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(You) and your autistic bat, Aurora

By xcpony
Created: 2022-08-08 08:32:21
Updated: 2022-08-28 18:22:16
Expiry: Never
anonocsafecomfy/bat/gmares

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

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