69 Love Stories

Chapters

Absolutely Cuckoo
I Don't Believe In The Sun
All My Little Words
A Chicken With Its Head Cut Off
Rainbow Dash

Absolutely Cuckoo

Twilight Sparkle and Flash Sentry sat across each other at the restaurant table. There was a glass of wine beside Twilight’s hoof as she nervously fiddled with her napkin.

“To be honest, I never really go on many dates,” she admitted, smiling sheepishly at the handsome stallion before her. Flash sentry laughed a charming laugh, and smiled dazzlingly at the alicorn.

“Twilight, it’s alright. All that matters is that you even wanted to go out on a a date with me,” the stallion said sincerely.

Twilight was taken aback by this. “Why wouldn’t I want to go on a date with you? You’re charming, handsome, and a third thing! That’s all a mare could want.”

“Well, that is true,” Flash Sentry said. “But there’s got to be something rather off putting about me that keeps mares away from me.”

“Flash, I’m a bookish nerd who never bothered with romance,” Twilight told her date. “And now the first date I go on, I get someone like you? I’d say I’m pretty darn lucky. I don’t think that I could find anything off putting about you enough for me to want to end this date. Trust me.”

Flash leaned over the table and rested his hooves on Twilight’s right hoof. He looked her deep in the eyes and smiled. “Thank you, that means so much to me, Twilight. You really have no idea... I’ve been on so many dates, and they all end in disaster... I don’t know why!”

Twilight giggled. “Well, here’s to hoping that this date goes exactly as planned!” The mare levitated her wine glass, and the stallion did the same. They brought their glasses together, and just after the little crystalline clink of their glasses, they each took large gulps of the red wine.

The two didn’t talk for a few moments as an awkward silence permeated the room. Eventually, Flash Sentry cleared his throat and told his date, “Come closer. I‘ve got something to tell you.”

Twilight leaned over the table to get closer to Flash Sentry. The stallion looked around, and then put his muzzle to Twilight’s ear. Twilight waited for a moment as Flash breathed into her ear, and then he spoke.

“I know why so many of my dates end disastrously.”

Twilight cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I’m ABSOLUTELY CUKOO!” Flash suddenly yelled. Twilight pulled away from the sudden burst of sound; or rather, she tried, but found that she could not due to Flash Sentry’s tongue being firmly implanted in her ear.

“Um, Flash?” Twilight asked incredulously. The stallion’s tongue retracted back into his mouth in a blink of an eye. Plastered on his face was a smile that would make most mad mares run back to the safety of their padded cells.

“It’s true Twilight,” he said, levitating up a small hammer and slowly banging his horn over and over again with it, not so much as flinching every time it connected with his appendage, “I’m fucking bonkers!”

Twilight opened her mouth to speak, but was silences as the crazy stallion shoved as many breadsticks as he possibly could in her mouth (five).

Flash jumped on the table, and rolled over onto his book, staring up at the Princess with a mouth full of breadstick. One hoof shot out, and caressed her cheek. “You’re so... beautiful...” he softly whimpered. Shooting his other hoof out, he hooked both of them behind her neck and brought Twilight’s head down. The stallion buried his face in her mane, sniffing as deep as he possibly could. “Damn, that’s nice...”

Letting go of Twilight, he rolled onto his stomach, knocking the wine glasses to the floor, where they shattered despite being made of low-grade plastic. Flash Sentry was staring at Twilight, looking past the breadstick stuffed face and directly at those beautiful eyes.

“I want to cut out your eyes and float them in a martini,” he whispered quite seriously. “It would be the perfect way to preserve your beauty indefinitely...”

Twilight tried to make a communication noise with her face hole, but the bread sticks got in the way. Flash Sentry raised a hoof to her mouth to shush her.

“Shh... if you speak, you might want to end the date, and if you end the date, I’ll get depressed, and if I get depressed, I’ll have to kill myself, and if I kill myself, my friends will blame you, and there’s no telling what they’d do to you,” Flash Sentry said in a massive run on sentence.

There was a loud noise from the front of the establishment, and a bunch of ponies in white coats showed up at the table. Flash Sentry looked over at the group in horror, squeaking quietly about rubber ducks.

“You’re coming back to the Asylum, you crazy nutjob!” shouted one of the ponies. Of course, by this time, everypony in the restaurant was looking on in a mixed bag of horror and amusement.

