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[FLUTTERRAPE] Thread Shorts Volume 15

By Nebulus
Created: 2022-09-14 20:33:57
Updated: 2022-09-16 10:16:06
Expiry: Never
anonnsfwcomedyflutterrapevarious characters

  1. Fifteen volumes. I wonder if I merged them all into a single mega-volume whether the Ponepaste admin would hunt me down with a scimitar?
  2. Good luck to him. I'm behind seven proxies AND seven mares.
  3.  
  4. Some non-FR shorts I did lately that I remembered to save start line 1366.
  5.  
  6. ---
  7.  
  8. Anon posted a picture of Luna looking into one of Fluttershy's terrible, awful dreams.
  9.  
  10. >Luna's never been one for social gatherings.
  11. >Not that she's socially awkward, just that she gets bored easily in the presence of small talk.
  12. >One of the things she admires about Celestia is her older sister's ability to bask in hours of meaningless lip-flapping without showing a hint of weariness, though Luna knows she gets just as bored.
  13. >One of the things she doesn't admire about Celestia is that her beloved sibling skipped out on this meeting to leave Luna standing the battlements alone.
  14. >The corners of Luna's mouth ache.
  15. >She's been smiling at Rarity for ten minutes now, but Rarity shows no sign of stopping.
  16. >"And -that- reminds me of my mother, she's always been keen about fashion though you wouldn't know it looking at the way she dresses..."
  17. >Luna glances sidelong at the banner on the wall of the establishment.
  18. >' Celebrating Five Years of Harmony! '
  19. >It's some event all about the Elements and their various triumphs.
  20. >Celestia took one look at the invitation and miraculously came down with a case of Yggdrassillic Bane the following day.
  21. >Funny, since Yggdrassillic Bane is a fungal infection that only affects magical trees and hasn't been seen in Equestria for two-thousand years following the untimely death of the last World Tree.
  22. >Luna supposes the stars must have aligned to have that happen, though she also supposes the stars will have been given several nudges, taps, and gentle coercions to get them in order.
  23. >Rarity stops talking - thank heavens - bows, and departs.
  24. >Luna sucks in a deep breath and scans the crowd, dreading the moment when a face turns, sees their Princess all alone and oh how terrible and she must want to talk, before coming over and putting Luna's smile back to work.
  25. >She also spies the refreshments table, and her heightened sense of smell catches a waft of alcohol.
  26. >Her eyebrow arches.
  27. >Drink? This early in the afternoon?
  28. >Well. She won't look a gift table in the mouth.
  29. >She's pouring herself a generous cup of aromatic punch when something mumbles next to her.
  30. >Luna turns and nearly drops her drink.
  31. >Luckily, she saves face just in time, and rather than hurling her cup at her new companion in reflexive pre-emptive self-defence, merely crushes it to the size of a golf ball in her arcane grasp.
  32. >"H-hello, Princess. Y-you probably don't remember me, but you, I mean -my- name, is Fluttershy..."
  33. >Luna stares.
  34. >It's rude to stare, but she does it anyway. She can't think of anything else to do.
  35. >She rarely, if ever, gets caught off guard, but she presently feels as though she's been caught with her hoof between her legs by a maid.
  36. >Fluttershy doesn't notice, but that's only because she's staring at the floor.
  37. >Luna clears her throat.
  38. "Good... afternoon, Fluttershy."
  39. >The pony looks up and smiles. Luna takes a cautious step back under the pretence of giving her space.
  40. "Are you... well?"
  41. >"I'm doing wonderfully, thank you. I was hoping you might be able to help me with a problem I've been having."
  42. >Luna swallows despite not having drunk anything.
  43. >Fluttershy launches into a meandering speech about something to do with animals, but all Luna can see, flashing before her eyes like the snaps of a mob of cameras, are Fluttershy's dreams.
  44. >Luna has become very, very aware of Fluttershy's dreams lately.
  45. >It's been hard not to, as they've been destabilising the dream realm for three months.
  46. >Sometimes, a dream, or a nightmare, will resonate with such powerful emotional force that Luna must step in to either bring it to a soft close, or snap it shut and force the dreamer to waken.
  47. >She prefers to do the former, but the latter is sometimes justified.
  48. >Not tending to the resonant dream at all could risk the dream infecting other dreamers, and given enough time and mental resources to spread, a dream contagion could be rampaging across Equestria by the end of the night.
  49. >Oftentimes this results in cults cropping up - many ponies all having the same vivid dream results in easy groupthink, and collective action is inevitable.
  50. >Fluttershy has unfortunately proven to be the exception.
  51. >Most ponies have regular dreams or nightmares. Even cults mostly start from benign visions.
  52. >But Fluttershy has wet dreams.
  53. >Wet dreams so lurid it staggers Luna to even consider them here in the waking world.
  54. >Fluttershy chatters on obliviously, either ignoring Luna's stunned expression or so wrapped up in her own story she hasn't noticed it.
  55. >Meanwhile, Luna relives last night's dream where Fluttershy was yet again doing unspeakable things to the local human.
  56. >He seems to be the sole source of her obsessions, for reasons known only to Fluttershy.
  57. >There were tentacles involved this time, as well as a few well-endowed animals, a great deal of slime, and urethral penetration.
  58. >Luna hadn't known what urethral penetration was before she became aware of Fluttershy's dreams.
  59. >Now her breath tastes like alcohol a lot more than it once did, so much so that Celestia has started asking questions.
  60. >But what can Luna tell her?
  61. >She'd ignore the wet dreams altogether if she could, but she can't.
  62. >Left unchecked, Fluttershy's dreams would ripple out from her mind and wash over Ponyville, then Canterlot, and eventually all of Equestria.
  63. >The sort of degeneracy at play here could risk some sort of societal collapse.
  64. >And so, every night for three months, Luna has had to enter every single one of Fluttershy's dreams, and bring them to a close.
  65. >In doing so, exposing herself to the black depths of the dreamer's hedonistic soul.
  66. >The memories will forever linger.
  67. >Luna continues to stare.
  68. >Fluttershy is a meek pony. She's graceful, well-groomed, washes herself. A model citizen in most respects.
  69. >To think that behind such gentle eyes lurks the abominable mind of a sexual deviant. It undermines everything Luna thought she knew about ponies.
  70. >Who else harbours such thoughts?
  71. >Luna's mind makes the uncomfortable link between Fluttershy's maternal expressions and manner, and her own sister's magnanimity.
  72. >Does Celestia think of the same sort of things as Fluttershy?
  73. >Luna knows Celestia's dreams are pure, they're the first things she checks each night. But even so, Celestia could have learned to keep her fantasies away from her dreams. She's intelligent enough.
  74. >"So... can you help?"
  75. >Luna lurches back to reality and spends a stupefied moment trying to drink from her golf ball.
  76. "I, ah, no, I don't think I can. My apologies, Fluttershy."
  77. >Fluttershy deflates.
  78. >"But... but the animals need the funding!"
  79. >Animals? Luna frowns and tries to recall anything the pegasus had just been saying.
  80. >All she can remember are the tremulous groans of Anonymous, the frenzied pants of Fluttershy, and the wet, meaty slaps of everlasting fornication.
  81. "Forgive me, I have a lot on my mind, how much would the, ah, animals need again?"
  82. >"Just a one-time donation of five-hundred bits. -Please-, Princess Luna, I-I don't like to beg, but if I can't find the funding for them they'll go extinct!"
  83. "Y... yes, of course, I apologise, you make a good point. Yes, you can have the funding."
  84. >"Really? Oh, Princess Luna, thank you!"
  85. >Fluttershy lunges forward and the immortal steward of the moon, night, and dreams, recoils like a startled pigeon.
  86. >It doesn't save her. Fluttershy wraps her hooves around Luna's neck and hugs her tightly.
  87. >Luna stares at the wall beyond the pink mane in her vision with distinct remembrances of Fluttershy putting her entire head inside an anus.
  88. >Whose anus, she's forgotten. She's seen so many anuses in too many dreams.
  89. >Fluttershy pulls back and grins.
  90. >Luna saw that same grin three nights ago before its owner spent five hours suffocating herself on an unrealistically oversized erection looming between Anonymous' legs.
  91. >Fluttershy had been crying, and vomited several times during the proceedings, but she didn't stop.
  92. >Each time the phallus ejaculated an entire milk-pail's worth of semen directly into her stomach, she gurgled for more.
  93. >This meant more vomiting, but quickly she ran out of food to eject and regurgitated the cum she'd swallowed instead, only to gulp it back down between husky gasps for "More."
  94. >Luna feels a cold sweat building on her brow, and an uneasy turbulence takes hold of her.
  95. "E-excuse me, Fluttershy, I must use the restroom."
  96. >She rushes past the confused mare to a nearby corridor, head twisting about looking for the sign to the toilets.
  97. >She sees a sign and, uncaring if it's the right one, charges straight in.
  98. >She bursts into a cubicle, grabs the bowl, and heaves her breakfast and lunch into it.
  99. >Luna reflects on herself as she lies there.
  100. >Sweaty, trembling, sagged against the dirty tiles with her legs wrapped around cold porcelain.
  101. >She's fallen far over the years.
  102. >She was worshipped as a goddess, once.
  103. >The Princess stands and lumbers out into the main area of the restroom to check herself out in the mirror.
  104. >As she does, a figure comes to her side from another cubicle and washes his hands.
  105. >Anonymous the human glances at her and offers a weak smile.
  106. >"Too much punch, Princess?"
  107. >Luna stares at him.
  108. >Then vomits in the sink.
  109.  
  110. ---
  111.  
  112. The thread was discussing Anon romancing other mares to get under Fluttershy's skin. I may have misunderstood the concept.
  113.  
  114. >Fluttershy.
  115. >She looks at you blankly, almost like she doesn't recognise you stood on her doorstep for once.
  116. >You hold a guitar by its neck, and raise it with a boyish grin.
  117. "I wrote a song for you, if you'd like to hear it. It's about nature."
  118. >Fluttershy looks over her shoulder, whether to see if there's a hidden camera or some other mare hiding in her house that you might have been speaking to instead.
  119. >"M... me?"
  120. "Of course, who else would I be talking to? I didn't come all the way over here, or learn how to play the guitar for that matter, just so I could woo some other pony. They wouldn't make me happy, but you would."
  121. >Fluttershy's mouth flickers from an anxious frown to a nervous smile.
  122. >"Really? Oh, gosh, no one's ever... done that for me before. It's really sunny out though, would you like to come inside?"
  123. "Oh, eventually, if I can play my cards right, but I'll just do this first," you say with a wink.
  124. >Fluttershy cocks her head slightly, clearly not understanding you, but you shrug it off with an easy smile and settle down to play.
  125. >Your fingers strum the strings, a pleasant hum resonating out across the little glade before Fluttershy's cottage.
  126. >After clearing your throat, you begin in a low voice.
  127. "I once knew a mare--"
  128. >Then someone nearby screams.
  129. >"Anon, no! That's not me!"
  130. >Your head snaps sideways.
  131. >Fluttershy comes stumbling out of a bush.
  132. >She's bloodied, bruised, and one of her wings hangs limply at her side.
  133. >Stained gauze wraps her midsection, and an ugly rent across her forehead oozes blood down her face.
  134. "Who are," you start to say.
  135. >"Think, Anon!" she yells, her voice hoarse as though her vocal cords were torn "I never would have let you get so close to my house without at least sniffing your crotch! Get away from her!"
  136. >Sudden understanding douses you like a bucket of ice-water.
  137. >You leap to your feet and away from the other mare in the doorway, suddenly fearful of her.
  138. "A changeling, is it?"
  139. >"No! Worse!"
  140. >The Fluttershy in the doorway doesn't move, but she does twitch, her eyes wide and, you now realise, milky. The eyes of a corpse.
  141. >Her coat writhes. Undulations and slithering forms twist beneath the yellow fur like tapeworms beneath linen.
  142. >As you back away farther down the cottage path, keeping the creature in view at all times, the original Fluttershy comes to your side.
  143. >She pats your buttock reassuringly.
  144. >"I-it trapped me below the earth, but I got out and managed to-- well I got out, I'll just say that."
  145. "What the hell -is- this, Fluttershy?"
  146. >"It's a nyolith, a creature of the deep places of the world. They were disturbed by Discord's return the other year, and now they're coming to the surface in search of prey!"
  147. >As if to answer her, the creature in her house opens its maw.
  148. >Something like an arm emerges from the back of her throat, drenched in mucus and made entirely of squirming black and brown earthworms longer than your own limbs.
  149. >The end of the arm, a sort of fist, uncurls into eight elongated proboscises that grasp at the air like fingers.
  150. >An insectoid shriek rips forth from the creature, and the Fluttershy skinsuit it was wearing dissolves into a foetid brown sludge around it.
  151. >It inspires disgust and morbid curiosity in equal measure.
  152. >What remains is a strange blend of humanoid and equine, an upper torso with two arms supported by four flatfooted legs, its neck and apparent head being the third arm with the eight grasping protrusions.
  153. >The entire form is made of endlessly twisting worms, their gyrations giving the figure an almost liquid appearance.
  154. >With another unearthly shriek, it staggers forward, arms outstretched towards you, though it totters drunkenly, clearly unused to both walking and being in the sun as it shudders violently under the light the moment it emerges from the shaded house.
  155. >"It's going for you, Anon! It wants to consume your biomass to create more of itself!"
  156. "Well what the hell do we do? Can we kill it?"
  157. >"No! Mortal weapons won't harm it!"
  158. "What about magic?"
  159. >"We're not unicorns, we can't use any!"
  160. "But what about friendship? Isn't that magic?"
  161. >"We're not friends, either!"
  162. "Well, I mean, we kind of are, aren't we?"
  163. >The incoming beast momentarily forgotten, Fluttershy looks away with pinched eyebrows before looking back at you with an odd smile.
  164. >"R... really? You think we're friends?"
  165. >You're about to slap an asterisk on that, but just before you can have a heart-to-heart, the nyolith grabs you.
  166. >Its arm-like head and eight searching fingers seize your face, and you find yourself screaming.
  167. >Fluttershy takes your guitar and smashes it over the back of the monster, but the strange composition parts slightly on impact.
  168. >The guitar sinks a way into its back, then the worms coalesce around it, crushing the wooden instrument like it was paper-mache.
  169. "Fluttershy! Do something!" you say as two of the fingers try to punch into your eyeballs through your lids. Your hands grip the beast's arms before they can wrap around you as well. "Use the stare!"
  170. >"I can't! It's not got eyes or even a brain! It's literally just worms!"
  171. >Dread fills you as completely as the nyolith is filling your vision, but at that moment you ear something distant.
  172. >A twittering meadowlark, going about its business oblivious to your turmoil.
  173. >The shoe drops.
  174. "The birds! Call the birds!"
  175. >Fluttershy gasps, and with an excited "Of course!", puts a hoof to her lips and whistles. Somehow.
  176. >Birds of all kinds rush out from trees and bushes, and under Fluttershy's direction, dive-bomb the nyolith.
  177. >The marauding bombers yank entire clumps of worms from its body at a time, and the beast bellows in its dry, tomb-like voice, blasting your face with hot-dry air and flecks of ancient dirt that smell like mouldy socks.
  178. >It lets go of you, and flails its arms around desperately to fend the avians off.
  179. >To no avail. They continue to harass the creature, evading its mad swings and driving it away from the cottage.
  180. >As it stumbles away, it loses enough of its bodily worms that its structural integrity begins to suffer, and it collapses onto the grass in a wriggling pile.
  181. >At that point there's no saving it. The birds seize upon their prey with abandon, even local eagles and hawks appearing from the blue to take part in the feast. A pelican tumbles out of a cloud and inhales about a third of the pile, much to the consternation of the other feast-goers.
  182. >Fluttershy sighs and leans against you.
  183. >"Another terrible enemy defeated, and the day is saved."
  184. "All thanks to you, Fluttershy."
  185. >She smiles.
  186. >"So... we're friends, are we?"
  187. "After today? Sure, why not. Let's turn over a new leaf."
  188. >"If we can be friends, does that mean that... maybe there could be love, someday?"
  189. >You let out a short laugh.
  190. "One thing at a time, little lady, but sure."
  191. >Fluttershy licks her lips.
  192. >"Good, because--"
  193. >"Anon!"
  194. >Your head snaps sideways for the second time that day.
  195. >Fluttershy stumbles out of the same bush that the other one had earlier.
  196. >This one's also covered in bruises and bandages, identical to the one stood next to you.
  197. >"She's a changeling!" Flutter The Third says. "She wants to harvest your love!"
  198. >You consider that for half a second before dismissing it.
  199. "But... she called the birds just now. That's something only the real Fluttershy can do."
  200. >The new Fluttershy pants, her chest heaving, until she suddenly stops and straightens up, abandoning her performance.
  201. >"Oh. Well, poo."
  202. >New Fluttershy disappears behind a flash of green fire, leaving a disgruntled changeling drone behind.
  203. >"It was a stupid idea anyway..." it hisses, stomping back into the bushes.
  204. >You wait a little while to see if anymore Fluttershys are going to emerge.
  205. >None do, so you turn back to your apparent friend.
  206. "So, uh, was there anything else--"
  207. >"Anon! Wait!"
  208. "Oh for fuck's sake."
  209. >Another Fluttershy stumbles out of the same bush, but this one is spotless with no visible damage.
  210. >She gestures at the bloodied Fluttershy beside you.
  211. >"That's, um, that's me from two years into the future, after the nyoliths take over and there's an epic war to try and stop them."
  212. "That true?" you say to your companion.
  213. >"Yeah, kind of," she admits with a shrug. "Are we still friends?"
  214. "Sure. Let's get milkshakes."
  215. >And so, you leave, effectively cucking Fluttershy with herself from two years into the future.
  216.  
  217. ---
  218.  
  219. "So she's a rapist, but she's conflicted about it. That's comforting."
  220. - Anonymous
  221.  
  222. >"I want you to know I have serious reservations about this, Anon."
  223. "I'm hilted inside you and just came."
  224. >"I know, but despite that I don't really want to do this."
  225. "It's the third time I've jizzed. I can feel you milking me."
