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Just a secondary bin for standalone shorts.
Each section is its own mini-story for now.
If I continue one it'll be moved to its own bin.
 
I post as fanganon !!GVsqLDOink5 
Spoiler text is marked by [Spoiler].
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>You are Twilight Sparkle
>Your owner is forcing you to help out the local used bookstore.
>It's not as great as it sounds.
>You don't get to stock, or sort, or even work the register.
>They're clearing out one of their storage rooms of all its books.
>Which means you get to do a lot of heavy lifting.
>From the side room, through the larger storage area, out the back door, and drop them in the rear parking lot.
>The side room has a lot of books in it.
>It's probably 10ft by 10ft, packed floor to ceiling with paperbacks
>Literally, floor to ceiling.
>There must be thousands.  Definitely more than your treebrary.
>Probably more than your castle.
>...
>There's a muscular shirtless man on the cover.
>All of the covers.
>You don't know more than that.  You're not allowed to read anything.
>One time you tried to peek, but that earned you a firm swat with a riding crop.
>It didn't hurt too much, but it was an effective warning.
>You're not willing to see what the next peek would get you.
>...
>You sigh.
>Of course your owner would choose this as punishment.
>He never beat you, but he didn't let you off easy either.
>His punishments were always psychological, and overly cruel.
>Thank the sun he was never physical.
>But having to move thousands of books and not be able to read any of them?
>It was basically torture.  And he knows it.
 
===Later that day===
 
>You've been at this for most of today.
>Your magic, hobbled as it is, is beyond taxed.
>There's so many books.
>You've spent the last three hours just carrying them on your back.
>Only a two more boxes, though.  The room is almost empty.
>All day long your mind had kept straying to those books.
>The stories they must tell.  The secrets they hold.
>That same male, on every book.
>Always shirtless, always full of confidence.
>Always holding some female.
>Probably some kind of warrior, from how muscular he is.
>This must be the biggest fantasy series that's every existed.
>Sure there's a lot of repeats, but for the most part they're all unique.
>Kind of.  They're all really similar.
>'Never judge a book by its cover' be damned, they're so similar you have trouble with counting unique books.
>But even so, it'd take you weeks, maybe months to go through the whole series.
>And at your reading speed, that's really saying something.
>One more box.
>You almost slip as you pick it up.
>You're soaked in sweat.
>Oh filly you're out of shape.
>You've been putting on muscle during your servitude.
>With the manual labor it'd be hard not to.
>As much as it pains you to admit it, you're in the best shape of your life.
>But it wasn't enough for this.
>You forgot how heavy books are when you can't levitate them around.
>He even turned down your magic restrictor a little bit.
>And your magic reserves still ran out.
>This world has so little magic in it, you'd spend the next two weeks without telekinesis.
>...
>Well, it's not a good thing but you'll survive.
>Your owner wasn't a flankhole all the time.
>Aside from the massively disproportionate punishment.
>Seriously, today was for [spilling a glass of chocolate milk.]
 
>And now, the last box.
>You're way, waaaay beyond exhausted.
>Even with the lunch and dinner break, you don't think you've ever been this tired.
>Unicorns aren't built for this.
>Especially not the bookworm ones.
>But this is it.
>The last box.
>You set it down next to all the others.
>A huge pile of books in the parking lot.
>Some in stacks, others in boxes.
>Oh, it feels so good to sit.
>It's cooled down nicely since sunset.
>Two hours ago...
>...
>They better have a plan for these books.
>One that doesn't involve you moving them.
>You couldn't even if you tried.
>But it's not like they had you load them onto a truck, or into a shed or something.
>They're just all in a big pile in the middle of the parking lot.
>At least the sky is clear.  No worrying about rain.
>They could be left out and wouldn't get damaged tonight.
>...
>Was this some sort of promotional event for human bookstores?
>$5 to grab from the pile?
>Maybe a lottery to win the whole stack?
>That wouldn't make sense though.  This is the rear parking lot.
>You'd want to advertise next to the road, right?
 