“No, you dingleberry,” another one of the asylum ponies told the coworker who had just spoken. “You need to be gentler than that.” Clearing his throat, he turned to Flash Sentry, who had now wrapped the tablecloth around himself like a blanket and was rocking back and forth whispering lullabies in a very frightened voice with a facial expression to match, and spoke.

“You’re coming back to the happy happy fun house, you crazy nutjob!” he shouted at the demented stallion.

“You’ll never take me alive!” Flash Sentry proclaimed, and he attempted to escape from the mental health ponies. Alas, in this task he failed, as time and time again history has proven that when wrapped in a tablecloth it is very hard to flee from figures of authority.

Falling onto the floor with a dull fwump Flash Sentry tried to roll away to the freedom of the front doors. A large pony in one of the lab coats stopped him, and put an XXL-sized straightjacket around the patient and the ball of tablecloth that surrounded him.

As the Asylum workers rolled the crazy stallion away, the owner of the restaurant leapt from the kitchen, saucepan waving around in his magical aura. “Hey, you gotta pay for that tablecloth!”

“We’re the government, we don’t have to pay for jack shit!” yelled back one of the mental health workers as they left through the front door.

Twilight Sparkle chewed up the breadsticks in her mouth, swallowed, and stared after the group wistfully. “What a shame. I felt like we really had a connection.”

I Don't Believe In The Sun

True Strike levitated the bouquet of flowers next to his nose, and he inhaled deeply. The scent was marvelous; truly, his beloved would enjoy this gift he was to present to her.

True Strike was a unicorn stallion who worked in the royal guard. After spending so much time working with Celestia, he couldn’t help but hopelessly fall for her.

Now here he was, getting ready to ask her out. Even though she was the immortal princess of the entire country, and he was but a unicorn from the lower parts of Canterlot, yet something told him that their love was meant to be.

Entering the throne room, Celestia was sitting there drinking a cup of tea, because Celestia does literally nothing else than drink tea all the fucking time. True Strike walked up to the Princess, and pushed his nervousness to the back of his mind. This was the moment he had been waiting forever to enjoy.

Celestia took notice of the advancing pony. “Hello, True Strike,” she said pleasantly. “Your shift isn’t for another three hours, but I am pleased to see you all the same.”

“Celestia!” he said excitedly. “Teacher! Mother! Secret lover...”

Celestia cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Erm...” True Striked cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m pleased to see you too, your highness!” True Strike noticed he was stammering slightly. Correcting this spoke once more. “I need to ask you something.”

“Rest assured that you can ask me anything, my loyal guard,” Celestia told the unicorn. True strike swallowed hard, and smiled.

“Well, I was wondering...” True Strike stopped, his mouth suddenly going dry. “If we— if you could— if I...”

Celestia cocked her head inquiringly. True Wish saw this, and giggled nervously. “I just don’t know how to say this, but...” he took a deep breath, and voiced what was on his mind.

“I’ve spent a lot of time on the royal guard, with you, Princess. I never thought that I would actually be able to meet the Princess that we were all taught so much about growing up, and you turned out to be just as great as I imagined, and more! You’re beautiful, kind, and you rule the country so well... really, you’re just all around amazing. What I’m getting to here is...” True Strike levitated his bouquet towards Celestia, whose expression hadn’t changed. “Will you be my special somepony?”

Celestia’s eyes filled with the look of pity one gives when observing a retard trying to push open a door clearly labeled "pull".

“True Strike, I am very flattered, but I am afraid I must let you down. As your Princess, and as the pony you guard, it would be both unprofessional and immoral for me to be your special somepony,” Celestia told him gently. True Strike’s flowers wilted.

“In addition, I have kept myself from taking a special somepony,” she continued. “I am immortal, and I would outlive anypony who attempted to court me. I am so terribly sorry, but I simply cannot be who you want me to be.”

True Strike looked down, nodding slowly. “Yeah, yeah... I get it. I’m sorry for asking, Princess, it wasn’t my place.”

Celestia lifted a hoof to True Strike, and place it on his shoulder. “You are still one of the finest guards that I have on the force here, and I am lucky to entrust my life to you.”

True Strike nodded yet again. “Thank you Princess. I will be back for my shift.”

