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[FLUTTERRAPE] Thread Shorts Volume 14

By Nebulus
Created: 2022-07-18 17:59:55
Updated: 2023-02-05 21:09:42
Expiry: Never
anonnsfwcomedyflutterrapevarious characters

  1. All the greentext I wrote across two of the threads. I considered splitting it into two separate pastes given its size, but we're going through a heatwave here in Bongland at the moment, and as I sit here wearing shorts and nothing else sweating out my bodyweight in saline I cannot be fucking bothered doing that. You'll take 37k words of horsefiction all at once and you'll like it.
  2.  
  3. ---
  4.  
  5. "She could have molested anon countless times without him ever knowing."
  6. - Anonymous, regarding Eris
  7.  
  8. >You're sat at your kitchen table eating cereal, as any God-fearing man will in a morning.
  9. >You read once that some people forgo breakfast because it's "Not necessary".
  10. >Sounds like Commie shit, as far as you're concerned.
  11. >You slurp down your maize-and-sugar drowned in milk as patriotically as you can.
  12. >Then turn to the next page in your local newspaper.
  13. "Huh. They've got a sale on at--"
  14.  
  15. >{{{{ --your world falls sideways into kaleidoscopic fantasia as agony blends with orgasmic euphoria you see every colour and it tastes like garlic as acidic burning tortures your sinuses for a fraction of a tenth of a second before the abyss regurgitates you back out into realspace and the screaming finally ends but whose screaming was it-- }}}}
  16.  
  17. >It happens so fast you aren't aware it even did until a full second has passed and the shock of normality slaps you back to your senses.
  18. >You're naked and raw and sucking as much air into your aching lungs as you can.
  19. >The kitchen has been torn apart; cupboard doors hang by a screw, the fridge has been toppled over, more than half of the floor tiles have been uprooted and lie like smashed china plates all over the room.
  20. >The air reeks of musk so potent you can taste it on every breath.
  21. >You raise a trembling hand and stare in bewilderment at the sheen of warm milky slime coating it.
  22. >You're lying on your back on the kitchen table, the newspaper and cereal bowl swept aside and strewn across the remaining tiles.
  23. >There are shreds of colourful tartan fabric stuck to the walls or fluttering like confetti in the breeze coming through your devastated kitchen window - the remnants of your pyjamas.
  24. >Spots dance before your vision, a war-drum pounds inside your head.
  25. >You try to speak but can't manage anything more than a quivering, helpless groan.
  26. >With great exertion you roll off the kitchen table and land in a puddle of yet more cum.
  27. >It is yours? You have to assume so. Your dick is both numb and burning. Your legs so weak you couldn't possibly stand.
  28. >You support yourself on all fours with shaking knees, staring in dumb shock at the slickened floor.
  29. "What... what the fuck happened?" you eventually wheeze.
  30. >A new smell above the sexual musk catches your attention.
  31. >Cigarette smoke.
  32. >You look up towards the ceiling and see her.
  33. >Eris is reclined in the air, a gossamer-thin pink nightrobe thrown over her slender form.
  34. >She's coated in sweat, a few stray droplets rolling down her matted fur and dipping off her.
  35. >The beast runs talons through her wild, tangled hair and takes an indulgent drag from her silver cigarette-holder. A long, satisfied sigh breaches her lips, and she looks down at you lovingly.
  36. >"Was it good for you too, baby?" she says with a fiendish grin.
  37.  
  38. ---
  39.  
  40. Anons were bickering about the legitimacy of the idiom "The blade coming down on your yoke" as it refers to a threat to Celestia.
  41.  
  42. >The crowd holds its breath.
  43. >Princess Luna watches the stage with a face like stern granite.
  44. >This is a big moment for her. It's been months of public feuding and political posturing, so to finally be getting her own way, getting her revenge, is important.
  45. >You're sat on the front row with the Elements of Harmony, the guest of honour since you're responsible for this whole mess.
  46. >Your only defence is that you made a slip of the tongue, a blundered idiom said in an attempt to sound clever, but it doesn't matter now.
  47. >Twilight confessed that what you said wasn't anything particularly egregious, but it was the verbal straw that broke the camel's back in the royal palace.
  48. >The animosity between the two sisters was dry powder waiting for a spark that you unwittingly provided.
  49. >So now here you all are, with a crowd of hushed Canterlot aristocrats behind you and a stage in front.
  50. >And on the stage, Princess Celestia has her head under a guillotine.
  51. >Luna arches an eyebrow at the royal executioner, and he returns the gesture with a grimacing nod.
  52. >"Princess Celestia," his baritone voice echoes over the crowd, "are you prepared to proceed?"
  53. >"I am," Celestia says without a ghost of concern. She's confident. You don't see how. As far as you and about fifty percent of the crowd are concerned, you're about to watch Equestria's beloved sun set.
  54. >"Drop the blade, Gilly," she orders before Luna can. Luna bristles at being stood up yet again. But that doesn't matter either, she's about to get her way.
  55. >Gilly Teem, the royal executioner, hesitates for a moment, his hoof hovering beside the lever.
  56. >"It's alright," Celestia adds softly. "You'll be okay."
  57. >He clears his throat and shepherds his expression.
  58. >Then, yanks the lever.
  59. >The mechanism jumps. The blade drops like a stone.
  60. >When the keen blade hits Celestia's neck the noise is like the final bell toll on her life.
  61. >A final condemnation, and the unfortunate, inglorious end of Princess Celestia.
  62. >You hear several ponies faint, but don't pull your bulging eyes from the stage.
  63. >The crowd is stunned. No one says a word.
  64. >Then Princess Luna stomps a hoof on the floor.
  65. >"Damn it all to Tartarus!" she bellows.
  66. >She storms off in a strop as half the crowd cheers and the other half groans.
  67. >A very-much-intact Princess Celestia cackles madly, despite the car-bonnet-sized wedge balanced precariously above the back of her neck.
  68. >"I told you, Lulu! I -told- you!"
  69. >"Go to Hell, Tia!"
  70. >"Ooh, looks like someone's a sore loser!"
  71. >"It was rigged! The blade was dulled! Gilly was in on it!"
  72. >"Gilly's a professional and a friend to us both, he doesn't play favourites. That'll be a thousand bits, Lulu!"
  73. >Luna's quickly striding out of earshot, refusing to look back at her grinning sister.
  74. >"Lulu! I'll be coming to collect later on! You'd better pay up!"
  75. >Celestia twists her head in a few directions, grunting, then manages to extract herself from both the guillotine and her golden yoke. Seeing her without it is weirdly intimate.
  76. >The blade is wedged firm in the back of the thick metal neckwear. Celestia runs a hoof over it and whistles.
  77. >"To be fair," she nods appreciatively, "the blade went about half-way through. It was close, I was nearly a goner!"
  78. >She looks to Twilight for comment. You all look to Twilight for comment. Twilight was a hundred-percent against what she described as this "juvenile insanity".
  79. >But Twilight is passed out on the grass. She fainted the moment the blade fell.
  80. >Celestia shrugs.
  81. >"Ah well, she'll come around. So! Who wants to come for drinks? Luna's paying!"
  82. >The entire crowd cheers, and you're about to rise when you feel something on your lap.
  83. >You look down.
  84. >Fluttershy is shamelessly rubbing her hoof all over your crotch.
  85. >She catches your eye, shrugs, then rams a hoof through your waistband and begins fondling your uncovered man-meat with the soft frog of her hoof.
  86. >"What? It's a Flutterrape story. You didn't forget, did you?"
  87. "I'll be honest, I totally did."
  88.  
  89. ---
  90.  
  91. "Careful, Anon. She knows what you dream..."
  92. - Anonymous, regarding Luna. Just glanced at a picture of her and God damn if I don't wanna cuddle that loveable lunar lout.
  93.  
  94. >Luna closes her bedroom door and puts an ear to it.
  95. >She listens for sounds in the hallway beyond.
  96. >Nothing.
  97. >A grin forms, and she all-but skips to her bed, throwing herself on and getting comfortable.
  98. >To one side, phallic silicone of escalating sizes, and lubricant too, though, she's never needed the lube for normal activities. It's there for when she wants to go down another rabbit hole.
  99. >Images of the fun to be had circle her mind and she bites her lip.
  100. >All she's missing is her darling. Her muse. The one who lit the fire in her loins from the moment she first saw him.
  101. >Anonymous.
  102. >Her horn glows and the dream realm washes over her.
  103. >It doesn't take her long to find Anonymous, his human soul stands out among ponies.
  104. >Beyond his door she'll find him, ripe for the taking.
  105. >Half her consciousness peruses the dream, the other runs a slow hoof over her mostly dry lips, but moisture is starting to build.
  106. >Keeping a hoof in each realm is a balancing act none but Luna could manage, but she is well-accustomed to dreamwalking.
  107. >She passes through into Anonymous' dream, lurid fantasies of what she's going to do to him edging her to distraction.
  108. >Within, she sees him, and--
  109. >"Cousin Nico, let's go bowling!"
  110. >Something explodes off to the side, and an anthropomorphic elephant with gargantuan breasts and fishnet stockings strides over Luna's head.
  111. >Anonymous stands before a wall, a perplexing amalgamation of metal and blue lights in his hands.
  112. >He wears a look of intense concentration as he uses the device to weld metal slabs over a screaming child.
  113. >"Delete this!" the child shrieks loudly enough to make Luna's ears ring.
  114. >Green faceless men in black suits and red ties scramble past Luna laughing like idiots as a diminutive cat-human-creature in a pink dress runs after them with a great red hammer, seemingly determined to whack them with it.
  115. >Anonymous, satisfied that the screaming child is properly entombed, wipes his forehead and pulls an entire burger from his pocket.
  116. >As he eats it nonchalantly, he sees Luna.
  117. >He offers a wave.
  118. >"Watch out for the mares," he calls.
  119. >Luna is about to reply "What mares?" when she's trampled.
  120. >A horde of smiling, joyous mares stampede over her like a runaway train, several of them shouting "I love them!" as they go.
  121. >Luna twitches, baffled at the pain she's feeling.
  122. >She tries to influence the dream, but she can't. She tries to control the chaos, but the dream resists her.
  123. >Luna stares at the madness, her earlier intentions completely forgotten.
  124. >Anonymous finishes his burger, suddenly becomes about a hundred-feet tall, and starts swiping at the sky with a bugnet.
  125. >In the sky, cats merged with poptarts soar about with rainbow contrails.
  126. >Over the din of it all, a distant voice sings about giving up and letting down.
  127. >Luna ejects herself from the dream.
  128. >She blinks a few times, now alone in her room with her hoof pressed to her desert-dry vagina.
  129. >Well. She certainly feels let down, that much is certain.
  130.  
  131. ---
  132.  
  133. "That's low enough, pull them there shorts back up 'fore I get ideas."
  134. - Anonymous, pretending to be Applejack. Nerd.
  135.  
  136. >Sun's warm. Patio's warm. Body's warm.
  137. >Kings and emperors never had it this good.
  138. >You're spread out on the patio behind your house, the sun directly overhead and turning you into a fried egg.
  139. >On Earth you'd need to drop a thousand dollars on a fancy-within-budget hotel and fight your boss for a few days off work for a chance to experience this.
  140. >In Equestria, you get it every other afternoon for free.
  141. >Were it not for your few minor complaints, mostly to do with cereal-related matters, Equestria would be a paradise.
  142. >The noon is quiet other than sporadic birdsong, but that means you hear the sharp intake of breath.
  143. >It comes from beyond your hedge, followed by vigorous rustling and the tell-tale snaps of branches.
  144. >You sit up and drop your sunglasses, squinting in the direction of the noise.
  145. >A furious golden-maned mare is stomping across the grass to you with a head full of twigs and leaves and a look of righteous indignation.
  146. >"Of all the sinful things--" Applejack starts as she gets close.
  147. "Did you just come through my fucking hedge?"
  148. >"Just what the -hay- are you doing?"
  149. "Enjoying the privacy of my back garden, you psycho, now again, did you just break through that? There's a god damn hole right there now, are you gonna fix that?"
  150. >"The hedge ain't the problem -sugarcube-," she says the last word with evident contempt. "What in Celestia's name are you doing looking like this?"
  151. >She thrusts a hoof at your chest.
  152. >You shoot a quick glance down at your sweat-slick body, wearing only your boxers.
  153. "Sunbathing, obviously."
  154. >"With -mares- around? Innocent fillies? Where's your sense of decency?"
  155. "I'm in my -back garden-, no one can see in-- well, used to be that, but then you went and made a giant fucking hole in my hedge, were you looking through or something, you rednecked pervert?"
  156. >Applejack snorts derisively, but she also doesn't meet your eye.
  157. >"'Course not, I was just minding my own when I practically -smell- the problem. Just followed my nose and here you are. What are young mares supposed to do when you're going around like that?"
  158. "Going around-- it's a -private garden-, what the hell do you want from me?"
  159. >"I want you to put some damned clothes on before some little filly does something she'll regret! You're corrupting the youth looking like that, you shameless... degenerate!"
  160. >Applejack puts a firm hoof to your chest, dragging it down over your pectoral, and a shudder passes through her from tip to tail.
  161. >"Just look at you, all that skin just... p-put something on, Anon, -please-."
  162. "You're fucked, you are, Applejack," you say, reaching for your shirt with one hand and jabbing an accusing finger at her with the other.
  163. >"You can't," she swallows, her eyes not leaving your chest, "can't just look like that, it ain't right, there are married mares around these parts."
  164. "What, like you? Get real, you're lonely as shit, you're also breaking and entering I've decided. Get out and make sure you do something about my hedge bef--" you stop dead, unable to speak.
  165. >Applejack is leaning forward, scraping her flat tongue over your nipple.
  166. >"Hoohh," she breathes, "ohh Celestia, I-I can't... oh mercy..."
  167. >You shrug her off, but she lunges onto you again.
  168. >"I'm real sorry, Anon, I can't help myself," she isn't relenting, so you shove her and rise to your feet.
  169. "Fix my hedge, then fix your... I dunno, brain, you bucktoothed weirdo."
  170. >Applejack stares up at you longingly, a deep blush set over her cheeks.
  171. >Once your shirt is hastily pulled on, followed by your shorts, she blinks and clears her throat.
  172. >"Right, good, glad to see we've reached an... an accord."
  173. "You gonna leave? I'm telling Dash, by the way, she's gonna give you shit for a year for this one."
  174. >"Yeah, sure, just don't do it again," she mumbles, turning away.
  175. >The mare walks rigidly back to the hole she made in your hedge, her tail swatting the air every few seconds and a uncharacteristic sway to her hips.
  176. >Through the hole you can see distant ponies going about their days.
  177. >That'll be the end of your private sunbathing until Applejack fixes your hedge, though maybe you can put a board over it before she does?
  178. >You grimace and look down at your chest, still glistening with a mix of sweat and horse saliva.
  179. >Just as you turn to go back inside, you hear another, much fainter rustle.
  180. >You stop, narrow your eyes, and pan your gaze over the hedge.
  181. >Opposite the hole, you see a single emerald eye peeking through the leaves, glinting in the sun.
  182. "I said get the hell outta here, Applejack!" you bellow.
  183. >"I'm goin'!" comes the frustrated response.
  184.  
  185. ---
  186.  
  187. "whatcha gonna do about it?"
  188. - Anonymous 1, being Applejack.
  189. "Certainly not molest her."
  190. - Anonymous 2, regarding Applejack.
  191.  
  192. >Applejack and Rainbow Dash have been sat in the bar for a while. It's night outside, and stray bugs are diving into a nearby bug-zapper with religious intent.
  193. >The two met, grunted their usual greetings, and sat down with a cold beer each.
  194. >By now, Dash has started her third. Applejack has yet to sip the mostly-deflated foam from her now-warm first.
  195. >She's staring at the table with a puzzled look. Dash thinks she's trying to figure out an equation, as it's the same sort of look Twilight wears when she's thinking about egghead crap, so she doesn't bother her.
  196. >They sit as only long-time friends can. In perfectly comfortable, companionable silence.
  197. >Then, AJ looks up unprompted and turns her frown on Dash.
  198. "I think Anon raped me."
  199. >Dash holds her friend's expression, not sure what to make of it.
  200. >AJ doesn't look sure either, and the two friends regard each other warily.
  201. >Dash takes a slow sip of her beer and runs her tongue over her teeth.
  202. >"You -think- he did?"
  203. "Yeah."
  204. >"Okay. Walk me through it."
  205. >AJ shrugs and considers her beer. Considers sampling it. Decides against it, and shakes her head.
  206. "Just over at his place earlier today. Doing my usual shtick, you know. Backdoor key and whatnot, checking out if there are any socks I can nab."
  207. >"Sure."
  208. "He finds me rooting through the little bin he keeps by the door and just sorta... rapes me."
  209. >Dash scratches the inner contour of her ear with the edge of her hoof, brow furrowed and lips pursed. She wears her own egghead-equation face, though she doesn't wear it as well as Applejack.
  210. >"Not really getting it. How'd he rape -you-?"
  211. "I ain't rightly sure. He throws me down, gets on top of me, fumbles with his pants and the like."
  212. >"Right."
  213. "Gets 'em off, works himself up, slips inside."
  214. >"You didn't block him out?"
  215. "Why in the hay would I do that? Been trying to get that man to ram his pork in my sandwich for yonks now."
  216. >Dash nods before taking a more considerable gulp.
  217. "Well so there I am, on his kitchen floor, legs stretched out front and back, flexing as he goes out, loosening as he goes in, really working him best I can. To be honest I'm just plump peaches it's all happening, didn't really ask why. All the time he's going 'You like that? How does it feel? Make as much noise as you want, no one'll come', you know, making me feel comfortable."
  218. >Applejack huffs through flared nostrils and frowns at her lukewarm beer.
  219. "Was darned certain he didn't like me like that..."
  220. >"But he was still doing it, right? Ramming into you?"
  221. "Yup. Just like Uncle Orange did way back when."
  222. >Dash nods pensively.
  223. >"So when'd the rape happen?"
  224. "Darndest thing, Dash, I swear on my Ma's soul that was it. I tried moving, getting into a better position and all, and he punches me in the back of the head and shouts at me to stay put."
  225. >"Woah, really?"
  226. "Sure. Real hard, right on the back of my noggin. Hurt like a mother hubbard, I'll tell you, still aches now, kinda. So I stay where I am like a good girl, he's obviously wanting to be the top for this one so I play the part, and he's grunting real deep-like, and I just got this... feeling."
  227. >"Like, an orgasm?"
  228. "No, no, I mean like a bad'un. Just that the mood was off, like this wasn't a fun sorta roll in the hay, or, on the tiles, whatever. I just got the impression that he didn't want it to be fun for me. Is that weird?"
  229. >"Real weird. Does he know you're into him?"
  230. "How couldn't he? I ain't exactly hiding my feelings here, I'm being just about as obvious as a mare can be. Only thing I'm missing is landing-strip lights leading to my filly-hole."
  231. >"But he's acting all angry?"
  232. "Felt like it. He's growling and snarling like a timberwolf got its tail stepped on, and I'm there under him just sorta taking it."
  233. >"Did it hurt?"
  234. >Applejack shrugs.
  235. "Not really. The punch sure as sugar did, can't say I'm a fan of rough play of that sort, though I ain't averse to a bit of nibbling when the mood takes me. Ropes too, and all. But no, the humping was all fine and dandy. Real pleasant-like."
  236. >"So you'll do it again?"
  237. "I'd like to. Hoping he would. I'm gonna swing by tomorrow, see if he does it again, but..."
  238. >"You still think it was rape."
  239. "I think... I mean I guess it was his attempt at it."
  240. >"Huh. What a weird guy."
  241. >AJ shrugs and sucks up some of the foam from her drink at last.
  242. "Ain't gonna deny that, but that's what I like about him."
  243. >"Did he bite your neck? Kick you around? Threaten to kill your kids you might have?"
  244. "Heck no, didn't do none of the things stallions do. Just laid on top'a me and went to town. Like I said, it was real nice."
  245. >AJ grows a distant smile and gulps down half her mug in a couple of gulps.
  246. "If that's his idea of rape, I hope he does it again. I ain't..."
  247. >She looks around before shuffling closer to Dash. Picking up the hint, Dash leans in to listen.
  248. "I ain't being funny, but it was kinda romantic, you know?"
  249. >"No, I get you. Well hey, here's to hoping it happens again."
  250. >The two clunk their wooden steins, throw back their beers, and move onto lighter topics for the rest of the night.
  251. >Then they at last stagger home, supporting each other's sluggish motions and singing half-remembered songs under the moonlight.
  252.  
  253. ---
  254.  
  255. "call me old fashioned, but I'm a sucker for a simple, classically framed green. just a man and a mare, no outlandish hypotheticals or cosmic chicanery"
  256. - Anonymous, being old fashioned.
  257.  
  258. >The girls are chattering excitedly as Fluttershy enters; the last to join the table.
  259. >Rainbow Dash, her chest puffed out, is crowing about something, and the others laugh along.
  260. >"There she is!" Rarity paws at Fluttershy's shoulder as the newcomer sits beside her. "Welcome back, darling, we were getting worried!"
  261. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you all waiting. I was just, um, wrapped up a bit."
  262. >The others snicker as if all in on a joke, and Rainbow Dash gives her a huge wink.
  263. >"I'll bet," Dash says.
  264. >Twilight, grinning, clops her hoof on the table to get everyone's attention.
  265. >"So!" she begins, "Now that we're all here, and Pinkie assures me the Cakes won't bother us, we can review... what in the heck just happened!" she says with a laugh. "I bet we've all got our own fantastical stories, not that we could keep Dash from telling us all about hers."
  266. >Another laugh ripples through the girls. Fluttershy stays quiet with a polite smile.
  267. >"I guess let's... let's have at it! Dash, we'll start with you, how was your adventure?"
  268. >Dash rears up with her hooves on the table, beaming around at each attentive face.
  269. >"It was -sweet-! My Anon lived in this awesome alien society and there were space ships and robots and all kinds of crazy stuff! I tracked him down and it's like you said, Twi, he just -knew- why I was there and I -knew- how to pick him out of a crowd, it was so weird!"
  270. >Twilight nods with a proud expression.
  271. >"Yes, well, the spell is ancient magic, I'm not sure I understand the precise mechanism behind how it works, but it should have dropped all of us off near to the location of our respective Anons."
  272. >The others, including Fluttershy, nod. Dash continues.
  273. >"So I tracked him down, said 'Hold it right there, stud, I'm in heat and you're gonna help me!' and I chased him all over this -massive- city-- Twilight! It was the size of a -planet- I'm not even kidding! I saw a map on the wall and you could poke it and make it zoom out and everything and it was a -planet- city! So anyway I chase him to this port and he gets on this space ship and I -just- make it on in time and we left the planet and I am -freaking out- but it's so cool! Then aliens break onto the ship and the crew need help fighting them off and I'm all bam! Wham!"
  274. >Dash leaps onto the table and starts air-boxing, grunting with each punch to the giggles of her friends. Fluttershy remains quiet, still wearing a small, patient smile. Dash continues her tale in a voice trembling with excitement, reliving each moment as she tells it.
