Trixie Gets Slandered for the Last Time.

Chapters

1. Speak No Evil
2. Libel Laws
3. Middle Management

1. Speak No Evil

Desperate Attention Seeker Attempts Murder of Twilight Sparkle!

Our trusted sources in Ponyville have reported to us the attempts of Trixie Lulamoon to murder the Element of Magic, and destroy the Elements of Harmony!

Yesterday, Trixie arrived in Ponyville wearing the powerful evil amulet, once worn by Nightmare Moon herself, and attempted to murder Twilight Sparkle! Spectators report her challenging Celestia’s pupil to a magic duel. Before she could respond, Trixie attacked with a cheap shot, nearly killing the mare!

“She just showed up out of nowhere and flung a bladed weapon at her,” an unnamed member of the Ponyville weather team, who asked to remain anonymous, stated. “It caught Twilight off guard, slicing her leg open. I’d have knocked Trixie out myself in ten seconds flat but she cursed my wings!”

After the short duel, Twilight surrendered to her mercy to save the town of Ponyville. With the Element of Magic grovelling at her feet, she prepared to murder her before a heroic nearby unicorn teleported Twilight out of town! Trixie lowered a dome of the town and swore to kill one unicorn every hour until Twilight returned to face death by hanging!

Trixie threw the newspaper onto the ground and fired up her horn, incinerating it. This wasn’t the first time the Equestrian News had slandered her. She had filed complaints against the newspaper before, but the princesses had ignored her requests.

“This one is on the house,” Donut Joe stated. He set down a cup of coffee and took away the empty cup.

“Thanks,” she mumbled under her breath. There was half a glazed donut left and it was ten in the morning on a Tuesday. Most ponies were at work. Most ponies still had a job, and hadn’t been laughed out of their hometown. She laid her head down on the table with a thump and groaned. Part of the reason she couldn’t find work, let alone pursue her dreams of being a stage musician, was due to the constant personal attacks on her character.

Joe walked back over. “You okay Trixie? I hate to see a pony like this. You want me to keep ya company while you wait to lodge another complaint?”

“No, what’s the use?” she asked. “If Celestia could have done something she would have. Freedom of the press and all that jazz.”

“Then at least accept my offer, you can run the shop for me part time until this all blows over.”

Without lifting her head off the table she gave a short, cruel laugh. “Blow over? First it was Trixie Sends her Pet Ursa Major to Destroy Ponyville! It was an Ursa Minor, but regardless, that was two colts! Then, Trixie Helps Flim and Flam Scam Dodge Junction! Or, my personal favorite, The Trixie & Iron Will Love Affair, and how They Turned Fluttershy Into Their Latest Victim!”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Joe offered. He put a hoof on her shoulder when he saw her trembling.

“No!” Trixie sat upright and shouted. “No matter how hard I try, they just assume I’m a horrible mare without getting to know me! One entity shouldn’t have so much power to decide who is right and who is wrong, to judge a pony based on third-hoof accounts and rumors!”

Trixie levitated a flask out of her saddlebag and unscrewed the lid. She upturned the bottle, pouring a strong Griffin whiskey into the coffee.

Joe stepped back and looked on in shock. “Come on, it’s only ten in the morning, Trixie.”

Trixie grunted. “Don’t remind me.” She upturned the cup of coffee, letting it burn on the way down her throat. Sometimes it seemed like pain was the only emotion she could still feel, the only one she could control. The words of others continued to cut her deeply in a vicious cycle that left her unwilling to venture further than a block from her apartment on a good day.

Joe shook his head and went back towards his kitchen to check on the next batch of donuts. Once he was out of sight, Trixie took a deep breath and held it. She drank the rest of the whiskey in a few gulps. She choked back her reflex to vomit as the burning liquid spread through her stomach.

Trixie flung two bits on the table and trotted out towards her apartment. Already her anger and rage were being soothed by the alcohol, but she knew it was only temporary. A few hours from now she’d be back at Donut Joe’s for lunch. Once again, he’d insist on returning her two bits, and she’d insist on paying for her meals.

The sun was blistering hot today and there were no clouds scheduled today. It was a good day to fall asleep for a day or two in the hopes tomorrow would be better. Fate had different plans for Trixie, who found herself stumbling into an alleyway to vomit. Her stomach contracted, spewing out the whiskey she had drank too quickly.

She slumped down in the shade to escape the heat and began to cry. Whiskey, unlike donuts, were something she actually had to pay for. If she could afford whiskey without Donut Joe’s charity, she wouldn’t be crying over a little spilt liquor. “Another day of sobriety to look forward to, yay,” she droned.

“Here’s your table, sir,” a waiter said.

Trixie turned her head towards the entrance to the alleyway. There was a small potted plant and a cafe, the wall of which she was now leaning against.

“So, you heard about the front page tomorrow?” a woman asked.

“Of course, it’s been a slow news week so the Daily News for tomorrow has already been chosen,” he replied.

“Slow news week? So what is it this time? The conspiracy theories that Celestia is grooming unicorns to turn into Alicorns? That Fluttershy is euthanizing sick fillies in the Ponyville cancer ward?” she asked.

“I wish,” he said. “We’re running another story on Trixie.”

This caused both ears on Trixie’s head to stand up, swiveling to listen to the stallions voice.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad. You’re just one pony, let the reporters worry about the quality of the article.”

“That’s just it,” he replied. “They’ve sent me to several of her shows for research. I’ve never seen such a talentless unicorn. You know she had at least a dozen fillies as fans in Ponyville? I don’t know how they could be that stupid! An Earth Pony could do half her tricks.”

Trixie found herself repressing the urge to jump out and cast a spell to cause all his hair to fall out. Her heart began to beat quickly as she felt anger and the leftovers of her Griffish Whiskey rising in the back of her throat.

“Don’t beat yourself up honey, I’m sure she tries hard,” she said.

“That’s just it, though. She is constantly boasting and bragging, wanting everyone to believe she’s the end-all of everything magical. It’s our job as a respected newspaper to report the news, unbiased, and we have to let everypony know what a fraud she is.”

“You make it sound like a tabloid, but I suppose if it keeps anymore Buffalo falling for her Instant Apple Pie in a Can scam, it’s worth it. I can’t believe they let the Flim Flam brothers and her off so easy.”

Trixie felt something crack and realized she had been digging her hoof into the ground, to the point the nail had split. The twinge of pain traveled up her leg, the sharp needle of sensation burrowing into the soft frog at the bottom of her hoof. She pushed on it harder and whimpered.

“It’s a full time job, that’s for sure. Just last week we ran that article on Rarity sleeping with Filthy Rich to get a new store opened.”

Trixie tuned them out now that they had finally changed the subject. It made her so angry that a so called news organization would play god to slander and discourage honest ponies working hard to make a life for themselves.

It wasn’t just about her career, which had been dead for months now. This had become about ponies like Fluttershy, who had offered her a place to stay even if she had denied it. Rarity, who after the alicorn amulet offered to replace her tattered cape and hat. Even Twilight had been understanding that the amulet was cursed, and that Trixie had let jealousy lead her such a despicable means of revenge.

Somepony needed to do something about the Equestrian News before they slandered more ponies. A message needed to be sent, a line drawn; this far, no further.

Trixie waited patiently until the couple finished their brunch and got up to leave. She lifted her splintered hoof off the ground, grimacing at the pain. A few drops of blood trickled out before she had fused the hoof back together with her magic.

The couple got up to leave, and with her sore hoof Trixie got up and followed them. She grabbed their tip in her magic and slid the four bits into her saddlebag. It was enough for another flask of whiskey, or a couple meals from Joe.

