[Copied from https://pastebin.com/raw/JxNmHasE]

>You are Anon.
>And you are bored.
>Or rather, you've been bored for some time.
>Ever since receiving a large inheritance from some relative you barely knew.
>But today, you're excited.
>The pony you picked will be arriving soon.
>You pace back and forth across your penthouse apartment, glancing at the clock, waiting for your delivery.
>You'd been planning this out for some time. 
>Even upgraded to a new highrise apartment with an extra room.
>An extra room that locks from the outside.
>Soon.. soon.
>You picked her out yourself from the auction.
>You bribed your way into the holding pen before the auction to look over the merchandise.
>You had a strict set of criteria.
>No previous owners.  You're gonna be the first human to fuck her.
>Untrained. Don't want some brute whipping her and raping her.
> Not a pegasus.  Obvious one, don't want her flying away.
>Timid. To make up for the lack of training. Don't want to have to fight your pet every day.
>But most of all, she had to be beautiful.
>You had looked over the selection carefully, taking down descriptions of the ones that caught your eye, and fit the criteria.
>You had bid on a couple you liked but allowed yourself to be outbid. You would have taken them if the price was right, but there was one in particular you wanted.
>Cutest little thing of the bunch.
>She was huddled up in the back, trying so hard to avoid your gaze. To avoid everyone.
>You had the handler drag her up to the front for you to get a look at her. 
>Cream colored coat, Light blue mane (teal,maybe?) with an even lighter streak in it. Blue eyes that match her mane. Little mark on her butt with a hat on it.
>Trembling and still unable to meet your gaze.
>Part of you wanted to hold her and make everything all-right.
>And part of you wanted to hold her down and fuck while she screams.
>If this works out right, you'll be doing both.
>These little creatures aren't cheap. Considering the expense and dangers of catching them.
>When your pretty little thing was up on stage, even from your position near the back you could see how terrified she was.
>After the first few bidders opted out, you ended up in a bidding war with some jackass.
>By the time he gave up you were ready to have him shot.
>In the end your little toy, despite being of no particular worth in comparison to other, more skilled ponies, was somewhere in the top 10 most expensive ponies sold that night, by your estimate.
>And there had been about 400 up for auction.
>But you got her. She's all yours, untouched, unraped, unscarred. 
>Brand new just for you.
>You'd been planning how you would manipulate her for some time.
>You even rubbed one out this morning to resist the temptation to fuck her as soon as she comes through the door. It's more important to wait. 
>You are gonna have so much fun with this pretty little thing.
>DING DONG
>Shes here!
>You rush to the door before stopping to compose yourself. Gotta look cool. Not too eager. 
>You are fully in control and you need to appear as such.
>You wait a moment, and then open your door,greeted by a deliveryman with a kennel and a box sitting atop it.
>"Mr. Anon Y. Mous?"
"That's me."
>"ID please."
>You hand him your license before signing paper after paper after paper.
>"Alright, here she is. Collar, shock collar and remote, riding crop, whip, leash, vaccination papers, emergency vet number, and other information regarding your new purchase are inside the box. Kennel is yours to keep. Have a nice day."
"You too" you grunt as he walks off.
>You waste no time in taking her into your apartment. And locking the door. Convenient handle on the top of the kennel. She's not very heavy.
>You place the kennel down  on the floor, and take a seat in front of it, so you can peer through the metal grate that doubles as a door. The rest of the kennel is solid plastic.
>Glancing at your little pony, you see she is curled up as far at the back of the kennel as she can be.
>Eyes clamped tight, fur underneath matted from crying.  So scared the little thing is shivering.
>Honestly, the sight makes you want to comfort her. 
>You can't right now though. It's important to play this thing through.
>You open the box she came with and survey the contents. All there. 
>You set the box aide, then sit and stare at her for a little while, seeing what she'll do. Not much. She never even opens her eyes.
>After a minute or two you decide it's time to begin.
"Hi there" you say in a neutral tone, with only the slightest hint of friendliness.
>At the sound of your voice she shakes even harder.
>If someone fucked or hurt her already, heads will roll.....
>She doesn't respond.
"Open your eyes" you command.
>She's still shaking, eyes shut.
"Open your eyes" you say louder, with more authority in your voice.
>She jolts at the sound and immediately her eyes are open. She quickly glances at you and averts her gaze, staring at the kennel wall. Tears beginning to well up in her eyes.
"I'm your new owner. My name is Anonymous. But you can call me Master"
>Still she stares at the wall, unmoving except for the shaking.
"You're mine now. I own you. You don't have to be afraid of me. As long as youre a good girl."
>Still staring at the kennel wall.
"Look at me."
>She begins shaking harder, her eyes don't move from the kennel wall, although the tears are welling up more.
"I know you understand our language. So you have no excuse for not doing what I tell you."
>You take on a more authoritarian tone.
"Look. At. Me."
>Immediately her eyes snap to you, filled with fear.
>This is going perfectly.
"Good girl. Now, come out of the cage."
>You back up a little bit to give her more room, but she remains immobile, fear filled eyes locked on you.
"Dont make me tell you again. This is the beginning of our relationship, and first impressions are so important. I'd love for this to go well. So why don't you come on out, so I dont have to drag you out?"
>The benign threat is enough to get her moving. Shes up and out of the cage and standing before you in what seems like an instant. Body shaking all over, eyes looking everywhere but at you.
"Good girl. Tell me your name."
>"C-c-coco." she stammers out in a slighly nasally little voice.
"Good girl." You gently coo.
>You've decided some time ago you're going to be playing a few mind game with her and see how she reacts. You're careful to modulate your tone of voice to be neutral, with just the barest hint of friendliness in it. Smooth as silk.
"I know you wanna be a good girl. Good ponies get to have good lives. Good ponies dont feel pain. Good ponies don't ever have to worry about this."
>You lift up the whip and hold it in front of her eyes.  If she shook any harder she might vibrate through the floor.
"You wanna be a good girl, dont you?"
>"Y-yes master." She quickly replies, voice filled with fear.
>A nasally little voice, adorable, even when terrified out of her mind.
>You put the whip away, careful to let her see you place it as far away from the two of you as your arm can reach.
"Now that we've got a little understanding going between us, I hope I wont have to tell you anything twice. You need a bath. Come along."
>You get up and begin walking toward the bathroom, special pony shampoos and conditioners, as well as extra towels already prepared.  All part of the plan.
>As you walk,  you're  pleased to hear hoofsteps behind you, after a moments hesitation.
>After following you in to the bathroom, you gently yet unceremoniously pick her up and put her down in the tub.
>She's still terrified.
"You  dont have to be afraid, it's only water" you say, as you turn the showerhead on. 
>You're careful to aim it away from her as you wait for it to warm up. It doesn't take long.
>Before you know it youre running warm water over the shivering pony.
"It's not too hot, is it?"
>"No, Master" Coco squeaks.
>After she's pretty well soaked you squirt a generous dollop of mane and tail shampoo onto her head and begin working it in. Then the tail. 
>Then on to the shampoo just for her coat. You slather it all over her body, and  begin rubbing it in, from her withers to her flank, careful to cover every area except her marehood.
>As you finish rubbing it into every part of her but her most private parts, you decide its time to speak.
"You can bathe yourself, can't you?" you ask
>"Y-yes master" she whines, this time with a hint of embarrassment in her voice.
"I figured as much. Do you know why I'm bathing you,then?" You ask, another shot of soap in your palm.
>You dont wait for an answer before putting your hand directly onto her marehood and rubbing the soap in thoroughly.
>She gasps as you do do, and you can feel her body stiffen.
"Because I can," You say. "Because I own you."
>You gently finish rubbing the soap all over her vulva and ponut, before grabbing the showerhead once again and rinsing her fully off.
>No more words are spoken between the two of you, as you rinse her off,  nor as you apply conditioner to her mane and tail and rinse it off. 
>Neither of you speak as you carefully dry her either.
"Stay here" you command, as you fetch a chair from the other room and drag it into the bathroom.
>Setting the chair down in front of the mirror, you carefully pick the shivering pony up and put her in your lap.
"Relax, you're doing just fine, Coco" you purr in her ear, as you reach for a brush you bought just for her, and begin combing her mane. 
"You can look at me, if you like" you say as you brush her mane.
>To be honest you don't much care for this but you've heard ponies, much like women, enjoy having their hair brushed, this may be a good way to erase some of her fear.
>Of course you still want her to be afraid, but not terrified.
>You work in silence, brushing her mane and then tail, keeping the mirror in your vision at all times.
>You catch her stealing glances at you from time to time, and resist smiling.
>You finish up.
"Thats a good girl, I bet it feels nice to be clean after that grimy place. And dont you look pretty" you gently coo
>Her eyes turn fully toward the mirror, seemingly to examine herself, but you know she's really looking at you.
>You smile gently, not meeting her eyes but pretending to loo at her mane.
"You're doing just fine, Coco. Don't you worry, if you're a good girl, you're going to have a very good life." you say, gently stroking her withers.
>You can feel her body tense up, you know she wants to pull away from your touch, but she doesn't.
>A good girl indeed.
"Come with me" you command, setting her onto the floor and walking into the living room. 
>She obediently follows, then stops in fear as she sees you reaching into the box that came with her.
>She visibly relaxes when she sees all you've fished out is the regular collar and leash.
"I have something I want to show you" you tell her, as you buckle the collar around her neck and clip on the leash, before escorting her out the apartment and locking the door behind you.
>Down the hall you go, to the elevator, to the top floor.
>Walking down a series of corridors, you come to a maintenance access stairwell to the roof.
>You bribed the janitor to leave the roof door unlocked today.
>Climbing the stairs, pony in tow, you reach the top and are pleased to find the door unlocked as agreed upon.
"Come on up here and take a look around"
>Yours is one of the tallest building in the city. As far as the eye can see, there is nothing but urban landscape.
"Look, Coco. Have you seen a city like this before?"
>"B-back in Manehatten..." she stammers out, before trailing off
"Good. Then you have an idea how huge it is. Outside the walls of my home, there are humans. And outside those walls, there are more humans. Out on these streets, more humans."
>You make a sweeping gesture with your hand across the city's expanse.
"No matter which direction you go, no matter what time of day or night, you'll find nothing but humans. There is no where to go, no where to escape to. The closest forest would take you weeks of walking to reach, but youd never make it anyway. Ponies aren't allowed outside without a leash. There's an automatic reward for any human that catches an escaped pony. 
>She doesn't have to know you're lying. And she's shaking again.
"You won't find any friends out there, Coco. Just more, and more humans. And ones that probably aren't as nice as I am. I'm showing you this because I want you to understand, there's no escape... There's nowhere to go. All you'll find outside the walls of my home are more humans. None of them will help you. In fact, you'll be lucky if they dont hurt you, if they dont rut you before they turn you in for the reward..."
>You lower yourself so you're face to face, eye to eye with the cowering pony.
"The only place youre safe is with me, in my home. And I'm the closest thing you have to a friend in this world." You say, never breaking eye contact. 
"It would be wise, to do everything you're told, and to try your very best to be a good girl, Coco. You want to be a good girl for me, Don't you?"
>"Y-y-yes, Master."
"Good girl." you say, gently touching her face, and running your hand down it to her withers.
"Now that that's done, lets go start our new life together, shall we?" you say, this time with a gentle smile.
**************

>Back in the penthouse suite, you've sat Coco at the table and laid out a bowl of fresh fruit and berries for her.
>No sense in feeding her poorly, and it's not like you cant afford good food.
>You fill a glass with cold water and bring it over her before stopping, hovering slightly over her, until she finds the courage to look up at you.
"They tried to sell me a bowl for you to drink out of. I was under the impression your hooves have the dexterity to hold a glass though, correct?"
>She nods, still cowering and unsure of herself.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that." you say, glaring down at her.
>"Y-yes"
"Yes what?"
>She thinks for a moment before it dawns on her 
>"Yes master!" she blurts out quickly, suddenly shaking in fear again.
"Thats better" you say, placing the glass in front of her next to her food.
"I wouldn't want to force you to drink out of a bowl like a dog. That would be...degrading."
>You stare at her for a few moments as she averts her gaze from you, staring at the food in front of her. It occurs to you she's not comfortable eating while you watch.
"Why don't you eat, I'll prepare myself something." you say, turning away from her to rummage through the fridge.
>You dig out the ingredients for a sandwich and set them on the counter facing the window with your back turned to her, and pretend to start making a sandwich.
>Youre actually watching her through the window's reflection as the sun sets behind the city skyline.
>After a while of you seemingly absorbed in preparing your own food, you see her greedily start stuffing food, primarily strawberries into her mouth, as if you might take it away any moment.
>Wonder when the last time those fucks at the auction fed her.
>Taking a good look at her, she looks so innocent, so helpless. She was certainly pretty.
>You're having doubts about your little game you intend to play with the pony.
>Ahem. 'experiment' you mentally correct yourself.
>A little feeling in you that you should be kind to this innocent creature.
>It's pretty rare for your conscience to make itself known, you had thought you had made it abundantly clear it's input was not welcome in your life.
>It's just an experiment. And a test of your own manipulation skills, you tell yourself.
>In the end she'll be no worse for the wear.
>*And if you end up breaking this sweet little thing's heart?*
>There's that god damn conscience again.
>*Then I'll see to it she's taken care of*, you silently reply to it. Give her to a family with a little girl or something, where she can be happy.
>There you go, rationalizing any guilt away.
>The only good thing about such petty sentimentality, it quickly withers in the face of reason.
>Reason only goes so far though, doesn't it.
>This isn't an officially condoned experiment in any capacity.
>In fact you dropped out of college once you received your inheritance and never received a degree.
>You werent even majoring in psychology, although you found it interesting.
>*No, this is just mind games with an innocent being. And you're going to hurt it.*
>There's that fucking conscience again.
"A means to an end" you just grumble to yourself, just audibly, but enough for her to hear something.
>You see through the window's reflection her ears perk up and point toward you, as she glances in your direction.
>You just keep on making the pretend sandwich and soon enough she's back to eating.
>Pony psychology is very, very close to human psychology from your studies.

>Close enough for your results to be adapted to apply to people, you imagine. You hope.
>What you learn from Coco could be invaluable to getting what you want out of other people.
>Control. Power, to be more exact. That's what it comes down to, power.
>Doesn't it always?
>Money was your first real taste of power and you want more.
>And while people will do just about anything for money, thats not the kind of influence you're seeking.
>You realize you've been making your sandwich an unusually long time and dispel any further thoughts on the matter, picking the ingredients up in both hands and dumping them into the trash can.
>Coco eyes you strangely.
"Decided I'm not hungry" you dissmissively say, before taking a seat across from the pony.
>If she wasn't finished eating already, she is now, as she sits quietly, facing you but eyes looking down at the table and off to the side.
>She really is a timid little thing. Cute, too. You suddenly wonder if you picked the right pony for the job after all.
>Most humans arent nearly this diffident.
>Are all ponies this way? 
>This was the shyest one in the pen.
>No going back now though, after what you spent on her.
>Why did you spend so much on this specific one? 
>This was just supposed to just be a chance to refine your technique of manipulating people.
>*Because you wanted her* that nasty little voice chimes in
>If it were a person you'd smack it.
>The game can be adapted on the fly. Perhap's you'll cut out some of the psychological abuse you have planned. 
"Coco," you break the silence "you may look at me. I wont get mad."
>With what seems like some deliberation on her part, she turns her pretty blue eyes to face yours.
>She's still frightened. Frightened of you.
>That desire to comfort her comes back with a vengeance.
>You will, eventually.

>The longer she looks at you the more she seems to be working herself into a panic, you see her barrel rise and fall faster and in shallow, sharp breaths.
>Time to defuse this.
"Coco, why do you think you're here?"
>"I..I don't know..Master."
"Speculate." you command.
>"I..I.. To be your b-b-bed slave?"
"Hah!" you bark out a mocking laugh. You were hoping she'd guess that.
"What makes you think you're worthy to share my bed with me?"
>Instead of insulted she visibly relaxes. Then a moment later tenses up again, wondering what horrors you have in store for her if not that.
>You can read her like a book.
"No sweetheart" you say, standing up and sweeping her up off the chait into your arms as she lets out a squeak of fear.
>With one arm under her rump, her back legs pressed to your stomach, the other securely holding her back as her forelegs are pressed to your chest and her head on your shoulder, you carry her over to your recliner and gently plop down, still holding her.
>You pull back off you a little bit to look into her eyes. Careful not to maintain constant eye contact and intimidate her, you glance around her face as you affectionately rub her ear.
>A little whine of suppressed pleasure escapes her mouth, she likes it but still isn't sure what to make of you.
"You're gonna be my little pet" you smile at her.
>Now you gently cup her cheek in your hand, before moving down to her withers and stroking them, then back to her delicate eat in between your thumb and forefinger, gently massaging.
>It's harder for her to hide the fact she's enjoying herself.
"It gets lonely up here. I wanted a sweet little thing to keep me company."
>You flash her another saccharine smile as you move down to rub her neck.
>An intimate place for a prey animal, most predators clamp down on a creature's throat to kill it.
>You're keenly aware of the strange dichotomy you're presenting to her, being both affectionate and subtlely threatening at the same time. Dominance.
>You hope the message is received.
"It's not fair what happened to you" you say, forcing sincerity into your voice.
"Taken from your home, turned into a slave. But at least it's not so bad. I know it must be degrading, to be reduced to a pet. But its better than working in a mine, pulling carts all day. Or on a farm, in the heat. Or in a brothel..."
>You let her presumed duties in the brothel go unsaid as she shivers at the thought.
>Rubbing her back with your free hand and caressing her cheek with the other you take on a tone you imagine a father would use with his small child when being affectionate.
"It's okay to enjoy this" you half-whisper into her ear
"As long as you're a good girl, you don't ever have anything to be afraid of."
>You gently move her face a bit farther from you so she can fully take yours in.
"I know you're scared and unsure of what to do. I'll make it nice and simple. For right now, there's only two rules. First, You do every thing I say. And second, you never, ever lie to me. Okay?"
>"Yes master" she quickly agrees, nodding to show her full agreement
"Good girl. That's what I want from you, to be my good girl. You don't have to be afraid. Accidents happen. If you make a mistake, if you break something, I promise you wont be punished, as long as you dont break rule number two. You don't ever have to be afraid or wonder what will happen as long as you follow the rules, okay?"
>"Yes master" more nodding
"What a good girl" you gently praise her, moving her bangs out of the way to plant a kiss on her forehead.
>You pull her close again so youre hugging, and caress her back
"You dont have anything to be afraid of. Everything is gonna okay for now on. Nobody will ever hurt you. Youre safe here in my home. You're safe with me. I wont let anything happen to you darling"
>A little kiss on the cheek.
"Pets are for loving, not for hurting, after all."
>You run your hand up and down her back, up to her neck where you gently massage it a little bit.
>You feel her relax in your arms. The tension has all but melted away in her.
>Such a naive, trusting little fool. You're not sure you'll have the heart for the more cruel mind games you had planned out for her.
>Still, for right now, the first one seems to be playing out as you hoped.
>Experiment part 1: Inducing codependency.
**********
>A few hours later
>Night has fallen and after a bit more petting and reassurances you've sent Coco to bed with an apology and the excuse that you have some vague kind of work to do.
>If drinking expensive liquors then youve practically got a full-time job.
>This particular single malt whiskey is smooth. Too smooth, you get hammered on it before you know whats happening most of the time, so you've decided to limit yourself to just three fingers in the glass.
>Cant be getting smashed and tearing the place up while the pony hears
>Or something worse...
>You glance up from your glass at the 60'' plasma screen tv to watch coco again.
>From your view from the hidden camera in the air vent you can see she is...still asleep.
>You put her to bed early when your ghosts came to haunt you again, tossed her in there with a few books and a radio since you felt a pang of remorse for neglecting her.
>Still, this is no time for her to be around.
>Your thoughts are interrupted as your front door opens, and dark figure slips through before gently closing the door behind it.
"Hello, Victor" you say, turning back to your glass.
>"Good evening Anon. Nice to see youre keeping busy as usual."
>The comment, like most from him, goes unacknowledged.
>Victor is the closest thing you had to a friend.
>You met him at a socialite's party when you had first tried to climb the ranks of high society thanks to your newfound wealth.
>Before you found most of those people were intolerable, much like Victor, you only bonded with him over a mutal enjoyment of insulting and denigrating strangers, and each other.
>On a personal level you didn't really like him much, but he was undeniably amusing (and infuriating in turns)
>But most of all he was one of the few people you knew that talked you just to talk to you.
>When you're wealthy you never know if someone likes you for you, or they just want to cozy up to your money.
>The wind blows cold at the top, they say.
>Victor's collective assets were just a hair shy of yours, a fact that brought you some measure of amusement when his shit slinging was aimed your way.
>He also understood the isolation. Better than you, he's been rich his whole life. 
>You texted him earlier asking if he'd like to come over for a drink. Having nothing better to do as usual, he happily obliged.
>"So, arent you going to offer me a drink?" he says, approaching you.
>You lift your glass and with your index finger point to the bar.
"Help yourself."
>"Arent you going to pour it for me?" he asks in his usual sardonic manner.
"I'm not your fucking butler" you grunt.
>"Some host you are" he says, wandering over to your minibar and helping himself to a glass of who gives a fuck.
>"Of course I can't fault you for being a savage, not all of us can be bred of noble blood of course" he grins, taking a seat on the couch, with both you and the monitor in his line of sight.
>He's seen it but hasn't commented yet. You can only assume he's brewing up a good one.
"I didn't know molesting children was a sign of nobility" you fire back, referencing his uncle, the family embarrassment.
>You glance to him long enough to see him suppress a look of anger.
>"So, hows your little experiment going?" he asks, clearly looking at the sleeping pony.
"I....may have chosen poorly" you admit.
"This one is so timid, theres practically no will to break..."
>"Well, worst case scenario you'll have a little pet to keep you company. Its obvious to everyone how lonely you are" he emphasizes the word lonely to provoke you.
>You take a moment to consider your response. Better to go on the attack than be pressed into defending yourself here, you decide.
"Not all of us are so shallow as to find fulfillment in prostitues."  You think for a moment on how to cap this insult. "Not as emotionally and morally bankrupt as some."
>A quick glance confirms this got under his skin.  This may turn ugly, as it sometimes does.
>"I'm still not entirely clear on what you're trying to accomplish here" he says, motioning at the monitor.
"I explained it to you already. Do you need me to speak to you like a child?"
>"No, no.. You explained it. I'm just not sure why you think it will work. You can't control people, not really. You of all people should know that. You don't need to pull their puppet strings anyway. Thats what money's for." He grins at you.
>You silently take another small sip of your dwindling whiskey as he continues.
>"Why bother? You can have any woman you want, you know. She'll never leave you, making this whole "experiment" of yours pointless anyway."
"She'll only be with me for my money." you reply.
>"So?"
"So... there's always someone with a dollar more. You of all people should know that." A subtle reference to the fact you're wealthier than him.
>"The audacity of the nouveau riche" he says, shaking his head.
"I worked just as hard to earn my money as you did" you fire back, glancing in his direction.
>Bullseye. He's pissed.
>"If you called me over for a fight, I'll be happy to oblige" he spits at you, fire in his voice.
"I didn't."
>"Then why?"
"I don't know. Why did you come?"
>A silence hangs in the room, neither of you willing to admit how empty your lives really are.
>Finally he breaks the silence.
>"So here you are, the pschological puppet master, ready to brainwash yourself an obedient little trophy wife, but first a practice run on this pitiful creature."
>You opt to say nothing, instead swirling the last of the whiskey around the glass and staring at it. 
>He takes this as an invitation to continue.
>"You can lie to yourself, but not to me, Nonny" he flashes a cruel grin.
>"We both know this is about *her*"
"Don't." you command.
>It seems he's on a roll, though.
>"You know all it will take is one phone call and she'll come slithering back to you. She said as much herself."
>You turn your face to steel and meet his eyes directly.
"You're pushing a very wrong button, my friend" you punctuate the word friend with  a snarl.
>That silences him, for a few moments.
>"Do you want my professional opinion?" he asks.
"No."
>"Well, if you get tired of your little toy there, you can always toss her out a window. I hear some of them can fly." 
"Maybe I'll do that. See if she can fly while carrying your weight."
>The conversation shifts to investments, Victor bragging about a 4% return on some stock, and giving out unsolicited investment advice as he is prone to do. 
>You just let him talk. One of these days, he may say something valuable. Soon enough the conversation comes back to the subject at hand.
>He stands up and approaches the tv, looking intently at the sleeping pony.
>"So, did you fuck it yet?"
"No. Some of us can actually control our lust."
>"Uh-huh" comes his reply, a mocking disbelief in it.
>He turns from the television to face you.
>"So, you take a few psychology classes, read a couple books, and now you're the puppet master, gonna have your harem of models under your thumb, huh?"
>"Grow up. Face it. You're alone. We're ALL alone. And nothing you do can change it. You can drag this animal into your personal hell if you like, and a thousand more. But you'll still. be. alone." 
>Setting your glass on the table next to you a bit harder than you intended, you turn to face him.
"Time to go home, Victor."
>You begin to slowly advance on him, pressing him toward the door. He is mostly a coward, after all.
>Soon enough he's standing outside the threshold of your door as you prepare to close it.
>It was nice talking with you Anon. Have a lovely night" he grins, giving a small bow.
"Get fucked Victor" 
>You slam the door in his face. And flick the lock.
>You return to your glass and pick it up.
"Fuck it" you grumble, before pouring another three fingers or so into it.
>Returning to your seat with your freshly refilled glass, you look at at the television again. Coco hasn't stirred.
>Your good buddy has a real penchant for getting under people's skin. 
>You kind of admire him for it.
>Not tonight though, you think to yourself, throwing back a large swig.
>You fish your phone out of your pocket and scroll through the contacts.
>Natalie.
>You look at the name on the screen, as you feel the alcohol taking effect. You've drank enough times to know when youre on the cusp of being drunk.
>You click the name and the contact details pop up on your screen.
>His voice echoes in your mind.
>"One phone call and she'd come slithering back to you"
>You eye the green call button prominently displayed on the screen as the liquor takes effect.
>You know you're going to do something stupid if you don't act now.
>Before you can change your mind you scroll down and hit delete contact, then hesistate for just a moment before pressing yes to confirm.
>Well, that's one situation diffused.
>The inner turmoil one won't be much harder, once you finish this glass.
>Maybe one more after that.
>Suddenly you feel possessed by an urge to throw the phone across the room.
>And so you gift it with flight. Maybe it broke, maybe it didnt' you hardly care.
"CUNT" you snarl, tipping the glass back and finishing it in a single gulp.
>You glance up at the monitor. Coco is still sleeping soundly despite the clatter of a phone bouncing around the kitchen.
>Again his words echo in your mind.
>"Dragging her into your personal hell..."
>You stand up and half-stumble over to the bar again before dumping yet more whiskey into the glass.
>The rest of the night is a blur.
*******