The pony left his princess, and walked out of the Canterlot Palace. He walked the lonely road down the friendless cobblestones, descending to the main city of Canterlot.

“Lonely and heartbroken, eh?” came a voice. True Strike looked all around him, confused. Where was that voice coming from? “Well, I know what’ll cheer you up!”

Suddenly, a douchy looking human jumped out from behind a barrel, playing a song on his electric guitar. “I walk this lonely road, the only road that I have ever known...”

“Go the fuck away, Billy Joe Armstrong, I’m not in the mood,” the rejected unicorn said, levitating a nearby barrel and smashing it into the rock star.

True Strike wandered down the road, moping to himself about how his love life wasn’t ever going to take off. If the Princess who was supposed to unconditionally love all of her subjects didn’t love him, then who would?

“I’m not sure I even believe in you, you stupid sun,” he said, starting up at provider of light and warmth. Sadly he forgot that staring at the sun has pretty nasty consiquences.

“Gah! My retinas!” he shouted in agony, drawing his eyes away from the giant ball of light in the sky. Cursing his luck further, he continued down the road.

“Is anyone as unlucky as I?” he wondered aloud.

“Extra extra! Fourteen dead in horrible Asylum breakout!” shouted a nearby news pony. True Strike gave the news pony a glare, and decided to retake a previous course of action. The barrel landed squarely in the middle of the news pony’s face, sending him flying backwards. It was in this moment of satisfaction, however, that True Strike realized something amazing.

“I can solve all my problems by throwing barrels at them!” he said excitedly. Gathering as many barrels as he possibly could, he rushed home to being his problem solving.

He glared at the piles of unwashed dishes. Throwing a barrel at them, they shattered, solving his problem and proving his point. Now that that was taken care of, he set to what he had planned on doing before. Dressing up one of his barrels like a mare, he made sweet love to her.

“Ah... that was great,” True Strike said, smoking a cigarette while spooning his barrel-lover. There came a knock from his door, and the guard set off to czech who it was.

“Tex collector!” a green earth pony announced when he opened the door. A swiftly hefted barrel solved this problem, and the unicorn was heading back for round two with his new companion when an idea struck him.

Having a short passionate make-out with his barrel, True Strike loaded himself up with ammunition and headed up towards the Canterlot Palace. Picking splinters out of his tongue as he progressed, he giggled to himself knowing that his problems would finally be ogre.

Celestia was drinking her seventy-second cup of tea when a familiar feeling struck her. She turned to her her guard currently on duty and told him eloquently, “Excuse me please, I must relieve myself to go attend to royal business.”

“Do what, your highness?” asked the guard. He was an earth pony, so intelligence was not his strong suite.

“That means I have to take a piss,” she put less eloquently. Celestia left to the royal latrines. Settling down on the toilet, she closed the door and got ready for the sweet relief.

“TAKE THIS YOU BITCH!” shouted True Strike, who had been hiding behind the door. He threw not one, not two, not three—

Oh, my mistake. He threw three barrels at Celestia, each hitting her squarely in the face. The Princess screamed in pain as the rogue unicorn cackled in glee.

“Any last words?” the executioner asked not three hours later, True Strike’s head resting in the guillotine slot.

“Yes,” True Strike saying. “I cannot be executed, for my special somebarrel is pregnant!”

A hush fell over the crowd, and slowly everypony in the crowed parted to reveal a barrel. One of the guards went over and opened the top of the barrel. “Yup, there’s a fetus in here all right!”

Celestia, her muzzle bandaged, rolled her blackened eyes. “Being an expecting father does not guarantee safety from executions, and besides, that could be ANYPONY’S fetus!” A small barrel shot out from the larger barrel, and knocked out one of Celestia’s teeth.

Celestia scowled. “Kill him now,” she instructed the executioner.

“That’s my boy,” True Strike said with tears of happiness in his eyes as the blade slide quickly down towards his neck.

Author's Note

All My Little Words

The bushes outside Fluttershy’s house were especially soft; Thunderlane found this out whilst hiding in them and observing the yellow pegasus through her window.

“Mmm! Comfy!” Thunderlane said, settling his plushy ass in the bushes. The twigs and leaves brushed up against his buttocks, electing a sigh of contentment from the stalker.

