Shorts


                                            1. Mares are the tard wranglers.


                                            >BAM BAM BAM

                                            "WHOO!"

                                            >The juvenile quarray eel slumps forward, blood and brains pouring from the .308 caliber holes in its head.

                                            >You spend most of the day dressing it out and carting the meat back to town before you smoke it.

                                            >Your path takes you right through the marketplace while you're a bloody mess. You glad-hand several of the locals while bragging that you've just fed yourself for a month.

                                            >Ponies stare in horror at the bloody fingerprints on their hooves.

                                            >The next day, Twilight forcibly marries you off to Cheerilee, claiming that you need to have your whimsy tamed.

                                            >Joke's on you, Twiggles. You think Cheerilee's gorgeous.

                                            >You look Twilight right in the eye and ravage the delectable little teacher-horse on the spot.

                                            >Your whimsy cannot be tamed so easily.

                                            >Later that week, you borrow Cheerilee's classroom, where you teach the fillies and colts how to make their own booze and the assorted uses of alligators. (Meat, leather, decoration, ashtray, doorstop, improvised flail...)

                                            >Such is the life of a former Florida Man.

                                            >Twilight requires more tard wranglers to tame your whimsy.


                                            2.  I missed the bandit craze the first time around.


                                            >Be Highway Robbery. Together with your sister Armed Robbery, your friends Grand Larceny and Criminal Intent, as well as your zebra henchmares Zahmaude and Zeorgia, you mares are...the Wet Bandits!

                                            >They call you the Wet Bandits because you raped all the colts on the train from Appaloosa after you held it up.

                                            >Good times.

                                            >So far this week, you've mugged a traveling magician, robbed a zebra witch-doctor for alchemical concoctions, and now you're heading towards Ponyville.

                                            >Elements schmelements, you can take 'em.

                                            >There's a little cottage in your way. The wind's blowing from it to you, and it carries the musky scent of male to you.

                                            >There's some sort of shaved, hornless minotaur colt gardening in the front yard.

                                            >You cup your hooves to your mouth and yell.

                                            "Oy! Colt! Give us all your bits and take off those pants! Or we'll beat you up and take what we want anyway!"

                                            >The minotaur hustles inside at speed.

                                            >Well that's no good. Prying him out will take effort. You didn't go into banditry because you like hard work.

                                            "If we have to drag you out of your house, we'll burn it down when we're done with you!"

                                            >He comes back out with a long tube in one hand.

                                            >What kind of purse is tha-

                                            >BLAM!

                                            >OH FAUST YOU'RE ON FIRE


                                            >Be Anon.

                                            >Nice to see that you did a good job on your homemade Dragon's Breath shell.

                                            >As it finishes spewing burning magnesium onto the now-panicking bandits, you rack the shotgun's pump and chamber a load of #4 buckshot.

                                            >The killing is over very quickly.

                                            >One of the zebras tried to run, but a a Brenneke Black Magic Magnum slug right between her hind legs put her down.

                                            >Wow, that's some penetration. You can see daylight through the hole.

                                            >Normally, you might feel bad about killing little mares, but... bandits. And you have one of their victims recovering on your couch.

                                            >You go inside. Trixie's staring at you in a mix of awe and horror.

                                            "Were there only six of them?"

                                            >"Y-yes."

                                            "Then we're good. I'll go search the bodies, see if I can recover your bits."

                                            >"Thank you, Anonymous. The Great and Powerful Trixie is aware that you are not her biggest fan, but you have come to her aid nonetheless. How can she repay you for helping her in her time of need?"

                                            >You're about to tell her not to mention it - it was your privilege - but you're suddenly aware that you have a massive erection.

                                            >You're not sure that you like what says about you, so you decide to distract yourself.

                                            >You lean in and nip Trixie's ear.

                                            "I'm sure you can think of something."

                                            >An hour later, you're on round two and Trixie is swearing her eternal servitude.