>The first thing you notice is the dull ache in your head.
>The second is the bright light shining in your eyes.
>Damnable sun! Obnoxious blinding bastard.
>You slowly pry open your eyes to find yourself lying on the hardwood living room floor.
>Empty bottle of whiskey lying next to you. That thing was half full when you started the night.
>Slowly, carefully climbing to your feet you head straight for the kitchen.
>So fucking thirsty.
>You pass right by the fridge, opting to stick your head under the faucet and drink.
>And drink, and drink, and drink until you feel sated.
>You see your phone on the ground and pick it up.
>What's it doing on the kitchen floor?
>Oh. Yeah.
>A quick glance over shows it appears to be undamaged, screen intact. You place it on the counter.
>Finally you fetch a glass from the cabinet and fill it with nice, cold bottled water before heading off to the bathroom to down a handful of aspirin and take a mighty piss.
>What happened last night?
>Some variant of the usual that happens when you get into the sauce.
>You return to the living room to survey the damage.
>Nothing out of place except the bottle and.... 
>It appears your pistol joined the party at some point.
>It's empty, slide locked back in the open position. From it's position you can see there isnt a magazine in it either.
>You walk over and pick it up, and thats when you notice it.
>A single hollowpoint round, stovepiped into the ejection chamber.
>You must have tried to load a single bullet into it, but were too drunk.
>Sometimes you think you should get rid of this thing before you use it.
>But you don't. 
>You might need it some day.
>Nobody would miss you anyway. 
>You had wondered why any rich person, any famous celebrity could possibly kill themselves, when they had it all.
>You don't anymore. 
>You don't have shit but a pile of money you can't even say you earned.
>That pony in the other room is evidence of your feeble attempts to gain control of a situation of which you have no control.
>The empty bottle goes in the trash.
>You clear the jam in the pistol before placing it on top of the entertainment center, out of view.
>The thought has occurred to you that you may be mentally ill.
>But then, this is a natural response to isolation, heartbreak, valid paranoia and distrust of everyone around you.
>You're not mentally ill, you're reacting your environment.
>It's still relatively early by the positon of the sun relative to your apartment.
>Maybe 10 or 11.
>You turn your eyes to the monitor. 
>Your "pet" is awake and reading a book.
>Best get her some breakfast.
>You have the foresight to change the input on your television back to cable before walking down the hall and stopping at the pony's door.
>Knock, knock.
>A surprised sqeak issues forth from behind the door.
"Coco, are you awake?"
>"Yes master" 
>You unlock the door and open it for her.
"It's breakfast time. Do you need to use the bathroom?"
>"No, master"
"Alright then, come along"
>You lead her to the kitchen and beckon her to take a seat at the table.
"What would you like?"
>She scrunches her muzzle up in confusion.
"What is it?" you query
>"I.. I thought slaves were supposed to serve their master..." she speaks so quietly you can barely hear her.
"You're not a slave, Coco, you're my pet. Did you forget?"
>"N-no master"
>You notice the fur under her eyes is matted again. She was crying at some point during the night.
"Coco, have you been crying?"
>Her eyes widen in shock. "N-no, master"
"Did you forget rule number two already? Why were you crying?"
>You're mostly disinterested  but you want to ensure you didn't do something to her in your drunken state.
>"I just.. miss my family. I miss my friends. I even miss my collar and my flower. I miss Equestria."
>She's about to cry again.
>It would probably be best to divert this line of thinking but your curiosity is piqued.
"Your collar and flower?" 
>"I... had a collar i used to wear. Back in Manehatten I was in the fashion industry. It was the first thing I ever made just for me. It was purple, with white piping, and a red tie. It was my second favorite thing ever..." she glances away, sorrow in her eyes.
"And the flower?"
>"It was a hair pin. Red and purple, and made of silk. Miss Kindheart gave it to me when I was just a little filly. It meant so much to me! And they just took it when they captured me! They took my flower and collar and never gave them back! Those were the only things that ever mattered!" 
>"They took my flower....." tears flowing freely now.
>Before you're consciously aware of it, you've scooped her up and are holding her tight, doing your best to comfort her.
>As she cries into your shoulder, soaking your shirt, it occurs to you this action wasn't calculated.
>You spontaneously chose to comfort the little creature.
"I'm so sorry, baby" you speak gently into her ear, stroking her back.
>You do feel a little sympathy for the pony, but you're overstating it to appear kind.
>You carry her out of the kitchen and to the chair you spent most of last night drunk in, before settling in and letting her cry.
>You stare  blankly ahead as she cries and whines into your shoulder, your shirt getting wetter and wetter.
>You'd prefer this end soon but going into this you were aware you'd have to put time and effort into reaching your goals.
>And so you let her cry herself out. A good 30 minutes pass as you caress her back and mentally make notes of things you have to get done this week.
>Buy more groceries, check your mutual fund, buy more whiskey...
>Eventually her sobs devolve into hiccups and slowly she quiets down.
>You pull her back a bit to look her in the face and ensure she's stopped crying.
"You okay?" you offer a gentle smile
>"Yes master" she replies with gratitude in her voice. "Thank you"
"Don't mention it darlin'. I understand"
>You use the sleeve of your shirt to dry the tears from her fur. Just then she notices the huge wet spot on your shirt from her tears.
>"Oh, im so sorry master, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry" she says, panic starting to build.
"Shh. It's just a shirt. It's not even damaged. I dont mind at all,really.  There's nothing to be afraid of, everything is fine."
>You offer up a gentle smile. You might have been irritated about the shirt, had you not spent the night lying on the floor in it.
>"Oh thank you master!" she exclaims, daring to wrap her hooves around your neck and hug you. "I'm so lucky I got you."
>Bam. That's guilt you're feeling. You dont feel it often but thats what it is. 
>You're rapidly becoming uncomfortable now. Time to escape this situation.
>You pull her back and look at her.
"Ready for breakfast?"
>"Mmm-hmm" she nods happily, seemingly having forgotten the grief that gripped her just a few minutes earlier.
"Lets go then" you say, setting her gently on the floor and leading her back to the kitchen.
"I'm not the best cook" you admit "But I've still got plenty of fresh fruit and veggies if you like. Or I could try cooking you something.."
>"Do you have any more berries, master?"
"Of course" you respond, fetching every single container of various berries from the fridge and putting them in front of her.
"Eat your fill. Let me know if theres anything you'd like me to get for your specifically"
>She nods, already stuffing a strawberry in her mouth. "Thank you, master" she mumbles with her mouth full of food.
>You look at her a little longer before moving over to brew a cup of coffee. She really is endearing.
>As you're putting the coffee grounds into the filter, it occurs to you first, you shouldn't have chosen such a cute and timid one. But you're also... Stangely happy that you have her?
>You glance back at the pony, stuffing her face with raspberries. 
>She is fucking adorable. If this experiment doesn't work out, at least you'll have a pretty little ornament to add some color to your life.
>You hit the on button and the coffee starts to brew.
>As you wait for it to finish you go to your bedroom and change into something that doesn't smell like alcohol and body odor. You'll shower later.
>Returning to the kitchen you find your coffee is done, and your pony is eating the blueberries on by one, savoring the flavor.
>Taking a seat across from her, she smiles at you wordlessly before returning to her meal.
>This experiment is rapidly going off the rails. Of course she was supposed to come to like you, but not after a single fucking day!
>It occurs to you why. She's all alone here. Fearful of humans and terrified in general. And here you come, her knight in shining armor, a "kind" human that just wants to see her happy.
>She needed an anchor to hold onto and you immediately provided it. 
>You internally facepalm. You're going to be stuck with this pony, having learned nothing, if you don't plot a new course of action.
>You don't want a god damn pony for a wife, you want a woman!
>You sip your coffee and wonder what you can do, but you draw a blank.
>One thought occurs though, a seperate yet related experiment you had intented to try on her.
>This would be an ideal time.
>It's called the "Rule of reciprocity"
>There's a cult of weirdos called the Hari Krishnas. They wear robes and beat drums, and used to skulk around airports soliciting money from travellers before 9/11 put that shit to an end.
>Initially the Krishnas had little luck receiving anything before one of them actually had a sane thought.
>They began handing out flowers to travellers, along with some honeyed words about "A gift for you, may you be blessed with happiness, etc etc, oh and would you mind giving us some money?"
>Turns out it worked pretty well. You dont know the numbers offhand but their donations increased dramatically, just from giving people flowers. The recipients felt obligated to return a gift in kind, even though they never wanted the flower to begin with.
>That's related to using the term "much obliged" as a way of saying thank you, by the way. 
>Trivia's fun.
>Anyway, the best part? Once the Krishnas had given all their flowers away, they would dig through all the nearby trash cans in the airport and recover the flowers, and give them out again.
>So strong is the rule of reciprocity, people would give these freaks money and then throw the flower away!
>You've given Coco safety, comfort, food. Is that enough?
>You eye Coco before letting out an overdramatic sigh.
"I'm sorry sweetie, I have some business I have to attend to today. I have to leave you alone again for a few hours. You're welcome to read any of my books you like while I'm gone..."
>You sigh again.
"I'll try to be home as quickly as I can. Lord knows I need to. There's so much that has to be done around here, and I just don't have the time. I gotta mop the kitchen floor, and clean the counters, and who knows what else will pop up..." you trail off.
>Immediately she perks up, eager to please you.
>"I can do that, master!"
>You shake your head
"No, you don't have to do that. It's my mess to clean up. You just relax and do what you like, okay?"
>"But it's no problem...." she half-whines
"Thanks kind of you Coco, but unnecessary" you say, getting up to put your empty cup in the sink. 
>You walk over to the coat rack and put on a jacket, before gesturing to the shelves you keep your book collection on.
"I'll be back as soon as I can. You can read anything you like, just put it back in it's place when you're done."
>She nods.
"Oh, and Coco? I wasnt lying about how dangerous it is out there for a pony. I can't protect you if I'm not with you. Please, dont do anything dumb."
>"I wont, master"
"Good girl," you praise her, before stepping out the door. "I'll be back in a few hours."
>With that you close the door and lock it behind you.
>Down to the parking garage in the lower level of the building and into your porsche, you sit for a while before deciding on heading to the movie theater.
> There's some insipid superhero movie out that all the morons are raving about. Probably worth a couple hours.
>You catch the flick, then off to one of the swankier restaraunts in town. You don't have reservations but it's between lunch and dinner hours, and the Maitre D' knows you. A handshake with a hundred dollar bill in it later and you're ushered to a table.
>You take your time ordering a few drinks and enjoying the food and ambience before checking your watch and noting 4 hours has passed. 
>That should be enough time to find out if your experiment worked. 
>You pay your bill and head back home.
>Opening the door to your suite, the first thing you notice is the artificial fruit scent of cleaning products in the air.
>Good girl. 
>She must have searched around until she found the cleaning supplies under the sink.
>She's not anywhere in sight, so you walk to the kitchen. 
>Spotless.
>Suddenly it occurs to you, you don't even own a mop. 
>The hell?
>You glance into the trash can and notice several rolls worth of paper towels wadded up and thrown inside.
>She cleaned the whole kitchen with just her hooves.
>The counter tops... (how?)
>The floor.. The entire floor.
>Even the surfaces of the oven and dishwasher seem to have been cleaned.
>She's so eager to please you...
>You're going to have to amend your plans for her.
>This is the turning moment when you fully decide you don't want to hurt her.
>"I picked the wrong fucking pony" you think to yourself.
>Leaving the kitchen and walking down the hall you come to Coco's room, to find her asleep on the twin sized mattress you bought her. Must have tired herself out with all the cleaning.
>You decide not to wake her, but as you turn to leave a small voice pierces the air.
>"Master?"
>You turn back.
"I'm home Coco. I'm sorry I had to leave you alone again."
>She hops up and runs to give you a hug.
>"It's okay master, I know you have important things to do" she smiles.
>You smile back.
"Did you clean that whole kitchen by yourself?"
>"Mmm-hmmm" she nods proudly.
"You know you didn't have to do that..."
>"But I wanted to, master. You've been so nice to me, I wanted to do something nice for you, so you could rest when you got back." she beams
>Oh god, your heart. You're a monster.
>You pick her up and give her a little hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you, Coco. You've been a very good girl." You smile at her.
>This is... some small amount of affection for the pony you think you're feeling.
>She wants to make you happy. Nevermind it was a calculated manipulation. The way she smiled at you when she spoke.
>From molesting her the first night you had her, to this.
>That's right, you did that.
>Self loathing. Guilt. Shame.
>You set her down before she has a chance to glimpse the emotions youre feeling and think herself to be responsible.
"Thank you Coco, I'm going to rest for a little bit, and then I'll be back out for dinner. You can do as you like while im gone"
>With that you turn and head to your bedrom, locking the door behind yourself, and then sinking to the floor.
>You feel guilty.
>You almost never feel guilt and god damn do you hate it.
>You brought it on yourself, asshole.
>No! This is everyone else's fault! Why can't people be loyal? Why can't they be good?
>The last question lingers in your mind.
>Why can't you be good?
>You're a bad person, who does bad things. Even when you tried to do good, it usually seemed to backfire somehow. So you just accepted the fact that you're as rotten inside as everyone else.
>You're two days in and your experiment is already completely falling apart.
>You tilt your head back and let it bang against the wall, and stare at the ceiling.
>Why does nothing ever turn out like it should?
>You get up and head straight for the kitchen and grab your phone, then return to your bedroom.
>On the way you think you hear Coco say something but you pretend to not hear it, locking the door behind you and sitting on the edge of the bed.
>Open contacts. Scroll down to S.
>You press the contact labelled 'Saint Cocksucker' and the green call button.
>"Oasis behavioral health, Michelle speaking. How may I help you?"
"Yes I'd like to schedule an appointment with Dr. Reid, please"
>"Name?"
"Mous. Anonymous."
>A pause and a few clicks of a keyboard.
>"The soonest I can get you in is three weeks, Mr. Mous. Is Thursday at 11:00 okay?"
"No. I need to see him as soon as possible. It's an emergency."
>"I'm sorry mister Mous, but we're all-"
"No" you cut her off. "You don't understand. It's an emergency."
>The definition of emergency is subjective, right?
"Look at my patient notes."
>Silence for a moment, then more keyboard clacking.
>"It says you haven't been in to see the doctor in over 8 months, mister Mous."
"Do you see where it says I pay him quadruple his hourly rate to fit me in if I need to see him? That's supposed to be in there."
>Silence again.
>"Just a moment sir, I have to double check with the doctor before I can make any changes to his schedule."
"Thank you. I'll wait."
> You wait.
>You sit quietly and stare at the wall for a couple minutes before the voice comes back on.
>"Yes Mr. Mous, Dr. Reid can fit you in, but the soonest is this Monday. I can get you in with one of our other doctors if-"
"That's fine, thank you. What time?"
>"Does noon work?"
"That'll be fine. Book me for a back-to-back appointment. We have a lot to discuss."
>"Yes sir. We'll see you this monday at 12."
"Thank you. Bye bye"
>You hang up without waiting for a response.
>Today is....
>You check your phone. 
>Friday.
>Longer than you'd prefer but what can you do? It would take way too long with a different psychologist to understand your personality....nuances... to be able to offer any real insight.
>You stopped visiting Reid after his high horse self-righteous bullshit clashed with your personality one too many times.
>Now you actually could use advice from someone with a working moral compass.
>It's not like Victor is gonna tell you right from wrong.
>You're not sure he even knows the difference.
>You're not sure you do.
>You may be jumping the gun on paying a visit to the good doctor but you can always cancel it. 
>Better to have it and not need it, or something like that.
>You glance at the clock on your phone.
>4:06
>Too late for lunch, too early for dinner.
>Let's go see our little pony.
>You exit your room and find her lying on the couch reading an encyclopedia.
>Before you can speak she glances up to you, suddenly startled, jumps off the sofa.
>"M-master, I'm sorry! I didnt mean to use your furniture, I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry!"
>You raise your eyebrow at her.
"Really? You really think I care if you sit on the sofa?"
>You dont wait for a response before going to the kitchen and pulling a bottle of orange juice out of the fridge. A quick glance shows she's just about eaten through all the berries and cucumbers, but there's still plenty of other veggies left. Need to get her some hay.
>Walking over to the cabinet you pull out a glass for yourself, and glance back to the living room to see she has returned to her place on the sofa.
"Coco? Would you like some Juice?" you offer
>"Oh, no thank you master. Thank you, though."
>Generally you find yourself vaguely disgusted by weakness. You refuse to ever show any of your own. Yet her meekness is strangely endearing. 
>Maybe because she IS so weak and helpless. 
>Few things disgust you as much as a visibly weak man. Not necessarily physically, but weak of constitution.
>When you come across "men" like that some primal part of you wants to hurt them.
>But this isn't a man, it's not even a stallion, its a scared little girl..pony...
>You wouldn't expect courage from a kitten, you muse to yourself as you pour a glass and return the bottle to the fridge.
>Almost as an afterthought, you grab the last box of berries. A handful or so of blueberries.
>You walk over, glass of juice in one hand, berries in the other, and take a seat opposite Coco on the couch.
>Far enough away to not be imposing, close enough to show youre welcoming.
>She looks up to you as you pass the berries over to her and take a sip of your juice.
>She has a backstory. She has a history, a family, a  life.
>She had, anyway. 
>She's almost a person. 
>You could justify what you're about to do as information gathering, but in truth, you're curious about her.
>You sit and look at her for a moment, and she looks back, expecting you to say something.
>An awkward moment passes before she speaks up.
>"Is there...  something... I uhm.. Can do for you, master?" the mare timidly asks.
>She probably thinks you're about to fuck her.
>You could, of course, and there's nothing she could do. 
>She wouldn't even try to resist, you can tell.
>The thought of you inside her flashes through your mind. It's a pleasant image at first.
>You look into her light blue eyes and imagine them as you're plowing her. 
>She wouldn't make a sound while you rutted her. You can tell from her demeanor. She'd lay back and take it.
>Being raped. 
>By you.
>You imagine those blue eyes filled with tears.
>No!
>Suddenly angry and disgusted with yourself you wave the thought away. 
>You suppress showing any emotions, but you're not certain if it worked.
>Another awkward pause, this time you break it.
"Why yes, as a matter of fact there is something you can do, Coco. I realized, here you are, my new best friend, and I don't know anything about you."
>"Y--your best friend??"  her eyes go wide.
"Well, maybe. You could be, maybe, if you like."
>Yeah, right.
>She thinks for about half a second before nodding vigorously and turning to face you, her book entirely forgotten, a big smile on her face.
>"What do you want to know, master?" her voice radiates eagerness.
"Everything."
>You think for a moment.
"Everything you're comfortable sharing" you amend.
>She seems to be lost in thought, trying to think of where to begin, so you decide to guide her.
>You point at the purple hat on her flank.
"That symbol.. Thats uh.. I forget the name. But it's an important part of your identity, isn't it?"
>"Yes master" she nods. "It's called a cutie mark and everypony gets one when they're old enough. It represents our special skill."
"And yours is.. wearing hats?" you playfully prod.
>"Nooo" she giggles, waving a hoof at you. "My special skill is making clothes. Hats, especially."
"That's right, you mentioned you worked in the fashion industry back home?"
>She nods again. "I was even second lead costume designer in the biggest show on bridleway!"  she beams with pride.
"Bridleway?"
>"Oh" she giggles again. "I'm sorry, I forget theres so much you don't know about Equestria. Bridleway used to be a street with lots of theaters that put on all the best, most popular plays. Eventually the term was changed to refer to any A rated play, regardless of it's location... But I actually worked on THE Bridleway street!" she beams.
>That big smile at such a simple thing. That slightly nasally voice. Her eyes, her mane... Everything about her. 
>God she's cute.
"So, how'd you make it all the way to second lead costume designer on THE bridleway?" you playfully question, sipping your juice.
>Another giggle.
>"Well, a friend helped me get in.." She puts her hoof to her muzzle as if in thought.
>"Well, not really a friend, but she still helped me, even though I didn't deserve it..."
>You tilt your head questioningly.
"Care to explain?"
>"Well....." she begins, with hesitation.
>"I used to have a boss back in Manehattan. She wasn't very nice... She promised me if I worked for her she'd help me make it big, but all she ever did was take my designs and say they were hers... She even had me make the dresses and hats myself before taking credit for them.."
>You're actually a little angry. You don't know who this bitch is but you want to smack her.
>Wait.. Why? Why do you care? Are you actually feeling protective toward this.. this.. animal?
>Coco gives you a strange look.
>"Is.. is everything okay, master?" she asks, her tone suddenly quieter.
"Yeah, why?"
>"You look mad."
"Oh, no, I'm not. Please, go on"
>You push the thoughts out of your head and focus on her story.
>"Well, there was this big dressmaking competition. Suri, my boss, she... She pretended to be friends with another mare who was in the competition, and stole her fabric."
"So," you ask, a bit confused "The competition was to make a dress on the spot and she sabotaged this other mare?"
>"No.." She giggles again. "The dresses were already made. The other mare,Miss Rarity, she had invented a new fabric for her dresses." 
>Her tone turns morose.
>"Suri tricked her into giving away a whole bolt of fabric. She made me stay up all night remaking all the dresses with the new fabric, and then she registered early so it would look like Rarity was the copycat."
>She looks down in shame.
>"She told me to tell everypony Rarity was the one copying her... And.. I did it too."
>Her dissappointment in herself is written across her face. 
>You feel your brow creasing in concern as she continues.
>"Miss Rarity, she was a very nice pony. She was from a small town and she didn't know how competitive ponies in the city can be...Suri was so mean to her.." she trails off, sorrow in her eyes. "I hope she's okay..." she mumbles to herself.
"So, what happened?"
>"Oh!" she perks up suddenly. "Miss Rarity is a very skilled pony. Way more than Suri. That same day she whipped up a whole line of new dresses out of fabric she found around her hotel room!"
>Wow. 
>You can't help but raise your eyebrows in surprise at this one. These creatures are.... Well, not what you expected...
>"Well, Miss Rarity entered her dresses into the competition and she won! But for some reason, she didn't show up to accept her trophy. If she didn't claim it, Suri would have won."
>You're listening intently now, enraptured by this tale.
>"That was.. When I finally..." She pauses to collect her thoughts. "For years she did all kinds of mean things to everypony, and I helped her. She made me hate myself sometimes for the things I did. But what she did to miss Rarity was.. it was too much. I'd never been so ashamed of myself in all my life."
>She pauses to take a deep breath to continue.
>"Suri knew if Miss Rarity didn't accept the trophy, she would win by default. I couldn't... I... I couldn't help her anymore, I WOULDN'T help her anymore, even if it meant the end of my career, I couldn't live with myself,.."
>Her face changes from a look of heartbreaking shame to pride.
>"I quit. Right there." She slams her hoof against the sofa cushion for emphasis.
>"I told her I'm never helping her hurt anypony again! And I'll make sure everypony knows what she's done!"
>You're in awe. You had no idea there was a fire inside this little one.
>"I took the trophy myself and searched all over Manehattan until I found Miss Rarity and told her the truth about everything. I even..  I had one thing I created that I hid from Suri. It was a special thread, I don't think anypony had invented it yet. I gave it to Miss Rarity to... pay penance, I guess."
>You look at the little cream colored mare, a spark of respect growing inside your heart.
>"Anyway.. Miss Rarity was a very nice pony, like I said. Even after all I did. When I told her I quit working for Suri, she gave me a job right there! Not just a job, my dream job! What Suri had promised me for years, Rarity gave me it right there. I owe her so much..."
>"I hope she's okay..."  the little pony repeats again, sadness creeping back into her voice.
"And then you got to be second lead costume designer on bridleway?"
>"Mmm-hmm" she nods with small smile.  "I finally got to take credit for my designs, all my dresses and hats, famous actors and actresses wore MY costumes!" she shouts with pride, before catching herself.
>"Ehem..sorry" she says, putting a hoof to her muzzle to hide her smile.
>You just smile back and nod.
"And Suri?" you question.
>"I don't know what happened to her. I made sure everypony in the industry knew the bad things she did. I hadn't heard her name for a long time before... before..."
"Before?"
>"The humans came." 
>She looks away from you for a moment, before turning back to you, her eyes meeting yours.
>"Why? Why did you do this to us?"
>The grief is written across her face, accenting every word, filling the very room itself.
 >"We never did anything to you. Why did you attack our world? Why?" 
>You're shocked out of words, as your chest fills with that horrible feeling of guilt again.
>You could argue that you yourself had nothing to do with it, and that would be true, but you'd be dodging the question.
>You look into her sad blue eyes for a long moment trying to find the right words.
"I... well.. That's hard to explain. A long story, sweety."
>You reach out and gently stroke her cheek, but the gesture is hollow and of no comfort to the mare.
 "I'll tell you it another time, give me a little time to collect my thoughts on it... It's... A long story.." You meander around her question.
"Let's talk about happy things now, okay? I wanna know about you." You offer a weak smile.
>You can tell she's not satisfied but she accepts your response.
>"Well, I dont know what else there is to tell you.." she says in her sad little voice.
"You only told me one little story! There's still a whole life left!" you force a bit of levity into your voice.
>You take another sip of your juice while Coco sits there looking sullen.
>You put the juice down, sighing.
"Look, I'm sorry for what happened to your world. If I could undo it, I would. But I can't. It's just how things are. Bad things happen to good pe-...ponies.."
>Shes just looking down at the cushions now.
>You gently run your hand through her mane and then move it to cup her cheek.
>Something in you genuinely wants to comfort her.
>You gently lift her head up until her eyes meet yours.
>Like the first time you saw her, some little part of you wants to make it all better.
"Look, it wont be like this forever. Things will get better for your kind and your world, I promise. Maybe not in our lifetimes, but it will."
>"How do you know?" her questioning gaze bores into your soul.
"Well.. Because we've done this before. A few times."
>Her eyes go wide, shes about to ask you something but you cut her off.
"Not to another world like yours. Equestria was the first. But we did it to each other. Over and over, we attacked other humans who were different from us, enslaved them, occupied their countries. Eventually, every time, we set them free. Eventually, we did the right thing. We aren't perfect, Coco, we're still learning. We're strong, and we're smart, but we're still learning to do the right thing. Ponies will be set free, I know it. Theres already a lot of people protesting what was done to Equestria. More and more will join in, the more people see how.."
>You want to say "How beautiful you are", but opt for something more sensible.
"The more people see how intelligent ponies are, how youre all real individuals with real thoughts and dreams and feelings, the less they'll see you as objects, and more as people too. And then you'll all be set free, and your world too. I know it Coco, I promise you, ponies won't be in chains forever. We may even see it in our lifetimes."
>You give her a few moments to think about this before you scoop her up into a spontaneous hug.
"Until then I guess you're just gonna have to deal with me" 
>You stick your tongue out playfully
>She smiles but you can tell it's forced.
>You suppress a sigh and set her back down.
>Time to change the subject.
"It's just about dinner time. How about we get some real food to eat, since you gobbled up all my berries?
>This elicits a small smile.
>"Theres still a few left" she says, pointing at the untouched box you brought out.
"Still, how about something a little better. Have you ever had chinese?"