Thunderlane had loved Fluttershy since she had magically fallen from the sky back when she was a foal. Unlike most pegasi, Thunderlane had not grown up in Cloudsdale. Rather he, his mother, and his little brother Rumble had lived here in Ponyville all of their lives. Naturally, since all other pegasi lived in Cloudsdale, it was either a lonely or incestious love life for Thunderlane, seeing as it’s just disgusting for pony sub-species to crossbreed.

It was a miracle that Fluttershy fell from the sky that day, for Thunderlane was considering buttering up his then three year old brother and sexing him up. His mother had already proved to be a terrible lover, which he suspected was what lead to his father’s suicide shortly after conceiving Rumble.

With this extremely healthy home environment and most certainly not disturbing background, once Thunderlane fell in love Fluttershy, he showed his affections like any self-respecting male would; he stalked her relentlessly for eight years.

The ninth year-anniversary was today, actually. As Thunderlane watched Angel Bunny abuse Fluttershy, he made a silent toast to his diligent stalking. Only sixteen minutes and fifteen seconds until he broke the world stalking record, as a matter of fact.

To commemorate this momentous occasion, Thunderlane figured he should dare to do what he only did in private when thinking of Fluttershy; he was going to have a good, old fashioned christian guilt wank.

His hoof grasped the exposed phallus that had snaked its way out of his sheath. Thunderlane groaned as he felt the little spikes of pleasure shoot up his body as her began to get harder than he had been previously. Using his free hoof, he parted the bushes so he could see Fluttershy better.

Angle Bunny had been very displeased with his dinner being a few moments late, so he was spanking the shit out of Fluttershy’s supple bum. Thunderlane watched the small furry paws connect with the plush yellow ass, his forehead glistening with sweat. Truly, this was the way to fap.

Taking some of the sweat from his brow, he rubbed it on his cock, feeling the amazing feel of sunshiney lubricant on his meat popsicle. He liked to think of his cock as his “meat popsicle”, since the only real foray into sex he ever had was one pretty bad porn flick.

Fluttershy’s ass was now thoroughly reddened, and Angel had let her lay on the floor to rest. The beaten pegasus was all sweaty and moist, so she decided to head off to the shower in order to get nice and sparkling.

Thunderlane shuffled away through the underbrush to watch his prize stalkee go outside to her shower. Fluttershy used an outdoor shower; she needed to be close to nature when washing down. Also, it was easier for her bigger animals to get to her in the shower and help her scrub down.

Fluttershy turned on the facet, and the warm water cascaded down her body. Her mane flattened as it became wet; she slowly rose onto her hind hooves and rubbed herself down with the small bar of soap that was kept outside in the shower.

Thunderlane’s eyes were practically popping out of his head, his tongue lolling down to his balls. He had a very terrible medical condition called “stretchitus” which causes many parts of his body to become rubberlike and droopy. Bad news is that stretchitus is fatal; good news is that it’s hilarious, so we shouldn’t feel bad for laughing.

As Fluttershy unknowingly continued her erotic display for Thunderlane, a thought crossed her mind. She didn’t normally do this, but today seemed like just a good day as any to sensually suck on on her bar of soap. It wasn’t like anypony was watching, she’d be fine.

Thunderlane began to salivate as the pegasus pushed the bar of soap into her mouth, sucking on it softly with her eyes half-lidded. The eyes didn’t stay semi-closed for long, as mere moments after putting the bar of soap in her mouth, Fluttershy’s eyes shot open and she spit out the cake of cleaning.

“Oh my, soap tastes awful! What was I thinking?” Fluttershy let the warm water cascade into her open mouth, hoping that it would wash away the sudsy feeling in her mouth. This of course was just another way to Thunderlane to sexualize her.

He could feel that familiar feeling that was associated with pleasure; he was going to blow a magnificent load all over the ground. However, something stopped him from achieving his goal.

The brush parted, and a very large and very pissed off looking bear was staring down at the voyaristic pegasus.

“Um... hi there,” Thunderlane said, covering his legs in an attempt to hide his cock. “How’re things with you?”

The bear roared, and grabbed Thunderlane by is neck. He pointed over to Fluttershy, then to Thunderlane, then himself. Even though this was a crude and confusing attempt at communication, somehow Thunderlane got the message.

