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[FLUTTERRAPE] Thread Shorts Volume 13

By Nebulus
Created: 2022-06-04 04:49:46
Updated: 2022-06-05 10:16:36
Expiry: Never
anonnsfwcomedyflutterrapevarious characters

  1. Unlucky number 13.
  2. Makes sense; the thread before I made this paste died early. You'd better watch out, Anon, if you read these you might get japed by a ghoul. Better keep some crystals and a Bible close in case you need to fend off any demons trying to take your socks and virginity.
  3. Gotta be at least a few demons involved here, it would explain why I'm able to write this stuff.
  4.  
  5. ---
  6.  
  7. ">Princess Celestia orders the hardware stores not to sell locks to Anon.
  8. >Anon buys angle iron and lumber to bar his doors at night like a medieval castle.
  9. >Windows of his house are deliberately too small for an alicorn to squeeze through.
  10. >Weird magic-suppressing artifact he got from goodness-knows-where to stop them from teleporting into his home
  11. Anon REALLY values his alone-time, apparently."
  12. - Anonymous
  13.  
  14. >Her teacup and saucer tremble, a distant tremor sending ripples from one end of the milky tea to the other.
  15. >Once it calms, she plucks it from the table and sips it.
  16. >Then goes right back to reviewing her operations.
  17.  
  18. *
  19.  
  20. >Celestia wasn't sure where things had crossed the line.
  21. >When she'd decided to start indulging in Anonymous, she hadn't given much thought to it.
  22. >By her reckoning, as the most powerful mare in the land, she should be entitled to any mate she chose.
  23. >For the most part, she was. Any stallion in the kingdom would have abandoned their wives in a heartbeat for a shot with the Princess.
  24. >But Anonymous wanted no part in it. He was the outlier, the exception.
  25. >Was that why she chose him? Because he was a forbidden fruit? The one thing she couldn't have by right of her divinity and throne? She wasn't sure.
  26. >But those first few weeks had been bliss.
  27. >His house was hardly well guarded back then, only a key-lock and chain on the front door.
  28. >Easily breached on the occasions when Celestia didn't feel like teleporting directly into his bedroom.
  29. >She would enter, have her way with him, perhaps ruminate for a while on whether she'd be lucky enough to bear foals from it.
  30. >She hadn't been so fortunate in those matters thus far, but it was a good incentive to keep trying, biology be damned.
  31. >She'd already drafted a shortlist of names for her son. It would be a son, she'd decided. She wouldn't allow any other outcome.
  32. >Eventually, the locks became iron bars, easily bent aside.
  33. >The iron bars became steel shutters, easily split open.
  34. >The steel shutters became every outside door and window being bricked up and the only entrance to the house being a secret tunnel that took her days to sniff out.
  35. >Celestia smiles at the memory of his face when she'd breached the tunnel for the first time.
  36. >He put up a good fight then. Even got a few good punches in. Drew blood. She still remembered how hard her pussy clenched when he hit her across the jaw.
  37. >There isn't a great deal a human can do to a resolute alicorn, though.
  38. >She'd come to treasure the feeling of his cum filling her. It was a luxury money couldn't buy, and she had to work for it each time.
  39. >He made it worth it. She'd decided that she probably loved him, and was content with that thought.
  40. >Even now, so far from Anonymous, she trembled in barely-restrained sexual tension. She was like a spring under pressure, desperate to release her pent-up energy.
  41. >She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep herself contained. There was something within her ready to burst out of her chest, a pressure that had been building for years. Her legendary composure was starting to show cracks. She was running out of time.
  42. >She'd loved many over the centuries, though few as passionately as Anonymous.
  43. >He was her special lover. Her one apart from the crowd of select few she'd broken in.
  44. >Because she did break them, in a way.
  45. >Celestia was a strong mare with strong needs. Needs that took a great deal of effort to satisfy.
  46. >Stallions were pushed to their limits, and some couldn't handle it.
  47. >Anonymous was harder to break, but that just meant she'd need to love him more violently.
  48. >She hums at the thought, and her clitoris emerges from its folds for a moment to taste the cool air. It had been doing so all day.
  49. "Soon," she whispers, and finishes her tea. Another tremor rocks the tent.
  50. >She rises from her cushion, done with her musings and strategies, and makes for the entrance.
  51.  
  52. *
  53.  
  54. >The Princess emerges from the tent to shouts and bellows all around her.
  55. >A messenger bedecked in full battlefield dress gallops past her with a quick bark of "Princess", too busy to stop and salute.
  56. >But that's alright, she knows he'll have his hooves full.
  57. >A tight group of eight fireballs roar overhead from behind her. She watches their arc with a placid smile, and nods appreciably as they explode against the walls of the citadel beyond the camp.
  58. >She finds Luna stood at her field-table, jabbing here and there with the tip of a levitated dagger at an unfurled map of the local geography, and semi-shouting orders at a stallion covered in so many burns he looks like an armoured mummy.
  59. >"--Through their ranks, but once through the other side, divert the troops to the right and regroup back at our lines for another charge. 2nd then 11th will follow suite at ten minute intervals, then you charge again and keep rotating until the line breaks."
  60. >The commander she's speaking to nods once and thunders down the beaten path to the battlefield.
  61. >From this distance, Celestia can see block formations moving back and forth, each side like waves on a beach, meeting the middle of the field for a moment, doing as much damage as they can, then retreating back under their respective dome-shields before artillery on either end can annihilate them.
  62. >Luna comes to her side and watches the field with her through narrowed eyes, her scarred, dented helmet obscuring most of her face.
  63. >"They won't break," she grunts.
  64. "They will."
  65. >"His forces have no morale -to- break, we can't inspire them to flee. And we've been pounding those walls for the better part of a day. We can't break through them, either.
  66. "I'll do another fly-by shortly."
  67. >"And then? More of them will emerge from the citadel as our forces wane with each charge. Sparkle's efforts are wanting, she can't find a way in."
  68. >Celestia's smile falters somewhat.
  69. "I have full confidence that Twilight will find a way in."
  70. >The two mares watch another volley of fireballs from the artillery at the back of the war camp.
  71. >As they crash against the black basalt walls of Anonymous' fortress, a sheen of green magic shrouds the stone where the fireballs hit. All they leave is a smear of smoke that soon fades, and the walls remain untouched. The delayed explosions from each blast reaches the Princesses' ears after a few seconds.
  72. >"If she can't, we do have a contingency, though it's still uncertain. Their right flank can't reinforce quickly enough, so we're hitting it as hard and as often as possible."
  73. "Then I'll make that my target."
  74. >"And if the ballistae hit your wing again?"
  75. >Celestia unfurls and stretches her damaged wing. It still hurts despite the rapid healing magic, and the repaired tissue is ugly, but pain is nothing to her.
  76. "They'll have to do more than clip my wings. I'm getting inside that citadel tonight, Luna. Nothing will stop me."
  77. >Luna nods, her determined glare giving way to a malicious grin.
  78. >"Then if the right flank falls, we'll have them."
  79.  
  80. *
  81.  
  82. >The right flank crumbles by late evening.
  83. >The legions of clockwork automatons that made up the defending forces were a worthy opponent for Equestria's Royal Guard, but in the end, they too are swept aside.
  84. >Celestia strides through the freshly-blown hole in the citadel wall and pauses to rip apart another brass biped that rushes her.
  85. >She keeps her eyes on the tallest tower in the complex.
  86. >He'll be up there, waiting for her.
  87. >Her pussy winks in desperate anticipation.
  88.  
  89. *
  90.  
  91. >Through armouries and storerooms and warehouses full of abandoned, half-finished clockwork men, Celestia thrashes her way towards her target.
  92. >The closer she gets, the hotter her internal fire burns. The more destructive her magic becomes. Automatons that were once torn asunder are now being melted into a muddy-gold goo.
  93. >Celestia's mane smoulders, wisps of smoke leaping from the tips of the aurora.
  94. >She's getting close.
  95.  
  96. *
  97.  
  98. >A behemoth of gears and brasswork thrice her height towers over her in the courtyard, and that same behemoth is reduced to debris in under a minute.
  99. >Celestia's mane is now a furious blaze, her breaths heaving and frequent.
  100. >Deep scores mark her flesh, boiling blood weeps from her wounds from the behemoth's great slicing blades, but the Princess will not stop.
  101. >By now, she couldn't even if she wanted to. Her passions have overtaken her. The final tower beckons, and when she breathes in she thinks she can smell the man she loves.
  102. >He isn't ready for her, she knows that, but has accepted it.
  103. >No one is ever ready to be broken.
  104.  
  105. *
  106.  
  107. >The door, enchanted with magics even Celestia has forgotten, is finally thrown aside.
  108. >She stands with legs wide and shoulders raised, her lungs great bellows processing air in and out. Her narrowed eyes are locked onto the figure at the far end of the room at the very top of the tallest tower.
  109. >He looks up from pondering his orb and rises, his movements and expression conveying something approaching boredom.
  110. >"I knew you'd make it in the end."
  111. "I... I'm here, love. I'm here," she says, still panting.
  112. >"And what a mess you've made."
  113. >He gestures about at the room as if the magical and engineering brilliance on display was mundane.
  114. >His mind is capable of such phenomenal feats, all he needs is encouragement. Encouragement only she can give.
  115. >Celestia's neglected lips wink again, and a drizzle of her steaming juices drips onto the floor, hissing against the cool stone.
  116. >Her love is here before her after so, so long, and look how well he's dressed. Such fine robes, and so well groomed. Is it for her? She can smell him from where she stands. He's intoxicating.
  117. >She wets her chapped lips.
  118. >"This was all you, you know," he continues. "This. All I ever wanted was a quiet life in Ponyville. You drove me here, to this tower. I built it because of you."
  119. "You deserve so much more."
  120. >"I would have been content to spend my days working in the Mayor's office and going out drinking with Rainbow on weekends. Did you know it's been seven years since I last saw her? She was my best friend, but now I can't see her because she might have been compromised by you. Everything I ever loved, gone. Because of you."
  121. "And look at what you've accomplished in that time."
  122. >"Hidden in a basalt prison and surrounded by clockwork, dreading the day you'd break through my walls? This isn't living, it's hell. I've had enough. I let the barriers down, though I imagine Twilight got all the credit."
  123. "So you submit?"
  124. >"I want to be free. There's only one way that happens."
  125. >He widens his own stance and flourishes his hands. His full-body robes swirl around him, the sleeves falling back half-way along his forearms, his skin etched with deep-emerald runes.
  126. >Within his hands, erratic green lightning bursts to life, dancing across his fingers and up his wrists.
  127. >"I've studied everything I could. All for one purpose."
  128. >Celestia smiles. She beams. She delights in what is to come, for what better end could there possibly be to cap off this seven-year dry spell she's been going through?
  129. >"The only way I'll ever be free is by destroying you."
  130. >The magic in his hands intensifies.
  131. >"Only one of us will leave this room. I'll do you the courtesy of making it quick, a concession you never granted me."
  132. "Stop teasing and worship me, lover."
  133. >Man and mare launch towards one another.
  134. >Celestia completely surrenders to her primal lust, the unquenchable fury of the sun overtaking her.
  135. >Anonymous calls upon the deep magic of the world, spellcraft so ancient only the stars remember it.
  136. >They meet, and the earth trembles.
  137.  
  138. *
  139.  
  140. >Celestia sighs.
  141. >Anonymous wheezes.
  142. "Ohh." Her fire is gone. Her inner sun now a smouldering matchstick. "Ooohh, that was... that was just... oh my."
  143. >She rolls onto her side.
  144. >The man, covered in sweat and other fluids, mostly Celestia's, is both rigid and limp at the same time. He stares at the clear blue sky, the entire top of the tower having been blown off in the carnage.
  145. >Celestia rubs his chest with a hoof, her mane an aurora once more and spread out in a random mess all over the scorched, blackened remnants of Anonymous' double-bed.
  146. "You were -magnificent-, love."
  147. >"Hhh," he breathes.
  148. "Mhm, yes, I know."
  149. >Celestia rests her head against his shoulder and rubs her cheek against his gleaming skin.
  150. "Do you love me, Anonymous?"
  151. >"Hhhh," says Anonymous.
  152. "I love you too," she sighs again.
  153.  
  154. *
  155.  
  156. >The following day, Celestia is quietly eating her marmalade toast in the dining hall.
  157. >Luna is reading the morning paper.
  158. >She then pauses as a thought hits her. She sits up, still holding the paper, and frowns at Celestia.
  159. >Celestia, cheeks full of pulped bread and marmalade, catches her eye and stops chewing, waiting for her to speak.
  160. >"So, seven-thousand soldiers died, just so you could get laid."
  161. >Celestia tries a smile and gives a weak shrug.
  162. >Luna is unamused.
  163.  
  164. ---
  165.  
  166. "Who are you fooling, Anon. Only yourself."
  167. - Anonymous, with a picture of an extreme close-up of Fluttershy's eyes
  168.  
  169. >Fluttershy watches you, eyes half-lidded and not blinking.
  170. >You loudly sip your soda through a straw.
  171. >"Come on," she says, her voice husky. "We've been doing this for months. You can play dumb, but we both know how it's going to end. Save us the trouble. Take me to bed. Be as rough as you like."
  172. >She rears up and plants her hooves on your chest, craning her neck up, her face not far from yours.
  173. >You down gaze into her soft blues, which she keeps firmly fixed on you, still not blinking presumably to maintain the effect.
  174. >Probably trying something Rarity suggested, but unfortunately it's not having the effect she wanted.
  175. >It's not entirely her fault, but you've noticed something you hadn't before.
  176. >"Can't you feel our connection? Don't you want to explore how soft my body is? Feel my curves, drag your fingers across the grain of my coat? Can't you--"
  177. "Have you always had a lazy eye?"
  178. >She pauses, mouth open.
  179. >"Wh. What?"
  180. "Your left eye. It's drifting off to the side."
  181. >Fluttershy reels back and blinks a few times.
  182. >"N-no, I don't... what? Don't be silly, I don't have a lazy eye... do I?"
  183. >You point at your window.
  184. >She rushes to it and peers in, using the reflection as a guide.
  185. >After a quarter-minute of staring at herself, she wails.
  186. >"How long has that been there!"
  187. >You slurp your grape soda some more.
  188. "Might wanna get that looked at, champ. You're looking like Derpy."
  189. >"I-I look ridiculous! I need to see an optician, maybe I need glasses? Oh Anon, what should I do?!"
  190. "Hell if I know, I'm not an eyeball scientist."
  191. >Fluttershy canters away, wings flapping erratically to try and get her airborne.
  192. >You sip some more juice, only to find your cup is empty.
  193. >You drop to your knees and punch the ground in defeat, sobbing.
  194. >Today's a dark day, make no mistake.
  195.  
  196. ---
  197.  
  198. Fluttershy takes a measurement.
  199.  
  200. >You're sat at home reading your black market cook book.
  201. >Ponies take their recipes so seriously here that some dishes are illegal, the consequence being a thriving culinary black market in which you're certain Pinkie Pie is a big player.
  202. >Turning to the next page, you widen your eyes at "Caviar and peanut butter milkshake".
  203. >Sweet Lord, these ponies are psychopaths.
  204. >Just then, a blinding golden portal opens before you, and Fluttershy emerges.
  205. >You've already rammed the magazine down the seat of your armchair and are pretending to count the number of threads in your rug, lest she suspect your contraband.
  206. >Fluttershy surveys your living room with a sour expression.
  207. >Only now do you actually see her, instead of just recognising the colours yellow and pink and assuming the worst.
  208. >She's suddenly taller than Celestia. Great yellow wings lie folded at her sides and a horn as long as your forearm stands proud on her head. She's draped in gold bangles and a gossamer gown flows over her curves. Around her neck, an ornate yoke similar to Celestia's is set with teal gemstones as large as fists that match her eyes.
  209. >"Do you -really- live here?" she says. Her voice is still recognisably Fluttershy's, but it's powerful. Forceful. Like a stage actress.
  210. "Last time I checked?"
  211. >"The last one lived in a castle. Just seems like a bit of a downgrade."
  212. >You aren't sure how to answer, and she doesn't wait for one.
  213. >She strides forward and plucks you off your chair with magic. You're absolutely powerless to stop her.
  214. >Your clothes are stripped from you. Buttons undone, zippers pulled down, belt unbuckled. It's done with a practised ease you don't understand.
  215. >Ordinarily, Fluttershy's too incompetent to remember which side of the syringe she's supposed to prick you with.
  216. "Just to be clear," you say, levitating naked and hoping she might be up for conversation instead of rape. "You -are- Fluttershy?"
  217. >"-Empress- Fluttershy, yes," she says. Her tone is bored. Her eyes are darting over you not with a sense of excited glee, but mundanity, as if she does this several times a day and is now fed up with it.
  218. >A book materialises beside her head along with a quill.
  219. >A tape-measure follows.
  220. >At the same time, her magic thrums and a few things happen.
  221. >For one, something within you, you think it might be your prostate, feels incredibly warm, and a sensation like several fingers squeezing and massaging it sends involuntary shivers through your body.