The stallion was a pegasus and though she did not know his name, she found herself thinking of ways to intimidate him. She could cast a spell gluing his wings to his side. It would cause him to require his feathers be plucked, or his skin removed, to fix. She could easily tie him up and rob him to send a message. The main problem, though, was he would see her face.

What good was threatening a newspaper to stop their slander, if everypony would immediately know it was her? Any attempt to expose their hypocrisy would just lead all ponies eyes back to Trixie, validating all the hateful things they wrote about.

There was only one way to send them a clear message. It would require modifying some of her stage spells, and she swore to herself it would only happen once. The newspaper would be sure to step down from their soap box.

* * * * * * * *

Night had fallen and Trixie had prepared everything she would need in her saddlebags. She had used her magic to change her tail and mane color, and was wearing a black jogging suit as if it were not ninety degrees outside. Trixie had returned to the apartment of the pegasus who was helping spread slander and hatred.

His apartment was four stories, and she found his name on the intercom downstairs. It only took a couple minutes to get up to his floor of the apartment. She stopped in the stairwell to catch her breath.

Are we really doing this?

“It needs to be done,” Trixie said.

What if we get caught? Maybe we can just light the newspaper building on fire?

“No, Trixie is here now. Trixie wants justice.”

Justice or gratification? Please, if we do this we can’t go back.

“And if we don’t do this, Trixie will never perform on stage again! I’m tired of stealing bits and living on a donut diet.”

Just. . . be careful, make it quick? If we have to . . .

Trixie felt her heart racing, adrenaline flowing through her veins. There was another feeling that she had not felt in a long time. A mix of fear and anxiety, yet confidence and courage too.

Arousal, excitement, a challenge fit to test our skills, to make us grow as a magician.

“Yes, we certainly will learn from this. So will they.”

Trixie crept out into the hallway and over to apartment 82. Her magic quickly lifted the pins and rotated the tumbler, unlocking his front door. Her hooves silently trot through the entryway, closing the door behind her. A faint click signaled the door locking behind her.

The one room apartment was much larger than the hovel Trixie lived in. There was a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and bedroom. He was living like royalty, being revered, while Trixie worked hard and got only scorn. Her rage began to blind her as she trot into his room.

There he lay, Quick Read the pegasus. Trixie grinned while mentally searching through her many spells. His girlfriend was nowhere in sight which means she had him all to herself.

She started by levitating out a bit and bridle she had “borrowed” from a local shop. His lying tongue would be the first thing to come out. Quietly, she levitated the leather straps over his head. With her remaining reserves, she pulled the comforter down tight, pinning the pegasus into bed.

Trixie began strapping the bridle in place, complete with blinders, as he woke up. Two of the four needed straps were in place when he moaned and became fully awake. Trixie slammed the bit in, cracking a couple teeth, before yanking the straps and forcing it back behind his last molars.

Quick started struggling against the sheets pinning him down and screaming for help. He choked on the bit, and his muffled protests were easily silenced by Trixie’s magic. Both of his eyes went wide as he saw this mare in disguise in front of him. With a quick flourish, she reverted to her normal mane color. It took him a moment, before he realized who she was.

He began thrashing against the sheets pinning him down, and Trixie could see his wings fluttering under the comforter. “So, you recognize Trixie? I hear she likes to murder ponies, just like she tried to murder the Element of Magic. I heard, it had nothing to do with the alicorn amulet and everything to do with her personality flaws.”

Quick made some muffled sounds that could have been an apology, or profanity, before Trixie slammed her hoof down on his nose. His eyes watered and his nose began to trickle blood. She brought her hoof down again, reveling in the crunching sound it made as she bashed him.

Next she dealt with his wings. As he lay there struggling, she levitated out two knives and began stabbing into the comforter. His wings beat like a hummingbird against the sheets, and with each stab they began to slow down. The first dozen or so did little more than clip his feathers. Quick screamed when a knife hit its mark, severing his wing at the joint nearest his shoulder. His legs began to kick through the comforter, which she had torn to shreds while stabbing at his wings.

Soon, his wings and flailing legs were in plain view. She levitated the knife against his wing, drawing blood, and silencing him. He lay there with a pleading look in his eyes—wide, teary, and begging for mercy. Quick dared not move knowing she was poised to chop off the other wing.

“What do you call a pegasus with no wings and no legs?” Trixie asked.

Quick could only mumble and sob in response.

“Wrong!” She spat on him and chopped his other wing off.

The newly minted Earth Pony kicked wildly and screamed, still pinned to the bed by half a comforter around his neck. Blood was squirting out of the stumps left of his wings, staining the padding from the torn comforter red.

Trixie hadn’t planned much farther ahead than this. She knew it was time to end it and leave her message, and head home. Still, it was far too enjoyable not to take a momento. She slid the knife across his throat slowly, cutting deeply down into his trachea and carefully avoiding his arteries.

Quick began to choke on the blood flowing out of the many smaller veins in his neck. He didn’t bleed out, not yet, as she had deliberately missed the larger vessels. He began spitting out a mist of blood from his throat, as his lungs contracted violently to expel the fluid. It was getting harder and harder for him to breath as his lungs filled with blood.

Trixie smiled. “I guess you were right. Except, I don’t try to murder mean ponies. I kill mean ponies.”

Quick was taking quick, shallow breaths. Air was bubbling through the pool of dark red blood slowly leaking from the gash in his neck. He had closed his eyes and stopped kicking as he lost consciousness. His body made a few more attempts to expel the blood from his lungs, before giving up.

With a final shudder he lay still, and Trixie released her grip on the blanket. His head fell to the side onto a crimson stained pillow. His tongue was visible through the bit and bridle. Trixie levitated through her saddlebag until she found her pliers. She pulled out his tongue and sliced it off, deciding it would make an excellent memento.

Using the stumps of one of the severed wings, she began dipping it into his throat like a quill and ink. On the wall in bright red letters, she wrote a message before leaving the apartment.

Trixie trotted home with Quick’s severed tongue and her murderous tools safely stowed in her saddlebags. For the first night since the curse of the alicorn amulet had been lifted, she slept soundly through the entire night.

Once she awoke the next morning, she cleaned her apartment, washed the dishes, and took out the trash for the first time in weeks. Trixie scrubbed the soda stains from the kitchen floor, rounded up the cockroaches with a broom, and cleaned out the pantry. Once her one room apartment—which consisted of a living/kitchen room, and a bedroom/bathroom, totalling 400 square feet—she felt much better.

Despite it being a lovely day outside, she didn’t mind staying in doors and eating nothing but oatmeal. She even took a bath—the first time she’d done so in four days—and refilled the tub three times, enjoying the hot soapy water. Trixie knew that everything would be all right, and soon found herself going to bed. Tomorrow, she was sure there would be something good to read about in the newspaper.

* * * * * * * *

“You look a lot better today, Trixie,” Joe observed.

“Yes, Trixie is feeling much better today. We think that it is time to look on the bright side,” she explained.

Joe placed a coffee and a glazed donut on her usual table. “Well, I’ll let you enjoy your newspaper.”

Brutal Murder in Canterlot - First in Over 80 Years. Equestrian News Employee Slain in Sleep.

Police have been tight lipped about the recent homicide in Canterlot. What we can report is that one of our employees was found brutally murdered. He had his wings stabbed multiple times while he lay in bed, while he was gagged by a bit and bridle sex toy.

Our sympathies go out to his girlfriend, and parents. We wish everypony to know that Equestrian News is co-operating fully with the police to apprehend this vile murderer.

Trixie slammed her hoof on the table so hard that her coffee bounced and fell over. She felt the patch-job she had done on her hoof with magic split back open, tearing at the soft flesh beneath the nail.

“Whoa, Trixie, what’s wrong?” Joe said. He rushed over with genuine concern.

