            “Hey, I have an idea.” The slapping stops briefly.

                                            “Do you think you could extend your wing for me?” She tightens her grip on your back, and after a brief pause, she carefully extends the weak appendage.

                                            >You carefully wrap your fingers around the edge of it. The scared mare gives off a slight yelp, but her hooves remain clasped to your back.

                                            “Now, I’m going to -- very slowly -- move your wing under the water.” You can feel her heart pounding in her chest. You gently stroke along the wing’s edge, trying your best to calm her.

                                            “I want you to understand, we won’t move unless you want to. You’ve been tapping with your left hoof to get me to stop right?” She nods over your shoulder.

                                            “Good... Now I want you to tap with your right hoof if -- and only if -- you feel comfortable going further. Understood?”

                                            >She doesn’t respond for a few moments. In the end, after an eternity of waiting, she taps your back once with her right hoof.

                                            >You delicately move her wing until the tip is just about to go under the stream. Tightening your grip on her rear, she responds by holding on to you for dear life as you gently whisper reassurances to her.


                                            >You count down internally as she starts to shake again.

                                            >Five…

                                            >Four…

                                            >Three…

                                            >Two…

                                            >One!

                                            >You push the feathers on the tip of her wing under the water, allowing a few small streams of water to hit it. Celestia immediately starts smacking with her left hoof, a soft whimper echoing in your ear as she tries to hold herself together.

                                            >You keep her steady as best you can, but she’s getting more erratic with each passing moment.

                                            “C’mon girl, stay with me. You can do this.” Her tapping only gets more insistent. The whimpering getting louder.

                                            “We need to get you past this, Celestia! There’s no running from this!”

                                            >Her chest is heaving with gasping breaths now. Her nostrils flare as she lets out a panicked whinny. You pull your hand off the wing and grip her tighter in response as she starts jerking in your grip, trying to get free.

                                            “No, Celestia! Not Happening!”

                                            >You stare sidelong at her as she starts snarling. Her eyes are pinpricks of fear.

                                            “If we need to do it like this, then that’s what we’ll do, Celly!”

                                            >She pulls her head back and looks at you, her eyes silently begging you to not make her do this.

                                            “I don’t care what you have to do to endure this, but I’ll be handle whatever you throw at me!”

                                            >She rears back as her eyes flick to the water. She thrashes around briefly before her eyes zero in on your shoulder. She bares her teeth.

                                            “Go on! Do it! GET IT ALL OUT OF YOUR SYSTEM! DON’T LET IT BEAT YOU!!!”

                                            >”AAAAHHHHHHHH” She yells out at the top of her lungs as she brings her mouth down and bites.

                                            >You grunt and let out a hiss of pain through clenched teeth. Quickly pulling your hand off her back, you grab her wing and thrust half of it under the water.


                                            >Celestia hasn’t seemed to notice. Feral eyes focused on your skin as she holds you in her jaws. You stand there, looking her in the eye and softly grunting from the pain. You both stay that way for a while until her eyes finally soften. You let out a sigh of relief.

                                            “Hey there.” She looks sidelong at you, then looks back down at her muzzle.

                                            >You can see the regret on her face. Moving your hand up to pat her mane, you feel a tinge of wet warmth from where she’s biting you. You work out Celestia is licking the skin caught between her teeth.

                                            “You ok there, girl?”

                                            >The mare nods, although she doesn’t release your shoulder from her jaws.

                                            “If you're done feeling sorry for yourself, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

                                            >Her sad eyes drift up to you and your smiling face. You try your best to hold the look and not wince, even as your shoulder pulses with pain.

                                            >You pull your hand away from her head and hold it out in front of her eyes. It takes a bit of finger wiggling until it eventually catches her attention. The irises follow your fingers as you point back to her wing, which has now been soaking under the water for a few minutes.

                                            >She breathes sharply through her nose, but doesn’t move it. Tears start pooling in her eyes as she flexes the appendage back and forth, a clear stream of water carrying the filth away as it rolls off the feathers in a yellow-brown mixture.

                                            “Do you think you’d be fine if I came in with you?”

                                            >You can tell the dam’s about to break.

                                            >She pulls back from your shoulder, lips quivering as she grips you tighter.

                                            >She gives your back a simple tap with her right hoof.

                                            >With the utmost consideration, you slowly step into the bathtub and bring her under the water. There is no flinching this time.


                                            >It starts slow at first. A low sob that gently shakes her body as the water rolls off her back. It grows. And grows. It develops into a long wailing moan and she hangs her mouth open as you sit down in the tub, the crying princess cradled in your lap.

                                            >Grabbing some soap, you start rubbing it into her coat, the filth washing away in copious amounts. The dam wall breaks and Celestia lets loose, crying for all she’s worth with eyes clenched shut.

                                            >Grief filled cries echo with falling water as she lets it all out. You rub her back with one hand and continue to clean her as best you can with the other. Her mixed in sobs causing her body to heave constantly. All the time you coo to the poor creature in your arms.

                                            >She carries on for a long time. Long enough that you’ve scrubbed her back as much as you can. Looking around, you reach over the side of the bath. Grabbing some fur and mane shampoo, you squeeze some on her and start vigorously rubbing it in.

                                            >You almost think that Celestia doesn’t even notice what you’re doing; though as you apply the shampoo to her head -- being careful and trying to pull apart any split hairs in the process -- you can feel her head firmly pushing back into your palm.

                                            >You continue scrubbing and kneading her fur as much as you can, while she despondently sobs. It’s still thoroughly matted, although with some persistence and patience, you can tell you're making some progress.

                                            >After a long while, Celestia finally settles down. Her body only occasionally shudders with a sob, and she pulls her hooves off you so you can better clean the rest of her.

                                            >You stay quiet as you start on the rest of her body. Carefully inspecting the blood stains on her forelegs, you notice that she has lice crawling around her skin.


                                            “Hey Celestia, have you got lice anywhere else on your body?”

                                            >She looks up at you. The poor pony in front of you is so emotionally drained that she just stares blankly. The immediate difference in her visage is already remarkable. You can see properly that her fur colour is meant to be white. Her hair is a multi-coloured, with several streams of green, blue, purple, and pink.

                                            >She nods before turning around in your lap. You’re curious as to what she’s doing until she begins pushing back into you. You lean back with her, but she’s a bit too large for you to see her belly. You brace her back and scoot her forward.

                                            >You scowl as there are almost a dozen small bloody patches on her stomach, some even around her teats and near her crotch. She looks away, while you grab the appropriate care product and liberally apply it everywhere. And you mean everywhere.

                                            >Her hind-leg kicks out as you rub around her swollen nipples, and she bucks lightly with both legs as you delicately spread it through the fur around the outsides of her puffy lips.

                                            >When you’re done, you pull her fully back under the water and wash down everywhere before pushing her back out and reapplying it. After cleaning her off again, you flip her over and repeat the process twice more in her back and forelegs. Firmly rubbing in the green, soapy liquid until a nice thick lather is built up; then washing over it with care, making sure to leave none behind.

                                            >As you finish up, you get back to work on her coat, tail, and mane. Properly giving each a thorough wash with shampoo and a rinse, repeating the action several times.


                                            >You giggle as you try to wash her ears, the mobile points flicking every which way, trying to avoid your dextrous fingers. She lets out a small giggle as you finally manage to catch one. The giggle ends up turning into a delighted hum as you scratch and rub the shampoo into them before cleaning gently with the water.

                                            >Repeating the process enough to clean all the matted fur takes what feels like hours as you wash her over and over. Once you’re satisfied, or just too exhausted to bother doing it anymore, you carefully inspect her hooves.

                                            >You scrape out all the dirt with a tweezer, and even manage to remove a few wayward rocks. Delicately picking up the discoloured hoof you believe to be infected, you gingerly scrub it and clean it where you can.

                                            >Celestia gives of little murmurs of approval or disapproval the whole time. Her body leaning in and pulling back from time to time as you tend to her.

                                            >Eyeing the split in another hoof, you resolve to take her to the vet as there is nothing you can do about it by yourself. You let out an exhausted sigh as you finally finish the arduous task. Although, it’s not quite over yet.

                                            “Ready to get out, Celly?” She looks up at you and nods, a tired smile on her face.

                                            >You bend down and hoist her out of the tub, the general area around it now looking like a disaster zone with splashes and smears of dirty water everywhere. You resolve to clean it some other gods damned time. You carefully place her on the mat in the centre of the bathroom before quickly washing yourself off.

                                            >Turning off the water, you look down at the wet and now slightly shivering mare. Although her coat is mostly clean now, it clings wetly to her body, emphasising her malnutrition. Her soaked mane and tail are now a vibrant hues of pleasant colours at least.


                                            >Her hair drapes over the side of her face while her tail is perked. The hair of both soaked in water which drips into small puddles around her. Massive bags hang under her eyes, though she now wears a tired smile on her freshly cleaned clean face and muzzle.

                                            >You quickly open the door and grab a towel before unceremoniously tossing it at her. She lets out a yelp before it smacks her in the face.

                                            “Get started on that while I grab us something to eat.”

                                            >You stride briskly to the kitchen, noticing on the way that it’s actually gotten pretty late outside as the hallways are covered in dark shadows. Opening the fridge, you think briefly before pulling out a generous helping of fruits, vegetables, and lettuce; before piling it into a bowl.

                                            >You also grab some chocolate for yourself. A solid meal isn’t something you feel in the mood for after all that’s happened today anyway.

                                            >Picking up the food, you walk back down the hallway and come back to Celestia sitting on her rear, injured forelegs wiping her mane with the towel.

                                            >She pulls it away and you let out a guffaw. Her long hair is in a tangled mess and pokes out every direction. She scowls before throwing the towel back at you, striking you square in the face. Though she tries to hide it, you hear her giggle as well.

                                            >Bending down, you place the food in front of her. The moment she notices it, her stomach lets out a monstrous growl and her mouth slowly hangs open. A small, thin trail of drool stretching down the floor.

                                            “Don’t eat too fast, okay?” She eagerly nods as you place the bowl on the ground, before plunging her maw into the assortment of food.


                                            >You let her eat while you wipe the rest of her body down. As one towel gets saturated, you replace it with another. All the while, Celestia continues to eat, though she’s started to do so in a more controlled fashion.

                                            >She gives no protest as you hoist her rear off the floor and rub her tail and privates, although you think you can see a blush creeping onto her face all the same. There are still a few visible cuts and scrapes around her genitals, and so you reach into a drawer and pull out a roll of bandages.

                                            >You carefully wrap it over the small wounds and take care not to obstruct anything essential. Once done, you firmly clip it taut so that the skin can hopefully heal. You move around her and do the same with her chipped and cracked hooves, her legs, and her belly. Essentially anywhere you think there might be open wounds or cuts.

                                            >Once she’s all wrapped up you stand up and inspect your handy work as you grab another towel to dry yourself off. While not covered head to toe, there are significant portions of her body wrapped firmly in bandages. Luckily, it blends relatively well with her white coat.

                                            >She finishes her meal and lets out a loud belch. You laugh at her, making hold a hoof to her mouth in embarrassment. Unfortunately, the habitual response makes the balance of weight to her remaining weakened legs shift, causing her to wobbly slightly.

                                            >You reach down and grab under her barrel to help stabilize her. Your hand moving without even thinking about it.

                                            >“Oh, Thank you...”

                                            >She places her hoof back on the ground where stares at it.

                                            >”For everything...” Her voice is croaky but no tears come. You feel like she’s probably cried too much today.

                                            >”For helping a pony like me…”

                                            >You kneel down to her eye level and place a hand on her withers.

                                            “Now, now… A pony like you? Get out of here.”


                                            >”I know I’m not what you expected but-”

                                            “Hey, stop that!”

                                            >She complies with your request.

                                            ”Despite all the bad things, the gross things, the uncomfortable thing, the...” You gingerly rub your shoulder wound, a dark purple bruise forming in an arc of teeth marks. You also look at your forearm where a similar colouration throbs occasionally. “Even the pain as well.”

                                            >She continues to stare at the ground.

                                            ”In spite of all that, I had a lot of fun today. And you know what?”

                                            >”...What?”

                                            >You turn her head to look at you. Her purple eyes search your face for something.

                                            “I can’t wait until we get you back to normal, because I want to meet the you that doesn’t need me to hold out a sick bucket for her.”

                                            >She scrunches her face and looks away. The silly mare holds that pose for a few moments before looking back to you and chuckling lightly. You join in with her while you reach out and scratch her ear. She leans gently into your ministrations as she coos softly.

                                            “Now, I don’t know about you, but I feel exhausted after today. How about I carry you to bed, and give your crazy hair a brush before we nod off.”

                                            >Her face lights up in hope, before a blush rises to her cheek and she smiles nervously.

                                            >”I may need your help relieving myself first, Anon…”

                                            >You stare deadpan at the mare.


                                            >A small time later, you’re sitting in bed. Celestia is on it with you. She’s strewn her bandaged legs across yours, and her chin rests on your thigh. You already did her tail before you curled up together.

                                            >She sighs gently as you pull the brush through her multi-coloured mane, pulling out loose hairs as you go and gently pulling tangled clumps apart. You stroke your hand through it as you follow the brush. A yawn escapes your mouth by the time the hairs are all starting feel smooth as silk in your fingers.

                                            >Celestia does the same, and you decide that this is enough for one day. You gently lift her up and move the large pony off to her side of the bed. She sleepily looks over at you in response, her head tilted to the side slightly.

                                            “Time for bed, girl.” She nods and shakily moves to her hooves.

                                            >You place the brush on your bedside table and turn the lamp off. Lifting up the covers, you help Celestia move under them before pulling them over yourself.

                                            “Good night, Celly.” You yawn as you stretch over and idly scratch behind her ear.

                                            >”Good night, Anon. Sweet dreams...”


                                            >You nod off after a short while, but Celestia stays awake for a bit longer. The impossible day that just occurred rolling through her head over and over, before she remembers what she’ll need to face in the near future. She sighs to herself. Looking at your sleeping face, she scooches closer to you under the covers.

                                            >She slowly and carefully reaches over and hooks her forelegs around your torso, pulling you into a hug.

                                            >Leaning in close, she pecks you on the cheek and tucks her head into your chest.


                                            >“Thank you, for rescuing me.” She whispers, as sleep finally takes her.


                                            Part 4


                                            >“Anon…”

                                            >“Anon?”

                                            >“Are you listening anon?”

                                            >You shake your head and refocus on the conversation.

                                            “Yea, sorry, spaced out for a second. You were saying?”

                                            >”I wonder if you’re even all there sometimes...” She gives you a pitying look.

                                            >You smirk and motion for her to continue.

                                            >You're sitting in a quiet cafe on a warm Saturday morning. It’s one you are both quite familiar with. The blonde woman in a green floral dress sitting across from you now finally winding down from one of her classic tirades.

                                            >You have a window seat where you can see people strolling the streets, a few of them accompanied by their slave ponies.

                                            >The little horses are walking alongside them. A few of them even dressed up by their handlers. Most of those ones are smiling with joy. Eagerly hopping along and chatting with their owners. Eyes vacant and indifferent to the world around them.

                                            >Others are either pulled on leashes or dragging their hooves with their heads down. Some of them even glancing longingly at the passing traffic. Bruises and other small signs of abuse visible on them as they fearfully trot.

                                            >"So in the end I'm the one who gets dumped in the shit even though I could see this coming from fucking years away."

                                            >Shit, you didn’t catch the end of what she was saying.

                                            "Christ that fucking blows, babe. Did you manage to keep records of all the correspondence you sent to each other?"

                                            >"Yeah, but if I don't play my cards right here then I'm up shit creek, right? Either I speak up, get thrown under the bus, get fired, press charges and give my side of the story, clear my name, and no one takes a chance with me again; or I keep my head down, roll with the punches, and try to come out the other side without too many scars." She stares daggers at her coffee before picking up the cup and gulping down its contents.


                                            "Or you could resign, you know? You don’t have to do this kind of thing." She pauses and puts down the cup.

                                            >She turns her piercing blue orbs at you, a heavy frown on her face.

                                            >"Anon, I know you'll always take care of me." Her frown lifts into a gentle smile as she places a hand on yours. "But if I don't do something with myself, I'll go mad."

                                            "Oh, I thought you already were mad. Could have fooled me." She smirks at you.

                                            >"I already did fool you, cutie. Or did you miss the part where I tricked you into buying me this stupidly overpriced rock." She wiggles her fingers, reminding you of the modest engagement ring that sits on her ring finger.

                                            >"I can't just travel the world or live in peace and quiet until the end of my days. I'm like a dog that has to chase a car.” She lets out a sigh and rubs the bridge of her nose.

                                            >”There are so many of them that need our help, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I was just wasting all the gifts that I've been given. I thought you knew that when you gave me this?"

                                            "Babe, I've known you were a dog for a while now, so I guess it's not too much of a surprise..."

                                            >She feigns a shocked look on her face. A hand rising to cover up her mouth in mock offense.

                                            >"Well, I never! Pray, tell what misguided misconceptions have led you to believe that a fair maiden such as I would be confused for such a mindless beast."

                                            "Hmm... If I had to say, you were acting a lot like a mindless beast the other night." She smirks and slaps your hand, a tint of red on her cheeks.

                                            "I mean if we're talking about dogs, you were pretty much acting like a bitch in he-"

                                            >"Anon!"

                                            >She slaps your hand jokingly again, her face going crimson as she lets out a small laugh. You chuckle back at her.


                                            "What, just calling it like I see it, gorgeous. Though -- speaking of animals -- I guess it is hard to maintain your composure when you're with a stallion like mys-"

                                            >"Eh hem"

                                            >Something interrupts you from the side of the table. Looking over, you see a rather irate pony with a light blue coat and a brown short cropped mane dressed up in a simple maid's uniform.

                                            >Honestly, it looks a bit ridiculous, but you hold your tongue. The poor mare doesn't need that kind of comment. The shock collar around her neck more than speaks for the slave’s situation.

                                            >You quickly realize she's carrying your food on plates balanced precariously on her back. How they managed to do that without spilling everything you'd never know.

                                            "Ah, thanks..."

                                            >You sit back and let the pony serve your food. It’s an incredible show of dexterity as she twists her neck behind her, lifts one plate in her mouth by biting on a rubber grip on the side of it, twists back, and deposits it on the table.

                                            >Your fiancée stares as well. Her face wrought with sadness. Eventually the pony finishes, sits back, and pulls a pencil and notepad from her pockets.”

                                            >"Is there anything else, I can get you guys?"

                                            “I’m right thanks, how about you, babe?”

                                            >She’s already searching through her purse as you ask. Pulling out a twenty dollar bill, she reaches over and tucks it into a front pocket on the pony’s uniform.

                                            >”Don’t tell your owner, okay?” Tapping her nose and giving a wink, she smiles at the stunned little horse.

                                            >The pony snaps herself out of the trance and puts the writing materials away. She shifts nervously on her hooves for a moment before mouthing a ‘thank you’ and scurrying back to the kitchen.

                                            >It’s not the first time you’ve seen her do something like this.

                                            “You really do care for those things, don’t you?”


                                            >She smiles as she regains her composure.

                                            >”You know that I do… It’s why I fight so hard for them.” You reach over and grab her hand, rubbing it gently.

                                            “I know, babe.” You gently reassure her before your attention shifts to your food and you both dig in.

                                            >The meal passes in a pleasant silence, only interrupted when your fiancée speaks up.

                                            >“So... there’s, uh, some things I’ve been meaning to bring up Anon...“ She begins while wringing her hands on the table.

                                            “Yeah.” You respond with a mouth full of food, eliciting a giggle.

                                            >“So, we’ve been going out together for a while... right?”

                                            “Yeah, what about it?”

                                            >”Well, I was thinking…”

                                            “Thinking about…?”

                                            >”What if we…”

                                            “What if we, what?

                                            >”What if we bought a pony?”

                                            >You almost spit out your food.

                                            “Babe, I thought we talked about this…” She winces.

                                            >”I know I know, I just… I just thought it might be a good trial run…”

                                            “Trial run? What for?”

                                            >“And they would be able to help out when we’re too busy!”

                                            “Whoa, honey, honey, slow down! Busy with what?”

                                            >She takes a deep breath and looks you straight in the eye.

                                            >”We’ve been together a lot lately… And I’ve checked. And I’ve checked. And I’ve tripled checked”

                                            >You feel your heartbeat quicken.

                                            >”And I’m late.”

                                            >The gears in your head slow to a crawl. You stare at her for a few moments, slowly soaking in the meaning behind her statement.

                                            “You’re late?” You slowly get out of your seat.

                                            >”Uhuh.”

                                            “You’re -that- kind of late?”

                                            >”Mmhmm.” She looks at you with tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. The biggest and most loving smile you’ve ever seen on her face. The smile that won your heart.

                                            ”Hey, what does ‘mmhmm’ mean, babe?” You pull her out of the seat and hold her hands in your own.

                                            >“Anon… I think we're going to have a baby!”


                                            >You immediately wrap her in your strong arms, pulling her into a hug and holding her face to your chest. You’re so happy in this moment you think your heart might burst from your chest. You take deep joyful gasps of air as you feel the beginnings of hot tears stream down your cheeks.

                                            >”Anon…”

                                            >She whispers your name as your stroke her hair.

                                            >”Anon…”

                                            >You kiss her on the head.

                                            >”Anon…”

                                            “It’s ok, Jessica. I’m just so happy”

                                            >”Anon…”

                                            >She repeats your name, though the tone of her voice is shifting.

                                            >“Anon.”

                                            >You look down at her. Face still buried in your chest.

                                            >“Anon.”

                                            “Babe, what’s wrong?”

                                            >”Anon.”

                                            >You try to push her back to get a look at her, but she just tightens her grip.

                                            >”Anon.”

                                            >Her voice is getting louder each time she says your name.

                                            >”Anon.”

                                            “Jessica, what are you doing?”

                                            >”Anon. Please wake up.”

                                            “No…”

                                            >”You need to wake up!”

                                            “No, no, no, no, no!”

                                            >“Anon, I need your help, please wake up!”

                                            >She’s yelling at you now, her voice now that of a different person than the one in your arms. With all your strength your push her off of you. You look at her face. Panics spikes through your heart. It’s wrong. All wrong. Deep red crimson lines of blood from fresh wounds run through her now bruised visage. Her eyes are murky, and the skin of her arms has gone lifelessly pale.

                                            >”Please, Anon! It hurts too much!”


                                            >You hear the revving of a car engine and the screech of car wheels nearby as she begins to scream. You look up and see vehicles of all shapes and sizes accelerating towards the cafe window.

                                            >Calls for help go unheard as you wildly search for safety. All the staff and patrons are gone. The furniture has also vanished. The only thing still left in the room is a big iron cage holding the pony who served you food. Her body a crumpled rotting husk, wrapped up in a filthy maids outfit and deposited unceremoniously in the corner. A twenty dollar note clutched tightly in between her broken, festering hooves.

                                            >With a roar, you cry out and pull Jessica back to you, but her body turns to ash in your arms. You look up just as the first car comes careening through the window, a scream of fear shrieking from your mouth as it collides with you, sending you flying back into darkness.

                                            “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”


                                            “-AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

                                            >”AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”

                                            >You lurch out of bed, sweat dripping from your body while your mind struggles to get rolling.

                                            >Looking around, you see the big white pony you saved yesterday is shrieking while keeled over. Her hooves held tightly to her abdomen.

                                            >Celestia’s face is a twisted expression of pain. Her body shudders and convulses with each wave of agony washing over it. Wings flail limply on her back and fresh screams escape from her now hoarse throat.

                                            >You soak in the sight. With a quick shake you brush of the dream and your grogginess from the rude awakening. Something is terribly wrong with the poor mare and you need to act fast.

                                            “Celestia! Celestia!? What in god’s name is going on? What’s happening?” She looks up at you with bloodshot eyes as you carefully place a hand on her cheek.

                                            >“I-I need it A-Anon. I-I n-need the thing he’d g-give m-meeeeAAAAAAAA-” She screams again as another wave of pain wracks her body.

                                            >You look at her miserable form and connect the dots in your head. If this is just the start of withdrawal symptoms, then you are in no way equipped to handle this by yourself.

                                            >Grabbing your phone and leaping off the bed, you sprint through the dark house to the laundry and search through your smelly discarded clothes. The poor mare wails at being left alone.

                                            >You find the plastic bag that Mark gave you, the nondescript pills still safe within, although something gives you pause. Celestia is no longer screaming from the room.

                                            >After a brief moment of hesitation, you unlock your phone and scroll through the numbers until you find the one for the vet that Mark recommended. You call the number and quickly run back to your bedroom, checking on the now suspiciously quiet mare.


                                            >You carefully peek around the doorway. The poor creature lies motionless on the bed. For a brief moment you think the worst has happened, until she takes a shuddering breath, her chest rising and falling. She’s still there, still huddled over in pain, and still shaking slightly every now and then.

                                            >You go into a nearby room, a study, and cross your fingers that someone will answer you at whatever ungodly hour this is.

                                            >Your prayers are answered as the line picks up. Though before you can speak, you’re forced to pull the phone away from your ear as a barrage of shouting comes through the line.

                                            >“I’m answering the FUCKING PHONE!”

                                            >”Yeah, just fucking walk away why don’t you!”

                                            “Hello?” You try to get the attention of the man and woman on the other side of the line.

                                            >”Excuse me?! I’m trying my best here, and feeding your lazy four legged ass is expensive!”

                                            >”Lazy?! I’m sorry, I missed the part where I was allowed to walk outside by myself without getting BEATEN, DRUGGED, AND THROWN IN CHAINS!”

                                            “Hello!? I really need some help here!” You check back in on Celestia, the poor bandaged pony still curled up in pain on the bed.

                                            >”That’s not fair... You know I didn’t mean it like that. Please, let me take this. It could be a client.”

                                            >”Bet it’s just another abusive asshole who wants us to fix his toy.

                                            >”Those ‘abusive assholes’ are the ones that pay the rent dickhead. That attitude of yours is why we can’t get any work anymore, remember?”

                                            >”My attitude?! Sorry, I can’t be all smiles and cheer while the rest of my kind live stripped of their rights and ABUSED!”

                                            >Another bout of yelling and shouting erupts from the phone. You idly thumb the pills in your pocket and watch Celestia. She lets out a small whimper every now and again. You’ve about made up your mind when you hear a voice calling out from the phone.


                                            >”Hello? Hello? Are you still there? Oh, please tell me you’re sti-”

                                            “Yes, hello! I was told that I could reach a vet by the name of Emily on this number.”

                                            >”Oh! Oh yes! YES! This is Emily and co.’s Equine Veterinary Practice. Sorry for what you just heard, you just caught me at a bad time. I mean it is, uh… 3:30 in the morning? Christ!”

                                            “Thank god…”

                                            >You sigh in relief. In the meantime, small whimpers have started escaping Celestia’s mouth. You continue talking as you keep an eye on her.

                                            “I know it's probably not what you wanted to hear, but I need some urgent consultation on a mare I’ve recently purchased.

                                            >”... God damnit.” You hear a sigh from the other end of the phone as all the energy leaves Emily’s voice.

                                            >”I was right wasn’t I?”

                                            >”Shut up, asshole!”

                                            “Hey, hey! Are you going to help me here? Or am I going to have to help this poor pony alone?” She stays silent for a few moments.

                                            >”Why can’t you just get some other vet to do this? I really don-”

                                            “Because this isn’t a problem I can go to other vets for help with! Alright?”

                                            >”Anooon… Where did you gooooo?” Celestia calls out in a strangled cry from the bed. You lower the phone while you approach her and stroke her back.

                                            “Easy girl, Easy. I never left you.” She reaches out and grabs your shorts with a curled hoof.

                                            >”Please, Anon. It hurts so much… I need it...”

                                            “I’m trying, Celly. Just try to be a strong mare for me for a little longer, okay?”

                                            >”Mmhmm”

                                            >You smirk and pull the phone back up.

                                            “So I need an answer now, Emily.”

                                            >”Hey, what's going on, Emily? What’s with that look? What’s that guy saying to you?” You hear the stallion talking as Emily takes a sharp intake of breath.


                                            >”Alright, but on one condition. You tell me right now what's wrong with her and you don’t dare lie to me. Don’t you dare think about it, even for a second; or I call the cops and tell them I received a call from someone in trouble and point them in your direction.”

                                            >You swallow heavily and begin.

                                            “I picked her up yesterday, shortly after midday, from a handler named Mark.”

                                            >”Oh Christ you’re one of Mark’s customers.”

                                            >”Oh shit, Emily. What are you doing still talking to him?”

                                            “WAIT!”

                                            >”Talk fast, Mr… Anon was it? And be advised you’re on a knife’s edge here.”

                                            “Okay. Okay. I picked her up and drove her straight home. I washed and cleaned her up, gave her some food and then we went to bed.”

                                            >“You sick fuck! Taking advantage of a mare in that position!”

                                            >”Christ, don’t even bother Emily.”

                                            “Hold on! It’s not like tha-” You’re distracted mid-sentence as Celestia starts retching. “Oh no, Celly, wa-!”

                                            >It’s too late as Celestia pathetically spews her dinner across the base of the bed, painting the navy-blue sheets a sick brown-green colour. There’s even some carrot in the disgusting mixture, even though you know you didn’t feed her any.

                                            >”What was that noise, Anon?”

                                            “Oh, no, no ,no... Celly... you poor girl...” The sick white pony curled up next to you weakly spits a few flecks of leftover vomit onto the bed.

                                            >“It hurts, Anon…”

                                            “I know girl, I’m trying to-”

                                            >”What in god’s name are you doing to her?”

                                            “I'm not doing anything to her! That’s the problem! Now, if yo-.”

                                            >”Jesus Christ, you disgusti-”

                                            >”What’s happening, Emily?”

                                            >”Let me handle this, Stint!”

                                            >Celestia moans in pain. You feel a fuse blow.


                                            “I NEED your HELP, Emily! Listen! Please!”

                                            >You hear a faint ‘fuck you, asshole,’ as you lower the phone down near Celestia’s mouth. You leave it there for several seconds as her sounds of pain become the only noise in the room. You return the phone to your ear and hear dead silence.

                                            “You hear that Emily? That is the sound of a sick pony that needs help. And I don’t know if I can do it alone.”

                                            >“Should have thought of that before you bought her.” She mutters after a few moments.

                                            “I did, okay? Or would you rather I left her with Mark?”

                                            >”I never said that, dickhead.”

                                            ”You haven’t said anything that can help the fucking poor mare next to me, have you? All you’ve done is fling shit at me.”

                                            >”I’m not the one at fault here!”

                                            >”Emily, let me handle this?”

                                            >”STINT, PLEASE!” She screams, away from the phone.

                                            “No, it’s not your fault. But if this pony suffers because I’m in over my fucking head on this and you won’t help me, that’s on you!”

                                            >”You don’t even care about her. You ju-”

                                            “Hey! I spent hours cleaning the shit and piss out of her fur, okay? I even got bitten by her! Twice! And I took it all in stride.”

                                            >Celestia gently rubs your leg. An apologetic whimper escapes her throat.

                                            “Hey, don’t worry about me, silly. I’m fine.” You lightly scratch her ear. The tip flicks away from your hand.


                                            >“You just want us to fix your toy, Anon.” She just sounds tired now.

                                            ”This isn’t about me, Emily. It’s not about you either.”

                                            >”Hey! Tha-”

                                            “AH, let me finish!” The line goes quiet in response.

                                            “This is about the poor fucking mare that I had to carry to bed because she couldn’t even walk. This is about waking up in the middle of the night to her screaming in pain.”

                                            >Your voice echoes back to you as you’re put on loudspeaker

                                            “This is about me wanting a second god damn fucking opinion before I shove a hand full of pills -- given to me by Mark -- down her throat.”

                                            >Celestia trembles as another convulsion wracks her body.

                                            “Can. You. Help. Her. Emily?”

                                            >You stand there, slightly panting. After 10 seconds of no response, regret begins to stew in your gut.


                                            >Celestia weakly tugs on your shorts. You glance over to her still curled up in pain. She weakly smiles at you, even as her body shivers and a trail of vomit drips down her muzzle. Your heart sinks. You fidget with the drugs in your pocket, you can probably put a stop to this right now.

                                            >”Anon, are you there?” A deep masculine voices reaches your ear.

                                            “Yes.”

                                            >”I have one question that I want you to answer before we make a decision.”

                                            “And that is?” There’s another brief pause.

                                            >”Why did you buy her?”

                                            >You pull your hand out and carefully clean the bile from the side of Celestia’s face, wiping it afterwards on the sheets. Her smile now slowly falling apart and her eyes shutting tight as her face is wracked with agony again.

                                            “I made a promise to someone that I’d buy them a slave pony that they… That we could help. But that person isn’t here anymore.”

                                            >”Hmph.” That’s all the response you get before you hear the faint clip clop of hooves walking away. A scrambling sound comes through the phone shortly followed by a familiar voice.

                                            >”Alright, Anon. It’s Emily. We’ll help.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.


                                            >”So, If that pony is in withdrawal, I need to know what she’s withdrawing from. Now if I know Mark -- which I unfortunately do -- and you say this is a problem you can only talk to me about, then what you’re about to get me in involved is probably barely legal at best. So tell me straight up: what was Mark giving to her?”

                                            “Estrus Stimulants.” You say without hesitation.

                                            >”Oh god, Estrus?”

                                            >”That fucking cunt, Mark, is dead the next time he shows his face!” You hear the stallion yell out in the background.

                                            >“Stint! Settle down, would you? Okay, okay, you said you bought some of those pills from him?” You grunt in acknowledgement.

                                            >”How much did he say to give her and how often?”

                                            ”He didn’t say really. I asked for a weeks’ worth and he handed me thirteen pills.”

                                            >”Thirteen pills in a single week? How is the poor mare not insane?”

                                            >”You’re fucking joking right? Thirteen? What was he trying to do? Make her go feral?”

                                            >”He probably doesn’t even know…”

                                            >”He doesn’t give two shits is more like it.” Celestia lets out a pained groan as another tremor rocks through her body.

                                            “Oi, talk to me. She’s getting worse while you two are squabbling like a married couple.”

                                            >They murmur back and forth for a bit longer before continuing.

                                            >”Alright, Anon. It’s a good thing that you called us. If you had given her a whole pill, it likely would have done more harm than good.”

                                            “Okay. Good.”

                                            >”Now. I assume you want to detox her, right?”

                                            “Correct.” You hear a sigh of relief from the other end of the phone.

                                            >”I’d like to say make her go cold turkey; but with estrus stimulants, going through detox without medical support can be very dangerous. I think you’ve seen the start of what can go wrong.”

                                            “If it’s going to get worse from here, what can we do?”


                                            >”We’d like to help you detox her, but that’s going to take some time to prepare. We’ll also need some money paid upfront, but only because we need to order in specific supplies for this.

                                            ”We’ll sort that out as we go, money isn’t a concern. What do you want me to do in the meantime? Drive her out to you?”

                                            >”Well, um, god... Is it really alright if we say this, Stint?”

                                            >”I think we don’t have any other options at this point. We can’t take the risk.” He sounds hesitant.

                                            >”Alright, Anon, I’m giving you the go ahead to give her half a pill now. She should settle down in a short while, and, uh, be more, um, relaxed?”

                                            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

                                            >”Oh, nothing. I’m sure you’ll notice when it happens. Still, keep a close eye on her and give her another half a pill no sooner than 12 hours after the current amount. And even then, only if her withdrawal symptoms get too severe. Call us if things take a turn for the worse and we’ll do our best to help.”

                                            “Copy that. I’ll see to her and make sure she gets through this.”

                                            >”Thanks, Anon. And, err, sorry for the way we treated you earlier.”

                                            “No worries, I was a bit stressed out myself and said a bit too much. I’ll call you tomorrow morning and touch base, alright?”

                                            >”Okay, Anon. Have a good night.”


                                            >You say goodbye put the phone away in a bedside table. Turning to Celestia, you gently scratch her head with one hand while the other pulls a pill from your pocket. She’s settled down some. Her breathing a constant in and out. You break the pill in two, returning one to your pocket while you hold the other near the struggling pony.

                                            “Hey, Celestia. How you holding up?”

                                            >”It hurts, Anon…”

                                            “I know, I know. Unfortunately we only have one solution available at the moment. We can’t put you through detox just yet. It’s not safe.”


                                            >Her eyes slowly open, until they see the small white pill in your hand, and spread wide. She opens her mouth and begins to extend her tongue towards it.

                                            “Remember Celestia, this is just a stop-gap, until we can get you the help we need.”

                                            >She nods, though she doesn't look at you. She licks her lips and lifts her head. Pain is on her face but her eyes have a laser focus on the item in your hand.

                                            >Your gently grab her jaw and she opens her maw for you. You get a glimpse of the yellow teeth and dirty tongue inside and scold yourself for forgetting about it earlier when you cleaned her. Placing it on the back of her tongue, you withdraw your hand and close her mouth. She instantly gulps and eagerly swallows the pill without any resistance.

                                            >Lying back down, the big white horse lets out a sigh of relief and closes her eyes.

                                            >You watch carefully over the next few minutes as her face softens and she unfolds herself from her curled up position. Monitoring her until the shaking stops, you slump with exhaustion when she finally stops trembling. Retrieving a glass of water; you wait patiently for her to recover. After a short while she rises to her hooves. Sitting upright on the bed, she opens her eyes.

                                            “Glad to see you’re back with us in the land of the living.”

                                            >“T-Thank you, Anon.”

                                            “Your welcome, Celestia. How’re you feeling?” You carefully hold out the glass and help her as she greedily gulps the liquid down.

                                            >”Better. Much, much better.”

                                            “I’ll say. But seriously, don’t forget. That pill is a last resort.” She nods and averts her gaze slightly down. She brings up a hoof to her chest before looking you in the eye.

                                            >“I-I understand, Anon. And please believe me, if it didn’t bring me so much pain I would gladly be rid of tha-” She stops mid-sentence as her pupils dilate. “Oh…”

                                            “Celestia?”


                                            >”Ooooohhh...”

                                            >"Celestia? Are you alright?

                                            >She shudders. A sultry grin blooms on her face. Her jaw goes slack and she hunches her back. Bringing the hoof on her chest down, she pushes her front hooves wide on the sheets. The tail that’s tucked under her rear starts flicking back and forth. Nostrils flare with each great intake of air.

                                            >”Ooohhhhhh my...”

                                            "Hey, easy there, big girl. Why don't we just settle down a bit."

                                            >You reach out and grab her by the shoulders. A shiver travels down the length of her body at your touch.

                                            >As she sits there, her hips start intermittently jerking back and forth. A small wet spot has begun to spread on the sheets between her legs. The whole time her eyes are glued to you.

                                            "Celly, I need you to be strong here. Try to stay in control."

                                            >”But it feeeels sooooo...”

                                            > She trails off as her eyes start to lose their focus. She vigorously shakes her head in an attempt to clear the haze. In no time at all her tail has been soaked and is flicking her liquids at you.

                                            >"N-No, no, you're right Anon. I need to stay calm."

                                            >She takes several deep breaths and slows the frequency of her jerking hips. Breathing in and out, she sits herself up straight and places her hooves neatly in front of her.

                                            "Can't you do anything about that?" You point at the tail flicking back and forth under her rear, a few drops from her splashing on your arm.


                                            >She raises an eyebrow at you before looking down between her legs. A blush spreads all the way to her ears as some of it is flicked onto her nose. Bringing her head back up she focuses with all her might. Determined to get herself under control, before turning to you and smiling sheepishly.

                                            >"I can't seem to get it to stop."

                                            "I see."

                                            >She fidgets nervously as your arm and her bandages get wetter and wetter.

                                            "Well, Celestia I want to throw these sheets in the laundry." You pat the vomit stained covers.

                                            >She looks down at the mess she made and sighs in understanding.

                                            "The, uh, the sheet that you're currently sitting on Celestia."

                                            >She looks up at you with alarm. She looks down at her sides before whimpering.

                                            "Do you, um, need help?" She stares daggers at you, a crazed look in her eyes while her nostrils flare.

                                            >"P-please, don't ask me something like that right now..." The increasingly restless pony says with a shudder.

                                            "Shit, sorry, I mean help with getting up." She takes a deep breath and shakes her head.

                                            >"No, I think I want to try on my own. I just need to get to the pillows, right?" You nod. "Right. Could you, um, look away, Anon?

                                            "Right, sure thing." You spin on the spot.


                                            >"Unf."

                                            "You say something?"

                                            >"Me?! No, no! Never!" You listen closely as she takes a deep breath and starts making strained grunts.

                                            >Your ears are soon greeted by the sound of bed springs, and you picture Celestia carefully making her way. You panic as she lets out an 'oof' and collapses to the bed. Turning back so fast you think your head might snap off, you see Celestia in all her shameful glory.

                                            She only made it a few short shaky steps before a foreleg gave out, causing her front half to fall to the bed. Her wings flap uselessly by her sides as she attempts to right herself.

                                            >You would leap to the occasion, but the sight of her has left you stunned.

                                            >Her rear is thrust into the air on shaky legs, her bandaged rear swaying back and forward as she tries to push herself back up. She winks at you. A thin viscous trail leading from her to the sheets below, staining the bed with her forward progress due to her current condition.

                                            >"A little help, A-Anon?" Her muffled voice pleads.

                                            >You grunt in reply and step forward alongside her. Carefully hooking an arm under her chest, you delicately lift and pull her upright. Her body shivers at your touch and she lets out a gasp.

                                            "Easy, Celly." You gently support her the rest of the short way, trying to ignore her wet tail that now flicks against your back.

                                            You help her sit just before the pillows and tear of the sheets.

                                            "Just call out if you need me, okay?"

                                            >"Oh, I sure will, Anon..." You raise an eyebrow at her but she just gives you a mischievous grin. Leaving Celesitia to her own devices briefly, you head to the laundry and fill a sink with water and detergent to let the sheets soak overnight. You also throw your dirty clothes in the washing machine and set it to a short cycle. As you finish, you hear your name echoing down the hallway from your room.


                                            "Celestia?!"

                                            >You thunder down the hallway, your mind bringing forth all the worst possible scenarios. The most prominent one a vivid picture of her crumpled form fallen to the floor. You round the doorway at the end of the hall. You face immediately goes neutral.

                                            >Celestia is sitting on her pillow, Her hips grinding back and forth on the now sodden thing, while her nose is pressed deeply into your pillow, her nostrils flaring constantly as she drowns herself in your scent. Her cheek stretched into a stupid grin as she smiles with half lidded eyes.

                                            >"A-Anon... Anon... Anon..."

                                            >Her movements intensify as you stand there, paralyzed by the sight in front of you. Her body spasms erratically as she rushes onward to her own climax, hips jerking and thrusting, smearing her essence all over her own pillow as she stimulates herself.

                                            >”Anoooon, I’m gonnnnaaaaooooOOOOOOOHHHH”

                                            >She shudders hard and cums. You can hear the splattering sound of her liberally soaking the bed with her fluids. A massive tremor rocking through her body while she loses herself in the moment. Hips bucking wildly as she tries to extract every extra sensation she possibly can from the moment.

                                            >She carries on in a babbling way the whole time, her hooves grabbing weakly at the mattress while she rides the monstrous wave crashing through her body. Finally, after a few moments of frantic movement, she begins to slow. Her body quivering in the afterglow of her actions. Once it seems like she’s finally settled, she slowly pulls her face out of your pillow. A dopey smile plastered on it.

                                            >”Thankssss ssssooo much, Annnnooonnn.”

                                            “You know you're sleeping on that right?” You blurt out from the doorway, snapping yourself out of your own reverie.

                                            >She turns and smiles obliviously at you.

                                            >"Doooon't be silllly, Anon. Of course I know thaaat..." Balancing precariously on 3 hooves, she kicks off the used pillow to the floor. She looks at the scatterings of wet patches on her side. A giggle escapes her lips as she walks over and lies in it without any further comment.

                                            >Letting out a yawn, the large white pony slowly spreads her legs and lays her head down where the pillow used to be. A large snore shortly escapes from her, leaving you alone to deal with the aftermath of everything that happened tonight.


                                            >There’s dried mare cum. and the heavy smell of Celestia’s exertions hanging thickly in the air. Most importantly though, is the large tent in your pants that leaves you wondering about a great many things.

                                            “What the fuck, man.”

                                            >You resolve to deal with the situation in the morning due to being too tired to give a shit right now. You crawl up next to Celestia and whisper goodnight before turning out the light. She latches onto you and pulls herself close, nestling her chin on your chest. Any lingering thoughts are pushed to the wayside as fatigue catches up to you and you drift off to sleep.


                                            Part 5


                                            >A bird chirps. Hair tickles your nostrils. Light slowly creeps into the corner of your eyes, stirring you from your peaceful slumber. A warm, soft, and velvety sensation rubs up against your exposed skin. You mindlessly reach out and hold it closer, eliciting a pleased murmur in response. The wet patch on your leg feels cool as air slowly rolls over it.

                                            >Wait… Wet?

                                            >Your eyes snap open and look down. You’re greeted by a large, multi-coloured swath of hair; and a long white horn that juts out from the midst of it all. Hind legs shift on your lower half as Celestia slowly grinds her hips back and forth against your leg. The strong scent of her musk is thick in your throat.

                                            >The big white pony spoons your side. You try sitting up in the bed and she moans her objection, her hooves tugging on you.

                                            “Hey.”

                                            >She rubs her muzzle in your chest.

                                            “Heeey.”

                                            >Her ears fold back.

                                            “I’d love to stay like this, Celestia, but my leg is getting a bit soggy.”

                                            >Her body tenses and she pushes away from you.

                                            >”I just- I didn’t try to- I- you-” She retreats onto her stained side of the bed.

                                            “Morning, big girl. How you feeling this morning?”

                                            >”A-Anon! I, um-”

                                            “Don’t worry about it. I’ve already forgotten.”

                                            >She places a hoof to her chest and lets out a sigh of relief.

                                            “Though I will have to drag the mattress outside and wash it down.”

                                            >Her ears fold back against her head.

                                            “You want some breakfast? You did dump your dinner on the bed last night.”

                                            >She tilts her head.

                                            “Y’know, some food?”

                                            >”Oh. O-oh yes. Uh, Please!

                                            >You make for the door but she speaks out.

                                            >“U-Um, Anon?”

                                            “Yes, Celly?”

                                            >You turn back to Celestia nervously fretting on the edge of the bed. Slowly edging one of her bandaged hooves down to the floor, and retracting it when it can’t reach. She gives you a nervous look.


                                            “You want to come along?”

                                            >”Y-yes, please. C-can you help me down, Anon?”

                                            “You’re not gonna make another mess if I touch you, are you?”

                                            >She snorts indignantly and avoids your gaze, but sits back and raises her forelegs for you regardless.

                                            “Hey, just asking.”

                                            >You lift her the same way you did yesterday. She takes a sharp breath as your hands dig into her hindquarters, though she maintains her composure as you pick her up.

                                            >You turn around and take a step, but she pats your back with a hoof.

                                            >”Let me try walking, Anon.”

                                            “I don’t think you should be walking on those hooves…”

                                            >”Please, Anon.”

                                            >You frown, but set her down on the floor.

                                            >She stays seated, taking a few deep breaths before pushing herself up. She winces and her legs shake slightly. You move forward to help but she just shakes her head, a determined look on her face.

                                            >Eventually, she takes a painfully slow step forward. Then another. Each time her infected hoof takes her weight, she lets out a small grunt, her breathing getting progressively more ragged before she’s even made it out of the bedroom.

                                            “Need a hand?”

                                            >”I’m good!”

                                            >She stumbles as she trips on her own hooves. Only barely managing to catch herself before falling.

                                            “Here, let me help-”

                                            >”N-No!”

                                            >Her wings limply flare out, causing her to almost lose her balance again.

                                            “What's wrong, Celestia?”

                                            >”It’s just… You’ve helped me so much already, Anon. I just want to try doing something with my own hooves for a change...”

                                            “Alright. I’ll leave you to it then.”

                                            >She resumes her slow limp to the room’s exit, stopping soon at the doorway. Her neck stretches as she looks down the hall. A large number of doorways line the sides.

                                            “Something wrong?”

                                            >”Which room do you keep the food in, Anon?”

                                            “The kitchen?”

                                            >She nods.

                                            “Straight down the hall to the end, on your right.”

                                            >She gulps as you point down the several metre long hallway.


                                            “I’ll lead the way, if you want.” You move in front of her.

                                            >”P-Please.”

                                            >After taking a moment to prepare herself, she takes a pained step and falls in behind you.

                                            >You attentively walk ahead of her, though it isn’t long before she gets slower. Yelping louder each time she forces a hoof to take her weight. Having to stop every couple of metres as she cringes and curls a hoof to her chest in pain.

                                            >You’re only halfway to the kitchen when her knees have begun shaking violently. Pained whimpers escape from her as she takes longer and longer between each step. In short time her forward momentum has completely halted, and she just tries desperately to place some weight on her front hoof over and over again.

                                            >Before you can react in time, she plants the hoof on the ground and lets out a cry of pain as she tries to surge forward. Her forelegs give out and she goes crashing to her chest. A frustrated cry rings down the corridor.

                                            “Celestia!!” You reach out to help her.

                                            >”No!”

                                            “But-”

                                            >“No!”

                                            >She tries to right herself in a panic, but a back leg slips. Her rear tips to one side and she flails as she goes crashing into a wall.

                                            >Collapsed on the floor in exhaustion, a shudder goes through her body. Tears creep into the corner of her eyes and she smacks the ground with a hoof before cringing in pain.

                                            >”It’s not fair...”

                                            “Celestia…”

                                            >”It’s not fair, Anon! It’s not fair!”

                                            “Hey, hey. It's oka-”

                                            >“No! It’s not ‘okay’!

                                            >She flails again. A hopeless endeavour.

                                            >”I’ve dreamed about this for so long,” she sobs.

                                            >”To be able to walk further than the bars of my cage!”

                                            >Her flailing dies out and she lies awkwardly on her side.

                                            “You can still-”

                                            >”Can I?! Look at these legs!” She wiggles the emaciated appendages wrapped in bandages. “Look at what’s been done to me!”


                                            >You say nothing.

                                            >”Look at what's been done to us!”

                                            >There isn’t anything you can say here.

                                            >”We asked you monsters for help!”