  222. >If you weren't levitating, your knees would have collapsed under you.
  223. >Your dangling cock and balls are also caressed, the same warm, tingling pink magic like a dozen sets of soft, moist lips and probing tongues firing off every nerve ending they touch.
  224. >You're at full mast and aching for release in under ten seconds.
  225. >Fluttershy doesn't respond beyond a routine blink to un-dry her eyes.
  226. >The tape-measure is run along your shaft, and Fluttershy squints at it.
  227. >"Five point two," she drawls. The book unfurls to a page towards the end and the quill scribbles away for a moment. "Ridiculous," she says with unhidden contempt.
  228. >Her magic vanishes. The tongues disappear. Your release denied.
  229. >She drops you back into your seat, still naked, and piles your clothes on your lap.
  230. >The Empress gazes down at you for a moment. You feel very small in your chair, and huddle your arms around your clothes, unsure of what she intends to do next.
  231. "What, um, what now? I suppose what I should be asking is--"
  232. >"I'm not your Fluttershy, if that's your question."
  233. >You nod.
  234. >The Empress looks around again at your hovel.
  235. >It feels like a hovel now. Now that a pony of supreme quality has graced it with her presence, your once cosy home feels like a squalor, its previously subtle imperfections now plainly obvious.
  236. >"You are at least on the larger end of the spectrum of Anons, but even so."
  237. >She looks to you again, her lip slightly curled.
  238. >"I wonder sometimes if six point nine is as big as you'll go."
  239. >You wait for her to elaborate. She does so without looking at you, instead surveying your hovel some more.
  240. >"I've travelled across a hundred-thousand dimensions for the last fifteen years, searching for the -one- Anonymous that doesn't have a diminutive cock."
  241. >Hearing a pony like the Empress say "cock" feels wrong, though despite the horn and stature this -is- still Fluttershy.
  242. >"No matter where I go, or how far I travel, the biggest your kind ever get is six point nine. Hardly fit for an empress. I will not settle for anything less than ten."
  243. "Why... why not go for a regular stallion, then?"
  244. >She quirks an eyebrow at you.
  245. >"What a stupid question. I forget at times how stupid you are, Anonymous. You're stupid, aren't you?"
  246. >She places her hoof firmly on your crotch, crushing your genitals beneath your clothes. She doesn't wear shoes, and her soft frog grinds into you. Even through the clothes it feels like a rough massage that hurts as much as it delights.
  247. >She rubs her hoof in circles, regarding you with either disgust or smug satisfaction.
  248. >"Stupid, stupid, stupid man."
  249. >The Empress leans down and takes your chin with her magic. She forces her tongue into your mouth and samples you, breaking the kiss with a string of spit linking the two of you.
  250. >"One day. One day I'll find an Anon worthy enough to pass my heavenly gates. Until then..."
  251. >She turns and walks back to the portal.
  252. >"Farewell, Anonymous. Perhaps your pathetic loins can satisfy whatever wretched doppelgänger I have in -this- reality."
  253. >With that final scathing remark, the portal closes and you're left alone.
  254. >You check under your clothes.
  255. >You're absolutely rock hard.
  256. "...Shit, I think that just awakened something in me."
  257.  
  258. ---
  259.  
  260. Birthdays and bags.
  261.  
  262. >Fluttershy drops a heavy sack on your veranda and wipes her forehead of sweat.
  263. >She'd been dragging it over the grass for a while, but you'll be damned if you're going to actually help her go through with this madness.
  264. >Sadly, she hasn't given up by the time she's reached you, so you push off from your spot leaning against a pillar and shake your head at her.
  265. "Committed to this one, are you?"
  266. >She rolls her eyes.
  267. >You sigh and pull your rocking chair over, falling into it with a huff and stretching yourself out like a lazy cat.
  268. >You gesture at her with a wave of your hand.
  269. "Go on."
  270. >Fluttershy scowls and looks pointedly to your side, then back to you.
  271. >After a groan you fetch her rocking chair as well, complete with her own little animal-patterned blanket she tends leaves over at your place.
  272. >Seated beside one another, Fluttershy bends forward and rummages through her sack. It's a huge, battered burlap sack big enough to fit a man. Whatever's inside is heavy enough to prevent flight, that much is obvious.
  273. "AJ's birthday is next week," you say, trying to make conversation about anything other than what's about to happen.
  274. >"I know," she doesn't remove her face from the mouth of the sack, then pulls out a squashed bonsai tree. "Is this your fetish?"
  275. "No. I've decided to get her a thermos, you know, for the colder months."
  276. >Fluttershy chucks the tree off to one side. Soil and shattered pot spray all over the wooden planks. She'll clean it up later, you'll make sure of it.
  277. >"She's already got one. Big Mac got her one last year." She pulls a toilet plunger from her sack and cocks an eyebrow at you.
  278. "I wasn't here last year, I was in Baltimare, how was I supposed to know what Mac got her? Also no."
  279. >"What about apples?"
  280. "I'm not getting Applejack apples for her birthday."
  281. >"You sure? That's what everyone else gets her when they can't think of anything. This?"
  282. >She shows you a dust-covered magazine of lewd Wonderbolt pin-ups.
  283. "Where the hell'd you get that?"
  284. >"Under the couch."
  285. "Whose?"
  286. >"Rainbow Dash's? I think?"
  287. "Well, no. And if I get her apples she'll hit me, I know it."
  288. >"Not really. She'd probably just fellate you. What about... a weather vane?"
  289. "Hasn't she already got one?"
  290. >"No--" she struggles to yank something out the sack, then reveals an entire weather vane. A familiar one.
  291. >You stare at it.
  292. "That's... That's actually just the weather vane from Sweet Apple Acres."
  293. >"I know. Is it your fetish?"
  294. "Not even... the hell do you mean Applejack would fellate me?"
  295. >"Oh, you don't know? She's a slut for apples."
  296. "I don't like that you said that so casually."
  297. >Fluttershy shrugs and shows you a half-full bottle of bleach.
  298. >You shake your head and she tosses it onto the growing pile of crap.
  299. >"Give Applejack a diamond ring and she'll pawn it. Give her a new hat and she'll add it to her collection. Give her a huge sack of bits and she'll 'thank ya kindly'," she says the latter with a forced southern twang that's actually quite cute.
  300. >She shrugs again and shows you a tube of toothpaste. You maintain your frown without response and she chucks it onto the pile.
  301. >"Give her a bag of apples and she'll drag you into a dark room and have sex with you. That's just... what Applejack does."
  302. "How long has this been going on?"
  303. >"As long as I've known her. Kitchen sink?"
  304. >With trembling limbs, she hauls out an actual kitchen sink.
  305. >You narrow your eyes at it, and at the chipped ceramic along the front rim from where you dropped a plate...
  306. >You lean back in your chair and squint through your kitchen window.
  307. >A lone pipe sticks upright in the middle of a large hole where your sink used to be.
  308. "Son of a bitch," you mutter.
  309. >"I'll, um, leave this one with you, then."
  310. "So I can get Applejack anything as long as it's not apples."
  311. >"Or you can get her some and she'll show you a good time. Stamp collections?"
  312. "Fluttershy," you rub your eyes with your index finger and thumb. Then you look out over the long grass before your porch. "Have you literally just run out of ideas?"
  313. >She reclines in her seat and plays with her mane, sulking.
  314. >"What else can I do? I'm not good at innuendo or flirting, and you won't go on a date with me."
  315. "But the fetish guesses are... I mean they started out alright, but this is sad."
  316. >"Do you really think so?"
  317. "You stole my fucking sink, man."
  318. >"I guess I did..."
  319. >You both stay silent for a minute. She, looking at the wooden planks of the veranda floor. You, looking back out over your land and the sun passing its zenith.
  320. >She then perks up, and turns to you with a smile.
  321. >"A monkey wrench!"
  322. "That's not my fetish--"
  323. >"No, for Applejack! I heard her complaining that hers was too old and rusty to be of any use the other day."
  324. "Well god damn, I guess I'll get her one, then."
  325. >You smile at her.
  326. "Thanks, Shy. So what are you going to get her, anyway?"
  327. >Fluttershy goes back to rooting through her sack.
  328. >She shrugs.
  329. >"Bag of apples, probably."
  330.  
  331. ---
  332.  
  333. An Anon went on a long, unhinged rant about how all the ponies are holding themselves back because of Fluttershy. Knowing Anon's luck, he's probably right.
  334.  
  335. >Fluttershy shuffles her hooves and looks down at the station platform through her mane.
  336. >After a time she looks up, clears her throat, but doesn't say a word. She's not sure what she -would- say.
  337. >Every single mare in Ponyville is crammed onto the station platform, beaming at her, but silent.
  338. >Fluttershy glances back at the train, and the frightened-looking conductor, who seems ready to bail and abandon the scene at the first sign of danger.
  339. >He catches her eye and tilts his head at the crowd, the pastel mass eerily tranquil save for the occasional shifting of hooves.
  340. "You, um, you -all- came to wish me on my way?" Fluttershy says at last.
  341. >"Of course, darling! Now, have a safe journey!" Rarity is stood at the front, the de-facto leader. She kisses Fluttershy on both cheeks and gently pushes her back a bit more, as she had done three times now.
  342. "But... why?"
  343. >"Oh, well, you know how closely-knit we all are here in Ponyville, and we wanted to make sure you got to the station safe and sound. Are you getting on?"
  344. "Every single one of you?"
  345. >"Why not? We mares have to stick together, Fluttershy, isn't that right?"
  346. "I guess?"
  347. >"Then don't fret. We're here to make doubly, triply, quadruply sure that you definitely get on the train and definitely leave."
  348. "...For my holiday."
  349. >"For your holiday, yes."
  350. >Fluttershy's eyes flick to Twilight. The librarian hasn't stopped smiling a near-rictus grin since they all got here. A single bead of sweat rolls down her taut face.
  351. "Um, Twilight?"
  352. >"Yes?" she says through her smile.
  353. "Is, um, is this a magic-thing?"
  354. >"Ha ha," she says deliberately, "Oh Fluttershy, not everything is magic, you know. This is just... uh, friendship. We're all being good friends and making sure you get on the train. Which you should do now. Get on the train, I mean."
  355. >The conductor shimmies across the platform, his back pressed to the train because of the sheer number of mares condensed into the station, and whispers in Fluttershy's ear.
  356. >"I'm not sure what this is, miss, but we're due to leave now. -Can- we leave, or is this, uh, a magic-thing?"
  357. "No, I think we can go."
  358. >Fluttershy and the conductor, step onto the train, albeit with a slight shove from Rarity, and the door closes.
  359. >The train whistles, the wheels churn, and the carriage pulls out of the station.
  360. >The mares all wave, wearing their plastic smiles, and wait until the train has crossed the hills and gone out of sight.
  361. >Rarity's smile gradually fades as the train retreats, and then drops completely.
  362. >She turns to the crowd. The crowd watch her back, waiting.
  363. >The breeze doesn't blow. No birds sing. One could hear a feather drop.
  364. >"Anonymous doesn't know she's on vacation," Rarity says in a low voice. Given the silence, all hear it.
  365. >They all nod.
  366. >"His final line of defence has vanished."
  367. >Twilight trembles. All over the crowd, tails begin to flag, and faint dripping begins like light drizzle on a windowpane.
  368. >Rarity's eyebrows knit together.
  369. >"He's ours, now," she says softly.
  370. >The ground trembles as every single mare stampedes away from the station.
  371.  
  372. *
  373.  
  374. >Anonymous suns himself on his front lawn in his deck chair, angling a mirror at his face with his sunshades on.
  375. >He's been contemplating wandering down to the store later to pick up some more sun-cream. The shopkeeper always insists on giving him a discount, and he's trying to take advantage of it as much as he can before she changes her mind.
  376. >He sighs, and reaches for his drink.
  377. >But then, he pauses. He sits up. His nascent smile fades.
  378. >He feels the earth shudder.
  379. >He notices his drink edging towards the rim of his cooler.
  380. >He sees the dust cloud rising in the east near the train station, and it's getting closer.
  381. >He rises, wearing only his shorts and a burgeoning terror.
  382. >He knows instinctively what's happened. He feels it in his soul, as true to him as death or taxes.
  383. "Oh God," he whispers. "Fluttershy's gone."
  384. >His eyes widen and his stomach twists itself into a knot.
  385. "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God."
  386. >He turns to run back to his house, but he stops himself. He stares at the house, with its nice painted window frames and delicate features. Fragile features.
  387. >What use are doors in a place like this?
  388. >What use are brick walls and metal locks?
  389. >Anonymous' shaking fingers reach up and pull his shades off, revealing weary, bagged eyes.
  390. >A single deep breath is all he can do to prepare himself.
  391. >He turns, and spreads his arms out wide before the oncoming horde.
  392. "I've made peace with my God," he calls to the thundering masses. He can see their faces, can hear their fanatical cries and whoops, and he knows there will be no negotiation. "Do your worst."
  393.  
  394. ---
  395.  
  396. Mystery Mare from the Mystery Mare Wheel
  397. (Thanks to that Anon that went to the trouble of inputting all the names into the random wheel generator, and the other Anon for shortening the hyperlink so it wasn't the length of War and Peace)
  398.  
  399. >Aside from the spontaneous musical routines, life in Equestria has been great so far.
  400. >You're especially grateful to the Mayor, who'd managed to talk a frenzied mob down from burning you at the stake shortly after you'd arrived.
  401. >You've been meaning to get her a thank-you card for four weeks, but every time you think about it you smell wood smoke.
  402. >If you got her one at this point, would it be weird?
  403. >It's thrilling to be able to worry about things like that, and not whether the black fumes of the pyre will suffocate you first, or the flames will burn you to death.
  404. >Those silly ponies and their silly lynchings.
  405. >You're going about your mundane morning movements when someone knocks on the door.
  406. >You think you know who it might be.
  407. >A mare around town has been eyeing you up recently. You think her name is Butterfly.
  408. >Through the grapevine you gathered she might have a thing for you, and you've been wondering how to let her down gently on account that she's actually just a horse and you're not desperate enough to resort to bestiality.
  409. >Is reducing a civilised people to the level of beasts offensive?
  410. >You're so glad you can worry about that, and not how the growing flames licking the soles of your shoes were hotter than the fires of Hell.
  411. >You purse your lips. There's a possibility that you -might- be traumatised.
  412. >You'll have to make a note to see a psychologist.
  413. >A quick check in the mirror has you looking sharp. You're ready for the day, and for dealing with your new admirer.
  414. >You open the door and look down.
  415. >A cream-coloured pony with three tomatoes on her flanks looks up.
  416. "Oh. Hi?"
  417. >It's not Butterfly.
  418. >The unknown mare regards you with a bored expression. She seems like the sort of person constantly on the verge of rolling her eyes.
  419. >"Give me strength," she mutters. "Hi. Can I come in?"
  420.  
  421. *
  422.  
  423. "What was your name again, sorry?"
  424. >She's sat on your couch.
  425. >"Roma."
  426. >You frown.
  427. "I've not seen you around."
  428. >She shrugs and adjusts her vendor hat, then smooths the front of her stained apron with a hoof.
  429. >"Alright? Not my problem, but whatever. I've seen you, if that makes you feel special. Hard to miss a big lunk like you."
  430. >You try a smile, but it doesn't last long.
  431. "And what do you... you know, want?"
  432. >"I'm your rapist."
  433. >You nod carefully, squinting at her.
  434. "Say again, sorry?"
  435. >"I'm your assigned rapist. It was gonna be Fluttershy, but there's been a last-minute switch. Got some big quest to deal with. Life-or-death stuff. Lucky sow."
  436. >Roma sniffs and scratches her muzzle with the edge of her hoof, looking around your house with the same bored countenance that's perpetually fixed to her.
  437. >"She was excited about it too, for some reason. Was gonna call it 'Flutter-rape'. Had a business card ready and everything, poor idiot."
  438. "I'm, I'm sorry, just need to clarify, what -is- rape? In this context? Where I'm from it's either crops or... uh..."
  439. >"Well, it's rape. Non-consensual sex."
  440. "...Right. That."
  441. >"So now it's Roma-rape. Whoopie. I don't have a business card though, so I'm sorry to be a let-down."
  442. >She checks her watch.
  443. >"Can we speed this up? My shift starts in ten."
  444. "Speed what up? I'm not understanding--"
  445. >"It's a cultural thing."
  446. "...How or why?"
  447. >She shrugs again.
  448. >"Don't know the how or the why, I'm not a historian." She huffs. "I work a tomato stand, if the mark wasn't obvious."
  449. "Is there someone I can speak to about this?"
  450. >"Sure. Try everyone. Everyone knows about the Town Rapist. I'm not totally dim on the subject, I know my granny did it for a while when she was little and she told me a few things she did so I've got some idea of how to go about doing it. But now it's me. Small world. You know jury duty? Do they have that were you're from?"
  451. "Right, jury duty, sure."
  452. >"Right. Like that."
  453. "So you just..." you gesture with your hands like you're trying to feel the edges of an invisible object. You can't think of a way to finish your thought.
