Mending the Pieces

by Still Not Ben Stiller

Rating: mature
Tags: Alternate Universe, Sad, Romance, Slice of Life, Human
Length: 4463

When you have always been what you hated, what can you do? Another second-person story in the Pierrotverse.

Having lived a mostly successful life, you are devastated when life-shattering(to you) news hits you. When you have been what you hated all along, what do you do? The answer lies in the ten days before the incident, and beyond…

A/N: This fic takes place in the same universe as Pierrot, hereby known as the Pierrotverse.

This time, this has Katawa Shoujo music, so you can remember your cripple waifu as you read!

Personal rules:
1. Music must fit.
2. No reusing tracks.
3. At LEAST one song per chapter.
4. No remixes.

This is optional, but will hopefully make the experience a gorillion times better!

Also, this is a LOT more lewd than Pierrot, hence the Mature rating.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-11 00:44:45 UTC

Day 11: Living in Denial

Day 11: Living in Denial

The music echoed throughout the bar, bouncing from the wooden walls to people and ponies' ears. Most ponies were stomping their hooves to the beat on the oaken floor, as they chug their drinks. Most humans whistled along, as they, too, slammed their beverages. To them, everything was just fine, and today was a day to celebrate, just like the song said. After all, it's the feeling they had!

Hah, you wished you could share that feeling.

The liquor burns your throat as it goes down, while you tune out the music. Sweet Celestia, that's the stuff.

No matter how much you drink, though, you can't forget what the news. The news that took your life, and crushed it, scattering the pieces every which way. Celestia damn it, why? Why you, of all ponies?

You were a mostly good pony. Although you've had many... relationships, that's not necessarily evil. Maybe it's a way of preventing you from having more happy fun times, considering that nopony loves a freak, or at least someone different. You were guilty of hating both before, well, the news.

...Maybe the entire "hating everyone who wasn't perfect" thing was your undoing.

You shake your head after downing all the whiskey, relishing the sensation. That, and you're trying everything to get rid of the memory of last week's news.

How did this even happen? Why you?

"Another round," you say, as you toss some bits.

The bartender, a human woman, a rather pretty one too(unless that's just the booze judging) slides you a half-filled shot. Scratch that, not even a quarter-filled. What in the name of Tartarus...?

"Fill 'er up," you tell the bartender.

"You've had enough," she replies.

"Look, here's the thing," you explain, taking the bottle and filling up your glass. "You're here to look pretty and serve drinks. Unless you don't want that tip. So how about you shut your mouth."

You receive your response by the glass's contents being thrown in your face, right when you're about to bring the glass to your mouth.

"How about you get the hell out of my bar?!" she snaps, clearly agitated.

Well, that's a crock of shit squared, multiplied by fifty, and added to infinity. In Laycolt's terms, it was a shitty situation.

"I hope you step on one of those plastic brick things my nephew keeps fucking around with," you mutter, "as you burn in the flames of Tartarus."

"I welcome that day," she replies, getting herself a drink.

You stand up, taking the bottle with you, before making your way out, before remembering. Damn, you forgot your bits.

You go back, and take the bits. At least, that was the plan.

As soon as you try to take them, the barkeeper tries to take them. What a thieving bitch! you think to yourself as you try to grab them first. Your hoof and her hand touch, and she flinches back. Given that, as the doctor said, you're not normal, you don't flinch. After all, it's what's expected of those like you.

You slip the bits into your money pouch, levitating it to your saddlebags, and putting it away, before you get in her face. "Don't even consider trying that again," you threaten.

"Or else what?" she asks, smirking.

"Ever wondered what the difference between choking and strangulation was?" you reply.

As she gains a look of mild fear, to your pleasure, you feel something touching your shoulder.

You turn around, and there's a hulking stallion glaring at you.

“She said, leave," he says.

Like those like you, you hate being told what to do now.

"Get bent," you reply, headbutting him. You knew you could get away with it, one of the few perks of... no, you don't even want to hear the name of it again.

He reels back as you walk out. Right before you're at the door, you hear rapid hoofsteps behind you. You turn around, and the stallion's charging at you.

Damn it, why did one of the many downsides of your diagnosis be impaired reflexes?

You fail to dodge, and he collides with you, and you are sent flying to the wall. Given your low pain tolerance (which you've always had, actually), you feel agonizing pain literally everywhere.

You growl in anger, hating the nerve of him physically assaulting you, a low you never stooped to, before levitating the bottle you dropped to the stallion, and before he can react, you smash the bottle over his head.

Booze and glass scatters, as the stallion falls to the floor, knocked out.