She gathered herself, not wanting to upset the one pony she had left who cared whether she lived or died. “Sorry, Trixie just read there is a murderer on the loose, it’s horrible!”

And they didn’t mention my message. “Speak No Evil” written in his own fucking blood! Or, how I slit his throat and watched him drown in his own blood. What the hell is wrong with them? When it’s a slow news week they just make shit up and ruin my life. When real news happens, they spin it to protect the guilty!

“Trixie? I said, are you okay?” Joe asked.

She looked up at him, realizing she had zoned out, and that her hoof was dripping blood onto his table. “Oh, this?” She asked. Trixie lifted her hoof before casting the spell to mend the nail back together. It was not a true healing spell; it was more akin to using some superglue to hold a damaged porcelain vase together.

Joe wiped up the coffee before heading off to get her another cup. Trixie eagerly scanned through the newspaper, looking for more details on the murder.

Cheerilee Caught Molesting Filly!

Mayor Mare Skimming Money From Operations Accounts!

Rainbow Dash Comes Out of the Stable! Lesbian Lover Tells All!

Applejack Used Steroids to Win Equestrian Rodeo! All Trophies Retroactively Revoked!

She nearly slammed her hoof back into the table. Donut Joe was in the process of refilling her coffee and she stopped her hoof midair. “Hehe, Trixie is still a little upset to be living on the charity of others. It is also horrible a pony is out there murdering others, of course.”

“It sure is,” Joe replied. “I wonder who would be mad enough to hurt one of their employees. Sure, their management posts some mean articles, but they only post what sells.”

Trixie’s eyes went wide in shock. “What do you mean? They only post mean articles! I had my stage license revoked, the Mayor of Manehatten evicted me from my apartment, stating I was a public danger! I can’t even perform on the side of the street without a one-hundred bit permit!”

Joe frowned. “Look, I know that newspaper did wrong by you, and I know you’d never hurt anypony. It’s just—well, it isn’t us working folk who decide what’s news. That responsibility rests with the management, like owners or nobles. This here guy was probably little more than a cog in the machine. I doubt the quality of their paper is like to improve because of one murder.”

He’s right. I thought one would cut it, but now I know it won’t. They didn’t even report it properly. I’ll have to check some other papers, or leave a larger note next time. I’ll have to work my way up until I find out who selects which stories to run.

And then I’ll kill them.

* * * * * * * *

“You may give your report,” Celestia said.

Two police officers were flanked by Shining Armor, who had brought them to let her know about the recent murder. “Well, we uh—you know there hasn’t been a murder in so long we did the best we could. We couldn’t find any hair or hoof-prints. The killer didn’t leave any weapons behind, and the door wasn’t forced.”

Shining spoke up for the two nervous officers. “They located a single message: Speak No Evil. The killer also had his tongue removed, likely after his throat was slit and his wings severed. He was found in a pool of his own blood. Judging by the fact it had all dried out, he likely died a day or two ago.”

“Yes,” one of the officers stated, glancing quickly to Celestia. “The killer, they uh—We think it must be someone who has a grudge with Equestrian News.”

“They’re the paper that’s always posting sensational stories, exaggerating the truth?” Celestia asked.

“One and the same, Celestia.” Shining shook his head and look at the floor. “They’ve said cruel things about everypony from Granny Smith to Fancy Pants, Blue Blood to Twilight. Some were true, others not so much. . .”

Shining looked at Celestia, who knew exactly where he was headed before he trailed off. “And you do not wish to tell me I told you so? I can not impede freedom of speech, not because a newspaper is making a few outrageous claims.”

“I counted the number of petitions you’ve received about them, it’s not a few claims.”

“And if I revoke their freedom of expression now, what message does that send? If someone says something you don’t agree with, kill them? No. I’m appointing you to investigate it, Shining. Find out who the killer is, and have a little chat with the owner of the paper.”

Shining mumbled something and an officer laughed.

Celestia frowned slightly. “Something to add?”

“Oh, apologies,” he said. “I was just mentioning how I owe Cadance dinner. She told me that every time I come to Canterlot to inspect the guard, you find a reason to keep me around a few extra months.”

Celestia chuckled softly. “Perhaps you should have brought her with you.”

Author's Note

Here's another story I've been sitting on, unsure if I should make a long story out of it. Let me know what you think (grammatical errors aside, I normally have an editor but he had to be lame and start editing for other people.)

2. Libel Laws

Content Advisory: The gore has been doubled.

Celestia was invited into a large conference room. Several ponies from news companies, particularly those working for Equestrian News, were present.

“Thank you, please have a seat,” Celestia said.

All of the assembled ponies sat down and began whispering amongst themselves.

“There has been a murder, the first in nearly a century. I’ve called you here today to review the libel laws, and ensure you comply with them,” she explained.

“Princess, the government has no right to impede on our free speech! You said so yourself when you wrote the Proclamation of Equestria,” a brown stallion stated.

“You work for the Inquisitor, right? Look, I didn’t come here to take away free speech. It’s come to my attention, however, you are spreading rumors and lies about ponies. If that’s true, and there is a pony out there now that has murdered because of it, then clearly the law needs to be revisited.”

“I have a question then—on behalf of Equestrian News. If you change the law now, won’t that send the message that killing ponies will get you what you want?”

Celestia rubbed her temples. “No, because when we catch this killer and put them on trial, it will send a clear message not to kill ponies.”

An orange mare stood up. “You can’t just run around deciding what is libel and what is truth! That’s up to us as reporters. Anything I’ve printed about the conspiracy to coronate Twilight as an alicorn princess was based on hard evidence!”

The brown stallion hit a hoof on the table. “That’s investigative journalism! Just a week later you did make Twilight a princess. And you expect us to believe it would have been libel and not diligence had she failed your test?”

“Indeed! We can’t let bullies determine how we run the news! I say that we band together. They can’t stop us all from exercising freedom of the press!”

“Ponies,” Celestia said, “Please. If I must pass new laws to protect my citizens, I will. You must be willing to help me strengthen the libel laws, and agree to abide by them. I understand sensational stories sell papers, but you could cause far more harm than good.”

The unicorn at the far end of the table stood up. “Thanks for coming by, Celestia. We will continue to run the news as we see fit, until such a time as you abolish our freedom of speech.”

The princess stood up and bit her tongue. She did not want to yell at them for being obstinate, or foalish. Celestia would have to convene the solar court, send legislation to the Equestrian senate, and hope that the press could be reined in before something else bad happened.

Celestia Attacks Freedom of Speech!

Trixie laughed as she read her morning paper. She was having salad with diced eggs for breakfast. It was the first time in a month she had something other than stale donuts and old coffee for breakfast. Trixie owed it all to the stallion she had killed.

It was risky to kill that stallion, andthe newspaper doesn’t seem to have raised its standards at all.

“That’s true,” she said softly. “If this article is correct, they told Celestia to get lost. Perhaps we can find some other pony to make an example of.”

Maybe you should just try a peaceful protest? Those stallions over there are doing it!

“Stallions on strike? That’s ridiculous, why would they go on strike? Everypony knows a stallion’s place is at work, earning bits for his family, while the mare stays home in the kitchen.”

Exactly! But, what do you think that photographer is going to say about them?

Trixie cast a spell to amplify her hearing, and angled her ears towards the photographer.

“Perfect, hold still. This will make great front-page news! Sexism in Canterlot, or maybe Dicks With Sticks! I better get over to Planned Marehood and get photos of that strike too. Murder always sells, and I’d love to get promoted at Equestrian News!”

She growled and canceled the spell. “He works for them. He dies tonight.”

All he’s doing it taking pictures, he didn’t do anything wrong.