  454. >"Like jury duty. Whatever you're doing, you have to drop it and go rape someone for a while. Civic service. They teach it in schools. Special exceptions for ponies like Fluttershy though. Must be nice being a hero, get all kinds of free stuff."
  455. "And what specifically will you be doing?"
  456. >"Raping you."
  457. "Raping..."
  458. >"Once a day is the standard procedure. If you miss a day you've got to make it up by the end of the week. I've got a whole folder that was sent me back at my place if you wanna check it out, has all the details. Government stuff, so you know it's legit."
  459. "What if I refuse to go along with it?"
  460. >Roma cocks her head.
  461. >"It's... rape. You're not supposed to be into it."
  462. "Can I complain?"
  463. >"Sure, if that's what you're into."
  464. "I mean to the Mayor, or something. She stopped me being burned at the stake."
  465. >"Hah, yeah," for a brief moment she grins. "I remember that. Good times. You scream like an eagle, you know that? Got a set of pipes on you, you should take part in a musical number some time."
  466. "I-I was being set on fire."
  467. >"Yeah, you were. Sorry about that, we got scared. Ponies scare easily. We overreact. That's a cultural thing, too."
  468. "But going back to the rape."
  469. >"Yeah, so I have to rape you twelve times. I could do it all in one day, but honestly that just seems like too much work and I've already got a job I'll need to juggle this with. Bills to pay, and all. I'll do it once a day, starting tomorrow. I get off work at six, so I'll head home, grab something to eat, then aim to be here at around seven. That work for you?"
  470. "What if I skip town?"
  471. >Roma's expression twists into a glare.
  472. >"Do -not- skip town."
  473. "What happens?"
  474. >"I'm mandated by law to hunt you and carry out the procedure. Do -NOT- skip town, so help me Celestia. I am -NOT- hauling my flanks all over Equestria just because you're too much of a filly to deal with public duty stuff. Come on. Be a stallion."
  475. "But theoretically I could do it."
  476. >"Theoretically I can call the Guard to help out if you've gone more than seven days without being raped. You'd be shooting yourself in the leg by running. Don't be a baby, it'll be done and dusted in two weeks, then we can both go back to our lives."
  477. >You scratch an itch on the back of your head and watch Roma closely.
  478. "This is real, isn't it? You're completely serious."
  479. >"Do I look like the kind of pony that makes jokes."
  480. "No. You don't."
  481. >"Right. So I'll see you tomorrow at maybe-seven."
  482. "Okay. I'll fight you off, you know that, right?"
  483. >"You can try, but that's kind of the point. You're kind of scrawny and yeah, you're way taller than me, but I've got earth pony heft. We go down swinging. I figured I'd just tackle your legs and let inertia do the rest. Not one for science, but I get the gist of 'bigger they are, harder they fall', and all that. Granny said she used to use a bola, but I never learned how to use 'em."
  484. >You escort her to the door in a sort of daze, like this is all a dream.
  485. "And your name was..."
  486. >"Roma."
  487. "Roma. I'm sorry I've never heard of you."
  488. >"Yeah, well, I'm real. Sorry to rain on your parade. Look me up in the town registry if you want proof. See you tomorrow, -Anonymous-," she stresses your name with a pointed look.
  489. "Good... goodbye, Roma."
  490. >She leaves, and you watch her trot briskly into town, her hat bobbing on her head as she goes.
  491. >You sit down on your sofa and pick at your fingers.
  492. >Between musicals, public burnings, and mandatory rape, you're starting to think life here might not be all that great.
  493.  
  494. ---
  495.  
  496. A hot date with Princess Luna.
  497. Plus one.
  498.  
  499. >"Are the scones to your liking?"
  500. >You mechanically have another mouthful of buttery jam and moist dough, prompted by a prick at your back.
  501. >You can't deny they're good, but the circumstances take most of the joy out of eating them.
  502. "Yes, Princess Luna," you say after swallowing.
  503. >Luna nods and averts her eyes again. Every time she glances at you and makes eye contact she immediately breaks it with a besotted school-girl smile.
  504. >Even so, her lips tremble. She's trying not to grin, trying to restrain herself. Some part of her is trying to appear like the Princess she's supposed to be.
  505. >"That is good. I am glad," she sips her wine, then nearly knocks over the bottle when she sets her glass back down, but corrects it quickly with magic and a nervous laugh.
  506. "So," you pat your legs and move to rise, "this has been fun, but I need to get--"
  507. >Someone clears their throat.
  508. >You immediately drop back into your seat.
  509. "Get... back to this. It's been fun and we should carry on. That's what I meant."
  510. >Luna's grin breaks through.
  511. >"I'm glad you're here with me. I'm glad you agreed to do this, even. No one has ever taken me on a date before and I feel... lonely, at times."
  512. "I, uh, can't take all the credit for the date. But I'm happy to keep you company, even if it takes," you check your watch, "four hours."
  513. >The table before you is spread with empty plates, smeared with crumbs and sauce, and myriad wine bottles opened and sampled only once. Luna was indecisive as to what you might want to drink, so she asked for everything.
  514. >Since the meal ended three hours ago, you've just been sat here making small talk and eating an ever-growing pile of desserts.
  515. >If you didn't have diabetes before, you sure as shit do now.
  516. >Your legs are numb. You've been sat at this table for so long you're beginning to worry if you'll have forgotten how to walk by the time it's over.
  517. >Luna brushes her mane back behind her ear and looks to the moon beyond the window.
  518. >"What do you think of the night? Do you think it's beautiful?"
  519. "It's okay, I'm not--"
  520. >Someone clears their throat again.
  521. "I-It's gorgeous."
  522. >Luna smiles toothily and takes a keen interest in a crease in the tablecloth, opting to smooth it out and nod rather than risk looking you in the eye again.
  523. >You glance back over your shoulder.
  524. >A poleaxe hovering in a effulgent glow is several centimetres from your eyes.
  525. >Princess Celestia's glare is set into her features like she was carved from stone.
  526. >She's not moved from her spot directly behind you for the entire evening, her presence like an equine sword of Damocles.
  527. "And so are you," you add to Luna. "You're gorgeous as well."
  528. >A quick look at Celestia, and she grants you the smallest of nods, her expression unchanged.
  529. >Luna bites her lower lip.
  530. >"I-I... Thank you, that is very kind. It means a lot to me to hear you say that."
  531. >She sucks in a quick breath.
  532. >"So! I think, I think this has been wonderful. I..."
  533. >She swallows. She's trembling, and she downs a full glass of red wine.
  534. >"I will be... retiring to my chambers n-now."
  535. >You watch her. Under the table, your fingers grip your knees with white knuckles.
  536. >"W-would," she swallows again, "would you care to j-join me?"
  537. >Cold sweat rolls down your spine.
  538. "I wish I cou--"
  539. >The poleaxe's point presses between your shoulder blades.
  540. "I can't--"
  541. >It presses harder. It passes though the frail fabrics of your jacket and shirt and pricks your skin enough that a hot sting has you straighten in your seat.
  542. "Yes. I'll join you in your... chambers."
  543. >Luna blows out her cheeks.
  544. >"O-oh. Oh stars, very well. L-let us retire, then. Do you think we will need wine?"
  545. >You look at the table and the dozen or so bottles of largely untouched wine.
  546. "Yes. All of it."
  547.  
  548. *
  549.  
  550. >You accompany Luna to her bedroom at the top of one of the towers.
  551. >A golden light illuminates your way from behind as you walk, the third set of steps keeping pace with you and Luna a steady rhythm.
  552. >You feel like a prisoner on his way to the gallows.
  553. >The clinking of the floating wine bottles travelling with you could be the clink of chains.
  554. >When you come to the bedroom, Luna enters first, but you turn to her sister.
  555. >You say nothing. Neither does Celestia. You watch each other, you uneasy, she resolute.
  556. >The elder Princess sets her weapon leaning against the wall.
  557. >She comes close, her eyes level with yours, and uses her weight to push you through the door.
  558. "You're not coming in as well, you can't be serious," you whisper.
  559. >"I'll come in here," she responds in a low voice, "to ensure you come in her."
  560. >You turn around. Luna is lain on her bed, watching you and still trembling. Her regalia is neatly set on a nearby table, and she has applied far too much emergency perfume to herself since you can smell it from where you are.
  561. >Celestia's lips come to your ear, her soft voice dripping with threat.
  562. >"I have all night, but I won't see her kept waiting."
  563. >You swallow the bile in your throat and approach Luna.
  564. >The younger Princess wears an eager smile.
  565. >"I have never done this sort of thing before," she says apologetically, "so please take your time."
  566. >You strip - after a single hellish look from Celestia - and you climb under the covers with Luna, the lesser alicorn laying on her side facing you, head on the pillows.
  567. >Another weight settles in behind you, and you find yourself sandwiched.
  568. >You twist your head back to see the steely glare of Celestia, her hot steady breath on the back of your neck.
  569. >"What are you waiting for, Anonymous," she intones.
  570. >You turn back. Luna watches you attentively, all smiles and naïveté.
  571. >"Celestia was very insistent that she attend our date. She said she wanted to make sure it all went smoothly. You don't mind if she joins us, do you?"
  572. "Not... not at all."
  573. >"Now kiss her lips, gently. Do as I say. If you hurt her, I'll castrate you and feed your balls to the ravens," Celestia murmurs in your ear from behind.
  574. >And so, you do.
  575. >The night lasts a long time.
  576. >You're honestly more worried that Celestia had a 100-step action plan for how you were going to fuck her sister, than the fact that you ended up actually doing so.
  577. >Once it's over, and Luna lies snoozing against you, Celestia grants you another nod and climbs out of bed.
  578. >"There will be two more dates. And then you will ask her to marry you."
  579. "...Yes, Princess."
  580. >She leans down, her face an inch from yours. For a moment you think she's going to kiss you, but that's not how Celestia operates.
  581. >"You'll be a good husband to her, won't you?"
  582. "Yes."
  583. >"You'll treat her properly?"
  584. "Yes."
  585. >Celestia shudders.
  586. >"Pray that you do, human. Pray to every star in the sky that you do. I'll be here every step of the way to make sure you do everything properly. Every date. The wedding. The honeymoon. Everything to follow. She -will- be happy. There will be no other outcome."
  587. >She turns and walks from the room.
  588. >As she goes, you see her marehood, glistening and winking madly.
  589.  
  590. ---
  591.  
  592. Midlife crisis.
  593.  
  594. >You're currently being raped.
  595. >Again.
  596. "Man, I'm sick of this."
  597. >"Of what?" says Fluttershy, bouncing on your lap.
  598. "This. Feels like all I've been doing lately is getting raped. I remember a time when I used to punt you off my doorstep and call you a faggot."
  599. >"You could still do that, you know."
  600. "No. I can't. I got old and soft."
  601. >"Well, that's not my problem. If anything, it's my gain. I couldn't stuff my womb with your cock back when you were younger, could I?"
  602. "There must be more to life than filling middle-aged mares with cum."
  603. >"If there is, then I don't want any part in it. Pull my mane?"
  604. "No. I've decided to turn this around. No more calm, nice Anon. I'm going back to how I was when I was younger."
  605. >"Is this a mid-life crisis?"
  606. "No! Well, maybe. But I still have a point!"
  607. >"To you maybe, but I-- ahnn~"
  608. >She shivers.
  609. "You good?"
  610. >"S-sorry, just climaxed," she takes a moment, then continues rocking her hips against you. "I don't think anything needs to change. I like our new routine."
  611. "Exactly. -You- like it. Well no more, I'm turning this around."
  612. >"And how are you going to do that? I've got you held down."
  613. "With -this-."
  614. >You show her a card you'd flipped out of nowhere.
  615. >Her eyes bulge.
  616. >"What-- where?!"
  617. >An Uno Reverse-Card.
  618. >Fluttershy is hurled off you by an unseen force, and her body contorts in a non-Euclidean way that hurts to look at.
  619. >"Agh!" she cries, "I'm raping myself! How is this even possible!"
  620. "Yeah! Take that, you! Uhh. You fuck!"
  621. >"Y-you might need-- Ooh! To work on those insults if we'reha-haAH! G-going back to the old da-AYS!"
  622. "Sure, give it time and I'll get back into the groove."
  623. >"Urk--"
  624. "Are you... alright?"
  625. >"I-it hurts..."
  626. "...Oh God, Shy, I'm so sorry--"
  627. >"Can you take me to a hospita--"
  628. "We'll get you to a hospital, sorry--"
  629.  
  630. ---
  631.  
  632. >"Hi Anon! Lemme smash, i-i-if that's alright with you..."
  633. - Anonymous, pretending to be Fluttershy. Or Fluttershy pretending to be Anonymous? Probably not. Horses can't use keyboards.
  634.  
  635. >You're brushing your teeth in the en suite bathroom when you hear a tap on the bedroom window.
  636. >Brush still gripped between your teeth, you move into the other room and pull the pane up.
  637. >Fluttershy is perched on a tree branch beside your house, the tree having previously been your ally in keeping away prying eyes, but now a turncoat aiding a hostile foreign power.
  638. >She totters forward a bit, scrambling to retain her balance with a panicked look and several correcting wing flaps.
  639. >She offers you a small wave when you stick your head out, mumbling what might be a greeting in the typically indecipherable dialect of Fluttish.
  640. >You give her a blank stare, toothpaste foam seeping between your lips and dribbling down your chin.
  641. >"Um, this is for you," she says after a lengthy awkward silence.
  642. >She offers you a shred of blue fabric. You take the offering with a sense of unease, pinching it between two fingers as if too much contact will render a disease.
  643. >"It's, um, blue."
  644. >You squint at the dangling fabric.
  645. >It is indeed blue. Quite remarkable that she was able to accurately ascertain what it is.
  646. >You look back to Fluttershy.
  647. "Buh," you say instead of "what", spraying teal foam across her face.
  648. >She shifts herself on the branch, looks down at the grass below, sucks in a shuddering breath, and extends her wings.
  649. >She flaps each one in an alternating rhythm, bobbing her head and shoulders from side to side in a strange horizontal dance.
  650. >You attempt to engage her in discourse, albeit over the toothbrush still between your teeth, but before you can open your mouth and spray foam at her again, she whistles.
  651. >It's a tuneless whistle, though that's not for lack of effort.
  652. >She's clearly trying to hold a note, but she can't because it's Fluttershy and she's terrible at everything.
  653. >She whistles high and low, attempting to linger on one of the higher notes that she probably thinks is impressive but all it does is elicit a feeling like scraping sewing needles against your eardrums.
  654. >She stops - mercifully - and offers you another shred of fabric, this one yellow.
  655. >"Yellow," she states.
  656. >Once again, her powers of observation stagger you, and it takes every ounce of willpower to prevent yourself from stumbling backwards in the face of her earth-shattering divination.
  657. >It is, against all predictions, yellow.
  658. >"I got you blue, yellow, and a dance. L-lemme smash?"
  659. >She gives you a hopeful look. The look of a filly who's just entered her first school science fair and is disproportionately proud of her potato battery.
  660. >Only instead of a potato it's a used condom, and instead of a battery it's an embarrassment.
  661. "Mo," you s(pr)ay with conviction.
  662. >Your finger reaches forward and pokes her in her fluffy-puffy chest.
  663. >She waggles her hooves madly, completely forgets how to fly, and topples backwards off the branch into a bush.
  664. >Several small birds rush to her aid, then perch on her out-sticking legs and mock her by whistling properly.
  665. >Stupid bird-horses.
  666.  
  667. ---
  668.  
  669. "Only a matter of time before she tries other mating rituals."
  670. - Anonymous, posting a picture of Fluttershy dressed as a bee and waving her hypnotic bee-butt.
  671. You know, I went and watched an entire video on bee mating rituals for this brief shitpost. That's in there, now. That's in my brain, that knowledge. Thanks, Flutterrape.
  672.  
  673. >You're on sat on your patio, overlooking your modest garden.
  674. >A book lies open in your lap. A drink sits within comfortable reaching distance. The general noise level from the neighbours and local children is minimal.
  675. >This might be a perfect day, if not for the bees.
  676. >Every so often, one of the little buggers meanders too close for your liking.
  677. >You aren't overly bothered, though. A mere gesture with your hand is enough to dissuade them.
  678. >You wouldn't want to harm the gentle flower bee.
  679. >They are friends, even if they do have a tendency to panic and forcefully evacuate both their stinger and half their internal organs at the first thing to make them jump, making their only form of self-defence technically a murder-suicide.
  680. >But that's what your grandpa would have called "fucking metal", so you've decided you're alright with bees.
  681. >Slumped in your chair, you close your eyes with your head tilted towards the sun.
  682. >There's only the slightest breeze, just enough to take the edge off the rays pinking your cheeks.
  683. >A wayward bee wanders close.
  684. >You wave it off.
  685. >A few minutes pass, and another one makes a pass.
  686. >You wave that one off too.
  687. >You feel like the Karate Kid waving his hands around.
  688. >Wax on, wax off, buzzy dudes.
  689. >"Buzz buzz," says a third bee as it draws close.
  690. >You wave your arm and lightly pat the bee's fuzzy muzzle with the back of your hand.