*****************************************

>Ding dong.
>You answer the door to Charlie, the delivery guy for your favorite Chinese restaurant.
>He's not even Chinese, he's Vietnamese. You suspect whoever gave him his english name had a dark sense of humor.
>Funny how all asians are interchangeable when it comes to chinese restaurants.
>And most of the time the kitchen staff are all Mexicans.
"Hi Charlie"
>"Herro  Anon. You order more this time. You going get fat!" he laughs.
>You like Charlie. He's... Jovial.
>He glances behind you and notices Coco on the sofa, looking at thw two of you.
>"Ohhhh. You have girrfriend now huh? Rucky guy." He winks with a shit eating grin you'd like  to slap off him.
"Yeah yeah. You got it all?"
>"Yessir.  Mongorian beef, Vegetarian eggrorr, and fry rice."
"Did you bring two sets of chopsticks?"
>"Yessir. That be 28.72 prease"
>You hand him two twenties and don't ask for change.
>"You two have fun!" he laughs, as you shut the door in his face and lock it.
"Dinner time, Coco"
>"Wow Anon, thats so neat you can talk into that thingy in your pocket and somepony brings you food. We don't have anything like that back in Equestria."
"Eh" you shrug. "It's not that amazing. Lets eat"
>You pour a couple glasses of water and sit down to eat with your pony, passing her the fried rice and eggrolls, as well as her pair of chopsticks.
>You know their hooves are strangely dexterous, but you're just fucking with her at this point.
>She looks at the chopsticks with confusion as you break yours apart and deftly dig into your meal.
>You're careful to watch her out of the corner of your eye as you pretend to be engrossed in your meal.
>You're laughing internally at her confusion as she glances back and forth between the chopsticks in your hand and the ones laid out before her.
>Eventually she breaks them apart and starts fumbling with them.
>She keeps looking to your hand as she tries to hold the chopsticks in her hoof, as if anything she observed could be applicable for her.
>You're trying your best not to laugh as you watch her first try to hold both chopsticks in one hoof, then one in each hoof, grabbing for clumps of rice that fall from her grasp right as they approach her mouth.
>Her mounting frustration is getting better and better.
>Eventually you can't hold it in anymore and break out laughing.
>"I knew it!" she half shouts, feigned outrage. She's got a good sense of humor.
>"You're teasing me!" she wails, punctuating it by throwing the chopsticks at you.
>You move your arm to block them but they go wide,over your head anyway.
>A real slaveowner would probably beat her for something like that.
>You just laugh at her more.
"What's the matter Coco, are your chopsticks broken? You can borrow mine if you like."
>She just glares at you, forehooves crossed in front of her, half amused, half annoyed.
>She's not afraid anymore, it seems.
>Is this the real Coco you're seeing?
"Okay, okay"  
>You slide her a fork you had hidden in the bag.
>"Thank you" she sarcastically says before digging in.
>You watch her, this time not hiding your interest.
>She perks up at the first bite.
>"Wow. This is really good. This is just rice and spices? Wow." 
>Excited over fried rice. Almost like a child, everything is so fresh and new.
"Try the eggrolls" you say, pointing at the unopened square carton.
>Prying it open, she pulls one out and takes a careful bite, suspicious of you now.
>Her eyes go wide again. You love how expressive she is.
>"This is good too!" she mumbles, mouth still full of food.
"Swallow before you talk, please." you gently instruct her.
>She nods and swallows.
>"Excuse me."
"Dont worry about it hon. Here, try dipping it in this"  you say, opening the little cup of sweet and sour sauce and pushing it to her.
>As she takes a bite it occurs to you, you've been using pet names like 'sweetie' and 'hon' more and more frequently.
>Are you really starting to-
>"Wow! This is amazing! Thank you, master!"  
>You smile at your little pony.
"I'm glad you like it Coco. You can have them all, if you like."
>"What are you having?" she asks, craning her neck to try to see into your carton of food.
>Just like a woman, trying to get at your food as well. 
"Ah, I'm not sure you'd like this Coco. It's called mongolian beef."
>"B-beef? Like, from a cow?" she looks on, wide eyed.
"Don't worry about it Coco. Cows here aren't like the ones in Equestria. They don't talk and they arent smart at all."
>"But that still... Its still.. I mean, its not..." she stammers, trying to find the right words without risking offending you.
>You finish chewing and swallow, and lower your chopsticks to look at her.
>"But.. That was a living thing. Even if its not smart...." she trails off, looking sad.
>You don't want to make her sad, but you're not going to go vegetarian because she feels sad for your dinner. You couldn't give two shits about some cow, whether it talks or not.
"It's okay Coco, we only eat the really old ones that are sick and going to die anyway. And they dont suffer, it's quick. Better than a painful death from old age, it's really like an act of mercy."
>She doesn't have to know along with her rice youre feeding her 100% grade A bullshit.
>"Its still gross." she grumbles, before turning back to her food.
"Well if it bothers you that much, you can eat in your room."
>"No!" she quickly snaps back. "It's not a big deal!"
>You bite your tongue to keep from smiling.
>She turns back to her food, eating quietly now, the mirth in the room seemingly having dissappeared.
>You eat in silence for a while before your phone vibrates in your pocket.
>A text message from Victor.
>"Hey Anon, I found a Jenny Craig with big windows right in front of the treadmills. Wanna come down and eat ice cream in front of the fatties with me? My treat."
>You chuckle. This fucking guy.
>You start tapping out a polite declination before Coco speaks up.
>"What's so funny, master?" she asks, trying to get a look at your phone.
"Oh, nothing that matters, Coco" you reply, quickly slipping it back in your pocket.
>You're doing your best to keep her from gaining access to your phone. 
>Or the computer. 
>Or any contact with the outside world for that matter.
>She doesn't need to know just how many lies you've told her over the last few days.
>You change your mind about letting her have all the eggrolls, and snatch one up yourself.
>What? They're good.
>By the time you finish your meal, she's polished off her fried rice and three eggrolls. AND all the sweet and sour sauce before you could have any.
>Little critter can eat.
>Eventually you're both finished and you let her clean up as you stand up and stretch.
"Well, I gotta take a shower. I'm long overdue. You, too."
>She freezes at that, her tail clamping between her legs.
>Oh. yeah.  
>"A-are you going to bathe me again, master?" she asks, nervously.
"No, Coco." You reply. "You said you can bathe yourself, right?"
>She nods, eyeing you uncomfortably.
>Sigh.
"I'm sorry for doing what I did the other night. I.. I wasn't thinking right.  I shouldn't have done it."
>You try to think of some way to make it seem less wrong.
"You're just so pretty. I couldn't help myself. It won't happen again."
>Her expression softens as her cheeks turn red and you notice her tail relax.
"You go ahead and take care of yourself. There's enough hot water in this building, You can shower or bathe in the seperate bathroom, And I'll shower in mine. Towels are in the closet next to the bathroom. All the soap and stuff should still be in the bathtub."
>You start to head to your room before she stops you.
>"Master?"
"Yeah?" you turn to face her.
>"Do you think.. Maybe.... You.." she pauses for a moment and lowers her head. "Nevermind."
"What is it, Coco? It's okay."
>"Uhm... Would you.. Could you brush my mane again please?" She offers up a weak smile.
>It almost feels like she's forgiven you for your crime already.
>You nod, forcing a smile.
"Sure. Meet you out here in a few" you say, turning back and heading to the master bath.
>20 minutes later and you're out of the shower and drying off. 
>You stick your head out into the hall to hear the water stil running.
>Okay... 
>You finish drying off, taking your sweet time, and put on your favorite bath robe.
You even style your hair, despite it being past 8.
>Shower's still running down the hall. What the hell is she doing in there?
>Women. Typical...
>You catch yourself. 
>That's not a woman in there, Anon.
>Don't forget that.
>You walk over and knock on the door.
"Coco!" You call out. "You almost done?"
>"Y-yes master!" comes a surprised, nasally little voice. "I'll be right out!"
"Bring the brush" you say loud enough to be heard over the the running water.
>A few minutes later you're sitting in your chair brushing the mane of the damp pony in your lap.
>Gonna need to show her what a hair dryer is.
>Methodically you run the brush through her mane, tightly gripping her hair at the base so any snags don't pull on her scalp and hurt her.
>Since when did you get so gentle?
>No, really, you wonder, as you finish with her mane and move to the tail, gripping her dock gently yet firmly, before tearing through the snags and tangles mercilessly.
>For her part, Coco is humming happily in your lap as you perform your ministrations .
>You don't much care for this, but she's enjoying it, so....
>So... what?
>You stop at the realization.
>You're doing this entirely for her. 
>You're getting nothing out of this at all.
>What the fuck!
>You stop mid stroke and try to figure out how you got exactly into this position you're in right now.
>Who's the fucking pet here?
>Suddenly you feel you need space from her. 
>You need to think.
"Alright" you say, dropping the brush on the table beside the chair. "Time for bed"
>You notice a look of confusion and surprise in her face as you swiftly pick her up and carry her toward her room.
>"Master?" she asks, her little voice confused and hurt.
>You don't respond as you drop her into her bed and turn  to leave.
>"Master! Wait! Did I do something wrong? Im sorry! Please!"
>This stops you and you turn back to face her.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Coco. I'm tired now. I'll see you tomorrow."
>"But-" she starts to speak before the door closing silences her.
>You turn and head toward the living room.
>Need to collect your thoughts.
>You head over to your minibar and grab an empty glass, and reach for the whiskey.
>It's not there. 
>Right.
>What else then?
>Two fingers of calvados will do.
>You sit down in your chair and set the glass down without touching it.
>Okay Anon. Time to think.
>How did YOU end up tending to HER needs?
>She was supposed to help you learn how to keep a woman under control, not turn you into her personal groomer.
>You can feel a grimace forming on your face.
>Did you get played by a pony?
>By that...animal in there?
>You think back.
>Pet names.. cuddling..
>Are you this fucking weak?
>Wait... Did she call you by your first name earlier? With Charlie?
>You can't recall.
>It's been three days and you're bonding with the science project?
>Do you actually care about that thing?
>What the fuck, Anon!
>You angrily snatch up your glass and slam it back in one go.
>It burns but you don't care.
>What the hell is this?
>Whos the fucking pet here?
"No!" you grumble to yourself
>Shes not even a pet. Shes an experiment.
>A means to an end.
>Cut the sentimental crap you fucking pussy.
"I am not going to be daddy or husband to that.. thing in there." you command yourself.
>Why does it feel like you're trying to convince yourself?
>It's like you're having one side of an argument and there's no one there to retort.
>You can't deal with this right now. 
>You head over to the bathroom and pull the bottle of sleeping pills out of the medicine cabinet.
>Probably shouldnt mix this with alcohol.
"Fuck it" you grunt, swallowing the pill without water.
"Time for bed" you say to no one in particular, as you head to your room.
>Monday can't come soon enough.



>Be Coco Pommel.
>Removed from Manehattan to this strange, artificial human city.
>Ponies felt Manehattan was too detached from nature.
>They should see this human made nightmare called "shicog-oh"
>You look through the window in your room, it has a good view from what you guess is somewhere near the middle of the city.
>The human city is ugly. Uglier than Manehattan by far.
>And Manehattan was ugly.
>It's ugliness seems to go on forever.
>There's only one other window you can see out of and it goes on and on forever too.
>As far as you can tell by the evidence presented there's no end to the city.
>Or it would at least take a long time walking as Master said.
>It's...an unexpected turn for your life.
>From working on Bridleway to being that human's pet in some monstrous alien  city.
>Master's not mean but he's scary.
>You're afraid of ever making him angry. 
>He's been nice to you but you feel like he could smash you into pieces anytime he wanted.
>He intimidates you. It feels like he does it on purpose.
>Maybe humans are just that evil.
>And this is as good as they come.
>Did you get that lucky?
>You kind of like him though, he's been nice to you.
>The ones holding us in the pens were mean, they had these horrible sticks.
>They made a lot of noise and they touched them to ponies and they screamed in pain and fell down.
>Those humans were very very mean.
>This one's not mean but you don't always understand why he does the things he does.
>Did you make him mad last night?
>You were just sitting there getting your tailed combed, and he out of nowhere put you to bed like you were being a bad child.
>You don't understand him.
>You don't understand any of them.
>To be stolen by aliens.
>What pony can say they predicted that?
>And here you are, reduced to the alien equivalent of a house cat.
>Master is nice though. You get the feeling he wont be mean to you if you don't do anything too bad. 
>There are worse fates than being a pet, you heard from the other ponies in the pens.
>It could have been speculation but you heard tons of crazy stories inside the pen, from them eating us to toiling in mines or fighting wars for them. Some said they wanted to steal our magic.
>All you know is here you are, in the possession of one that wants to make you it's pet.
>It's better than being eaten.
>If any of those stories in the holding pens were true, you got lucky.
>Still it's...Lonely.
>You feel it a lot but there could be worse fates.
>Master said he might be your best friend. 
>Maybe it wont be so bad?
>Oh who are you kidding.
>You're a pet. You're not gonna accomplish your dreams.
>You're gonna drink out of a bowl and wear a dog collar.
"Dance and do tricks" You grumble to yourself, ears flattened. Angry at the injustice of it all.
>What happened to the others? Your friends and the ponies you worked with?
>Your mom and dad...
>What if they were all taken as pets?
>Or eaten!
>It could be anything!
>If only there was some way to find out.
>You go to the "com-poo-ter" and look at it.
>The master hasn't been home for a long time.
>He said he wouldn't be home till past 6
>The clock says its just past 2.
>He said he would be busy all day and left.
>He sat at the compooter for a long time earlier in the day.
>He said it showed him things he wanted to see when you asked him about it.
>Does human magic work that way? 
>Are they that good at scrying?
>He wouldn't let you see it though and shooed you away.
>Just like a pet.
>Master probably doesn't want you using it.
>But maybe it will show you what you want?
>You think of talking to it.
>Master never did that you don't think.
>He just sat in front of it and held that thing on the table.
>But how did he make it wake up?
"Compooter, wake up!" you command.
>It just sits there.
"Compooter, turn on." You can hear your voice losing hope and confidence.
"Compooter. Hello. Hello Compooter" you address it.
>Nothing. 
"Hmm."
>You move closer to get a better look at it.
>You climb onto your back hooves to rest your forehooves on the desk and the things on it.
>You put your hoof over your muzzle as you carefully examine it.
>You always had an eye for details.
>Its a square. Its two colors of black, a shiny black in the center occupying most of it and a duller almost matte black trim.
>It's got silver buttons on the bottom right side.
>You push the buttons.
>One turns green but the others don't do anything.
>Nothing else happens.
>There's the thing the master held in his hand all night.
>A weird,roundish, smooth.. thing. You couldn't describe it.
>Kinda round and flat?
>Has a long button on the top of it.
>And a big rectangle board with lots of little square buttons on it right next to each other, with letters on them that master sometimes clicked.
>You push them all in different combinations but nothing happens.
>Hmmmm
>What about this little black thing he held in his hand-claw thing?
>It made little clicking noises. You got the distinct impression that was him clicking something.
>You look at it and there's only one button in the center.
>You press down and it moves a little upward. like it slid but stayed in place.
>???
>You run your hoof along it and it moves along with your hoof.
>Like a little wheel.
>You push down gently and it clicks
>It still spins.
>And the black square thing on the desk is still dark.
>You scrunch your muzzle up in frustration.
>You click the round thing and spin it up and down but nothing happens.
>You lower yourself from the desk. 
>How does he wake it up?
>There's one more thing to look at.
>It looks like there's a big black box attached to it, sitting on the floor near the desk.
>Almost as big as you.
>You approach it and you can see some symbols that don't have any meaning to you on the outside of the box.
>There's one button right in the center on the thin end
>Lots of... Rubber ropes sticking out the back of the other side.
>Probably best not to touch those.
>Well, let's see.
>You press the button on the long end with your hoof.
>The compooter hums to life!
>You're shocked and a little scared.
>You did it!
>It's awake!
>The square black thing on the desk lights up.
>You glance black at the clock.
>Its almost three.
>Hopefully you have plenty of time.
>You stand up on your hind legs to look at it.
>The formerly black screen now has pictures flickering across it.
>You don't know what the pictures are of. They have words and numbers.
>They go bye too fast to read.
>Finally it stops changing and its showing a screen.
>Just a black screen, with what you know to be the informal name of your master.
>Anon.
>There's an off white rectangle underneath it.
>That reminds you.
>Yesterday you accidentally called him by his first name.
>Thank Celestia he was too busy with the other human to notice what you said.
>You hope the princesses are alright.
>As you look around you wonder how master used it. That little round thing he moved in his claw.
>You wiggle it around and you see a little triangle on the screen move.
>You pull the little claw thing toward you and the triangle moves down on the screen.
>You move it to the right, it moves.
>Okay, okay, you're getting this Coco.
>You're getting this.


*********
>Three hours later
>You're NOT getting this.
>Nothing you tried did anything of value.
>You're still on the screen that says "Anon"
>The best you could do is get letters from the rectangle thing master clicked on to appear in the white rectangle under his name.
>You're almost out of time, he's supposed to be back in thirty of their clock numbers.
>That's not very long.
>You need to figure out how to turn this off.
>Calm Coco. Don't panic. 
>You're panicking.
>You press the biggest button on the physical screen that's glowing green with your hoof.
>It turns off. YES!
>Wait.
>It's still making that humming noise.
>And blowing out air.
>Oh no. oh no its not like it was.
>It's not showing anything but its still making noise.
>it wasn't making noise before.
>What do you do?
>Think Coco, think.
>The button on the long side of the box on the floor.
>You go down and press it. Nothing happens.
>You feel your heart sink.
>You press it again.
>Nothing.
>You press it again and again and plead with it"
"Please, please, oh Celestia, please, go to sleep"
>As you speak the prayer you hold your hoof down on the button almost in defeat."
>As soon as you're done praying the box stops humming.
>Oh, thank you Celestia.
>Thank you thank you thank you!
>You feel yourself relax and breathe.
>Everything is gonna be fine.

*************



>You are Anon.
>It's a little past seven and youve had a good time at strip club with a fun guy you used to go to college with before you dropped out.
>It was the nicest gentlemen's club in town.
>Youre not really good friends with this guy because he loves trying to spend your money.
>But he makes you laugh a lot and you have a good time.
>It's fun sometimes, you just wont be his piggybank when you dont feel like it.
>Table dances and lapdances and all kinds of fun.
>Takes a man's mind off his troubles.
>You come back home to see your little pony laying on the couch with the encyclopedia.
>"Good everning master!"  Coco says cheerfully, standing up from her book and smiling.
"Good evening, Coco." You reply, taking off your jacket and hanging it up before going into the kitchen.
>You get yourself a glass of orange juice.
>You just tried a new shooter on the pc the other day and you love it.
>The mechanics work great for you, and you do pretty well.
>Time to get back to it.
>You sit down and boot your computer up.
>Instead of taking you to the screen to enter your password, it gives you an error screen.
>Windows did not shut down properly. 
>Hmmmm.
>You seem to remember turning the computer off last time.
>And you didn't see it crash.
>So why is it asking if you want to boot in safe mode?
>You have it scan the drive for errors instead. That's weird.
>Youre like 99% sure you turned it off and it didn't crash.
>The only reason youre not 100% sure is because now seeing that screen put doubt in you.
>You stare at it for a moment as it slowly diagnoses itself.
>You turn from your computer, to look at Coco. She's looking straight at you, instead of the encyclopedia. From her reaction you caught her staring.
>Her eyes go wide and she gives the fakest smile youve ever seen, then turns her ears down and turns her attention to the encyclopedia.
>Coco's been a bad girl.
>You turn back to the computer and lean back in your chair for a minute.
>Time to think.
>How are you gonna deal with this?
>After a moment you stand up and go to the sofa. 
>You sit down in front of Coco and pick the encyclopedia up out of her hooves, closing it and putting it to the side.
"Coco sweetie, do you remember the rules?"
>"Yes master.
"What are they?"
>"Always do what you tell me and never lie."
"That's right, Coco. Now, I can forgive a little misbehavior. But lying upsets me greatly. Not lying should really be the number one rule, not the number two rule.  Lying about not doing something that you did, would upset me so much more than just doing something bad, because lying to me is stacked on top ofmisbehaving and I need to know I can trust you."
>Coco is avoiding eye contact.
>You're sitting very close to the pony. In her personal space.
>Almost on top of her.
>You rest your arm on the sofa in a way that lets you brush her mane with your finger.
>You flick a couple hairs on the edge of her mane.
"Coco, is there anything you think you should tell me about?"

>Be Coco
>Oh no. 
>He knows you did something! 
>The casual way he's flicking your mane...
>Thats not casual flicking at all!
>Thats the opposite of casual flicking!
>HE KNOWS!
>HE KNOWS HE KNOWS!
>Oh no!
>You feel like a panic attack might be coming.
>Breathe, Coco, Breathe.
>He just asked you if you did anything bad.
>Maybe his might be a human trick. Maybe you can lie your way out!
>Oh anything, anything! 
>Maybe he's bluffing.
>Could he be?
>No he's not no he's not!
>He knows he knows you're bucked he knows.
>And he's subtlely threatening you.
>As soon as he turned the compooter on he stopped and looked right at you.
>It can't be a coincidence it cant be!
>Buck.
>"Coco sweetie, I asked you a question." the master says
>A small whine escapes your lips and you can't help it.
>You're shaking and you can feel your heart beating in your barrel.
>You have to answer him. You have to admit it.
"Yes master." you say as bravely as you can.
>Your voice still breaks.
"I messed with your compooter."
>"Why did you do that, Coco?" Master asks, still playing with just a few hairs on your mane.
>Oh Celestia this human was so nice before, and now hes SO scary!
>It's like he's seething with menace.
>"Coco, I asked you a question." he says in a flat, emotionless voice.
>Thats scarier than angry!
>The other ones just hurt ponies.
>It was simple and you knew youd get a smack or a shock and it hurt but you knew you'd live.
>This one feels like he might kill you if you do the wrong thing.
>Despite that, you liked him. He was nice to you.
>When he wasnt being scary.
>It's your fault he's being scary.
>You gotta answer him.
"I wanted to see if it would show me things too."
>"What?" Master asks.
"You said it showed you things. I was hoping it would show me what happened to my family and friends."
>"And so you used it without my permission" master says.
"Yes Master. I'm so sorry. Im so sorry. Im so so-"
>"Stop" master interrupts you, waving his claw.


>Be Anon again.
>You don't wanna hurt your little pony.
>But she has to be punished.
>You can't really fault her for trying to look up her family.
>If that's what she was really doing.
>You're not really mad, but she still tried to do it without your permission.
>Gotta lay down some kinda law.
>Fortunately  this  worked out well for you. 
>Keep her off the computer, keep her from seeing any news sites.
"Coco," you begin,your voice calm and still, but not friendly.
"You shouldn't have used my computer without asking."
"Because you didn't lie, to show you how much I appreciate the truth I will show you kindness."
>Her shaking is relenting a little it seems, as you sit there flicking her mane, taking your time.
>You run what you hope is a comforting hand through her mane.
>Youre not angry at your little Coco.
>She visibly relaxes and turns to you doing some pony form of a bow repeatedly.
>Thank you master, thank you, th-"
>You cut her off with a wave of your hand in her face.
"Because you went on my computer without asking, I'm not going to let you use it in the future until such time as I say so. If you use it again without my permission you wll be punished. This goes with rule one. Always do what I tell you. Do you understand?"
>Yes master. she says quietly.
>She looks miserable but she's calming down it seems.
"Youve been a bad girl. Go to your room for the night. No dinner for you."
"GO!" you command loudly, pointing down the hall toward her room.
>She's off like a bullet.
>Alright. This will work. 
>Keep her off the comp. 
>You already turned your cable for the television off. Just movies.
>And you can hold information on her family over her head if you ever find any.
>You hadn't thought of that.
>One of the guidelines for your experiment.
>Keep her isolated. 
>All she'll know of the outside world is the view from the window and what you tell her. 
>Maybe show her a little.
>All in all it was a good night.
*********************



>It's 12:06 and youre wondering where Dr. Reid is.
>For the amount you pay that asshole he should be on the fucking dot.
>Yet here you are in the waiting room.
>The magazines bore you so you idly stare at a painting.
>You're used to being bored.
>So staring at a weird avante garde painting isnt that difficult.
>A door opens.
>"Anon. Come in"
>You turn your head to see the good doctor.
>This will be fun.
>Youre in his office now.
>Sitting on a sofa across from him, he in his chair.
>"So Anon, what brings you in today?" he queries you.
>He's holding his pen with both hands, in front of his mouth.
>As if he were putting his index fingers together against his lips to indicate he's thinking so hard about nothing.
"Well I wanted your.. opinion of something." you say.
>"Lay it on me" he retorts, throwing his arms back a bit as if accepting a challenge.
"Well, I uh. You know I wanted to learn how to better handle women. I was dissappointed with results in the past as you recall. I wanted to find out how to better make one loyal to me."
>He just looks at you.
"So I went out and bought a pony, mare. I wanted a better grasp on how I should behave and go about making a situation play out.... er, as I want it to. To manipulate a woman into doing what I want easier. Pull her strings, I guess. You know I took psych courses, I also did a little studying of ways people manipulate others. I'm trying to learn how to pull the puppet strings. So I got a pony to practice on."
>He leans back at this barrage of information and stops to think.
>He stares at you for an uncomfortable moment.
>"How were you planning to apply the knowledge from an alien to a human woman?" he asks.
"Well, I've read ponies have similar to human psychology."
>"Similar, Anon. Not identical." 
>He's looking at you with his judging glare. 
>"Anon I can only presume you're keeping this one as a slave. How do you think anything you gain from that can be applied to a real relationship? Applied to a healthy relationship?"
"I, well, I , um.. They are similar." you stammer.
>You hadn't thought of that. Had you?
>"Anon, you're a relatively sharp guy. How did this thought never occur to you? That what information you gain may be useless.?"
>It in fact may have occured to you.
>You just kind of ignored it. 
>A vague 'Eh it will be fine' and forgotten.
>"It's Stockholme Syndrome. You know what that is?" he asks.
"Yeah."
>"Anon, do you remember when we talked about Natalie, and your desire for control?  You said the problem was, that you just couldn't make her do what you wanted her to do. You wanted her to stay and she wouldn't. Then you got fixated on making a woman stay."
>You just sit there and silently look at him, trying not to glare too hard.  You're not mad but you think you have resting bitch face when you're in his presence.
>"And you remember we talked about your ASPD."
"We don't really know for certain I have that."
>"We do, Anon. Most people that have it have it as a set in stone trait but trauma can trigger it. Your's may have been partially in your genes, it fully presented itself after Natalie. From the PTSD-esque effect her leaving had on you. You can feel emotions but they're shallow. You remember how you said after Natalie left, how you changed, you stopped feeling like before, and you put walls up with drugs and prostitutes just to feel something?"
>He clears his throat. 
>"I believe you inherently had some degree of sociopathy beforehand and eventually you found something you liked so much you truly loved it, at least as much as you can, and it, she, then rejected you. Thus beginning this fixation on 'owning a woman'"
>You cross your arms and lean back bitterly.
>"So... you allowed it to run free. Your sociopathy. To wake up, as it were"
>He's fidgeting with his pen again.
>"You already didn't much care for right and wrong before that, remember? All the trouble as a kid? Now you do whatever best suits you entirely. You bought a pony because you couldn't buy a woman. You couldn't buy this idealized Natalie you had on a pedestal. You got the pony to impose your will on her and you'll probably get bored of her and throw her away. Like a kid with a toy he doesnt want any more."
>He leans forward in the chair.
>"You're rationalizing what you're doing to that intelligent being for something you can't really define. That's not even rationalization!  I think you know why you really got the pony."
>You meet his eyes with yours.
>You know what he's implying.
>Is he wrong?
>.....
>..........
>Your brain is trying to process it but its like theres a fog over the idea of why you got Coco. Like, you can't grasp this simple concept. Like you forgot what 2+2 is.
>You just cant grasp why you did it, you were supposed to get women.
>Oh fuck.
>You really did get the pony just to get the pony.
>You rationalized it so well you lied to yourself.
>If you didn't buy her for yourself, then why'd it matter if she was cute?
>What did her attractiveness have to to do at all with mind games?
>You coulda gotten any of the ugly ones. 
>You spent a shit-ton on her because she was cute.
>Fuck, this asshole's right.
>You just look at him.
>He looks at you.
>This goes on for quite a few seconds.
>You decide to speak up.
"I-" You're interrupted instantly.
>"You should let her go" He says just a bit louder than you, commanding the conversation.
>He waited for you to start speaking to cut you off. 
>Rude.
>The problem is he's right.
>No, not about setting her free, that shit's not happening.
>About why you got her.
>You want to control her.
>You just didn't want to face it. 
>You wanted a woman.
>A pony isnt that terrible a compromise.
>You don't feel like arguing with this self righteous prick.
>Time to lay down the law.
"Okay. Then I have ASPD. 'sociopathy'. Whatever you wanna call it. I'm keeping the pony and thats the end of the discussion so keep your opinions on it to yourself, I'm not interested in them."
>He sits silently and looks at you.
"I want you to help me manipulate her."
>"Nope."
"Look, I pay you well, you do what I tell you."
>"No Anon, that would be unethical and I'm not comfortable doing bad things like you. That's what makes me different from you. Or rather, you different from me."
>You look at his face.
>That punchable fucking face.
>God you wanna punch it.
>You scheduled an hour and a half with him.
>But you wanna leave.
>It's 40 past noon and he started a few minutes late. You don't wanna pay him to sit on his ass or take other patients but the deal was you pay for the block of time you reserve.
>You sit there in silence arms crossed, bidding the minutes go bye.
>A minute or two does pass before he speaks up.
>"So Anon, how's the drinking going?"
>That's it.
"Goodbye Doctor." you say as you get up to leave.
>"But Anon, we have so much time left" he says.
>You open the door to his office.
"I got what I wanted out of you."
>"Nice seeing you Anon!" he fake-happily chirps as you allow the door to shut loudly behind you.
>You need a drink.
***********************

>You're sitting in a bar in a booth, picking at a knockoff bloomin onion, drinking your second gin and tonic. 
>Both drinks were doubles.
>Since we're all talking about the bitch that broke your heart you'll mention you started drinking when she left you.
>You got over her but you never quite got over the drinking.
>Just drank better shit. And more of it.
>And here you are in a dive bar drinking  a weak ass gin and tonic.
>It's shit quality gin but you don't really care.
>You're thinking of Reid.
>Always trying to tell you what's right and wrong.
>Morality is the final delusion you have to give up.
>Still, you're thinking about what that fuck said.
>About why you got Coco.
>Shes not a woman.
>That's clear.
>But she's still kinda cute.
>You read a statistic once that more than 30% of owners admitted to bestiality with their ponies.
>You didn't get her just to fuck her though, or you would have already.
>You break off a piece of onion and dipping it in the sauce, bring it to your mouth but pause right in front of it.
>As if youre hoping you can summon inspiration to strike just then.
>Nothing.
>So you munch on the fried onion piece.
>Also mediocre. Oh well.
>Well, here's the facts.
>You have Coco.
>You can sell Coco, let Coco go, or keep her.
>Youre not gonna sell her, you'll never find anyone willing to give a fraction of what you paid.
>God damn that fat bastard at the auction.
>If you let her go there are sanctuaries for ponies but theres still a risk to her
>A freed pony can just be stripped of it's documents and have chains thrown on them and be right back into servitude.
>They just grab em.
>They've even had their butt marks cut off to hide their identity.
>You like Coco.
>You wont let that happen to her.
>So that pretty much means you keep her.
>And well, if youre gonna keep her, might as well go all in on your relationship with her.
"In for a penny, in for a pound" you say to your onion, ripping a large piece off.
>Guess we'll see where things go.