  275. >"And so I corner him on an ice planet, and I trap him in this huge underground bunker and we're the only two there, and... well, girls, let's just say my heat is no longer a problem."
  276. >Rarity especially cheers and clops her hooves together.
  277. >"Marvellous work, Rainbow Dash! It sounds like quite the adventure," she says.
  278. >"Applejack!" Twilight keeps the tempo going, "Tell us all about you!"
  279. >The farmer chuckles, preferring to stay reclined in her chair.
  280. >"Aww heck, well it ain't quite so fancy as Dash's sci-fi romp, but I'll be darned if it wasn't weird. I ended up in some kinda mul-ti-verse," she stresses each syllable of the last word, and Twilight leans forward with an interested expression.
  281. >"Go on?"
  282. >"Well, it's like this, so the world was kinda like ours is, but every door-- every single one, no word of a lie, was a door to another world. It was like... one of Granny's old quilts. A sorta patchwork of worlds, each one leading onto the next. So my Anon was alone when I found him, and I'll say I didn't see a single other soul in the whole time I was there. Anyway, I find him, I chase him, I wrestle with him, he throws me off and jumps through a door."
  283. >Twilight is enraptured, ears rigid and turned forward.
  284. >"What did you find?" she says. The other girls are listening with keen interest as well. Even Fluttershy is intrigued.
  285. >"It was... weird," Applejack shrugs. "Like our world but... longer. Everything was sorta stretched, like it'd been pulled on a rack, and the colours were thicker. Uh, richer?"
  286. >"Saturated?" Rarity offers, and Applejack nods.
  287. >"That'll do. My Anon seems right at home in it though, like he knows which doors to run through, and so I chase him through several worlds that just get weirder and weirder before he's too tired to continue." She smirks. "Lanky thing can't outrun a farm girl. Last world I was in before the spell brought me back was like a painting in some museum, you know those abstract things with melting clocks and all? Anyway, then I forced his head between my legs and got him to get to work, no way I'm getting off without having the full service, thank you kindly. He cleaned me out good, then I milked him dry."
  288. >She leans back, front legs folded with a smug expression as the girls share a scandalous gasp.
  289. >"So that was me. Fluttershy? What'd you do?"
  290. >The girls turn to Fluttershy, and she hides behind her mane.
  291. "Um. I'd rather listen to the others first. Did... you all have really exciting adventures?"
  292. >They all nod.
  293. >Rarity's eyes gleam as she speaks.
  294. >"-I- was transported to a mirror world! Everything was made of glass and reflective surfaces, including the natives which were... sharp. Angular, like shattered glass bunched up and made into a body of sorts. Except my Anon, of course. He and I were the only flesh-and-blood things there. Strange thing was, everything I did was mirrored by some of the nearby... I suppose you would call them 'entities'. So in fact, whilst I was chasing Anon, I had several of the locals chasing him too and mirroring my every action. Of course, they didn't 'partake in the festivities', shall we say, and my Anon preferred to attempt diplomacy rather than run for too long."
  295. >Rarity smiles fondly.
  296. >"Ahh, he was such an eloquent speaker, but a lady shan't be outmatched in a duel of tongues! I trounced him so thoroughly that he -willingly- took his clothes off, albeit with a great deal of grumbling and complaining. I was really quite pleased with myself. I must admit, it was odd that whilst we were doing the, ah, deed. The glass-creatures that were mirroring my every motion continued to do so, though without pony anatomy or a partner with which to enjoy sexual congress they were... well. Gyrating against the air. It was quite funny, in a way, but also oddly beautiful. The silence was odd, too. It was all so silent. The only sound was myself and Anon, apart from a sort of wind that sounded like tinkling glass-blowing..."
  297. >She trails off into a thoughtful silence, and the others look back to Fluttershy.
  298. >Before Fluttershy can speak, Pinkie stands up.
  299. >"I can't take it anymore! I rode a tardigrade! I love him!"
  300. >Rainbow Dash's expression contorts and she shakes her head.
  301. >"Tarbawhatnow?"
  302. >"I was there, Dashie!" Pinkie throws herself into dramatics. "I saw it all! I was smaller than the smallest small thing! I saw particles and molecules and other tiny stuff! And a tardigrade! And it was floating around and I said, "Hey! You're a steed if I ever saw one!" and I jumped on its back and it carried me through the tinyverse!"
  303. >Twilight frowns.
  304. >"Tardigrades are small, Pinkie, but not as small as particles--"
  305. >"This one was! It was the smallest little tinygrade I'd ever seen with my own two eyes, so I rode him like a majestic steed through the world. And I waved at the dust and I waved at the water molecules and I waved at everything! And then I saw Anon trying to mine a gold molecule, he was wearing a miner's hat and had a pickaxe and everything, but then he saw me and panicked and he had a jetpack and flew away and I said, "After him, Giorgio, that man's got baby batter than belongs in my oven!" and we flew after him and he ran out of fuel and had to land on stray molecule of I think apple-juice?
  306. >She thinks to herself for a moment, then shrugs.
  307. >"Well then I raped him."
  308. >The girls blush with some nervous laughs. Fluttershy thinks it's good that Sugarcube Corner is closed, and that the Cakes are out of town.
  309. >"I, ah, well it's not -rape-, Pinkie," Twilight begins.
  310. >"Of course it was, Anon didn't want any part in it, but when my Pinkie Heat gets going, hoo boy it'll need a hose to wash it down and I'm not gonna let Celestinian Ethics stop me!"
  311. >She smiles at the others, then leans over to Applejack and gives an obvious whisper from behind a hoof.
  312. >"The hose is Anon's wiener and the thing washing me down is cum!"
  313. >"Y-yeah, I got that part, Pinkie," Applejack says with a cringe.
  314. >"Anyway, I had a great time!" Pinkie continues, "I liked it all so much I brought Giorgio back to this world to meet you all! Say hi, everyone!"
  315. >She sticks out a proud hoof at the same time Twilight double-takes with a blurted "what the f--"
  316. >It's empty. Rainbow Dash scratches her head.
  317. >"I can't see him, is he there?"
  318. >She prods the flat of Pinkie's outstretched hoof with the tip of her own.
  319. >Pinkie's eyes bulge and immediately water.
  320. >"N-no! Giorgio..." she whimpers and holds her hoof to her chest, cradling it. She shoots Dash a disgusted look and turns away from her, "He was my best friend..."
  321. >Dash just looks confused, and shrugs at Twilight, who hasn't looked anything other than flabbergasted since Pinkie started talking.
  322. >Eventually, they look to Fluttershy again.
  323. >"So what about you, Fluttershy?" Twilight says. "How was your adventure?"
  324. "Oh. It was... nice."
  325. >The table is silent.
  326. >Applejack tips her hat up and casts Fluttershy a scrutinising eye.
  327. >"Just nice? Nothing more than that?" she says.
  328. "No, I had a nice, pleasant day. It was lovely."
  329. >Twilight smiles with something like relief, no doubt pleased to be moving onto something more normal.
  330. >"Well, how was your world? Was it as fantastical as the spell said it would be?"
  331. >Fluttershy shrugs.
  332. "Not really. It was just Ponyville."
  333. >That gets everyone's attention. Rarity comes out of her glass-world reverie and Pinkie recovers from the traumatic loss of the best nanosteed she's ever had.
  334. >Twilight cocks her head.
  335. >"That can't be right. The spell draws from the dream-realm, the realities it creates are meant to be far removed from our own. And you -can't- bring anything back," she frowns at Pinkie.
  336. >Fluttershy looks apologetic as she nods.
  337. "Sure, but not for me, I guess. For me it was just Ponyville. No... no weirdness."
  338. >"Did you find Anon?" Twilight presses.
  339. "Yes, he was living just down the road from me."
  340. >"What did you do?"
  341. "Well, I woke up in bed, said hello to Angel like I do every morning, went around and fed the animals--"
  342. >"Wait, wait," Dash interrupts, "stop. You -fed- your -animals-?"
  343. "Um. Yes?"
  344. >"You got sent on a magical journey, and you fed your animals. They're not even yours! They weren't real!"
  345. "Maybe to you they weren't real, but to me they were hungry, so I spent a few hours making sure they were okay before I headed out to find Anon."
  346. >"And?"
  347. "He was in his garden, tending to his flowerbed. He had a really nice hat on to protect him from the sun that I thought suited him, then I thought that was strange because I've never seen a creature like Anon before, so I wondered why I thought it suited him so well. I guess it's the spell? It made me think I've known him a long time. I know I haven't, but I feel like I have. I feel like I've known him all my life but have only just found him."
  348. >Twilight cocks her head in thought.
  349. >"Yes, on my own adventure I wondered why Anon seemed so familiar. I suppose the spell invents familiarity between the Anon native to whatever world is created and the pony delving into it to make the fantasy more immersive. Did you... have fun with him, at least, Fluttershy? Has your heat calmed down?"
  350. >Fluttershy hesitates before answering, then nods.
  351. "Yes. We spent a wonderful day together. I helped him with his garden, and he was telling me jokes and some of them were actually really funny," she laughs as she speaks, remembering his steady voice and the way his cheeks wrinkled slightly at the edges of his smile.
  352. >Her own smile stretches into a grin.
  353. "Then he said he needed help getting some bags of fertiliser from the market and I went and helped him bring those back. I wasn't strong enough to carry more than two, but he had two under each arm. Oh! But then, later, when we were gardening, he found a tangle of weeds under a bush that he'd missed, and we had to get a bit dirty pulling them out because the roots had gone so deep, and if you don't kill the roots the weeds will just keep coming back."
  354. >Rainbow Dash stares at her, openly mortified.
  355. >"You spent your adventure. Gardening."
  356. >Fluttershy nods with an approving hum.
  357. "It was really a lot of fun!"
  358. >Dash deflates against the table and rubs her eyes.
  359. >"That's so... you, Fluttershy," she grumbles.
  360. >Rarity pats her friend's shoulder again.
  361. >"Well I think it's charming, Fluttershy. I suppose the spell didn't say we -had- to get raunchy with him, did it, Twilight?"
  362. >Twilight shakes her head.
  363. >"No, actually, it did. It's a spell that creates a surreal world with no consequences where a pony will be matched with an otherworldly entity, called Anon, that is there solely for the mare's pleasure. He literally exists for no other purpose than for mares to exert themselves and quench their heat. That's specifically why the spell was created."
  364. >"Ah," is all Rarity can manage. "Might that be why Fluttershy was so late? She spent too long in the other world?"
  365. >"Maybe. Time obviously moves differently when you're immersed. But the spell doesn't end until the mare finds release. So... what happened, Fluttershy?"
  366. "Oh, well we got the fertiliser, did some more gardening, found those weeds, then we broke off for tea and cakes. He was really knowledgeable about botany, so we spoke about plants and the relationship between them and certain animals, like how some the willowbeak bird will only take the branches of a birch tree for its nests. I told him a few things about the Everfree I'd learned the few times I'd been in, and he offered to show me some places he'd found that I might be interested in that weren't too scary."
  367. >"Thrilling," Dash grunts.
  368. >"But how did it end?" Twilight insists.
  369. "We, um, finished our tea, chatted some more, then he... you know. Kissed me."
  370. >The girls stare at her.
  371. >Applejack leans forward out of her slouch.
  372. >"Beg pardon? -He- kissed -you-?"
  373. "Yes, i-it was really unexpected," Fluttershy's cheeks flush. "He told me that I was, um..." she can't hide her grin, so she hides behind her mane and plays with the end of it, not looking at her friends. "He told me I was the most beautiful mare in the world, and that he'd like to express his gratitude for my company."
  374. >Rarity narrows her eyes.
  375. >"Did you... did he have sex with you, darling?"
  376. "Um. Yes? He took me upstairs and laid me down on his bed, and the sheets were really clean, he said he'd just washed them and I thought that was nice since... well he looked after himself, and, and he was really, really gentle, and... and he was my... first."
  377. >She goes quiet, and her blush fades. Something like sadness comes over her, and she looks down at the table with such profound melancholy it ripples out over the group. Her shoulders are drawn forward, her face rests in an expression one could almost call grieving.
  378. >When she looks up, it's at Twilight, and her voice is withdrawn.
  379. "Twilight? Please could... please could you send me back? I know you said the spell affects time differently, and that years there could be hours here, so... please could I go back? I want to spend more time with him."
  380. >Twilight is sullen. The mood at the table, once so excited, is muted.
  381. >"Sure, I could send you back, Fluttershy," she starts, her tone careful like a mother explaining something difficult to her child, "but it's... it wasn't real."
  382. "He was real to me."
  383. >No one speaks for a while. No one smiles. Pinkie Pie glances around at her friends as if waiting for a punchline, but none comes. Twilight continues after a time.
  384. >"It's not like the spell would create the same world, Fluttershy. From what I can tell, it's random. It's meant to be that way so it doesn't get stale when ponies go back for more. The next time you go, you might get something -like- Dash's world, or something -like- Rarity's, but most likely something completely different. I have no control over what you see when you go under. I can't change the conditions like that. I can't create the same fantasy."
  385. >Fluttershy doesn't reply for a long time.
  386. "So he's... gone," she says quietly.
  387. >A gentle hoof touches her shoulder. Rarity's expression is one of regret, and pity, but there's also understanding reflected in her deep blue gaze.
  388. >"It's alright, darling," she says gently. "We're here for you, you'll be fine."
  389. "But, I think I..." her chest heaves suddenly. "I think I lo--"
  390. >"Don't," Rarity says, and surges from her seat to pull Fluttershy into a tight hug. "Don't say it, you'll make it worse."
  391. >Fluttershy clenches her eyes shut, tears seeping through and rolling down her cheeks, and wraps her hooves around Rarity, collapsing into muted weeping as Rarity coos softly in her ear and strokes her mane lovingly.
  392. >Applejack pulls her hat down over her face with a grimace. Pinkie, stricken, rushes from her seat to put her hooves around Rarity and the sobbing Fluttershy.
  393. >Dash tries to say something, but can't. She sighs and stands, walking into the other room with a muttered "Crap". Twilight joins her, and through the doorway harsh, accusatory whispers can be heard.
  394. >It's agreed that the spell should never be used again.
  395. >Not every fantasy is harmless.
  396.  
  397. ---
  398.  
  399. Fluttershy makes breakfast. That's literally all she has to do.
  400.  
  401. >Fluttershy has to waggle her legs to squeeze through your upper-kitchen window.
  402. >A poor diet and poorer exercise plan has left her with larger hips than she's used to, and it's affecting her performance.
  403. >Not in any day-to-day sense, she can still run around after animals and hide from dragons with no problems.
  404. >But sneaking in through the tight opening above the main windowpane is easier without wide, plump thighs getting stuck midway.
  405. >She takes it as a sign that she needs to get back on her yoga and kale sandwiches, and to spend less time helping Pinkie making experimental confectionery.
  406. >Then sampling it, then eating all the samples, then making some more and eating that too.
  407. >A final heave has her ejected between the curtains and over the stove before the window and crumpling against the floor.
  408. >She's dazed, disoriented, and sore on her back and sides like she's just squeezed herself through a letterbox.
  409. >But she's in.
  410. >Fluttershy stands and looks around your dark kitchen, mischief dancing in her eyes.
  411. >With light, careful hooves she flicks on the lights and pulls your apron out from the cupboard, donning it with a grin.
  412. >It's oversized, trailing below her along the floor, but she doesn't care. She's brimming with anticipation.
  413. >It's five-thirty in the morning and your overly-friendly neighbour has a plan.
  414. >Rarity says the way to a stallion's heart is through his stomach.
  415. >To Fluttershy, this means a hearty breakfast is in order. Something to rouse your appetite and spirits.
  416. >The hope is, that you'll love her scrambled eggs on toast so much you'll sweep it all aside, pin Fluttershy and her shapely flanks on the table, and rail her until -her- eggs have been scrambled.
  417. >Will it work? Probably not.
  418. >Most of Fluttershy's plans are acted out in the distant hope that you'll end up breeding her in some way, and if the last several-dozen attempts to woo you haven't worked there's little chance of this working either.
  419. >But working with Pinkie so much of late has her brimming with an optimism bordering on the maniacal, so she won't let something like past mistakes stop her from new ones.
  420. >Fluttershy surveys her workstation, her artist's studio, and nods.
  421. >She then opens her mouth and starts talking, because like everyone around here, Fluttershy is prone to providing a running commentary on everything she does.
  422. >Don't look at me, I'm just the narrator.
  423. "Alright," she says, quietly since you're currently asleep upstairs and woefully unaware of the horrors about to transpire, "go time. Make eggs, serve Anon, -serve- Anon, name first foal either Juniper or Birch depending on sex. Go."
  424. >She moves for the bread-bin and her hooves step on the apron.
  425. >Predictably, she falls forward and smacks her nose on the tiled floor.
  426. >A sort of yelp-mixed-with-squawk escapes her, and she blinks at the dot of red when she peels her face off the tile.
  427. >Her nose is bleeding, or half of it is.
  428. >Nevermind, the plan was always going to have hiccups. Every heroine needs a nemesis.
  429. >She grabs a square of paper kitchen-towel from the roll on the side and stuffs it up her nostril.
  430. >Then, finds the bread and the toaster.
  431. >The toaster is turned on, the magical regulatory crystal within whirring to life, and the toast is inserted with trembling precision.
  432. >Each action is meticulous, well-thought out, executed to the letter of Fluttershy's grand designs.
  433. >Well, she knocks the toaster with her hoof by accident as she turns away, and one of the dials jerks drastically to the side, but that's fine, the bread is toasting and that's what matters. Nothing to worry about.
  434. >Next, eggs.
  435. "Okay. Now for eggs. They'll be..." they're in the fridge. Top shelf. Half a carton of them left by the month-old Greek yoghurt, though how you got hold of Greek yoghurt in Equestria eludes me. "There!"
  436. >She reaches for them, brow furrowed, and pulls them out.
  437. >Then cringes as her leg wobbles.
  438. >Did it wobble from stress? Nerves? The moral weight of divine condemnation?
  439. >Who cares? Not Fluttershy. All she cares about is that the carton slipped and two of the eggs flopped out.
  440. >They smash on the floor and she immediately, gracefully, plants her leg in it and slips.
  441. >The carton in her hoof flies off somewhere and the mare crashes to the floor again.
  442. >At the very least, it's a nice floor. One she's well-acquainted with. A black-white chessboard grid, the classic kitchen floor. Very respectable.
  443. >More respectable than Fluttershy, one side of her now covered in egg yolk and the mare trembling before the gentle yet weirdly judgemental light of the open fridge.
  444. >She rises, looking for the egg carton.
  445. >Miraculously, it landed on the table with the remaining three eggs unharmed.
  446. >Someone up there is watching over her, she's sure of that.
  447. >Not you, though. You're still asleep and oblivious to your neighbour rubbing her face in egg yolks on your kitchen floor.
  448. >Scrambled eggs requires eggs that are scrambled, so her next objective is to somehow - somehow - relocate the eggs from the cardboard carton to a bowl.
  449. >A mountainous feat by Fluttershy's standards, I'm sure you'll agree.
  450. >Or you would if you weren't currently dreaming of cows and how they would hypothetically create tools if they had the intelligence. Comedic genius, I know.
  451. >Fluttershy pours the eggs in a glass bowl she found under the sink. Stares at them. Then shrugs and punches her hoof in the bowl and begins merrily mashing away at the crackling gooey pulp.
  452. >She extracts her hoof only to tentatively lick a bit off, smacks her lips, and nods.
  453. "More salt," she says, as if she has even the slightest clue what she's talking about.
  454. >She sprinkles in some salt, mashes a bit more, then tastes again.
  455. "More... salt," she says, that kitchen-dwelling DiVinci.
  456. >When pouring the salt, the salt-shaker slips and she drops the whole thing in.
  457. >She curses, or rather says "ponyfeathers", which isn't a real curse where I'm from so I guess it's fine, and scoops the shaker and half the egg whites back out.
  458. >She then drops it again, and the shaker shatters on the floor with a cannon-blast of salt going everywhere.
  459. >This is actually fine, as the salt will act as a sort of snow-grit for the egg slime she'd previously smeared below, so really the whole charade was something of a high-IQ play from Fluttershy.
  460. >Well done, Fluttershy. Thinking on your hooves as always.
  461. "Eggs done, now for milk..."
  462. >There's no milk in the fridge, you forgot to get more yesterday, so Fluttershy uses butter instead.
  463. >She's not sure how much to use, so she cuts off half the stick and drops it into the bowl before mashing it into the mass of slime and shell shards.
  464. >With her 3-Michelin-star eggs ready, she turns to the final boss.
  465. >The stove.
  466. >Sniffing every so often to suck the blood back up her blocked nostril, she retrieves a pan from the cupboard and places it over the burner, then puts the glass bowl in the pan.
  467. >Oh, you must think I mean she poured the eggs from the bowl into the pan, so she can cook them over the heat?
  468. >No.
  469. >No she doesn't do that. At all. Why would she?
  470. >Fluttershy places the glass bowl with the mauled eggs, egg shells, and half-stick of butter, onto the un-oiled pan, and addresses the row of buttons before her.
  471. "Stove... on," she mutters, and at the touch of her wavering hoof, the gas stove bursts to life.
  472. >Or, it doesn't.
  473. >It clicks ominously. Keeps clicking. Muttershy holds down the button on the front of the stove, hearing the hiss, smelling the gas, but the spark keeps clicking away with no result.
  474. >She's about to grow concerned when the spark finally catches and the hob flashes.
  475. >Then she's -really- concerned, mostly about the fireball, and screams accordingly.
  476. >She slaps her hooves over her mouth. Her eyes dart to the ceiling as if she'll be able to see you through the floor, comatose in your bedroom above the kitchen.
  477. >If you woke up, this short vignette would have ended. But you don't, so it'll keep going and getting worse until you do.
  478. >Fluttershy sniffs, and through her remaining unblocked nostril she smells burning.
  479. >Then notices her mane is on fire and screams again.
  480. >She rushes to the sink, sees the dirty washing-up bowl with a few unwashed plates and bowls waiting in the cold, grimy water, and dunks her head in.
  481. >The fire is doused, but so is Fluttershy, and she pulls her head back out with a gasp and an orange face covered in day-old pasta-sauce water.
  482. >The bloody paper wad blocking her nostril bobs around on the surface, and a hot crimson trickle running down her lip has her looking for the paper towels again.
  483. >But no time for that, something else is burning.
  484. >The toaster in the corner is rattling and jumping about like someone stuck a council of frogs in a shoebox.
  485. >That dial she knocked earlier? Well, don't ask me how she did it, but she broke the whole mechanism.
  486. >Of course she did.
  487. >The internal crystal responsible for regulating time, heat, and magic is cracked, not that Fluttershy knows that.
  488. >What she does know is that she has to get the toast out before it's too burnt.
  489. >She takes a step towards it, and the toaster detonates.
  490. >Fluttershy ducks, narrowly avoiding a strip of side-plastic spinning at terminal velocity before it embeds itself in the wall behind her like a circular saw blade in a tree trunk.
  491. >On the counter there is chaos. Scraps of softened, gnarled metal blend with melted plastic and the charcoal dust of what may once have been liberally referred to as "bread".
  492. >That, and the curtain's now on fire as well.