  691. >Your lips purse and you dare to crack open an eye. You regret doing so. Regret is a stalwart companion in this world.
  692. >Fluttershy has once more invaded your territory and is up to no good.
  693. >You can tell she's up to no good for two reasons.
  694. >Firstly, she's alive. That's never a good sign for your continued sense of well-being.
  695. >Secondly, she's dressed like a giant bee. She only wears costumes when she's about to do something monumentally stupid, and sometimes she doesn't even bother with the costume.
  696. >Fluttershy's face isn't far from yours, and you lay in your deck chair unmoving.
  697. >You watch each other like two stray cats encountering in an alley.
  698. >Fluttershy stares, unblinking. She's transfixed, and you'll admit you start to feel self-conscious.
  699. >"Buzz," she whispers, almost awestruck.
  700. "What the dickens," you mouth silently at her.
  701. >After a solid minute of nothing but staring, she waggles her behind around, twisting her entire body into each gyration but never looking away from you.
  702. >The stinger portion of the costume bounces with each turn. It would be hypnotic were it not attached to your least favourite of God's creations.
  703. >You reach a hand out for your newspaper, not looking away from Fluttershy for a moment lest she interpret your breaking eye contact as weakness.
  704. >Before you can retrieve your tabloid arsenal, your wood-pulp Excalibur, she launches at you.
  705. >Reclined as you are, you can't stop her.
  706. >She's all over you, like a bee crawling all over a lush flower, which is probably too on-the-nose of an analogy, but you don't care because Fluttershy is currently crawling all over you and you've got more pressing concerns.
  707. >You rise from your seat bearing her weight - she's not very heavy, all things considered - and thrash around your garden for a bit, like you've kicked a wasps' nest and are fending them off.
  708. >Again, you could've thought of a more poetic comparison, but then Fluttershy briefly stuck her nose in your ear and "SNORFED" and if you've ever had a horse sniff at you with their tickly whiskers and fat nostrils you know both how loud and how unsettling it can be.
  709. >As it is, you're giving it all a good flail. One of your finest flails, easily in the top three behind the time you set yourself on fire and the time you actually did kick a wasps' nest.
  710. >Fluttershy crawls around to your back and hooks her hind legs around your midsection, like a backpack full of rape.
  711. >She then starts batting at your head with her hooves.
  712. >Perhaps this is part of an actual bee's mating ritual, but to you you're just being assaulted with horse hooves atop your noggin, and it hurts like a mother fucker.
  713. >You try to cover your head but the blows keep coming.
  714. >Thankfully, she switches things up and tries stroking your face from behind instead.
  715. >You're having none of it, and grip her legs, one in each hand.
  716. >With a great wrench, you rip her from your back and hold her outstretched before you, glaring at her like she was a puppy you'd caught pissing behind the sofa.
  717. >Only then do you sniff. Only then do you nearly retch.
  718. >The scent is awful. Like a mix of moist hay and Chanel No. 5.
  719. >With no further incentive needed, you overarm hurl her, the pony soaring past your garden hedge and into the pond not far beyond.
  720. >A heavy splosh tells you it was a bullseye.
  721. >And with that, you retreat indoors to shower and grumble.
  722. >Insects are the worst part of summer.
  723.  
  724. ---
  725.  
  726. Another midlife crisis, but this time it's Fluttershy and it's not as fun.
  727.  
  728. >You're out for a night walk when Fluttershy crashes into a nearby tree.
  729. >You know it's Fluttershy because you've developed something of a sixth sense for her these last few years.
  730. >It's like Spidey Sense, but for rape.
  731. >She pries herself off the trunk, face and chest covered in lichened bark, and hiccups.
  732. >The mare totters about on the spot for a moment, her glaring eyes focusing and unfocusing on the offending tree, as if it's at fault for getting in her way.
  733. >She sees you at last and from a place unseen retrieves a thick glass bottle of some sort of spirit.
  734. >She knocks it back and gulps down several mouthfuls before belching in your direction.
  735. >An acidic waft burns your nostrils, even from where you're standing.
  736. >"F-found you!" she blurts after a hiccup. "There you are!"
  737. "You good? Hit that tree pretty hard, might have a concussion."
  738. >"The," hiccup, "the only cushion I've got is my flanks, and-- and I don't see your face between them!"
  739. >She staggers forward, tripping over her hooves and mostly falling the distance between the tree and you.
  740. >You don't move from where you are, and the little pony slumps against your bare legs, taking a moment to rub her face along the hairs with a drunken giggle.
  741. >"I'm... I'm fed up!"
  742. "Yeah?"
  743. >"Fed up with you and your legs, why won't you love me?"
  744. >You attempt to extract yourself, but as if sensing your intent she wraps three hooves around your leg and hunkers down, weighing you to the path.
  745. >You could still probably walk, but it would be a chore. You make peace with the idea that your nightly jaunt has ended.
  746. >With her fourth hoof she grips her bottle and indulges in frequent sips, coughing after every other swallow.
  747. >"It's been... weeks!"
  748. "Years."
  749. >"Years!"
  750. "Yeah, and you're still at it. Still... doing this. I was impressed last week, by the way. That camera you installed in my shower. Very bold. Very creative."
  751. >The camera was like one of those old camcorders from back in the 80s. She'd duct-taped it to the shower head.
  752. >She belches, sips more spirits, and gurgles.
  753. >"That cost half my monthly salary."
  754. >You frown in disbelief.
  755. "...You have a -salary-?"
  756. >"When are we gonna do it, Anon? How long do I need to do this? Can I... can I lick your dick yet?"
  757. >She trails off into giggles and mumbled repetitions of "licky dicky".
  758. "No, you can't."
  759. >You take a broad swing with your leg, trying to dislodge her.
  760. >Several kicks at the air later, and all you've accomplished is getting Fluttershy to spill half her bottle on the front of your leg. And herself.
  761. >"Oh, to be a married mare," she laments in inebriated dramatics. "Oh, to come home to my big mushy husband. When are we getting married, Anon? My mom keeps asking me when she's getting grandfoals..."
  762. "When pigs fly," you mutter, kicking out again before giving up and trying to pull her off by hand.
  763. >She nuzzles her cheek against your wrist as you tug.
  764. >"You're so nice to me... massaging me in public... Can we do it, Anon? Here? In the road?"
  765. "I need to have a word with Applejack, I don't know how you got that shit, but it's way too strong for you."
  766. >"I -stole- it."
  767. >She laughs, and it trails into a secretive snorting punctuated by hushes.
  768. >"Don't-- don't tell her! Shushushush, don't tell her I stole it, but I did it for you. I did it for you... do you want some? It's really g--" she hiccups, "good..."
  769. "You sure? You look like you hate it."
  770. >She nods laboriously, head lolling like it weighs ten times as normal.
  771. >"It's-- it's horrible, I-I hate it. I -hate- drinking it but it makes the bad feelings go away..."
  772. >Something in her tone stops you. This isn't drunken and horny Fluttershy, this is something new.
  773. >You stop prying her and sigh, casting one last regretful look at the moon. It watches from above, probably amused.
  774. >You slump onto your bottom, ignoring the pebbles and gravel of the path pressing into you, and rest a hand on her mane.
  775. >She automatically relinquishes your leg and moves to your lap, flopping her head against your ribs and emitting a low noise, like a groan, but trembling.
  776. >There you both sit for a moment, getting used to the new position.
  777. "What's up, Shy. Why are you stealing booze from Applejack," you voice is wearier than you expected.
  778. >"I'm..."
  779. >She's quiet, and for a moment you think she's passed out. You become more aware of the stones digging into your legs and butt, but don't move.
  780. >"I'm really, really lonely, Anon," she says into your shirt. "I have so many wonderful friends, and all my animals to keep me company, and I love them, and they're wonderful, and... I'm just so, alone."
  781. >Your chest becomes damp. She's crying, and though she's entirely at fault here a tug of guilt still snags at you.
  782. >"I want someone to hold me. Can you please hold me?"
  783. "I am holding you."
  784. >"Hold me more."
  785. >You roll your eyes and put your arms around her.
  786. >You shouldn't. You know this is only going to encourage her, but kicking her whilst she's down feels wrong, even if it -is- Fluttershy.
  787. >She mumbles some more, but you don't catch it. She keeps doing it, and after a while you notice that her pauses aren't hesitation, but rhythm.
  788. >You strain your ears and pay close attention.
  789. >She's... singing to herself.
  790. >You lower your ear and listen. Her head shifts slightly and frees her mouth from your shirt.
  791. >Her voice is ghostly, barely heard, but said in a sleepy lilt like she was singing in a dream.
  792. >"...My breaking heart, and I agree, that you and I, could never be, so with my best, my very best, I set you free..."
  793. >She shivers. You hold your arms tighter around her.
  794. >"I wish you shelter, from the storm, a cosy fire, to keep you warm, but most of all, when snowflakes fall... I, wish, you... love..."
  795. >She's silent. Still. Asleep.
  796. >You rise from your sitting position, still holding her to your chest with a hand under her rump to keep her secure.
  797. >And, with a resigned sigh, turn on your heel and carry her home.
  798.  
  799. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NS_9VLwEwzM
  800. :(
  801.  
  802. ---
  803.  
  804. "Damn horses keep nibbling on my neck."
  805. - Anonymous
  806.  
  807. >The shadow drifts across the lawn.
  808. >It barely touches the grass, leaving not a single print in the blades.
  809. >Passing up the drainpipe as if carried by the wind, it flutters through the open window on the second floor.
  810. >It could have been a dress, or some other delicate piece of clothing, caught on a midnight breeze and floated across town.
  811. >But it isn't.
  812. >The pony perches on the windowsill, wearing the gloom like a form-fitting piece that hides her from view.
  813. >She stalks across the room, hoofsteps light as feathers.
  814. >A bed dominates the centre, its occupant in turn dominating the bed.
  815. >And the pony's thoughts, to an extent.
  816. >He slumbers beneath the covers, the great shape rising and falling with shallow breaths.
  817. >His relaxed expression, lightly shone upon with ambient moonlight, is as reassuring as always. This doesn't -really- hurt him, what she's doing. He'll be fresh as a daisy come tomorrow afternoon. She's not a bad mare.
  818. >The pony smiles, and runs a tongue over her pearly fangs.
  819. >Tonight, she will feast, as she has every night since she became afflicted with this curse.
  820. >Though it's a questionable curse that grants the afflicted everlasting life and strength beyond mortal means. One might consider the cost of such gifts a manageable burden. What are a few drops of blood to a mare that can outrun a speeding train and shatter solid rock with her hooves.
  821. >The pony moves closer to the bedside and gazes down lovingly at the slackened, drooling face of the town's only human inhabitant.
  822. >He's none the wiser. He never is. He'll wake tomorrow with a mild headache and chalk it up to not getting enough sleep, same as he always does.
  823. >The perfect food.
  824. >The pony pulls back the covers and--
  825. >"Eep!"
  826. >Another hoof touches hers in the darkness, and she yanks it back with a yelp of her own.
  827. >There is fumbling, a thud of something hitting the floor, shushes, and then a bedside light flicks on.
  828. >Rarity stares dumbly at the other pony across the bed from her.
  829. "Fluttershy?!"
  830. >"Rarity! Wh-what are you doing here?"
  831. "What am-- this is my man!"
  832. >"No he's not, he's mine!"
  833. "I saw him first!" her voice is approaching shrill.
  834. >Fluttershy shushes her with a pleading look, and the two of them watch Anonymous snore between them.
  835. >He doesn't stir.
  836. >His being a heavy sleeper has helped a great deal in Rarity getting her nightly feedings.
  837. "How long have -you- been coming here?"
  838. >"Um, for a week or so?"
  839. >Rarity puffs her chest out.
  840. "Well -I've- been slipping in through his window for a month and a half. He's -my- mark, so go find your own. What are you doing here, anyway?"
  841. >"What are -you-?"
  842. >Rarity narrows her eyes at Fluttershy.
  843. "Some things, darling, are best left unsaid..."
  844. >An ominous silence descends between the two friends. Rarity considers her new-found power, and Fluttershy's demure nature. If it came to it, could she silence Fluttershy? Perhaps their friendship won't survive the night.
  845. >Rarity tenses and looks coolly at her friend. Perhaps former friend. Would a sacrifice need to be made to keep her secret? Would Rarity have the guts? She thinks she would. And she likes the sense of control it gives her.
  846. >Fluttershy cocks her head and gives a small shrug of her shoulders.
  847. >"...So like, are you a vampire as well--"
  848. "Ayes, yes I am--" Rarity nods quickly.
  849. >"Right, right, m-me too..."
  850. "Well, that's a relief."
  851. >"How long?"
  852. "About two months. I was feeding on woodland critters before now."
  853. >Fluttershy gasps, eyes wide.
  854. >"Rarity! How could you?!"
  855. "Well how were -you- getting by before Anon?"
  856. >Fluttershy curls her mane around her hoof and looks away.
  857. >"Um... would you be mad if I said... Sweetie Belle? She was the first pony I saw after I turned and I figured if I could keep doing it to the same pony it would limit the damage I was doing, and she's young and healthy so it's not like it... hurts her... right?"
  858. >Rarity stares at her, wondering if there's supposed to be civility between vampires or if she has the greenlight to pummel Fluttershy.
  859. >She purses her lips in thought.
  860. "I suppose she -has- been paler than usual of late."
  861. >"So... are you mad at me for feeding on your little sister?"
  862. "Are you mad at -me- for feeding on your animals?"
  863. >They watch one another, each wary of the other's power.
  864. >Then they decide that Friendship is Magic™ and that they could never hurt someone they love, so they reach over the bed to share a tight hug and a girlish giggle.
  865. >Anon snorts and they break apart quickly.
  866. >"So what now? Do we share?"
  867. "I... I suppose it won't matter -too much- if we share. He's a big fellow and has a lot of, ah, fluid."
  868. >"Right, right. So, we'll take it in turns with his cock?"
  869. "Yes, you--"
  870. >She double-takes and tries not to shout.
  871. "-What-?!"
  872. >Fluttershy glances sideways with a nervous look.
  873. >"Um. D-don't you suck his cock too?"
  874. "Fluttershy, I'm a vampire! I suck -blood-! What in Equestria have -you- been doing?"
  875. >"But that's what vampires do, isn't it? They suck? On penises? I-I read it in a, um, comic?"
  876. >Rarity's expression remains frozen as the gears turn in her head.
  877. >Shock turns to introspection, introspection turns to realisation, realisation turns to horror.
  878. >She grabs Fluttershy by the scruff of her chest fluff and brings her nose-to-nose.
  879. "What the HELL have you been doing with Sweetie Belle!--"
  880. >Anon snorts again, and a loud bang deafens everyone.
  881. >Fluttershy screams and vanishes.
  882. >Rarity hisses and launches herself at the darkest corner of the room, cramming herself against the ceiling like a fearful spider.
  883. >A new pony stands at the foot of Anon's bed.
  884. >She throws her black robe back and, humming to herself, begins levitating books from her saddlebag.
  885. >Rarity blinks at the horribly out-of-fashion purple bangs and lavender horn.
  886. "...Twilight?"
  887. >Twilight Sparkle yelps and drops a book, turning to see Rarity glued to the ceiling, and Fluttershy's back end cowering under the bed.
  888. >"Uh, I didn't..." she wets her lips and takes a few steps back. "Am I interrupting something?"
  889. "In a manner of speaking."
  890. >Twilight watches Rarity with squinted eyes.
  891. >"Were you -always- capable of walking on the ceiling?"
  892. >Rarity drops back down, and Fluttershy emerges from the bed. The three mares convene with Anonymous still sprawled under his covers, snoring and occasionally scratching his belly in his sleep.
  893. >"I'm just here to test out... um, something," says Twilight.
  894. "What something," says Rarity, flatly.
  895. >Twilight chews her lip and looks over her shoulder, as if there could be a fifth party present in the room eavesdropping.
  896. >She beckons for Rarity and Fluttershy to lean closer.
  897. >"I know this is going to sound hard to believe. But recently? I was out in the Everfree Forest and I was attacked by a strange cr--
  898. >"Are you a vampire?" Fluttershy interjects.
  899. >"Oh. Uh, yeah. I am."
  900. >Twilight kicks her hoof at the floorboard and puffs out her cheeks.
  901. >"Is... that not special around..."
  902. >She only now seems to notice her friends' fangs.
  903. >"Oh."
  904. "If we're done with the theatrics, we have business to settle," says Rarity.
  905. >She jabs a hoof at Fluttershy.
  906. "-What- have you been doing to my sister, you harridan!"
  907. >"Sucking her blood! I swear! Please don't be mad at me!"
  908. "Then why are you sucking Anon's cock!"
  909. >"Because it's hot!"
  910. >Rarity considers this. She tilts her head in acquiescence.
  911. "Y... yes, I suppose it -is-, sort of..."
  912. >"I would never suck your sister's cock, Rarity," Fluttershy says pleadingly, "no matter how juicy it is. I promise."
  913. >Rarity sighs, a flicker of a smile passing her lips.