                                            >There’s a blind fury behind her tears.

                                            >”Our world was falling apart! My ponies were dying!”

                                            >She struggles again to right herself.

                                            >”You promised us compassion, but left us in chains!”

                                            >She can’t even support her weight and collapses again. She tries dragging her body towards yours, but even that causes too much pain.

                                            >”You lied to me. You said you would help us. You tricked me! You took them all away!”

                                            >You sit down on the ground right next to her. She weakly strikes your leg.

                                            >”My subjects!” She lets out a choking sob.

                                            >“My students!” She crumples to the ground.

                                            >“My sister…” She buries her face in her hooves and wails at the top of her lungs.

                                            >”Luna!!!” She cries in a long, tormented scream.

                                            >You reach over and softly stroke her neck.

                                            >”I’m so sorry!!!” The apology stretches on as her voice cracks and body shudders.

                                            >She deteriorates into an incoherent babbling mess. Little blurts of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘it’s my fault’ come through from time to time. Every time you think she’s about to settle down, something sets her off and the whole thing starts again.

                                            >At some point along the way, she deposited her head in your lap while you gently consoled her.  After a long while, she eventually settles enough that she’s just lightly sobbing and sniffling.

                                            >*Sniff*

                                            “Hey.”

                                            >*Sniff* *Sniff*

                                            “Hey.”

                                            >”...What?” She stays in your lap and doesn’t open her eyes.

                                            “I’m sorry, I don’t know much about what happened.”

                                            >She flinches.

                                            “But someday -- if you’re ever feeling up to it -- I’d like to hear about it from you.”

                                            >She looks up at you with red eyes. You can’t read the pained expression on her face, but you’d like to think she was considering it.

                                            “But as for what I do know? Well…”

                                            >“Hmm?”

                                            “The first time I saw you yesterday, you struggled to walk around in your cage.”


                                            >She glares at you while you just continue to rub the side of her neck.

                                            “The second time, you made it beyond your cage. All on your own. In that kind of state.”

                                            >”Hmph.”

                                            “I just cleaned you up yesterday. And even with your hooves in that condition; on your third attempt, you made it from the bed all the way here.”

                                            >She lifts her head up and looks back down the several metres she just walked.

                                            “At this rate you’ll be able to run miles in a couple of weeks!”

                                            >She scoffs.

                                            “Baby steps, Celestia, is all I’m saying. We’ll get you there. One step at a time if necessary. And I’ll be here every step of the way to catch you if you fall, okay?”

                                            >She frowns and looks down at her legs. Celestia contemplates for a few seconds before she rubs her face on your leg to dry her eyes.

                                            >”O-okay, Anon. If you say so, then I have no choice but to obey.”

                                            >You jolt while Celestia grins at you with puffy cheeks.

                                            >”I’m a bit hungry though, could you, um, maybe help me to the kitchen, Anon?”

                                            “I’d love to. Do you want me to carry you? Or just help you walk?”

                                            >”M-my hooves are a bit too sore after all that. I-if it’s not too much trouble, c-could you please carry me, Anon?”

                                            >You bend down and assist her in righting herself before picking her up. She doesn’t say much as you take her into the kitchen and carefully deposit her into a chair seated at a nearby dining table.

                                            >You whip up a meal similar to yesterdays, with the exception of some toast for you; and before long you're both eating in a comfortable silence. Back straight and head held high, she sits properly at the table and munches on her food.

                                            >Every now and then you also reach over and help Celestia drink from a glass of water. Thankfully, the malnourished pony shows much more self-restraint this time, so scraps aren’t flying everywhere. You clean up when you’re both finished, leaving Celestia to idly scratch a bandaged hoof.


                                            “Celestia?”

                                            >”Yes, Anon?”

                                            “I need to clean up several things after yesterday. Do you think you’d be alright by yourself?”

                                            >”By myself?”

                                            “That’s what I said, right?”

                                            >”I can do whatever I want?”

                                            “Well, if you start punching holes in the walls then I’m gonna be a bit upset. But yea, I can put the T.V. on if you want to watch something. Or I can grab a book for you to read.”

                                            >Sitting at the table, hooves fidgeting on her seat; she looks a bit lost.

                                            >”I… I don’t know what to say, Anon.”

                                            “What do you mean?”

                                            >”You’re just… Letting me?”

                                            “Is there a problem?”

                                            >”Anon… Why did you buy me?”

                                            >You pause.

                                            “Because I promi-”

                                            >”You could have bought any pony, Anon.”

                                            “I could have.”

                                            >”Any other pony who wouldn’t bite you and wouldn’t need care.”

                                            “That’s true”

                                            >”You found me locked in a corner of hell. And it felt like someone had thrown away the key.”

                                            “It certainly seemed that way.”

                                            >”I’ll be honest, Anon.” She looks at you with piercing purple eyes, an intelligence behind them that had been hiding up until now. “What are you planning to use me for?”

                                            >You purse your lips and think for a bit. She may not be 100% herself at the moment, but this might be a good a time as any to start cluing her in.

                                            “I wanted to wait until you were a bit better, but I guess now will do.”

                                            >She immediately tenses and retreats as far back into the chair as she can. Her eyes flick away from you and start scanning the exits.

                                            “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Celestia relax.”

                                            She looks at you with wary eyes.

                                            “Stay with me, girl. Hold your judgement until I’m done, please.”

                                            >”Not like I have much of a choice in the matter...”

                                            >You wait a moment for her to calm down.

                                            >”Be honest with me, Anon. Please. I won’t go back there.”

                                            “Won’t go back?”

                                            >”I won’t be caged again, Anon. No matter what.” Her voice is steady and her eyes never leave yours.


                                            “Alright. I can understand that.”

                                            >She takes a few steadying breaths as you walk over to her and take a seat.

                                            “Where to start? Hmmm...” You rub your chin.

                                            “I tried to find one of the others of course.”

                                            >”Other what, Anon?”

                                            “I have a few hints as to where they are., but you were the closest one.”

                                            >”Anon?”

                                            “A lot of work went into making sure nobody important could find you, of course. But someone always slips up.”

                                            >”Anon. Please.”

                                            “I made a promise.”

                                            >”We’ve been over thi-”

                                            “Not just to help one pony, but to help them all.”

                                            >Her brow furrows and she looks down at the table. All the while her eyes flick from side to side.

                                            “And I said to myself, what's the best way? I mean, I could throw money at the issue. But that wouldn’t do.

                                            >”No.”

                                            “I needed to do something more lasting. I needed someone more lasting.

                                            >”No, Anon.”

                                            “There are growing movements for ponies, Celestia.

                                            >”I can’t do it.”

                                            “They’re building momentum.”

                                            >”You saw the way those other ponies reacted at the sight of me!

                                            “But they keep falling short. Keep failing at critical moments, no matter who takes charge.”

                                            >”They would bite me through the cages!”

                                            “They need a figurehead. Someone to rally around. Someone to lead them.”

                                            >”No! Not again!”

                                            >She springs from the chair and tries to run. Unfortunately -- upon landing -- her weak legs give out, eliciting a yelp and sending her sprawling across the tiled floor. The terrified mare spastically tries to get her hooves under herself.

                                            >You get up out of the chair and pace towards her.

                                            >”No, no, no, no, NO!”

                                            “They need a princess.”

                                            >”I can’t do it, Anon!”

                                            “So I went and found one.”

                                            >“I’ll fail them again!”

                                            “You know, it cost considerably more to find you than to buy you.”

                                            >She scrambles frantically as you get closer.

                                            “It seems someone went to a lot of effort to make sure you would all disappear.”


                                            >You sit down and rub her side, cooing softly to her. She struggles valiantly to get away, but it's no use.

                                            “I’m still searching for the other princesses, y’know.”

                                            >She stops. Ears suddenly swivel. Her panicked movements become calm and she slowly settles her breathing.

                                            >”Y-you’re still looking for them?”

                                            “Yup.”

                                            >”A-And you won’t stop looking for them?”

                                            “Nope.”

                                            >”E-Even if I refuse to help you?”

                                            “Then that’s even more reason to find them”

                                            >She goes quiet.

                                            “Celestia. You want to be free, right?”

                                            >”... What do you think?”

                                            “Even if we get you through recovery, and I opened the door and let you go wherever you want. You would be brought back to me by the end of the week.”

                                            >”Just get to the point, Anon.”

                                            “Whether we like it or not, you’re my property by law. And the only way around that is for you to earn your freedom. And not just for yourself.”

                                            >”But what if I don’t want to be free, Anon?”

                                            “If you’re so fond of your chains, then I can buy a nice pretty cage to keep you in.”

                                            >”That’s not what I meant.” She huffs and starts trying to right herself.

                                            >You gently help her back to her own hooves. She doesn’t run. Instead choosing to sit, facing you.

                                            “I know, I know. I’m not saying you have to be ready to go give speeches a month from now. But, Celestia, sooner or later you need to face this. I need you to face this.”

                                            >”So you can keep that promise, right?”

                                            “What? No... I’m just in it so I can tell people I know a princess, dummy.” You stick your tongue out at her.

                                            >”Anon...” She tries to look serious, but a small smile creeps into the corner of her lips.

                                            “Look, I know you probably don’t want to hear it from a human, but I see what’s happening. A lot of people do. But a lot of us are scared about what it might cost to change things.”


                                            >”And you aren’t?”

                                            “Oh, I am. But I also think it might be a bit exciting! That and, well, y’know”

                                            >”The promise.”

                                            “Right”

                                            >”...Would you mind telling me about that, Anon?” She puts a bandaged hoof on your arm.

                                            “Maybe one day we can swap stories.” You lightly squeeze her hoof in return.

                                            “But for now, how about I drop you off in front of the T.V. and leave you to watch something while I go clean up everything?”

                                            >She closes her eyes. You patiently sit in front of her, waiting for her decision. She opens them again after a short while and smiles at you.

                                            >”I think I’d like that, Anon. But, um, before that...”

                                            “Yea?”

                                            >”I’m a bit, err, well, not exactly at my freshest right now. In fact, I think I’m staining the floor a bit at the moment…”

                                            >She hoists her body into the air briefly, a thin liquid trail stretching from her rear to the floor. She blushes and promptly sits back down with a small squelch.

                                            “Jesus, is it just a permanent ‘all hands on deck’ situation when you take those pills?”

                                            >”Believe it or not, this is actually better than normal. Usually, I can barely even comprehend the world around me.”

                                            “Christ. I know it sucks, Celly, but we can’t get you off them just yet.”

                                            >”I know, Anon. Don’t worry, I’ve made it this far, a little more won’t beat me. In fact, if it's not too much trouble…” She grins at you.

                                            “What, you want me to get you a toy or something to help?”

                                            >She goes bright red.

                                            >”Wha- No, not a to-” She trips on her words and lets out a frustrated groan.

                                            “Why don’t you have a chat with the vet about it?”

                                            >”I don’t want a vet-” She pauses and brings a hoof to her chin. “-Wait, a vet? You found a vet for me?”

                                            “Last night, remember?”

                                            >”Ohhhh, right.” She furrows her brow in concentration, occasionally stealing a glance at you.


                                            >”I think I do have a few questions for her, actually. When are we going?”

                                            “I’ll give her a call soon. How about I get you a towel and we get you to the couch?”

                                            >“Ok, Anon. Then, if you wouldn’t mind.” She again takes that adorable open armed pose and you pick her up.

                                            >You carry her into the next room over and deposit her on the couch before running and grabbing a towel from the laundry. She thanks you as you place it on the couch, allowing her to lie curled up on her side on top of it.

                                            >You pass her the remote and tell her the basic functions. A few experimental attempts later and she’s going at it like a natural. Leaving her, you go to the garage to inspect the damage.

                                            >A wave of rancid putridness washes over you as you walk in the garage. You had left the boot and the windows open, and the entire place now reeks of vomit and Celestia’s horrendous smell from before you washed her.

                                            >You retch and struggle to hold it in. Hitting the automatic door opener, you breathe in relief as fresh air can finally fill your lungs. While waiting for the room to be purged, you pull out a phone and give Emily a call.

                                            >She answers the call, asking what you want in a displeased tone.

                                            “Well, I want to pop in today so you can have a look at Celly.”

                                            >”Oh, I thought you might have broken her. And this was you wanting me to tell you how to fix her again.”

                                            “Please, the only thing that needs help fixing is the state of my car’s interior.”

                                            >”Why, what happened?

                                            >You look over at the stained blankets and the spattering of vomit.

                                            “You don’t wanna know.

                                            >”Wha-”

                                            “Anyway, you free sometime today? Earlier if possible. I want to get her checked out before she needs another dose.”

                                            >She grumbles into the phone.


                                            >”Gimme a sec… Oi Stint! Stint!!! Stint, you blue balled prick!” Her voice echoes as she calls out.

                                            >”What? I’ve got my hooves full here!” You hear the faint yelling of Stint somewhere far from the phone.

                                            >”You free sometime today to help me check out the client from last night? Celly, or Kelly, or whatever the fuck the poor pony’s name was?”

                                            >”Fucking who? Oh, shit, that’s right! Um, I’ve got some free time just after two!”

                                            >”Alright, that works for me. I’ve got a big opening around then as well.”

                                            >”That’s not the only big opening you’ve got, babe!”

                                            >”Fuck you, Stint!”

                                            >”You, offering? I mean, that’s how you got it in the first place, right?”

                                            >”I swear to God, Stint!”

                                            >”Ain’t no cock like horsecock. Send your asshole into sho-”

                                            >You can’t hold it in anymore and let out a snicker.

                                            >”Two o’clock, Anon?”

                                            “Right, two o’clock works great, Emily.” You try to contain your laughter as Stint keeps singing in the background.

                                            >”Keep laughing asshole. I’ll send you the address soon. Goodbye.

                                            “Good-” You hear a beep as she hangs up on you. “-Bye…”

                                            >You put your phone away and turn back to the task at hand, a grimace on your face, and fear in your heart. You roll up your sleeves and get to work.


                                            >It’s almost 2 hours before you emerge from the garage. You’ve emptied the bucket, the car is cleaned, and your nose feels like it’s about to fall off your face. You deposit the filthy blankets in the washing machine and check on Celestia.

                                            >She lies on her towel with a downturned face, her head propped up against an armrest.

                                            >Manipulative montages of out of control ponies flash by on the television screen, and an anchor mumbles something about surges in slave related crimes.


                                            >You grab the remote from next to her hoof and put on some David Attenborough shit about penguins.

                                            >She smiles briefly at you, and you gladly return it. She goes back to watching though, her face falling a few moments later.

                                            >You leave her be and move down the hallway to the bathroom.

                                            >The room is actually in decent condition, though there are nasty yellow-brown splotches of residual water all over the place. At least the smell is bearable.

                                            >Its short work, and in no time you finish up and head to your room. With a bit of effort and grunting, you flip the queen size mattress on its side and drag it down the hall, through the kitchen, and take it out the back via sliding screen door.

                                            >After giving it a quick hose down and leaving it propped up against a wall to dry, you return to Celestia. The television is back on the news channel, and the poor mare looks on the verge of tears as the anchor talks about an incident where two escaped ponies had to be tranquilized and muzzled after attacking a mother and her child.

                                            >You grab the remote from next to her and turn the television off.

                                            “Hey, couch potato.” You scratch her ear to get her attention.

                                            >She hums and leans into your hand. Her focus still on the the blank screen in front of her.

                                            “You keep sitting there all day, you’re gonna get fat.”

                                            >She scoffs and waves a skinny arm at you.

                                            “You feeling okay?”

                                            >”I’ll be alright, Anon. How did the cleaning go?”

                                            “Ughh, I can still smell it in my nose. But, everything is clean now. Speaking of clean... ”

                                            >Celestia tenses and folds her ears back.

                                            “Now, Celestia. I’ve had a chat with Emily, and we’ve got you booked in around two o’clock. So, it’s up to you. Do you want to show up reeking of yourself and covered in filthy bandages?”

                                            >”Uh, yes?” She bares her teeth in one of the largest, most unconvincing, and unnatural smiles you’ve ever seen.


                                            “Wrong answer, Celly. C’mon” You bend down and try to pick her up.

                                            >No, Anon! I don’t wanna!” She struggles halfheartedly against you.

                                            >You lift her up onto her rear before quickly reaching down and hooking your hands around her haunches.

                                            >”Wai- wha- oof- carefu- oh!”

                                            >You freeze as one finger reaches too far in your struggles, brushing up against something wet.

                                            >Her eyes go wide and her mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape. Like a switch just got flipped, she gives you a sultry smile and whispers in your ear.

                                            >”I know you wanted to get me wet, Anon. But shouldn’t we be getting in the shower?”

                                            >She chuckles at your silence as little pinpricks of heat burn on your face.

                                            >The big white pony is laughing at you now, but as you carry her out of the living room and down the hallway, her mirth dies. By the time you’re at the doorway to the bathroom, she’s started shaking slightly.

                                            “How you holding up, big girl?”

                                            >”J-just take it s-slow, A-Anon.”

                                            “No problem, we’ll go with the same rules as yesterday, okay? Left hoof: stop, right hoof: go. Sound good?”

                                            >She taps your back with her right hoof.

                                            >You make steady progress; only having to stop once just before you reach the large, 2 person tub.

                                            >Celestia taps your back to stop. You immediately halt and rub her back reassuringly for a while. Eventually the shaking ceases.

                                            >”A-Alright, Anon. L-Let’s get this out of the way.”

                                            >You start up the water and gently extend her wing again. The whole time her body tremors slightly and she holds onto you for dear life, though this time she doesn’t signal for you to stop.

                                            “Atta girl, atta girl.”

                                            >She lets out a small muffled cry as you slowly immerse her, Although she never signals once for you to stop.

                                            >Eventually you’re both under the stream, and Celestia seems to finally relax after a short while. You say nothing as you begin to unwrap her bandages and inspect the wounds.


                                            >A lot of them are looking clean and healing well. Unfortunately, some of the worst ones don’t look like they’ve changed at all. Her infected hoof in particular still has the same concerning discolouration.

                                            >You get to work shampooing her mane and coat like you did yesterday. A few dead bugs wash off her body as you brush your hand through the wet fur, but overall it's a much more pleasant experience than last time.

                                            >You soon think that Celestia has tuned out, until she starts licking the bruise on your shoulder with her tongue. The flat, warm, and broad muscle moving over the purple outline of bite marks.

                                            >She stops as you start washing her mane and wings. You carry on diligently until the mare in your lap starts humming. It’s not a tune you can place, though its warm sound relaxes you.

                                            >Compared to yesterday though, it's over in a flash. You quickly extract the dripping mare from the tub and start drying her soaked fur.

                                            >Celestia herself enthusiastically joins in again, working on her mane as you rub up and down her back and sides. You both swiftly burn through your dwindling clean towel supply in the process. Work proceeding smoothly until you run into a roadblock.

                                            “Uh, Celestia…”

                                            >”Yes, Anon?”

                                            “Yesterday, you were so out of it that I sort of just went ahead and did it on my own.”

                                            >”Did what anon?”

                                            “Cleaned you.”

                                            >”What do you mean, Anon? You’re cleaning me right now, aren’t you?”

                                            “All of you.”

                                            >”Yes, just like you’re doing now. Cleaning all of me. Every. Single. Last. Bit.” She shakes her bony hips from side to side with each word.

                                            >You can’t see her face from your vantage point, but you know she’s wearing a shit eating grin right now.

                                            “Celestia...”

                                            >”If you want it so much, why don’t you take it?”

                                            “Alright then, I tried to be diplomatic.” You reach out and hoist her tail out of the way.


                                            >She lets out a yelp and flicks the sopping wet hairs in your face.

                                            >”Oh, Anon! All you had to do was ask...” The hair is pulled through your hand as her tail flags on its own, presenting the rest of her ‘wet’ sections in all their confusing glory.

                                            >You hear a small chuckle coming from Celestia. You try to ignore her as you press a towel up to her. She lets out a subdued moan and flicks her tail again.

                                            >You can feel something moving back and forth under the towel as the heat soaks through to your hand. Your ears burn as you start rubbing the fur on and around her thighs and rear. In reality, it doesn’t take long at all to clean her up. But you could have sworn it took an eternity.

                                            >You move onto her tail, pulling and tugging it every so often as you vigorously rub the water from it. Celestia grunts appreciatively every now and then, her hips shaking slightly, fueling the building heat in your groin as you try to remind yourself you’re cleaning a pony right now.

                                            “You can lower it now.”

                                            >”Aww.”

                                            >She turns around with her now frizzy mane and pouts.

                                            >“But I was just getting ‘warmed up’.” She snickers into a hoof.

                                            >You sit there with your jaw hanging open. Where did this mare come from? What happened to the one who was screaming and crying in your lap just hours ago?

                                            “Celestia? Are you feeling alright?”

                                            >She waves a hoof bashfully at you.

                                            >”Oh, Anon. I might be ‘under the influence’ at the moment, but I think we’re both feeling a bit ‘excited’ right now.” She points at your crotch where you know a tent is being made in your shorts.

                                            >A gleeful smile is painted on her face while her nostrils start flaring ever so slightly.

                                            “Celestia…”

                                            >”Yeeesss, Anon?”

                                            “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”


                                            >”Her eyes shoot open wide with excitement before slamming shut. She begins rampantly breathing, although she still follows your command and opens her mouth. She extends her broad tongue out, eager to receive whatever she thinks you’re about to give her.

                                            >Her ears flicker as you move around in front of her. A slight tremble goes through her whole body as you grab her chin. Her breathing intensifies and she pushes her tongue out even further, the end flat like a landing strip and dripping with saliva, ready to pull in whatever it can.

                                            >”Aaaahhhhhhh.” She hums as she waits for you to act.

                                            >You thrust the toothbrush into her mouth and start energetically scrubbing her teeth, a smirk on your face as Celestia opens her eyes in confusion.

                                            >She looks down at her muzzle. Upon seeing your shorts still firmly on, she lets out a disappointed and frustrated groan. You chuckle and get to work, going over the relatively large yellow teeth and making sure to clean the inside of her mouth as thoroughly as you can.

                                            >You take a while as you thoroughly brush each tooth, and Celestia starts to get bored. Halfway through, she suddenly grins and looks up at you, mischief in her eyes. You wonder what she’s up to.

                                            >As you push the brush deeper into her mouth to get at some further back teeth, her tongue wraps around your fingers holding the brush. You jolt and stare at it.

                                            >She lets out a moan from her open maw and starts rolling her tongue back and forth over your digits, coating them with saliva. The rough surface of her equine tongue dragging up, down, over, and around them with amazing dexterity.

                                            >You clear your throat and double down, increasing the intensity of your brushing. Celestia reciprocates and increases her pace. Her tongue now rolling back and forth fluidly, dragging along the skin and applying mild pressure to your fingers as you thoroughly clean each tooth.


                                            >By the time you’ve finished, you’re almost working up a sweat. You look up from her mouth to see Celestia smiling with half lidded eyes at you.

                                            “Umm.”

                                            >”Yethh?” She says as she continue to minister your fingers with her tongue.

                                            “I need to, uh, clean that too. Could you please stop for a moment?”

                                            >”Oh... Aaaahhhhhhh.”

                                            >She splays it out, allowing you to grab a hold. A smug look on her face as you scrape the gunk off of it, changing the colour of the dexterous muscle from a slight yellow, to a more healthy light pink in no time at all.

                                            “Ok... All done!”

                                            >You pull your hand from her mouth. The mare grunts, her maw closing down around your retreating digits.

                                            >Her tongue rolls back and forth behind pursed lips as she licks and sucks on them. She trembles as you slowly extract them from her mouth. Finally pulling them free with a wet plop.

                                            >You fall back, slightly out of breath; as Celestia hums with closed eyes, savouring your taste.

                                            >”Mmmm… Salty…”

                                            “Celestia… wha-”

                                            >”Hey. Anon.”

                                            “...What?

                                            >“I think my backside is still a bit wet.” She wiggles her eyebrows and shakes her rump. “Could you ‘clean it’ for me?”

                                            >You heave a nearby soggy towel at her, striking her square in the muzzle with a ‘fwomp’. She lets out a giggle as it slides down her face.

                                            >You’re a bit overwhelmed from all the things that just happened, but you soon join in with her. A nice bout of sincere laughter shared between you as Celestia awkwardly finishes drying herself.

                                            >You give Celestia’s mane and tail a quick brush, before wrapping her hooves in bandages again. Most of the other wounds have already healed over quite significantly, so you leave them be.

                                            >After another silent moment passes between you when you lend her some assistance going to the toilet -- a moment you both make unspoken promises never to speak of again -- you inspect your handiwork.


                                            >Celestia looks even better than she did after her first wash. Her fur is starting to maintain a smoother consistency, and her mane and tail hair is now a bit bouncy with a subtle healthy shimmer.

                                            >Nodding with satisfaction, you pick her up and carry her towards the now clean car. She mewls in satisfaction as you pass the mirror, hugging you tight. Another small whisper of ‘thank you’ reaching your ears.

                                            >You bring her around to the back of the garage and deposit her on the edge of the boot. Although as you pull away, she tugs on your back. You stay awkwardly bent over as you wait patiently, bracing yourself for what could happen if she’s still in her mood and wants to mess with you.

                                            >”Please don’t abandon me.”

                                            >She mutters so quietly you can barely hear her.

                                            “Never.” You whisper back and return the hug.

                                            >Separating a short while later; you stand up, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. You open them and nod to her.


                                            “You ready to go to the vet, Celly?”

                                            >She smiles at you.

                                            >”I’m ready, Anon. Although, you might want to put on some clothes first...”


                                            Part 6


                                            >The steady rumbling of the road passing under the car helps you settle into an automatic rhythm. Feet instinctively shift on the pedals to make slight adjustments, your mind barely taking note of the other cars as you speed down the motorway.

                                            >The radio is off as the humming of the car engine helps your mind wander, only coming back to reality when interrupted by small intermittent sounds coming from behind you.

                                            >You angle the rear view mirror down to keep an eye on Celestia lying on her side on a nest of blankets in the back. To your surprise, she actually started preening a wing shortly after you got on the motorway.

                                            >She makes a small humming sound every now and then, her face buried in the large extremity. She’ll tend to a feather, nibble on it for a bit, and maybe spit out a dead bug; before carefully aligning it with the one next to it, proceeding methodically down the entire length of her large wingspan. A small collection of broken or otherwise tarnished feathers are deposited neatly next to her.

                                            “You enjoying yourself back there?”

                                            >She pulls her face out of the array of white feathers and spits a few times. Scowling and smacking her lips in disgust, she extends the wing fully to evaluate her progress.

                                            >”Next time we shower, Anon, I need to show you how to properly clean these.”

                                            “What? Want to look good for the vet, ay?”

                                            >”A mare likes to look nice from time to time, Anon. Even if she’s not at her best.”

                                            >You chuckle and make a quick lane change before glancing back again. Celestia solemnly strokes her skinny foreleg with a hoof.

                                            “Hey.”

                                            >She meets your eyes in the rear view mirror.

                                            “Once we get you patched up, I think you’ll look like royalty.”

                                            >”Oh, really? I didn’t know you were into starving slave ponies, Anon.”

                                            >The words have bite but her tone is playful.


                                            “Me? Nah, I’m still undecided on the whole ‘into ponies’ thing.”

                                            >”Is that so?” She sounds a bit dejected.

                                            “Eeyup.”

                                            >”Well, I think another part of you was being a bit more honest in the shower.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, a small grin on her face.

                                            “That… may be true. But I wasn’t the only one enjoying that moment, Celly.”

                                            >She frowns at the use of her nickname, though she pushes onward.

                                            >”I’m not complaining. Those hands certainly were good at ‘drying’ me off.”

                                            >You spot her tongue slowly licking around her lips. You clear your throat. Heat starts slowly building in your cheeks while a bead of sweat drips down your forehead. The memory of what you felt through the towel causes you to grip the steering wheel tighter.

                                            “I-I can’t believe my own slave would take advantage of me like that!” Although you try your best to sound shocked, the excitement in your voice betrays you.

                                            >”Oh, Anon…” She murmurs softly before looking at her hooves.

                                            >With a mighty grunt she suddenly pushes to herself to a standing position.

                                            “Celestia! What are you doing?!” Your foot hovers over the break as your eyes flick back forth to her shaking form in the rear-view mirror.

                                            >”Relax, Anon! I’m-” She grunts with effort and pain, her wobbling exacerbated by the unsteady car. “I-I’m alright. Please, just focus on the road.”

                                            >You open your mouth in protest, but a smile on her face disarms you. You carefully watch her while affording as much extra care to your driving as you can manage.

                                            >She slowly comes closer and closer to you, her head popping out of your sight as she moves out of the mirror’s field of vision. The only thing left for you to see is her skinny white backside with its multi-coloured tail that flicks from side to side. After a few moments you feel her hot breath on your ear.

                                            >”I can always return the favour and ‘dry’ you off, Anon.”


                                            >You feel your heartbeat hammering in your ears as your brain fumbles for a response. At the same time a car in a side lane merges without warning and cuts out in front of you. You instinctively press on the brakes, sending you lurching forward and causing the mare at your ear to fall into the back of the seat.

                                            >”Oof.”

                                            >After spending a few tense moments backing off from the car in front, you turn and check on Celestia. She’s lying on the lowered seats between her side and her back, her wing wedged under her and a few legs weakly propped up against the front seats after the sudden fall. She’s holding her head and neck up at an angle pressed against a door, allowing her whole mid-section to fit awkwardly across the car.

                                            “Celly! Are you alright?”

                                            >One of her eyes looks over to you and she pokes her tongue out.

                                            >”Never better, Anon.”

                                            >She carefully picks herself up and sits in a more comfortable position while you check back on the road.

                                            >“Although, I didn’t know you were into abusing mares.”

                                            “You cheeky little...”

                                            >You smirk as Celestia gives you a coy grin.

                                            “Just be more careful, okay? I don’t want to have to put you in that harness again.”

                                            >You bring your attention back to the motorway as your exit is coming up.

                                            >”Oh, I think you and I would both enjoy that.”

                                            >Your taken by surprise again as a feather caresses your ear. A shudder runs through your body and you look past the extended wing to see Celestia with a strained smile on her face.

                                            “Is it alright? Your wing that is.”

                                            >”What? Oh, yes. It's fine.”

                                            >She’s taken out of the moment and retracts the appendage before giving it a small flex. She carefully inspects it before folding it and pulling it back to her side.

                                            >”Yes, it’s fine. I really need to start building up the strength in it though. And food will go a long way with that.”


                                            “Now you’re saying something I can get behind.”

                                            >Celestia snorts before laughing to herself.

                                            >You smile, but a question has started burning in the back of your mind.

                                            “Hey, Celestia?”

                                            >”What is it, Anon?”

                                            >You purse your lips. You need to start broaching this topic sooner rather than later.

                                            “Um… Not really sure how to ask honestly.”

                                            >”Just ask, Anon.” She backs up a bit and lies down on her stomach.

                                            >You take a deep breath.

                                            “Do those wings actually work? I mean, you really can fly, can’t you?”

                                            >You glance back down and see a frown on her downcast face.

                                            “Look, I’ve heard about the source of the sickness.” You begin as you take the exit off the motorway.

                                            >”And? What do you think?”

                                            >You stay silent for a few moments.

                                            “Magic, Celestia?”

                                            >”Your point?”

                                            “You’re asking us to believe in magic.”

                                            >”You don’t trust us.”

                                            “I trust you, Celestia. I need to and I want to.”

                                            >She fidgets with her hooves, but doesn’t say anything else.

                                            “It makes sense in a few ways. I mean, why else would so many of you have wings and horns that you can’t even use?”

                                            >”I know where this is going, Anon. I’ve heard it before.”

                                            “All that most people have seen -- since Equestria popped into existence in the middle of the Pacific Ocean -- is a veritable tsunami of sick refugees flooding in from a disaster ravaged land.”

                                            >”Your kind helped considerably with that, Anon.” Her tone is taking on a sharp edge.

                                            “Just, let me finish.”

                                            >You look back and catch her staring daggers at you. You need to tread lightly here.

                                            “These sick refugees, who can’t do human work and struggle with human machines; start talking about all these riches and great powers they used to have.”

                                            >”And then you give us a cure that cripples us.” Her voice gets louder with each passing moment. Venom starting to drip off each word.


                                            “And the people who make it charge you an arm and a leg even though it stops your suffering, turning you into indentured persons. Yes, I know.”

                                            >”So, why bring it up?!”

                                            “That’s not what I want to talk about!”

                                            >”Then what do you want to talk about, Anon?!” She yells and looks away, ears flicking in irritation.

                                            “You must know how it all sounds!”

                                            >”Was it that hard to listen to us in our slums?” Her voice cracks.

                                            “Celestia-”

                                            >“Family members would disappear in the middle of the night, only to be found later in chains.”

                                            “No, Celestia-”

                                            >”I begged on my stomach, only for your kind to shrug your shoulders and say you were working on it!”

                                            “Celestia!!!”

                                            >You shout as you turn onto a long country road.

                                            >She flinches and lowers her head, resting it limply on the ground in between her hooves.

                                            “I need to know.”

                                            >Her ears fold back against her head.

                                            >”Why?”

                                            ”Because if we’re going to go ahead with what we have planned, you need to prepare a better response than that.”

                                            >She huffs.

                                            “Also, if we’re going to emancipate all of pony kind-”

                                            >Her ears perk up.

                                            “-Then we need to plan for these -- I dunno, fucking super powers or whatever -- reappearing.”

                                            >She slowly looks up at you, a questioning look on her face.

                                            >”You believe us, Anon?”

                                            >You sigh.

                                            “I’m going to ask this once, Celestia. And I’m going to trust whatever you say here.”

                                            >She wearily brings herself upright as you start scanning for house numbers on the rare and far apart driveways.

                                            “Did you use to be able to fly and use magic? And, if it somehow comes back, can you use it again?”

                                            >You quickly turn and find her looking you straight in the eye. Not a hint of doubt on her face. You look away and wait for her response.

                                            >”Yes, Anon. And it will come back one day. I can’t tell you why... But -- somehow -- I just know.”


                                            >You grunt and rub the bridge of your nose with your fingers.

                                            “Alright Celestia. If you say so, then I’ll trust you.”

                                            >She lets out a sigh of relief.

                                            >”Thank you, Anon. It really does mean a lot to me.

                                            “No worries. We’ve arrived by the way.”

                                            >You point through the windscreen at a driveway next to a large wooden sign. A warm but faded image of a blonde woman standing next to a horse with a bandaged leg is painted to the side of the words ‘Emily’s Equine Veterinary Practice’.

                                            >In addition to that is a sloppily painted bright blue blob -- that could be mistaken for a pony -- floating on the other side of the horse. The words ‘& co’ are also written messily with an arrow pointing into the space after ‘Emily’s’.

                                            >As you turn down the long dirt driveway -- the dry grey-green and brown of bushland flickering by -- Celestia returns to her nest of blankets and lies down. You glance in the mirror and find her looking back at you with a small smile on her face.

                                            >The main house soon comes into view as the dirt driveway gives way to pothole ridden asphalt. It’s a dilapidated wood and tin amalgamation that has some size to it. It also looks to be almost falling apart in several places. An old jeep sits covered in dirt out the front in the expansive yard of untended sun-dried yellow grass.

                                            >An uneasy feeling has started to grow in your stomach as you come to a stop and hop out.

                                            “I’ll check it out, you right to wait here for a bit?”

                                            >You look back through the open window at Celestia. She still tries to smile at you, but you can see the subtle trembling of her body.

                                            “Don’t worry. I won’t be far away.”

                                            >”I-I’m a tough mare, Anon. I-I’ll be alright on my own.” She takes a few deep breaths to calm herself.


                                            >”Atta girl. I’ve got the keys on me, so the car won’t start unless I’m around. You just sit tight, okay?”

                                            >After she nods you give her a warm smile and start heading for the house.

                                            >You walk through a miserable garden and up to the front door. As you get closer, you see a hammered on plaque that tells you the practice is operated in the back yard. You turn back to the car and see Celestia’s head peeking just over the bottom of a window frame.

                                            >A look of concern is painted on her face.

                                            >You point around the side and start walking.

                                            >Her gaze briefly follows you, before she ducks back out of sight.

                                            >You move around the side of the house, opening a wide side gate meant for cars to pass through, another sign on it with the name of the practice. As you come into the back yard proper, relief floods through you.

                                            >After a short distance, the ground slopes gradually for a few hundred metres before levelling out. Sitting there on the flat landing is a small and welcoming house joined to a large barnyard-like structure with metal shutters built in intervals of several metres down the side.

                                            >A large fenced off pasture of slightly greener grass sits to the side of it. A few horse-like figures are currently occupying it. You can make out the distinct size and colours of a decent number of ponies, as well as some horses.

                                            >Beyond that are more rolling fields of long, overgrown, sun dried grass. It looks like there might even be a creek in the distance, but you can’t really tell.

                                            >As you continue down the well-worn dirt road that leads to the white barn, you begin to take in a few details.

                                            >The two groups aren’t close, located at opposite ends of the cordoned off area. The horses stand fairly spread apart and generally do nothing apart from wander and graze.


                                            >On the other side, the ponies are standing -- or sitting on the ground -- in a circle. Their heads bobbing up and down in animated conversation. Faint voices carry on the air as they talk back and forth before a chorus of laughter breaks out. Many smaller ones -- colts or fillies, you can’t really tell -- are running around and playing with a soccer ball nearby.

                                            >You’re about to reach the bottom of the slope when one of the kids spots you, pointing with a hoof and shouting something to the others. They all stop talking and turn towards you.

                                            >You freeze mid stride as they stare at you. Neither one of you moving a muscle.

                                            >As if an unheard starting gun went off, they all break out galloping towards you; slipping under and through the two bar fences of the enclosure, their hooves kicking up a cloud of dust as the herd thunders towards you.

                                            >You feel like running, taking a glimpse at the building and the herd charging towards you. Though as the ponies get closer your fears fade away.

                                            >The group isn’t running as one cohesive unit. A few ponies lag behind, all their faces stained with desperate looks of hope.

                                            >One has half his face wrapped in bandages; another has a terrible limp, but no sign of injury. A Pegasus flaps a single wing uselessly as she runs, the disparate stump where the other one should be wiggles like an eyesore on her back.

                                            >The front runner -- A unicorn -- has a broken shard of a horn. The jagged length standing as a monument to her hardships.

                                            >They quickly descend upon and surround you. A raucous mob of shouting mouths who swarm you with a frantic fervour. The closest ones hopping up on their hind legs and placing their forelegs on your stomach, trying to get a good look at your face.

                                            >A few of the more damaged looking ponies hang back and circle around you, cautiously taking in all the little details they can.


                                            “Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there.”

                                            >This seems to be the cue they were looking for.

                                            >”A new owner!”

                                            >”Do you think he’s looking to buy?”

                                            >”I hope he’s rich!”

                                            >”He wouldn’t be here unless Emily told him about this place!”

                                            >”Does anyone else think he smells a bit funny?”

                                            >”Hey Mister, you looking for a pony?

                                            “I’m not really-”

                                            >”Back off, I saw him first!”

                                            >”Horseapples you did!”

                                            >”You wouldn’t need a florist would you?”

                                            >“I used to be an accountant!”

                                            >“I used to be teacher!”

                                            >”I… can’t do anything, but I’m a good learner!”

                                            “Everyone please, I’m not-”

                                            >”Just take one of the little ones, please!”

                                            >”He smells like a mare?”

                                            >”Ooo, looks like he’s packing!”

                                            >”I’ll suck yo dick if you’ll buy me!”

                                            >You feel a hoof brush up against your crotch.

                                            “Hey! Hands off!”

                                            >”Yea! He’s mine!”

                                            >”Put your tail down before I shove a hoof up your ass you whorse.”

                                            >”Don’t even bother, she’d enjoy that.”

                                            >”Won’t somebody please think of the colts and fillies?”

                                            >You yelp as one of them bites your ass through your jeans.

                                            “Who fucking did that?”

                                            >You spin around, sending a few of the ponies on your front crashing harmlessly into their comrades, and see the stallion whose face was covered in bandages. The white wrappings covering a whole ear and eye as they envelop the top right section of his head.

                                            >”I usually like to say I’m packing something thicker than your arm, but you are a big guy aren’t you?” He wiggles an eyebrow at you.

                                            >At the same time you swear you can almost hear the sound of wet slapping coming from below him amidst the chaos surrounding you.

                                            “Nope. Nu-uh, I’m done with this, where’s Emily?”

                                            >You extricate yourself from the crowd of small horses and start storming towards the barn. A few of them sigh in disappointment while others continue to call out.


                                            >You don’t make it very far before a heavy object collides with your thigh and latches on, sending you crashing to the ground. A chorus of children’s laughter rings out as the fillies and colts finally catch up and pile onto your back.

                                            >”Wow, he’s big!”

                                            >”Is he okay?”

                                            >”He smells funny.”

                                            >“Can you climb trees?”

                                            >”His arms are hairy…”

                                            >”Carry us, Mr Human!”

                                            “Oi! Get off me, you little-”

                                            >”That’s enough!”

                                            >The young ponies on your back gasp and leap off immediately as a deep voice booms across the field.

                                            >Gathering yourself and standing up, you look over to thank your unknown saviour.

                                            >You feel your heart sink into your stomach as you see an especially worn down pony. A stallion with a faded patchwork black coat and a wispy grey mane and tail stands before you. Though he’s currently corralling the little ones and shooing them back to the main group.

                                            >A deep line runs down the side of his old muzzle. Various collections of warped scar tissue cover his torso. Clear signs of burns and other foul mistreatments marked clearly upon his body by the sickening scars.

                                            >”Forgive them, they’re at a curious point in their lives.”

                                            >He tousles the blue mane of a grey colt and sends him off to join the rest of the group who are now watching you from a more reserved distance.

                                            >You snap back to attention.

                                            >”The rest of them should know better!” He yells behind his shoulder, causing a few of the adults to rub their forelegs sheepishly.

                                            >Although that one stallion is still looking at you with hunger in his eyes. An involuntary shudder runs through your body.

                                            “It’s, uh, it’s all good. No harm, no foul, right?”

                                            >”Right…”

                                            >He looks you up and down with hard eyes. A feat which he manages to make surprisingly intimidating despite his significantly shorter stature.


                                            >“You here to buy something or get something fixed?”

                                            “Oh, uh, looking to get something fixed. Name’s Anon by the way.”

                                            >”Huh.” He grunts. “Emily said Stint should have been here to meet you, though who knows where that idiot’s run off to.”

                                            “No kidding.”

                                            >“She should be in the office right about now, should be fine if you walk right on in.”

                                            “I see. Thank you, sir”

                                            >”Bah.” He lets out a chuckle. “You’re another one of them strange ones, aren’t you?”

                                            >You raise an eyebrow, but he just dismisses you with a hoof and starts walking back to the group.

                                            >”False alarm, everybody. Let’s give him some space and head back.”

                                            >A resounding disappointed ‘aww’ comes from the group, though they quickly turn and start marching towards the enclosure. A few energetic young ones twist their necks to look at you as they leave, curiosity burning in their eyes.

                                            >As you watch them head off, your mind drifts back to Celestia sitting by herself in the car. So you start heading towards the office.

                                            >As you get closer you can appreciate the size of the thing. While the front office isn’t that much bigger than a small one-storey, the large barn extension is easily bigger than a basketball court and looks to be in decent shape, at least compared to the main house where you left the car.

                                            >You take a deep breath as you come to the front door. Another little plaque rests on it with neat words inscribed.

                                            >It reads: ‘A horse is worth more than riches.’

                                            “Sounds like a horse vet alright.”

                                            >You chuckle and open the door, stepping into what looks like a typical medical waiting room. If you didn’t know this was a veterinary practice, and the place didn’t look like it had seen better days, you would swear it was the reception room of your local practitioner.


                                            >Walking up to the desk and ringing a bell, you burn some time looking at some of the qualifications and pictures hanging on the wall. Everything seems on the up and up, and you get your first glance of who you assume to be Emily.

                                            >A blonde haired, fair skinned, and lanky girl (who looks like she’s in her mid-teens) hugs a large brown horse with bandages wrapped around its barrel. A slightly older boy stands near her, arms crossed and beaming with pride in the frozen moment. You move behind the desk and take closer look.

                                            >Something about the man feels familiar, but you can’t work out why.

                                            >”You right there?”

                                            >You jolt upright as a woman's voice comes from your right.

                                            >The photo must be many years old, because standing in front of you is a woman who by no means is a teenager anymore.

                                            >A tight figure and an ample bosom are wrapped up in jeans and a stained and sweat soaked green tank top. Healthy tanned brown skin peeks out from under her clothing and goes well with her blonde hair and green eyes.

                                            >Clear see through latex gloves and dirty heavy duty boots tell you enough about her work, while black bags and several faint smears of unknown substances on her lightly freckled face belie what you gather to be quite an attractive looking woman in her mid-twenties.

                                            >You quickly collect yourself and offer a hand.

                                            “Anon. We spoke on the phone.”

                                            >”Hmmmm... Anon, huh?” She looks you up and down. “Not quite what I expected.”

                                            >She smirks and shakes your hand with a firm, but slimy grip.

                                            “Oh, and, uh, what did you have in mind?”

                                            >”It's probably better for both of us if I kept that to myself. For now, I’ll just say sorry for all the, err, ‘colourful’ names I called you last night.” She gives you a bit of a shit eating grin.


                                            “Fair enough. We both got a bit heated though so don’t worry about it. I gathered that Mark’s usual clientele aren’t the most wholesome of customers.”

                                            >“You wouldn’t believe the sacks of shit that come crawling to me for help.”

                                            “After seeing the inside of that warehouse, I’ll take your word for it.”

                                            >”And, for the moment, I’ll take yours. Speaking of...

                                            >She sighs and briefly scans the room.

                                            >”Where is she? This, uh-” She scratches her head. “-‘Celly’ I think you called her. And for that matter, where is that shithead Stint? He was supposed to meet you out front.”

                                            “There was no one at the main house, and I left Celly in the car back out the front. No offense, but that building wasn’t the most reassuring sight when I arrived.”

                                            >She waves a dismissive hand and starts taking her gloves off.

                                            >“Yeah nah, none taken. I’ve been meaning to fix it up for a while now, but, uh, things got busy.”

                                            “No worries. Although I’m a bit more reassured after seeing what you’ve got built back here, and after a little run in with the locals.”

                                            >”God damn it. Sorry. They get a little excited sometimes. Stint was meant to be your escort so they wouldn’t hassle you. You managed to have a chat with them though did you?”

                                            “Yeah, I did.”

                                            >”No problems? They do get a little stir crazy around here sometimes.”

                                            “They may have mobbed me a bit. Also may have gotten a bit too touchy for my liking. But honestly, I was a bit surprised more than anything else.”

                                            >”About what?”

                                            “Well… Those injuries…”

                                            >She gives you a knowing look.

                                            >”They’re better with humans than you’d expect, right?”

                                            “Pretty much, yeah.”

                                            >She sighs and runs a hand through her hair.

                                            >”A few of them got dumped here by kind strangers. Others had ‘owners’ who never came back.”

                                            “And you couldn’t leave them be?”


                                            >”Something like that. I would also appreciate you not getting any funny ideas now.” She points an accusing finger at you.

                                            “Don’t worry. That’s the last thing on my mind.”

                                            >“Good.”

                                            >She grabs a fresh pair of gloves from under the desk and shoves them in a pocket.

                                            >“Let’s go find Stint then. That prick might be of use here in the clinic. But he’s always trying to do his own stupid thing. Can’t really blame him I guess.”

                                            >She leads you down a central corridor that cuts through the middle of the barn. Doors line the wall on either side, leading to various rooms that house devices and equipment for taking care of injured equines as well connecting to the metal shutters you saw that allow easy access to the outside.

                                            >The first four are clearly designed for horses due to the size of the suspension rigs in the room. A few of the other ones have scaled down versions of the tools, designed for the more intelligent quadrupeds. Up the very end are what Emily tells you are large storage garages.

                                            >”Even if they don’t have much to store right now.”

                                            >Only two rooms are occupied by patients, with the final room in the far right corner having been transformed into a makeshift sleeping quarters where mattresses and blankets are neatly arranged and folded. Several handcrafted additions adorn the walls and give the sterile white room a homely feel.

                                            >Emily has called out in each unoccupied room to no response.

                                            >“Stint? Stint? Where did you go, asshole?”

                                            “You really do look after them, don’t you?” You bend down and inspect an old and battered stuffed animal in the living quarters

                                            >”Sure, do. Stretches things pretty tight around here, keeping all those mouths fed and healthy.”

                                            >She opens one of the large garages and frowns. You peek inside and see a dismal supply of hay.


                                            >“Even though I still have a few actual horses I get paid to check up on; a few of the ponies think that if they get sold to a good owner, that’s less of a burden on me and more food and toys for the kids.”

                                            >You frown.

                                            “I can sympathise with that. But some of them were pretty ‘forward’ with their offers...”

                                            >”Look. Anon.” She pulls out a key for the last storage room and opens it. “Some of them can’t do any more physical labour, their bodies are too broken.”

                                            >A large variety of labelled bottles and bags of fluid rest on shelves, marked with names and codes that you can read but have no understanding of.

                                            >”Christ, where is that son of a bitch?” She curses again and closes the garage before leading you back to the office.

                                            >”Also, ponies don’t really get bought for white collar jobs. Even beyond the whole slavery thing; the pills they have to take give them a... Well, a bad rep would be one way of putting it.”

                                            “So they resort to offering themselves up?”

                                            >”They do what they can, Anon. It’s all that some of them have left.”

                                            >You follow her back outside. She slowly turns, looking around the expansive property for the missing stallion. She stops when she sees one of the ponies in the pasture waving at her.

                                            >”They also trust me, Anon. And since you’re walking around here unescorted, they think you have my blessing as a good owner.”

                                            “And do I?”

                                            >”We’ll have to wait and see. Now about your mare…”

                                            “What about her?

                                            >”Mind giving me a few details while we go get her?”

                                            “Sounds good.”

                                            She pulls out a pencil and a pocket notepad as you both begin slowly making your way back to the main house.

                                            >“Age?”

                                            “Don’t know.”

                                            >“Weight?”

                                            “Haven’t weighed her yet. She’s quite malnourished, though I can carry her with a bit of effort if she cooperates.”