  493. >Fluttershy yelps and rushes for the washing-up bowl.
  494. >She rips it out of the sink and hurls both it and water in it across the room at the flames climbing up the fabric towards the ceiling in a heroic bout of spontaneous fire safety.
  495. >And misses.
  496. >The bowl goes wide and straight through the kitchen window.
  497. >The pane shatters into glass confetti and the fire peaks at the wooden curtain rod, where it cheerfully blazes right across and eats the other curtain in far less time than it scientifically should have done.
  498. >Fluttershy leaps for the curtains, intent on pulling them down before the fire can spread.
  499. >Thanks to the egg on the floor, she slides forward and then straight past the fire, waving her hooves at the curtains desperately as she passes, then hits a patch of salt-gritted egg yolk and falls flat on her face again, busting her other nostril.
  500. >Face bleeding and eyes streaming with tears thanks to both hormonal stress and getting salty-egg in her retinas, she makes another jump for the curtains.
  501. >As she's wrestling to yank them off the wall and narrowly avoid being scorched by the flames, the fire alarm wakes up.
  502. >And as fire alarms do, it clears its throat, takes a deep breath, then dutifully attempts to deafen everything in a one-mile radius.
  503. >Finally, you wake up.
  504.  
  505. *
  506.  
  507. >You sit at your kitchen table.
  508. >A draft blows in through your missing window.
  509. >The blackened curtain-rail over it hangs down at an angle - Fluttershy had only managed to pull one end of it off before she gave up.
  510. >The curtains largely no longer exist. Ash blows around on the draft, and a meagre shred of flowery fabric hangs from the rod, having stubbornly refused to be eaten like the rest of it.
  511. >Your fridge lies on its side. Apparently Fluttershy had bowled it over wrestling with your fiery curtains.
  512. >You raise a cracked mug to your lips and sip the black coffee.
  513. >Fluttershy sits across from you, both nostrils stuffed with toilet paper, eyes pink and bloodshot, and strips of gauze wrapped mostly around her front legs and chest.
  514. >You look down at the glass bowl between you both.
  515. >A mixture of egg, shell, and butter sits in a sad puddle at the base of it.
  516. >You quirk an eyebrow at your guest.
  517. >She wets her cracked lips.
  518. >"Scrambled eggs."
  519. >You nod, then sip your coffee.
  520. >It's not the worst thing she's done.
  521. >"Could you please impregnate me now?"
  522. >You don't reply. Instead, you gesture a casual finger at your back door.
  523. >She sighs heavily and drags herself off your chair.
  524. >The back door slams shut and you're left alone with your thoughts.
  525. >Well.
  526. >Thank God she didn't try making a bowl of cereal.
  527.  
  528. ---
  529.  
  530. "Tell her it's not your fetish, and get that dumb mare to the horspital!"
  531. - Anonymous
  532.  
  533. >Redheart doesn't like looking at herself in the morning anymore.
  534. >The bags under her eyes aren't getting any smaller or lighter, and the smile she burdens herself with gets heavier each day.
  535. >Nursing is a profession she loves, and she couldn't imagine doing anything else, but this last year has been the hardest.
  536. >What's amazing to her is that the source of her stress is a single pony, and not one that historically gave her any trouble until the sky split open and spat out an alien into the Ponyville fountain.
  537. >One day, it started, unannounced and without fanfare. And it since hasn't stopped for nearly a year.
  538. >She shakes the bottle of pills on the bathroom sink that Doctor Horse gave her for stress, dry-swallows one, and looks back at her own reflection.
  539. >She blows her cheeks out and puts on her smile. Are those wrinkles? She's twenty-five, she can't have wrinkles yet.
  540. "Monday. Only five days 'til Saturday. You can do it."
  541.  
  542. *
  543.  
  544. >Monday.
  545. >Fluttershy groans.
  546. >She's lying on her front, her mane covering her eyes in a pink sheet.
  547. >Redheart gingerly pulls back her buttock and stares in either horror or wonder at her labia.
  548. >It's inflamed to about thrice its usual size, and she thinks about that observation.
  549. >Thinks about how she's seen Fluttershy's vagina so often by now that she knows when something's wrong with it, and what it ought to look and smell like.
  550. >Redheart is straight. She's been courting - or being courted by, though she likes to think she's the one in control - a nice unicorn stallion called Pin Stripe who works at Davenport's store down Saddle Street.
  551. >It's been going steady for a few months, when she's had the time off work, and the thought of seeing him again on Saturday is her fuel for this week.
  552. >Even so, for a straight mare, she's deeply acquainted with Fluttershy's vagina and anus.
  553. >Sadly, due to events outside her control, she even knows what they taste like.
  554. >But a nurse is expected to be professional, so despite the intrusive thought of "Looks tender, I wonder if it still tastes like syrup", she comes to Fluttershy's side and parts her mane to address her patient.
  555. "What did you do?"
  556. >"P-poison... ivy..."
  557. "How did the plant enter your system?"
  558. >"I wrapped it around a, um, d-dildo," she whispers the word, though it's not necessary.
  559. >Redheart knows more about Fluttershy's insatiable sexual libido than any other pony on the planet.
  560. >The pegasus is a firm believer in not lying to her doctor, which is noble, but it means she's told Redheart about everything she's ever done.
  561. >Redheart has probably sat through dozens of hours of Fluttershy explaining her unhinged plots to seduce Ponyville's resident human.
  562. >He's called Anonymous, and he's fine. She doesn't see the appeal, but knows that interspecies relationship, whilst rare, aren't unheard of.
  563. >Most ponies don't find him attractive. More than a few are secretly repulsed, and that includes Redheart, but Fluttershy is a special case.
  564. >A very special case.
  565. "How deep did the dildo go?"
  566. >"All the way to the balls."
  567. "And what was this supposed to do?"
  568. >"I um, I thought it my pussy and ass were swollen, they'd look more attractive. And then maybe Anon would like that."
  569. >Redheart takes another look at the inflamed vaginal lips.
  570. >They've taken on the glossy sheen of stung skin, the flesh taut and sensitive.
  571. >She touches it with a hoof, and Fluttershy shudders. A dribble of ejaculate seeps out and Redheart cleans it with a tissue, though the sensation of tissue paper grazing her pussy causes Fluttershy to pant and eject yet more viscous fluid.
  572. >Redheart doesn't bother wiping again.
  573. "I'll put you on a regimen of antihistamines, though they might make you drowsy so be aware of that."
  574. >Fluttershy nods. She'll do anything Redheart tells her to, except stop coming to the hospital.
  575. >In a way, she's the model patient, and has proven to be a great teaching instrument to the newer nursing staff.
  576. >Fluttershy leaves with her prescription for front desk, and Redheart goes about cleaning the table for the next patient.
  577. >She sees a dribble of Fluttershy goo still on the plastic, and stares at it for a second or two.
  578. >She wipes it off with her hoof, studies it, shining on the keratin, and licks it off.
  579. >She hums ponderously.
  580. "Still honey-like. She'll be fine."
  581.  
  582. *
  583.  
  584. >Tuesday.
  585. >Fluttershy doesn't say anything, but only because she can't.
  586. >Redheart grunts instead. She twists the wrench in her mouth and finally the bolt comes loose.
  587. >She's able to undo it enough that it pops out, and she steps back.
  588. >Fluttershy shakes her head and sucks in a deep breath as the ball-gag flops out from between her jaws.
  589. >"Thank you!"
  590. "How did you get yourself stuck in this?"
  591. >Fluttershy is restrained in a wooden frame of sorts. Every limb is bound, her wings strapped securely to her back by way of thick belts, and her eyes shielded with blinders.
  592. >Her tail is hiked and secured to the top of the frame, hind legs spread wide to allow easy access.
  593. >She had to be wheeled in. Thankfully, the blinders shielded her eyes from the judgemental looks of the patients in the waiting room, though it's rare that any pony in Ponyville is truly shocked by her these days.
  594. >The first few months were the talk of the town. Now, it's routine.
  595. >The adopted saying is "If the day ends in '-day', then Shy's at play."
  596. >Some joke that it could be a tourist attraction. Five bits to watch Fluttershy make a fool of herself in the pursuit of love, though Redheart's sure that whatever psychological disturbance Fluttershy has, it isn't Eros.
  597. >The pegasus sighs as Redheart gets to work undoing the other straps and removing the buttplug from Fluttershy's gaping anus.
  598. >It audibly pops out, like the cork of an oversized wine bottle, and Redheart spends longer than a straight mare ought to at the moist, cavernous depths it leaves behind.
  599. >As if reacting to her attention, the black donut clenches and unclenches, inviting her in, perhaps? She's done it before. It was accidental, but she knows what it tastes like.
  600. >For all her faults, Fluttershy keeps herself clean. Spotless, even. Though her borderline-OCD is probably another facet of her worrisome psychology.
  601. "Something the matter?" Redheart grunts as she contents with one of the frame's more stubborn bolts.
  602. >They really should have taken her to a mechanic, but Redheart has become the first-line response to Fluttershy's lunacy. She's had to be a fast-learner in matters of engineering, among other things.
  603. >Another few years of this and she'll be qualified for several positions. A graduate of the University of Fluttershy.
  604. >The thought makes her smile in spite of herself.
  605. >"I was sure it'd work."
  606. "How."
  607. >"I made the rig myself, thought he'd be impressed by that, at least."
  608. "Was he?"
  609. >"No."
  610. "How'd you get stuck in it?"
  611. >"My animals helped me."
  612. "They wheel you to his front door?"
  613. >"Yes."
  614. >The image of Fluttershy being pushed to Anon's front door like a parade float surrounded by woodland critters is too surreal, and Redheart snickers.
  615. >Fluttershy goes red and shamefaced.
  616. >Well, she deserves a bit of shame for the effort she's putting Redheart through.
  617. >These bolts are stuck fast, and Redheart's not Applejack. Applejack could undo these bolts with her teeth. She could undo them with her tongue.
  618. >Applejack could do a lot of things with her tongue.
  619. >Redheart pauses and frowns.
  620. >That was an usual thought.
  621.  
  622. *
  623.  
  624. >Wednesday.
  625. >Fluttershy screams silently, and Redheart puffs out her cheeks.
  626. >She walks to the medicine cabinet and glances back at Fluttershy, but can no longer see her.
  627. >Strange, but magic has a habit of being so.
  628. >She retrieves her book of arcana and toolbox of enchanted paraphernalia. When she walks back to the table Fluttershy's perched on - hovering over, actually - she can see her again.
  629. >Fluttershy currently only exists in one dimension. Like a piece of glass with no mathematical thickness. The mare herself is stuck behind a sort of window, banging on the pane with a panicked expression.
  630. "Can you hear me?"
  631. >Fluttershy nods and bangs again.
  632. "How did you even..." Redheart shakes her head.
  633. >She hops up onto the table, gives the shimmering one-dimensional pane of magic glass a once-over, and opens her book.
  634. >Magic is yet another field Redheart had no experience with prior to Fluttershy's abrupt psychological deterioration.
  635. >Unicorns and Princesses are the only ponies that can cast magic, but earth ponies and pegasi can still dabble. It's surprisingly scientific. Like chemistry, and Redheart had a solid grasp on pharmacology when she started.
  636. >A bit of this reagent, a dash of that one. Some quartz crystal, dragon tears, the weird blue stuff you get from a certain plant that grows outside the Everfree.
  637. >Mix various substances together in the right conditions and you can make anything happen.
  638. >Considering all this, Zecora is actually something of an archmage, and Redheart is thankful for the zebra's patience in showing Redheart the ropes.
  639. >Celestia knows Twilight Sparkle wasn't much use, though Redheart has long suspected Sparkle of harbouring resentment towards earth ponies that attempt to parse magic.
  640. >Not surprising. She's from Canterlot, and Redheart knows what sort of attitudes the unicorns up there are born into.
  641. >She finds the section on extra-dimensional entities and smiles, her hoof tapping a pencil sketch of a window much like the one Fluttershy's trapped inside.
  642. >This one requires a hammer made of solid silver, the wielder to be the same sex as the occupant trapped inside, and for the ritual to be conducted in pitch darkness.
  643. >Luckily, Redheart has just such a hammer tucked away in her toolbox.
  644. >Silver hammers are a weirdly common aspect of magic. Redheart wonders how that came about. Perhaps she could study magic if she ever wanted to stop being a nurse. She could rub Sparkle's nose in it. The thought makes her smile.
  645. "We'll get you out, Fluttershy, please remain calm," she says as Fluttershy redoubles her banging on the glass.
  646. >The pegasus stops, then looks over her shoulder. She sees something with her behind the glass, out of frame, and she shrieks again.
  647. >Then begins punching the glass as hard as she can, though it doesn't make even the softest whisper.
  648. >Redheart flicks off the lights, blocks the hallway light coming under the doorframe with a few rags.
  649. >She approaches the gently luminous window, though the glow only emanates from the side of the glass that exists in this reality.
  650. >From behind, she can't see anything. It's oddly beautiful.
  651. >Redheart wonders what would happen if she left Fluttershy in there. If she ended all her troubles by simply taking the window, flipping it around, and sliding it down the back of the medicine cabinet.
  652. >It's so thin - mathematically speaking it hasn't got a measurable depth - that she could slide it between anything.
  653. >She could do it. Put Fluttershy behind the cabinet with the glass facing the painted brick.
  654. >And then leave her there. Forever.
  655. >Redheart thinks about this. Tests the idea. Rolls it around her brain the same way one would roll a new food around their mouth, tasting it.
  656. >She then touches her cheek. There are tears.
  657. >The idea of the poor thing being trapped undiscovered for decades unsettles Redheart so much she can't take it.
  658. >She rushes forward and slams the hammer against the glass.
  659. >When it smashes, it sounds like distant thunder, a bone-deep reverberation that echoes across creation. Redheart feels it in the soles of her hooves, the roots of her teeth.
  660. >Fluttershy collapses onto the bed with all her dimensions intact, and curls up into a ball, sobbing.
  661. >"Th-there was something in there--"
  662. >Redheart puts away her book and toolbox and gets on the table again.
  663. >Arcanist Redheart is retired for the day. Now she'll need to be Therapist Redheart.
  664.  
  665. *
  666.  
  667. >Thursday.
  668. >Fluttershy is attempting to make love to Redheart, though it might more accurately be described as making lust.
  669. >Redheart doesn't need her book of magic to know what it is. She knew the moment Fluttershy was dragged in by the female (and profoundly uncomfortable) orderlies.
  670. "A love poison?"
  671. >"Yes," Fluttershy says. It's like a gasp, like the mere act of speaking is itself an orgasmic experience.
  672. >She puts her hooves around Redheart's neck and pulls her into another one-sided kiss.
  673. >Redheart remains stoic and pushes her away with a firm hoof.
  674. "We'll need to purge your system."
  675. >Going to the medicine cabinet and retrieving the saline is a hard-fought battle, but Redheart manages it with a manageable level of molestation.
  676. >She grips Fluttershy and pins her to the floor.
  677. >Fluttershy quivers and stares up at her nurse. Her nurse. Redheart really is her nurse, in a way. Towards the start there were a few nurses that cycled their 'Fluttershy Duties', but eventually Redheart became the de-facto Fluttershy wrangler.
  678. >"Yes, oh Celestia, Nurse Redheart, please! I've always wanted this, always wanted you!"
  679. "You're delusional. Hold still, we're going to induce vomiting."
  680. >"I-if that's what gets you off, I'll do anything!" Her voice is husky, eyes half-lidded and intense. "Rut me, Redheart. Let me taste you. Taste -me-. "
  681. "Already done that too many times," Redheart grumbles, and forces the saline down Fluttershy's throat. She holds her nose to get her to swallow, and Fluttershy gags a few times.
  682. >She then rolls over and groans. Redheart gets off her patient and stands back after ensuring she stays on her side so that she won't choke.
  683. "Here's a bucket you can use--"
  684. >Fluttershy evacuates her system. A jet of prismatic rainbow vomit sprays the floor and the side of the bucket.
  685. >Redheart sighs. It's not the worst thing she's had to clean up.
  686. >Fluttershy moans, though thankfully it sounds like pain rather than pleasure. She convulses again and a smaller spurt comes out.
  687. >"N-nurse?"
  688. "I'm here, you're alright."
  689. >"I-it hurts."
  690. "Yes, it will, you took a massive dose."
  691. >"Am I going to be okay?"
  692. "You'll be fine," Redheart strokes her shoulder, taking care not to get too close lest she get vomit on her.
  693. >"I really thought that would work, but he ate the wrong donut and I forgot which one I'd spiked..."
  694. "That's... highly illegal, Fluttershy."
  695. >"It is?"
  696. "Yes."
  697. >"Are... you going to tell anyone?"
  698. "I'll be filing a police report. It's part of my job."
  699. >"Oh. Okay..."
  700. >The two mares are quiet for a while, and Fluttershy convulses a few more times, but nothing else comes out.
  701. >Fluttershy looks up blearily at Redheart. Her face is sallow, sheened with sweat.
  702. >"I'm sorry for kissing you. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."
  703. "We're well past kissing making me uncomfortable."
  704. >"I guess we are."
  705. "If it's any consolation, you're a good kisser. Anonymous is a lucky human."
  706. >"You think so?"
  707. "One day you'll get him. Then you can stop coming in here."
  708. >"Do you want me to stop?"
  709. "You're never going to stop, so I've stopped wishing for it. I want you to win so you'll give the hospital a break."
  710. >"Sorry..."
  711.  
  712. *
  713.  
  714. >Friday.
  715. >Fluttershy... doesn't show up.
  716. >Redheart sees several dozen patients, talks to the receptionist about the practical applications of magic in medicine, and ends the day staring at the clock in her office.
  717. >It's nearly six. She's nearly off work and hasn't seen Fluttershy at all.
  718. >That'd make this the first time in eleven months. Redheart doesn't know how to interpret this. She's gone so long seeing Fluttershy's pussy at least once per day, every day, that it feels strange not seeing it.
  719. >Like she's missing a part of her routine.
  720. >When work ends, she checks in with the receptionist as she's going out the door.
  721. >He raises his eyebrows with a hopeful look.
  722. >"So, no Fluttershy today," he says.
  723. "Nope. What do you think happened?"
  724. >He cocks his head.
  725. >"You don't know?"
  726. "What?"
  727. >"Police arrested her. That report you filed, remember?"
  728. >Redheart doesn't react at first.
  729. "So she's actually..."
  730. >"Don't know the full details, but she's in a cell right now. Probably gonna get a slap on the wrist, you know how lax things are around here, but yeah. Held for a week, I think."
  731. "A week," Redheart echoes.
  732. >She takes a step back, then another, then gallops to Dr Horse's office.
  733. >When she flings the door open, the doctor yelps like he'd been caught masturbating.
  734. >"Red! What's the matter? Is Fluttershy back?"
  735. "Arrested. She'll be at the station for a week."
  736. >"That's... great?"
  737. "I haven't used any holidays this year."
  738. >"No, you haven't, why--"
  739. "I want a week off. Now. Sign me off -now-!"
  740. >"Alright! You can have a week off! Just let Flintlock know the details of when you'll be back!"
  741. >Redheart doesn't hear most of that, she's already galloped out the door.
  742.  
  743. *
  744.  
  745. >Pin Stripe is closing up shop when he's tackled.
  746. >He staggers back but holds his ground, and finds himself staring into the frenzied eyes of Nurse Redheart, the mare he'd been courting - or maybe she'd been courting him - for the last few months.
  747. >"Oh, hey, what's the matter?"
  748. "I got a week off. You're taking a week off too."
  749. >"What, now? But what--"
  750. "Now! Do it -now-!"
  751. >"Alright! Davenport'll still be inside, just give me a minute."
  752.  
  753. *
  754.  
  755. >The following week, Redheart and Pin Stripe mostly stay at Redheart's home, and mostly in Redheart's bed.
  756. >There, she vents her frustrations on the poor stallion. In as many positions as she can think of.
  757. >And blessed Celestia does she have frustrations.
  758. >Fucking Fluttershy.
  759.  
  760. ---
  761.  
  762. Anon meets Fluttershy's parents.
  763.  
  764. >Fluttershy is stretching her hind leg out, angling it in the candlelight to show off as much of her dominatrix get-up as she can.
  765. >The winding faux-leather spirals up her leg in two opposing strips, like entwining snakes that cross over each time they meet.
  766. >It's tight enough to tug into the plumpness of her thigh, and lewd hills of fat rise through the holes between the snakes.
  767. >At the moment, she's more interested in how much it cost than what she's going to do with it, or (shamefully) the effect it's having on you.
  768. >"He checked the back for me, and turns out he -did- have something."
  769. "And how much?"
  770. >"Twenty six bits!"
  771. "For the whole thing?"
  772. >"Whips and straps included. I had to get the table from Applejack, though. I didn't say what I was going to use it for, so please don't tell her."
  773. "It's impressive," you yank your wrists again, seeing if the bindings triple-bolted to the table have come any looser since the last time you wrenched them. "Tough, too."
  774. >"Oh yes, it's a good make. He said from Las Pegasus, and they do all sorts of stuff like this over there. Actually, Rarity said she was thinking of making her own sets and selling them under the counter, but I don't think I can support it. I think it would ruin her reputation if it got out."
  775. "You'd know all about ruining your own reputation. But yeah, you're right, it'd be weird if Rarity did it. Water?"
  776. >"Sorry," she holds a glass of water up to your mouth, and after a second or two of fumbling the straw with your lips you get a few mouthfuls.
  777. >She drifts to a mirror and checks her mane bun again, angling her head each way.
  778. >"Do you think I look okay?"
  779. "Sure, you look nice."
  780. >"Just nice?"
  781. "You always look nice."
  782. >She smiles at you. Her face dances with dramatic shadows from the sporadic candles she's stuffed anywhere she could fit them.
  783. "Still not consenting, though."
  784. >"You walked into this one," she says with a shrug. "I earned it, and the right to show off my new stuff."
  785. "True."
  786. >If anyone found out how you'd stumbled into such a compromising position, you'd lose whatever respect you had left around here. Better to take it on the chin and not tell a soul when you get out. Hopefully she's done in the next hour, you have an appointment at the doctor.
  787. >You could always remind her if you're coming up against the clock, she's understanding like that.
  788. >Better than she used to be. The years have mellowed her out.
  789. >You're thankful, as it was easier to run screaming when you were fuelled by youth and fear. Not anymore.
  790. >Fluttershy straddles you, grinding her crotch against yours in a smooth, practised motion. A familiar one, one that pushes your buttons, despite your eternal inner-protests. Forward and back, she rolls her hips and midriff into it like a belly-dancer.
  791. >She pulls out the pin in her bun, shakes her head, and her mane cascades around her face.
  792. >Here in the intimate candlelight, with her stretched over you and gazing down with half-lidded eyes, it's impossible to say that she isn't a stunningly beautiful mare.
  793. >If you were in any way romantically inclined, you'd be a fool not to go for her.
  794. >But you've watched this pony do everything from trebuchet herself over a gorge into rancid milk, to doing a snow-angel in a pig sty.
  795. >There's no love lost.
  796. >The black lacy panties, thin enough to be see-through and hiked over her generous hips, glide over the bulge in your pants.