*************************
>It's late in the afternoon and you're on your way home.
>You stopped at a whole foods type grocery to pick up a few things, including more food for Coco and yourself. Two bottles of whiskey.
>You even got Coco some treats.
>A high quality dark chocolate bar, some reeses cups, and a handful of assorted candies you spitefully grabbed with your whole fist on the way out  from a dish sitting by the receptionist's window.
>You figure youll give Coco some candy if she's good.  See what kind of human candy she likes.
>Figure out everything you need to figure out about her.
>And then become that.
>As much as you can, anyway.
>Treat her well and tell her what she wants to hear.
>See if you can get her to fall in love with you.
>They have a name for that. Stockholm Syndrome.  But is it a less letigimate love, because the victim was isolated with just the individuals they bond with by said individuals?
>Spending time with others is how we bond. If you were trapped together during an avalanche and had to survive together you might bond and fall in love and that's fine.
>But if one party isn't initially willing then it's a mental sickness.
>You're not too sure if you agree with that.
>Regardless it's happening.
>So then what?
>You'll have an adorable little pet thats in love with you.
>That's win/win, right?
>You reach your building and park, and up you go to your suite.
>You fight to unlock the door with all the bags then close it, locking it behind you.
>Hoofsteps come running up to meet you.
>"Hello master" she says happily
"Hi, Coco." You reply.
>"Are we gonna do anything tonight?" She asks, hope in her voice.
>Shit. You didn't want to do fuckall but sit around drinking.
>But you lock her in her room early every night.
>No reason not to begin bonding with her now.
"Actually I was thinking we could watch a movie" You say.
>"What's are those?" She asks.
"You'll see."
>You head into the kitchen and unload the bags.
"Coco!" You call out. Are you hungry?"
>A moment later running.
>"Yes master" She says approaching you.
>You drop the berries and cucumbers on the table and motion with your hand for her for sit.
>You turn to fetch the orange juice from the fridge and a glass, and when you turn around you see she's already demolishing the berries.
>You pour the juice as you walk back to her and put the cup down.
"I'm gonna go select a movie, you enjoy your food and come to me when youre done"  You smile at her.
>She just nods, too busy eating to respond.
>You don't really care what movie you watch. 
>Itt's not about the movie. 
>It's about you and Coco.
>You scroll through nature documentaries until settling on a relaxing looking one about tiny lifeforms of earth.
>That's just ineresting enough you figure.
>You stretch out on the couch waiting for your pony to turn up.
>It doesn't take long.
>You're laid out across the couch lengthwise against the back. 
>Soon enough Coco comes wandering in.
>You beckon her  to come to  you and she puts her front hooves up on the sofa looking at you.
>You don't give her any warning before you scoop her up and deposit her next to you.
>Your *little* little spoon.
>An arm in between her forelegs, gently holding her laying on her side with her back pressed to your stomach.
>Time to snuggle and watch a movie.
>You hit play and start watching.
>Little microbes eating each other.
>It's actually kind of interesting but the thing youre interested in the most is in your arm.
>You gently start rubbing her chest fluff.
>Her response is to squirm a tiny bit.
>You keep rubbing.
>She keeps squirming.
>You stop after a good 15 seconds or so and move your hand down to her belly,
>You read this space is extra sensitive to them.
>You gentlly glide your fingertips over her stomach.
>She starts squrming now but lets out a groan of pleasure so you keep it up.
>Her leg even kicks sometimes.
>You maneuver your other arm around and gently take her ear in your finger and roll it between your fingers.
>Now shes really enjoying it.
>You keep her squirming like that a little while, little whines coming out of her as she kicks the air.
>You let her ear go and bring your arm to her chest fluff.
>You continue your assault on both fronts.
>She looks like she's trying her hardest not to roll around in ecstacy.
>It's like they were made to be pets.
>Finally you give the pony a reprieve from your assault and withdraw both hands.
>She's breathing a little rapidly.
"Coco, look how fast I learned how to touch you and make you feel good. It took no time at all. Kind of impressive huh?I wonder what other places you like being touched?"
>Didn't hurt you looked up all the best ways to touch ponies online.
>You roll the little pony up to face you and lay her on her back .
"You remember the rule about not lying. I won't be mad if you say no." You tell the little pony.
>She nods.
"And you don't even need to decide now. I just wanna know if you'd ever be open to it.
>You look down at her. 
"Do you think at any point in the future you could ever see yourself willingly being my bed slave? Not even a slave, really. I'd treat you like my mate. I don't want to force you to do it if you don't really want to. Would you ever consider it?"
>You can see Coco thinking but not very hard.
>Or at least if she is her face isn't showing it.
>The little pony looks at you and nods.
>"I would."
>You gently squeeze her to your chest.
"Oh, i got you something" You say, holding out the candy from the doctor's office.
"They're human candies. I thought youd like to try some."
>"Wow" the little pony says with amazement. "All for me? Thank you master"
"You're welcome" you say, running your hand through her mane.
>She eats one in silence as you watch the tv talk about some little bug living its life in bubbles underwater.
>She seems to be enjoying the candy.
>Gotta have positive reinforcement.
****************************************
>The following evening.
>You're drinking again, this time at an upperclass restaraunt in the better part of the city, and Victor has just arrived to take a seat opposite you, exchanging hellos.
>The waiter is quick to come to see him and Victor orders a long island iced tea.
"Thirsty there?" You smile at him.
>"I got a lot of work ahead of me to catch up to you" He says, grinning like he's so clever.
>"So did you call that broker I told you about?" Victor asks.
>You must have agreed to that at some conversation when he was droning on about finances.
"No I guess I havent yet" You say.
>"Well you missed a 4% increase in 11 days!" He says like he found mayan gold.
>Probably should figure out this investing shit though.
>That IS pretty decent.
>You wont learn it from him though, you couldn't stand being condescended through the entire process of learning stocks and all that shit.
>"So whats up?" he pointedly asks.
"Well, I saw my old psychiatrist again" you start.
>"Oh, this again" he rolls his eyes and slumps back into his chair.
>"For all we talk about your problems I should be your goddamn psychiatrist!"
"Look," you say, getting anoyed. "You gonna let me talk or not?" 
>The waiter delivers his drink and he nods his thanks.
>"Go ahead" Victor says in that dismissive way of his and starts drinking his cocktail.
>Drinking it almost comically fast like he needs the liquor to tolerate listening to you.
"So we basically came to the agreement and understanding that I just got Coco to own her..."
>He looks at you like you just told him the sky is blue.
>After deadpan staring you in the face a few moments he slowly moves his head back to the drink and retuns to sucking it up, like a response wasn't warranted at all.
"So, I'm gonna keep her," you continue, "and have fun with her I think." 
>"Okay." he leisurely drawls out, continuing his deadpan shit.
"Look damnit, I wanna know what you think"
>"What I think is you better be paying for my drinks and my meal for calling me out here to tell me you decided to use your sex toy as your sex toy."
>He talks like he's inconvenienced meeting  you at one of the nicer places in town.
"Well I wanted to know what you really think about the whole thing." you appeal to him.
>"If that's what you wanna do Anon, by all means do it."
"You're not gonna tell me it's wrong?" you ask.
>"Thats up to you," he replies idly.
>"You own her after all."
"Yeah but is it right or wrong?"
>"I don't know, man." he whines. "Do whatever you think is right."
"Think or feel?" you ask him.
>"Both. Whichever." he says dismissing the conversation.
>He doesnt know all the details about how you feel about things.
>He begins looking around for the waiter to order something as you're tipping back a glass of calvados.
>You swirl it around in your glass.
>The idle rich. All kinds of weird shit happens with them, you guess.
>*With us* you correct yourself as you think of the pony waiting at home.
>What strange games we play.




>It's been a long day, you’ve been drinking, and you're tired.
>You just wanna get home and lay down on the couch and relax.
>You're so focused on getting home you almost forgot there’s a pony waiting for you.
>Waiting just for you.
>While you have lots of things to do and places to go, Coco has only you.
>Just sitting there, waiting for you to come hom and mostly ignore her.
>Not anymore though.
>Not as much, at least.
>You step into your suite and lock the door behind you, hanging up your coat.
>A quick glance finds Coco, laying on the sofa again, this time watching netflix.
>You had showed her how to use the television earlier and then left her to her own devices.
>And so there she is, your pony watching tv.
>"Welcome home, Master!" she exclaims, with what sounds like a hint of genuine joy in it.
>Does she really like you? Was it that fast? That easy?
>Or is she playing some kind of game. Gain your trust? Gain your favor? What's her angle?
>Your thought are interrupted by Coco having run up to you and given you a hug.
>Is she really happy to see you, or is she endearing herself to you?
>You’re not certain either way, but you do know it feels nice.
>You hope it’s sincere.
>Feels good to come home to somebody waiting for you. It’s been a while.
>For the first time since... HER.... there's someone waiting for you at home.
>You return the hug and run a hand through her mane.
"Hey there” you smile gently.
>"Sooo..." she tentatively asks, "Do you have any plans for us today?" hopeful smile on her face.
>She must be bored lying around all day with nothing to do.
>Can't blame her.
>Too bad for her all she's going to be doing is more of that today.
"Why as a matter of fact, I do have plans"
>Coco looks at you intently, waiting for your answer.
"I was planning on laying around, doing absolutely nothing except maybe cuddle my cutie."
>Before she has time to process this you've scooped her up, and holding her tightly to your chest you allow yourself to fall backward onto the sofa cushions.
>She lets out a little squeak of surprise as you pull her down, but she's giggling.
>The sound of her laugh is pretty, you find yourself thinking.
>You're lying on the sofa on your back with Coco on top of your body.
>You wrap your arms around her for  a hug.
"Oh, my pretty little pony" you gently coo to her.
>Of course she smiles.
>Glancing at the TV you notice it's some movie you've never seen before. 
>You don't really care either.
>Hugging her again you roll to the side, spooning her.
>You care so little about the movie you don't even ask what it is.
>It's not so much that you want to cuddle with her.
>More like you were gonna relax anyway, and having something to snuggle with is nicer.
>Everybody likes affection.
>Let's give her some then.
>You run your hand up and down her barrel, careful not to go too low and give her any wrong signals.
>Your hands move from stroking her barrel, to her withers, to rubbing her ears.
>You'd like to find more places she likes being touched.
>You're caressing her face now and she lies next to you blissfully, eyes shut and movie forgotten.
>You lean in close, to speak into her ear.	
"You know, you can tell me what you like and what you dont like. It would make this easier more fun for both of us."
>She opens her eyes at that and seems lost in thought for a moment.
>"Well.. I've never really done any of this so I don't really know..." she admits, a blush forming on her cheeks.
"You've never been cuddled?" you say in incredulously.
>"Not since I was a little filly with my mom" she says wistfully and with a little bit of sadness.
"You never had a..." you try to think of the term. 
"You never had a special somepony?"
>From your position as the big spoon you can see her close her eyes before sadly shaking her head.
>Poor little thing. Pitiable.
>"Guess I probably never will." she says sadly.
>You've been careful to analyze her words and actions, and it doesn't seem she was fishing for sympathy with that statement, just self pity, so you choose to remain silent, still petting her, your hand gently moving across her cheek.
>Theres a silence in the air, a tenderness you can just barely perceive, entirely emanating from her.
>This fragile, small little thing, telling you something like that.
>If she wasnt already helpless and at your mercy, she just trusted you enough to roll over and expose a weak point.
>You can’t hurt her. You can’t. 
>So you take the opportunity to lean closer and plant a small, gentle kiss on her cheek, near  the jawline, a place you hope is sensitive for ponies.
>It must be, because she smiles wide at that.
"Can't think of any places for me to touch? Cause we can just find out what feels good the old fashioned way." you playfully smack her on the rump.
>She giggles but this time you can hear a little nervousness in it.
>"Well..." she rubs one of her forehooves idly on the cushion, still uncomfortable to tell you her secrets.
>You stroke her cheek with one finger, as if beckoning her to tell you.
>"Well, my hooves were always sensitive... When I was a filly the doctors said the skin outside my frogs wasnt as thick as it's supposed to be. I had to wear horseshoes through most of school and everypony made fun of me.” she turns her ears downward remembering the memory.
>”Eventually, they got hard enough that I didn’t need the horse shoes anymore, but they’re still sensitive for a pony. Most of the time I feel something because I stepped on a sharp rock.”
“Okay...” you say, your request for her to continue contained entirely within that one word.
>Sooo... They’re sensitive, but I always felt like if I could rub them the right way..."
>She looks at you bashfully. She knows she doesnt have to finish the sentence.
>She tentatively reaches out a hoof and gently touches your fingers with it, while giving you a hopeful smile.
>You hold her hoof for a moment in your hand before snatching her and repositioning her on the couch so you can reach her hooves.
>Before you start to work on them however, you take a little more time to stroke her cheek and behind her ear.
>Normally you don't care much for affection. It occurs to you, you could just as easily hurt her right now as kiss and hold her.
>But you don't want to hurt her. 
>Some part of you finds some kind of intangible pleasure from  seeing her happy, and knowing you're the reason.
>This must be what "normal people" feel.
>Is it because you genuinely care for her, or because you’re a narcissist and just want to show her how amazing you are?
>It must be the former.
>You want it to be.
>Anyway it must be, since you want to memorize the sound of her laughter, the look on her face as she smiles. You wouldn’t care about that if you were just trying to prove yourself.
>Where did all this come from, anyway? You ask yourself.
>Natalie was the last person you wanted to know like that, and it's been a while.
>To “know someone” is an ancient idiom for having sex with them. “Knowing” what they are like secretly.
>Although perhaps you would like to know Coco like that, to hear the look on her face, the sounds she makes as you give her an orgasm, right now you want to see her laugh.
>That’s what you want to know, the sound of her laugh.
>You press both your thumbs down firmly into the frog of her hoof and begin awkwardly rubbing it deeply.
>She instantly gasps and with her eyes shut tight, you can see she's in some strange place between pleasure and discomfort.	
>She bites her lip and groans lightly as you work over her hoof with your thumbs, using her reactions to gauge how you should continue.
>Soon enough you pick up her other hoof and begin again, this time with a better idea of where to start.
>This time plunging your thumbs directly into what you think is the most sensitive area of her frog, instead of closed, Coco's eyes shoot open as she moans from the intensity of your thumbs rubbing such a sensitive area.
>As you rub her hooves one by one, you  look down on your little pony, wrapped in a blanket of bliss, and wonder why.
>Why all of this?
>Normally you don't get  very much out of affection, so you don't do it much.
>And you certainly wouldn't do it for a slave.
>Yet here you are, again, pleasuring this little creature just to see her happy.
>This time isn't like when you were brushing her mane. This time youre consciously doing it, this time you mean it.
>When you came to accept that the best choice for both of you was to keep her for yourself, you decided to fully commit to your decision.
>But in truth its more like letting go.
>Deep down you know some part of you wants affection, wants to show it.
>Some forgotten part you tried to bury. You wan’t some kind of bond with another person, even a pony, even if it’s shallow as you.
>You're keeping her for yourself and you're going to enjoy your property.
>That bastard Reid was right. You hated that about him. 
>YOU’RE the one who’s always right, yet every time you meet with him he ends up making you wrong, or himself righter than you.
>That really grated on you about the guy, but when even you had a problem you couldn’t solve, the only man in the world who’s right about things more often than you is the one you gotta turn to.
>Anyway, you are going to own her, and you’re going to own that fact.
>*Yes, I own a slave. Yes, I know it’s wrong. No, I dont care what you think*  you prepare all the thoughts and responses in your head.
>You’re going to own her and you’re not gonna keep it a secret, and youre gonna give her a chance to have a relationship with you that’s more than pet or test subject.
>A fair, honest shot for her.
>To worm her way into her heart. To make you adore her. 
>Can she? Can anyone?
>You like women, but you’re okay with the idea of a romantic relationship with a pony if it could work.
>Could it?
>Could any healthy kind of relationship spawn from this kind of power dynamic?
>If she's going to be yours, truly yours, you want her to admire you for all your amazing qualities. 
>She should adore you and look at you almost like a god.
>And to do that, well, one has to be a good god.
>Nobody likes the ones that throw lightning bolts at you, after all.
>Little ponies look better smiling, than afraid.
>You had zoned out while thinking, staring at the wall as you rub her frogs, she herself lost in her own inner world of pleasure courtesy of Anon's magic fingers.
>You realize Coco is special.
>Why?
>Because she's yours. That alone should be enough reason, simply because you declare it.
>But, she is special because since she is yours. You can feel free to give your love to her, without having to fear getting your heart broken.
>You don't have to play any mind games, and if you do, they'll be your games, not hers.
>You won't have to posture and flex around other men to keep them away.
>Dont need to worry about her cheating on you.
>Or leaving you.
>Don't need to worry about anything.
>Just your happy little lady at home, all yours. 
>This could be your chance, to be free from all that.
>Free to love someone else without having to hold back even a tiny part of yourself in fear she'll leave.
>Free to feel again?
>Can you, even?
>Will she be set free by love as well, or will your metaphorical freedom come at the cost of her literal freedom?
>Thoughts for another time.
>You're deriving just the smallest amount of pleasure from this, massaging your little Coco, 
your enjoyment stemming almost entirely from seeing the pleasure you’re giving her.
>She’s beautiful like this, her eyes closed and a serene bliss on her face.
>Is that your own narcissism, that you're so awesome you've got her moaning at just your touch?
>Or are you actually starting to feel something for this little mare?
>Admist your musing a thought appears, and you slowly wind down your massaging of her final hoof.
"Coco, you said you never had a special somepony. Are you a virgin?" 
>An important question, of course, and completely out of left field.
>She looks kind of surprised for a moment, and then insulted.
>"Of course I am! I'm not like that!" She replies, hurt and offended and becoming brave enough to let it show.
>You're a bit confused.
"I'm sorry if that upset you, I don't know why it would..." you trail off, waiting for an explanation.
>"Well.. Self respecting mares don’t do that kind of thing except with somepony they care about..." she says, meeting your eyes.
" I didn't realize that." You say as your nod just once toward her, a wordless apology.
>"You.. uhm. You don't have a special some-human, do you?" she asks nervously, but with what you hope is a glimmer of hope in her eye.
"No, not anymore" You tell her.
>"May I ask why?" she gently prods, tapping her front hooves together nervously, knowing she may be well close to crossing an invisible boundary.
"I had her, and now shes gone,  and won’t be coming back. That's all I care to say on the matter.” You say sternly, putting this line of conversation to bed.
>You don’t wanna talk about it. Not with her. Not now.
>”Okay.”  a tiny voice in front of you says, a little sadness in that cute nasally little voice.
>It gets awkwardly quiet in the room so you decide to break the silence.
“So, no, I dont have a special somepony either” you tell her, as she lifts her gaze to meet your eyes.
“I read a bit about your culture, you know. We have a holiday quite similar to your hearts and hooves day, you know. Valentine’s day, they call it. It’s nearly identical to hearts and hooves day in a lot of ways, except the dates are different, and the story about how it originated is different.”
>She’s looking at you now, ears perks up in clear interest, fully focused on you.
>”So... what is the origin of this human holiday?” she asks, still hopeful.
“A perfect storm of consumerism,retarded beliefs, and petty sentimentality” is what you want to say.
>But you dont.
>If she’s anything like a woman at all she wont like to hear that.
>Better be more tactful here, especially considering you dont actually know the origin of Saint Valentine’s day. You think he might have driven snakes out of ireland or something but that doesnt make any fucking sense. Better come up with something.
“To be honest Coco, I’m not actually sure of all the details of it’s origin. That’s not what matters anyway. What matters is taking a day to spend with the person.. or pony.. That you care about.”
>She seems satisfied by this.
>You give her a little kiss on the forehead and ruffle her mane.
>Maybe you should get the remote and see whats..... wait a minute.
>You fish your phone out of your pocket and look at the date.
>A smile flashes across your face.
>You’ve got money, but you don’t have love. You’re not happy, as evidenced by the state your liver probably is in.
>You wanna be happy. You’re not sure if you ever can be, but you want to try.
>You wanna be in love, or at least feel something.
>You double check the date on your phone just to make sure you’re not imagining it. 
>The timing is too perfect.
“Coco, would you like to be my special somepony tomorrow?”

*****************************
>So here you are, on a date with your pet/slave for Valentine's day.
>On the one hand that's pretty sad.
>On the other hand it's still sad.
>She's happy, though.
>And it's better than drinking alone again.
>It's surprisingly difficult taking a pony out on a date.
>To start you didn't have reservations anywhere and the day before Valentine's day it's not particularly easy to get them.
>That doesn't even matter though, most restaurants don't allow "pets" and you probably wouldn't want to eat at one that did anyway.
>Not to mention human/pony relationships aren't exactly well accepted by most people.
>Sure there are some communities built around them, but they are small and on the fringe.
>Hell, it was only like 50 years ago that it was still illegal to marry someone a different race, much less species.
>You can imagine some people having an issue with what you do with your own life.
>Lots of people in fact seem to want to tell each other how to live.
>You never liked that, but what you're doing could invite provoke violence from some of the more ignorant among us.
>So you're carrying today. 
>You didn't tell Coco. She's probably had some bad experiences with guns in the past.
>She doesn't need to know anyway.
>You're walking through a parking lot to a shop, your first stop of the day.
>She didn't believe you were serious at first when you asked her out.
>First she thought you were messing with her.
>Then she felt she wasn't good enough.
>But really, who IS  good enough for you?
>Then there was her being afraid of other humans.
>And a bunch of other little things she fretted about.
>But after some talking you persuaded her to come with you.
>You could have just ordered her to but that's not how this game works.
>You can buy a pony's body but not their heart.
>You're not entirely sure why you want it, actually.
>But you do.
>And you're not gonna let that bastard Reid analyze it and spoil it so you won't be telling him about it any time soon.
>Or Victor, for that matter.
>You glance down at your little pony, leash in hand.
>She catches you looking and gives you a wide smile.
>God she is cute, and this is the happiest you've seen her so far.
>Part of you hopes someone fucks with her so you'll have an excuse to kill them.
>But you don't really want that to happen.
>Partly because you dont want to upset Coco.
>But mainly because you can't kill someone just for damaging your property.
"If only we lived in a more englightened era..." you sigh to yourself.
>The pony's ears perk up as you say it but she doesn't question it.
>You're here anyway.
"Look, Coco. This is our stop."
>"Michael's crafts" she slowly read out loud, not entirely sure what to make of it.
>She looks at you questioningly.
"Cmon, let's go."
>You haul her in and grab a cart and make straight for the fabric aisle.
>When she sees it her eyes light up.
>"Are you... I mean.. Can I... Is this..?" she stammers.
>Undeniably adorable.
"Yes, Coco. I remember your special talent was making clothes, right?  Take anything you want. Whatever you like."
>"But, I..." she's still disbelieving.
"Because I want you to have it," you cut her off. 
"Besides, I've got lots of money. I could buy this whole store and everything in it if I wanted to. It's nothing."
>She turns back and looks at the aisle filled with hundreds of bolts of fabric, a look of awe on her face.
>After a moment she breaks out of her trance and practically jumps on you with a hug.
>"Thank you thank you thank you!" she cries out, tears of joy forming in the corner of her eyes.
>You feel her hooves pulling on you, like she's trying to climb up you, so you lift her a little bit as you hug her and sure enough she's trying to reach your face.
>Once she's there the thank you's continue along with little kisses interspersed.
>She's too afraid to kiss you on the mouth.
>At least you hope it's fear, and not disgust.
>Regardless here you are on Valentine's day, with a pony slave, in public, having a display of affection.
>This better end quick you decide.
"Okay, okay, youre welcome." you say, gently setting her down.
"Go on and pick out whatever you want"
>As she turns back to the fabrics you take a quick glance around to make sure the aisles empty.
>Sorry gun, maybe later you'll get to come out and say hi to somebody.
>You look back at Coco and you can see her examining a bolt of fabric.
>She looks back at you.
>"Are you sure, master?"
>You just nod, closing your eyes and smiling as you do so to emphasize your answer.
>She looks like she wants to jump on you again but after a moment turns back to the fabric.
>"Can I get some of this?"
>You just laugh at how hard it is for her to believe she's getting a present.
>Normally youre turned off by weakness but her helplessness and timidity you find quite endearing about her.
"As much as you like" You tell her.
>She reminds you of a bulb you'd hang on a christmas tree.
>Fragile and beautiful and there to make life prettier.
>With nothing better to do you just stand there and watch her, occasionally grabbing bolts of fabric too high for her to reach.
>It's not like you can really help anyway beyond that, you don't know shit about frabrics or clothing.
>She's humming quietly to herself as she compares one color of red to another.
>Eventually she chooses one and puts the fabric in the cart.
"Get one of every color, and a few extras."
>Her eyes go wide again. 
>"R-really?" she asks increduously.
"Yes!" you reply, a little impatient now.
"I told you, I could buy this whole store. Get everything you want and need, I think it would be nice if you had a hobby to keep yourself busy."
>She looks downward at that and her ears turn down a little bit.
>Shit.  She's sad.
>What did you say wrong?
>You rack your brain as fast as you can before it clicks.
"Oh, I didn't mean like a hobby. I know that's special to you. I meant, I thought maybe it would make you happy if you could go back to doing what you're best at. I'd like to see you make your art."
>Okay, calling it art is definitely stretching it but it seems to have worked, she's smiling and going through the fabrics again.
"We're also gonna need some sewing supplies, I don't really know about that stuff so you're gonna have to pick it out.. Oh, and some pencils and pads for drawing on, of course. Measuring tape I guess... Anything else?"
>She puts her hoof to her jaw and thinks for a moment.
>"A mannequin would be nice.." she says, the inflection in her voice exposing that she's still not entirely sure she'll get it.
>Normally you don't like repeating yourself or being asked the same question over and over but she's just too damn cute.
"I'm not sure they have pony mannequins here. We may need to special order it."
>"Oh, okay" she says, a little sadness in her voice, her ears lowers a little again.
"Don't worry though, I'll get it."
>She looks at you and looks... sad?
"What's wrong?" you gently probe.
>"Nothing.." she shakes her head, her eyes seeking out yours.
>"Thank you" she says, again sadness in her voice.
>You don't understand why she's sad but decide not to press it.
>Soon enough she's stuffing more bolts of fabric in the cart, then a sewing machine and various threads and needles.
>You're about the leave the aisle before you speak up.
>You had been considering whether to touch on a particular subject or not, and times up. Now or never.
"So.. I was thinking. Did you get the right things to replace your collar? I remember it was important to you."
>She nods vigorously, with a smile. "I did!"
>Again she makes you smile.
>You've smiled more in the last week since you've had her, than you have the entire 4 years prior. 
>Thank you for that, Coco.
"And the hairclip? The flower? They have silk flowers here. Maybe they have the right kind."
>Her ears instantly turn down. Shit. 
>"I, uhm. Well... It just wont be the same...." she trails off. 
>She went from happy to distraut in one sentence.
>Nice going, idiot.
>You quickly bend down and hug her.
>You don't know what to say so you just start talking.
"It's gonna be okay. I promise. Everything's gonna get better sweety, and I'm here. If you ever change your mind, we'll come right back and get it. But I understand. You're pretty enough you don't need anything like that anyway."
>The unplanned mishmash of compliments and reassurances seems to have worked.
>She doesn't look as sad anymore but not as happy as she was.
>You stand back up.
"All done with the fabrics and stuff? We still need to get a drawing pad and anything else..." 
>Another 15 minutes and you're walking out the store with several hundred dollars worth of crap.
>The cost really isn't anything to you, but you know you wouldn't have spent this much on a woman.
>You're not cheap, you just know they only want your money.
>You load it in the trunk and you and your pony hop back in the car.
>"Where next?" she asks expectantly, head cocked to the side.
"Now, we're going to the store to pick out some stuff to make a picnic... Unless you'd like to just grab some hamburgers instead." 
>Her snout scrunches at the thought.
>"A picnic would be just fine" she says, unamused.
>This is good, her expressing herself like this. 
>You won't tolerate outright disrespect, but the more you let her express herself the more comfortable she'll be with you. So far she hasnt been punished for anything she's said, or anything in fact, except using the computer without permission.
>And that was just a slap on the metaphorical wrist.
>Or is it fetlock?
>Anyway, a few minutes later you're inside a grocery store, fruits and vegetables and of course berries in your cart.
>You're not particularly fond of the vegetarian shit but you can tolerate it.
>After lunch is picked out you head over to the holiday aisle and look at the candy with her.
>"Master, what are all those red hearts?" she asks you.
"Those are full of chocolates. Humans give them to each other as gifts for this holiday." you explain.
>Considering you don't know anything about these candies, you opt for the safest bet - you pick the one with the highest price tag.
"And this one is for you" you say smiling, putting it in the cart.
>She smiles for a moment but then looks sad.
>"I can't buy you one.." She says, earns turning down. "You've already given me so much and I can't get you anything."
>She looks genuinely sad and ashamed.
>So again, you reach down and lift the little pony into a hug.
>You weren't expecting to have to comfort her this many times today.
"I dont care about that." you say, giving her a little kiss.
>"But still..." she whines.
"Alright" you say, looking into her eyes. "How about this. Pick one out for me, and I'll buy it for myself."
>"But-" she starts to argue, before you interrupt.
"But nothing. I told you money's nothing to me. I wasn't going to get any candy for myself anyway, so really, this is from you. I'll only have it because you wanted me to."
>This seems to satisfy her you give her a little kiss on the cheek.
>"Thank you, master." she says before you set her down.
>She deliberates over which chocolates to pick, knowing less about them than you do.
>She looks to you questioningly.
>"Which one-" 
"Nope." you interrupt. "You have to pick for me."
>She scrunches her muzzle up again before turning back to the candy. 
>Eventually she has it narrowed down to the biggest box of candy, verses the most ornate and highest quality box.
>You're getting impatient when she finally settles on the smaller box.
>Quality over quantity. Good girl.
>One more stop before you check out.
>You lead her over to the floral section.
"We also give each other flowers." You explain. "Normally roses, but I'll let you pick since you're probably gonna eat them..."
>Before she can misinterpret that and get sad you decide to nip it in the bud.
>Pun intended.
"The point of the flowers is for the recipient to enjoy them. If there's a kind of flower that tastes good to you, then I want to buy it." you flatly tell her.
>She smiles and nods before turning to the refridgerated case and pointing at a bouquet out of reach.
>"I really like carnations..." she says bashfully, a hint of red on her cheeks.
"Okay" you respond, reaching for the flowers she point at.
"These ones?" you say, holding them out to her.
>She nods and smiles. 
>Just then you catch an old man and woman glaring at you from behind Coco. Real dirty looks.
>You're not going to ruin this, you miserable old fucks.
>You stand up straight, looking at them, glancing between them to look them both in the eye.
"That's right, they're for her. She's my date." you say, with perhaps a bit too much aggression in your voice.
>They're intimidated and slink off.
>Fuck them.
>Those are the kind of people who call the cops on kids shooting fireworks on the 4th of July.
>You glance down at Coco to see her ears pinned down against her head again.
"Hey, forget them." you say, kneeling down to her level, and lifting her chin so her eyes meet yours.
"Today is just you and me." 
>It takes a moment but that smile comes back.
>And it stays on her cute little face, all the way through checkout and the parking lot, swishing her tail happily the whole way back to the car.
>Time for the real "date" you think to yourself, as you head toward the beach.
>Wait, this isnt a joke, this is actually a real date. 
>With a pony.
>You're on a romantic date with a pony.
>That you also own.
>You were aware of this fact before of course, but it really junk sank in.
>You feel embarrassed and a little pathetic. You wouldn't want your friends to know, if you had any.
>You know, like that joke about fat girls and mopeds...
>You glance over to Coco, her eyes shut and her face locked in an expression of bliss, as she gently bobs her head along to the radio.
>Okay, you don't feel so bad about it now. 
>Even though shes a pony most women can't compare to her.
>And you don't really care what most people think.
>So whats the problem?
>Oh yeah, you own her.
>But she went with you by her own choice, and she's happy.
>So its okay.
>Right?
>*Right, Anon* you tell yourself.
>That settles it then, this is totally normal and appropriate.
>You're headed to the beach for your picnic.
>The beach on lake michigan is surprisingly nice if you know where to go.
>Since its february not many people will be there, but more than usual since it's Valentine's day.
>Fortunately you have paid access to a private section of beach that's particularly pretty, and as you pull up to the security gate and punch in the PIN, you look past the gate to see nobody there, and you feel thankful for the impulse buy that got you it.
>So here you are, spending Valentine's day with a pony.
>This isn't exactly how you expected things to play out in your life, but it could be worse, all things considered.
>In fact, this is pretty good, you think to youself, as you open up the box of chocolates Coco picked out for you.
>She watches your expression carefully as you pop one in your mouth.
>It's good.
"You picked well Coco. Thank you." you say, offering up another smile.
>She returns your smile and opens her box up, tentatively picking one out. Before she can put it in her mouth you to speak up.
"Be careful. In every box of candy they put one horrible piece in. I guess part of the fun is trying to figure out which one is the nasty one."
>She looks at you increduously before turning her attention back to the candy in her hoof.
>After a bit of deliberation she shrugs and takes a tentative bite.
>"Its good!" she exclaims, finishing it, and then quickly going for another.
>Soon enough she'll find the terrible one and realize love is a lie.
>Then again for such an expensive box there might actually not be a disgusting one in there.
>You shrug and pop another into your own mouth.
>You bite down and taste coconut.
>God damnit.
>A while passes in silence as the two of you sit there, eating your treats, watching the ocean, and stealing glances at each other.
>Like schoolkids.
>Why are you so smitten with her?
>You smile and shake your head at the thought as a particularly large wave slams against the rocks and you get sprayed by ocean mist.
>You turn your attention back to Coco and notice she's shivering, but trying to hide it, too bashful to tell you she's uncomfortable.
>You're about to take your jacket off to wrap around her when you remember the gun in your waistband. Don't want her seeing that.
>Well, you can wrap this date up now, or....
>You look down at the blanket you're sitting on.
>And then at your pants. Part of a bespoke suit that cost 1100 dollars.
>Then back to the blanket, then to your shivering pony, then back to your pants, and then to your waist, where the gun is hidden.
>.....
>So here you are, its Valentine's day, you're on a date with a pony, and oh yeah, youre sitting in the sand in a thousand dollar suit because your only blanket is wrapped around you and said pony.
>You're holding her close on your side, her hooves wrapped around you in turn, as you silently watch the ocean together.
>You think about how youre gonna have to get all the sand out of the upholstery in your car and you grimace, before remembering you can just pay someone to do that for you.
>You move your hand up to gently stroke the back of her mane. 
>After a moment you watch as her eyes close and she leans into your hand, silently urging you for more, blissful smile on her face.
>It's not long before you're rubbing her ears again, then her withers.
>You give her a little kiss now and then and every time you see it makes her smile.
>After a while you relent and simply rest your hand on her withers, looking back to the ocean.
>You feel her lean away from you and turn to look at her.
>Shes staring you in the eyes with a look you can't qui-
>She kisses you. On the mouth.
>It's warm and her fur tickles, and its lovely and heartfelt, the most meaningful kiss you've ever had, and it ends way, way too soon, her pulling back at the realization she may have crossed a line.
>You look at each other in stunned silence for a moment.
>She's about to start apologizing when you cut her off by leaning in and kissing her back.
>This time a real kiss.
>No tongue, but there was affection there. A tender, gentle kiss that says more than an aggressive shove-my-tongue-down-your-throat kiss does.
>After a short time you break it off, ending the moment.
>She pulls back again and you look each other in the eyes for what feels like forever, yet not nearly long enough.
>She works up the courage to give you one more little peck on the lips and then wraps her hooves back around you and leans her head into your chest.
>And so that was how you spent your first Valentine's day date since Natalie.
>Sitting on the beach in your nicest suit,a pony wrapped around you and a blanket on top of that, eating chocolate and cucumbers and getting sand everywhere.
>It was the best Valentine's day ever. 
************************************************