While everyone's still stunned at the scene, you get up, pain still searing, and trot out with a slight limp. "Pricks, the whole lot of them," you mutter.

You then realize the police, or whatever those human equivalent of Royal Guards are, would probably be dying for a case like this, and if they're anything like that Boxcars chump on TV? Yeah, you better run. Which you do.

As you make your way back home, fueled by adrenaline and alcohol, you start thinking, always a terrible idea with you. You're banged up, probably out of a job, given how the U of C hates different people and ponies, and are expecting a hangover. You only have one question, despite all this.

"How did I even get to this point?" you say to yourself,  the reality of the situation sinking in, as you feel a raindrop, then another, and two more, as a drizzle forms. Just your luck.

Your question, with that aside, is answered easily, for you remember the ten days before it all began...

Day 1: Usual Days

Day 1: Usual Days

Ding, ding, ding ding dong

"That's that for that, class. Dismissed!" you say, as everypony gets up.

"Bye, Mr. Anthem!"

"Later, teach!"

"See you on Monday!"

The students all say their farewells to you as they leave.

You are quite a popular teacher at Canterlot High School. To quote some students, you were 'cool,' 'smart,' 'easy to understand,' and one even said 'the best math teacher that ever lived, and can play a mean violin.'

As your last name suggested, you're a musician as well as a teacher. You played in a band, called 'Order of Operations'. What? It had to be math related. Your fellow band members were Recollection, on percussion, and Dee Coburn, on woodwind. You played a violin, and nothing but it. You just weren't good at anything else, except singing, in terms of music.

You've had some...fun with both of them, but it wasn't anything romantic. You were young (especially for a teacher), and not ready to settle down. However, sexual frustration wasn't ready to settle down either. Luckily you seemed to just be...magnetic, so that you were rarely sexually frustrated.

You decided that thinking about how great you were wasn't necessarily a good idea. Your head is already big enough.

That was literally the only thing you disliked about yourself; your forehead was too damn big. Higher intelligence, your flank. Even with a smaller one you'd likely still be who you were. But, y'know. With a better appearance.

You packed up your saddlebags, and stepped out to the hall. The crowds bustled through the hall, eager to go home, go see their friends, grab some food... They all had their own story whose chapter would be filled today. What were you, to them? An idol? A teacher? Just some unimportant stallion? The last was good enough for you, for as long as someone is remembered, they can never truly die.

Philosophy aside, you decided that today, you would check out a book from the library. You were feeling smart today, and wanted to take advantage of it.

You made your way through the halls, greeting the students who greeted you. Which is to say nearly everyone. You weren't kidding about being popular.

After exiting the building, you start to make your way to the nearby library. Of course, not all goes as planned. You quickly find yourself nearly colliding with some colt in a wheelchair, mouth agape, sounding like an average dubstep song.

"Watch where you're going, freak!" you snap. Celestia almighty, why are these things in the U of C, now? They just get in the way.

"Step off, kid," a burly voice says.

You turn to the voice almost instantly, and look the source, a tough-looking man, dead in the eye.

"Alright, punk," you begin. "While you're busy tending to this waste of oxygen, I'm getting more bits AND action than you will ever hope to achieve in your damn life," you say, only somewhat exaggerating. "Now go back to tending to the 'tards, and get lost."

"This will bite you on the ass so hard one day, you have no idea," he mutters.

"I welcome that day," you reply, smirking.

As he pushes the colt away, you return to trotting to the library. God, cripples. You can't stand them. They do nothing for us, so why do we support them?

You remember how, before ponies and humans established a treaty, the crippled ponies were left for dead. At least, according to stories. What happened to those days? Humans just HAD to bring their overly high compassion with them. These thoughts plague you, and you find no answer.

While you think, you find yourself outside a tall, three-story building. Looking up, the sign confirms what you had believed: This is, indeed, the Canterlot Library. You enter the building, the bells ringing as the door opens.

"Welcome!" the librarian says.

You nod to her, as you go to the romance section. You liked a good romance novel.

Turns out, there was a new, unnamed series out. A series of about ten novels, by an upcoming author, who was a pretty cool guy in your book.

However, of course, someone had to ride his coattails of fame. There was a similar series of about twelve novels, by an author who only stated who he wasn't. You hated that guy.

You pick out the first novel, and levitate it to the front desk. "I'll take this," you state.

"Alright, may I see your card?" she asks as you pull your card out. "Ah, someone's excited."

"I like the author," you explain, "so why wouldn't I be?"

"Very good point," the librarian says as she scans the book, then the card. "It's due in ten days."

