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>It was the end of a long day, the days were always too long and wearing on your green and white tail, ever since you had ended up being taken captive through that portal to a strange new world called Earth with so many other ponies. 
>So many others who had a slave brand, same as you, but not every pony. 
>Some had joined these, minotaur half breeds, while Equestria had been caught between them and a risen King Sombra.
>You had been taken a slave by these Humans while trying to flee the fighting all together.
>Yes, slave. Just as assuredly if Sombra had put a helm on you, but now there was no hope of simply having it ripped off and releasing you.
>Of course, that was only an issue to be solved as far as you were concerned.
>One fateful night, you’d had enough of being the slave, being bossed around, abused, and having less worth than a rat. 
>You had often wondered what friendship was, where the magic lay, what the Princesses had taught.
>You found out it lay in emotional bondage, a clawing desiring want of a thing that kept you down. 
>You turned informant, worked with the humans until one day, you were free. 
>Oh there had been and still were consequences. 
>Ponies knew you betrayed them, your race, your friends. 
>Humans didn’t trust you, after all you were a Judas they said, a Benedict, a Quisling. 
>Your ear had been pierced, a 30 gram silver stud, one gram for each pony on the cusp of escape you condemned, set in it to show you were a free mare. 
>It was a mark more heavy than the scar brand that had slowly returned to your harpsacord.
>That was years ago, and you now had a simple enough job working in a heavy metals foundry as one of the free ponies in the world. 
>It was rather easy to haul the glowing ingots around in your magic, you didn’t require a dedicated hoist to move them from shaping station to station.
>The job paid well enough for yourself to finally have a chance at owning a slave of your own. 
>A chance to have that experience, that rush of power, the agency that had been taken from you.
>Adventure though, that was what you wanted, desired. 
>Daring Doo may not have been real, but the treasures she looked for could have been. 
>Equestria was a wild place, and humans valued magical items brought back from it. 
>Enough that you could do what you wanted after the first payment. 
>So clocking off your shift your minty green flank was in a slave market for the first time.
>The place was bustling with activity, you’d thought they would be some small affair, individual rooms and audiences. 
>That was the sort of stuff you had seen on the televised auctions for some of the noble ponies.
>Instead it was bedlam, barkers were announcing the sale of their own kin, humans waved their hands about, calling for attention to a person in the crowd. 
>All the while, ponies watched you, a few creeps followed you, looking to add you to their stocks. 
>A single pony with no collar was an easy mark in this hustle to turn into a slave if they were clever enough.
>Up above all that, security watched them all, a mixture of races, humans walked around as griffons looked down on the defeated, there were even some pegasi, but you never saw one without a brand. 
>Idly, you checked the sandwich board that showed a rough map of the sales sections. 
>Your eyes were drawn to the criminal sections.
>Criminal slaves were a rare treat. 
>Humans had some laws dictating how slaves had to be treated, nothing too odious, just basic things like keeping them fed and in good health, teaching them the ways of the world through schooling, but the big one was no abuse. 
>It was an interesting choice, they’d decided that slaves were animals, and actually had more laws protecting animals from abuse than their own kind. 
>But criminals, they didn’t get that protection. 
>Once bought, they were able to be treated the same as any human slave, and that was just what you wanted.
>Walking down the stalls, you realized it was very quiet in here. 
>The slaves were quiet here, resting and waiting for their fates. 
>The din of the market had faded quickly from the walls of the solid kennels holding the criminals. 
>Each stall held one slave, separated by a wall of concrete save for the pony in front of them. 
>Not all were ponies you saw as you glanced down the rows. 
>The dark blue talons of a griffon gestured for you, a bat pony huddled in a corner as you approached, an angry red scar running down the middle of her face to her muzzle. 
>Crime knew no race, no master, all would fall to it at some point. 
>The only thing you didn’t see was a seller, and that left your striped tail close to your belly, ears laid back a little. 
>It was spooky, but you were more certain on it being depressing. 
>The criminals weren’t even worth the effort to guard in a market.
>Trotting along, you thought of what you would need. 
>Something fast, something that could go long distances hauling your gear, perhaps something even affectionate?
“Why those all sound like splendid qualities to look for in a slave!” 
>A green man, no a man in a green suit, wearing a suit? Suddenly showed up radiating enough saccharine happiness you worried you got contact diabetes. 
“I have some loving offerings here today, but tell me, how do you feel about them potentially possibly killing you?”
>”I’d rather not die, mister.”
“Ahaha who would? Don’t answer that. Hold on, please.”
>The jovial seller pulled out a small glowing rectangle and began flicking his finger across it.
>Pictures of beings projected onto his face, bits of what could be descriptions fell off his shoulder.
>Humans were already mastering magic, you would have to move quickly before they no longer need an adventurer.
“Hmm, too much of a record on that one. No, want to keep her. This could do. Did your master have any –“
>You ripped the enchanted mirror down and into his sternum and grabbed his red tie in an eldritch hand.
>His face was very close to yours, enough there was no way to miss the stud in your ear.
>”Never. Refer. To Me. As a slave, again.”
>The man gulped like a frog before nodding very quickly.
>He reared back, dusted his tie off and went right back to looking through his enchanted plank, muttering to himself more about the beings he saw than about your little information spiel.
“Well with that happy show for me, I think I have some wonderful options for you. Say, do you happen to lift weights? That was some really strong stuff you did there.”
>Calming some, you went for the simplest answer.
>”I work in a forge, I lift the stuff that will be weights and other things. I can take care of myself well enough if you are worried about one of them getting out of hoof.”
“That I see now, but if you don’t mind, are you going to be taking care of it?”
>You paused, your thoughts echoing of what she wanted to be.
>You had no reason to be kind to these, slaves. 
>Every one of them had done something to end up here, something dreadful, something awful.
>Your legs buckled a bit under the weight of the question, who were you?
~~~~///4 years ago\\\~~~~
“Alright, we got another fool from the wire. Deep incisions in the pectorals and the leg has been flensed to the hock. Lyra, prepare anesthetic.”
>You stood up from your crouch, hooves clad in surgical scruffies.
>You didn’t need to use your hooves for this, in fact it was better for everyone in the surgical ward when you didn’t.
>You checked the tanks and adjusted the regulator until the oxygen flow stabilized.
>You also made sure the recorder was working, but that wasn’t for anyone without the remains of a harp on their flank to know.
>Not even security.
>Picking the mask up, you moved it over the buck’s face and began counting backwards, golden streamers keeping his eyes open long enough to see the pupils dilate and go listless.
>The EKG slowed and stabilized, now you were ready to begin the work.
>Surgeon Harker gave quiet commands and you followed without question.
>A slave was obedient.
>You kept the instruments ready, ignored the blood that got on your smock.
>A slave was servile.
>You paused and watched the surgeon work, before holding his forceps down.
>”Check the ultrasound master.”
>He released his grip ever so lightly as he looked behind him.
>The fragment of metal was lodged now in the artery, the slightest of tremors from his hand having finished its placement.
>He collected a ligature and had you tie of the artery and set about the removal.
>Voice never changing as he gave directions from the screen.
>A slave knew their place, even if others didn’t know it.
>The surgery proceeded for several hours, the buck’s body pulled back together, stapled and sutured until it held together.
>Finished, you cleaned up and pocketed the recorder in your tail, hoping it had something that could bring you closer to freedom.
>The names of those who had been with the buck, his fellow escapees.
>Walking back through the ward, deft little glints of yellow light, out of place in the harsh white of the medical facility flitted about.
>Book talismans as you understood them, enchanted by the great wizard Sandisk SDHC to be able to work with the recorders to hear far more than you had ever known listening to a record.
>Listen you would that night, like every night.
>Some thought you had managed to find recordings of human music to listen to, their great artists of Wagner, Dead Maus, and the Wolf Gang.
>But really, you listened to the fevered talk of those who had been given just a little too much pain killers to loosen their lips.
>Freedom came at a price, one you were all too willing to make others pay.
~~~~///\\\~~~~
“Hey, uh, please don’t do anything, the suits a rental. I didn’t mean anything! Honest, this is just a temporary post. That’s all the mask is about!”
>”Huh, wha…”
>You shook your head, the trip down memory lane not comfortable, but something you would do again.
>”Err, yeah. I’d be uh, irony.”
“Iron –ny?”
>”Yeah, you know strong metal, easily forged but not doesn’t bend when unheated.”
“Oh, unyielding.”
>”Yeah that. I’d be unyielding to it.”
>You really had a way with words as Bon Bon had loved to say.
“Well then, I think I know of some ponies that might work, this way.”
>He led off back toward the entrance by the bat pony.
>He stopped and turned around in the aisle, gesturing to its cage and opposite.
“On the right, the yellow ‘mare’ is called Spitfire.”
>The way he said mare sounds like there was a bit more to her than should be.
>What came to the fore of the cage was a mare, but not mentally.
>You weren’t even sure how fur could hold that much dye or skin metal, and yet, there it was.
>The pony was in a thick leather shock collar, the batter easily the size of your fetlock.
“She didn’t start her, um, record as a slave. Seems that she has been a problem with the law for quite some time. Isn’t that right, Rainbow Dash.”
>The bat pony came closer to the door, but stayed in the gloom.
>You realized now that wasn’t some gash on her muzzle, but the overgrown tangle of a psychedelic mane.
“Miss Dash here was a part of the Lunar guard way back home, and a particular nemesis of the other one. Says here that she served with honor, graduated the top of her class, and has over 300 confirmed kills in combat. A tad embellished I would say given she is still around and not glue.”
>She growled something at the last bit, 20% or something, you couldn’t make it out.
>That and the fact Spitfire was busy doing some sort of face with her piercings was distracting.
>You really weren’t sure where to go with this as you sat and tried to come up with some questions for the now apparent anonymous intern.
>”So you’re saying these two have history together? Or do you just mean on your talisman?”
>The man’s face stresses, strains, he face popping a vein.
>He just fumes and inhales.
“Reeee, it’s a Thinkpad, not some Chinkshit! Fucking Applefags.”
>You really weren’t sure how to take that.
>The Apple family had spent a lot of time working their orchards to help supply the fights against Emperor Sombra before you lost contact with them.
>You were also pretty sure they weren’t gay, just switches going by the times together with Big Mac and Braeburn.
>Your poker facing lasted long enough for the faceless mask to recompose itself.
>Wait was that a mask or a face, cause you were pretty sure that was some spittle you were whipping off your nose.
>Humans are weird.
“Spitfire was a menace to society in both our worlds. It was known as a threat in the kingdom of a Gryfendor, easily committing a long spree of robberies, assassinations, murder, and disorderly acts of malice. Her friendship score is, uh, 2 hearts of 10? I wasn’t told what that means, just that it’s something Provost Sparkle created as part of the accords.”
>You weren’t sure either of what that meant, but you could guess it wasn’t good.
“That was merely the start. It would seem it went to Equestria after that, leading a pack of criminals from various races into ever larger crime sprees. Which would lead then to her history with the bat pony over there.”
>The pony nodded a little at the attention, seemingly listless and not all there right.
>You wondered why, it’s not like they had any of the slaves working in the market.
>They just were kept in their solid concrete enclosures, so much as you knew.
“The history picks up from there, Rainbow Dash took it upon herself to stop this crime wave, but it wasn’t to be. While a fast flier, it would seem the other one was faster. At least of course until we came, and err took over. Yeah, please don’t take it wrong. Anyways, she does seem to do well at figuring out how things work and what makes people tick. Of course she also has some pretty severe compliance issues and is the most likely to turn on you if you let your guard down.”
>You pondered, that history lesson wasn’t much of what you wanted, but some of it seemed rather wrong.
>Probably the issue of humans not caring you figured.
>You weren’t sure of which to pick, pegasi were natural fliers, but you didn’t know much on bat ponies.
>You mulled over your questions, which was a bit more difficult as Spitfire continued to mess with her piercings in a distracting fashion.
>Some things came to the fore as you considered writing off Spitfire.
>A gang leader might be organized and street savvy, but she has murdered before and living is the one thing you intend to always be caught doing.
>”Err, what’s a bat pony like?”
>You had known Rainbow Dash, this wasn’t the same one due to not having a metal wing or feathers, but then you had met many Tom, Dick, and Harries at the forge to say that sometimes names could be reused.
“Well, they reeee a lot, and never for the right reasons. I think they use echolocation due to being blind.”
>Bat Dash muttered “am not” from her cell.
>Yeah, you know when you want to find out about a slave, may as well ask it.
>You stayed where you were, unsure if it might shoot magic from its wings or have a prehensile tongue like the bats you had seen on the enchanted box.
>”Well why don’t you explain yourself then.”
>Dash shifted uneasily at being addressed before seeing the clerk nod.
“My eyes were magically adapted to Empress Nightmare Moon’s realm. I can see better in darkness at the benefit of avoiding the usurper’s light. I don’t reeeee, my foals would, but I do have more sensitive hearing.”
>You lifted a hoof, some measures of manners were proper, even on property.
>”So, you’re useful in dim lit areas, but not unlit. Do you have issues with confined spaces?”
“I’m stuck in a concrete box that echoes constantly, reminding me I am worth just as much as a book now. No, I’m in love with the idea of being reminded of my place.”
>”What sort of books?”
>Dash’s ears dropped back toward her mane, uneasy suddenly at the question.
”Slave, I order you to tell her what books,” the intern was very sudden in saying.
>Dash’s posture changed, almost seeming to lighten at being ordered before sinking to where she was before.
>Still, she was now standing in her cell instead of moping on the wall.
“The Adventures of Daring Doo, sir!”
>Well, she seemed to like being ordered, fit with being a guards mare.
>Daring Doo? You suddenly really wanted to buy Dash, your smile turning up.
>Yes, this was a good mare to buy.
>You were interrupted by a hand on your withers.
“Calm down miss, you should consider the other offers and not just buy the first one you like. Come along, I have some other offers.”
>He started whistling as he walked, and the slaves moved to the center of their cells as he passed.
>His fingers making a quick jerk and check on the locks as you walked.
>You grunted to get his attention, a nagging question about home getting to you.
>”Did you say Provost Twilight Sparkle? Do you have a picture of her?”
“Sure, let me just finish with her.”
>He was up to his shoulder through the bars, rubbing some cream from a tube on a unicorn.
>The mare looked odd, sickly almost with scarlet eyes and a coat seemed to shimmer red under white.
>It had a musical talent from the cutie mark, but you weren’t interested in a pleasure slave.
“Just let me finish up with my Pon3. Don’t worry girl, work will be over soon.”
>He was oddly affectionate to something that seemed unable to so much as lift its head from the floor as he stroked it.
>You’d probably be as loving to your work spanner on reflection.
>The man flipped his magical plank around, and you saw a lavender unicorn with a two tone mane.
>Well more, you saw your friend Twilight Sparkle, older, lighter, and with a different dye in her mane.
“She took over after we took Canterlot, claimed she would lead the ponies if it meant an end to the killing. It was fair enough, there were other parts of the world to conquer, and she had been found in a dungeon trapped in crystal.”
>Home seems to have gone very weird after your capture.
>Maybe time passed differently between here and there?
>You weren’t sure what could cause that to Twilight, maybe it wasn’t Twilight, you had just met a second Dash after all.
>He stopped in front of a cell. You immediately noticed the door looked more like the type used in a mall store than on a cell.
>The griffon in the center probably had something to do with it.
>She was grey bodied with a white head.
>Her claws were a dark grey blue, but the odd part were her feather crests, they looked like small ears.
“This is Natalya. She does speak Equestrian, don’t let her fool you. Apparently she has issues with how, uhm fragile, humans are. Sent several owners to the hospital, whether on purpose or out of malice don’t care.”
>A griffon would be better for your travels than a bat pony, but the bat pony would be more useful actually searching places.
>Looking through the slatted security barrier, you appraise the griffon.
>The last you had seen of one this close had been during the camp days, but he had lost a leg to some crystal magicka and been your designated contact.
>Here, she was much slimmer, but you could see the muscle bulging through the fur.
>She seemed to mimic your inspection, head twitching in short movements as she looked you over.
“So, a slave to buy me? No, that bar in your ear. Not a slave, a traitor.”
>She spat that out, not very well trained then as a slave.
>”I am business, and a chance for you to be somewhere else. You would do well to learn respect for your masters.”
“My leash is not on your bridle, a master of any you are not. You can’t even control yourself.”
>This shopping trip, just seems to be less about criminals and more about trying to get under your fur.
>It was not without some expectation though.
>”Shut the beak, or I’ll just have it removed.”
>Your horn lit and went for the small bag at your side.
>The sound of the button being unclasped far more sinister with promise than it should be.
>”Now, tell me slave, are you a bird of the sky or a griffon of the ground?”
>Natalya clacked her beak, the words dying as she weighed what just might come out of them.
“Sky. I like to – liked to fly mistress.”
>”How would you feel being put in a tiny crypt and made to walk deeper into it with only a torch?”
>Blunt, but time was money after all.
>The shiver in her body at the thought was rather telling.
>”I would rather not like such a punishment.”
>You scoffed at the nonsense of punishment, but then again, it probably was a rather threatening fate to something that stayed in the skies all the time.
>Turning back to the intern, “Do you have any other options?”
“Well we do have a dragon, but she isn’t a criminal. We just had the only place able to hold her.”
>A dragon.
>You had seen how loyal Spike had been to Twilight.
>Much less Rarity.
>You might not need to be the master for how dragons seemed to obey unicorns.
>It was a natural order thing after all.
>”Show me.”
>She was locked in a thick metal box, only small slats toward the top letting you know something was in there.
>Noticeably, there were plenty of fire extinguishers around along with blast shields.
>Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
>The anon took a pole and whacked on the wall a few times.
“You got a visitor Avarice, up and at em.”
>There wasn’t much noise, just the scrape of claws walking on cement.
>The sudden pickup in pace and slam of a hand against the wall caught you by surprise and sent you scurrying toward the side.
“I’m not some chunk of meat for sale. Wait. You’ve got something different.”
>You heard a leathery flapping and a grunt before a claw stuck from one of those slits and a jade eye appeared.
“I see that there. You’ve brought a unicorn. I’m listening.”
>”I’m here to see if you are what I want. How do you feel about getting a treasure hoard?”
>She stopped for a moment and lost her grip, falling to the ground.
>Laughter came out.
“That, that’s a good one. Haven’t had somebody ask me out for a date meal in a while.”
>”I’m being serious here. I need a slave to go and assist me in artifact recovery. Wait, you would eat them?”
“Well maybe, if they taste good enough.”
>The intern turned and looked at you.
“You know they eat gemstones right?”
>There was a clank from inside the house and a patter at your hooves.
“It’d be nice if you gave me some and not these freaky ass things you say are food.”
>You were pretty sure that had been a pretty sizable ruby and diamond set before the teeth mark were put in.
>”If I took her off your hands, would I get a discount for having her eat in Equestria?”
“I’d have to ask corporate. As I said, it’s not really ours to deal with.”
>”Nah, don’t bother. I wanted something without strings.”
“Typical” the dragon’s sardonic voice came out.
>You just grabbed one of the extinguishers nearby, pushed it toward an opening and pulsed the handle.
>The slave’s scrambling claws told you all it all there was on who had the power here.
>The intern cocked an eyebrow at your show but kept quiet.
>”I believe I shall take the bat pony. What paperwork do I need to fill out?”
“Just a bill of sale. You have ID with you?”
>That you did, several forms in fact, you had little interest in ever having someone claiming you as an escapee.
>You’d seen someone try that on Flitter at the mill. 
>It wasn’t pleasant for any involved, especially not her, not when it was a chance to be with her sister again.
>A slaver had been there with Cloud Kicker, inspecting a lot of bar steel when they saw each other.
>Flitter had tried to ask him about her sister, only to be mistaken for her.
>It had taken the foreman threatening to dump a load of molten steel from the hoist to get him to release Flitter.
>It turned out afterwards, that at some point Flitter had started trying to be taken slave again to be with her sister.
>You hadn’t seen her since, company mandated therapy you had been told.
>You followed the anon back through the cells, pausing to look at the lonely thestral once more.
>It would be yours soon.
>The office was a small cubicle to the rear of the area.
>You were given a pamphlet on what to do with your new slave and what you could not.
>You smiled at the start of it, all the laws only bound you in the territories of the United States of America.
>Once you were in Equestria, you were free to do as you wanted.
>The rest was fairly droll, you would have to make sure it was well nourished, had some shelter, and was not criminally abused.
>Not hard to avoid, though you were pretty sure it would be sleeping in something less than the recommended spare bedroom.
>The anon waved you over and went over some background information, nothing too probing, though there were some issues on the state of your citizenship.
>Apparently, the form had one spot for alien, and it was not for you.
>You weren’t sure how it had happened, but you were apparently now a dual citizen of America and Equestria so far as the FBI was concerned.
>History finished, you pulled out your charge card and waited as it processed.
>You always wondered about that piece of plastic and why Equestria had never created its own such version of a money talisman.
>Bits were heavy, and yet this would have made it so much easier.
>Finished, you chose to have a security officer prepare your slave for shipment.
>You weren’t sure what to do with it, you were used to transporting unconscious ponies, not lively ones.
>When your new slave was escorted in, you were a bit annoyed at the way it still looked tired.
>The chains and clasps weren’t too surprising though as restraints went.
>You definitely did not want your investment flying away.
>That was going to be an issue you realized, a collar and lead would do little to stop it from escaping when it pleased.
>Your other option would probably not work too well if you were forced to it.
>A better collar you would need then.
>The marketplace stalls were lively with business.
>Offerings of slave boosters, enhancements to make them work harder, of exotic Equestrian goods that looked like shams, deterrents against ponies, deterrents for ponies, even a saddle stall for pony ridings.
>That last one left you feeling very uncomfortable with yourself and you pushed along faster.
>Finally, you found a collar stall advertising pegasus safe collars.
>You looked at your slave, this was a moment it would need to be consulted on.
>The shrugging nod was good enough for you.
>The assortment of collars was interesting.
>Most seemed to be focused on keeping them from leaving a leash, either as reinforced versions or with some nasty looking spikes.
>There were some that advertised keeping them in a pen with the power of MagnaWave technology.
>Those were close, but after conversing you found that it would only be good for home use.
>Finally you were shown what you had wanted, remote collars.
>There were several methods to choose from, some human, others enchanted.
>There were shock collars, you had seen pegasi make thunder clouds, you figured it was a fake.
>The enchanted collars fascinated you more, magic was something you could understand easily.
>You were offered:
A collar that got heavier the further away a pony went.
A collar that got tighter when triggered.
A rather pricey one that promised to make any pegasus the worst flier there was when triggered thanks to poison joke.
A training collar that compelled a pony to do as they were told, made by Discordax Enterprises.