  226. >"Again, true, but I feel really awful about it."
  227. "Your hips are still grinding back and forth."
  228. >"They're doing that on their own, look, I'm telling the truth, I never really wanted this to happen. All I wanted to do today was feed the ducks, paint my front door, and read my book."
  229. "Why are you reapplying your lipstick?"
  230. >"Just need you to understand where I'm coming from. I wanted a nice afternoon but I'm being forced to come here and do these awful, awful things. It's not right, it's immoral! I'm a mare under duress."
  231. "You're not the one duct-taped to a hospital bed."
  232. >"No, but I still have my own burdens pressing down on me. I've got a sinner's head but a saint's heart."
  233. "When the nurse finds you you'll get arrested."
  234. >"I'm sure she'd understand if she saw me, not that she'll be on shift this late at night."
  235. "I'm gonna start yelling again."
  236. >"Then I'll have to put the tape back over your mouth."
  237. "Right. But... you'll do it reservedly--"
  238. >"Reservedly, yes, because I have reservations."
  239. "Alright. Whatever. HELP--"
  240. >"Oookay, that's enough out of you there. I'm sorry."
  241. "Mphmm mmph mmm!"
  242. >"So sorry."
  243. "MMPH!"
  244. >"This whole thing is making me feel just awful. I know you can't talk right now, but could you say I'm a bad girl? I already know I am, but just to confirm it. I don't have to hear the words exactly, just sort of mumble them, I'll know what you're saying."
  245. "Ymp m phmmhm." [You're a faggot]
  246. >"Oh yes, I -am- a bad girl, aren't I? I'm so awful for doing this! I'm an awful, awful, -awful- p-pony! Haah!"
  247. "Ymp hmhmm hphm hm." [You're going faster]
  248. >"That's it, Anon, call me mommy!"
  249. "Hph hm." [Fuck you]
  250. >"I love you too!"
  251.  
  252. ---
  253.  
  254. "just let her in bro"
  255. - Anonymous, posting a teeny-tiny Fluttershy behind a teeny-tiny door.
  256.  
  257. >You crouch down and hook your fingernail under the minute door handle.
  258. >The door itself is about 5cm high. You have no idea where it came from.
  259. >Once open, Fluttershy staggers out and peers up, up, and up at your leviathan form.
  260. >"Oh," she squeaks.
  261. "The hell did you do this time," you intone. She flinches as though an earthquake had rocked her world.
  262. >"I followed a bunny down a hole and there was a bottle of stuff saying 'drink me'."
  263. "So you drank the mysterious bottle instead of, like, -not- doing that."
  264. >"I have a problem saying no to ponies."
  265. "It wasn't a pony, it was a bottle."
  266. >"I have a problem saying no to bottles."
  267. "Just like dad..."
  268. >"Is this your fetish?"
  269. "What would you even do?"
  270. >"I could... um. I don't know. Lick your urethra?"
  271. >You stare down at the pony no larger than your thumb.
  272. "Please go back through the door and find a cure to whatever whacko shit you've gone and landed yourself in this time."
  273. >"Then can I lick your urethra?"
  274. "I don't want you doing that regardless of your size."
  275. >"Can you lick mine?"
  276. "Goodbye, Fluttershy."
  277. >You flick her back through the door and slam it shut, and after a thought rest a bottle of water by the little door that had magically appeared on your skirting board so nothing can come back through.
  278. >A minute later, you nearly fall over when a tremor like a collapsing mountain shakes your house.
  279. >You open the front door and see a yellow tree trunk. And another right beside it.
  280. >You peer up, up, and up.
  281. >"So," the leviathan Fluttershy booms, "there was another bottle, and I really think we should explore this urethra thing, I think I might be onto something."
  282. >Fucking Fluttershy.
  283.  
  284. ---
  285.  
  286. Fluttershy moves on.
  287.  
  288. >You are holding a turnip when you say unprompted:
  289. "It's been a week since I've seen Fluttershy."
  290. >Bon Bon, who just gave you the turnip across her market stall countertop, squints at you with practised suspicion.
  291. >"Okay? You're not trying to get out of paying again, are you?"
  292. "No, but it's important."
  293. >"Okay," she says again more slowly, "but I don't care."
  294. "It's -extremely- important."
  295. >"You know how weird you two are, right? Me and Goldie were talking the other day--"
  296. >You do not hear the rest of it since you have already sprinted away, still clutching the turnip - the third one that week.
  297. >Bon Bon stares after you for a breath, briefly wondering if you were sent by Celestia to punish her for some sin.
  298. >"You owe me, Anonymous!" she shrieks, to the consternation of her neighbours.
  299.  
  300. *
  301.  
  302. >Fluttershy's cottage is empty, other than the rabbit.
  303. >It takes to following you around her home, thumping your legs with its feet in an attempt to get you to leave.
  304. >You pay it no mind, it is the deserted rooms that concern you.
  305. >Ordinarily there would be the tell-tale smell of musk lingering to forewarn you of her presence - it is how you are able to evade most of her ambushes.
  306. >A pleasant morning breeze passes through from an open window to the yawning front door, but not a hint of Flutter-funk carries with it.
  307. "She's not dead, is she?" you ask the rabbit.
  308. >The rabbit does not answer, for it is a rabbit.
  309. >It does however bite you, and while it stings like the fangs of Cerberus it still does not answer your question.
  310. >You leave with both mysteries and wounds untended.
  311.  
  312. *
  313.  
  314. >Being bitten by a guard rabbit did give you an idea.
  315. >Ponyville is a town of dog-lovers, and a wayward pooch is more than happy to enter your service for a head-scratch and nibbles.
  316. >You hold a lacy thong to his nose, one you had pilfered from Fluttershy's bedroom that had smelled particularly zesty.
  317. "Anything, boy?"
  318. >It takes a moment, but the dog perks up and presses his nose to the dirt.
  319. >With a wagging tail and the promise of more affirmations of his moral excellence, he takes off down the road.
  320. >You can't help a grin.
  321. >Only then you remember your first clutching Fluttershy's unwashed, crusty thong, and wish you were dead.
  322.  
  323. *
  324.  
  325. >The dog lollops around with uncertain sniffs here and there.
  326. >He wanders between the trees of the apple orchard and stops by a bush.
  327. >He sniffs once, twice, then looks away. Something eludes him.
  328. "She been here?"
  329. >A single, cursory wag. The dog is listening to something you cannot hear.
  330. >He scampers off and you follow.
  331. >You find him resting his front paws against the trunk of an unremarkable tree.
  332. >With a single bark, you know he has found her.
  333. "Thanks kid, buy yourself something nice."
  334. >You give him a old coupon for Applebees from your jeans.
  335. >He takes it with reverence and runs off to either bury it or get fifteen percent off some half rack double-glazed baby back ribs.
  336. "You up there, Fluttershy?" you say to the tree.
  337. >You hear a squeak and the canopy shifts. A drooping pink mane precedes a surprised yellow face.
  338. >"Oh, Anon. Hi?"
  339. >A few steps forward and she comes into better view. She was well-hidden behind the verdant veil.
  340. "Hi. What's up?" You make a wide gesture with your arms. "Not seen you around lately, thought you might be dead."
  341. >"Oh, no, not yet, sorry. I've just been up here. Well, around here, really. Sort of all over the place, but generally in this sort of area."
  342. "Uh huh. My house is across town, though."
  343. >"I know."
  344. "Well, aren't you going to try anything? Guess my fetish, leave little notes lying around my house, blackmail me, you know. The usual."
  345. >She has an awkward look, like you've caught her on the toilet or masturbating.
  346. >Bad examples, actually. You have found her doing both before, and she thought it was extremely arousing, so she made sure you 'caught' her in the act for a week straight afterwards.
  347. >The sights and smells still linger in your tortured mind.
  348. >Her expression is more like she was caught impersonating someone else at a party when the person in question shows up.
  349. >"Oh. Um. Yeah, I'm not doing that anymore. I was... I was gonna tell you at some point, honest."
  350. >She looks away at something beyond the canopy.
  351. >You watch her instead, hands in your pockets, frowning.
  352. "No," you say after a while, "not feeling anything. Indifference isn't my fetish either."
  353. >"No, sorry, I mean I'm not chasing you anymore. I've moved on."
  354. "Moved... the hell? Why?"
  355. >"I thought you'd be happy."
  356. "I'm thrilled, I think, but I didn't think you were capable of stopping."
  357. >Fluttershy shrugs and tucks her mane back behind her ear.
  358. >"You're not exactly interested in me, so I moved onto other things. I, um, I wasn't going to chase you forever, Anon."
  359. "Could have fooled me."
  360. >"I'm persistent, I know, but I also know when to cut my losses. Twilight told me about something called the sunken costs fallacy, it's like that. I've got a future to think about, I can't spend too much time beating a dead cow."
  361. "So that's... it. We're just not gonna hang out anymore."
  362. >"Was it really hanging out? Most of the time I was chasing you and you were screaming in terror."
  363. "It was not -terror-, it was a war cry."
  364. >"Very masculine of you," she says with a giggle.
  365. "So what now? You're bird-watching?"
  366. >"No, I've found someone new. Well, okay, that's not entirely true, I've had a crush on Big Mac for a long time, but when you showed up I wanted to try chasing you instead."
  367. "Big Mac? Really?"
  368. >"Sure. I, um, never had the confidence to do anything so I'd just watch him from a distance, but I've learned a lot from my time with you, so I think I'm ready to be bolder with him."
  369. >She looks back out through the canopy. If you stand on your toes, you can just make out a red blob with a blonde mane moving to and fro in the next field over.
  370. >With her pegasus eyes, Fluttershy will be able to see him clearly. With your short-sightedness, he is a colourful smear.
  371. >"So, again, um. I'm sorry. About all this, I mean. Was there anything else?"
  372. "No, I guess that's that. I'll see you around?"
  373. >She gives you a small shrug, not meeting your eye.
  374. >"Probably not, honestly. I'll be devoting all my time to Mac."
  375. "Oh. I'll... just be off, then. Goodbye, Fluttershy."
  376. >"Goodbye, Anonymous. Sorry it didn't work out."
  377. >She glances at you briefly, looks away, then double-takes and frowns down at you, or more specifically something in your hand.
  378. >"Um. Why are you holding my panties and a turnip?"
  379.  
  380. *
  381.  
  382. >Bon Bon's eyes narrow when you plod back to her stall.
  383. >"You brought money this time, I hope?"
  384. "Yeah, here you go, for the turnip."
  385. >"Turnips," she hisses the S, "you've stolen two others."
  386. "Right, here, then."
  387. >She swipes the bits off the counter before they can even bounce. She looks satisfied, but gives you a once-over and a grunt.
  388. >"What's up with you? You look like a kicked puppy."
  389. "I think Fluttershy just dumped me."
  390. >"You were dating?"
  391. "Not really."
  392. >"Then what?"
  393. "I don't know."
  394. >Bon Bon sniffs and looks around at the other stalls on the market.
  395. >"Does that mean you're single then?"
  396. >You can only shrug.
  397. >"Good. Because Lyra's being a pain in my ass about not having a coltfriend, I'll tell her you'll meet her tonight."
  398. "Wait, no--"
  399. >"Or I can tell the guards about you stealing my turnips."
  400. "...Well son of a bitch."
  401. >"What goes around comes around, jungle monkey."
  402.  
  403. ---
  404.  
  405. Anon posted a picture of Fluttershy wearing a T-shirt with 'Human Therapist' on it. I'm sure you can guess the joke.
  406. Also I wrote this as an actual vintage greentext for some reason?
  407.  
  408. >Be you.
  409. >Horribly depressed.
  410. >The fags at the hospital decided you were too much of a sad sack of shit to pick yourself up, so they got you on pills and sent you to therapy.
  411. >Therapy didn't work; your therapist kept trying to make the point that maybe if the capitalist hegemony wasn't so soulless and oppressive you might find life more bearable.
  412. >You gave up going after he sent you home with six books on socialist literature and ordered you to read them.
  413. >You don't even read the news so you don't know how the fuck you're supposed to get through The Condition of the Working Class in England.
  414. >The pills didn't work either, but they did make you more appreciative of the culinary world.
  415. >Meaning you can't stop eating.
  416. >Two months into being 'officially diagnosed' you show up to the hospital and tell them to fix you.
  417. >They say "Depression isn't something that can be fixed, it's a lifelong condition that has to be worked with."
  418. >You say that's great, but also can they please just fucking fix you.
  419. >They send you home with more pills and say they'll make a few calls.
  420.  
  421. *
  422.  
  423. >One week later get a call from some dude that sounds like he's huffing the good shit.
  424. >He's got a therapy animal ready for you.
  425. >You tell him you're allergic to dogs and he thinks this is the funniest thing that's ever been said.
  426. >Stand in your kitchen listening some motherfucker at a kennel laughing his guts out for a straight minute.
  427. >Ponder your life.
  428. >Ponder your failures and missed opportunities.
  429. >Stop pondering because it's making you feel bad, then ponder them even harder because you're horribly depressed and that's how it goes.
  430. >Make plans with the laughing man to visit the kennel to pick up your therapy animal.
  431. >He won't give you any details about the animal, just keeps saying "I promise it won't suck."
  432.  
  433. *
  434.  
  435. >Get home from the kennel.
  436. >Wasn't even a proper kennel, just some warehouse full of weird-looking animals that smelled like piss and sawdust.
  437. >Your therapy animal is a pony, and not like any pony you've ever seen.
  438. >It's bright yellow and has a butterfly tramp-stamp and you swear to God it can understand every word you say to it.
  439. >Tell it to sit.
  440. >It sits.
  441. >Tell it to stay.
  442. >It stays.
  443. >Tell it to get rid of the socialist literature your therapist gave you.
  444. >It tells you that would be a waste of money and to sell them to a book shop for a few extra dollars.
  445. >Your therapy pony is hella smart.
  446.  
  447. *
  448.  
  449. >Realise that at some point you're gonna have to walk this fucking thing.
  450. >It's been pawing at the windows and watching birds go by, but you don't fuck with the outside world.
  451. >You're perfectly happy sitting indoors eating yourself into a coma.
  452. >Pony tells you you need exercise or you'll get fat.
  453. >Tell the pony that getting fat is kind of your thing right now, and that you'd appreciate her not killing your vibe.
  454. >Pony says if you don't take her for a walk she'll call the kennel and you'll get slammed for neglect.
  455. >Your face when you're being ordered around by a talking pony.
  456. >Your face when you have no face.
  457.  
  458. *
  459.  
  460. >Be at the park with your therapy pony.
  461. >Pony is called Fluttershy and is apparently a mare with needs.
  462. >You don't know why she said it like that or why she keeps repeating it.
  463. >Or why she keeps batting her eyelids at you when she does.
  464. >Walking around with your hands in your pockets.
  465. >No idea what you're doing; you've never been here before.
  466. >Just follow the path and see where it leads you.
  467. >Kind of like life actually, so by that logic you fully expect to end up face-down in a ditch soon.
  468. >Fluttershy keeps telling you you're doing great.
  469. >She's giving you a massage as you walk, digging her hooves into your shoulders.
  470. >She's flapping her wings as she's doing this, and that's around the time you realise she's a pegasus and can fly.
  471. >She'd been wearing a t-shirt before that hid her wings, and the t-shirt had said 'HUMAN THERAPIST' on it.
  472. >You thought it was a joke since she's clearly neither a human nor a therapist.
  473. >You think the flying horse might also be your pills acting up.
  474.  
  475. *
  476.  
  477. >Fluttershy keeps trying to lead you off the beaten path.
  478. >Tells you that nature is medicinal.
  479. >Tells you that being around trees will make you feel better.
  480. >Go along with it.
  481. >Stand next to a tree.
  482. >Still feel like killing yourself.
  483. >This is what happens when you take medical advice from a talking horse you met in a warehouse.
  484. >Fluttershy says you should take your clothes off to become closer to nature.
  485. >Tell her that's not happening.
  486. >She insists.
  487. >Tell her to fuck off.
  488. >She starts crying and runs away.
  489. >Realise you just said fuck off to your therapy pony and that's probably not a good thing.
  490. >Go after her to apologise.
  491. >She says the only way she'll accept an apology is if you take your clothes off.
  492. >No one around this bit of the park.
  493. >Couldn't get worse so you do it.
  494. >Fluttershy touches your junk and says it's nice.
  495. >Tell her thanks, you too.
  496. >Your face when you're dropping spaghetti in front of your therapy pony.
  497. >Fluttershy says you've not been cleaning yourself.
  498. >Tell her you shower every day.
  499. >She says it's not enough and she needs to clean your dick.
  500. >Tell her no.
  501. >She says it's penis inspection day and you have to because it's the law.
  502. >Fucking penis inspection day.
  503.  
  504. *
  505.  
  506. >Get home and lock yourself in the bathroom.
  507. >You got your dick sucked in the park by a therapy pony you've known for less than a day.
  508. >You nutted in her mouth and she gargled it.
  509. >Shit was NOT cash.
  510. >Call the hospital.
  511. >Tell them what happened.
  512. >They tell you they might have given you the wrong pills.
  513. >Call the kennel guy.
  514. >He laughs his ass off until he starts choking.
  515. >He chokes for like a minute and you sit there listening to him until he goes quiet.
  516. >The line's still running but there's no reply on the other end.
  517. >Hear a door slam open in the background and some lady scream "Harold!"
  518. >Oh fuck.
  519. >Drop the call in case she blames you.
  520. >Fluttershy knocks on the bathroom door and asks you if you're having trouble.
  521. >Say you're doing fine.
  522. >She tries the handle.
  523. >Shout you're doing fine.
  524. >She tries the handle harder.
  525. >Tell her to fuck off.
  526. >She starts crying and runs away.
  527. >It's amazing how effective that is.
  528.  
  529. *
  530.  
  531. >It's been two weeks.
  532. >Fluttershy keeps sucking your dick.
  533. >The hospital keeps sending you home with anti-psychotic pills of increasing magnitude.
  534. >Tell them you don't need pills, you need your horse to stop sucking your dick.
  535. >They lock you in a psyche ward.