"Understood," you say as you put the book in your bags. "Thank you!"

"Have a good day!" she says as you walk out.

As you make your way home, you take the book out of your saddlebags via magic, and look at the cover. Rather simplistic, but you swear that the mare on there (Hey, it rhymes!) looked quite familiar. You shrug it off, however.

After putting it away, you return to the uneventful walk home.

When you arrive, you see that someone else is here.

Oh joy, it's her. Specifically, that crooked eyed mailmare that'll probably destroy your house one of these days. You can never trust them..

She looks at you, and smiles. Shoot, she noticed you. Maybe if you just remain absolutely still...

"Hey, Mr. Anthem!" she says. Guess escape isn’t an option.

"Uh, hi yourself," you say, smiling fakely. How does she know you? She always greeted you that way since you started teaching here. Names must spread fast here.

"Well, I've delivered your mail, so bye!" she says, preparing to fly off.

"Yeah, bye," you reply.

She frowns, before flying off. What, did she want a tip or something? The only tip you'd give her would be to get lost, but you've already insulted one thing today.

Walking to the mailbox, you open it, levitating the mail out. As expected, it's nothing but bills... Wait, scratch that. There's a letter from your physician.

'Hello, Mr. Anthem,

It's time for your yearly physical. I'm sure you're keeping yourself in shape, but it doesn't hurt to check. Well, it hurts your savings, but that's it. And I know you make enough to buy at least twenty books a month, so no excuses.

Hope to see you soon,

~Muscle Mass'

You shake your head, unwilling to admit how charismatic he was. Dr. Mass could buy gems from a dragon. For just about nothing, at that.

Taking the letters, you walk up to your house and unlock the door, before pushing it.

Inside your house, as usual, was a hallway in front of you, leading to your personal library, bedroom, and bathroom. To the right was your living room, connected to your kitchen. The house wasn't too big, but it was cheap and comfortable.

You toss your bags on the living room couch, not willing to organize them just yet, before putting your bills and reminder from Dr. Mass on the table.

After jumping onto a chair and sitting down, your stomach growls. Oh right, you're starving.

You jump off the chair and make your way to the kitchen, deciding that you need a good sandwich more than anything. A daffodil and daisy sandwich with extra daisy.

        Piling the ingredients on, before consuming it too quickly to enjoy the flavor, you then sit back down to organize some bills.

One organization of bills and a few chapters of the book later, you look at the time. 9 P.M, on a Friday night.

"Ffffriday night, motherfuckers!" you yell, as you retrieved your bit pouch and key. Bar party time!

You open the front door, feeling the cool night air. Ah, Luna's moon was shining as beautifully as ever. What you wouldn't do to tell her of the nights you spent admiring the sky, and having one thing to another, and beginning to insert...Boy! you think to yourself. If the Sisters could hear these thoughts, they'd have me in the dungeon until I rot, then throw my skeleton in for another fifty years!

Clearing your mind of those thoughts, you start trotting to the bar, eagerly awaiting some hard booze. Nothing like a glass of whiskey on Friday night.

The uneventful and short trip ends soon enough when you arrive at the well-named Typical Tavern. It looked like there was nothing to do but enter.

Opening the door, you are quickly greeted.

"Mathy! How's it going?"

"Well if it isn't Ser Anthem!"

"Baby, is that the stallion you were with?"

That last part worried you. Nothing like a bar fight, but you really weren't in the mood.

You trot to the bar, taking a seat. "I'll take the usual," you say, tossing some bits.

"Coming right up!" the bartender says, glad to see you(r money) as always, as he slides it to you.

You chop the bar right before the glass reaches your target, and it stops. Perfect, as usual!

Taking the glass with telekinesis, you slam your whiskey on the rocks, just how you liked it. The alcohol burns your throat as it goes down.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

"Another round," you say, tossing another thing of bits, as you see a pony in the corner of your eye.

Blue mane that hasn't been cut in what seems like months, and a light blue coat. Rather shapely, too.

You know what you were doing tonight, if you know what you mean.

You take your now-filled drink, and trot over to your target, sitting down a few seats from her. "Hey," you greet.

She jumps, busy staring at her drink as though it would kill her. "Eep!... I mean, hi," she says, smiling. "C-can I help you?"

"I just who saw a cute mare and wanted to say hi," you say, only lying a little bit. Okay, not lying, just not telling the whole story.

She blushes intensely, clearly flattered, looking away to the left. "Well, th-thank you... you're quite... handsome yourself," she replies.

"Ah, shucks," you counter. "I'm just some stallion."