>Aaaaaaand your owner just tied your leash to a lamppost.
>You mentally take back what you said.
>He really is a flankhole.
>You just spent the entire day helping his friend.
>An entire day, hauling a literal room-full of books, without reading anything.
>And he ties you up like a dog.
>...
>Oh no.
>Things just started getting weird.
>As soon as you were tied up, all the employees gathered around the pile.
>Glaring at it with a hatred you had never before seen.
>Sneering at the pile, grumbling hateful things.
>It was as if those books had personally wronged them.
>When the murmurs turned into chanting, you started to panic.
>This was new, and it was terrifying.
>You'd read of human cults, but you'd never actually seen one.
>The mutters turn to snarls turn to shouts.
>Louder and louder each time.
>"Fuck Fabio, Fuck Fabio, Fuck Fabio, Fuck Fabio!"
>You don't know what that means.
>You just know you need to stop it, and you're completely powerless to do so.
>And then, the bookstore owner came outside.
[>With a burning torch.]
 
[>Your breath caught]
[>Time seemed to slow to a crawl]
[>You could see in perfect clarity each ember]
[>caught in the wind]
[>as he threw the torch]
[>at the pile of books]
 
=====
 
And that was the day Twilight Sparkle died inside.
Her owner started selling Bottled Alicorn Tears the next morning.
 
 
 
 
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===An afterward to the previous short===
 
 
Excerpt from the personal log of Dr. Anonington Frederick Aggot, Esquire:
 
>Day 41.
 
>Today begins a new project, as ordered by High Command NC03.
 
>While the initial Tears were gathered by simple methods, they were insufficient for the volume required.
>These creatures are mind-numbingly innocent, and my team has taken advantage of that.
>The initial method (withholding pudding cups from supper) resulted in a mere 4ml of Tears per event.
>Taking away their nose and holding it for a ransom of impossible sums increases production to 5ml.
>Given the extreme curative properties of a single Alicorn Tear, we should be thankful for even that much.
>The suits upstairs disagree.
 
>We have since been experimenting with more intense methods, while retaining a focus on safety.
>Both of the subject, and our facility.
>It is clear that this is simply not good enough.
>However, increasing severity has led to mixed results.
 
>A brief foray into so-called "Struggle Snuggling" was attempted.
>Dr. Incog from Magical R&D had volunteered to carry out the procedure, as his department has been following a related line of research.
>Incog has since been banned from my department.
>Heightened security measures have since been put in place.
 
>Nonconsentual hoof-holding is inconsistent.
>Initital runs proved promising, but follow-up results varied wildly.
>In one case, 31ml.  However, that result was unable to be recreated.
>That method has since been abandoned.
 
>Last week one of our junior researchers came to me with a new approach.
>He brought in a copy of Grave of the Fireflies on VHS.
>Subject Blue and Pink reacted well, producing 47ml and 41ml respectively.
>Subject White, however, produced 92ml over the course of the film.
 
>High Command NC03 has approved of the new methodology, and it is to be implemented this evening.
>The first Princess Movie Night will feature the 1978 classic Watership Down.
 
 
 
 
==============================
 
 
>"Mister Anon, what's your cutie mark?"
 
>Well, that was a question you weren't expecting.
>...
>It'd be okay to fuck with her, right?
>Just a little.
>It's not like she's your pone.  You're just horse-sitting for a week while your friend was doing whatever.
>Femanon was a bitch, but the good kind of bitch.  The two of you went drinking on weekends.
>You even tried to get her laid, but as it turns out [she wasn't gay.]
>[Yeah, right.  And you're not an asshole.]
 
"Well, Mint Chip...  Can I call you Mint?"
>"Sure, Mister Anon."
"Well, Mint, now's as good a time as ever.  You're just about old enough for this story."
>At least, you're pretty sure she is.  She's got that skinny look like she's just starting horse-puberty.
>Don't wanna make it too dark.  A horse-kid is still a kid.
>But if she just so happens to get the wrong idea about humans, it might make up for Femanon not paying you to watch her pet.
>However cute that pet may be.
>You pull up your sleeve to show her your shoulder tattoo.
"Like all humans of my breed, I don't have one.  Only this symbol to show my loyalty to the greatest warrior to ever live."
>Her eyes are sparkling.  Like literally sparkling.  Holy shit she's adorable.
 