  536. >It's actually fine since this means your therapy pony can't get to you.
  537. >Spend an afternoon earnestly and truthfully telling a very understanding and pleasant nurse that there's a talking horse in your house that keeps sucking your dick.
  538. >She asks you if the horse is in the room with you right now.
  539. >You say yes because she literally is.
  540. >She slipped in through the open window while the nurse was talking.
  541. >She hits the nurse over the head with a frying pan.
  542. >Then sucks your dick.
  543. >Feels bad man.
  544. >Tell her to fuck off.
  545. >Doesn't work.
  546. >Your face when.
  547.  
  548. ---
  549.  
  550. Anon posted a picture of Fluttershy saying "Prepare your ass".
  551.  
  552. >"Happy Birthday!"
  553. >You've come to dread birthdays.
  554. >Not because you dislike the idea of getting older, but because birthdays mean Fluttershy will try extra hard on that given day.
  555. >Truth be told, you spent most of the night awake in bed worrying about what she was going to do, but in all your musings you hadn't imagined this.
  556. >Fluttershy stands beside a donkey.
  557. >She's a pretty little thing -- the donkey, not Fluttershy -- with long, soft-looking ears, a broad, genuine smile, and a gleaming coat that had clearly just been washed that morning.
  558. >She's dressed in a simple but formal black-white attire complete with bonnet, and bearing a duffel bag on her back.
  559. >The donkey clears her throat and steps forward.
  560. >"Good morning, sir, and Happy Birthday! My name is Esmerelda, and I've been hired to be your maid."
  561. >Too many questions hit you at that point, so you respond automatically instead of saying more appropriate things like "What the Dickens," or, "Why."
  562. "I wasn't aware I needed one. God knows I don't have the money."
  563. >"Not to worry, sir, my contract has been paid in advance. For the next six months I'll be your live-in maid."
  564. "Live... wait, with me?"
  565. >"Yes."
  566. >You glare at Fluttershy.
  567. "What's your angle, butterball."
  568. >Fluttershy gives you an innocent shrug, "Nothing at all. I'm just fed up with your house always being messy and you not eating properly, so I hired a maid to look after you."
  569. >Your glare deepens and lingers, but Esmerelda speaks up.
  570. >"If it's not working out, sir, we can review our progress after a week. My services are flexible. Have you ever had a maid before?"
  571. "Well, no, I'm poor as dirt. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do with you."
  572. >She laughs good-naturedly, "You don't need to -do- anything, sir, I can look after myself. I'll cook, clean, strip your bed, do your laundry, everything a maid would ordinarily do. I'll do your shopping as well, if that sounds acceptable?"
  573. >You find yourself nodding.
  574. >There'll be a catch, there always is with Fluttershy, but you're prepared to reap the short-term rewards before it all bites you in the balls.
  575. "Alright. We'll try it out for a week. I have a guest room upstairs you can use, I'll show you where it is."
  576. >"Oh, I know. Fluttershy filled me in on all the details."
  577. >Esmerelda drifts past you and up the stairs.
  578. >Alone, you glare at Fluttershy again, and she grins sheepishly.
  579. "I'm onto you, you son of a bitch."
  580. >"I'm sure you'll enjoy having a maid, Anon."
  581. "I'm fucking onto you."
  582. >"So you keep saying. Enjoy her while she lasts."
  583.  
  584. *
  585.  
  586. >One week in, you're a convert.
  587. >Having a maid is marvellous.
  588. >A platter of French toast, honeyed porridge, black coffee, and a bowl of chopped fruits with yoghurt awaits you on the dinner table as you trudge downstairs for your breakfast, and the smell alone is enough to put you in a good mood.
  589. >"Good morning, sir!" trills Esmerelda as you lumber in.
  590. >She's darting around the kitchen as usual, wiping down surfaces and making everything spotless.
  591. >She tackles everything she does with maximum effort and you'll admit it's awfully endearing.
  592. >Your cynicism didn't last long around her.
  593. "Morning, Esmerelda. What's going on today?"
  594. >"Well, you have a doctor's appointment at noon, but otherwise nothing else. Unless you got a job when I wasn't looking?"
  595. "Hey, there aren't any jobs for men of my talents around here."
  596. >"What talents are those, exactly?"
  597. "Well, I'll first need to explain what a computer is..."
  598.  
  599. *
  600.  
  601. >Two weeks in, you could live like this forever.
  602. >You walk into your home after a day of job-hunting, and the whole place smells of pomegranate.
  603. >A scented candle flickers merrily away on a hallway table, and the radio, set to a low volume, fills the house with a low, droning jazz.
  604. >"Is that you, sir?" Esmerelda calls from another room.
  605. "It's me, Esma, hi."
  606. >"Dinner won't be long! I've picked up your suit from the dry cleaners as well, it's hanging in your closet."
  607. "Thank you," you loosen your tie and check your hair in the mirror. "What have you done today?"
  608. >"Oh, I saw a friend when I was on break. We want to go shopping, would I be able to have some time off on Saturday?"
  609. "Take the whole day off, Esma, I really don't mind."
  610. >"Thank you so much! I'll make it up to you, I promise."
  611. "Hah," you catch yourself in the mirror again, and you're smiling unbidden.
  612. >Smiling comes a lot easier these days. You're even sleeping better.
  613. "Trust me, you're doing more than enough already," you call.
  614.  
  615. *
  616.  
  617. >Three weeks in, you're smitten.
  618. >Esmerelda is a dream, and you like to think she's enjoying her time here too.
  619. >But you have to keep reminding yourself that she's an employee, and a damned good one at that.
  620. >She wouldn't reduce herself to fraternising with her charge, her personal and professional standards are too high, and you think you're okay with that.
  621. >Perhaps suddenly living with an extremely competent female has confused your simple male brain.
  622. >You're not a psychologist, but it seems plausible.
  623. >Even so, you think she'd like a gift to show that you appreciate her efforts.
  624. >You push open your front door with the box of chocolates in hand.
  625. "Esma? I'm back."
  626. >No reply. She'll be out getting groceries, she tends to go around this time.
  627. >You set the chocolates on the table and stare at them for a moment.
  628. >Chocolates.
  629. >You wanted to show a girl you appreciated her and you went for chocolates.
  630. >That's the most concrete evidence you've seen yet that you haven't got a clue what you're doing in regards to the opposite sex.
  631. >Still, better to try and fail than to not try at all.
  632. >You loosen your tie and trudge upstairs to your bedroom.
  633. >And that's when you hear it.
  634. >Squeaks, knocks, and muffled voices.
  635. >You've been alive long enough to know what that means, and you burst into the guest room before you can even consider stopping.
  636. >What you see stops you dead.
  637. >Esmerelda is belly-down on the bed, her maid's uniform pulled forward and over her shoulders, leaving her rear bare.
  638. >Her face is sideways on the duvet, and her tongue hangs from her mouth.
  639. >A look of drunken giddiness is plastered across her features, and she pants with each squeak of the bed.
  640. >Slumped over the top of her is Fluttershy.
  641. >The pegasus thrusts her hips forward and spears the maid again with the largest strap-on you've ever seen.
  642. >Its entire dozen-inch length buries itself to the hilt inside the donkey before the glistening mass is wrenched free again.
  643. >When it does, Esmerelda's pussy clenches, and the pink inner walls can be seen clinging to the silicone in a desperate bid to keep the welcome invader nestled deep within her.
  644. >As you enter, Fluttershy's head snaps to you.
  645. >Her mane is a sweat-matted mess, and her eyes reflect her frenzied state.
  646. >"Oh, there you are! I was wondering how long I'd need to keep fucking her for!"
  647. "Fluttershy, what the -fuck- are you doing?!"
  648. >She speaks over her humps, voice catching frequently on laboured pants. How long -had- she been at it before you entered?
  649. >"Well, I thought it'd be obvious."
  650. >She grips Esma's hips and jackhammers the strap-on into the donkey's pussy for a few more violent seconds, and the maid's whines rise to a wail.
  651. >The donkey throatily "hawws" and sags against the bed, her rear legs weak and trembling but kept upright by Fluttershy.
  652. >"That's eight now, Esmerelda! Or do you want me to keep going?"
  653. >"Uhh huh," the donkey gurgles.
  654. >"Well, Anon?" Fluttershy looks to you again with a smirk.
  655. >You've still not taken your hand off the doorknob, transfixed by what you're seeing, hearing, and smelling.
  656. >"Is getting your ass fucked your fetish?"
  657. >Fucking Flutters--
  658. "Oooh, I get it. Clever."
  659. >"So is--"
  660. "Absolutely not."
  661. >Fucking Fluttershy.
  662.  
  663. ---
  664.  
  665. Anon posted Fluttershy peering at a computer.
  666.  
  667. >You find Fluttershy's new computer unattended.
  668. >Like any God fearing man, you immediately plant yourself in her chair and open her browser.
  669. >What would a pony like Fluttershy do online? Forums? Videos?
  670. >You click on 'History'.
  671. >And your good mood vanishes.
  672.  
  673. >"anon"
  674. >"anon address"
  675. >"anon nudes"
  676. >"where is anon nudes"
  677. >"anon NUDES where address find"
  678. >"ANon google"
  679. >"goofgle"
  680. >"Gogle"
  681. >"anon hot sex nudes"
  682. >"Anon nudes"
  683. >"anon address ponyville"
  684. >"anon adress ponyville equestria"
  685. >"bdsm"
  686. >"bdsm ponybville"
  687. >"anon ponyville ndues"
  688. >"anon ponyville nudes"
  689. >"anon bdsm"
  690. >"bdsm"
  691. >"anon"
  692. >"Anon sex"
  693. >"human sex"
  694. >"ponyville sex human anon"
  695. >"youtube anon sex videos"
  696. >"stallions"
  697. >"why are humans better than stallions"
  698. >"stallion human penis chart"
  699. >"human equine penis comparison"
  700. >"anon sexy nudes"
  701. >"human nudes"
  702. >"human sex"
  703. >"human anon sex"
  704. >"anon"
  705. >"Where to buy animal feed Ponyville"
  706. >"hot anon sex"
  707.  
  708. >You close the tab and stare at the bare desktop for a while.
  709. >You decide to leave Fluttershy's computer alone from now on.
  710. >And also Fluttershy in general.
  711. >And also to check online to see how much a train ticket to the other side of Equestria will cost you.
  712.  
  713. ---
  714.  
  715. An adverse reaction to manliness.
  716.  
  717. >She's got you.
  718. >Legs bound with a bola, you crawl along the carpet.
  719. >The backdoor beckons, but you know you won't make it.
  720. >You only want to delay her for a few more seconds.
  721. >To savour these final moments of waning freedom.
  722. >And then her weight settles on you, your own personal yoke of rapacious torment.
  723. >"Got you at last, Anon," Fluttershy says.
  724. "I won't give you what you want."
  725. >"You don't need to. I'm just going to take it."
  726. >She rolls you over onto your back and forces your mouths together.
  727. >Her probing tongue writhes against yours, her fat muscle bearing evidence of both lunch and lacklustre oral hygiene.
  728. >Your stomach protests, and a cold shiver of nausea washes through your system for the next minute.
  729. >The mare's heft keeps you pinned, your arms held at your sides by her implacable hooves.
  730. >She pulls back to suck in breath, a string of spit like an obscene anchor.
  731. >Her eyes shine with fresh tears, pink at the corners.
  732. >Is she so overcome by all this?
  733. >"I'll take everything from you. Everything I ever waA--CHHOO!"
  734. >A sea-spray of horse snot blasts you in the face.
  735. >A few seconds of blackness and silence pass, and eventually you crack one open of your clenched eyes with a disgusted expression.
  736. >Fluttershy is staring down at you -- almost through you -- in wide-eyed shock.
  737. >"I-I," she begins, then sneezes again.
  738. >Your palm hovers in the gap between your face and her muzzle.
  739. "Dude, that's nasty, what the hell?"
  740. >Her mouth trembles and her nose wrinkles. Her head tilts back and her eyes threaten to shut. You bring both hands to bear as shields and twist your head to the side with a grimace.
  741. "Do it away from me!"
  742. >"CHOO!"
  743. >When you see her again, her eyes are bloodshot and watering.
  744. >The tip of her nose is pink, and when she speaks her voice is congested.
  745. >"I-I don't know what--" another sneeze, "I'm sorry, I-- I have to g-go--"
  746. >She staggers away and out the door, barely able to walk in a straight line from her constant sneezing.
  747.  
  748. *
  749.  
  750. >Fluttershy sits in the doctor's office next to a half-empty box of tissues.
  751. >She blows her nose again and discards the latest wad in the bin.
  752. >"Well," the doctor begins, clicking his tongue a few times. "I reckon you're probably allergic to Anonymous."
  753. >Fluttershy's hoof pauses over the tissues, forgetting herself and staring at the stallion sat across from her, trying to gauge if he's pulling her leg.
  754. "What? I can't be."
  755. >"Mm, no, I think you can." He nods in self-confirmation. "Have you ever gotten that close to him before? From what you're telling me, that was the first time you two kissed. Have you been dating for long?"
  756. "A while, but that's the first time we've done anything really intimate."
  757. >"It might be his skin, saliva, perhaps even smell. Our bodies can have quite violent reactions to the most unexpected things. It could also be that you weren't allergic to him before, but now you are."
  758. "I wasn't aware that could happen."
  759. >"Oh, sure it can, it even happened to me. I owned a dog for about six years with no problems, then one day I woke up and, oh well, looks like Rusty's gotta go. Couldn't go near him without coughing my lungs out. Damn shame, I loved that dog."
  760. "What can I do? I can't keep my distance, doctor, he's going to be the father of my children one day."
  761. >"Well, since staying away won't be an option, there might be something we can do if you're willing to put up with it..."
  762.  
  763. *
  764.  
  765. >You open the door to reveal Fluttershy.
  766. >She looks you up and down, takes a deep breath, then stabs herself in the chest with an adrenaline needle.
  767. >"Okay, ten minutes before it wears off, let's do this!"
  768. >You only have about half a second to say "Oh fuck--" before she collides with you.
  769. >Not all medicine is miraculous. Some of it's a curse.
  770.  
  771. ---
  772.  
  773. "nothing like sneaking under anon's covers"
  774. - Anonymous
  775.  
  776. >Fluttershy enters through the window, backlit by moonlight.
  777. >She creeps across your bedroom floor, wincing at every noise louder than a mouse's heartbeat.
  778. >You rest in your bed, unaware of the approaching danger.
  779. >She's been planning this one for days. The things she's got planned for you would have pimps blushing.
  780. >The mare lifts your bedsheets at the far end and slips under them, her tail slithering after her like a snake's into scrub.
  781. >She can't stop smiling. She's in heaven under those sheets, her entire world immersed in your night-time stink.
  782. >To you, it's sweat, ball-funk, and more than a little gas.
  783. >To her, it's ambrosia.
  784. >Forward she crawls, her mind a firework celebration of licentious fantasy, every conceivable act of decadence she's envisioned this last week will soon be realised.
  785. >All she needs is you, your manhood, and possibly your backdoor if she's brave enough.
  786. >She realises that she is that brave, and surges ahead.
  787. >But by now, her smile has faded.
  788. >She's been crawling for several seconds and hasn't even found your legs yet.
  789. >You were sprawled under the covers, your form a vague, sagging X, but your legs were stretched out and apart, she was sure of at least that.
  790. >Only, there's nothing.
  791. >She glances around and lifts a hoof to tent the sheet.
  792. >Doing so reveals only the expansive grass-green mattress.
  793. >Where are your legs? Where is the edge of the bed?
  794. >Fluttershy twists, looking back and lifting her tail to aid in revealing more.
  795. >Back the way she came, there's only more mattress, draped in the sky-blue cotton.
  796. >An infinite bedspread, and she's trapped in the middle.
  797. >She's still. Frozen. She doesn't know whether to forge ahead or retreat.
  798. >If she goes back the way she came she can flop out onto the floor and utilise plan B: sitting on your face and riding your thrashing body for as long as possible, hopefully until she climaxes.
  799. >Not a great plan; it's B for a reason.
  800. >She sighs and turns around, crawling with long, cautious drags the way she came.
  801. >For thirty seconds she crawls, and as she does her heartrate rises, and rises.
  802. >Eventually it's pounding, and in that moment she rises to her hooves and gallops.
  803. >The sheet rises with her, the fabric ceiling heightening to allow passage, flowing up and away from her as if expecting her arrival.
  804. >But though she leaps and bounds to the end of the bed, the end of this musky paradise, she does not emerge.
  805. >Panic flares. She whimpers and calls out.
  806. "Anon? Anon! This isn't funny."
  807. >You don't respond, how can you? You don't know she's there, and wouldn't be able to answer if you did.
  808. >Fluttershy runs until she collapses, bouncing once on the springy mattress and settling into a sobbing pile.
  809. >She doesn't understand any of this, she only wants to be free of it.
  810. >But the unanswering silence stretches as endlessly as the cotton prison.
  811. >Fluttershy curls into a ball and shudders, her thoughts turning to the mundane, seeking salvation in the familiar.
  812. >Angel Bunny, her cottage, her friends, her shockingly large collection of hardcore pornography stashed under the floorboards.
  813. >All of it cut off from her, all of her cut off from it.
  814. >She lashes out. Hooves and teeth tear at the sheet above her, wrenching it at every angle, anything to find purchase.
  815. >But it doesn't give. A millimetre of fabric so thin as to let light through is as unyielding as steel.
  816. >She shrieks. Her vocal chords strain and ache from her expletives and curses, but no help comes.
  817. >The fight leaves her all at once.
  818. >She sinks to the mattress, and sobs until exhaustion takes her into a brief, restless sleep.
  819.  
  820. *
  821.  
  822. >Voices awaken her.
  823. >Her head raises with a start, half-expecting to wake up in her own bed, but no. Such simple pleasures are foreign now.
  824. >The yawning expanse greets her, illuminated only by the alien moonlight peeking through the fabric.
  825. >The green of the mattress and blue of the sheet make a mockery of nature, a warm, spongy parody of the world outside.
  826. >No longer a world she can call her own, but an other-place beyond reach.