“You heard him. He wants to sell murder, make fun of protesters, get promoted. He’s part of the problem.”

“Who is part of the problem?” the waitress asked.

Trixie tapped a hoof on the paper. “The reporter here, claiming Celestia is attacking free speech. Clearly she is just trying to protect ponies from libel and slander.”

The waitress nodded. “It’s a sad thing when they use cheap tricks to sell papers. I just feel sorry for the poor pony that got murdered. It’s never us little ponies that make the big decisions.”

“He decided to work for them, shouldn’t he be responsible for helping them print lies?”

“Well, we don’t always get to work at our perfect job. I don’t think so.”

“Interesting. Well, thanks for breakfast.” Trixie tossed a three bit tip on the table in addition to paying the bill. She trotted off after the photographer to see where he lived.

Polo Roid was an up and coming photographer for Equestrian News. As he closed the door behind him, he entered his apartment and took off his saddlebags. He went over to his fish tank and fed his Zebraharian Cichlids.

“Hey there, daddy’s is home,” he said to his fish.

The red and black striped one he had named Sombra swam up and began to eat the bloodworms. Soon, a purple fish he called Sparkle came up; nipping at his tail, then stealing his food.

“Heh, who says you need a girlfriend when you’ve got fish?”

Polo went into his dark room to develop his photos. He had taken dozens today, of everything from the new soup kitchen, the fundraiser for orphans, the protesters in front of several establishments, and a cute mint blue mare that seemed to be following him.

“Hmm, I think I’ll develop this one first. I wonder if I should ask this mare out. I kept running into her all day long.” Polo grinned and stared at his camera. “Such a shapely flank, I’d love to get here in here alone with me. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been with a mare, especially one with such a tight plot.”

Polo squinted as he lifted the freshly soaked roll of photos out of the water. He submerged them into the developing chemicals, using his magic gently so he wouldn’t damage them.

Trixie was skipping down the street with full saddlebags. She had spent most of her bits on supplies to take care of her newest friend, the photographer. Not paying attention to where she was going, Trixie collided with Shining Armor.

“Excuse me,” Shining said. “I didn’t see you coming.”

“Oh my, I’m very sorry—” Trixie paused for his name.

“Shining Armor.”

Trixie gasped. “Captain of the Royal guard? Brother of Twilight Sparkle, the mare who ruin—I mean, had a minor altercation with me and destroyed my trailer?”

He laughed. “Sounds like her, you aren’t still holding a grudge are you?”

Yes. “No, why would I do that? Things are all better now. I can even afford groceries!” Trixie nodded at her bulging saddlebags.

“Well, until we meet again, Trixie.” Shining nodded, and continued walking down the street.

She sighed in relief and began walking normally the last two blocks to the photographer’s apartment.

I’m not sure a kill in broad daylight is a good idea.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I can’t be predictable now can I?”

You shouldn’t be killing in the first place! I’m sure they’ll drop the investigation, and you proved your point.

“Oh really?” Trixie trotted over to a nearby newsstand. “Excuse me, sir, do you have any copies of this morning’s paper left?”

“Certainly do.” The stallion handed her a paper and she paid a bit for it.

Trixie unfolded the paper and began to skim through the headlines and their matching photographs. “Look at this! They managed to find a photo of Big Mac glancing at Braeburn at a county fair. Why would they run an article claiming he’s homosexual?”

“Because he’s the brother of the Element of Honesty, and sex sells?” the stallion offered.

She lowered the paper, having forgotten he was there. “Hehe, I guess so.”

You don’t even know this is the same photographer. Sure, those revealing photos of us drunk—

“What the fuck?!” Trixie shouted, dropping the paper.

The stallion’s eyes went wide in shock. “What? Are you okay, lady?” He leaned over the counter to look at the photo on page four of the paper. “Oh, my.”

In the center of the photo was Trixie Lulamoon, getting out of her carriage at a recent party. It had taken her every bit she had earned, every favor she was owed, and a couple of happy endings for the bouncers to get her into the Up and Coming Magicians Ball.

That was a week ago, when she had spent the last of her money on one last shot at becoming a stage magician again. The photo on the ground was of her after the party. Trixie had a little too much to drink after being rejected.

As Trixie had stepped out of the carriage, her cloak had blown aside in the wind. When the camera went off, it got an unobstructed picture of her mare parts. It almost looked like she was winking at the camera, and it was vile.

“How can they print this?!” She turned to the stallion and used her magic to fling the paper in his face. “How can you sell this?! Trixie demands answers!”

“Whoa, lady, calm down!” The stallion pulled out a magazine called The Inquirer. “Look! It’s part of their new initiative! Equestrian News is reporting the news from other papers and magazines!”

Trixie picked up the magazine and read the title. Trixie Lulamoon too Drunk to Walk? “What? They just repeat what other news companies have already reported? That’s not even journalism! That’s just plain lazy!”

“Look, I’m sorry but that’s the way the news works! And now that one of their employees was killed, I bet they’re even more determined to push the limits of free speech.”

“Pfft, we’ll see about that.” Trixie tossed her last two bits onto the newsstand. “Sorry for losing my temper.”

“Sure thing.”

She trotted off and rounded the corner, heading towards the apartment. This street was full of one story apartments with narrow front sides, they ran perpendicular to the street. They likely had no back yard, since they were squished together like a foal’s colt-o bricks.

“Apartment 13, how fitting. It’s just like that one horror movie.”

Wednesday the thirteenth?

“No, I’m pretty sure it was Thursday the thirteenth,” Trixie said to herself.

She glanced up and down the street, then used her magic to open the lock. Trixie let herself into the apartment as if she owned the place. She quietly levitated a bottle of chloroform out of her bag and a washcloth. Dousing the cloth thoroughly, she began to stalk through the apartment looking for her prey.

Trixie saw the fish tank and poured some chloroform in it. Moments later, the fish went belly-up. She smiled at her two first victims. Across the room was a red light above a door. Trixie went over and could hear a pony inside.

She kicked the door open and ran in, quickly jamming the chloroform covered cloth into his muzzle.

“Whammpppy mmph?” Polo mumbled. He collapsed on the ground, and Trixie got to work.

Polo Roid woke up with a horrible headache. He felt a splitting pain radiating down into his forehead. He opened his eyes to a pitch black room. Trying to get up, he found that his legs were stuck in an unnatural position.

A red light flickered on. A unicorn stepped out of the shadows to greet him.

“Who are you?” Polo asked.

She grinned. “I’m Trixie Lulamoon, and you must be Polo Roid, photographer for the news. I understand you used to be part of the paparazzi until you scored a photo and hit it big.”

He struggled against the bars holding his hooves spread eagle. “Uh, yeah, it was just some drunk celebrity. Why did you tie me up?”

“Oh, so you don’t recognize me without my pussy on display?” Trixie flicked another lightswitch, bathing the room in bright white light.

“No, the photos!” Polo shouted. After his eyes adjusted he gasped. “No! Trixie?! You were the drunk celebrity? Is this why you were following me all day? Are you going to rape me?”

Trixie laughed, not stopping for a couple of minutes. “Wow, you know I didn’t think anything would surprise me at this point, but seriously? You think I did all this just to rape you?”

He looked at his hooves. He had two spreader bars between his forelegs and hindlegs, holding them apart. He could not bring them close enough together to walk, and could not move them enough to do anything useful. His stallion hood was exposed and erect above his belly.

“No, I think not. In fact, why don’t we do something about that unruly appendage?” Trixie levitated a knife out and slid the flat edge of it against his dick.

“No! Please, no! Anything but that!” Polo shouted.

“Well, then it’s in your best interest to shut up and only speak when spoken to. Otherwise, I’ll chop off your dick and feed it to you. Understood?!”