                                            >”Doesn’t really help. Height?”

                                            “Haven’t measured. Definitely taller than most ponies.”


                                            >”What? What do you mean? Taller than a stallion?”

                                            “She’s definitely bigger than any pony stallion in that field.” You point with a thumb back down to the enclosure behind you.

                                            >She furrows her brow and stops halfway up the hill.

                                            >“Anon… What species is she?”

                                            >You grin.

                                            “She’s an Ali-”

                                            >”...Anon…”

                                            >You stop as you hear your name in the distance.

                                            “You hear that?”

                                            >You tilt your head as you start slowly treading up the hill.

                                            >”Hear what, Anon? More importantly, did you just say-”

                                            “Shhhh!”

                                            >You hold up a hand and focus on your hearing.

                                            >”...Anon...Help...”

                                            “The fuck?”

                                            >You break out into a sprint as Celestia’s cry reaches your ears.

                                            >”Oh god damnit, Stint! You promised me!” Emily cries out and starts sprinting after you.

                                            “The hell’s that meant to mean? What is he doing?”

                                            >”Anon! Please! Where are you?!”

                                            “I’m coming, Celestia!”

                                            >”Jesus Christ! The mare you bought is Celestia, Anon?”

                                            >You ignore Emily as Celestia’s strained calls for help become louder. You feel waves of Deja vu crashing into you as old memories start flashing through your mind.

                                            >A knock on the door, a drive to the hospital, a meeting with the doctor, a funeral.

                                            >Cresting the top of the slope and continuing to the side of the main house, you hear a masculine voice shouting.

                                            >”Why?!” Why are you here?! How can you be here?!”

                                            >Not slowing down, you rush forward and vault over the side gate. Not stopping as you land, you stumble and look over at the car. At first glance you can see the boot of the car hanging open as your stomach drops.

                                            >Through the windscreen you spot a distraught Celestia, her flailing forelegs struggling to pull the rest of her body into the front seat. Behind her frantically flapping wings you can barely make out the blue outline of a pony in the back.

                                            “Celestia!”

                                            >Her head flicks up to you and you see the panic in her eyes.


                                            >You start running as fast as your legs will carry you. As you get closer you can make out the snarling face of a unicorn stallion in the back of the car.

                                            >”Why can’t you walk anymore?! Why won’t you talk to me?! What have they done to you?!”

                                            >His eyes look out of focus as he screams at the retreating mare. His body slowly stalking ever closer as Celestia struggles to get away.

                                            >As you move around the back of the car, you catch a glimpse of his turgid member smacking against the underside of his barrel through the side window.

                                            “Oi, the fuck do you think you’re doing cunt?!” You yell as you reach for him.

                                            >You grab a back hoof and pull, causing the stallion to land on himself. He lets out a yelp and kicks back, slamming your hand into the wall of the car.

                                            >”Let go of me! You monster’s ruined her! You ruined my princess!”

                                            “Fucking cunt! The fuck are you trying to do to her? You horny little shit!” You grab both of his flailing hooves and pull with all your might.

                                            >His head turns to the side and you see his face. His pupils are dilated and his nostrils are flaring as he snorts.

                                            >”For God’s sake, Stint! You said you wouldn’t do this anymore!” Emily has finally caught up and she’s standing off to the side. Tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

                                            >“I need to save her. I need to save all of us!” He jerks his hips and kicks at you while his forehooves try and claw their way towards Celestia.

                                            >A hoof slams into your arm, the force of a horseshoe colliding with it causes an intense flower of pain to blossom, but you’re not going to let go now.

                                            “That’s enough you furry fuck!”

                                            >Looking up past the crazed stallion, you can see Celestia is jammed halfway between the front and back seats, still trying desperately to escape.


                                            >Her rear is held high as she pushes with her hind hooves and you’re floored at the sight of her slowly flagging tail as her folds wink.

                                            >”Just stop, Stint! Please!” Emily wails from behind you, snapping you out of the moment.

                                            >”Let go of me!”

                                            >Another hoof collides with your chest making you grunt in pain.

                                            “Alright, you cunt, that’s enough!”

                                            >You sweat and grunt and pull with all your might, heaving him back and hooking an arm under his barrel with the other securing his hind legs. Unfortunately, a thick wet appendage slaps at your skin.

                                            >With an aggravated roar, you lift with any remaining strength you can muster. Muscles straining beyond their limit as adrenaline pumps through your veins. Stint desperately scrambles for purchase in the car as you heft him.

                                            >Before you can say anything, Emily has joined in from the other side of him, hooking an arm over his withers and under his elbows. She gives a mighty cry of her own as Stint is unceremoniously hoisted into the air and all three of you fall crashing backwards to the ground.

                                            >The stallion lets out a loud gasp as the wind is knocked from him. He splutters a few times and groans while closing his eyes in pain. After taking a few seconds to catch his breath they flutter open again and he starts looking around in a daze, the madness gone from his eyes.

                                            >You pull your arms away and let go of his legs, wiping the sticky substance off on his coat as you do so.

                                            >”Wha- What happened?” He looks down at his engorged member still drooling his essence onto his belly.

                                            >”Whoa, what the fuck?”

                                            >He looks over at you.

                                            >”Who are you? Where’s-” His eyes go wide. “-The princess! I gotta-”

                                            >He’s stopped mid-sentence as Emily’s open palm collides with his face in a sickening smack.


                                            >But she doesn’t stop there. A hail of slaps rain down on the confused stallion as he tries to protect his face.

                                            >”You. Cocky. Stupid. Shit. You. Promised. Me. You. Wouldn’t.”

                                            >“Emily-” *Smack* “Wait-” *Smack* “I don’t-” *Smack* ‘Just-” *Smack*

                                            >You sigh and roll over, leaving the two to have their little domestic spat.

                                            >Getting up, you take a moment to catch your breath before checking in on Celestia. She’s still stuck in the same spot, but she’s no longer frantically struggling and her tail is now slowly lowering.

                                            “You a bit stuck there, big girl?” She jolts. Her tail flips from side to side and her wings flap uselessly as she tries pull herself out from between the seats.

                                            >”N-Not at all, Anon.”

                                            “Oh really? I take it you’ve just really taken a liking to that pose then.”

                                            >”Anon!”

                                            >Her tail flicks and she stamps her hind legs in frustration. You’re about to laugh until you see a small trembling in her haunches. The sight snaps you out of your adrenaline fuelled high.

                                            “Sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll help you get out.”

                                            >You carefully climb into the car and crawl up alongside her. Gently hooking an arm under her front elbow and place a hand on her chest tuft, you give a few firm tugs.

                                            >Celestia lets out a sigh of relief as you finally dislodge her from between the seats.  You tentatively guide her as she slowly backs up into the boot of the car.

                                            >Once she can properly stand by her own power, you sit back and give her some space. The big white mare inspects her sides and wings before walking over and sitting down in front of you.

                                            >You both sit there for a while trying not to look at each other. Unsure of what to say or do after what happened. You feel pinpricks of heat in your cheeks as frustration begins to build. Celestia shifts nervously on her hind quarters, one hoof rubbing a foreleg. You need to say something, anything to break this mood.

                                            “Celestia-”

                                            >”Anon-”

                                            >You both blurt out at the same time.


                                            >Celestia stares at you for a few moments before giggling. You join in, delighting in the shared sensation as you feel the tension in your body melt away.

                                            >”You first, Anon.” She gestures with a hoof, ending the moment.

                                            “Right…”

                                            >You idly scratch the back of your head.

                                            “I’m sorry for leaving you alone like that, and for making fun of you when you’re in that state. I can’t even begin to imagine how terrifying it must be not being able to move your body like you want in a situation like that.”

                                            >She attentively listens but doesn’t show any discernible emotion.

                                            “I told you I’d take care of you, and if I hadn’t gotten here in time…”

                                            >”But you did.”

                                            “But I almost didn’t.”

                                            >”But you made it, Anon. Just like you told me you would. I called and you came sprinting to my rescue not a few moments later.”

                                            “But I-”

                                            >She reaches out with a hoof and rubs the welt on your arm from when you got kicked, a nice purple bruise forming under the skin.

                                            >”There’s even some proof right here that you did everything you could-” She lowers the hoof to the other bruise on your forearm from when she bit you. “Just like you’ve always done since you found me.”

                                            >She looks up at you and gives you a smile.

                                            “So I forgive you, Anon.”

                                            >A wave of relief washes through you, and you let out a sigh.

                                            “Thank you, Celestia.”

                                            >You run a hand through your hair.

                                            “How are you feeling?”

                                            >”I’m… well, I’m a little frustrated about a few things to be honest, but I’d like to talk to you about them later.

                                            “You wanted to say something though, didn’t you?”

                                            >She nods and thinks for a bit.

                                            >You’re about to say something when Celestia gently reaches forward and smacks your cheek with a bandaged hoof. It feels soft, and although there is some force behind it, you can tell it’s so devoid of malice that you can’t even call it a slap.


                                            >”That’s for not locking the car.”

                                            >You frown and nod your head, disappointed in yourself for such an obvious slip up.

                                            >”And this-” She reaches forward, wraps her hooves around your shoulders, pulls herself close, and presses her lips against the spot she just hit.

                                            >Your thoughts fly away as you take in the feeling of the warm and slightly wet sensation pressing against the side of your face. As soon as it happens it's over as Celestia pulls back, a slight blush on her smiling face.

                                            >”-Is for saving me from that stallion.”

                                            “Celestia…”

                                            >It’s all you manage to say as you bring a hand to the side of her head. She firmly pushes her cheek into it as you stare into her mesmerizing purple eyes.

                                            >”Wow! Look at the cute couple!” Emily calls out as she helps Stint to his hooves.

                                            >You clear your throat and pull back your hand. Celestia lets out a disappointed huff and glares at the disturbance.

                                            >”A human and the princess? Over my dead body!” The now black and blue faced stallion scowls at you as he stands up. You raise an eyebrow at him.

                                            >”Keep acting like that, Stint, and I will gladly see to that arrangement.”

                                            >He smiles sheepishly at Emily and starts creeping away. He doesn’t make it far before she yanks on his tail, eliciting a yelp and making him pause mid stride. He laughs nervously and falls back into line alongside her.

                                            >”What do you want to say, Stint?”

                                            >He kicks the ground with a hoof a few times. Emily places a hand on his withers, causing a shiver to run through his body.

                                            >”I’m sorry, to both of you.” He blurts out.

                                            >”For hurting you. And for-” He looks at Celestia with pain in his eyes. “And for acting the way I did. I… I lost control of myself.”

                                            >He lowers his head most of the way to the ground.


                                            >You cross your arms and frown. There are a few things that don’t add up. What was he trying to do here? Why was he so…? ‘Excited’? You open your mouth but Celestia beats you to the punch.

                                            >”I forgive you, Stint. I can only imagine how disheartening my current condition is to you.”

                                            >She speaks in a comforting motherly tone that you haven’t heard from her before. All three of you stare at her as she flicks her mane to one side and smiles gently down at him.

                                            >”If you’ll give me another chance, I’d like to have a talk with you one day and answer some of the ‘questions’ you asked.”

                                            >For the first time since you bought her, you feel like you can see more than the beautiful mare that she used to be. You feel like you can truly see a princess who cares deeply for her ponies.

                                            >Stint looks up in shock. His mouth opens and closes a few times like a fish before he scowls and gallops away to the house.

                                            >Emily doesn’t say anything this time and watches him scamper off with his tail between his legs.

                                            >She has a tired smile on her face the whole time, until he ducks inside and slams the door shut.

                                            “So that was Stint, huh. Quite a handful.”

                                            >You rub your chest where he kicked you. Another bruise to add to the collection.

                                            >”Like you wouldn’t believe.” She lets out a small chuckle.

                                            >“But where are my manners.”

                                            >She turns back to you and walks up to the boot of the car.


                                            >”My names Emily, and I own and run this practice. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

                                            >She offers a hand to Celestia. The big white pony stares cautiously at it before looking to you.

                                            “Go on, she won’t bite.”

                                            >Celestia swallows and raises her bandaged hoof, gently placing it in Emily’s hand. Emily gently grips the appendage and shakes. An action that Celestia’s eyes seem glued to.

                                            >”M-My name is Celestia-”

                                            “Oi.” You run a hand down her back to reassure her.

                                            >”R-right.” She takes a few steadying breaths before looking up at Emily and smiling.

                                            >“My name is P-Princess Celestia, and it’s a pleasure to meet you too, Emily.”


                                            Part 7


                                            “Emily! Is everything alright?!”

                                            >The vet peeks her head around the side of the car as you look through the window, seeing the old stallion with the burnt black coat. He quickly hops through a gap in the side gate and gallops towards you. Right behind him is the unicorn mare with a broken horn.

                                            >”We heard some yelling! Did that man attack you?”

                                            >”Yea nah, everything’s fine you two.” She waves to them. “Just some, uh, problems with Stint.”

                                            >”Why am I not surprised?” The older stallion shakes his head and slows to a canter.

                                            >As they get closer you look over at Celestia. Her head hangs low and her shoulders are hunched. All the while she looks from side to side and fidgets on her hooves.

                                            >”So, where’s the poor creature that had to deal with him?” The mare calls out.

                                            >Celestia visibly jolts and starts dragging herself behind you with small grunts.

                                            >”She’s in here. You guys won’t believe-”

                                            “Oi, Emily.”

                                            >”Yeah, Anon?”

                                            >You nod at the nervous pony slinking through the car. Emily gives her a quick once over and nods.

                                            >”Actually, could you guys give us some space? Standard new arrival rules, okay?”

                                            >The expression on both of the ponies faces sour but they nod regardless.

                                            >”If you say so, Emily. But the others are going to want to check her out.”

                                            >”We’ll still do what we can, Em. Just let us know when we can see her. It can really help the new arrivals to know they’re not alone.”

                                            >She sincerely thanks them and they start trotting back. As they slip under the gate you turn and gently pat Celestia’s neck.

                                            “Hey, where did that big brave pony princess run off to?”

                                            >She looks back up and gives you an uneasy smile.

                                            >”I-I’m sorry, Anon. After what just happened, I was caught a bit off guard.”

                                            “I could imagine.”

                                            >You reach up and scratch her ear. Celestia lets out a pleased hum in response.


                                            >”Sorry about all this, you’ve probably got enough on your plate as is.” Emily starts.

                                            >She runs a hand through her hair while a grin sits on her face.

                                            >”I still can’t believe it though. An honest to god Alicorn.”

                                            >Celestia blushes and fluffs her wings a tiny bit.

                                            >”I guess I’m not how you would have imagined…” She rubs her skinny foreleg with a bandaged hoof.

                                            >”Oh no, no, no, dear. I didn’t mean that at all. I just...” Emily frowns.

                                            >”It’s ok, I’m quite aware of what I look like.”

                                            >”Well then... Why don’t we go do something about that?”

                                            >Celestia perks up and tilts her head at Emily.

                                            >”If it’s alright, I’d like to have a closer look at you in a more-” The vet narrows her eyes at you.”-personal setting.”

                                            >”I understand... Anon?”

                                            >Celestia looks back over at you.

                                            “Well, Emily’s fine in my books.”

                                            >”Then if it’s okay with you… Emily?”

                                            >”Great!”

                                            >She happily claps her hands together.

                                            “Can you open the side gate for us then?”

                                            >”What, why?”

                                            “Well… She can’t really walk that far.”

                                            >Emily’s expression falls.

                                            >You reach over and ask Celestia for a hoof. She nods and places it in your hand, allowing you to carefully unwrap the damaged appendage. Emily leans in to get a closer look as the bandages fall away and the split in her hoof is revealed.

                                            >”May I?”

                                            >She holds a neutral expression has she reaches out. Celestia hesitates for a second before pulling it from your hand and placing it in the vet’s.

                                            >With delicate hands, Emily squeezes and applies light pressure to it, carefully watching the way the wall barely spreads, cooing softly when Celestia hisses in pain from time to time.

                                            >”I assume the other hoof is bandaged for a similar reason?”

                                            >You both nod, causing Emily to let out a deep sigh.

                                            >“I’d like to let you drive down, Anon, I really would. But one of the horses and a few of the ponies get spooked by cars.”


                                            >You frown.

                                            “Damn... Not much we can do about that, ay.”

                                            >”Mmmm, and I won’t be able to do anything up here…”

                                            >She gives you a once over.

                                            >”Hey, Anon… Do you think you’d be able to carry her?”

                                            “Carry her? All the way down there?”

                                            >You look over at Celestia who’s trying to hide her enthusiasm.

                                            “I think we can manage.”

                                            >You smirk and start climbing out of the boot.

                                            >”Great. Now, unfortunately, I need to go have a little chat with Stint, so I’ll be joining you in a short bit.”

                                            >You both nod at her and she smiles back, though her expression starts going south before she even finishes turning around. As she stomps off into the house and slams the door, her muffled yelling quickly begins in earnest.

                                            >You and Celestia share a look of concern before she smiles.

                                            >”I suppose we should get going then, Anon.”

                                            “Yeah… Just before that though...”

                                            >”Hmmm? Something on your mind Anon?” She says as she slowly makes her way to the edge of the open boot.

                                            “Are you alright?”

                                            >It’s faint but you see a small twitch of her eyelid.

                                            >”What do you mean, Anon?”

                                            “Celly...”

                                            >”I’m fine, Anon. There’s nothing wrong.”

                                            >The mare sits down and stares at you. You hold her smiling gaze for a while until there’s another subtle twitch of her cheek.

                                            “Come here, you.” Quickly bending down, you grab her in a hug.

                                            >Celestia freezes for a moment, before eagerly wrapping her hooves around you as her body begins trembling.

                                            >”Just a visit to the vet, right Anon?”

                                            “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

                                            >You softly stroke her neck as she grips you tighter.

                                            >”You’re gonna have to carry me past more ponies, aren’t you...”

                                            “I am.”

                                            >She’s quiet for a few more moments. As she takes deep breaths in and out, the shaking slowly subdues.

                                            >“I’m scared, Anon...” She whispers in your ear.

                                            “Hey.” You pull away from Celestia to her displeasure. “Big strong princess like you? You’ll be fine.”


                                            >She chuckles lightly but her face is still fraught with worry.

                                            “Now, you ready for a ride on the best seat in the house?” You pull back and strike a few flexing poses.

                                            >”Oh! I’d love to, Anon!” Celestia’s face lights up in mock surprise as her head flicks back and forth, looking around the expansive front yard. “Where is it?”

                                            >You hold a pose for a few moments longer and try to flex as hard as you can. Celestia pulls a hoof to her mouth to cover up a snicker of laughter.

                                            “Alright, alright. Let's go, you.”

                                            >After calming down and taking a few deep breaths, she raises her forelegs for you. You pick her up and start carrying her to the barn.

                                            >The argument is still raging inside the house as you walk around to the side gate. Celestia giggles as you juggle her rump in your grip while straining to open the metal latch.

                                            >After a bit of effort, you get it open and bring Celestia into the back yard.

                                            >”You know, Anon. You’ve been touching me down there so much the past few days… I’m starting to think you want something from me.” She pulls back and flutters her eyes at you.

                                            “Oi.”

                                            >You lightly smack her bony hide, eliciting a yelp.

                                            “Time to be brave.”

                                            >You do a slow spin at the top of the slope, letting Celestia see the crowd of bouncing and eager ponies waiting at the bottom of the hill near the entrance to the barn.

                                            >She pulls herself close again and grips you tighter while you whisper reassurances and begin your descent.

                                            >The bubbling crowd of ponies gets louder and louder while the old black stallion and the other mare try to keep them under control.

                                            >Unfortunately, as you near the bottom of the hill, the cries die down. Replaced instead by a confused murmuring. Small snippets about Celestia's wings and the size of her body reach your ears.


                                            >You quicken your pace as you walk past them, gasps running through the crowd as they get a good look at the horn sticking out of her head. She tries to bury her face in your shoulder as the crowd starts sounding more distressed.

                                            >You glance over and catch the pained eyes of the older pony, sitting crumpled on the ground in front of the now bristling crowd and staring with his mouth hanging open. You swallow heavily and continue onto the front office as fast as you can.

                                            >”That’s the princess, isn’t it?”

                                            >Celestia’s ears flick down and you feel goose bumps on your arms as someone finally says it out loud. The crunching of dry grass underfoot fills the air as the herd goes eerily silent.

                                            “Celly…”

                                            >Not another sound is made as you carry her over to the barn and take her into the front office.

                                            You try to deposit her in a seat, but she stubbornly refuses to let go. In the end you sit down on the floor in a corner with her in your lap.

                                            >Taking up a gentle rhythm of stroking her back, you sit in silence with her as she holds you close.

                                            >”W-what can I even say to them, Anon?”

                                            >She finally speaks up and pulls away.

                                            >”How can I even say anything to them, when I look like… This…”

                                            >She twists her neck and looks at the skinny outline of bones all over her body.

                                            >”Even sitting here, I can’t think clearly. Because of…”

                                            >She looks away and shifts her hips slightly.

                                            “Well…” You begin. “I can’t say for sure. I mean -- in case you haven’t noticed -- I’m not a big beautiful pony princess.”

                                            >”Anon…”

                                            >I mean I’ve been working on my strut and everything, but I can’t quite get the hair right, y’know?”

                                            >“Anon.”

                                            >She lightly strikes your chest and tries to look at you with a serious face. You meet her stare with a goofy grin and she huffs.

                                            “And the motherly voice? Cut me some slack princess, I can’t speak like that.”


                                            >“Anon!” She tries to be stern but you can see a smile in the corners of her tired eyes.

                                            >You pick up her now uncovered hoof and gently rub its frog.

                                            “Just say what you need to say. They’ll understand. And if you fail, I’ll be here to pick you back up so we can try again.”

                                            >Her eyes flick between you and the floor a few times before she nods.

                                            >The door suddenly swings open and a clearly aggravated Emily comes stomping in.

                                            >”Alright you two, fun’s over. Some of us have work to do.” She pulls the latex gloves out of her pocket and pulls them on with a sickening rubbery snap.

                                            >“Anon? If you’d be so kind as to take her down to the third door on the right and leave her on the table in the room? I’ll be along in just a moment.”

                                            >You and Celestia share a look as Emily disappears into the central corridor. Giving the big pony’s ear a quick scratch, you pick her up.

                                            >After carrying her down the hall and depositing her on a large padded table in the room, you utter a quick few words of comfort. She waves you off with a smile, even when Emily’s frustrated swearing can be heard from the next room over.

                                            >Retreating back to the main office, you take a seat and pull out your phone. Occasionally a small wave of paranoia passes over you as you wait. Tricking your senses into thinking you can hear Celestia’s voice on the wind.

                                            >One time, you panicked and rushed down the hall; ripping open the door, only to see Emily bent over and inspecting a spread legged Celestia’s nethers. A blush blooming on your face as Emily picked up a nearby pen and threw it at you.

                                            >After a quick apology, you closed the door and retreated back into the office to the sound of Celestia’s embarrassed laughter.

                                            >For the most part, the rest is a boring and dull experience.

                                            >That changes when the front door abruptly opens. You look over and see Stint standing in the doorway.


                                            >You’re immediately standing tall and on guard. He gives you a dirty look, but doesn’t move from the entrance way.

                                            “What are you after?”

                                            >”I work here, Human.”

                                            >Having a better look at him: he’s a lean but strong looking Unicorn with a light blue coat and a dark blue mane that’s combed to one side of his horn. Though his face is now covered in purple bruises that swell and distort his seemingly strong features. At least his other swelling has subsided.

                                            >Apart from an interesting saddle bag around his midsection, there’s not much more to him

                                            “Answer the question, mate.”

                                            >”I don’t have to explain shit to you.”

                                            “Then you can fucking turn right around and leave.”

                                            >”Oh yea, you gonna make me? Like you make her do whatever messed up things you want?”

                                            “Hey, I’m not the one who tried to fuck a defenceless mare who couldn’t walk!”

                                            >Stint visibly flinches.

                                            >”That was…”

                                            “That was what, cunt? Just a polite misunderstanding?”

                                            >”I wasn’t trying to do anything to her! I was trying to help her!”

                                            “Yea I bet you fucking were. Probably why you helped me to a few bruises as well.”

                                            >”Monsters like you deserve no less! I was trying to save my princess!”

                                            “You’re fucking joking…” You squeeze the bridge of your nose.

                                            >He looks away from you and snarls. His eyes angrily burning a hole in the ground.

                                            “Let me get this straight.”

                                            >”Shut up.”

                                            >His tail flicks.

                                            “You think you’re gonna play the hero and save the pony.”

                                            >”I said shut up!”

                                            “But she can’t even fucking walk, and while you’re panicking you get a big whiff of her.”

                                            >He snorts and paws the ground.

                                            “What? You gonna charge me, Cunt? In here?” You gesture at the surrounding room.

                                            >He hesitates. A quick look around reminds him of where he is, forcing him to settle with giving you same dirty look from before.


                                            “So what are you here for?”

                                            >He doesn’t say anything.

                                            “So you don’t even want to talk anymore, is that right?

                                            >”I have something for Em.”

                                            >You offer a hand.

                                            “I’ll give it to her.”

                                            >He stomps.

                                            >”I need to talk to her!”

                                            “Tough luck. While she’s having a look at Celestia, you ain’t going anywhere near her.”

                                            >He sizes you up once again, and you feel like he’s considering tackling you right now. A few moments of tense silence pass again as he chews his bottom lip.

                                            >”Fine, it’s just some Celestia damned horseshoes for the princess.”

                                            >He shrugs the saddlebags off and they hit the floor with a metallic clink. Stint turns around.

                                            >”You need to realize something, Human.”

                                            “Enlighten me.”

                                            >He twists his head back and looks past you, deeper into the barn.

                                            >”She doesn’t belong with you...”

                                            >He leaves the office before you can retort. His last words hanging miserably over you.

                                            >You swear under your breath and go pick up the bag.

                                            >Hefting the heavy sacks down the corridor, you knock on the door and enter when Emily calls for you to do so.

                                            >She wears a frown on her face as she spies the item in your grip.

                                            >Celestia is currently lying down on the bed with a slow drip running into her foreleg. Her red and puffy eyes look over at you causing a spike panic in your chest. But before you can get too worked up, Celestia lifts her head and smiles at you.

                                            >Emily has a hand placed on her barrel and is gently consoling the poor mare before looking up at you.

                                            >”Good timing, Anon. We need to have a bit of a chat.”

                                            >Emily takes off her gloves and walks over. She takes the horseshoes from you and inspects them before leaving them by the door. She gestures with a hand and leads you through the doorway.

                                            >You look back and see Celestia lying back down. A sadness lurking in her eyes as she looks away from you.


                                            >Emily guides you all the way outside, taking you both around the side of the barn so that two of you may talk privately.

                                            >”I’m not gonna lie, Anon. She’s been through a lot.”

                                            “I know, if you had seen-”

                                            >”What you saw at... Mark’s…” She spits his name out. “I know how he treats them. This is different.”

                                            >You go silent.

                                            >”I also understand she’s taken a certain… ‘Liking’ to you?”

                                            “We get along... To an extent.”

                                            >She scratches her head and hums.

                                            >”To an extent, huh… God, how do I start…?”

                                            “Tell me how she is physically, Doc.”

                                            >”We can fix the hooves. Simple procedure. I can file down the small chips. Drill a few thin holes in the wall of the hoof near the split and pull it together with metal wiring. Add in some horseshoes to all of them to correct her bad walking habits and help protect them? They’ll recover in no time.”

                                            “How long would you say?”

                                            “I would usually say a month or so before we start seeing some real recovery. But with ponies -- and from what Celestia told me about Alicorn’s -- it should heal very fast. We can use some nice Kevlar wrapping to keep the hoof clean and protected as well, but that’ll cost-”

                                            “I’ll pay. What’s next?”

                                            >”Alright then… I’ve got her on a drip right now to help with her fluids and nutrition. And we’ll get her started on some simple antibiotics to help with the infected hoof. I’ll write down a list of food and supplies that will help her out and start putting some weight on those bones. I also have a light exercise routine that I want you to help her out with every day, so she can start recovering her strength.”

                                            “This is still in line with what I was expecting.”

                                            >”I’m getting to it.”

                                            >Emily runs a hand through her hair.

                                            >”She’s been through a lot of abuse, Anon. And not just from humans. Well, at least not directly.”

                                            “I’ve heard.”

                                            >”No you haven’t. Not this.”


                                            >Emily takes a deep breath. You try to mentally brace yourself.

                                            >”In her time in those cages, she’s experienced a few... ‘Stress triggered terminations’.”

                                            >The words roll around your head for a bit until the meaning suddenly hits you. Your heart drops and your eyes go wide. A few tears are coming to Emily’s eyes.

                                            >”W-When they couldn’t get her to do what they wanted, t-they forced stallions to-”

                                            >She heaves with a choking sob.

                                            >”S-She’s a tough mare, Anon. She’s so strong. B-but that situation was-”

                                            >Emily raises a hand to her mouth as her composure falls to pieces in front of you.

                                            >You start to feel sick.

                                            >”-I-I’ve given her a t-thorough inspection... a-and... I’ve made sure she’s clean.”

                                            >Emily takes a shuddering breath while you struggle to keep a lid on your feelings.

                                            “Why are I hearing this from you, and not her?”

                                            >”B-Because…”

                                            >She takes a few steady breaths to get herself level.

                                            >”Because... she wants you to know, but-” Her expression collapses as she tries to smile while more tears roll down her cheeks. “She’s scared of how you’ll look at her.”

                                            “What do you mean?”

                                            >”I may have misgivings about you, but surely you can’t be dense enough not to see what she wants?”

                                            “But that’s just the drugs!”

                                            >“Yes and no, Anon. Those drugs in particular are meant to relax the pelvic floor muscles in a mare, and increase libido and sensitivity when taken in small doses. Of course the larger doses have significant impact on cognitive function and significantly exacerbate the other symptoms, but you’d definitely notice that.”

                                            “What exactly are you trying to tell me, Emily?”


                                            >”Celestia’s told me what you want from her, and I agree that it should be what she is aiming for. Lord knows how much the ponies here yammer on about how she was going to come back and save all of them. But, Anon. That tired old girl is looking for a rock to tie herself to. To help her weather the coming storm.”

                                            “You’re saying I need to…”

                                            >”Look, Anon. I’m the last person who would judge you for something like that.” She wistfully looks up towards the main house. “But if you’re not going to give her the ‘support’ she needs to get through this? Well in that case, she’s better off staying here.”

                                            “Trying to take her away from me now, are you?”

                                            >The words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself. You stammer a correction while heat rushes to your cheeks.

                                            “I don’t- I didn’t mean to-”

                                            >”If you truly don’t view her as a slave, Anon. Then I can’t ‘take’ her from you. She’s not your property.”

                                            >You bow your head in shame.

                                            >“I’m not trying to tell you to leave her here. I’ll let you ‘take’ her home today. With what she’s said about you and the way you disregard money, it's clear you can provide for her. Hell I’ve seen firsthand what you’re willing to do to protect her.”

                                            “But you think she’d be better here.”

                                            >”I’m not saying that, Anon.”

                                            >You glance back up at her and she gives you a stern look.

                                            >”I’m saying you need to seriously consider her feelings. And if you really want what's best for her and the other ponies…”

                                            “I do.”

                                            >”Then either step up to the plate, or leave her here and support her from a distance. The supplies I need to order to ensure a safe detox should arrive in a few days’ time. That’s your deadline.”

                                            >You squat down and scratch the back of your head while you soak all this in.

                                            >”She’s an old mare, Anon. Older than you could ever imagine. But, she’s still a pony... a person, like you or me. She has her own desires and needs.”


                                            “She wanted you to tell me all this in her stead, didn’t she…”

                                            >She lets out a sigh.

                                            >”She felt that -- due to her condition -- you wouldn’t take anything she said seriously.”

                                            >You fidget with some of the dry grass at your feet.

                                            >”I’ll leave you alone to think about it, Anon. In the meantime, is it alright if I go ahead with the procedures?”

                                            “What? Oh. Yeah. That’s right. You, uh don’t need outside help for that?”

                                            >”I used to have a farrier I relied on. Though after Mark happened, I’ve had to make do on my own. Gotten pretty good at it if I say so myself. And Stint’s been a huge help in that department.”

                                            “Fine, do what you need to do.” You wave her off without looking up.

                                            >”Anon, I know it seems like things are moving a bit fast, but you need to remember. You signed up for this when you bought her.”

                                            >Emily walks off before you can say anything. Not that you could say much at the moment.

                                            >You… don’t really know what to think.

                                            >Lethargically, you make your way back to the office and sit on pseudo-guard. Your posture slack and your attention elsewhere. The contents of the conversation buzzing through your head like the drill that started screaming out from deeper in the barn.

                                            >Another hour passes with you locked in your thoughts.

                                            >The way Celestia’s been acting? Of course you knew. But you’ve been avoiding it. Deflecting it.

                                            >Maybe you always saw her as a slave, as a tool to achieve your goals.

                                            >Stint had a point as well.

                                            >There was a small tight knit group of ponies here. Sure they might be angry at first, but they would eventually come to understand her situation. She’d have a home here.

                                            >Though beyond it all there’s the smile that she showed you.

                                            >A promise you made to her...

                                            >What are you even doing right now? Just sitting in a god damn waiting room while she wonders if you’re about to abandon her.


                                            >You’re snapped out of your reflections when Emily eventually comes back to the office, stripping off another set of gloves and wiping the sweat from her brow.

                                            >”Good to see you’re still here, Anon. She’s all ready to go now.”

                                            >You nod and stand up.

                                            “What’s the bill, Doc?”

                                            >She pulls a few scrunched up papers from her pocket and hands them to you.

                                            >A form detailing what treatments were administered. Another with the costs. And finally, a neatly written list of groceries and food.

                                            >There’s also a free-range walking license that says you can take her out and about without a collar and leash.

                                            >She hands you a pen when asked, and you lazily write her a cheque.

                                            >You add in a more than significant amount to help her get the practice back on its feet and feed the ponies for a long time, but at this point you feel it's the least you can do.

                                            >A snide voice in the back of your head reminds you that being a piggy bank is the only thing you’re ever good for.

                                            >Handing it back to Emily makes her eyes go wide when she reads it. She beams at you, a few tears pooling in the corners of her eyes; but you can’t muster any energy to smile back.

                                            >You turn away and start slowly plodding down the hall -- hands in pockets -- to Celestia, when you feel a hand grip your shoulder.

                                            >”Hey.”

                                            “What do you want?”

                                            >You slowly spin back.

                                            *Smack*

                                            >Your attention returns sharp and focused as Emily slaps you across the face.

                                            >She gives you a stern look as you touch the now stinging skin.

                                            >”If you’re going to go in there acting like that to her, then you can just go home now.”

                                            >You stare at Emily with your mouth agape as you touch the tingling skin.

                                            >The picture of Celestia’s face from the last time you saw her flashes through your mind. She had looked so spent. So tired. Like she just wanted to lay there forever.


                                            >You shake your head and smack your own cheeks to clear the fog in your thoughts.

                                            >”She needs you, Anon. In whatever form that may be. So before you throw in the towel yourself, why don’t you try and do everything you can for her first.”

                                            >Looking at Emily, you think she’s said these words before as she grips your cheque tighter and tighter to her chest with a confident look on her face.

                                            >Bowing your head and crossing your arms, you think back to all that’s happened in the past day.

                                            >The bruises.

                                            >The arguments.

                                            >The soul-crushing sound of her desperate wail in the shower.

                                            >The way she stubbornly refused your help when she was walking down the hallway.

                                            >The place you found her in.

                                            >The funny moments you’ve shared.

                                            >The smile she shows you.

                                            “I think I can do that.”

                                            >”Good.” She lets out a sigh of relief. “Now get in there. That mare’s worried sick that you’re gonna go home without her.”

                                            “Never gonna happen.” You smirk and rush down the corridor.

                                            >Flinging the door open, you see a miserable Celestia ever so slowly walking away from the table on shaky hooves.

                                            >The metal bottoms of the horseshoes clink against the floor and tight purple coverings are wrapped around the ends of her hooves, just under the fetlocks. Her posture and form are already better than the hunched over figure that you’ve been watching over the past day, and the white of her coat seems to be more vibrant than before.

                                            >Her head twists over and her face lights up when she sees you again. Wings flutter at her sides as she smiles with joy. You take a step towards her but she tells you to stop.

                                            >”Just watch me, Anon.”

                                            >You stay where you are and look on as she gradually puts one hoof in front of the other.


                                            >Her legs shaking from the effort, but gone are the frequent grunts of pain. The only noise she makes is a slight hiss every time she puts weight on the infected hoof.

                                            >You feel your heart surging in your chest as she makes it halfway across the room with no signs of stopping despite her shaky legs.

                                            >She grunts in determination as she continues towards you. A hungry smile on her face.

                                            >She wobbles and almost trips, and you nearly lurch out to help her. But you manage to restrain yourself, instead crouching down and opening your arms wide for her.

                                            >With a cry she stumbles through the last couple of metres and falls into your embrace, bowling you over.

                                            “Ooft.”

                                            >She lands on top of you and her chest heaves on top of yours from the effort.

                                            >Tapping her hooves on your chest in excitement, she looks down at you.

                                            >“I can w-walk, Anon!” A few tears roll down her white cheeks while she giddily sobs.

                                            >You chuckle from the ground and reach up, wiping a tear from her face.

                                            >”I can walk! I can walk! I can walk!” She repeats the mantra as if she can’t believe what she just did herself, pushing her cheek into your hand and laughing with such joy in her eyes.

                                            >The way she looks at you makes your heart swell; and in the corner of your mind, there is only a single thought.

                                            “Hey, Celestia?”

                                            >*Sniff* “Y-Yes, Anon?”

                                            “I feel like you deserve a reward. Is there something you want?”

                                            >She hums and raises her eyebrows at you.

                                            >”Oh? Well then-” She wiggles her rump back and forth on your legs. “-There’s only one thing I want right now, Anon.”

                                            >She giggles as your face goes red and tenderly rubs a hoof on your chest.

                                            >”Don’t worry, Anon. I’m just... Happy you didn’t leave. That’s-” She chokes a bit as more tears fall down her face. “-That’s the only reward I want right now.”

                                            “Oh yeah?” You smirk

                                            >”Mmhmm.”

                                            “Well, I can think of something better.”


                                            >She stops her hoof and inquisitively looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

                                            >”Anon, what are you-”

                                            >You place a hand at the back of her head and start slowly pulling her face to yours.

                                            >Her eyes go wide and her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t offer any resistance. Her hair drapes over the side of her head and tickles the sides of your face.

                                            >As your faces get closer, she licks her lips, and you can feel her warm breath on your mouth.

                                            >Your heart pounds like a jackhammer in your chest.

                                            >Her eyes flutter closed and her ears fold back against her head, and you raise your own and press her mouth to yours.

                                            >Both you and Celestia immediately moan into each other’s mouths at the sensation of your lips locked firmly together.

                                            >Hers are warm and slightly wet. Soft, but strong enough to push back against yours.

                                            >Their shape is different to what you remember, reminding you that you are indeed kissing a pony. That realization makes you giggle into her lips. Celestia opens her eyes and see’s your mirthful ones, making her laugh as well.

                                            >You relax your hand, allowing Celestia to pull back. She looks at you with half-lidded eyes and stays on top you, so that you can both enjoy the moment and the closeness of each other.

                                            >She starts tracing a hoof over your chest while you stroke the side of her neck. You look into her half lidded magenta eyes and-

                                            >”Hey, lovebirds.”

                                            >You both jolt as if you’ve been caught, and Celestia grabs you tightly with her hooves.

                                            >”I’m happy that you two managed to worked out some of your issues so fast, and I’d love to be invited to the wedding, but I need you two to clear off so I can work.”

                                            >Emily grins while looking down at the two of you. Celestia sheepishly looks away, but unfolds her wings and covers you with them.


                                            >”Ahahaha. Oh, wow, Anon! You must have ruffled her feathers juuust right! Ahahaha!”

                                            >”Emily!” Celestia whines.

                                            >”Ahahaha, I’m sorry, I just-”

                                            >She tries to stop herself and looks at you with a serious face. It doesn’t hold for long before she bursts out laughing again, clutching her sides and keeling over from the exertion.

                                            >You and Celestia give each other a look and roll your eyes as you wait for her to stop.

                                            >It takes a while, but eventually, the now teary eyed Emily takes a few heaving breaths and finally settles down.

                                            >“Holy shit. I-” She lets out another little giggle. ”-I really can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard.”

                                            >You shake your head at her and motion for Celestia to sit up. She sighs and pulls her wings back in, pushing herself of your torso.

                                            >”Well, I’m glad all three of us could find something to laugh about then.” Celestia says with a pout.

                                            >”Aww, Don’t be like that, ‘Celly’” Emily giggles again as Celestia crosses her forelegs and gives her the stink eye.

                                            >”Seriously though, I’m happy that things worked out this way. But I really need to get back to work.”

                                            “Alright then… Celestia?”

                                            >She tries to stare down Emily some more. After a few more seconds of no response, she resigns with a sigh and raises her hooves for you.

                                            >Celestia giggles this time as you pick her up. Your grip a bit more eager around her haunches. You’d say you were only compensating for the extra weight of her horseshoes, but that’d be lying to yourself.

                                            >”Anon...”

                                            >”Alright, alright, get out of here you two. Before you make a mess.”

                                            >Celestia pokes her tongue out at Emily who only smiles back.

                                            >”Oh, and Anon?”

                                            >You spin to face her with Celestia in your arms.

                                            >”Thank you. It really does mean the world to all of us here.”

                                            >She holds the cheque you wrote tightly to her chest.


                                            “Consider it payback for being so… ‘Cordial’ with me.”

                                            >”Anytime! Oh, and don’t forget these. One of each after breakfast and dinner.”

                                            >She hands you a small plastic bag filled with boxes of pills.

                                            “Thanks, Emily. You’ve already done so much for us.”

                                            >”Ah, don’t mention it. Now go on. Get outta here.”

                                            >She smirks and waves you off with the same hand she hit you with and you feel Celestia waving back as you turn around and leave.

                                            >You walk out of the office to a pleasant breeze rolling down into the valley. Casting a sidelong glance, you see the herd of ponies standing a moderate distance away.

                                            >The sight of them makes you take a deep, satisfied breath. Your nose gratefully taking in Celestia’s scent. You whisper in her ear and nod in their direction so that she can see what you just saw.

                                            >She opens her mouth to protest, but stops when she sees them all lined up. A banner held up in front of them that reads ‘Get well soon, Princess!’

                                            >There’s also the outline of a little white blob with green hair that could be mistaken for a pony painted on the far end of it.

                                            >A few of the ponies are saluting, some are bowing, others just sit and stare, while all the rest wave. Almost all of them have smiles on their face, including the old black stallion who had looked so crushed before.

                                            >You feel Celestia’s breathing hitch, and you look sidelong at her. Her body has started shaking again, but the loving motherly smile that can be seen on her face makes your heart swell.

                                            “Give them a wave, Celly.”

                                            >She looks at you in surprise, then looks at her own wrapped hoof. Her eyes flicker back and forth for a few moments until she slowly raises it high and waves it back and forth.


                                            >A loud cheer erupts from the crowd, though they all stay where they are: waving at you with renewed fervour as you continue your journey and carry Celestia up the slope.

                                            >The big cry-baby mare in your arms sobbing and waving back at them the whole time.

                                            >You heft her back around the side of the main house and deposit her in the still open boot of your car. The big pony trying to wipe her still wet eyes on her forelegs.

                                            >As you gently set her down and move away, she pulls strongly with her shoed hooves on your back, wrenching you back into her reach for another kiss.

                                            >You’re surprised, but you push back into her, forcing her lips open slightly as one hand cups her face and the other strokes the side of her barrel.

                                            >Holding the position for a while before pulling back, a thin strand of saliva stretches between your lips. Celestia moves in and rests her forehead against yours

                                            >”Just a visit to the vet. Right, Anon?

                                            “Yea... You see I got this mare who keeps doing this thing to my face and- mgnhfdhfjd”

                                            >You mumble into her mouth as she kisses you again. A quick peck this time that only lasts a few seconds.

                                            >You chuckle as she soon lets go of you, allowing you to move back and take a breath of air.

                                            >”Well, it looks like I found a way to keep you quiet.” A lascivious grin adorns her face.

                                            “It certainly seems so.” You copy her earnestly.

                                            >She moves herself further into the back, allowing you to shut her in. Closing the boot, you swiftly move around the side and hop in the front.

                                            >The engine roars to life as you turn the ignition and start moving back down the driveway.

                                            ”Let's head home, Celestia.” You say to her as you pass the establishment’s sign and turn back onto the road.


                                            >She hums her agreement and settles back into her nest of blankets, quickly laying her head down before gradually dozing off to the sound of road passing under tire and the subtle hum of the engine.

                                            >Staying asleep for the rest of the car ride, Celestia only makes a small noise or flicks an ear whenever you go over a bump. The rest of the time she stays relatively motionless, apart from the occasional shift of her hind legs or the soft muttering of your name.

                                            >After a while, you’re back at home, entering the garage.

                                            >Leaving Celestia to get as much rest as she likes in the back of the car, you set about completing the remaining chores from earlier in the day.

                                            >You order some home delivered groceries based on the list Emily gave you, pull the mattress back inside, and sort out the dirty laundry. You’ll have to do something to remedy the towel situation, but that can wait.

                                            >It isn’t long before the food and other small tidbits you ordered arrive, dropped off by a man and a small red coated and yellow maned earth pony. The small creature looks almost catatonic sitting in the passenger seat, but she exits the vehicle nonetheless and helps out upon her owner's command.

                                            >You try to pretend like there’s nothing wrong, but a part of you is a bit incensed, especially after everything that’s happened today.

                                            >Once you’ve put everything away and gotten dinner cooked, you go rouse Celestia from the back of the car.

                                            >She groggily wakes up and looks around, a lazy smile stretching across her face as she sees you.

                                            >”Hello there, Anon. Enjoying watching me sleep?”

                                            “Why don’t you come here and find out?”

                                            >She gives you a coy smile and tries to drag herself over to you. She grunts from the effort, but doesn’t budge from where she lies.

                                            >”Umm, I think I’m a little worn out at the moment.”

                                            “It’s ok, Babe. You’ve had a busy day.”


                                            >”Wha- What did you just call me, Anon?” Her face lights up with a blush.

                                            “Huh? Did I say something wrong, Celestia?”

                                            >”N-No, no you didn’t say anything wrong.” She says before she tries to drag herself again, her hooves weakly pulling on the floor of the boot.

                                            “Need some help?

                                            >”No, I… Yes I do... Please, Anon.”

                                            >You reach in and pull Celestia out by tugging on the blankets under her. She lets out a surprised laugh as she is dragged along on top of them, before adopting the usual pose for you to help pick her up.

                                            >You carry her into the kitchen, deposit her at the dining table and serve her dinner. She eagerly digs in, burying her muzzle in the assorted cooked fruits and vegetables with a ravenous fury.

                                            >Watching her devour the food in under a minute, you get the feeling that she’s well on the road to recovery. Especially when she sheepishly looks up with a messy face and asks you for seconds.

                                            >This belief is reinforced when after dinner, you ask her if she wants a slice of cake and her jaw nearly hits the table.

                                            >Cleaning her muzzle up with a napkin after desert, you help her take her pills by placing them in the back of her mouth before helping her wash it down with a glass of water.

                                            >When you ask her what she wants to do before bed, she sheepishly poke her plate with a hoof and says she doesn’t care. As long as it’s with you.

                                            >After giving her an ear scratch, you carry her into the living room and sit down on a couch in front of the T.V. with her. She lays by your side, head and hooves resting across your lap as you both watch a movie: Dragonheart.

                                            >It’s an old favourite of yours from the 90s about a dragon who is the last of its kind. The creature is terribly old. And it longs for death, but fears it.


                                            >One of your hands idly scratches her ear as you watch, and Celestia is quick to point out and laugh at the atrocious acting and the silly human characters. But; every time the dragon talks about how old it is, how alone it is, about passing on; she gets quiet and strokes your leg with a hoof.

                                            >Before you know it, the movie reaches its climax. Leaving Celestia happily sobbing as the mystical music plays off into the credits.

                                            “You doing alright there, big girl?”

                                            >Instead of saying anything, she pushes herself to her hooves and gives you a peck on the cheek, before falling back into your lap.

                                            >You idly stroke her neck as she lies there and draws circles on your leg. A few happy sniffs coming from her as you enjoy each other’s presence.

                                            >Sitting there in silence is relaxing, and you start to drift off, until Celestia quickly pushes off of you.

                                            “What’s up, Celly?”

                                            >She fidgets on her hooves for a while.

                                            >“I may need to, um, ‘relieve’ myself… again.”

                                            >You frown.

                                            >10 minutes later and another unspeakable deed is done.

                                            >After washing her hooves and your hands, you brush her teeth for her. The slippery tongue in her mouth is not as affectionate with your finger this time. Most likely due to what you just helped her with.

                                            >Carrying Celestia again to the bedroom and depositing her on the now clean mattress adorned with sheets, you go and handle your own ablutions.

                                            >Unfortunately, by the time you return from having a shower -- towel wrapped around your naked waist -- Celestia is lying on the bed. But she’s not sleeping.

                                            >Her breathing is heavy and her hooves tug on the blankets. Small little gasps of pain escape her mouth, as her wings fidget on her back.

                                            >Reality comes crashing back down, and you frown and go looking for the Estrus pills and another glass of water.


                                            >When you return to the bed, Celestia is already keeled over. Clutching her abdomen as she takes shuddering breaths near the head of the bed.

                                            “Alright, Celestia. Here we go.”

                                            >You prop her head up and hold the half of a pill to her mouth.

                                            >Instead of opening her own maw wide like with the other pills, she clutches your arm with a curled hoof and looks at you with pained eyes.

                                            >”A-Anon.”

                                            “I know Celestia, but we need to do this for a little bit longer. Emily’s won’t let us down.”

                                            >”N-Not that. I, ngh, just want y-you to remember-” She cringes from the pain.

                                            “Remember what?”

                                            >”W-when I take this, I… I-I might ask things of you.”

                                            “I won’t do anything untowards-”

                                            >”N-No!”

                                            >She grips your arm tighter.