  827. >Fluttershy scrambles to her hooves.
  828. "Hello? Can you hear me?" she calls, ignoring the sharp pain from her throat.
  829. >There is the whisper of fabric dragging over coats, and forms emerge across the threshold of what passes as her horizon, the sheet lifting to accommodate them.
  830. >"Ah, a new arrival. Welcome."
  831. >Two mares stand before her, one holding a lantern aloft. Both look exhausted, but resolute.
  832. >Their coats are dirty, but combed. They wear hoods of burlap, though for what purpose she can't fathom.
  833. "Where am I?"
  834. >"We call this place Purgatory," says the front mare. "It is the space between the sheets where all horny mares eventually find themselves."
  835. "You mean Anon's sheets? I was at Anon's house."
  836. >She nods, a weary gesture.
  837. >"Yes. You are not the first to fly too close to the sun."
  838. >She lifts a hoof, reaching it to some far off place that only she can see, her eyes wavering.
  839. >"I was so close. I swear I nearly saw his foot, but..." she shakes her head, whatever vision she was seeing dying before her, who can say how many times she'd been tortured by such images. "But I was arrogant. My horniness was my undoing."
  840. "How long have you been here?"
  841. >"I don't know. No one does. Mares that enter do not leave, they only know this eternal half-light that makes it impossible to determine the passing of days."
  842. "Is Anon magic? Is that how he's doing this?"
  843. >"Perhaps. No one knows, not even the First. Come, we have a camp this way."
  844. "How many of you are there?"
  845. >"Dozens. And who knows how many more will come before we're all free. By my reckoning I've been here for years, but even I am not the First. I'll introduce you to our leader, Lyra Heartstrings. She is the First. The first to come here, to discover Purgatory. She will show you our ways, and how we survive in this desolate place. You are welcome amongst us."
  846. "What do I call you?"
  847. >"You may call me... Amethyst Star."
  848. "Oh, Amethyst, sorry, I didn't recognise you."
  849. >"Yeah, it's me, hi, Fluttershy. Sorry you ended up here."
  850. "It... I mean, it smells nice in here, at least."
  851. >"Yeah." Amethyst smiles dopily. "Yeah, it does."
  852. "How do you... stay clean?"
  853. >"We lick each other's coats."
  854. "O-oh. Oh my."
  855. >"Yes, there'll be a lot to learn about our ways, Fluttershy, but all in good time. Celestia knows we've got plenty of that in this place..."
  856.  
  857. >And so, Fluttershy journeyed to meet Lyra Heartstrings, leader of the forgotten mares of Purgatory.
  858. >There's like, a whole 100,000 word adventure after that about discovering the secrets of Purgatory, trying to escape it, failing a few times.
  859. >Also a plot-twist where Lyra doesn't actually want to leave because she thinks it's a paradise, and a few mares die, turns out there's monsters out there but the real monsters were the ponies all along, that sort of thing.
  860. >Real Lord of the Flies shit mixed with some Heart of Darkness and maybe Evil Dead if you're feeling kinky.
  861. >But I know you're not interested in that, so I won't bore you.
  862. >Meanwhile, you yourself snort in your sleep and dream about waiting in a McDonald's drive-through queue for a week.
  863. >Those fuckin' chicken nuggers better be worth it.
  864.  
  865. ---
  866.  
  867. Tick Tock.
  868. It's Ponk O'Clock.
  869.  
  870. >You open the freezer compartment of your fridge, and a pink cube with a face grins out at you.
  871. >The cube takes up the entirety of the chamber, squeezed in like a balloon inflated to fill a mould.
  872. >You can't imagine where your icepops have gone and firmly don't want to.
  873. >"Hi Anon!" says the cube. "It's Sunday!"
  874. >You slam the door shut and bolt for the back door.
  875. >The freezer door explodes off its hinges and past your head, manic laughter following it.
  876. >"The hunt is on, Non-non! Where're you gonna run today?"
  877. >Out into the back garden and over the hedge, you clear the barrier like an Olympic hurdler.
  878. >Your fist grips the handle of a spade you'd swiped as you'd evacuated, but it doesn't fill you with as much confidence as you'd hoped.
  879. >Weapons have historically been ineffective.
  880. >Past the corner at the end of the road, you proceed into a field of long grass over a low fence.
  881. >But you stop.
  882. >A fuzzy pink tail drifts along through the grass, alert like a periscope, going right.
  883. >It sinks away under the green, then re-emerges closer to you, but now going left.
  884. >Like a shark's fin it makes its approach. You clench the spade's shaft with both hands and prepare to swing.
  885. >The owner bursts from cover with an excited squeal.
  886. >"Hi again--" she starts, and you clobber her across the face with the flat of the spade as hard as you can.
  887. >Pinkie Pie staggers back from the blow with a stunned look.
  888. >Her mouth and muzzle are gone, vanished, the bottom of her face is strangely smooth and orb-like.
  889. >She pats the blank area where her lips once were.
  890. >Finding nothing, her eyes frown at you, her head and shoulders tilting a silent expression that says "Really?"
  891. >She reaches around the back of her head, feels for a while, then slides her displaced mouth back around to where it belongs.
  892. >You watch with familiar revulsion at seeing the laws of reality violated so openly.
  893. >Sadly, Pinkie Pie finds such laws as concrete as a colouring book stating you can't paint outside the lines.
  894. >"Well that was rude," she says once her mouth is back where it belongs. "That'll be -two- rapes for you, mister!"
  895. >She can't even follow her own rules: She rapes you thrice.
  896.  
  897. *
  898.  
  899. >The following week, your fishing rod tugs, and you're ejected from your daydream, hands finding the handle before you can finish a surprised snort.
  900. >Whatever it is, it's got fight.
  901. >You pull, and strain, but it's hauling back just as hard.
  902. >Your palms sweat and notions of failure start becoming more realistic.
  903. >With a final yank, you wrench something from Ponyville Lake.
  904. >Something large, and pink, and fuzzy.
  905. >You stare at it in shock.
  906. >Then laugh.
  907. >A real, genuine, Fuzzy Pink Flounder. You thought Fluttershy was lying about them.
  908. >The fish - easily as long as your arm - waggles about on the end of the hook, confused as to why the worm in its mouth suddenly transported it to Sky-Hell.
  909. >Into the catch bucket it goes -- or rather one third of it does with the rest hanging over the side -- and back into your seat you slump.
  910. >You could quit now and end the day on a high note, but you think you'll try your luck and keep going.
  911. >Bait is reapplied, and the cast flies back out near the centre of the deep blue.
  912. >Apparently it goes down for a while, deeper than it is wide, more like a well than a lake.
  913. >Lotta room for fish.
  914. >Then you glance down your body and to the left, and Pinkie Pie is squashed up against you.
  915. >The deck chair is far too small for both of you. You don't know how or when she got there.
  916. >"Yeah, hi," she says dismissively, "I was gonna show up on the fishing line, but that felt too obvious, and I'm too horny to think straight right now. I've had a hard week and a lot of angry customers so I'm just gonna squeeze your éclair 'til it squirts cream in my oven and then we're gonna do it again and again until my pulsing pink pony pussy is pumped with pearly peen purée. Okay?"
  917. "Not okay."
  918. >"Okay. Thanks."
  919. >She then does just that.
  920. >You didn't even know your éclair had that much cream in it.
  921.  
  922. *
  923.  
  924. >The week after, you're sprinting.
  925. >It started as an afternoon jog, but then you tripped over a rock that wasn't actually a rock, but was really Pinkie Pie pretending to be one.
  926. >She'd cleverly disguised herself by sitting in the middle of the road with a paper bag on her head, and against all reason your brain was tricked into thinking there was nothing there.
  927. >Her wilful disregard for logic angers you more with each transgression, but there's not a lot you can do about it, so for now you're running like your life depended on it.
  928. >It doesn't, but rape-by-Pinkie isn't fun however it happens, so you'll treat it like it's lethal.
  929. >At some point you gather a stone, and hurl it at her in desperation.
  930. >She evades it as if she knew it was coming, never stopping her infernal bouncing or sing-song threats of impending carnal compromise.
  931. >No matter how fast you run, she's always there behind you.
  932. >Sometimes she'll skip ahead and be waiting behind the next tree, or burst out of a bush she had no right to be in.
  933. >It hurts your head whenever it happens, and in your desperation you take a random turn and careen off into the deeper woods.
  934. >Her laughter fades, and blessed silence greets you like an old friend.
  935. >Your legs give out and you collapse in a clearing.
  936. >On your knees and framed by sunlight, you look pleadingly at the heavens, presented through a circular gap in the canopy, and with clasped hands you beg.
  937. "Why? Why me? What did I do wrong? Why can't I stop her?"
  938. >You've never been a religious sort, but desperation will drive a man to anything.
  939. >So it's to your utter astonishment that you get a reply.
  940. >"Because you're not thinking outside the box," booms a powerful, masculine voice.
  941. >Your eyes widen and jaw goes slack, and as you stare the clouds above part.
  942. >As if from Heaven itself, an angel in a stained t-shirt descends on Seraphim wings.
  943. >You shield your eyes from his radiance, but squint as best you can and whisper in awe.
  944. "Is... is that you, M.A. Larson?"
  945. >Larson the Angel nods, his greasy black hair framing his blushing cherubic face like limescale around a toilet bowl.
  946. >"That's right. It's me, Anon. Master Angel Larson."
  947. "What... what do I do, Lord? How do I stop Pinkie Pie from popping my cherry? I don't even know how she keeps doing it, she pops it then by next week it's back and I don't understand?"
  948. >Larson shakes his mighty head with an understanding smile.
  949. >"You can't stop her, Anon, she's a cartoon."
  950. "Then I'm doomed?"
  951. >"No. I said she's a cartoon. To escape Wile. E. Cyote, you must become the Road Runner. It takes a Jerry to foil a Tom. It takes a Spy to fight a Spy. You've been Elmer Fudd for too long. Try being Bugs Bunny."
  952. "But... I'm not like her."
  953. >Larson chuckles, his multiple unshaven chins bunching up joyously.
  954. >"Out here? You're more similar than you are different. Look inside yourself, and believe."
  955. >He begins to ascend back to Heaven.
  956. >"Believe... believe... also buy my book."
  957. "I don't know about that last bit."
  958. >"Cheapskate."
  959. >And he's gone, swallowed up by the clouds.
  960. >The light fades, and you're alone on your knees once more.
  961. >"Who were you talking to, Anny?" says a voice.
  962. >You turn to see Pinkie behind you, the mare wearing a puzzled look.
  963. >"I actually lost you for a minute. Didn't think I could! So, I heard voices, who were you... Anon? You okay?"
  964. >You're staring at her, but not in fear.
  965. >There's something different about her that your mind is struggling to unravel, a Gordian Knot you can't dig your fingers into.
  966. >Then, quite suddenly, it all unravels. The knot, against its very nature, comes undone, and the universe comes with it.
  967. >You can see her. Not as she appears to be, but in truth. You can see the reality of Pinkie Pie.
  968. >Her mouth moves, and you see each movement of her lips as though they were prophesised selections from a drag-and-drop menu.
  969. >Each frame of her mouth its own pre-drawn asset. You see her not as a pony, but as a series of component parts, assets in a cosmic program.
  970. >She huffs, rolls her eyes, and mumbles something. You don't hear it. The world is reforming around you and you can see every single detail as though they were mere lines on a sheet of drawing paper.
  971. >Then she moves to rape you, and you know that's her intention as if you could see a storyboard playing it out before your eyes.
  972. "I... I understand now," you speak the words, and as you do the anchor of reality unfurls from your legs and you drift away from the real.
  973. >Pinkie Pie flickers away from where she was stood and reappears behind you.
  974. >She's done this many times before, and it always has you screaming like a startled child.
  975. >But now you don't flinch. You turn slowly, time moving at your leisure, and before you even realise what you're doing--
  976. >You smash her with a giant, black, novelty hammer.
  977. >Pinkie pinballs away from you, ricocheting off tree trunks to the spectral chorus of a cheering arcade crowd.
  978. >You look at the hammer in your grasp in wonder.
  979. >Its handle is almost as long as you are tall, and the head is bigger than a desk and wider than a door, but you can twist it about like it was a mere wiffle bat.
  980. >Pinkie re-emerges from the undergrowth, her mane full of twigs and leaves.
  981. >She's glaring, all the fun smacked out of her.
  982. >Her eyes follow the hammer and settle on you. Her lip pulls back in a snarl.
  983. >"Oh. I see someone else has figured it out. Someone else is in on the joke."
  984. >She cracks her neck and squares herself, planting her hooves and raising her hackles.
  985. >"Think you can out-Ponk the Ponk, do ya?"
  986. >You cast the hammer away into what you now know to be hammerspace, and strike a pose like Neo about to show Smith his Kung-Fu.
  987. >Accordingly, you beckon to Pinkie with your fingers.
  988. >She snaps forward like an elastic band.
  989. >You've already vanished, and she collides with a cardboard cut-out of you where you once were.
  990. >A whipped-cream pie comes at you from behind, but you bend over backwards and watch it soar over your head with the same wonder with which you see everything now.
  991. >Pinkie becomes a blur, and a spider's web of party streamers is wrapped all around you, mummifying and suspending you off the ground between the trees.
  992. >You undo a zip and slip out of both the cocoon and your own body suit, landing on the grass wearing only boxers with red love-hearts on them.
  993. >You glance down, yelp, then slip out of -that- body suit to reveal yourself again in your regular suit and tie.
  994. >Pinkie lets out a frustrated scream.
  995. >"No! You're not -allowed- to do that! Only -I- can!"
  996. >She hurls a water balloon full of glue at you, then windmills her legs and is suddenly launching dozens of balloons a second in your direction.
  997. >You whip out a tennis racket and deflect all of them one-handed. You aren't putting in any effort into doing so, you're not even aiming, instead lazily shifting the racket in pretend swings that just so happen to prevent a single balloon from reaching you.
  998. >Pinkie charges, and once close, you punch at her with a bright red oversized boxing glove.
  999. >The Pinkie explodes into bubbles, and a weight lands on your shoulders.
  1000. >"Hah! Not the only one who can do the clone gag," Pinkie boasts, her grin made all the more insane from the new angle you're seeing her from.
  1001. >She leans down and kisses your lips upside down, but when she pulls back realises she was kissing the Fuzzy Pink Flounder you'd caught the other week and had been holding in front of your face.
  1002. >The fish blushes and flaps its tail bashfully.
  1003. >Pinkie bats it aside and goes for another kiss. You pull off your own mouth and lips with a 'pop' and throw them in a nearby waste paper basket.
  1004. >She growls, reaches into the basket, yanks the lips back out, and slaps them back on your face.
  1005. >She put them on the wrong way round though, so for a few seconds you both try and twist them back into their proper place, muttering "sorry," and "whoops," and "excuse me," to each other.
  1006. >Happy with where they are, you both nod, she kisses you, and you completely fall to pieces.
  1007. >Literally. You shatter like glass.
  1008. >Bits of Anon shuffle around on the floor. Pinkie looks at the fragments of man in her hooves and roars.
  1009. >"You won't beat me at this!"
  1010. >A vacuum cleaner is summoned and your pieces are sucked up. The vacuum is switched from "suck" to "blow", and ejects your entire body, fully reformed, from the nozzle again.
  1011. >You dust off your shoulder and fix your tie.
  1012. >Pinkie discards the vacuum, and as you finish smoothing your hair you find yourself staring down the yawning barrel of a dreadfully familiar party cannon.
  1013. >The pony's twitching eye and rictus grin should be unsettling, but you can only note how smooth her movements are even at 24 frames per second.
  1014. >"Surprise!" she screams, then fires the cannon.
  1015. >At the same moment, you ram a toilet plunger straight down the barrel.
  1016. >The cannon bulges obscenely around its middle.
  1017. >The bulge strains against the plunger, goes one way, then the other, then back again in a comical tug-of-war.
  1018. >Finally, it swells in the wrong direction and explodes out the back of the weapon with an unholy bang and a cloud of smoke.
  1019. >Pinkie is laid flat on her back, legs limp at her sides like a dazed starfish. The mare's face is blackened and eyes spiralling, her mane perfectly straight and a low groaning coming from her throat.
  1020. >Before she can get up, you grab her by the mane and stuff her in a glass jar, screwing the top on tight.
  1021. >The jar trembles. It's crammed full of pink, and a glaring face pouts out at you through the thick glass.
  1022. "You're done, Pinkie. You can't touch me anymore."
  1023. >The jar vibrates angrily.
  1024. >You throw the jar in a bag, the bag in a sack, the sack is bound with chains, the chains locked with padlocks, the chained bag chucked in a safe, the safe bound in police perimeter tape, and finally a post-it note stuck on the top reading "Do Not Open Until Hearth's Warming".
  1025. >The safe shudders as you dust your hands off.
  1026. "Now... home, I think."
  1027. >You look to the sky and flash it a cheeky wink.
  1028. "Thanks, M.A. Larson."
  1029. >You put your hands in your pockets, strike up a whistle, and stroll away from the clearing and its outlandish safe sunk into the grass in the centre.
  1030.  
  1031. *
  1032.  
  1033. >Five hours later you scratch your head and look up in bewilderment at the pony Statue of Liberty amidst the hundreds of tourists roaming around you in Manehatten.
  1034. >You check your map, turning it upside down and back to front to see it better.
  1035. "Huh. Well this sure as shit ain't home. Musta taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque. Hope this doesn't become a running gag."
  1036.  
  1037. ---
  1038.  
  1039. "She knows the night will end to her liking, and she's fine with waiting."
  1040. - Anonymous. Another Anon also posted a picture of a knife being pointed at a smug Fluttershy.
  1041.  
  1042. >Fluttershy has broken into your house.
  1043. >Her wings are erect, she's trembling all over, and a viscous fluid leaks from her marehood.
  1044. >Yes sir, she's horny as shit, and you're the object of her desire.
  1045. >You're annoyed she's here not only because she's about to do to you what an aroused Rottweiler will do to a sofa cushion, but because the lock you put on your door was clearly a waste of money.
  1046. >But you have a plan.