“Yes ma’am.”

Trixie smiled. “Good boy. Now, to start I’m going to use this to scoop your eyes out.” She pulled an ice cream scooper out of her saddlebag.

“What the fuck? No! HELP!” Polo shouted. “Somepon—”

With one deft motion, Trixie stabbed the knife in into the ground between his legs, silencing him. She then levitated a hacksaw out of her bag. Holding his dick with her magic, she began sawing through it slowly.

“GAHHHHHHHH! CELESTIA FUCKING SOL!!!! MY FUCKING DICK!!!” Polo shouted. The rest of his screaming was gibberish.

The last bits of flesh tore off as she finished sawing his cock off. His dick rolled to the floor as blood spurted all over his abdomen.

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! OOOOOOOOOOHHHH FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!”

Trixie grimaced, tired of his incessant whining. She picked up his cock and rammed it deep into his throat, causing him to choke. She levitated out a roll of duct tape and taped the severed appendage into place as a gag.

Her next step was to run her blade through a small lighter she had bought. Using her magic to help, she had the blade glowing red hot in about ten seconds. She then cauterized Polo’s dick stump to stop the bleeding.

To say Polo was thrashing and screaming into his gag wildly would be a discredit to the amount of pain he was in. He looked like he was having a seizure, and flailed about like his hoof was stuck in an electrical outlet. His muffled screams were still loud enough to be heard across the street. Luckily, Trixie had put a dampening spell around the dark room.

As his eyes slowly started to roll back into his skull, he felt a sharp pain in his thigh.

“Now, Polo, I can’t have you passing out and missing all the fun!” Trixie levitated an epi-pen, designed for allergies, away from his thigh. The epinephrine would keep him wide awake for the best part.

Awake, in pain, and too exhausted to struggle, Polo began to cry.

“I suppose it’s bad luck. After all, I was going to kill you just for working for Equestrian News. Then, I find out you took a photo of my cooch to show all of Equestria? No, you deserve far worse than this, but I have a dinner date tonight.”

Trixie levitated the ice cream scoop over to his eye. He thrashed his head to the side, trying to avoid it. She held his head steady with her hooves, and bit her lip as she steadied her magic.

The metal scoop had a pointed round edge at the tip. She slid it between the outside of his eyeball and the corner of his eyelid. He renewed his shouting as a new wave of pain hit him. In his panic, he began to choke on his dick. Trixie waited for him to recover, then pushed the scooper in further.

There was a wet popping noise as the scoop severed the lateral tendons of his eyeball. He went cross-eyed as the medial tendons pulled his eyeball to the side. The white sclera of his eye was bleeding where the tendon had been ripped out, and Polo had started whimpering softly.

Trixie curved the scoop, grinding it against the bone in the back of his eye socket. Polo could feel the tough tendons squished between his skull and the ice cream scoop.

Then he felt the scoop hit his optic nerve. He lost all vision in his left eye, tensing up every muscle in his body and screaming. A pain like a white hot fiery poker pushed down through his eye socket directly into his brain. He could feel millions of little stabbing sensations as the blunt scooper tore through the optic nerve. It wasn’t until the entire nerve was severed that he relaxed.

Polo fell to the ground panting, his muscles finally releasing their grip on him. He caught his breath and was granted a short reprieve from the pain.

“That was incredible. It is a shame about your dick, because this is actually making me pretty horny.” Trixie laughed and dangled the eyeball in front of Polo’s one good eye. “Like what you see?”

Polo closed his eyelid after seeing his bloody eyeball.

How pathetic, he can’t even look. I think he’s learned his lesson.

“Don’t be ridiculous! He knows my name, I have to kill him. Come on, what can I do to make you enjoy this too?”

Well. . . I’ve always wondered what is inside an eye. Why don’t we find out?

“Excellent idea!” Trixie giggled as she levitated the knife over.

“Open your eye, or I’ll make your final moments more painful then you can ever imagine,” Trixie said.

Polo opened his eye. He saw Trixie slide the knife blade along his extracted eye, cutting the pupil in half. She squeezed, and out from between the iris popped a small clear lens. She squeezed it in her magic, marveling at the rubber-like texture of it.

Trixie then squeezed the eyeball, causing a thick, clear goop to squirt out.

Polo felt his heart beating fast and began to pass out at the sight. He felt another sharp sting in his thigh, and found himself waking back up.

“Not yet, there’s something else you forgot about,” Trixie said.

She tapped on his horn. Polo bit down on his dick in response to the pain. He tried to fire up his magic, and was rewarded with crushing agony assaulting his brain.

“Oh, I wouldn’t try to cast anything. I fractured your horn so you couldn’t use magic to escape. Now comes the best part!”

Trixie levitated out a nutcracker. The two slender metal rods had a textured groove near the joint in the middle. She held it over his horn, and tightened her grip.

“Tell me, have you ever broken your horn before? They say it’s the closest a stallion can ever get to child birth. I don’t buy it. You try pushing a baby pony out such a magnificent tight flank like mine. That’s why I never married.”

Polo glared at her with his one good eye.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.”

Do it!

Trixie tightened the nutcracker, causing a crunching sound. Chips of keratin splintered off his horn, and golden magic matching his yellow fur began to fizzle and spark from the horn.

Polo began to seize, trembling violently on the floor, as his brain was assaulted by the pain. Millions of nerves connected directly to his frontal cortex were being slowly crushed by jagged bits of his horn.

Trixie finished closing the nutcracker, then opened it to examine her handiwork. The horn had a full inch missing where it had been crushed and ground to dust. There was a pink mass of nerve tissue oozing blood holding the tip of his horn on.

“Oh, not a clean cut. Let me help you with that.”

Polo was still seizing and couldn’t even grunt in response. Trixie grabbed his horn with her mouth, and tore it off his forehead.

Polo slumped to the ground, unmoving. It wasn’t until Trixie had scooped out his other eyeball that the pain began to rouse him from his slumber.

“Thanks, Polo, you’ve been great fun to torture! Now, I just need to kill you.”

He sobbed as she lifted him up by the spreader bar between his hooves. He then felt his face splash into the developing bin. The chemicals burned his eye sockets, nose, and the stump where his horn had been. The way Trixie was holding his muzzle below the surface, he ended up inhaling a lung full of the fluid.

Polo choked and sputtered, kicking weakly, until he finally died.

Equestrian News Photographer Murderer! Do we Have a New Serial Killer? Sources Say Yes!

Trixie sat reading her special edition of the EQ Newspaper. It had been rushed out when a photographer had failed to report back to his boss with photos at three p.m. It was now seven p.m., and she was eating donuts with Joe.

“Horrible, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Absolutely dreadful,” Trixie replied.

Yet again they skipped all the best details. Hopefully the Inquirer or one of those other tabloids will have the juicy details for me tomorrow.

Celestia walked up to the crime scene where Shining and Luna were waiting. “How bad is it?” she asked.

Luna frowned. “Tia, I have never seen anything like it.”

Shining looked like he was having difficulty not vomiting. Celestia noticed he was standing with his hind legs crossed, and seemed to be cowering a little.

“Shining?” Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“I uh—no, but I will be. Permission to go home and see Cadance?” he asked.

“Granted.”

Celestia walked into the dark room and saw the writing on the wall. Underneath the glow of the lights was a familiar message. This one read “See No Evil”.

On the floor was the rigid corpse of a unicorn stallion. His eyeballs had been torn out of his skull, and were floating in the vat of chemicals. His severed dick was taped into his mouth, and his horn had been crushed and torn off.

Celestia understood now the reason Shining looked uncomfortable. This was more than a murder, this was a brutal torture. She looked in the developing solution and saw a strip of photos.