  914. "Thank you, Fluttershy, that's all I... wait hang on what the fu--"
  915. >"So!" Twilight says suddenly, "I was going to try a few experiments on Anon to see how much blood I can suck out of him and how much power it'll give me."
  916. "And have you done this before?"
  917. >"Sure! I've done it for three nights now."
  918. "-When-, exactly."
  919. >"Oh, well never this early, I guess I got a bit too excited and showed up before schedule."
  920. >Rarity rubs her chin.
  921. "I tend to show up around this time anyway."
  922. >Fluttershy raises her hoof, as if Rarity was her teacher.
  923. >"I, um, I was late today, I usually show up earlier."
  924. "Ah. So our poor Anonymous here has been getting drained three times a night. No wonder he's flat-out."
  925. >"So should we all take turns?"
  926. "I don't see why we can't do it all at the same time. Fluttershy can, ah, do what she needs to, just so long as she does it under the covers and out of sight. I'll drink from his neck, as I feel is traditional. Twilight? Where will you feed?"
  927. >"Eugh!" Twilight looks disgusted. "I'm not drinking his blood directly from him, that's gross!"
  928. >Rarity and Fluttershy share a look.
  929. >"I've been taking it with these syringes and IV drips, see?" She tips out her bag onto the bed. "I hook these - you see, here - up to his wrist and take it from there. Then when I get back to the library I'll mix it with orange juice before I drink it." She gives a confessional shrug. "I don't like how it tastes."
  930. >Of all the ponies to be vampires, Rarity concedes that it would make sense for Twilight to be the worst one of the lot. Or at least the most clinical.
  931. >A small portion of her mind wanders off to postulate what Rainbow Dash would be like as a vampire. Would she just eat Anon? Flesh and all? Rarity feels like she would. The pony has a difficult relationship with restraint as it is...
  932. "Right, well. I'll drink from his neck, you take it from his wrist, Fluttershy... Fluttershy?"
  933. >The bed covers rustle. A pink tail hangs out of the end, and a pony-sized shape moves around between Anonymous' legs.
  934. >The pony-shape giggles and wet smacking can be heard.
  935. >Twilight's nose wrinkles. Rarity looks away and elects to keep it that way.
  936. "Alright, girls, let's get to work. By the by, do you think anyone else is a vampire?"
  937. >Twilight muses as she rigs Anonymous up to her blood siphoning equipment.
  938. >"Vinyl Scratch? Pretty sure she's a vampire."
  939. "Really? What gives it away?"
  940. >"White coat, red eyes, she never goes out during the day. That sort of thing."
  941. "I think that's normal for ponies that rave, Twilight. And we three can still go out during the day, if you've not noticed."
  942. >"I have! I was really upset when I didn't burst into flames the first morning. The literature on vampires is a complete farce! It'll need to be completely rewritten, in fact I've been having Spike help me test a few theories. You know garlic? It's fine! Just makes me really gassy, and don't get me started on wooden stakes..."
  943. >The night proceeds with conversation, jokes, and multiple orgasms on Fluttershy's part.
  944.  
  945. *
  946.  
  947. >The following morning, Anonymous' eyes labour to open fully.
  948. "What the... fuck..."
  949. >He winces and presses a hand to his throbbing head.
  950. >For some reason his dick is aching and feels like it's been prodded all over with needles.
  951. >Plus he has an "I Gave Blood!" heart-sticker stuck to his left wrist.
  952. >He stares at it in bewilderment, then stares at his wide-open window, then flops back against his pillow.
  953. "Fuggit. I'm sleeping in."
  954.  
  955. ---
  956.  
  957. The Mystery Mare Wheel gave me Lily.
  958.  
  959. >Against her instincts, Lily walks towards the danger.
  960. >The danger in this case being a sort of flattened teepee that smells of curry powder and liquorice. She didn't encounter curry that often, which made it unfamiliar and potentially unsafe.
  961. >The Ponyville Carnival is rich with the strange and the unpalatable, that's allegedly what makes it fun.
  962. >Fun for most. For Lily, it's an unceasing source of dread and things to fret over.
  963. >The tent stands alone on the outer edges of the carnival, all the more mundane and orthodox stalls further in. Orthodox. Unexceptional. Safe.
  964. >Daisy had recommended visiting the tent however, and her judgement tends to be sound, so despite the alien wafts of curry, Lily pushes through the tent flaps and finds herself surrounded by crystal balls of varying sizes.
  965. >From marbles to beachballs, it's spheres all the way up to the conical ceiling.
  966. >And in the midst of it all, a mysterious figure dressed in robes that gleam like an oil slick, waving her hooves in fluid motions around a glittery ball sat atop an embroidered cushion.
  967. >"Come closer..." the figure says in a warbling voice that's strangely familiar. "I will tell you... your future!"
  968. >Lily's hackles raise. She knows that anything to do with the future, or by extension time-travel, can result in paradoxes and weirdo quantum discombobulation.
  969. >The figure senses her unease.
  970. >"If you do... I will give you... Half off at your next Sugarcube Corner purchase!"
  971. >She knows that voice. Lily opens her mouth to speak, but the figure looks up suddenly.
  972. >"Oh my gosh-- Hi Lily!"
  973. >The figure throws her hood back, the sudden motion making Lily flinch.
  974. "Pinkie Pie!" Lily exclaims.
  975. >"I didn't see it was you! Check it out, I'm a gypsy fortune teller, isn't that neat?"
  976. >Lily collapses into the seat across from her friend and lets out a heavy breath.
  977. "I nearly called quits there, Pinkie. So what's all this? Is it a scam?"
  978. >"My powers aren't a -scam-, Lily, I'm a fortune teller. Look, I even have a qualification from a university!"
  979. >She hands Lily a sheet of paper.
  980. >Lily stares down at the 'qualification', drawn in crayon, from 'Funtastic University of the Jovial Arts'
  981. >She blinks with surprise, then looks back up at Pinkie.
  982. "...I had no idea you'd graduated with honours."
  983. >"Uh huh," Pinkie takes her qualification back, folds it, and sticks it in her mane. "I'm a super smarty-pants. But don't tell Twilight, she'll get a complex. So! Wanna hear your future?"
  984. "I don't know... what if it's scary?"
  985. >"Relax, the future isn't scary, it's ages away! Plenty of time to forget about it before it happens."
  986. "I guess. It's all just for fun though, right?"
  987. >"That depends," Pinkie waves her hooves over the ball, speaking in her 'mysterious' voice. "The mists of time seldom offer comfort..."
  988. "What's 'seldom'?"
  989. >"It means -rare-," she says with pride.
  990. "Wow, you really -are- a smarty pants!"
  991. >Pinkie gives a self-assured nod.
  992. >"Come on, Lills, lemmie see your future, I bet it'll be a blast!"
  993. "Oh... alright! Let's do it. Do you want money first?"
  994. >Pinkie's ears fold back. Her smile retracts.
  995. >"I'd never ask you for money, Lily. You're my friend."
  996. >Lily feels a warm blossom in her belly. Pinkie tends to have that effect on ponies.
  997. >Pinkie perks up again and commences waving her hooves, calling out to the teepee.
  998. >"Oh, mists of time! Show us the future for Lily Valley! What lies in store for the flowery mare with hair so fair!"
  999. >The orb flashes with an ominous blue light. Lily jerks back instinctively.
  1000. >"I see it!" Pinkie hisses. "I see the future so clearly!"
  1001. >Lily leans forward, squinting at the orb but unable to make anything out in the swirling clouds within the crystal.
  1002. "What? What does it say?"
  1003. >"It says... it says...!"
  1004. >Pinkie sags like a deflated party balloon. Her lower lip pouts and her brow furrows.
  1005. >"Huh. Says you're gonna die alone unless you marry Anonymous?"
  1006. >Whatever energy existed in the tent evaporates.
  1007. >Pinkie scratches her head with a look of genuine confusion, rare for her. She slaps the ball a few times.
  1008. >"Huh," she says again and looks up at her friend. "Yeah. That's your future."
  1009. "I... I'm going to die alone?"
  1010. >"Yup. That's what it says. You'll try and find a husband, but commitment is too scary because stallions might betray you, so your only option is to marry someone that isn't a stallion."
  1011. "But... I made a pact with Rose and Daisy! If none of us get married, we'll all marry each other so we'll never be alone!"
  1012. >"Yeah, that doesn't happen. Rose marries a dragon and Daisy gets sucked into a portal and has to live with turtle-horses on an alien world with like three suns and six moons for the rest of her life. If it makes you feel better, she finally gets time to work on her drawing. She gets pretty good at it! But the turtle-horses are all naturally blind so they can't see it. Also Rose gets dragon-pregnant. I don't get it either, but..." she trails off.
  1013. "O-oh," Lily says after the silence gets too uncomfortable. "I didn't know Daisy liked drawing. That was always my thing."
  1014. >"Yup," another shrug. "So, uh, yeah. There you go. Gotta go get that hot monkey donger if you wanna have a family."
  1015. >Lily wets her lips and tries a smile.
  1016. >"This is all a big goof, right? A Pinkie Prank? It's not actually going to happen?"
  1017. >Pinkie smiles, but it's more of a wince.
  1018. >"Sorry, Lills. This is the risk of fortune telling. Doesn't always work out. Anyway, that's all I can do for you, I gotta get back to my stand or the Cakes will ground me again. Good luck!"
  1019. >The tent, the balls, and Pinkie Pie all abruptly vanish in a puff of smoke, leaving Lily sat on a circular patch of squashed grass where the tent used to be.
  1020. >Lily scrunches up her nose.
  1021. >She's not going to let a gypsy prophet tell her how to live her life.
  1022. >Why would she go after Anonymous, of all people? The very idea of having anything to do with that towering alien monster sends shivers down her spine.
  1023. >Though the thought of being alone for the rest of her days sends an even bigger shiver down not just her spine, but throughout her whole body.
  1024. >Along with a sense of the ground disappearing and her tumbling into the infinite.
  1025. >She's not going to do it.
  1026. >Lily's scrunch intensifies.
  1027. >She's not going to do it.
  1028. >Lily's scrunch maximises.
  1029. >She's not going to--
  1030.  
  1031. *
  1032.  
  1033. >You're in a field outside Ponyville feeding the birds, and if anyone asks, no more than that.
  1034. >A magpie lands on your out-held arm and deposits a bit into your palm.
  1035. >You chuckle and stroke its beak with a finger, then give it a fishing worm.
  1036. >Several other birds stand around you, some holding bits of tin foil or copper, others holding more bits.
  1037. >You reward the bit-holders generously, but reward the other birds too in order to encourage further attempts.
  1038. >Your get-rich-quick scheme is slowly coming together.
  1039. >Twilight can suck a fat one, no way you're getting a job.
  1040. >There's a noise you can't hear, as the birds look away as one and vacate the scene in a flurry of wings.
  1041. >You frown after them, but look to see what spooked them.
  1042. >A pony stands stock still nearby, staring at you with rigid limbs and wide eyes.
  1043. "Hi? Can I help you?"
  1044. >The mare comes closer, trembling.
  1045. >"H-hi, oh gosh, you're tall, you're really tall. Listen, can, can we please get muh-mare... ee..."
  1046. >She faints sideways, lying on the grass with her back leg twitching.
  1047. >You flex your fingers and purse your lips, looking around half-expecting to see an eyewitness about to accuse you of skullduggery.
  1048. >There's no one. Just you and the comatose pony.
  1049. "All... all right then."
  1050. >Like any gentleman, you flee the scene before the cops show up.
  1051.  
  1052. *
  1053.  
  1054. >The following day you open your door to get the newspaper and see the same mare from before stood by your mailbox.
  1055. >She takes a few steps back as you approach, and wipes her forehead before forcing a smile.
  1056. >"Good hello. I mean, morning again. I'm Lily."
  1057. "Hi, Lily," you begin, watching her closely for signs of further fainting. "What can I do for you?"
  1058. >"Please can we get married?"
  1059. >You suck your teeth and consider this.
  1060. >Is this the strangest thing you've been asked so far in Equestria?
  1061. >You don't think so. Pinkie Pie once asked you for a kidney for "gypsy magic".
  1062. >This is in the top five, though.
  1063. "No thank you, Lily. Will that be all?"
  1064. >"Uh. N-no, sorry, I said that wrong. Please can we get married, because if we don't I'm going to die alone a-and I -really- don't want to die alone."
  1065. "It could be argued that we all die alone, in a way," you muse. "We're never truly -with- anyone. We come into this world independent of others, and we leave it the same way."
  1066. >Unfortunately, a high-schooler's attempt at being deep doesn't have the desired impact, and Lily goes sheet-white.
  1067. >"Wh-what," she chokes out.
  1068. >Then she faints.
  1069. >You stare down at her unresponsive body, then slowly pull your newspaper out of the mailbox.
  1070. >You rap your fingers along its folded edge.
  1071. "I... I can see this becoming a thing," you say to no one.
  1072.  
  1073. *
  1074.  
  1075. >You're at a cafe eating a bagel and trying to judge how many bits per month you can make on average if you train every crow, raven, and magpie in Ponyville to swipe lost, loose, and momentarily unattended bits for you.
  1076. >How many of those bits would need to be re-invested into bird seed?
  1077. >As you chew the eraser-end of your pencil, a pony drops into the seat across from you, along with a tray full of steaming mugs.
  1078. >You look up, pencil hanging limp from your lips.
  1079. >Lily, eyes bloodshot, sits behind ten mugs of fresh coffee.
  1080. >"Okay. Okay. Okay," she swallows. "No fainting now. Gonna do it. So we should get married. Now. Right now. Do it now. Do it or the gypsies will get me. You ever heard of a turtle-horse?"
  1081. >You nod, a single slow stroke down, then up.
  1082. "Alright," you set the pencil to one side and tent your fingers on the table. "Has Pinkie been trying to steal your kidneys too? Because I think if we work together we can get the authorities in on this."
  1083. >"N-no, not kidneys, marriage. Don't wanna be alone. Are you a mammal?"
  1084. "Uh, yeah?"
  1085. >"Good. Mammal reproduction? Seeds and eggs? Can you germinate my flower?"
  1086. "Y... yes? Maybe?"
  1087. >"Good good good. Very good. Want some coffee? My head hurts. I'm Lily, I don't think I told you. Wanna get married?"
  1088. "Alright. So I'm gonna--"
  1089. >She passes out and faceplants the table.
  1090. >Miraculously, none of the coffee goes anywhere.
  1091. "Thank God for small miracles," you mutter. "No Chekov's Gun this time around--"
  1092. >A magpie holding a bit in its beak crash-lands on the table and hot coffee explodes everywhere.
  1093. >There's an awful lot of screaming followed by a trip to the emergency room.
  1094.  
  1095. *
  1096.  
  1097. >You're lying in hospital with a not-insignificant area of your body wrapped in gauze for your coffee-burns.
  1098. >At the very least, you were told that you'll be getting compensation for the coffee apparently being too hot.
  1099. >You're glad you remembered to ask about it, and silently thank the McDonalds Corporation for giving you the idea.
  1100. >You're not currently lovin' it, but you will after you get paid.
  1101. >The curtain to your left is pulled back, and Lily stands with her own bandages.
  1102. >Somehow, she got away with only a few burns. Mostly around her head where her face hit the table. She wears her gauze like a doorag, and a few strips wrapped around her forelegs.
  1103. >"H-hi," she doesn't look as nervous with you wrapped up in bed like you are.
  1104. "Hey."
  1105. >"I'm sorry about the burns, I didn't mean to spill it on you."
  1106. "Actually--" you bite your tongue. You're not going to sell out your bird, that'll undermine trust between you and your new avian allies. "It's fine. I forgive you."
  1107. >"Oh, that's good. Thank you. Can you, um, move?"
  1108. "A little bit."
  1109. >"A little, but not much?"
  1110. "No."
  1111. >She comes to the side of the bed.
  1112. >"I-I was thinking, if we're going to get married, we'll need to get used to each other's bodies."
  1113. "I didn't agree to marry you, I don't even know who you are."
  1114. >"Oh, I'm sorry, did I not tell you? I'm Lily--"
  1115. "I got that part, but what makes you think I'd marry you?"
  1116. >"Because if we don't I'm going to be alone."
  1117. "I'm sorry to hear that. Can't you marry someone else?"
  1118. >"No, Pinkie said it had to be you."
  1119. "...So Pinkie -is- involved."
  1120. >"Yes? Why, do you know her?"
  1121. "Who -doesn't- know Pinkie."
  1122. >"True."
  1123. "I'm sick of her gypsy magic. Where does she get off going all 'hocus pocus' on innocent, God-fearing citizens?"
  1124. >"Uh. I don't know. No one asks Pinkie why she does anything, except Twilight once and she regretted it."
  1125. >She leans closer.
  1126. >"I think Pinkie dropped flower pot on her head. Then an anvil, then a wagon."
  1127. "...Oka--"
  1128. >"Oh, and a piano, too, I forgot that one."
  1129. "Lily."
  1130. >"Yes?"
  1131. "I'm not marrying you."
  1132. >She looks at her hooves and sighs.
  1133. >"Then what am I supposed to do? Should I just let fate do with me whatever it wants?"
