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(You) and your autistic bat, Aurora

By xcpony
Created: 8th August 2022 08:32:21 AM
28th August 2022 06:22:16 PM

  1. >You are Anonymous.
  2. >And you are roomies with a bat pony.
  3. "AURORA! What the fuck are you doing in there?"
  4. >An absolutely, one-hundred percent, autistic bat pony.
  5. >Par for the course, really.
  6. >"Mnf..."
  7. >You bang your fist on the doorframe again.
  8. "I'm going to the store! Where the hell did you put your list?"
  9. >"Hn... H-hold on!"
  10. >There's more shuffling. You feel the floor shake slightly, and hear hooves shifting on tile.
  11. >Then, she moans. Again.
  12. >God. Fucking. Dammit.
  13. "Just—just tell me where you put it, Aurora."
  14. >"I... mnf... I... wait!"
  15. >Her hooves clop against the bathroom floor again.
  16. >There's a light gasp, followed followed by several wet 'plaps'. Like piss in the basin.
  17. >You just sit there, face in hand, eyes shielded from the door.
  18. >"O-okay, I'm... coming."
  19. "Wash your—"
  20. >Before you know it, the door is open, and Aurora Blossom is out.
  21. >With your hand moved to the lower half of your face, you deadpan at the tan-coated bat mare.
  22. >She sports her fangs at you brightly, and brushes her white mane to the side.
  23. >With a sticky hoof.
  24. "—hooves."
  25. >"What's up?"
  26. "...Your shopping list. Where is it?"
  27. >"...List... list..."
  28. >She blinks. Her hoof /squishes/ as it rests back on the floor.
  29. >"List?"
  30. >Why do you even bother?
  31. "Hot pockets?"
  32. >Her eyes brighten, and her smile jumps back onto her muzzle. She nods eagerly.
  33. >You snap your fingers, and start reaching.
  34. "Hot pockets. Fine."
  35. >As gently as you can—
  36. >Okay, no. You shove her back into the bathroom. She slips slightly, squeaking in bat and on tile.
  37. >You pull the handle shut and step away.
  38. "That room better be spotless when I get back, Aurora."
  39. >You pause in the midst of your little shared home, eyeing up the rest of the unkempt bat-mess.
  40. >"Oh, okay! Um, love you! I—bye!"
  41. "Y-you too."
  42.  
  43. >It's not more than two hours that you're out.
  44. >But by the time you're back, you can already tell the autist-at-large has been around.
  45. >Stepping over the usual slump of thoroughly-rummaged 'stuff' (a mix of Aurora and Anon specialties), you round the corner.
  46. >Yup, there's your usual nightmare.
  47. >The one occupied side of the room sparks with dots of red and yellow.
  48. >All the while, Aurora is excitedly prancing.
  49. >Her eyes glitter in the evening light.
  50. >"Anon, look, it's working really good tonight!"
  51. >You glance at the microwave.
  52. >Setting your bags down, you walk over, shut the screeching contraption off, and hoist the door open.
  53. >The smell of janny tears pours out with smoke.
  54. >You reach over to a familiar kitchen drawer, smoothly drawing and sliding on an oven mitt.
  55. >With the rest of your prep already charged, you safely disembowel the fiery contents within the microwave.
  56. >Together, you and Aurora stare at the smoldering remains of the hot pocket.
  57. >She sniffs, and her maw opens. A flood of mare drool drips down.
  58. >"It smells really good!"
  59. "Yeah."
  60. >The cheese is fucking black.
  61. >With your 'silverware' you salvage what you can of the hot pocket.
  62. >Before long, she's seated at the island, beaming down at the plate before her.
  63. "Blow on it, Aurora."
  64. >She blows you a raspberry, but listens.
  65. >You slump down beside her, waving a hand across her food while she starts to eat.
  66. >God, she's a fucking handful.
  67. >But at least she's your little autist.
  68.  
  69. >You can smell something burning.
  70. >For your home, that's not something atypical, nor is it an outward indication that the house is burning down.