                                            >“I-I’m saying it’s ok.”

                                            “But Celes-”

                                            >”A-Anon, please! Emily told you, r-right? W-with this dosage, I-I’ll still be me. I won’t b-be like I was when you f-first found me.”

                                            >Her body squirms but her gaze holds steady. Her mouth hangs slightly open as she pants.

                                            >You look closely at her pleading purple pupils. Guilt rips through you for a variety of obvious reasons. But her agonized expression makes your hesitation hurt even more.

                                            >”D-Do you trust me, Anon?”

                                            >You pause for a moment before giving a firm nod.

                                            >”G-good. T-Then, because I-I trust you, I-I won’t ask you to do anything you d-don’t want to.”

                                            >She gives you a loving smile before seething again.

                                            >You decide to throw caution to the wind, and press the pill against her mouth.

                                            >She thankfully looks back up at you and opens her muzzle wide, allowing you to deposit the pill on the back of her tongue. With a swig of water and a gentle rub of her throat, she gulps down the ‘medicine’.

                                            >Closing her eyes and humming, she whispers a ‘thank you’ before another tremor of pain rocks her body.


                                            >Dragging over her pillow, you gently set her head down and see to stroking her barrel. You Count the seconds internally; and bracing yourself for when one set of symptoms dies down and another begins.

                                            >Like before, eventually her body stops shaking. The hisses of pain subside. And her body unfolds and stretches out.

                                            >She starts cooing happily and rubs her face against the pillow as your hands move back and forth, scratching a trail in her snow white coat.

                                            >”Mmmm, Anon.” Her eyes slowly open.

                                            >Your hand stops. A wave of heat moving through your body as she speaks up.

                                            >”My… Anon…”

                                            >She moves a hoof of down and puts it on top of your wrist. Giving a slight push, she encourages your continued ministrations while she purrs.

                                            >”Ohhhh… that feels nice…”

                                            >She slowly opens her eyes and looks at you with a smouldering gaze.

                                            >”Why don’t you just... lie down. I think we should both try to get a bit… ‘Comfortable’.”

                                            >You oblige her request and settle down on your own pillow next to her. Your head rests directly opposite hers, and she cheekily pokes her tongue out at you as you lie side-on to each other. >Chuckling at her antics helps ease the tension, until she starts licking her lips in a slow and deliberate motion.

                                            >The long flat organ curls up and around her mouth before she angles her head slightly and slowly drags it along the pillow.

                                            >She quickly retracts it and spits a few times, making you laugh. However, she’s achieved her intended effect, as you’re already rising to the occasion. Something that Celestia soon discovers with a quick glance down at your waist.

                                            >”Still got it.” She grins triumphantly at you.

                                            “No arguments here.”

                                            >”Likewise.” She giggles before her eyes wander back down. “Anon… Considering all the, er, ‘free looks’ you’ve gotten-”

                                            “But you’re a pony. You don’t wear clothes. Not really fair is it?”


                                            >Her ears fold back and she pouts at you.

                                            >You hold your composure for a while and give her your best shiteating grin.

                                            >”Anoooooon!”

                                            “Hahahahaha, alright, alright… If your highness demands it.”

                                            >While reaching under yourself with your free hand and tugging the towel away, you keep your eyes on the mare in front of you.

                                            >As your swelling member flops free of its covering, she lets out a small whinny. A small voice in the back of your mind screams in repulsion at the distinctly horse-like act, but your other head throbs from the attention.

                                            >When -- after a short wait -- your now fully erect shaft slaps against your stomach, Celestia gives another small whinny and flares her nostrils. Her hungry eyes stare lasciviously at your pride, and her cheeks are quickly becoming flushed.

                                            >Your nose picks up the pungent smell of something earthy in the air. You recognize it clear as day, and peek down to catch Celestia in the midst of grinding her thighs together while her tail twitches back and forth.

                                            “Enjoying the view?”

                                            >She licks her lips.

                                            >”Very much so, Anon.”

                                            >As she cautiously reaches out with a hoof. You grin and lean back slightly. It’s only when the cold touch of her metal horseshoe makes contact with you do you regret the action.

                                            >Letting out a yelp from the sensation, you grab Celestia’s hoof and push it away, formulating a new plan of attack as some of enthusiasm leaves your lower half.

                                            “Woah, whoa, whoa.”

                                            >Flinching and quickly pulling her hoof back, she looks at you with worry. Though her expression melts into one of bliss as you resume stroking her barrel.

                                            “I know you’re excited. Lord knows I am too.”

                                            >You drum your fingers along her side, eliciting a pleased hum.

                                            “But, what if we tried starting off slow?”

                                            >The big white mare lying across from you lets out a frustrated groan.


                                            “Hey, hey. Hear me out.”

                                            >She pulls her hooves to her chest and pouts again. Her ears flicking in irritation.

                                            “How about you lie there and relax. While you let me-” You move your hand down and slowly trace a circle on her stomach. “Tend to your needs.”

                                            >The expression on her face lights up and she eagerly nods in agreement.

                                            >“I… I think I’d like that quite a bit, Anon.”

                                            “I thought you might...”

                                            >You start putting some force behind your fingers, using them to massage her body wherever they go.

                                            “Now, why don’t you just lay back-” You spread your fingers wide and slowly push your hand south at a snail's pace. “And let me know how I’m doing.”

                                            >The flustered mare bites her lip and looks you in the eye, giving the confidence to start moving lower.

                                            >As your thumb runs over her teat, she takes sharp breath.

                                            >You stop and raise an eyebrow.

                                            >Celestia gives you a dopey smile in return and nods.

                                            >Finding the little protrusion again isn’t difficult, and Celestia lets out a muffled cry as you trace several rings around the sensitive point.

                                            >You quickly move your hand to the other teat and pinch it ever so gently. Rolling the swollen nub between your thumb and fingers elicits a feminine moan and a small shudder as the mare reacts to your every motion.

                                            >Although you feel like hanging around and playing a bit more, Celestia speaks up.

                                            >”Please, Anon… Hurry.” She places a hoof on your hand and starts pushing you lower.

                                            >From the way her legs slowly spread wider the further south you go, and the subtle quivering all over her body, you can tell she’s already very tightly wound.

                                            >Despite this, you can’t help yourself, and pull your hand away just as it’s about to reach her pulsing button.

                                            >”Wha?! Anon!? Why?!” She smacks your arm with the metal horseshoe on her hoof.


                                            >That’s probably gonna cause another bruise, but you can’t help but laugh.

                                            “Because I want to enjoy you-”

                                            >You lean forward and place your hand on the inner thigh of a spread wide hind leg, your palm and fingers rubbing up and down.

                                            “-As much as I can.”

                                            >”Hng, ngh, o-okay, unf- Anon. But -oh- please don’t keep me -ah- waiting any longer.”

                                            >She struggles to stay focused as you push up against the outside of her folds every time you move your hand up to the base of her leg.

                                            >Suddenly, you give her a cocky smile, making her eyes go wide as you rub down the length of her leg one last time and spread her lips apart with your fingers.

                                            >”Anon, please!” She takes a sharp intake of breath while the leg you were just rubbing kicks uselessly at the air.

                                            >Finally deciding that playtime is over, you give in to her demands and press your thumb into her shifting button.

                                            >”Unnngggghhh. Yeessssss!”

                                            >Her hips jerk. Violently.

                                            >Without skipping a beat, you apply a slight pressure to the large fleshy protrusion that pokes in and out of her folds. As you start rubbing it in a circle, Celestia opens her mouth in an ‘o’ shape and lets out a throaty moan.

                                            >”Oooooohhhhhhh, Gods, Anon! Ah, I’m-” *pant* “I’m already gonna-”

                                            >You double your efforts and start rubbing her winking slit with your digits while your thumb pushes her over the limit.

                                            >”Anooooonnnn!” She cries your name out and suddenly grabs your head with both hooves.

                                            >She pulls you towards her and ravenously smashes her lips into yours. A large cry comes from her occupied mouth as she rides the wave. Her clitoris winking at a furious pace as you continue to rub her soaking lips.

                                            >It carries her for several seconds, her body trembling the whole time, until suddenly her entire body relaxes and she falls exhausted back to the bed.


                                            >You pull your hand away from her flower and stare in wonder at the spent mare.

                                            >Before you can say anything, she lazily pushes you over onto your back, and pulls herself close enough that she can rest her head and hooves on your chest.

                                            >A few tremors pass through her body from time to time as she basks in the afterglow. A dopey smile plastered on her face, and her eyes closed in bliss.

                                            “I’m getting the impression you enjoyed that?” You say as you snake your clean hand around to her back so you can scratch in between her wings.

                                            >She lets out a satisfied hum in response and rubs her muzzle into your chest.

                                            >The affectionate contact reminds you of your own excited state, still standing tall and raring to go. You carefully stroke her back a few more times before deciding to speak up about it.

                                            “You think you could maybe return the favour, gorgeous?”

                                            >A loud snore is your answer as Celestia has apparently slipped off into the dreamworld.

                                            >You stare down at her in disbelief, but the sight of her messy mane draped around her exhausted smiling face doesn’t allow you to stay mad at the big white pony.

                                            “I guess it’s good night then, Celly.”


                                            >She giggles in her sleep as you stare at your wet and now rather sticky hand.

                                            >You look down at her again, before wiping it off on her coat.

                                            >What she doesn’t know can't hurt her. Right?


                                            Part 8 - short update


                                            >A finger traces a circle on your chest.

                                            >”You don’t hang out with friends much, do you, Anon?”

                                            “Wha- I have plenty of friends! Like… Jason? You know him right?

                                            >”One old friend playing video games with you and coming over once in a blue moon does not a group of friends make, Anon.”

                                            >You sigh.

                                            “Well… I’ve got a lot of ‘friends’. We used to be close. But…”

                                            >”You grew apart?”

                                            >Your hand runs through her hair.

                                            “Something like that...”

                                            >The sympathetic sigh that leaves her mouth makes you feel a bit bad.

                                            >”Well… Maybe I can introduce you to some of my friends then?”

                                            “The political ones? I’m not too sure we’d get along.”

                                            >She jokingly smacks your chest.

                                            >”It’ll be fine!

                                            >I know you don’t like getting involved in that sort of thing, but they’re really good people!”

                                            “Yea, I’ll bet…”

                                            >”Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

                                            >She pulls herself up and leans in to you.

                                            “Alright… I promise.”

                                            >Angling your head slightly, you close your eyes and meet her rosy lips.

                                            >It’s nothing special. Something you’ve done a thousand times before. This time though, something is wrong.

                                            >Her lips feel different. Harder. Thicker. Broader.

                                            >She lets out a hum that’s different from her usual one. A more mature and motherly tone reaching your ears.

                                            >The back of her head feels strange. The shape is narrower. Her hair is thicker. An ear flicks away from your touch.

                                            >Panic rushes through you.

                                            >You pull back and see the face of an earthen horse with a white coat. Its large tongue flicking out to lick its lips.

                                            >The dull bulbs of its black eyes devoid of any intelligence.

                                            >A scream comes from the door and you look over, seeing Jessica now standing in the doorway.

                                            >Her clothes are torn to shreds and her body is covered in blood. Several of her limbs are twisted and broken in unnatural ways and she points a rotting finger at you.


                                            >You let out a scream and-


                                            ~~~~~


                                            >-Open your eyes to the dark ceiling of your bedroom.

                                            >No woman or pony pressing their lips to yours. No cadaver or corpse standing in the doorway.

                                            >The only sensation being the weight of Celestia lying your heaving chest.

                                            >Her eyes still closed in restful slumber and she makes small muttering sound while her hooves twitch back and forth.

                                            >A feeling of affection blossoms in your chest. The moments you shared yesterday still warm in your heart.

                                            >You reach out a hand to stroke through her multi colored hair that’s currently messily strewn all over you.

                                            >However, as you get close, the images from the dream flit across your mind. Your hand pauses and guilt creeps through you like some twisted corruption, poisoning your thoughts.

                                            >You had bought a drugged slave pony, put her in danger, made out with her, and then did… that.

                                            >Taking a deep breath, you unsuccessfully try to calm yourself.

                                            >You can feel your irritation growing by the second.

                                            >Being careful not to disturb her, you gently reach down and move Celestia off you.

                                            >She lets out a few groans in objection and her hooves stubbornly drag along your stomach before you delicately lay her down on her own pillow.

                                            >While making as little noise as possible, you drag your naked body out of bed and slip some workout clothes on.

                                            >As you quickly check the time, the clock on your phone tells you that it is currently five in the morning.

                                            >When you check on her again, the sleeping mare brings a smile to your face as she weakly grabs at the air with her hooves. A small frown on her face.

                                            >You’d like to think that maybe she’s searching for you.

                                            >Your face twist in self-disgust.

                                            >Of course you’d think that. Of course she’s just head over heels for the human that keeps drugging and taking advantage of her. You little, manipulative, dickhead.


                                            >Shaking your head, you leave the room and walk down the hall and open one of the side doors to your personal gym.

                                            >It's probably one of the only rooms you still frequently use in the house.

                                            >Without delay; you plug some earphones into your phone, move over to the multi-purpose rack, and start warming up. The repetitive exertions a welcome distraction from your accusing conscience.


                                            ~~~~~


                                            >You toss and turn in the sheets. The worrying absence of something that should be there -- that should be with you -- preventing you from calming down.

                                            >After a few more moments you let out a sigh and give up. Your bleary eyes slowly opening as you reach out with your hooves to find the thing that went missing.

                                            >The room is dark, and your internal clock is off from your time in the cages.

                                            >The cages!

                                            >A bolt of panic runs through you, very quickly waking you.

                                            >You flail around, trying lift yourself up and get a better look around.

                                            >Your legs are still so weak, though you already feel stronger than yesterday.

                                            >Anon is nowhere to be seen. Nor is there any discernible note.

                                            >Although, the simple fact that you're currently clean and not surrounded by a bunch of slimy humans quells a lot of your concern.

                                            “Anon?”

                                            >The house is quiet as no response comes.

                                            “Anooon?”

                                            >He couldn’t have, right?

                                            “Anon??”

                                            >You didn’t scare him off when you requested his… help, did you?

                                            >Maybe you needed to sit down and have a proper chat with him.

                                            >I mean, you are an old mare. But old mares have desires too!

                                            >The memory of Anon’s hand dancing on your nethers brings your attention to the warm fire currently burning in your bottom half.

                                            >Taking deep breaths, you try to keep control of your train of thought.

                                            >Fight back against the drugs pumping through your system, Celestia.

                                            >You need to keep yourself under control.

                                            >You need to keep yourself focused.


                                            >You need to remember the feeling of his hands caressing and stimulating your sensitive-

                                            >Nostrils flare as you take in a deep breath, your senses on fire as they’re swamped with Anon’s scent. The thick smell hangs heavy over the room. It’s odour tantalizing in so many good ways.

                                            >Thighs slickly grind. A tail impatiently flicks. Small tingles of pleasure snake their way up your spine, making your whole body shudder.

                                            >A covered hoof slowly drifts down your body as you relish in the tugging feeling of your dock slowly raising your tail out of the way. Your body eagerly preparing itself for Anon’s-

                                            >Wait… Anon!

                                            >He showed you his-!

                                            >And you didn’t-!?

                                            >Even after he-?!

                                            >The current haze over you mind clears as a hurricane of embarrassment sweeps through you.

                                            >You let out a groan and curse under your breath.

                                            >You’re how old now? Just what kind of rude filly are you? And now you’ve probably scared him off.

                                            >A quick shake of your head clears those thoughts.

                                            >Anon -- human as he may be -- is giving you the chance to save your ponies. You need to make it count.

                                            >Looking around, you spy the car keys on the bedside table.

                                            >You let out a sigh of relief and stand up fully on the bed.

                                            >Your hind legs are even weaker after last night’s fun. A fact that makes you giggle to yourself.

                                            >A quick inspection of your wings reveals not too much wrong with them, your efforts in the car yesterday having cleaned them up considerably.

                                            >Like every morning, you reach and out try to push magic through your horn.

                                            >Also like every morning, the dull sensation of a phantom limb that should be there is all you can feel.

                                            >With the utmost care, you gracefully fall off the side of the bed.

                                            >Emily’s work is already paying off as your hooves barely feel any pain.


                                            >Unfortunately, your legs are still too weak. You tumble as you hit the ground, letting out a yelp as you collapse onto your barrel.

                                            >Smooth, Celestia. Good to see you still remember the finer points of being a princess.

                                            >At least Anon didn’t see it.

                                            >With an indignant huff, you once again put your hooves under yourself and shakily stand up.

                                            >Giving one last look around the room, you take another deep breath for the road and set off down the long hallway.

                                            >The going is slow, and it isn’t far before your muscles are screaming for you to stop. But this is truly the first chance you’ve had to go wherever and do whatever you want.

                                            >You’re going to enjoy it as much you can.

                                            >As you push on, step after gruelling step, your ears flick towards a side door after you hear a faint grunting.

                                            >The small knot of worry in your chest starts fading as you identify it as Anon.

                                            >You gradually approach the door, a slight panting in your breath from the exertion.

                                            >With the slightest nudge from your muzzle, the door sweeps open.

                                            >Your eyes go wide and you feel your engine suddenly revving at maximum when the thick smell of him hits your nose.

                                            >He’s sitting side-on to you with some earphones plugged in. Doing some exercise where he pulls a bar down to his chest.

                                            >Silently, you ogle him as he pulls it down again. The muscles around his shoulders flexing deliciously as he does so.

                                            >But you notice something that kills your mood.

                                            >He looks upset.

                                            >His eyes just stare straight forward, not even noticing you while they try to bore a hole through the wall.

                                            >You feel there’s a bit of anger in the way he grunts after each motion.

                                            >Beyond all that though, he just looks so sad.

                                            >Like someone he knows just died.

                                            >You really do need to have that one on one with him…


                                            >While making as little noise as possible, you back away from the door and continue down the hall.

                                            >One shaky hoof step at a time.

                                            >Before long, you arrive at the kitchen, your horseshoes giving a metallic clink as you walk on the tiled floor.

                                            >There’s nothing in here that is of use, so you continue on to the living room.

                                            >Taking a small break to relax your muscles and gather your strength first, you manage to hoist yourself up onto the couch with what feels like a herculean effort.

                                            >Reaching over, you grab the remote between your covered hooves.

                                            >You dimly note that you still haven’t told Anon how much you liked the colour of them.

                                            >Nor have you told him how much better you’re doing thanks to him.

                                            >Really haven’t told him a lot of the things you want to.

                                            >All you’ve done is bite and yell and force yourself on him.

                                            >No wonder he’s angry.

                                            >No. No, Celestia. Don’t beat yourself up. There’s a lot that's happened between you the past few days.

                                            >You both just need some time alone…

                                            >Maybe...

                                            >Shaking your head of negative thoughts, you plump your rear on the couch with a wet squelch.

                                            >A blush comes to your cheeks as you let out a small moan.

                                            >A quick look around confirms that no one saw that, so you instead focus intently on the remote to distract yourself.

                                            >After a bit of humming and hawing, you soon rediscover how to operate it.

                                            >With a satisfactory beep, the T.V. turns on.

                                            >Before you can change anything, a news headline booms out across the room, as an announcer talks over the footage of police tape being drawn over the doorway a small pony slave shack.


                                            >”A gruesome scene unfolds this morning as a civil enforcer was found horribly disfigured in Refugee District 9 last night. A police lead sweep of the slums has still not returned any leads, and the ‘unique nature’ of the attack has prompted the lead investigator to issue a statement: requesting that any person who has information related to last night’s attack, to please call crime stoppers on-”

                                            >The remote falls from your hooves as your mouth falls open in shock.

                                            >A large blackened hole has been blown in the side of the small pony housing establishment on the screen. Tendrils of charred black lightning snake away from it, and the way the wood splinters outwards tells you where it came from.

                                            >A small smile comes to your face as you recognize the tell-tale signs of what happened.

                                            >Something that should be impossible.

                                            >Something that anypony, anywhere, should be able to recognize.

                                            >Somepony just used magic for the first time in a long, long time.


                                            Part 9 (Nine)


                                            “Eight… Nine… C’mon dickhead, you can do it, c’mon, c’mon, hnnngggg-” With shaking arms, you push with all your might. “Ten!”

                                            >You practically drop the barbell back into the rack with a loud clank as you finish the final military press. The muscles in your shoulders are stiff and sore while a persistent warmth makes you guzzle water as you try to cool down.

                                            >Testosterone has been pumping through your blood from the strenuous reps, getting you quite worked up. Combined with how pent up you’ve been, you were on edge in quite a few ways.

                                            >In addition to this, you were feeling strangely tired and irritated, despite having just woken up.

                                            >The workout hadn’t helped much with your focus. In fact, as the reps got harder, the images from the dream had become more and more intrusive.

                                            >Yet still, your mind dances around Celestia.

                                            >The things that happened yesterday.

                                            >What you did for her...

                                            >What you did to her...

                                            >Did you enjoy it? Of course.

                                            >Did you feel like a piece of shit for taking advantage of a drugged slave you just bought? Oh yes.

                                            >Does the fact that you technically made out with a horse -- and enjoyed it -- make you want to go to a coven and live out your days in silence as a repentance? A little bit, yeah.

                                            >Again, the intelligent face of Celestia leaning in for a kiss in your mind’s eye transforms into the blocky earthen horse. Big, black, beady eyes stare at you while it neighs, a small blob of spittle flying from its bulky lips.

                                            >Letting out a sigh, you wipe the sweat from your brow and leave the room.

                                            >As you open the door, you notice a patch of discolouration on the carpet in the hallway. It almost looks like someone spilled some liquid there.

                                            >Weird.


                                            >Glancing down the corridor, you see the door to the bedroom hanging wide open.

                                            >The empty bed and the absence of Celestia is almost a relief. Your mind briefly toying with the idea that she ran away.

                                            >Crushing the thought and quickly admonishing yourself, you start walking towards the kitchen.

                                            >Making your way, you can hear the droning of the T.V. and the occasional clink of horseshoes on tiles.

                                            >Knowing that she’s still here is comforting, while at the same time you start slogging through possible things to say to her about what happened. None of the options particularly clicking as good things to say.

                                            >Rounding the corner, you stop in your tracks as you come across a peculiar sight.

                                            >Celestia is standing on three legs in front of the fridge. The fourth is raised and pressing against the door - or rather against the water dispenser in one of the doors.

                                            >She’s holding her body slightly low and is tilting her head to the side. Her lips are puckered and reaching out, almost wrapping around the dispenser head. The horn on her head tapping the fridge door as she gets a drink of water.

                                            >She stops and stares sidelong at you with wide eyes. Her legs shaking as they struggle to hold her there.

                                            >Trails of water run down the side of the fridge door and pool on the tiled floor.

                                            >Moving slowly, you pull your earphones out and tuck them into a pocket.

                                            >For her part, the now blushing mare slowly pulls her head back and lowers her hoof.

                                            >You can feel heat pooling in your own cheeks as you remember what you did to her last night.

                                            “Morning, Sunshine.” You begin.

                                            >Her wings flit slightly.

                                            “You, uh, a bit thirsty?”

                                            >She stands up straight and looks around the kitchen, trying not to meet your eyes.

                                            >”Just a bit… I’m, um, I’m a bit low on fluids these days.”


                                            >Looking at her - with legs fully extended and hardly shaking; no hunched shoulders; back straight and not curved; and her head held high: You could swear that you were staring at a completely different pony than the filthy mess you bought a few days ago.

                                            >Standing at roughly 5 feet tall to the top of her head (not counting the long protruding horn), she’s starting to develop a serious visual presence.

                                            >Sure, her physique is still on the extremely skinny side; and the subtle tremor in her legs is no help either. In spite of this, you can see a drastic improvement in her visage and the way she carries herself.

                                            “How’s your heat-”

                                            >She looks up at you and tilts her head.

                                            “Hooves! Hooves. Your hooves? You walked all the way out here this morning by yourself!”

                                            >”Oh! Oh yes of course!”

                                            >She takes a few steady steps towards you. Each hoof carefully placed on the ground and briefly leaned on to be sure it can handle the weight before the next one moves.

                                            >”The infected hoof still hurts a bit, and the wires feel a bit funny; but the wrappings and the horseshoes are a lifesaver!”

                                            >Standing up straight again, Celestia twists her head from side to side, showing herself off.

                                            >You reach forward to scratch her ear, but hesitate at the last second and pull your hand back.

                                            >Her purple eyes carefully follow the action, but she says nothing. A smile still warmly glowing on her face.

                                            >Meanwhile, you scratch your sore shoulder. Frustration building at your own sudden awkward behavior.

                                            >”Anon… I wanted to say thank you, and... Sorry.”

                                            “Huh? Sorry for what Celly?”

                                            >”For last night.”

                                            >She gives you an apologetic look.

                                            “Oh, that? Don’t mention it. I know you’re a bit loopy right now.”

                                            >She flinches slightly and you curse under your breath.


                                            >The hell is wrong with you this morning?

                                            “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

                                            >”No, no. You’re right. I’m not myself right now.”

                                            >She sits down and rubs a foreleg with a hoof while inspecting the floor.

                                            “I didn’t mean it like that, I just…”

                                            >She doesn’t look back up at you.

                                            “Shit…”

                                            >The fuck are you doing? Blaming her?

                                            >You move past her and open one of the cupboards.

                                            >Reaching high, you grab something that might be of use.

                                            “Oi.”

                                            >You hold it out to her.

                                            >She looks up. The energy from a few moments ago sapped from her face.

                                            “You know how one of these works right?” You ask with a smile.

                                            >She chuckles and grabs the water bottle between her two hooves

                                            >”Yes, I do understand this complex device, Anon.”

                                            “Good, now I don’t have to help you out every time.”

                                            >She hangs her head.

                                            >Damnit.

                                            >You shift your shoulders, your body still feeling uncomfortably warm.

                                            >”I... know I’m a bit of a pain to take care of, but-”

                                            “No, no, I meant that you don’t need me if you want to get some water! That’s all!”

                                            >”It’s okay, Anon. I understand…”

                                            >She lazily uncaps the bottle with her mouth and gets herself some water from the dispenser.

                                            >All the while you’re still sweating slightly, even though you’ve stopped working out and the room is cool.

                                            >Fighting back a headache that’s started creeping into the back of your skull, you retrieve her pills and sit down in front of her.

                                            “I’m sorry, Celly. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

                                            >”I get it, Anon. Taking care of a pony full time is exhausting.”

                                            >She holds the bottle to her mouth and pulls the cap open with her teeth before taking a big drink.

                                            >”Thanks.”

                                            “No problem.”

                                            >You offer a pill to her.

                                            >She nods and opens her mouth wide, allowing you to place it on the back of her tongue like always.


                                            >With a quick swig of water, she gulps it down before opening her mouth for the next one.

                                            “It’s not hard, Celestia.”

                                            >”Hmmm?”

                                            “Well, I have gotten a few bruises yeah.”

                                            >She swallows and looks solemnly at the purple marks on your arm.

                                            “And I guess I’m a little worn out in a few ways.”

                                            >”I knew it-”

                                            “Ah, ah, ah~.”

                                            >You reach forward and commit a hand to her cheek.

                                            “You’re not a burden to me. And you never will be.”

                                            >She smiles and leans into it, letting out a heavy sigh.

                                            >”I was worried that I had upset you.”

                                            “Hey, if I’m upset with you, I’ll be the first one to let you know.”

                                            >She pokes her tongue out at you.

                                            “It’s just that this morning I have some… things… on my mind. Didn’t sleep well, y’know?”

                                            >She softly laughs.

                                            >”Oh, I think I know about a bad night’s sleep.”

                                            “Too true.”

                                            >”... You want to talk about it?”

                                            >She strokes your forearm with a covered hoof.

                                            “Maybe later, I think I’ll sit on this one for a bit longer.”

                                            >”Well, let me know if you want to share it with me, Anon. I also still feel guilty about leaving you, um, ‘hanging’ last night.”

                                            “Don’t be. Seriously”

                                            >You cough into a free hand as you give her the final pill. While she swallows it down, you wipe the sweat of your forehead with your workout shirt.

                                            >”Are you okay, Anon? You’re looking a bit flush.”

                                            “Yeah, yeah. The workout was a bit too good, I guess.”

                                            >Celestia eyes you suspiciously, but you wave her off.

                                            “How about we get you working up a sweat instead?”

                                            >She snorts and flicks her tail.

                                            “Easy girl. Your morning training program remember?”

                                            >’Of course! I knew that!”

                                            >The big mare huffs indignantly and sits her damp rear down on the floor. Crossing her arms in mock offense.

                                            >Grabbing the paper from the bench you both quickly go over the plan.


                                            >It’s a high intensity workout scheme tailored to ponies, with a few suggestions for the routine based on how Celestia performs.

                                            >”I don’t think I can do most of this, Anon.”

                                            >There’s a mixture of bodyweight exercises, including supported squats and a form of pony-push up that you’ll need to help her out with. In addition to this is the occasional gallop, and there are also some sustained low intensity trots for endurance building.

                                            “Well, why don’t we see what we can do? Even if you can only walk around for five minutes, it's better than nothing.”

                                            >Nodding at the half-hearted suggestion, Celestia slowly follows you outside into the decently sized backyard.

                                            >Starting off slow, you take her through Emily’s short workout regime.

                                            >At first you take a hands off approach. Outlining a little track in the backyard with the garden hose, you keep a careful eye on her as she slowly but surely does the laps.

                                            >She tires in no time at all, and it isn’t long before she has to walk at a snail's pace while you move alongside her: leaning down and placing a hand under her barrel for support.

                                            >While you assist her, she occasionally tries to start playful conversation. However, the growing haze in your head and the unintended scowl on your face deflates each attempt.

                                            >You want to find some way to encourage her. You feel like you should be doing that much.

                                            >You also want to make her smile again after acting like such a dipshit earlier.

                                            >Unfortunately, the unrelenting throbbing in your head is only getting worse. Your body is also getting warmer despite the early morning chill.

                                            >It isn’t until you shake your head in an attempt to clear the fog over your mind, does a panting Celestia say something as she finishes another lap.

                                            >*Huff* *huff*”Anon?” *huff* “You really-” *huff* “Don’t look so good.”


                                            >Trying to deflect her concerns, you stand up straight too quickly, causing a flood of black dots in your vision as you struggle to stay standing.

                                            >Celestia leans against your wobbling legs to help stabilize you, and you place a hand on her back to help steady yourself

                                            “I’ll be alright, Celly. How much more have you got to do?”

                                            >”I’m-” *huff* “-good for now, Anon. My legs feel like jelly.”

                                            “Really? Strong mare like you? Already tired?”

                                            >You try to hide your grin as look upon her exhausted form. Shaking legs combined with a frazzled mane and exasperated breaths tell you all you need to know.

                                            >Although you’re in no place to talk. A whole body fatigue had swept through your muscles while Celestia worked out, making you feel weak.

                                            >She smirks back at you before carefully turning towards the back door to the kitchen.

                                            >After slowly helping her inside, you grab her water bottle and fill it up.

                                            >As the water runs, you rest your now boiling forehead against the cold fridge door.

                                            >You take deep breaths as you try to get control over your spinning head. Images from the past days flashing through your mind’s eye in an incoherent mess. A muted and incomprehensible voice echoing in your ears all the while. A frustration begins digging at you again as more of the unwelcome images from the dream and Emily’s admonishment circled through your head.

                                            >Rolling your burning forehead back and forth against the fridge door and bathing in the blissful coolness of it, you lose track of what you were doing. Your focus only returning to the real world when something sharp pokes you in the thigh.

                                            “Ow.”

                                            >Looking down, you see Celestia poke you in the leg again with her horn.

                                            “Ow! Hey!”

                                            >”Anon!”

                                            >She looks up at you. Her brow furrowed and raised while her lips pursed in concern.


                                            >”I’ve been calling out to you for a while now. Look!”

                                            >She nods at her water bottle in your hand.

                                            “Damnit…”

                                            >You look down and see the bottle overflowing with water, a large puddle pooling at the bottom of the fridge.

                                            “Guess my mind wandered a bit, hah.”

                                            >“'Hah' nothing, Anon. You’re not well.”

                                            “Nah, nah, I’ll be right.”

                                            >”Anon!”

                                            >She stomps a hoof on the tiled floor with a loud metallic clang, nearly falling over as her other legs almost buckle from fatigue.

                                            “We still need to have a shower and breakfast, right? Let me just-”

                                            >A few uneasy steps combined with the slippery floor almost sends you tumbling. Luckily, Celestia had preemptively leaned in, supporting you while you weakly grabbed onto the bench with a flailing hand

                                            >As you right yourself, Celestia repeatedly pokes you in the thigh with her horn.

                                            “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

                                            >”Executive decision, Anon. In bed. Now! Forget about the shower. I'll handle the food. Go.”

                                            >Holding a hand to your forehead, it really does feel like it's on fire.

                                            >You look down at Celestia and try to smile.

                                            >She scowls at you and lowers her horn to your leg again.

                                            “Okay, okay.” You weakly hold your hands up in surrender. “Enough with the horn already. I’m on my way, Princess.”

                                            >She frowns, but raises her head again to give you an intimidating stare.

                                            >You feel like you should put up more of a fight, but you know she’s right here. It was slowly coming on before; but now that it’s hit you like a ton of bricks, sleep sounds like the best thing in the world.

                                            >Turning carefully and using the wall to help prop yourself up, you slowly leave the kitchen and head down the hallway to the bedroom.

                                            >Celestia carefully walks by your side the whole way. Diligently leaning against you to make sure you don’t fall despite her own severely exhausted body.


                                            >As you arrive in the bedroom, you strip of your workout shirt, pull back the messy bed sheets, and practically collapse onto the soft mattress.

                                            >Dizzy head now resting pleasantly in the pillow, you feel yourself rapidly drifting off to sleep. Only to be interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared.

                                            >Turning wearily to the side, you see Celestia standing at the side of the bed on shaky legs.

                                            >”I need to make sure you stay in bed, Anon. The mattress is too high, though.”

                                            >With a smirk and a nod, you let out a groan and swing your legs back out of bed.

                                            >Celestia surprises you by quickly hopping up onto the mattress with her forelegs.

                                            >You quickly lean over and hook an arm under her barrel, lifting her as she pushes weakly with her hind legs.

                                            >Your muscles don’t have their usual strength, so you end up dropping her unceremoniously on her back on top of the sheets.

                                            >She lets out a flustered huff before quickly righting herself.

                                            >As you tuck yourself in, Celestia drags herself over and gives your shoulder a nudge with a hoof.

                                            >Giving her a raised eyebrow only gets a pout in response.

                                            >Her wings flit slightly at her sides as you stare at each other.

                                            >You sigh and hoist the blankets high so that she can climb under them as well.

                                            >With a delighted hum: she wiggles under the sheets and snuggles up to you - unfolding a wing and draping it across your midsection as she rests her head on your chest.

                                            >You smile and rest your dizzy head back on the pillow. A sigh escaping your lips as you enjoy the weight and warmth of Celestia resting on top of you, while wincing at the heat and fatigue that now wracks your body.

                                            >Your hand idly strokes along the contour of the mare’s soft back, and you whisper a small thank you to her as you quickly drift off into a hazy slumber.


                                            Part Ten (10)


                                            >”They say we’re young, but we don’t know~. We won’t find out unti-i-il we grow~”

                                            >The patchy droning of the supermarket speakers makes you want to pick up the cash register and use it at as a bludgeon on the obese human woman currently screaming at you.

                                            >Spittle flies from her gangrenous mouth that lies nearly buried in the grotesque jiggling fat folds of her face.

                                            >This burgeoning desire is heightened by the incessant itching in your supposed to be numb horn and the fatigue weighing down your body.

                                            >The sickness is getting worse.

                                            >“Now you listen here, you little four legged leech. Theses coupons say 30 cents off! Right here! Look with your bug eyes!”

                                            >She shoves the greasy clipping in your face.

                                            “Yes Ma'am, I understand. But if you’ll just read here, it says that this offer is only valid until-”

                                            >You try your best to smile at her. Your cheeks pulling into what must look like a horrendously twisted expression.

                                            >”I don’t care what it says! I have a coupon here, and I am entitled to redeem it! Or do you want me to call civil service on you!? You filthy, smelly, drug-drinker!”

                                            >Grinding your teeth, you struggle to hold back the dam of foul words that strains for the freedom to flow from your mouth.

                                            >You can’t afford another infraction. Your emergency medicine supply is already used up.

                                            >And that itching in your horn is getting worse.

                                            >”Are stupid!? Or are you deaf!? Hurry up and redeem my coupon or I’m getting the manager!”

                                            “No! Wait! You can’t-”

                                            >You flinch as a spike of pain, like an iron nail puncturing through your skull, blossoms around the base of your horn.

                                            >Tears pool in the corner of your eyes. You let out a gasp as you struggle to focus.

                                            >”What in god’s name is wrong with you, creature? Are you on drugs right now?


                                            “No! I’m not- argh!” Your head almost hits the counter.  The fresh wave of pain making you dizzy

                                            >”Absolutely disgusting! You’re going to get it now!”

                                            >She pulls out her phone and starts dialing something.

                                            “No! Please no!” You squeeze your eyes shut and try to block out the pain. “I just read the coupon again, it looks like it should go through. If you’ll please give me a- ngh... A-A moment!”

                                            >With a look of disgusted disdain mixed with a slimy smugness, she puts away her phone.

                                            >”Hmph”. She huffs as she stows the device in her handbag

                                            >“About time you learned how to read. They make you lot a bit slow in Equostrie, don’t they?

                                            “Yes Ma’am…”

                                            >”Now, hurry up! I’m a busy woman!”

                                            >Back hurting from sitting on your rump all day, you start swiping the items and clumsily putting them in plastic bags.

                                            >Silently you pray to yourself that the manager won’t indict you for approving the invalid coupon code.

                                            >Meanwhile, the supermarket music continues to play.

                                            >”Babe~. I got you Babe~”


                                            ~~~~~~~~~


                                            >”Match Stick?”

                                            >The hair on the back of your neck stands up.

                                            “Y-yes sir.”

                                            >He walks over to you with big lanky strides -- past all the other ponies who work at the supermarket.

                                            >They don’t react as the life was already long gone from all their eyes.

                                            >Finally he comes to a stop in front of you and leers down like a vicious dragon.

                                            >”Third in-frac-tion” He says with a deadpan sing song.

                                            >Flinching visibly, you rub the back of your head with a hoof.

                                            ”Yes, Mr Manager, sir. Irate customer who was threatening to call corporate over an invalid coupon.”

                                            >He tuts and shakes his head.

                                            >”You’ve been stationed here how long, Sticky?” Your nickname rolls of his tongue drenched with contempt.

                                            “E-Eight m-months, S-Sir.”

                                            >You wince as another spike of pain lances through the base of your horn.


                                            >”And out of those eight months, in how many of them did you receive at least three infractions?

                                            “...All of them…” It comes out as a whisper under your breath.

                                            >”I’m sorry, ‘Sticky’? I didn’t quite hear that.”

                                            “All of them. Sir.” You spit through grit teeth.

                                            >”Mmhmm. And the other two infractions this month were for no shows.”

                                            “But, Sir! I told you why...”

                                            >”Look. Sticks.”

                                            >He kneels down to your eye level.

                                            >”I’ve already been very lenient with you. Most other places throw their ponies back into the worker’s line at the first sign of trouble.”

                                            “I know, Sir. But-”

                                            >”But nothing, Sticky.

                                            >Your heart drops.

                                            >”I’ve had enough. I’ll be filing for a replacement at the end of the month. Unless some miracle happens, you’re out of here.

                                            >Mouth and opening and closing like a fish out of water: you can’t come up with something, anything you can say that will change his mind.

                                            ”P-Please, S-Sir.”

                                            >He sighs and shakes his head.

                                            >”End of the month, Match Stick, that’s how long you’ve got.”

                                            >Your weak rear legs buckle and collapse under you. Your haunches falling to the floor.

                                            >As the other ponies disperse, you only get a few small looks of sympathy before they start heading towards the bus stop. All of them need their prescription -- like you -- before the market becomes too dark.

                                            >The muscles all over your body groan with fatigue. Curling up in bed is something you want to do more than anything else in the world right now. But the day isn’t over yet and you have to go on.

                                            >Maybe -- if you really pray to Celestia and work hard -- things might just start going well for you.

                                            >You might even hold onto your job if you get lucky. Right?


                                            >The subtle throb of pain in your horn doesn’t reassure you. Picking yourself up, you follow the other ponies to the bus.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~


                                            “Hey! Watch where you're going, ‘Slave’!”

                                            >In your fatigued haze, you had bumped into the rear end of another pony.

                                            >The mare spits on the ground in front of you, before you can even apologize.

                                            >As she storms off, you lower your head and continue the slog through the worn down market section of the slums.

                                            >A few ponies peddle almost rotten foodstuffs in hoof-made wooden stands, while others hustle unique trinkets that are thematically reminiscent of some aspect of Equestrian culture.

                                            >In the dark corners and side streets, cloaked ponies partake in hushed conversation. Always checking over their shoulders for pickpockets or the human ‘civil servants’.

                                            >While only a few are currently in sight - the humans, who watch over and enforce order in Refugee District Nine, roam the streets like looming wraiths. Towering tall in crowds; and always using their jurisdiction as keepers of the peace to ensure ponies behave in a ‘civilized’ manner.

                                            >This usually involved doing whatever to whomever they wanted, with threats of removal from the district waiting for those who would disagree.

                                            >Your ears flick back and forth as you keep your guard raised. Alert for anyone who may have malicious intent toward you.

                                            >It doesn’t take long before you reach the pharmaceutical collection point: A big cylindrical run down building made of tin, wood, and glass designed to house the necessary medicines that all the Ponies needed. Most notably for the creeping sickness that they all now suffered from.

                                            >Long lines of sick and filthy stallions and mares stretch out from each of the dispensaries counters.

                                            >The ones at the back of the queues already fidgeting with anxiety.


                                            >You join the shortest line that shuffles along at a moderate pace. A small luxury designated for working ponies as a reward system for their ‘voluntary labour’.

                                            >Before long you reach the counter and say your name to the pony behind it. Another Pegasus whose eyes are too tired.

                                            >She slowly types your name into a computer with a special pen strapped onto her hoof and mulls over your file.

                                            >While you wait, you cast a sidelong glance and the uniformed stallion standing next to you. >The hard lines on his face and the multiple tears in his enforcer’s uniform speak to his daily struggle.

                                            >”Match Stick. Another infraction.”

                                            “Wait, wait, wait. Let me explain-”

                                            >”Half ration of pills-”

                                            “B-But-”

                                            “-and restricted luxury privileges.”

                                            “W-What if I give up the privileges? Can I get a full ration?”

                                            >”No can do. Your infractions have an impact on how much product is delivered-”

                                            “Please, I need them tonight! I can’t go another-”

                                            >You groan as another surge of pain lances through your horn.

                                            “I’m begging you!”

                                            >The yellow mare behind the counter rolls her eyes before looking back to the computer screen.

                                            >”Yeah, you and every other pony. There’s a mark on your file. From today. So restricted rations it is.”

                                            “Please!”

                                            >The enforcer pony at your side gives you a sidelong stare.

                                            >You wilt under his gaze and lower your head.

                                            >The dispensary pony gives you a sympathetic look before sighing.

                                            >”I’m sorry, dear. If I give you any more, then I’ll be the one getting an indictment.”

                                            >She pushes a small cluster of pills and meal tickets towards you.

                                            >There’s only enough to last for one pony for the next several days until your next ration.


                                            >”All the best, sweetie.”

                                            “Yeah… You too.”

                                            >You almost collapse as you grab the bag. The strength in your muscles was rapidly deteriorating, and your horn had started constantly burning with pain.

                                            >There was still an option left for you though.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~


                                            >”Lend you some meds?”

                                            >You currently feel like breaking off your horn to stop its incessant burning, but you grit your teeth and nod. Your rations kept secure in a locked saddlebag on your side, though you’re sure they could get it open in a few seconds.

                                            >The daunting stallion leers at you with his one eye. The scorched on cutie mark and the ‘Celestia’ burnt into the fur on his foreleg is intimidating enough without his friends -- all of them bearing similar markings -- leering at you from the pile of contraband they’re leaning over in the back of the room.

                                            “I-I-I just need some for tonight. I-I’ll pay you back in a few days.”

                                            >”It’s not just about paying us back, babe. It’s about asking for something that’s in high demand around these parts...”

                                            >He sighs and looks back at his friends with a grin.

                                            >”What do you say, Colts? Think she can ‘pay us back’ in a few days?

                                            >”I dunno boss.” One of them stands up and slowly walks over. “This would be a serious investment. From all of us. She may have to do it in multiple ‘payments’.”

                                            >As the sentence is punctuated by a snort and an aggressive stomp of his hoof, you tuck your tail in between your legs. This stallion was much bigger than the others, and you could already picture him crushing your skull if you made the wrong move.

                                            >But you can’t turn away just yet.

                                            >”Now why don’t you demonstrate some ‘appreciation’ for someone who’s about to show you some very generous charity.”


                                            >There’s no misunderstanding what he wants. But you need to do this.

                                            >Swallowing heavily, you don your fake smile and start ‘sauntering’ towards him.

                                            >Focusing the whole way on your weak legs to stop them from shaking, a large grin spreads across his face as you sway your hips with each step.

                                            >Without stopping, you walk past him and flick his snout with your tail.

                                            >A sudden urge to bury your head in the mud fills you. But you stomp it down and give him an inviting whinny.

                                            >”Hey, I think she likes you, big guy.”

                                            >”Just try not to ruin her for the rest of us”

                                            >His friends in the back let out a few hollers before returning to the pile of banned goods.

                                            >Shameful curiosity burning in your gut, you take a peek under the large stallion’s barrel.

                                            >Just as fast, you pull your head back up. Pinpricks of heat lick at your cheeks as you try to control your embarrassment and the butterflies in your stomach.

                                            >He must be bigger than your leg.

                                            >With a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you force another fake smile and look back at him.

                                            >He’s snarling, and one of his hooves trembles as he glares at you.

                                            >”Get. Out.”

                                            >Your heart stops as the room goes silent.

                                            >He knows.

                                            >All the stallions in the back stand up immediately.

                                            >”Everything alright, Big guy?”

                                            >”Yea, what’s up, Dude?”

                                            >He looks at you with disgust in his eyes. Tucking your tail in between your legs, you start backing up towards the exit.

                                            >”She smells like one of them.”

                                            >All eyes turn to you as you slowly back out of the room.

                                            “J-just let me leave, please.”

                                            >The boss looks at you. A cold fury smoldering in the depths of his eyes.

                                            >”You best not show up here again, little filly. Or we’ll have a lot worse in store for a ‘civil servicer’ like you.”

                                            “U-Understood. C-completely understood. T-Thank you for your kindness.”


                                            >You bow your head as low you can and continue backing out of the slum housing that doubles as their base of operations.

                                            >The moment you’re clear of the door, you turn and gallop as fast as your hooves will carry you.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~


                                            >You step into your dismal living quarters. A dilapidated two metre tall shack that barely keeps out the rain.

                                            >None of your friends would help out either. Most of them had already ghosted once you had shown signs of the creeping sickness.

                                            >Unclipping the saddlebag from your back and looking over to the corner of the one room lodging. A great sigh escapes your lips and you check up on the reason for most of your suffering.

                                            >Your little brother lies on the better of two makeshift beds. His chest heaving and his face blushing with fever. A few layers of precious blankets wrapped messily around him.

                                            “How are you going, Tinder?”

                                            >The only response is more laboured breathing as he tosses and turns under the sheets.

                                            >A quick check of his temperature with your foreleg isn’t reassuring.

                                            >He’s been sick for three days now. None of the local medical ponies know what’s wrong, and none of them have any of the equipment required to find out.

                                            >Moving methodically, you briskly take out a pill and a mix of dreary vegetables. After grinding into powder with a covered hoof and with some coaxing, you gently feed him the paltry meal.

                                            >Setting aside the remaining two pills for the coming days, you sit beside him and hold his hoof in your own.

                                            “Did you have fun today? Did you read the book I left you?”

                                            >He breathes heavily for a few moments before slowly nodding. His eyes remain shut tight.

                                            “You’re such a smart colt. Such a strong stallion, y’know?”

                                            >Tears pool in the corners of your eyes.

                                            “And I know you’re gonna grow up to be big and strong and-”


                                            >Small tremors rock through your body as you try to keep it together.

                                            “A-and I know things are gonna get better for you...”

                                            >You reach up and brush a greasy strand of mane off his face.

                                            “T-They’re gonna get better for both of us...”

                                            >Burying your head in the sheets, you let out a deep wail. The weight of the day and your daily struggle crashing down.

                                            >The pain in your horn flares intensely as you scream into the covers.

                                            >How are you going to make it through the next few days?

                                            “Why… why, Celestia? Why is this happening to us?” You cry out in the quiet shack.

                                            >What are you going to do for work at the end of the month? You need to work to get enough medicine for both of you.

                                            >What if Tinder doesn’t get better?

                                            >What if you get worse?

                                            >What if-

                                            *Knock* *Knock* Knock*

                                            >The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

                                            >You know who it is. Those knocks came from too high up the door.

                                            “Go away!”

                                            >It’s no use, but you just can’t handle anything else right now.

                                            >”Now, now, Match Stick.”

                                            >The flimsy lock on the front door breaks as the civil servant forces your front door open.

                                            >”Oops, guess I don’t know my own strength.”

                                            >The overweight and balding human scratches the back of his head and steps in. A big smirk on his pockmarked face. The door’s hinges creak as it swings shut behind him.

                                            “Just leave me alone for tonight, please!”

                                            >”Excuse me?”

                                            >He takes a few strides towards you. The smirk still plastered on his pasty visage.

                                            >You grip Tinder’s hoof tighter and try to shrink away from him.

                                            >”Is that anyway to show your thanks-” He slams the wall with an open palm as the tone of his voice turns vicious, causing the whole shack to shake. “-To the person who got you to the front of the worker’s line?”

                                            >He licks his lips as he towers over you.


                                            >Reflexively, you tuck your tail under yourself as far as it can go.

                                            “I’m sick! I can’t do anything tonight!”

                                            >His eyes light up and he reaches into a pocket. It seems he was waiting to hear that.