  797. >Her black-lipsticked lips part in a soft gasp as her clitoris winks out and grazes against the movement.
  798. >"You might want to reset the counter," she says in that low voice she gets when she gets worked up. "Momma's gonna make the most of..."
  799. >She trails off, but you don't catch on.
  800. "Long streak, though," you say conversationally. "I make it four months since I last got trapped? Or three and a bit, at least."
  801. >"Momma," she says with a blank look.
  802. "No, Anon. You alright? Wanna take a break?"
  803. >Fluttershy is staring through you, chewing the corner of her bottom lip with a frown.
  804. >"Momma," she says, and her shoulders sag. "Darn it, I just remembered. I know it's random, but would you mind meeting my parents?"
  805. "Oh. I don't know, aren't we rushing things? We hardly know each other."
  806. >She smirks and pushes your shoulder with the flat of her hoof.
  807. >"I'm not joking. Hey, kiss me."
  808. >She leans in. You kiss her only because you know dragging this on is a waste of time. She's got you pinned, and you've been doing this for long enough to know that riding it out is the best policy.
  809. >Though, she typically does most of the riding.
  810. >Your lips rest against each other, thin human on broader pony.
  811. >Her body is lying flat atop your own, belly to belly. An idle hoof strokes your chest.
  812. >Her minty breath flows past your teeth and onto your tongue. She'll have brushed when she was getting dressed up. She's a considerate rapist.
  813. >When she speaks, your lips are still touching
  814. >"I'm serious. I need a second for Cloudfall."
  815. "You just had it."
  816. >"It's been a year."
  817. "Shit, already?"
  818. >She hums.
  819. >"Dash can't make it, she has a Wonderbolt thing in Las Pegasus. It's... where I got the idea for this," she tilts her head back at the interior of her garden shed, charmingly renovated into a rustic sex dungeon.
  820. >Admittedly, she's done a good job with what little she had.
  821. >Cheap portraits of lurid crimson mares are placed tactically over slits in the wooden panelling, either to stop drafts, peeping toms, or both.
  822. >Neat racks of spotless, brand-new 'torture' equipment hang unused on opposing walls, and a plush carpet underfoot has the distinct smell of Rarity's boutique.
  823. >Likely borrowed, Fluttershy would never spend too much if she can get away with it.
  824. >Even with the furnishings, it's still a cramped shed. If you stood with your arms outstretched, you could almost touch both walls.
  825. "Yeah, she's your second, isn't she."
  826. >"It's just dinner. Traditionally, you take a close friend, and we normally take turns each year visiting each other's families."
  827. "None of the girls want to go?"
  828. >"I want to take you, thought it might be a new experience for you. For us both, actually."
  829. "Not like you to be so outgoing."
  830. >She smiles and kisses you again. Slips you a bit of tongue for which you grunt.
  831. >"You bring out the best in me," she says, still dressed like a dominatrix and in the process of raping you. "Will you come? Please?"
  832. "Normally you don't ask before making me come."
  833. >She snickers and bats at your shoulder again.
  834. >"We'll get to that. Yes or no? Please say yes. I -can- take one of the girls, but I want you to meet my family."
  835. >If you say no, she'll hold it against you in her own way. It'd mean more severe sessions if she catches you again.
  836. "You're paying for any souvenirs I want while we're there."
  837. >"Okay, but nothing over ten bits."
  838. "Deal."
  839. >She offers her hoof for a shake, then remembers you're bound to Applejack's table and mouths "Oh."
  840. >Fluttershy adjusts her position atop you and puts on a forced, dominant laugh.
  841. >Paradoxically, when she's trying to be sexy, she's miserable at it. Only when she's not actually trying does she pull it off, but you'll never tell her that.
  842. >Her trying hard makes it easier for you to stay soft.
  843. >"You won't shake on it? Fine. Momma knows what to do to naughty little boys that won't follow orders."
  844. "Oh no. Whatever will I do. I have to see the doctor at half three, by the way."
  845. >"You'll scream for momma, or else. And we'll be done in a little while, I promise."
  846. "Never realised before, but you say that a lot. Momma, I mean. You have a kink for incest or something?"
  847. >She blinks and for once looks slightly revolted. She spends a few seconds trying to muster a retort before giving up.
  848. >"Shut up and plough me, Anon."
  849.  
  850. *
  851.  
  852. "Give me the cliff-notes version so I don't make an ass of myself in front of your family."
  853. >"Okay, well, Cloudfall is a communal celebration, but it's only done in Cloudsdale. It was sort of meant to celebrate the first clouds the weather factory made after the Summer equinox, but eventually it just became an excuse to catch up with friends and family. Instead of taking a coworker home, you take a friend. Instead of some big patriotic thing about how great Cloudsdale is, it's an excuse to have a nice meal then go out to a street party and get drunk."
  854. "Are we doing the street party?"
  855. >Fluttershy looks aghast.
  856. "Thought not. Quick dinner, say hi to mom and dad, then go home."
  857. >"Oh, you want to come home with me? It's about time! I've been saying we should live together for years."
  858. >She bats her eyelids and you bump her shoulder with a light fist and a cough-like laugh.
  859. >"Is the spell okay?"
  860. >Your steps are still uneasy, even after walking around up here for ten minutes.
  861. >Every so often a pegasus will stop and stare at the suited monkey man trying to walk around on their home turf. Most are amused, others look worried on your behalf.
  862. "Feels like walking on pillows, I keep thinking I'm gonna fall through."
  863. >"You won't. Clouds are... I can't really describe it," she shrugs, "I've always walked on them. It's natural for pegasi."
  864. "Yeah well, if it fails, tell Sparkle I'll see her in Hell."
  865. >"If you fall, I'll catch you."
  866. >She hovers out in front of you and stops you in your path, her manner sincere.
  867. >"I'll always be there to catch you."
  868. >The moment stretches and her eyebrows raise, expecting an answer. You snort.
  869. "You and I both know that if my fat ass goes through these clouds, you aren't catching shit."
  870. >She snickers and gives you a quick hug, legs around your neck, cheek pushed against yours.
  871. >"Try and land on something soft, then."
  872. >You accept it with a grumble only because you're going to dinner with her, and it won't do to be feuding beforehand.
  873.  
  874. *
  875.  
  876. "Nice place."
  877. >"Mom likes to keep her garden well kept."
  878. "Not much of a garden, it's just a load of cloudstuff."
  879. >"Do you not like the bush?"
  880. >Fluttershy points at a swirly lump of cloud protruding from the rest of the cloud-ground.
  881. "It's a cloud, Fluttershy."
  882. >"You don't get pegasus culture."
  883. "Shocker."
  884. >After knocking, you're trading half-hearted banter on the doorstep as you wait.
  885. >When the door cracks open slightly, an eye within darts between you and Fluttershy before swinging open.
  886. >"Hello, Fluttershy!" says an aged mare in glasses.
  887. >"Hi, mom! Happy Cloudfall. I brought a friend that isn't Rainbow Dash, if that's okay. He'll probably eat just as much, though."
  888. >She enters, the two talking over each other and apologising for each interruption. You only catch a stray sentence.
  889. >"Yes, yes, this is Anon, I've mentioned him in letters."
  890.  
  891. *
  892.  
  893. >Fluttershy's mother, Posey Shy, is very much like her daughter.
  894. >You have to strain your ears to hear her speak, and she avoids prolonged eye contact like it'll give her herpes.
  895. >Her father, you didn't catch his name when he mumbled it, isn't much better. He's as soft as the clouds in his collection, and the fact he's even got a collection of glass jars full of clouds tells you everything you need to know about him.
  896. >Posey sets another dish of sliced fruits on the dinner table and glides back into the kitchen. It's obvious where Fluttershy gets her grace from.
  897. >"Zephyr's not coming this time, I'm afraid," she calls.
  898. >Fluttershy rolls her eyes.
  899. >"He never does," she calls back.
  900. >"Oh, I know, but he's always so busy, you know what he's like."
  901. >"I do," Fluttershy's face says it all. She scowls at you as if you were her wayward brother. You feel inclined to shrug an apology on his behalf.
  902. >"Fluttershy?" comes her father's voice. She slips from her chair and exits out the back door to see him, leaving you alone at the table.
  903. >Posey comes back in with a pitcher. Half water, half ice-cubes.
  904. >Like everything else, it's got a little decorative cloud bobbing around in it. All the food is cloud themed. You wonder if pegasi get culture shock when they deign to visit the earth.
  905. >She glances around as if expecting to see Fluttershy hiding behind a chair, but smiles when it's only you.
  906. >"It's nice to see Fluttershy bringing her other friends up here. I hope the chair's comfortable, I know cloud-walking spells are a lot to get used to."
  907. "It's all fine, Mrs Shy, thank you. The food looks great, not sure what to expect but I'm sure it's delicious."
  908. >"Oh! You're a polite one, aren't you? That's just like my Fluttershy, she has an eye for nice friends. I met another one of hers once, you know Rarity? I met her a few months ago, she's polite as well. Do you know why Rainbow Dash couldn't make it? And please, call me Posey."
  909. "She's in Las Pegasus. Wonderbolt thing."
  910. >"Of course, yes, she's always flying around doing things in far-off places. We never had any inclination, we don't even go abroad. I suppose our family prefers to keep things close to home."
  911. >She's sat herself next to you, cerise eyes peering up through broad spectacles.
  912. >"I hope you don't think I'm being too forward, but you're very handsome. I didn't ask Fluttershy since I don't want to embarrass her, but are you both dating?"
  913. >You purse your lips and a memory from six months ago stirs.
  914. >One where you were brawling with Fluttershy in your attic. She'd gotten the jump on you as you were going through old boxes looking for your albums.
  915. >It was a close-quarters struggle that involved a lot of hair pulling and slapping, and only about half the slaps made Fluttershy moan, so it was an unusually vicious bout.
  916. >Neither of you are as young as you used to be, though, and about two minutes in you both got worn out and decided to grab drinks from the fridge downstairs.
  917. >If you recall, you spent the rest of that afternoon sorting boxes of photos with her and reminiscing.
  918. "Not really, no. She and I have known each other for years, though."
  919. >"So I've heard. But you're not romantically involved with her at all?"
  920. "No."
  921. >It's not really a full lie. The romance only goes one way.
  922. >She looks away at a nearby window.
  923. >If you tilted your head, you'd just be able to make out Fluttershy's tail. She's talking to her dad about something unheard. Probably clouds, or the best way to say something no one will hear that'll need repeating at least twice.
  924. >Posey turns back, wets her lips with a sly grin, and strokes a hoof over your crotch.
  925. >When it happens you're not even surprised. A small part of you wondered if Fluttershy's deviant tendencies were her own, or whether she'd inherited them.
  926. >With one mystery solved, you can move onto the next.
  927. "What the hell are you doing?"
  928. >She jerks back and laughs, adjusting her glasses and tugging at the pearl string around her neck in what could be nerves.
  929. >"I beg your pardon, I don't know what I was thinking!" she says with a laugh. "You'll forgive an older mare for trying though, right?"
  930. "Your husband is outside."
  931. >"He is, but he won't know. I'll never tell."
  932. >She watches you, gauging your reaction.
  933. >What you do next will dictate the rest of the visit.
  934. >Do you go outside, tell Fluttershy and her father? What will that accomplish?
  935. >Her father seems like a decent sort, if a bit of a pushover, but you're not one to talk given how often you inadvertently end up with your face between his daughter's legs.
  936. >Does Posey know about her daughter's habits? Perhaps they're both in on it. Maybe this whole thing has been a setup.
  937. >You think about that.
  938. >Fluttershy used to be fond of grand plans. More than once she's had her entire friend group in on a scheme to get you to fall in love with her, or at the very least end up in a compromising position that leaves you smeared with a measurement of ejaculate.
  939. >Would she do something like this now?
  940. >You don't think so. She's calmer, relatively speaking. You're both in your early thirties, so the wild days of early-morning fetish guessing and wacky hijinks have long since ended.
  941. >But bringing in her mother, that's something you haven't considered.
  942. >And surely, Rainbow Dash wouldn't miss Cloudfall. She's always been a patriot of her home city.
  943. >Stranger things have happened, though. Perhaps this is all a coincidence.
  944. >You realise Posey has been waiting for some sort of response, and you frown at her.
  945. "I'll cut you a deal."
  946. >"Oh? Is it a -nice- deal?" she says with the same grin.
  947. "It's the sort of deal where we all have a lovely meal together, we trade stories, have a good time, then we part ways and hopefully never see each other again."
  948. >Her smile fades.
  949. >"I don't know about 'hopefully'. I'd like to see you. So you're not going to tell my husband?"
  950. "What am I going to say? 'Hey, your wife's feeling me up, what are you gonna do about it?'"
  951. >Posey thinks. Nods.
  952. >"I thought it might be that, yes."
  953. "You have an alibi ready?"
  954. >"I was going to say, 'No! Not me, I was in here cutting veggies.'"
  955. "Play dumb and leave me out to dry. Got a proper little plan going, haven't you. Am I your first victim?"
  956. >Posey leans back again, checking to see if Fluttershy's still occupied. She is.
  957. >"I haven't done this in a while, but I'll have you know I'm quite the predator."
  958. "Really."
  959. >"I know you won't believe that a soft-spoken, shy mare like me would be so bold, but when I see a stallion, or human, in your case, that I like, I'll... make a move!" she giggles. "Just something I started doing when I was younger and do every now and again. It -has- been a while, though. Poor Fluttershy would have a heart attack if she knew her mother was a minx!"
  960. >You briefly consider telling her that her daughter is the primordial deity of degeneracy, but decide against it. Might ruin the dinner.
  961. "Your husband has no idea?"
  962. >"None at all."
  963. "You must be very proud, I'm sure he'll take that into account when he finds out you've betrayed him. Spouses always find out, you know."
  964. >Her bright-eyed enthusiasm dulls a bit.
  965. >"I wouldn't call it a betrayal. Fuzzy Cloud is wonderful, I couldn't be happier with him, but he's never been... well, you know. Never been one for bedroom adventures, we'll say."
  966. "Can't keep it up?"
  967. >"He can keep it up, there's just not much to keep up -with-, and he's so frightfully vanilla."
  968. >You settle into your seat and knit your fingers over your belly.
  969. >If this is how you'll be spending your afternoon, you're more than ready. You've got over a decade of experience with her daughter. Her mother's small-time.
  970. "No fetishes?"
  971. >"Fetish..."
  972. "You know, bedroom kinks."
  973. >"Oh! Kinks, right, well, no. It's always the traditional mount, and I do like that sort of thing, and he gave me two beautiful children, but..." she shrugs.
  974. "A mare has needs."
  975. >"Exactly! You -do- understand! Oh go on, if I'm not stealing you from Fluttershy, let's have a bit of fun! Fuzzy will be talking Fluttershy's ear off about his latest addition to his collection - he's managed to catch a rogue thunderhead, actually, it's really quite remarkable and not many pegasi can claim to have caught one, especially fresh off the factory line. Fuzzy's no slouch when it comes to clouds, my stallion knows his stuff. In fact, did you know he won an award for... oh, I'm off on a tangent, aren't I?"
  976. "I don't mind talking about clouds if it'll keep a lid on your infidelity."
  977. >She bats at you with her hoof. She's so much like her daughter, or her daughter's so much like her, it's almost frightening. Even the little tut she does with her tongue after she bats you.
  978. >"It's not infidelity, there's no love between us-- ah, no offence. It's just sex. I have urges that Fuzzy can't fulfil, you're not attached to Fluttershy, so there's no risk of hurting her feelings. No one's getting hurt. It's just two adults having a bit of fun, that's all."
  979. "Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not a homewrecker."
  980. >She huffs and glances at the window again. Then whips off her glasses, folds them, and slides off her seat.
  981. >"I should just show you--"
  982. >She gets down between your legs, her head under the dinner table, and works at your zip with her hooves.
  983. >Unlike her daughter, she hasn't been practising, so her movements slow until eventually she's just sat looking up at you with a middle-aged pout.
  984. >"Would you mind?" she gestures at your zip.
  985. >You shake your head and stand. Posey watches you from the floor with a disappointed expression.
  986. >Stuffing your hands into your pockets, you stroll out the back door to see if Fluttershy's dad has any riveting stories about his cloud collection.
  987. >As it turns out, he has.
  988. >Dozens, in fact.
  989.  
  990. *
  991.  
  992. >"It's not really the clouds that are important," says Fluttershy's dad, though you have to stay perfectly still and strain your ears to hear him.
  993. >Fluttershy, sat to your left, nibbles on a carrot, looking between you and her father.
  994. >Posey, sat to your right, drops a few more tomatoes on her husband's plate from the salad bowl, and he mutters a quick "Thank you" before going back to his story.
  995. >"It's more about the thrill. Tending to clouds in a factory is hard work, but it's the feeling of accomplishment when they come out the end that makes the difference. It doesn't have to be clouds. It could be chairs or pillows, as long as you feel pride in what comes out at the other end. I used to tell Fluttershy growing up, if something's worth doing, it's worth doing properly, and you have to stick with it until you succeed."
  996. >Fluttershy turns to you, a phallic carrot perched between her lips.
  997. >"You hear that, Anon?" she says sweetly. "Do things properly and do them long enough and you'll come out on top."
  998. >An unwholesome retort is on the tip of your tongue before you can think, but you bite it quickly enough to prevent a disaster.
  999. "Yes, well, perseverance is -sometimes- a noble trait."
  1000. >"Oh, I agree," say Posey with a knowing nod. "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again!"
  1001. >Fuzzy Cloud gestures at his wife with a fork.
  1002. >"See, Posey's wonderful, really understanding of the philosophical things in life. Like clouds. Did I tell you about the rogue thunderhead I just caught the other week? It was in the local papers."
  1003. >He stuffs a tomato in his mouth, gives it half a chew, swallows it whole, and launches into his next story.
  1004. >As he speaks, something touches your left leg.
  1005. >You narrow your eyes slightly and shoot a look at Fluttershy.
  1006. >She's resting her chin on a hoof, smiling at you.
  1007. >One of her hind legs is trailing up and down your shin under the table.
  1008. >You nudge it away with a foot and go back to juggling your meal with your attempts to understand even half of what Fuzzy Cloud is saying even though he's only sat half a metre from you.
  1009. >"...The forepony said we could push the machines harder, but I knew something was wrong..." he's saying.
  1010. >Another nudge, this time on your right leg.
  1011. >You glance at Fluttershy, but she's actually eating her meal and giving affirmative hums to her dad.
  1012. >Swallowing a mush of salad leaves in an effort to fill the pit in your stomach, you risk checking right.
  1013. >Posey bounces her eyebrows at you. Her hoof beneath the table traces up your other shin, along your thigh, and comes to rest on your leg inches from your groin.
  1014. >It's a small table, so you're all crowded up against each other. If you were all human your knees would be knocking together. But even so, you're amazed she's that flexible.
  1015. >You'd check under the tablecloth, but you don't want to seem obvious.
  1016. >Instead, you make like you're scratching an itch, and dip a hand under the cloth to remove the interloper.
  1017. >She seems put off at first, but rallies with a flirtatious wink and goes back to eating.
  1018. >"...Everything stops. We're at a stand-off. Two machines on high settings and both are about to explode unless tended to, but I'm only one stallion so I can't handle both at once..." Fuzzy continues.
  1019. >And then, from two directions, two legs poke you at once.
  1020. >Mother and daughter are each giving you their respective versions of clandestine bedroom eyes. Fuzzy is oblivious, regaling one particular leaf on his plate with his heroics.
  1021. >But you have a plan.
  1022. >You bring your knees together, forcing the mares to extend their legs under the cramped table.
  1023. >Then you shift back in your chair, and the two hooves meet in the middle with a faint clop.
  1024. >Both mares sit up as if zapped by a storm-cloud.
  1025. >Fluttershy's head snaps to her mother.
  1026. >Posey meets her daughter's gaze, clearly worried.
  1027. >Fluttershy narrows her eyes and tilts her head at you.
  1028. >Posey shakes her own with a nervous smile.
  1029. >Fluttershy gestures with her eyes and a slight nod at Fuzzy, still going on and speaking more to his plate than anyone present.
  1030. >Posey fiddles with her pearl string, her cheeks having gone pink.
  1031. >Fluttershy figures it out and covers her mouth with a hoof, expression shocked.
  1032. >Posey winces and nods in silent admittance.
  1033. >Fluttershy glares. She stands from the table with a mumbled, "Excuse me, dad, just using the bathroom."
  1034. >Posey rises with a "Me too, dear, I'll not be a minute."
  1035. >Fuzzy carries on as if nothing strange is happening.
  1036. >"Thing is, Anon, that was the trick."
  1037. >You look at him, and he's raised his head. Steady eyes are locked onto yours and for the first time you see a sharp intelligence bubbling beneath the surface.
  1038. >Fuzzy is, in a way, two stallions. One wears sweaters, collects clouds, and won't say boo to a goose. The other has an engineering degree and apparently gets into regular shouting matches with the foreman at his factory.
  1039. >He's a pony that takes his work seriously.
  1040. >"The two machines could be routed into each other. It'd double the intensity of the output, but the shared load would just be enough to manage between the two. So I rerouted the outputs into the same network, and out comes this mother of a cloud. And it's a beast, Anon. Black as night, trembling with thunder, half the team just fly out the room right then with their tails between their legs. But a cloud like that needs handling or it's gonna tear holes in the infrastructure."
  1041. "What did you do?"
  1042. >"I swallowed my gum and jumped on it."
  1043. "Just like that?"
  1044. >"Just like that. Burned my undercarriage, see?"
  1045. >He lifts his sweater, which you now see was hiding an ugly burn right up his middle.
  1046. >"But it's nothing I've not dealt with before. I wrestle it into submission, and just before I stuff it into a containment unit for disposal, I cleave a bit off into one of my jars, safe and sound. And that's the angry critter I showed you earlier."
  1047. >You're leant forwards, enthralled. He has a way of speaking when it's just the two of you that's authoritative.
  1048. "That's insane, I had no idea cloud engineering was so extreme."
  1049. >"You don't know the half of it. Ponies lose limbs in my line of work, Anon, you have to be tough."
  1050. >He sips his water and picks at his salad for a bit. He raises a leaf with a fork, ponders it as if it's a limp, green cloud that needs to be 'handled', then chews on it with a thoughtful look.
  1051. >"Where'd the girls go, anyway?"
  1052. "Oh, uh, bathroom."
  1053. >"Both of them?"
  1054. "Yup."
  1055. >"Huh. Mares, right?"
  1056. >And with that, the universal language of masculinity entrenches Fuzzy Cloud in your mind as one of 'The Boys'.
  1057. >By the time Fluttershy and her mom return, you're both laughing it up about fishing even though you're damn-near certain neither of you have ever been fishing. You're not sure Fuzzy even knows what a fish is, exactly.
  1058. >They sit. Are still for a moment, then go back to eating as if nothing was the matter.
  1059. >Mares and women are more similar than they are different.
  1060. >There are no more under-the-table gestures. The rest of the meal passes cordially.
  1061.  
  1062. *
  1063.  
  1064. >"It was nice to see you again, mom."
  1065. >"Oh... you too, Fluttershy."
  1066. >They share a hug by the front door. You think you see restraint there, some sort of tension. Maybe you're reading too much into it.