>You take your time looking over the collars, this was not a decision to be rushed.
>You started with the poison joke collar, it was the simplest of the affair.
>The way your new slave, and yes, it was your slave, whined when you touched it was a bit delightful.
>It was a rather refreshing feel, almost too human.
>”How well does this one work?”
“Eh, that one? It’s a show collar really for dem city folks in da skyscraping penthouses. Don’t wanna spoil their mink carpets with the rest. Mostly I think they’se just want to watch da birdhorsies suffer and struggle. Sick bastards they are. Not good enough to just make the little guys, now they got to do it even to the damn aliens! Err, no offense missy.”
>Well that was rather off putting in a number of ways, moving past that is a good thing for you.
>May as well skip to the best one, the compulsion collar.
>”So what’s the catch with this one? I mean if it works well, why stock any of the others?”
“It plumb don’t is why. Watch. Storms Tripper, get out here and suck me off!”
>A pegasus leans out from the back and waves a wing at you, showing the matching collar on his neck, before staring at the human sales person.
“Fuck off yourself Frank.”
“And dat dere is why. A pony with enough will can just ignore it.”
>You heard some light sobbing from the back of the store and Frank shook his head.
“It also causes emotional breakdowns when they refuse. Never gots ta ask the sales person if it was a feature or not. Could you hold for a moment please.”
>The neckless man picks up a pronged club, and you know all too well what is going to happen.
>You decide to make the most of it and pull the slave up, propping its eyes open with magic for it to see what was coming.
>The beatdown was swift and effective.
>No lasting damage was dealt, but the inventory sorting was going to take much longer.
>You lean in close to the ear, just barely breathing, you utter “I can be just like that if you cause me even less trouble.”
>Your magic drops as Frank returns.
“Now’s I guess ya wants the dealio on the last two. Well, they’re something you probably got a thing with, what with the cranial protrusion you wear. They both come with triggerable and proximity modes. Now they don’t need any charging that I know of, but I just sell them and nobody said they needed batteries.”
>He picks up the choker.
“Now this one is a fine piece. Made by Madame De Rarita as part of her slavery is belonging line up. It works as it looks, just tightens on the throat until they pass out. Real fun too, can just keep them on the edge for hours. It’s got a safety feature in there to stop once the lights are out.”
>He moves over to the last one.
“This Gravity Gorget is a mighty fine thing. Puts an alien in their place beneath us people every time.”
>You had a brief moment where you considered showing him that being shorter just meant you could put your horn through his kneecap, but decided freedom was worth more than that.
“Gets heavier as long as you want, seen it work wonders at bringing down even the biggest of minotaurs at a rodeo.”
>”I’ll take that one.”
>You pass over your card and wish that you could have learned a pain spell or something to make people suffer when they referred to you so ill.
>Lacking much other action, you elect to test it in front of the stall.
>You feel an interesting feature locked away in the arcane sigils of the gorget, and with a small tug, activate it.
>The gorget fades away, its silver sheen turning to a nice and pleasing copper as the gems turned to opal.
>Appearance changing spells were always a nice feature in any purchase.
>Satisfied, you pull out the control cylinder and give it a twist.
>Seeing nothing, you crank some more and see the trembling start.
>You keep twisting round and round until finally your slave is brought to the ground.
>Satisfied, you back the dial off until it is only just off the floor and head for the door.
>Supplies
>You really needed them.
>Sure you had learned more than a few things from your bloc mates, kept a few things, but you knew that wouldn’t help you in Equestria.
>Besides, you wanted, no needed, to find out if Lady De Raritey had something better than just rope for your slaves wings.
>Perhaps something in neoprene.
>You dragged it over to the arms market, not bothering to let it keep up with its hobbling.
>The human guards were much thicker in this section of the market.
>One of them halted you and tapped the sign behind him, no ponies.
>Fortunately for you, they were only meaning as slaves and made you tie up yours at a bar with other slaves.
>You figured this might end poorly, but didn’t have much of a choice.
>Besides, you knew what armed humans could do, and that you had insurance.
>You went back in without any hassle, surprisingly enough not even a bribe was needed.
>You felt almost insulted that they accepted you so easily.
>Lo and how, but the anonymous intern was there in front of you again at a podium.
>”Wait, you work here now as well?”
“Not really. They pushed me off when I went back after our transaction and had me man here. They paid me though so I guess its all good.”
>Somewhere you knew Discord was pleased at this, if not behind it.
>Spirits of Chaos always were messing around you or your friends.
>”Can you tell me what I am allowed to get here? I don’t want to make a scene by accident.”
“Oh that’s easy, may I see your ID again.”
>He swiped it once more through his enchanted mirror and started thumbing again.
>An inquisitive attempt to climb up on his podium to look at it was met by a hand to the face and a sudden scooching back in front.
>You weren’t sure how he knew to do that, if his arm even moved, but it happened.
“Well Miss Lyra, it seems that you are permitted to have long arms, explosives, and firearms. I’m not sure why on the explosives, but there is a note attached saying that you will need to reup before the year is over.”
>Explosives?
>You don’t know how that happened, you weren’t even aware those were legal for humans to purchase.
>You were happy with that though, you had always loved how they looked on tv.
>”So how do I?”
“Just walk around and find something you like the look of, the clerk will be able to help you. You can work a trigger right?”
>You picked a corner of his lapel and popped its button in place before brushing off some dust with a magical hand.
“That works. Go have fun, get a shotgun, and as always, shop smart, shop Slave Mart!”
>You stroll down the midway, a constant familiar buzzing noise setting you on edge.
>You tried to suppress the need to stop and freeze whenever it started, but you limbs balked, knowing the imminent threat.
>You see some open seating in a tent and go there to sit, your breath short and heavy, limbs quaking.
>You were in control now, you were human, you were in control, you are human.
>You keep repeating the mantra to yourself as a video starts on the stage.
>It was flashy, crappy CGI logos and fake flames brushed your vision, but you didn’t care for it.
>Slowly your body calmed and you could pull yourself up in the chair some.
>There were ships on the screen being attacked by some sort of giant quad copter with a gatling cannon larger than itself.
>You weren’t sure if it was just the bad design or if you had just witnessed your first fusion of human weapons and magic.
>What you did know was that you didn’t have the money to get something so extravagant, or a reason.
>Then again, the ability to shoot down any pegasus airship had a certain appeal.
>But that would mean that the humans hadn’t already done so to them all.
>It was an interesting thought, a hope to see some that you hated prosper, only to be the one to bring them ruin.
>Such an exhilarating feeling, perhaps being a slave owner had finally given you some control in life or maybe it had opened you up to a more dark part of yourself.
>Pulling your up to the ceiling you flopped out of the chair and walked back out.
>You were here on a mission, you needed to get explosives.
>You knew that you would be going underground and might have to excavate wreckage, something like mining charges would be needed.
>You looked for the OSHA tags for 1.5Ds, but found none.
>Giving up, you went for somebody who had the 1.1 placard to see what he sold.
>His stall had a number of long barreled rifles with large bulky centers.
>Signs with repeated onomatopoeias were enough of a clue that you wouldn’t be able to buy any of them.
>”What sort of explosives do you sell?”
“’Splosives? I don’t know nothing bout no swearing goin on. Been off the bottle the last hour. Sober as a marine.”
>”I was looking to buy something that went boom, your sign.”
>You point a hoof figuring he was an avid inspector of what he sold.
“Oh, little missy want to do some yard work? I got just the thing to make you GI Jane.”
>He pulls up some sort of a mass of tubes wires and something that put off heat.
“This here is Church Bell. Moment you pull it out, everyone will start praying.”
>You did like the sound of that.
>”I’ll take it.”
“Good choice red horse.”
>”But I’m green?”
“You won’t be for long with this.”
>There was a conversation you were participating in, but you brain wasn’t.
>”Can I get some grenades too? Flashbangs?”
“What flavor you want? Gots pineapple, apple, plum, cherries, kumquats, potato, even some avacados.”
>His fingers danced over a small showcase of the grenades, names not really matching what he pointed but you guessed there was a reason the old coot knew them so.
>”A dozen cherries?”
“Sure thing.”
>A wooden box was placed in front of you, ruins for preservation firmly embossed on the top.
“You get the whole kit with them as well, free since you aren’t making me open the damn thing.”
>You float over your card and ID, and work through yet another background check.
>Turns out you really were qualified to use explosives, you’d need to speak with Jeff when you got back to the forge if you could take over cleaning the clinkers out.
“Was it worth it?”
>”Pardon?”
“Your ear missy, I may be old but I know what it looks like to betray friends. Was it worth it?”
>”I’m free, that’s what matters.”
>You grab your purchases and walk off, leaving your words to hang on both of you.
>Continuing your loops, you were surprised to find nobody sold rope or tactical gear that you needed.
>Unsurprisingly, they sold human made and shaped stuff in all sizes.
>All sizes you could see.	
>It just meant you would have to go back into the main market and look there.
>Passing back by Anon, you got curious.
>”Can you have these stored with my belongings?”
“Actually, I have to. No weapons are allowed on the show floor. You can take it all when you leave.”
>Cheerfully you turn everything over and go back to collect it.
>It hadn’t moved around the post, but had gotten closer to another slave.
>You didn’t care, you had nothing to punish it with anyways if you did.
>More things crossed your mind on what you needed to get.
>Bags, food, more of the Sandisk magic chips, some clothes.
>Well the clothes would be the hardest, but Daring Doo always was the risk taker.
>You walked past the corral from earlier, and you knew how to feel better from earlier with the noise of the shock prod.
>A few dollars later and you were riding a pony just like the humans.
>Like the very drunk humans as you found it very difficult to stay in the saddle at even a sedate pace.
>Sure you had a slave you could have done this to, sure people were laughing, but you felt much better about it all.
>That it was a fine flank of sweaty stallion you were on was a significant plus compared to however it could have preformed otherwise.
>Your brief revery over, you decided you would need a Go Pro or some other sort of camera that you could record your travels with.
>You were able to get someone to email you a copy of their video, for memories you said.
>Very, specific, fun memories.
>You headed to the booth with the large skull and crossed knives underneath.
>You weren’t sure what sort of safety code it meant, but you did know you were always able to find invasion equipment there.
>You just knew you always had to add some paint to them, the colors kept leading to them being lost whenever you took them outside.
>You guessed humans had simply enchanted them all to keep Equestrians from being able to see them.
>Fortunately, they also sold black colored items, which made them inordinately easy to see.
>You supposed they might be meant for working in darkness, but if there was no light to see, then you could wear whatever you wanted.
>Humans were weird.
>Fortunately, this one was weird enough to have equipment for ponies.
>You found a number of oddly named pouches and bags by an Alice, but they went together far better than any dress you had seen in Canterlot.
>There was even a sewn platform for the Go Pro he didn’t sell.
>He sold plenty of rope, so you bought plenty of it.
>Anything you could find a use for.
>The equine restraints may have been pushing it, but he sold handcuffs right next to hoofcuffs so what was the issue you got looks for?
>He did take the time to walk you through the knives and daggers he sold.
>Most of them looked like elaborate methods for helping your opponent by hurting yourself, but he did sell some nice utility knoves.
>This purchase finished, you loaded it all onto a courier slave and continued shopping.
>You really wanted to find some sort of slave catching store at the end of all this.
>You weren’t sure what would happen if you did, but the thought was amazing.
>A chance to show just how human you were, and no longer the slave.
>Further wandering and yanks on the tether eventually led you to an outlet store situated toward the rear.
>There you were finally able to purchase something more charming than the plastic wing covers for your slave, but you were unsure what to get amongst the myriad of fine fabrics, chiseled metals, and just plain better looking plastics.
>You just knew you didn’t want to use plain rope.