  71. >But this... this is bad.
  72. >You can smell burnt hot pocket.
  73. >A hot pocket is burning.
  74. >And you've been home this whole night.
  75. >And Aurora is unattended.
  76. >Yes, as an experienced tard wrangler, you're more than aware of what Aurora's burning hot pockets smell like from across the house, and through several doors.
  77. >It's hard not to forget the smell of boiled, mayo and dietz nuts filled, yellow pepper with avocado and raw pigeon bacon hotpockets.
  78. >You make your way over to the door to her room, steel yourself, and knock on the door.
  79. >You don't have it in your heart to break that habit.
  80. >Probably should.
  81. "Aurora? I know you're in there."
  82. >There's a pause, and some metal scratching sound stops. You hear more fumbling, and—
  83. >You're fucking going in, you know exactly what she did.
  84. >You barely keep yourself from kicking the door down.
  85. >Her room is a mess, like always.
  86. >Big heaps of random Aurora-hoarded litter (you don't let her keep actual garbage) are pushed to the corners away from a central desktop.
  87. >You know for a fact that it's the most expensive room in the house.
  88. >You stare at Aurora as she stares at you.
  89. >Your bat roomie skrees at you.
  90. >You react appropriately.
  91. "IS THAT A FUCKING STOVE?"
  92. >You're reee'ing before you know it.
  93. "AURORA! I TOLD YOU NO MORE COOKING STREAMS!"
  94. >She squeaks, and waves her hooves in front of her /absurdly/ expensive webcam.
  95. >"A-Anon, I'm live!"
  96. >She's double-boiling a hot pocket as you speak.
  97. >The pot is far too small for the pile of foodstuffs by her side, but that's not stopping the inadvertently-opened side of the hot pocket from pouring its contents in.
  98. >The bits of hot crust on the edge of the pot are the most significant point of burning, but not everything else is unscathed, either.
  99. >You stomp over, ignoring her second monitor's rapid-firing chat.
  100. >You turn the camp stove off.
  101. >"Aw come on, it was almost done!"
  102. "And now, your stream is done."
  103. >"What?"
  104. >She shakes her head, rattling her custom-built gaymare headset from her ears.
  105. >"Nonono, you can't! Anon! ANON!"
  106. >Reaching across her, you—
  107. >SHITOHFUCK
  108. >You howl and try to pull back, but Aurora's latched onto your arm with both fangs.
  109. >She wraps her forelegs around your arm like a vice.
  110. >Taking your other arm, you stand with Aurora, her hindlegs dangling.
  111. >All the while, the cameras are rolling for the most popular stream of the only mare on Earth.
  112. >The fact that thousands of people are watching you struggle with their favorite internet retard does not pass you by.
  113. >Naturally, you do the only thing you can think of.
  114. "NIGGER NIGGER NIGGER NIGGER FAGGOT FAGGOT FAGGOT FAGGOT—"
  115. >Aurora is moaning and flailing and screaming all at once into your arm.
  116. >You see the chat freeze up, and her streaming software go still.
  117. >You fall backwards, Aurora clamming up on top of you.
  118. >She immediately unlatches.
  119. >Tears are in her eyes.
  120. >"Anon, did you just get me banned?!"
  121. >Hissing, you pull back, swatting her lightly on the rump. She squeaks again, and you move to inspect your not-that-bloody arm.
  122. "Hot Pockets™ will still love you, Aurora."
  123. >She's gotten away with worse before. And she always gets unbanned.
  124. >"R-really?"
  125. "Yes, you fucking retarded..."
  126. >You sigh.
  127. "Silly mare."
  128. >With her tears drying up, you snuggle her close, and sigh a little more pleasantly.
  129. >Dimly, you become aware of the fact that you're laying on her mare musk smelling, hot pocket-crumb riddled, cum-soaked carpet.
  130. "Aurora."
  131. >She pipes up like nothing just happened.
  132. >"Yeah?"
  133. "Bath time."
  134. >eeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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