Pulling them out, she held them in front of the light. “Luna, were these photos visible when the police arrived?” Celestia asked.

“No, they had been in the solution too long. Those silhouettes are the only thing left.”

“Find out what he was photographing today, and ask for a list of every published photo he has ever sold Equestrian News. I want to know every pony he has photographed. This kill was too brutal to be the work of a methodical killer. Clearly, whoever killed him had a personal vendetta.”

3. Middle Management

Trixie sat in Donut Joe’s whistling and enjoying her coffee. The last few days had gone excellently. She had finally gotten the recognition she deserved. All across Canterlot, ponies were talking about the horrific murders of employees of the Equestrian News company. Even the newspaper had begun to cover the murders on the front page, in order to keep up with it’s competition.

Trixie laughed loudly as she imagined the editors and writers being forced to cover their own systematic elimination. Aside from a couple small time employees that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, she had only killed a few of the key players. She decided that today she would find herself the juiciest target of all: middle management.

“Having a good day, Trixie?” Joe asked.

“I am. I’m just having one of those days where I know everything is going to be perfectly fine,” Trixie answered.

“I’m just glad you’ve found work again, it’s really improved your mood.”

“Work?” Trixie thought about it for a minute, realizing her ‘work’ was robbing the mutilated corpses of her victims. She giggled. “Yes, work had been splendid of late. Just odd jobs here and there, but quite rewarding.”

“Well, if you’d like to eat dinner with me tonight, my offer still stands.”

Trixie smiled and wondered if he would be so interested in her if Joe had an idea of how she spent her nights. “Sure, let me go finish my current job and see if I can’t make time.”

She left some bits on the table and walked out of the donut shop. Trixie appreciated having one normal place left in her life, where she could be a simple mare enjoying a donut. Out here in Canterlot, she was a variety of things: pariah, fraud, harlot. The world could be a cruel place. Luckily, Trixie was crueler.

It didn’t take long for her to spot a boisterous employee from Equestrian News eating at an outdoor cafe. He was talking loudly enough anyone within two blocks could have made out his drunken tirade.

Trixie watched for a couple minutes and noticed two large stallions eating at the table next to him, who weren’t looking at him in shock like all the other ponies. They were built like royal guards, and she realized they must be following this employee and trying to bait the killer.

“Amateurs, do they really think it’ll be that easy?” Trixie asked.

They could be watching any number of employees. I know it’s fun, but really ought to quit while we’re ahead.

“Nonsense, Trixie is just starting to have fun.”

We have had enough fun, and imagine if Joe found out what we were doing. It’d crush him.

Trixie mulled it over for a minute. “Nah, they’ll never leave me alone and let me be happy until the job is done. Let’s keep looking.”

She walked around Canterlot looking for other employees, only to notice they weren’t wearing their press badges or doing anything to draw attention to themselves. After an hour of searching, she found herself in front of the public library.\

Trixie walked in, smiling to the other ponies, as she headed back towards the public records. She decided to be quick, lest a pony find her looking up the names and addresses of the newspaper and it’s affiliates.

For an hour she searched and managed to find a few names and fewer addresses. She had the constant feeling that somepony was watching her, and finally decided it was too risky to stay here. Trixie left and went to the cafe across the street from where one of the ponies was supposed to live.

She saw a pony fitting the description of the editor in chief. Trixie sat down and ordered a sandwich while she eavesdropped on their conversation.

“Honey, please don’t worry about me. We’re taking steps to ensure all the employees are safe. We no longer wear our badges out in public. The Canterlot Killer won’t know who we are.”

A teal mare sat across from him, picking at her salad. “It’s more than that, you have a family to take care of. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

“Look, that’s not going to happen, okay? The princess talked directly with our CEO. He told us the killer has some kind of vandetta against the company, and that they’re already narrowing down the list of suspects.”

“Then why not just take a vacation? Tell them you need a week off with your family, that you’re going to visit your mother in Ponyville.”

The stallion sighed. “Alright, I’ll go in to work today and tell them I’m taking a week off. Get everything ready and we’ll leave for Ponyville at four.”

Trixie watched the two hug. The mare finally spoke, “Alright I’ll tell the neighbors we’re going out of town on short notice.”

The two parted ways and Trixie decided to follow the mare. True to her word, she quickly told some of her friends she was leaving town today for a week vacation. She lead Trixie straight back to her house, and went inside to pack.

Trixie quickly went home to get the supplies she would need and put them in her saddlebags. The walls of her apartment were stained and covered in mildew. She had considered scrubbing them clean, or moving into a fancier apartment. If she did that, it might draw attention to her. It was best if everypony thought she was still a poor showmare who couldn’t find work.

She returned to the house of her next victim at three and knocked on the door.

The door opened slowly and the teal mare smiled. She was a fit young earth pony and behind her was a suitcase. “Oh, hello. Can I help you, Miss?”

Trixie returned the smile. “Yes. I’m looking for your husband, something important came up before we can let him go on vacation.”

“Come in, Sean will be back any moment,” she said. She ushered Trixie into the house and went to prepare some tea.

Trixie glanced around the small house. It didn’t have much of a yard, but unlike the earlier apartments she wouldn’t have to worry nearly as much about the screams reaching the neighbors. There were stairs to the second floor, as well as a door to what could be a basement.

“So, you work with my husband. . . oh dear, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name. I’m Margaret.”

“Hi, I’m Trixie,” she replied.

“Hmm, that sounds awfully familiar.” Margaret poured them both tea before heading back into the kitchen to get sugar.

Trixie reached into her saddlebags and pulled out a small bag of powder. She had always wanted to try poisoning a pony and what better opportunity than this.

Don’t use too much or you’ll miss the best part.

She sprinkled some into the tea as the pony trotted back into the room. “No sugar for me, thanks,” Trixie said.

Margaret dropped a cube in her tea and stirred it, before taking a sip. “So, what does he need to do before he can go on vacation?”

Trixie grinned. “It’s simple, really. He has to choose which is more important. His life, or yours.”

She raised an eyebrown in confusion and looked down at her shaking hooves. The tea cup fell from her grasp before she slumped on the couch.

Trixie went to check on the door under the staircase. Sure enough, it lead down to a basement and it was full of workout equipment and dusty, brown boxes. She went back upstairs, grabbed Margaret, and dragged her down into the basement.

This is just too perfect! Everypony expects them to be gone for a week, and they have a basement too!

“Yes, we’ll have so much fun with this one. Perhaps it’ll be enough to recapture that thrill of my first kill, of Quick Read.”

Then we can stop, right? If you have a whole week to enjoy it, maybe we can finally go on a date with Donut Joe and live a normal life?

“This is our normal life now, Trixie,” she said to herself. “I’ve never felt so great and powerful as I do now.”

Well, I suppose as long as we’re happy, and you’re careful. I’d hate to lose our one last friend.

“We’re protecting Joe as much as everypony else. This newspaper has to die.”

The voice had fallen silent, and Trixie focused on tying the unconscious mare down to a workout bench. She tied her hooves behind her back in a painfully tight position.

Trixie went back upstairs to clean up the living room. Once the tea had been put away, she looked at the clock. In about fifteen minutes Sean would be home and Trixie could kill yet another employee of that accursed news agency.

She went upstairs just to be sure the house was empty before he got home. All the doors but one were open. When Trixie opened it, she saw a young filly sleeping in her bed. The room was covered in posters from the Wonderbolts, Daring Do, and Mare-Do-Well. Trixie’s eyes went wide as she realized she couldn’t kill the ponies downstairs with this filly sleeping here.

“I’ll need to kill her too,” Trixie whispered.

She’s just a filly, she’s not to blame!

“Well I can’t leave her here. Her parents have to die.”

So knock her out and make her parents die quickly.