  1047. >A sharp, cunning plan in the form of a sharp, cunning kitchen knife.
  1048. >One you're holding before you with masculine form and stoicism.
  1049. >Alright, you're trembling like leaves in a gale, but you can't be blamed.
  1050. >Fluttershy's very scary when she's horny.
  1051. >Her eyes are locked onto yours, she's drooling, and she hasn't blinked in four minutes.
  1052. >She's cornered you in your pantry, and things aren't looking good.
  1053. "Stay back, I'm armed!"
  1054. >"That's nice. I'm legged."
  1055. "I'm not kidding!"
  1056. >"Neither am I, I've got four whole legs, see?"
  1057. "If you come any closer, I'll stab you."
  1058. >"No you won't. I know you, Anon, you're too tender to hurt me, that's one of the reasons I--"
  1059. >You plunge the knife into her chest.
  1060. >She stares down at the blade in dumb surprise, and her hormonal trembling stops.
  1061. >You stop shaking too, stunned that you could ever bring yourself to actually do it.
  1062. >Your fingers leave the handle and you stagger back, slumping against the rack of spices and gawking.
  1063. >Fluttershy taps the blade with a hoof, as if checking to see if the shard of metal in her chest is really there.
  1064. >It is, so she regards you with a disbelieving scowl.
  1065. >"Anonymous."
  1066. "I-I don't-- I didn't--"
  1067. >"A-NONY-mous! I can't believe you!"
  1068. "I'm sorry, I'll get you to a hospital!"
  1069. >She cocks her head.
  1070. >"Why?"
  1071. >You glance down at the kitchen knife still lodged in her chest.
  1072. "Uhh."
  1073. >"What, because you stabbed me? I don't think you understand how things work around here."
  1074. >You only now notice there's no blood welling around the blade. In fact, it's wedged in there quite snugly and Fluttershy doesn't seem to mind.
  1075. >Like you, she's more upset that you went through with it than the fact she's been stabbed.
  1076. "Didn't it... hurt?"
  1077. >"Of course it did!"
  1078. "Do you need a doctor?"
  1079. >"No. Pony bodies are squishy, like marshmallow."
  1080. >You blink, unsure what to say.
  1081. >"My soft, warm, mushy pony body is immune to your blows, Anon. You can't injure me, no matter how many knives you stick in me."
  1082. >She takes a deep, shuddering breath.
  1083. >"And on the topic of sticking things in me, I think I'll get what I came for now, thank you."
  1084. >You try to fend her off.
  1085. >You really do.
  1086. >But no matter how hard you punch, it's like hitting a pillow.
  1087. >At one point you punch her in the snout and her body makes a noise like a squeaky toy.
  1088. >Point is, that's how you got raped at 2:00 in the morning on a Thursday.
  1089. >And to her credit, she was -exactly- as soft and plushy as she said she was, and tight as a vice.
  1090. >Were it not for the violation of your personal space you could almost say you had a good time.
  1091.  
  1092. ---
  1093.  
  1094. "I want Umbra to harass me"
  1095. - Anonymous
  1096.  
  1097. >"Missive for you, master."
  1098. >You look up from pondering your orb to find your ponyservant, Peat Mush, offering you a scroll with his usual theatrical flair.
  1099. >That of a brick pretending to be a dead tree.
  1100. >The missive is sealed with black wax, so you're tempted to incinerate it.
  1101. >Knowing her, it's probably protected against that sort of thing.
  1102. >You unseal it with a grimace, expecting the worst.
  1103. >The worst -- so far -- being magical holograms of her genitals.
  1104. >She's something of a pioneer in the arcane in that she created an entirely new branch of projection magic, just so she could project her scent via letter.
  1105. >You now know her marehood smells of oysters and fresh rain.
  1106. >Even as a hoarder of knowledge, there are things you wish you didn't know.
  1107. >' Hey cutie. Look outside. ' the letter reads.
  1108. >You trudge to the window of your bedroom tower, Peat at your heels.
  1109. >Without needing to ask, he offers you some binoculars, and you raise them to your eyes, doing your best to ignore the Arctic breeze flapping your robe around you.
  1110. >Across the inhospitable expanse surrounding your dark citadel, another dark citadel now looms.
  1111. >One that's larger, fashioned of obsidian steles, and draped in crimson finery.
  1112. "Peat," you say without lowering your binoculars. "How long has that been there."
  1113. >"Since this morning, master."
  1114. "Why wasn't I notified."
  1115. >"You were pondering your orb, master. You hate to be disturbed when you're pondering."
  1116. >You nod reluctantly. It's true, you do hate it.
  1117. >The binoculars glued to your eyes, you scan the battlements of the new fortification.
  1118. >You pause over one of the more intimidating sections and zoom in.
  1119. >A set of grinning fangs fill your view, so you zoom out a bit.
  1120. >Queen Umbra is looking straight at you, apparently not needing a lens to see as far.
  1121. >She bounces her eyebrows and shows off her fort with a flourishing hoof.
  1122. >There is a loud pop behind you, and Peat nudges your leg.
  1123. >"Another missive for you, master."
  1124. >You snatch it up and rip open the black seal.
  1125. >' You've invited to a castlewarming party tonight at six. Bring alcohol! '
  1126. >With a growl you crush the letter and hurl it from the window.
  1127.  
  1128. *
  1129.  
  1130. >The towering midnight doors are cast aside at a flick of your wrist as you stride forth.
  1131. >Peat trails dutifully after you inside.
  1132. >Everything in here is bigger. The ceiling arches, the tapestries on the wall, the statues of the 'proprietor'.
  1133. >It doesn't impress you. You stay focused on your target, and shout when you're close enough.
  1134. "What in the five layers of Tartarus are you doing on -my- turf?"
  1135. >Queen Umbra blinks at you, pausing in her dictations.
  1136. >She mutters something to the crystalline thrall trembling under the weight of what is apparently a wedding cake, twice its size, balanced precariously upon its back.
  1137. >The thrall staggers off to settle it on the hewn-stone table running the length of the great hall.
  1138. >Other thralls scurry about, their hooves chinking on the crystal floor.
  1139. >"You're early," she says with a smile, "did you bring booze?"
  1140. "This is -my- realm. I stole it fair and square."
  1141. >"Then I suppose I'm stealing my own little bit, fair and square."
  1142. >She glides up to you and bumps your leg with her flank.
  1143. >The unicorn queen is half your height, her head coming to below your diaphragm, so her considerable weight has you staggering from the knock.
  1144. >Stalwart Peat is there to rebalance you, and you adjust your floppy wizard's hat with a scowl.
  1145. >"I thought you'd be pleased. You're so lonely out here, and you could use a mare in your life to keep you on the straight and narrow."
  1146. "I'm a villain, I don't do straight and narrow."
  1147. >"Don't be pedantic, my love."
  1148. "Don't call me that, whore."
  1149. >"Whore, he says!" She turns to one of her beleaguered thralls, "when was the last time I invited a suitor into my house?"
  1150. >The thrall cocks its lifeless head and shrugs.
  1151. >"Exactly," she turns back to you. "It's alright, I forgive your ignorance. That's another reason why you need a mare of my calibre. Someone needs to do the thinking for you."
  1152. >You're grinding your teeth thinking of a retort, but she keeps going.
  1153. >"Do you like my castle? I thought you'd appreciate something grander than your piddly little lair."
  1154. "It's too big. What are you going to use all this space for?"
  1155. >"My armies, slaves, and wealth, of course. Oh, and you, once you move in."
  1156. "You're overcompensating."
  1157. >She smirks.
  1158. >"Coming from the man with a great phallic tower protruding from the pubic mess of structures about its base? Well. Perhaps not 'great', but I'm sure it's big where you come from."
  1159. "You're banned from this realm. Be gone quickly and I won't raze this place to the ground and mount your head on a pike. Come, Peat."
  1160. >You turn to leave, flourishing your robe and cape as dramatically as you can, but Umbra hurries to your front with a placating gesture.
  1161. >"Now hold on, you might as well stay for the feast? My thralls have been working hard to prepare this meal for us."
  1162. >You glance back at the long table, crammed with trays of fresh, glistening salads, pastries of exotic shapes, overfilled bowls of ripe fruit, and all of it dominated by the central wedding cake.
  1163. >Upon squinting, a little figurine couple of you and Umbra embrace at the top.
  1164. >Umbra's figurine is proportionally a lot taller than she actually is.
  1165. >Your stomach betrays you with a growl. Umbra's smile grows.
  1166. >"Shall I have the thralls serve us?"
  1167. "Pathetic. I have a far greater feast awaiting me back at my citadel."
  1168. >"We still have some leftover turnip soup for tonight, master," Peat chirps.
  1169. >You shoot him a venomous look and Umbra snickers.
  1170. "Enjoy gorging your fat face on all these calories, and I hope for your sake that this revolting hovel is gone by morning."
  1171. >"Fat, am I?"
  1172. >She turns and strokes a hoof over her flank. Hidden as it is by her crimson robe, it still flows over her generous contours. Your eyes linger on it for too long and she fixes you with a flirtatious look.
  1173. >"You're more than welcome to inspect me closer. I assure you I'm plump in all the right places. Or... did you already have a good look at my projection letters?"
  1174. >You leave with a disgusted harumph, and have to drag Peat with you before he does something foolish like thanking her for her time.
  1175.  
  1176. *
  1177.  
  1178. >"Missives for you, master."
  1179. >You cram a slice of cold toast in your mouth and grunt.
  1180. >Peat drops a few scrolls beside you and stands to attention.
  1181. "Summarise them."
  1182. >He nods and takes the first, clearing his throat.
  1183. >"Firstly, a message from Princess Celestia of Equestria, inviting you to a summit to discuss peace."
  1184. >You scoff and shake your head.
  1185. "She would. The weak always sue for peace."
  1186. >"Shall I write a response stating your refusal?"
  1187. "Yes, and make it as short as you can. She's written a whole page there, it'll piss her off no end to get a line or two in response."
  1188. >"Is pissing off Celestia part of your strategy, master?"
  1189. "No, but pissing her off should be a part of any self-respecting villain's daily duties."
  1190. >"Very good, master."
  1191. "Next item," you say before stuffing another wedge of cold, buttery toast down your gullet.
  1192. >"A message from Prince Shining Armour asking for his land back."
  1193. >You chortle.
  1194. "Is he still being nice?"
  1195. >"Very nice, master."
  1196. "That'll be Cadance's influence. Not a hard bone in her body."
  1197. >"With respect, master, she has just had a foal."
  1198. "I... what?"
  1199. >"For that to happen she'd have needed at least one hard bone in her."
  1200. >You stare at Peat.
  1201. >He stares back, passive as ever.
  1202. "Y... yes, Peat. She would."
  1203. >You give your assistant a queer look, but he remains eternally immune to scrutiny.
  1204. "Next message?"
  1205. >"These four are from various townships asking for mercy in advance since your horde is heading in their direction."
  1206. >Another snort. Another slice of toast.
  1207. >"And this last one is from our new neighbour, Queen Umbra."
  1208. "Bah. Destroy it."
  1209. >"Very good, master."
  1210. >He holds the last scroll to the flame of a nearby candle and you both watch it for a moment.
  1211. >Peat twists it, turns it, holds it closer to the base of the flame, then the very tip. Nothing happens.
  1212. >Before you can comment further, it springs from Peat's hoof and hovers before you.
  1213. >The black wax seal splits itself and the scroll unfurls.
  1214. >You lean back in your throne warily, mentally preparing for any early-morning magical fuckery.
  1215. >Instead of any writing, there is a single rune on the sheet.
  1216. >It glows a deep red, and you deflate in your seat.
  1217. "Can't a guy finish his toast first--"
  1218. >The light engulfs you and everything vanishes.
  1219.  
  1220. *
  1221.  
  1222. >"Thank you for accepting my invitation, so good of you to visit."
  1223. >You glare at Umbra, reclined as she is on her bed.
  1224. >A bed that's far bigger and more comfortable-looking than your own.
  1225. >Everything in this place seems to have been specifically designed to be bigger than what you have.
  1226. >If you have gold plates, hers are larger and have nicer engravings.
  1227. >If you have enchanted thralls, hers are stronger and more stylish.
  1228. >If you have a glass of orange juice, you imagine hers will have more oranges-per-square-litre crammed into it.
  1229. >"I was wondering what we should call ourselves."
  1230. >You snap your fingers instead of answering her, then snap them again a few more times.
  1231. >The comfort of your own home doesn't greet you, so your shoulders sag.
  1232. >"No teleporting back to that dreary den of yours until we're done, my king."
  1233. >She sprawls out on the bed, her cape unhooking itself and floating over to a nearby rack.
  1234. >The bare mare stretches, rubbing a hoof down her body before fixing you with her piercing gaze.
  1235. >"Now, when our two houses join and we become a single, unstoppable force, and then take the entire North as our domain, what should we call ourselves?"
  1236. "The North will belong to me and me alone."
  1237. >"Us, my sweet. I was thinking The Crystal Horde," she pans a hoof before her as if envisioning the words. "Horde because you've already got that covered and crystal because that's always been my thing."
  1238. "My horde is perfect the way it is."
  1239. >"It's fine, but tentacle monsters are a bit... old hat, don't you think?"
  1240. "There is nothing more terrifying than a legion of formless beasts of teeth and tentacles bearing down on you."
  1241. >"It -is- rather unsettling for the simple minded, but now imagine those beasts are made of -crystals-. You know full well the magical properties of crystals. They'd make your already impressive army absolutely unbeatable. The Royal Guard won't know what hit it."
  1242. >You fold your arms.
  1243. >She's right, crystals are a formidable material to work against, but you'll be damned a second time before you give her the satisfaction.
  1244. "My horde is perfect. Now, I'll take my leave."
  1245. >"Just a moment, love, come now."
  1246. >Your body is frozen, and you're dragged onto the bed with the Queen.
  1247. >You snap your fingers like a panicked jazz musician, but nothing happens.
  1248. >"You've been muted, it'll wear off. Unless I decide not to release you. Imagine having a big hunky mage lord like you all to myself. Helpless."
  1249. >She grins.
  1250. >"I could use you as a throne. Would you like that? Would you like to put your face between my royal flanks and breathe in my scent? I'm sure you know how sweaty you get reclining on a throne all day."
  1251. >You squirm, and she laughs throatily.
  1252. >"Oh, you look so panicked, it's delicious. Nothing quite so exciting as a bit of fear in the bedroom. Speaking of which..."
  1253. >She runs a hoof up your chest and chin, holding it to your lips.
  1254. >"At some point we need to think about creating an heir to our little empire."
  1255. >Umbra brings her face nearer to yours.
  1256. >"Imagine that. Our own little lord or lady of darkness. But you know, I'm feeling very... fertile, these days. Maybe it'll be twins. Or triplets, or--"
  1257. >Snap.
  1258.  
  1259. *
  1260.  
  1261. >Umbra, her bedroom, and her overcompensating fort disappear.
  1262. >You rematerialise in your throne room, exactly where you'd been spirited away.
  1263. >Peat Mush hasn't moved an inch from where you'd left him.
  1264. >It's entirely possible he'd have waited there all day.
  1265. >When you pop into existence and collapse in your throne with a heavy, relieved sigh, his ears perk up and his tail wags once.
  1266. >"Welcome home, master. I thought the dark forces had claimed you at last."
  1267. "I wasn't in t-- what do you mean 'at last'."
  1268. >"Ah. Nothing, master. What were you saying?"
  1269. "I wasn't in trouble. I was just denouncing our pathetic new neighbour and her pathetic plans. She had me momentarily upheld, but she monologued long enough for me to deconstruct her sad little magic block and escape her droning. Hah, women, right?"
  1270. >"Yes, it must have been a close-quarters duel. I can smell her musk on you. A very bracing scent, master, I'm sure no other mares would dare to approach you now that you bear her mark. That will reduce the likelihood of any femme fatales attempting to seduce and assassinate you."
  1271. >You glare at your ponyservant.
  1272. "Get me some more toast, Peat. Then see about bolstering our defences. I want anything that comes out of that revolting piece of oversized costume jewellery obliterated before it comes within fifty metres of my walls."
  1273. >"Very good, master. Will you be wanting me to prepare you a bath?"
  1274. "Why would I need a bath?"
  1275. >"To cleanse the potent musk of fertile, mount-ready mare on you, master. It is extremely strong and I must admit I am terribly aroused."
  1276. >For a long moment you stare at Peat and wonder if you could do without him.
  1277. >Sadly, you don't think you could, so you wave him off and slouch in your throne, fingers pressed against your eyelids.
  1278. "Just get me my fucking toast, Peat."
  1279.  
  1280. ---
  1281.  
  1282. Ha ha, time for centaurs.
  1283.  
  1284. >Camping is something you'd never appreciated back home.
  1285. >Out here, it's a different world, somewhat literally.
  1286. >A breeze brushing through the canopies and through the mosquito net of your tent stirs you, and for a moment after you sit in the entrance to your tent, an arm resting on your knee.
  1287. >Your dented tin of cold coffee would be unpleasant back in Ponyville, but out here it only adds to the experience of outdoorsmanship.
  1288. >Just as you stand and stretch, the earth wobbles.
  1289. >A distant grunt, and the unmistakable snapping of not a branch, but an entire tree trunk.
  1290. >Another thud, and steady stomps grow closer.
  1291. >Foreboding grips you.
  1292. >You dive back into the tent and retrieve your harpoon -- meant originally for fish, but today your weapon of choice.
  1293. >The thudding steps precede something huge ploughing through the undergrowth, and your jaw slackens.
  1294. >Your knees go weak, and several options race through your mind in that instant.
  1295. >You could run, but this creature could catch you, of that you have no doubt.
  1296. >You could jump back in the tent and hope it's too stupid to comprehend what it is, like a particularly slow bear, but one glance at its eyes reveals a clear intelligence.
  1297. >Or worse, malevolence.
  1298. >The eyes settle on you, and the creature sneers.
  1299. >Your knees grow weaker still.
  1300. >It approaches you, its size becoming apparent.
  1301. >A good head and shoulders above your eye level, it smirks down at you.
  1302. >You keep your eyes on its own, not only out of fear, but also embarrassment.