>You awaken to sunlight shining on your face as you yet again forgot to draw the curtains.
>Usually you hate that but today, you don't mind.
>You had a great time yesterday and you're still riding that high.
>After your time on the beach you took Coco home and ordered an adjustable pony mannequin for her, then helped set up the sewing machine before going to bed.
>In fact, if youre not mistaken, that's the sound of the sewing machine coming from her room right now.
>Up and working so early.
>You glance at the clock. 
>It reads 10:22
>Okay, sorta early.
>Poor thing must have been so bored these last few days.
>Hopefully you fixed that.
>That makes you feel kind of nice.
>You stretch and yawn before settling back comfortably on your mattress to listen to the clacking and humming of the machine while pondering your pony.
>You like her. You like her a lot. 
>You had a wonderful time yesterday.
>You're still kind of shocked she had the courage to actually kiss you, but you're glad she did.
>You learned a lot from that kiss.
>It must have taken an incredible amount of courage for her to do i t.
>Not just the fear of rejection, but the power dynamic.
>You could imagine some owners showing cruelty to their ponies for daring to make a move on them.
>Granted, those owners probably wouldn't be taking their alien slave on a romantic date either, but still.
>It was the most special kiss you'd ever been given.
>It wasn't the best kiss you've ever had, but the meaning behind it, the message it sent.
>That mattered.
>She's growing to trust you. 
>To care for you.
>And you for her.
>You think.
>The sewing machine is still rattling away, as you get up and take a shower, brush your teeth, style your hair, the whole routine.
>You're looking forward to seeing your little pony.
>You exit the bedroom headed for the kitchen and stop at Coco's door.
>You havent locked her in the last few nights, and today she left her door  partially open.
>You peer in the room to spot her toiling away at  a sewing machine.
>Don't know what you expected to see, really.
>Instead of interrupting her you make your way to the kitchen and pour a glass of orange juice.
>After a few minutes of sitting around drinking juice you hear the sewing machine stop, and the familiar clip-clop of hooves on hardwood approaching you.
>”Good morning, Master!” Coco happily chirps.
“Good morning, Coco.” you reply,  sipping the orange juice. “Did you sleep well?”
>”No actually... I was up all night” she admits. “I made you something.”
>Your eyebrows raise at this as you turn to face her.
>There it is in her hoof clenched to her barrel, a little black something, you take a few steps toward her and reach for it.
>Youre not sure what it is until you take it from her and unfold it.
“A scarf?”
>She bats the ground with her hoof a couple times.
>”I didn't know what else to make for you that you might wear..” she smiles nervously.
>“I thought  this might go well with some of your suits, especially since it's winter...”
>You look at the scarf closely.
>Solid black with deep crimson trim.  Fabric looks like satin. It feels great to the touch and you can tell it has multiple layers to provide better insulation.
>The stitching is so well done on a glance you can't even find it. 
>This is actually really high quality stuff, even if it is just a scarf.
>Guess that costume designer stuff was true.
>”S-so whaddya think? 	Do you like it?” she asks, eager smile on her face.
>Your eyes flick from the scarf to Coco and back as you continue examining it.
>She's nervously, eagerly waiting your response.
>You're not really a scarf wearing kinda guy, but....
“I love it” you tell her.
>A minor exaggeration.
>You could see yourself wearing it, though, despite scarves not being your thing.
>”Oh, I'm so glad!” she proclaims with joy. “I really wanted you to like it!”
>You give her a warm smile to further validate her before looking at the scarf in your hands again.
>The fabric feels very nice between your fingers and you can tell it will keep you warm if you need it.
>You feel a strange rough spot at the very end and turn it over to look at it.
>It's a little purple hat embroidered on, with white piping and a red feather in it, just about the size of your thumb, in the corner of the scarf.
>It's her cutie mark.  
>Maybe this is like  a signature for them, like an artist signing a painting?
>You look back up to her from the scarf, shes still watching you in eager expectation.
“This is your cutie mark. Is this like proof that it was made by you personally?”
>”Mmm-hmm” she nods. “But it's a lot more than that.”
>You soak in her bashful smile as you wait for her to continue.
>”For ponies, on hearts and hooves day, we give each other presents like you humans do.. The most special gifts are ones you make for the pony you lo-.. like a lot. And when it's something you're proud of, and it's for somepony you really care about, you can put your cutie mark on it.”
>You glance back down at the little purple hat on your scarf as she continues.
>”Putting your cutie mark on something is more than just signing it, when it's a present for somepony...” she continues, seeming to get more self-conscious every second.
>”Your cutie mark is who you are. It's me. And putting your cutie mark on a present for somepony, when you give it to them, it's like you're giving them a little part of yourself. Nopony ever had, or ever will have a cutie mark exactly like mine... It represents... well, me..." she chuckles nervously.
>Wow. You're stunned into silence for the second time by this little creature.
>”I wanted to give you something special. To show you that.. Well.." She seems lost for words. 
>"I never put my cutie mark on anything before.”
>You were not ready for these kinds of feels this early.
>Like an explosion inside you, all these emotions you work to force down threaten to spring up in full force.
>All the pain, the happiness, the everything you've been suppressing, it's right under the surface and she's digging it seems.
>You've been dead inside for a long time, and she's waking you up, and you're not sure if you like  that or not.
>But you're sure you like her.
>She's going to dig those feelings up and you don't know how it's going to play out.
>But you're going to let her.
>You lift your head from the scarf to look back at Coco.
>She's still watching you expectantly, hoping for appreciation...validation... love. 
>Everything everybody else wants.
>*She deserves those things* that little voice in your head tells you.
>For once you agree.
>And so a moment later you find yourself on your knees in front of her, arms wrapped around her in a firm hug.
“Thank you” you whisper in her ear, before giving her a little kiss on the cheek and then drawing back to look her in the eyes.
“It's wonderful. I can tell you really put a lot of love into it.” you watch her smile grow with every word you speak.
“And the stuff about your cutie mark.. That.. means more to me than you know” you tell her, running your thumb along the embroidery. 
“Nobody ever made me anything before...”
>Her smile is so wide she's practically beaming. 
>You lose your grip on her as she trots in place in excitement and glee before she composes herself.
>Not really knowing what else to do, but feeling like you haven't properly expressed your gratitude, you grab her again and pull her in for a kiss,as she wraps her forelegs around your neck.
“Thank you” you repeat, before leaning in for another small kiss.
>She breaks the kiss this time but doesnt pull away. In fact she doesn't let go of you.
>Instead you find yourselves holding each other, forehead to forehead, breathing the same air tother.
>Like sharing breath, if that makes more sense.
>It's a unique and strangely intimate experience, her eyes are closed as the pair of you alternate your breaths, as if you're trying to breathe in each other's very essence.
>It's an experience you would like to explore more, but things are moving way too fast.
>You reluctantly let go and stand up.
”I love it” you say as one last expression of your appreciation, before walking over and placing  it on the coat rack.
“Would you care to have breakfast with me?”  you ask.
>She just nods, a dopey grin plastered on her face.
“Let me guess. Berries?” you say. “I was going to make myself some waffles though, if you'd like some instead."
>She perks up a little at that.
>”Waffles sounds great!” she says, suddenly aware of the fact she's been awake all night and hasn't eaten.
>And so instead of 2 frozen waffles you put 4 in the toaster. As they cook a thought occurs to you.
>You grab a small handful of blueberries from their carton and a couple strawberries you cut into little pieces, and sprinkle them around her waffles before dousing them in  syrup and serving them to her along with a glass of milk for each of you.
>It's not exactly a culinary work of art but you wouldn't be able to tell that by the way she wolfs it down. She's almost done with her whole plate by the time youve taken your third bite.
>”Isht gud” she mumbles, mouth full of food.
“Coco, swallow first.” you say,  booping her on the nose with your finger.
>She gulps it down.
>”I said it's really good, Master. Thank you.” the little cream colored pony says.
“I'm glad.” you smile and turn back to your food. 
>By the time you've  finished your first waffle she's done.
>She doesn't look completely satisfied either. You recall from prior experience how this little pony can pack down food.
>So, you cut your untouched waffle in half and deposit the smaller piece onto her plate.
>She looks surprised but grateful.
>"Thank you, Master."
>For your part you just give her a gentle nod, a silent “you're welcome” before she turns back to her plate and devours part of your breakfast too.
>Soon enough you're both done, sitting at the table, a silence that's not awkward this time, just nothing to say.
“You must be pretty tired if you didn't sleep at all last night. Why dont you come relax on the couch with me and watch some TV?”
>”I'll fall asleep if I do that...” she says
“So?” you ask.
>”So, I wont be able to finish what I was working on right now if I do that.”
“So?” you repeat.
>She just looks at you, not having a response. You can see in her eyes she's tired.
>Your little Coco needs to rest.
>So you get up and deposit the dirty dishes in the sink before returning to the table and unceremoniously scooping Coco up off the chair.
“Pony is for cuddles” you tell her as you move over to the sofa and plop down onto your back, pulling her down on top of you.
>You don't really care to watch anything, you really just want to lay around and do nothing today.
>You reach for the remote on the coffee table and hand it to her.
“You can pick what we watch, I don't care” you tell her, running your fingertips through her soft coat.
>She flicks through the channels before settling for some cartoon she doesn't seem really interested in, as she lies her head down on your chest.
>You caress her withers and her face, and for her part she gently runs her hoof along your cheek a few times.
>Her hoof is a bit too hard and rough to really enjoy the touch, but the gesture itself is what's important, so you let her show affection in her way.
>Eventually you fully relax and move to idly brushing your fingers through her mane as the effects of a night without sleep weigh on her more and more.
>Her eyelids get lower and lower until you see sleep over overtake your pretty little pony.
>And so you lie sprawled out on the couch, the tv blabbering away to an audience of none, your pony pressed up tight against you.
>How did you end up here? You ask yourself, looking at the sleeping pony.
>Rhetorical question of corse, you know how things ended up like this, you made it happen.
>Still you feel lucky and strangely content with Coco.
>Maybe you chose the right pony after all, you muse .
>Unwilling to move and wake her, you stay in that position on the sofa knowing you're falling asleep too.
“Thank you, Coco” You gently whisper. 
>She doesn't stir.

***********************************
>A few hours later
>You've just woken up in your living room. You estimate it's mid-afternoon based on the position of the sun.
>You're lying on the couch and Coco is sleeping on top of you, drooling on you.
>Yuck.
"Wake up" you say, shaking her.
>"Wha-? I uh.. whats-" she stammers in her daze
"Get up Coco, you're slobbering all over me."
>"Ohh, I'm sorry" she groggily says as you help her off the couch.
>You don't bother responding as you head to your room to change shirts.
>After you get the shirt off you wet a towel and wipe your chest where she was drooling on you.
>THAT isn't very cute.
>You shake your head at the thought. 
>You splash some cold water on your face as well to help wake up, and after dabbing the dry part of the towel over your face a few times you pause to think,looking at yourself in the mirror.
"What am I doing?" you ask yourself.
>This is moving way too fast with Coco.
>It's not that surprising, all either of you really have is each other.
>And you're her "hero" that "saved her" from whatever vague threat she may have faced.
>Maybe end up in a brothel, maybe end up as some kid's pet.
>Sure, your actions ensured she didn't end up with that freak who obviously wanted to abuse her sexually.
>No, you saved her, so she could be delivered into the hands of a freak who wants to abuse her emotionally instead.
>You turn your gaze away from the mirror and shake your head.
>Well no, you don't want to ABUSE her.
>But this isn't right, what you're doing, you're intentionally manipulating her into loving you.
>Are you, though? Most of the time people fall in love with someone else it's a two way thing. You're not FORCING her...
>You can't trick someone into falling in love with you, but you can.. help them along a bit, it seems.
>Is that a bad thing, though?
>It's not like you're doing it to hurt her.
>No, you just want to see if you can do it.
>You shake your head again in disappointment with yourself.
"You're a monster." you tell your reflection.
>You dab at a few wet spots you missed before throwing the towel into the hamper, and look closely at the man in the mirror.
"What are you doing?" you ask him.
>He doesn't respond.
>Are you a monster? 
>Still nothing.
"I like her" you justify to yourself. "I want to see her happy, I want to love her."
>But can you?
>How deep are your emotions?
>You were never particularly emotional, and after Nat ended things with you, you became even less so.
>"Antisocial personality disorder"
>To your understanding it's a spectrum.  On the extreme end are true psychopaths who feel nothing,rapists and murderers, and on the opposite end are what most people refer to as pussies. 
>Most people are somewhere in the middle, close to pussies.
>You're apparently closer to psychopaths, but even Reid can't tell you exactly how bad it is despite your having been totally honest with him, since your emotions fluctuate. Sometimes they're overwhelming, but most of the time they just aren't there.
>He said its likely a coping mechanism from Natalie ending your engagement.
>And if you had to cope with the pain you felt from someone leaving you, then you didn't have full blown ASPD or you wouldn't have felt hurt to begin with.
>You're not even sure what you are or what you're capable of.
>Can you love her?
>THE question.
>Can you love anyone? Much less a pony?
>You stare at the man in the mirror. 
>He doesn't seem to have the answer either.
>Sighing your head you move to your closet and put on a new shirt.
>You need to get out of this building for a while.
>You need to get away from her.
>To think.
>Just a few hours ago you were all lovey-dovey with Coco and now you just want to be alone.
>Add mood swings to your list of mental issues.
>Grabbing your keys and wallet, you make for the coat rack.
>Coco's still out there on the couch, watching as you put on your coat.
>"Where are you going, Master?"
"I uh.. got a call. I gotta take care of some business. I'll be back later." you say.
>You're about to head out the door when you remember the scarf.
>You wrap it around your neck and tuck the ends into your jacket.
>A glance shows she's smiling.
"I'll see you in a few hours. Food is in the fridge." you tell her, and you're out the door.
>An hour later you find yourself at the bar as usual, in a booth, drinking alone, as usual.
>And thinking about Coco.
>The current main attraction, and the thing your life seems to be revolving around now.
>You tap your finger idly on the table in front of you while you think.
>So here's what we've got.
>You started this all. 100% you.
>You bought her under the pretense of learning how to better manipulate others.
>But you didn't need any practice in that, considering you bought her for yourself and subconsciously manipulated YOURSELF into getting her.
>You could set her free but you want to keep her.
>She's falling in love with you, just like you wanted.
>And you're having doubts about whether that's right or wrong.
>You know you feel something for her, you're very fond of her, and she IS adorable.
>But you're not in love with her.
>And you're not sure if you can love her.
>But you want to.
>The question is how this will play out.
>The waitress comes by and drops off the steak you ordered and another gin & tonic.
>Can't really eat a big hunk of meat at home anymore.
>You could, but, well, you know..
>Anyway, where were you?
>Want to love her, not sure you can. Right.
>And that's about where we're at right now.
>You cut into the steak and pop a piece in your mouth, savoring the taste.
>Pretty decent for bar food.
>As you continue eating one of your girlfriend's cousins you ponder on what course of action you should take here.
>What's good? What's right for you? What's right for her? What's best overall?
>It's not too late to set her free, but she'd only really be safe in one of the communities that have sprung up just for ponies and humans who are in romantic relationships to live in without discrimination.
>And you're sure as fuck not gonna live in one of those. She'd be alone there, until she found someone else,anyway.
>You feel a little spike of jealousy at the thought.
"No.." you grumble, taking another bite of the steak.
>What else?
>Keep her and let her down gently?
>After all that though? What a fucked up bag of mixed messages that would be. 
>"Oh sorry Coco, despite everything we've done lately I've decided we can't be together, but you still have to live with me..." right.
>You shake your head again.
>If you let her fall completely in love with you, and you can't feel it back, you're going to hurt her.
>You feel bad at the thought, but not as much as you probably should.
>You don't like hurting pretty things. But you don't know if you can avoid it this time.
>*What a lovely mess you've made* the little voice says, as you facepalm.
>You sigh and push the plate with the half eaten steak to the other side of the table.
>You're not really hungry anymore.
>So, why wouldn't you fall in love with her? You ask yourself.
>Is it because you're not capable, or not willing?
>Well, you loved Natalie. You were at least capable of it once.
>Are you stopping yourself because you don't want to get hurt again?
>She can't hurt you though. She can't leave..
>You frown. That's not a real relationship.
>That's... slavery.
>Eventually the waitress comes by and picks up your plate, and you order another gin and tonic.
>Let's say you do love her back. Then what?
>How will she react when she finds out you could have set her free any time?
>Where would you go? What would you do?
>Nobody's gonna accept your relationship. If you had a lawn there would be people burning crosses on it.
>You stare off into space tapping your finger on the table.
>*Let yourself love her* the voice says.
>Tap tap tap.
>*Let.yourself.love.her* it urges.
>It's not that easy.
>*Yes, it is.* 
>You sigh.
>So how do I do that? You ask the voice.
>*Stop worrying about what will happen, it will work out. Stop worrying about what you did wrong. She'll forgive you. Stop being afraid and let her in.*
>And if I get hurt?
>*Then you get hurt. You survived it once, you can survive it again.*
>*You're already hurt. Your life is shit. You drink yourself to sleep every night and your don't know if you even like the only friend you have.*
>Thanks, voice.
>Tap tap tap tap tap
>The waitress returns with a fresh drink.
"Thank you" you dismiss her.
>Okay voice, tell me this. How do I know I can even love her?
>*She's already making you feel again. Stop fighting it.*
>You suck down a good quarter of your drink in one go while considering this.
>It's got a point.
>Am I a bad person?
>*You are what you choose to be. It's not too late to change.*
>Your thoughts drift back to Coco.
>You like her. It's undeniable.
>You pick up your scarf, which is sitting on top of your jacket in the seat next to you.
>You find her cutie mark and gently run your thumb over it, feeling it.
>"I never put my cutie mark on anything before."........"It's like giving someone a part of yourself"
>Her words echo in your mind.
>She likes you too. A lot. 
>Another sip of your drink.
>You look back at the scarf in your hand.
>Nobody ever made you a present before.
>She's such a sweet little thing.
>You can't hurt her. You just can't.
>You stare at the embroidered design.
>"I never put my cutie mark on anything before."
>Sigh.
>You don't feel like you have any answers and this line of thinking has hit a wall.
>What do you do?
>You finish off your drink and signal the waitress.
>What are you gonna do?
>"Yes sir?" the waitress asks as she approaches the table.
>You know what you're gonna do.
"Another gin and tonic. Make it a double."
>You're gonna get drunk.
****************************************
>You are Coco Pommel.
>And right now you are putting the finishing touches on your new collar.
>Or rather, your new old collar.
>Just need to finish adding these clips to the inside and....
>There! Done.
>Just like your old one used to look. Purple with white trim and a red cravat.
>You already have a collar, but you don't like it. 
>It's an animal collar.
>The replacement for your real one you just finished has little clips on the inside to snap on to the slave collar, to cover that ugly thing up.
>So you don't always have to remember you're someponies property, even if it is Master Anon.
>You stand in front of the mirror and put it on, before examining yourself from every angle.
>It's perfect. You can't even see the collar underneath, and it looks just like your old one.
>You feel better.
>You felt strangely naked without it.
>All that's missing is your flower.
>You sigh.
>Master said he would get you a replacement, but it's just not the same. Your old hair clip was a gift from Miss Kindheart. 
>You can't replace something like that.
"But I could replace the collar" you say to your reflection in the mirror with a smile.
>You can still feel the slave collar underneath your new one, but at least you don't have to look at it.
>Unless Master takes your new one away.
>You can't imagine why he would do that, though.
>He might even let you stop wearing the slave collar in favor of your real one.
>A collar is a collar, right? You could attach a little metal ring on the back to hook to a leash...
>That would be less humiliating to wear in public than a dog collar, although you don't like clothing you designed being turned into a tool of your own oppression...
>You'll ask him if you can wear YOUR collar for now on instead of the animal one.
>You don't like being viewed as an animal, but at least you're not treated that way by Master, aside from the leash.
>But you have to wear a leash, that's human law.
>Aside from that, Master doesn't treat you like an animal or a slave at all.
>In fact, Anon does more for you than you do for him.
>You can't be sure because you don't understand human courtship rituals, but you think he probably wants to take you as his mate.
>You're not entirely opposed to the idea.
>Oh, who are you kidding.
>If he asked you right now you'd say yes.
>You're lonely and he's so nice and you know he needs somepony too.
>You were lonely before you even came here.
>Not to mention hes quite attractive for a human.
>You're curious, too. When you were in the holding pen at the auction and the others were telling stories, one mare said human stamina is amazing.
>You've never been with a stallion before but you've had a few friends complain about how fast they finish.
>You wouldn't know.
>Not very many stallions ever paid any attention to you back in Manehattan..
>You're not very pretty or successful.
>You start feeling sorry for yourself again when you remember how Master Anon treats you.
>How much money he spent on you compared to what the other humans spent on the other mares.
>How he looks at you, and touches you.
>He makes you feel special.
>Suddenly you don't feel so bad anymore.
>There's no way he doesn't want you for his mate. 
>It just wouldn't make sense after all this.
>He has to like you. There's no other explanation for how he acts and everything he's done.
>You feel warm and fuzzy inside at the thought.
"He's not bad at all, for a human" you say to yourself.
>And a human coltfriend could be real helpful if you're going to be living on this "Earth" now.
>Despite being stolen from your world by aliens you feel like you got kinda lucky, all things considered.
>You never had a date for hearts and hooves day in Equestrian.
>You've been here just a week and you've already had one.
>A really good H&H day, too.
>Well, Valin... Velen.... whatever that word is day. It's so similar to Hearts and Hooves day it's kind of eerie.
>It's embarrassing you never had a date on H&H before but Master doesn't have to know that.
>And he's not a bad catch at all, for an ape-monster..
>You giggle at the thought of calling him that. 
>You'd get away with it too.
>You know because he shared breath with you earlier. 
>You feel your cheeks getting hot at the thought.
>You didn't know humans even shared breath, but today you learned they do.
>You bite your bottom lip thinking about it.
>If he shared breath with you....
>That means he really, really likes you.
>You sigh happily.
"Lucky indeed" you say to yourself, glancing over to the massive pile of bolts of fabric you have stacked against the wall.
>Not single meters, whole bolts!!!
>And everything else you could ever want for making dresses and hats and things, as soon as your dress mannequin arrives.
>Human magic is amazing. He talks into that little thing and a human comes and brings him food. He talks into it and another one comes and brings him a pony mannequin.
>He even got you a human sewing machine... It's kind of hard to operate with your hooves, but once you get it down completely you'll be able to out sew even the fastest unicorns.
>You spent most of the night figuring it out, and now all you have to do is get better at it.
>The scarf you made came out really well, even if you did have to do the fine details by hoof.
>You wanted to give him something for H&H. This worked out perfectly.
>You have the biggest, dumbest grin ever right now.
>Being stolen from your world and sold as a slave is a horrible, terrifying experience.
>But it could have been so much worse if it weren't for Master Anon.
"Thank you, Celestia" 
>You smile as you remember how he said he *loved* your scarf. And he said putting your cutie mark on it meant more than you could imagine to him.
>That must mean he really likes you. What else could it possibly mean?
>Everything he's done points to him liking you.
>He said he got you as a pet but you're almost certain that was a lie.
>He must be too embarrassed to admit he likes ponies instead of other humans.
>And out of all the mares there he picked you.
>He even asked if you'd ever want to be his bed slave..
>You don't want to be a bed slave to anyone, but you'd be happy to share a bed with him.
>And when you go into estrus, well...
>Just not as a slave.
>Master Anon wouldn't do that to you.
>Besides, all he has to do is ask...
>You blush again.
>You thought he'd rut you or hurt you the first night when he bathed you but he hasn't done anything at all, except when he touched you.
>You were afraid and it was a bad experience.
>If he did that now, though...
>Another blush.
>Gosh, you wonder how many times he's seen you blushing when you had a dirty thought.
>It shows too easily through your light coat.
>He's been so nice...
>You think you can trust him. 
>You glance back to the pile of fabrics. The only place you ever had access to such a large selection was when you were working on Bridleway.
>But these are all yours! There's even some neat ones with human patterns on them you've never seen.
>You got a checkered one, and one with stripes like a tiger and a few others.
>Your favorite you think is one Anon said was called "Pays-lee." 
>You got it in a couple different colors. They all have these intricate teardrop designs on them.
>You're not sure what it means or if it has any significance, but you'd never seen anything like it before. You're sure you'll find a good use for them.
>If only you had had access to this stuff when you were back in Equestria....
>Sigh.
>You try not think about Equestria but you cant help it.
>It pops into your mind constantly.
>You cant help but turn your ears down at the thought.
>You're probably never gonna see home again.
>You shake your head,trying to dislodge the thought. 
>No point on dwelling on it.
>This is your home now and you should make the best of it.
>And it seems you have a lot of opportunities for that.
>With all this fabric you can go back to work, coming up with designs and making them without anypony like Suri stealing them from you.
>Master would never do that.
>He might even let you sell them and keep the bits you earn.
>If he does and it works out, maybe you can even use it to buy some ponies at the auction and see to it they find their way to nice families, instead of somewhere horrible like....
>Well, you know.
>Maybe you can even find your family...
>You sigh.
>Think about something else, Coco.
>So...
>It's pretty obvious Master likes you and it's time to really take it seriously.
>He shared breath with you.
>He might even be in love with you...
>You can't help but smile at the thought.
>Okay, maybe you like him a little bit too...
>Maybe more than a little bit...
>And he has to be lonely here too.
>You haven't seen him interact with another human so far, aside from that one that brings him food sometimes. But that human doesn't count you don't think.
>Does Master have any friends at all? Do humans even make friends?
>All the others you met were so mean it wouldn't surprise you.
>Did you end up with the only nice human there is?
>You feel bad for him before remembering that you don't have any friends either anymore.
>You didn't have very many back home either to be honest.
>You have each other though.
>He's the best human you've met so far. The only good one.
>You're so lucky to have him.
>And he said he loved your scarf!!
>You trot in place a little thinking about it.
>What you told him was the truth, you never gave your cutie mark to anypony before.
>Nopony ever meant that much to you.
>You blush again
>Sigh. 
>Master Anon.
>You let yourself fall back onto your bed, smiling.
>You hope he comes home soon.