“Y-you’re Fluttershy’s bear?” The bear nodded, bearing his teeth. Thunderlane ignored this clever pun, and began to shake. He needed to figure a way out of this.

Thunderlane did have an ace, though. Having to live so long with his stretchitus allowed him to use it to his advantage. When in a potentially dangerous position, he could stretch himself all the way out, diving him a deflated, floppy appearance. This often left predators too confused or freaked out to attack him.

The bear held the floppy remains of Thunderlane is his paws, musing him over like he was beach towel. The bear grinned, and took Thunderlane’s phallus in his mouth and blew hard. With a few more breaths, the pervy pegasus had been re-inflated.

Thunderlane giggled nervously. “Well, I think I best be leaving...” The bear slowly advanced on him.

“No! Please! I’m just mere minutes aay from getting the world stalking record!” Thunderlane pled with the ursine.

The bear cracked his knuckles.

Fluttershy had finally finished her shower and was now toweling off. She hear a small crash, and her friend Harry the Bear soon lumbered into sight. He appeared to be holding a detached penis in his hand, and he also appeared to be smoking it rather poshly.

“Did you get another one?” Fluttershy hugged Harry, who grinned as he took another puff of the penis cigar. “You did remember to hide the body where I told you too, right?”

Harry rolled his eyes and nodded. Fluttershy fluttered up in the air and kissed Harry on his wet bear nose.

“You’re the best, Harry.”

Author's Note

A Chicken With Its Head Cut Off

“So, whatya say?” Caramel asked, smiling down at Applejack. The earth pony had come over to Sweet Apple Acres to take part in the most risky of situations a single male can put himself in: asking a female out on a date.

Caramel wasn’t one to come to such a risky endeavor unprepared, of course; he had gathered flowers from his friend Roseluck, some candies from his friend Bon Bon, and fitted himself with a nice sports coat from his friend Rarity. For a supposedly straight stallion, Caramel had a lot of females for friends.

Dousing himself with enough cologne so that he became the first object that could be smelled from space, Caramel gathered up the items he had acquired from his friends and set off to Applejack’s property. After being stopped by a shot gun wielding Big Mac, and explaining that he wasn’t going to put a seed in his sister’s belly (yet), he went on to find Applejack in the middle of the yard, and asked her out.

Applejack looked at the potential suitor for a long moment, then sighed. “Ah really appreciate the offer, Caramel, Ah really do, but there’s a reason why I haven’t already chosen a special somepony.”

“It’s because you’re with your brother, isn’t it?” Caramel graoned. “I tried to ignore the stereotype, but I guess there’s a reason the stereotype exists. Somepony’s got to prove it sooner or later, and—”

“Ah’m not with my brother,” Applejack reassured.

“Little sister?”

“Nope.”

“Grandmother?”

“Ew... no.”

“Parents?”

“My parents are dead.”

Caramel and Applejack fell into an awkward silence. Shit, I brought up dead parents! Caramel thought to himself frantically. Dead ponies are a bonerkill! Gotta find a way to get off of this awkward topic.

“I don’t have any genital diseases,” Caramel bragged. Nailed it!

“Um, that’s good for you, Ah suppose,” Applejack said, putting on an odd expression.

“So, will you consider it now?” Caramel asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“No. And before we got on another tangent about southern stereotypes, let me tell you why Ah don’t have a special somepony.”

Caramel rolled his eyes. “I’m listening...”

Applejack took a big breath. “Ah’ve never been good with words... Ah need something that I could compare this situation to...”

At that moment, a headless chicken wobbled its way into the yard next to them. Both Caramel and Applejack watched as it stumbled, unable to see where it was going, into a barrel. It fell onto its feathery rump, then flopped away, over a shovel and out of sight. While this was an amusing show for Caramel, it ended up being the burst of inspiration Applejack needed.

“See, Caramel, my love is like that chicken,” Applejack told him. “Ah’m a hardworking, honest pony, just like everypony else in my family and places beyond, but Ah’m not too faithful in the ways of love.” She snorted, smiling a bit. “You want faithfulness? Get a dog.”

As if on cue, Winona bounced into the farmyard, and began to hump Applejack’s backleg. “Woah! Down, girl.”