>"That's so cool!"  Her voice went all squeaky for 'cool'.  Teenpone confirmed.
>Thank god she's a tomboy.  You can't do mushy stuff.
>You pat the seat next to yours and she awkwardly hops onto the couch.
>She shuffles around a little, adjusts her collar, and then sits with her forelegs tucked under her like a cat.
 
"The story of Earth's champion began long ago, in the early nineties.  I was just a...  uh...  colt at the time."
>You should really learn more about ponies.  That Algerian soap carving forum only talks about one part of them.
>And that's not allowed on your weeb boards.  Sometimes you hate the color blue.
"He was a grumpy person.  He always had been.  But he cared deeply for those around him.  When he was young he joined the military, where he could get into fights to help people.  He pushed himself harder than anyone.  He wanted to be the best.  The path he chose would be difficult, he knew that much when he started, but his commitment never wavered.  Not even when his superiors ordered him to do bad things.  But he wouldn't back down.  So he got in trouble a lot."
>Oh.  My.  God.  She's scrunching her nose and her eyebrows are mushed together and her ears are flicking and it's just so CUTE.
>I'm going to get diabetes from a tiny horse.
>...
>"Mister Anon?  Why would they do that?  Why was he always so grumpy?  Do stallions get into fights here?  And what's his name?"
 
>And the bait has been taken.  She seems pretty into it.  Time for an evening of pure bullshit.
"All of those questions will be answered, Mint.  We haven't even started the real story:  where he saves the world from an endless army of the foulest, cruelest, most brutal monsters to ever exist..."
>Seeing her go from confused, to excited, to a little scared, and then try to look tough...
>Oh, tonight is going to be fun.  Assuming you don't have a cute-induced heart attack.
"But, as for his name..."
>Dramatic pause—
>Gotta play this shit up, Anon.  Make it awesome.
"To speak his true name is to invite oblivion.  Creatures of darkness, banished from our world, are always listening.  It would draw their attention.  Even to this day they fear him, for he is the one being that no dark creature can overcome."
"We call him:  [Doomguy.]"
 
===Later that night===
 
>A dramatic retelling of Doom 1 and 2, a couple pizzas, a bath, and a goodnight kiss later:
>You are ten-fucking-thousand percent ready to get a pony.
>Holy fucking shit do you want a pony.
>You weren't really okay with how things turned out...  
>Slavery and everything.  You try not to think about it.
>White Knight to the core, no matter how much you deny it.
>But you've always had a weakness for cute.  And tonight was pure saccharine into your veins.
>You hadn't ever HNNNNNG'd before.  Thought it was just a meme.
>Mint Chip cleared that misconception up real fucking quick.
 
>Okay, so six more days until Femanon comes back.
>And that's if you can survive the cutemageddon.
>Then you are going to get yourself a pony.
>Preferably, one that hasn't had their soul sucked out yet.
>...
>And that's why you don't think about it.
>Denial and ignorance are really good at keeping you from experiencing actual feelings.
 
>Okay, so:  Pone Checklist
>[ ] Hasn't been beaten to within an inch of their life.
>[ ] Hasn't been abused, neglected, or otherwise had their spirit broken.
>[ ] Hasn't lost that innocent sparkle in their eyes.
>[ ] Hasn't been sexually abused.  You want to cuddle that fluff.
>[ ] Cute.  Mint Chip makes it work, but green is kinda a shit color.
>[ ] Actually within your budget.
 
>From what you've heard that's basically impossible.
>Maybe some kind of specialty vendor, but that'd bump up the price.
>...
>Well, you just realized how little it took to abandon your morals.
>Mamanon would be so proud.
 
>Fuck it.  You were going to hell anyways.  Your browser history told you that much.
>May as well have someone around to make things bearable.
>Maybe a pegasus.  You kinda like their wings.
 
 
 
 
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