                                            >You think you'll accept. You're not getting any younger and your insatiable breeding urges can't be denied any longer.

                                            >You're going to fill this little blue mare with satyrs.


                                            https://twibooru.org/2540022


                                            3.

                                            "You know what, fuck all this horse-matriarchy bullshit, Twiggy. I can't buy tools without a mare's permission, my house has been tied up in a legal battle for a year because "stallions can't own property," and I'm tired of being seen as nothing but a walking dick! Back on Earth, I could have gone to grad school if I hadn't realized that it'd be condemning myself to a life of debt slavery for the meager odds of getting a tenure-track professorship. All that time I've spent in the library? I've been researching magic. Now I'm going to the one place free of you horses."

                                            >timcurryinredalert3.jpg

                                            "The primordial soup!"

                                            >You chant the incantation and with your duffel bag in hand, vanish into the abyss of time.

                                            >You rematerialize on a rocky beach. It's sunny and warm. There are no trees, no grass, no animals, and NO FUCKING HORSES.

                                            >Huh, you won the coin toss. You figured a place like Equestria might have a less lethal pre-Cambrian prehistoric environment than Earth did.

                                            >Dying of asphyxiation would still have been an improvement over being a third-class citizen.

                                            >Fuck, this is nice. You feel all your stress leaving you.

                                            >Honestly, you feel so damn good you think you'll jack off.

                                            >ronperlman.meme

                                            "Yeah, little Twiggy. I'm gonna cum in your primordial soup. Whaddya think about that?"

                                            >After less time then you'd like - fuck you, you were pent up - you nut into the primeval ocean, sending billions of sperm cells swarming into the ocean that's teeming with primitive single-celled life.

                                            >Ahhhh...

                                            >You return to your duffle bag, pick it up, and start walking toward a cliffside that looks to have some promising caves where you can set up camp.

                                            >VWORP!

                                            >Annnnd you're back in Equestria with the Six Musketeers (plus Trixie and GlimGlam) staring at you.

                                            "Can't you fucking horses leave me to live out my life in peace - oh shit."

                                            >You've fucked up. YOU HAVE FUCKED UP NOW.

                                            >Fluttershy and Crusty Cunt look normal. Everypony else? Not so much.

                                            (Insert images of human head ponies, snakes-with-EQG-heads, and Sphinx Shimmy.)

                                            "Fuck. This. Shit. Twilight, give me my 12-gauge back. I'm going to shoot myself."


                                            4.

                                            >"A sparring match?"

                                            "Tempest, being here in Equestria means that I'm free of my mortgage. I don't have to work 40 hours a week anymore and do all my own cooking, home maintenance, auto maintenance, gardening, errands, animal care, job hunting, and creative endeavors on top of that. I used to barely be able to squeeze an hour's worth of compound lifts and an hour's jogging in for four or five days a week. I'd like to try taking up martial arts again now that I actually have more free time. I'm willing to pay you for lessons.

                                            >"You'll just get your ass kicked and stop showing up, just like every other colt I've tried to teach."

                                            "I'm well aware that you're going to kick my ass for quite a while. I'm sorely out of practice and I always preferred guns anyway. Guess what? Getting your ass kicked is how you learn."

                                            >Tempest Shadow blinks. "Okay, that's the first time I've heard a colt say that. Maybe you have what it takes after all."

                                            "Comfy. I'll go reserve us a time slot at the yoga studio. I think they're the only place around with appropriate mats."


                                            >As expected, Tempest kicks your ass nine matches in a row.

                                            "One more time before our session ends?"

                                            >You're sweaty, you're going to bruise in quite a few places, and you have hoofprints on your stomach where Tempest knocked the wind out of you with a kick from both hindhooves at once.

                                            >You're learning - not a lot, but you're making minor progress.

                                            >You're also soaked with sweat  Tempest's barely breathing hard - and somehow, despite the strenuous exercise, she smells like pomegranate and blackberries, with a trace of a musky, horsey scent that makes your whole body tingle.