Caramel cocked his head. “In all the time I’ve know you, you’ve always been there for your friends when you could, and you’ve been a great pony in general. I’m not buying this ‘unfaithfulness in love’ act. There’s got to be another reason you’re not going out with me. Is it my breath?” The pony leaned over and exhaled on Applejack’s face.

“Mmm, minty,” Applejack mused. The wind, however, changed direction at that moment, and the unsuspecting farm pony got a full blast of Caramel cologne overdose. Her mane fell limp, a shiver was sent through her body, breathing became difficult, and a nearby bush withered and died.

Ah, all the signs of falling in love, Caramel thought smugly.

“Woo there, did Rarity accidentally dump ever single bottle of perfume she has on you by accident?” Applejack said, blanching. Caramel frowned.

“Anyway, Ah’m telling you, love is different for me,” she insisted, once she was able to breath again. “It’s like that chicken without the head. It wobbles around blindly with one pony, but then smacks into the barrel of another one, and flops away to yet another one after passing over a shovel with way too much cologne on, and is eventually scooped up and taken to the kitchen.”

Caramel stared at Applejack, unblinking.

“The shovel is you, in this case,” Applejack supplied helpfully.

“I know what the— wait, you eat meat?” Caramel asked, giving Applejack a suspicious look.

Applejack began to sweat. “Um... well, it’s a bit of a complicated... I mean, we don’t not eat it and... you really shouldn’t snoop in other ponies’ business, it’s not somethin’ for you to... don’t you need a permit for that sorta thing? We ain’t doin’ anythin’ against the law or nothin’, and well...” Suddenly, she pointed behind Caramel. “Look, a distraction!”

“A distraction? Where?” Caramel asked, looking behind him. Applejack whacked him over the head with the shovel that had been laying in the dirt while he his back was turned, looking for the unknown distraction.

Dragging the unconscious stallion towards the kitchen, Applejack called out to her family. “Alright, we’re gonna have a mighty big dinner tonight, so I hope y’all are hungry!”

Apple Bloom bounced out of the orchard, and poked the unconscious stallion in his belly. “Oh boy, he’s nice and tender too!”

“Let me git on my meat-eatin’ teeth!” Granny Smith exclaimed, feebly reaching over to a pair of dentures that had been fitted with the teeth of a great white shark.

“Big Mac, you’ll be preparin’ the southern special, right?” Applejack said, using the correct name of the dish to refer to Caramel.

The big red stallion that was Big Mac held up a bottle of hot sauce and a bone saw. “Eeyup.”

Hey, some stereotypes do exist for a reason.

Author's Note

Rainbow Dash

“Hiya, Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo said with an excited bounce in her gallop. “Can I talk to you?”

“Anytime, Squirt!” Rainbow Dash said with a grin. “Whatya wanna talk about?”

“Well, actually,” Scootaloo said, turning Rainbow Dash around by biting her tail and spinning her, “I think we should go to my place and talk about it.”

“Sure,” Rainbow Dash said with a shrug. “I’ve never been to your place anyway, I’m sure it’ll be cool.”

“Awesome!” Scootaloo said with a squeal. “Hurry, it’s down this way.” Scootaloo lead her fellow pegasus down a sunny bullivard, buzzing her tiny wings the whole way as she bounced down the road. Rainbow Dash followed, her larger strides allowing her to walk must slower than Scootaloo and still catch up to her rather quickly.

At the end of the boulevard was large mansion, sparkling in the rays of the sun, almost as if the place were blessed by Celestia herself. An ornate gate seperated it from the rest of the world, and a mailbox by the side of the house read “Rich Mansion”.

“You live with Filthy Rich and his daughter?” Rainbow Dash asked Scootaloo, her eyebrow raised.

“Oh, no!” Scootaloo said, laughing a bit. “I live over here!”

Rainbow Dash turned to her left, where her little friend was pointing, and her face fell faster than a paraplegic down a flight of steps. Nestled in between the mansion and a large brick building was a tiny, extremely dirty alleyway. A cardboard box, big enough to have once held a stove or some other large kitchen appliance, lay at the very end of the alley.

“You’re homeless?” Rainbow Dash asked, feeling very guilty that she lived in a cloud throwback to the roman era.

“Of course not! My house is right there,” Scootaloo said, pointing to the box. “Can’t you see it? It’s the biggest box I could find.”

“Where did you live before moving into your... er, house?” Rainbow Dash asked, hesitating to call the box a “house”.