-End Part 1-



*******************************************************
*******************************************************



>You are Mr. Anon. Y. Mous.
>And you are drunk.
>You're good though, you're not wasted.
>You've even got room to throw back a few more, but right now you're content to sit in your booth, swirling the brandy you just ordered around your glass, thinking.
>It's harder to think when drunk, but there's a certain clarity in it also.
>You had read in some ancient country, the lawmakers would make their decisions drunk, and then they'd go over them when sober to see if they still agreed with it.
>If it sounded good both drunk and sober, they went with that policy.
>Or so you'd read.
>You've just about hit a wall here, though.
>You don't know what to do with Coco.
>You really like her, it's undeniable. But can you love her?
>If you can't, well...
>You've hurt a lot of people and you never cared.
>But this one, that isn't even a person, you can't stand the thought of hurting.
>You gotta do what's right, but you don't know what that is.
>And why, even?
>Now that is a good question.
>Why do you give any fucks about her at all?
>You don't care about anybody else but yourself.
>You tap your finger on the table as if knocking on answer's door.
>A nervous habit you've picked up lately.
>Why?
>Well, she's cute... Maybe the cutest little thing you've ever seen.
>Her voice, her shyness.. well everything.
>That's not it, though.
>And it can't be because you own her. 
>You don't really care about any of your other possessions...
>You wish you could say you don't view her as a possession, but you kinda do.
>Your most precious possession.
>God, when did you become such a faggot?
>Is it because you're starved for female attention?
>You've dated a few women since you got your inheritance, but you never felt anything for them.
>And none of them felt anything for you, as far as you could tell.
>They all just wanted your money.
>It's not female attention you're starved for, it's a real relationship.
>Founded on genuinely liking each other, not what you can get out of each other.
>That's the problem with pretty much all relationships these days, it seems.
>Nobody is interested in each other, just what they can get out of the other.
>Suddenly a lightbulb goes on in your head.
>That's it, that's why you like her.
>She's not after your money. 
>You're not even sure she understands you have more money than most people.
>You look down at the scarf lying on your jacket.
>At the little hat embroidered on it.
>She likes you for who you are.
>She actually likes you, you think to yourself, gently touching the embroidery on the scarf.
>You smile at the thought before reality comes crashing down.
>She likes who you've shown her.
>Although in most of your interactions with her you've been yourself, there's a lot of things you didn't say, or things you said but didn't really mean, because she wanted to hear it.
>That's not who you really are.
>That's not really lying though, people adapt to be more appealing to their partners every day, you reason.
>Yeah, if you say a certain thing that isn't necessarily true, but you say it because you want to make the other person happy...
>Well, isn't that a truth in itself? A truth made out of a lie.
>The truth is you like her too, and if you act a certain way toward her because of it, then that IS who you are. 
>You feel like you wear a mask with her, like you do with everyone else.
>Everyone gets their own personalized mask from you, cut and shaped to reflect what they want to see, or depending on how you feel about them, exactly what they don't want to see.
>Whatever benefits you.
>If lying is par for the course for someone, but their lies reflect how they want another person to feel....
>Then is it really a lie?
>God, thinking about this could make a man go crazy.
>On the topic of her liking you for who you are..
>Does she? Or is it Stockholm Syndrome?
>Does Stockholm Syndrome even exist?
>Affection and love can bloom between people in any circumstance.
>Giving it a name, like an illness is just a way to make it seem illegitimate, you consider.
>Tap, tap tap tap.
>She didn't really have a choice though, did she?
>You didn't ask her on a date, you didn't get to know her.
>You bought her and now here she is, alone with you, in your little world, where you can manipulate her in any way you choose.
>You feel vaguely disgusted in yourself.
>She doesn't like you for who you are.
>You cant help but sigh as you stare down at the table in front of you.
>”What's the matter, handsome? Need somebody to talk to?” a voice to your left calls out.
>You glance up to see some trashy woman looking at you.
>Even drunk she's a 5/10, at best.
>”How about you buy a lady a drink and we can talk about it?”
“No, thank you.” you dismissively reply.
>”Oh, c'mon” she presses. “You look like you could use the company, and I could use a drink. How about it?” she grins.
“I'm good” you respond, turning back to the table.
>”What's the matter, you don't like girls?” she prods.
>This cunt doesn't seem to be getting the message.
>You turn back and look her in the eyes.
“Bitch, you are 3D pig disgusting. Get away from me.” 
>Her eyes go wide in shock, she seems like she's trying to think of a response, before she huffs and stomps off.
>Good riddance to bad garbage.
>You take another sip of your drink before your thoughts turn back to Coco.
>That critter you just sent on it's way is a prime example of somebody who only wants your money. If you didn't dress in expensive clothes her disgusting fat ass would have kept walking.
>Coco on the other hand, Coco-
>”Hey!” a hostile male voice interrupts your thoughts.
>You turn your head to see an angry dudebro standing next to your booth, the cow behind him.
>”Did you call my girlfriend a pig?”
>This scumbag lets his girlfriend wander around the bar asking other men to buy her drinks?
>”I asked you a question, faggot” he yells.
>Everybody is looking at you now.
“I'm not in the mood. Go bother somebody else before-” 
>”Before what? Before I kick your faggot head in?” he cuts you off.
>Okay that's it.
>You reach down to your waistband for the gun.
>It's not there.
>Fuck!
>This might be a good point in the story to mention you have some problems with impulse control.
>”Stupid fuck, I'm talking to-” this time it's your turn to interrupt him.
>He's stunned into silence by the sudden sensation of a glass of liquor being smashed on his face.
>He stumbles backwards, holding his now bleeding forehead, shocked by the fight he picked not going as planned.
>Before he can compose himself and fight back, you're out of the booth and in front of him.
>You firmly plant your left heel into the floor and with your right you kick him in the chest with all your strength and weight behind it.
>They call that a fireman kick, since it's used to kick down doors.
>Today however it's used to kick a retard halfway across the bar into an empty table, chairs scattering like bowling pins.
>For her part, the cow is screaming and swinging her purse at you.
>You wish you could say you're ashamed that you just punched a woman in the face as hard as you could.
>But you're not. 
>You don't really feel shame for anything you do, unless it's to....
>Fuck, Coco! You can't get arrested now! 
>You have the best lawyer in the city on retainer for shit like this, but you can't leave her at home waiting for you for days while you sit in a jail cell waiting to see a judge so you can post bail.
>A quick glance shows her boyfriend climbing to his feet, as well as several white knights working up the courage to come to the defense of m'lady.
>Once they realize they wont have to fight you alone, you're gonna have half the bar on you.
>If only you'd remembered your gun! Fuck!
>You turn back to your booth for a weapon.
>The waitress took your steak after you finished, along with the knife.
>Fuck!
>There's a group of at least 5 betas advancing on you now.
>Time to go.
>You turn and run.
>You're across the parking lot and reach your car when you notice nobody is following you.
>You breathe a sigh of relief as you unlock the door and sit down in the drivers seat, taking a moment to catch your breath.
>The key is in the ignition and then you remember.
>Your jacket is still in there.
>And so is your scarf.
>You sit there for a moment, key in the ignition.
>What's Coco gonna think when you tell her you lost her scarf the first day you wore it?
>More than that, are you really gonna let those cowardly cunts run you out of there, and take your things?
>Your grip on the steering wheel tightens with anger.
>No, you're not.
>You take the keys out of the ignition and pull the lever to open the trunk.
>A moment of searching later, you have what you wanted, and slam the car's trunk shut.
>Your scarf.
>Your jacket.
>Your pride.
>You're not letting those animals in there steal any of those things.
>Filled with determination you march back to the bar.
>Standing at entrance, you look down at the tire iron in your hand.
“This is who I am.”


>This can still end without anyone getting hurt.
>But if you have to hurt somebody...
>That's fine.
>As you step back into the bar, a few men standing around the bleeding boyfriend look at you.
>Any courage they had evaporates when they see what's in your hand.
>One of them isn't afraid though and starts moving toward you.
>You recognize him, the bouncer.
>He's coming straight for you, you so you lift the tire iron, ready to strike.
>He hesitates at the sight.
“I just came back for my things, and then I'll be on my way.” you try to assure him.
>He doesn't seem assured.
>He looks like he's deliberating whether to fight you or not.
“I just want my things” you repeat.
>You look him right in the eyes.
“I don't want to kill you, but I will.” you say, with absolute conviction.
>Your eyes don't leave his.
>He knows.
“I'm gonna get my things, and then I'm leaving. I'll even pay my tab” you say, inching toward your booth.
>You do your best in your drunken state to keep situational awareness as you move to get your things.
>You fish a handful of cash out of your pocket with your free hand, you don't know how much and don't care, and throw it down to the table.
>As the most dangerous person in the bar, you kept the bouncer in your peripheral vision the entire time.
>That's why, in your drunken state,you didn't notice one of the white knights sneaking up on you from behind.
>That's why right now you're struggling to break loose from a headlock as a second white knight works up his courage and comes at you from the front.
>The one trying to choke you screams out in pain as you manage to drive the sharp end of the tire iron into his stomach.
>He releases you and stumbled backwards just in time to allow you to bring the tire iron down on the head of the one in front of you.
>Or rather you would have, but he blocks it with his forearm.
>His forearm which you're pretty sure is now broken, he stumbles off screaming.
>You whip around and strike the one who was holding you on the upper arm with the tire iron as hard as you can as well.
>More screaming as he falls back into an unoccupied booth.
>You heft the tire iron back up for another swing as you notice the bouncer, who was halfway across the bar from you a moment ago, is now right in front of you.
>He stops at the sight of you ready to strike.
>You meet each other's eyes for a moment before he backs away.
>Smart.
>You glance around the bar to see everyone's watching you, none of them brave enough to try anything now.
>You turn back to the one who grabbed you.
>He's holding his arm and looking afraid, backed up against the booth.
>God damn you hate heroes.
>You hit his injured arm with the tire iron again.
>As hard as you fucking can.
>He screams even louder and falls to his knees.
>You could strike him again but you've made your point.
>Fuck it.
>You his him again anyway.
“Who's next?” you bellow your challenge, spinning around to see if there's anyone left still stupid enough to fuck with you.
>Damn near everyone is standing now, backing away from you, even the bouncer.
>Your eyes meet the original instigator of this fight and he literally runs out the door, leaving his disgusting girlfriend behind.
>It's these little moments where you feel alive.
>With no response, you grab your things, and are out the bar again.
>You almost fly out of the parking lot, and you're at least a mile away when you hear sirens in the distance.
>You don't know if they'll even investigate what just happened.
>There's people constantly being murdered in this shithole city, a bar fight isn't worth the cop's time...
>You hope.
>But if you left anything behind to make the cop's job easier...
>You scan your mind  for any way they might catch you as you drive home.
>There's no cameras in the parking lot you don't think.
>You didn't leave anything to identify yourself but fingerprints...
>And the only thing that still has your prints on it is the glass that's now in hundreds of pieces, hopefully some of which are embedded in that asshole's face.
>The waitress was on point today, immediately removing your food and drink as you finished each.
>So hopefully there's nothing in there she missed.
>Your prints are on file from previous... occasions.
>If anyone got your license plate...
>You're probably fucked.
>Fuck.
>Even with the best lawyer money can buy you're looking at a few years in prison.
>That's not happening.
>Time to get the fuck outta dodge.

(If your'e reading this, congrats, you get to read the next part before it goes in the thread. (It's not necessarily fully polished.)

“Pickup.Pickup.Pickup!” you command the phone as it dials Victor's number.
>You quickly cut lanes first between a blue suv and then a white sedan.
>You speed ahead then drop down again to pass by a black suv, dodging between traffic.
>After far too long he picks up.

>”Well well, Anon, what-” 
“SHUT UP!” you cut him off. “Cops are after me. I'm calling in that favor you owe me.”
>Hes silent for a moment as blow past a stop sign after quick checking both ways, trying to beat the cops to your apartment.
>You're probably being paranoid but if they got your license plate you've got minues at best.
>”What do you need?” he sighs.
“Your sister's beach house for a few days. Just until I figure out what to do.”
>”Alright.” he concedes. “What do you wanna do?”
“I'm picking up Coco then I'll meet you at your place in about half an hour.”
>”Who's Coco?” he asks.
“My pony!” you yell into the phone.
>”Jesus, alright,” he replies. “I'll be waiting.”
“Alright. I'm on my way. And Victor? Thanks.”
>”Yeah.” he grumbles before hanging up.
*********************************************>It's three hours later and you're driving casually in a Tan Jeep Victor uses for off-roading, to a cabin in an undisclosed location.
>You've got two suitcases, both half full of clothes, half full of money.
>You figure if you lose one, you'll still have half the money.
>Tap tap tap, this time on your super smart brain.
>Oh yes and there's a pony next to you who for her part took two grocery bags of berries and fruits.
>There should be food for you in Emily's cabin, she leaves it in there for burglars to take instead of just smashing it up when they find nothing.
>You took the battery out of your phone at your apartment, then the sim and smashed the phone. 
>Tap tap tap.
>You knock on the door of the cabin, then open it and stick your head inside to look for squatters.
>You figure they want a fight less than you most likely.
>It looks safe and empty so you usher your pony inside.
>Still you check the place out before you're comfortable enough to settle down.
>You were here a while back on his sister's birthday.
>You spent a good chunk of the night doing what you do best.
>One shot after another.
>When you die you're going to beat god in a drinking contest.
>Coco looks around,examining her surroundings.
>You flick the light switches to see if there's power and check the cabinet and fridge.
>Fridge is unplugged but full of dry food. Cabinets full of canned food. 
>Water runs. 
>Nice.
>This will do just fine until you figure out how to get this sorted out.
>Coco wanders around from room to room looking about.
>Let this whole aggravated assault thing blow over.
>You pile the berries in the now pluggied in fridge and go to check on your pony.
>You find her looking over the bedroom.
>She seems shaken up, but unharmed.
>Shes wearing this weird  thing over her collar.
>Looks like a fashion style collar. Like a blouse without the actual blouse.
>It's weird but it looks good on her.
>More proof this fashion pony knows what's she's doing.
“Okay Coco, we can relax now. We're fine.”
>She nods and the two of you head out to the living room where she hops up onto the sofa.
>She was napping when you rudely interrupted her earlier, bursting through the door and telling her she had 90 seconds to pack anything she wanted.
>You can really power-walk when you need to.
>She hasn't really said anything since you got here.
“You okay there, Coco?” you gently prod
>”Just a little scared..” she says, clearly more than a little scared.
“Look, everything's fine now, and nobody knows we're here, and once my lawyer calls this secret phone I'll have it set up that you go somewhere you're safe, regardless of what happens to me” you tell her.
>”But I don't want anything to happen to you, Master” she whines.
“That makes two of us, hon” you cant help expose a little sadness in your reply.
>Add sad to the things she can make you feel.
>Maybe that's what you like about her.
>Those 'feelings' things she makes you feel.
>All contained in one safe little package that won't run away.
>You sit down next to her and pull her in for a hug.
>Neither of you say anything for a good long minute as you hold your little pony close, breathing in the lavender scent of her mane shampoo.
“I'm sorry” you tell her.
>She breaks from your embrace and looks you in the eye.
>”What happened?”
“Oh well uh, a thing happened and because of that some other things happened and well not everything that happened was legal so you know we know what we know, but we dont know what they know.” you stammer out, trying to confuse the pony.
>She certainly looks confused.
“So it's out of our control until I hear from my lawyer.”
>She stares at you, her expression unreadable. 
>Looks like you've got her confused.
>The chewbacca defense.
“But we've got plenty of food so we can hang out here for a while, go fishing and swimming and stuff, its great!” you modulate your voice to sound cheerful, but you just don't have the energy to truly fake it.
>”I don't understand...” 
“That's okay sweetie, you don't have to understand.”
>She continues to stare at you.
>Is she staring you down?
>You don't know pony psychology well enough.
>”What are we running from?” she flatly asks.
>This is borderline insubordination.
>Or, it would be if you were her master. 
>Are you?
>What are you to her?
>There's nothing to tap on where you're standing.
>You look to the pony, still demanding an answer.
“The police” you say.
>”Why?” she asks.
>Fuck it. Let's see how she reacts.
“Another human started a fight with me. When I fought back I defended myself, but  I hurt him worse than is allowed according to our laws” you explain.
>“W-why did you do that?!” she asks, pupils shrinking to tiny pin pricks in worry.
“Because he made me angry” you flatly respond.
>She stares at you with another unreadable expression.
“So we have to stay here for a while until things.. go back to normal. Until they forget about me. You understand?”  you look your little pony in her eyes.
>”Yes master.” she nods, then lies her head back down.
>You're not going to bother comforting her.
>You've got better things to do.
>Like waiting for your lawyer to call.
>You've got him watching out for warrants for you.
>Another few calls and you've got a guy coming by to make you a fake drivers license, fake passport.
>He comes to your place and take your picture and makes it right there, an identical copy of another person's ID and passport.
>Throw enough money at a problem and it will solve itself.
>You ask a guy to find something, you pay him, he asks people, they ask people.
>You only need to know a handful of criminals to have access to a large network if you're willing to pay.
>Money makes the world go round.
>And one of the most direct and overt signs of power.
>Second to violence of course.
>The supreme authority from which all authorities are derived.
>You read that somewhere.
>Still money is pretty good too.
>You look to your little pony.
>She's lying on the couch, relaxing.
>She looks up to you and offers up a weak smile.
>She's less interested in her surrounding than you thought she'd be.
“It wont be so bad. There's lots to do here.” you offer her a smile
>You stand there for a moment, clutching the burner phone in hand trying to think of something else to say when it rings.
>You answer it before the first ring is finished.
“Hello?”
>”Yes Mr. Mous, it's Mike Harrison.”
“Give me the news”
>”They're looking for you. Multiple counts assault with a deadly weapon. If you wanna turn yourself in I can get you a plea-”
“No,” you cut him off. “If they catch me, then I'll go in.”
>”Well then as your lawyer my advice is to lay low for a while. I'll try to get this warrant quashed..”
“Thanks Mike. Listen I got a pony in my property, I want you to find the best sanctuary in the city and set aside a little cash for her to go to it if I'm arrested, all right?
>”You got it, Anon”
“Let me know if you hear anything else.”
>”You got it. Talk to you later.”
“Buh bye.”
>You hang up the phone.
>You're gonna be in this cabin for a while.
>You walk around and examine the living room a bit closer.
>Fair amount of books, board games. 
>Fishing equipment in a closet.
>Standard bathroom.
>Standard bedroom with queen size bed.
>One bedroom.
>One bed.
>...
>Well two if you count the couch.
>A walk outside reveals a private pier with a small motorboat.
>This must be his brother in law's.
>You don't recall the boat from last time you were here.
>It's a cold, miserable time of year to be on unspecified lake.
>But that means there's nobody else around either.
>Just you for miles.
>*What a convenient plot device* you think to yourself.
>You over and sit next to Coco.
>Taking an ear in your fingers you gently massage the sensitive organ.
>She smiles gently, eyes closed and lost in the feeling, as you speak.
“There might not be many berries for a while so try to make these last okay?” you ask.
>”Mmm-hmm” she hums as she enjoys your ministrations.
>You're not sure she actually heard you.

******************************

>You've searched the entire cabin twice.
>Coco is fast asleep on the only mattress in the cabin and it's past midnight and you're searching on top of the kitchen cabinets for the second time, even though you know it won't be there.
>Even after you called Emily herself to confirm.
>”No Anon, there's no liquor left in the cabin.” she had said, obviously irritated by being woken up in the middle of the night to be asked that.
>You can't sleep due to how badly you need a drink and are praying to any gods, demons, angels or ghosts that can hear you to toss you stray can of malt liquor.
>Anything!
“Jesus forgive me for my sins, I'm sorry for all of those. Please help me out here!” you plead to the most famous sky daddy, literally upending the couch as you do to look for anything drinkable.
>You suppress a scream of frustration at the obvious lack of booze under the couch.
>At this point you'd even drink budweiser.
>They stop selling alcohol at midnight in this state so you're too late to go buy some.
>You could steal some....
>Run right out the door with armfuls of that sweet, sweet nectar.
>You shake the thought out of your head.
>You doubt anyone's really looking very hard for you but still.
>Don't need to make their job any easier.
>And do you need it that fucking bad?
>When did you get so fucking weak?
>You're craving alcohol so bad.
>Does this make you an alcoholic?
>When was the last time you went a day without a drink?
>You rack your brain but can't remember.
>Guess that answers your first question.
>You feel sick to your stomach and your head hurts from the withdrawals.
>You're shaking and have cold sweats too.
>You think of your little pony, sleeping soundly in the bed.
>It would be so nice to curl up with her but you can't sit still.
>You feel too restless, you couldn't lie down with a sleeping pony for more than 2 minutes without waking her with an errant twitch or something.
>So you resort to pacing back and forth across the living room and through the cabin, occasionally looking in on Coco to confirm she is still sleeping.
>You also check for alcohol in any new place that comes to mind as you wander around the tiny cabin like an alcoholic zombie.
>You pass the night this way, pacing back and forth, trying to get interested in one book after another, and throwing back cups of coffee like they were bloody mary's.
>You're jonesing for a drink even worse by the time the sun has risen.
>And a few hours later when your pony comes wandering out of the bedroom half awake, inquisitive eyes on her human, who probably isn't looking (or smelling) his best right now.
>She finds you sitting on the couch, staring at the wall like it were a television screen.
>You notice movement from the corner of your eye but are too fucked up to acknowledge her so you sit there in silence staring at the wall, waiting for her to speak first.
>”Master?” She gingerly asks.
>You just turn your head and look at her.
>This seems to creep her out but the withdrawals combined with your fatigue means you don't really give a shit.
>”W-what's wrong?” your worried pony asks. “Are the bad guys coming?”
“No.” you respond. 
>That's all you can be fucked to say right now.
>She's staring back at you with confusion written on her face
>”You look...” she stammers, trying to find her words.
>”You look like something is wrong, Master.” she approaches slowly, her eyes never leaving yours.
>”Are you okay?” she asks, voice filled with genuine concern.
>She even puts a hoof on your knee as she asks.
>You release an involuntary shudder just after she touches you, prompting her to draw her hoof back, misinterpreting your withdrawals as not wanting to be touched.
>You shake your head and lean down to grab her hoof she just had on your knee and move it back.
>Almost as an afterthought you lean down further and lift her hoof a little higher, pressing it to your cheek.
>You lean your head into her hoof, a gentle reassurance her touch is welcome.
>After a moment of this strange backwards-affection you let go of her hoof and look into her eyes.
>Those light blue eyes, full of concern for you.
>Despite how shitty you feel you still can't help but break out in a genuine smile.
>You're just feeling too shitty for any more enthusiasm than that.
“Listen Coco,” you say, reaching out a hand to caress her cheek.
“When we left, I left my.... medicine..Behind. So I'm gonna be pretty sick for a while.”
>”Oh no!” she immediately blurts out, voice full of concern. 
>“We have to go get it!!!” she says, clearly and obviously working herself up into the frame of mind to go out into the big dangerous world to get her sick master his medicine.
>This is why she's your favorite person.
>Yeah, you just called her a person, and to be honest, she's a better human being than just about anyone you've met..
>All those virtues humans strive to have, are embodied within her and you assume the rest of her kind.
>Of course we found a way to subjugate them.
>If you needed some kind of lifesaving drug, what human would be half as eager to go out and retrieve it as she is?
>She doesn't understand the nature of your illness or the “medicine” you need at all.
>And yet right before you as you've been watching her and thinking, she's gotten herself worked up into a state of complete determination.
>She's got her leash in her hooves and is fumbling to connect it to the collar you got her.
>The purple collar she made tossed to the side and already forgotten.
>How many people would be half as willing to help you, if it were cancer medicine?
>And yet with no more information than “Master is sick and doesn't have his medicine” she's ready to march out into a dangerous alien world, a slave dragging her master along.
>You want to stop her but curiosity (and a wave of nausea) compels you to sit there quietly,to see how serious she really is.
>She's pretty serious.
>Soon enough she's  gotten the leash clipped to her collar and has plopped the car keys down in your lap.
>She's standing in front of you with your coat in her mouth as you watch, dazed, surprised, and more appreciative than you've ever felt.
>The last time anybody gave half this many fucks was......
>A very long time ago.
>”C'mon” she says after dropping the coat on the sofa next to you.
>You just sit unresponsive, feeling like fresh dogshit on a hot day.
>”Master, come on” she continues, placing her hoof on your knee and shaking you, as if trying to wake you from a slumber.
>”We have to go get your medicine, come on!” she insists, shaking harder.
>You really do want to get up and buy the nearest liquor store.
>You're so tired and feel so shitty though, you don't want to move.
>The pony is shaking you harder.
>”Master, please!” she pleads.
>God she is so sweet.
>”Please...” she whines, giving your knee another pitiful shake.
>The keys are in your lap and you're really considering going.
>But why are you just considering, instead of on your way to the liquor store already?
>Hell, for that matter, why didn't you go buy some booze when they started selling again a few hours ago?
>A rhetorical question, of course.
>You don't want to get more booze because you just realized you're addicted to it.
>And you don't like the thought of being an alcoholic.
>Victor considers you one, you think.
>So does Reid.
>And everyone else who's known you more than 10 minutes, minus the pony in front of you desperately trying to peer pressure you into drinking.
>Despite feeling like shit the thought makes you chuckle and you run a hand through the concerned pony's mane, confusing her more.
>You didn't go get it because despite the fact you want it more than almost anything...
>You don't want to need it. You're not going to need it.
>And all it's done is cause more problems, not less.
>You clench the keys in your hand tight before tossing them over onto the coffee table.
>Seeing this only seems to fuel Coco's concern.
>”Master, please.” she whines, ears pinned to her head.
>”Please...” says the smallest, saddest little voice you've ever heard.
“Oh, Coco” you say with a sigh.
“I don't deserve you.” you admit.
>You really don't.
“It's okay sugar, you don't understand. Hop up” you instruct her, patting the seat next to you.
>For her part she does as instructed, eyes still fixed on you in concern.
“It's the medicine itself making me sick.” you tell her.
>She cocks her head to the side without speaking, a silent request to continue.
“I started taking my..medicine to feel better. But I took it for too long. If you take this medicine for too long, your body starts to think it needs it. And when you stop, you get sick.”
>She's carefully listening to every word you say but seemingly confused.
>”Medicine that makes you sick?” she asks, incredulously.
>You just nod.
>You use the term medicine quite loosely.
>You're self medicating though, and this is your medicine, so technically it's correct.
>You think.
>A more important line of thought is why you drink every night and most of days too but we're not going there right now.
“Your body gets used to the medicine and  thinks it needs it. We humans have a couple different kinds of really strong medicines that are like that.”
>You run another loving hand through her mane.
“It's not plants and potions like where you're from. All our medicine is made in laboratories, it's stronger than what you're used to.” you continue.
>She looks like she's waiting for your permission to relax.
“Anyway. I don't need the medicine any more but I still take it anyway because it makes me feel good. But I took it too long and I think it's time I stop for a while.”
>Silence from your pony as everything you said sinks in.
“I might change my mind but for right now I don't think I want to get any.” you sigh, scritching her ear.
>She doesn't react to your touch much, even though you can see a smile trying to break through her facade of concern.
“Thank you for caring about me” you say, leaning in and giving her a small kiss.
>You mean it.
>This time she lets the smile break through and leans into your hand as you rub her ear.
>This is one of her favorite places to be touched, you muse.
>”Well.. If you're sure. You know more about human medicine than I do...” she admits, not completely placated but subordinating herself to you all the same.
>Most other slave owners would be shocked at how casual your relationship with her is.
>Having to talk your own slave out of forcing you to do something, nevermind the intentions...
>Positively scandalous!
>As you continue to rub her ear between your fingers, she actually reaches up with her hoof and moves your hand to a spot lower on her ear!
>You'd laugh at the ridiculousness of your master/slave relationship if it were actually funny.
>She was gonna run out into the big, scary world just to get medicine that you needed for some nebulous reason like “you don't feel good”
>*That was enough to kick her into high gear* you think to yourself, as you reach over with your free hand to unclip the leash from her collar and cast it aside.
>Appreciation... Gratitude. 
>You think the words are synonymous.
>Just one more thing this little pony makes you feel.
>Or are those two things?
>You're not an expert on emotions.
>You've felt many times that for other people, their emotions must be as deep as the ocean, when you're left with a puddle.
>But you still feel some things, sometimes.
>Mostly because of her.
>So many things, good and bad she makes you feel.
>What's this new one though?
>It's not new, it's old. Ancient. But so forgotten it's new again.
>Like rediscovering a fashion trend from 30 years ago that everyone forgot was great.
>What is this new, other thing she makes you feel?
>Your look at your pretty little pony, eyes closed as you give her what you assume must be an eargasm.
>What is this strange yet familiar thing you feel when you're with her?
>........
>Oh yeah!
>That's the word.
>Loved.
*********************************************************