  1303. >The embarrassment caused by the pair of absurdly large humanoid breasts hanging from the creature's chest.
  1304. >"This -is- a nice surprise. When I heard whispers of a creature like you living near Ponyville I thought they might be a honeypot to lure me out, but here you are."
  1305. >Her voice, for she is clearly female, is resonant, confident, forceful. A matriarch's voice. A queen's voice.
  1306. >The creature is undeniably a centaur, and you hold your harpoon's point to its rippled stomach with trembling hands.
  1307. "Stay back. I mean you no harm, but I will defend myself."
  1308. >The centaur looks down at the harpoon and huffs, blasting your face with hot, strangely minty breath.
  1309. >"Very cute. I'll have you know I've wrestled dragons in my time."
  1310. >She grips the shaft of your harpoon with a firm red hand and wrenches the weapon sideways.
  1311. >The pointed end snaps off, and she inspects it for a second before casting it away.
  1312. >"Anything else?"
  1313. "I-I'm no threat to you!"
  1314. >"It wouldn't matter if you were. Now, introductions. My name is Lady Tirek, you might have heard of me."
  1315. >You shake your head and she snorts derisively.
  1316. >"Obviously. Too much to ask for ponies to spread my legend, I suppose. Well, regardless, I'm sure you can appreciate my majesty."
  1317. >She spreads her arms wide and grins down at you.
  1318. >For a moment your eyes dart unbidden down to the jaw-dropping crimson chest before you, tipped with thumb-sized, erect, coal-grey nipples.
  1319. >She passes a hand over your hair and down the side of your face, gripping your chin and pointing your head higher and to the sides, getting a good look at you.
  1320. >She nods approvingly.
  1321. >"Not often I meet a creature I have so much in common with, biologically speaking. I wonder if our two peoples share a common ancestor. A pity you only have two legs, but I suppose we'll make do. By my reckoning we're similar enough to bear fruit. Name?"
  1322. "An... Anonymous."
  1323. >"Yes, I'd heard that was it. As is custom, our first son will bear your name. Now, come."
  1324. >She grabs you suddenly and slings you under her arm, the strength of her grip making any idea of your escape laughable.
  1325. "What are you doing?"
  1326. >"Taking you back to my hide-out. Now, it's hardly the lap of luxury, but needs must in these fugitive times. We shall copulate as much as we can before the ponies find us, then we will need to relocate. Worry not, I have enough magic in me to teleport us if necessary. We'll stick together."
  1327. "You're a fugitive? Like, a criminal?"
  1328. >"Criminal... too low a title for one of my grandeur. I am a conqueror. One day, I'll bring Equestria to its knees, but I am no fool. I have seen the other would-be tyrants. I've watched their failures from afar. Not I, little lamb. I will watch and wait for as long as I need to. I am patient."
  1329. "When you say, uh, copulate..."
  1330. >"Mating. As I said, I suspect we are similar enough genetically to be compatible, though there are magics that can bridge the gap. The closer the genetic ties the easier things are, though."
  1331. "You, uh, want," you can't say the word.
  1332. >"Children, yes. If I can raise a few progeny in secret and teach them the arts of war and spellcraft I will be in a much better position to make a move when the time comes. Safety in numbers."
  1333. >She squeezes you. Your bones and organs protest.
  1334. >"But again, worry not. I will keep us safe. You no longer have to live in these woods hiding from ponykind."
  1335. "I'm not hiding from them, I'm on holiday. I live with them."
  1336. >Tirek stops. She glares down at you and you wish you'd kept silent.
  1337. >"A collaborator, are you? Well. I'll beat -that- out of you, make no mistake."
  1338. >She resumes her trudging, keeping you squeezed closer to her now.
  1339. >Her breasts bounce perilously close to your head. Her sweat glistens her skin, and the smell is heady.
  1340. >"No mate of mine will be a pony-sympathiser. I'll show you the glories of centaurkind."
  1341. "Do I have a say in this?"
  1342. >"You wish to be free?"
  1343. "I... wouldn't mind, yes."
  1344. >"Then I will have to incinerate you. I can't allow an eyewitness to bring word of my whereabouts back to the ponies."
  1345. "Uhh--"
  1346. >"But if you insist, I'll set you down here and give you one second to run."
  1347. >Her horns glow with a terrible power, a ball of flame flickering to life between the tips of the gnarled black points.
  1348. >You gulp and force a smile.
  1349. "Ah, n-no thank you, I'll be good."
  1350. >"You'll be better than good. I demand excellence from my allies, and especially from my bedmates."
  1351. >She sniffs and continues her walk.
  1352. >"What are we working with, anyway? How many inches?"
  1353. >Your cheeks warm.
  1354. "Uh. I've never had complaints."
  1355. >"There are spells to help with performance if there will be any issues. I am well-acquainted with fertility magic. Not well enough to prevent the fall of my people, but that is a mistake I hope to rectify in time."
  1356. "Am I going to die?"
  1357. >"During our mating?"
  1358. >She hums, purses her lips, and cocks her head.
  1359. >"There may be injuries, but nothing my magic can't mend.
  1360. "Oh God."
  1361. >She smiles down at you. It is not an encouraging smile.
  1362. >"You may call me Goddess if you'd like. That -is- one my kinks."
  1363. "Y-your what."
  1364. >"Judge me if you wish, I believe in honesty between lovers. I have many bedroom kinks to assist in mating. They include domination... well, it's mostly domination, but I'll remember the others when we get started."
  1365. >You go lightheaded, and as Tirek turns a corner and begins her ascent to the mouth of a small cave it dawns on you how much trouble you're in.
  1366. "Wouldn't you rather just talk?"
  1367. >"We can talk, I enjoy conversation. But we'll need to get started as soon as possible with impregnation. I aim to have at least ten children. Ten was the size of a centaur warband back in the glory days, so I have something of a sentimental attachment to the idea."
  1368. >She enters the cave, and it's days before you see the sun again.
  1369. >You decide that actually, camping kind of sucks.
  1370. >It's enough to make you miss Fluttershy.
  1371.  
  1372. ---
  1373.  
  1374. Non-FR shorts
  1375.  
  1376. ---
  1377.  
  1378. "Moon's haunted fella, get your ass up there."
  1379. - Anonymous in the /moon/ thread.
  1380.  
  1381. >President McDonald sits at the Resolute Desk.
  1382. >His hands are clasped firmly, and his brow is set. His glare pins the reedy man opposite him to his seat.
  1383. "Is that a 'No', Mr. Ferdinand?"
  1384. >"In a-- in a roundabout sort of way, sir-- Mister President, I mean, yes. I mean no, not yes, it's a no--"
  1385. "All I want to know is whether or not I can get a team of men on the moon by twenty-twenty-five. Yes or no."
  1386. >"W-well yes, technically yes--"
  1387. "Then what exactly is the problem. Is it a budget issue? How much do you want? Ten billion? Thirty?"
  1388. >"I, ahh, w-well..."
  1389. >He wrings his hands. McDonald leans back in his seat and knits his hands over his belly.
  1390. >His tone is calm, though he ran out of patience minutes ago.
  1391. "Mr. Ferdinand, I promised my voters we'd go back to the moon. I promised a team of men on that rock replacing the old, dusty Stars and Stripes with a brand new flag, ideally before the Chinese finish doing whatever the hell it is they're doing. General?" he glances to once side.
  1392. >"Drones, sir," grunts General Davies, sat taciturn beside the squirming scientist. "They wanna do the whole thing unmanned with some poor bastard alone in orbit with his thumbs up his ass."
  1393. "Right. Will that work?"
  1394. >Davies snorts instead of replying.
  1395. "Maybe I should pose the question to you then, General, since this is technically an Air Force matter. Why can't we go back to the moon?"
  1396. >"Because of the horse, sir."
  1397. >President McDonald stares at General Davies.
  1398. >The General has never been known as a joker, and in fact resents people whom he deems to be "unproductively tomfoolish".
  1399. >His face remains that of a statue, as square and unmoving as an Easter Island head without the barest hint of human emotion save passive disgruntlement.
  1400. "Horse, General?"
  1401. >"Yessir, there's a horse on the moon. Lived there for as long as we can tell. Very territorial and very aggressive. The last mission was part scouting part peacekeeping, that's why we shipped a diplomat up there in '72."
  1402. "We sent a diplomat to the moon?"
  1403. >"Yessir. John Bolton. No relation to the other one."
  1404. "This isn't in any records I've ever seen."
  1405. >"Of course not, sir. Top secret. Couldn't let it get out. Especially after the horse bit him."
  1406. "Did we shoot the horse?"
  1407. >"Tried to. Guns didn't work too good since the horse is psychic. We thought about going back with a few priests from different denominations to see if God would do any good, but the budget wouldn't cover it and the secret service was getting bitchy about all the cover-ups they were having to do. Plus Elvis died around that time and we were all too sad and apathetic to do much of anything by then so we shelved it."
  1408. >McDonald removes his glasses to rub his eyes, then regards Ferdinand.
  1409. "You heard about this?"
  1410. >"Oh, yes, i-it's why we're not going back. The horse might get us."
  1411. "What about the Russians? The Chinese? Do they know?"
  1412. >"Probably," the General answers for him, "but they won't tell."
  1413. "You sound confident."
  1414. >"They won't tell for the same reason as us. No one wants to be the lunatic that tells the world there's a psychic horse living on the moon biting astronauts."
  1415. "You think no one would believe us?"
  1416. >"Some kooks will. Some kooks'll believe anything, but it'd be considered an embarrassment if the President of the United States has to hold a press conference and tell a whole load of journalists that we lost six men trying to shoot a moon-horse."
  1417. "Jesus Christ, six men?!"
  1418. >"Yessir. Six brave souls died fighting the moon-horse. It was a tragedy. May they never be forgotten."
  1419. "What were their names?"
  1420. >"No idea. Forgot."
  1421. "So we can't go back to the moon?"
  1422. >"We -can- go back, sir, but we'd be spending billions of dollars and probably a few lives to find out what we already know."
  1423. "Which is?"
  1424. >"Moon's a big dusty rock with nothing interesting going on 'cept there's a horse living there that bites people."
  1425. "Can it talk? We must have sent a diplomat for -some- reason, surely."
  1426. >"Yes, she can talk."
  1427. "It's a she?"
  1428. >"Calls herself Luna. Princess Luna. The implication that there's more of the bastards hiding under the surface is a big reason why we're avoiding the place."
  1429. "Well... surely we can use that? A name's not much but it's the basis for something. Diplomacy has to start somewhere."
  1430. >"She said she was called Luna before biting Neil. Was, uh," he turns to Ferdinand, "what'd she say?"
  1431. >"I believe it was "I am Princess Luna, huzzah," a-and then she bit him. Neil, I mean."
  1432. "Armstrong?"
  1433. >"Yeah, that guy," the General says.
  1434. "Why'd she bite him?"
  1435. >"No idea. She's a nut."
  1436. "Neil never said anything."
  1437. >"Of course he didn't. Man was a professional. Is there anything else you need to know, sir?"
  1438. "I don't know, other than what am I supposed to tell the voters?"
  1439. >The General shrugs.
  1440. >"Tell 'em what we always tell 'em. The Republicans were blocking the bill giving NASA its funding so we can't go back to the moon. Might win you Dems some clout at the polling booth."
  1441. "General, I'M a Republican."
  1442. >"Are you? I get you politicians all mixed up. So that last guy was a Democrat?"
  1443. >McDonald gives a weak nod.
  1444. >"Damn. Probably shouldn't have said all that stuff about black people, then. Ah well, life's a bitch."
  1445. >He stands, the other two men follow suit, shake hands, and part ways.
  1446. >After the office door shuts, McDonald wanders to the window and looks ponderously out at the night sky.
  1447. >The moon hangs clearly, a distant silver disc.
  1448. >The President stares, and though he'd never tell a soul, he could swear something was staring back at him.
  1449.  
  1450. ---
  1451.  
  1452. "Full Moona tonight."
  1453. - /moon/Anon 1
  1454. "wow. she big."
  1455. - /moon/Anon 2
  1456.  
  1457. >You pass through the chamber door, look up, and immediately scramble back out.
  1458. >Body pressed to the chilled stone wall beside the doorway, you stare at the mural across the hall trying to fathom what you just saw.
  1459. >A few steadying breaths and you risk another look into the room, only to find the same sight looking morosely back at you.
  1460. >Again you retreat, but more thoughtful than startled.
  1461. >There you remain pondering until very unwelcome company strides into the hallway.
  1462. >"What's up with you, toots?" comes the amused voice.
  1463. >Daybreaker has arrived. Over a dozen bags of hot-n-spicy cheesy poofs float in a vague halo around her neck and shoulders by way of magic.
  1464. >She plucks one away from the ring and tears it open. It might be your imagination, but the air above the packet seems to shiver like that above asphalt in a heatwave.
  1465. >She stuffs a fistful of nuggets in her mouth that leaves red dusting around her lips, and chews with her mouth open in a goading smirk, like you're both in the gym and eating chips is a flex.
  1466. >Celestia decided a few weeks ago that she'd go by Daybreaker instead.
  1467. >Nothing had prompted it, nor had a great deal changed politically.
  1468. >At most, a change of aesthetics had everything looking a lot more fiery, including the mare herself, who seemed to stand a few inches taller, much to Luna's chagrin.
  1469. >But the ordinarily cheerful and motherly Celestia was now still cheerful, but mostly just an asshole.
  1470. "Luna."
  1471. >"The Mare with No Moon? What about her."
  1472. "She's... big."
  1473. >"So am I, if you know what I'm saying."
  1474. >You lean away to look through the door, partly hoping things had gone back to normal in there, partly hoping they hadn't so Daybreaker wouldn't have an excuse to make fun of you.
  1475. >To be honest, it doesn't matter. She'll find an excuse to make fun of you even if she has to make one up.
  1476. >Obnoxious crunching in your ear precedes the uncomfortable weight and heat of Daybreaker leaning both over and on you to get a better look.
  1477. >In silence you stare.
  1478. >Luna is now inexplicably huge.
  1479. >Within her chambers, about half the floor area is taken up by the Princess of the Night.
  1480. >She's been enlarged proportionally, as though someone took the regular mare and multiplied her dimensions by ten.
  1481. >Her head is hunched over, the back of her neck pressed firmly to the ceiling.
  1482. >She sits on her haunches, back legs splayed out and front legs resting awkwardly between them.
  1483. >She doesn't seem to take any notice of you and her sister watching her from the door, instead content (or not) to stare forlornly at the rug.
  1484. >A deep sigh breaches her lips. A warm draft hits you from where you are.
  1485. >You and Daybreaker pull back. Daybreaker finishes her chips, balls the bag, throws it over her shoulder, and starts on the next one.
  1486. "She's massive."
  1487. >"Yeah, that'll happen."
  1488. "Why?"
  1489. >"Supermoon. Means the moon's close to Equestria, happens like twice a year, or something. I don't really care, but a super moona means a super Luna. Luna Magnus, if you will."
  1490. "How long is she gonna be like that?"
  1491. >"About as long as it takes for the moon to not be huge anymore. You been outside and seen that thing? It's huge. Almost as big as my ego. Or something else if you've got the stones find out. Wink wink."
  1492. >She laughs once. Flecks of chewed chip spatter your face. They sting like sparks from a bonfire.
  1493. >"Anyway, she's probably lonely and sun knows you are too, so get in there and keep her company or I'll burn your nipples off."
  1494. >With a shove and an ethereal slap on the ass like being caned with a hot brand, you're hauled through the doorway and into the presence of Luna.
  1495. >"Hey Luna Magnus," Daybreaker calls into the room, "got you a playmate. Don't break this one. You can come out when you're small and manageable again."
  1496. >"I didn't mean to break anything!" Luna says.
  1497. >"You never do, but now we've gotta find a replacement for Yellow Crown's 'Passion of the Fruit' before the garden party next week or the art guild's gonna start a coup."
  1498. >"Can't you fix it with magic?"
  1499. >Daybreaker chews for a moment.
  1500. >"You know," she says with stuffed cheeks, "I keep forgetting you're as smart as you are. Yeah, we'll do that, good thinking. Here, have some chips."
  1501. >A bag of launched hot-n-spicy chips slaps Luna in the face.
  1502. >Daybreaker saunters off, leaving you in the shadow of the titan.
  1503. >She peers down at you, unable to move much from her position.
  1504. "Uh. Hi."
  1505. >"Hello, Anonymous." Despite her circumstances, her voice is still gentle. "I apologise for my, ah, largeness."
  1506. "No, it's fine."
  1507. >"I know it's a rather ugly sight."
  1508. "Don't be silly, there's nothing ugly about you."
  1509. >The big pony grows a little smile.
  1510. >"Do you really mean that, or are you just trying to make me feel better?"
  1511. "I mean every word."
  1512. >"Well... thank you very much. Please may I have a chip?"
  1513. >You glance down at the packet of chips on the rug. The bag itself is about as large as one of Luna's teeth, so you doubt it'd do much for filling her belly.
  1514. >On the back of the packet you skim-read the details until you pause and your eyes bulge.
  1515. >20 million Scovilles.
  1516. "I, uh, I don't think you'll want these, Luna. I don't think anyone would want them."
  1517. >"Celestia seemed to be enjoying them."
  1518. "Celestia's going through a phase right now and she's kind of a dick, so I'd take everything she says or does with a bucket of salt."
  1519. >"I suppose. I do hope she grows out of it soon. Anonymous?"
  1520. "Hm?"
  1521. >"May I ask a favour?"
  1522. >You cock an eyebrow.
  1523. >"I have an... itch. On my belly. I can't really move like this and I can't use magic."
  1524. >You glance down at her expansive tummy and shrug. There have been worse things requested of you. Almost all of them from Daybreaker and within the last month or so.
  1525. >As you shuffle between her forelegs and come close to her body the heat of it becomes apparent.
  1526. >You could warm a house just by plopping Luna in the basement.
  1527. >Your hands sink into her fur up to your wrists, and you do your best to scratch at her. Each hair is as thick as a piece of wire and catches your nails.