“Oh, I was homeless back then,” Scootaloo said in an off-hand manner. “Anyway, come on inside! I need to talk to you.”

Rainbow Dash followed Scootaloo down the dingy alleyway, and stepped inside the cardboard box. Scootaloo struck a match, and held the burning tip to the wick of a nearby half-melted candle. Once the candle was casting an eery, flickering light over the contents of the box, Rainbow Dash let loose a small gasp.

The walls were covered in... her. Photographs of her, Rainbow Dash, flying over Ponyville, talking to her friends, eating a McRib, beating the shit out of Gilda behind a bar, grinding pussies with Derpy as part of a Work and Trust Seminar that her baldheads up in Cloudsdale made her department do, even pics of her when she had that really embarrassing headgear in high school. How did she get all of these?

They weren’t all photographs. There were many hoof-drawn pictures as well. In many places, there were renderings of her in all the basic artistic mediums one used on paper: acrylic, charcoal, pencil, oil paint, watercolors, red dirt, chocolate, and goat’s blood. Scootaloo wasn’t a bad artist; far from it, these pictures were amazing! But most of them involved Dash in some sort of... compromising position, or at the very least had her in some skimpy outfit that really didn’t make any sense for a pony to wear anyway, like socks. Scootaloo’s odd sock obsession with her went beyond creeping Rainbow Dash out; Frankly, it pissed her off.

Scootaloo hadn’t stopped there, though. Little sculptures of Rainbow Dash made out of clay, play-doh, mud, and some unidentifiable brown paste lined the edges of the cardboard box and the dirty hay pile that Dash assumed was Scootaloo’s bed. Plush version of her too, lovingly stitched by hoof, made out of what Dash would later learn to be dried frog sinew and rat pelts, lay clustered around the makeshift bedding.

Hanging on the far side of the wall was a large poster containing a snapshot of the pegasus stretching in downward dog, taken when she was racing her potential pets at Ghastly Gorge. Along the top of the poster, hoof-written words displayed the sentence “I want to cum inside Rainbow Dash”.

“Look down,” Scootaloo said with a smile. Rainbow Dash looked down at the floor, which she had though was made of fuzzy grass up until this point, and to her horror found that a carpet woven of what suspiciously felt like fur and hair displayed a pattern that had been made to look like her laying down and spreading her candy vag for the world to see.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Scootaloo said, ignoring Rainbow Dash’s looks of eldritch terror. “I made them all myself!” Rainbow Dash made a noise like a slowly deflating balloon in response.

“Anyway, I guess I should ask you the question now...” Scootaloo said, blushing and hoofing at the carpet. “You see Rainbow Dash, I kinda like you.”

No shit sherlock, Rainbow Dash thought to herself, her eyes still darting around the room at the many hers that populated the cardboard home.

“No, I really kinda like you,” Scootaloo rephrased. “And I... I want you to take me right here, right now!” The little filly threw herself onto Dash, pinning her to the ground with surprising strength. “Violate me, Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow Dash, completely taken of guard, and somewhat paralyzed by fear of Scootaloo brutally murdering her and stuffing her corpse so that she could be added to the collection of Rainbow paraphernalia, was thrown to the ground by the little pegasus who had jumped her. Scootaloo jammed her mouth onto Rainbow’s, sharing her first kiss wet and sloppily with her idol.

Scootaloo’s busy little hooves traveled downways, and began to play with Dashie’s tiny crotch-tits. Her little hooves batted around the under-filled milk sacs, the deranged fanatic pulling her face away from Dashie’s so she could bite her lip.

Dash, coming to her senses, flung Scootaloo off of her. “Scootaloo! What the hell?”

Scootaloo picked herself off the ground, giving Dashie huge, watery puppy eyes. “D-don’t you love me?”

“I do,” Rainbow Dash said, rubbing her tongue with one of the pictures from the wall to get the taste of filly out of her mouth, “But not in that way! Besides, there are two very good reasons I can’t do this with you.”

“Yeah?” Scootaloo asked angrily. “What are they?”

“One: You’re a filly, and I’d go to pony prison. That ain’t a pretty place,” Rainbow Dash told her. “And two, I have a boyfriend! Don’t try this again, squirt.”