                                            >”Oh! I heard from your little friends that you were-” He looks at your sick brother.

                                            >You reflexively cover him with your forelegs.

                                            >”-Missing your daily dose. But no need to fear, because I brought us something fun that can help you out. Like the good civil servant I am.”

                                            >He pulls out a bulky, non-descript white pill that instantly makes your body go cold.

                                            >You’ve seen what this does to other mares.

                                            >You know what’ll happen to you if you take it.

                                            “No…”

                                            >”This will help with your symptoms, Match Stick. And it’ll let us have a good time!”

                                            “Oh, Celestia help me.”

                                            >He twirls it in his pudgy fingers, a lascivious grin adorning his slimy face.

                                            “No! You keep that estrus shit away from me!”

                                            >”Now, now, be a good little mare for me.”

                                            >He bends down as you cling to your brother. His sausage fingers reaching out for your head.

                                            >At the same time, your horn feels like electricity is coursing through it. The hot needles stabbing into every millimetre of nerve endings in the small bony protrusion on your forehead.

                                            “Stay away!”

                                            >You reflexively kick out as a particularly painful surge almost makes you blackout. Your back hoof colliding cleanly with his shin.

                                            >He howls in pain and hops away.

                                            >Letting out a gasp, the pain in your forehead swells and swells until it feels like a balloon that’s going to pop.

                                            >A glow starts emitting from the tip of your horn as you spasm from the pain. When the surging feeling peaks, you flail your head and try pulling it off with your hooves. The pain so intolerable that you would rather it be removed from your head.


                                            >”I don’t know what the fuck’s going on with you, but I’m going to fuck you up for that, Sticks-” The civil servant clutches his shin and starts limping over to you. “-You and your little brother.”

                                            >You open your eyes and lock onto him. A focus. A target. Your horn throbs in response.

                                            >”I’m gonna show you the worst fucking hell you, little rat!”

                                            >He stomps over and raises a hand to strike you.

                                            >With a mighty roar, you point your head at him and push.

                                            >From nowhere, a chiming sound rings out before transforming into a synthetic tone.

                                            >An orange aura encapsulates your horn as a bright orange ball forms at the tip.

                                            >Feeling it's now or never, you rise your feet and plant them. Giving one final ‘push’ to the energy in your horn.

                                            >”What the fu-”

                                            >The human’s confused face is silenced as a great lance of orange light fires out of your horn, punching straight through his gut and blasting a hole in the wall behind him. Small tendrils of energy fork out like lightning from the beam, scorching and cutting anything they come into contact with.

                                            >Little bolts of orange light angrily roll over the civil servant's body, slicing off ribbons of flesh and clothes all over him as he is thrown back against the wall with a mighty thud.

                                            >Just as soon as it started, it’s over. The beam dissipating and your horn fizzling with energy.

                                            >Blinking and taking in what just happened, you gasp as the fatigue and pain from before is replaced with a warm and energetic feeling that rolls back and forth from the tip of your horn to your extremities. It washes over your entire body, like taking a warm bath for the first time in years.

                                            >Strength fills your muscles. A Familiar energy invigorates you. And a pleasant buzzing feeling once again sweeps through your entire body before dissipating in the tip of your horn.


                                            >Quickly as it happened, the sensation stops.

                                            >Standing there, you feel like you’re in some of the best shape in your life, a tear comes to your eye as you mentally reach out to your horn again and feel the same warm thrum of energy that you once felt so long ago.

                                            >A scream pulls you out of the moment and you look up to see your neighbour peering through the charred hole in the wall.

                                            >You look down and see the aftermath of what just happened.

                                            >Blood is spattered all over the corner of the room where he stood. His body lies crumpled against a wall, with countless angry lacerations traced across its charred surface.

                                            >Before you can stop yourself, your stomachs turns in protest and you empty its dismal contents.

                                            >Your neighbour gallops away and you wipe your mouth as the reality of the situation crashes down on your mind.

                                            >Hooves carrying you as fast as possible, you dig through a trunk next to one of the mattresses and pull out a small locked box.

                                            >Fumbling with the combination, you start to panic as your hooves won’t move correctly.

                                            >Then you remember.

                                            >With a deep breath, you focus and pull forth that energy again. Your horn lights up with that lovely warm orange aura, and you grab the lock with a phantom hand; carefully twisting the numbers on the side of it to the correct combination and opening it with a satisfying click.

                                            >Inside are a number of crumbled pieces of human money. Your last resort stash.

                                            >Grabbing anything valuable from the room that you can, you stash them all in your saddlebag and use magic to put it on your back. Then you walk over to your younger brother: still panting and delirious with fever to notice what you just did.

                                            “Time to go, Tinder.” You whisper as you pull him out of bed.


                                            >Your legs feel stronger than you can ever remember, and you slowly help the sick colt climb onto your back.

                                            >Looking around one more time at the miserable shack you’ve called home for the past couple of years, you let out a sigh and glance one final time at the mutilated human lying on the ground. >Sharing no words of condolence or sympathy, you whisper good riddance and take off at a light trot.

                                            >It’s high time you got out of these slums, for more than one reason


                                            Part Eleven (11)


                                            >Up. Down. In. Out. Inhale. Exhale. The rhythmic swell of his chest underneath keeps you pleasantly lost half way between sleep and awake.

                                            >The warmth of his body - a constant reminder that you’re no longer in those cages.

                                            >No cold metal beneath a paper thin rag that doubled as a bed.

                                            >No sudden hosing down, which was a signal for the start of a particularly dreadful day.

                                            >But that doesn’t mean you’re not wet at the moment. And no, not just because of the drugs.

                                            >His chest is slick with sweat. The thin sticky film gradually soaking through your coat, slowly making your skin itch.

                                            >As much as you’d enjoy staying here, you know you should start moving.

                                            >Opening your eyes and looking up at Anon - his face is flushed and his hair is messy from perspiration, though the human at least looks like he’s getting some sleep.

                                            >You move a hoof up and place a cold metal horseshoe on his head.

                                            >He gives a relieved sigh. While smiling, you reach up with a wing and wipe some of the sweat from his brow.

                                            >Satisfied, and with a bit of effort, you retract your wings and slowly pull away. Carefully extracting yourself from the sheets so that you don’t disturb him.

                                            >All of your legs are still pleasantly sore from the early morning workout, and there is a lovely burning in your shoulders and haunches. While they still shake under your weight, you feel more confident in your weak limbs than even a few hours ago.

                                            >A quick glance back reminds you of the current state of your body, but you know you shouldn’t waste time dwelling on that.

                                            >You’ll get better. Anon will make sure of it.

                                            >Speaking of getting better, you should grab some food for Anon and yourself.


                                            >Lowering your rear onto the bead and lying down on your stomach, you hang your forelegs over the side and lower them until the horseshoes touch the floor.

                                            >The pain in your hooves is still tolerable, and so you carefully pull yourself off the edge of the bed rather than jumping down.

                                            >”Nnnnn…”

                                            >You spin quickly, but Anon is just groaning in his sleep.

                                            >Letting out your own sigh, you leave the room and head down the hall towards the kitchen.

                                            >As you make steady progress, you hold your head high and give yourself a silent cheer.

                                            >At this rate, you’ll be galloping around the neighbourhood in no-

                                            >One of your legs violently buckles as fatigue overwhelms it. You try getting it under you, but the sudden extra weight on your other limbs makes you stumble.

                                            >Letting out a small yelp and flailing your legs, you collapse head first into a wall with a crunch and a groan.

                                            “C’mon, Tia. What are you, a new born foal?”

                                            >And you’re already talking to yourself.

                                            >There’s a dull pain in your forehead and you’re panting slightly from the effort.

                                            >Maybe you banged your horn...

                                            >Looking up, you feel your heart sink as you see the long bone on your forehead has punched a hole clean through the wall.

                                            “Oh my.”

                                            >A small panic takes over as you jerk your head. This only makes your horn slide and gouge out more of the wall as the tip is pulled out.

                                            >Righting yourself and looking back down, you grimace at the jagged gap in the painted blue panel. There’s no way Anon won’t notice that.

                                            >If only you could still use magic...

                                            >Your thoughts light up as you suddenly remember the scene from this morning’s news.

                                            >That scoring and burn pattern was something you had become quite familiar with over your too long life.


                                            >Though if the report was right, a poor pony may now have another’s blood on their hooves as a result.

                                            >A result of a tragic set of circumstances that spurred your creation of the school for gifted unicorns in Canterlot as a preventative measure. Although that fact wasn’t exactly made public.

                                            >Recalling these details takes you back to some of your fondest memories.

                                            >When you met a most incredible student.

                                            >And how you helped her realize her potential as a pony.

                                            >Where she may be right now, you haven’t the faintest clue. But if she followed the plan, then she and her friends must be responsible in some manner for this new development.

                                            >Still, you desperately wish she was here right now.

                                            >Your thoughts stray as Anon’s sick form briefly interludes on your last memories of her.

                                            >Shaking your head of the haze that’s slowly clouding your mind, you refocus on what needs to be done.

                                            >Today is the perfect opportunity for gathering information and laying some groundwork for the future. But first - Breakfast.

                                            >Leaving the hole behind, you slowly make your way into the kitchen.

                                            >Your water bottle is still sitting on the bench, and you take a quick swig before refilling it and carrying it to Anon.

                                            >He doesn’t stir from his slumber, and so you return to the kitchen and stare down the fridge door.

                                            >Looking at the handles, then back at your hooves, you tap your chin for a few moments before walking up and sitting down in front of it.

                                            >Reaching out and clasping it between your hooves, you wrench it open and enjoy the frigid air that sweeps across you.

                                            >Your wings twitch eagerly at your sides.

                                            >Squashing that hope before it can even bud, you inspect the supplies.

                                            >The healthy amount of greens are easily accessible in the bottom draw, and there are a large variety of meats, cheeses, and some milk.


                                            >You can’t quite see what wrapped items are on the top shelf, even when standing as tall as you can. But your mouth waters as you think you see the outline of some cake up there.

                                            >Without thinking, you raise your forelegs onto a moderately high shelf so you can get a better vantage point.

                                            >The moment you shift your weight, the shelf flips out from under your hoof and scatters its contents across the floor.

                                            >Your hoof continues downward, the metal horseshoe punching through the flimsy glass of the next shelf before you can brace yourself against the door.

                                            >Luckily, the glass only harmlessly cuts through some of the cosmetic covering of the Kevlar wraps on your hoof.

                                            >Standing there, you almost feel like crying at the small disaster zone that has quickly erupted around you.

                                            >But you won’t be stopped by something this trivial. You’ve dealt with much worse in your time.

                                            >Scattered foodstuffs and broken glass be damned, you will cook breakfast.

                                            >You quickly look at the clock hanging on the wall.

                                            >Well… lunch now.

                                            >Carefully extricating your hoof from the fridge and lowering yourself back down, you examine the few things that fell out.

                                            >Most of it is meat. Definitely not for you.

                                            >You learned that lesson a long time ago with the griffons.

                                            >As you carefully pick up the scattered items and place them back in the fridge with your mouth, you read the title of each.

                                            >Maybe this one is something that Anon would like? Hmm.

                                            >Chicken and cheese schnitzel. Sounds good you guess?

                                            >Placing it on the bench and cleaning up as best you can, you carefully approach the oven and look at it.

                                            >It has 3 dials. Two of them are easily recognized temperature and time, but the third is etched with a series of confusing symbols all around the outside.


                                            >Fans, squiggly lines, a light bulb, some dripping water, a pointed star, and other confusing outlines make your head swim as you wonder exactly what specific setting you should use.

                                            >After some fruitless experiments, you settle on the picture with a half squiggle line at the top, and put some of the crumbed meat on the highest tray.

                                            >The plastic box says 15 minutes, but you distinctly remember a human diplomat making some small talk about how he likes his meat well done. So you’ll leave it in until it’s nice and dark.

                                            >Setting the timer and temperature, you fetch an apple from a bowl on the bench and head into the living room.

                                            >Hopping up on the couch is getting easier and easier, though you really should get a towel so you stop staining it every time you sit down.

                                            >Something for next time, maybe.

                                            >Flicking on the news again, you keep the volume low so you can hear Anon if he needs anything.

                                            >The program rolls on for a few minutes, reiterating the known facts of this morning’s news, until the news anchor informs you of an announcement by the current minister for immigration.

                                            >You can already feel yourself bristling as the coverage transitions from the newsroom to a podium surrounded by flags.

                                            >A man -- who you could ‘affectionately’ characterize as a potato -- walks into view.

                                            >You were quite familiar with him. An overweight human with a few wispy strands of hair poking out the top of his round head, whose character was an appropriate rotten mush. He had clearly authoritarian tendencies and saw your ponies as convenient scapegoats for his rise to power

                                            >When you had arrived in this place, he hadn’t much sway. That had changed as the burden of pony refugees in human society increased, and he spearheaded hard-line approaches on the response to the pony crisis.


                                            >Taking an angry bite from the apple, you focus through the slight haze that still addles your mind so that you can dissect what this detestable human is about to say. A small fear in your heart warning you that this moment may be a significant turning point for human-pony relations.

                                            >With a phlegmy clearing of his throat, he starts.

                                            >”My fellow countrymen. I stand before you appalled, and regrettably, vindicated at the disgusting acts carried out last night in Refugee District Nine. Between the hours of seven and nine o’clock, one of our finest and most dedicated civil servants, who devoted himself tirelessly to the aid of these… Ponies…”

                                            >The word drips of his tongue like venom as he scowls.

                                            >”Was attacked. His selflessness -- a key hallmark of the values we hold dear -- rewarded with a disgusting act of depraved and excessive violence. An act which deformed his body in such a way that we as of this point have been unable to the nature of the method by which he was taken from us.”

                                            “I’m sure he was as despicable as you, you monster.”

                                            >You mutter under your breath and squeeze the apple in between your hooves before taking another bite.

                                            “No, Celestia, you need composure.”

                                            >You scold yourself and try to keep your temper in check as he continues.

                                            >”We have opened our arms and emptied our pockets so that we may take care of these desperate creatures in their time of need - and they have rewarded us with nothing but contempt, violence, and exploitation of our good will. Now, the member opposite me has continued in his stubborn ignorance, and insistence, that these... Leeches... On our society are victims? Well. I now point to the true victims.


                                            >A single crocodile tear rolls down his cheek and he taps the podium with a grubby finger.

                                            >”This earnest young man - who was taken from us last night for showing kindness to these visitors from another world.”

                                            >He raises a hand and gestures at the flags behind him.

                                            >”Our country - which has shown exemplary human standards of compassion and love. As such, I am announcing the roll-out of long sought after changes to the Sentient Pony and other Equestrian’s Entitlement Coordination and Integrated Employment Services act.

                                            >You throw the apple at the ground where it bounces with a heavy thud.

                                            “That’s because you’re exploiting them, you decrepit sack of human life!”

                                            >You yell at the T.V. as your hooves shake.

                                            >”For too long, they have been allowed to do as they will in their communities. Spreading violence and degeneracy where they go. And now I say enough is enough. The amendment I will be proposing this afternoon will ensure harsher restrictions on medicine and food rationing. And it will also reduce privileges already generously afforded to those who, grudgingly and apathetically, contribute paltry scraps back to our nation. My hope is: that if they learn that they are not entitled to a free ride - then they will learn an appreciation. For hard work. For contributing back to the people. For this country, which has already given them so much.”

                                            >A vein feels like it will burst in your forehead as applause erupts around the podium, and you stick your head into the cushions.

                                            >You want to yell and scream until your throat is ragged. Instead, you crumple into the couch, exhausted. A small trail of tears falling down your face.


                                            >You’ve been gone for too long. That man had been a thorn in your side back then, and now he’s become a dagger at your ponies’ throats.

                                            >Several moments pass of you hurling insults at yourself, the faces of the ponies you failed flashing like a kaleidoscope in your mind until Anon’s appears at the forefront. An inappropriate question breaks through the turmoil.

                                            >What would they all think of you and him?

                                            >And what does he think of you?

                                            >Standing up, you wipe away the tears and swallow heavily.

                                            >There’s no use dwelling on this anymore than you have at the moment.

                                            >Turning off the T.V. to get away from that disgusting scene, you carefully make your way back down the hall so you can go check on Anon.

                                            >On the way, you walk past the staircase that leads up to the second floor that lies across from the kitchen.

                                            >You’d noticed them before, but Anon had never gone up there. He’s never talked about upstairs or even looked in their general direction as far as you could tell.

                                            >A thin film of dust lies on the handrail. After giving a nervous glance down the hall, making sure Anon is still sleeping, you silently approach and make your way up the stairs.

                                            >The vertical progress is tough, and several times your legs are so sore that you feel like going back down. But you feel you need to see what’s up here.

                                            >With one final burst of effort and some flailing wings for an extra boost, you make it to the top of the staircase.

                                            >There aren’t many rooms up here, and the landing leads off into a small corridor before shortly terminating.

                                            >Nerves on edge, and ears flicking back and forth so they can catch any sounds, you walk towards the first door and pull the handle down. The door cracks open, and with a push, swings the rest of the way.


                                            >You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, as a normal bedroom greets you.

                                            >The air is a bit musty, and there’s more dust on all the bedside tables and other surfaces in the room.

                                            >Neatly made and untouched, a large queen sized bed sits in the middle. A large collection of photos sit in frames around the room, adding a warm feeling that breaks up the ghostly atmosphere.

                                            >In most of them, there is a blonde woman doing something.

                                            >Sometimes she’s sitting across the table from the camera, smiling and holding back a laugh. Others have her hanging of Anon and holding his hand.

                                            >Looking at their digits intertwined annoys you. You look at your own wrapped hoofs and huff, your tail flicking in irritation.

                                            >That feeling goes away when you come across a photo of her and a pony.

                                            >She’s a young green mare wrapped in bandages. Tears roll down her face and she’s smiling from ear to ear as she hugs the woman with all her might.

                                            >A warmth blossoms in your chest as you find another.

                                            >This time a unicorn stallion shakes her hand with a hoof. His horn broken and an entire ear reduced to a stump, but a smile sits wide on his face as he looks at her and she scratches the one that is still there.

                                            >You feel that you would like her and idly wonder what happened. Though from experience, everything that you’ve seen so far isn’t a good sign.

                                            >A quick scout of the rest of the room reveals a walk in wardrobe full of a human woman's clothes, and drawers full of undergarments.

                                            >There’s a bit too much green for your liking, but you can see from the photos that it was definitely her colour.

                                            >Half of the space for clothes in the room is cleared out, and there's no signs of any men’s clothes. Anon must have moved them downstairs.


                                            >Guilt slowly creeps at the corners of your mind.

                                            >What you were doing up here -- while maybe not explicitly wrong -- certainly wasn’t right by Anon.

                                            >It’s almost like you're disturbing a gravestone.

                                            >But the curiosity burning within you won’t stop.

                                            >Its imperative you find out as much about Anon as you can if you’re to trust him any further.

                                            >Plus, this acts as a nice distraction from the infuriating announcement you just watched.

                                            >Carefully closing the door behind you, you move onto the next door.

                                            >Anticipation builds as you slowly open it, before deflating into disappointment as an empty linen cupboard is revealed.

                                            >There are only three doors left up here. If you’ll find something important here, it’ll be in the next few-

                                            >*BEEP* *BEEP*, *BEEP* *BEEP.

                                            >Your hair stands on end and your wings spasm at your sides at the sudden alarm coming from downstairs.

                                            >*BEEP* BEEP*, *BEEP* BEEP*.

                                            >It takes you a moment before you realise it must be the oven.

                                            >Cursing under your breath - you head back downstairs slowly as the machine incessant beeps. The whole time your ears keen for any noise coming from the bedroom.

                                            >By the time you make it to the oven, the beeping turns itself off. Uttering a few more curses, you open the door and check on the meat.

                                            >The surface is a dark brown going on black. Perfect.

                                            >Fanning it slightly with your wings, you dig out a plate and a spatula from the surrounding draws and put the ‘well done’ chicken and cheese schnitzel on the plate.

                                            >A quick search also finds you a knife and fork, and with a bit of force you cut open the middle by wielding the knife in your mouth so you can check the insides.


                                            >Slightly pink in the middle and not overly hot. Just like those diplomats described it.

                                            “Oh you’re too good, Celestia.”

                                            >Humming in satisfaction; you balance the plate on your back, add another apple for good measure, and carry it down the hall to Anon. The whole way being especially careful not to wobble or fall over.

                                            >Anon is still fast asleep.

                                            >You place the food on his bedside table and wipe the new layer of sweat from his forehead with the tip of a wing.

                                            >His eyes slowly flutter open and he looks over at you.

                                            >”Heyyy, Cellyyy.” He weakly says before closing his eyes again. “Something wrong?”

                                            “Good afternoon, Anon. And no, nothing’s wrong-” Beside the hole in the wall and the shattered shelf in the fridge. “-I just made you something to eat and got you some water. They’re both on the bedside table when you're feeling up to it.”

                                            >He reaches out and scratches behind your ear. The firm pressure creates a pleasant tingling sensation that goes a short way down the back of your neck.”

                                            >”Thanks, babe.”

                                            >There it is again. That pet name that humans use for each other.

                                            >”I didn’t know you could cook steak.” He chuckles to himself while inspecting the blackened food.

                                            “I’m a mare of many talents, Anon.” You do your best to sound mature and responsible, but you know it’s a hard sell when you’re keeping your eyes closed and leaning into his ministrations.

                                            >”So I’m learning.” He retracts his hand despite your objections. “I’ll have some soon, not too hungry right now.”

                                            >He rolls over and buries his head in the pillow.

                                            “Alright then, Anon. Just, make sure you eat something. And get plenty of rest.”

                                            >The sick human mumbles something that you can’t quite make out before going silent.


                                            >Leaving the room and closing the door until the opening is a thin crack, you lick your lips and set your eyes on the stairs once again.

                                            >Your legs still burn from all the work you’ve done today, but you’re not finished yet.

                                            >It's time for you to discover what’s in those other rooms.


                                            Part twelve (12)


                                            >Just do it, Celestia.

                                            >It’s easy.

                                            >Hooves on the handle and push.

                                            “Hmm.”

                                            >You’ve been sitting in front of this door for twenty minutes now. Going back and forth in your head. Deciding whether you should take the plunge.

                                            >It really does feel like you’re crossing a line here. Still - the more you think about it, the more correct this decision seems.

                                            >You don’t know Anon.

                                            >He may have saved you from that hell and helped you at your worst.

                                            >But you noticed the strange way he was acting this morning.

                                            >The avoidant body language is a sour note. Even after he did ‘that’ with you - a pleasant memory that you may revisit tonight if Anon still isn’t feeling well.

                                            >He had been acting strange after Emily talked to him about something yesterday. But she didn’t tell you what it was about.

                                            >Sure it's a big task ahead for the both of you, and you’re certainly scared to Tartarus at the prospect of it. But a millennia of intuition -- built from being around ponies and knowing the secrets they can hold -- tells you that there is something more than mere apprehension here.

                                            >Why would he put in all this effort and then back out?

                                            >A question with an answer that may be in one of the rooms up here.

                                            >Besides, he never explicitly said these places were off limits. And he would never treat you like an actual slave, telling you what you can and can’t do... Right?

                                            >With a nervous hoof, you pull the handle down and push. Ears keen for any noise coming from downstairs.

                                            >The door swings open and your breath hitches.

                                            >A surge of panic flows through your legs, but you take a calming breath and focus on what’s in front of you

                                            >The room is a war-zone of smashed furniture and walls with holes punched in them.


                                            >Shredded papers litter the ground and various technological devices have been obliterated - their broken contents scattered across the room.

                                            >A large desk sits against a wall, sundered straight down the middle. A couple of broken computer monitors sitting on top of it.

                                            >Despite all this, there is something that can be described as normal in this room.

                                            >In the corner is a small, simple desk with a laptop computer and a chair. On the wall behind it is a large collection of newspaper clippings and printed out articles, and nearby is a large filing cabinet.

                                            >A peaceful little corner amid all the chaos.

                                            >Head held low and wings shuffling restlessly at your sides, you carefully navigate through the scraps littering the ground.

                                            >You struggle imagining someone like Anon doing this, but that’s all you can think of.

                                            >Still, that picture of him tearing through the room. His strong muscles breaking everything to pieces. A primal rage on his face. Sweat rolling down his body as he lifted those weights.

                                            >Your tail flicks and a pleasant tingle racing down your spine giving you pause. A quick shake clears your head of the gathering haze.

                                            >With a bit of awkward maneuvering, you push the chair out of the way and open the laptop

                                            >Unfortunately, access to the device is locked behind a password.

                                            >Giving a frustrated huff, you close the lid and push it aside.

                                            >Quickly looking over at the large filing cabinet, your curiosity starts burning again

                                            >There’s no way that you can grab the handle on the bottom cabinet drawer, so you bend down and bite it between your teeth and pull.

                                            >After a bit of resistance, it slowly slides out, revealing a large selection manila folders bursting at the seams.

                                            >Your stomach drops at the name written on top of one of them.


                                            >It’s a name of a place you know too well.

                                            >After all, Anon just bought you from there.

                                            >Checking behind your shoulder for anybody watching, you pull it out with your mouth and place it on the desk.

                                            >Turning the pages with a wing, you swiftly pour over the contents.

                                            >The first few are filled with various legal statements, financial overviews, operating costs, and other insignificant details.

                                            >As you turn the page again, the next one lights up with red, black, and blue pen marks. Little scribbles litter the margins and various circles are drawn around items listed on the page with connecting lines linking them together.

                                            >Wait. Not Items. Names. Pony names.

                                            >A title almost illegible under the various scribbling reads: Product Transaction History.

                                            >It stretches on for several more pages, going through the life of the business.

                                            >The mad scribbling gradually settles down, until you catch up to recent times.

                                            >On a page near the end of the document is a section with three names circled.

                                            >’Snow white’, ‘Aurora Borealis’, ‘Sharp Wing’.

                                            >They’re all underlined, circled, and have arrows pointing at a word scrawled in big black letters.

                                            >’CELESTIA’.

                                            >After that, the markings stop. That is until you reach the end, where a small note written at the end of the transaction history says: ‘Found you’.

                                            >The rest of the documents are filled with irrelevant nonsense

                                            >Before you even close the folder, a myriad of wild theories are raging in your head.

                                            >But you need more information.

                                            >With a grunt, you put the folder back and take out another.

                                            >This one is from the penultimate place where you were held.

                                            >Again the same irrelevant documents, again with the pen markings and inane scribbles, before finally terminating with three more names circled and their place of delivery underlined.

                                            >Mark’s warehouse.


                                            >The next few hours pass in a blaze as you go over the rest of the folders in the drawer. The same story in each one. Their history telling a story of your travels while enslaved.

                                            >Sometimes it’s a warehouse.

                                            >Sometimes it’s an actual house.

                                            >Sometimes it’s even in an office building.

                                            >But never in one place for too long. That detail you remember quite clearly.

                                            >All of them match up with the names of places you were held, though there are gaps in your knowledge from times you were so drugged up that you couldn’t comprehend anything.

                                            >Eventually, you reach the end of the drawer and close it before moving up to the next one, finding the same thing.

                                            >You repeat the process, now rapidly scanning the documents and absorbing their contents before moving on. Hundreds of years of dealing with bureaucratic nonsense lightening the load significantly, though the occasional wayward explicit fantasy might also be helping.

                                            >It’s very simple understanding what Anon was doing. Slavers would use singular pony names for regular ponies. But expensive ponies -- or ones that were otherwise well known in the public eye -- have their transactions split up and buried on different dates under separate acquisition names. Often using unique naming conventions for each business.

                                            >The trail suddenly ends with a specific collection of folders, each with their own separate copies, detailing the operations of fairly disconnected franchises.

                                            >Upon inspection, you discover these are the bread crumb enterprises that he first studied while looking for you. Though it doesn’t strike you as likely he would have known where to look on his own.

                                            >You’re only guessing, but you can also imagine that documents this detailed weren’t the easiest things to come by.


                                            >A small smile tugs at the corner your mouth at all the effort he went through looking for you.

                                            >But you can’t let down your guard just yet.

                                            >Hoisting yourself up on shaky hooves, you lean your tired forelegs around the sides of the cabinet and place them against the wall for balance.

                                            >You bend your neck over, grab the highest drawer handle in your mouth, and pull.

                                            >It doesn’t budge.

                                            >With a frustrated huff, you readjust your stance and try again.

                                            >No luck.

                                            >Taking a moment to calm yourself and ready your body - you latch onto the handle and pull with all your feeble might.

                                            >Leaning back, you can feel it slowly sliding out.

                                            >With one final heave and a few strong flaps of your wings, you throw your weight back and the drawer comes flying out - its contents only a few folders large.

                                            >You give a muffled cheer around the handle.

                                            >The victory is short lived however, when the filing cabinet starts tipping towards you.

                                            >Hooves scrape desperately at the flat wall as you scramble for purchase, but to no avail.

                                            >Letting out a cry as you fall backwards, the top heavy monolith follows after, crashing down on top of you.

                                            >A sharp pain blossoms in your shoulder as the heavy metal container slams into your prone form.

                                            >Wincing and sucking air in through your teeth, you look around and inspect the damage.

                                            >Folders are scattered across the floor, the only saving grace the fact that you placed all the ones you’d already gone through on the desk.

                                            >You can already feel a nice welt growing where the cabinet landed on you.

                                            >After some concentrated effort, you laboriously work your way out from under it.

                                            >Rising to your hooves is difficult, as your injured leg struggles holding your weight.

                                            >Opting for a few moments of rest, you focus on the spilled contents.


                                            >There are more manila folders, but this time there’s is a photo sticking out the side of one.

                                            >Sitting on your rear and blowing some wayward mane out of your face, you drag it out with a curious hoof.

                                            >For a moment, your mind goes blank as you take in everything.

                                            >It’s not like it’s very hard understanding what’s happening in the image. In fact, it’s quite easy.

                                            >A dead pony lies in a dimly lit room.

                                            >The yellow coat and brown mane are matted with filth and grime that matches his surroundings. His body: a starved and crumpled mass on a dusty, dilapidated cot that sits only slightly off the ground.

                                            >Numerous splits and crack in his hooves and the unnatural bends in his back legs combined with multiple visible bruises and contusions tell you that he didn’t have the most pleasant time before he passed.

                                            >Covered head to hoof in scars and maggot filled wounds, the pony stares with lifeless eyes at the camera.

                                            >Any other detail about where or when this happened isn’t present.

                                            >But a question smoulders in the back of your thoughts.

                                            >Why does Anon have this photo?

                                            >Your hoof shaking, you open the folder you found it in.

                                            >That’s strange, why is your hoof shaking? You’ve seen dead ponies before, this should be nothing.

                                            >You hold it down with another hoof, but realize that one is shaking as well.

                                            >In fact, your entire body has a slight tremor rocking through it as a single question pops up in your head.

                                            >Surely Anon isn’t responsible for what happened to this pony… Right?

                                            >’Y’know, it cost considerably more to find you than to buy you.’ His words ring in the back of your mind.

                                            >Glancing through the entranceway at the other door on this floor; a fear grips your heart as your mind runs wild with speculation.


                                            >Shaking your head, you look back down at the folder and flick through the pages.

                                            >The contents are eerily undisturbed. No random scribblings. No contemporaneous notes scrawled in the margins. Just a single red line under a name at the end. Followed by two words you’ve seen before, written in jagged red ink.

                                            >’FOUND YOU’

                                            >Slamming the folder shut, you scramble onto your hooves and exit the room, hastily pulling the door closed behind you.

                                            >Taking big gulps of air, you feel like your lungs are suffocating as you limp over towards one of the final two doors.

                                            >Shaky hooves urgently grabbing the handle. You push it open, revealing a bathroom.

                                            >Like a weight was suddenly taken of your back, some semblance of calm sweeps over you as you take a deep and filling breath. Unfortunately, a specter still hangs over your thoughts.

                                            >Carefully, with ears pivoting back and forth like a weathervane, you approach the final door, reach up with a hoof, pull on the handle and-

                                            *Kachink*

                                            >The details of the photo race through your mind as you pull again.

                                            *Kachink*

                                            >Letting out a whimper, you frantically push and pull on the locked door, but it doesn’t budge.

                                            >Laying down on your belly and looking under the crack at the bottom of the door is fruitless.

                                            >Mind filling with disgusting images, you get back up and head down the stairs.

                                            >You bound down them nearly two at a time, caution thrown to the wind, until you near the bottom floor landing and are immediately reminded that your legs have been severely taxed today.

                                            >Your injured leg buckles and you go tumbling down the last few steps, striking your horn mid-fall.

                                            >With a loud series clinks from your horseshoes hitting the tiles, you land sprawled on the floor at the bottom.


                                            >Head swimming. Thoughts scattered to hell and back. A dull pain in your horn. Secrets uncovered after snooping around. A hole in the wall. A shattered fridge shelf.

                                            “You really can’t be left alone. Can you, Celestia?”

                                            >The bump on the head ends up being just what you needed as your mind stops conjuring up wild conspiracies, giving you time so that you can calm down and re-examine the facts.

                                            >Anon was looking for you. He said he wants to help you. He went through quite a bit finding you. He had a human marefriend who helped ponies - who is also mysteriously absent.

                                            >He must have been looking for that pony so he could help it, but was a bit late. The human has already done so much for you; and his current behaviour must be related in some way to this missing human woman, and how intimate both of you have gotten in such a short time.

                                            >You need more information about what happened between Anon and that woman before you can resolve this situation.

                                            >Yeah. That’s right. Good conclusion Celestia.

                                            >No way Anon looks for ponies that he can nurse to full health so that he can brutally torture them to death afterwards.

                                            “Of course! That would be silly. Anon being a monster like that. Haha… Ha…”

                                            >Nervously laughing at yourself, you peek down the hallway at Anon still lying in bed- undisturbed by your antics.

                                            >Swallowing heavily, you check the nearby front door.

                                            >The deadbolts on the top and bottom of the door are surprisingly unlocked.

                                            >And although the door handle is a bit more cumbersome than the ones upstairs, you eventually get a solid grip on it and twist.

                                            *Click*

                                            >The door swings open - and the sight of green grass, asphalt roads, suburban houses, and tall trees meets you. As you take in the sights of the surrounding neighbourhood, a breeze of cool wind carries the smell of cut grass across your nose.


                                            >The sound of a motor running carries across the way, as you see a pony -- wearing earmuffs and a high-vis vest with the words ‘voluntary citizen’ sewn into it -- driving a modified ride-on lawn mower a few houses down on the other side of the road.

                                            >Watching him drive the contraption around -- barrel strapped onto a slanted cushion while he works the brake and accelerating pads on the sides with his hind legs -- is almost comical, enhanced by the bored out of his mind look on the stallion's face as he rounds another corner by twisting the wheel with his hooves.

                                            >As you laugh into a hoof, he looks up from his work and spots you.

                                            >His head perks up and tilts to the side while you freeze on the spot.

                                            >Very slowly, he lifts a hoof and waves at you.

                                            >Checking that no one else can see you, you raise a hoof and wave back.

                                            >A moment of staring at each other passes, before you snap out of it and urgently signal for him to watch what he is doing.

                                            >The stallion shakes his head of his stupor and realizes a moment too late as the ride-on lawnmower careens off the grass and straight into the side of a car parked in the driveway.

                                            >Flinching and offering quiet words of condolence, you retreat out of view as he looks down in horror at what he just did.

                                            “Can’t even go outside without causing trouble, can you ‘Princess’?”

                                            >Bad mood aside, a lot of your suspicions of Anon are fading by the second.

                                            >He didn’t even lock the front door.

                                            >You can leave whenever you want.

                                            >The tall human really meant it when he said you were free.

                                            >But you’re not free. Not truly. Anon pointed out as much.

                                            >And though you have some skepticism towards his spiel about you being brought back to him within the week if you escaped, a small nagging thought whispers that this place truly is the safest place you can be right now.


                                            >Who knows what kind of person would pick you up if they found you wandering the streets?

                                            >The photo of the desecrated pony’s body flashes across your thoughts.

                                            >No. You don’t think you’ll be leaving just yet.

                                            >With a sigh, you pull the door shut again and wander back through the house.

                                            >You’ll ask Anon later about the locked room, but for now you’ll settle for checking out the rest of the ones on the bottom floor.

                                            >There’s the workout room - still heavy with Anon’s scent. Your tail twitches at the thought of revisiting this room later on in private.

                                            >The bathroom still gives you chills from just looking at the door. You’ll be fine with waiting for Anon before tackling that place again.

                                            >An actual clean and organized study lies behind the next door - with another laptop and walls lined with books.

                                            >There’s also an additional unused spare bedroom with a closet stuffed full of junk.

                                            >Finally there’s the garage and the laundry.

                                            >Ignoring the car: the garage itself is littered with human trinkets, tools, and handheld machines.

                                            >A cursory inspection doesn’t reveal how they work, though you can guess at their function. Anon will have to tell you more about them later when he’s better. A small twinge of loneliness stirs in your chest as you leave.

                                            >Twilight would have loved going wild in this place.

                                            >Pushing that thought deep down, you move onto the last room.

                                            >A few unwashed sheets sit in the laundry. The visible stains and the odor wafting off of them makes pinpricks of shame stab at your cheeks.

                                            >As you turn around and leave, you spot something out of the corner of your eye that makes your blood rush.

                                            >There’s a small pile of pills under some jeans on the counter.

                                            >Your tongue licks your lips on impulse as little flames of excitement dance through your body.


                                            >They’re right there.

                                            >And there are so many of them.

                                            >You’re legs are so sore. Your horn and shoulder hurt.

                                            >You’ve worked so hard today, you deserve a reward.

                                            >It would be such a… ‘Relief’.

                                            >All it would take is-

                                            >No.

                                            >Turning around, you start walking towards the exit.

                                            >Getting off this junk as soon as possible is a top priority.

                                            >Your body halts a short way from the door-

                                            >Not giving in is important.

                                            >A hoof takes a trembling step back against your will-

                                            >Especially if ponies are regaining their magic. What would they think if their princess was messed up when they asked her for help?

                                            >Several more tepid hoof-steps follow as you turn around and edge closer to the clump of pills-

                                            >You need to be ready and in top mental shape for what’s coming your way.

                                            >They’re within your reach right now. You bite your lips as heat starts building in your waist-

                                            >You need to be the princess that Anon wants you to be.

                                            >Just lean over and-

                                            >No! You. Need. To. Stay. In. Con-trol!

                                            >But you still haven’t had your half pill for tonight, right? Anon shouldn’t be too mad if you have a stronger dose. Hell, you’ve earned it after all you’ve been through today. And you think you can feel a bit of pain in your gut. Yeah, you definitely feel that. Guess there’s not much else you can do, right?

                                            >A giddy laugh escapes your lips as your tongue counts out and curls around one and a half pills, pulling them into your salivating mouth.

                                            >Besides, this will feel absolutely incredible.

                                            >With an eager gulp you swallow them.

                                            >Your tongue hangs out as you let out a husky breath. Your mind already wandering to last night’s activities.

                                            >It won’t be long now.

                                            *Ding Dong*


                                            >You panic and quickly trot out of the room at the sound of the doorbell, the pain in your legs already slowly fading as a warm flower starts blooming inside of you.

                                            >”I ordered some pizza a while ago, Celestia. Could you get that for me? The front door should be unlocked.” A sickly Anon calls out from the bedroom.

                                            >Like a bucket of ice water being dumped on your head, the reality of what you just did crashes down on you.

                                            “S-Sure thing, A-Anon!” You yell out before biting your lip, a shaky excitement carrying in your voice despite your best efforts.

                                            >”Thanks, Celly. It’s all paid for, so just grab it and bring it in here.”

                                            “O-Okay.”

                                            >Tail swishing, hips swinging, and wings fidgeting; you walk up the hall and approach the front door. As the doorbell rings again, your mind grows hazier.

                                            >When you reach for the door handle, a bolt of electric pleasure races up and down your spine, making your body shiver.

                                            >This is going to be a big one. Maybe too big. You just hope Anon isn’t so sick that he can't 'deal' with you right now.


                                            Part Thirteen (13)


                                            >”O-Okay.” Comes the unsteady answer from somewhere down the hall.

                                            >Usually you’d be curious at a response like that, but right now, your weak muscles and swimming head are suffering from a pretty strong case of man flu.

                                            >Lying there - you take another forlorn look at the burnt chicken on the bedside table.

                                            >That first bite almost made you throw up when your tongue slid across the slimy undercooked meat inside of it.

                                            >Though you felt bad for snubbing Celestia’s efforts, it was a necessary thing if you wanted something edible today. You only hoped that the half cheese/half vegetarian pizza would soften the blow on her self-esteem

                                            >After all, she had been so confident that she could take care of you.

                                            >Speaking of the mare, you can’t hear her. A strange thing considering the door is open and the front door isn’t too far down the hall.

                                            >She should have balanced the pizza on her back or dragged it down the hallway or something by now.

                                            >Quickly checking your phone, you confirm that you did pay for it already when the screen shows a ‘delivered’ message.

                                            “Celestia?”

                                            >No response.

                                            “Celly?”

                                            >Oh man, she must have taken it harder than you thought.

                                            >Like a light bulb suddenly went off in your head, you realize how stupid what you just did was.

                                            >You sent the missing leader and high level monarch of another race of sentient beings to answer the front door. A pony who -- when whoever took her realizes she isn’t where they left her -- will probably be pursued by a number of malicious parties.

                                            >And you’re blowing what little cover you have over some pizza.

                                            >Compelled by the additional fact that she’s in an incredibly vulnerable state at the moment, you slowly peel the sticky sheets of your sweaty body and walk down the hall.

                                            “Celestia?”

                                            >No response.


                                            “Hey, Celestia!”

                                            >Not again, you can’t do this again.

                                            “Celestia?! Where are you?!”

                                            >Dizzily thumping down the hallway, you hear muffled sounds coming from the kitchen.

                                            >Oh thank god. She’s probably just upset that you didn’t let her make dinner.

                                            >As you get closer, you recognize a heavy scent in the air. At least her non-stop arousal is useful for something.

                                            “Hey, Celly. Sorry about the pizza, it’s just-” Ignoring a horn shaped hole in the wall, you go around the corner into the kitchen. “Oh god. Celly…”

                                            >Celestia is still in the house alright, though something is terribly wrong.

                                            >She’s bent over, her chest on the ground with both forelegs extended out in front, pushing against the tiled kitchen floor.

                                            >Her wings are extended wide but rest limply against the ground.

                                            >The mare’s rear is held high and pressed up against a vertical metal handle of a kitchen cupboard.

                                            >Irises of her half lidded eyes dilated and wandering aimlessly, she grinds up and down against the now slick protrusion. Small whinnies occasionally escaping her open mouth where a tongue lazily hangs out - the end dragging on the floor and forming a small puddle of drool.

                                            >Oh no.

                                            >Briskly leaving her and checking the laundry, you quickly count out how many estrus pills are missing.

                                            >Oh, no, no, no, no. You complete goddamned idiot. You left them out?!

                                            >After storing them out of reach, you head back, noticing on the way back the pizza boxes discarded on the ground near the front door next to a small liquid stain, a thin trail of clear liquid leading away from it towards the kitchen.

                                            >As you walk in the kitchen again. Celestia moans loudly and shudders, a gush of fluids soaking the cabinet behind her and showering down on the floor,


                                            >She closes her eyes and mewls, a small shiver rolling back and forth through her body.

                                            >Eventually her movements relax - though she’s still locked in the same position.

                                            >The respite is only brief; before she grins, giggles to herself, and starts grinding her hips again.

                                            “Celly?” You carefully approach her.

                                            >She moans at the sound of her own name.

                                            “Hey… How you doing, girl?”

                                            >No response. Her eyes continue staring into space and her moans intensify as she gradually increases her pace. Lewd squelches of her ministrations filling the kitchen.

                                            >An annoying part of your mind chimes in that if you weren’t feeling like shit right now, then your shorts would be much tighter.

                                            >Shaking those thoughts away, you form a plan of attack.

                                            “Ok... Celestia? Princess? Celly?”

                                            >She grins at the nickname and quickens her pace.

                                            “Celly? If it’s ok, could you please stop and take a few deep breaths.”

                                            >The randy pony ignores you.

                                            >You walk up and crouch beside her.

                                            >Before you can say anything, her nostrils flare and her eyes go wide. She looks sidelong at your crotch with wild eyes and licks her lips.

                                            “Now, now. Hold on, Celly...” You hold your hands up defensively

                                            >It’s no use. She lets out a feral whinny and reaches for your leg.

                                            >As you stand up and move back, her hooves desperately follow you. Awkwardly twisting her body as she pulls her rear off the cupboard handle.

                                            >Moving back towards the corridor and out of reach, you carefully keep an eye on her. She gives a frustrated snort before putting her hooves under herself and standing upright.

                                            >The drugs must be hitting her quite hard. Although her lusty eyes have a ferocious focus on you, her head is held low. It floats and meanders back and forth, side to side, almost like a drunk’s.


                                            >Her hind legs are bowed and shaking; and a trail of clear fluid drips incessantly down to the ground, starting a new puddle below where she stands. Her chest heaves with heavy breaths while nostrils flare.

                                            >Wings flapping lazily at her sides, her lips curl into an excited grin and her flagging tail flicks as you stare each other down.

                                            “Easy, Celly…”

                                            >Pawing on the spot, a snort is the only reply the voracious mare gives, her eyes daring you to look away.

                                            >Your efforts are so focused on holding her gaze, that you don’t notice the rapidly approaching wall as you walk backwards.

                                            >All it takes is the small bump and your eyes quickly flicking away; and with the scrambling of horseshoes on tiles, Celestia is off.

                                            >You glance back and see her spastically galloping across the kitchen floor, her weak legs struggling with her weight and urgency. But she’s still fast nonetheless.

                                            >Having a 5 foot drugged up Alicorn charging you down in your own home so she can get at your dick was not something you saw happening today.

                                            >Time for Plan B

                                            >Quickly dodging down the hallway, you barely move out of the way in time as Celestia goes careening into the wall. Her horn punching another hole clean through it.

                                            >She lets out an angry whiny and pulls herself free. Her eyes still focused on you as she shakes her head and starts galloping after you.

                                            >Before she can catch up, you duck inside the bathroom as her momentum sends her scrambling past.

                                            >While she recovers, you approach the shower and get the water flowing.

                                            >Celestia comes back to the doorway, her multicolour mane a frazzled mess hanging over her face as she tucks her wings into her sides.


                                            >Her ears swivel and lower to the sides at the sound of running water. Although she still eyes you hungrily and bites her lip.

                                            >The big mare carefully toes the threshold with a hoof, before pulling it back and stomping in frustration.

                                            >Eyeing you down with a hungry look, she huffs and starts pacing back and forth in the doorway.

                                            >Ok. You have her at the bathroom. Now it’s time for some bait.

                                            “Hey. Celestia.” You quickly strip your clothes and stand near the door.

                                            >She stops pacing and looks at you, or rather, a specific part of you. A loud appreciative whiny escapes her before she utters a single, slurred word.

                                            >”Mine.”

                                            >Grinning and snorting with flared nostrils, she stops briefly at the threshold.

                                            >Then, with shaky legs, she takes a tepid step into the bathroom, then another, and another.

                                            >It’s slow progress, and with each step she takes, you take a step back. All the way until you climb in the bath and stand under the running water.

                                            >Head still hot and dizzy with sickness, you hold it under the water and let out a sigh of relief.

                                            >Celestia meanwhile has reached the precipice of the tub, but she hesitates.

                                            “C’mon, Celly. We’ve done this before. ”

                                            >She eyes the steady stream.

                                            >Her hips jerk slightly and she looks up at you with dopey eyes.

                                            “Nope.”

                                            >She looks back down and thinks for a moment. Head slowly swaying back and forth the whole time. After a short while, she nods and starts slowly climbing into the tub.

                                            >You bend down and help her. Though with how weak your own muscles are, all you can do is lift her barrel, taking some of the weight off her legs.

                                            >With a final shudder, she enters the stream and stands partway under it with you.

                                            >She finally takes her eyes of your member and looks you in the face, a triumphant smile painted on her own.


                                            >You let out another sigh and scratch her ear.

                                            >Celestia gives an impatient huff, and pushes your hand away before refocusing on your privates.

                                            “Alright, alright. Just let me sit down first.”

                                            >Your muscles groan in pain and you almost fall over as you lower yourself down.

                                            >When your rear finally hits the basin and you lean against the back of the tub, Celestia wastes no time and dives head first into your crotch.

                                            >What follows is probably one of the most awkward 5 minutes of your life.

                                            >No matter what she does, from how she licks to the sounds she makes, your member refuses to stand to attention. And not for a lack of trying. That’s for certain.

                                            >The new sensation of her broad tongue dragging along the sensitive skin of your member frequently sends shivers up your spine.

                                            >A few times you think you might even be getting into it, but then a wave of fatigue and dizziness washes over you, sapping all your strength and libido.

                                            >Eventually, Celestia retreats and lightly bats at it with a hoof. A whimper escaping her lips as she looks up at you and jerks her hips.

                                            “Sorry Celestia.”

                                            >You shrug at her, so she instead goes down to your fingers and starts nudging them with her nose

                                            “I don’t think I’m quite up for that. Though I think I have an idea for what we can do until you settle down.”

                                            >Her head is a bit steadier now, and it's clear that she understands on some level what you’re saying, but she still has that hazy look in her eyes.

                                            >Reaching past her, you grab the detachable shower head and pull it down.

                                            >Celestia tilts her head.

                                            >”Now scooch up on here.” You pat your legs.

                                            >The large mare obliges, and parks her rear on top of you.

                                            >Leaving the shower head aside for a moment, your reach under and lift Celestia's rear while moving your legs, so she ends up perched on top of your slightly spread thighs.


                                            >She appreciates the physical contact but still looks confused as ever.

                                            >That is until you grab the showerhead and carefully bring it a short distance from her nethers.

                                            >Her eyes go wide and her mouth hangs open as the jets of warm water stimulate her. A surprised giggle escaping her mouth as her tongue lolls out the side.

                                            >As she starts enjoying it more - a now jerking, shivering, and moaning Celestia grabs your head and pulls it into her chest, burying your face in a particular thick section of her wet coat.

                                            >You respond by holding the shower head closer, eliciting a louder response.