>The racks, the stands, the display cases, even the live models all offered a tease or taste of what you could use in your potential slave capture.
>Fine silks and thin gold chain held a mare ever so gently to a platform.
>The disdain for everyone from her was palpable and you could see that she was lavished upon, not a mar on her fluffed coat, her hooves looking like the princesses themselves could bow before them.
>You couldn’t believe any of it was good beyond the willing.
>You certainly would love it if someone tied you up like that and left you alone back at the camp though.
>You would have escaped and been gone before the click of the door lock had stopped.
>Still, it would be nice to have that much attention given, but the price wasn’t worth it.
>The pain in your ear was your eternal reward, but one that was infinite.
>Such an interesting thing to muse on as you carouse the very mechanisms to rob a never was slave of their freedom.
>You always were wondering if someone in your family had made it out of the Crystal Empire and given you their musings on life.
>Hoof cuffs made of wooden boards, clasped irons that left you recoiling from the essence of shitty Chinese pot metal, thick layers of leather holding tight to flesh.
>The earth stallion had been made to wear them long enough to get bare fetlocks.
>Such a thing was common, but something got to you about it.
>You lit your horn, picking up a little bit of leather manacles that seemed sturdy for a closer look.
>Well it would have been a look if your eyes weren’t screwed shut as your horn put on a second shimmering coat of yellow.
>The stallion’s legs gave a faint glow, then it dispersed, burgundy fur replacing weltered skin.
>Tools only ever were useful for long if well maintained.
>The leather manacles looked sturdy, resilient, and felt flexible enough.
>They didn’t come with a restraint of their own, but looked good enough for you to keep a set.
>More ponies were arranged as you went, showing everything from silicone gel holds, to the familiar chain get up.
>You were still coasting on the high of being a human to let that get to you.
>In fact, you were so happy you just simply popped past that unicorn you had so much energy.
>Fortunately right into a stand of magic suppression rings.
>Your head buzzed.
>Not with excitement, but with stabs of dread.
>The phantom pains were there, the feeling of your magic sealed in an instance.
>You hadn’t been wearing one long when it had been taken off to let you help, only a few months.
>It was a few months of learning to live like an earth pony, and served well in life.
>But it had been several months you couldn’t walk straight, could stay right, and you couldn’t even pull your mane out into strands and pluck them like a harp to feel better.
>You knew just which ring to get, all too well.
>Magic didn’t work to pick it up obviously, but even that simple bit of contact as you tangled it with the price tag on the manacle left you feeling feverish.
>Your hoof felt numb and tingled where you had held it, your horn felt like soft slippered spiders were crawling on it.
>But you knew more than anything, it was something that would be needed on this trip, no matter how much it hurt you.
>You just had to be sure of one thing and flipped the ring over so you could look inside.
>It was blank, oh thank Celestia it was blank.
>There was some small part of you screaming at how stupid this all was, some bit of rationality that said there was no way for it to have been from the camp, that part was nowhere near as loud as it needed to be.
>You really should have gone to a therapist, your therapist before this, but you didn’t think it would have been this bad.
>No remorse, no guilt, what you did was what everypone else should have.
>A clerk tapped your withers and plucked the ring from your grasp.
“Well, I can guess it works well then. I’ll see if I don’t have a box to stop that from happening again miss.”
>He turned and started walking away, the rings in his hand.
“Hey, Andy, we need to move the rings behind some glass. Unicorns don’t react well to them on the floor.”
>You turned away, purchases still to be made and faced yet another horror, one that spelled doom for your world, or had before the humans showed up.
>A leather mask with green eyes on a pony.
>No chains, no bonds held it down, none were needed.
>Sombra’s will made sure of it.
>The most terrifying part was the nondescript pencil drawn price tag on it.
>Humans had so little clue with such world ending magic they couldn’t even bother to sell it properly.
>You backed away slowly, heart hammering.
>You just needed to get some restraints and you could leave this madness, these memories.
>You missed the smirk, the dark crystalline shine from the automaton.
>You didn’t need to see it to know the dread it would have given you.
>Deeper into the store you pushed, ignoring everything for what you sought, some wing binders and some chain.
>The chain was easy enough to find, but all too heavily overpriced.
>You’d get some cheaper from TruValue on the way home.
>Wingbinders were more difficult, you needed three sets.
>One to replace the crappy ropes on the slave, two for future captures.
>There were many options, from meshes made of plastic that looked like reused pop can pack connectors, to hemp nets that prickled through your fetlocks as you weighed them, on out to elaborate foam rubber pieces with zippers.
>You set about finding some good for slaving work, something that looked effective.
>You chose some simple steel wire net designs that looked almost like what superheroes wore in the comics from the US capitol.
>Easy on, and they had a locking ring to go over at the base of the wing.
>All in all, an effective set of lightweight slaving kit.
>Rings
>Rings to take the magic.
>Manacles and tethers to keep them from running.
>Some light nets to keep them from flying.
>All nice and easy to carry with you, in fact you forgot the stuff you were carrying when you turned to it.
>The smack on the nose was unintentional, but not forgettable.
>You just shrugged at the scrunched nose and light sniffle.
>Not enough to worry about anyways.
>A light blue coat, but the mane was difficult to coordinate with.
>Why was the mane a rainbow?
>Dash had been the only pegasus to look like that, not even her father looked like that the one time you saw him at a concert.
>You did know what you wanted though, some nice light zip up foam pods for its wings.
>Easy on, easy off, and you could clean them of the hairs that would get stuck easily enough.
>But frankly, the idea was a bit odd, you didn’t want to trust it with being able to manipulate things with the wings.
>You were clever when you had no magic, no reason it couldn’t be.
>Walking through you found what you wanted.
>A black spongey rubbery sleeveless shirt that was sure to keep the wings tight while looking presentable.
>The locking D ring at the top of the zippers made it all the more clear how effective it would be.
>Easy to slip on and off as well, it was a one piece throw over that even came with a second stop for the zippers to free the wings when needed.
>Nifty, and practical in the rain.
>You look further, it looked pretty good as well, enough that you should
>Your mind caught up with where this was going and bucked back.
>You set the outfit down as you tried to cool your cheeks.
>You really needed to find a way to have some time with that stallion again.
>You definitely wanted to buyed, ride him more.
>You pulled taut on the lead and headed to the counter before a grumble left you realizing you forgot something.
>A gag for it.
>It had been so quiet you had nearly forgotten, but then tools don’t talk.
>You beat it over to a large rack of gags, muzzles, and assorted items.
>Something pliant was needed, it would have to communicate after all.
>But not too much, speech is a privilege for tools, just the batteries couldn’t be pulled and inserted at will on this one.
>Flipping over the assembly before you, you ignore the fetish options, far too many looking like somebody hit the novelty store than for a long term option.
>You spied a very ornate head piece, gem studded and wreathed with gold.
>Filigree flowed in vines and thorns that crested down to the throat.
>A particularly large gem sat there, and you could guess why.
>Flipping its price tag over, you flipped it back just as fast.
>Some things were quite a bit too expensive still.
>Even if allowing a command mute would be nice.
>You choose to go for a simple piece of black elastic material with a small silence gem in a detachable choker.
>Much cheaper than the helm, probably just as effective.
>It also goes quite well with the wing restraints, in the end looking like a giant turtle neck rather than your sign of ownership.
>Well, looks count and you were still unsure who was doing it still.
>Besides, that just meant a chance to go shopping later.
>Paying, you found the two rings had been placed in a safe acrylic case with a clasp.
>Just enough to make sure they could end up touching you by accident.
>The last of the shopping you could do here done, it was finally time to leave.
>Fishing out your claim ticket you headed to the front, looking forward to getting home and dressing up the slave.
>Lo and expected, there was the intern, always there to help you.
>You added getting a card to the list of things for Equestria, it would only be fair for when he showed up at your homecoming party after all.
>”At this point, I’m going to start discussing dating options given you aren’t on fire and there hasn’t been any commotions.”
“Err, right, no fires and commotions, dating. I can go for dating.”
>”Well then, why not fetch me my things then,” you handed over the claim chit, wondering if you needed to sacrifice a goat to get better pickup lines from Discord.
>He came back with a small cart of goods, your purchases just having been left in cellophane bags.
>You set about loading your new hauling slave up with its provisions, good practice for the trip.
>You did however discard the rubber band on its muzzle in favor of the new gag.
>Communication was key, and grunts weren’t very communicative outside of happy hour at the bar.
>Now it looked, well it looked like you needed to take it back to the Tactical Transaction frankly.
>Tactical ninja came to mind more than slave.
>Oh well, ninjas were quiet, and that is what it was to be.
>You choose to carry the explosives yourself, no reason in seeing how well its been broken.
>First though, you get back your precious, your defender.
>A holstered Colt Walker and bandoleer goes over your neck.
>You were an American, and you were damn proud of it, even though it had only been an official thing the last few hours.
>Everything set, you head out of the slave show and into the muggy Los Angeles air.
>Your fur kind of poofed at the change from AC to Pacific breeze, and you felt the change in gate from your slave as it suffered the same fate.
>The roundabout was packed with people pushing to get in, some took photos of you in passing, others called out offering sums for your slave.
>You ignored them, it was your slave and yours alone.
>An impact to your side sent you rolling into the fountain at the center of the traffic circle, head rolling up and over into the water.
>You turned to see what hit you and saw your slave floored on the ground, glass shards and a white paste coating her side.
>Pained moans came from it as you caught a whiff of yellow speeding into the distance.
>Bucking mail mares losing cargo all the time.
>You walk over a little unsteady from the tumble and check the damages.
>Nothing major or worth a spell on, but you weren’t sure what the paste was.
>The slave got up before you could find out, and promptly spazzed out more than you thought a hobbled pegasus with both wings tied could.
>Your attempts to figure out what had happened were stymied by trying to keep your belongings from being thrown about as the pegasus started rolling in the dirt trying to clean the stuff off.
>You ignored it beyond making sure to keep a good hold on the leash as you settled for some of the remains in the glass.
>Off white, puffy, slimy and very sticky.
>Yeah whatever it was, you didn’t want to get closer.
>The fits of “ew, ew, ew” had died down by now as the gag did its job and made talking too much effort.
>The pegasus still lay there rolling and rubbing trying to get the white crap off itself.
>Instead it looked like the bird side had won over the pony and built a nest of it.
>”Alright, let’s go, you were going to get a bath before, but now you definitely will.”
>A pleading whine came from the gag, and you just met it with a yank on the lead.
>No sense in punishing it now, it did at least do a good job of getting you out of the way.
>Home wasn’t that far away, but mostly you were just annoyed that you now had to carry everything yourself.
>You just hoped that Drunk Gull had been doing what his protection money was supposed to be doing.
>Conniving pegasus, you wished the LAPD went after him already, but they kept saying it was for animal control to take care of.

Walk or take the wonderful bits of mass transit home?
Walk, PETA People for the Enslavement of Terrestial Aliens.

>You opted not to test whether your protection money was well spent and walked over to the bus stop.
>Mass transit the humans called it, it was like the Friendship Express, but without the locomotive, extra cars, tracks, or friendship.
>It was rarely express either.