                                            >You think you've come up with a plan that might actually let you beat her.

                                            >Then again, maybe you'll just get your ass kicked for a tenth time.


                                            "Glutton for punishment, aren't you?"

                                            >You are Tempest Shadow, and you are SO glad your Spandex suit is black.

                                            >Being in close proximity to Anon is driving your hormones into a frenzy. He smells like beer, cheese, and under those notes, an overwhelming scent of male.

                                            >You've soaked the crotch of your tights so thoroughly that your suit is damp down to your knees.

                                            >You always did have a thing for fatherly figures, and now you know that there's a surprising amount of muscle under his body's light layer of fat.

                                            >He shrugged off that double-hoofed buck to the gut more easily than you would have expected him to do.

                                            >That stubborn determination and marely lack of ego is hot too.

                                            >He drops into a crouch again.

                                            >All right, let's go.

                                            >You drop into your own fighting stance.


                                            >Be Anon again.

                                            >All right, here goes...

                                            >You feint as though you were about to lunge in for a grapple

                                            >Tempest spins and snaps both of her hind legs out in another of those two-legged kicks.

                                            >As she's doing that twist to the side, grab one of her legs as it shoots past, and pull her into a throw. She hits the mat and you jump on her, aiming for an elbow drop.

                                            >Big mistake.

                                            >She rolls forward and you land on the point of your elbow.

                                            >OW. FUCK.

                                            >While you're temporarily incapacitated by the pain, Tempest snakes out her legs and wraps them around your neck in a triangle choke, pulling you back against her body.

                                            >You stiffen your neck muscles as she starts squeezing.

                                            >It helps, but not enough. Even at less than full force, her powerful thighs are closing off your carotid artery, making your head swim.

                                            >Fuck!

                                            >You twist your head and bite her. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough that she yelps and instinctively tries to jump away.

                                            >Unfortunately, given the position you're in, all she does is flop spasmodically, and you end up with your face in her crotch.

                                            >Oh shit, she's going to think you're a perv--

                                            >An overwhelming dose of her fruity musk hits your nose. A second later it hits your brain, and your higher functions stop working.


                                            >Be Tempest Shadow.

                                            >You can feel Anon's hot breath soaking through your outfit's tights, warming up your already-burning pussy.

                                            >You squirm involuntarily.

                                            >Who's gay now, mom?

                                            >No, you have to move. Any second now he'll realize where he's landed and scream rape!

                                            "Anon, I'm sorry, I --"

                                            >A growl cuts you off. and your gaze snaps down to meet his.

                                            >The big ape's eyes are so dilated that you can only see a thin ring of pale color around the iris.

                                            >What...what's happening?

                                            >Anon grabs your tights in his mouth and both hands and tears the crotch out of them.

                                            >You have time for a startled squeak before he plunges his tongue into you.


                                            >Be Anon.

                                            >You can't get enough of this horse.

                                            >She's an adorably quick shot. You didn't even have to finger her for her first orgasm. Less than a minute of licking her sopping, pomegranate-flavored  pussy did the trick.

                                            >Being the wicked man that you are, you immediately started playing with her teats, kneading the fat purple orbs and stroking her broad, heavy nipples. You coaxed out another orgasm from that, and then you started fingering her, kneading her G-spot as you let your tongue play with and suckle on her winking clit.

                                            >That made her cum so hard that you suspect your fingers will be bruised in the morning.

                                            >You've gulped down a dozen orgasms' worth of fruit-flavored marecum in the last ten minutes.

                                            >The student has become the master.

                                            >Admittedly, not quite in the usual sense, but you'll take it.

                                            >And speaking of taking it, there's a diamond dick demanding that you plow the puffy pomegranate pony pussy.

                                            >With some reluctance, you pull your mouth free of Tempest's snatch. With no reluctance at all, you tear your sweatpants off.