  1528. >You put some elbow into it, and the pony shudders and groans. One of her back legs develops a tremble and the room shakes.
  1529. >"That's it! Right there, Anonymous, that's it..."
  1530. >A deep, vibrating hum resonates from her. It's not hard to imagine her lungs, each one larger than your entire body. The noise that escapes her a foghorn in the chamber.
  1531. >You soldier on. Loud noises shan't deter you; you've a pony to scratch.
  1532.  
  1533. *
  1534.  
  1535. >The following morning you're eating breakfast with the sisters.
  1536. >Daybreaker is reading a scroll when Luna comes to the table, normally sized once more. She lowers it once Luna settles and grins at you with an unsettling, fanged smile.
  1537. >"You work fast."
  1538. "What's that?"
  1539. >"I leave for a minute and then the whole castle's trembling with 'Oh Anon! Right there! Oh! Oooh!'" She makes an effort to do a high-pitched impression of an orgasming Luna. "I know I said 'playmate', but you could have at least waited until I was outside before you started having fun. I will say though, next time, can I join in? I wanna see Luna's face when she cums."
  1540. >She looks appraisingly at Luna, who is beet-red and covering her face with her hooves.
  1541. >Luna says nothing. Daybreaker sips her molten coffee with all the smug satisfaction of an unquestioned dictator.
  1542. "You are -such- an asshole."
  1543. >"I know, isn't it great?"
  1544.  
  1545. ---
  1546.  
  1547. One million tiny Luna kisses. Imagine.
  1548.  
  1549. >"Anonymous, I don't mean to alarm you, but there may be Luna or Lunas in this castle right now."
  1550. "Tia you'd better not have woken me up for some bullshit."
  1551. >"I assure you I am not joking. I cast a spell and there have been consequences."
  1552. "What kind of consequences."
  1553. >"Good evening, Anonymous!" Luna yells in your ear.
  1554. >You shriek and nearly fall out of bed.
  1555. >Luna is perched beside you, eyes and smile brighter than you've ever seen them.
  1556. >Celestia eyes her sister warily.
  1557. >"Which one are you?" she says.
  1558. >"Call me Luna!"
  1559. >"Yes, but -which- Luna."
  1560. >"Call me Luna!" Luna says in the exact same intonation.
  1561. >"Alright, you're a clone, then."
  1562. >Celestia fires a beam of sunlight energy at her sister, and in bleary post-sleep stupor you watch your favourite sister explode.
  1563. >You're almost too tired to react, but you have enough wherewithal to politely raise the issue with your second-favourite sister.
  1564. "Celestia what the FUCK!"
  1565. >"Now, don't panic, Anonymous, I have everything under control--"
  1566. >"Call me Luna!"
  1567. >"Call -me- Luna, also!"
  1568. >The two voices, higher-pitched than they should be, freeze you and Celestia.
  1569. >Slowly, you peer off the side of your bed.
  1570. >Two smaller Lunas beam up at you from the floor, each about half the size of a regular Luna.
  1571. >"Huzzah!" they both say.
  1572. "Oh fucking hell, we've got a Code: Fantasia."
  1573.  
  1574. >Two hours later.
  1575.  
  1576. "Do you not think that maybe blowing them up isn't the right FUCKING solution, you big dumb solar bastard?!"
  1577. >Celestia blows up another gaggle of Lunas and they split into yet more smaller Lunas.
  1578. >You're both stood on the dining table in the main hall, a veritable ocean of Lunas swelling around you, the table a rock within a whirlpool.
  1579. >They aren't trying to harm you, but they are trying to hug you.
  1580. >As much as you ordinarily love Luna's hugs, this many tiny horses weighing you down might powder your bones, and you don't want to die on a Wednesday night.
  1581. >So you bat another lunging Luna away with a pillowcase and go back to screaming at the elder sister.
  1582. >"It wasn't meant to end like this!"
  1583. "The hell were you even trying to do?!"
  1584. >"I simply posited that this world would be better with more ponies like Luna and decided to test that theory!"
  1585. "What are you, a teenager? How are you this irresponsible?"
  1586. >"Do you have -any- idea how much I've had to drink, Anonymous?!"
  1587. >You roar and whack another leaping Luna away from you.
  1588. >Unfortunately, that one grabs your pillow as she goes, and you find yourself unarmed.
  1589. >The Lunas swarm the table.
  1590. >Some of them are so small you could fit several in the palm of your hand, but they vary in scale from orange-sized Lunas all the way up to book-sized.
  1591. >Then, they have you.
  1592. >They grip your pyjama pants by the hems and drag you off the table. Your arms flail and struggle to grip the edge of the table.
  1593. "Avenge me, Celestia! Avenge meeee!"
  1594. >And then you're gone. Swallowed whole by the teeming mass of Lunas.
  1595. >Celestia bursts into tears and blows up another third of the room, only for that third to split into small Lunas and redouble their swirling assault.
  1596. >She screams as she's taken, her body swiftly overwhelmed by Lunas like they were grey-goo nanobots.
  1597. >Abruptly, the mutual screaming trails off.
  1598. >All that can be heard is the scrambling of thousands of hooves and the exciting chirping of a million Lunas.
  1599. "Uhh. Celestia? You still there?"
  1600. >"Yes?" comes the reply. You can't see her, but she's close by.
  1601. "You good?"
  1602. >"Yes, actually. Are you?"
  1603. "Yeah. It's actually kinda comfortable under here."
  1604. >"Yes, it is, isn't it. Like a blanket of sisters."
  1605. >One of the larger Lunas sticks her muzzle in your ear and snoofs.
  1606. >Another does the same, then tells you she loves you.
  1607. >You decide it's not actually so bad being submerged in Lunas, and promptly go back to sleep.
  1608.  
  1609. *
  1610.  
  1611. >The next morning, nothing has been solved.
  1612. >Equestria now has a million and one Princesses.
  1613. >Celestia, who still oversees most things.
  1614. >And the teeming hive-mind swarm known only as Luna.
  1615. >To Celestia's chagrin, the Luna swarm proves to be overwhelmingly popular with the public.
  1616.  
  1617. ---
  1618.  
  1619. OP posted a stupid list that a stupid purple horse would give a stupid Anon in a stupid prompt.
  1620. As a connoisseur of stupidity, I had to take part.
  1621.  
  1622. >Your eyes move down the list and back up, repeating several times before you raise a finger.
  1623. "I have questions."
  1624. >Princess Twilight, looking as curt as she can on your doorstep, raises an eyebrow.
  1625. >"Yes?"
  1626. "Why does it say 'Before you can come to Equestria'?"
  1627. >She shuffles her hooves.
  1628. >"You were supposed to get the message before you came here."
  1629. "You... knew I was coming?"
  1630. >"Not exactly."
  1631. "Then how--"
  1632. >"It doesn't matter. Next question?"
  1633. "Why do I need to do all this?"
  1634. >"To prove whether or not you'll be an asset to this society."
  1635. "To be an asset I need to..."
  1636. >You trace a finger down the list and poke the last item.
  1637. "Have had sex."
  1638. >"Yes."
  1639. "Have -you- had sex?"
  1640. >She goes red.
  1641. >"Hundreds of times."
  1642. "I find that hard--"
  1643. >"Next question?"
  1644. "What happens if I don't do all this?"
  1645. >"Then you'll get kicked out of Equestria."
  1646. "On whose authority?"
  1647. >"Mine. I'm the Princess of Friendship."
  1648. "Oh, really? Sorry, I though the title was honorific. Like the King of Pop."
  1649. >"Who'd want to be the king of a drink?"
  1650. "Doesn't matter. Do I have a deadline for all this?"
  1651. >"Yes. By the end of the week. You have one week to accomplish all these tasks, or I'll personally banish you from our community."
  1652. "Huh. Alright, uhh, well, come on then."
  1653. >You stroll past her and down the garden path, her list in your pocket.
  1654. >"Where are you going?"
  1655. "To check everything off the list. Let's go, Tubbs."
  1656.  
  1657. *
  1658.  
  1659. "Morning, Rarity."
  1660. >Rarity's dressing one of her boutique windows when you walk in. She jumps, but laughs it off.
  1661. >"Oh, hello, Anonymous. Back so soon?"
  1662. "Yeah, I've got a... thing. Can you confirm I was here this morning?"
  1663. >Twilight appears from behind you and Rarity glances between her two visitors.
  1664. >"Ahh, yes?" She leans her head closer to you. "Is this a Twilight-thing, darling?"
  1665. "Kinda. What time was I here?"
  1666. >"Well, I needed your help shifting some boxes for this afternoon's show, and you very kindly showed up at five this morning to assist me."
  1667. "So I got up early, is what you're saying."
  1668. >She cocks her head, trying to gauge if you're pulling her leg.
  1669. >"Uh, yes. You did."
  1670. "Thanks."
  1671. >You cross the first item off your list and ruffle Twilight's mane. She grunts like an agitated pig when you do.
  1672. "Come on, Twiggles, onto item number two."
  1673.  
  1674. *
  1675.  
  1676. >You tap your foot with your arms folded. After another minute of nothing you give Twilight an apologetic shrug.
  1677. "Sorry, you know how she is. Rainbow! Fuck's sake, I need you!"
  1678. >Rainbow Dash eventually drags herself out of bed and drops fifty feet from her house onto a low-hanging cloud with a yawn.
  1679. >"Yeah, what..."
  1680. "I need you to do a routine with me."
  1681. >She glares at you.
  1682. >"You dragged out of bed to do a -routine-?"
  1683. "It's like ten o'clock, dude."
  1684. >"Ugh, fine. Do... I dunno, start me off with fifty push-ups, we'll go from there..."
  1685. >Thirty minutes of sweaty, strenuous activity later, Dash seems to have woken right up and you wipe your sodden forehead with a towel.
  1686. >"Yeah, okay, that was actually kinda fun, but I'm going back to bed. Later, guys."
  1687. >Hands on your hips, you inhale air in heavy gulps.
  1688. >Twilight scowls.
  1689. >"You couldn't do that when you first got here," she grumbles.
  1690. "No, but Dash made sure to change that. Any... Jesus, I'm wrecked. Anyway, onto number three."
  1691.  
  1692. *
  1693.  
  1694. >"Mornin' Anon. You know you're not working today, right?"
  1695. "Well, that answers my only question, thanks Davenport."
  1696. >Your boss cocks his head with a frown.
  1697. >"What's that?"
  1698. >Twilight appears and gives an indignant huff.
  1699. >"Davenport, Anonymous here believes he has a job working for you."
  1700. >"Uh, yeah, he does. Inventory handling, mostly. Worked here for... I dunno, 'bout a month now?"
  1701. "Sure, about that long."
  1702. >"And do you pay Anonymous a wage for his time?"
  1703. >"Sure do. Why, he's not pushing for an increase, is he?" Davenport shoots you a dirty look, but you hold your hands up in a placating gesture.
  1704. "Easy, boss, just doing a thing for her highness."
  1705. >Twilight growls and storms back out the shop as you cross the third item from your list.
  1706. >Davenport sniffs and nods after her.
  1707. >"What's her deal?"
  1708. "She's... I dunno, she's being fat and purple, what else is new."
  1709.  
  1710. *
  1711.  
  1712. >Twilight glares at the side of your face as you walk down the lane.
  1713. "What?"
  1714. >"You haven't."
  1715. "Haven't what?"
  1716. >"You've been here for two months. You have -not- got a girlfriend."
  1717. "Shows how well you know me. Hey, if I've been here for so long, why have you only now given me that list?"
  1718. >"I have my reasons."
  1719. "You forgot about it, didn't you."
  1720. >"Shut up."
  1721. >You both come to a door and you bang your fist on it.
  1722. >A moment passes, and it opens to reveal--
  1723. >"Nope," says Twilight bluntly, "not buying it."
  1724. >Strawberry Sunrise blinks at the Princess, then smiles at you.
  1725. >"Hey! What's up, is something the matter?"
  1726. "Nah, just swinging by to show you off to the Princess. She doesn't believe that I have a girlfriend, probably because she's lonely and purple."
  1727. >Strawberry rubs her chin and squints at the reddening Twilight.
  1728. >"She -is- really purple... Well, what do you need me to do?"
  1729. "Not much, just hold still."
  1730. >You lean down and peck her on the lips, to which she giggles.
  1731. >"Oh, I get it. There'll be plenty more of that tonight. Still coming over?"
  1732. "Yeah, I'll bring take-out. It's apples you hate, right?"
  1733. >"Don't hate them so much, I just play that up to annoy Applejack. Oh, get the sesame toast though, I love that stuff."
  1734. >You give her the finger guns and wish her well before turning to leave.
  1735. "You coming?"
  1736. >Twilight directs one final withering glare at Strawberry before following you.
  1737.  
  1738. *
  1739.  
  1740. >Your chubby regal companion smoulders as you walk to your final destination until finally something occurs to her.
  1741. >"Hang on. If that was your girlfriend, how are you gonna prove the last one? Haven't you slept with her?"
  1742. "Oh. Me and Strawberry haven't done anything yet."
  1743. >Twilight smirks.
  1744. >"Aha, so you -haven't- done every item."
  1745. "I never said that."
  1746. >You meander into Sugarcube Corner and slap the bell on the counter.
  1747. >Pinkie Pie appears the moment your fingers graze the top of the bell like she was edited in with Flash.
  1748. >"Hiya, Nonners!"
  1749. "Hey Pinks. Twilight thinks I can't get laid."
  1750. >Pinkie snorts.
  1751. >"Don't be silly, Anon, you don't go to -Twilight- for tips on getting in the sack."
  1752. "Is that right? Here I thought she was banging people left and right."
  1753. >"The only thing she bangs are monsters and villains. I mean in explodey way. Not the sexy way.
  1754. >Twilight glares at her friend. Pinkie continues regardless.
  1755. >"Twilight's never had sex. With anyone. Ever. Not once. Not a single time."
  1756. >Twilight's glare deepens.
  1757. >"Ever."
  1758. >You both look to Twilight, who seems to be trying to melt Pinkie with looks alone.
  1759. >After a few seconds, Pinkie leans closer to you and speaks in a harsh whisper behind a hoof.
  1760. >"Eeee-veeerrrr."
  1761. "Gotcha."
  1762. >"So why'd you come to me?"
  1763. "Can you confirm we've banged?"
  1764. >"Oh sure, tons of times!"
  1765. >Twilight's jaw drops.
  1766. >"What?" she almost yells. "When?!"
  1767. >Pinkie scratches her temple and scrunches her face up.
  1768. >"Uhh, I wanna say... like an -hour- after we first met?"
  1769. >"But... how? Why?"
  1770. >"Well Twilight," Pinkie reaches over the counter and rests a hoof on her friend's shoulder. "Your Auntie Pinkie Pie's a huuuuuuge slut."
  1771. >She beams. Twilight gapes.
  1772. >"Yup! Love me some wieners, and alien wiener's a rare treat so how could I say no? I put on the old Pinkie Pie Moves™ and he was eating out my hoof. And between my legs. Mostly between my legs. I took pictures if you wanna see."
  1773. >She reaches into her mane and whips out a Polaroid. Twilight stares at it for a full second before screaming and running from the shop.
  1774. >"I have more if you wanna see them!" Pinkie shouts after her.
  1775. >You snicker and cross the final item off your list.
  1776. "And that'll be that. Thanks, Pinkie."
  1777. >"I don't know what I did, but you're welcome! Need anything else?"
  1778. "Nope. I think I can classify myself a fully functioning member of pony society, and can stay here for good."
  1779. >"Eh, not really."
  1780. "Oh. Why's that?"
  1781. >"You don't have hooves, silly. Didn't you see the sign?"
  1782. >She points at the wall.
  1783. >A large sign hanging there reads '>No hooves'.
  1784. >You frown at it.
  1785. "How long's that been there?"
  1786. >"Since about ten seconds ago, but hey, them's the rules, Nonners, and momma didn't raise an outlaw."
  1787. >She slides a shotgun out from under the counter and loads two shells.
  1788. >"A real shame, the dick game was real," she says, shaking her head.
  1789. "Wait, Pinkie? WAIT--"
  1790. >Bang.
  1791.  
  1792. RIP.
  1793.  
  1794. ---
  1795.  
  1796. "I just like Fluttershy in any form she's in. Even anthro"
  1797. - /Fluttershy/Anon
  1798.  
  1799. "Oh Fluttershy, I love you and your big dumb horse face."
  1800. >"I love you too, Anon! Uh, even if you do keep calling me a dumb horse, but whatever! You're still great!"
  1801. >The bedroom door slams open, and a slender woman looms in the doorway.
  1802. >"Anon!" she says with authority, but not all that much to be honest, "I have come to claim you as my husband!"
  1803. >"Anon?" says your horse wife, "What is that disgusting creature?"
  1804. "That, Fluttershy, is a human female."
  1805. >"I can smell her from here."
  1806. "Yes, human females are known to excrete a powerful aura of hormones and dread. Already I can feel my money being sucked from my bank account and spent on shoes, or whatever it is women do with money."
  1807. >"That's awful, we have to stop her!"
  1808. >"You can't stop me," says the human, "I'm you! Fluttershy!"
  1809. "Impossible, Fluttershy is my wife, and also a horse, with a big dumb face!"
  1810. >"Yeah!" says horse Fluttershy, "Super dumb! ...Wait no--"
  1811. >"But I'm more compatible, on account of us being the same species!" says human Fluttershy.
  1812. "Impossible. I refuse to believe it."
  1813. >"Why don't you--" the human starts, but she is destroyed in that instant by the ceiling collapsing on her.
  1814. >Atop her broken body, a hideous eight-legged abomination towers almost as high as the ceiling it just came through.
  1815. >The arachnid hisses, then apologises, likely because the front portion of its body is that of a pony's. Specifically Fluttershy.
  1816. >"Um. Hi, I'm a driderpony. My name is Fluttershy."
  1817. "My God. A spiderpony, in my house."
  1818. >"No no, -driderpony-, there's a huge difference."
  1819. "Not much of one, probably."
  1820. >"No really, there was a huge big civil court case about it, it's actually super interesting and--"
  1821. >"Why were you living in our attic?" your equine life-partner bravely interrupts.