As you say this, you size her up. It appears her mane covers her incredibly large flank, just how you liked them. In addition, she had some wide hips, perfect for grabbing. Then again, she had them thighs, so that was another option.

The possibilities were neverending, but one thing was for sure; you needed her.

She lets out a cute and nervous giggle. "Well, you seem friendly...a-and like I said, handsome... much more than just 'some stallion', I think..."

"Eh," you reply, shrugging, "if you say so. " You take the initiative to move closer, just a tad.

She doesn't reply, too busy staring at her drink. You move closer until you're sitting next to her. "Y'know," he said, "it won't kill you."

"EEP!" she squeals, looking at you, muzzle bumping yours. "I mean, uh, w-what won't?"

"Your drink," you reply, backing up to give her some breathing room.

"Oh." She looks down and gently prods her mug. "I've never had alcohol before...I...I hear that if you drink too much of this, a stallion twice your size takes you into a back alley and does unspeakable things to you..."

You almost feel guilty, suddenly. Almost.

"Hey," you begin, "I'd take down any stallion that tried something funny." You give her a confident smile.

"R-really?" She is visibly reassured. "Thanks... Well... Schoolponies have these really stupid saying, what was it? Something about only living once..." She shrugged, hooking her hoof into the handle of the mug, lifting it, and sipping it.

"What was it...Yellow? Yalo? Whatever." You finish off your whiskey, slamming it on the counter.

Soon, the mare sets her own mug down, letting out an adorable squeak of a burp. "Wow... that was really good!" she exclaims, her blush brightening.

"Welcome to the land of maturity," you say patting her shoulder, feeling accomplished for her.

She giggles yet again, and you realize that the land of maturity is probably screaming at you to make with the happy to her already. Sounded like a plan, in your book.

"Y'know, I barely know you, but so far, you seem alright," you compliment.

"Well... thanks," she says, smile growing. "You're not bad either. A lot better than what I would expect from a place like... this."

"Eh, it's just common courtesy," you reply, running your hoof through her mane.

She coos, clearly enjoying being petted, rubbing up against your hoof. Taking it a step further, you descend to her side.

"Mmmm...." She seems to be responding well, blushing brighter and letting you continue, while her eyes closed in content. You make her way to her hip, before her leg, and then her sweet, soft thigh.

Moaning quietly in pleasure, her thigh rubs against your hoof, and her soft tail wraps around it. You move away from the thigh after a moment, and move to her hip, and finally going for what you've been wanting-no, needing,-since you first saw her; that fantastic flank.

Rubbing her right on the cutie mark, a scroll, her moans increase in volume, as your hoof sinks into the plush flesh of her plot, her squeaks barely audible over the sounds of chatter.

Becoming a tad tired of the buildup, you pull away, before slapping her right on the ass, her cheeks jiggling like Jell-O.

"EEP!" she squeals, as a few heads turn. "O-oh my..."

You've got her right where you want her.

"I think we should take this somewhere else," you proposed, preparing to get off your stool.

"Like where?" she asks, interested, gazing into your eyes with those green pools(rather pretty, you must admit), as her thighs rubbed in anticipation.

"Follow me," you order, jumping off your seat and trotting to the bathroom.

"So, um..." She's clearly flustered, but is okay with this situation. "I'm a v-virgin," she explains, as you enter a bathroom stall.

"It'll be fine," you say, closing the door with magic, before sitting down...

Day 1.5: Just Another Night; Good Work Cuntdestroyer Team

"It'll be fine," you say, closing the door with magic, before sitting down, legs spread, with your member already turgid. "Just think of it as a giant Fudgesicle. Just don't bite."

"Sweet merciful Celestia, are they all this b-big?" She was clearly intimidated, prodding it gently with a hoof.

"No," you reply flatly. This was true, for during one of your more... interesting sexcapades, the stallion you were with wasn't even close to your size.

"Wow..." She gently licked the tip of your tower. "It tastes a little... weird, but... good!"

"Just like that," you encourage, shuddering a little in delight. It seems you always forget how good it was to be blown.

She nods, as she continues lapping at your tool with her wet, velvety tongue, moaning softly as she slicked your shaft in saliva. Groaning in pleasure, you place a hoof on her head, petting her gently, before she rose to the top, and took it into her mouth, your stallionhood stretching her mouth as wide as possible. Groaning turning into moaning, you push her gently, urging her to take more of it.

Going down further, she starts making slurping noises, likely attracting attention. Not that you cared, you were too busy in nirvana. Soon, your footlong reached the back of her throat, causing her to squeak. "Atta girl," you encourage her, pleased.