  1134. "Why do you put so much stock into what Pinkie tells you?"
  1135. >"Pinkie's always right."
  1136. "Pinkie's like, half-right, most of the time. She has a track record of getting things kind-of right."
  1137. >"That's close enough for me. Anyway, I think I've got an idea."
  1138. >You cock an eyebrow.
  1139. >"If I -show- you what our marriage will be like, then you'll have to give in."
  1140. >She eyes you up and down, and after licking her lips, places a trembling hoof on your crotch.
  1141. >"Come on, big guy, up and at 'em, show me what you've--"
  1142. >And then, quite expectedly, Lily is consumed by an errant wormhole.
  1143. >It's over quickly. A big blue disc opens behind her, drags her in, then vanishes with a noise like pulling a hammer out of thick custard.
  1144. >You stare at the place she once was.
  1145. "Uhh--" you begin, but the ward's door bursts open.
  1146. >"LILY!" Pinkie gasps, panting. "Where-- where'd she go? Have you seen her, Anon?"
  1147. "Yeah, she was just abducted by aliens, I think."
  1148. >"Hecking fudge! I -knew- I'd gotten it wrong!"
  1149. >You puff your cheeks out and inwardly ask Gandhi, or whichever God runs Buddhism, to show you clemency.
  1150. >"I got it totally mixed up! Lily wasn't the one that was gonna die alone, -Rose- was! She was the flowery mare, Anon! The turtle-horses weren't meant for her!"
  1151. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
  1152. >Pinkie sighs and stares off into space for a while.
  1153. >"At... At least Lily will be able to get real good at her drawing, now. Wherever she is..."
  1154. >You stay silent, lest you attract anymore undue cosmic attention.
  1155. >"So how're your burns?"
  1156. "Painful."
  1157. >"Figured. Want me to scrounge up a spell to help you heal?"
  1158. "Any potential side-effects?"
  1159. >"Well I've got an idea that'll either heal your burns, or turn you into a rabbit. Then I think Fluttershy might steal you."
  1160. "I'll pass."
  1161. >"Suit yourself. Hey, who's in the ward next to you?"
  1162. "No idea, I thought it was just me and Lily in here."
  1163. >Pinkie trots over to the curtain on your right and pulls it back.
  1164. >You turn to see who it is, and your heart stops.
  1165. >A mare lies in the bed next to yours. A mare unlike any you've ever seen.
  1166. >"Hi Rose!" Pinkie says. Her voice sounds far away. "I didn't know you were in here, how's the leg?"
  1167. >Rose speaks. Her voice is gentle like windchimes on a lazy afternoon. She catches sight of you, and the words die in her own throat.
  1168. >You both stare at each other.
  1169. "I'm Anonymous," you say as if in a dream. She didn't even ask, but you had to tell her. Before you said anything else she had to know your name. She had to.
  1170. >"R... Rose," her expression is one of wonder. "My name is Rose."
  1171. >You smile. She smiles.
  1172. >Pinkie slaps herself on the forehead.
  1173. >"Oh yeah! I forgot about that part! Well, have fun, you two! I need to see someone about a kidney. Bye!"
  1174. >She bounces from the room, leaving you alone with the mare you've instinctively decided will be your wife.
  1175. >Outside the window, a screaming Daisy is carried off into the sunset by a marauding dragon.
  1176.  
  1177. ---
  1178.  
  1179. Anonymous posted a picture of Season 1 Luna.
  1180.  
  1181. >For a year you've lived in Canterlot Castle.
  1182. >You'll never go home, but that's okay. Life here isn't bad, just routine.
  1183. >Sadly, your routine life ended on the longest day of the thousandth year.
  1184. >Your routine life ended when a lost little sister finally came home.
  1185.  
  1186. *
  1187.  
  1188. >Pitch black is all you can see when you jolt awake.
  1189. >The bedroom is cool, and a cruel draft is blowing in under the door, probing the little gaps left in your bedsheets and tickling the soles of your feet.
  1190. >For the most part, you're wrapped up nice and snug in your blanket, so it won't have been the cold that roused you.
  1191. >Something close stirs.
  1192. >There's another presence under the covers.
  1193. >Rolling over, a steady, warm breath caresses your face.
  1194. >In the darkness, a form. Punctuated by the faintest of reflections from the sparse light leaking under the door, there are eyes watching.
  1195. >"Greetings," says a small voice in the dark.
  1196. "Hello?" you whisper back.
  1197. >"I can see your dreams."
  1198. >You don't answer.
  1199. >"They're beautiful."
  1200. >The figure shuffles closer and a thin pair of lips gently kisses the tip of your nose.
  1201. >"Sleep well," she says, and before you can speak, you do.
  1202.  
  1203. *
  1204.  
  1205. >You're in the castle kitchens slicing tomatoes and cheddar.
  1206. >The cooks don't normally trust you with knives, but that's fine because you don't trust them with making food for humans.
  1207. >In this case, cheese and tomatoes on toast.
  1208. >You pivot on your heel, then scream like a startled child. Your block of cheese drops from your fingers and slaps the tiles with a condemnatory 'plap'.
  1209. >Celestia's little sister stands right behind you, floating a knife not far from your face with her magic.
  1210. >She's far smaller than Celestia, smaller even than some of the staff members, and lacks the shimmering, ethereal mane of her elder.
  1211. >If you hadn't been explicitly told, you might not have guessed they were related, though her tiny regalia and moon cutie mark may have eventually given it away.
  1212. >"Greetings," she says expectedly. She says it every time. Has done since you first met three weeks ago.
  1213. "H... hi, Luna. Sorry, you scared me."
  1214. >"Do you know how to use a knife?" she says with that soft voice, eyes searching you for meaning, or maybe something deeper.
  1215. >You aren't sure how to respond.
  1216. >"I do."
  1217. >You edge away from the pointed tip, shooting worried glances between it and its wielder.
  1218. >The knife vibrates, creeps closer to your eyeball, then surges forward.
  1219. >You slam your eyes shut and terror chokes you for a split-second, but then, the heavy thunk of metal on wood. You dare to look.
  1220. >The knife passes through your tomato with clean, fluid strokes. Slices fall away from the body with peerless precision, the strips so thin you can see through them.
  1221. >"Do you like it like that?" Luna says in her usual way.
  1222. >A strange voice. Innocent, distant, and deeply sinister. The pony is small, but her manner gives the impression of a clear blue lake, with water as smooth as a sheet of glass.
  1223. >And something hideous lurking below the surface.
  1224. "Yes, that's... that's perfect, thank you."
  1225. >The pony nods, and vanishes in a flash of magic. A second skips by and she reappears on the worktop beside you.
  1226. >Her sudden closeness has you seizing, the little pony now eye-level with you.
  1227. >She leans forward and plants a chaste kiss on your cheek before you can react.
  1228. >"Enjoy your meal," she whispers, then winks out of sight in another blue flash.
  1229. >You sag against the counter and put a palm against your hammering heart.
  1230.  
  1231. *
  1232.  
  1233. >You're in the shower, staring at the wall and thinking about life and your dearly departed Twilight Sparkle as the steaming water flows along your contours and down the drain.
  1234. >Given your size, your hair is almost touching the showerhead.
  1235. >You turn the shower off and pull aside the curtain, but hesitate.
  1236. >It's only instinct. A quick glance around your sizeable bathroom tells you nothing.
  1237. >You let out a held breath, smiling at your silly paranoia, and snatch up a towel.
  1238. >There's no other noise as you roughly rub yourself down besides the fabric against your ears. Nothing to distract you.
  1239. >You pull the towel away from your face, and then nearly trip over backwards.
  1240. >Luna sits on your toilet, watching you with all the innocence of a child who doesn't understand what she's seeing.
  1241. >She's not smiling. She never smiles. She just watches you with massive, curious eyes that seldom blink.
  1242. >"Greetings," it's always said so politely.
  1243. >You swallow in place of an answer. She doesn't seem overly concerned with whether or not you do.
  1244. >"It must be so easy to wash with skin like yours," she says as though you had answered.
  1245. >She looks down at one of her own legs, turning her head this way and that. You get the impression of a cat inspecting a trapped mouse it's about to kill.
  1246. >"Fur takes so long to dry."
  1247. >She slides off the toilet and comes to your leg. Then plants her tongue against the hairy skin and drags it up.
  1248. >"You're clean, but I can still taste salt. Your skin is always salty. Hairy arms and hairy legs. Like a salty bear."
  1249. >You don't want to dwell on the implications of that.
  1250. >Luna's horn swells with magic and the little blue mare pops out of sight again.
  1251. >You hear a second burst right behind you, and you spin to find your vision full of Luna's face.
  1252. >She's hovering with her wings, and wastes no time leaning forward the final few centimetres to kiss you on the forehead.
  1253. >"Goodbye."
  1254. >And she's gone.
  1255.  
  1256. *
  1257.  
  1258. >You haven't seen Luna in a while.
  1259. >You told Celestia about her strange behaviour, and she laughed it off saying that Luna was still readjusting to her new life.
  1260. >Even so, you think she probably sat Luna down and spoke to her about you.
  1261. >You're on your evening jog through the castle grounds when you turn a corner by Celestia's private garden.
  1262. >Only to find a bear floating upside down.
  1263. >It writhes in clear distress, great paws swiping at the ground, trying to find purchase.
  1264. >Beside the bear, out of reach of its wide, arcing swipes, sits Luna on the grass.
  1265. >She turns her head to look you straight in the eyes the moment you appear, like she was expecting you.
  1266. >"Greetings," always that same tone.
  1267. >You take a step back, fully prepared to ignore her just to get away from whatever unsettling shit she's about to pull.
  1268. >Celestia's little sister or no, you don't want anything to do with her. You'll risk Celestia's wrath for a peaceful evening.
  1269. >You make good on your inner-word and leave, jogging back around the corner.
  1270. >You make three steps, then you hear a loud pop in your ears and all you can see is the flailing bear right before you.
  1271. >You yelp and jump away, falling on your ass with Luna across from you and locking eyes with the terrified bear.
  1272. >"Bears are very large and very strong," Luna says. Her voice is detached, emotionless.
  1273. >She pokes the bear from behind. It flails an arm in her direction, but the paw, which is almost the size of her head, is stopped dead in a pale aura.
  1274. >The paw bends - is bent - this way and that, the mare studying it like she'd studied her own leg before.
  1275. >"So much strength, and nothing to do with it."
  1276. >The bear drops suddenly to the grass and crumples against it.
  1277. >Rather than rear up and attack, like you expected it to, like it had every reason to, it rises and scrambles into the depths of Celestia's private garden. To safety. Safety being as far away from Luna as possible.
  1278. >It's easy to empathise.
  1279. >Luna watches it go with a new, ghostly smile.
  1280. >She turns that smile to you.
  1281. >"Such a large, hairy creature. With large, hairy arms and legs. Such long reach. Such tall stature. So utterly..."
  1282. >Your bottom presses into the ground. You try to stand, but you can't move, wreathed as you are in a pale light.
  1283. >Luna comes to you and studies your face up close, her warm, measured breath warming your nose and cheeks in the night's chill.
  1284. >"Useless," she finishes.
  1285. >The little blue pony leans in and kisses you on the tip of your nose again.
  1286. >She wets her thin lips and studies you. Considering you, perhaps your taste as well, that salty skin she's so fond of.
  1287. >Then leans in a second time and brushes those lips against your own.
  1288. >It's fleeting, delicate. It could have been an accident, but it's electric.
  1289. >She pulls away, wearing that unsettling smile.
  1290. >"You're my big bear," she whispers. "I'll keep you close, big bear."
  1291. >She vanishes in a flash of blue, and you're alone once more.
  1292. >You wish you'd followed Twilight to Ponyville.
  1293.  
  1294. ---
  1295.  
  1296. Anon and Fluttershy go on strike.
  1297.  
  1298. >You're sat in your armchair, holding a crime novel open with one hand and reading it somewhat lazily.
  1299. >You use your thumb to turn to the next page - it's a knack that took practice, but it's worth it to have a free hand when reading.
  1300. >A novelty cat-clock ticks away in the background. A lark twitters outside the window. You clear a developing lump in your throat.
  1301. >Fluttershy sniffs lightly and turns the page of her own little book about beaver habitats.
  1302. >She's curled up against you, her weight warm and comfortable.
  1303. >The armchair isn't big enough for two occupants, but that's okay. It's not the first time you've shared.
  1304. >She's nestled to one side, in the crook between your leg and the arm of the chair. She wriggles her hips a bit and settles more of herself against your midsection.
  1305. >Your free hand travels down and strokes her head, still not looking away from your book.
  1306. >For a perfect moment, that's all there is. You, her, and the book.
  1307. >Then the back door bursts open and a flustered orange stallion wearing a headset and a scowl appears in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room where you're sat.
  1308. >He glares at you both, checks his watch, then simply stands seething.
  1309. >His expression is expectant, brow raised in outrage either real or false for effect, clearly waiting for you both to snap to attention and explain everything to him despite him not asking for anything to be explained.
  1310. >"Seriously," he says, seriously. He doesn't get a response. "Seriously! Was I -not- clear?" The stallion says.
  1311. "Mhm?" you don't look up. Neither does Fluttershy.
  1312. >"We're on a schedule!"
  1313. "We don't care. We're on strike."
  1314. >The stallion is about to spit a retort, but pauses, cocks his head, then puts a hoof to his headset and turns away from you both, walking into the other room as he listens.
  1315. >"Yeah, hi. They're not coming. No. Any luck with the union guy?"
  1316. >He's quiet for a while.
  1317. >Fluttershy uses his distraction to glance up from her book at you.
  1318. >She has a cheeky grin. You check to make sure the guy is definitely not watching you, then lean down and kiss her on the lips. It lasts one, two seconds. She breathes a laugh into it. You feel her smile against yours, and then part. Too soon, as always.
  1319. >You share a clandestine giggle, and go right back to reading.
  1320. >"Oh fuck him," the stallion says. "I'll talk to them, they'll see reason if we make it obvious what'll happen if they don't comply."
  1321. >He shoots you both a pointed look, but neither you nor Fluttershy grant him the courtesy of a even a brief acknowledgement. He comes back into the room.
  1322. >"Alright, I've just been on with Feldspar."
  1323. >He waits for you to react, but you don't.
  1324. >"You know, your -boss-. The guy that pays our wages."
  1325. "Really," you say without looking.
  1326. >The stallion - what -was- his name? - storms over and rips the book out of your hand.
  1327. >You don't mind, only he then rips away Fluttershy's book too, and that has you clenching the fingers on one hand for a moment before you relax.
  1328. >"I don't think either of you get it. You're hired to do a job. -You-," he pokes Fluttershy, your hand forms a fist again, "are supposed to act like you're raping -him-", he backhoofs your leg and you resist the urge to kick him in the ribs, "so we can film it and make money and go home without starving to death."
  1329. "Well, maybe we just don't feel like it with the current working conditions."
  1330. >"You're fucking -privileged- to have the positions you do. It's Flutterrape. It's a fucking institution. Households all over Equestria tune in weekly to watch this shit, and you've kept this little strike going for so long they're gonna miss the next episode in... -seventy two- hours, unless we get back to work -now- and pull something out of our asses."
  1331. "Then go and find a replacement Anonymous and a replacement Fluttershy. I'm sure you can find a dynamic duo out there somewhere if you look hard enough. Hey, if you tell them they'll be working six days a week for below the average national wage, I'm sure they'll be lining up around the block."
  1332. >"If this show doesn't air, another show takes our slot, and we tank. We all lose our jobs, and that's a hundred or so ponies out of work. Is that what you want?"
  1333. "It's a thriving industry, I'm sure you'll find work elsewhere. Oh, Nimbus, that was your name, wasn't it."
  1334. >He blinks a few times at that last bit, then shakes his head and points a hoof at you.
  1335. >"The boss wants you both back on set in one hour, or you're sacked."
  1336. "He can try. The union won't let him."
  1337. >"He doesn't care what the union thinks. If he needs to step on a few hooves to get things going again, he will."
  1338. "Great. Then he can sack us and find someone else to shoot Flutterrape."
  1339. >Fluttershy hums.
  1340. >"You might have to change the name though," she muses, "it's sort of branded around... um. Me."
  1341. >Nimbus stares at her, then narrows his eyes. He looks over the two of you, as if only just seeing you.
  1342. >"Why're you both cuddled up like that? You're meant to hate each other."
  1343. >You shrug.
  1344. "More comfortable this way."
  1345. >Nimbus' eyes travel between you both. You must appear perfectly relaxed, which, you suppose, might be the problem.
  1346. >"No... hang on, you haven't. You fucking haven't!"
  1347. "Hm?"
  1348. >"You're -contractually obligated- to keep your distance between shoots! When the fuck did -this- start?" His voice is reaching a hysterical pitch.
  1349. "Oh yeah, I guess we are, aren't we." You smile down at Fluttershy. "You'll have to move."
  1350. >She yawns, stretches, and moves to get up, then gives up and flops against you again with a giggle.
  1351. >"Mm, no. I'll stay here. You're cosy."
  1352. >Nimbus is grinding his teeth. When he speaks, it's a hoarse whisper-shout.