“Oh no, I want to enjoy this one.”

Trixie walked over and pulled out some ropes. She took a piece of linen and made a blindfold, then tied it onto the filly’s head. She put the rope in next, gagging the filly and waking her up. As she began to mumble and thrash around, Trixie hogtied her hooves.

Leave her alone, please!

“Oh, don’t worry little filly. I’m not going to hurt you. No, I’m going to give you a gift. I’m going to make the world you grow up in a better place.”

Trixie left the filly hogtied and gagged in her own bed, pulling the curtains over the window. She then went back downstairs to wait for Sean to get home.

She didn’t have to wait long before the door opened up and he stepped inside. “Honey, I’m home,” he said.

Trixie brought down a vase on his head, shattering it and knocking him out. She locked the front door, and dragged him downstairs to join his wife.

She tied him on his stomach, spread eagle on his treadmill. He could see his wife from this position, and Trixie cast the spells to soundproof the room. Once this was done, she gagged him and slapped him to wake him up.

After a few minutes and hitting him a dozen times, he finally began to wake up.

“Sean, you know who I am?” Trixie asked.

He looked up at her, and tugged at his bonds. A light suddenly went on in his head and he realized this was the killer who had been stalking the newspaper employees. He nodded his head slightly.

“Then you know why you’re here. I’m going to remove the gag. Be civil, and I may make your death quick and spare your filly.”

Trixie pulled the gag out. “Please not my wife or child!”

“What do you do for Equestrian News?” Trixie asked.

“I won’t tell anypony just let them go!”

Trixie slammed a hoof on his wife’s ribcage. She squealed in pain and thrashed against her bindings.

“Stop! I’m a manager, the editor in chief! I approve all the stories in the paper!”

Trixie grinned. “So, you approve of slandering me? Of spreading lies about honest ponies?”

“Of course not! I approve of stories with good grammar and punctuation! I’m not responsible for the content!”

Trixie levitated out a knife and waved it around in the air. “Oh, so you only care about if a story is grammatically correct you don’t care if it’s factually accurate. That makes this so much easier.”

“What is easier? Please, I didn’t write any of those stories!”

“No, but you let them be published. So tell me, and speak up so your wife can hear, which one of you do I kill? That’s right. I’m going to kill one of you, and spare one of you. Tell me, do you really want me to free your wife and torture you for hours in her place?” Trixie asked.

Sean gulped and looked at his wife. She was writhing around on the bench she was tied to, and couldn’t see him or speak. He glanced at the knife, and saw several other unidentifiable objects sprawled on the floor next to Trixie. His conviction wavered.

“Her, kill her, just let me go!” Sean pleaded.

Trixie laughed at her victory. “See, Margaret? Your husband is just as horrible as the newspaper. Now, I’m going to kill you, Margaret, just like your husband asked me to.”

She thrashed on the bench as Trixie gagged Sean again. He was yelling and mumbling, though if he had changed his mind it was too late.

Trixie turned the treadmill on to low, so that Sean wouldn’t feel left out while she killed his wife. With him tied down over it, the belt on the treadmill began to tear at his skin and burn from the friction. Sean wiggled around trying to hold himself off the belt, but couldn’t. Trixie adjusted the ropes to ensure he had to stay facing forward towards his wife.

Sean could feel a burning down his chest, abdomen, and penis. The pain was unbearable, and his hair did little to cushion his skin from the abrasive rubbing. No matter how much he squirmed, the burning got worse as his skin was slowly burnt off by the friction of the rubber belt.

Trixie spun the knife around in the air. “For my first trick, I’m going to make this knife disappear!”

She caused a small explosion of fireworks in the basement. Using the momentary distraction, she jammed the knife straight into Margaret’s pussy, slicing it in two. Screams filled the basement as she thrashed about in her bonds and blood dripped to the floor.

“Look at that, Sean! A single blow, and it’ll take her an hour to bleed out. Slow, painful, inevitable. . . just like your death, Sean. I wonder how long it’d take that treadmill to sand down all the way to your heart?” Trixie asked.

Sean thrashed and tried to reach out to his wife. She was breathing rapidly and flailing as she bled out.

“For my next trick, I’ll sterilize your wounds!” Trixie pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and began pouring it on the treadmill.

The deep wounds on Sean’s chest and stomach screamed in agony, the burning increasing tenfold. The alcohol was making its way into the wounds as his flesh was peeled off by the treadmill. His loudest screams of agony were easily absorbed by the thick walls of the basement and Trixie’s magic.

“You know what would make this more fun? An audience!”

You don't have to hurt her. Just make it an act.

Trixie trotted upstairs and grabbed the filly who had been hogtied in bed. She levitated her downstairs and set her in a chair by the wall. Sean renewed his struggles when he saw his daughter sitting there.

Trixie came over and turned the treadmill off. She then went and removed the knife from Margaret, stuffing a towel in between her legs and tying it in place. It wouldn’t save her life, but it’d cause her death to take a few more hours.

She then took the gag out of Sean’s mouth. “So, Sean, tell your daughter why I’m going to kill her parents.”

“Because you’re a fucking psycho!” Sean screamed.

Trixie levitated a hammer out and hit their filly in the chest. She squealed out in pain, unable to see the horrors around her. “Wrong!” Trixie yelled. “Tell her how you lie for a living, how you’re a horrible pony, or I’ll kill her!”

“You’re the only horrible pony here! I love you, Peach, daddy loves you,” Sean said.

Trixie hit the filly again, and there was a loud cracking sound as a rib snapped.

Easy, you’re hurting her!

“Of course I’m hurting her! She’ll grow up to be just like her parents, and besides, it’s fun!” Trixie cackled as she turned back to Sean. “Mad? Psycho? You haven’t begun to see what I can do. Now. Tell. Her.”

Sean collapsed on the treadmill in defeat. “P-peach, daddy is a bad pony. He—daddy needs to go away for a long t-time. I l-love you, Peach.”

Trixie smiled. “There, that’s better. Now, if you agree to let me kill her, I’ll let you go.”

“I won’t fall for that again!” Sean shouted. “You said you’d let me go if I told you to kill my wife!”

Trixie laughed in triumph. “Yes, Peach, hear that? Daddy just admitted he told me to kill your mommy so that he could live. Your daddy is a liar and a coward.”

Trixie put the gag back in Sean’s mouth before moving over to whisper in Peach’s ear. She made sure it was loud enough Sean could hear. “In fact, your daddy already agreed that I could kill you too if I let him go. Why don’t we leave your daddy here to suffer for being a bad pony.”

Sean screamed as Trixie levitated his daughter towards the door. “Don’t worry, Sean, I’m not done with you two. You did just tell everypony you know you were going on vacation for a week. That means I have six more days to make you regret being born. Until then, I’ll let you stew down here as I torture your daughter to death.”

Trixie walked up the stairs and closed the door. She could hear Sean struggling, and even Margaret seemed to have a little life left in her. Once she got upstairs, she headed for Peach’s room.

Trixie went into the room and lay the whimpering filly on the bed.

She’s so scared.

“I know, I’m sorry little filly, your daddy was very naughty. I needed to punish him,” Trixie explained. She leaned over and lit up her horn. The large blue bruise on Peach’s side started to heal. Trixie pulled out a piece of wood she had used sleight of hand to put behind Peach. When she had hit her with the hammer, she had cracked the wood to make her father think she was killing his daughter.

“It’s okay, Peach, I wouldn’t hurt a filly. You’ll be a good filly, you’ll never be evil like your parents. That’s why I’m going to take care of you until this is all over. You can tell the Princess how nice I am when she asks.”

What if she tells the Princess who you are?

“She doesn’t know who I am, isn’t that right?” Trixie asked.