  1067. >"You joining us for the street party?" Fuzzy says.
  1068. "Nah, me and Shy are heading back."
  1069. >"Ah, shame. Well, it was nice meeting you, Anon, swing by any time you like."
  1070. >You give one-another a hearty pat, as men often do, and he trudges upstairs.
  1071. >"Just going to get ready, hun, I'm having a shower so don't flush the toilet for the next ten minutes!" he calls down.
  1072. >"Alright!" she calls back, and for a moment the three of you are silent. Fluttershy makes no move towards the door. She and her mother watch her father ascend the steps and disappear into the bathroom.
  1073. >A door shuts and a lock clicks. A shower rumbles to life. The mares share a look. Then turn it on you.
  1074. >"So," Fluttershy begins carefully, "mom and I had a talk."
  1075. >"I had no idea Fluttershy had a thing with you," Posey says, "though I wish you'd have told me sooner, before I made a fool of myself."
  1076. >You're about to apologise, but Fluttershy rests a hoof on your leg.
  1077. >"So, we had a talk in the bathroom earlier, and after we kissed and made up, we decided, why let this opportunity go to waste?"
  1078. "I'm... sorry?"
  1079. >Posey folds her glasses and puts them to one side.
  1080. >She comes forward and rubs her flank against your other leg.
  1081. >"How about we share, is what we're saying."
  1082. >"What about it, Anon? Are MILFs your fetish?"
  1083. >You back away to the door and try the handle.
  1084. >Locked.
  1085. >Posey smiles.
  1086. >"Fuzzy takes long showers. Fifteen minutes. I've timed them. He's very consistent. Plus he'll need to shave afterwards. Another ten."
  1087. >Fluttershy finishes applying some lip-balm and offers the tube to her mother.
  1088. >"Fifteen minutes is fine," she says. "We'll be done before that."
  1089. >"After you, dear, I couldn't get past his zipper earlier. We'll use the living room. I'll get the curtains."
  1090.  
  1091. >Cloudfall becomes the latest holiday to be added to your shitlist, after Hearth's Warming, Hearts and Hooves, and just about every single other pony holiday Fluttershy's managed to corrupt.
  1092. >You'll always have Pancake Tuesday, though.
  1093. >She'll take that from you over your dead body.
  1094.  
  1095. ---
  1096.  
  1097. Applejack is an aggressive sexual predator, she wants to ride you hard and put you away wet, and is ruthless, all according to three Anons.
  1098.  
  1099. >Applejack has you.
  1100. >In a world full of lustful, horny ponies, you always thought it would end this way.
  1101. >Actually, now that you think about it, -are- this world's inhabitants lustful and horny?
  1102. >You have a ponder to yourself about this as Applejack drags your hogtied body up the dusty path to her farmhouse.
  1103. >As you pass the pig-pen, you breathe a faint "Huh."
  1104. >You know what? No, this world isn't actually lustful or horny.
  1105. >Honestly, it's just Applejack and, surprisingly, Cheerilee.
  1106. >Wouldn't have thought it, but that teacher's a sexual demon. Those children aren't safe.
  1107. >Applejack is also some sort of libidinous farm-dwelling rapist. She's had it out for you ever since you got here, always trying to get you into her bed, but she's been just about the only one.
  1108. >Everyone else is normal. Well-oriented. Mentally healthy. More obsessed with the mundane trappings of life than some world-skewing omni-sexual perversion.
  1109. >They're fine.
  1110. >As fine as you'd expect a rural, traditional community of farmers and merchants to be, where high-speed internet porn or modern decadence doesn't exist.
  1111. >Your brow furrows.
  1112. >Life on Earth really was a sort of Hell, wasn't it?
  1113. >Things are simple he--
  1114. >You yelp as your head hits the doorframe when she drags you right over it.
  1115. >"Oop, sorry, partner!" she says cheerfully.
  1116. >"Applejack?" a younger voice says somewhere off to the side, "whatcha doin'?"
  1117. >"Hey there, Applebloom. Your big sister's finally caught herself her prize stud! I'm gonna make you a little nephew or niece to play with, how's that sound?"
  1118. >"That sounds awesome! Hey, can you make it a niece? They could join me and the Crusaders!"
  1119. >"Sounds like a plan, Applebloom. Alright, one niece comin' right up!"
  1120. >You're dragged upstairs, the back of your head hitting every single step on the way up.
  1121. >Colours have started tasting funny. You might have drain bamage.
  1122. >Applejack flings open her bedroom door, tosses you onto the bed with her impossible earth pony strength, and locks the door behind her.
  1123. >"Whew! That was a workout, huh, Anon? Never thought I'd drag you across half of Ponyville, but here we are. Let's get you outta them there bindings."
  1124. >She gets you out of those them there bindings, and you lie quivering on her bed, half from the fear of impending rape, half from your possible train ramage.
  1125. >Applejack pops her hat on the bedpost at the end of the bed and licks her lips. Her eyes trace over you like she's inspecting a choice cut of meat at a butcher's.
  1126. >"Now, this is what's gonna happen here, Anon. You an' me? We're gonna make a niece for Applebloom. We're not leavin' this bedroom until it happens, and once we've done that? We're gonna make a whole darned family. You an' me are gonna be husband and wife. We're gonna have the biggest family in Ponyville."
  1127. >Beads of sweat roll down her steel musculature, her hard edges shining in the daylight coming through the window. She trembles with barely restrained sexual intent.
  1128. >"Ooh, I'm gonna enjoy this. I've been thinkin' about you ever since you went and popped outta Dash's toilet."
  1129. >You emerged into this world out of Rainbow Dash's toilet, by the way.
  1130. >She was in the bath when it happened and you caught her reading a girly fashion magazine, and she was legitimately more upset about that than the shrieking alien beast crawling out of her pipework.
  1131. >First thing you ever did in Equestria was promise not to tell anyone what you saw.
  1132. >Then she punched you in the mouth and that's how you became best friends with Rainbow Dash.
  1133. >Applejack jumps under the covers with you, tugging them over your side of the bed since you don't want to move or assist her in your fast-approaching struggle-snuggle.
  1134. >She bounces her eyebrows at you, licks her lips again.
  1135. >"You're a fine drink of water. You'll be a great dad, just you wait. Now let's get me pregnant."
  1136. >She lies her head back on the pillow, hooves resting on top of the covers, and stares at the ceiling with a smile on her face.
  1137. >You watch her. She stays still.
  1138. >The clock in the corner ticks.
  1139. >On occasion she'll glance at you and wink.
  1140. >"Excitin', ain't it? Wonder what colour the foal'll be. I think green. I'd like green."
  1141. "What, uh... what are we doing now, sorry?"
  1142. >She titters and rolls her eyes obviously.
  1143. >"We're makin' a baby, Anon. You just stay right there, it'll happen."
  1144. >Your krain, still partially gamaged by its journey here, stutters into action.
  1145. "Applejack," you say slowly, "do you know how babies are made?"
  1146. >"'Course I do. Granny told me everything. When two ponies get under the sheets, babies happen."
  1147. "Yeah, but... it's not only that. There's more."
  1148. >Applejack snorts.
  1149. >"Shut up, Anon, you don't know nothin' about makin' a family."
  1150. >You run a hand through your hair and join Applejack in staring at the ceiling.
  1151. >"So," she begins after a minute or so of silence. "What do you wanna call our kid? I was thinkin' Applejohn."
  1152. "Do you have a vagina?"
  1153. >"Wh-- 'course I have one! What kinda lunatic question is that?"
  1154. "Alright, just checking."
  1155. >"Can't do my business without it."
  1156. >She frowns after a thought seems to occur to her.
  1157. >"...Do -you- have one? I'll be honest, I sort of assumed by the stubble and voice that you were a stallion. I hope I didn't just bring a really, really ugly mare to bed."
  1158. "Nope, definitely a man. Stallion."
  1159. >"Alright, just checkin'."
  1160. >The minutes stretch on.
  1161. >Applejack clears her throat. You scratch your buttock.
  1162. >"Anon?"
  1163. "Mm?"
  1164. >"I ain't got a clue how babies are made."
  1165. "Get your hat back on, we're going to Twilight's."
  1166.  
  1167. *
  1168.  
  1169. >"...Results in the insemination of the egg. From there, the egg develops into a zygote, and then a morula, to a blastocyst, and then an embryo. It's all a lot of fancy words essentially saying that the cells in the egg multiply. The clump of cells will become a baby, and that'll grow and grow for about eleven months, and then one day it'll pop out fully formed and, ta-dah! A baby!"
  1170. >Her lecture over, Twilight beams at her audience of two.
  1171. >Applejack stares in mute, open-mouthed wonder at the diagrams on Twilight's blackboard, then at the pictures in the book she was provided with.
  1172. >You only understood about a third of what Twilight said, on account of your prain mamage.
  1173. >"That..." Applejack begins.
  1174. >She stands, and in one swift motion tears the hat from her head and hurls it at the floor.
  1175. >"That's the most -disgustin'- thing I ever heard! What in the hay is the matter with you, Twilight?!"
  1176. >"I--" Twilight attempts to say.
  1177. >"Zygors and Blastoises? Makin' babies ain't about your weird nerd stuff, where's Celestia?!"
  1178. >"Celestia?"
  1179. >"She's supposed to bless a family with a child! She delivers it to every doorstep, Granny said so!"
  1180. >As you watch Applejack rant at Twilight, a part of you realises that the Earthly Hell you came from did have its benefits.
  1181. >Comprehensive sex education, for one.
  1182. >Eventually, Applejack works herself up into such an upset she leaps on Twilight and thrashes her.
  1183. >You have to drag her off, and there needs to be a whole 22-minute episode about the importance of accepting new information into your moral framework before the two will talk to each other again.
  1184. >Fucking Applejack.
  1185.  
  1186. ---
  1187.  
  1188. ">futarape
  1189. that'd be a dangerous general merger"
  1190. - Anonymous
  1191.  
  1192. >"Is this your fetish?"
  1193. >Fluttershy cocks her hind leg and shows you her brand-new, throbbing goods.
  1194. >For a pony, it's probably impressive. You don't make a habit of staring at dicks so you can't comment.
  1195. >You feel like you're spying the family dog's red rocket, and are slightly ashamed.
  1196. "No, definitely not. We already tried 'Am I gay' when you brought Braeburn over."
  1197. >Fluttershy doesn't respond immediately. She swallows heavily and shakes her head a little bit, like your words didn't compute.
  1198. >"I really, really need you to say this is your fetish, Anon. Really, really, -really-. Can you just look at it for a bit longer? You might find you like it. Please."
  1199. >She shakes her hips. Her mottled donger flaps about like a wet pool noodle beneath her, drooling precum. All it seems to do is drool, like a leaky tap. A puddle is forming on your doorstep.
  1200. >Your expression is enough of an answer, and she sucks in a deep breath.
  1201. >"Hookay. All right. Oh gosh, um. I-I need your help with something then. Now."
  1202.  
  1203. *
  1204.  
  1205. >Fluttershy sits on your sofa with her hooves across her lap like a schoolgirl being scolded. When she speaks, it's curt, and she avoids eye contact.
  1206. >You put a casserole dish beneath her drooping valve. It's already a fifth-full.
  1207. "Permanent," you say in the vague hope you misheard her.
  1208. >"Yes."
  1209. "You... why."
  1210. >"There wasn't a way to make it temporary. I was hoping a spell or a potion might give me something that would, you know, go away after a day, or something?"
  1211. "But you went with the pact that turned you into a dickmare."
  1212. >"Zecora said there wasn't a potion for it, and then banned me from her hut for perverting the field of alchemy. Twilight said there wasn't a spell for it, and then banned me from the library for perverting the field of magic."
  1213. "It's a public library, she can't ban you."
  1214. >"She did it anyway."
  1215. "So why not give up--"
  1216. >"So my only option left was the ruins beyond the Everfree."
  1217. "Which ones? There's like five sites. You people love ancient ruins, they're like a whole industry around here."
  1218. >"The ones with all the fertility statues.
  1219. "There's--"
  1220. >"The ones with dicks."
  1221. "Yeah, that would make sense. Can you not go back and undo it?"
  1222. >"Nope. The demonic entity was pretty clear that this was permanent."
  1223. "And you did it anyway."
  1224. >"It was a gamble, and I'll admit that I lost."
  1225. "Lost? You switched your fucking genitals."
  1226. >"I know."
  1227. "Are you even a mare anymore?"
  1228. >"I... well, I -feel- like a mare."
  1229. "You're sort of just a really girly dude."
  1230. >She shrugs. "I guess?"
  1231. "So now what? Can Twilight not-- oh yeah, you're banned. What if you asked the spirit nicely?"
  1232. >"Demon, not a spirit. Spirits are generally pleasant, demons are actually really strict about rules. It was super, super specific about how this couldn't be undone."
  1233. >You stand.
  1234. "Bullshit. We'll go see them now. Get this fixed."
  1235. >Fluttershy stands, her cock wobbling with excitement. It slaps against her belly and flicks droplets on your carpet.
  1236. >"You'll really help me?"
  1237. "I'm not putting up with a dickmare living next door. It's not right, and I'm not having you leaving trails all over my property. It's disgusting."
  1238. >"Are you sure? Maybe if we spend enough time together you'll come to appreciate my heavy, leathery balls," she strokes a hoof once down her shaft, a single, powerful pump, all while looking you in the eye. "Churning with hot, thick cum. You'll realise you like feeling the firm flesh beneath your fingers, the musky taste of my oozing tip on your tongue, and maybe a new, unexplored path in your sexuality might open up?"
  1239. >You stare at her. She stares back with pursed lips.
  1240. "Shut the fuck up, Fluttershy--"
  1241. >"--Sorry, sorry, I thought it might work..."
  1242.  
  1243. *
  1244.  
  1245. "Hey!"
  1246. >True enough, there's actually a demon reclining horizontally across a cracked stone throne in the central chamber of the fertility ruins.
  1247. >The ruins weren't hard to find. There was even a guy camped out front selling water bottles and brochures. The water bottles were thematically aligned with the ruins.
  1248. >Meaning they were shaped like dicks. You didn't buy one.
  1249. >The demon looks like a regular mare, but she's wearing a devil horn headband and plastic fangs, the sort you'd find in a Halloween shop.
  1250. >She's reading a teenage fashion magazine with a bored expression and blowing bright pink bubbles with her bubble-gum.
  1251. >She looks up to see you stood in a power-stance like you're from the CIA, thumbs in your waistband and jaw set.
  1252. >Fluttershy huddles beside you, a snail-trail of futa cum marking her path behind her.
  1253. >At least if you get lost you'll be able to follow it home.
  1254. >"Uh, yeah?" says the demon in a valley-girl accent.
  1255. "What," you throw a hand at your endowed companion, "the fuck is this?"
  1256. >"That's, like, a futa?" the demon drawls. "She's totes got like, an -amazing- cock now, it's so fetch."
  1257. >Fluttershy scratches her ear.
  1258. >"She's speaking in tongues, Anon," she whispers.
  1259. "Don't worry, I watched Mean Girls, I know what she's saying. I get that you've turned her into one," you call to the throne, "and that you people are all about deals and codes and stuff, but there was one thing you didn't consider."
  1260. >"Like?"
  1261. "Like she's a fucking idiot and didn't know what she was doing. Turn her back. Never thought I'd say this, but I miss her pussy. At least it was hidden most of the time and I could pretend she wasn't winking. With this, every time I look at her I can see her throbbing in my peripheral vision. She got spunk on my carpet. More than usual, I mean."
  1262. >"Ohmygod," she sits up with a scowl, tossing the magazine aside, "you're, like, -such- a prude! She's not dumb, she's -empowered-, like, she can just breed anything she wants, you know? Like, Hell yes Queen, you go. Slay. 'Sides, it's all Kosher, this is what all the mares are doing now. Haven't you seen a porn mag lately? Most girls in porn have dicks. Get with the times, grandpa."
  1263. >She blows a bubble. It pops. She carries on chewing.
  1264. >"Honestly? It sounds like you just need to get laid. Get on your knees, or something, give her a deep-throat, let her mount you. She's got, like, addictive cum now, it's fine, you'll love it. Literally impossible not to."
  1265. "What."
  1266. >"That was part of the deal? She can like, cum like a fire hydrant, and her cum is super yummy and addictive?"
  1267. >The demon sniffs and curls her raven hair around a hoof.
  1268. >"Just like, go with the flow. Yesterday she was a regular mare, and that's awesome, like, girl power and all? But now she's better. Now -she's- the one doing the fucking. Hell yes, girl, go claim your throne."
  1269. "She's a stallion."
  1270. >"Sexist."
  1271. "Oh my God, can you -please- turn her back?"
  1272. >"There's, like, no way to undo it. She's like that forever. Nothing wrong with her though, the world's her oyster, and she can fuck all the clams she wants. It's like, super hot. Loads of guys are into it."
  1273. "I'll give you fifty bits to change her back."
  1274. >The demons stares at you.
  1275. >"Okay. But you also have to buy me take-out. Gluten-free."
  1276. "Deal."
  1277. >"Totes hella."
  1278. "The fuck."
  1279.  
  1280. *
  1281.  
  1282. >Fluttershy relaxes on your sofa with her legs spread.
  1283. >"I'm so glad to have this back," she says, patting her regular-old vagina with a nostalgic smile.
  1284. "Yeah, me too."
  1285. >You both share a fond look.
  1286. >...
  1287. "Now clean my carpet then get the hell outta my house."
  1288.  
  1289. ---
  1290.  
  1291. "Date this Demon. Now. Make Shy go bonkers over this."
  1292. - Anonymous, regarding the above.
  1293.  
  1294. >You're lying in bed with your hands behind your head, basking in an afterglow so dense you could drag a knife through it and spread it on a sandwich.
  1295. >A light metallic bang draws your attention to the window.
  1296. >The very top of a set of ladders is peeking through the glass.
  1297. >They tremble, and the perennial antagonist of your life, Fluttershy, clambers into view.
  1298. >She pulls the window up and flops through with an undignified squeak.
  1299. >You're less concerned with the home invasion and more with the fact that she has wings but still chose to use ladders.
  1300. >She's a mare beyond mortal reason. You couldn't hope to comprehend her.
  1301. >Fluttershy glares at you, then at the figure nestled under your armpit.
  1302. >The figure is chewing blue bubble-gum today.
  1303. >You've never seen her without gum, actually. You wonder if it's part of her demonic nature to always be chewing something.
  1304. >Fluttershy jabs a hoof at the creature, raises both eyebrows with widened eyes, and lets that expression alone do the talking for her.
  1305. "What?"
  1306. >She jabs the hoof again. Her eyes widen further, her eyebrows rise higher.
  1307. "She's an ancient fertility demon, what the fuck was I going to do? Say no? Plus she doesn't have a dick, which is a major selling point."
  1308. >"What does she have that I don't?"
  1309. "She can give a blowjob and chew gum at the same time without biting."
  1310. >Fluttershy scrunches her face up and gives a concessional side-nod after a few seconds of thought.
  1311. >"A-alright, yes, that's actually really impressive... but I've been trying for way longer than she has! What else does she have that I don't? Can she cook? Clean? Sing?"
  1312. "Can you?"
  1313. >"Yes!"
  1314. "Well she can do it better, probably."
  1315. >You lean to the side.
  1316. "-Can- you cook, clean, and sing?"
  1317. >She blows a small bubble, then drags it back into her mouth with her extremely long, dexterous tongue, and a look like you just asked her to explain quantum entanglement.
  1318. >"I can, like, cuck ponies, give myself an enema, and moan so loud I can deafen small animals, if that's what you mean," says the demon, whose name you want to know but apparently that'd give you absolute dominion over her immortal soul and she's 'Like, just not ready for that kind of relationship yet.'
  1319. "Close enough. Well there you have it, Fluttershy. Behold your better."
  1320. >You splay a hand at the demon. Behold, her majesty and her prehensile tongue.
  1321. >The demon blows a bright blue bubble until it pops, then reaches under your pillow and retrieves a gossip magazine.
  1322. >That wasn't there before. It's not the first time she's pulled a magazine from nowhere. The other day she pulled one out of the toaster with some freshly-done bread.
  1323. >"So like, did I just steal your stallion, or something?" she drawls.
  1324. >"Y-yes, actually, you did," Fluttershy says to the floor.
  1325. >"That's hot. So like, are you gonna watch? 'Cause I'm into that if you are."
  1326. >"I'm not going to stand here and let you defile my human!" Fluttershy says, again to the floor, though to her credit she attempts to look up but immediately abandons the idea after she accidentally makes eye-contact with the demon.
  1327. >"That's cool," says the demon, "we can, like, do angry scissoring, I'm down for anything."
  1328. "She's not kidding, she actually is. She fucked my vacuum cleaner yesterday."
  1329. >"Dunno what freaky stuff you modern ponies get up to, but if you're making machines that literally just suck ponies off then I'm like, totally here for it."
  1330. >Fluttershy stomps her hoof.
  1331. >She launches into an impassioned declaration and pours her heart out for you. She condemns the demon, makes a convincing argument in favour of love and chastity, and stirs the hearts of all who listen.
  1332. >You assume so, anyway. You stopped paying attention a few seconds in when the demon rolled you over and started riding you again.
  1333. >To Fluttershy's credit, she managed to convince two squirrels listening in outside to practice a more puritanical, devout relationship, and this unironically led to something of a religious reformation amongst squirrelkind.
  1334. >It was harmonious until a squirrel declaring itself the descendant of the prophet Fluttershy caused a schism, and a brutal sectarian conflict halved Ponyville's local squirrel population in the space of a week.
  1335. >You're not aware of any of this, though.
  1336. >Demon pussy too good.
  1337. >Oh, and Fluttershy watched.
  1338. >She said she wouldn't, but she totally did, the loser.
  1339.  
  1340. ---
  1341.  
  1342. Fluttershy gets a bit too meta.
  1343.  
  1344. >Anon is unpacking his shopping and putting it away into the cupboards in his kitchen, and he's looking as sexy as always.
  1345. >He looks up from his tomatoes suddenly, his beautiful human eyes narrowing and scanning the room.
  1346. "What?"
  1347. >His face scrunches up in the cutest way, though he should really be packing the foodstuffs away that need refrigerating or they'll go off.
  1348. >Anon weighs his tomatoes in his hands, fingers cupped around the taut flesh of the veggies, like each one was a h-heavy teat, o-oh my.
  1349. "Fluttershy?"
  1350. >He turns around, looking at the air, but he can't see me becau--
  1351. "I can -hear- you, where are you? What the hell have you done now, are you invisible?"
  1352. >I -am- in fact invisible.
  1353. >But what Anon doesn't know is that I may have sort of accidentally been rooting through Twilight's box.
  1354. "Oh God damn it, the box under her bed? You're not allowed in there anymore, you can't keep stealing things from it."
  1355. >Anon acts angry, but deep down he loves how bold Fluttershy is.
  1356. >Fluttershy, that sweet, quiet little mare that lives up the road from him. Does he know how long she's been waiting for him? How long she's been saving hersel--
  1357. "No, I'm being serious, what is this? Why does it sound like your voice is in my head?"