>What it was however, was cheap.
>Work gave you an unlimited pass to anywhere in the California mass transit system, which made it easy to not need to carry a wagon with you.
>You waited for the bus, with your slave at a distance.
>It was currently trying to pull the stuck debris free from itself in what looked like preening.
>It mostly resulted in lots of muted pain and saliva coated branches and fur.
>You’d definitely have to bathe it when you got home now.
>A bus pulled up and waited for you to get on.
“Eyo hole up there. I ain’t no trash service. Lose the shambling bush for you fuck up ma ride.”
>”What?”
”Your appropriation of muh culture honey. Lose it or you ain’t setting foot on here.”
>”I can report you for that.”
“You can try bitch, but I got’s a busful saying I dindu nuffin. Can I have an Amen?”
>There was nothing but the annoyed yells to get on already from the bus.
“’s what I thought.”
>He shut the door in your face and pulled away, the scattered dust making your slave look even more like a tree.
>Walking it was to be today.
>You just knew this was going to end badly, having your own slave was too good to end a day on.
///
The mail pony looked down at the ground where her cargo had hit. The two ponies seemed well enough and were moving off on their own quite well. She looked at her now naked whithers. Something had hit her hard, undid her bags and been gone before she could collect herself. There was no mistaking the tears in her eyes, the whip would drink her blood tonight for something she didn’t do, both as she knew, and as far as her master was concerned. What scared the maroon pegasus though was the after trail she saw, a rainbow. If someone had trained a pegasus to rainboom and become a pirate, no courier was safe now.
////
>Your progress toward home had been blocked by a set of protests and counter protests.
>Gull had not been doing what you paid him for, and now PETA, PETA, PETA, and ATEP were blocking your way home.
>People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals had squared off against People for the Enslavement of Terrestrial Aliens over the fact that since you didn’t look human, you couldn’t be enslaved.
>It was an argument alright, but not one you particularly liked the implication of.
>At some point, PETA had been joined by the Ponies for the Encompassment of the Thirteenth Amendment.
>You kind of always liked that group, mostly on account that they didn’t so much preach at you as have polite conversations on your shared hardships.
>Then there was the Alliance for the Total Emancipation of Ponies.
>They tended to be too close to what you had learned of historic emancipators.
>Violent, dangerous, a threat to your livelihood now as much as the stores they attacked for participating in the slave trade they claimed.
>All of this was going down in a just barely contained mess in the way of your home.
>The LAPD seemed to have just cordoned off the area, hopefully to contain it, and not to make sure there were no escapees.
>”Can you fly like that?”
>It stopped acting like a dog for moment and tried to extend a leathery wing.
>The effort was useless as the limb was pulled back by the marshmallow fluff.
>The collar locked the response out, but you didn’t need to hear it to know.
>You’d have to go through the mess before you could get on the elevator to your cliff side home.
Which group do you try to pass through?
Do you try to blend in and sneak through, or just get through like its BART?

>You look up the crowd and down.
>No way around, the only way through.
>You considered what you remembered of the groups.
> Ponies for the Encompassment of the Thirteenth Amendment were a no go.
>There was this hunky stallion that you wanted to get some more coffee with before he tries to woo you from your ways as a slave master.
>A wooing he had better give or you might just have to get personal.
>No, you decide its best if you join in with the other slavers.
>Well pass through them.
>The LAPD stacking up and preparing their shields was not giving you much time to choose.
>You turn the garget back on and tug at the lead.
>You point to the elevator at the cliff base.
>”That’s where we’re going. You don’t want to end up right back in the market, you’re going to be there with me.”
>The crowds are easy to move through, the violence has yet to start.
>You do notice the looks you are getting more eyes following you.
>That little bit in the back of the mind that some call hindsight decides it’s time to be called panic and pushes your legs to move faster.
>Of course given its called sight, it runs you right into a burly man leg.
“Hey watch it, we’re on the same-“
>He looks around, no one close enough to have hit him until he looks down.
>”Sorry.”
“Wassa slave doin here? I thought I said no slaves for the cameras? Who dun fucked up this media shoot?”
>No one responds, but the empty space is now occupied by other PETA members.
“Anyone here? Was it Horsefucker Joe again? God dammit it was wasn’t it? That shit can’t keep his dick dry for one fucking hour.”
“You, slave go back to Joe and get him to me, now”
>”I am not a slave.”
>You gesture with a nod of the head.
>”That’s the slave.”
“Oh great, we got a free slave out with us eh? What, did you miss your little PETA friends?”
>He gestured with a single finger where he wanted you to be from.
>You’d been waiting for a chance like this.
>You raised a hoof and pointed at your horn.
>”Stop when you feel my mane.”
>Someone in the circle snirtted, their laughter known.
>”Oh so you think you’re a comedian like that fake piece of taffy ass on TV eh?”
“Well it’s not like you aren’t the butt of jokes all the time. Hey green stuff, your slave or just a fetish getup?” A feminine voice spoke.
>”Mine slave, just bought it today.”
“Ah nice, you can’t be here though, insurance won’t let us have pickups so, shoo.”
>You didn’t want to stick around anyways, not with all the stuff you bought still on your back.
>”Sorry, was just passing through to get to the Elevatus and home.”
“Eh don’t worry about it, might want to hurry before you get cordoned in.”
>You left, the circle parting as you went, their conversation not done.
>You put a hoof to your ear, the stud still stuck in the scar tissue.
>So why didn’t the leader care about it?
>You figured his eyesight must have been as good as his IQ from the exchange.
>The way out of the protest got you jeers and cheers from PETA members, and you knew the jog of owning a slave was up for your next meeting.
>That, that was going to be interesting to explain, but you hoped it would work out if only as a way for Jolly Fiddler to try and convince you to renounce your ways.
>A very thorough and close way of convincing.
>Bad thoughts, bad thoughts.
>You shook your head mane flopping and hoofed the ground.
>You needed to focus on getting home not on what you wanted under your tail.
>The last obstacle was an LAPD checkpoint to leave.
“Getting rough in there miss?”
>”Not part of it, was just wanting to get to the Elevatus.”
>His partner tapped his shoulder and pointed to your slave.
>Dread came as they moved forward to inspect it.
“Do you wish to file a report for damages?”
>”I don’t think so, she got hit by something falling off a mail delivery.”
“Was this at the slave auction?”
>”Yes.”
>He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.
“Can you remember anything about it?”
>You told as much as you could remember, which wasn’t much given you didn’t have binoculars.
>Finished, you were waved through and went for the Elevatus.
>A great machine of gears and pistons, it was based on the concept of trains.
>You could understand that from the many wheels and belts you saw, chains and sprockets that were kept behind metal nets.
>You had walked it off once and found it larger than the center of Ponyville.
>What had gotten you into trouble once was trying to find out what powered it.
>You had heard growling and went to see if it was a dragon, only to find a very angry captain yelling at you for ignoring the no entrance signs.
>It had ended better than that when you asked what signs and found that they had been most likely stolen for a beach party.
>The captain, Tony, had offered to give you a tour and show you the large dynamos that powered the whole affair.
>Though the car line was backed up, there was plenty of room for pedestrians.
> Tony caught sight of you and waved you over, clearing  a seat for you near the railing.
>“Sup man?”
“Saw someone with a blow torch in the crowd, thinking we’ll see some molotovs on the way up.”
>Your home wasn’t part of the original LA basin.
>When the portal to Equestria had first opened, it apparently did so underground.
>This would have been a nonissue were it not for the fact doing so had compressed and liquidated a large amount of the hydrocarbon deposits underground.
>Apparently it had turned a large chunk of the area into a single stroke engine and pushed the city around.
>You knew some blamed this on ponies, but you didn’t get why.
>Who builds a town on a giant graveyard and then expects nothing bad to happen?
>The siren sounded and gates closed on the platform, you were finally getting home.
>Watching over the grating you saw some pinpricks of light in the park, but nothing that looked like the typical riot fun bottles.
>Suddenly glowing orbs spat up toward you followed by cracks of noise.
>You were holding tight to your slave under the bench, its ears covered by hooves.
“Hehe, guessing you never saw a fireworks show before?”
>He looked over at the two of you cowering in fear.
“Hey what’s the mat, oh, ooohh. Yeah, uh you’ll be safe just I guess stay there.”
>He took his jacket off and laid it over the two of you to try and deaden some of the noise.
>You appreciated the gesture, not that it did much to help as the explosions continued.
>That wasn’t how you had hoped to spend the ride home, but you had no choice in it.
>The ride over, Tony guided you quickly away from the platform and onto the sidewalk.
>You were looking down now at the sparkles and the noise was more muted now as you moved away from the edge.
>That didn’t stop you from jumping at the sounds, wondering where was the fun of having weapons go off so close.
>You made it home finally and unlocked the door, ushering your slave in first.
>Turning and locking the latch, you sank to the floor, heavy bags still at your sides.
>It was getting better, but not by much.
>You weren’t sure if you could adjust to living after a war, it had been easy to love before one, but now?
>A nudge at your side belied your slave tugging at the bags trying to remove them from her master.
>”Hold on – 
Do you embrace Bash as a slave or as a pony in private?


>"I want to talk with you first."
>You motion toward the area in front of your prone form. "Sit"
>Obediently, the thestral does as commanded, debris coated haunches landing on the floor with the sound of jelly being spooned from itself.
>"Just what have I bought? You were said to be dangerous and a soldier. Are you a threat to me? Am I threat to you?"
>The target of your question is quiet, but focused.
"You will be a threat to me, always and forever as I am a slave. Nothing will change that."
>You kept a calm face, but the answer was not what you liked, even if it was truthful.
"I'm a trained soldier, forged in war and a life taker. I am a threat to anything that draws breath and will never be anything else. My Empress saw fit to make me better than-"
>"OOH dramatic, trained killer, I'm sure you've killed hundreds of humans as well. Why don't you stop making stuff up and tell me what you did against Sombra's armies?"
"Whosistwhatsnow?"
>The brooding face disappeared into one of sudden confusion and uncertainty.
>"You know, came from the lost crystal empire with a plan to take over the very minds of ponies, fought Celestia and took any hope of having a chance against humans away from Equestria when he put so many of us to flight? That scary killer."
"I, mistress forgive me, but I never heard of him. I thought, I."
>"Speak slave." You applied what you had seen worked, direct orders.
"There were many slaves I saw who knew nothing of the eternal glory of her night, who prayed to the usurper Celestia for power. I thought them to be rebels and traitors, but all seemed to unknowing to have simply hidden in Everfree or beyond. Do you really know nothing?"
>"She was an old mare's tale to scare foals for a long time until she came back as Luna. She served with her sister through the war, seeking means to remove the fell taint in the mind Somber took until one day she simply never woke up."
>The blue pony's shoulder slumped to the floor, no hope left in her form.
"Her tale was true and we were a fool to have not heeded them."
>"What?" Your confusion was increasing, but you were beginning to understand the gravity of what you were hearing.
"An alicorn, a Princess of friendship she said, came to my mistress's realm with a wild story of traveling in time, of seeing this war you speak of. She vanished in a flash of light after leading my sovereign n a hunt. I thought she had simply teleported far away but now I believe her yammering may have been true."
>You had never heard of such a princess, but then you had never of what humans did every day either.
>"That's, interesting. I want to know more about you though, not where you are from."
“Why would you care about me?”
>”Because you can indulge a curious old mare or I can make your flank red for disobeying an order, slave.”
>The protests died on her tongue, the power dynamic obvious.
“I left my parents early on to pursue my dream of joining the Wonderbolts. When I joined with five other ponies on a quest to stop Nightmare Moon, she offered me a better deal, to become a Shadowbolt. I took it, the Wonderbolts were always too much show and not enough awesome for me.”
>The mare looked down at that.
“After that I worked as a Lunar Guard. I wasn’t just given the title, only the path was given to me, I still had to prove myself.”
>”And you did then? So then what happened to your wings?”
“The mark of a true Shadowbolt, not just of the Lunar Guard or a Shadowbolt, but one who is both. The greatest gift to stand by Nightmare Moon’s side.”
>The way the thestral spoke, you knew she still had a great deal of pride and unbroken spirit.
>That could be an asset or a liability depending on how you chose to use it.
>But there wouldn’t be any using of it until a bath was had.
>You cut the history lesson short, but you had some idea now that neither of you had history together, that humans had claimed more than one world to get the two of you.
>You floated the bat pony through your home, its hooves filthy and wings stuck to the side, if they could even work in the human sized hallways.
>You put it down on the tile floor and set about testing the water temperature before filling a tub.
>You gave it a chance to conduct some private business as you looked for a scrubbing brush and a bag to put the twigs and debris in before they could stop up your drain.
>Finished with business, your slave had found some intrigue with your mirror.
>You watched from the side out of view.
>It was odd, like it had never seen itself before, or perhaps it had, but too long ago to be the same pony.
>It kept ducking around and pulling bits of mane out or tried to pull a membrane on a wing out for inspection.
>The most attention was given to its cutie mark, a few minutes spent tracing the charred mass of flesh where it had once been.
>That was close to home, to you, just how different were the two of you?
>You interrupted when it mounted the counter and tried to put a marshmallow coated hoof on the glass.
>That was something you did not want to clean.
>With a simple command, it stood in the shower stall, gorget, collar and restraints cast aside for cleaning and replacement.
>This was the moment where it could escape, but also the point where you had to establish the order its life would be under.
>A master who could not command respect would never get a slave to obey.
>You hefted the tub of water and drenched the mess.
>There was barely any time for it to speak before you started savagely taking a scrub brush to its hide.
>You hadn’t bothered with soap yet, you were simply and determinedly knocking as much of the larger globs of material off as you could.
>Magic fluffed pulled, patches of fur came with the gluey goo, bottoms stained blue.
>Everything you loosed went into the bag, no need to keep it around.
>Again and again the floor brush scraped away until you saw no more large globs.
>Finally you went for soap, a fresh cake of it from the cupboard, you were not sharing such a thing with it.
>Fur sopped off in little runs and you put the plug in the stall, no interest given in plunging out the pipes from the mess.
>At last the soap suds stayed clear and you relaxed the brush, it was time to see just how much pony you actually owned.
>Picking up the tub of water, you saw the slave cowering before you.
>It was as it should be.
>You grabbed the scummy remains from the water and plopped it in the tub, the whole ensemble would be dumped in the street.
>Hoping the pipes would take it, you pulled the plug on the cold water and turned on the hot tap.
>The slave shirked away from it and you put a hoof in it, the water pleasant to you.
>You turned it down some and played the head over the slave, magic fluffing and pulling at the lathered hide.
>what came out was a bluer hide, but also lots of skin.
>Gnarled scars and scabs showed in too many places to have been simply from abuse, you wanted to learn more of that.
>You tugged at the wings and scrubbed under the membranes grey dirty flesh ran off from where the water played, the accumulated filth of who knew how long.
>”Roll over.”
>You went at the belly water and magic finding more of the same bedraggled and damaged mess.
>All until you caught something glinting at the tail.
>It followed your gaze and began blushing and squeaking at what you saw.
>A dock piercing.
“I can, I can explain!”
>The tone, the voice, the mannerisms, everything had changed from what had gone on in the kitchen.
>This was more the voice of the young mare you had once called Rainbow Dash, and not this, whatever it called itself.
>Well you called it slave you reminded yourself.
>”Oh? Go ahead then.”
>you turned the water off, interested in this bit.
“It’s a uh, rank insignia.”
>You just hefted the scrub brush and flipped it over, the implication of your intent clear.
>master
“Okay, I got it on a dare before being a Shadowbolt. My parents didn’t want me to do anything that might ruin my chances with Nightmare Moon and some of the other cadets were seeing who could get the most out of regulation thing through. I managed to hide it under a tail scrunchie  and kind of, well, liked it beyond a dare. So I kept it long enough to be permanent.”
>You considered just having it removed, in fact you could do it yourself right here and now.
>You had the spells and a set of snips ready to go.
>You could own everything you ever wanted in your slave, but why?
>Your flank had been taken from you, what you had counted as family was gone.
>You gave it a tug and received a hiss.
>”When you say permanent, I don’t think it came in right. This is going to get looked at and done right.”
“You’re letting me keep it?”
>”Is it going to stop you from following my commands?”
“No.”
>”Then yes.”
>You had barely finished the words when you felt a sodden mass of fur grab and hold you tight, thanking you.