                                            >You honestly don't think she notices. The pupils of her eyes are alternating between little hearts and little "TILT" signs.

                                            >But plunging your dick to the hilt in her certainly gets her attention.

                                            >"FAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTT!"

                                            >Her scream of ecstasy is actively painful, as is the violent orgasm that follows it. Still, you just stretched her thoroughly-sensitized pussy and bottomed out against her cervix. You suppose you can forgive her.

                                            >You bend her backward a little more so that you're hitting her G-spot before each powerful thrust slips further in and taps her cervix.

                                            >You're honestly not going to last long. It's obviously been a long time for her, but it's been a long time for you too.

                                            >Five more minutes. Five more orgasms on Tempest's part. Then you bottom out against her cervix and rope after rope of burning human seed bursts from your cock.

                                            >You swear you can hear it splattering into her womb on some subconscious level.

                                            >You collapse, pinning the adorable little mare under your greater weight.

                                            >Idly, you notice that her pupils seem to be stuck on "TILT" now.

                                            >You two fall asleep right there on the vinyl mat...and, some time later, wake up to Elaborate Pose's cry of horror as the yoga instructor sees the two of you sprawled in a pool of sweat and marecum. There's a crowd of tittering students behind him -- mostly stallions, but you can see Rarity in the crowd...along with Rainbow Dash, of all ponies.

                                            >"Perverts! Sluts! Out of here! Out!"

                                            >Your brain isn't drowning in pheromones right now, so you're able to give him a flat look.

                                            "Dude, you're a yoga instructor. If you try to tell me you never fucked a student in here, you're a damn liar."

                                            >That shuts him up long enough for you to grab Tempest and flee the scene.


                                            5.

                                            >Moondancer's reading on the couch, lying in an afternoon sunbeam.

                                            >You swear that unicorns are part cat.

                                            >You lie down on the couch yourself, snuggle up to her, and gently reposition her so that your head's in her lap and your torso is draped over her legs.

                                            >She blinks and shifts her gaze away from her book.

                                            >"Honey, I'm not really in the mood right now. I'm trying to figure this spell out."

                                            "Don't worry, I'm in the mood for cuddles, not sex."

                                            >Moonie blushes. "Well, okay."

                                            >You nuzzle her chubby tummy.

                                            "You're my big strong mare, Moonie. You make me feel safe and protected. I'm used to being on edge all the time. With you, I can just let go, and truly relax. I don't have to worry all the time anymore, because I know whatever comes our way, we'll face it together."

                                            >You chuckle.

                                            "I know that's kind of a cliche, but I'm speaking from the heart."

                                            >You lift your head and kiss her, slowly and gently.

                                            "I love you so much, Moondancer. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

                                            >"I love you too, Anon." Her smile is radiant. "And you're the best thing that ever happened to ME. I don't know what I'd do without you by my side."

                                            >You kiss her again, and then lay your head back down.

                                            "I'll let you get back to studying now."

                                            >Soon enough, you nod off, and spend the rest of the afternoon just lying there dozing, your head in your wife's lap.


                                            6.

                                            >The horror had begun in Canterlot.

                                            >Working-class mares on the lower levels of the city had begun turning up unspeakably brutalized. You hadn't thought that anypony could have committed such atrocities...such unspeakable deeds...

                                            >But self-evidently, one had, and the Canterlot City Guard drove themselves into a frenzy hunting the perpetrator.

                                            >It became even more of a frenzied witch hunt after several of their beat constables were added to the monster's tally.

                                            >And then a new wrinkle was added to the horrific deeds.

                                            >Victims were found with unmistakable evidence that the fell fiend was a stallion!

                                            >A pair of goths (one unicorn, one pegasus), your friends Moondancer and Vinyl Scratch, two Earth Pony NEETS, a depressed Wonderbolt, an even more depressed ex-Wonderbolt trainee, and an engineer visiting from Las Pegasus...