  1353. >"Are you fucking -serious-? Are you trying to breach every -fucking- line of your contracts? No consorting off set, no cuddling, no mushy shit, and no -strikes-!"
  1354. "Never really understood why--"
  1355. >"To keep the mythos! The whole brand is about you hating Fluttershy! If the public found out it wasn't genuine the whole brand would dissolve!"
  1356. "Oof, that sounds like bad news. Boss oughta give us better working hours and pay then, we'd hate for something like this to get out. Imagine if the world knew that Flutterrape was built on a lie."
  1357. >"There'd be riots in the streets," Fluttershy adds. "It would be just awful! M-maybe the boss should just let us have what we want... um, if he's okay with it, I mean."
  1358. >"This is fucked. This is -fucked-, you people are -fucked-, I'm calling the boss, Celestia's tits we are -fucked-."
  1359. >He storms back out the house and slams the door shut. The faithful cat-clock resumes filling the silence with its ticks.
  1360. >Beyond these four walls somewhere is a camera crew waiting for you and Fluttershy to emerge and act out a script. They're all depending on you.
  1361. >But honestly, even with the stresses of work and the doubts that this little union-backed stunt of yours will even pay off...
  1362. >Fluttershy shifts against you again. You catch each other's eye, check to make sure no peeping-toms are at the windows, and share another, much deeper, kiss.
  1363. >...There's no place you'd rather be.
  1364.  
  1365. ---
  1366.  
  1367. Granny Smith wants grandkids but Applejack is incompetent.
  1368.  
  1369. >Applejack is in the kitchen baking an apple pie.
  1370. >Before she can begin her inner-monologue and set the stage for the story; establish its themes, her personal conflicts, and how the shortcomings in her life equate in a way to the creation of an apple pie, Granny Smith hobbles past the doorway to the kitchen.
  1371. >"Applejack!" She barks in a voice that says she's either not had enough sleep and woke up cranky, or is just her regular brand of cranky. The two are very similar. "You had any'a those grandkids I keep yappin' about?"
  1372. "Sorry, Granny, I ain't had time, I'll try an--"
  1373. >"-You've- not got time? -I've- not got time! I got three hoofs in the grave already an' the reaper's callin' my name like one'a them love songs! If I ain't holdin' a grandfoal this time next year, then when I die I'm a'comin' back and hauntin' the hat offa ya!"
  1374. "Aw, Granny, don't go threatenin' to spook your family like that, you know Big Mac don't like spectres."
  1375. >"Mac's a damned coward, he could do with some spookin' to get him motivated inta gettin' his hide back down to that there school house and plowin' that there teacher!"
  1376. "Granny--"
  1377. >"Git me some grandkids or I'm spookin' the lotta ya!"
  1378. "Even Applebloom?"
  1379. >Granny develops a wistful smile.
  1380. >"Applebloom is fine as she is," she says warmly. "She's my perfect lil' blossom."
  1381. "Then--"
  1382. >"But you ain't! Git me them grandkids -now-!"
  1383. >She hobbles away. Applejack turns back to her apple pie to see it burnt to cinders.
  1384. >She scratches her head, nose scrunched.
  1385. "I ain't even put this in the oven..."
  1386.  
  1387. *
  1388.  
  1389. >You're walking down the road when you see a perfect, untouched apple lying in the street.
  1390. >Never one to let food go to waste, you squat down and pluck it off the dusty path between a finger and thumb.
  1391. >Should still be good if you wash it off.
  1392. >You glance up. Another apple sits just down the way. You quirk an eyebrow and collect that one as well.
  1393. >Another apple is after that one, and another.
  1394. >You follow the trail of apples off the beaten path and find yourself by an old oak close to an orchard.
  1395. >At the base of the tree, a generous pile of apples about a third your height.
  1396. >Above the pile, swaying gently, a man-sized wooden crate.
  1397. >Holding the crate back from dropping onto the apples, a taut, trembling rope.
  1398. >At the end of the rope, a golden tail in a red hairtie trails down from the canopy.
  1399. >You roll your eyes. She can't be serious. She can't think you're that stupid.
  1400. >...
  1401. >You dive for the pile, scoop like, fifteen apples into your arms, and skedaddle before the crate can drop on your head.
  1402. >A frustrated "Consarnet!" bellows from the tree as you run.
  1403.  
  1404. *
  1405.  
  1406. >You exit your house and nearly trip over a thick glass mason jar.
  1407. >It's stuffed to overflowing with yellow-brown sludge, smears of it running down the outside of the glass.
  1408. >A label plastered askew reads, "Free Applesauce".
  1409. >You nod approvingly. They -should- free Applesauce. It was criminal what the courts did to him.
  1410. >If you squint at the glass, you can see white tablets suspended in the goop.
  1411. >You open the jar and, with no better ideas coming to you in that moment, shove your entire hand inside.
  1412. >Your fingers close around a solid object and pull it back out.
  1413. >An entire bottle of sleeping tablets had been stuffed within, cleverly submerged in the applesauce.
  1414. >You'd have eaten the entire jar if you hadn't been so keen eyed.
  1415. >It would have been the perfect crime.
  1416. >You shake your head and drop the jar into your rubbish bin at the end of the garden path.
  1417. >A nearby bush growls.
  1418. >You take no notice, and absently lick off your hand as you walk back to the house.
  1419. >You then stop, blink, and look down at your hand.
  1420. >Sleeping tablets fizz on your tongue.
  1421. "Oh. Whoops."
  1422. >You lunge back inside, slam the door shut, lock every lock and close every chain just before you slump to the floor.
  1423. >Can't be doing sleeping outside, that's how you get robbed.
  1424. >An approaching gallop precedes a 'BANG' against your door, but you're already faded beyond the point of caring.
  1425. >"Consarnet!" comes a muffled voice on the other side as you black out.
  1426.  
  1427. *
  1428.  
  1429. >You stare down at the unopened envelope.
  1430. >On it, in meandering, unconfident script: 'To Anon, from Rarity'.
  1431. >Your heartrate doubles. Could she finally be returning your gestures?
  1432. >You'll be between those lace-laden white thighs soon, Anon, you Equestrian Casanova.
  1433. >The envelop turns to shreds in your hands and you drink in each janky, printed word on the enclosed letter, each one finely crafted by the Element of Generosity herself.
  1434. >"Howdy, Anon. I've been thinking that you and me oughta get together and roll around in the hay sometime. How about Sweet Apple Acres at eight o'clock this evening? I'll be waiting in the silo farthest into the orchard on the north side. Come alone and don't wear a belt cuz they're hard to pull off with hooves. If you see Big Mac on the way there tell him not to follow or I'll tell Granny he's been looking at lewd pictures of mares again. Thank you kindly, Rarity."
  1435. >You let out a long breath, your head swimming.
  1436. >Rarity wants to do the horizontal monster mash? With you? On Applejack's property after dark?
  1437. >Dirty bitch. You knew you liked her for a reason beyond her outrageously fine ass and plump lips.
  1438. >In a flurry you prepare for your date, wearing every cologne you have at the same time and your finest, most uncreased shirt.
  1439. >The rest of the day is spent impatiently watching the clock, but by eight o'clock you're at the silo.
  1440. >You pause by the door, run a hand through your hair, and try not to let the fact that you're about to be balls deep inside a fertile fashionista overwhelm you.
  1441. >You gulp, check your tie, and enter.
  1442. >Inside it's dark, but as you close the door behind you a lamp flickers on.
  1443. >"Howdy, partner," says a voice with a distinct and unmistakeable southern twang that can only belong to one specific hat-wearing mare.
  1444. "Rarity," you breath in relief, "I came on time, as you asked."
  1445. >"Darn tootin' you did," says Rarity.
  1446. >Darn tootin'. She's so cultured.
  1447. "So how do you wanna do this?"
  1448. >"Right here's fine, stud."
  1449. >A figure steps into the light.
  1450. >You blink.
  1451. "Oh. Applejack. Is Rarity over there too?"
  1452. >"Nope. Just me, partner."
  1453. "I was -just- speaking to her."
  1454. >"Nah, that was me."
  1455. "Wh... really?"
  1456. >She nods, her smugness writ clear.
  1457. "That was the best impression of Rarity I've ever heard..."
  1458. >"Eeyup. Now come 'ere and let's make some grandfoals--"
  1459. "Oh, nah, I can't, sorry. I'm meant to be meeting Rarity around here. Private stuff, you wouldn't get it."
  1460. >She blinks, then frowns.
  1461. >"N... no, Anon, the letter was--"
  1462. >You dart back out the door and vanish into the night in search of Rarity.
  1463. >An enraged "Consarnet!" is the last thing you hear as you slam the barn door shut.
  1464.  
  1465. *
  1466.  
  1467. >You grumble as Nurse Redheart dabs your bruised face with a cloth.
  1468. >"I just don't know what you were thinking, honestly. What did you -think- was going to happen?"
  1469. "She sent me a letter, Red. She was down for it, I don't know why she changed her mind..."
  1470. >"Letter or no, you don't just barge into a pony's home in the night and jump on top of her. That's not how courtship works around here. Besides, you shouldn't trust everything Rarity says. She's a notorious tease."
  1471. "Yeah, I see that now..."
  1472. >"If you're pining for a marefriend, what about Applejack? She's nice, and she has a thing for you."
  1473. "Applejack?"
  1474. >You think about it. Then shake your head.
  1475. "Nah, I'm pretty sure she's gay. I saw her and Rainbow Dash make eye contact once. And another time they were benignly stood together at a public event. And another time they were laughing at a joke. They're practically married."
  1476. >Redheart nods with a hint of sadness.
  1477. >"Yes, that -is- pretty conclusive evidence that two people are romantically involved. Well, never mind."
  1478. >Then Redheart rapes you.
  1479. >It came out of nowhere and is actually really traumatic. There are several thousand words of explicit detail about a dominant mare using a powerless man to breed her.
  1480. >But to avoid the delicate, Christian sensibilities of the thread, I won't recount them.
  1481. >You're very welcome.
  1482. >Oh, and Granny Smith became a ghost. Thought that might need tying up as well. Applejack was supremely spooked and it wasn't a good time for anyone involved.
  1483. >Except Applebloom, who found having a spectral grandmother the coolest thing ever.
  1484. >The End.
  1485.  
  1486. ---
  1487.  
  1488. B I G M A R E
  1489.  
  1490. >A tremor stirs you, and another shakes you out of bed as you're reaching for your lamp.
  1491. >Several muttered curses and a pair of wiped eyes later, you stagger to the curtains and drag them back to let in the light.
  1492. >The light is blocked. Instead, a giant, teal eye larger than your window gazes in at you. The pupil dilates once it sees you.
  1493. >"Good morning, Anonymous!" booms a voice.
  1494. >You don't react beyond a slow blink, your post-sleep grimace not twitching.
  1495. >In a way, you're glad it's Fluttershy who's done this to herself. She's soft-spoken by nature, so even with an amplified voice she won't run the risk of shattering any glass.
  1496. >You lean out the window and crane your neck to take in the entire mare.
  1497. >She's about three stories high, beaming from ear to ear, and several birds have perched on the tips of her ears.
  1498. >Surprisingly, the most noticeable trait is the smell.
  1499. >Her exaggerated size brings with it an exaggerated musk. It hits you like a sledgehammer and your head feels thick just breathing it in.
  1500. "This permanent?"
  1501. >"Probably?"
  1502. "I'll get my coat."
  1503.  
  1504. *
  1505.  
  1506. >"So, um, what do you wanna do?"
  1507. >You recline on the grass, your hands behind your head.
  1508. "Whilst Twilight figures out how to undo this? I guess we can just sit here."
  1509. >Fluttershy's head is next to you, the pony also on her back, her face alone dwarfing your entire body.
  1510. >The rest of her is stretched out and covering the whole hillside.
  1511. >"You aren't going to run away?"
  1512. "In what universe am I going to outrun you?"
  1513. >"You could try? Maybe I couldn't get you if you hide in a hole."
  1514. "I'm not getting myself muddy over this. Twilight will figure something out soon, no point getting excited."
  1515. >Fluttershy purses her lips and looks away. She taps her gargantuan hooves together and gives you furtive glances. Each tap brings a deep, dull thud.
  1516. >"Could you... -please- run away?"
  1517. "Why?"
  1518. >"I um, I had an idea. It was going to be really... nice."
  1519. >Her wagon-sized smile broadens. Even as big as she is she finds a way to look meek.
  1520. "'Nice' never means anything good with you."
  1521. >"That's not true. My idea was going to be really exciting, and, and fun!"
  1522. "Fun for you?"
  1523. >"Yes."
  1524. "Fun for me?"
  1525. >"Definitely! You'll be having more fun than I will!"
  1526. >You recall your earlier thought. Her voice is undeniably loud now, but it's still delivered with that characteristic restraint she maintains whenever she speaks.
  1527. >It's loud, but still sounds like a whisper, just, a whisper that's delivered right into your ear. It's strange.
  1528. >You give a dismissive wave at her.
  1529. "Alright, lay it on me."
  1530. >"Okay! So, you were going to pull back your curtains, and then panic! Because I'm really big and scary now, and I'd--"
  1531. "You're not in the least bit scary."
  1532. >"Not... even slightly?"
  1533. "You're the least frightening pony in Equestria."
  1534. >"Oh. Thank you?"
  1535. "S'alright. So then what?"
  1536. >"Well, you'd run away, and I'd run after you! And then we'd have this big chase all over Ponyville and I'd try and grab you--"
  1537. >She mimes all this with her hooves, eyes darting here and there as she acts out this little (or big?) fantasy she'd created for herself.
  1538. >"--But you'd dart into houses and my hooves would be too big to grab you so I'd start breaking down doors and walls and stuff. I was going to be a big scary monster and I'd roar like 'Raaagh!' and you'd be running and saying 'Noo! Fluttershy! Don't eat me!'"
  1539. >She giggles to herself and you feel it in your bones.
  1540. "And... -were- you going to eat me?"
  1541. >She double-takes and brushes her mane back out of her eyes.
  1542. >"Heavens no! I would never do that to you!"
  1543. "Oh good. That's nice of you."
  1544. >"I was going to sit on you."
  1545. >A few more birds come to land on the tips of her great furry ears.
  1546. >She flicks one on instinct, and the birds scatter, but return immediately to perch.
  1547. >The pony, now reclined on her side, smiles down at you, brushing her mane from her eyes again.
  1548. "What?" you say after several seconds of silence.
  1549. >"I was going to sit on you. And then you'd have to squirm around inside my p-p... um, you know. I thought it would be really..."
  1550. >She looks over her shoulder, as if you weren't the only two on this hill and the rest of Ponyville weren't giving you both a wide, wide berth whilst Twilight was pressured into sorting out yet another misadventure.
  1551. >"I though it'd be really hot!" she whispers behind a hoof.
  1552. "Right. Right, I thought I'd misheard you, thanks for clarifying..."
  1553. >"So, um, do you still wanna do that? I could just pick you up and slide you in there now if you'd like, I promise it'll be nice!"
  1554. "I'm just gonna, uh," you rise and jerk a thumb over your shoulder. "I'm gonna run for my fucking life now."
  1555. >Fluttershy blinks as you take off sprinting and hyperventilating the phrase "Jesus Christ" like Lucifer himself is coming for your immortal soul.
  1556. >She watches for a while, then clambers to her hooves, her grin widening, eyes sparkling in the sun.
  1557. >Her wings unfurl and flap once, the nearby trees bending in the one-second gale.
  1558. >"Ready or not, here I come, Anon!" she bellows, and this time you really do feel the volume.
  1559. >It cannot eclipse the fear.
  1560.  
  1561. *
  1562.  
  1563. >Twilight peels another towel off you and puts a fresh one around your shoulders.
  1564. >In no time at all, that one is sodden as well.
  1565. >You sit on a chair in the library, and the chair sits in a large wooden vat filled with warm, soapy water that comes to your bare shins.
  1566. >Your arms are folded around your midsection and trembling.
  1567. >Your eyes twitch about in schizophrenic patterns over the bare trunk wall like there are things there that only you can see.
  1568. >Twilight, wearing her nose plug, levitates a bucket of more soapy water and a scrubbing brush from Spike's hands.
  1569. >Spike stands behind the doorway, not daring to come in any further on account of the smell.
  1570. >"Um. I'm sorry I didn't fix it until it was too late," Twilight says finally in a nasal, congested voice.
  1571. >You don't reply, you just shake.
  1572. >"Flutter... Fluttershy looked like she was having a great time though. At least one of you was happy, right? And I mean... she looked -really- happy."
  1573. >Your head turns stiffly and you stare at her.
  1574. >Every inch of you is coated in thick, pungent mare-cum. You'd been rammed so deep into Fluttershy's clenching, suffocating fuckhole that you feared you'd never see the light of day again.
  1575. >With every mammoth heartbeat of the titanic pony, you'd felt the walls close in, felt yourself dragged farther into the cavernous depths.
  1576. >And yes, Twilight is right. Fluttershy was having a fantastic time. You could hear her voice, trembling feverishly at your every desperate, thrashing movement, the sound vibrating through the flesh that held you.