>Your slave was touching you.
>A scared mare needing comfort had latched onto you.
>You were being hugged.
>Your fur was now soaked from contact with wet pegasus chest fluff.
>You felt like you had gained a daughter.
>You tried to rethink this.
>A slave, your slave, had just decided it was worthy of touching you, making a mess of you.
>That needed to be put down, boundaries were important as a master.
>This was your slave, but then you had been one.
>Scared and alone, you had wanted somebody to comfort you.
>To just hold you in those dark moments and lie to you about everything being alright.
>You had pushed past that, but still, why make another suffer.
>The hug was rather awkward as well, your neck was being pulled against the tub edge threatening to turn you into a pile.
>Bash reacted before you, the slight toppling making her realize what she had done.
>What she had done.
>The mare recoiled back into the tub, her leathery wings outstretched from launching herself away from you.
>She pulled them tight and fell to the floor of the tub legs clutched tight and eyes shut.
“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryPleasedon’tpunishmePleaseIwon’tdoitagain. Master Please.”
>You grabbed her in a golden magic hold and picked her up, knowing what to do.
>A scared mare, terrified in a strange world, her old life lost with little to remember it by.
>Your slave.
>The scrub brush fell across the floor, a loud slap cutting the air.
>You pulled the slave up and embraced her, a shaky hug on your hinds.
>”Sshhh, shhhh. Just let it out dear, just let it all out.”
>You held onto her, your necks crossed and just kept tapping a hoof reassuringly on her back as she sobbed.
>This wasn’t what you wanted, you had bought a slave to be a pack animal, to go and trigger traps for you.
>Now you ended up trying to comfort it as you tried figure out what to do.
>Time passed and your training to listen for details had helped.
>You knew now that this wasn’t a guards mare you had gotten, or some antihuman rebel.
>No, you had gotten a mare scared for her life at all points that wanted to just excel in everything only to be found wanting.
>It wouldn’t be too wrong to beat that out and make a perfect slave, but you knew that in the end, what you did to her was a reflection on yourself.
>Humans had many gods and leaders from which they had tried to follow.
>You had only ever had two, and you had no idea where they were, if they were.
>What had always kept you in line was yourself, and you did not wish to change now.
>Much as you thought that this, this slave pony, needed help, you had work to do still.
>You pulled a bath for the both of you and filled the tub with a nice head of bubbles.
>Right now you didn’t want to leave your slave alone, even though you knew it didn’t matter.
>You could lie to yourself and say it was that you were afraid the merchandise might break, but right now you just well your mind was full of fuck.
>Full enough you had already dropped your slave into the tub without realizing, climbed under it and were trying to figure out what was going on.
“Um, master. You’re sitting on my tail.”
>Tail, mane, oh right you needed to clean those and yourself.
>You pulled yourself up some and let your charge shimmy a bit until it was comfortable.
>Comfy resting on your belly in a bathtub, just relaxing on your chest and listening to you breathe.
>Well for you to order it or something maybe.
>”Is there anything I should know about this mane? It seems rather damaged.”
>You let some of the wet knotted strands fall from your hoof.
>You didn’t know what was in them, but it looked like a mane cut would be easier and more merciful on the brushes.
“It’s real! I mean, the color, it’s been like that since I was a foal, it came from my dad’s side.”
>Parents, right mares had parents, and this was a mare in your lap.
>What a silly thing to think, of course it had parents.
>Slaves weren’t made in a forge even if they were tools.
>And look here are the scissors, a tool, just what you needed now.
>Why were you holding scissors and where did they come from.
“Master, are you okay?”
>The batty mare ground her way around, twisting and turning in your lap until she looked at you.
“Do you need help?”
>She was blushing, you were blushing.
“I can help you now master. Just let me.”
>Correction, bleeding.
>Why are mane care scissors pointed you cursed, the hoof going under the bubbles.
>And now it was stinging, so you pushed your hoof low
>Ooooh, that’s what was going on.
>”Please get off my crotch and don’t do that again,” you deadpanned.
>The small prick was healed easily with your magic as the tub got a little more roomy.
>”Just stay still and let me see how much I can salvage.”
“Yes master” the slave replied downcast.
>This was something you would address later, you knew who you wanted.
>Snip, snip, snip, the scissors went through long strands of mane, the thickness palpable even through the handles.
>It was a shame, a mane this long would take a while to grow back, but there was little to be done with how much had been frayed and ruined from time.
>A short bob and tuft, that’s what you would do.
>Something manageable enough for now, and later something to get made up proper by a professional.
>Your work was swift and the mane put to the side, never knew what it could be good for if cleaned up.
>”Perfect. You want to take a look?” you hovered over a mirror for the sullen mare.
>”I think it might suit you more.”
“Sure,” the mare recoiled at the sight before catching herself.
“Its, okay, it great I love it master!”
>You really wish you had the scrub brush again, this was getting tiresome.
>You settled instead for a nice slap of water in the tub at the back of its neck.
>”Stop just saying things, I saw you flinch. Why don’t you tell me why?”
>There it was, the face of a mare and not a slave, interesting how you kept flipping like this.
>Master, mother.
>Both meant ruling over unruly and troublesome things that were to obey you, perhaps there was more to this than just some old nag.
“No, it really is great, I love my mane long, but you made it look awesome! It’s just, I. I don’t know who I’m looking at in the mirror anymore. My previous masters, they weren’t anywhere near this nice. They beat me just for being a soldier, for daring to be against humans. Its defined me, and now…”
>She paused, voice cracking as she swirled a hoof in the water.
“Now I’m being treated like I was told I would be by a pony and I don’t know what to do.”
>There was crying in that voice, was it thankful, upset, maybe just scared?
>You really weren’t sure where to go with this.
>”I can beat you if it makes you more comfy?”
>Yeah that sounded much better as a thought than an actual offer.
>”You know what, no. I’m not going to beat a tool just because I have it, well other than hammers, those are for hitting. Come on let’s get this finished up, I have better plans than trying to be soup today.”
“You won’t just hurt me?”
>You knew a good response for this, and began cupping a hoof to your chin and down into the water.
>”By Starswirl’s beard, no!”
>Your sudden and extreme facial bubbles made the mare giggle, you’d successfully pushed past this mess.
>You were in front of your crystal slate, the scrying spell on the SCI setting.
>Somebody was trying to set themselves on fire by some sort of caged phoenix bird while being horrible at names.
>Your slave was relaxing below you, a brush unwillingly sacrificing itself for what was left of the mane.
>Your very chatty slave, every time it saw a pony it started talking to it.
>You’d had to disable the Samsung incantation to stop the slate from trying to invoke a spell constantly from all the babbling.
>”Bash, you know they can’t hear you right?”
“But master, they’re right there. We talked through glass all the time in the camps. They’re just doing their jobs like good slaves.”
>She paused on that thought.
“Master, how can I be a good slave?”

>A good slave, what is a good slave?
>You had to think on that.
>Were you a good slave for getting out of it?
>Was Bash a good slave for just being willing to do as ordered?
>Thoughts crept in
/////////
“Steady now, steady.”
>A clawed hand held your shoulder as you reeled, nauseated, and weary.
>Your magic had been suppressed ever since you had been captured, humans having known very well what they needed to do to stop it.
>But now you had earned a few minutes of release from the implant.
>Just a touch of freedom for turning in 5 ponies, proof that the deal was real.
>It was, terrifying. Wrong. Exhilarating. Words kept coming up in your head.
>Then your lunch came up.
>Tobias released you as you heaved and sunk in on yourself, mindful that you didn’t fall into it all.
>This wasn’t right, the world wasn’t right.
>Magic was broken, reality sundered, and it was all crashing into you.
>Equestria was wild, chaotic, a writhing sea of veld, but here on dirt, it was a smashed mirror, endlessly turning in on itself and shattering further.
>The magick was wrong, the world was wrong, your life was wrong.
>Everything here was wrong.
>The only thing right you knew was turning in ponies to be free.
>You couldn’t work, no couldn’t live without magic and now here you were acting like it was poison.
>Maybe it was poison, perhaps that’s why humans had to suppress their magic.
>You felt a pip, and the world drained away of occatrine.
“I know you were promised more time, but you don’t look too good there.”
>The crotchety old griffon shuffled over on his peg leg.
“Here, let me help you up, you look greener than before. You want to go to medical?”
>”Broken, it’s all broken”
>You passed out in his grasp, the last you heard were his screams for help.
////////
>”You could, uh, you could…”
>You hated anything that reminded you of the camps, you were a human not a slave, those memories were best forgotten.
>Bash stared dutifully, hanging on your words.
>Yes that is all that was needed.
>”Just do as I order. That’s all.”
“Yes, master.”
>”Now let’s get you acquainted with where you’ll be tonight.”
>You got up and trotted to the back door, cleaned up slave in tow.
>You pulled a collar from the supplies, no need for anything fancy right now, and went out into the night.
>”You’ll be sleeping out here from now on. This will be your quarters.”
>You gestured to an old doghouse that had been there with the property.
>It was an old wood structure that was weathered, but had a shingle roof and concrete pad.
>The chain and stake next to it made clear though it was not something a slave would get far from.
“This, this is for me?”
>It wasn’t much, but you didn’t trust a slave on the first night alone in the house.
>You’d probably warm up later once you cleaned out a linen closet.
>”Yeah, not like its much.”
“I get a house, all to myself?”
>That was new, it was hovering in the air on its wings.
>Oh buck, it could fly, right.
>You magic up the chain and connect it to the collar.
>”Yep, now hold still. Should have done this inside.”
>You pull the collar tight, your slave obedient, and now legal outside again.
>”Lose the collar and LAPD will tag and bag you. Fuckers love a chance to roll into someone’s yard.”
>You knew most of the time it was because there was a shottie pointed out the front door, but why not let the fear work?
“So I’m sleeping out here? In the open air?”
>”If you want, the chain is how far you can go.”
>You tug out a dilapidated blanket from the darkness of the shanty, and drape it over the slave.
>”Don’t stay up to late, you are on my schedule.”
>You walk back to the house and close the door, figuring there was going to be something once you left.
>You stole over to a window and waited, unsure whether it would run or just crawl in.
>Instead you got a bat pony shaking its hooves and kissing a crappy bit of wooden structure.
>Must mean a lot to it to have something meant for a pet as its own.
>What intrigued you on the way back from brushing your teeth was how it had settled in for the night.
>The blanket was wrapped around it like you expected, but it was out in the open on top of the shingles, looking up at the clear moonlit night sky.
>Weird, you’d expected after the happy dance it’d be tucked up inside.
>Whatever, that it hadn’t run off in the few hours was enough to let you sleep the night away.

>Sleep was what you needed, what you wanted, but didn’t come.
>You lay there in bed, tossing about as you felt something was wrong.
>Was this right?
>Were things really going this well for you?
>You got up and paced the halls, your slippers ignored.
>A slave that was willing to do as told, yet independent enough to try and put the moves on you.
>An adventure in the works, a chance to even go home without repercussions.
>You stopped at a window and peeked out into the backyard, afraid to know the chain was empty.
>Yet there it lay, slumped on its back wings following the angle of the roof, sunning, no mooning itself in the night.
>There was no mark on the chain it seemed, no attempts to escape.
>Why was this happening, what made it all go so well?
>You went back to bed, waiting for the bad to come.
>Eventually your worry fits were overcome by sleep, and you went back to the land Luna could never see again.
////
>You wish to say your sleep was peaceful, that it was as good as what it looked like for your slave, but that was a lie.
>It was nightmares, horrors from running from Sombra, from humans.
>The faint pops and echoes from the “celebrations” did nothing but make it worse.
>Mercifully the nightmares stayed wispy and only enough in your head to shudder.
>This day was going to be perfect, a thing you had planned since you went riding.
>But now you were reminded of your cursed fate, of all the things that made you hate.
>That and how bucking good human coffee could be.
>So here you were, slippers on your hooves, a terry cloth robe on your back, and a mug saying #1 traitor in your magic.
>The magical projection box was on again, you’d turned back on the voice talisman now after you couldn’t remember where you put the pushy button stick thing.
>You’d worry about the slave after you finished the mug, you didn’t want to find out whether it needed your precious or not.
>After all, you smirked, it didn’t say what it was your enemy for.
>It might just be a tea drinker.
/////
>Your slave was sitting guard waiting for you to get it and bring it inside when you went out.
>You’d waited and watched through the window long enough to see it keep nodding off to know it must have slept about as well as you.
>Musing, you hoped it was actually for better reasons, the way it had looked at the moon made you quite curious just what it had been doing, you figured you should ask on that.
>For now though, you were pulling a little prank, and had a can of shaving cream ready as you slunk toward her.
>You gently put a layer of foam on each of her two fore hooves, and proceeded to puff your chest up.
>”ATTENTION!”
>The response from her was everything you hoped after last night.
>A hoof immediately went to her face, the cream slapping her something you would remember for a long time.
>The sudden shock, the swirl at trying to bring the other hoof up, and the sudden and impossible for a nonflyer way she got trussed up in the chain was truly a sight.
“Good Morning, Master” She grunted out of an impromptu muzzle made from her own chain.
>”And here I thought the military had to be able to stay on alert at all times.”
>You waved a hoof half mockingly as you leaned on the hutch, magic tugging at the chain in an attempt to disentangle it.
>”So seeing as you mustn’t be fit for the military anymore, I think I have a different use to try with you.”
>You tugged the last link of the chain free and offered a washrag for it to clean up with.
>”How do you feel on stallions?”
>Her face began to match a part of her mane at the question.
“I, uhm, I uh, I”
>The rag was now tightly wrapped in her hooves, any moisture in it rung out.
>In a bare hushed whisper like the time you spoke of your first rut, you heard it.
“like them.”
>You could only smile as you got her collar swapped out for the gorget and suit.
>Oh you smiled, you knew this day was going to be just perfect.