                                            >The only things all those victims had in common were the dribbles of cum leaking from their limp bodies, and the big stupid grins on their faces.

                                            >Naturally, ponies ran around like mad in panicked horror, doing nothing useful.

                                            >Sometimes you hate your species.

                                            >Some faggot stallionist proclaimed this a triumph of stallionism, and Princess Celestia turned him into stone.

                                            >Then the Canterlot Post received a letter from the monster, the words cut and pasted from various books and magazines.

                                            >The beast declared that his next victim would be Princess Luna herself!

                                            >But it was all a trick.

                                            >The fiend moved his hunting grounds to Ponyville while the Royal Guard were fortifying the palace!

                                            >Applejack and Rainbow Dash were the first victims. Their ravaged bodies were found in the back forty of Sweet Apple Acres.

                                            >The homme fatale had overpowered them, just like his earlier victims in Canterlot.

                                            >Well, at least he has standards. AJ's not bad, but even in your worst dry spell, you wouldn't want to be intimate with Rainbow Dash.

                                            >You did a concert tour of the reindeer lands once. They made you eat fermented herring... and that stuff still smelled better than Rainbow's twat.

                                            >Seriously, you can smell her while she's flying!

                                            >Anyway, the fiend has shifted his grisly deeds to Ponyville!

                                            >Next, the Flower Sisters were taken, and then Derpy.

                                            >Bon Bon's been frantically trying to figure out the pattern along with Twilight...and Rarity, of all ponies.

                                            >You'd never tell your Bonnie, for fear of breaking her heart, but you don't have much confidence in her. If hardened guardsmares couldn't manage it, you doubt a retired monster hunter, Twilight, and a mare who reads too many detective novels can pull it off.

                                            >Speaking of Bon Bon, it's been a long day. Fivw hours of orchestra practice, five hours of busking in the marketplace. No food. You're looking forward to seeing your wife.

                                            >Because you love her, she cooks better than most stallions can...and she eats your pussy like it's going to be banned tomorrow.

                                            >Also, your neighbor Anon had offered to drop off some books about human lyre and harp tunes, since Bon Bon gets home from her shop a few hours earlier than you do.

                                            >As the last few ponies trickle out of the marketplace, you put your lyre back in its case along with the day's take and trot off home.

                                            >Pushing the back door open, you see that Bon Bon's not in the kitchen, and you pitch your voice to carry.

                                            "Bonnie Buns, you home? Did Anon drop off those books yet?"

                                            >No answer from your wonderful wife.

                                            "Bonnie?"

                                            >Still nothing.

                                            >You're starting to get worried now, so you set your lyre down and gallop upstairs to your bedroom.

                                            "Bon Bon?"

                                            >Silence. Like the silence between the first raindrop striking and the sky opening up.

                                            >Your ears twitch in some ancient, instinctive fear as you slowly push open the bedroom door.

                                            >Bon Bon lies limp on the bed, her purple eyes staring blankly at nothing.

                                            >She looks like all the other victims: bathed, brushed, combed, and pampered into a state of drooling stupefaction. Even her hooves are polished and gleaming. Her chest rises and falls slowly as she gurgles in unconscious bliss.

                                            "Bon Bon! NOOOOO!

                                            >A rush of displaced air rumples your tail, and you hear a thump and a grunt from behind you

                                            >You turn, and see Anon picking himself up from the floor.

                                            HE WAS ON THE CEILING

                                            HOW?

                                            WHY?

                                            >And then you see him draw the implements of doom from his belt.

                                            >And you realize.

                                            >It was Anon.

                                            >It was Anon all along.

                                            "Anon...how...no...why?"

                                            >"Because I'm tired of you fuckin' horses never bathing, Lyra! Everything smells like a barn full of unwashed twat all the damn time!"

                                            >He advances on you, brush in one hand and shampoo in the other, and speaks the words of terror.

                                            >""Brushie brushie!"