x by Anon


                                            x by Anon


                                            https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/38675695/#38758466


                                            ---


                                            >You are a rookie in the Royal Guard's Criminal Investigations Division.

                                            >Not to say you're a complete novice. You've got a few years under your belt as a regular Royal Guard. You must have impressed somepony, as you managed to successfully transfer to the CID on your first application.

                                            >It's pretty much everything you'd hoped for. Interesting challenges, meaningful work, a nice pay rise...

                                            >The only problems are your squadmates.

                                            >Not only are you the only stallion in an all-mare unit, it seems that your predecessor was extremely popular. From what you gather, she only lost her position due to some dumb bureaucratic nonsense. Your new squadmates are unsurprisingly not happy about this. And they seem to be blaming *you* for it.

                                            >Corporal Mist, the nerdy one, is a small, silver pegasus. Half-moon glasses, white mane in a bobcut. She definitely knows her stuff, but she's got this annoying snobbish streak. Always looking down on you. (Metaphorically. The mare's only like half your height.) She seems to take personal offense that you don't immediately know everything about your job.

                                            >Corporal Jasper, the jock, is a big, red unicorn. Long fetlocks, braided bronze mane. She's not *dumb*, but she's very physical and assertive. She has no problem with shoving past you if you don't get out of her way. And while Mist merely insinuates your incompetence, Jasper outright states it, questioning whether you have the guts and brawn to do your job.

                                            >Finally, the leader, Sergeant Blackberry. The dark green earth pony has deep purple hair tied back with a ribbon. She seems comparatively level headed and reasonable. She never directly insults you, at least. But she never tries to stop the others, either. And when they suggest pawning off some menial task to you, she always agrees with them, a hint of smirk on her lips.

                                            >These mares have been making your first few weeks with the CID tartarus.

                                            >Buuut... honestly, it's not a huge deal.

                                            >There's always some level of hazing the new guy when you change divisions. And while the mares can be pretty bitchy, they're at least competent at their jobs. You're learning a lot from them, when they're not being arseholes. They're not the worst ponies you've worked with; they're just dealing with the loss of their friend in a really shitty way.

                                            >While that sucks for you, it's not the end of the world. You figure you'll grin and bear it for another month or two. If their attitude doesn't improve, you'll raise it with pony resources. Maybe try to transfer to another team. That might hurt your career a little, but oh well. There's always going to be some level of office politics to deal with.

                                            >In the meantime, you're trying to learn as much as you can. At least your new job is just as interesting as you'd hoped!


                                            >While the ponies of Equestria are generally law-abiding, there's always a few outliers. And not to be racist, but there's also a large population of non-ponies in Equestria, who come from less... harmonious countries. It's your job to make sure they don't get up to anything nefarious.

                                            >That said, the vast majority of your work isn't dealing with criminal masterminds. Turns out, regular old ponies break the law all the time. Often without realising it, or at least seeing no harm in it.

                                            >Merchants who find a cheap deal, provided they don't ask too many questions. Builders who skimp on safety features to save a few bits. Amateur mages dabbling in summoning or potions without a license.

                                            >Your current assignment involves the latter, probably.

                                            >A routine review of alchemists' supply shops in your region found a higher than usual demand for certain potentially dangerous reagents. Nothing to worry about on its own, but worth following up on just in case. Further inquiries confirmed that other concerning reagents had been purchased, too.

                                            >Jasper thinks it's probably some dumb hick farmer trying to brew magic-infused booze. Happens all the time, Mist informs you smugly. Whatever the case, you've all been sent off to investigate.

                                            >Naturally, you're carrying all the heavy gear.

                                            >After some five hours on the train, you arrive at a dinky little town in the middle of nowhere. Fields and woods as far as you can see, dotted with occasional farm houses. Sergeant Blackberry makes a few inquiries, and soon you have the address of a possible lead.

                                            >It takes another hour to reach your destination. Along the way, the mares mostly ignore you, chatting among themselves. Occasionally Jasper tells you to hurry up, but you just roll your eyes and ignore her. Even carrying the group's baggage, you're still faster than the diminutive Mist.

                                            >Eventually you reach a large old building. It might have been a nice little manor once upon a time, but now it just looks neglected. It's well back from the road, and miles away from any neighbours. Though that seems pretty typical around here.

                                            >Before you can approach the door, Mist puts up a hoof to stop you. Says you're too sweaty to come in with them. You'll "stink away all the civilians".

                                            >With a sigh, you turn to Blackberry. You know it's best to ignore their games and go straight to the boss. She seems to think it over for a second, then tells you to go wait by the road. You're "backup".

                                            >Hooray.

                                            >Urgh, that's always the way with her. Assign you some task which sounds reasonable in the reports, but it's just her way of getting rid of you.