                                            >Carefully stroking up and down her back, you start slowly moving it back and forth; focusing on the little sounds she makes at each angle, and how tightly she squeezes you.

                                            >It isn’t too long before her hips start wildly bucking.

                                            >She takes her hooves off your head and places them against the wall behind you.

                                            >As you press the shower head against her button, her moans get louder, and she raises her head higher and higher until it’s pointing at the ceiling.

                                            >With one final, almighty cry - Celestia aggressively jerks her hips against the shower head, pushing herself over the edge as she tosses her head back and forth, her messy hair fanning out in a wild spectral display.

                                            >Wings extending fully and body violently shaking, the big mare sitting on your lap finally finds release.

                                            >You can feel your hand soaking in excess fluid as she lets out a deep gasping breath and spasms. Her tail flicking back and forth over your legs as she rides the wave.

                                            >Eventually, her quick thrusts slow to a gentler grind as she gradually comes down from her high.

                                            >With a final shudder and a satisfactory moan. She collapses onto you.

                                            >Catching her in your arms - Celestia closes her eyes and leans forward.


                                            >After readjusting her rear so that it’s further down your legs so she can be face to face with you, she presses her mouth against yours.

                                            >You’re caught off-guard. You’ve still not settled your internal disputes. Furthermore, your current condition inhibits you from mustering any effort.

                                            >After a few moments of one sided affection, she opens her eyes to see what’s wrong.

                                            >There’s still a haze over her mind as her irises can’t stay focused on one point. Nonetheless, you still avoid her gaze.

                                            >She leans back down - making you flinch when you think she’s repeating the action.

                                            >Instead she nuzzles your cheek, cooing in what sounds like a sort of apology.

                                            >Letting out a chuckle, you nuzzle her back and gently stroke her neck down to her shoulders. Your fingers running over a suspicious purple welt under her snow white coat.

                                            >The two of you lie there for a while. Your own body too exhausted to care about the weight of the pony resting on top of you, or do anything about it.

                                            >As you’re slowly dozing off; Celestia starts lightly bucking her hips, letting out a small whimper at the same time. A slightly pained expression on her face.

                                            “Easy girl, I got you.” You whisper as you pick up the shower handle and start tending to her needs.

                                            >The desperate mare lets out a thankful moan, and gives the side of your cheek a thankful peck as you start tending to her needs again.

                                            >This process repeats several more times: with Celestia getting worked up, you helping her settle down, and then both of you resting against each other.

                                            >Each time it takes longer for her to be satisfied, and each time you feel more wiped out and irritated. The intimate and sympathetic act gradually becoming cumbersome and annoying.


                                            >By the end, the poor mare seems to be in pain whether she’s holding herself back or being relieved by you.

                                            >As Celestia -- head tucked into your chest -- lets out a whimper for the umpteenth time, you sigh and reach for the shower head again.

                                            >A hoof stops your hand.

                                            >Surprised, you look down at her, only you find tears streaming down her face.

                                            >She looks up at you. The fog finally lifted from her mind. Her purple eyes have their intelligence back, but are wracked red with sadness. Lips tremble as she twists her exhausted face into an unconvincing half-smile.

                                            “You back with me, Celly?”

                                            >She nods slowly and looks away.

                                            “How are you feeling?”

                                            >She tucks her head back into your chest.

                                            >”Like I’ve just finished a roll in the hay with a dragon.”

                                            “Wow. I mean I know I’m good, but-”

                                            >”Anon.”

                                            >She bats your chest with a hoof, not even looking up at the smirk on your face.

                                            “I know.” You gently rub a foreleg.

                                            >”I was so scared…”

                                            “I know…”

                                            >”It was just supposed to be half a pill like usual, but before I realised what i was doing I-” Her breath hitches in her throat.

                                            “I know…”

                                            >You both lie silent in the tub for a while before she speaks up again.

                                            >”I-I… I think I have a problem, Anon.”

                                            >You frown.

                                            “I’ll say.”

                                            >She flinches in your arms.

                                            “I mean, if I had eaten that chicken, you’d probably be taking me to the hospital by now.”

                                            >“Anon!”

                                            ”How do you even mess up oven cooked chicken anyway? I mean, it’s written on the box-”

                                            >”I couldn’t even remember who I was!”

                                            >She cuts you off.

                                            >You pull her closer as more tears roll down her face.

                                            “Alright then, no more jokes for now.”

                                            >Another long moment of silence passes as she silently sobs. The whole time you continue stroking her neck and humming gently.


                                            >Without speaking, the two of you agree to get out of the tub. Celestia needs a lot of assistance from you, as her hind legs are wobbling so violently they look like they might snap

                                            >As you go through the usual routine of drying her off and brushing her teeth. The downtrodden mare responds half-heartedly to your prompts, and only lethargically dries herself off.

                                            >As you finish up, Celestia tugs on the towel around your waist, grabbing your attention.

                                            “What? You need to go to do your business or something?”

                                            >”Anon?”

                                            “Yea, Celly?”

                                            >”Do you hate me?”

                                            >You stop in your tracks. Now it's your turn to tilt your head.

                                            “What prompted that question?”

                                            >She traces a circle on the ground with a hoof for a while before nodding to herself. Taking a deep breath, she looks up at you with those great big purple eyes and starts.

                                            >”Last night was… well, what happened was something I didn’t consider happening again within those cages.”

                                            “I could imagine.”

                                            >”But this morning, when we were getting along even better: You, er… You hesitated...”

                                            >Instinctively, you look away.

                                            >Of course she noticed you avoiding contact with her.

                                            >”And just a while ago, in the tub...”

                                            “You remember that bit?”

                                            >”I remember all of it, Anon. It’s almost like I was riding back seat in my own body.”

                                            >You crouch down and sit in front of her. Before you can think of a response, she pre-empts you.

                                            >”I went upstairs.”

                                            >You run a hand through your hair and scratch the back of your head. You certainly hadn’t banned her from going up there, but it was something that made you uncomfortable. Especially if she ended up messing up your old room.

                                            >It’s only when you look back at her do you realize Celestia is shaking.


                                            “Hey, Hey. What’s wrong?”

                                            >”I saw the photo of the other pony, Anon-” Her expressions morphs into one of panic as her tail twitches nervously behind her. “What happened to that poor stallion, and why did that room look like it had been ravaged by a tornado? Why was the other door locked? Why do you hunt ponies? Why did you actually look for me? Do you hate ponies? Is that it? Is that why your old marefriend left you?”

                                            >A flash of rage crosses your face for a brief moment at the last question before you can reign it in. Celestia shuffles back slightly, but still faces you. Her nostrils flare as her eyes keep flicking to the exit.

                                            >The broken look on her face tells you she’s about ready throw in the towel. She needs some good news.

                                            “I’ll give you a proper answer in time. But right now, we’re both wiped out. And I don’t know about you, but I feel like a nail is going through the middle of my skull. Still, I’ll try answering a few of the more, uh, urgent questions.”

                                            >Celestia’s bottom lip trembles for a moment before she takes a deep breath and regains her composure. Her ears held keenly forward for any hint of good news.

                                            “First, the other door isn’t locked, you just need to lift and push the handle back before twisting it down. Been meaning to fix that for a while now…”

                                            >You scratch the side of your head as she sheepishly looks away.

                                            >Good, some of that tension disappeared.

                                            >”That pony was dead when I found him. His body was in a crumbling housing unit in a mine in another state. Apparently, he had been dead for a few days before I got there, but the enforcers didn’t even care. The only thing they said when I told them was ‘Christ, now we’ve got to clean the fucking room out.’ I took that photo to remind myself of his last days would have been like.”

                                            >”Why were you looking for him though?”


                                            “The full story is bit more detailed, but the main reason is… Well… Jessica -- my Wife -- that wonderful woman in the photos upstairs… She’s no longer with us, Celestia.”

                                            >The mare’s eyes go wide and she starts stammering out an apology.

                                            >You simply hold up a hand, asking for silence.

                                            >She bites her lip, but nods for you to continue.

                                            “She died because I didn’t do enough for her when she needed it. And that stallion was… Involved. To an extent. I wanted to find him so I could get some answers.”

                                            >Celestia pulls herself forward and place a hoof on your hand.

                                            “I tore that room apart because it contains everything that distracted me from her problems.”

                                            >There’s a slight pause as you keep yourself steady.

                                            >She takes the opportunity and scoots up alongside you, resting her head against your shoulder.

                                            “I was so focused on my own issues. So desperately trying to run away from reality - that I couldn’t see how badly she was hurting.” You let out a sigh. “No. She was already hurt, and I let her bleed out.”

                                            >You reach a hand around her side.

                                            “I don’t hate you Celestia. I don’t hate any ponies.”

                                            >”So why-”

                                            “Because you remind me of her. But you also remind me of the way I failed her. And the closer I get to you, the more I’m reminded of her.”

                                            >”You feel like you’re stomping on her memory?”

                                            “Something like that, yeah.”

                                            >You turn and face her.

                                            “These are problems that I need time to work through. Though I can understand if you don’t want to deal with that. Hell, you’ve already got more than enough on your plate with everything you’ve been through, and what’s to come... I… I can make arrangements for you to be in Emily’s care like she suggested.”

                                            >She tilts her head.

                                            >”Wait, what? What did you say, Anon? Emily suggested something to you?”


                                            >You raise an eyebrow at her.

                                            “Y’know, the whole ‘you would be better off being around other ponies’ thing you two discussed with each other, right?

                                            >Celestia gives you a concerned look.

                                            >”Anon... We never discussed anything like that.”

                                            >The words roll around in your head a few times before you understand.

                                            “Well… Looks like Emily, for all her good points, is a bit of a schemer.”

                                            >”It would seem so...”

                                            >The two of you sit in silence for a few more moments before Celestia unfolds a wing and wraps it around you.

                                            >”Thank you for telling me, Anon.”

                                            >Gently, you scratch behind her ear.

                                            >”And I can handle waiting a little while.”

                                            >Your ears feel a bit hot as you look sidelong at her.

                                            >Her own ear flicks under your ministrations, and she turns to you and smiles.

                                            “Thank you.” Is all you can say.

                                            >It’s a while before you move again. Both of you content enjoying the company of each other’s warmth on the cold bathroom floor.

                                            >With a yawn, Celestia shows initiative and folds her wing back in, before asking for your help getting down the hall.

                                            >Given you’re still feeling under the weather yourself, you end up supporting each other down the hall and onto the bed.

                                            >As Celestia settles in, you whisper that you’ll be right back and slowly make your way back to the kitchen.

                                            >Picking up the pizza near the front door and putting it in the fridge, you notice the shattered shelf.

                                            >Oh well. Add it to the list.

                                            >Grabbing an apple for the both of you and all of Celestia’s evening medications, you head back down the hall. Only detouring quickly into the bathroom so you can move the estrus pills to an out of reach and partly hidden location.

                                            >After completing taking her meds and eating her snack, Celestia awkwardly works her way under the blankets and looks expectantly at you.


                                            >You briefly mention that she can have this room to herself if she wants, but she just scoffs and tells you not to be silly.

                                            >As you climb into bed, she quickly drags herself over your midsection and lays her head on your chest before you can even get settled.

                                            >Resting a hand on her side, it isn’t long at all until both of you doze off into the land of dreams. The last thing you remember is Celestia’s wings, as she unfolds them under the blanket and drapes them across you.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~


                                            >”What the fuck do you mean ‘she’s missing’?!”

                                            >The glass of bourbon smashes against the wall, splashing the foul smelling liquid near your hooves. Holding a neutral expression, you move a fair distance away so it can stop wreaking havoc on your nose.

                                            “I mean that those chucklefucks you sent to drop of her off at the glue factory had a little detour. They sold her to a failing rehab shop for some extra cash on the side, and someone swooped in and picked her up.”

                                            >”You’re fucking joking.”

                                            “I wish.”

                                            >He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

                                            >”Do we know who did it?”

                                            “Our friends poured over the details the handler got from the buyer. False name, false number, you know - the usual for this kind of under the table deal. The money, however, came from a barebones account that only had enough sitting in it for the transaction. We’re still working with some contacts to get an ID, but it doesn’t look promising.”

                                            >”Cameras?”

                                            “The cheap sack of shit who bought her never even considered spending a dime on these.”

                                            >”So we have nothing?”

                                            “For the moment. He gave the guy who bought her a saddle, a muzzle, and a handful of pills to keep her under control.”

                                            >”So she might not be in the best of hands?”

                                            “We can only hope. The seller didn’t even give him a vet to go to.”

                                            >”I see.”


                                            >Holding his head in his hands, the man behind the desk starts muttering incomprehensible gibberish.

                                            >”Fuck!” He suddenly lets out a rage filled yell and slams the desk with closed fists.

                                            >The wood buckles slightly under the force, as several papers are sent floating to the ground.

                                            “That upset about this afternoon’s failed reform vote?”

                                            >”No... That doesn’t matter.” He murmurs while rubbing the underside of his fist. “With the way the tide of public opinion will shift after the atrocity this morning, obstructing reforms will only give our partners more political ammunition. The last election was only a narrow victory. If they don’t concede on this, the next one will be a bloodbath for them.”

                                            “And about the pony that’s responsible for this morning-”

                                            >”Irrelevant. If she doesn’t get caught, then she’ll be a black stain on the perception of ponies everywhere. If public sentiment starts demanding results, we find up a drugged out sacrificial pony and offer her to the people.” He starts pouring himself another drink in a new glass. “Or, we make one.”

                                            “-Not that. What were the results of the investigation? Surely you must have some information?”

                                            >”Oh, that.” He opens a folder sitting on the corner of his desk. “Looks like the sick sack of shit was killed from severe internal trauma. You’ve seen the photos?”

                                            “I have.”

                                            >”The wounds outside the body were where he got off easy. His insides were more like burnt scrambled eggs.”

                                            “No leads on how the pony did it?”

                                            >”None. You?”

                                            >You want to say that you have one. But this feels like something that you should play as close to your chest as possible

                                            “None.”

                                            >He takes a big swig from the glass and slams it down on the table.

                                            “What do we do about Celestia?”


                                            >”We?” He scoffs. ”You’re the one who stabbed her in the back.”

                                            >Your tail flicks.

                                            “We’re in this together. A lot of things will start coming unhinged for both of us if... No... When she shows up again.”

                                            >”Yeah, yeah. We can’t let your precious little kingdom you’ve built fall to ruin. I’ll let some of my men ‘handle’ this one. Oh, and I’ll make sure the ones responsible for this fuckup get an appropriate ‘punishment’. Just keep your ears to the street for any movement.” He dismisses you with a wave of a hand.

                                            >You grit your teeth and thank him for his time before exiting the luxurious office.

                                            >The second the door slams shut behind you, you stomp across the hall and strike the wall with a hoof. Wood splintering under the force of your blow.

                                            >After all you’ve sacrificed.

                                            >*Crunch.* Your hoof strikes the wall again.

                                            >After all you’ve done.

                                            >*Crunch.*

                                            >For it to come undone…

                                            >*Crunch.*

                                            >You’ll take any steps necessary if the princess shows up again.

                                            >With a sickening snap, your hoof strikes through the wood, punching a fractured hole in the wall.

                                            >Even if it requires a more… ‘Permanent’ solution, you won’t let anypony get in your way.


                                            Part Fourteen (14)


                                            >Garish light creeps into your vision as you slowly wake from an unsatisfying sleep. A light sensation tickling your sweaty forehead. Your muscles ache, and there’s still a faint haze hanging over you, but nonetheless you feel a fraction better than yesterday.

                                            >The familiar sweet smell -- a symptom of her condition -- hangs heavy in the room and fills your nose.

                                            “You fine with your wings getting dirty?”

                                            >The feathers are pulled away.

                                            >”I could use my tongue if you’d like.”

                                            >Opening a groggy eye, you find Celestia lying by your side under the sheets.

                                            >A reply comes to mind, but when you look at her there’s something off.

                                            >With a few grunts, you roll onto your side, slowly reach out, and gently squeeze a hoof under the sheets.

                                            >Her lips curl into a brief smile, but there is no energy to sustain it as her expression falls again.

                                            “You been up for long?”

                                            >”Since sunrise.”

                                            >Looking at a clock on the bedside table, you see it’s almost noon.

                                            >Your fingers gently rub the fur on her foreleg - just above her hoof wrapping.

                                            “You feeling okay, big girl?”

                                            >The big mare in your bed meets your eyes and gives you a polite smile before looking back down.

                                            “That bad, huh?”

                                            >She gives a small nod before burying her head a little deeper in the pillow.

                                            “You want to get up and go do your morning workout?”

                                            >”Not really. I can barely move my hind legs after last night… After what I did-”

                                            >Her breath hitches in her throat and she stops. Reaching out with your other hand, you gently brush a bit of stray mane out of her face.

                                            “Hey... you want to talk about it?”

                                            >After a brief pause, her mouth opens and she looks up at you. No words come out though, and her head falls back onto the pillow with a deflated thump.

                                            “Want to stay in bed all day and do nothing?”

                                            >A few moments pass until she gives you a slight nod.


                                            “Alright then, that’s what we’ll do. I’m still feeling under the weather, so we’ll call this another break day. I’ll quickly grab the pills from the kitchen.”

                                            >Her brow furrows and she places a hoof on your hand.

                                            “You need to take your medicine Celestia. I’m not budging on this.”

                                            >”... If you insist, Anon.”

                                            “Atta girl, I’ll be back soon.”

                                            >Peeling back the sheets, you give her leg another firm squeeze before steadily dragging your fatigued body out of bed and down the hall.

                                            >The holes in the wall are a mild irritation, but they can be fixed.

                                            >As you approach the kitchen, a pungent smell -- like stained sheets left unwashed after a good night -- stings your nostrils.

                                            >After first taking some medicine yourself, you fill up two full water bottles and arrange a bowl of fruit for Celestia.

                                            >You still don’t have much of an appetite, so you grab another apple in addition to the handful of prescriptions that she needs, and then return to the bedroom.

                                            >Food isn’t of interest as she pays no mind to the bowl of fruit you leave on her bedside table.

                                            >Warily eyeing the pills, the princess sighs before swallowing them down with your assistance.

                                            >After taking a swig of water, she tucks herself back into bed and looks up expectantly at you with those worried purple eyes.

                                            >With a heavy sigh - you crawl back under the sheets, give Celestia’s hoof another squeeze, and doze off.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~


                                            >Sleep hangs off every part of your body as you slip in and out of consciousness over the day.

                                            >Each time you wake up, a quick glance confirms Celestia is still there with you. Still unrelenting in her silence, yet always close.

                                            >Sometimes she lies facing you, sometimes facing the other way - her back pressed up against your side with her tail curled around your leg.


                                            >Only one time do you wake up and find her actually sleeping though - her hooves, once again, drape across your torso; while her wings cover you in a second protective blanket as she drools on your chest.

                                            >You smirk and stroke her neck.

                                            >She gives a goofy grin in her sleep and holds you tighter.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~


                                            >As the late afternoon rolls around; you finally feel energy filling your body as you wake from a thankfully restful sleep, though your body is still sore and heavy.

                                            >Celestia is awake again, and she still lies silently on the bed.

                                            >Above the covers now and facing away from you.

                                            >Chewing on her lip as she focuses with an intensity on her own Kevlar wrapped hooves.

                                            >She doesn’t notice you shifting in the bed behind her as you prop yourself up.

                                            “Penny for your thoughts?”

                                            >The white pony jolts on the spot.

                                            >”Anon!? You’re awake!” She eagerly turns towards you. “How are you feeling?”

                                            “I still feel like I’ve been run over by a train, but, yeah, feeling better.”

                                            >”Good! Good. Good...”

                                            >She’s practically radiant with the smile she’s showing you.

                                            “How about you?”

                                            “Oh me? I’m fine!”

                                            >There’s a pleasant tone in her voice.

                                            >But... something is off.

                                            “You’re quite energetic this afternoon. Especially after this morning.”

                                            >”Am I not allowed to be happy once in a while, Anon?”

                                            >She again settles into that beaming smile that makes you feel like you can do her no wrong.

                                            >Suddenly it hits you.

                                            >This isn’t the natural one that she showed you in the cages, or the shower, or in bed a few nights ago.

                                            >It’s the smile she showed that stallion after he tried attacking her in the back of your car. A practised motherly smile that acts as a convincing imitation.

                                            “Celestia.”

                                            >The tone of your voice makes her ear flick. But she rallies and holds up the facade.

                                            >”Something wrong, Anon?”

                                            “Celestia.”


                                            >You hold her gaze.

                                            >In return, she doubles down and tilts her head to the side. A sight that, combined with her worn out visage and messy mane falling around her face, makes your heart skip a beat.

                                            >But you won’t lose here.

                                            “Oi.” You reach out and poke her nose.

                                            >Her eyes cross comically as they follow your finger, and she scrunches up her mouth with a frown and a snort as you push her nose in.

                                            >”Anon!” She indignantly cries.

                                            “You’re telling me: that you’ve been so down all day that you haven’t even touched your food-”

                                            >She glances sidelong and scrunches her mouth again.

                                            “Yet all of a sudden you’re right as rain.”

                                            >Brow furrowing again, she stares you down with narrow eyes.

                                            “That smile might be able to fool everyone who doesn’t know you, but I know what the real one looks like.”

                                            >”Oh? Do you now?” Her tail flicks behind her.

                                            “Uh huh.”

                                            >”I guess you just know everything about me now, don’t you?”

                                            “I’m not saying tha-”

                                            >”You just know everything I’m dealing with and know what’s best for me. Is that it?!

                                            “No! I’m just-”

                                            >”I can handle myself just fine, Anon!”

                                            >You flinch as her words echo in your head. Reminding you of someone you once held dear.

                                            >You feel your cheeks burning in shame.

                                            >Celestia also looks away.

                                            >An uneasy silence hangs in the air as you both avoid each other's gaze.

                                            >Scratching angrily at the back of your head, you let out a sigh and signal for her attention.

                                            “Hey.”

                                            >No response.

                                            “I’m sorry.”

                                            >White wings flit at her sides for an instant.

                                            >A few moments pass before she turns back around.

                                            “I guess a lot has happened between us in such a short time.”

                                            >She gives a small snort.

                                            “And I may have gotten full of myself.”

                                            >She looks down at her hooves.

                                            “So for what it’s worth-”

                                            >Before you can continue, Celestia raises both forehooves - motioning for you to stop.


                                            >”It’s okay, Anon.” She sighs. “I’m not mad.”

                                            >You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

                                            >”I just… Do you remember what I said last night? When I, er, came back to my senses?”

                                            >Scratching the back of your neck, you struggle briefly before recalling a word.

                                            “Something about you having a problem?”

                                            >She lowers both hooves back down and traces a circle on the blanket.

                                            >”Yes. More specifically though: that ‘I’ have a problem. And it got me thinking.”

                                            “Thinking about?”

                                            >Celestia wistfully grins as she looks down at her hooves again.

                                            >”This ‘problem’ is the first thing that’s been truly mine since I was enslaved.” She looks up at you. A small fire burning in the depths of her brilliant magenta eyes. “Everything else was something external. Things that never truly belonged to me. Personally. No matter how much I treasured them. And they were taken. And I was not treated well, but I always externalised it in some way.”

                                            >Celestia perks up the more she talks, slowly raising her head higher and correcting her posture.

                                            >”The humans were just misled souls trying to make a living, the stallions were forced against their will, the other ponies were upset to see their Princess in such a state. Whether it was true or not, that’s how I coped.”

                                            >Her chest pushes out as she gains more confidence in her own words.

                                            >”This ‘problem’ -- even though it was forced upon me -- is ultimately mine to struggle against. And not you, nor anypony else, can solve it for me.”

                                            >She lets out a shuddering breath.

                                            >“Truthfully, Anon, I was scared when I woke up this morning. I was scared because I didn’t know how I could lose control so easily. I still am on some level.”

                                            “Then let me help-”


                                            >”You can only help so much with something like this, Anon. It will probably follow me after I detox, and it will be something I must guard against for the rest of my life. However long it may be.”

                                            “But we can-”

                                            >She holds up another hoof, asking for your silence.

                                            >”Your support is a pillar that I am thankful for Anon. That I always appreciate, more than you know.” She scoots closer and places a hoof on your leg. “And I can assure you, I’ve had enough of being alone.”

                                            >”But this ‘thing’... This-” She gestures to herself. “-addiction... I need to… No. I want to handle this with my own power as much as possible.”

                                            >A lump sits in your throat.

                                            >This isn’t a development you’d like. And you could probably put your foot down here if you really wanted. Still, the look in her eyes is different from the last person who told you something like this.

                                            >Not deranged, or desperate. Just calm and collected.

                                            >”Besides, my ponies are struggling and suffering every night and day. If I truly want to be called Princess by them ever again, then I need to earn that right. After all, what Princess can serve her ponies when held back by something like this?”

                                            >The now proud mare finishes by holding her head high and showing herself off.

                                            >Despite the condition her body is in, she gives off the impression of a determined pony.

                                            “This isn’t some selfish request then?”

                                            >She pulls her hoof back and places it on her chest while giving you that fake smile.

                                            >”There are more rough times ahead of us, Anon. I can’t always mope around in bed all day when something goes wrong. I need to be able to smile for my ponies. Even if it’s just for their peace of mind and not my own.”

                                            >Celestia finishes and places her hoof back down on the bed, sitting as prim and proper as she can, waiting for your response.


                                            >You carefully mull over everything she said.

                                            >It certainly sounds very noble and self-sacrificing; and you can see the merits in letting her... No. She was never your slave in the first place, she can do what she wants. But you’re not completely satisfied.

                                            “Alright, I’ll give you the space you want. And I won’t call you out on that fake smile.” She pokes her tongue out at you. “But promise me, Celestia-”

                                            >You grab her hoof and squeeze it tight.

                                            “-If you’re really struggling... If you’re really at your wits end, then let me know. Because I’ll notice. And if it hurts you, it hurts me.”

                                            >She nods and the fake smile on her face shifts, ever so slightly, into a more confident and defiant one. Like she’s telling you that she won’t lose.

                                            >”I promise, Anon.”

                                            >You sigh and gaze back into her warm eyes, until you can’t handle the serious atmosphere anymore and reach out and give her cheek a pinch.

                                            >She lets out a little yelp.

                                            >”Hey! Anon! What was that for?” She grumbles while rubbing her cheek with a hoof.

                                            “You were too cute. I had to pinch you to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

                                            >”C-C-Cute?” A blush blossoms on her face as her stature shrinks.

                                            “Whoa, whoa, easy Princess. Never gotten a compliment before?”

                                            >”Well… you don’t live for a thousand years and not hear some form of flattery. But it was usually things like ‘your elegance’, or ‘your graciousness’; though I do remember one particularly feisty mare who begged for me to let her ‘bury her muzzle in the beautiful and bountiful behind of my bodacious booty.’” She taps her chin in thought. “Still, that did end up being quite a fun night.” She licks her lips.

                                            “Oh yeah? This pile of skin and bones?”

                                            >You reach forward with a laugh and flick a skinny flank, making her yelp again.


                                            >”Ow! Yes, that one, Anon! And I’ll have you know that I had quite the throne filler back in the day.”

                                            “Is that so?”

                                            >”It is so.”

                                            “Well in that case, you must be quite eager to regain your former glory.” You grab the bowl of fruits from the bedside table and hold it out for her.

                                            >She gives a forlorn look from the bowl, down to her flank, then back to the bowl.

                                            >With a heavy sigh, she grabs a banana between her wrapped hooves and peels back the skin with her teeth.

                                            >”You win this time, Anon.” A goofy grin spreads across her lips as she takes a bite. ”Still, I can’t remember the last time a stallion called me cute…”

                                            “I am curious about one thing though, Celestia...”

                                            >She tilts her head to the side as she chews her food. Ears curiously swiveling towards you.

                                            “A thousand years old?”

                                            >Jaw stopping mid chew - her expression falls as her eyes take on a deer in the headlights look.

                                            >You stare her down with a fake stern expression. An eerie silence hangs over the room as Celestia looks at you with wide eyes.

                                            >Before you can break the ice, Celestia slowly starts chewing her food again.

                                            >You’re speechless as she slowly swallows her mouthful and takes another bite of the banana. The whole time her face stuck like you just caught her with her hooves in the cookie jar.

                                            >Finally, a single saying comes to mind, and you can’t stop the corners of your mouth when they curl into a smirk.

                                            >Celestia’s brow slowly furrows and her ears flick back as she braces herself.

                                            “Talk about robbing the cradle-”

                                            >”Anooooooon!!!”

                                            >She hurls what’s left of her banana -- peel and all -- at your face.

                                            >It hits you with a splat, but you don’t care.

                                            >You’ve already broken out in a fit of laughter as Celestia pouts - a crimson streak building in her cheeks.


                                            >It takes a while until you calm down, and even longer before Celestia stops pouting.

                                            >After an apology, she grudgingly forgives you. But not before warning against calling her an old mare again.

                                            >With a repentant chuckle, you lie back on the bed as fatigue starts catching up again. But, of course, you wouldn’t be allowed to relax away so easily.

                                            >Still fuming, the ‘young’ pony on your bed boldly declares that she actually would like some proper exercise today.

                                            >Giving a curious look - you offer your help, but she stubbornly states that she’s fine.

                                            >Shrugging your shoulders, you hop out of bed and walk over to the door.

                                            >Looking back, Celestia’s made her way out of bed, but she’s in a sorry state.

                                            >Surprisingly, her forelegs are fine. They don’t shake and they reliably hold her weight as she places them confidently, one in front of the other, as she walks.

                                            >Her hind legs are a different story.

                                            >With bowed knees and shaking hips, she gradually makes her way out of the bedroom and starts tackling the hall.

                                            >Any offers of help are rejected with a defiant grin and a variation of ‘I’ll show you what old mares can do,’ as she makes her way.

                                            >Unfortunately, her mood quickly deflates during transit when she sees the additional horn shaped hole in the wall and smells the now incredibly off putting odour that wafts down the hallway.

                                            >As you both round the corner, her head lowers slightly as she sees the stains all over the cupboards and floor.

                                            >But rather than mope or be sad about it, she nods to herself and looks up at you with a steely resolve.

                                            >”Anon. I truly am sorry for what I did last night. Let me at least clean this up.”

                                            >You give her a curious look with a raised eyebrow.

                                            >”It’s the least I can do.”

                                            “No.”

                                            >She balks.


                                            >”What?! Why?”

                                            “I’d rather you do your exercises. I’ll handle this.”

                                            >A wing twitches in irritation as she glares at you.

                                            >”I insist, Anon! I can’t have you cleaning up after me all the time!”

                                            “You can and I will. Besides, are you confident you could clean all this up? What about the broken glass in the fridge? Emily would kill me if I called her just so I could ask her if she can stitch you up.”

                                            >”That doesn’t matter, I need to start taking responsibility for my actions!”

                                            “Diving in recklessly and tackling something you can’t handle-”

                                            >”Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Anon.”

                                            >You hold up your hands, trying your best to calm the increasingly irate mare.

                                            “I’m not. I’m saying that if you really want to take responsibility, then go outside and exercise. Think of it as a punishment, especially with how your hips and legs are at the moment. I know it won’t be easy on you.”

                                            >”If you won’t let me atone for my mistakes, then I think an actual punishment would be more appropriate.”

                                            “Punish you?! Atonement? Celestia, what are talking about? Where did this all come from?”

                                            >She stomps a front hoof, the metal horseshoe clanging loud against the tiles.

                                            >”It's not fair! I keep causing you problems. I hurt you. I break your stuff. I damage your house. I invade your privacy. And every time something happens, you brush it off like it’s nothing!”

                                            “Well, what would you have me do?!”

                                            >”I don’t know!” She cries. “Something! Anything! Make me work in the yard. Make me do paperwork. Make me dust the house day and night. You can even spank me if you want, just do something!”

                                            >Crouching down to her eye level, you reach out and place your hands firmly on her shoulders.

                                            “Celestia!”

                                            >She stops her tirade, but she still stares daggers at you.


                                            “That’s enough.”

                                            >”Anon, I can’t just keep-”

                                            “No. I’m not going to make you do anything like that.”

                                            >”But-”

                                            “Listen.”

                                            >You bring a hand up to her neck and start gently stroking down its side.

                                            “... Yes, I must admit, taking care of you is a challenge.”

                                            >”Then-”

                                            “Oi, let me finish.”

                                            >A few pats on the side of her neck make her acquiesce with only a few grumbles.

                                            “But this isn’t a tit for tat deal, Celestia. You don’t, and you never will, owe me anything. It was my choice to get you out of that cage. It was my choice to bring you home. It was my choice to clean you, to feed you, to take you to the vet, to let you roam around the house by yourself; rather than forcing you to stay in the bedroom with me yesterday. It’s my fault that these things-” You gesture to the messy kitchen and the fridge. “-happened.”

                                            >She opens her mouth to argue.

                                            “Nope. Leaving out drugs in reach of an addict is the same as leaving a drink out for someone dying of thirst. I learned that the hard way a long time ago. I shouldn’t have let it happen at all.”

                                            >You sit down on the stained floor and grab one of her hooves in your hand.

                                            “You might be a ‘burden’ right now, Celestia. But you won’t always be. Hell; once we get you detoxed, healthy, fit, maybe even find a way to get back your magic; I’m probably gonna be the one causing you problems.”

                                            >”You never will be.” She responds; sitting down -- with a wet squelch that you both politely ignore -- and places her other forehoof on your hand.

                                            “Hah, we’ll see about that, Princess.” You give her a cheeky grin. “In the meantime. We help each other out. We keep each other safe. We stick together. And maybe, just maybe, we pull through this mess.”

                                            >Celestia chews on her lip for a while as she considers what you said, until finally she looks into your eyes and lets out a tired sigh.


                                            >”Alright, Anon. If you say so... I guess I should go and do my exercises outside then, right?”

                                            “Thanks, Celly. Just do what you can on your own, and leave this place to me.”

                                            >You give her a scratch behind the ear, eliciting a pleased hum.

                                            >Although she still doesn’t seem that enthusiastic.

                                            >Maybe she could use a bit more motivation...

                                            “But before you do that, I just have one more question.”

                                            >”What would that be, Anon?”

                                            “When you were talking about punishments, I may have misheard but, I could have sworn I heard you say something in there about ‘spanking’?”

                                            >Celestia’s instantly freezes, not even daring to breath as her ears burn red.

                                            >You awkwardly shift where you are, unable to meet her eyes as you scratch the side of your head.

                                            “Blame it on the drugs?”

                                            >”Yes, please.” She quickly nods and looks away.

                                            “But, lets just say, hypothetically, you were serious-”

                                            >Her wings twitch in response, and she shifts her rear ever so slightly on the floor.

                                            “I don’t want to be bruising my hand on a bony backside.”

                                            >Celestia furrows her brow for a few moments, but soon enough, understanding sweeps over her face.

                                            >She turns back to you with a sheepish smile on her face and a small fire burning in her eyes.

                                            >Both of you stand up at the same time, and with a nod, Celestia starts moving outside.

                                            >Though straight away, she hits a small obstacle.

                                            >WIth awkward hooves, she sits on her rear and tries prying open the sliding door to the backyard.

                                            >Usually, you would rush over and help her out. But after today, you feel it’s more appropriate to wait and see if she actually wants your help.

                                            >Several attempts later, the embarrassed mare slowly turns towards you.

                                            >Standing there with folded arms, you remain stoic while she bites her lip.

                                            >“Anon. Could you please get the door for me?” She barely mutters.


                                            “It would be my pleasure to, Celly.” You respond with the most sincere smile you can muster.

                                            >After opening and closing the door for her, you get to work. Grabbing some cleaning materials from the laundry and your phone from the bedroom.

                                            >Quickly fishing out the broken glass from the fridge is easy, and apart from a few squashed and sliced foodstuffs, removing the shattered shelf and cleaning out the compartment takes no time.

                                            >As you plop the mop down on the ground, you dial Emily’s number and put her on loudspeaker so you can talk and clean.

                                            >The phone rings a few times before, unsurprisingly, the line picks up and the screeching of arguments erupts out the end of the line.

                                            >”Oh finally, Anon. Been meaning to talk to you all day, just give me a sec.” A woman mutters into the phone before a familiar stallion starts yelling from nearby

                                            >”I’m telling you, this is our chance, Emily! We can finally fight back, we can finally do things on our own! We should take this chance and run with it.”

                                            >”And what about the others? Huh, Stint? You want to drag the fillies and colts along too? What about the sick, and the injured, and the disabled? They can’t fight.”

                                            >”Emily, think about it! You think it's a coincidence that after all these years of suffering, both her and the princess show up within days of each other? At the same damn vet practice? It means something!”

                                            >”Oh, go suck yourself off outside, Nostradamus. I’ve had enough of this bullshit. Unless you come up with a plan that doesn’t involve us abandoning the ponies here, then she’s out of here the moment her brother is well again. He can stay, she can’t. End of story.”

                                            >”Fine then! Maybe I will just go outside and play with my balls then. Seems to be the only time I can get any satisfaction these days away.”

                                            >“Fuck you, Stint!”


                                            >The conversation ends with the stomping of hooves and the slamming of a screen door in the distance.

                                            “Bad time?”

                                            >”No, no, not at all. Just Stint being stubborn as usual.”

                                            “No worries, what was that all about though anyway?”

                                            >”Oh. Well… Hmm… Actually, this gives me an idea. Hey, Anon. Do you think you could-”

                                            >You feel your stomach sink slightly.

                                            “Emily, I really just called to ask about how preparations for Celestia’s detox are coming along.”

                                            >”What? Oh yes, yes, yes. We have a room prepped and the medicine we need to help her through it should be here by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll give you a call tomorrow at noon to confirm that we can proceed, but everything should be fine. Please make sure she’s had a few hearty meals and is well hydrated before bringing her in.”

                                            “How long is it going to take?”

                                            >”Well, a normal pony would take anywhere from two to five days. But with Alicorns it’ll probably be shorter. Keep in mind though, she’ll probably have minor complications for a month or so afterwards, but I’ll fill you in when you drop her off so you can make preparations.

                                            “Excuse me? Drop her off? Thanks but no thanks, Emily. I’m going to be staying at the practice until she’s better.”

                                            >”But, Anon, as her doctor, I can’t advise-”

                                            “But nothing, Emily. This is how it’s going to work, especially after tall tale you told me around the back of the shed.”

                                            >The line is silent for a few moments until you hear Emily sigh on the other end.

                                            >”Alright, Anon... We’ll make some adjustments. Bring some groceries and anything else you think you might need. I’ve already got too many mouths to feed around here, that’s for sure.

                                            “Good. Now, if that’s all-”

                                            >”Wait, wait, wait. There’s something else.”

                                            “Hmmm?”


                                            >”Anon, how would you feel…

                                            “Yes…?”

                                            >”About...”

                                            “Yeeess…?”

                                            >”Taking in... Another pony?”

                                            >You balk and nearly slip on the wet floor.

                                            “I’m sorry, Emily? Didn’t quite catch that.”

                                            >”Two ponies to be precise. A unicorn mare and a Pegasus colt.”

                                            “Alright, nice talking to you, Emily.”

                                            >You reach for your phone

                                            >”Wait! Hold on! Hear me out, Anon.”

                                            >Your finger hovers precariously over the hang up symbol.

                                            “... This better not be some kind of joke.”

                                            >”Of course not! Celestia wants to become a princess again, right?”

                                            “Obviously.”

                                            >”Do you have any other ponies there with you?”

                                            ”Well, no, not at the moment, but-”

                                            >”And Celestia hasn’t had any positive relations with other ponies for a long time, correct?”

                                            “... You would be correct.”

                                            >”Then this is a perfect chance! You wouldn’t pay a cent for either of them. They’d be yours, free of charge. One of them is a bit ill at the moment, but he should be better by the time you and Celestia can head home.”

                                            “Emily?”

                                            >”Yes, Anon?”

                                            “What’s the catch? I heard you arguing with Stint about how the mare can’t stay with you.”

                                            >The line goes silent for a moment.

                                            >”Hmm. Let’s just say that the mare has a unique situation. I actually wanted to talk to you about her earlier today.”

                                            >You chew on your lip as you think this through.

                                            “This doesn’t add up, Emily. What aren’t you telling me?”

                                            >”I think it’d be better if you find out in person. But I have a sneaking suspicion that once you and Celestia meet her, you’ll come to the same conclusion I did.”

                                            “Which is?”

                                            >Emily gives a knowing laughs.

                                            >”That this mare is going to be very important to Celestia - if she ever wants to become a princess again.”


                                            >Her words hang in the air as you soak them in.

                                            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

                                            >”Why don’t you come and find out, Anon. But remember, she’s a two pony deal. Won’t leave her poor little brother’s side, the sweetheart.”

                                            “... I’ll run it by Celestia...”

                                            >”Always a pleasure doing business, Anon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go and stop my stallion from deepthroating himself.”

                                            “... He’d actually try that?”

                                            >”Let’s just say I wouldn’t be surprised if I found him already painted white and gasping for breath. Talk to you tomorrow.”

                                            “Goodbye.”

                                            >”Bye.”

                                            >The call ends with solid beep that seemingly echoes through the silent kitchen.

                                            >You rest the mop against the counter and spray some air freshener as your task is finished.

                                            >As the intense smell hanging over the kitchen slowly dissipates, you look outside at Celestia.


                                            >To your surprise, she’s still doing laps. Slowly making her way around the backyard with a determined look on her face despite the weakness in her hind legs.

                                            >The whole time the setting sun dances over her tired body.

                                            >Her multi-coloured mane almost looks like its sparkling as the light hits it, creating quite a spectacle for your eyes.

                                            >Chuckling to yourself and going over what Emily just told you, you approach the fridge and pull out some foodstuffs.

                                            >The least you can do for Celestia is make a nice rewarding dinner before she has to face her evening ritual.


                                            Part Fifteen (15)


                                            “Hey~”

                                            >*Huff* *Huff* *Huff*

                                            “You dead yet~?”

                                            >*Huff* “It-” *Huff* “-Certainly-” *Huff* “-Feels like it.”

                                            >Celestia looks up at you, blowing an errant lock of her frazzled multi-coloured mane out of her eyes.

                                            >Resting upon the cold kitchen tiles, her chest heaves up and down with exhaustion. A slick film of sweat plastered on her white coat as she comically lays spread starfish in front of you.

                                            >Limp wings are lazily extended at her sides, and she drinks between breaths from the water bottle you hold out for her.

                                            >The mare had admirably continued working out the whole time you made dinner. Never once relenting in her continuous pace around the back yard.

                                            >Surprisingly, you had even finished cooking dinner before she had come inside.

                                            >Though with a quick call of her name, her ears had perked and she had answered you with a steady turn and a victorious smirk.

                                            >Something tells you that she wouldn’t have stopped until you came out. Even though it was already getting dark.

                                            >One unceremonious collapse onto the kitchen floor later, Celestia was inside.

                                            >You were worried, as you always are, about her condition. But Celestia had pre-empted your concerns with a satisfied laugh.

                                            >Joining her on the cold floor -- your fingers tracing back and forth along her neck, eliciting a pleased hum -- the two of you sit there in relative comfort as she slowly gets her breath back.

                                            >Before you can truly get comfortable, a low grumble from the mare’s belly breaks the moment and elicits a blush from her.

                                            >Giving her a chuckle, you slap your legs and stand.

                                            >Can’t let the food go cold.

                                            >You offer a hand, but she dismisses you with a gentle wave of a hoof, puts her legs under herself, and starts pushing for all she’s worth.


                                            >With a dangerous wobble and an almighty grunt, she rises on terribly shaking forelegs.

                                            >Once again, she looks up at you with that beaming and confident expression.

                                            “Well, well, someone’s a bit fired up.”

                                            >”I had some motivation.” She coyly replies.

                                            >You give her a grin and run a hand through her mane, brushing it out of her face.

                                            >Both of you of you move together over to the kitchen table where you’ve already dished out a healthy vegetable omelette. Your own portion being a sensible size, and Celestia's being a large serving cut up into bite sized chunks and smothered with salt.

                                            >The exhausted mare does end up needing your help getting into her chair, though this time, she pre-emptively asks for your assistance.

                                            >Settling down and digging in - you fill her in on the phone call with Emily and the plan for tomorrow, as she ravenously devours her food.

                                            >Her ears swivel to and fro while she eats, and she only acknowledges that the detox will be starting tomorrow with a muffled ‘good’ through a mouthful of food.

                                            >As Celestia finishes her meal, you hum and haw over the last bit of information Emily told you.

                                            >The observant mare notices as she licks her lips clean.

                                            >”Is something wrong, Anon?” She asks with a small tilt of her head.

                                            “Celestia?”

                                            >”...Yes?”

                                            “How would you feel... about having another pony here?”

                                            >You were a bit concerned about how she might react, but surprisingly, she just looks up at the ceiling and taps her chin with a hoof.

                                            >Incessant buzzing from night-time cicadas and the orange artificial kitchen light act as a calming backdrop to the homely atmosphere while you wait for her response.

                                            >”I’m assuming this is something Emily is pushing?”

                                            “Yeah, pretty much.”

                                            >”And you’re not opposed?”

                                            >You scratch the back of your head.


                                            “To be honest, I’m not the biggest fan. I mean, it’s kind of obvious we’d be getting involved with other ponies eventually, but I didn’t see it happening this soon. Unless it was another princess, I really just wanted to keep my focus on supporting you.”

                                            >She smiles, but continues staring at the ceiling.

                                            “I don’t know what she’s playing at, but she also included some cryptic line about ‘this pony will help you become a princess again.”

                                            >She raises an eyebrow at that.

                                            >You just shrug in response.

                                            >Celestia bites her lip.

                                            >”I won’t say I’m not interested, Anon. But that Emily…The more I find out about her... I think she’s up to something.”

                                            “Hmmm?”

                                            >”Just a hunch, though it’s probably nothing” She waves a dismissive hoof. “Would it be just the one pony?”

                                            “It’d be two, actually. A unicorn mare, and a Pegasus colt. The mare is the one we’ll be taking in, the colt is her little brother who comes as a bonus. But I also overheard her arguing with Stint, saying how the colt could stay but the mare couldn’t. She also mention there’d be no charge for them either.”

                                            >Celestia furrows her brow.

                                            >”Emily specifically talked about selling them?”

                                            >Your mouth opens in reply, but the look on her face gives you pause.

                                            >Folding your arms, you roll over the details.

                                            >Nothing particularly malicious pops out immediately, but you don’t want to give up.

                                            >Especially not now the snow coated pony princess in front of you has donned a shiteating grin on her face. Her intelligent magenta eyes glistening with a playful light.

                                            >”Need some help, Anon?”

                                            >Now it’s your turn to furrow your brow.

                                            >A reaction that Celestia finds some small joy in.

                                            >Then it hits you.


                                            “If -- And I’m saying if -- the mare is as important as she says, then she was probably thinking about charging us for her in the first place. She knows I’m a bit generous with my money. It was definitely on her mind is what I’m saying.”

                                            >”Gooood~.” She motions with a hoof for you to continue.

                                            “That means there’s something she discovered about the mare that turned her into a liability. So now, she’s trying to palm her off onto us.”

                                            >Celestia gives a satisfied nod.

                                            >“So… We’ve got to be on our guard. Emily will try and push her onto us, but that doesn’t mean we should just outright say no. I’ll be… occupied, for most of the time, meaning the final decision will be up to you. If you’re fine with her, then I say we go ahead with it.” She swiftly concludes.

                                            “Quite eager to make another friend are we?” You cheekily inquire.

                                            >Celestia plays with her hooves and looks away.

                                            >”It’s not that, Anon.”

                                            “Hmm?”

                                            >”She’ll probably treat me like a princess anyway. It’s more that, well-” She looks back into your eyes. “-I haven’t gotten along with other ponies in a long time.” She nervously laughs.

                                            >You don’t know why you keep slipping up, but like an idiot you trip over another little landmine.

                                            >But this time, rather than look sorry for her and apologize like an asshole, you reach over and gently squeeze her wrapped hooves.

                                            “I know you‘ll be fine.”

                                            >Celestia takes a small, shuddering breath before smiling warmly.

                                            >”We can only hope.”

                                            “That’s my strong mare. Now, since you’ve done a lot of hard work today, how does some cake sound?”

                                            >She instantly perks up before trying to hide her excitement.

                                            >”O-Only if you want some, Anon.

                                            “Oh?”

                                            >”I-It’s probably too fattening, I mean, I do need to watch my figure these days.”


                                            >You look over the skinny mare with a raised eyebrow.

                                            >It hasn’t even been a week, and she’s still dangerously slim, but compared with the starving and malnourished mare from before, she may as well be a different pony.

                                            >Or maybe you’ve just grown used to how she looks.

                                            “You sure you don’t want any?”

                                            >Assuming an indifferent air, the suddenly proud mare looks away as if she doesn’t care.

                                            >”Of course not!”

                                            >That doesn’t mean she can hide the sound of her tail swishing against the back of the seat

                                            “Well then. I’m still feeling a bit under the weather, so I think we might skip it.

                                            >When you stand up and stretch, a suddenly shocked Celestia stares you down with the dirtiest pair of puppy dog eyes she can muster.

                                            “Alright, Alright. I guess I do want some then.”

                                            >You chuckle as you retrieve the sweet delicacy from the top shelf of the fridge.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~


                                            >As the sound of cicadas continues echoing through the house, you ask the tired mare if she'd like to watch any T.V. or read a book before bed.

                                            >A long yawn answers your question, and you both agree on just handling her nightly ritual before calling it a day.

                                            >This time however, Celestia has a proposition. And once you see the determined look in her eyes, you can’t say no.

                                            >After feeding her the smorgasbord of medications and retrieving an estrus pill from its new hiding spot, the two of you step into the shower again.

                                            >Sitting down together -- with Celestia perched between your legs -- you help her swallow the drug and wait for her to turn away so you can begin washing her body.

                                            >Like every other time she’s imbibed it, she’s relatively normal at first. No errant movements. No unusual sounds. Just content sitting there and accepting your care.


                                            >However, this peaceful and relaxing atmosphere doesn’t last.

                                            >You’re in the middle of rubbing shampoo in her mane when the symptoms start kicking in again.

                                            >It starts with the small tells.