  1577. >When she came, you felt it against every inch of your tenderised body. You smelled it in your clogged sinuses. Tasted it as the torrent came gushing out of the dark.
  1578. >Twilight gives you a weak smile and levitates the brush.
  1579. >Then starts scrubbing your face and its thousand-yard stare.
  1580. >"Hooray for Twilight," she says with forced enthusiasm. "Yaaay?"
  1581.  
  1582. ---
  1583.  
  1584. ">Page 9"
  1585. VegetaAnon, saving the thread again. He's a good chap.
  1586.  
  1587. >Vegeta stands atop a frozen mountaintop.
  1588. >He wears only a tunic and leggings, his bare ankles planted firmly in the snow and the arête beneath so sharp it could slice his soles.
  1589. >But the cold matters as little to him as the thin air does. He's endured harsher extremes.
  1590. >Arms folded across his chest, his chin is lifted with an aristocratic flair, but his eyes are downcast.
  1591. >His stately gaze sweeps across the unmarred valleys and vistas. Settlements known only by the thread-thin trails of ascending chimney smoke are all that tell of the minimal civilisation this planet offers.
  1592. >If this is to be his new throne world, he would have to subjugate its peoples soon, though he doesn't foresee a struggle.
  1593. >So far, he has seen none that could possibly challenge him.
  1594. >One corner of his mouth curls up slightly. Has fate seen fit to reward him for his trials? Has he simply been granted a pristine world to call his own?
  1595. >There are worse fates than to be imprisoned in such an Edenic land.
  1596. >He nods, and in that single curt motion, casts judgement on an entire planet.
  1597. "This will do," he murmurs.
  1598. >"Um, hello? Excuse me?" a voice calls from behind him.
  1599. >He pivots on his forefoot and, arms still folded, faces a small figure more appropriately wrapped for the climate.
  1600. >A little yellow horse with a little pink mane.
  1601. >She offers a little yellow wave and a little white smile.
  1602. >He looks down on her in stoic regard.
  1603. >"Um, are you Vegetable?"
  1604. >Vegeta's eyes narrow.
  1605. >The voice and colours imply a female, but even so, he won't tolerate impudence.
  1606. "Perhaps I didn't hear you properly," he addresses her with every hint of noble contempt. "What are you looking for?"
  1607. >The horse flaps her lips uselessly for a moment, then hastily pulls out a magazine.
  1608. >On closer inspection, it's a comic book. 'Dragon Ball'. Vegeta cocks an eyebrow.
  1609. >"Oh! Um, no, I mean Veggie-tah."
  1610. >Vegeta would pull himself up to his full height, but he was already doing that so instead he sneers.
  1611. "I am -Vegeta-. Prince of the Saiyans. Who am I speaking to?"
  1612. >"I'm, um, I'm Fluttershy. Waifu of Men. Listen, uh, I know you're probably looking for..."
  1613. >She consults her comic again, flipping through a few sheets with a desperate look, the flipping made difficult by the persistent icy wind cutting across the peak.
  1614. >"A dragon's balls, a-and I'm sure that's nice, I personally don't swing that way because dragons scare me, but I need to rape you now so can you please take your pants off?"
  1615. >Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyans and prideful beyond measure, finds himself lost for words. His stoic countenance shatters, replaced with idiotic bewilderment.
  1616. "Sorry what," he says flatly and with none of his usual grandeur.
  1617. >"Sorry, was that too forward? I meant to say I've been assigned a task to maybe possibly just rape you a little bit. Just a bit. Maybe more than a bit."
  1618. "You disgusting creature," he says almost in disbelief, "who put you up to this?"
  1619. >"Oh. Um... Me."
  1620. >He stares at her. She stares back with a smile, but quickly stops when the freezing air chills her teeth.
  1621. >Vegeta cracks his neck and strolls off the arête to meet to meet the wretch.
  1622. "I suppose it was too much to ask that my new world be completely pure. I see I'll need to rid it of degenerates first."
  1623. >He rolls his shoulder and pulls back a fist as he walks.
  1624. >A warrior ought never to so obviously telegraph an attack, but he doesn't suspect the creature even knows what a punch is, let alone be able to protect itself against him.
  1625. >His fist tightens and he launches it straight at her head. He doesn't consider the action beyond the most mechanical, his mind already turning over the idea of a planet-wide cleansing and how to carry it out.
  1626. >Unknown to the Prince - the Saiyan faultless for how was he to know? - was a primordial truth known on this world.
  1627. >None must ever underestimate Fluttershy.
  1628. >She catches his fist between her hooves, wrenches his arm to the side, and almost rips his shoulder from its socket.
  1629. >Vegeta is hurled down the mountainside, and for a brief few seconds he watches the tumbling world, the white smear of snow fading to a brown smear of rock, in a state of shock.
  1630. >Before his head dashes against the foot of the mountain, he orients himself the right way up and slams into the ground feet-first.
  1631. >The earth quakes with his arrival.
  1632. >He takes a moment to steady, then tenses his muscles and lets out a slow breath through his teeth.
  1633. >The centuries of remembered combat, of opponents big and small, awaken.
  1634. >His heart-rate steadies, coming down from its momentary shock.
  1635. >The familiar calm of battle settles over him. He smiles and rolls his shoulder, now sore. The pain claws at him, but it's only a means for him to focus his mind.
  1636. >He tilts his head back to see his assailant flying down the mountainside, wings flapping every so often to steady herself before tucking in at her sides to bring her into a dive.
  1637. >Wings. There's a weakness to exploit. Long hair, another. Tail, that could be grabbed. Short legs, he could abuse reach. The longer he stares, the more avenues of attack he forms. His war-forged intellect picking the little horse apart so that by the time she reaches him, he already knows how to kill her.
  1638. >He explodes from a standing position with a roar, and the two meet at the terminus of Fluttershy's plummet.
  1639.  
  1640. *
  1641.  
  1642. >You turn the page, pause, then look at the rest of the sheets.
  1643. >Another hundred pages follow this one.
  1644. >You look up at Fluttershy, perched on the end of her bed and visibly sweating with tight lips.
  1645. "So, I gave you my Dragon Ball comics. Literally the only thing from Earth I had with me when I was dragged here other than clothes, and your first instinct was to write an epic fight scene between you and Vegeta."
  1646. >"Um, sex scene, too. The fight only lasts twenty pages. The rest of it is porn."
  1647. "I... right."
  1648. >She swallows and a bead of sweat drips off her chin.
  1649. >"Do you... like it?"
  1650. "Do I like the fact that you used the only Earthly artefact in Equestria to write self-insert fanfiction?"
  1651. >She nods.
  1652. "Do you have even the slightest idea how irredeemably autistic this is? This coming from a man whose planet -invented- cringe culture?"
  1653. >She shakes her head.
  1654. >You stare down at the neat, hundred-or-so page book.
  1655. >Against your best judgements, you skip to about half-way in.
  1656. >Fluttershy and Vegeta are still on the mountainside, but apparently everything's been burned to cinders and Fluttershy's belly is bloated with Saiyan cum. Vegeta is also sobbing and saying he's sorry.
  1657. >At that, you slap the page with a finger.
  1658. "No way would Vegeta ever cry like that. He's tough as shit."
  1659. >"I-I had to bend the characters to make it work. So do you like it?"
  1660. >You give her a blank look.
  1661. >Then stare at the pages again.
  1662. >Then shrug.
  1663. "Beats Twilight's stupid romance novels, I guess."
  1664.  
  1665. ---
  1666.  
  1667. Infinite growth in a world of finite fetishes is an unsustainable business model, but you try telling that to the Capitalists.
  1668.  
  1669. >You stride into the meeting room with a collection of hastily-scribbled flash cards.
  1670. "One: Tomato sauce enema."
  1671. >"No," comes the tired response from the table.
  1672. >You flick the flash card away without hesitation and read from the next without looking up or stopping your pacing as you pass behind the room's only other occupant.
  1673. "Two: Nipple clamps."
  1674. >"Done it."
  1675. >Flick. The card whizzes off like a paper boomerang and you don't care where it lands.
  1676. "Three: Go-kart fellatio."
  1677. >"HR."
  1678. "Four: Hats."
  1679. >Fluttershy is slouched in her chair. Her head is rolled back and she's staring at the ceiling, her shirt unbuttoned and tie loose.
  1680. >At your final flash card she labours to lift her head and look at you. Her eyes have bags. She's not slept for twenty-eight hours, and you're the last two in the office.
  1681. >"Hats..."
  1682. "Not gone beyond that yet."
  1683. >"Have we got anything else?"
  1684. >You shrug, hands slapping your sides as they flop down.
  1685. "I don't fucking know."
  1686. >Slumping into your seat, you grab your lukewarm coffee and take a sip.
  1687. >Then pause abruptly, and pluck a soggy flashcard from the mug with a frown.
  1688. >"I'm beginning to think we're running out of ideas."
  1689. "Done it for ten years, we can keep it up."
  1690. >"Why?"
  1691. "Because that's... how we make money."
  1692. >She lets her head flop back over the backrest again to stare at the grey tiles above.
  1693. >"What if we did something new?"
  1694. "Like what?"
  1695. >"Did something other than fetish guesses?"
  1696. "Such as?"
  1697. >She shrugs, the movement as tired as everything else she does.
  1698. >"Drop the fetish guesses and try a new idea? Or old? We used to do little romance thingies, didn't we?"
  1699. "We did?"
  1700. >"Sure. It wasn't always fetish this and fetish that. Sometimes it was just about coercion."
  1701. "Like... rape?"
  1702. >"Yeah. Rape. Imagine that."
  1703. "Well sure, we could go back to doing that, I'd have to run it past HR first but--"
  1704. >"No, that's the problem. HR won't let us do it. We have to do things by the book these days. No more spontaneity 'cause it might be dangerous."
  1705. "Then what do we do?"
  1706. >"Do it without HR knowing."
  1707. "Can we do that? Rape without notifying HR?"
  1708. >"That's how we did it back in the old days."
  1709. "Huh."
  1710. >You nod at the idea, pondering your half-empty mug and the sodden flashcard flat on the table beside it in a brown puddle.
  1711. "So how would we get started?"
  1712. >"Well. I'd need to rape you."
  1713. "Right... now?"
  1714. >Fluttershy rolls her head up again and blinks blearily.
  1715. "Uh. Tomorrow?"
  1716. >"Sure. Tomorrow."
  1717. "So I'll meet you in here tomorrow and you'll rape me."
  1718. >"Sounds good."
  1719. "Without HR knowing."
  1720. >"Nope."
  1721. "...We'll need to lock the doors. Can't have anyone walking in on us."
  1722. >She yawns.
  1723. >"Nope..."
  1724. "Do we call it a night, then?"
  1725. >"Sure. G'night."
  1726. >She faceplants the table and in a few seconds you hear congested snoring.
  1727. >You watch her sleep for a moment, then shrug.
  1728. >After gathering your things from your desk, you clock out and head home.
  1729. >Tomorrow, you'll go into work with the expectation of getting raped at some point.
  1730. >The things you do for a salary.
  1731.  
  1732. ---
  1733.  
  1734. "Why is there no Nyx rape?
  1735. I absolutely demand that you write an entire novel about Nyx raping Anonymous right now."
  1736. - Anonymous, demanding the impossible.
  1737.  
  1738. >Free Candy.
  1739. >How could you have been so blind?
  1740. >There was no way someone would be selling free candy down a dark alleyway, but you, idiot you, somehow thought there would be.
  1741. >Well, your past idiocies are responsible for yet another zany jam, as here you find yourself naked and hogtied in a dank basement.
  1742. >Not the first time, but it's happened enough times that you're not quite as scared as you probably should be.
  1743. >Whoever your kidnapper is, they at the very least had the kindness to provide a stained, lumpy mattress.
  1744. >You're not sure what it's filled with; you think foam, metal springs, and hypodermic needles from the way something keeps slipping through the fabric to stab your bare skin, but it could be worse.
  1745. >How, exactly, you aren't certain. But thinking "It could be worse" in a bad situation is always a good way to make light of it.
  1746. >Out of the shadows, your assailant comes into the light of the single bare bulb hanging from roof-beam.
  1747. >They come closer, but they don't get any bigger.
  1748. >You blink at the diminutive filly before you.
  1749. >She's frail-looking, like a rogue newspaper on an errant wind could shatter her bones. That is, wholly unthreatening.
  1750. >She flutters her wings a bit and adjusts her round-rim glasses, then clears her throat.
  1751. >"Finally got you," she says, and wow that's a weird voice. Like glass harmonics, if you were to be overly specific.
  1752. "Kid, you need to get out of here. There's a maniac offering free candy somewhere around here, but there isn't any free candy, the only thing being offered is probably rape! And that's not a good deal, even if it -is- free!"
  1753. >The filly shakes her head.
  1754. >"There's no maniac. -I- brought you down here, Anonymous. I-I am..." she loses steam, clears her throat again, and stands up straighter. "My name is Nyx! And I'm going to make you my husband after I have my way with you!"
  1755. >You stare at her.
  1756. "Bro you're like one years old or something."
  1757. >"I'm six!" she says with the indignant whine of a child who still cares about how old they are.
  1758. "Six, I'll have you know, is only one away from five, which is one away from four, which is one away from three, which is one away from two, which is one away from one. So you're -basically- a year old."
  1759. >She furrows her filly-brow and pouts her filly-lips.
  1760. >"That's... no, that's not right at all!"
  1761. >Damn. You were hoping that would have worked on her inferior filly-brain.
  1762. >Her magic lights up-- Oh hey, she's an alicorn.
  1763. >...
  1764. >So anyway, her horn lights up and she snaps a few of the bindings around your hips and crotch.
  1765. >Free from bondage, your mammoth man meat flops out to greet the world.
  1766. >Nyx licks her lips.
  1767. >"F-finally... I've thought about this for so long, but you'll finally be mine. All those months of watching you from windows and around corners, all that time spent planning, and you're finally all alone with me. We're going to be a great couple, just like in those books Twilight read to me!"
  1768. >If you had a hand to spare you'd hold up a single finger.
  1769. "Hold up there, chief, I don't like the idea of Twilight reading children anything. That mare is a menace and her mind is a cesspit."
  1770. >Before Nyx can answer, a door at the top of some steps you hadn't noticed in the gloom beyond the reach of the meagre light is flung open.
  1771. >Daylight pours in, and your saviour stands proudly at the peak of the proverbial mountain, backlit by the sun's glory.
  1772. >"What's up, losers," the new figure barks. "You rubbing dicks down here or something?"
  1773. >Nyx's face goes pale. An astounding feat, what with her black fur.
  1774. >"Wh-- no! No! Go away! I worked so hard on this!"
  1775. >The second figure swaggers down the steps and over to you.
  1776. >It's another filly. This one white with an orange mane, sunglasses, and a little coat with a popped collar.
  1777. >A cigarette perched between her lips to one side of her mouth smoulders away.
  1778. >Frankly, you wish you were half as cool as this filly. Clearly she's a suave customer who knows what the word on the street is.
  1779. >"So how's it going, faggots? Mind if I ram my cock in this social sandwich?" she says with a grin.
  1780. >"Dyx! You promised you wouldn't!"
  1781. >"Wouldn't what, stay home when you're out getting fucked by hot singles in our area? Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen."
  1782. >'Dyx' turns to you and bounces her eyebrows.
  1783. >"Hey there, tall green and handsome. Ever nutted inside a filly before? Wanna be my first?"
  1784. "I'd like to go home--"
  1785. >"Yeah nah, your options are basically fuck me or I'll cut your nuts off."
  1786. >She flips out a switch-blade knife from nowhere and pokes the tip of your nose with it.
  1787. >"So what'll it be? You're doing me first, by the way, I need dick and I need it now. Nyx can watch."
  1788. >Nyx screams in petulant juvenile fury and pounces on Dyx, where the two begin beating the seven-hells out of each other.
  1789. >For all her talk, Dyx doesn't really know how to fight.
  1790. >Then again, neither does Nyx, given that they're both fillies and haven't got the body-strength to do much of anything.
  1791. >Even so, they're giving it everything they can.
  1792. >You wriggle a bit, and a rope comes loose.
  1793. >Some more writhing and the bindings fall away.
  1794. >You rise and shimmy against the wall towards the stairs, taking care not to draw too much attention to yourself as the fillies yell and pull each other's hair.
  1795. >Fresh air graces your lungs as you escape the dank basement, and you almost forget you're naked until a stray breeze caresses your package.
  1796. >You hear something that sounds like a gasp and someone inhaling something accidentally through a straw.
  1797. >A glance left, and you see Fluttershy, holding her shopping bags with her wings.
  1798. >The bags and their contents collapse to the ground, immediately forgotten by their owner, who stares at you with the same sort of wonder as a Japanese Otaku meeting his favourite hentai voice actress.
  1799. >You grimace. Look down at your nudity. Look up at your 'friendly neighbour'. Grimace harder.
  1800. >"I -knew- today was going be special!" she says right before tackling you.
  1801. >Oh well. You win some you lose some. At least you're not--
  1802. >Fucking fillies.

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