>You were able to get on and use the bus this time, score one for cleanliness.
>You were feeling a bit of trepidation with all this.
>She had said this was okay, that he was actually quite happy with how his life was, but still.
>You wouldn’t like being made into a sex slave, even a well kept one, it just was a terrible idea.
>And yet here you were, on your way to use a sex slave even as you thought of the horrors that might come from being nothing more than a set of genitals and the means to keep them working.
>At least you knew she was better than that, her slaves were treated quite well and willing.
>Still, it was hard to see it as truly willing when the alternatives were all so much work.
>How many ponies left the camps as just some sex toy, simply because it offered a better way of life?
>And why were you so bucking focused on all this?
>You started tapping your head against the window, your horn clinking and tinking.
>The poke of your slave got you to notice the stairs you were being given.
>You smiled and shrugged, “Long day.”
“Its still morning little pony, what, master keep you up all night? You his little to-
>Your slave simply twisted over the seat, its eyes glaring.
>A hiss of an open mouth showing off the fangs was enough to make him back down.
>You waited a bit for things to calm down before you ruffled her mane.
>”Good girl.”
//////
>The rest of the trip was uneventful, the man casting a glance at you before hastening off the bus.
>You got off near a gated community Bash’s leash wrapped around a hoof, the buildings done in an adobe Mexicoltan style you understood to have been popular with the southern tribes of your new home.
>You just thought it was a practical thing to use the earth that way, why would humans consider it special?
>You like the central plaza and fountain though, it was rather picturesque, particularly with the ducks in it.
>That large blue one was new, you’d never seen one like it before on Earth.
>Your mind jumped a bit and you followed the leash to the splish splashing bat pony it was attached to.
>You really weren’t sure what to do about this, it was well beyond your experience.
>Were ponies allowed in the fountain? 
>They should be, they weren’t human.
“Well, that’s a happy pony. Yours mint butt?”
>An over towering pink on pink unicorn stood next to you, her shadow covering you.
>”Fleur!” you jumped up and clutched to her neck.
>You rubbed your cheek against hers, “It’s been a while.”
“Yes it has, I believe a certain somepony has been keeping something from me,” she said playfully.
“So long in fact, I can’t even remember her name. What was it, String bean? No, Acapella Jello? Oh if only I had a letter with her name on it to remember her by.”
>She put a hoof to her chin and started tapping.
>You giggled and slid the note out of your saddlebag.
“Oh my, I feel like its all coming back now its, To Registered Occupant.”
>”Whoop, that’s a bill, this one.”
>You hastily swapped letters and dropped off her neck.
“Lyra!”
>She fell down on her forelegs, looking almost like a dog with her eye on the ball as she booped you.
“Oh you need to tell me all about everything you have been up to, and uhm, uh. I think your slave is losing to those Canadian geese.”
>You looked over, your slave was stuck between two large honking and hissing masses of feathery hatred.
“Oh Luna, they’ve mastered flanking tactics, somebody help me!”
>You just rolled your eyes and picked her up with your magic, looking forward to finding out what the sopping wet bat pony had done on the way back home.
>Bash leaned back, giving one last hiss of her own back at the flock.
>You joined Fleur in her house, the leash now tight on your hoof.
>Fleur motioned to a low recliner as she dried the thestral with a quick spell.
“So Lyra, what brings you here? I see you already have a mare, so it can’t be about that.”
>You twisted on the recliner at the thought.
>”Ha, funny you should bring up that. No, it’s not my mare friend, but yes that is what I came for. I’d like to rent a stallion for a while.”
>Fleur stares at you before suddenly grinning and laughing.
“By Celestia, its finally happening. You’re actually doing this.”
>She points a pink hoof at you.
“You’re, you’re actually serious finally.”
>The once regal pony is a ball of fitful laughter, her well maintained mane a mess as she squirms on the floor.
>Your slave growls, something in it has made it look strangely at Fleur ever since it saw her.
>You wisely tug at the leash to dispel any notions in its head.
>There was definitely not going to be any fighting in this house today.
>Fleur eventually runs out of breath and is reduced to mute convulsing on the floor.
>You drop off the couch and offer a hoof to pull her up.
>The touch sets off a bout of giggles.
“Oh my, with as strong as you have become, how – snrkt- how can we tell who the stallion is.”
>Her face is screwed, tears streaming and she tries very hard to keep it in.
>You just roll your eyes and drop to your haunches as she starts beating at her palanquin at the humor.
>It was going to be a while.
>Her composure regained, she lead you down a hall and to a spacious chamber. There, lazed about like cats, were her slaves.
>Her stallions.
>Some peacefuly slept, un minded and loved.
>Others goofed around, anything from a smartphone held in a wing, to a book in hooves amongst them.
>A few saw you first and moved to hide the items, but relaxed when they saw their mistress.
>Fleur clapped once and the ponies came to attention and lined up.
>You had your pick, and you would use it well.
>You dismissed stallion after stallion, from too small, to too short, to pain inducingly large.
>You narrowed it down to a set of three, one of each race you mused.
>The earth pony looked familiar, the way he eyed you, lust or something more to it.
>Curious, it was beyond what it had been like at the riding circle.
>You checked your phone, comparing the picture, it was him.
>The Pegasus was fascinated, his chest fluffing.
>Not at you, but your slave.
>A slave currently shrinking away from the look out of embarrassment to be seen returning the advances.
>The unicorn was, dour. Refined. Professional.
>This was not his first time at this rodeo,  nor would it be anywhere near his last buck.
>You felt almost sorry for him, like it was so common he had forgotten the fun of sex.

>You walked over to the unicorn, business was good.
>”What are your interests?”
“Whatever you need madame, I exist to serve.”
>You looked over at Fleur, a bit confused.
>”No personality?”
“He’s new, but old. I think he may have been on magic suppressants to long. That, and he’s very, very gay.”
>Well that would be mean to take advantage of, you waved him off to go back and be with the other stallions again.
>You walked over to the Pegasus, your slave was hiding behind you from him, and you took a sudden side step while pushing her forward with a bit of magic.
>The eep and stammering mess from her was just adorable.
>Even more so when he gave her a little nuzzle with his chin.
>You leaned down and checked between his legs.
>Yeah, that would do for fun.
>You turned to Fleur, and dismissed the earth pony.
>He kept, glaring at you, as though you had done something wrong.
>”What’s his problem?”
“Oh Rotten Rivers? He’s just naturally cranky due to a bum leg. A giant scar, he refuses to say how he got it, but whatever it was, he is lucky to be alive.”
>You shudder, an awareness of just how it could have happened hitting hard.
“You okay there Lyra? You look like you saw a wendigo.”
>”Yeah if only.” You remark, a hoof playing with the stud in your ear.
/////
>The Pegasus’s name was Rubble Rescue.
>As Celestia would have willed it, he had been a professional archeologist in Equestria working for a private gallery before the humans had captured him.
>Thoughts buzzed in your head, you could find out so much from him, what to look for that was the most valuable, how to find the lost treasures, even just if you had the right tools.
>You managed to talk Fleur into a long rental with him and to take him home.
>Well more she had made you take him home, saying that you needed a stallion in you for the sake of your life.
>Not at all subtle she was anymore.
>The hot dog and sauce was definitely overdoing it when she broke for a “snack”.
>Your questions for him would have to wait though, right now you needed to get on with the business.
>You tugged your slave and rental into the room, the batpony having been tied behind the pegasus to make sure he didn’t try and escape.
>That you had chosen to repeatedly break check the little group and have them bump into each other had been completely due to the fact you weren’t used to walking two slaves at once.
>You’d have to get another one for, practice, if this worked out.
>Your bed was a frumpled mess from the morning, it didn’t matter though as you whisked off the sheets and threw them to the side with a sweep of magic.
>You climbed onto it and turned around, facing the door and the mirror on it.
>You flicked your tail as you went, caressing Rescue’s chin playfully.
>”Alright my little stallion. Get up here.”
>You tugged the leash and he went up, oh you knew just where you wanted him.
>You hiked that leash until he was at your backside, then pressed him back.
>He tried to get steady, ready to mount you when you swept out his hinds and dropped him on his rear.
>”Oh no, you’re not riding me.”
>You lowered the leash as he fell back against the pillows.
>Flagging your tail, you got ready.
>”I’m riding you.”
>He got the message, and leaned forward taking a long slow lick from top to bottom and back.
>You shiver, a little whinny at how long its been since you felt this came from your lips.
>You step and restep on the bed, trying to keep the tongue there as he went.
>Not that you should have worried, he was all too happy to give in and start licking.
>He hooked his forelegs on your hinds and went to work.
>Practiced experienced licks, short licks, long licks, patterns.
>He knew what to do with a mare, and you were all too pleased with it.
>Your slave just sat at the corner of the bed, eyes zoned out and drool falling from an open mouth.
>You almost fell over and lost the moment when you saw her looking at you like that, but Ruin simply held you up right and get eating you out.
>You tugged on the bat pony and guided her up.
>”Fluff him.”
>She didn’t need to be told again, and crawled under you, her words replaced by her own licks and preparations to his groin.
>You couldn’t see what she was doing, but it must have been spirited.
>Her rump kept pushing around in the mirror and her mane kept tickling your belly.
>You let her get good and ready, when you guessed she was starting to bob, you knew it was time.
>”Switch.”
>You pulled forward, releasing Rubble from the back of the bed.
>”Rubble. Head at the foot of the bed, belly up. Bash. Off the bed.”
>The two complied, and you were quickly ready to mount Rubble and start bucking your brains out the proper way.
>Your slave though, she looked like she could use attention.

>Your slave was sitting at the edge of the bed, wishing she could be part of the tryst.
>Why shouldn’t she be you figured, you weren’t using the whole slave.
>”Rubble, Bash, go at it.”
>Bash perked up and sauntered to the foot of the bed, still blushing, but now very amorous.
>Her short steps saw her go from timid, to wanting, to sultry, and finally to Rubble’s muzzle.
>You however had better things to do than watch them makeout, you could hear it easy enough.
>No, you had plans for Rubble being in you, and you wanted a ride from this pegasi.
>Something to put your mind high in the sky before what you had planned.
>You stood up on the bed, breathing in the musk and the aromas as you steeled and tensed and relaxed your muscles.
>The tang of sweat, the thick sweet and heavy musk, the gentle sea breeze of the fabric softener in the sheets.
>A hoof of yours guided Rubble’s dick beneath you, you were going to be the one in charge here, not him, and not your slave.
>The mirror showed you how progress was going, where the spire of your desire was.
>You didn’t really need it, you felt it slide between your tits with an appealing warmth.
>A sticky trail of saliva and pre had been started on your belly and traced back to your folds.
>The thick black dick head, its rivulets of saliva and pre making it look wrinkly white, touched the bottom, its thick broad face mushing into your clit.
>Shudders racked your body, the convulsions forced moans from your muzzle, snorts from your flaring nostrils.
>Green hooves beat the bed, stomping close to Rumble, the Pegasus not even noticing how close they came as he just held Bash in a kiss.
>The two wing ponies had their lips locked, Rubble giving it the best he had, a chance to at least be with another flier, and Bash a final chance to be herself, to give into the inhibitions and passion, to actually make love on her own terms.
>You moved on, the thick piece of heat between your thighs pushed up, sliding along your folds, dipping your ponut and pushing your dock up with a sticky marking of its passage.
>Your legs, tensed, quivered and start pistoning up and down, rubbing your scent and his together, juices mixing and flowing as you pressed back, the head not quite going so high each time as you pulled the angle around so you could ride him properly.
>The time came and you reared up, a balancing act on the springs of the bed that would have thrown most ponies to their sides in a sudden heap of limbs.
>You had the advantage though as your belly fur went taut in the mirror, the streak of the dick’s passing clear from matted dark fur, a third leg just barely balancing you.
>The tension in the room was great, you were balanced on the tip of that spire of stallion meat, the heat pushing into you, Bash was turned around, winking into Rubble’s face as she to wanted him in her.
>Golden magic appeared in the mirror, an ethereal hand with three fingers up.
>Bash nodded, understanding immediately the sign as you dropped each digit.
>At the end of it, you both pushed back, Rubble no longer in any form of control now, but enjoying every moment of two mares pushing and tugging his body.
>Wings spread, hooves twitching, and snorts and whinnies going, he did his best at the job he loved.
>Your hips gyrated, pussy winked, and lips slowly spread as he entered you.
>You went down carefully, a measured pace and then pulled up again, the bobbing spreading pre and fluids thoroughly, the need to use lube gone from the passion you had created.
>You kept going, walls clenching and milking as you went, desiring to feel a fullness in you that could only be done with horse cock.
>You lost track of what was happening in front of you, a vibrant swishing of rainbow tail and clopping of hooves the only clue that your slave and rental were going full at it.
>It didn’t matter to you, the need to breed, to be the little mare was in full force.
>But not so far as to drive out Lyra, no, you weren’t going to be the little mare, you were going to ride this stallion to the hilt.
>You grabbed the leash on his collar and wrapped it around a forehoof, a small tug pulling it taut with a gasp from Rubble.
>where before you had been gentle, been letting him lead, you took control.
>Your other forehoof went to his dick and caressed it before wrapping it in the fetlock, a chokehold on the pre coming out.
>You took your time pulling up and then just dropped, your knees giving way briefly to freefall as you plummeted toward his balls, stopping only when you felt your hoof.
>You lowered that hoof, and pulled back up again, a great weighted burden of desire, need, a meteor ready to drive any semblance of thought from the two of you.
>The Earth asserted its dominance, the ceiling fell away and you were much lower now, your hoof pushed down further by your own fuzzy flanks.
>You were shaky, panting, and sweating from the exertion, but not done yet.
>You wanted more in you, needed more even as you could feel him pushing into an uncomfortable depth.
>He bounced and tensed, his groin pushing up against you, muscles tensing and relaxing as you dropped.
>The leash was held, your hoof pulling it back again as you pushed and wiggled your hips on the drop.
>Rubble followed your guide until his muzzle was stuck, Bash pushed back and trapped it in her folds as she pushed back.
>The Pegasus was left elevated, his own needs ignored by all but him, yet now he could into Bash.
>That he did with gusto, his forelegs grabbing and holding onto her hinds, his tongue plunging in and pulling out globs of juices into his throat.
>You slid one last time before hilting on him, a fullness you had not known in a long time, memories pulled and tugged forward of a happier time.
>You would think of them later, right now, it was time for a rodeo as one of those ponies in memory would say.
>You pushed up and dropped, squatting and standing on Rubble’s groin as you went.
>The motions felt wrong, awkward and uncoordinated as you went, but it was a human position, something they called a bullrider.
>It was definitely interesting, the pushing squishing and sliding in you magnified by the weight of your own body.
>What was clear though was you were riding the bronco and that’s what mattered.
>The tryst continued, the forces between you speeding up as the desire to release, the desire to be filled, and the exhaustion in your hinds caught quickly.
>Tight clamping pains in your gut showed you were close, that Rubble was going to cum soon for you.
>His head had flared and been pushed in you, pulled as you kept on bucking him.
>Your legs gave and you sank onto your knees, the final push over the edge as you came, juices squirting on your crotches as Rubble filled your insides with more than could fit in you.
>The dribbles and squirts gave way to simple leaks, the bedding soaked between the two of you with the thick scents of your mating.
>You collapsed forward into Rubble spent, unused to this any more and all too much out of practice.
>Your muzzle ended up right in line with your slave’s shapely posterior.
>It really was nice looking you thought, no wonder she wanted to share it with you.
>You inhaled of it, a feminine spice flooding your nostrils.
>Somewhere you remembered that you weren’t into mares, but then this wasn’t a mare, it was a toy for you.
>And there was a plush ponut there just ready to be nibbled on.
>Rubble stole you from the chance to eat it, his wings wrapping around you and tucking you close, letting you bask in that far thicker and heavier stallion musk you wanted to smell.
>Sweaty wings and a cummy tummy kept you warm as he finished your slave off with flare.
>You fell into a daze bordering on sleep, the first such restful one you had had in years.
>You awoke, sore, achey, and very very sticky to the sound of thumping and giggling.
>It wasn’t a bad thing to wake to, for a brief moment you were back in Equestria, the sounds and feelings of a post band get together.
>It was home, a soft gentle memory with Sweetie Drops getting more from her fans than you.
>You quietly stirred at the thought, wishing to remain there longer.
>The extreme pain of a cramp kept you though as you rolled over and tried to stretch.
>You ended up over the edge of the bed and looking at Rubble grinding your slave along the floor like an expert carpenter planning a piece of wood.
>The collar had been swapped and he now held the leash in his teeth, his forehooves pushing Bash into the ground and another around her barrel.
>Your slave was wrapped in the leash, leathery wings tucked behind tied legs.
>They had frozen on seeing you, Rubble turning crimson and Bash trying to sink into herself and hide what was going on.
>You blinked and stared, your fores rubbing the cramp in your hind leg trying to set it straight.
>They just shrank more on seeing what you were doing in embarrassment before you caught on and showed your cleanish hooves on the floor.
>”You’re not going to be making foals here are you?”
>The pair shook their muzzles at you.
>You slid your hinds over your head, the goopy remains on your crotch flopping onto the underside of your muzzle.
>It was thick, warm, and still dripping when you fell into a pile from the distraction.
>You got up and smartly walked to your bathroom, the soft noise of dripping remnants and the squeaking squish of your thighs the only thing in the room.
>You magiced the door and kept walking in, the last thing you did before you flipped on the fan being to stick your head out the door.
>”I didn’t say you had to stop.”
>It wasn’t like you were done either, not when you had a removable shower head and back massager.