>Night has fallen and you are fully immersed in withdrawals.
>You're lying on the fetal position on the couch.
>You're freezing cold but sweating, with a blanket on.
>There's a wastebasket you've already vomited twice in sitting on the floor in front of you.
>And for her part, a concerned pony sitting on the couch with you by your head, gently stroking it with her hoof
>Her hoof is hard to the touch and not particularly comforting, but considering how awful you currently feel, you let her think she's helping.
>You're fine with paying the price of the added annoyance of her clumsily trying to comfort you, since you're so engrossed in how awful you feel from the withdrawals, it's hardly noticeable.
>You can't be mean to her anyway, you really need her right now, just in HGURL-" 
>Another blast of vomit goes into the wastebasket.
>Just watery bile. There's nothing for you to puke up but the water Coco keeps bringing you.
>You groan as you roll back onto the couch after spitting.
"Ice bag" you command.
>Coco is instantly off the sofa and in the kitchen, placing ice cubes in a ziplock bag and then a damp towel around them just as taught.
>Just as quickly she's back with the improvised ice bag, held in her mouth.
>Normally you wouldn't be keen on taking it directly out of her mouth and putting it on your face but the pain in your head is screaming louder than the little one saying to wipe it off first.
>Victor's stupid sister.
>Who the fuck doesn't have aspirin in their medicine cabinet?
>Or midol or whatever women use for pain for their periods.
>You'd think she'd have something, but no.
>It's like a monkey paw wish, a cabin on a beautiful lake with a "girl" all to yourself, but you're so sick you wanna die.
>You sit up,taking a deep swig of cold water.
>Get that puke taste out of your mouth.
>Everything hurts. Life is shit, the world-"
>You're interrupted out of mentally complaining to yourself by the water you just drank coming back up, still cold.
>Fuck.
>This is entirely your fault, but it doesn't stop you from feeling sorry for yourself.
>You knew on some level you were becoming an alcoholic.
>With endless access to alcohol however, having 1 or 2 (or 5 or 6) drinks a day wasn't an issue.
>So you didn't really think about what would happen when you were severed from the alcohol you've constantly consumed for several months now with consistency.
>"Alcoholic" isn't a handicap when its manageable.
>When it's not well-
>HGURK-
>The smell is atrocious but Coco hasn't said anything.
>Good girl.
>You roll back onto the couch and put the improvised ice bag over your head.
>A few minutes pass before she speaks up.
>"Master, do you want me to get a new bag for the bucket?" she asks, either trying to be helpful or more likely finally unable to tolerate the smell any longer.
"Yeah. Take it out back and take the bag out and just leave it. I'll get the bag later. Hurry up while I'm not -HGURK"
>You quickly sit up to vomit all over yourself but dry heave again.
>After a couple more you catch your breath and look to the concerned pony.
"Take it out while there's nothing for me to put in it" you tell her.
>In a flash she's off and you lie back down, ice bag on your head again.
>Soon enough she's back with a fresh wastebasket and she hops up next to you.
>"I can hold that for you" she offers. "The ice bag, I mean..."
>You dismissively wave your free hand.
"I got it."
>"What can I do?" she asks, still determined to help.
>"You can leave me and fuck off for a while". is what you don't say.
"Uhhhhhhh" you groan. You don't know.
>Default to: say something nice, but not inviting her to try to help more.
>Command confirmed.
"You just being here willingly is enough, thank you. If I need anything I promise I won't hesitate to ask." you tell her.
>You can't see her face but you're sure she's placated by that.
>After a while of lying there, your pony finally pipes up.
>"Do you wanna play a game?" she asks quickly and unnaturally, like she's been practicing asking in her head.
"No Coco, I don't want to play a board game." so say flatly.
>"O-oh, I didn't mean a board game. A talking game. Like 20 questions?"
>You wave your hand again.
"No Coco, I don't want to play 20 questions."
>"I was thinking the story chain game.." you hear her say, quite a bit less certainty in her voice.
"No Coco," you start to repeat. "I don't want to play.... The what game?" you ask, curious.
>"The story chain game"  she says, excitement in her voice.  
>You can hear her forehooves clop together in excitement a couple times.
>"I tell you a story or a fact about my life, and then you have to tell me something from your life that's similar." she says.
>You wonder if the story chain game was just invented 5 minutes ago.
>Still, you're bored from lying on the couch despite how much pain you're in.
>And it would take your mind off things..
>And you are curious about your little lady's life...
"Okay" you concede. "But my answers get to be short because I'm sick"
>More excited clopping.
>"Okay!" she blurts out a little too enthusiastically. "I'll go first!"
>Can't wait to talk about herself. 
>You see so many human traits in her.
\>It's like she's not property, she's a person.
>She's more of a person than most people you meet.
>Despite what a piece of paper or a log in a computer database says.
>You take the ice off your head and sit up, twisting to look at her.
>She smiles at you.
>She's more than just an object that you have a receipt for.
>But you do have a receipt, proving you own her.
>Thank god for that.
>She clops her hooves together
>"Soooo..." she says. "You start by asking me a question."
>You put the ice back on your head and think for a moment.
"How did you get your cutie mark?" you ask.
>She's silent in thought for a moment before she starts to tell her (likely intimate) story.
>You can tell she's practiced telling it before.
>You wonder how many times she's gotten to.
>"Well I was actually one of the first fillies in my class to get her cutie mark" she says with pride.
>It must be something to do with maturing, the order in which they receive the mark must matter somehow...
>You don't interrupt to ask such a banal question though.
>"We had a career day at school. Some grownup ponies came to our school to talk to us about what we could be when we grew up." she clops her hooves together, remembering. 
>"There was army ponies, and salesponies,doctors and all kinds of scientists and teachers..." she recalls.
>She doesn't notice you staring into her eyes, she's lost somewhere else right now.
>"One of them was a costume designer for plays.. She had such neat dresses and clothes. My favorite looked like a dress the princess would wear..." she continues, fondly recalling.
>"Well I didn't get my cutie mark that day but I made a friend. Miss Kindheart. She invited me to come watch a play in the park that weekend. I still remember all the details of that silly play..." she chuckles, glancing at you.
>You lock eyes for a moment too long to just be casual, before she continues, a little shy now.
>"Well the play wasn't important. What matters is the play was part of the midsummer theater revival Miss Kindheart was running. It was so neat! I loved it all from the very first time I saw it. Miss Kindheart let me help by making set pieces and painting things..." she continues.
>She looks to your eyes again before quickly glancing away.
>You're trying your best to focus on her story instead of how sick you feel.
>"Well anyway. Eventually I got older and less clumsy and she let me help with the costumes after a while. Just making repairs at first, but I turned out to be really good at it. Soon enough I was sewing whole dresses for the revival, even though I was still just a filly!" she proudly beams.
>You can't help but smile at your little pony's joy, unbearable discomfort be damned. 
>"Well anyway, one of the stallions in the show, was playing the part of a special army guy from a secret squad. And we had a uniform for him that looked so good, but none of the hats we made to go with it looked right. They all looked silly or dumb or just bad..." she muses, idly placing a hoof to her chin as she recalls.
>"So they had given up and decided to have him wear a hat that ruined the costume," she continues, "But I liked his costume too much to let that ugly hat ruin it. It just felt... wrong. So I sat down and spent a whole afternoon and a whole night sketching out ideas. And then I spent the whole next day making the hat..."
>You find yourself listening intently, enraptured by her story.
"And then??" you eagerly ask.
>"And then...." she says with a big smile.
>"And then..... When I showed the hat to Miss Kindheart in front of everypony... That's when I got my cutie mark. It wasn't after I made the hat, it was when everypony saw it.." she says, radiating pride.
>”That was when I knew my special talent was in making costumes” she says with a wide smile.
>You're proud of her.
>Fuck how sick you feel, you still pull her in for a hug.
"Oh Coco," you say, squeezing her tight. "That's a lovely story."
>You mean it, too.
>You find yourself lying to her less and less.
>"I didn't just get my cutie mark that day" she quietly says in your ear.
>You can hear a bittersweet note to her voice.
>You release her from the hug to better look at her.
>"Miss Kindheart was so proud of me, she gave me her hairclip, right off her head.." she says, a sorrowful wistfulness in her voice.
>You can see tears threatening to make themselves known, welling up just the tiniest bit in the corners of her eyes.
>"I wore that flower in my hair every day until... until..." hear ears start to lie flat, the tears welling up more.
>"I think I was more proud of that flower than my cutie mark." she sniffles.
>"Everypony gets a cutie mark, but that flower represented, for me, Miss Kindheart's approval. She was everything I wanted to be when I grew up, and... and..." her little voice is quivering now.
>She can't continue speaking as the tears start flowing freely, she takes rapid, gasping breaths.
>You've never quite seen anything like it before, it must be unique to pony body language.
>It's clear how deeply pained she is though.
>Like every one of those sharp, ragged breaths she takes is a dagger stabbing her in the heart.
>You pull her in for another hug without even thinking, ice bag completely forgotten.
>Right now you don't give a fuck about how sick you are.
>You don't even feel it in the face of your pony's sorrow.
>You hold her close. Closer than you've ever held anyone before.
>You pull her into your lap,  lifting your legs up onto the couch, you hug her entire body with yours.
"It's okay to cry." is all you say.
>The ragged breaths continue... once....twice........"
>One last gasping breath, and a shudder, and she has surrendered.
>The sobbing begins in earnest.
>You're sicker than you've ever been but the most important thing right now is the pony crying in your arms.
>She could make you a better man.
>You gently rock Coco in your arms like a baby, as she cries at everything she lost, everything stolen from her.
>She's too engrossed in her own sorrow to think about how bad you feel.
>That seems like something that would have quickly occurred to her, and she would have stopped crying and apologized.
>But no.
>She's crying, and crying.
>Completely lost in her grief.
>You're the one who should be getting comforted right now.
>Still....
>You forgive her.
>You're stroking her back and gently rocking her when some cruel memory pops into her mind and her sobbing turns to wailing.
>Fortunately the sound doesn't impact your headache.
>You wonder if you'd cut short her mourning if it did.
>This little pony has a lot of crying to do.
>Everyone she ever knew.
>Her whole world..
>You run a hand through her mane, still sick, but now with purpose.
>Maybe one of you can feel better, at least.
"Oh Coco, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" you tell her.
>You are sorry for what happened to her. Mostly.
>You wouldn't have her if all that shit didn't happen to her.
>So in you're not entirely sorry.
>You feel like you should feel bad for not feeling bad.
>But you don't.
>You don't want your little pony to be in pain, that's the truth.
>But you don't want to give her up.
>If you could send her back home, and have everything like it was, like our scientists never found a way to break into their reality and invade their world..
>Would you?
>.....
>You don't like that question, and you won't like the answer either.
>So you put it out of your mind, unresolved, as your sweet little blue maned pony sobs into your chest.
>You sigh.
>This is gonna be a long, uncomfortable night.
>At least the game is forgotten, before you had to share anything about yourself.
>Shame about the pounding headache.
>It'd be there with or without the pony crying in your arms though, so you let her stay.
>The nausea has faded for the moment, thankfully.
>After a while she cries herself out and you find yourself holding her as she goes into that post-crying state of quiet stillness.
"Coco honey." you begin "I gotta lay down" you tell her, feeling faint.
>She suddenly realizes what she's been doing as her eyes go wide.
>She about to start her litany of apologies when you shush her and, holding her close, slowly lower yourself back down into lying on the couch.
>And so you lie there on the sofa, sick and wearing a shirt damp from cold sweats and tears, holding your pony.
>Your pony.
>Those words have new meaning now.
>She's yours to comfort in times like this, even when you feel terrible yourself.
>Or she's yours to let down if you fail.
>Her comfort, or pain, are directly impacted by how you treat her.
>Soothing her pain is your responsibility.
>Yours, yours, yours.
>.....
>*Hers.*
>You recall her holding a wet towel to your head while the room was spinning.
>Never leaving your side through the whole day and into the night, ready at your beck and call.
>You didn't command her to stay with you.
>She just did.
>Right now you're holding each other, both feeling awful in your own way.
>You hold her because she's yours.
>She's holding you back.
>Does that make you hers?