                                            >Ordinarily you wouldn't mind - if they want to be somewhere else, that's fine with you - but you really do need more field experience. For all their bitchiness, watching them work *is* quite informative.

                                            >Well, whatever. You find an old stump by the main road, discard your baggage, and set about waiting.


                                            >Waiting is something you do plenty of in the Royal Guard. You grab a snack, sit back, and enjoy the afternoon.

                                            >Fifteen minutes pass. Then thirty. By forty-five, you're wondering if something's wrong.

                                            >Eh. They're probably just messing with you again. Pretending to "forget" you're there.

                                            >Still, you should probably go check.

                                            >You decide against knocking. If they're still talking with the owner, Mist will probably tell you off for interrupting. Instead you peek in through the windows, remaining a safe distance away. Trying to see if you can spot anypony.

                                            >After circling the whole house and seeing no sign of them, you're starting to get a bad feeling.

                                            >You do one more loop, getting right up to the windows this time.

                                            >A hint of gold: squinting, you see a Royal Guard helmet on the floor.

                                            >Not set aside neatly - it looks like it's been kicked under a side table.

                                            >Your suspicion meter goes up another notch. It's still probably nothing, but to your mind this is enough to warrant action.

                                            >The front door is locked, but you previously noticed a back door. Thankfully it's not locked, so you quietly let yourself in.

                                            >You don't see or hear anypony, though there's signs of habitation. The furnishing is peculiar. A few sparsely filled rooms, and some stacks of crates and boxes. Maybe the owner only recently moved in?

                                            >You trot over to the room with the helmet, floorboards squeaking beneath you. Still no sign of anypony. Retrieving the helmet, you lift it up to inspect it. You think it might be Mist's? Her armour's a bit smaller than everypony else's. Despite that, it's still too big for her, and is always coming loose.

                                            >Something catches your eye. Movement in the helmet.

                                            >No, not in the helmet. Reflected on the polished metal.

                                            >An unfamiliar unicorn, distorted by the round surface. Sneaking up on you. Horn glowing purple, matching the glowing knife levitating towards you.

                                            >The surprise kicks off your fight or flight response. You instinctive dodge, guided by years of Guard training. You don't even turn to face him until you've put a coffee table between the two of you.

                                            >Your assailant - a blue male unicorn - seems caught off guard. But it only lasts for a moment; with a snarl on his face, he sends the knife flying towards you.

                                            >One thing most unicorns don't realise: levitation isn't all that fast. Especially when compared to an object bucked at you by an earth pony.

                                            >You buck.

                                            >The coffee table flies through the air, knocking the knife aside and crashing into the unicorn's face. You follow it up with a running tackle, intent on blocking his horn - the most dangerous part of a unicorn - as soon as possible.

                                            >You easily overpower the slightly pudgy pony, and tumble to the floor, hoof clamped around his horn. But he's surprisingly wiry, and able to put up a pretty good fight. The two of you thrash about the floor, making a complete mess of the room. But it's soon clear you're the superior fighter.


                                            >Eventually you have him pinned completely, and it's all he can do to curse at you, panting. You're just about to manacle the bastard when something seems to change.

                                            >"Wait. N-no. Shit, no nonono! Get off me you oaf, quick! I've got to- ack- got to get- hurgh!"

                                            >You don't know what he's playing at, but you certainly don't get off him. At least, not until he starts convulsing.

                                            >You've no idea what's going, but you're soon convinced it's not an act. There's genuine panic written on his face.

                                            >You take the risk and let him go, trying to figure out what's wrong. Some sort of heart attack? But there's nothing you can do - in just a few moments he goes limp.

                                            >You check his pulse. He's stone dead.

                                            >Well... shit.

                                            >You sit back, huffing and puffing. Trying to figure out what in tartarus all that was about.

                                            >You spot the knife lying nearby. A few drops of blood along its edge.

                                            >You don't remember getting any cuts, though you might not have noticed it in the tousle. You look yourself over as best you can. A small bloody smear on your leg, but no wound. You check the unicorn's body. Sure enough, there's a small nick on the bag of his leg.

                                            >It's still bleeding, clearly quite fresh. Yet the skin around it looks... dead. Blackened, and peeling.

                                            >You stare at the knife. There's a faint hint of some greenish liquid coating the blade.

                                            >...You're suddenly very glad it never touched you.

                                            >Though now you're even more concerned for your squad mates. Sure they're cunts, but they're *your* cunts!

                                            >...That came out wrong.

                                            >Regardless, you certainly don't want them killed by some psycho poisoner. You've got to find them as soon as possible.

                                            >Luckily, it doesn't take long. A bookshelf has slide away from the wall since you last passed it. Behind it is a hidden set of stairs leading down. The unicorn must have come from here.

                                            >You draw your sword, not sure if the unicorn was working alone, and descend.