>The week, your last week on Earth for a long time, had gone quickly.
>You had kept Rubble busy teaching you as much as he could, but at the same time there was a good deal more use with him in the bedroom, for you or for your slave.
>Fleur had given her permission to take him with you, figuring it could do the would have been explorer well to go with you.
>Her conditions were fair you figured, if Rubble found it, it was hers, not yours.
>The ancient ritual of finders keepers was still valid you knew, all the more so for former slaves.
>You had spent the night preparing, your saddle bags full, your slave’s hauling harness secured, all that was left now was spending one last day before going through with this.
>You walked around your home, breezies in your stomach at the thought, nervous and unsure.
>You wanted to assure yourself all was well, to know this was the right course of action.
>More though, you wanted to know where your slave was, she was normally attempting to hang from the ceiling of her hutch at this time, splitting her sleep in dawn and twilight to cause as little issues as possible for you.
>It was odd, but it worked, something to have thought on a bit more before buying a pony made in the image of the ruler of the night.
>You wandered down the hall to the garage, the light on inside, perhaps she was gathering some tools for the trip?
>You heard music, some sort of metal, and the cracking voice of your slave singing to it.
>The ping of metal tools clanging on concrete gave you the right guess.
“-gasoline. Napalm. I’m the fire of your desire. High Octa-“
>You tapped the singing mare on the shoulder with a magic hand, unwilling to get near the car she was working on.
>She had done a good job at starting a something, the wheel was off and there was oil coated paper on the ground.
>That meant she knew what she was doing right?
>You took a long sip of your coffee as she pulled herself out, little claws on her wings grabbing and shimmying her out from under your car.
>The coffee kicked in, hot and awakening.
>You didn’t own a car, ponies couldn’t drive.
>”What are you is there a car… You sing?”
>You needed more coffee to wake up, probably a lot more to deal with the fact that you recognized the car as well.
>It was Drunk Gull’s, which meant he had better be here with an apology.
“Uhm, yes? Sort of?”
>Your slave was rubbing an oil coated hoof through the bun of rainbow mane.
“A Gull said you were expecting him and that he was to be obeyed. He had a key to the house, so I did what he asked.”
>Oh joy. Now he was going to corrupt your slave as well.
>”You can work on cars?”
“Tanks to actually, master. We captured several during the invasion and I was part of a group assigned to understand them. The maintenance was easy enough even foals understood it. Just, none of it was in human, everything looked like arcane runes.”
>You learn something new every day, like it might just be you who can’t drive and every other pony can.
>”So you can fix a car?”
“Actually I’m just replacing the oil and adjusting the carburetor. He came in with it knocking and well past the last time it should have been done.”
>Those were words that sounded of the specific persuasion of some pony answering your question.
>”Interesting. Are you using my tongs and hammer?”
>The mare shook her head and pointed out where they still neatly lay on the pegboard of the workbench.
>You picked them up and walked out of the garage, leaving your slave to continue with their work.
>You dropped the coffee cup off in the kitchen, you liked the logo on it too much to risk it, a hammer and an anvil with the text Vitam in labore corde protulerim.
>Then began the hunt for just where the asshole was.
>You found him with Rubble, sneaking a small stuffed toy into the pony’s sleeping bed, tucking it under the pegasus’s hooves.
>You clamped the tongs on a wing base, magic clamping his jaw shut as you yanked him across the room to face you.
>”Give me a reason not to make you an earth pony right now.”
>You raised the hammer, ready to break his treacherous wings for coming back.
“It’s about Flitter, nothing more.”
>The yellow Pegasus shrank before you, trying to play earnest.
>He was a lying scoundrel, a gangster, and your ex, you knew him too well to trust any face he made.
>”Flitter’s in counseling, why would you care.”
“She was, now she needs your help thanks to my mistakes.”
>You stopped, and looked back at Rubble, making sure he had heard nothing.
>”Kitchen, now.”
>You didn’t care much for your ex, his excuses, or why, but you knew Flitter was a sweet mare and a coworker.
>You guided him through the house, the tong looking so much like a parent dragging their foal by the tail in reverse.
“I tried to help her, I honestly did. She came to me asking to buy her sister, I gave her a name. Next I hear of her she went straight into Equestria, no papers, no supplies.”
>”A lovely story, why am I having to pick up your messes again?”
“I know of your trip, your plans. You intend to take ponies slave while over there.”
>That got your attention, you hadn’t given it more than a consideration and preparation.
“The man who owns Cloud Chaser works on a pony in, pony out scheme. Runs some sort of little Potemkin village or something with ‘em, trying to beat out China for manual labor. If you’re going to take one of your own kind slave, at least do it for a good cause is all I’m asking.” 
>You bristled at the words, you were a human, a master, not some slave prey race that got captured.
>You still held the tongs on his wing, and it would be a while before you had to come back home.

>You put the tong and hammer on the table, Flitter was more important than making him suffer.
>”Go, get anything you told her, anything you gave her. Now.”
>Your words were barbed, you wanted to make him suffer for this saying you were a pony.
>He might feel he is, but that was his choice.
>You wanted to hate him, and you did, but it wasn’t enough.
>You weren’t what other Americans would call faithful, but you never went and married another, nor had you taken any long term relations.
>Gull had been your first, your only. In your way you had been faithful, and so had he.
>Perhaps if you had had a foal together things would have turned out different.
>Neither of you could bear to bring one into this world, and Gull had chosen to make sure he wouldn’t.
>You knew it was the right thing to do, but it had been the first crack in the marriage.
>You ruminated, considering what to do when he came back.
>It wasn’t like you to leave him without a punishment over this, perhaps the paranoia would work?
>After all, physical wounds heal, but mental scarring is forever.
>You flicked the burner on the stove over and left the tongs on.
>Gull had caused enough trouble with his tongue for now, you’d keep from causing more for a while.
>You considered though, he had given Rubble a doll.
>Why? That wasn’t something Gull was known for, if anything he was the type of pony to take one.
>Perhaps it was worth waiting a bit to hear him out.
>You flipped the burner off and let the blue flames die, you still had all the fun of the paranoia to give him as a parting gift.
>You put out a bowl of cereal for Rubble, and went to wake him.
>Today was the big day to leave, you didn’t want to miss this chance.
>You looked at the doll under him, it was something Equestrian.
>The stitching was botched, the fabric cut misshapenly.
>Whoever had done it, hadn’t been very good at it.
>Must be sentimental then, perhaps something your temporary companion could tell you of their past.
>A golden finger of magic pushed at his neoprene collar, the d rings jostling as you mussed his mane with it.
>You flicked the digits, they went for a crab walk, tickling the brown fur back and forth in their wake to rouse the sleepy slave.
>He stirred quickly when you went for his wings and rolled away defensively, a dopey smile stuck on his face.
>He stared at you, putting together that it was time in the darkness.
>”Cmon Sleeping Beauty, it’s time to go.”
>You let him get up a little, then gave his wonderful sack a quick nuzzle.
>You wanted to play some more, but you needed to get the trip going.
>In the den were the packed bags for each of you, ready to go.
>Food, rope, tents, the Church Bell, even a portable solar charger for your smartphone.
>You didn’t know if the draconic magic the humans used to send messages within it would hold up in Equestria, but the camera would.
>You checked up on your slave, its work done it seemed and Gull’s car put back together.
>Maybe you should lock the garage with it in there as punishment, make him walk everywhere for a while.
>You went back to the kitchen to wait, Rubble having even given his doll a bowl to sit in front of.
>”So, what’s with the stuffy?”
>Rubble fluffs his wings a bit, the end feathers crossing as he looks suddenly not so interested in the question.
“Its from my brother. Just something from my colthood. Its just, how did it get here? I lost it in Equestria.”
>You waited for Gull to return and explain where the black and blue Pegasus doll came from, you might make a mint just bringing back the spoils of Equestria.
>”Someone wanting to see us off left it for you, you can ask him when he gets back.”
>Your slave ambled in, smelling of orange sand soap, and took her seat obediently.
>It got a bowl of fruit and some dried mealworms for protein.
>Meat was what it normally ate, but that stuff was expensive.
>You found insects were good enough to substitute and much cheaper.
>You sat there waiting when you heard a meaty whack at the window, Gull having really believed on the hurry up threat.
>You undid the glass and hauled his dazed ass in, for him to be that stupid made this serious.
“- got to hurry the gate is being shut down.”
>He dropped a satchel of papers at your hooves, before trying to look at you again.
“I got shot at, some Pegasus called Spitfire escaped, yellow, and LAPD isn’t taking any chances on her.”
>Your slave dropped her orange back into the bowl eyes staring at Gull.
>You shot a glance and she pretended to fumble for it with a claw.
>”You didn’t get hurt did you?”
>He was still somepone you cared for, even if he was your ex.
“I’m fine, but we need to get you through the portal now if you’re doing this. Is the car ready Leather?”
>Bash nodded, the orange having made it back into her mouth.
>”Whelp we’re going then, everyone eat in the car.”
>You helped your slave get her set and asked the question.
>”What are we in for with this Spitfire?”
“Trouble, lots of trouble. Master, I might, uhm, disobey you in light of the oaths I have taken.”
>You just looked at her, she was still a night guard you figured, and that Spitfire was a pony she had sworn to deal with.
>Whelp, that’s an Earth problem, you were going to be in Equestria while Gull got shot at for being yellow bellied, good times.
“Hey didn’t you hear me, they’re going to shut the portal, get in the car!” Gull was shouting at you.
>You looked at Bash and grabbed what you could with your magic, figuring that now was not the time to strap it on.
>You held your gear to the car as Gull showed just why you didn’t believe in learning to drive.
>The Pegasus swapped lanes in a maddened frenzy, drove on the shoulder, even briefly going the wrong way down a one way street.
>Your telekinesis was strong, the seat belt was good, but you had to question his grip on reality with the way he drove.
>He did however get you to the Equestrian portal with nothing more lasting than Rubble breaking down crying in the back seat and praying to Celestia for protection.
>Pussy.
>The lot of you hurried out of the car, Gull going with you to departures.
>You had no idea what shutting down the portal meant, but you hoped if you were inside it wouldn’t matter.
>Of course getting there was not easy, you had to go through decontamination first.
>You stayed with the gear as it was screened and checked, making sure they did not xray Church Bell.
>Last thing you wanted to do was find out if it disliked being poked at.
>Bash and Rubble were hauled off on leashed carts, as slaves they were cleaned quickly and without comfort.
>You got the advantage of an actual shower stall, but still were made to endure the bucket deluge and a swim through a decontamination tunnel.
>On the way out, you motioned Gull close to the glass, one final thing on your mind.
>”You still drive like a cockroach.”
>He laughed, you laughed, Rubble and Bash were walked over.
>Only, Rubble was no longer brown and now a very light grey.
>”What happened to you? GULL!”
>The yellow Pegasus stepped back from the glass, just in time to get a flying tackle from an officer.
“I got her, I got Spitfire!”
>More officers came, batons and tasers were applied, but mercifully, Gull wasn’t shot.
>You were ushered back away from the glass for security, unable to tell them they had the wrong Pegasus.
>Well, they’d hopefully figure it out before you return.
>Bash was busy digging in her carry pack, and quickly donned the pair of goggles you had gotten her with a contented sigh, and your attention was back on Rubble.

>You just stared at the grey Pegasus in front of you.
>Even the pile of boulders on his flanks were gone, now a lightning bolt and thundercloud.
>You turned to your slave, on its flank was a similar design.
>”Did I just find your long lost brother or something!”
>You just couldn’t believe what was going on, your face scrunched and hoof came to the bridge of your muzzle.
>Your slave looked perplexed and befuddled.
>It just shook its head at you, staring at the mystery you had been given.
>”You know what, walk and talk. Now.”
>You went straight for the gate, you were on a timer, and now you just found a pretty big cover up in your life.
>”Does Fleur know?”
“No. I don’t even know what happened, that was a magic charm.”
>”They use magic cancelers on the way if you don’t mention anything. Like a glamor job.”
>You weren’t paying to fix this, you didn’t even know what happened, but you already knew the next letter was going to be fun.
>”Next, who are you? Like, really who you are, before I turn you into security’s problem.”
>He shied and shimmied, you didn’t stop going forward, but you started pulling to the side toward a security kiosk to make it clear.
“I’m Rumble. I was a Wonderbolt trainee and begged a unicorn to hide me so I didn’t get, well shot.”
>”So you’re a deserter from the war?”
>He stopped at that and bristled, wings fluffing.
>You ignored him, and kept walking.
>You had a war pony as a slave, and were in a very secure area. 
>You just needed to find a guard and deal with this, where were they?
“There was no war, only extermination. What point is there in fighting and dying.”
>”She did and didn’t.”
>Your slave perked up at that, much happier to be remembered as something more than a brioche roll.
>”Tell him about your time, and how much you died Bash.”
“Well, I never died seeing as I was one of Nightmare Moon’s praetorians, and that means-“
>You kept looking, the security desk was empty, how odd.
>People were walking in the terminal, slaves in tow or on carts, yet looking around you saw no one to dump your problem onto.
>Surely they couldn’t all be dealing with Gull?
>The tone of your slave was bouncing around, a gleeful tale of how it had to escape from humans using only a collar chain, to a sudden and somber tone as she remembered those she served with.
>Overall, you hoped the lesson was given through to Rubble or Rumble, whoever he was.
>You didn’t really care, war was something you had only ever been on the wrong end of, whether it was Sombra or humans, you knew suffering from both.
>You snorted and flicked your tail in annoyance, there weren’t any guards, no, not annoyance, nerves.
>This place should have had a lot of security, enough to deal with an Ursa Major on a rampage, and you were pretty sure you could just start drawing a dick on the wall and no one would stop you.
>”Does something seem off to you?” you asked a nearby human.
>She just huffed and walked away, a hand in your face.
>Buck it, you didn’t feel like sticking around, something was definitely going wrong.
>”Change of plan, don’t care who you are any more, get through the gate, now.”
“Master, is something wrong?”
>Your slave saw the nearing panic on your lips, your flicking ears, the situation driving it to look around.
>”There’s no guards. Something is going wrong.” You kept it low, knowing your slave would hear.
>There was a pause, and then a curt nod, it agreed with you.
>Rumble got a face to his butt and pushed, your slave deciding that movement was worth the loss in dignity as he stalled.
>You didn’t gallop, but it was certainly not a trot you were doing.
>Gate travel was done by a train system, the cars were shot through by an electromagnetic catapult and caught on the other side.
>You could see them on the tracks now at high speed, at least the system was
>A blinding prism of yellow and reds smacked into one of the trains, the cars and supports annihilated  in a burst of spectral light.
>You ripped a magic focal on yourself, people, ponies, chairs, anything loose nearby came slamming toward you as a shield spell went up around the mess.
>The galleria windows buckled, flexed and shattered, the shards knifing through the area, a glittering haze of death and destruction.
>You knew just how dead anything outside the spell was, you didn’t even bother to file them for triage.
>A Pegasus strutted out of the fire ball.
>No not a Pegasus, you had seen this one before, it was Spitfire.
>Beside you, Bash gritted her teeth, trying to obey you as she saw the mare she was sworn to jail.
>You really weren’t sure what to do here, you weren’t a combat pony, you barely even knew why you had managed to pull off a shield spell.
>A very bright and glowing spell you realized, the mare of destruction turning to you.
>In her wake came fire, a torrent of accintric hues as concrete pockmarked and flowed around her, spitting stony shrapnel across the fair way.
>Oh shit, oh shit, fuck fuck, you were trying to work out what to do as she came for you.
>You didn’t want to die, not while so young and
>and
>You had her counter under your very beck and call.
>The gorget was gone, the packs belt slashed, and the suit cut with a shard of glass.
>”End her.”
>You needn’t have said anything more to the thestral slave.
>She was gone, in her wake was the 8 colors of the rainbow, an acentric trail of crackling air that distorted as you looked through it.
>Perhaps you should have waited, maybe heard the maiden of flame out.
>But no, you’d seen her annihilate the returning train.
>You had precious little illusion that your shield could withstand her power.
>”Everyone out, now!”
>Your medical training took over, remove anyone from the area to prevent more casualties.
>Exits were marked, the architecture having kept up even in the now torn state.
>Around you were screams, the smell of blood, fire sparked from broken wires.
>Gas.
>There was leaking gas in here.
>Yellow magic hands started drawing people forward and ushering them out.
>You weren’t worrying about anyone else, the time you spent trying to get them out could doom you all now in the ticking bomb of a terminal.
>Prismatic light and scorching heat assailed you as you went, your unbound slave surely giving her all in the fight.
>Gawking would only be a distraction, you kept your procession moving.
>Their fates now yours, your learned duties in the camps subsuming thoughts of freedom.
>A glowing green exit side on the far side of the terminal greeted you, the door to the outside a good idea.
>You gave it no heed, the door simply rent from the wall and discarded on the floor beside it, your magic no longer caring for the trivial matters of property damage.
>You took a station beside it, magical constructs, flashing and animated gave direction to the shell shocked humans and ponies.
>Free, slave, it ceased to matter in the seconds of this disaster, only survival.
>The last of the procession was out the door, an arrow pointing them to the hoped for safety.
>You didn’t join them, the others you had passed were still there in danger, the time they had unknown from the gas.
>Sirens were coming, emergency response crews, armed soldiers, they would help with whatever was needed.
>A flock of hands, pinching and supporting bodies as you found them hovered the immobile, guided the walking to the exit.
>It was the first seconds that counted in disaster, you had to keep going.
>Debris scattered, tables lifted, other ponies joined you, humans shouldering those they could.
>If only the gas wasn’t cutting this short, its smell making you blanch, an acrid sulfurous odor driving you away.
>The wrong way, back toward the ruined windows.
>It was subtle, but you were on the wrong side when it finally caught.
>The flame gouted, a rippling firestorm from a dozen broken points tore through the air.
>In a moment you were flying, the blast singing your fur and deafening you.
>Focus, a calming need to simply grab yourself from the air was stripped from you in a concussion.
>Your ears pinged and body hurt, falling back to the ashen concrete.
>Grey hooves grabbed you, the Pegasus called Rumble turning your fall into flight, catching you from peril.
>His words were lost on you, lips moving to a dank sound.
>You could only tap your head, pointing at your ears and slurring that you were okay.
>It was then that you saw what your slave was doing, gleaming contrails of crystalized color snapping about.
>The magic ether fading in her wake yet all to clearly showing where she was fighting the demoness o fire, where she was fulfilling her oath.
>It trailed away from you, toward the portal.
>Was this Spitfire trying to escape?
>You motioned, spoke, trying to get Rumble to understand.
>The portal was guarded, they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Bash.
>Nor the murderous hag you chuckled, a dark thought at least she would die for what she had done.
>The sight at the portal was not a good one, the guards, the reason you hadn’t seen anyone inside was now answered.
>Broken bodies, spent rounds and bullet marks from the wrong way greeted you.
>There were corpses too from the assailants, a haggard and decrepit mix, you recognized them all too well.
>Slaves, one and all.
>This had been a revolt, a chance at freedom.
>They had decided to escape for freedom, loosing blood in the name of it.
>You were scared, the idea of violence, of war stripping that persona of agency from you and revealing the scared mare underneath.
>You crumpled at it, the events catching up to you in a crushing wave at the sight of the bodies.
>You weren’t a brave pony named Lyra  Heartstrings, you were a mare on the run.
>Sombra’s forces, your once friends harrying and attacking you, stealing ponies to be is work slaves, to feed an army.
>Only to be rescued by humans, saved but still a slave.
>To escape from them and run away to only end up on the wrong side of their guns, desperate to be back in their clutches to save yourself from the hell they called war.
>You weren’t brave, you weren’t a hero.
>You were just a mare watching ponies die.
>Watching humans die.
>Griffon, minotaur, dragon, all dying.
>Death, burning flesh, you crushed under the smells the carnage.
>Nose stinging puke came out, your hooves and chest coated in the gunk.
>You didn’t mind, you weren’t even aware any more.
>Unconsciousness would have been a mercy for you, but your mind didn’t shut down.
>It was desperate to try and get you to move, to be anywhere but in the middle of this hellscape.
>It took you to the one place you knew here, the portal.