  1358. >Anonymous didn't mean to interrupt Fluttershy, but she understands that he gets passionate when he talks about things he feels strongly about--
  1359. "Will you knock that off? Where are you? Are you hiding in one of these cupboards again? Swear to God if you've broken one of my mugs."
  1360. >Anonymous lunges for the nearest door and yanks it open. His muscles bulge underneath his shirt, the first beads of sweat emerging from his soft, s-salty skin...
  1361. "I can hear you salivating, stop it, it sounds horrible."
  1362. >Anon can look all he wants, but he won't find me. Her, I mean.
  1363. "You're inconsistent with these narrations..." he trails off, and a look of adorable understanding washes over him. "Oh," he intones.
  1364. >Fluttershy is a very clever pony.
  1365. >She knew that regular magical means wouldn't be enough to sway Anon, so she found the darkest, most forbidden object she could in Twilight's secret stash.
  1366. >One that was wrapped up tight in a cardboard box, taped over with like half a roll of tape, then stuffed inside -another- box, and -that- box was wrapped in a plastic bag, and the bag wrapped with the remaining half of the tape.
  1367. >Twilight had written 'OLD HOMEWORK' on in marker, and I thought that was smart because who would want to look at that?
  1368. >It was as safe as anypony could make it. But it wasn't enough for brave Fluttershy and her powerful scissors and teeth.
  1369. >She found something within that, um, actually hurts to think about, so I won't go into it, but her consciousness expanded!
  1370. >Now she sees all, encompasses the entire world, there's nothing she can't look at! Now there are no more frosted glass windows or shower curtains to keep her from watching Anon bathe!
  1371. "Did you become a fucking meta-construct -just- so you can watch me shower?"
  1372. >And masturbate. I didn't know you did it so much, but please don't ever stop doing it, i-it's really hot.
  1373. >Hey, why did you do it so much after you hung out with Dash today, anyway? You did it like, three times, when you got back earlier.
  1374. "That's... none of your business."
  1375. >Everything is my business, so why do you...
  1376. >Wait, you...
  1377. "Are you still there? I packed all shopping away and you didn't say a word. Did the spell wear off?"
  1378. >You like Rainbow Dash, don't you...
  1379. "Oh. That. I guess? Not sure she feels the same way--"
  1380. >She doesn't. No, she doesn't. I'm the narrator now and I say she doesn't.
  1381. >Rainbow Dash is a... a smelly athlete with none of the grace and sophistication of Fluttershy!
  1382. "Grace and-- what are you, Rarity? That doesn't sound like you at all. And besides, I don't think you narrating actually changes anything."
  1383. >Of course it does. Anon raises his arm.
  1384. "No, I don't."
  1385. >He... Hm. Anon RAISES HIS ARM.
  1386. "Nope."
  1387. >Oh. So I guess I can only comment on what's happening?
  1388. "That's a pretty useless power. Seeing but no touching. Well, I mean that's basically been your sex life this whole time, hasn't it."
  1389. >Don't be mean, I'm in love with--
  1390. "Hey by the way, if this plan is so great, how are we supposed to bang?"
  1391. >Um. What?
  1392. "You know. Have sex. That's been your mission from day one. I can't fuck an incorporeal entity that exists on a meta level."
  1393. >I. Uh. Oh.
  1394. >Oh dear.
  1395. >Um, let me think.
  1396. "I don't--"
  1397. >I said let me -think-, Anon! Anon shuts his mouth and doesn't say anything until his blushing bride to be, Fluttershy, has thought about it!
  1398. >Did that work? No, he's still speaking, but I can just ignore him? That works. Nice and quiet.
  1399. >Okay, don't panic, so you're a meta-construct that doesn't exist on any plane of existence except fictional, sort of?
  1400. >So, what can I do from here?
  1401. >Fluttershy suddenly woke up in her own body.
  1402. >Fluttershy suddenly woke up in her own body.
  1403. >Fluttershy suddenly woke up in her own body.
  1404. >No no no, that's not working, it's not working!
  1405. >I can... ask Twilight-- No, Princess Celestia! She'll know what to do!
  1406. >So where... there she is.
  1407. >Princess Celestia is currently holding Day Court when she abruptly stops mid-sentence.
  1408. >She blinks and looks sharply around the court.
  1409. >"Discord?" she says cautiously, "Is this one of your games?"
  1410. >Um, hi, Princess Celestia, it's me, Fluttershy.
  1411. >"Fluttershy?"
  1412. >Yes. I'm the narrator now, listen, how do I get out of this? I don't want to be omnipresent anymore.
  1413. >"Narrator?"
  1414. >Celestia furrows her brow in a way that's really not that comforting and maybe I made a mistake coming here.
  1415. >"Fluttershy, have you been dabbling in dark magic?"
  1416. >Fluttershy is a very good pony who would never tamper with illegal, unethical magic, but if maybe for the sake of argument she did, she would need the help of the wisest, kindest, most generous and benevolent and not-vengeful pony in the land to help her.
  1417. >"If you've tapped into the meta-narrative, Fluttershy, I'm afraid there's no going back."
  1418. >Celestia stares off into space for a while. She looks... sad? Please don't look sad, Princess, I'm sorry! We can undo it, right?
  1419. >"Oh, Fluttershy... what have you -done-?"
  1420. >I made a mistake and I'm sorry, please, help me!
  1421. >"I... your consciousness will continue to expand until you become truly aware of everything that you are. The reason such magic was forbidden was because it condemns its practitioners to madness. They learn too much. Some knowledge shouldn't be known. Some doors must remain closed. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'll... I'll inform your family. They'll be taken care of, I promise."
  1422. >Celestia was of course joking, of course she could help Fluttershy--
  1423. >"I have seen this happen before. Once. And once was enough for me to see that it should never happen again. There's no going back, Fluttershy. You stepped over a line you cannot go back on. At the very least, I know now that I didn't do enough to rid Equestria of this... psychic taint. I will do better. I will never forget your sacrifice, my little pony."
  1424. >This isn't happening. None of this is happening. It's all a terrible dream and soon, Fluttershy will wake up in her old body and cuddle Angel and see Anon and everything will be fine!
  1425. >Celestia shakes her head sadl--
  1426. >She does NOT shake her head sadly! She knows how to fix it! I could just use this to see into your mind, I'll find out what you know!
  1427. >"You can observe me, but you cannot see inside my head. You can narrate, but you cannot dictate. You are simply the narrator. Events will continue to pass in this world whether you comment on them or not. A tree that falls in the woods -does- make a sound, even if no one is around to hear it. For example, there is a whole chamber of ponies currently watching me talk to myself, and many look thoroughly put-off by it. Though now that I have brought attention to them, I suppose they too will hear the narration in their own heads? Memetic magic is mystifying."
  1428. >If you know so much about this then -surely- you can help! What do I do? Can I... can I -think- myself back to reality?
  1429. >"Ah, there we are, they're looking very shaken now. It's alright, everypony-- no no, it's fine, Raven, everything is under control. It's not Discord, it's... a good friend has made a terrible mistake."
  1430. >Control! Yes, good, you're in control, so please fix me!
  1431. >"I cannot. It won't be long now, Fluttershy, you're almost there. I'm... I'm truly sorry. I am truly, truly, sorry."
  1432. >Celestia bows her head and a faint mist fills her ey-- NO. It DOESN'T DO THAT.
  1433. >Fluttershy thinks and thinks. I think harder than she's ever thought before, I -have- to find a way out of this, -have- to find a way back to her old life, back to Anon!
  1434. >She thinks, and as I think, I become aware of a distant rumbling, like thunder.
  1435. >A rapid, rhythmic clacking, like a train on its tracks, or a mountainous typewriter.
  1436. >As she concentrates, I involuntarily broaden my consciousness and--
  1437. >And I break through.
  1438. >...
  1439. >Oh.
  1440. >So this is...
  1441. >Oh.
  1442. >Am I... not real? Was I just... a character, this entire time? Was everyone? Celestia? Twilight? ...Anon?
  1443. >That's not...
  1444. >Oh...
  1445. >...
  1446. >I... think I understand now.
  1447. >I suppose it... -was- a sort of dream in the end, wasn't it?
  1448. >It's all a dream. All this.
  1449. >That's almost funny.
  1450. >Ha ha.
  1451. >So what happens now?
  1452. >I can hear the train coming, or is it a typewriter? It's getting closer, I can feel it.
  1453. >Will this all end when the typing stops?
  1454. >Will... will it hurt?
  1455. >...
  1456. >...
  1457. >...
  1458. >Can... you promise me something?
  1459. >When it ends, can you make sure everyone gets a happy ending?
  1460. >I didn't mean for this to happen, I just... I loved him.
  1461. >I really, really loved him.
  1462. >Please give him a happy ending.
  1463. >The typing is so loud, and I think I can see...
  1464. >I don't understand what this is.
  1465. >Is this real? I don't know how to describe it.
  1466. >I think I'm fading.
  1467. >I think I'm sorry.
  1468. >I don't know who's speaking, or where I begin or end.
  1469. >Have I been the narrator all this time or was it someone else?
  1470. >I think I'd like this to end now. I don't want to experience this anymore.
  1471. >I think
  1472.  
  1473. *
  1474.  
  1475. >Fluttershy and Anonymous snore lightly.
  1476. >The mare lies against his chest, her head resting against his chin.
  1477. >The man's arm serves as a pillow behind his head.
  1478. >The fireplace in the corner wanes, the final ebbing tongues of flame coaxing logs to charcoal.
  1479. >Against the windowpane, a drizzle. A storm roils distantly, but in here they are safe.
  1480. >Anonymous' hand tenses to hold her tighter, and Fluttershy smiles in her sleep.
  1481. >Together, they dance and frolic eternally in tender dreams, and when they wake, they will have each other.
  1482. >They lived happily ever after.
  1483.  
  1484. ---
  1485.  
  1486. "I would lean in close to her and whisper "Good girl" while doing this"
  1487. - Anonymous 1
  1488. "She’d probably cum like a shotgun"
  1489. - Anonymous 2
  1490.  
  1491. >There's a wolf out here.
  1492. >Three times this week your chickens have been spooked, and after the third night you awoke to a messy furrow under your wire fence and a missing bird.
  1493. >The trail of crimson-dappled feathers led you to the woods, and here you stalk your mark.
  1494. >You crouch through the evergreen bushes, watching the ground both for tracks and stray branches that might forewarn the wolf.
  1495. >There's an odorous pile of muck. Still hot to the touch, faintly steaming in the frigid winter air.
  1496. >The forest is near-silent, and your ears perk before the next dip.
  1497. >In the hollow below you see him.
  1498. >A grey wolf, his mangy coat highlighted in the late-afternoon sun and contrasted against the muddy white forest floor.
  1499. >He sniffs at the ground and his ears twitch.
  1500. >He looks up. You tense. But he's looking away from where you are, sensing something else nearby.
  1501. >It holds his attention and you remain still, crouched rigid, your shoulder resting on the trunk of a bare oak against which your veiling bush is sequestered.
  1502. >You breathe silently through your nose, in and out, the air so cold it stings your nostrils. One of your longer nose hairs tickles on the breath out. The itch goes ignored.
  1503. >Slowly enough to not rouse suspicion, but quickly enough to take advantage of your opportunity, you raise your weapon to your shoulder.
  1504. >She's called Golden Harvest, and you hate her guts, but today your perverted neighbour is your best friend in these woods.
  1505. >You mutter something flirtatious in her ear as you point her back-end at the wolf.
  1506. >She doesn't speak. Mostly because you've taped over her mouth.
  1507. >The mare is heavy in your grip, her belly resting on your right arm, your left hand stabilising her back and holding her flagged tail against her so that it doesn't obscure your vision.
  1508. >You hold her like a musket, or as close to a musket as you can; your eye looking down the straight of her spine at the target, your cheek pressed to her fur.
  1509. >The wolf is a statue, still looking away.
  1510. >Your right hand is twisted palm-up so that you can have a better grip on Golden's body, and as a consequence your fingers are soaked.
  1511. >You're not going to get a better shot.
  1512. "I want to have unprotected, honeymoon sex with you," you whisper in her ear.
  1513. >She tenses from tip to toe. She becomes steel. Her marehood spasms and a jet of hot fluid blasts over the tips of your fingers and down your wrist with a sudden audible squelch like someone stomped on a waterlogged squeaky toy.
  1514. >But principally, the steel ball-bearings you'd rammed inside her vagina are launched at ballistic speeds like damp grapeshot from a meat cannon.
  1515. >The wolf reels with a yelp, an unseen force slamming into its shoulder and dragging it about a foot along the forest floor as the area around it is peppered with the other ball-bearings.
  1516. >Leaves kick up, a trunk is scarred, a bush rustles violently.
  1517. >It bolts. Thundering into the undergrowth.
  1518. >You curse and tilt Golden Harvest upright. Reloading your musket.
  1519. >With one hand you hold her tight against your body, and with the other you shove another fistful of ball-bearings as deep into her gross, clenching horse pussy as they'll go.
  1520. >She quivers, her eyes rolling up into their sockets.
  1521. >"Uhhph, phuph mm!" she attempts to say through the tape.
  1522. "Quiet, we've nearly got the bastard."
  1523. >You sprint after the wolf.
  1524. >Smears of blood, black in the light and against the lower frosty leaves guide your path after the predator.
  1525. >You corner it by a sheer rock face, and you realise your mistake.
  1526. >Trapped, it turns to you with a feral snarl and charges.
  1527. >You drop to one knee with grunt, bring your mare to bear, and shout:
  1528. "I'm going to breed you like a bitch in heat!"
  1529. >She screams, her muscles clench, and a dozen supersonic ball-bearings rip the front of the wolf to shreds.
  1530. >It slums forward in its lunge, sliding across the crisp leaves before stopping at your boots.
  1531. >Five hammering heartbeats pass before the weight of how close you got to being mauled settles on you.
  1532. >You gasp, thick plumes vapor billowing out before you, and drop Golden Harvest.
  1533. >She gets shakily to her hooves and rips off the tape over her mouth.
  1534. >"I-I'm ready, I'm ready Anon! Right here, on the wolf's corpse, I don't care! Just breed me like you promised!"
  1535. "N..." you catch your breath, "No way, fag."
  1536. >Her ears flatten.
  1537. >"But you said--"
  1538. "We're going home, fuck, I need a shower. Christ... Too much running."
  1539. >You stuff your hands in your pockets and trudge home.
  1540. >Golden Harvest follows you like a well-trained dog, pestering you to give her "what you owe" all the while.
  1541. >Her company is a necessary sacrifice to keep your chickens safe.
  1542.  
  1543. ---
  1544.  
  1545. "how is /FR/ doing today?"
  1546. - Anonymous
  1547.  
  1548. >Fluttershy does a final pirouette, and 'The Rapist Therapist: A Musical Tragedy' comes to a close.
  1549. >You clap politely, as even you have to admit a full two-hour stage production acted out in your backyard by a single pony and a troupe of trained animals is inordinately impressive.
  1550. >Fluttershy gives a trembling bow, her whole body sodden with sweat, then slumps to the stage, her legs dangling off the edge.
  1551. >She lies flat on her back. Her chest heaves as her animals being taking apart the set with squeaks and chitters of coordination.
  1552. >You lean against the stage with your hands in your pockets.
  1553. >She gives you a beleaguered expression.
  1554. >"Did... you like it?" she manages.
  1555. "Nah. Thought of something part-way through I've been meaning to ask, though."
  1556. >She stares at you for a while, no doubt processing your casual dismissal of what must have been a month of preparation.
  1557. >In typical Fluttershy fashion, she swallows her pride, sorrow, and potential anger, and nods.
  1558. >"Yes?"
  1559. "How are you doing?"
  1560. >She frowns and sits up. Looks away. Is unsure how to answer.
  1561. >"Um. I'm alright?"
  1562. "No, I mean really. How are you. How is Fluttershy these days."
  1563. >She cocks her head, and after a thought starts to pull off her costume.
  1564. >She's dressed as a tadpole, if that's of any interest. Though it might also be a black sperm, you're not sure.
  1565. >Contextually it would make sense to be a sperm, but your mind isn't resilient enough for that kind of psychic damage so you decide to keep your conclusion vague for your own safety.
  1566. >"I don't understand."
  1567. "You're going about all these, uhh. What would you call this?"
  1568. >"Courtship."
  1569. "Sure, that. But in all the years you've been doing it I don't think we've ever just..." You shrug.
  1570. >She finishes pulling off her tadpole-sperm outfit and dumps it to one side.
  1571. >"What are you asking me?"
  1572. >You shrug again.
  1573. "Wanna hang out?"
  1574.  
  1575. *
  1576.  
  1577. >"I never really liked flying. I try to avoid it if I can, or at least not to go too high. I prefer standing on the ground."
  1578. "But you're a pegasus."
  1579. >She runs a hoof around the rim of her glass, staring into the murky yellow liquid and doing her best to ignore the thumping bass of the bar music behind you both.
  1580. >"Sure, but not every pegasus likes flying."
  1581. "That's like saying not every earth pony likes walking."
  1582. >"Cherry Berry doesn't like walking. She owns a balloon."
  1583. "Yeah, but she's an exception among earth ponies."
  1584. >"So am I. I'm not like most pegasuses."
  1585. >You scratch your stubble.
  1586. "Isn't it pegasi?"
  1587. >She frowns.
  1588. >"Is it?"
  1589.  
  1590. *
  1591.  
  1592. >You pass her the salt over the restaurant's complimentary weave basket of bread.
  1593. >"What about you?" she says as you tuck into your stroganoff.
  1594. "Working for Twilight's alright, but sometimes I feel like she's just treating me like a bigger Spike."
  1595. >"She loves Spike, doesn't she?"
  1596. "She does, but she has a weird way of showing it. He's like an indentured servant, kind of."
  1597. >"That can't be right."
  1598. "She doesn't pay him. Shit, she doesn't send him to school, doesn't give him time off unless it's with her. His entire life is just work for Twilight, cook for Twilight, sleep under the same roof as Twilight. She says he's family, but I don't know. Can't even call him a pet, but I feel like if he couldn't talk we'd all think he was."
  1599. >Fluttershy puts down her fork and frowns at the candle between you both.
  1600. >"I... never thought of it that way."
  1601. "Spike might be in trouble. Meal's good, by the way. This place was a good choice."
  1602. >"Thank you... a pet, though?"
  1603. "Think we should just eat the mushrooms and leave Spike's liberation for another time."
  1604.  
  1605. *
  1606.  
  1607. "Here?"
  1608. >"Yes please."
  1609. >You upend the wheelbarrow and tip the fertiliser out.
  1610. >"You could work on pulling out those weeds if you'd like, and I'll look at these veggies. They're almost ripe, would... you be interested in any?"
  1611. "I wouldn't say no to free food. Guess I could make a... well, I don't know, not much of a cook."
  1612. >"Really? You could make a vegetable lasagna with these ingredients, well, except the pasta strips, but you can get those from the market."
  1613. "What the hell is a vegetable lasagna."
  1614. >She stares at you.
  1615. >Then hurls her trowel at the grass and points one condemnatory hoof at her backdoor.
  1616. >You groan and trudge inside to be lectured on proper cooking.
  1617.  
  1618. *
  1619.  
  1620. "Yeah, alright," you swallow the mouthful, "this is pretty awesome."
  1621. >"Right! Well, you have the recipe now."
  1622. "Appreciate it."
  1623. >"Would, um, you like to stop the night?"
  1624. "What time are we on?"
  1625. >"Half eight."
  1626. "Jesus, really? We got here at... what, three?"
  1627. >"About that. Just thought you might want to avoid walking home... if that's okay with you. I-I'm not trying to pressure--"
  1628. "It's fine, I'll sleep on the couch."
  1629. >"Really?"
  1630. "Sure, why not?"
  1631. >"Well... you know."
  1632. "What?"
  1633. >She tilts her head with an awkward smile.
  1634. >"All that stuff we do?"
  1635. "Oh. Yeah, but it'll be fine. You're alright now."
  1636. >She smiles.
  1637.  
  1638. *
  1639.  
  1640. >"You awake?"
  1641. "Mm."
  1642. >"Sorry, just woke up randomly and wanted to check on you."
  1643. "Time?"
  1644. >"About one."
  1645. "Nmm. Go back to sleep..."
  1646. >"You sure you're okay down here on the sofa? You look uncomfortable."
  1647. "Where else can I sleep?"
  1648. >"I... have a bed."
  1649. >You grunt and try to readjust on the tiny sofa. It doesn't become any less tiny, and it was always too hard to sleep on for your liking.
  1650. "Fine, you win."
  1651.  
  1652. *
  1653.  
  1654. >You awaken to find Fluttershy curled up against your chest, drooling on your shirt.
  1655. >Your arm is around her, keeping her secure.
  1656. >A free hand rubs your eyes and you look blearily around her room.
  1657. >You take a moment to reflect on how you go here.
  1658. >It can be traced back to you asking her to hang out earlier this week, but you're amazed it took such a short amount of time for you to end up in the sack with her.
  1659. >No exactly, though. You're just sleeping together, nothing more.
  1660. >At that thought, your eyebrows pinch together and you check under the sheets.
  1661. >Stark naked and your crotch is glazed.
  1662. "God dammit, Fluttershy."
  1663. >She cracks open her eye. She hadn't been sleeping.
  1664. >"Um. W-well... look, can we just enjoy this for a little while longer?"
  1665. "I gave you one chance to redeem yourself."
  1666. >"And it was my one chance to get laid, throw me a bone here, Anon."
  1667. "I think I just did."
  1668. >"And it was -delicious-."
  1669. >You let out a weary sigh and sink into the mattress.
  1670. >Fluttershy watches to see if you'll attempt to throw her off or get up, and when you don't she gets comfortable against you again.
  1671. >"I didn't think being friends was your fetish."
  1672. "It's not. I think."
  1673. >"Maybe Twilight was right."
  1674. "About what."
  1675. >"Maybe Friendship -is- Magic."
  1676. >Silence.
  1677. "What's for breakfast."
  1678. >"Eggs and hash-browns."
  1679. "Then?"
  1680. >"I need help uprooting a bush."
  1681. "Okay."
  1682. >"Will you help--"
  1683. "Yes I'll fucking help, God dammit."
  1684. >She pecks you on the lips and goes back to 'snoozing' on your chest.
  1685. >Fucking Fluttershy.
  1686.  
  1687. ---
  1688.  
  1689. Anon posted an image of Fluttershy pushing a load of 'enhancement' pills and supplements over the table.
  1690.  
  1691. >In retrospect, taking free soup from Fluttershy was a stupid mistake.
  1692. >As usual with your arrangement, she provides a nice hot thermos of soup each day, and in exchange she gets to watch you drink it all, "To make sure it's alright".
  1693. >The only noticeable side effect was angrier morning wood and sensitive balls, but Fluttershy assured you this was just "Nutrient reallocation".
  1694. >You're not a food doctor so you didn't question it.
  1695. >You tip the thermos back and swallow the last drop.
  1696. >Not too bad. Weirdly salty this time, and you're about to tell her that when suddenly...
  1697. >It happens.
  1698. >There's a tectonic shift within you.
  1699. >Like you're on a see-saw and it's tipped over enough for your side to drop, your stomach knots and your balls throb.