Rainbow Dash stalked angrily out of the box. Scootaloo wasn’t worried though, everypony knew she was a lesbian.

***

“Wow, she really did all that?” asked Greyhound, Rainbow Dash’s previously mentioned boyfriend, as the two walked together through Ponyville Twon Center. “That’s messed up.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty gnarly,” Rainbow Dash said, using surfer terms because she’s cool. “But Squirt’s not a bad pony. She’s just a bit confused.”

Greyhound and Dash shared a giggle, and the two leaned in to share a kiss. Right before Dash’s blue lips met Greyhound’s grey ones, there was a loud smashing of breaking glass. The two looked behind them, and saw none other than Scootaloo, standing on her hind legs, swaying a bit, with a broken beer bottle on the ground beside her. Her left arm cradled another beer, and she began to drunkenly slur her speech at them.

“YOU!” she drawled. “You two think you can... go and do the... the THING! Well no pony is gonna... *hic* do the thing without me!”

Greyhound shot a apprehensive glance at Rainbow Dash. “A bit confused?” he asked with a smart-ass tone.

“Hey!” Scootaloo shouted at Greyhound. “Faggot!”

“What did you just—” Scootaloo wandered over drunkenly and shoved her hoof into Greyhound’s mouth to keep him from speaking.

Mmm... filly... Greyhound thought to himself, enjoying the taste of hoof in his mouth. Quickly spitting it out so that he could continue to deny his pedophilia, he tried to speak again but was once more hushed by Scootaloo.

“Hey...” she said, far more calmly and lucidly than a drunk ten-year old should have been able to do. “Can you look over there for a moment?”

Greyhound looked to where she was pointing. “I don’t see what you’re trying to do here...”

“Oh, it’ll hit you in a moment,” Scootaloo said, swinging the beer bottle at the unsuspecting stallion’s head.

As it turns out, Scootaloo was much stronger than she had anticipated. The police were soon pinning her down, while Rainbow Dash lamented the crushed skull of her boyfriend.

“Yer lucky that ya only broke a skull,” the police officer told her. “Ye’ll only get up ta five years. If ya had done something like pirate a movie, ya coulda got up to twenty years!”

Scootaloo was barely even listening to the police officer ramble on about the extremely flawed justice system. She was simply crying tears of joy, know that in three to five years she could be able to have Dashie all to herself.

***

“And that’s why you should consider leaving your violent tendencies behind, lest you end up in prison,swearing you won’t end up a changed mare, only to join a gang, pierce your clit, tattoo your ass with the names of the ponies from some metal band you can’t pronounce, and end up smuggling cigarettes and pool balls in your pooter to get them past the guards,” Scootaloo concluded, ending her story with a summary of the general prison experience. “And here’s a little spoiler: Dashie wasn’t waiting for me when I got out of prison. So remember, you can’t solve problems by breaking ponies’ skulls.”

“Did Greyhound ever get better?” asked a foal in the crowd.

“No, he died,” Scootaloo commented, in an off-hand sort of way.

“Thank you for sharing your experiences with us, Scootaloo!” Cheerilee said. “This Scared Straight class is going much better than the first one! No embarassing mixups this time.”

“Hey, Ah want to make sure Ah ain’t raisin’ no queer!” Applejack yelled. Apple Bloom, who was still in elementary school even after five years due to being held back for various academic deficiencies (which is a fancy way of saying she’s fucking stupid), sunk under her desk in shame.

“Applejack, is that a zigger I see roaming free?” Cheerille said, looking out the window and past Applejack.

“Where? Ah got my cattle prod right here!” Applejack ran off to find the imaginary zebra, leaving the ponies in the schoolhouse to continue with the program.

“Don’t hunt ziggers, class,” Cheerilee reminded them. “Ziggers are our friends.”

Scootaloo hocked a loogie. Cheerilee cleared her throat and asked, “Will there be any more questions for Scootaloo here?”

One foal at the front of the class raised his hoof. “Yes, non-descript foal number 3,” Cheerilee said, calling on him.

“That was the stupidest story I have ever heard,” the foal said rudely. Scootaloo sighed deeply, and pointed behind the foal. “Look over there!”

The foal looked behind him. “Huh? What’s over there?” Scootaloo reached for the nearest chair, flinging the foal who was currently on it out the door.

“It’ll hit you in a moment.”