Lyra Heartstrings was many things in her life by now. She had been an accomplished musician in Equestria until Sombra attacked from the north with his armies. She had become a mourner, scared and afraid when her friends were taken, their minds stolen by the Obsidian Overlord. A refugee seeking shelter anywhere, she became a leader, not that she would admit it. A slave when her herd ran into humans, safer than they had been, but then an escapee with others. She ended up a nurse when she was recaptured, a traitor to her kind then, but it didn’t matter she had joined the winning team. She had become human, in more ways than she knew. What she had always been was a survivor. As Heartstrings fell back into Equestria, she knew more than ever, that she would survive this, somehow. It was as though fate guided her to always make it through any situation.
~~~~~Minutes earlier~~~
Lyra stumbled forward, her mind in shattered pieces. The slave revolt had been anything but peaceful. Her eyes ran on corpses, mind assigning each one the fact they were dead. A scarce one would still breathe, a human, a pony, griffon, minotaur, but they were not long for the world from her judgement. Legs shifted and she kept walking forward. Her mind took her to the one place it had been focused on, the portal back to Equestria. Was it home for her, an instinctual return like salmon, or simply the one place she knew didn’t matter. Flashes of light and roiling heat came from the rent open door, a scant few humans in a variety of uniforms desperately trying to usher others out.
“Move, keep running!” A man was gesturing far away, the small herd of people taking their time to run out. He wore glasses, a lens cracked in the frame gave him the suitable appearance for an authority figure. Lyra walked up to him, he would give her orders on what to do. Lyra needed a master right now, her mind returning to the well trained slave state in this time of crisis. She walked up to him and sat down, a brief breather and the magic signs returned to guide the fleeing workers. The man’s voice faltered as he looked down at the unicorn, “active magic. Come with me, quickly!” The worker abandoned his directions and fled back into the complex, Lyra in pursuit at whatever he needed her for.
The building was merely a front, the actual portal was below them, a great chasm cleaved in stone from the upthrust where it had appeared. Many thought it was some sort of portal or gate benignly floating above the ground. In reality it was a sucking malestorm of a vortex, ringed in debris brought in from other times and places. Were it not for the work of the brilliant prodigies at Crystal Prep, it may have been turned into a weapon or one of many oddities on Earth, like Mcdonald’s construction sites. But now, the machinery built around it was arcing, spasming as it fought to contain forces. The cop and the jester were still fighting, the slaves exchanged gun fire and magics with stalwart human defenders, their own ponies holding the line, offering care where possible. What the defenders didn’t have though was magic, and it painted a grim picture of this encounter. 
The scientist held on the platform, eyes taking in the mammoth area, searching for something. “What is your talent slave?” he asked of Lyra. The one word she reviled with her very soul brought her back, magic hands grabbed his lapel and ripped him up before she caught herself. “My name is Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings, and I’m here to get my daummed slave.” Lyra ignored him for a bit, she couldn’t teleport, that was a trick only for princesses as far as she knew, and Trixie, but that mare was a princess of mischief. “I’m sorry about that, but we’re in mortal danger of a resonance cascade here if we don’t do something! The ringleader overloaded the core and is preparing to detonate the portal!” the scientist had grabbed Lyra and knelt down to look her in the eye as an equal. “If we don’t contain it, it will take out all of LA.”
Lyra just looked at the man, conviction and knowledge evident in his face. Lyra liked LA, she lived there, all her stuff was there. She could even see her house from it. “What do we need to do?” He simply gestured to the stairs down. Of course it would be stairs, but Lyra knew a better way. She simply planted a hoof on the overly high rail, and after a brief bit of scampering managed to pull herself all the way up. After the good doctor grabbed her flanks and picked her up. “Stay close to me doctor!” The man could only shriek in terror when she yanked him from behind with a magic hand and plummeted an easy 40 stories before yellow magic flared under her, a shield spell stuttering in and out of existence to act as a parachute. By the 60th story their speed had slowed enough for him to quiet to a whimper. He had mostly collected himself when they reached the bottom. Shakily he pointed a finger in the right direction before collapsing to all 4 and barfing.
Lyra hated being a riding mare, humans just always shifted and bounced on her spine, never in the right rhythm. It was like she was a table and the rider were idle fingers. No rhythm, but the doctor wasn’t exactly ready to walk after her expediting trick. Her galloping hooves weren’t doing so well on the rough concrete of the chamber, little bits of them were flaking off. She was not meant to be doing this, but ominous sounding statements from a man in charge were what mattered. He directed her to a control station, mercifully away from the fighting. Spitfire and Bash continued their fight overhead, the occasional downward chase altering the fighting field. Lyra had no clue what a Pegasus battle looked like, she didn’t even know they could leave trails before, that was something only airplanes could.
The control station reached, the pair went inside, Lyra still having no idea what she was needed for. She got a good idea when she saw the horn clamp on cables come out. She was going to be a battery. “Okay just think happy thoughts and ignore this is going to hurt.” Lyra just laid down, aware of just how bad this was going to feel. Her raw magical potential was going to be stripped out of her and used for something, and all she could do was try to keep her jaw from clenching hard enough to break her teeth.  The plastic handle from a dust broom was pushed between her lips and she gladly bit down on it. A seeping cold and wrongness came from her horn, her magic being pulled from her rather than cast. Lyra’s vision shadowed out from the pain, her eyes locked on the hologram display the doctor was working from.
A progression timer came up, seconds for a countdown, it was all Lyra needed to be relieved. Until an orange glow crashed through the window and the terminal descended into a series of red alarms. The facility was suddenly full of angry klaxons and red lights. Spitfire had destroyed something critical, and the system was out of control. He could only look at you in terror as the world turned white, and then the infinite abyss of a magical surge.

The void was dark and with light, its formless nature freezing into myriad crystals, a discordant symphony of existence. Lyra saw, knew what it was, magic. Tales of this realm, of the world that was not from her studies under the arcana majoris in Canterlot. While Celestia had her star realm, Luna had dreams, unicorns had this. The void, it wasn’t a good name, but it fit. It wasn’t an abyss or a left over plane from whatever created the multiverse, it was where things could not be yet must be. Things just like the one looming over Lyra now. The mint green shuffled back in its presence, her hooves covering furlongs in their inches of movement.
The being was black on the void’s lightless eternal night. A figure borne from the hewn clothes of a dead tree, its head topped with the woven reeds from a swamp so far away. Its limbs floated separated in layers, as though Faust had decided to erase random bits but not actually remove them. A single spot of light, glowing bright as a star to the point it left an aftermark in her vision, yet didn’t light anything else where they were shown in its face. Pulsing, dimming and brightening periodically. A limb reached out, obsidian in color, faceted as bismuth, it pointed at Lyra and then swept forward in an aeonic lazy arc where it walked off.
The shambler of the void carried on without Lyra, the mare trying to work out where she was. There was always a focal point, a rent from where a unicorn entered this realm. There were other lesser points, the places where others had come in. Yellow glowed in her face, mane wavering as it swept away the messy bangs. The ground below her turned smooth as glass, running from her yellow aura before standing, mutedly shrieking in a field of jagged spikes. Each one following her horn, yet melting before she could set a hoof on it into the empty space. No place was here in the void, Lyra finding she was where she was, not where she had been or was to be. The portal collapse must have left her here, a place to put a pony that couldn’t be elsewhere.
“Great, just great. Stuck here with no tether and no one to get me out. Real fun doc. I’m going to kick his ass for this and then see about giving him a field trip.” She hadn’t recovered enough magic from the ripping process on Earth to get out, her annoyance growing as she could feel the gateway out all around her. She was in the door home, but couldn’t find it. “This is why I became a musician, this stuff is just weird, just ugh.” Her voice was lost its impact as she saw the Shambler was watching and waiting for her. Every time she looked back, its arm began the great arc forward, perfectly resetting no matter how fast she moved her head to look around. Eyes rolling she followed, having little else to do as she waited.
The being led her past fields of glass plants, the leaves waving in a whirlstorm that she could not feel. They did sound nice, a gentle chime of the crystal song. Each leaf adding a soft glow to the music that played on its own. Lyra paused sitting captivated by the alluring noise. She longed for her harp to strum it now to the song. Peaceful, pleasant. Lyra bounced a ball of magic across the plants, its yellow glow following like a pacer. The Shambler shimmered, shattered and fell into slices. Terrified it speared the ball on a finger, holding it from touching the crystal before turning to Lyra. Its diamond flicking rapidly, a storm of lighting showing as it held the magic. Lyra had no clue what it meant, but it was clear she should not touch the plants. The Shambler walked away, holding Lyra’s magic like it was scolding her, the robe undulating in a muttered sign of displeasure.
With a gesture, it crushed Lyra’s magic and scythed into the void, rending the unreality into something normal for Lyra. A facsimile of a medical tent, a place she knew uncomfortably. The Shambler mildered, adopting the facsimile of a master she once knew as its form rotted away. Harker stood before you again, the gruff surgeon dangling wrong as his limbs were jointed in the flesh and voice came from his nose. “What. Were. You doing.” Lyra was taken back by the fairly plain, no squeaky tone of the Shambler. “If you’re in my head already you should know. It’s how you got this after all, isn’t it?” Lyra just glared, head full of whispered thoughts and conversations with the Shambler. “No, that’s. Okay fine, yes I read minds, you should learn to as well if you wanted to have this actually be something other than you playing at a mime.” Harker walked over to a table, fingers holding a sheet of paper too far out to be right. “You know these? They are all over my property right now, and I would like them gone.” It was the faces of all the ponies, humans, griffons, and more that had been in the portal. Each one crisp and clear as it sat drawn over a previous one. “Its quite rude to simply all drop in with so much, stuff. Like what even is this thing supposed to be?” He held up a smartphone, its screen off and mysteries hidden from the void. An idea formed to Lyra.
“You said you wanted those, beings, gone. Would you be able to take us all to a tether or several?” He just paused a hand going to a knee. “Oh really, this is how you’re doing it. Really? I am in your head you idiot, I already see that plan. Why do you immediately go to deceive me when I haven’t even done anything beyond try to take you on a walk and talk?” Busted. “Yes you are, how about you go for something more on your level. You don’t even know how to leave here I see. And wait. Wait wait wait, what?” He just waved the hands back and forth in the air at Lyra, confused. “You know what, how about we make a deal then, I think I know of something that can help. But you are getting everything off my property, I am not some rest point and trash heap.”
The Shambler simply leaned back and steepled the hands wrong, looking at Lyra. The palms touched each other but the fingers were splayed out, away from them“So you intend to go after artifacts, how useful. I have a list of a few I am interested in buying. Perhaps we shall come to a deal, your exit from here in exchange for sole purchase of some.” Lyra was simply sitting her mind bubbling with just what this, being, thing “Consider me human like yourself. I do not wish you ill in this, I merely wish to have some items I have understood of from other unicorns who don’t understand that property laws extend to this realm. Now, I can see your adventurous spirit, but I have many ideas on what I would like. Payment can be discussed by you, on your terms, when you acquire some. All I want is first pick.” The Shambler extended a hand. “In exchange, I shall get you and your, fellow travelers, off my lawn.”