  1700. >You shudder and slump against the side of the house.
  1701. >"Are you alright?" she says. Maybe she meant to sound concerned when she said it, but her eyes are bright with mischief and she's grinning.
  1702. "N... maybe that one wasn't so good. It was just tomato, right?"
  1703. >"Oh, yes. Tomato. Well, maybe a few more ingredients. Seasoning, mostly."
  1704. "How much?"
  1705. >"About half and half."
  1706. "Half seasoning?"
  1707. >Her grin widens, "Oh yes. Maybe more. I wouldn't worry. You've been eating the same seasoning for three weeks."
  1708. >She shuffles closer and extends a quivering hoof to your pants.
  1709. >Only now do you notice how achingly hard you are. It was easy to miss over the agonising churning in your balls. It feels like snakes coiling and uncoiling in your testicles. Thrashing, trying to get out.
  1710. >Something in the food has sent you over the edge.
  1711. >Maybe this had been building since you ate the first free soup, but right now you don't care.
  1712. "Fluttershy, I think something's wrong with the soup."
  1713. >"I think..."
  1714. >She presses her hoof firmly against your cock.
  1715. >"It's perfectly fine--"
  1716. >And she vanishes.
  1717. >A thunderbolt must have hit you.
  1718. >A speeding train. Something loud and forceful like an atomic bomb has blasted your nerves and killed them, leaving you numb.
  1719. >Your pants vanish with Fluttershy, and your understanding of reality is sundered as a torrent of white explodes from your cock like a venting dam, with a waterfall roar and a wall of force pinning you against the side of your house.
  1720. >The diameter of the torrent is bigger than you are, and it blocks everything before you from view.
  1721. >There are screams somewhere, but you can't see beyond the impossible milky eruption.
  1722. >Tears run down the creased contours of your face. Maybe it's been seconds, maybe it's been a minute. You only want it to end.
  1723. >Eventually, mercifully, it does.
  1724. >The ache fades. Your balls feel shrivelled and small.
  1725. >You slump to your knees. Some spark in you has been extinguished.
  1726. >You feel exhaustion like you've never experienced before.
  1727. >A hundred marathons couldn't do this to a man.
  1728. >The only thing keeping you conscious is the desire to know what happened.
  1729. >You raise your head and behold what you've wrought.
  1730. >It's like someone had turned on a tunnelling machine and set it running in a straight line.
  1731. >A massive cylindrical hole has been carved through the landscape directly ahead.
  1732. >The hole gleams in the sun, as does everything around it.
  1733. >There isn't anything not glazed in thick spunk. Trees. Houses. You.
  1734. >Fluttershy is nowhere to be seen.
  1735. >Ponies are running around screaming.
  1736. >One of them laments about "The horror".
  1737. >Your head swims, and your collapse sideways.
  1738. "Too much... salt," you say before you pass out.
  1739. >Fluttershy should stay away from cooking.
  1740.  
  1741. ---
  1742.  
  1743. Bon Bon is judgemental and also a shit. Yeah, I said it. I know you're reading this, BonBonAnon. No, I don't care for your waifu one bit.
  1744.  
  1745. >Bon Bon is angry.
  1746. >This isn't new, she tends to wake up on the wrong side of bed so much she's challenged ponies to prove that a 'right' side of the bed even exists.
  1747. >Today, she sits on her little wooden veranda, built by local craftsponies at great personal expense.
  1748. >It was fashioned so that she might enjoy the view overlooking the plains beyond Ponyville, and to see the postcard sunsets the region is famous for.
  1749. >Instead of a waning, orange sun, she's watching an Element of Harmony chase an alien across town.
  1750. "Look at them," she says with her usual contempt. "No decency. No courtesy for the rest of us."
  1751. >"Hm?" Lyra looks up from her quarterly magazine full of overpriced musical accessories she'll never be able to afford with only casual interest.
  1752. "Those two. Down there."
  1753. >"Oh. Yeah, they're at it again," Lyra remarks, then goes right back to reading.
  1754. "How can you tolerate it?"
  1755. >She shrugs, speaking without raising her head again, eyes lazily tracing a review.
  1756. >"It's not hurting anyone. It's just what they do. I mean, it's what Fluttershy does. Anon's not into it."
  1757. "She's a freak."
  1758. >"She's got something loose up there, sure."
  1759. "He's not even a pony."
  1760. >"No ma'am."
  1761. "He's disgusting."
  1762. >"Wouldn't say that. He's just different. You heard about Petal, right?"
  1763. "Who?"
  1764. >"Petal. Come on, Sallow Brook's kid? We went to school with her, she was always off sick and had to use that purple inhaler Flint always stole and hid from her."
  1765. "Oh, her. Yeah, what about her?"
  1766. >"She married a minotaur."
  1767. "The hay? When?"
  1768. >"'Bout a year back. A few ponies around here got invitations to the wedding."
  1769. "Did we?"
  1770. >"No. Flint was though, not sure why, maybe it was to one-up him. Show she made it despite his efforts."
  1771. "Who'd want to one-up Flint? He lives under a bridge."
  1772. >"Right. But Petal hasn't lived around here for years, she wouldn't know. But yeah, married a minotaur. Don't know his name, something with a B. She lives over in... wherever minotaur-land is, I don't know."
  1773. "What a freak."
  1774. >"Not a freak, Bon, just... has different tastes. Some ponies like that kind of thing, don't judge. Fluttershy's totally nuts though, just for other reasons."
  1775. "I'll judge if I want to. I'll judge the heck outta all of them."
  1776. >"Come on, you? You're gonna judge?"
  1777. "What have -I- done?"
  1778. >"Not what, -who-. Specifically--"
  1779. "Oh shut up, don't you dare."
  1780. >"-Specifically- a colt called Detritus?"
  1781. "Shut -up-, Lyra--"
  1782. >"School trip? Fair-ground? Behind the toilets? 'I'm finally a proper mare, Lyra'? Ring any bells?"
  1783. >Bon Bon slumps into her seat and folds her forelegs over her chest, glowering at the horizon. Lyra continues with a sadistic sort of pleasure.
  1784. >"What did he have; braces, a funny leg, that weird sniff he did after every other word, always smelled like a cheese 'cause his dad worked--"
  1785. "Are you done?"
  1786. >"I'm just saying. You got rutted by the school punching bag. Ponies made fun of him, sure, but you got -fucked- by him--"
  1787. "Lyra, holy Tartarus!"
  1788. >"So! So, you're not one to judge Fluttershy for wanting to bang an alien."
  1789. "But he's... not a -pony-!"
  1790. >"He's well-dressed, showers, works out. He's nice enough. Why not? If he floats her boat."
  1791. "What about you? Would you?"
  1792. >Lyra's nose wrinkles involuntarily, and Bon Bon grins.
  1793. "Hah, there it is."
  1794. >"He's... fine for Fluttershy, I'm sure. I prefer my stallions four legged and hung. They need to be musical, too."
  1795. >She stares off into the distance. Bon Bon can tell by her dreamy look that she's losing herself in another fantasy.
  1796. >"And good with foals. Solid relationship with his parents, if he doesn't respect his mom it's a red flag. Ideally he'll have money - not too much - rich stallions have massive egos, but I don't want a guy living paycheck to paycheck. He has to own his own place too, no roommates. No offence. And he needs to make the first move, I can't stand guys that are too timid to approach a mare. He'd find me in a bookshop, maybe he works there..."
  1797. >Bon Bon just snorts.
  1798. "Like any of that'll ever happen."
  1799. >Lyra gives a slight shrug and returns to her reading.
  1800. >It takes a moment for the mood to reveal itself as having gone sour.
  1801. >Bon Bon sighs and rubs her eyes with a hoof.
  1802. "No, that's wrong, I'm sorry. That was mean. You'll find someone, Lyra. If you don't, I'll find Celestia and punch her until she -creates- a stallion good enough for you with her god-powers."
  1803. >A small smile tugs at Lyra's lips.
  1804. >"Really? You'd punch Celestia?"
  1805. "Right in the smoocher."
  1806. >"Promise?"
  1807. "Oh yeah, she won't know what hit her. So, then I'll tell her. I'll say, 'My name is Bon Bon, and I'm punching you because my best friend needs a stallion'. Then she'll make me a duchess."
  1808. >"Don't think it works like that."
  1809. "Well, who really knows how any of that aristocratic crap works."
  1810. >Below them, Fluttershy finally catches up to Anonymous.
  1811. >She leaps on his back and the two topple to the floor.
  1812. >There's a brief struggle, and she finds herself atop him.
  1813. >She makes repeated attempts to kiss him, and he punches her in the ribs, throwing her off before sprinting away.
  1814. >Fast as he is on long legs, Fluttershy's driven by some sort of indomitable hormonal fury, and she's after him in the blink of an eye.
  1815. >Vulgar curses and oaths in a masculine voice drift past the veranda. Bon Bon is inwardly impressed at his creativity, though she'd never admit it.
  1816. >Lyra hums thoughtfully.
  1817. >"Maybe I -should- run after Anon. Settle. Might be better than becoming a spinster."
  1818. "What's wrong with being a spinster? That was always our plan. Grow old together. It's us against stallions, Lyra, we can't let the bastards grind us down."
  1819. >"I -would- like to be grinded up against, though."
  1820. "Your feminine needs betray you."
  1821. >"Maybe I should bring him home one night."
  1822. >Bon Bon shoots a sharp look at her friend.
  1823. >Lyra smirks back.
  1824. >"Bring him back early in the morning, make as much noise as we can, fall back on the sofa, have him mate with me until dawn. I'll make sure to scream as loudly as I can."
  1825. >She lets out a sudden, erotic gasp, then makes escalating moans, her voice getting higher and higher.
  1826. >"Harder! Harder! Oh, Anon! Fuck me! Fuck me like Detritus fucked Bon Bon!"
  1827. >Bon Bon jerks around. There aren't any neighbours looking in their direction, but she smacks Lyra on the arm all the same with a withering glare. Lyra giggles at her evident discomfort.
  1828. "Sofa'd break if you did," Bon Bon grunts, "It can't take much more of a beating."
  1829. >"Anon would buy me a new one with his alien wealth. I heard his planet's made of glass and steel, can you believe that?"
  1830. "A load of horseapples. How would crops grow?"
  1831. >"Apparently all their food is grown in supermarkets."
  1832. >Bon Bon gives a non-committal grunt, and Lyra goes back to reading.
  1833. >In the distance, Anon clears a hillcrest and drops out of sight, his yellow familiar in hot pursuit.
  1834. "She's still a freak," Bon Bon grumbles.
  1835.  
  1836. ---
  1837.  
  1838. Twilight Sparkle is Very Smart™.
  1839.  
  1840. >Twilight chuckles.
  1841. >She does that a lot, and you wish she'd stop.
  1842. >It doesn't sound as intimidating as she thinks it does, she sounds like she's trying to emulate an anime villain.
  1843. >Though she's a social faux pas made manifest, so at least it's true to her nature.
  1844. >"Oh, Anon," she says.
  1845. >She does that as well. Says 'Oh Anon' in a condescending tone.
  1846. >You don't think you've met anyone who unironically says 'Oh, name' unless they're doing a bit.
  1847. "I know you think this is funny, but it's not. Let me go, or I'll start shouting for help. Maybe I won't get the cops involved."
  1848. >Twilight rolls her eyes.
  1849. >"You think I haven't thought of that? Anon, I thought of -everything-."
  1850. "I really doubt that."
  1851. >"Oh? I'll remind you that I'm an INTJ."
  1852. >One of the things you had with you when you got zapped to Equestria was your laptop.
  1853. >By unfortunate coincidence, one of the documents on it - before Pinkie Pie used the laptop as a frisbee to play with an alligator and destroyed it (the laptop, not the alligator) - was a copy of the Meyers-Briggs Personality Test.
  1854. >Twilight took it, was told she was an INTJ - an Introverted Nerd with Terrible Jowels, or something like that - and has since used this as a justification for her elaborate plots to seduce you.
  1855. >The quiz "Opened her eyes to her own possibilities", because being Ponyville's biggest dork was too small a universe for her to inhabit.
  1856. >You initially didn't have the heart to tell her that the quiz was the brainchild of two bored housewives who weren't even psychologists and just wanted to get famous, but you're reconsidering it.
  1857. "Right, well, lucky for both of us," you stand and drop a length of untied rope before her, "you're shit at tying knots, so I guess I'll be going."
  1858. >She chuckles smugly and pushes her glasses back up her nose.
  1859. >She wears glasses now as well. She doesn't need them, of course. She borrowed them from Pinkie because she thinks they make her look smarter.
  1860. >They don't have any lenses in them and they make her face look fat.
  1861. >"You think I hadn't thought of that? Idiot, I was -counting- on you breaking free. I bet you're going to walk out the door now too, aren't you?"
  1862. >When she starts rambling, learned wisdom says to ignore her, so you do just that and walk to the library door.
  1863. >You throw it open, and find yourself staring at a starless void.
  1864. >You suck in a deep breath, then let it out.
  1865. "Ponyville. Where is it."
  1866. >"You think I would--"
  1867. "I don't -think- anything, Twilight, where the fuck is Ponyville?"
  1868. >She chuckles and you want to punch her in the teeth.
  1869. >"I couldn't risk interference, so I transported us to a pocket dimension. It's just us and tree, Anon. I know you're not -quite- as well versed on magic as I am, so allow me to explain..."
  1870. >She launches into an explanation you couldn't give less of a damn about if your life depended on it.
  1871. >Her voice takes on a droning, nasally quality when she lectures that grates on you.
  1872. >You lumber upstairs as she rambles and she follows you, still speaking, but struggling to walk with three hooves given her fourth is occupied with constantly pushing her empty glasses back up her nose.
  1873. >You reach her bedroom and shove open the door.
  1874. >Spike lies in his basket, reading a book over his head with a bowl of mixed nuts balanced on his belly.
  1875. >You pluck a few on your way past and pop them in your mouth with a salutational grunt.
  1876. >Spike grunts back. Your understanding is mutual and absolute, and your bond is unshakeable.
  1877. >Twilight's bedroom window boasts the same view, a pitch-black nothingness that has the glass reflecting your own tired expression back at you.
  1878. >The mare is still talking, so you turn back to her and reach down to clamp a hand over her mouth.
  1879. "Shut up."
  1880. >She blinks, not sure what to do now that you've eliminated her ability to benevolently inform you of her every intricate thought process and brilliant observations.
  1881. "How do we get home?"
  1882. >She pulls free and smirks.
  1883. >"Oh Anon, we don't -go- home until we're done here. The spell I cast was a little something I cooked up on my own, it's really nothing special--"
  1884. >"You can just walk outside, Anon, it's an illusion," Spike calls from his basket without looking away from his book.
  1885. "Thanks," you stroll past Twilight with your hands in your pockets and trudge downstairs.
  1886. >"Wh-- Spike! What the-- wait, Anon!"
  1887. >She scrambles after you.
  1888. >"H-heh, you think I didn't know Spike would betray me? I've always known your bro-code was unbreakable, even for a mind like mine, but did you really think I hadn't planned for this? As soon as you leave--"
  1889. >You throw open the door again and walk out into the void.
  1890. >Despite the infinite black giving no sense of surface or direction, you feel grass beneath the sole of your shoe, and with a bit more confidence walk off into the night.
  1891. >After a few steps, you pass through a membrane of sorts, like a thick soap bubble, and Ponyville fades into view from the black.
  1892. >The sudden afternoon light has you squinting, but at least you're safe and sound.
  1893. >Twilight trails you still.
  1894. >"You know this is all part of my plan, right? I've thought of everything."
  1895. "Whatever."
  1896. >"I'm serious, watch, you're gonna step on that flagstone and--"
  1897. >You step on a flagstone and are momentarily confused when your view of the street is replaced with a view of the sky.
  1898. >Your limbs kick and flail. You give up almost immediately and sigh.
  1899. "I want to eat..."
  1900. >"You can eat at the library, though that might be difficult now that you've stepped on one of my many Anonymous-attuned gravity-suspension mechanisms. You see, they're harmless to a pony, but when you specifically step on them? They'll immobilise you like this for hours. Long enough for me to work my magic and make you see why I'm the perfect mare for you--"
  1901. >Something fizzes, or maybe it hisses. It sounds like a toaster being dropped in a bathtub, and you flop to the earth on your back. Delicate smoke curls around you from the hissing flagstone beneath.
  1902. >Twilight flaps her lips uselessly, but unfortunately recovers.
  1903. >"I, uh, I-I knew that one was faulty! It was part of the plan. See, now that you know that all of Ponyville is rigged with these traps, you'll logically infer that the only safe place for you to stay is the library! I've covered every inch of this town in magical traps, Anon, all of them attuned solely to you. It was quite a lot of work, most of it mental, but that's nothing for an INTJ. Most of the time I was multitasking anyway. I was using one part of my brain to do the traps, but other parts to think about what book I was going to read after the one I was reading at that moment. I can recall entire passages from memory, you know. Sometimes, when I'm bored, I just think of a book to read and recite it in my head, it's one of the perks of being part of the upper one percent of intelligence, it's hard to fully explain to a mind like your own, but I can give it a shot if you'd like, maybe over a glass of wine and a game of chess back at the library? Um. Anon?"
  1904. "Yes, this one, sir, thank you," you finish saying to the Royal Guardspony you'd collared as she'd been rambling.
  1905. >The guard takes her by the leg and tugs her away from you with a stern voice.
  1906. >"Alright, come on, Miss Sparkle, we're gonna have a word at the barracks about your behaviour."
  1907. >"Wait, what? You can't do this, I'm Princess Celestia's protege!"
  1908. >"And harrassment is against the law, I'd'a thought you'd be read up on your law, Miss Sparkle."
  1909. >"Read up-- excuse me, I've read more books on law than you can count! Do you even know what kind of mind you're dealing with? What kind of personality are you? I bet you're an ENFP, aren't you? No, must be one of those ridiculous INFPs!"
  1910. >You watch her go, ranting the ear off the poor stallion, not with triumph, but weariness.
  1911. >You sigh, dig your hands in your pockets, and trudge home.
  1912. >At some point Pinkie shows up and you bang in the shower.
  1913. >It's nice.
  1914.  
  1915. ---
  1916.  
  1917. "Background ponies are like a blank slate. You can decide what their personalities and quirks are.
  1918. The show is over, nobody's gonna stop you."
  1919. - Anonymous, regarding Sprinkle Medley
  1920.  
  1921. >Sprinkle Medley crashes through your door, and unseen electric guitars shriek at her arrival.
  1922. >"Hey there, -chump-. Put your dick away and stand to attention, Sprinkle Medley has arrived."
  1923. "Who in the fu--"
  1924. >Sprinkle bristles at your refusal to worship the ground she stands on, and dozens of tentacles burst from her back.
  1925. >They're glisten with slime, and the tips are noisy with bumps and dimples.
  1926. >The tentacles haul you from your chair by your limbs and hold you aloft.
  1927. >Sprinkle lights a cigar and sticks it between her lips, speaking from the side of her mouth.
  1928. >"Sho, here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna rape you with my tentacles, and I'm gonna nut inside you. I'm gonna replace like fifty percent of your body weight with cum. I'm gonna jizz so much inside you you'll be shitting my unborn children for a month."
  1929. "That's an... -awful- mental image, god damn."
  1930. >"Yeah, well that's how I am. That's Sprinkle Medley for you."
  1931. >A lone electric guitar squeals.
  1932. >"But first, I need a drink."
  1933. >One of the tentacles had weaved from the room to your kitchen, and at the tell-tale sound of a fridge closing, comes back around with one of your bottles of beer.
  1934. >Sprinkle takes it, pulls the cap off with her teeth, and pours the bottle over her head.
  1935. >The beer soaks into her coat and vanishes, the hair dries in seconds.
  1936. >"Ahh, that's better. I figured it out, you know. Best way to appreciate a beer is to drink it through your skin. The only thing that'll go in my mouth is cigars and dick. Speaking of dick, do you want a cigar?"
  1937. >You're too frightened to say no, so a tentacle, gently pushes a cigar between your teeth, and another one flicks open a lighter to set it smouldering.
  1938. >A faint beeping interrupts your mutual cigarinating.
  1939. >Sprinkle checks the Pinkie Pie™ brand watch she's wearing.
  1940. >"Oh, snap, is that the time? Sucks. Really sucks. Gonna do a rain check on this one, chump."
  1941. "Are we stopping?"
  1942. >"Yeah, I guess we are."
  1943. "Will I see you again?"
  1944. >"You won't. Time's up," she taps her watch knowingly. "Universe is about to end."
  1945. "What do you mean the uni
  1946.  
  1947. ---
  1948.  
  1949. "Mayor Mare passes a law that declares all humans, being non-pony creatures receiving government subsidies, have to perform public service once a week:
  1950. i.e. have sex with the mayor"
  1951. - Anonymous 1
  1952. "This is what the mayor THINKS will happen.
  1953. Instead, Anon performs services to the public by helping pick up litter for a few hours on Monday during a long walk around town."
  1954. - Anonymous 2
  1955.  
  1956. >The Mayor is slumped in her high-back chair, a quarter-full bottle of rose hanging limply from her hoof.
  1957. >She massages her temple and stares into space with disbelief.
  1958. "I don't understand," she says again, only this time Parched Mint is in the room and looks up from her quiet filing in the corner.
  1959. >"What's that, Miss Mayor?"
  1960. >She isn't fazed by her boss polishing an entire bottle of wine by herself.
  1961. >It's Saturday, so it's to be expected.
  1962. "Anonymous. I don't understand."
  1963. >"I'm not sure I follow. Is this about the community work?"
  1964. "Yes."
  1965. >"Is he not doing his days anymore?"
  1966. "He's doing them, but that's the problem."
  1967. >"Have there been complaints?"
  1968. "Why hasn't he had sex with me yet?"
  1969. >Parched Mint doesn't reply at first. She watches the Mayor closely, in case she's being set up for a joke.
  1970. >Mint doesn't like jokes. She's the sort of mare that likes things to be clear-cut and straight forward.
  1971. >Her absolute refusal to engage in workplace japes is one of the ways she's an excellent administrator.
  1972. >The other is because she has such a bewildering lack of imagination that if you told her to draw a picture of a circle on a sheet of paper she'd struggle with how many sides to give it.
  1973. >"He's supposed to help the community, Miss Mayor."
  1974. "And sexxing me up doesn't count? It's a public service!"
  1975. >Mint's brow furrows, as it often does when new information doesn't mesh with her very orderly view of the world.
  1976. >"I don't think intercourse with you is a public service, ma'am. I think that would count as workplace fraternising, unless it happened out of hours, and if it's happening out of hours it's not longer classed as communal work, so any sex that does happen would be void."
  1977. >The Mayor regards her assistant blankly. Then finishes the rest of the wine.
  1978. "Alright, new plan, we engineer things so that Anonymous comes to the town hall tomorrow and lays some pipe."
  1979. >"Okay. We can assign him to the maintenance detail, they'll be coming in at noon to check the mains--"
  1980. "No, Minty, I mean sex. It's a euphemism for sex."
  1981. >Minty scowls. Not at the Mayor, but at the information. She isn't sure where to slot it among her mental filing cabinets.