                                            >Below is a large, dim basement. Benches run along the walls, covered in books, tools, bottles, and boxes. Looks almost like a science lab, apart from what's in the center of the room.

                                            >Your squadmates - Blackberry, Jasper, and Mist - appear to be just standing there, out of their armour. Then you notice the restraints. Thick, heavy metal clasps have replaced their Royal Guard barding. Each leg is shackled to a heavy slab of concrete. Jasper's horn is encased in a metal horn-ring. Blindfolds and gags complete the ominous setup.

                                            >You stand there in shock, taking it all in.

                                            >Jasper moves slightly. It's enough to snap you out of your surprise.

                                            "Jasper! Sarge, Mist! Are you alright?"

                                            >Obviously, they can't answer through their gags. But their ears shoot up, and all three of them begin to thrash around. Well, as much as they can while locked in place.

                                            >Well at least they're still alive.

                                            >You rush over to the closest - Sergeant Blackberry - and begin unbuckling the gag. In a few moments you have it off. She sputters and coughs, spitting something to the ground.


                                            >"Rookie!? Did- *cough* -did you get him? The unicorn? He's dangerous, don't trust-"

                                            "Yeah, I got him. He's, uh, dead. Sorry. Rolled on his own knife while trying to kill me."

                                            >"Oh, thank Celestia! Serves the bastard right."

                                            >You finish removing the blindfold. Her violet eyes are wide, and there's damp patches around the corners, but she seems to be quickly marshaling herself.

                                            >"I don't know what he was planning, but this could have gotten really, *really* bad. I, uh... Thanks, rookie. Now, hurry up and lets us out!"

                                            >You roll your eyes and get to work. In the meantime, Blackberry fills you in on what you missed.

                                            >Seems the unicorn was the lead you were supposed to investigate. At first he was playing all friendly, being perfectly cooperative, even offering the mares tea. They never imagined anypony would be stupid enough to drug members of the Royal Guard, but...

                                            >The three of them awoke down here, blind and immobilized. They could hear the unicorn moving about, muttering to himself while he worked. At one point he briefly removed their gags, forcing them to drink something. That was maybe half an hour ago. Then just a few minutes ago they heard somepony (you) moving about upstairs. The unicorn said he had "just the thing to deal with intruders", and left. Then there was a ruckus, and then you appeared.

                                            >When Blackberry has finished, Jasper grunts something accusatory through her gag.

                                            >"Yes, what's taking so long with those restraints?"

                                            "We've got a bit of problem. The gags and blindfolds are easy enough, but all the shackles are locked with unicorn locks. Expensive ones too, by the looks of it."

                                            >Damn unicorn locks. They use some magical voodoo to unlock, attuned to the specific unicorn. Meaning they don't have a physical key, and they're next to impossible to pick.

                                            >Blackberry swears. The other mares share her sentiment (in a more muffled fashion).

                                            >For the time being, you just remove their blindfolds and gags. (Shame about the latter, but if you left them gagged for even a minute longer you'd never hear the end of it.) The two corporals seem more shaken than Blackberry. Jasper is trembling slightly, while Mist's face is streaked with tears.

                                            >You give them a bit of space to compose themselves, while you search for a hacksaw or bolt cutter or something. Finding nothing in the basement, you head back upstairs. Unfortunately the house is pretty bare. The few cupboards you find are nearly all empty, containing just food and essentials. This building definitely isn't a *home* - just someplace the unicorn was temporarily living in. Maybe his little lab-away-from-home?

                                            >You head back down to find Mist talking animatedly, her voice squeakier than usual. The keen eyed mare has spotted an open book on one of the benches: a potion book.

                                            >"W-what did he make us drink? Can you see any clues or, or bookmarks or anything? I don't like not knowing what's inside me."


                                            >You dutifully examine the scene. The current page has clearly been left open for a long time. Comparing the ingredients list to the various bottles and beakers lying nearby, you're pretty sure this is the most recent brew.

                                            "It looks like he was making something called "If I Can't Have You". It's, uh, listed under "Love Poisons", but I can't tell what it *does*..."

                                            >"I've never heard of such a potion," Mist announces. "And believe me, I've heard of most of them. Are you sure you're reading it right?"

                                            >"Hmm..." Blackberry frowns in thought. "It *does* sound familiar. Where... have I...? Wait. Shit. Shitshitshitfuck FUCK."

                                            >"B-boss?" Jasper asks. "Should we be worried?"

                                            >You turn to face your sergeant. Her ears are pinned back, and she seems to be on the verge of hyperventilating.

                                            "Sarge?"

                                            >She blinks. Swallows. Tries to slow her breathing.

                                            >"O-ok. We... We need to leave. NOW. We- Rookie! You sure there's no way out of here?"

                                            >You grimace, shaking your head.