Peach whimpered and shook her head no. She had light yellow fur and a light pink mane, exactly like a peach would.

“Good filly. I know it’s not your fault. Here, why don’t I help you fall to sleep.”

Trixie loosened the ropes and the gag a little. She then brought in some water and helped the filly get a drink. The last thing she did was sing a lullaby until the filly had cried herself to sleep.

Trixie covered her in the blanket and looked at the clock. She had her date with Donut Joe in less than an hour. Trixie decided to go enjoy a relaxing night, and return in the morning to continue punishing Sean.

Trixie woke up the next morning and hurried towards Sean’s house. Her date with Joe had consisted of a nice dinner and a promise to do it again sometime. She wasn’t about to invite him over to her apartment while it looked like a hydra had taken a dump in a swamp and poured it into her living room. Perhaps once she cleaned the place up she could invite him over for hot coffee.

When she arrived at Sean’s house she found it exactly like she had left it. There weren’t any ponies out this early in the morning and Trixie used the key to let herself into the house. She hurried upstairs to check on Peach. She was snoring softly and sleeping in the bed. Trixie took a moment to untie her legs, and tie her forehooves to the headboard. This would allow her to stretch a little more and be more comfortable. The filly slept through it all, yawning softly as Trixie left.

Downstairs, Sean was passed out on the treadmill. Trixie checked his stomach and saw fresh scabs running down it’s entire length. She grinned, noticing that several patches of scabs and hair were matted to the treadmill’s belt.

Trixie turned the treadmill back on and was rewarded by his sudden screaming and thrashing, only to recall where he was. As the treadmill slowly peeled away the scabs and his skin, Trixie went to check on his wife.

She was breathing weekly and the towel between her legs had soaked through with blood. Margaret would likely die soon, so Trixie decided to make sure Sean got a good show.

Trixie levitated a knife out and cut off Margaret’s ear. She whined softly but made no movement. “You know, Sean, your wife doesn’t look so good.” Trixie tossed the ear onto the treadmill in front of him, and watched as it was pulled under him.

Sean looked on in horror as Trixie cut off the other ear, then her two nipples, and then sliced off her lips. One by one she carved pieces of his wife off and tossed them on the treadmill, laughing the whole time.

“Isn’t this wonderful, Sean? Not only do I get to kill you, I get to make you watch me kill her!”

Margaret squealed and stopped breathing as Trixie plunged the knife into her stomach. She began to rip out her intestines and toss them on the treadmill, turning Sean’s coat into a bloody mess. Trixie covered him in his wife’s entrails as the treadmill continued to burn away his flesh.

“So, Sean, I hardly slept last night trying to think of the best way to kill you, and you know what I thought of?”

Sean was whimpering and crying as he closed his eyes to hide from the horror.

“That’s right! It’s an old medieval torture device, used before the fall of Nightmare Moon. The Griffon’s call it the Pear. I know it’s not a peach, but I still thought it was close enough to be ironic. I had to whip something up on short notice, but it should have the same effect.”

Sean heard Trixie behind him but couldn’t turn far enough to see her. He suddenly felt a cold, blunt metal object force itself against his asshole. With the treadmill eating away at him he didn’t have the strength to resist. A pointed prong entered his ass, followed by a large metal object.

He screamed into his gag as he felt his ass tearing from the large, dry invader. Once it was fully inserted, he began to whimper and catch his breath.

“I can see why the Griffon’s enjoyed them so much. That wasn’t even the best part, want to know what was?” Trixie asked.

She rotated the bolt on the end of the pear, and began to spread the three pieces of metal apart. The once solid object flowered open inside his rectum.

Sean screamed as he felt the device grow larger inside him. The three prongs spread out, tearing and shredding his insides. He began to urinate from the pressure on the treadmill, and his penis began to get burnt from the friction of the belt.

He could feel warm fluid pouring out of his ass along with a foul odor as the onion was spread even wider apart.

“Hmm, that’s as wide as it goes. I mean, it’s probably lethal but I’d hope for more pain. . . perhaps if I remove it while fully expanded?”

Sean’s eyes went wide in horror as the device was pulled out by Trixie’s magic. He passed out as it tore it’s way free.

Trixie tossed the bloody implement aside and grabbed an epi pen she had bought from a local pharmacy. Though meant for allergies, this easily obtained item would help keep him from dying before the best part.

Sean began to regain consciousness as his heart raced. He realized all the nerves in his skin had long since been killed, as he couldn’t feel the conveyor belt against his chest or abdomen anymore. It still burnt his legs and penis, which he had done his best to kept lifted off the belt. He could smell the burnt flesh, feces, and slightly copper odor of his bodily fluids.

He felt something pinching into his knee. Sean turned and saw two pieces of wood with jagged teeth and two long screws and bolts.

“It’s amazing what I can whip up from a little folk lore and a trip to a hardware store, isn’t it?” Trixie asked. “This is the knee splitter. Basically, it’ll destroy any joint trapped between it! Elbow, knee, shoulder, oh and aren’t we lucky us ponies have so many joints?”

Sean slumped his head on the treadmill in defeat, letting the burning sensation of his left cheek being peeled off dull the pain of his right foreleg. Trixie tightened the device, severing the tendons and popping the join apart. He could no longer move any part of the bound leg, nor did he want to.

Trixie frowned. “Hmm, it isn’t much fun if you quit now. Perhaps I should leave you here for another day to think about what you’ve done.”

Sean struggled and flailed, desperate for an end to the suffering.

“Oh, so you don’t want that? Then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll leave you here with the treadmill and return tomorrow to see if you’re still alive.”

Trixie gathered up her tools and began to clean up the basement. She spent an hour cleaning and scouring the basement to ensure she left no evidence behind. Once she was satisfied, she trotted out of the basement.

She had decided to leave him to his fate at the hands of blood loss, infection, and the treadmill. Trixie had grown tired of this silly earth pony and his family. Still, she had a problem upstairs she wasn’t sure how to deal with.

Trixie trotted into Peach’s room to see her curled up as best she could under the covers, with her forehooves tied above her head.

We can’t just leave her, no one will come to check on her for a week.

“Peach, nopony will know what happened for a week, I’m going to have to leave you here. I’ll stop by to feed you every day, okay?”

Peach whimpered into her rope gag, and Trixie tucked the covers in around her.

Look how scared she is, we need to do something.

“I can’t do anything yet!”

Why don’t we tie her up back at our apartment?

“We need to leave her here for the authorities to find.”

She lost her parents, she’s an orphan now.

Trixie sighed. “Peach, maybe I should kill you too. It’s better than being an orphan.”

Peach squealed as Trixie touched her.

Look at the burns from the ropes already, how they’ve cut into her legs. Are you really gonna leave her like this a whole week?

“Ugh, fine. Look, Peach, if I promise to take you home with me and take good care of you, will you be a good filly?” Trixie asked.

Peach froze in terror and held her breath.

“Peach, your parents are dead. I can leave you here, tied to this bed, or you can come live with me for the rest of the week. Then, I’ll come leave you here for the police to find. Which will it be?”

Trixie pulled her gag out. Peach mumbled a few words before speaking up. “Please don’t hurt me, don’t leave me all alone.”

Trixie hugged the filly. “Shh, I won’t hurt you. Come on, I’m going to tie you up and put you in my saddlebag. Then we’ll go to my house and I’ll get you a dozen donuts. Would you like that?”

“Y-yes,” Peach said.

Trixie fastened the gag and quickly hogtied her before stuffing Peach into her saddlebag. She then checked over the house one last time before leaving and locking the door behind her. Trixie smiled as she left Sean to his fate of being slowly killed by the treadmill.

Author's Note

It's true what they say: writing is therapeutic.