  1822. >"Oh. Um. It was warm. And also I was in close proximity to Anon, whom I love and want to fellate."
  1823. >She waggles her mandibles.
  1824. >"Fellate with my big spider mouth and fangs."
  1825. "Jesus Christ how horrifying."
  1826. >"At least she's marginally more attractive than the human," says pony Fluttershy.
  1827. "And I suppose things can't get worse--"
  1828. >A terrible roar nearly shatters the window glass.
  1829. >You, Fluttershy, and the driderpony Fluttershy all rush to it.
  1830. >A mighty scaled beast towers outside, one expansive reptilian eye peering through the glass.
  1831. >"What -is- that?" says DriderShy.
  1832. "I think that's a Tyrannosaurus Rex."
  1833. >"I like her mane," says Fluttershy.
  1834. >"Thank you," says the T-Rex in Fluttershy's voice.
  1835. "Oh hey it's another Fluttershy, what are the chances."
  1836. >"I travelled sixty-five million years into the future to be with you," says the dinosaur. "Can I please sit on your dick?"
  1837. >"Oh my, how lewd," says DriderShy.
  1838. >You're not surprised; driders are quick to recognise lewdness.
  1839. "Now hold on one moment, literal dinosaur Fluttershy, we need to get this whole mess untangled. I've got a dead body lying in my doorway and the person who killed her currently drooling on my shoulder."
  1840. >"Sorry," says the drider, trying not to drool on your shoulder.
  1841. >Horse Fluttershy wipes the drool off you with a pointed scowl at the arachnid. You'd better defuse the situation fast or you're gonna witness horse-on-spider violence of a sort not seen since the terrible horse-spider war of 1998.
  1842. >Before any of you can speak again, a deafening bellow blows out your ear drums.
  1843. >You all look left, and if you had sunglasses you'd be slowly taking them off and saying "My God" with a dramatic camera pan.
  1844. >As it is, you're in great pain and all three Fluttershys are crying from the sudden loud noise.
  1845. >Fluttershys are quick to recognise deafening noises.
  1846. >In the small pond beside the house, a monolith of steel and tungsten has appeared.
  1847. >Longer than several football fields, as tall as a skyscraper, the behemoth honks again.
  1848. >Tyrannosaurus Shy waggles a tiny, ineffective and probably evolutionarily defunct hand at the creation.
  1849. >"What is -that-?!"
  1850. "That's... well I mean that's just literally an aircraft carrier. Straight up."
  1851. >The aircraft carrier honks again.
  1852. >You squint at its radar tower.
  1853. >A mass of pink mane hangs from it.
  1854. >You glance at the stencilled lettering on the side.
  1855. >' HMS Fluttershy '
  1856. "Oh. Yeah I figured that's where this was going."
  1857. >CarrierShy honks.
  1858. "Yeah we really can't understand you," you scream at the thing.
  1859. >It honks again, but quietly and also sadly somehow.
  1860. >You puff out your cheeks.
  1861. "So I don't think we're getting much nuttier than thi... what?"
  1862. >Fluttershy, the horse one, not one of the others, is tugging on your arm.
  1863. >"Um," she points at the sky.
  1864. >You look up, and your stomach drops.
  1865. >Something stirs beyond the horizon.
  1866. >Blueshifted by the planet's atmosphere, an object of unimaginable scale approaches from the depths of space.
  1867. >That you can see its features tells you immediately that this thing is probably bigger than the moon itself.
  1868. >A planetoid-sized Fluttershy face, beaming with clear joy at meeting you at last, descends through the upper atmosphere.
  1869. >The friction immediately tints her surface red hot, and the ground beneath you trembles from the force of her approach.
  1870. >"Anon are we gonna die?" says horse wife.
  1871. "I mean yeah probably."
  1872. >"Oh. That's a stupid way to go."
  1873. "Yup."
  1874. >"Wanna make out before the world is destroyed by my big dumb horse face?"
  1875. "Absolutely."
  1876. >And so, you do.
  1877. >The last thing you hear over the roar of the death of an entire world is a Biblical, earth-shattering "YAY."
  1878. >At least the herald of the apocalypse was cute.
  1879.  
  1880. ---
  1881.  
  1882. "would you the fluttersphinx?"
  1883. - /Fluttershy/Anon
  1884.  
  1885. >You're midway across the grand temple atrium when a colossal beast lands before you with surprising grace, the softness of her landing belying its size.
  1886. >"Uhh. Hi," it says as you stumble back and withdraw your sword with none of the same grace.
  1887. "Holy sh-- where were -you- hiding?"
  1888. >"Oh, I was watching you from that ledge up there. I've been watching your progress through the temple. Really great work on the spear-room, by the way! I was worried you weren't gonna make it but I'm glad you did, I hate seeing little critters like you get hurt. I'm, um, well first of all I'm Fluttershy, it's nice to meet you."
  1889. "Nice to... meet you?"
  1890. >"And also I'm the guardian of the Sceptre of the Sands. Again, hi."
  1891. "So," you suck in a few breaths and dance on your toes like a boxer, sword held before you, "are we gonna fight?"
  1892. >She almost seems offended.
  1893. >"Oh, goodness, no. I have a riddle for you. If you can answer it, you can take the Sceptre."
  1894. "Really? Just like that?"
  1895. >"Um. Well, no really, I'm supposed to give you an unsolvable riddle -- I'm really good at riddles by the way -- and then when you can't answer it I, um... w-well anyway, you're not supposed to be able to win, but if you do you have to promise to give it back at some point. I'm not really supposed to lend it out."
  1896. "So, if I get the riddle wrong?"
  1897. >"I'll, um, eat you."
  1898. >She smiles nervously, and you gulp at the sight of her pristine white fangs, each one half your height.
  1899. "Ah."
  1900. >"Yeah, it's a really messy job. Lots of screaming and snapping and awful sounds. Super painful for you. Really, you should just head back to town. Now. Please."
  1901. "I came all this way, guardian, I won't--"
  1902. >"Sorry-- sorry, my name is Fluttershy. I forgot if I said or... not."
  1903. "Uh. Fluttershy, then. I came all this way for the Sceptre, and I'm not leaving without it."
  1904. >The sphinx peers down at you for a moment, then smiles as sweetly as she can.
  1905. >"Pleeease will you go back? I can fly you there, it's no trouble."
  1906. "I appreciate your leniency, but I must have the Sceptre. Tell me your riddle."
  1907. >"Last chance?"
  1908. "Now!" you bark.
  1909. >She yelps, and you're struck by the absurdity of this creature, easily thrice your height and ten times your mass, retreating a few steps.
  1910. >"O-oh gosh, um, fine. Don't say I didn't warn you!"
  1911. >She clears her throat.
  1912. >"What goes by four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three in--"
  1913. "Man."
  1914. >"...S-say again?"
  1915. "Man. The answer is man. Heard that one before."
  1916. >She blinks.
  1917. >"Uhh. Di-iiidn't quite catch you there, I think you said the wrong answer. It's okay, I'll fly you back home--"
  1918. "God damn you, monster, the answer to your riddle is 'Man'! Now let me pass so that I can get the Sceptre and finish my quest!"
  1919. >Fluttershy fiddles with her paws.
  1920. >"R-really not understanding you right now, could you speak--"
  1921. "MAN!"
  1922. >She screams and hides behind her mane.
  1923. >"Okay! I'm sorry! That's the right answer! Y-you can have it, but you have to promise to give it back!"
  1924. >You start to feel guilty waving your sword at her, and stuff it back it is scabbard with a grumble.
  1925. "Thank you, I shall return the Sceptre once I'm done--"
  1926. >"No, you don't get it, I really, really can't lose it, or the higher powers will be really upset with me. I-I've lost it before and they weren't happy. I had to go out and get it back and I don't like leaving the temple."
  1927. "Why not?"
  1928. >"It's um, scary out there. Have you ever seen a crocodile? The nearby river's full of them and they snap at my paws whenever I go to get a drink."
  1929. >Fluttershy is large enough that she could use a crocodile as a toothpick. Again you're baffled by such a menacing creature being so far from menacing.
  1930. >"Pinkie Promise?"
  1931. "Sorry?"
  1932. >"Pinkie Promise. You have to make a Pinkie Promise that you'll bring it back."
  1933. "I... alright? I promise."
  1934. >Against your inclinations, and fully aware of how ridiculous you'd look to any observers, you extend your pinkie finger and stick it between two of Fluttershy's paw toes. It's like wedging a finger in the gap of a furry mountain.
  1935. >She seems happy with that, and plucks a golden rod from the depths of her mane.
  1936. >She holds it before you, pinched between two giant curled claws.
  1937. >"Here you go. Be careful with it."
  1938. "Truly?"
  1939. >"Sure. Oh, the one in the next room is fake, in case you were wondering."
  1940. >She puffs her chest out slightly.
  1941. >"My idea, actually~"
  1942. >You hold it in your hands with wonder, eyes pouring over the oceanic engravings and fingers tingling from the magical energies contained within.
  1943. >Finally, your quest, that you'd started so many years ago, is at its end.
  1944. >Now you can--
  1945. >You lock up, hands clenched around the shaft of the rod, and squeak.
  1946. >Fluttershy smiles fondly down at you, hesitates, then reaches forward again.
  1947. >Her mighty paw pats you gently on your head a second time.
  1948. >"Good boy. There's a good boy."
  1949. "Th-thanks?"
  1950. >"You're very welcome. Now run along, and don't forget to bring the Sceptre back! Otherwise I'll have to track you down and eat you and take it back."
  1951. "Would you -actually- eat me?"
  1952. >Fluttershy purses her lips and her back straightens.
  1953. >She glances left, then right, then fiddles with her mane and avoids looking at you.
  1954. >"Y-yeah. Totally. One bite. Yep. Yum yum."
  1955. "Huh."
  1956. >With one final look at the ridiculous beast, you exit the temple and return to town a hero.
  1957. >Fluttershy waits until you're gone before speaking alone to herself.
  1958. >"He was nice. I hope he comes back. ...Maybe I should make some tea for when he does. What do humans drink, anyway?"
  1959.  
  1960. ---
  1961.  
  1962. /Fluttershy/Anon posted a suspicious, cropped picture of Fluttershy lying on Anon's back and -really- enjoying herself...
  1963.  
  1964. >Fluttershy digs her hooves into your back, and you groan involuntarily.
  1965. >Tension you hadn't known was there evaporates.
  1966. >"Is that good?" she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice.
  1967. "Yeah, thanks. Didn't know you could give massages."
  1968. >"I, uh, can't. But I'm glad my improvising is working!"
  1969. >You can't complain. If it works, it works, and the knots in your back are coming undone.
  1970. >Fluttershy leans against you, her body pressed to yours.
  1971. >She insisted you be naked for this, and you don't mind so much.
  1972. >Used to be you'd never be seen without clothes, but life spent amongst nudists for a few years has lessened your squeamishness.
  1973. >You sigh, but then seize up all at once.
  1974. "Uhh."
  1975. >"Something the matter, Anon?" she whispers into your ear.
  1976. "I can... feel something pressing against me back there."
  1977. >"Oh dear, that's not good, is it?"
  1978. >She giggles.
  1979. "It's shifting around, what is--"
  1980. >"Mister Python, no!"
  1981. >You twist your head back and nearly scream.
  1982. >A great striped python has decided to nestle itself between your bare buttocks.
  1983. >It flicks a tongue out at you, and Fluttershy hurries it away.
  1984. >The python flops off you, gives a final indignant hiss, and slithers into a different room.
  1985. >"Sorry about that, Anon, he's a snake, he'll wedge himself into anything warm."
  1986. >You shudder, but roll back onto your belly to resume the massage.
  1987. >And absolutely nothing else goes wrong for the rest of the afternoon.
  1988. "Thanks for that, Fluttershy. I'm glad you didn't try anything."
  1989. >"Like what?"
  1990. "I dunno, ram your dick in me, or something."
  1991. >Fluttershy gives you a strange look.
  1992. >"Uh. I don't... have one of those. Sorry?"
  1993. "No no, nothing to apologise for I meant it as a joke or... did I just kill the mood?"
  1994. >"Kind of."
  1995. "Sorry."
  1996. >"I don't have a penis, Anon."
  1997. "I know, I just thought--"
  1998. >"Then why would you say it?"
  1999. "Sorry."
  2000. >"And we were having such a nice afternoon."
  2001. "Sorry..."
  2002. >"You've ruined it. You've ruined it with your filthy, filthy mind."
  2003. "Fuck."
  2004.  
  2005. ---
  2006.  
  2007. "I'm so disappointed that most Fluttershy greens are just Flutterrape shit. We don't need fucking five hundred stories of Fluttershy asking about Anon's fetish slightly differently. Write something original, you fucks."
  2008. - /Fluttershy/Anon, also, how dare he. Imagine thinking Flutterrape is a tired conce... alright, fair.
  2009.  
  2010. >Fluttershy tugs on your sleeve and you draw one last breath on your cigarette before stubbing it in the ashtray.
  2011. >You raise your eyebrows at her; she looks as tired as you feel.
  2012. >"New orders from up on high," she says before yawning.
  2013. >There's a mutual regret the two of you share, one forged over a decade of slaving.
  2014. >Was the money worth it? You don't know.
  2015. >She gives you the plastic tube used to carry the memos fired through suction tubes all over the bureaucratic labyrinth.
  2016. >Even this far into the twenty-fourth century, analogue is deemed safer than digital.
  2017. >The orders within are curt and damning.
  2018. "Write something original, you fucks," you read slowly.
  2019. >Fluttershy slumps into her chair, the thing barely holding together, more duct-tape than chair.
  2020. >"What?"
  2021. "That's what it says."
  2022. >She reads the note and sags further.
  2023. >"Just what the hay do they think we're doing down here?"
  2024. "I don't fucking know. Should we use our break now?"
  2025. >"Convince me."
  2026. "It's close enough to lunch and I need fresh air."
  2027. >She grunts and pulls on her company fleece.
  2028.  
  2029. *
  2030.  
  2031. >You lean on the railing overlooking the endless metal jungle.
  2032. >Working where you are, you're privileged to a more aerial view of the surroundings.
  2033. >The miles and miles of Mulp City stretch out before you.
  2034. >A long-gone colleague once said he'd seen the end of it, but you don't believe him.
  2035. >The trains run for miles in one direction and they don't stop. You rode one for hours and there wasn't a single break in the rolling landscape of towering skyscrapers, crammed as closely as is ergonomically feasible like concrete trees.
  2036. >Throughout it all, ground-cars and ground-trucks and grav-cars and grav-trucks and the infinity of life weaving between every level of every building like ants between stalks.
  2037. >Humans and ponies locked in a synthetic world of commerce and services; merchandise and shitposting.
  2038. >There are days where you catch sight of Fluttershy's ass and start laughing.
  2039. >She used to join in, but now she's just quiet, and even you're not finding it funny anymore.
  2040. >Three little butterflies. You don't think you've seen a butterfly in your life.
  2041. >In a way, your little yellow comrade is your lifeline to nature. Your only link to that ancestral world of fields and valleys.
  2042. >She huddles against your side, and you put an arm around her.
  2043. >There's a rule against fraternising, but you've never seen it enforced, and wouldn't care if it was.
  2044. >You doubt the upper-echelons of the publishing leviathan you work for are even aware of your existence.
  2045. >To them, you're a means of generating cheap literature for the masses. A way to make money.
  2046. >What you and Fluttershy do on the quieter days in your cubicle doesn't matter, so long as the work gets done.
  2047. >"Any ideas on what to write?" she says.
  2048. >To anyone else it would be hard to hear her over the wind being this high up, but you've been together long enough that you could pick out her whispering in a thunderstorm.
  2049. "I don't know. Maybe something sci-fi. No one does that anymore."
  2050. >"There's still a market for that."
  2051. "Less of one since the future arrived and everyone realised it sucked."
  2052. >"Then why?"
  2053. "I'm thinking far-future. Year ten-thousand, that kind of stuff. Push the optimism that this nightmare will get better further back. Maybe with that old retro aesthetic with the rayguns and stuff. Flash Gordon, you know?"
  2054. >"Sure."
  2055. >She smiles, and the world gets a bit brighter for a moment.
  2056. >"Does the main character have a pony companion?"
  2057. "Actually, I was thinking the main character would be a pony for this one."
  2058. >"Oh, how original, you fuck."
  2059. >You rest your heads together and share a giggle.
  2060. "And she has a human companion."
  2061. >"Describe her."
  2062. "She's a shy, compassionate mare. A pegasus, maybe from the distant past and flung into the future by magic."
  2063. >"I'm liking it so far."
  2064. "And she makes friends with a human on the other side, and he helps her get back to the past."
  2065. >"Hm. But what if she gets close to the human? Finds she maybe doesn't want to leave? Opportunities elsewhere but she likes where she's ended up?"
  2066. "Fluttershy, are you implying that in this miserable future world, the pony and the human might find love?"
  2067. >"Maybe I am. Would that be too unoriginal?"
  2068. "We'll have to find out."
  2069. >You share a clandestine kiss, keeping an eye out for any other colleagues using this balcony for their own daily dose of fresh air.
  2070. >The rule's never been enforced, but no need to needlessly tempt fate.
  2071. >"Better get back inside and see what we can work out, then."
  2072. "Not much else to do today, is there?"
  2073. >"Not much. Maybe we could lock the door to the cubicle for a little while. For privacy."
  2074. "So we can be good worker bees and work hard on our story, right?"
  2075. >"We'll work hard at something, not made my mind up as to what, yet."
  2076. "Better go earn our salary, then."
  2077. >You kiss her on the forehead and you both drop away from the railing.
  2078. >Is the money worth it? No.
  2079. >But you'd suffer a thousand decades if it meant being with her.

[FLUTTERRAPE] Happy Birthday

by Nebulus

[FLUTTERRAPE] Science

by Nebulus

[ANON IN EQUESTRIA] Commando

by Nebulus

[FLUTTERRAPE] Three Anons One Pit

by Nebulus

[FLUTTERRAPE] Demon Swords and Dark Overlords

by Nebulus