                                            "There's nothing in this house that could break the chains. I could over run to a neighbour's house and come back with some tools. But the nearest house we saw is a good twenty or thirty minutes away. And cutting through your restraints would take... quite a bit longer."

                                            >"How..." Mist quavers. "How much time do we have?"

                                            >"And what does the potion *do*?" Jasper asks. "'Love Poison' doesn't sound *too* bad, right?"

                                            >Blackberry draws a breath. Hearing her squadmates panic seems to have actually had a calming effect on her. Guess she has to stay strong in front of them.

                                            >"The... poison has a few different names. It's classified information, and extremely illegal. I don't know where this creep found a copy of the recipe. I only know about it because my old squad leader knew a pony who knew a pony who..."

                                            >She shakes her head.

                                            >"Anyway, it, er. It puts you into heat. Like, really badly."

                                            >"The fuck?" Jasper exclaims.

                                            >Mist just gags.

                                            >"Worse," Blackberry continues. "If you don't, well, *satisfy* the heat, toxins build up in your body until it kills you. Somehow, getting rutted cleanses them. I dunno, magic bullshit."

                                            >There's stunned silence.

                                            >You're uncomfortably aware that you're the only stallion for miles. Any romantic partners these mares may have back home are hours away. And with all the restraints, the trio can't even "satisfy" themselves.

                                            >From the way they're avoiding looking at you, you guess they've reached the same conclusion.

                                            >"But that's not the point of it," Blackberry resumes at length. "It's not just a weirdly convoluted poison. If you're fucked during this magical heat, the potion messes with your chemistry. Rewires your head. It makes you... docile. Subservient to the pony who screwed you."

                                            >She spits in disgust.

                                            >"Alchemical mind control. You can see why we keep it a secret."

                                            >"So," Jasper chokes out. "We- we either become, like, sex slaves, or we die horny!? THE FUCK!?"

                                            >"'If I can't have you, no-one can,'" Mist recites weakly.

                                            >Blackberry lowers her head.


                                            >This is...

                                            >You are *not* trained for this. It's overwhelming.

                                            >You desperately search for some way out.

                                            "But there's gotta be a, an antidote, or counter-spell, or something, right?"

                                            >The sergeant nods.

                                            >"I remember they said that if you can get to a hospital in time, they can treat it safely."

                                            >The other two mares breathe a sigh of relief.

                                            >But something sticks out to you.

                                            "...When you say "in time", what kind of time frame are we talking here? Because the nearest hospital is like three hours away. More, if the train's late."

                                            >All eyes turn to Blackberry.

                                            >She winces.

                                            >"...A couple of hours. Two, three tops."

                                            >Mist sobs. Jasper doesn't speak, but she's shivering so violently her chains rattle.

                                            >You do the math.

                                            >It's been maybe forty minutes since they took the poison. Best case scenario, you could return with help and tools in just under an hour. But if there were any delays along the way, you might not be back in time...

                                            >The only way to make sure they survive is to, well, "satisfy" the poison right away. Then you can focus on getting them to a hospital, hoping the psychological effects can be prevented or reversed.

                                            >Of course, the only pony in any position to help them is... you. The pony they've all been massive bitches to.

                                            >You notice Blackberry staring at you intently. Realise from her expression that she's come to the same conclusion.

                                            >"Rookie..." she begins slowly. Her cheeks are flushed - is she embarrassed, or is the heat kicking in? Come to think of it, the mares' tails seem to be, uh. Perking.

                                            >Regardless, the sergeant soldiers on, expression carefully controlled. Only a faint waver in her voice gives her away.

                                            >"I need you to listen closely. I am *ordering* you to save our squad. Do you understand me?"

                                            >Squawks of protest erupt from Mist and Jasper. (Though not as vehement as you were expecting.)

                                            >"W-w-wait, are you serious?" Jasper asks, sounding panicked.

                                            >"Him?!" Mist whines.

                                            >"I *am* serious," Blackberry says sternly, turning to the mares. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep my ponies alive."

                                            >She screws her eyes shut.

                                            >"Listen, the whole mind control thing isn't guaranteed, and may not be permanent. We don't have a lot of data, obviously, but they think you have to get fucked repeatedly for it to stick. So, we just... do it once, alright? It's... it's a risk we'll have to take. Understood?"

                                            >She sounds like she's pleading with them.

                                            >The other mares don't look happy. But they don't protest, either.

                                            >Blackberry exchanges glances with each of them. Nods. Then turns to you.

                                            >Three pairs of eyes look your way. Scared, desperate, and - maybe it's just your imagination, but a hint of excitement?

                                            >The sergeant swallows. Her normally dark cheeks are practically glowing red. A trickle of sweat runs down her shapely neck.

                                            >She takes a deep breath.

                                            >"Rookie... Please fuck us."