Beware the Bat-Rape Gangs


                                            Original Thread: >>38981126

                                            Bat Ponies are dark, twisted, moral-less demons! They will lie to, steal from, hurt, and gleefully rape anyone they cross paths with! Curse them! Curse the perverted devils!!!


                                            >Be in an alley late at night.

                                            >Vandalizing the side of a business that had refused to hire you because you didn't have a cutie mark.

                                            >No better off than back home where you needed at least a bachelor's in monkey double backflips in order to get a job flipping burgers.

                                            >Without spray paint cans this was going to take longer than you thought.

                                            >Stopping at the shaft of the giant penis you realize you need to make it look like it was another pony.

                                            >Just drawing a human dick would give away that it wasn't a pony who did this.

                                            >Get confronted by a group of batmares intent on >raping you.

                                            >These little buggers are only slightly above mid-thigh with you.

                                            >And less intimidating.

                                            >Adding fangs and tufty ears doesn't do much more than increase the likelihood you'll die from their cuteness.

                                            >Blow them off and tell them you're busy.

                                            >They advance.

                                            >Threaten to report your crime to the guards if you don't go with them.

                                            >Great.

                                            >Last thing you needed is guards to give you grief.

                                            >Do these ponies even have records?

                                            >Would that stop you from being able to get anything too.

                                            >Taking your internal pondering as silent defiance, the mares advance on either side.

                                            >"We've got a tough one on our hooves here huh?"

                                            >"Yeah, we'll show him why it's not so tough to be out at night by yourself."

                                            >They can't be serious.

                                            >Well, there's 5 of them.

                                            >You set your paint supplies down.

                                            "Uh, look. You don't want to do this."

                                            >"Oh no stud, there's no getting out of this now!"

                                            >"If you don't want to go with us, that's fine. We'll just need to break you right here."

                                            >The leader of the group seems to step up first.

                                            >The others advance.

                                            >A couple seemingly intimidated by your size.

                                            >That or they haven't done this kind of thing before.

                                            >Nevertheless, they prepare to make their move and cut off your escape.

                                            >Responding in turn by adopting a defensive stance that allowed peripheral vision of both sides.

                                            >Surveying your ahem, 'tools of artistic expression,' you find that they might do well enough as self-defense weapons.

                                            >If only to space out the assault to buy time to deal with the little duller pastel rapists in more manageable numbers.

                                            >A standoff.

                                            >Waiting for someone to make the first move.

                                            >You couldn't run without an escape route to depend on.

                                            >Them waiting to raise the chances to catch you off guard by waiting for a falter in your defenses.

                                            >The lighting was poor, but thankfully you could track them by their eyes.

                                            >The slits in their hungry eyes reflected the little light the moon and oil lamps outside the alley and around the corner had to offer.

                                            >A few of them were shaking in anticipation.

                                            >You don't blame them.

                                            >A real fight isn't this knuckle-drag-out brawl like movies and books would have you believe.

                                            >Most were settled in mere seconds.

                                            >You figured it was now or never.

                                            >You squat down as fast as possible.

                                            >Grabbing the open paint bucket of neon pink paint.

                                            >You whip up in the direction of 3 of the bats.

                                            >You think you can get all of them and secure an escape route.

                                            >Your sudden movement seemed to have startled two of them.

                                            >Like they didn't expect you to fight back.

                                            >One of the rapists takes to the air just in time to avoid being covered in the thick paint.

                                            >Ponies didn't have the ability to mix paint with the speed and consistency of machines like back home.

                                            >So you wind up with a thicker mixture that required you to stir it often and vigorously, otherwise it clumps up at the bottom.

                                            >This is what you flung onto the two stunned batponies.

                                            >The goopy paint slopped across their shocked faces, bodies, and wings.

                                            >Effectively taking them out of the fight as they would be too busy scrambling to wipe the paint from their eyes once they stopped slipping around on the paint below.

                                            >This also rendered them unable to grapple you if the struggle did drag out long enough for them to get back on their hooves.

                                            >The hurried flapping of leathery wings and ear-piercing "Eee!" from behind you alerted you to the immediate retaliation from the other entrance of the alley.

                                            >Quickly, you pivot on your heels to intercept the airborne attacker.

                                            >Looking over your shoulder as you turn your body towards the batmares, you see one of them is guarding the alley exit in case you try to run and the other is making a b-line straight for your head.

                                            >Oh no you don't.

                                            >While turning around you raise your bucket in hands, cocking it back closer to your head and behind.

                                            >Hand on the handle, the other on the bottom from when you tipped it over to throw the paint, you angle it towards the incoming bat.

                                            >In one fluid motion as though you were spinning around to throw a punch through something behind you, you push the bucket towards the incoming bat.

                                            >It was too late to change course mid-air.

                                            >"Eeeeee-"CLONG!*

                                            >The high-pitched war cry was cut off as she dove headfirst into the bucket and her face indented the bottom of the bucket upon impact.

                                            >For a split second she floated in the air, wings stiff, forelegs held outwards in an attempt to stop the impact and back arched as her plot carried the last of the momentum upwards on impact, one hind leg in the air, the other folded into herself.

                                            >In a cartoonish display, she was held in place by the momentum she carried into the impact.

                                            >Next, she fell to the ground thoroughly disoriented, and head lodged in a paint bucket.

                                            >Three down.

                                            >Two left...

                                            >Shifting so that your back was facing the side of the building, you reevaluated the situation.

                                            >Head on a swivel, you watched the remaining two.

                                            >To your left, the two you'd spattered with paint were cautiously trying to stand up and wipe their eyes clean before opening them.

                                            >Sadly, the slightest misstep would cause them to lose traction and slip into the puddle again.

                                            >They were also trying to extend their wings and shake them free of enough of the substance to be useful.

                                            >But some of what one flung off landed on the other, and falling into the muck would once again set back their efforts.

                                            >Above the two bats, sputtering to clear the paint from their mouths, was the airborne observer.

                                            >She was worried, clearly understanding that they vastly underestimated you.

                                            >You could see the gears in her mind turn as she thought about what to do next.

                                            >Whether it was weighing her options to run, or try again you don't know.

                                            >The rattling of the loose swinging handle of the paint bucket draws your attention to your right.

                                            >There the bat you last dealt with lay a little distance away from you, lifting her head up.

                                            >A moan of pain and disorientation could be heard reverberating out of the bucket in a tin like sound almost as bad as flat screen TVs these days.

                                            >Get a soundbar folks.

                                            >The little pervert cringed and let out a whine of pain.

                                            >You guess the echo sensitive hearing of these bat ponies isn't such a boon when your head is caught in a bucket that bounces the noises you make around.

                                            >You'd feel bad but she did try to rape you.

                                            >Just don't rape people.

                                            >It's not that hard.

                                            >Apparently too high a bar for this group though.

                                            >The bat-in-a-bucket continues to lie on the ground and use her forelegs to try and pull off her new head accessory.

                                            >It's on there good.

                                            >Looking up from her pitiful form and down the alley you see the last participant.

                                            >Eyes wide, her slitted eyes of predation only reflected back her fear of you.

                                            >Trembling in place.

                                            >Her thoughts weren't as hard to read as the other's.

                                            >It was obvious she was thinking about nothing other than running away.

                                            >Yet remained rooted in place and unable to do so.


                                            [To Be Continued...]


                                            Author's Note: It's highly recommended to check the original thread. It's great and fullof so much fun, unique worldbuilding!