                                            >Shoulders relax. An ear flicks. Wings start slowly extending. Hips start moving back and forth in your lap. Her tail swishes over your groin. A suppressed moan escapes her lips. And the whole time she continues facing the other way.

                                            >But after yesterday, you now hear it in a new light.

                                            >There is more pain than pleasure in her voice.

                                            >More frustration than fondness.

                                            >Just like she requested before you entered: you reach over, detach the handheld shower head, and place it between her forehooves.

                                            >The metal faucet is instantly snatched out of your hands and thrust between her legs before you can say anything.

                                            >A throaty moan of relief echoes through the bathroom as she douses the heat between her legs.

                                            >All you can do now is return your hands to her mane and continue washing it, as she takes it upon herself to find release.

                                            >The minutes tick by, and it feels like you spend an eternity in the bath together as she slowly takes care of herself, and you’ve long completed washing her before she finishes.

                                            >You settle with gently stroking up and down her back, providing some small comfort as she gradually works herself up more and more.

                                            >It isn’t long though until her pace quickens and she starts getting more physical.

                                            >Hips jerk harder, rubbing along your inner thighs as her rear presses up against your package.

                                            >Hidden beneath the smell of her wet coat and the lingering scent of shampoo is the strong tinge of her arousal.

                                            >As she gets more aggressive with her movements, the growing heat near your groin starts triggering a natural reaction.


                                            >Biting your lip and looking up, you try your best to focus on something else.

                                            >Celestia had said that while she wanted you there, she wanted to tackle the ‘symptoms’ all by herself.

                                            >You couldn't be so weak when she was trying to be so strong.

                                            >The moment drags on though, and despite your best efforts, you’re soon standing tall.

                                            >It doesn’t help that when she discovered your ‘condition’, Celestia started pressing herself up against that specific part of you with more ambitious movements.

                                            >Suddenly she stops.

                                            >Looking back down, you catch her cloudy eyes staring back at you.

                                            >A questioning and almost panicked look in her eyes as she begins rolling her hips.

                                            >You sigh and firmly shake your head.

                                            >Her eyes dart from side to side, and you can tell she’s thinking about it.

                                            >Stopping her would be easy. All you have to do is place your hands on her hips and make sure she doesn’t raise her rear.

                                            >But you want to let her fight this on her own. Like she wanted to.

                                            >Staring her down, you fold your arms across your chest and wait for her to make up her mind.

                                            >After a few more moments, she looks at you again, biting her bottom lip so hard you think it might bleed, before slowly nodding and facing forwards.

                                            >You let out a sigh of relief as the sound of the shower head moving back and forth resumes.

                                            >Time slowly limps along, as the two of you sit there in the tub. Only joined by the sound of water splashing against her underside.

                                            >Until -- with a sudden, violent jerking of her hips -- a massive tremor rocks through Celestia’s body and she lets out a deep groan.

                                            >Diligent to your duty, you stay as still as can be while she rides the wave.

                                            >Not even daring to touch her as you feel it would ruin this relatively personal moment for her.


                                            >However, as she finally starts coming down, you hear a gentle sniffling coming from the poor mare.

                                            >That’s it.

                                            >You’ve had enough of this.

                                            >Before she can object, you wrap your arms around her barrel and hug her from behind.

                                            >She freezes in your grip for a moment, before relaxing and pushing back slightly.

                                            >”That’s not fair, Anon.”

                                            “I know.

                                            >”I wanted to do deal with as much of ‘this’ by myself as I could.”

                                            “Well, tough luck. I’m a bit selfish when it comes to things like this.”

                                            >She gives a resigning sigh and pushes the shower-head away.

                                            “How you holding up?”

                                            >Her tail flicks.

                                            >”... It still feels like I’m on fire down there. Like there’s a terrible itch I can’t scratch.”

                                            “But how are ‘you’ holding up, Celly?”

                                            >She leans further into your embrace.

                                            >”... I hate it, Anon.” She chokes. “It’s like my head’s spiralling and swimming everywhere, and I’m not in control.”

                                            “Just one more day, Babe.” You gently stroke the side of her barrel. “Just one more day.”

                                            >Taking a deep, shuddering breath; she places a hoof on your hand and holds it up to her chest.

                                            >The two of you stay like that for a while, until Celestia starts turning on the spot.

                                            >As she finishes spinning around, she searches your face for a brief moment. A questioning look in her magenta eyes.

                                            >Suddenly, she leans forward, and it becomes your turn to freeze.

                                            >You open your mouth to object, though before you can say anything; her head changes course, and she rests her neck against the side of yours. Rubbing up and down as she barely whispers.

                                            >”No matter what happens to us, Anon... Thank you. From the very bottom of my heart, thank you.”

                                            >Your speechless, and in the end all you can muster is reaching an arm around her neck and holding her tight.


                                            >Eventually she pulls back; and as she does, you feel a pleasantly familiar warmth in your chest.

                                            >The sensation gives you pause.

                                            >Not content with letting you stop and think for a moment, Celestia chimes in.

                                            >”Let’s go to bed, Anon. We’ve got a big few days ahead of us.”

                                            >Returning the smile, you nod and stand up, only to be reminded of your lower body’s condition.

                                            >As Celestia awkwardly begins removing herself from the tub, she notices ‘it’ with a certain glee in her eyes.

                                            >Quick as lightning, her tail flicks out and slaps wetly against your thigh, making you yelp.

                                            >”I still got it.” She says with a goofy grin as she finishes pulling herself out and walks over to the towels.

                                            >There’s a small sway in her hips despite her weak legs, and a light flare in her wings as she spreads them out - almost like she’s showing them off to you.

                                            >With a smirk, you shake your head join her.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~


                                            >As the two of you lie in bed -- Celestia once again draped across your chest -- your thoughts drift over the next few days.

                                            >What you’ll need to bring.

                                            >What this mysterious mare might be like.

                                            >What could Emily be up to?

                                            >Until finally, they rest on an unlikely target.

                                            >Jessica.

                                            >You haven’t enjoyed thinking about her for a long time.

                                            >But for the first time since she passed, the pain in your chest doesn’t feel so heavy.

                                            >Looking down at the sleeping mare -- a small puddle of drool pooling on your chest while she grins in her sleep, and her horn lightly poking your pec -- you get the strong feeling that this new light in your life is the one responsible for that.


                                            >There are a lot of things you’d like to say if you could speak to Jessica again.

                                            >Things you’d like to apologize for.

                                            >Things you wish you’d said when she needed it.

                                            >Though one thought stands above the rest.

                                            “I’m not going to let you down this time, Jess. No matter what it takes.”

                                            >Celestia stirs slightly at your mutterings, and presses her unfurled wings tighter against you, eliciting a smirk from you as you finally slip off into sleep.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~


                                            >Sunrise.

                                            >No-one should be up at this godforsaken time.

                                            >Yet as your alarm blares like a siren in your ear, you can distinctly make out a mirthful Celestia giggling at your groggy state.

                                            >You slowly open your eyes and see her there, lying by your side towards the end of the bed, covering her snickering muzzle with a wrapped hoof.

                                            >Reaching over, you poke her nose, making her face scrunch up.

                                            >She mock glares at you, and you hold her stare, until neither of you can hold back anymore as laughter breaks out between you.

                                            >The shared moment is over almost as soon as it began though, and you look over at Celestia who, astonishingly, almost looks like a new mare.

                                            >She’s animated, with a certain warmth in her expression and an almost singsong quality in her voice.

                                            >It’s understandable though - if all goes to plan, then today is a huge step towards both of your goals.

                                            >”How are you feeling today, Anon?” She begins.

                                            “Body’s still a bit slow, I think. Strength is back though. And head’s one hundred percent clear. You?”

                                            >With a grin and a subtle flit of her wings, she quickly puts her hooves under herself and rises to a standing position faster than ever before.

                                            “Good lord, just how fast do Alicorns recover?”

                                            >Celestia stands up taller. Puffing her chest out and showing off her neck with pride.


                                            >You could even swear that she’s already managed to put on some good weight - from her legs to her flanks, though her ribs are still unfortunately visible against the skin on her barrel.

                                            >”There was a time when I was regarded as a patron of life, healing, and vitality. Ponies would travel from distant lands, seeking my blessings and advice on how they should live a good life.” She narrows her eyes and grins hungrily at you. “Amongst other things~.”

                                            “Really now? Such as?” You entertain her antics and take the bait.

                                            >”How they should... ‘Plough’-” She takes one sauntering step, a mischievous grin on her face. “-Their ‘fields’-” Her hip swings slightly. “-So they could ‘sow’-” She licks her lips.

                                            “Now hold on-” You hold up your hands, panicking that Celestia may be getting a bit too into the moment.

                                            >”Their ‘copious’ se-ee-ee!” Her eyes go wide as a Kevlar wrapped hoof gets caught on the blanket and trips her up.

                                            >With a yelp and a spastic flail of her lanky legs - she trips, bounces on the mattress, and falls off the side of the bed with an audible ‘oof’.

                                            >You quickly scramble over to the side, only to find a goofy giggling mare rolling around on the floor.

                                            “You really are pumped for today, aren’t you?”

                                            >She looks up at you with a gleam in her eyes.

                                            >”Getting ‘pumped’ may be in line with my thinking, Anon.” She chuckles as you blush. “But yes…”

                                            >Her voice takes on a more serious tone.

                                            >“I... spent many lonely nights in those cages, dreaming of a day like today... A day where I could walk under my own power, and I would finally have a chance to rid myself of those damned pills. If all goes well, I’ll never have to touch them again.”

                                            >”Plus-” She holds a hoof over her mouth again. “Watching you get flustered is probably the best motivation I could ask for.” Another snicker escapes her lips.


                                            “Yeah, Yeah.”

                                            >You grab a pillow and throw it at her, causing her to erupt in a bout of laughter as it softly collides with her face.

                                            >Leaving Celestia to enjoy herself, you pull yourself out of bed and start getting dressed into workout clothes.

                                            >”Hmmmm… This is some pretty good motivation as well.”

                                            >Glancing over your shoulder as you pull your shirt on, you see a sneaky Celestia poking her head around the corner of the bed and ogling you with a playful grin.

                                            >Her view is quickly obscured by a tank-top that you fish from your drawer and hurl at her face.

                                            “Well then, if you’ve got so much energy, then that must mean you’re ready for your morning exercises, right Celly?”

                                            >”I thought you’d never ask.” She answers through the clothes hanging over her face.


                                            ~~~~~~~~


                                            >True to her enthusiasm, Celestia takes the initiative as you start your morning.

                                            >Walking briskly all the way down the kitchen with only a small stumble from going too fast.

                                            >Practically leaping out the back door when you open it, and diving right into her laps around the yard while you keep an eye on her.

                                            >She even shocks you when, on her third lap around the yard, she gives a whinny and starts trotting at a very gentle pace. Her hooves even kicking up a bit of dirt here and there as she slowly wears a trail into the grass.

                                            >Not one to be outdone, you start with suicides and bodyweight exercises in your own corner. Trying in earnest to shake off the fatigue that still hangs on your body.

                                            >It isn’t long into your routine, however, before Celestia is panting for breath and reverts back to walking.

                                            >You give her a cheer of encouragement, and she nods in return, her face dripping with determination.

                                            >The two of you continue like that for a good half hour, until you’re both sweating up a storm.


                                            >Before you can wrap it up though, your training partner asks for your assistance with something new.

                                            >Briefly ducking back inside the house, you grab the piece of paper that has Emily’s recommended exercise regime and various scribbled diagrams on it.

                                            >Together, you look over the suggestions and hash out what you could do now.

                                            >Following Celestia’s recommendations and advice, you carefully lay out a little track for her to follow with the garden hose, and place a few thick branches at moderate intervals that she can ‘jump’ over.

                                            >It ends up looking like an oval that has the sides squished halfway in.

                                            >Though there is a detail you can’t help but point out.

                                            “You know this is what they use to train horses on Earth, right?”

                                            >”Hmmm, doesn’t that practice usually involve being ridden by a human as well, Anon? Are you trying to suggest something?” She grins and flicks your leg with her tail while examining the course.

                                            >Holding up your hands innocently, you motion for Celestia to begin.

                                            >She earnestly does; and after walking for so long, she instead tries trotting as fast as she can from the get go.

                                            >Even though she doesn’t approach the obstacle at any significant speed, you still find yourself holding your breath.

                                            >Though now that you’re focusing on how she moves, something about this feels terribly off.

                                            >With a mighty hop, skip and a jump, she-

                                            >Oh dear...

                                            >Celestia’s back hooves audibly collide with each other mid-air as she vaults the small piece of timber.

                                            >Letting out a surprised cry, her wide eyes briefly flick over to you as her rear flicks up and she majestically face-plants the ground.

                                            >You’re caught somewhere between mirth and pity, though you quickly rush over and help her up anyway.


                                            >Spitting the dirt from her mouth, the flustered mare gives an irritated harrumph.

                                            “Hey, you gonna let that beat you?” You pull a few leaves from her mane and wipe some more grime off her muzzle.

                                            >”Never in a million years.” She boldly declares, her messy face giving her a hardened look as she moves into position.

                                            >Magenta eyes narrow.

                                            >A multi coloured tail flicks.

                                            >An errant mane is tossed out the way with a flick of her head.

                                            >Stomping a hoof at the supposed starting line, she snorts heavily before once again launching into a ‘speedy’ trot.

                                            >Heavy hoof-falls and a wild whinny punctuate the air as she slowly rounds the corner to the branch.

                                            >Tension drips of your brow as she thunders towards the obstacle.

                                            >Your mind races as you figure what could be so wrong with the picture in front of you.

                                            >With a mighty roar, she goes for the jump again.

                                            >The sound of hooves clanging together echoes across the yard as this time a forehoof trips on the branch and she goes sprawling onto the ground.

                                            >”Again.” She demands as you help her up.

                                            “You got it, Champ” You curtly reply.

                                            >Folding your arms and looking on with a critical eye, you observe Celestia move around the track until she hits the branch again. This time she ops to forego the jump and instead tries just running over it with well-timed hoof steps.

                                            >Unfortunately, this time, the branch gets caught between her forelegs and swings wildly back and forth, ricocheting around the insides of her legs to the sound of her yelping before making her fall over.

                                            >Wincing and licking her wounds, Celestia grumpily waits for your help standing up and then stomps back towards the starting line.


                                            >After watching her go around several times, you have a feeling you know what’s wrong.

                                            >The prospect makes you frown.

                                            “Hey, Celly-”

                                            >”I-I’m not tired.” The mare pants. “Well... I’m not stopping until I get this, Anon.” She states simply as she paws the ground with a hoof.

                                            “Easy, Princess. Just hear me out.”

                                            >The impatient mare gives you the stink eye as you kneel down to her level.

                                            >”If you insist…”

                                            “Thanks, Cutie.” You add, making her scowl.

                                            “Now, I’m no expert on horses-”

                                            >Celestia snorts.

                                            >”Equines.”

                                            >She nods.

                                            “But I assume they don’t usually hold their heads at about shoulder height when they trot or canter, right?”

                                            >”No, of course not, they hold it higher, but why would you-”

                                            >Her voice hitches in her throat, her ears fold back, and she bites her bottom lip as she realizes what you mean.

                                            >Looking back, you had noticed that the times when Celestia was particularly happy she would sit significantly taller with her head held high.

                                            >But because she always had her head held low when walking on shaky hooves, you always attributed that to her being cautious and never realized how much she hung her head in her regular stance.

                                            >Seeing her move more naturally, but still retain that terrible posture made you realize.

                                            >She had developed another bad habit.

                                            >It seems Celestia arrived at the same conclusion, as she lets out a sniffle and looks down.

                                            “Those cages were always too small for you to stand properly, weren’t they?”

                                            >A solemn nod is the only answer you get.

                                            >You reach around her neck and give her a hug; before pulling gently, lifting her head up.

                                            “Welp, that’s just another thing we can work on, no biggie.”

                                            >She looks at you like she’s lost something.

                                            >Damn, you didn’t realize this issue would cut so deep.


                                            “Hey. Hey... We can works on this. There are actual steps we can take, right now, that will fix this. So chin up, Celly.”

                                            >You punctuate the last line with a chuckle, and Celestia musters some semblance of a smile in return.

                                            “Here’s what we’ll do. You assume what you feel is the right posture for a trot. And I’ll stand in the middle of the course.”

                                            >She nods and holds her head considerably higher.

                                            >Already it looks like a marked improvement.

                                            “Okay. Now, trot around the course. As you do so, keep your focus on your head, your neck, and your overall posture. Picture an image in your mind of what it should look like, and stick to it.”

                                            >After quickly moving the branch on the course out of the way, you signal, and she begins.

                                            >With focus and determination, she makes it most of the way holding her head in that position. Only glancing down here and there so she can quickly check her footing.

                                            >Unfortunately, she’s already exerted herself quite a bit today. And as her fatigue takes its toll, her head starts slowly hanging lower and lower.

                                            “Hup.” You quip.

                                            >Celestia immediately raises her head back up and strains with effort. Focusing intently on keeping her posture correct.

                                            >Persistence is the name of the game, and she diligently succeeds for the most part; until half way through the second lap, she can longer keep up the trot.

                                            >But she doesn’t give up there.

                                            >Still walking at a modest pace, the proud pony holds her head up as long as she can.

                                            >Every time her focus slips, you chime in as a reminder.

                                            >Round and round, over and over again. The two of you keep at it until her legs are shaking fiercely.

                                            >Though before you can suggest stopping, Celestia herself suddenly sits down upon completion of the current lap.


                                            >She looks up and closes her eyes, letting the morning sun beat down upon her fair coat.

                                            >Not saying a word, you walk over and sit down by her side.

                                            >Content with just enjoying each other’s company as she slowly cools down.

                                            >There’s an atmosphere that tells you she wants to talk about something, so you keep your silence.

                                            >Eventually; and as gently as she can, like she’s scared to touch you; the mare places a hoof on your leg.

                                            >She doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the shaking in her leg.

                                            >”It’s going to hurt... Isn’t it?”

                                            >You squeeze her hoof.

                                            “... Yes.”

                                            >”... I’m scared...” It comes out as barely a whisper.

                                            “I know.”

                                            >You move your fingers further up her leg and rub the fur above the Kevlar wrapping.

                                            “If anyone can do this - it’s the mare who, not even a week ago, couldn’t stand on her own four hooves, or speak without a stutter. Yet now she’s doing laps around the yard and thinking a few steps ahead of me.”

                                            >Celestia takes a deep breath and nods.

                                            “I’ll handle this mystery mare. I’ll make sure Emily does her job. And I’ll make sure nobody else interferes.”

                                            >A wing spreads out and wraps around your side, pulling you close.

                                            “So you focus on you, nothing else. And I’ll be waiting on the other side with open arms, okay?”

                                            >She retracts her hoof and instead rests her head on your shoulder.

                                            >Reaching around her withers, you pull her tight - a silent prayer in your chest, daring to hope that everything might work out.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~


                                            >The rest of the morning is spent in relative silence, though it is by no means miserable.

                                            >You and Celestia move from room to room, preparing for the evening, but never leaving each other’s side.


                                            >Eating a hearty breakfast.

                                            >Helping her take her morning medications.

                                            >Packing up foodstuffs, clothes, sleeping bags, and a laptop so you can do some research during your stay at the vet’s..

                                            >Watching a bit of morning television - though during which, Celestia seems to be keenly interested in a story about a killer pony on the loose.

                                            >Even the shower you take together possesses this comforting ambiance. Both of you sitting close and enjoying each other’s warmth long after you’d cleaning yourselves.

                                            >All this time, she refrains from playful banter, and you hold back any wisecracks.

                                            >Midday rolls around all too soon though; and as Celestia watches on with concern, you call Emily to confirm that the medical supplies have arrived.

                                            >She sits in front of you, eyes plastered on the phone as you talk back and forth.

                                            >Eventually you hang up, and though she can understand from the look in your eyes and the flow of conversation, you still tell her straight up.

                                            “The shipment is on track to arrive at four. Emily’s asked if we can come in early so she can give you a check-up, and so we can meet the new mare. Also, she thinks that the other ponies want to hang out with you.”

                                            >But Celestia had already zoned out the moment you confirmed it.

                                            “Celly? Celly~”

                                            >Her eyes wander over to you, and she suddenly snaps out of her stupor.

                                            >”I’m okay, Anon.”

                                            >She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, before opening them again. A new fire glistening in their depths.

                                            >“I’m ready for this.”


                                            Part Sixteen (16)


                                            >”I can handle this on my own!”

                                            “You sure? It’s quite a bit higher than the bed; and you did do quite a bit of-”

                                            >”Anon.”

                                            >She gives you ‘that’ look. First time you’ve seen it from her, but it has the same effect.

                                            “Alright, alright.”

                                            >Acquiescing with a raised eyebrow and a wave of your hands, you gesture towards the open boot of the car.

                                            >Eyeing it cautiously, the ambitious mare takes a few steps back.

                                            >As you watch on curiously, Celestia takes a short run up.

                                            >With an almighty grunt, she launches off her back hooves and awkwardly pulls herself up the rest of the way inside the car with her front ones.

                                            >You see it coming too late and flinch as she-

                                            >*Ka-kunk*

                                            >-Accidentally gouges out a bit of the roof's interior with her horn.

                                            >”Ow! Ow! Ow!” She cries as she keels over in the boot, her hooves pressing against the base of the long spiral protrusion.

                                            >”Ow, ow, ow… Oh... Oh, dear...”

                                            >As she notices the hole, her ears pin back and she tucks her tail between her legs.

                                            “Don’t worry about it.”

                                            >“Anon… I’m-”

                                            “Look, you’ve got more important things to focus on, Celestia. And I certainly don’t give two shits about something as small as that.”

                                            >You can tell why it happened, but you refrain from sharing that insight.

                                            >The poor mare is already so distracted that her focus is completely shot.

                                            >Giving you a solemn nod and moving further in; she dispiritedly curls up on the blanket laid out in the back of the car and rests her head on crossed hooves with a weary sigh.

                                            >As you load up the gear you’ll need, Celestia ends up getting boxed in by the surrounding items; although, she doesn’t really look like notices.

                                            >With a confident nod -- and a quick thumb in your pocket to check you have an emergency estrus pill that Emily recommended -- you confirm that you’ve packed everything you need and hop in the front seat.


                                            >The engine roars to life, and you slowly pull out of the driveway.

                                            >Though as you do so, something tickles your arm.

                                            >Looking down, you see Celestia has extend a wing into the front.

                                            >Checking on her - she still as her head perched on her legs, looking away from you.

                                            >Her feathers brush insistently along your arm again, and so in return, you twist your hand gently stroke along the wings ridge.

                                            >Still, she keeps to herself.

                                            >You really can’t blame her for being so silent though.

                                            >Her screams of pain from withdrawal are still fresh in your mind, and that was only the start of the symptoms.

                                            >Re-focusing on the road, you put on some music and make the ride as smooth as possible as you pull out of the driveway and start moving through the winding suburban streets.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~


                                            >In what feels like no time at all, you’re turning off the motorway at Emily’s exit.

                                            >Celestia had kept her peace for the most part, but as the trip grew longer and longer, her wing had become more insistent. Slowly wrapping around your arm despite your constant attention.

                                            >Now the quality of the road quickly deteriorates, and your surroundings start taking on familiar sun-touched hues as you travel down the long country routes through the summer bushland.

                                            >”We’re almost there, aren’t we?” Celestia suddenly chimes in.

                                            “... Just a couple minutes out… How are you holding up?”

                                            >A sigh is all she offers.

                                            “... Think you’re ready to meet those ponies?”

                                            >Her wing folds back onto her side.

                                            >”As ready as I’ll ever be, Anon.”

                                            >Soon enough, the distinct sign of Emily’s practice comes into view, although some things are slightly different from last time.


                                            >The sign itself has been redone - with Emily’s caricature being highlighted with more expressive line-work; and the mysterious blue creature from before is now a well-defined pony who you recognize as Stint.

                                            >Additionally, there are a few balloons tied along the fence.

                                            >As you take in the new details, you catch something out of the corner of your eye.

                                            >You can swear you saw a head duck out of sight on your approach.

                                            “Brace yourself, Celly. I think they’ve rolled out the welcome wagon.”

                                            >The mare shifts around in the back, and soon her head pops up next to yours between the seats.

                                            >Turning into the driveway, a great cheer erupts in the distance.

                                            >Celestia audibly gulps next to your ear.

                                            >Absentmindedly, you reach up and rub her neck.

                                            >Off to the side, the long, overgrown wilds of the front yard have been mown and tended, giving way to a very tidy and expansive field of sunburnt grass.

                                            >Large stacks of timber are piled alongside a makeshift construction lot somewhere near the middle of the area, with little red ropes staked into the ground acting as markers for the site.

                                            >Various tools and workbenches lay hastily scattered around the intentionally cleared dirt lot, and the beginnings of a foundation are already being marked out with placeholder pieces of wood.

                                            >At the end of the driveway, a few more improvements have been made.

                                            >Garden renovations and a fresh coat of paint have transformed Emily’s rundown shack of a house into a more welcoming abode and mainstay of the practice.

                                            >Though that’s not what the increasingly nervous mare by your side is sweating bullets over.

                                            >The ponies of the practice are lined up in front of the side gate in a bouncing rainbow blob of over-excited equines.


                                            >A large banner -- this one more elegantly put together -- held by the mouth of two ponies on either side in front of the merry mob reads: ‘WELCOME, PRINCESS CELESTIA’.

                                            >Another cheer rings out as you get closer. Although, by your reckoning, it looks like there are more ponies than last time. A lot more.

                                            “Welp… You said you wanted your subjects back?”

                                            >”I’m guessing it’s too late to just live off estrus pills at your place, Anon?”

                                            >She sounds like she’s joking, but the poor mare’s face is too serious for you to laugh right now.

                                            ”Just one step at a time, Celly.”

                                            >As you slow down at the end of the driveway, an energetic Emily emerges from the house and gives you a wave, while an ever irate Stint follows closely behind her.

                                            >You signal back, and Celestia manages a curt nod.

                                            >Following some easy gestures, you park the car out of the way on the left side of the house.

                                            >The moment you open the door, another loud cheer echoes across the yard; and the ponies start heading over as a group, still holding the banner in front of them and chanting the princess’s name.

                                            >Something shifts behind you, and you spot Celestia retreating out of sight into the back, shrinking amongst the supplies you brought.

                                            >You look nervously over at Emily, raise your eyebrows, and nod at the group of encroaching equines.

                                            >She looks inquisitively at them, then back at you, then at the spot Celestia used to be.

                                            >With a nod, she crouches down beside Stint and whispers to him.

                                            >He looks over at you, but doesn’t budge from where he stands; instead, he just scoffs.

                                            >Emily quickly pinches his ear, twists it back, and mutters something else into it.

                                            >Suddenly, the stallion seems very eager to comply.

                                            >”Alright, alright! That’s enough! Give the Princess some room, you lot!” He yells as he moves over and heads them off.


                                            >A collective chorus of protests and grumbling can be heard as the herd of pumped up ponies’ enthusiasm is punctured.

                                            >”That’s not fair, Stint! You saw her up close last time!” A mare chimes in.

                                            >”Yeah. That’s right!”

                                            >”She has a point!”

                                            >They double down and keep marching forward

                                            >”Th-That doesn’t matter!

                                            >Stint wavers, but then plants his hooves firmly in defiance of the approaching group.

                                            >”Now, all of you, show some respect and back off!”

                                            >”You’re just keeping her for yourself! The rest of us have a right to see our princess!” This time, a stallion speaks up.

                                            >”Yeah. That’s right!”

                                            >”He has a point!” The ponies echo again.

                                            >When the group remains obstinate and continues their march, Stint doesn’t budge.

                                            >You look over at Emily and see she’s a bit concerned with how this is developing as well.

                                            >You’re about to speak up, when finally, a pleasant voice from the back sounds out.

                                            >”Okay, everybody, that’s enough.” The mature motherly voice of a grey coated unicorn mare with a chipped horn and messy lavender-white striped hair emerges from the back of the group.

                                            >She extricates herself from the crowd and stands next to Stint.

                                            >They slow down significantly in response.

                                            >”Now, I may be new here, and I know you’re all very excited at the prospect of meeting the princess. But, as we all know, her highness is here so she can heal.”

                                            >The group collectively ‘awwws’ with disappointment.

                                            >”I know, I know, meeting a princess sounds exciting; but she probably has a thousand things on her mind. Trust me on this.”

                                            >Several of them guiltily look down at the ground.

                                            >“Having us swarm her and barrage her with questions isn’t won’t help her very much, now will it?”

                                            >”No…”

                                            >”That’s right…”

                                            >”She… does have a point.”

                                            >”Sorry about that, Velvet.”

                                            >”Yeah, we’re sorry, Mrs Sparkle.”


                                            >They do seem earnest in their regret, easing any concerns you had as the energy in the yard dies down.

                                            >”Ehem!” Stint suddenly clears his throat rather loudly, then looks around as if he didn’t.

                                            >”...”

                                            >The ponies all stare at him.

                                            >”Eehheemm!!”

                                            >He does it again, this time so forcefully you think he might have just hurt his throat.

                                            >”...”

                                            >The silence of the ponies is deafening.

                                            >You didn’t think you’d ever see a blue coated stallion turn red; but since you met Celestia, you’ve started experiencing all kinds of strange things.

                                            >”EEHH-”

                                            >”Alright everybody, you’ve had your fun, don’t torture the poor stallion.”

                                            >A stern voice comes from the crowd, though this one is familiar.

                                            >You spot the black coated stallion with horrendous burns working his way out in front of the herd as he stands alongside an incensed Stint and this new mare.

                                            >Letting out a collective sigh, the crowd grumbles a few more half-hearted apologies directed at Stint; and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

                                            >”Good. Now, if we can all take a few steps back and give the mare some space, I’m sure the Princess would love greatly enjoy talking with us as soon as she can.”

                                            >The mood gradually lightens up as the crowd respectfully retreats to a more generous distance.

                                            >All eyes are now on you.

                                            >Or rather the car behind you; as the residents of the practice await their monarch.

                                            >Seeking refuge from the deluge of eyes now gleaming expectantly in your direction, you give Emily a nod, go around the back of the car, and open the boot.

                                            >A concerned Celestia peeks back at you from her makeshift nest further in.

                                            “Well, Celly. Things have settled down out there for now - though the townsfolk are still a bit eager to say the least. How’re you holding up?”


                                            >She twists in her cramped quarters and takes another look out the car window.

                                            >A resounding cheer explodes from the herd when they spot their princess.

                                            >”I don’t know, Anon… Those ponies… The scars… Their faces.”

                                            >Ears pin back, eyes look down, and hooves nervously shift on the blanket like she’ll run away if she gets the chance.

                                            >The poor pony is clearly a bundle of nerves right now.

                                            >Not that you can blame her.

                                            “How can they still cheer like that? For me? After all that’s happened...”

                                            >It might not be a question directed at you, but she needs all the support she can get right now.

                                            “Why don’t you go ask them yourself?” You say as you start removing sleeping bags and spare blankets from the back of the car.

                                            >As the pile of obstacles separating her from the outside world shrinks, she presses back against the seat behind her.

                                            >”I-I-” Celestia looks at you for some way out of this. “-Maybe it can wait till I’m better? I mean, given my condition. Remember what happened last time with Stint?”

                                            >While she is, in a way correct; it’s a half-hearted argument and she knows it.

                                            >Still, she tries to sell it as well as she can with a concerned, but thoughtful look on her face.

                                            “If that’s what you want, Celestia, then I’ll make them go away.” You grudgingly begin.

                                            >Even though it’s the answer she wanted, she doesn’t look happy as her frown deepens.

                                            “But-”

                                            >The conflicted mare flinches.

                                            “-That’s if, and only if, you really can’t see them right now.”

                                            >She avoids your questioning gaze.

                                            “Though if you’re just running away, then when do you plan on talking with them Celestia?”


                                            >”I-I could… In a few days, when I’m-”

                                            “When you’re coming out of detox. Oh yeah, that’ll work. You’ll probably so tired and haggard that the first thing on your mind will obviously be speaking to a large group of admiring subjects.”

                                            >”W-we could always come back-”

                                            “How long are you going to make them wait, Princess?”

                                            >That moniker hits a nerve, as she bites her lip and squints her eyes shut.

                                            “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, Celly. It’s always going to be your choice, and you have to be the one to make it. You’re not my slave.”

                                            >Her eyes go wide.

                                            >You’ve no more to say as you finish unloading the rest of the car - dumping a few days’ worth of groceries and some other personal items on the ground.

                                            >Suddenly, the ponies -- who have been patiently chattering amongst themselves this whole time -- let out another cheer.

                                            >Celestia is looking through the window again, a new fire glistening in her bright magenta eyes.

                                            >”You’ll be with me then, Anon?” She turns back to you.

                                            >There’s another layer to that question.

                                            >But the answer comes easy all the same.

                                            “I won’t abandon you, Celestia. I’m never making that mistake again.”

                                            >The air hangs between you for a moment, until a pleased sigh escapes the satisfied mare’s mouth and she nods at you.

                                            >”Okay then, Anon. I’ll do it. Though, if it’s not too much to ask, could I have another moment? Alone?”

                                            “Of course.”

                                            >Giving her some space so she can gather herself, you move away from the boot and mull over a few things.

                                            >Your eyes flick over the group of three ponies managing the crowd.

                                            >An idea pops out at you as you examine the scene.

                                            >Something about this scene reminds you of an old video of Celestia.

                                            >From when she first arrived from Equestria.

                                            >With a wave of your hand, you call Emily over.


                                            >Responding quickly, the country veterinarian approaches eagerly.

                                            >A bit too eagerly.

                                            >There’s an enthusiastic smile plastered on her face, and a glint in her eyes that you’ve seen before.

                                            >This could be a problem.

                                            >Celestia’s peace of mind was your focus, but dealing with this comes first

                                            >”What’s up, Anon? How can I help?” She opens with a sickeningly energetic voice, almost like you just wandered into a shop.

                                            “That group of ponies is a bit bigger than last time, Emily. Pick up a few new arrivals, ay?”

                                            >She swallows heavily, but holds up her facade.

                                            “I thought you couldn’t sustain your current numbers?”

                                            >”I wouldn’t exactly say I couldn’t...”

                                            “And those building supplies… Looks like you’re expanding your operations here.”

                                            >”That’s, uh, just something to keep the ponies busy! They’ve been bored out of their minds lately, and if I don’t make sure their hooves are occupied, they’ll get up to all sorts of trouble.”

                                            >You cross your arms.

                                            “Look, Emily-”

                                            >”It’s alright, Anon! Seriously. Nothing that should concern you. No, no. You should take it easy while your here. Put your feet up, maybe meet that mare I was talking about. I’m sure you two will get along great! Oh and her little brother is soooo cute. Just wait until you-”

                                            “Emily!”

                                            >She stalls, her mask breaking for a brief moment as a small panic sweeps across her face.

                                            >You can’t really blame her for the way she’s acting.

                                            >Once a drowning person tastes a lungful of air, it makes them struggle that much harder for more.

                                            >Though you haven’t experienced it in quite a while.

                                            >Still, this fire must be doused sooner rather than later.

                                            “Now, I don’t know what it is specifically that you’re up to, Emily, but I do have a very good idea.”

                                            >”But, Anon, listen! Think about it-”

                                            >Oh no. Here it comes.


                                            >”-Once Celestia’s recovered, and you guys go public, you can go around as a shining example of how humans can help ponies! And then others will follow in your footsteps! And then I can help more of them! Also, that mare! She’s gonna change the whole game, Anon! It’ll be like a new turning over a new leaf! All it would take is a small-”

                                            “I’m not here for your money making schemes, Emily.”

                                            >The words hits her like a ton of bricks, and her eyes desperately search your face as she stutters.

                                            >”B-but all it would take is a little-”

                                            >You stare her down with a practiced expression that's as cold and detached as you can manage.

                                            >Eventually, she goes silent and looks away, biting her bottom lip as the panic really starts showing in her eyes.

                                            >That’s enough for now.

                                            “Now, about Celestia.”

                                            >Emily’s eyes light up again.

                                            >Of course they do.

                                            >”Oh, yes! Celestia! How can I help?”

                                            “Those two.”

                                            >You point out the two ponies who helped keep the crowd in check.

                                            >”Those two? What about them?”

                                            “Would you call them over please? I’d appreciate it if they could escort Celestia during her stay here.”

                                            >”What-” She balks. “Like guards or something?”

                                            “I wouldn’t put it that strongly, but yes.”

                                            >“Well, the black one, Coal Crusher, I can understand. I mean he generally keeps the peace around here. He was a policeman or something back in Equestria. But that mare arrived just two days ago.”

                                            “I don’t mind. They’ve both shown they can handle other ponies.”

                                            >The mare in question reaches over and ruffles an angry Stint’s mane to his immense displeasure.

                                            >He tries batting her hoof away, but she just laughs and does it again.

                                            >”That makes sense, but... why does she need an escort, Anon?”

                                            >Another cheer goes out from the crowd and you glance at the car.


                                            >There, in the window, Celestia has her questioning magenta eyes focused on you. Though they occasionally flick towards the crowd behind you.

                                            “It’s not my place to say why, but I think it’ll help her get through this. So… can you help us?”

                                            >Emily hums and haws for a moment before nodding.

                                            >”Alright, I’ll go grab them and see what they think.” She starts walking off.

                                            ”Oh, and Emily, one more thing...”

                                            >”Hmm?”

                                            “Don’t treat me like a cheque book again. That’s your first and last warning.”

                                            >It looks like those words hit particularly hard, and the veterinarian looks honestly remorseful for a brief moment.

                                            >Then she starts chuckling.

                                            >”I guess you do have a spine after all, Anon.”

                                            >A wistful sigh escapes her lips.

                                            >”I’ll go and run it by them then, though I’m sure they’d gladly help out.”

                                            >Emily moves off toward the crowd of cheering ponies and starts chatting with the two you requested.

                                            >Meanwhile, you head back to the car.

                                            >When you check back in on Celestia, she’s affectionately rubbing the Kevlar hoof-wraps you bought for her.

                                            “I think I’ve worked out something you’ll like.”

                                            >She looks up and tilts her head to the side.

                                            >”Is that what your conversation with Emily was about?”

                                            “A bit, yeah. Also had to clear up some misunderstandings.”

                                            >Her ears pin back.

                                            >”Anything I should worry about?”

                                            “Nah, nah. I’ve already sorted it out.”

                                            >You spy Emily heading back over, the two ponies following closely behind while a despondent Stint struggles with a suddenly wily crowd.

                                            “And here they come.”

                                            >Celestia’s curiosity is piqued, and she starts slowly stretching her legs as she prepares to get out of the car.

                                            >Heading them off before they get to the car, you introduce yourself.


                                            “How's it going guys? My name is Anon, and I have something I’d to ask of you. I think you already know who I’ve brought with me today.”

                                            >”I’m pleased to once again meet the human who rescued my Lady. I don’t think I got a chance last time. So let me sincerely say, from all of us here - Thank you, Anon.”

                                            >He raises a hoof towards you.

                                            >His praise puts you on the back foot, so you’re a bit unsure how you should respond until Emily clears her throat and makes a shaking motion.

                                            >You crouch down to his eye level and shake the offered hoof with a firm grip.

                                            >“Mmmm. Good. Names Coal Crusher, former royal guard and protector of the throne. And this is-”

                                            >Wait, what? Royal Guard?

                                            >”-Twilight Velvet. Though you can just call me Mrs Sparkle if that makes it any easier, dear.” She offers her own hoof.

                                            >Dear? Is this mare older than you?

                                            >More importantly, did Coal Crusher just say he was a-

                                            >”I have some experience taking care of princesses as well, giving how I have two of them for daughters.”

                                            “What?!”

                                            >”What?!”

                                            >Judging by the look on Emily’s face, she’s just as surprised as you are.

                                            >A guard and another princess’s mother.

                                            >Too many coincidences already and you’ve only just arrived.

                                            >”I thought the name was a bit too familiar.” Coal Crusher chimes in.

                                            >”Why didn’t you tell me, Crusher?” Emily now stands tall over the bulky stallion, leering down at him with a furore in her eyes.

                                            >”It wasn’t my place to say. If she wished it kept a secret, then that was her choice.” The grizzled stallion doesn’t even wilt slightly under his host’s gaze.

                                            >A part of you wonders if he can even still flinch with all those burns on his body.

                                            >But that’s beside the point.


                                            “So you’re telling me, that probably some of the two most qualified ponies to look after Celestia-”

                                            >At the mention of her name, both ponies straighten up ever so slightly.

                                            “-who have direct relations with her, AND live on ‘this’ practice, in the middle of the countryside.”

                                            >Emily frowns slightly.

                                            “And I just happened to personally pick both of them out as her chaperone? By mere chance!?”

                                            >”The world works in mysterious ways, Mr Anon. Some would even say it’s magic at work.” Mrs Sparkle consoles you with a comforting smile.

                                            >Squeezing the bridge of your nose between two fingers, you sigh and try your best not to worry.

                                            “Well, whatever. I’m not comfortable with it, but we’ll just have to roll with it. Now, I’ve seen how you can handle a crowd, but would you two be able to handle escorting Celestia around while she’s here.”

                                            >Eyes flash with excitement, chests thrust forward in pride, and confident grins adorn both their muzzles.

                                            >Well, Velvet’s muzzle at least. Coal Crusher doesn’t seem like the smiling type.

                                            >Nonetheless, you’d think it was pony Christmas by the way they’re reacting.

                                            >The two of them take one sidelong look at each other and nod.

                                            >”It would be our honour.” They say in unison.

                                            >Although you’re not entirely happy about a few of these surprise revelations, the looks on their faces do put you at ease.

                                            “Alright then, if that’s decided, I guess we should go get Celly now.” You start leading all three of them back to the car as Emily sighs and tags along.

                                            >Though not before Coal takes exception to what you just said.

                                            >”Outrageous... Calling Her Highness by that name...”

                                            >”Aww.” Velvet just coos as she rests her cheek in a hoof.

                                            >Her reaction makes you awkwardly scratch the back of your head.


                                            >Once again, a cheer rains out amongst the herd.

                                            >This Celestia peeks her head around the side of the boot.

                                            >Her eyes go wide as she spots the two ponies and Emily following you, and her mouth slowly falls open as recognition washes over her face.

                                            “Alrighty then, Celestia.” You start. “I’ve got two ponies I’d like you to meet. This is-”

                                            >”Velvet!?” Celestia cuts you off.

                                            >”It’s good to see you, Your Highness! How are you feeling today?”

                                            >The grey unicorn steps forward, her expression as warm and bright as possible, despite the subtle flicks of her eyes as they dance over Celestia’s body.

                                            >”B-But-” The stunned mare stutters. “How did you get here? How is this possible?”

                                            >”Oh, don’t mind the details, Your Highness. I’m just glad I can lend a hoof.” Velvet hesitates for a moment. “Though... And I hate putting her majesty on the spot like this, but...I don’t suppose you’ve heard from any of my babies at all?”

                                            >Celestia hesitates, her face twisting as if she might start crying. Fortunately, she rallies at the last moment and shakes her head.

                                            >”I’m sorry, Mrs Sparkle. I’m afraid I still haven’t heard anything from any of them in a long time.”

                                            >The answer hits the motherly mare hard, but she only barely flinches before giving another warm smile.

                                            >Then, she starts chuckling.

                                            >”Well, knowing those three, I’m sure they’re up to no good. Probably turn up with some disaster on their hands that they’ll need our help with.”

                                            >”That does sound like them.” Celestia wistfully laughs along as the two mares hit it off like old friends.

                                            >“Though… I think I’d really appreciate something like that right now, Your Highness.”

                                            >”... Me too, Velvet. Me too…”

                                            >They obviously have some history, so you keep your peace for the moment as a concerned Mrs Sparkle starts going on about Celestia’s injuries.


                                            >Eventually, they finish their small bit of chatter, and Celestia turns towards an ever patient Coal Crusher.

                                            >As she takes in the state of him -- with his horrendously burnt flesh that, by your estimates, covers at least 50% of his body -- she holds as measured a look as possible.

                                            >Though a slight flit of her wings and an uneasy shuffle of her hooves betray what she’s actually thinking.

                                            >Suddenly her brow furrows, and she scrunches her muzzle and scowls as she examines him.

                                            >All the while, he holds himself with perfect posture. Eyes facing forward with disciplined practice.

                                            >”I’m sorry, brave stallion, but… though your name escapes me, I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

                                            >”Brave?” He laughs. “I don’t know about brave, but-”

                                            >The stallion raises a hoof to his temple and strikes a crisp salute.

                                            >”Sergeant Coal Crusher of the royal guard, Your Highness. At your service, now and forever, so that the Sun and Moon may always rise.”

                                            >Time almost stands still as Celestia’s mouth hangs open.

                                            >Now, Celestia has already been through quite a bit since she’s come under your care.

                                            >Not to mention the horrid place and condition you found her in.

                                            >That’s why you can tell that the straw just broke the camel's back as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

                                            >Then another.

                                            >And another.

                                            >Until Celestia’s facade cracks, and then they start flowing freely.

                                            >”I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so, so, s-sorry!” She stutters.

                                            >Coal Crusher takes a step back, face aghast at this new development.

                                            >”Your Majesty!?”

                                            >She brings both hooves to her cheeks and starts fruitlessly wiping away her tears

                                            >”I’m the one who should be sorry... I’ll remove myself at once!” He lowers his head and starts backing away.

                                            >”No!!! Don’t go!”

                                            >Celestia blurts out. Her eyes getting redder as more tears stain her cheeks.


                                            >”A-Anon, stand back.”

                                            >You don’t need to be told twice as you move away from the car.

                                            >The distraught mare stands up at the edge of the open boot, eyes the ground; and before you can stop her, she jumps.

                                            >Everyone else steps back in surprise as she awkwardly launches outwards like a spastic gazelle.

                                            >Unfortunately, Celestia -- in her moment of purpose -- had forgotten how high the boot was from the ground.

                                            >As her hooves hit the ground, her legs buckle under her weight and collapse - sending her sprawling through the dirt.

                                            >A fair distance away, the crowd of ponies lets out a collective gasp and goes silent at the sight of their monarch lying on the ground.

                                            >Before anyone can say anything though, flailing limbs kick up dust as she starts scrambling to right herself.

                                            >”Your highness, forgive me, I’ll help you up right aw-”

                                            >”You stay right there, Young Stallion.” She threatens him with a pointing hoof.

                                            >It’s a bit impressive the way he instantly obeys her instruction - planting his rear on the ground and going stock still.

                                            >Eventually, she gets her hooves under herself, and stands up on shaky legs.

                                            >With a quick huff to blow an errant bit of multi-coloured mane out of her eyes, the now dirty-faced Princess takes a few steps over towards Coal Crusher.

                                            >The guardspony in question looks pained at what he’s made her do.

                                            >But still, he holds his ground as commanded.

                                            >Not a sound can be heard beside the steady clop of Celestia’s hooves as the whole yard keenly watches on.

                                            >She stops right in front of him and sits down herself.

                                            >Everyone takes a collective breath in suspense.

                                            >Being a smaller pony than the princess, the steely stallion shrinks under her distraught gaze.

                                            >Until, deftly as she can manage, the mare wraps two hooves around his neck and pulls him into her chest for a hug.


                                            >The crowd gasps.

                                            >You and Emily let out a sigh of relief.

                                            >And Velvet just nods to herself.

                                            >From your vantage point, you’re the only one who can see the expression on the grizzled stallions face as it stays mostly smothered by the thick tuft on Celestia’s chest.

                                            >Wide eyes quickly shut, and a bottom lip quivers as he lets out a shuddering breath.

                                            >A forehoof nervously rises.

                                            >Hesitates.

                                            >Then reaches around Celestia’s side and holds on for dear life.

                                            >She closes her own eyes and whispers a ‘thank you’.

                                            >In the distance, the crowd erupts in a glorious cheer despite not knowing what's going on.

                                            >It’s a picturesque scene that makes your heart swell, if not for the one thing wrong with it.

                                            >Stint is staring daggers at you with a laser focus.

                                            >No one else.

                                            >Just you.

                                            >As the two ponies pull apart - you walk forward, pull out a handkerchief, and offer it to Celestia.

                                            >She thanks you as she takes it and starts rubbing her face clean.

                                            >Coal Crusher once again assumes the same grim expression he always wears, although you’d be lying if you said you didn’t now see the hint of a smile on his scarred muzzle.

                                            >”I think I’m ready to see the rest of my ponies now, if both of you wouldn’t mind escorting me?” Celestia asks them as she pulls back from the stallion.

                                            >”It would be my honour, Your Highness.”

                                            >”Anytime, Dear.” Velvet quickly responds. “Though, if it isn’t too rude, there is one thing I might suggest before we head over.”

                                            >”What is it, Velvet?”

                                            >”While I’m sure Mr Crusher and Mr Anon are too polite to mention it, maybe we should find something that will cover up your…” She waves a hoof like she’s searching for a word. “Fragrance?”

                                            >You and Coal both cough and look away as the tips of Celestia’s ears go red.


                                            >Being by her side for the past week had gotten you so accustomed to her smell that you had stopped noticing it.

                                            >Coal must be a Stallion of steel will if he didn’t visibly react this whole time.

                                            >Emily, on the other hand, breaks out in hysterics; the veterinarian laughing so hard she starts clutching her sides as Celestia hides her face behind her wings.

                                            >Quickly retrieving some deodorant and a towel from a bag, you lead Celestia around the back of the car and help her freshen up.

                                            >As she returns, the two ponies flank her.

                                            >Their faces stone cold and serious as if nothing embarrassing just happened, and they start walking across the yard.

                                            >Stomping the ground with their hooves, the nearby herd can barely contain their excitement as their monarch approaches.

                                            >There’s just one more thing that you notice she needs.

                                            “Celestia!”

                                            >Looking back, the mare tilts her head questioningly.

                                            >You tap the bottom of your chin with the backside of two fingers.

                                            >Her eyes go wide as she realizes what you mean, and she raises her head and takes a more proper posture.

                                            >Some might even call it regal.

                                            >As she’s no longer slouching and holding her head low, you give her a thumbs up and a smile.

                                            >She reciprocates, and waves back with a wing before confidently marching towards her subjects.

                                            >As she approaches - Stint slinks away, only to be caught by Emily as she pinches his ear and drags him towards you.