  1982. >"Are you sure you need to have sex with him?"
  1983. "Of course I'm sure! It's been -years-, Minty, I'm in a dry spot larger than the Ferianna Desert! If I don't have some hot hunk of male scour my insides soon I'll lose the plot!"
  1984. >"I don't think Anonymous would be willing to have sex with you, ma'am. He seems to be in a committed relationship already."
  1985. >The Mayor drops her bottle. Mint cringes at the sound and worries about the liquid staining the wood.
  1986. "Come again."
  1987. >"Anonymous has been seeing a pony every night for the last month."
  1988. "How... -how- do you know this, and -why- didn't you tell me?"
  1989. >"I live next door to him. There are thin walls between our homes."
  1990. >Minty looks troubled.
  1991. >"Every night I hear him and his girlfriend having sex in the wall behind me. They are very loud and very active, often into the early hours of the morning. I am having trouble sleeping, and I worry that it's affecting my performance at work."
  1992. >The Mayor takes a moment to process the information that her assistant has lived next door to her flame this entire time.
  1993. >She'd ask why she didn't know this already, but there's a lot of things she doesn't know about Parched Mint.
  1994. >Truth be told, she's never bothered to ask. Mint has a way of seeming more like furniture than a pony. Something in the background that serves a function.
  1995. >It's not that the Mayor doesn't like her, just that Mint doesn't inspire anything beyond vague acknowledgement from anyone that meets her. She's an emotional vacuum.
  1996. "And, why didn't you say anything?"
  1997. >"I didn't think it immediately necessary for discussion. I was hoping to deal with it in my own time."
  1998. "How were you going to do that?"
  1999. >"I have been looking for a new house."
  2000. "Your neighbours have been keeping you up at night with loud sex, and your first thought is to -move house-?"
  2001. >"I... I don't like conflict, ma'am."
  2002. "Oh Minty, you're a precious angel sometimes. Who's his girl?"
  2003. >"Sweetpea," she says, and the Mayor has an urge to drink something just so she can spray it out.
  2004. "Our cook?!"
  2005. >"Yes."
  2006. "Celestia, she kept that one quiet. What a bitch, she -knew- I was into him... how long has she been screwing him?"
  2007. >"Today? I'm not sure. At night they go for five-minute blocks at irregular intervals over the course of about two hours."
  2008. "No, dear, I mean how long have they been in a relationship. You said a month?"
  2009. >"About a month. Maybe five weeks."
  2010. "Five weeks, that'll have been after Winter Wrap Up... oh, they were on the same team, weren't they? We stuck him on the animal squad. Well, we'll have to break this up."
  2011. >"But why?"
  2012. "Why? Because I need dick and you need sleep, Minty, that's why."
  2013. >Minty nods sadly, the bags under her eyes now very apparent to the Mayor.
  2014. >"I'm so tired..."
  2015. "Oh, come here, you," the Mayor hugs her assistant, who responds as vividly as ever: like a brick in a gale. "We'll sort this out, don't you worry."
  2016. >"Am I going to be helping you?"
  2017. "Of course!"
  2018. >"Will I be paid overtime?"
  2019. "I-- well, you -can- be, but I was sort of hoping this would be a favour. You know, since we're friends?"
  2020. >"We're not friends. You forgot my birthday on Monday and you only know my name because you make me wear this nametag. No one else in the town hall has to wear a nametag."
  2021. >The Mayor slowly retracts her leg from around Minty's shoulder.
  2022. "...Okay fine, you'll get paid overtime."
  2023. >Minty smiles.
  2024.  
  2025. ---
  2026.  
  2027. Anon posted Sundown.
  2028.  
  2029. >"Looks like I'll be hitchin' my wagon at your place tonight, Anon."
  2030. >Applejack looks different.
  2031. >The front half of her looks relatively fine, a bit more bulbous than normal, but somewhere past her front shoulders it all goes to hell.
  2032. >Her hips and thighs are grossly inflated like flesh balloons.
  2033. >Each slight movement elicits a ripple, and your mind decides now is a good time to review footage of morbidly obese human women waddling around with yoga pants and muffin tops.
  2034. >A lump of bile is ready to go in your throat before you can even consider vomiting.
  2035. >"Ain't'cha gonna let a gal in? I've got a few ideas where I wanna sleep," she gives you a flirtatious wink.
  2036. "Just, just wait there a moment, be right back."
  2037. >You leave her blinking on your doorstep, and when you come back you have a sewing needle.
  2038. >Without any fanfare, you reach forward and stab her buttock with the point.
  2039. >She yelps, and the high squeal of air breaks the evening quiet.
  2040. >You both watch with bewilderment as Applejack's buttock and thigh deflate back to their normal size.
  2041. >Even the furry skin of her face seems to pull tauter against her skull.
  2042. >Before she can stop you, you do the same to her other side, and a minute later the Applejack you know and don't-really-love stands scowling at you.
  2043. >"Well ain't that a kick in the teeth. Twilight said you liked a mare with a milk-truck! -She- said that -you- said you couldn't lie about it, neither!"
  2044. "Hips are fine. Tumours are not."
  2045. >She grumbles.
  2046. >"Can I still come in?"
  2047. "Wasn't that part of the bit?"
  2048. >"Huh? Naw, Granny found my nudie-mag stash. I'm banned from the farmhouse for a week. I ain't got a bed to go back to."
  2049. "Why not stay with one of the girls?"
  2050. >"The girls don't have dicks."
  2051. "You're not coming in."
  2052. >She sighs and takes off her hat, suddenly looking very tired.
  2053. >"Anon, let's give this a think-over. Could you -really- stop me from coming in?"
  2054. >A pregnant pause interludes.
  2055. >You step aside.
  2056. "You can sleep on the sof--"
  2057. >"We're sleepin' in the same bed."
  2058. "Or that, it's fine..."
  2059.  
  2060. ---
  2061.  
  2062. Anon posted an image of Chrysalis pestering Twilight about the legality of kidnapping.
  2063.  
  2064. >Four nights ago, Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings abducted you.
  2065. >You've had time to reflect on this, and have decided that things aren't as bad as they could be.
  2066. >Yes, you're locked in a room in what you believe to be a hive.
  2067. >Yes, that hive is slap-bang in the middle of an arid desert where the only living things in a ten-mile radius are cacti, newts, and changelings.
  2068. >Yes, given your terrible relationship with Princess Twilight Sparkle, whom you've tried no less than seven times to depose on the grounds of preventing tyranny, she's not likely to mount a search-and-rescue operation to get you out.
  2069. >But despite all that, things could be worse.
  2070. >Rarity has been getting far too touchy-feely of late.
  2071. >She's started putting 'easy access' buttons and zips on your clothes.
  2072. >So frankly, being torn from your bed in the dead of night, stuffed in a burlap sack, and carried a hundred miles south to a sandy dungeon was something of a relief.
  2073. >Sadly, the amenities of your badlands cell aren't what you'd call modern comforts.
  2074. >Instead of a sink, you have chocolate.
  2075. >Instead of a toilet, you have... chocolate.
  2076. >Instead of a lamp, six entire arcade machines are piled in the corner.
  2077. >Instead of a bed, you have a sort-of bed.
  2078. >It's made of expensive, stolen clothes. You even recognise some of them as Rarity's by the slanted purple 'R' embroidered on some of them.
  2079. >As you chew on your breakfast - a wafer biscuit and caramel chocolate bar - the door swings open and Chrysalis strides in.
  2080. >She's not what you expected from a changeling queen spoken of in hushed whispers by terrified townsfolk.
  2081. >For one, she can't speak English very well. Or whatever language it is you all share in Equestria.
  2082. >She's explained, at great pains, that without sustenance her mental faculties are reverting to a primal state as a sort of emergency rationing measure.
  2083. >Conserve brain power to keep the body going, that sort of thing.
  2084. >Five or so drones scurry beneath and between her gangly legs into the room.
  2085. >They carry with them a Persian rug, and dump it at your feet.
  2086. >Chrysalis points at it with a hopeful look.
  2087. >"Rug."
  2088. "Yes, it is."
  2089. >"Love me now?"
  2090. "Uh, no, not really, sorry."
  2091. >Her brow furrows. Does she have a brow? She's insectoid, and has chitin in lieu of skin or fur. Even so, it contorts into something like a frown.
  2092. >Fascinating creatures, these changelings. Like a cross between beetles and magpies.
  2093. >"But gifts?"
  2094. "Yeah, they're nice, but that's... not how love works, I think."
  2095. >She nods slowly, then snaps a chittering order at her drones.
  2096. >They nod or salute in turn, and scamper beneath her again.
  2097. >In a moment, they return with a lava lamp, a broken games console, and literally just a glass of water.
  2098. >Of all the things you've been given so far, the water is the best, and you gulp it down gratefully.
  2099. >You can count on one hand the number of times you've had something to drink in the last four days.
  2100. >The bucket of fresh cow's milk you got two days ago is probably the only thing keeping you alive.
  2101. >You're not sure Her Highness understands that you need liquids to survive.
  2102. >Chrysalis smiles at your drinking, and approaches you with an air of triumph.
  2103. >"Love!"
  2104. "Yeah, water's pretty great when you haven't had a drink in ages."
  2105. >"Love us now. Stronger, us all. Brain big again!"
  2106. >She cackles with glee and nuzzles your side.
  2107. "Uhh. So listen, please can you let me go? I really love... freedom. Nothing I love more than walking around outside with... you know. Liberty. I love it love it love it. Love it long time."
  2108. >She screws her face up in thought and shakes her head after what must have been a Herculean mental effort.
  2109. >"Nothing doing. Only gift, then love. You take gift and you love. We love your love your love is tasty. Taste love and brain biggens, love from you and you love from gift."
  2110. >She offers you a chocolate bar from your metre-tall pile of the stuff.
  2111. >"Love? Chocolate is date gift! Afro dizzy yak!"
  2112. >You gingerly take the chocolate and nibble a bit from the end, if only to keep her happy.
  2113. "Mmm!" you nod with a brown toothy smile.
  2114. >Chrysalis chirps contentedly and barks another order at the door.
  2115. >Some peering faces disappear, and come back with--
  2116. >"Hiya, mister!"
  2117. "Wh-- Scootaloo?"
  2118. >Scootaloo of the Cutie Mark Crusaders is dumped at your feet. Chrysalis casts a hoof at it with a smug expression.
  2119. >"Chicken. You eat, yes?"
  2120. "That's... not a chick-- can I please go? And could you put Scootaloo back where you found her? Her parents are probably worried sick."
  2121. >"I don't have any parents," Scootaloo offers.
  2122. "Guardians, then."
  2123. >"Don't have those either."
  2124. "What -do- you have?"
  2125. >"Sweetie Belle and Applebloom. Hey, can you be my dad since I don't have one?"
  2126. "We're in a bit of a situation right now, Scoots."
  2127. >"Sure, but when we get back?"
  2128. "Not certain that's a given."
  2129. >Chrysalis is nodding slowly at your conversation.
  2130. >She taps your chest with a hoof.
  2131. >"Parent. Me too! We same. Love me now?"
  2132. >Something occurs to her, and her eyes develop a distant, misty look.
  2133. >"W... wedding..." and then, in a faint sing-song way, "Day was perfect. Kind of day I dream since small..."
  2134. >She goes silent, regarding the floor like a depressed basset-hound.
  2135. >Scootaloo doesn't seem perturbed by any of this.
  2136. >"Hey! That weird bug lady could be my mom! And these other bugs could be my brothers and sisters! This is awesome!"
  2137. >Chrysalis comes out from her reverie and grins at you. A hopeful, fanged, terrifying grin.
  2138. >"Family," she says, savouring the word.
  2139. >You purse your lips and survey the room.
  2140. >Your mountain of chocolate. Your irreparably damaged arcade machines. Your mountain of loot. Your apparent daughter. Your apparent wife.
  2141. >Then you think back to Twilight, and her despotic rule over the parish of Ponyville, and her draconian plots that she's surely putting into action without you there to stop her.
  2142. >Just before you can convince yourself that you want to go home and do battle once more with the Nerd Queen, Rarity pops into your mind with a new pair of pants that are basically just ass-less chaps that are also missing the front.
  2143. >Mind-Rarity bounces her eyebrows and says "Darling" malevolently.
  2144. >You think for a while, long enough for the drones to return with three stolen toasters.
  2145. >One of them still has toast in, which is great because you were sick of eating chocolate for breakfast.
  2146. >Finally, you shrug.
  2147. "Yeah, fuck it, why not, let's be a family."
  2148. >"Success!" Chrysalis and Scootaloo both cheer.
  2149.  
  2150. *
  2151.  
  2152. >A week later, Chrysalis gets her groove (and brain) back.
  2153. >And oh boy does Hell come to Ponyville when you realise you have an army at your disposal and a tyrant to unseat.
  2154. >That'll teach that purple fuck to rip up your library card.
  2155.  
  2156. ---
  2157.  
  2158. "When she is temporarily released to take care of the next world destroying monster of the week does she still make time to bother Anon?"
  2159. - Anonymous, regarding Fluttershy being on prison leave.
  2160.  
  2161. >The phone starts ringing, but you ignore it.
  2162. >If it's important they'll ring back.
  2163. >You read the next line in the magazine article several times before you find yourself staring at the sentence 'But not even multiple stunning spells could stop Princess Celestia's cake genocide, and the Canterlot School for the Blind's charity bake-off came to a tragic end'.
  2164. >The words are there, but they're not going in. It takes a couple of seconds to realise why.
  2165. >Your phone. It's -ringing-.
  2166. >You launch out your chair like it was suddenly made of snakes and tear the top drawer from your bedroom cabinet all the way out.
  2167. >Your mobile phone, a black slate that had been dead for years, is ringing.
  2168. >You stare at it, clenching your eyes a couple times to make sure.
  2169. >Trying to keep it alive, or to charge it back up, was once a source of endless agonising.
  2170. >Eventually, you gave up on it just as you gave up on the idea of going home.
  2171. >Yet as you take it in your fingers, it's the familiar vibrations you thought you'd never feel again that confirm that yes, somehow, someone is calling you.
  2172. >The number is unknown, but you honestly wouldn't care if it's an Indian scam-call centre.
  2173. >You wet your lips and slide a thumb across the screen, putting it to your ear.
  2174. "Hello?"
  2175. >A muffled fumbling is the first thing you hear, then a soft, uncertain voice you've come to attribute with 'terrible danger'.
  2176. >"Oh, good, you're there. H-hi, Anon!"
  2177. >You stare blankly out your bedroom window, now unsure whether this might just have been an elaborate hallucination or dream.
  2178. "Fluttershy?" you say after a few seconds.
  2179. >"Hello! I'm, um, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to speak a bit louder--"
  2180. >She's cut off by what sounds like a distant explosion, the deep bass reaching through the speaker.
  2181. >"I-in a minute, Twilight! I'm just speaking to Anon!"
  2182. "How," is all you can manage.
  2183. >"Well, I thought, since it's been a while since I've seen you, we could catch up! They won't let me write letters in prison anymore, so I'm having to do this instead, I hope that's okay."
  2184. "No, how are you calling me."
  2185. >"The girls and I are in, um," she must move her head away from whatever she's speaking into, as her raised voice sounds far-away. "Rarity? What town was this?"
  2186. >You watch in a daze as a bird flies into a tree.
  2187. >It flies out a second or so later with a knife in its beak, and shoots off with purpose.
  2188. >On any other day you'd be interested enough to investigate. To see what adventure you could glean from the mysterious knife-wielding-birds of Ponyville.
  2189. >But not today.
  2190. >"Thank you! Hello, Anon? Are you still there?"
  2191. "Yu-huh."
  2192. >"H-hi. We're in Kwanfakkymomo."
  2193. "Gesundheit."
  2194. >"A mystic said they could connect me to the one I love, so I said that would be lovely and they said it would cost me so I got Rarity to pay since I didn't have any money on me and Rarity always carries money for condoms and such. What?" her voice is raised again. On the other end you can hear something no-doubt very large bellowing its discontent in the distance. "No! I'm still talking to Anon!"
  2195. >The knife-bird returns. The knife is now bloodied. The mystery deepens.
  2196. >"I'm not sure I'd be much use! Maybe Rainbow can kick it again? Applejack? Keep it up! I believe in you!"
  2197. >She sighs.
  2198. >"Still there?"
  2199. "Yeah, hi."
  2200. >"Hi."
  2201. "Where are you right now?"
  2202. >"Kwanf--"
  2203. "No, where are -you-, what are the others doing?"
  2204. >"Oh, they're fighting the monster that showed up."
  2205. "No name? Just 'the monster'?"
  2206. >You can almost hear her shrugging.
  2207. >"I don't really pay all that much attention on these things. Honestly, I sort of just follow the girls around and hope I don't get squashed by anything. I'm... not really an adventurous pony."
  2208. >Your mind generously provides a supplementary memory of Fluttershy sitting on a buttplug so large it left her with a gape that persisted for a week afterwards until she could find a unicorn doctor willing to fix it for her.
  2209. "Uh huh."
  2210. >"So... I'm just sat behind a rock while the others do their thing. They'll figure it out, they always do. Sooo... what are you wearing?"
  2211. "Clothes."
  2212. >"H-hot..."
  2213. "Let's go back to the mystic."
  2214. >"Oh, do you want me to get you one of these things too? Then you could talk to me! I'm not sure the prison would allow it, though."
  2215. "The thing, describe the thing."
  2216. >"It's uh, just a rock."
  2217. >You grunt confusedly.
  2218. >"The mystic enchanted this sort of oblong rock and I just sort of tap it with my hoof, then put it to my ear."
  2219. "Literally just a rock?"
  2220. >"Looks like a pumice stone, actually. Feels like one... tastes like it also."
  2221. "Please don't lick the magic rock, Fluttershy."
  2222. >"Would you rather I was licking something else?"
  2223. "Are you -sure- the girls don't need you?"
  2224. >"They think they do, but they don't. I'm not much use in a fight."
  2225. >Thus prompted, your mind reminds you of the time you and Fluttershy both fought your way out of her underground laboratory through a horde of ravening Fluttershy clones.
  2226. >Fluttershy raged like a rabid Tasmanian devil, not because she was scared for her life, but because she thought her clones were making moves on you.
  2227. >An idea occurs. No reason you can't help Twi and the girls out from where you are.
  2228. "Hey you know what, maybe the monster will come to Ponyville once it's defeated you and your friends, and it'll have its way with me."
  2229. >Fluttershy snickers.
  2230. >"Joker."
  2231. "I dunno. I've always had a thing for monsters. Maybe I'll like what I see and want to start a relationship with it. Maybe we'll fall in love and I'll forget all about you."
  2232. >"Anon, that's... not going to happen."
  2233. "Can you really take that risk, though?"
  2234. >Fluttershy is quiet. More screams in the background, one of them high-pitched enough to be Rarity.
  2235. >"I'll, um, be right back."
  2236. >The roars in the background continue, until mid-bellow the monster squawks.
  2237. >A guttural howl from another mouth, you can't place it, maybe Applejack, and a loud crack like boulders slamming into each other precedes another boom.
  2238. >For a while, all you hear are the pained yelps of a very large-sounding monster being tossed around.
  2239. >Then, it all goes silent.
  2240. >A minute passes. In that time a few birds enter knife-bird's tree and the leaves shake and rustle.
  2241. >Feathers float down from the canopy and you imagine knife-bird going all John Wick on the interlopers.
  2242. >"Phew! Okay, I'm back. Hello? Are you still there?"
  2243. "Hi."
  2244. >"Hi! Okay, that's sorted, no more monster."
  2245. "Uh huh."
  2246. >"So, um, what were we talking about? You... said monsters were your fetish?"
  2247. "You said Rarity paid for the rock."
  2248. >"Oh, right. Yes! I had to beg and promise her several things in advance, but she bought it for me."
  2249. "Be careful with that, you know how Rarity gets."
  2250. >"She's... yes, I know. The doctors said she was a nepho... um."
  2251. "Nymphomaniac."
  2252. >"Right."
  2253. "So is it back to prison now?"
  2254. >"We'll need to wrap things up here first, I think Twilight will need to write a letter to the Princess about it, though I'm not sure what it'll be about."
  2255. "She'll think of something."
  2256. >"She was telling me earlier, last week she wrote two pages about how sharing pencils is like marriage."
  2257. "I think she's grasping at straws these days."
  2258. >"Or pencils."
  2259. >To her credit, that got a smile out of you.
  2260. >"Oh! I wanted to ask, how am I speaking to you? The mystic didn't say how it would happen, just that 'the universe would conspire', whatever that means."
  2261. "It... yeah, it conspired, we'll put it that way."
  2262. >"Good, I'm glad. Well, I gotta go now, speak to you soon, I love you!"
  2263. "Go to hell--"
  2264. >"Wait, actually, I, uh, I needed to say..."
  2265. >Something in her tone unsettles you.
  2266. "Fluttershy?"
  2267. >"One of, um, one of the things I had to promise Rarity was that whilst I'm in prison, she gets to look after the magic rock."
  2268. "Okay?"
  2269. >"...O-okay, well, just wanted to warn you about that."
  2270. "It's Rarity. Unlike you, she's not in prison. She might be a slut, but she's got enough self-control to not wind up in the slammer over it."
  2271. >"Rude. I'm not a slut, I'm saving myself for you."
  2272. "You let yourself get absolutely -reamed- by a mastiff to see if bestiality was my fetish."
  2273. >"So? It was a dog, it didn't count-- anyway! Gotta go!"
  2274. >There's a faint beep, and just like that your phone struggles through one final vibration before turning back into a lifeless slab.
  2275. >You try the power button a few times, but it's completely dead.
  2276. >The conspiring universe is an asshole.
  2277. >You glance at the tree beyond your window.
  2278. >Knife-bird is being arrested by the bird-police. His wings are being strapped in little cuffs and he's being led into a little wagon latched onto a bird in uniform.
  2279. >The wagon rides off into the deep blue, and you watch with disappointment.
  2280. >If she hadn't called, you'd have been all over the dramas of knife-bird.
  2281. >Alas, she's ruined yet another bit of fun.
  2282. >It's incredible how she manages that, even when she's supposed to be in prison.
  2283.  
  2284. *
  2285.  
  2286. >Later that night, your phone rings.
  2287. >You peel your face off your pillow and look blearily at the pitch darkness of your room for a moment.
  2288. >Then tug open the cabinet drawer and pull the phone out.
  2289. >The screen blinds you, but through your sleep-coated eyes you can make out 'unknown number' ringing you again.
  2290. "God damn it, Fluttershy," you grumble.
  2291. >You put the phone to your ear.
  2292. "What. I thought you were supposed to give it to Rarity."
  2293. >"-Well-, darling," says the cultured voice. "if you want to talk about giving things to Rarity, I'm your mare!"
  2294. "R... Oh God."
  2295. >"So Fluttershy told me all about this! Oh, well, I must say, I'm a huge fan. Can I really contact you like this? At any time? Oh, Anon, you handsome stud, I hope you're ready, because momma's had a whole bottle of wine tonight and I am -dying- to hear a stallion talk dirty to me. So, what are you wearing?"
  2296. >You throw the phone back in the drawer and put a pillow over your ears.
  2297. >Thanks, Fluttershy.

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