****************************************
>Two more miserable days and nights pass like this.
>Constant discomfort, sickness, cravings, and a fretting pony.
>She tried several more times to collect information on you through her story game, but you were too sick to be bothered.
>You even had to send her to bed at night to get her to leave you alone.
>Today is day 3.
>You wake up to that god damn sun shining in your eyes again.
>Sitting yourself up on the sofa, after a moment to wake up and collect yourself you notice it:
>You feel fine.
>No sweating, no shaking.
>It's like the air is easier to breathe, you feel clean and healthy.
>Your mind feels clearer than it has in ages as well.
>You made it.
>You stand up and stretch, feeling surprisingly good.
>Amazingly good.
>And you're hungry. 
>You left Coco to care for herself after teaching her how to use a can opener.
>You stumble into the kitchen and pour a glass of water from the sink, looking over the food in the pantry to select something for breakfast.
>Based on the fact there's a pony in the cabin with you and two empty boxes of oatmeal in the trash...
>Well, you probably wont be having oatmeal.
>Or cereal for that matter, since there's no milk.
>Nothing perishable except a handful of blueberries it looks like Coco is saving.
>You settle for canned peaches for breakfast. 
>You'll look through everything later.
>You glance at the burner phone you took with you to keep in touch with your lawyer.
>No new messages.
"Sigh.."
>That shit in the bar wasn't worth it.
>It seemed like a good idea at the time...
>Oh well, what's done is done.
>You leave the kitchen and step outside onto the deck and gaze at the lake beyond.
>It's a nice day despite the cold, the water's nice and still.
>Maybe you'll take Coco out on the little boat Vic's brother in law has moored to his private little pier.
>Damn it's nice being rich.
>You glance around the property, really taking it in.
>It's about 5 acres, secluded, private beach, private pier... 
>Private road leading to the cabin.
>Trees surrounding the property a short distance from the beach..
>Private is a good word to describe this place.
>You walk down to the beach and to the little pier, to examine the little fishing boat.
>Unlike the extravagance of everything else, it's a plain little thing, two seater, gas engine...
>It's certainly not a yacht.
>But it would fit you and somebody else...
>You head back toward the cabin, wishing you'd taken a sweater.
>As you head back in you notice the trash bags you were sick in, lying on the deck.
>After a swift trip to the garbage can on the edge of the property you're back inside the cabin.
>You go to the bedroom to see your pony fast asleep.
>She takes slow, deep breaths, her hind leg kicking at something.
>Must be dreaming. 
>You notice she's wearing her collar.
>The one she came with, not the one she made.
>You still hadn't even asked about it.
>You feel ashamed for a moment at the realization before you cast it away.
>You head back into the living room and after a quick search you find her little collar.
>Purple with white trim and a little red tie.
>It matches her cutie mark, now that you think about it.
>It looks good on her too...
>You hold the tiny little collar in your hand as you think about all she's done for you the last few days.
>All she's done for you since she came into your life.
>She deserves better.
>This would be the time to clench your fist in dramatic determination but that would crumple the little collar in your hand..
>Sighing, you turn back to the bedroom and walk down the hall.
>A quick glance shows she's still asleep.
>The clock reads past 10.
>*A good time as any to wake up* you think, as you slide off your shoes and creep toward the bed.
>As quietly and gently as you can you lie down behind her.
>She stirs at this but doesn't awaken.
>If you touch her she'll probably wake.
>So you lie for there for a few long moments, watching her sleep.
>Almost basking in her presence.
>She's so peaceful and pretty like this...
>You reach out to stroke her cheek
"Coco..." you gently call to her.
>Again you run your hand along her cheek, then up to her ear.
"Coco... Wake up..." you softly repeat.
>You run your hand down and rub her neck a little, then back to her cheek before her eyes slowly open.
>You know how pleasant it is to be woken gently like this.
>Eventually she comes around, as you patiently pet her.
>"Master?" she asks, slightly confused.
"Good morning, Coco" you reply, punctuating it with a little kiss on the top of her head
>A warm smile is your payment.
>"Good morning, Master." she responds, rolling over to face you.
>Her mane is out of place with stray hairs everywhere and the side she was sleeping on sticking straight up.
>Rather than make fun of her you opt to straighten it as best you can with your free hand.
>She seems appreciative of the gesture, a small smile on her face as you tend to her.
>"Are you... Are you feeling better now?" she tentatively asks.
"Yeah," you reply. "I feel much better, thank you."
>"Oh, that's great. I was so worried.. Are you sure you're better?"
>You just nod and smile.
>"M-my collar.." she blurts out in surprise, noticing it in your other hand.
"Oh yeah, about that..." you say, reaching for her slave collar and locating the buckle.
>Soon enough it's off.
>Coco looked surprised for a moment when you started taking the collar off.
>For just a moment.
>You guess that's how long it took her to realize what you're doing, her look of surprise replaced by... gratitude?
>Some kind of happiness, regardless. 
>You slip the little purple collar around her neck and tie it for her, tossing the offending one across the room.
>You don't like that one any more.
"That's better" you say, flattening out a crease.
>Coco reaches her hoof around your neck and pulls herself closer to you, until her head is buried in your chest.
>"Thank you" she murmurs, nuzzling you.
>It's adorable and you're enjoying it more than you would have expected.
>You let yourself sink down into the bed and snake your arm underneath her to hold her.
>She lies there, with her face buried in your chest, as you stroke the back of her mane.
>You two lay like this for a good 20 minutes before you get up to shower.
>You've been sweating in these clothes for 3 days straight now.
>She didn't even mention the smell.
>And you know their sense of smell is stronger than ours.
>These thoughts and more run through your head as the water washes over you, like a ceremonial cleansing, the last vestiges of your alcohol addiction being washed off.
>She was by your side the whole time, wasn't she?
>Why?
>What has inspired such loyalty in her?
>Is it because you're all she has?
>The questions go unanswered as you finish up and shut the water off, then dry yourself off and change into clean clothes.
>Fortunately Emily left some mousse behind. 
>You can work with that.
>You forgot your hair gel.
>.....
>You also forgot your toothbrush. Fuck!
>You sigh and search the medicine cabinet in the vain hope there's a brand new toothbrush.
>No luck, just a couple used ones.
>You shake your head in disgust as you sink the head of the toothbrush into a capful of mouthwash.
>Yeah, you're doing this. 
>You can taste how bad your breath is, and that wont fly with a girl around.
>You've got the toothpaste applied to the brush when it strikes you:
>You just thought of Coco as a girl.
>Not an alien or a pony or a slave.
>Just a girl....
>You push the thought out of your head as you brush your teeth as quickly as you can, as if that makes this somehow less disgusting.
>There's a second toothbrush in the cabinet too. 
>At least Coco will get to enjoy this experience as well.
>Has she not bathed or brushed her teeth since coming here?
>You finish up and spit out the toothpaste before gargling with the mouthwash.
>She must not have..
>You spit it out and finishing up, go to find your poner.
>She's in the kitchen, eating everything in sight again.
>You'll introduce her to her new toothbrush later.
>Right now you sit down with her and take a few pineapple slices out of the can she's eating for yourself.
>She's happy to share.
"So," you break the silence. "Is there a story behind that collar?"
>"Nope" she mumbles, speaking with her mouth full again.
>"I just thought it looked good" she adds, before swallowing.
>You're gonna have to break her of that habit, aside from it being gross she'll embarrass you if she does that in front of anyone...
>When you're out in public with her....
>Because you're in a relationship...
>With a pony...
>She must have noticed your expression change half a dozen times as you processed the thoughts.
>"Master? Are you alright?" she asks, her brow furrowed.
>You just nod.
"Yeah. Just thinking."
>"About what?" she pries.
>It's obvious she's keenly interested in learning more about you, but certain things are best left unsaid.
"Nothing that matters, dont worry about it... Hey, do you wanna go out on the lake later when it warms up? Maybe do a little fishing?"
>She perks up at the idea, her breakfast forgotten.
>"Sure!" she exclaims. "But I dont want to hurt any fish.." her ears lower slightly.
"Don't worry, we'll let them go." you assure her.
>You would actually prefer not to let them go but you've accepted you're going to have to tone down the meat eating with a pony around.
>You don't really mind much anyway to be perfectly honest.
>When you really think about it, eating a dead decaying animal is kind of disgusting..
>"Okay!" she exclaims, interrupting your thoughts. "Can we go now??"
>She's so eager, you wish you'd waited until the afternoon when it's warmer to bring it up.
"Well, it's still pretty cold out. Maybe in a few hours.." you tell her.
>She deflates.
>"Okay.." she sighs, disappointed.
>You reach out to rub behind her ear.
"Hey, it's alright. The lake will still be there in a couple hours, I promise." 
>She doesn't look much happier.
"Okay, okay, I guess we can go now.." you concede.
>Like flipping a switch, Happy Coco is back.
"You better put on a sweater or something.." you tell her.
>"But... Is that.." she stammers. "Is it okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine." you assure her. "Go look through the closet and find something that fits you. It's cold out there."
>She eventually picks out a small jacket, the kind women wear more to show off their bodies than keep warm.
>For a pony though, it's just about the right size, aside from having to roll the sleeves up.
>She's happy with her find, and in general, before you usher her into the bathroom and introduce her to her toothbrush.
>She ALMOST fought you over it.
>You could tell she was a hair's width away from refusing before surrendering to your authority.
>Authority as her master?
>Or authority as her... whatever you are.
>It doesn't matter, you think to yourself, as you explain what mouthwash is for.
>Apparently they didn't have that in Equestria.
>Fortunately for you it's the kind that burns, she spits it out a second after it goes in her mouth, and she frantically turns the faucet on to rinse it out.
>Standing on her hindlegs she can't get her head under the faucet and is starting to panic, hopping up and down desperately trying to reach the water.
>You can't help but laugh at the sight.
>After a moment she hears you laughing and stops to look you in the eyes.
>Hers are welling up with tears, a look of betrayal and pain written across her face.
>*That's enough*, you think to yourself, lifting her up by the waist to reach the water.
>You'd feel guilty but she'll be fine.
>Also that was hilarious.
>After she'd rinsed her mouth out with water and shared her less than favorable opinions on mouthwash, she left the room in a huff.
>She didn't think it was funny.
>But then, when you're the butt of the joke it usually isn't.
>You've gotten lots of laughs at other people's expense, especially with Victor egging you on, but this one is different.
>It stopped being funny when you saw the look on her face.
>Were it anybody else that would have just made it better.
>You probably would have left them in that predicament too.
>If it were anyone else.
>You glance at your little pony whos left the bathroom and is currently sitting on the bed, sulking.
>*Were it anybody else I wouldnt have to deal with this* you think to yourself, as you approach her.
"Hey, C'mon, I didn't know it would burn that bad" you admit.
>She crosses her forelegs and turns her head away from you.
>Your initial response is surprise at the audacity of your slave.
>Before you recall she's not really your slave.
>That's not the kind of relationship you want with her.
>You can't just command her to stop being upset.
>You have to get her to stop being upset in a different way.
>So you sit down next to her on the bed and reach out to rub her ear, but she pulls away.
"C'mon now. Don't be like that." you complain.
>"That was mean..."  she says quietly.
"I'm sorry." 
>"It hurt and you laughed!" she turns to face you, looking betrayed and upset again.
"I'm sorry" you repeat, reaching out to touch her mane.
>This time she doesn't pull away, but her body remains stiff, legs folded in front of her, as you run your hand along her withers.
"It doesn't burn so bad for humans. I didn't realize how much it hurt you. I'm sorry."
>She turns her head to look at you, waiting for one more apology it seems.
 "I won't do anything like that to you again." you solemnly promise.
>That did the trick.
>She unfolds her legs and scoots closer to you.
>You take this as a signal to pull her into a side-hug, her little body against yours, your chin resting on the top of her head.
>You interpreted the situation right it seems, as she's nuzzling your chest, all is forgiven.
>After a few minutes of this you decide you'd rather snuggle with your pony instead of going out on the lake in the freezing cold to try and outsmart a fish, so you strip off your coat, and hers as well.
>You gently lift her and move her to the top of the bed so you can lay more comfortably.
>Lowering her down onto the pillow, you look into her eyes, as she looks deeply into yours.
>You realize you're in bed with a girl you technically just undressed..
>She's lying on her back looking up at you, you're above her looking at her...
>This is the point where you'd make love to the girl...
>If the girl wasn't a pony and wasn't your slave and everything wasn't weird and complicated.
>She's looking up at you expectantly, like this is the part in the movie where they kiss.
>So, it is.
>You kiss her long, and deep, and with every drop of affection you have.
>Your hands run over her withers and across her cheeks and through her mane as you kiss her in a way you've never quite kissed anyone before.
>Eventually you break the kiss and pull back to look her in the eyes.
>Her cheeks are red and she's panting slightly.
>You're not sure what that means for ponies but if it means what you think it means...
>Well, you're not sure you're ready for that.
>Are you?
>Why havent you thought through this part yet? 
>It's not like you didn't see it coming.
>A bit sooner than you thought, that must be why...
>You can't let yourself get lost in thought right now, or she'll probably misinterpret it as something she did.
>But you're not ready, you're still not even sure you're fully willing to have a romantic relationship with her, despite willingly leading her down that road yourself.
>You don't want to let her down too hard, so you give her another kiss, a quick peck on the lips, before lying down next to her and wrapping her in your embrace.
>This will have to do, for now.
>If she's disappointed, she doesn't let it show.
****************************************************
>Some hours have passed and you're in the boat now, fishing rod in hand, pony across from you.
>It's warmer now but you still need a jacket.
>You've been sitting here for around an hour and neither of you have gotten a  bite.
>You reel your bait in to check the rubber worm is still on the hook.
>Yep.
>You sigh and cast it back out.
>You always found fishing kind of boring, just sitting around doing nothing.
>Why did you suggest this to begin with?
>Oh well. Something to do with her.
>You gaze at the little pony across from you, too busy digging through the tackle box to notice you staring.
>She's trying to find a better bait to use, as if one of the four kinds of rubber bugs will be better than the others.
>She has this charming innocence that you don't really see in humans beyond a certain age.
>She's pure in a way that doesn't belong in this dirty world.
>None of them do, you realize.
>And we don't belong in theirs.
>The fact we found a way to make contact with intelligent life, and instead of befriending them, attacked and subjugated them is evidence enough.
>You should be in your apartment drinking right now.
>She shouldn't be here.
>Yet here both of you are, and you're better off for it.
>It's nice that all the misery and destruction has worked out for you.
>You purse your lips together into a thin line at the thought.
>Normally you'd be totally fine with this thought but having a victim right in front of you puts a damper on the celebration of interplanetary robbery.
>You switch your face back to neutral just in time as Coco looks up from the tackle box, a small jar of scented bait putty in her hoof.
>"What about this stuff?" she asks.
>You shrug.
"That crap never worked for me."
>You look around at all the fish you havent caught.
"Although this bait we're using right now isnt working either. Do you wanna try that?" you ask.
>She nods and reels her line in.
>You help her get the worm off the hook, and clump a little ball of putty in it's place before casting it back out.
>And now we wait.
>You sit like that for a while, kinda staring off into space, trying not to stare directly at her too much and make her uncomfortable.
>There's not a whole lot to look at though.
>You're about to start counting the trees when she breaks the silence.
>"So.. You never told me.." she not-so-nervously brings up.
>You turn your head to face her as she speaks.
>"Why.. Why did humans attack Equus?"
>Shit. This question.
>You sigh. How do you explain this?
>There's nowhere to run either, as she looks to you expectantly.
>Like somehow you can justify your world's crimes.
>Fortunateluy you did gather your thoughts on this the other day.
>You can't really explain it to a normal person in a way that sounds normal, so you opt to explain it clinically- like a historian, with as little emotion as possible.
"Well Coco, a lot of it has to do with how we are..." you begin. "Humans evolved from apes. A very violent and intelligent family of animals. And humans are the most violent and intelligent of the lot. That's why we're still around.. That's why we dominate this planet."
>She sits silently listening as you continue.
"In this world, life is.... cheaper.. than in yours. Was in yours. We've bred ourselves to be violent, because all our peaceful ancestors ended up being killed by the violent ones.."
>Her expression is one of surprise and horror as she sits there, silently absorbing this.
"Greed is deeply embedded in our psyche as well. Nowadays it's considered an ugly thing, but for most of our history and existence, being greedy could be the difference between living and dying. So that was bred into us as well, and it goes unpunished. Rewarded, in fact..."
>You glance to the float in the water, as it sits unmoving on the surface, and you sigh before turning back to her.
"So somebody along the way figured out the easiest way to get wealth is by taking it from others.. And that's what we've been doing to each other for  as long as we've been keeping track. Raiding other tribes for their resources. Humans killing other humans to steal from them. And it was okay to do it, because the people that were being attacked were different. They spoke differently or looked differently, and that was enough for it to be okay to hurt them- to not see them as real people with feelings too, but as something less."
>The irony of your words is not lost on you.
"So, when resources started getting scarce.. When we had too many people and not enough space, the water was polluted, the air..." you trail off. "Well, we had to find some more, or die." you  explain.
>You glance back at the bob in the water.
"Our scientists found a way to open portals to other worlds. Ones they thought could sustain life for us. They had to be just right, just the right temperature, with air to breathe, water to drink, able to support life..."
>You look back to her.
"Like Equus." you say. "There's not a lot of planets like Earth or Equus, I'm afraid.
>Silence as the boat gently bobs in the water.
"The fact that somebody already lived on Equus, well... That never stopped us before. It wasn't right what we did to you, invading and colonizing your world.. But we were at a desperate point. Our species was on the verge of extinction. It doesn't matter that it was from our own doing. Our world, and our kind were at the brink. We had to decide who was going to own your world-  who was going to live, and who was going to die. And we had to favor ourselves."
>You look at her again, your explanation finished. 
>She doesn't look satisfied.
>"That's why all the killing? That's why humans wiped out the dragons and minotaurs? So you could drink their water and live on their land?" she asks, shocked and offended.
"Yeah." is all you say.
>She stares at you, unbelieving, as the simplicity of it sinks in.
>After a few long moments she speaks again.
>"But... why did you enslave us?" she asks sadly, accusingly.
>The silence would be deafening were it not for a slight breeze blowing over the lake, the boat gently bobbing with the waves.
>You have the answer but don't want to say it. 
>You're not gonna lie though.
"Because we could." you tell her. “Because selling you means somebody makes a profit.”
>Before she can respond you continue.
"Someone said that violence is the supreme authority from which all other authority is derived." you say. "I don't know about supreme *authority*, but it's the supreme force. Those who are unwilling or unable to commit violence, will always be subject to, and victim of those who are. Your peaceful world  met a violent one, and that's the result. It's kind of really just that simple.."
>Her mouth is open in disbelief at how simply humanity's horrendous actions can be explained. As if she were expecting some great cosmic game of chess where Equestria is just a pawn, only to discover the destruction of her world as she knew it was just a giant, fat hand reaching out and grabbing it.
>You sit there in silence for a while, Coco first staring at you wide eyed and opened mouthed, before composing herself and silently staring off into the trees.
>You sit like this for a while before you decide it's time to pack it in.
>You reel in your rod, and then hers.
>She doesn't respond, not even when you start the engine and steer the boat back to the pier.
>As you're tying the boat off to the dock, she climbs out without a word and walks to the cabin, not even sparing you a glance.
>You can't read her this time. 
>Is she mad? At you? Why?
>She must be distraught.
>You think. You're not sure.
>You're not an expert on emotions, and you haven't had much experience telling someone why their world was stolen before, so you're navigating blindly here.
>You finish tying the boat off and return to the cabin, to find Coco absent from the living room.
>You quietly creep down the hall and poke your head in the bedroom to see her crying into a pillow.
>It feels like this isn't the right time to comfort her. 
>Like the presence of a human isn't wanted right now.
>So you slink back to the living room and sit on the couch, staring at the wall and thinking of your sad little pony.
>In every sci-fi alien movie ever, its the evil aliens who come to earth to steal our resources,only to be beaten back by a handful of heroes at the darkest hour.
>Except we're the evil aliens.
>And their greatest heroes never had a chance.
>There was no happy ending for their movie.
>One of the first, and worst things we imported to Equestria, something from our world, something theirs had never seen before.
>A story where the bad guys win.
**************************************************
>Be Coco.
>You couldn't believe what Master told you at first.
>How can humans be so horrible?
>You hadn't known why Earth attacked Equus.
>It happened so fast nopony, not even the princesses had time to respond.
>The war for Equus was over so fast you didn't know it had started until these humans rolled into Manehattan in those moving boxes and started abducting ponies.
>Ponies like you ended up in cages without so much as an explanation.
>There was lots of speculation of course, especially after being put in chans.
>You've cried so much for your family and friends, for your country and your world and everypony..
>So many nights you cried yourself to sleep.
>You feel like you were waiting to find out why Equus was atttacked before you let yourself process the emotions involved.
>One more thing to hurt your heart.
>This one youg ot to put off for a while.
>Now it's here.
>And now that it is, you feel like you're out of tears.
>So you lie on the bed and stare at the wall.
>You just cant believe how simple it was.
>They just came and stole you.
>And your world.
>And everything in it.
>The dragons were the only ones who put up any kind of a fight and it got them exterminated.
>You can feel the corners of your lips curl downward into a frown at the thought.
>All those lives.. stolen. 
>Your life.
>Stolen.
>By these horrible apes.
>You want to cry but there's no tears left.
>You just stare at the wall.
>At least you have Anon.
>The only good human in the lot.
>And he cares about you. 
>Maybe even loves you.
>You force yourself to smile at the thought and for just a moment the pain recedes like an ocean wave heading back out to sea.
>Before it all comes crash back upon you, covering you.
>You've never felt such a mix of so many bad feelings at the same time.
>You don't know how to deal.
>In the slave pens you just laid in the back corner holding your tail and crying.
>Before Master came and saved you.
>When you laid down you turned your back to the door in case Master comes.
>Hopefully he will be able to tell you want to be left alone.
>You tuck your tail between your legs and clench it to your barrel in a hug.
>You hug your tail tight and think of Mom..
>Dad..
>Miss Kindheart.
>You're shaking now, petting your tail like it's a little foal that needs comforting.
>You're the little foal that needs comforting.
>All you want is somepony to hold you and tell you everything is gonna be OK.
>But there isn't anypony here for you.
>Everything isn't gonna be OK.
>You hug your tail tighter as the tears finally come.
>Theres nopony left to tell you everything is gonna be okay.
>Everypony is gone and you're so far from home you could never reach it on your own.
>You hold your tail close and kiss it once for Mom.
>Once for Dad.
>Once for your sister.
>One for Miss Kindheart.
>And one more for everypony else.
>It's a silly habit you started when you were in the slave pens.
>You miss them so much.
>Oh Celestia let them be okay.
>Your vision of the wall goes blurry as your eyes fill with tears,and then spill out.
>Teardrops silently run down your cheek onto the pillow.
>You imagine your tail is Mom and hug it.
>Through the tears you find yourself smiling at the thought of just seeing her again.
>And then you catch yourself.
>You're probably not ever gonna see mom again.
>Mom....
>You want your mom.
>You rock yourself like a baby while you hug your tail.
>Trying to find any kind of artificial comfort.
>Any comfort at all.
>You want your mom.
>You're shaking and crying and rocking yourself back and forth like a baby.
>You want your mommy.
********************************************************
>You've been in the living room for a while now, leaving Coco to process her emotions.
>If she wanted you to comfort her, she would have done something to signal it, you figure.
>It's been a couple hours now, and close to dusk.
>You're bored, perusing Emily's small library set atop the shelves that line one wall of the living room.
>You're browsing a field guide about edible and medicinal plants native to the area when an idea strikes you.
>Maybe it would get her mind off things if you took Coco foraging.
>There's still an hour or two of light left.
>Entering the bedroom you notice she's still facing the wall.
 >The curtains are drawn and with the window in this room facing eastward, there's little light in the room as the sun is close to setting.
>You come closer to her until youre practially standing over her.
>Her eyes are shut and she's lying still.
>She appears to be sleeping.
>You watch her for several seconds to make sure.
>You watch her breathing, specifically.
>When most animals fall asleep, ponies included, their breathing becomes deeper, and slower.
>The breaths are coming too quickly for her to be asleep.
>You're not 100% certain though.
"Are you awake?" you just barely whisper, locking your eyes onto her ear that isn't pressed against the pillow.
>It twitches at the sound, begging to turn toward you but it stops, jerking back into position.
>You read ponies will both consciously and unconsciously turn their ears toward a variety of sounds,particularly quiet ones, to keep better situational awareness.
>Part of being prey animals you suppose.
>They don't do it while theyre asleep, though. Only if something in the dream prompts them to.
>She started to turn her eat but caught herself.
>You're certain she's awake now.
>But she doesn't know you know she's awake.
>How can this best be played to your advantage?  
>You hover over her thinking.
>Some kind of confession you'd seemingly never make if she were awake.
>A manufactured secret she gets to discover.
>But what?
>You put the book down and crawl into bed next to her, as gently and quietly as you can.
>As if she were asleep and you were trying your best not to wake her.
>It works, as she remains "asleep."
>You fake a low sigh.
"Im sorry" you whisper to her, trying not to "wake her.
"I wish I could tell you this when you're awake..." you gently whisper.
>You quietly sigh again for good measure.
"I'm so sorry for everything that happened to you. I'd undo it all if I could. But I can't."
>No response, of course.
"But I'm glad you're in my life. You make it better. I guess... I feel horrible about this.." you continue, trying to sound guilty.
>That ear is really trying not to turn your way.
>Still she lies motionless.
"I would undo what happened to you if I could, but I'd hate it, because I'd lose you."
>You fake a small sniff like youre holding back tears.
"And you mean. A lot. To me.." you admit.
>Another sniffle and a sigh.
>You're laying it on pretty thick but she doesnt have a clue.
"I wish I could say that when youre awake. That im such a terrible person I'd rather keep you than send you home..I like having you in my life."
>One more sniffle.
"I'm sorry" you say, as quietly and mournfully as you can muster.
>You cap the entire performance with one more sigh before settling in next to her.
>She lies unmoving the entire time, dedicated to appearing asleep.
>Her breathing betrays her.
>You lie that way next to her for a good 5 minutes or so by your estimate.
>That's about enough time to appear genuine, you figure, before reaching out and gently shaking her.
>She stirs at your touch, her eyes remain shut however, and she remains silent.
"Coco?" you half whisper in the dim room, the light waning. 
"Wake up." you command, another shake.
>This time her eyes flutter open.
>Finally, she's awake.
>"Yes, Master?" she asks, feigning the voice one would have when being woken.
>She's breaking rule #2 but you can't call her on it.
"Are you alright?" you gently probe.
>"Yes, Master." 
>You sigh.
"I'm sorry I upset you earlier" you say, gently running a hand through her mane.
"Is there anything I can do or say to make you feel better?" 
>"N-no... It's okay, I 'm okay." She's already far too alert for someone who just woke up. Needs to work on her deceit game.
>She doesnt sound entirely okay...
>You pull her in close so you're spooning.
>Your consider multiple things to say.
>None of them seem appropriate or potent enough to have any meaning.
>You said the most important thing while she was asleep, after all.
"I'm sorry." is all you can think to say, as you lie there holding her.
>A sniffle is all you receive in response.
"Is this okay? Lying with you?" you ask.
>A nod.
>So you lie with her, holding her close.
>There's nothing you can say to make this better, but a universe of things to make it worse, so you remain silent.
>Eventually sleep overtakes you both.
>You wake a few hours later to find it's still dark out.
>Coco is asleep in your arms, clutching your arm to her barrel.
>Somehow your arm ended up running the length of her body, both sets of legs holding your arm tight.
>Despite being asleep she's got a pretty good grip on you.
>Even her tail is wrapped around the upper part of your arm.
>Hopefully when she wakes up to a new day she'll feel better.
>And that little seed you planted with your "confession" will perhaps sprout.
>Maybe when things cool off and you can return to your apartment, you can try to track down her family, and friends.
>You're not interested in having any more ponies, but if you find her family you could see to it they find their way to good homes.
>Or set them free...
>Because you can do that.....
>That's right, Coco doesn't know there are free ponies.
>You've been hiding that from her.
>She doesn't know she could be free tomorrow if you willed it.
>That isn't your will though, so tomorrow she won't be free.
>If you find her family you'd either have to take them in (and hope they dont know there are free ponies,) or pretend you didn't find them.
>She doesn't even know you could probably track them down with a quick internet search.
>Failing that a private detective would turn them up.
>What a lovely gift, her loved ones, safe and secure.
>You just don't want anyone intruding on what you have here with her.
>And you really can't have her finding out freedom is an option...
>If you set her free....
>You sigh.
>You'll be alone again.
>She's the only thing you give a fuck about.
>*You just can't.....*
>*You just can't.....* save her loved ones because you're too selfish to risk losing her.
>You close your eyes and sink lower down the bed until your face is pressed into the back of her mane.
>Taking a breath, you notice the scent of her hair.
>She hasn't bathed since you got here.
>No chemicals, no shampoo smell.  
>Just her natural scent.
>It's... nice.
>You take another breath.
>Yeah, you like it.
>Your heart almost stops as the silence is broken by a giggle.
>"Are you sniffing my hair?" the apparently awake pony asks.
>Oh god how embarrassing.
"I was just, uh, well I was lying here and I just..." you stammer, not having had time to prepare a lie.
"Yeah, I was." you admit. 
"I like the way you smell.." 
>You feel her hooves clench around your arm tighter.
>She gives your arm a little squeeze and nuzzles it.
>Guess she doesn't mind.
>Still, probably best to stop now before you end up looking like a creep.
>You lie like that for a while until that damnable sun starts to fill the room with pale light.
>With the only window in the bedroom facing the East the sun fills the room with it's obnoxious presence as soon as it crests the horizon.
"It's morning" you tell her. "You hungry?" 
>She lets go of your arm and rolls around to face you.
>You can see her clearly now.
>She doesn't look upset anymore, but rather, determined?
>"Why did you buy me?" she bluntly asks, looking into your eyes.
>Fuck. Didn't see this coming.
>You can't tell her the truth..
>What the hell do you say?
>She's looking at you expectantly. 
>You're pretty sure you know what she wants to hear, but you're not sure you're ready to say it.
"I told you, I got you to be my companion..."
>She looks.. disappointed?
>"Is that it?" she asks, a twinge of  sadness in her voice.
>????
"What do you want me to say?" you ask. 
>Your tone wasn't confrontational. It was gentle, in fact. 
>What are her aspirations for the two of you?
>You can see her scrunch her muzzle up in the pale light at the question.
>"The truth." she replies.
>You're still looking into her eyes, trying to find the right thing to say, when she continues.
>"You could have bought five mares for 'companions' for what you spent on me." she says, almost accusingly.
>Her tone isn't harsh enough to be accusing, though. She sounds.. Hopeful?
>Some kind of happiness was embedded in those words.
>You're just not sure-
>"I haven't seen you with any human mares.." she interrupts your thoughts. "And I haven't smelled any on you after you went out." she continues carefully, worried she may be treading on dangerous ground.
>She taps her forehooves together a few times.
>You've noticed this to be a nervous habit of hers.
>Despite inquiring about something that normally would be absolutely inappropriate for a slave to ask their master, she keeps going.
>The two of you have already crossed the line for what's appropriate or not for a master/slave relationship.
>You went flying over it on a jet ski.
>"And you asked me if I want to be your bed slave.." she says, her cheeks turning red as she looks away.
>She stops there, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air.
>You want her to continue but it's clear she's finished and waiting for a response.
"Do you want to be my bed slave?" you ask.
>Might as well get to the point.
>"N-no.." she says, her voice low and quiet.
>She takes just a moment too long to answer that question, just a moment of hesitation that accidentally tells you far more than she intended, and by the look on her face and cheeks, she realizes it too.
>She's tapping her forehooves together rapidly now.
>You reach your hand up to caress her cheek, your eyes meeting hers again.
"What do you want to be, to me?" you ask.
>Her muzzle scrunches up at the question. she gets even redder,and lies there silently, now again refusing to meet your gaze.
>Silently except for the tap tap tap of her hooves.
>You're in a standoff now, neither of you wanting to be the first to admit their own truth.
>You know what your truth is.
>Based on everything you've experienced with her so far, combined with the nervous tapping...
>You're pretty sure you know what her truth is too.
>You run your hand along her cheek and through her mane again.
"What would you like to be to me?" you gently repeat.
>She seems to shrink into herself, unwilling to answer the question.
>She's no longer looking you in the eyes, and her forehooves are up defensively, covering her face in embarrassment.
>You're gonna have to be the first one to speak.
>This is it.
>This is the moment you've been conscious and unconsciously leading both of you toward.
>Yet you still hadn't decided if you want a relationship with her or not.
>And time's up.
>Shit or get off the pot, Anon.
>You look at your little pony, her cheeks bright red, her eyes set on everything but you, hiding behind her little hooves.
>Her light blue hair.. That pretty cream colored coat. Those beautiful blue eyes that match her mane, small as pinpricks and looking everywhere but at you.
>She's the cutest thing you've ever seen.
>And although you technically own her.
>You don't own her enough to be satisfied.
>You want her. In a way that can't be taken.
>You admit it to yourself. That's the truth.
>You don't care what other's think about you.
>What they'll say, the jokes at your expense.
>Fuck them. 
>You know what you want.
>You gently grip her hooves and pull them down, away from her face and out of the way.
>Her eyes meet yours again at the gesture, then quickly look away again.
"Coco," you begin, holding her hooves in your hand.
>Her eyes turn to yours and this time stay there.
>What's the word they use????
>You rack your brain.
>Right.
>For her part she's still bravely looking you in the eyes.
"I want you to be my special somepony." you say softly, but with surety.
>Her eyes go wide for a moment, but not wide enough to suggest this is a novel idea to her.
“Is that what you want, too?”
>You feel her start to pull her hooves up again to cover her face, but you hold them in place.
>Not too hard, you'd let her go if she really wanted it, but she relents, her legs relaxing in your grip.
>She's as red as a tomato.
>You've met plenty of heartbreakers in your life but this one is a heart-stopper.
>She shuts her eyes tight and nods sheepishly.
>Unlike before there wasn't any hesitation in her answer this time. 
>This was an absolute yes, as far as you can tell.
>She wants to be with you, too.
>You feel her hooves pulling in your grip again, so you let go so she can hide her face.
>She said she'd never been with a stallion (or a man) before, she must be embarrassed.
>Several thoughts race through your mind.
>You were right all along, Just as planned, etc...
>It's not the thoughts that matter.
>Instead of covering her face, to your surprise she grabs your head and pulls you in for a kiss.
>It's the feeling in your chest right now that matters.
>You were afraid once this moment had happened, you would regret it.
>But you don't.
>You don't regret it at all.
>You feel... happy, for once.
>This IS what you wanted, it seems.
>All along, up until this point, you were lying even to yourself about the reason you got her.
>This moment is the reason you got her.
>This moment and all the ones that will follow.
>She's still kissing you, so your wrap your arms around her body and kiss back.
>What the hell else were you gonna do?
********************************************************

==========
And here the writer has a full-on emotional meltdown: demanding people fite me irl, only authors of gigantic fanfiction can comment on my story, everyone on 4chan exists only to be pointlessly cruel to me, everyone but me is a troll that's here to get revenge for being bullied in highschool, if people aren't going to treat me with respect I'll just shitpost here to ruin the thread for everyone else, the whole deal.  An absolute bitchfit unseen since the reign of fagfag, accompanied by butthurt that registered a 6.2 on the Richter Scale.  The National Guard was deployed to several small towns to assist local emergency services with search and rescue, and have reported minimal casualties.
==========

>A few hours pass before you get the call.
>It's Mike, your lawyer.
>He's greased a few palms, and the warrant for Anon Y. Mous has been corrected for a spelling error.
>The cops are now looking for a Mr. Andrew Mauser.
>He cleaned out your slush fund to do it, too.
>If you want the best, most crooked lawyer money can buy...
>Well money it will be.
>You are a firm believer in the fact that there is no problem that can't be fixed by throwing money at it.
>The bigger the problem the more money.
>Eventually money wins.
>Every time.
>Everybody's got a price and anybody who claims they don't is either lying or just doesn't know what theirs is yet.
>You've already put Harrisons' kids through fucking graduate school with all the trouble you get into and his propensity to charge out the ass.
>But fuck, he gets the job done.
>A god damn wizard, he is.
>He can keep what ever he stole from the slush fund to make the heat disappear.
>You're just happy to know you're safe, and there's plenty more money where that came from anyway.
>Coco's relaxing out on the beach.
>A glance through the window confirms she's still there.
>You pour a glass of tap water and stand at the window, watching your pony.
>It's been nice out here in the cabin, with the vomiting and the crying and the mosquitos, but you'll be happy to get back to your suite.
>You take a sip of the lukewarm water.
>The taste is just as bad as every other time you've had it.
>Drinking water out of the tap like some kind of savage.
>You'll be happy to get back, indeed.
>You set the glass down, and pulling on a sweater (and your favorite scarf) you step outside.
>Breathing in the fresh air, complete with authentic pond scum scent, you aproach your little pony who's sitting in a folding lawn chair that's far too big for her.
"Hey. What are you up to?" you ask.
>She turns her head up to you and smiles. 
>"Just looking at the water, Master. It's nice out here." she says.
>You wanna sit with her but a quick glance shows there's no other chairs.
>She must have dragged this one from the deck.
>That chair is way too big for a little pony...
>She squeaks in surprise as she finds herself lifted up, as you take a seat in her chair, pony in your lap.
>No Anon, it is YOU who is chair.
"You don't mind, do you?" you ask, 100% afterthought.
>"No." she replies, no hesitation or doubt.
>Good girl.
>You wrap your arms around her barrel and pull her into a hug from behind, both of you staring at the massive lake in front of you.
>It seems to stretch on forever.
>After perhaps a minute of this, you release her from the hug and turn her around in your arms to face you, scootting her a little bit further down your legs, to better look her in the face.
"Hey," you start, "I'm not your master anymore. You don't have to call me that. Anon will do."
>A smile erupts across her face as she nods happily.
>A moment later her expression changes to one you can't quite read.
>"A-Anon?" she timidly asks.
>You run a hand along her cheek.
"Yeah?"
>She reaches a hoof up to your hand, holding it there against her face.
>She closes her eyes, a small smile of bliss on her face, enjoying your touch for a few solid seconds before her eyes open again and meet yours.
>"Do you really mean it? You want me to be your special somepony?" 
>Your first thought is she's fishing for compliments, but her eyes speak otherwise.
>They're pleading, and sad, and hopeful, and afraid.
>Or so you think. 
>Maybe you're just projecting what you want her to feel onto your perception of her.
>Regardless there's only one right answer.
>You bring your other hand up to cup her other cheek.
"Yes" you say, giving her a gentle shake.
>With both hands on her face you easily pull her in for a kiss.
>Not that she would have resisted anyway.
>It's a strange sensation, kissing a pony, their mouths are smaller than ours and a lot hairier.
>You have to keep in mind youre kissing a pony and not a bearded man with a freakishly small mouth.
>You suppress a laugh at the thought.
>You sit there and make out with Coco for around 5 minutes or so before it winds down, and she pulls back to look you in face.
>She's red and panting again.
>You need to google that and make sure it means what you think it means.
>You *thought* ponies went into heat at specific times.
>You're gonna fuck her eventually but the logistics of it you're still not sure of.
>Fortunately when you can get yourself alone a couple prayers to Saint Google should have you set.
>She's so cute, it almost seems wrong to have sex with her.
>Like you're developing some kind of Madonna-whore complex.
>Oh, you're absolutely going to fuck her, sleep with her, make love to her, all those things.
>But with this one it matters if you do it right.
>No sending her away in the morning with "money for a taxi" on the nightstand.
>You're gonna have-
>"Okay, Anon. If I can call you by your name, can I do this?" a cute little voice interrupts your thoughts.
>You look down to notice she's shifted in the chair.
>Shes down at your shins now, on her hindlegs in a strange squatting position. What is-OOF
>Before you realize the pony has launched herself at you.
>The last clear thing you see is an idiotic smile on her face as she jumps at you, a literal head-on collision that tips the chair backwards tossing you both into the sand.
>After knocking you down she comes to rest on top of your face, you can feel one of her nipples pressed against your cheek.
>She's giggling like a dummy on top of you before rolling off you to rub her injured muzzle in between laughs.
>You've never seen her this happy.
>Quite the change from yesterday.
>Did you really do this?
>"I'm sorry!" she manages to get out in-between fits of laughter.
>"I meant to do this!" she declares, moving closer and kissing you all over the cheek, right where her little teats were jammed a few moments ago.
>She's laughing in between kisses, and you cant help but join in the laughter, grabbing her barrel and rolling over with you so you're on top.
"The tables have turned" you laugh, holding her in place as she squirms.
"I've never been kissed so hard before" you grin down at her.
>"I didn't mean-" you cut her off.
"I didn't know thats how ponies like to kiss!" you look down at her, evil look in your eye.
>"No! nonono!" she yells, laughing, at you deliver the first of your headbutts.
>The tiniest headbutt against the crown of her forehead, only hard enough to hurt the teeny, tiniest bit. 
>Like a flick to the muzzle.
>Every word you say you punctuate with another little headboop.
>That's what we're calling those now since headbutt sounds bad.
>"Is! This! How! Ponies! Show! Affection!?" boop boop boop.
>She screams in laughter kicking desperately to escape the headboops, your hands moving along her barrel to tickle her.
>You're really working her now.
>You notice she seems to be particularly ticklish on the sides.
>Shes screaming in laughter as you rake your fingers along the sides of her barrel, honing in on any particular spot you notice makes her squirm harder.
>She's trying but she can't escape your grasp.
>So much for that earth pony strength.
>"Ssshhh- stawp!" she cries between shrieking laughter.
>"SsshaaaaaaAAAaaHH!" she yells, before panting "plsss- Please! nomorenomore plssss" she whines.
>You relent and draw your hands back, as she struggles to catch her breath.
>When was the last time you had simple, clean fun like this?
>Without booze or danger or money involved..
>Just enjoying another person's company..
>Not since...
>You put that bitch right out of your mind as you continue laughing with your pony.
>You found someone so much better.
>Somepony.
>Eventually your shared energy winds down, her breathing going back to normal.
>She looks like she's about to say something when you stick your finger out, pointing at her to stop her before she starts.
"Don't even say that was mean. You started it." you say, flatly.
>She scunches her muzzle up for a moment before sticking her tongue out at you and laying back in the sand, looking at the sky.
>You opt to do the same, the sky seems a particularly pretty shade of blue today.
>Only a few clouds, way off to the side, almost as if a decoration, a garnish, a frame for this lovely sky.
>Even the sun is somehow absent and unoffending, hidden behind one of those soft clouds.
>It's a lovely day with a clear blue sky.
>It's a lovely day to be alive.
>You're sober, you're not being hunted by the cops, and most importantly your'e not alone anymore.
>What a lovely, lovely day.


The end.

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And then he deleted his pastebin.  The end.
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