                                            >The poor stallion protesting the whole way as the vet threatens to pull off his ear.

                                            >Meanwhile, the ponies reach a fevered pitch as Celestia arrives in front of them.


                                            >She may look calm for the most part, but all her little tells broadcast how nervous she is.

                                            >After looking from side to side at all of the colts, fillies, stallions, and mares lined up in front of her; flanked on either side by her two proud guards - she takes a deep breath, raises a hoof, and the crowd instantly goes quiet.

                                            >All ears are keen and flicked forward as they soak in her presence. Awaiting her words with barely restrained anticipation.

                                            >”Hello, my little ponies.” She begins. “It’s good to see you.”

                                            >There’s a deafening silence, like the calm before the storm.

                                            >You worry for a moment that it won’t go well.

                                            >That is, until the crowd explodes with a deafening roar.

                                            >Chuckling as a mare at the front of the herd faints, you head back to the car while Celestia tries calming them down.

                                            >Looks like she’s going to be alright after all.


                                            Part 17-1 (Seventeen-one)


                                            >”Ow! Hey! Ow! Ouch! Em! Ow, stop it, Oww!!!”

                                            >”Well, I have to say, Anon - that was some show.”

                                            >The blonde veterinarian calls out as she drags over a disgruntled and protesting blue stallion.

                                            “What can I say, she’s a crowd pleaser.”

                                            >”That she is, that she is... but, I’m honestly surprised.”

                                            “Hmm? Why’s that?”

                                            >”You gonna let me go, Em?” Stint speaks up, but both of you just ignore him.

                                            >”You seem to be looking after her well enough -- I can see she’s walking properly now -- but you’re not as, uh, physical with her. Not like last time at least.”

                                            “Oh, right, that…”

                                            >“You’re still pinching my ear, Emily…” The blue stallion interjects again. His ear twitching incessantly in between her nails.

                                            >”Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it!” She continues on, paying him no mind. “Hell, if I had to say, you guys look even closer now.”

                                            “Yeah, nah... It’s alright. We just... decided to cool off on that front until things have settled down. Y’know - what with her condition and all.”

                                            >”Riiiiiiight. Got ya.” She finally lets go of Stint’s ear.

                                            >It twitches irritably while he glares up at her.

                                            >”Though I have to say, it is a hell of a sight.”

                                            >She turns around and you both look over at Celestia.

                                            >The pony in question is now concernedly looking over the mare that fainted - checking if she’s alright while flanked by her two proud escorts.

                                            >Seeing her standing there amongst her kin is a heartwarming, but also somber moment, as it really hammers home just how underweight she currently is.

                                            >While other ponies have rounded flanks and soft faces - Celestia’s is gaunt by comparison; and although it isn’t as bad as when you found her, her hips bones are still ugly bumps on her skinny haunches.

                                            >The worst though is her belly and her poorly arched back.


                                            >Where other ponies are lean at worst, the poor mare’s gut is dangerously slim - a faint shadow of her ribs showing through her coat even this far away. And down the middle of her back you can still make out the small bumps of her spine.

                                            >At least she can stand under her own strength now.

                                            >Though there are a few concerned faces amongst them who’ve noticed the Princess's condition.

                                            >Thankfully, It doesn’t take long before the mare on the ground comes to her senses and slowly gets up - gladly accepting an offered hoof as assistance.

                                            >Only once she’s standing does she quickly realize -- with a gasp -- that the mare helping her is in fact the Princess.

                                            >This is soon followed by a gasp and then quickly passing out a second time.

                                            >You would never admit it to her, but you do enjoy the confused and fretting expression on Celly’s face as -- with a hoof held to her chin -- she worriedly examines the overexcitable unconscious pony sprawled on the ground.

                                            >Meanwhile, both guards struggle valiantly.

                                            >Velvet with reassuring words and her energetic demeanour, quickly intercepting adults and children alike; and Crusher, with his ever intimidating presence and surprising physical strength -- as they hold back the ecstatic herd while a circle forms around them.

                                            >A barrage of questions and inane rambling constantly spewing forth at a fevered pitch from the myriad of moving muzzles.

                                            >Still, you can swear there’s an almost excited grin plastered on the ex-royal guard’s face as he easily holds back an over-eager light-green stallion.

                                            >”Anyway-” Emily grabs your attention. “While Celestia hangs out with the locals, why don’t you bring some of that stuff inside? I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet.”

                                            “This your mystery mare, is it?”


                                            >”Ohohoho, you better believe it. Though I think you’re in for one hell of a surprise, Anon.”

                                            >You’d assumed you would be staying in the main house, so you quickly grab as much as you can carry and follow Emily’s lead while Stint brings up the rear.

                                            >When you cross the threshold of the front door into a hallway, your eyes are immediately assaulted by a visual onslaught of horse paraphernalia.

                                            >Little vignettes, framed photos, frail figurines, old ornaments, small sculptures, and many many more similarly themed objects depicting equine creatures adorn the walls and shelves.

                                            >No matter where you look, your eyes fall on some other similarly themed item or adornment.

                                            >While you silently reconsider your choice in staying here - Emily turns around.

                                            >”No place like home.” She gives you a knowing grin.

                                            >Leading you through the house, she takes you into the living room, past a large fake horse that looks disturbingly alive, and stops next to a couch embroidered with faded silhouettes of ponies.

                                            >And no, not the Equestrian kind.

                                            >”I’m a bit short on rooms right now -- and I didn’t really have a backup place where you could sleep -- so unless you want to stay in the medical barn out the back with Stint… Enjoy!”

                                            >She enthusiastically gestures with both arms at the rundown sofa with the numerous tears in its upholstery.

                                            >Before you can look too upset, something hard jabs your thigh.

                                            “Ow!” You look down.

                                            >”Hey.” Stint starts as he lowers the offending hoof. “At least you get to sleep somewhere warm.”

                                            >You’d been bracing for a spat with Emily in case she tried letting Stint stay in the same house as Celestia, but fortunately - it looks like they’ve made preparations in advance.

                                            >That doesn’t mean you’re about to let your guard down though.


                                            >Nonetheless, the sight of the old dilapidated furniture is disheartening when you consider you’ll be staying here for a few days.

                                            >”It's not too bad, Human. It’s where I slept when I first got here.”

                                            >You bend down and give it a cautious sniff - only to inhale the strong wafting smell of stallion, as well as some other potent underlying odour.

                                            “Doesn’t smell like it’s been cleaned since then either.”

                                            >”What can I say, we run a busy practice; and we don’t always make it to the bedroom.”

                                            >Stint grins and confidently flicks his tail against Emily’s backside, eliciting a stern look from her.

                                            >”Oh dear! I didn’t know you wanted to move outside permanently, Stint. But we can always make some new arrangements.”

                                            >She glares down at him as her mouth twists into a playful smirk

                                            >”Who, Me?No! no need for that. I’ll just, uh, grab my things.”

                                            >The cocky stallion smiles apologetically and starts backing out of the room.

                                            >That is - until his rear end collides with the fake horse, making it wobble precariously.

                                            >Emily’s breath hitches, and you tense in anticipation of it falling.

                                            >Thankfully, the all too lifelike centrepiece stabilizes, and everyone collectively lets out a sigh of relief.

                                            >Before he can get yelled at again, a now terrified Stint quickly turns and thunders off through a doorway, leaving behind a small contrail of dust in an almost cartoonish fashion.

                                            >Emily just laughs at his actions with a hand over her heart.

                                            >Now that the stallion has left the room, a noticeable tinge of tension that was hanging around dissipates.

                                            >Unfortunately, that just reminds you of your lodgings for the the few days.


                                            >Spirits falling again and letting out a heavy sigh, you grudgingly dump your things on the couch and remind yourself that this is all for Celestia.

                                            >”Sorry, Anon. But -- as I’m sure you’re well aware -- detox is a painful process. For both the patient and their loved ones.”

                                            >The vet begins with a sympathetic smile.

                                            >”You’ll be staying here by yourself, while Celestia will be undergoing treatment in my room.”

                                            “I expected as much, so that's alright. I actually wanted to stay because I’m concerned about someone else giving her a visit.”

                                            >”Who? Stint?”

                                            >You stay silent.

                                            >”Look, I’m sorry about what happened last time, Anon. I really am. And I think, on some level, he is as well. It’s just... kind of hard for him, y’know?

                                            “Oh, is it now?”

                                            >”I mean, he’s practically a young adult who dreams of leading his kind to freedom.”

                                            “That’s fine and dandy, Emily. But me trusting him is still a ways off, especially when he gives me the stink eye whenever no one else is looking”

                                            >She sighs and sits down on the couch, next to your belongings.

                                            >”I don’t really blame him.”

                                            “Excuse me?”

                                            >”Hear me out before you get mad.”

                                            >You chew the inside of your cheek a bit before motioning for her to continue.

                                            >”From the moment I told him he wasn’t my slave -- and he actually believed it -- he’s been making plans.

                                            “Plans.”

                                            >”Yup. Always coming up with some hair brained scheme: releasing patients and hiding them in the woods so their owners can’t find them; scurrying together scraps and supplies from outside the practice to help whatever ponies we take in; I think he even has some contacts that meet him at night every now and then, but I don’t ask… I feel like it helps him get out of bed every morning.”


                                            ”And you’re fine with that? With him just doing whatever and not telling you?” You ask incredulously.

                                            >”I told you he’s not my slave, Anon.”

                                            “... Fine. But then that means there’s probably a few outside sources who know about Celestia, aren’t there?”

                                            >”... I would assume so.”

                                            “And you didn’t think that was something I’d like to know?”

                                            >Now it’s her turn to stay silent as she averts her guilty eyes.

                                            >You stew for a bit.

                                            >All the coincidences.

                                            >That look he gave you.

                                            >Leaving as soon as possible seems like a good option, but taking Celestia away from here now wouldn’t help.

                                            >Especially since she’s already begun reconnecting with her ponies.

                                            >There’s also the fact that Stint is probably listening in right now, as you haven’t heard the front or the back door opening.

                                            “I’m not happy to say the least, Emily.” You scratch the back of your head. ”How do I know Stint’s not up to something?”

                                            >A faint and dull thud of a hoof behind you confirms your suspicions.

                                            >”He’s always up to something, you don’t have to worry about that.” She laughs. “But he doesn’t have it in him to hurt you, at least intentionally.”

                                            “Well I got a pretty big bruise from him last time.”

                                            >”That was… An accident. Well, apart from the whole helping Celestia escape-”

                                            “-Kidnapping her.”

                                            >”Right... I think… I think once he found out who it was and saw the kind of state she was in - he just snapped. Probably thought you were responsible.”

                                            >Although you’re not happy, you know you would have probably thought the same thing if you had to be honest.

                                            >“He doesn’t hate you, Anon. I think he actually likes you deep down for what you’ve done. He just deeply resents you.”

                                            “But why? What have I done to him? Apart from tossing his fat ass out of my car?”


                                            >”I’m not too sure -- he get defensive every time I bring you up -- but if I had to say: then I’d think it’s because you’re living his fantasy, Anon.”

                                            “Huh?”

                                            >What? Is she talking about how he’s still technically a slave?

                                            >As you sit there at a loss for words, Emily continues.

                                            >”You found the Princess, Anon.”

                                            >Oh.

                                            >”You’re the one that saved her from whatever hell she was in. You’re the one nursing her back to health, day in day out. You’re the one helping her reconnect with ponies. Hell, you’re even hitting things off with her. Meanwhile, he’s been helping horrendously injured ponies for years, yet -- and don’t tell him I told you -- he still struggles with fitting in and can’t hold back a crowd of ponies.”

                                            “Ah.”

                                            >”Although it hurts me to say it, I think he’s had that kind of fantasy for many years. Hell, he practically told me so himself.”

                                            >Emily twiddles her thumbs and sighs heavily.

                                            >”He’s got healing hooves, that’s for sure. And the work we do keeps him distracted. But he’s young, Anon. He can’t help but hope for certain things.”

                                            “... I see.”

                                            >A few more wood panels groan behind you.

                                            >”I won’t ask you to be best friends with him. But you have to admit, you guys did get off on the wrong foot.”

                                            “I won’t deny that.”

                                            >”And I reckon - that if you both sat down and had a chat, you’d find out you have a lot more in common than you think.

                                            >You let out a heavy sigh and rub the back of your neck.

                                            “I’ll think about it. But only because you’ll be taking care of Celly.”

                                            >”Oh you big softie, you.” She stands up and mock-punches your arm.

                                            >The two of you stand there for a moment in silence before Emily breaks it.

                                            >”On a more serious note, Anon.”

                                            “That wasn’t serious?”

                                            >Her eyes tell you to be quiet.


                                            >“Detox is rough process, especially with this kind of substance. She’s probably going to call out your name. Asking for help. Maybe making up lies about how I’m treating her so you’ll come and give her more drugs. She might just scream. She might get angry and attack me. But I can handle myself.

                                            >She extends a hand towards you.

                                            So I need a promise from you, Anon. That you won’t get any bright ideas.”

                                            >You nod and shake her hand.

                                            “Do what you have to, Emily. Being able to stay in the same house will be enough for me.”

                                            >”Good.”

                                            >A soft scurry of hooves from behind sounds Stint’s retreat.

                                            >”Now, let's show you who you’ll be taking home with you.”

                                            “Easy, Emily…”

                                            >She winks and leads you back towards the front door hallway, stopping outside a closed door with no significant markings.

                                            >Raising a fist, she gently raps on the door

                                            >*Knock* Knock* *Knock*

                                            >“Match Stick? Tinder? Are you busy?” Emily calls through the door.

                                            >No response.

                                            >*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

                                            >”Match Stick? Tinder? Are you guys in there?”

                                            >*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

                                            >”I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet!”

                                            >The veterinarian quickly gives you a worried look, then slowly twists the door knob.

                                            >Gently pushing the door open, Emily peeks inside.

                                            >”Match Stick? You okay, Honey?”

                                            >There’s still no response.

                                            >You move forward to get a look, but Emily stops you with a hand on your chest.

                                            >”She’s been through a lot, Anon. Probably better if you keep your distance for the moment.”

                                            “Real encouraging, Emily.”

                                            >”Please… Just give us a moment.”

                                            >Slowly swinging the door open the rest of the way - Emily takes a few slow steps inside while you stay in the doorway and examine the room.

                                            >It looks like a former storage space; as junk and old furniture is stacked up in the corners, balanced precariously all the way up to the ceiling.


                                            >There are no windows along the walls covered in peeling blue paint; and the faint dusty quality of the air tells you how long it’s been since this room was properly cleaned

                                            >In the centre is an old double-bed. Low to the ground with -- once again -- horse themed blankets.

                                            >Nestled under the covers and taking short laboured breaths - a colt with a wood brown coat and metallic-silver hair tosses and turns in his sleep.

                                            >His hair messy and his body shaking with sweat under the telltale signs of fever.

                                            >Sitting next to him on the bed and staring distantly into a corner of the room is a unicorn mare with frazzled and similarly coloured wood-brown hair, a maroon coat, and angry amber eyes with heavy bags under them.

                                            >”Match Stick, Dear? Are you alright?”

                                            >The mare doesn’t even flinch.

                                            >She just stares lifelessly at the corner.

                                            >It’s almost like she’s catatonic.

                                            >Emily reaches out and places and hand on the side of her neck.

                                            >An ear twitches slightly, but other than that, it seems like nobody is home.

                                            >The concerned vet gives her a little shake, but still, no response.

                                            >”Honey? Is this about what happened? You know it wasn’t your fault.”

                                            >Her words hang uselessly in the air.

                                            >As Emily tries breaking through to the unresponsive pony, something curious catches your gaze.

                                            >Something on her haunch.

                                            >You can’t quite see it from this angle, and so you take a step into the room.

                                            >That’s better.

                                            >”Match Stick? Can you hear me? Blink if you can!” Emily puts her head to her chest.

                                            >Meanwhile you inspect the curious mark.

                                            >Her fur on one side of her rear is dyed in a unique pattern. Almost like the fur itself was always a different color.

                                            >It looks almost exactly like her namesake - a single matchstick with a brightly burning, but diminutive, flame.


                                            >The object is depicted in photo realistic quality, making you wonder just what kind of person would do something like this.

                                            >You haven’t seen any other pony with brandings like this.

                                            >”You’re starting to scare me here, Match Stick.”

                                            >The veterinarian is now gently shaking the non-responsive pony.

                                            >You’re starting to feel quite uneasy yourself.

                                            >But Emily is the most qualified person in the room to handle this problem. So you hold back any input.

                                            >”Please, say something. Anything. Let me know you’re in there, Girl!”

                                            >Her tail twitches.

                                            >While you wait, you refocus on the picture on her huanch

                                            >Just beyond what’s clearly visible, you spy a some more off coloured fur; again making out the high quality representation of a real life object.

                                            >But it’s just out of sight, maybe if you took a step to the left-

                                            >”Match Sti-!”

                                            >*Cough* *Cough* *Cough* *Cough *Cough*

                                            >Suddenly the colt in the bed belches out a series of violent coughs, making the bed shake with his convulsions as he heaves with laboured breath.

                                            >Emily reacts instantly - quickly pulling out a handkerchief to cover his mouth and moving over so she can prop him up.

                                            >”Tinder?!?!?!”

                                            >The silent mare suddenly panics and looks over at Emily cradling the young colt.

                                            >”Oh Celestia! Please, no! No! No!”

                                            >As she gets closer, Emily pulls back the the cloth from his mouth.

                                            >Even from where you’re standing, you can see the small spatter of blood on it.

                                            >”You said you could help him! Why aren’t you helping him?”

                                            >The suddenly aggressive mare reaches over and hooks a hoof around the vet’s shoulder, shaking her back and forth.

                                            >”I’m doing all I can, alright?” Emily removes the hoof from her shoulder gives the pony a stern look.

                                            >”... Please… I can’t lose him…”


                                            “Not if I can help it. Look! I even brought someone today who can help. Now, please, step back.”

                                            >”You brought someone?!” She mocks her incredulously. “What do you-”

                                            >The mare quickly finds you a few steps away from the bed.

                                            >And then freezes on the spot.

                                            >Welp, no time like the present.

                                            “Hi the-”

                                            >”No…”

                                            >Her eyes shrink to pinpricks and her ears fold back against her neck.

                                            >”No.”

                                            >”Matchy? What’s wrong.” Emily concernedly asks as she cradles the sick colt.

                                            >The mare stands to her hooves and holds her head low.

                                            >”No!”

                                            >A panicked tremor rocks through her body as she yells out. Her eyes never leaving you.

                                            >”Anon!” Emily urgently motions for you to leave.

                                            >You don’t need to be told twice.

                                            >”No! No! No! No! No! No! No!!!”

                                            >Taking deep gulping breaths, the now hyperventilating mare squints her eyes shut.

                                            >You start backing out through the door.

                                            >You won’t touch me again!!!” She hysterically screams out.

                                            >It all starts so quickly.

                                            >A pleasant chiming sound fills the air - like someone is gently running their hands through them.

                                            >Her maroon horn -- something that you never really paid attention to until Celestia charged with hers -- suddenly lights up.

                                            >It becomes engulfed in a brilliant amber aura that matches her eyes, and for a split second you’re rendered immobile in your fascination.

                                            >Your dumbstruck state quickly ends though, when something unseen collides with your neck and clamps on your throat.

                                            *Hurk*

                                            “Awk-”

                                            >Immediately your breath is cut off and you reactively backpedal.

                                            >Reaching to your neck so you can pull off what feels like a steel vice squeezing tightly against your windpipe.

                                            >Your fingers only find skin, and so you instinctively try to breath in again.


                                            *Hurk*

                                            “Agh-”

                                            >”Match Stick?! God, what are you doing to him?!”

                                            >”Stay out of this, or you’ll get the same!”

                                            *Thunk*

                                            >Back colliding with the wall, you frantically claw at your neck, desperately trying to remove the horrible intangible weight that crushes your neck.

                                            >”I won’t sit back let you do this!”

                                            >”Stay away from me, Human!”

                                            >You slide down to the floor, the whole way scratching and grasping at your neck. Trying to remove whatever horrendous thing is preventing you from getting air.

                                            >Flailing out, your fist collides into the wall at full force with a loud slam.

                                            >Whether you just punched a hole in the wall or not, you can’t tell.

                                            >All you care about right now is getting some air in your lungs.

                                            >”Anon!? What’s wrong?! Oh, Celestia!”

                                            >As black dots slowly start creeping into the corners of your vision, you barely register a blue stallion galloping down the corridor.

                                            >Lungs burning and body convulsing you frantically point into the room before aggressively clawing at your neck again.

                                            >Sharps spikes of pain on your skin barely register beneath the crushing vice as your thoughts start getting hazier.

                                            >”Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!?! Let go of her!!!”

                                            >”I won’t sit around waiting to be his fucktoy! Don’t make me hurt you too!!!”

                                            >*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

                                            >There’s someone at the door.

                                            >Kicking out; you try your best in vain to do something, anything, before you slip away.

                                            >”I… I can’t let you kill him!”

                                            >”Stay back!”

                                            >Your foot collides with something hard.

                                            >”Ow, Shit!”

                                            >You hear a few thumps before and then a crashing sound as you make a few last futile gasps.

                                            >Suddenly, the pressure on your throat releases as a loud yelps come from the room.

                                            >”Ooft.” A dull thud sounds out from in front of you.


                                            >You quickly take a few greedy gulps of air.

                                            >*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

                                            >There’s a harder knock at the front door.

                                            >Maybe they can help.

                                            >But you can’t wait around.

                                            >You try and hoist yourself back up, your vision still dark around the edges, but your strength fails you.

                                            >As you crash back down to the ground, you land staring directly into a pair of burning amber eyes above the bed.

                                            “No! Wait, plea-”

                                            *Hurk*

                                            >Her horn lights up again, foregoing the previous method as this time the unseen force brutally crashes against your throat like someone just hit it with a solid iron bar.

                                            >You choke again and start slamming your fist into the wall in some desperate cry for help. Your chest still burning with pain from a lack of oxygen.

                                            >*Crash*

                                            >”Anon?! Coal Crusher! Help him!”

                                            >Something breaks, and you barely register the sound of your own name.

                                            >The black dots start swarming your vision again.

                                            >Your thoughts get slower and arrive further and further apart.

                                            >Pain still courses through your body, but you don't even care about it anymore.

                                            >Limbs stop flailing.

                                            >Everything starts going quiet.

                                            >The edges of the world slip away; and as you drift off into an unexpected slumber - a single dream comes to you from the void.

                                            >An endless abyss stretches out in front of you.

                                            >Yet your footsteps always find purchase.

                                            >Rows of metal cages stretching eternally on either side of you.

                                            >You can see what’s inside them.

                                            >People.

                                            >Places.

                                            >Memories

                                            >But those don’t matter.

                                            >You’re looking for something.

                                            >Something that will fix things.

                                            >That will make all the wrong things right.

                                            >You’ll know it when you see it.

                                            >But no.

                                            >That can’t happen.

                                            >Not anymore.

                                            >Those mistakes can’t be undone.

                                            >There is no way to make those wrongs right.

                                            >No way to take back what you’ve done.


                                            >So you continue walking.

                                            >It’s all you can do now.

                                            >It’s the only thing left for you.

                                            >Forever through the darkness.

                                            >How long have you been walking for now?

                                            >One foot in front of the other?

                                            >It doesn’t matter.

                                            >The cages are gone now

                                            >Along with all the memories.

                                            >There’s nothing left but the darkness.

                                            >You close your eyes and lie down.

                                            >...

                                            >It’s time.

                                            >...

                                            >...

                                            >”Anon!”

                                            >A voice.

                                            >And a familiar one too.

                                            >Whose is it?

                                            >You open your eyes.

                                            >There’s a single cage.

                                            >Walking to its edge and crouching down, you see a familiar heartwarming sight.

                                            >Nestled in the sheets of a bed, draped on top of a man, is a white coated mare.

                                            >Her legs occasionally twitch, and her tongue hangs out the side of her mouth.

                                            >The mare looks downright silly, but still cute as a button.

                                            >”Anon!”

                                            >She sounds so sad.

                                            >The memory is suddenly replaced by a light that gleams brightly from within the cage, shining like the morning sun.

                                            >It bathes you in its golden warmth.

                                            >As you marvel in its beauty, a single golden thread reaches out from the centre and snakes its way towards you.

                                            >Eventually, it reaches your chest. And as it connects with your skin, a jolt of electricity courses through your body.

                                            >But you don’t move.

                                            >The light doesn’t get closer.

                                            >It’s not a lifeline.

                                            >It’s an offer.

                                            >An exchange.

                                            >Something that you won’t be able to take back.

                                            >Should you agree…

                                            >And yet…


                                            >You’ve done well.

                                            >You got her out of that hell.

                                            >You got her some help.

                                            >You shared some close moments.

                                            >You reconnected her with her subjects.

                                            >She’s in a good place.

                                            >And -- maybe someday, with or without you -- you’re sure the sun will rise again.

                                            >You look behind you.

                                            >There’s another light.

                                            >But this one is different.

                                            >It’s enticing in its own way.

                                            >And as it glows in the distance, you understand its purpose.

                                            >This will set you on a new path.

                                            >With new people.

                                            >New places.

                                            >New memories.

                                            >There’s no telling where it may lead you.

                                            >So, I guess what I’m asking you is:

                                            "Do I want to keep going?"


                                            Continue?

                                            >

                                            Yes

                                            No


                                            Part Eighteen (18)


                                            Continue?


                                            >Yes

                                            No


                                            >Electricity starts flowing through your chest, and then a warmth washes over your face.


                                            Yes

                                            >No


                                            >It pulses again, your chest floods with fire as once more the warmth sweeps over you.


                                            >>>Yes

                                            No


                                            >Although it’s tempting, you know there’s still work that needs doing.

                                            >And after all that’s happened, despite all your regrets, a large part of you still wants to see this through to the end.

                                            >Grabbing hold of the golden thread, another jolt of electricity travels through your body.

                                            >Giving one last look at the void behind you, you take a confident step towards the warm sun glowing in front of you.

                                            >Though as you get closer - an angry streak of a deep orange, black, dark maroon, and ruby red flickers across its surface.

                                            >You pause for a moment, but it doesn’t show again.

                                            >As your hand touches the gleaming orb, the thread attached to your chest spreads in a forked golden light underneath the surface of your body, warming you to the core.

                                            >With a smile, you pull the orb to your chest.

                                            >It’s so warm.

                                            >And soft.

                                            >And it's… on your lips now?

                                            >The light rapidly expands - growing larger than you, then larger than the cage as it scares away the surrounding darkness.

                                            >Electricity courses through your chest for one final time as you begin to leave this place.

                                            >It’s time.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~


                                            >What a mess.

                                            >What an absolute Celestia-damned mess...

                                            >Back in Equestria, things were generally quiet, and most days consisted of you being a glorified door colt.

                                            >’The Princess will see you shortly.’

                                            >’The Princess will see you now.’

                                            >’Thank you for coming all this way to see her Highness.’

                                            >’Have a good day.’

                                            >’This way, Citizen.’

                                            >How. Utterly. Boring.


                                            >Day in day out you would train your body to the breaking point, killing the time just by staying in shape; only to stand guard all morning and night in splendour filled halls, or escort her highness to quiet country towns.

                                            >Only sometimes would you be blessed with the rare diplomatic talk or other important event where you’d be paraded around as a symbol of Equestrian power.

                                            >Your glossy black coat shimmering under a delightful burden of heavy golden armour.

                                            >Nonetheless, as fulfilling as standing around all day doing nothing was meant to be; when all you had was a hammer, eventually you would start looking for a nail.

                                            >That got you into trouble more times than you could count. But it always felt worth it.

                                            >Your old Captain would often remind you -- as he scolded you for your lack of focus with more latrine duty or paperwork -- that sitting on your haunches all day was better than fending of thousands of changelings swarming the city.

                                            >’Bring on the changeling swarm.’ - You would always confidently reply.

                                            >A lot of your body still feels young, but maybe some part of you is finally getting older.

                                            >Even if it is a bit harder to tell now that most of it is burnt to a crisp.

                                            >You’ve gotten patient these days.

                                            >But still, while it was fun holding back a few excitable ponies outside, you really do prefer situations like these.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


                                            >”Anon?! Coal Crusher! Help him!”

                                            >You had sprung into action at Her Highness’s command.

                                            >Your body instantly reacting to her voice like it were your own will, as you bolted past her down the hall.

                                            >Anon was on the ground, his face red as a rose and his lips blue. Tears of pain streaking down his cheeks from bulging eyes while his mouth gaped open like a fish out of water.


                                            >His nails - smeared with small stains of his own blood as they clawed at his messy neck, slashing angry red lines through the bruised purple flesh.

                                            >All the while a familiar hue of translucent orange floated angrily around his throat.

                                            >Rounding the corner and jumping over his legs and through the doorway, you had instantly located the perpetrator and the tell-tale sign of her magic.

                                            >She had shrieked at your appearance; and as her horn flared brighter, you had felt a familiar pressure on your neck.

                                            >No time to be shocked though.

                                            >Years of guard training kicked in as you instinctively charged through the pain - leaping over a battlefield of scattered furniture and trinkets so you could strike at the base of her horn.

                                            >The magic had immediately short circuited, making her yelp and flinch, but before she could ignite her power again, you had tackled her off the bed and pinned her underneath you.

                                            >A scarred hoof pressed firmly against the tender point where her horn connected with her forehead.

                                            >Still, despite being bested, the unhinged mare then started screaming in distress.

                                            >”You have to get off me! Please! He has to die! He’ll get us all in our sleep! He’ll drug us all and sell us off to the slavers! He has to die!!!”

                                            >Hysterical cries were always the worst.

                                            >They always made your ears twitch.

                                            ”That's enough, Filly.”

                                            >You had quickly grabbed a bit of nearby cloth and stuffed it in her mouth.

                                            >Much better.

                                            >It might have been causing her more distress, but you didn’t really give a damn.

                                            >As she had lain pinned underneath you -- her eyes swimming with panic and paranoia while her limbs flailed with the futile strength of her desperation -- you took in the situation.


                                            >Velvet had arrived shortly afterward, and after checking you had the inside of the room under control, she had quickly begun looking over the now unresponsive human in the hallway with focused efficiency.

                                            >The vet -- a strange human girl who had saved your life those many moons ago -- was now by her partner.

                                            >He’s a young, blue coated, unicorn stallion. Head in the clouds in a lot of ways, but focused and dedicated to his goals.

                                            >Though now he was sporting a mean cut on the side of his steadily swaying head, one side of his face streaked with red as his own life force slowly leaked out.

                                            >Finally, there was a young colt with laboured breath, tossing and turning under the covers of the only bed - the sheets stained with small flecks of blood.

                                            >His own - judging by the state of his muzzle.


                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


                                            >And now, here you stand - perched over a belligerent mare; the entire room in ruins; your blood pumping with purpose like it hasn’t done in years.

                                            >What a glorious mess inde-

                                            >”Anon? Anon?! Oh no! Oh no, no, no, no, no! Are you alright?! Anon?!?!?!”

                                            >... Now that’s a tone you never wanted to hear again.

                                            >The room goes deathly quiet, and all eyes are on the large, distraught, skinny Alicorn as she shakily steps in to view through the door frame.

                                            >Something jolts underneath, and you spy the perp’s orange eyes widening at the pony who appears.

                                            >”He’s stopped breathing and he’s non-responsive!” Velvet speaks up, her head pressed to his chest.

                                            >Magenta eyes shrink to pin pricks, and Her Majesty’s entire body freezes as she takes in his condition.

                                            >It only lasts a second before she turns around, eyes gleaming with a focused fire as her tail twitches impatiently.


                                            >”Emily-!?” She cries out as she spots the weary vet -- currently sporting a familiar bruise around her own neck -- cradling her injured stallion in her arms. “Oh Gods, that stallion…”

                                            >She shakes her head.

                                            >“I’m sorry… How can I help him? How can I help Anon?”

                                            >The vet is also looking over at Anon. her eyes haggard as she furrows her brow and clutches at her injured throat.”

                                            >”Do yo- *Hack*” Her voice comes out raspy and she immediately coughs.

                                            >She pauses and stakes a few strained breaths.

                                            >“C-P-R.” She croaks out with some effort.

                                            >Princess Celestia looks confused for a moment before her eyes light up with recognition, although her brow furrows soon after.

                                            >”Velvet, give me some room, please.”

                                            >”Of course, Your Highness.”

                                            >The smaller mare quickly complies as the Princess sits alongside ‘Anon’s’ chest.

                                            >Moving off to the side, the ‘guard’ mare quickly assesses the room.

                                            >With surprising sharpness, she swiftly navigates the mess of a room and assists the struggling colt in the bed by propping him up and rubbing his back.

                                            >Not too shabby.

                                            >”How many was it…?”

                                            >You turn back.

                                            >The princess sits looking over the now long silent human, biting her bottom lip.

                                            >“Come on, Celestia. You read this not too long ago when you got here.”

                                            >...

                                            >The room is silent as another precious few seconds tick by.

                                            “... Come on! You once read an entire bookshelf in a single day because you were bored, now you can’t remember some stupid numbers?! Think, you stupid mare, think!!!” She desperately yells.

                                            >You share a look with an increasingly anxious Velvet as you start mentally counting the seconds.

                                            >”Thirty to two, Your Highness.”

                                            >All available eyes move to the swaying stallion in the middle of the room.


                                            >He currently has his eyes clenched shut in pain, and Emily is whispering something in his ear.

                                            >”Thirty to two, compression to breaths.” Stint says again.

                                            >Celestia’s nods and turns back to the man.

                                            >”Alright, Celestia. You can do this. Hooves roughly on the middle of his chest. Push down part way - a bit faster than once every second.”

                                            >She takes one final look at the man’s bloated visage, before she refocuses, places her wrapped hooves unsurely on his chest, and starts pressing down.

                                            >”One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, c’mon, Anon, thirteen, fourteen“

                                            >The room is silent, and everyone watches on as she counts out.

                                            >As she hits thirty, she bends down and presses her lips to his.

                                            >Her hair falls around their faces as she does so, obscuring the act.

                                            >A small part of you flares with anger, but you squash that nonsense.

                                            >After two breaths, she pulls back up. Only stopping for a moment so she can see if there’s any response before she starts pushing on his chest again.

                                            >”One, two, three, four, five, six, come on, Anon-!” You spy a few tears rolling down her cheek.

                                            >The mare below you has finally stopped struggling, and when you check up on her, she looks traumatized.

                                            >Gone is the raging pony from before, replaced instead by a hopelessly scared mare, whose orange eyes strain with regret as tears well in them.

                                            >”Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, please, please, please, you, pr-, promised, you, wouldn’t, abandon, me!”

                                            >She bends down and presses her lips against his again.

                                            >Two strong breaths and she’s right back up. Not even bothering with checking if he’s responding this time.


                                            >”You’re, not, allowed, to, leave, me, Anon!” She stops and takes a few quick gasping breaths out of necessity. “You’re mine!” She yells as she resumes. “Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen-”

                                            >As she leans over once more, you get a sinking feeling in your stomach.

                                            >The rest of the room must feel the same.

                                            >Emily has her face buried in Stint’s coat, her arms wrapped around the injured stallion’s neck as he sways.

                                            >Velvet cradles the colt in the bed with a sad look in her eyes. Her hooves burying his face in her chest to shield him from the sight.

                                            >And the one responsible for all of this now has her eyes clenched shut as her own tears creep out from underneath the closed lids.

                                            >Another two breaths, no response.

                                            >She puts her hooves back on his chest.

                                            >”Please, please, please, please, please, please-”

                                            “Your Highness…”

                                            >You’ve had just about enough of this.

                                            >Her desperate voice is breaking your heart.

                                            >”Please, Please, Please, Please-”

                                            “I’m sorry.”

                                            >”Please, Please, Please-”

                                            ”He’s already-”

                                            *Cough!* *Cough!* *Cough!*

                                            >With a strong splutter and a ragged gasp of breath, the human violently comes to life.

                                            >His chest swell with air and he grabs at his throat; while his eyes wander aimlessly and he flails wildly.

                                            >The Princess shudders heavily with relief.

                                            >”Thank the gods…” She whispers as she wipes her cheek with a foreleg.

                                            >Sighs of relief come from everyone in the room, as well as a sobbing from underneath you.

                                            >You look down as a small rage burns in your heart.

                                            >She’d only just forgiven you, yet you’d already failed your Princess and made her cry. And the one responsible…


                                            >The face of the mare below you is a distressed blubbering mess, and if it weren’t for the rag stuffed into her mouth, she’d be wailing right now.

                                            “You’re lucky, y’know. If he hadn’t gotten up. I'd be taking something special from you. And I’m sure Her Highness wouldn’t have stopped me.” You spit as you tap the base of her horn a few times.

                                            >She winces with each tap and goes quiet. Her fear filled eyes trying to escape your fierce gaze.

                                            >This mare made your Princess cry. You would ensure that she not soon forget that.

                                            >Though you are concerned at how attached Her Majesty is to this… Human...

                                            *Cough* *Cough* *Cough*

                                            >Speaking of - Anon lets out another round of wheezing coughs. And as he struggles propping himself up, his arm quickly give out under him.

                                            >”Oh, dear. Are you alright? Here, let me help you up, Anon-”

                                            *Smack*

                                            >The room goes silent again, and you’re left momentarily speechless.

                                            >Celestia is nursing a hoof against her chest.

                                            >Anon is holding the offending hand protectively in front of himself, shielding his throat from her.

                                            >His eyes swim with fear as they stare warily at... Her?

                                            >No…

                                            >As they stare at the giant spiral protrusion on her forehead.

                                            >He can’t pull his gaze away. His hand shaking as he steadily wheezes while lying on the floor.

                                            >”A-A-” She stutters.

                                            >Her breath hitches in her throat.

                                            *Cough* *Cough* *Cough*

                                            >He convulses with another series of violent coughs.

                                            >When he settles down, a sudden realisation comes over him and he looks back down at her face.

                                            >You can’t really see the Princess’s expression from here.

                                            >All you can see is Anon’s haggard features as they falls into one of the most tortured expressions of shame you’ve ever seen on a human.


                                            >Before she can find her words, he hastily scrambles to his feet.

                                            >She tries to stop him, but it's too late. He ignores her pleading hoof pulling against his leg and stumbles off down the hall.

                                            >Leaving her sitting there, a hoof extended dejectedly after him.

                                            >You hear the door open.

                                            >”W-wait!” She finally cries out.

                                            >Footsteps stop.

                                            >But only for a moment.

                                            >The door slams.

                                            >You can hear a crunching of shoes on dirt from outside.

                                            >Everyone holds their breath. No one in the room making a noise while you all listen with bated breath for the one thing nobody wants to hear.

                                            >A car door opening and shutting just before the engine starts and he drives off.

                                            >The poor mare you swore your life to protect is frozen still.

                                            >Her eyes desperately searching down the hall.

                                            >The crunching of footsteps continues, and then starts fading as it gets further and further away.

                                            >Velvet is the first one who lets out a sigh of relief, and gently sets down the colt who seems to have settled for the moment.

                                            >Emily finally pulls her messy face out Stint’s neck and starts brushing the blood stained mane out of his eyes.

                                            >Princess Celestia still sits there, frozen with her hoof reaching out after him, her bottom lip trembling.

                                            >You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and snarl down at the mare beneath you.

                                            >The one responsible for your Monarch’s pain.

                                            >Though your malice is immediately deflated.

                                            >Her eyes are already those of a dead fish’s, and she can only pathetically whimper on the ground.

                                            “Hmmph.”

                                            >This one’s not going to be causing more trouble anytime soon.

                                            >Meanwhile, Velvet carefully manoeuvres past the Emily and her stallion -- sharing a quick word to make sure they’re alright -- before approaching the Princess.

                                            >”Y-Your Highness… Are you okay?”


                                            >After a brief pause, Princess Celestia suddenly jolts, then looks warily down at her lonely hoof.

                                            >”Yes… I’m fine.” She mutters as she inspects it.

                                            >That’s wrong.

                                            >Something is clearly not right with her.

                                            >Her voice isn’t the same as it was when she was talking with the ponies outside - motherly and patient.

                                            >It currently sounds bitter, yet tempered.

                                            >She turns towards the room, her face neutral, but her eyes cold.

                                            >In your eyes, she’s trying to look strong, but only trying.

                                            >As she examines the room, she takes in the state of everyone with the same defeated expression.

                                            >Until finally, her eyes roll over the mare beneath you.

                                            >It’s only for a very brief moment, but still, even your own blood goes cold as her eyes are briefly consumed with a fury so ferocious you think you yourself might catch alight again.

                                            >Meanwhile, the culprit below you tremors on the ground and tries to hide herself behind your hooves.

                                            >It almost makes you feel sympathetic for her.

                                            >Almost.

                                            >Though as the fury is there, it’s gone - as Princess Celestia looks away and chews on her lip.

                                            >”Maybe we should move to another room, Dear. Get some breathing space.” Velvet chimes in.

                                            >”...” She gets a flat stare in return.

                                            >”...I want to talk with Anon first....”

                                            >”Trust me, Dear. Some space will do him well. Why don’t we have a nice chat about what happened in the meantime?”

                                            >She places a comforting hoof on the Princess’s shoulder.

                                            >”No.”

                                            >It gets brushed off.

                                            >”Your Highness, I insist!”

                                            >”I’m not going to lose him.”

                                            >But of course, things are never that simple.

                                            *Kathunk*

                                            >As the Alicorn rises to all fours - her front legs -- the same ones that just saved Anon’s life -- buckle, and she goes crashing back to the ground.


                                            >”Huh?” She looks down at her legs, slightly dazed.

                                            “Your majesty!? Are you alright?”

                                            >The magical mare below you won’t cause any trouble in her current state, so you leave her and rush to the Princess’s side.

                                            >”Yes, Coal-” She frowns and puts her hooves back under herself.

                                            >”I’m just-” Again, they give out under her, and she goes crashing back down.

                                            >”I-I’m just-”

                                            >Putting her hooves under herself again, she pushes, but this time she can’t even get her barrel of the ground.

                                            >”W-Why?!”

                                            >She strains again.

                                            >”W-why won’t you work?!” Angrily, she yells at her own legs.

                                            >Again she pushes. But it’s no use.

                                            “Your Highness…”

                                            >”Dear…”

                                            >”W-Why does this always happen???”

                                            >And again.

                                            >Now tears are running down her cheeks again.

                                            >”Why do I always drive everyone away?”

                                            >And again she tries.

                                            >A knot is forming in your stomach.

                                            >”Why does everyone always leave me?!?!?!”

                                            >As she fails for the umpteenth time, you feel like you should turn away.

                                            >”W-Why do I always end up alone?”

                                            *Crunch*

                                            >She strikes the hardwood floor with a wrapped hoof, causing the wood to splinter slightly.

                                            “Princess!”

                                            >”Celestia!?”

                                            >”Why can’t I ever have someone?!”

                                            *Crunch*

                                            >”I try so hard!”

                                            *Crunch*

                                            >”I give so much!”

                                            *Crunch*

                                            >”Celestia, that’s enough.” Velvet suddenly moves forward and hugs her, trying her best to restrain her wild forelegs at the same time.

                                            >”Why does I always lose everything?!?!?!”

                                            >She screams into Velvets neck in a pained cry.

                                            >... You hate moments like this.

                                            >”It’s not fair!!!”

                                            >”I know, Dear...” Velvet coos.

                                            >Tears in the corner of the mare’s own eyes as she nuzzles the Princess’s neck.

                                            >All you can do is awkwardly stand there.

                                            >Unable to comfort your charge.

                                            >You were never the best with feelings.

                                            >”It’s not fair!”

                                            >”I know…”


                                            >There’s nothing that makes you feel weaker than when ponies you care about suffer, and yet you can’t do anything about it.

                                            >But this…

                                            >Yes, something like this is easy to understand.

                                            >”It’s not fair…”

                                            >”...”

                                            >Both of them fall into silence, holding each other for comfort.

                                            ”No, it’s not, Princess.”

                                            >You can do something about this.

                                            ”Velvet.”

                                            >Her ears flick and she looks up at you, a hoof still gently stroking the now settled Princess’s leg.

                                            ”I’ll be back in a moment, I’m trusting you with Her Highness’s safety.

                                            >The grey unicorn perks up and starts rubbing her eyes clear.

                                            ”I assume you know how to disable a Unicorn’s magic?”

                                            >”Hmph, who do you think you’re talking to?” She asks with a cocky smirk as she taps the base of her own chipped horn.

                                            ”Good.”

                                            >You turn and start trotting down the hallway.

                                            >”C-Coal Crusher?! W-Where are you going?”

                                            >You’re sick of hearing that kind of voice from her.

                                            >So despondent.

                                            >So sad.

                                            >Donning the most confident grin you can muster on your old, burnt muzzle - you answer her.

                                            ”Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. And also - I’ll be bringing you a royal gift.”

                                            >You’ve never been good at the mental things.

                                            >The physical arena was always your playground.

                                            >So if your Princess can’t walk, then it’s your job to walk for her.

                                            >If this ‘Anon’ makes her happy, then you’ll drag him back here kicking and screaming if you have to.

                                            >Reaching up, you open the door.

                                            >Only to come face to face with the large crowd of ponies that is still huddled around just outside.

                                            >Though a few of them aren’t looking at you. Instead, they have their heads twisted towards the end of the driveway.

                                            >This had slipped your mind.


                                            >In the first place, it was Princess Celestia’s sharp ears that had picked up the screams and yelling.

                                            >After helping a particularly flimsy mare stand for the tenth time – something that the crowd found immense amusement in -- she had suddenly tilted her head in the direction of the house

                                            >And as you and Velvet cleared a path for her, she had continuously apologised to as many subjects as she could.

                                            >All the while her eyes never drifting far from the front door.

                                            >Now after everything that’s happened…

                                            >Well, you know those ponies may be very kind, but they can’t see her like this.

                                            >Quickly closing the door, you look back at her and think for a bit.

                                            ”I think you should also take Velvet up on her offer, Your Highness. Also, you’ll need to have a chat with that mare eventually. She attacked him with magic after all.”

                                            >Her eyes go wide, and she wipes away some tears with a wing before giving you a nod.

                                            >”Thank you...”

                                            >Ah, now those words feel nice.

                                            “I live to serve, Your Highness. And I’m sure the rest of your subjects will be more than happy to see you once you’re back on your hooves.”

                                            >She bites her bottom lip and looks down miserably at the divot she just made in the wooden floor.

                                            >You take that as your cue to leave.

                                            >Opening the door again, the ponies give a cheer.

                                            “Alright, you lot-” You start as you quickly step outside and slam the door shut behind you.

                                            >A crowd of bright beaming faces looks at you expectantly.

                                            “Now I know you’re all excited-”

                                            >”Awwwww” They preemptively reply.

                                            “-But her majesty is feeling a bit tired.”

                                            >”Awwwwwww.” They respond with a collective groan of disappointment.

                                            “Yes, yes. I know. But this is how it has to be for now.” You flex your muscles, stand tall, and stare firmly into the eyes of any pony brave enough to meet your eyes.


                                            >Some of them avert their gaze, while others start chatting with their neighbour.

                                            “Good. Onto the next thing - I want you all to go back to doing your chores or whatever work you had planned for today. I also want you to continue preparations for this evening.”

                                            >A happy murmuring spreads through the crowd at that.

                                            “But... Before I let you go, does anyone know where that human went?”

                                            >The herd collectively raises a foreleg and points down the driveway towards the main road.

                                            “Thank you.”

                                            >”Is something wrong with him, Mr Crusher? He looked a bit angry…” A filly chimes in.

                                            >A few heads nod in agreement.

                                            “No. It’s nothing big. If you’ll excuse me…”

                                            >Striding forward, the crowd naturally parts for you.

                                            >And as you start making your way down the driveway, you hear them talking amongst themselves as they move away from the house.

                                            >Good.

                                            >The sound of dirt crunching underhoof is soon your only company as for a short while, you gradually make your way towards the main road.

                                            >But it isn’t before long before you start hearing something else.

                                            >”... Fuck, fucking, god damn it, you fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, nnnngggggghhhh!!!!!!”

                                            >You can see him now.

                                            >You can also see how angry he is.

                                            >It even looks like a vein on his forehead might burst.

                                            >He paces back and forth alongside the main road cursing and yelling in a scratchy voice, occasionally screaming into his arm while he nurses a tender throat.

                                            >Fortunately it looks like his complexion has improved. His lips are no longer blue, and his face is red with rage, rather than a lack of air. Though there are also fresh trails of tears marking his cheeks.

                                            >Strength has fully returned to his body, as he has no trouble walking over to the fence and kicking it with all his might, giving off a loud ‘Thunk’ as the entire length shakes.


                                            >The skin on his throat however has now gone a menacing dark purple. And there are still a myriad of angry red lines scratched into it.

                                            >Though there is something that has you a bit more concerned.

                                            >One of his hands is still shaking.

                                            >Unfortunately, it looks like this isn’t going to be as easy as you would have liked.

                                            >Oh well.

                                            >No time like the present.

                                            “Hum- er… Anon?”

                                            >”What?!” He snaps.

                                            >Spinning on the spot, he looks ready to throttle you.

                                            >With how furious his voice sounds, you might have even believed it.

                                            >But you’d recognize that look on his face anywhere.

                                            >The eyes flicking from side to side.

                                            >The jumpy movement.

                                            >The uneven breathing.

                                            >That defensive stance.

                                            >And again, that shaking hand.

                                            >He’s scared.

                                            >You don’t know this man. But you’re not surprised he’s like this after what happened.

                                            >What really matters though is what comes next.

                                            >Slowly and deliberately, you walk over to a nearby rock and sit down next to it.

                                            >Doing your best not to look at him, instead opting to stare lazily at the road.

                                            >You’re no good at these things.

                                            >So you’ll follow an example.

                                            >An example shown to you a long time ago.

                                            >You can’t stop your ears from flicking as he continues pacing back and forth.

                                            >But you need to be patient here.

                                            >”If you don’t need anything, then fuck off! I need… I need to think...”

                                            >There we go.

                                            >You reach over and tap the rock with your hoof.

                                            >An invitation.

                                            >It’s high time you found out more about the man who saved Princess Celestia.


                                            Continued in the next pastebin: https://ponepaste.org/5111