While deepthroating you, her tongue wraps around your cock, caressing each vein, each pulsing inch, as you wondered how she could be a virgin, yet be so good. Putting another hoof on her head as she began bobbing up and down, figuring out what gets you hot, she looks at you with those cute emerald eyes again. You can't keep your dick from twitching from how flatout hot that is.

"You're good at this, y'know?" you compliment, smiling, trying not to let it show that your orgasm is coming.

She giggles in response, before sloppily making out with your penis. Another moan escapes from you, as the rush of semen begins. "CUMMING!" you yell, as you unleash your load straight to her belly. She is overwhelmed, but seems to enjoy the sensation.

After catching your breath, you give out a sigh of contentment. "Whew... Best blowjob I ever had," you say, only somewhat lying.

She pulls away from you, lips pulling from your dong with a wet pop, before she wipes her mouth. "R-really? You're not just being nice, are you?"

"Honest," you say, guilt almost sneaking up on you again, before remembering that guilt is for the weak. "I suppose I should thank you, now."

"Well... I guess so. Um... w-what do I do?" she asks, before you take her, and urge her down to the floor.

You begin planting kisses all over her, from her neck, to her hooves, and back to her pussy, her clitoris winking uncontrollably. You manage to put a kiss on it while it's exposed.

"Oh...Nnnh!" She moaned, the winking of her clit growing faster. "Th-that feels... good...!"

You get the idea, and descend to her marehood, licking up her sweet juices. Her back arching, her mewls of delight grew in volume, as you your tongue went in, making contact with her hymen. She wasn't kidding about being a virgin.

You rise back up to her clit, massaging it as it winks, while looking her in the eyes, gauging her reaction as you suckle her.

"I-I think I'm c-close...!" she squealed, not even trying to quiet herself.

Descending and preparing for the torrent of juices, you continue eating her out as she moans, her sweet cum flowing from her plump honeypot.

Drinking the juices like a fine wine, you rise up after her final spurt. "Delicious," you say, licking your lips.

"W-wow..." Her chest rises and falls as she pants. "That felt... wow!"

"You haven't felt anything yet," you say, holding her up and positioning her against the wall.

"You'll try not to hurt me...r-right?" she asked, nervous.

"Tell me if it hurts," you say in a reassuring voice, one hoof on the wall, the other on her tush. Smacking it again, due to the fact you didn't see it jiggle in a while(you needed to see it again), you gain your balanace and put both hooves on her cutie marks. "Ready?"

She squeals as she is spanked again, her globes of flesh jiggling, as you realize you would need to spread her cheeks to gain access. This was a perfect chain of events, for that is hot.

Spreading those fleshy cheeks, you proceed to slowly insert your blade into her sheath, before making contact with her hymen. You pull back, before thrusting, piercing the hymen and taking her innocence.

She shrieked a little, pain and pleasure rocking her body, as she was deflowered, her cum drenching you immediately. "Ah... i-it h-hurts a bit!"

Realizing you were stretching her to her limit, you feel just the tiniest amount of guilt. "Sorry, should I stop?" You pray she doesn't say yes, because you need to pound her until you both pass out.

"J-just go slow for a bit... it feels really good," she explains. "Nngh, you're huge!"

That moment is when you realize that Faust smiles upon you, just like always.

"Got it," you say, slowly pulling back, before slowly thrusting, letting her get used to the feeling.

"Oh Celestia, that feels amazing...!" Her smooth, soft walls massage your veiny shaft as her body moves with you.

As her ass pressed against your crotch, you begin to pick up the pace, as she pushes against you, like she was urging you to go faster, all while her plump plot jiggles hypnotically, as you slap it again while gaining more speed, while her mane rubs against your head. Both of your genitals throb in unison as you fucked her, grunting with each thrust.

You go up to her ear and barely bite down on it, growling, as her moans reached a fever pitch in volume, clearly audible from outside the bathroom. "I-I'm close!" she declared between moans.

"Me too!" you said, as you unleashed one last thrust before busting inside her, while her juices drenched your monster of a penis.

Pulling out, cum of both gender varieties spilling out, she collapses, unable to speak, tongue hanging out of her mouth.

"You were great," you compliment, tired.

"Y-you too... Celestia, that felt... amazing..."

"Yeah," you say, collapsing next to her. "Amazing indeed."

She snuggles up to you, panting softly. "I'm glad you were my first, instead of some jerk... so th-thank you."

"But of course," you reply, closing your eyes. This wasn't the first time you slept on the floor here, so you were used to it. "See you in the morning."

"You too," she says, before falling silent. A few minutes later, she's snoring.

You fall asleep, praying you wake up before her.