Happy Ending?

By: alafreo

The dawn had not yet broken when I slowly forced my swollen eyes open. It was Saturday, and a new episode of my favorite show that starred multi colored ponies was due to release. Sadly, it was four thirty in the morning in the morning and there were still many hours of waiting ahead. Fortunately for me I had an internet browsing device, a kindle fire, which was waiting for me no matter when I woke up. It was no accident that it was next to my bed on the floor, so I wouldn’t to move from the warmth of myself and the blankets. I gracefully rolled to my right with a grunt and fumbled around the floor with my hand before finally grasping it.

As I operated the familiar glass touch screen, I couldn’t help but recollect all the fond memories we had made together. From answering frequently asked and innocent questions like “How do you make a buttery pie crust?”, to things that I’m too afraid to write down for fear of being arrested. Through it all the kindle had stood its post loyally by my bed side, though I can’t really give it props for that because it’s physically impossible for it to move on its own will and I’m pretty sure if it could I’d have much more time on my hands without internet access.

I decided that the best way to spend the time that I could be using to do something with my life would be to start my day with pony memes. It is a known fact that the best way to prepare oneself for an episode of MLP: FIM was to study memes to get any and all references for maximum enjoyment.

I began to surf the web for all the best pages with practiced ease. I had done this so many times I had barely started to sweat. About five minutes in my screen locked up on a familiar caption. It was one of those memes where they change the character and the format, but in the end it’s just the same. This one had a picture of Lyra grinning widely and disturbingly. The words read like this. “Suddenly Lyra appears next to you with the sole intent on raping you. The object to your left is your only defense. How fucked are you?”

I dosed off impatiently, waiting for the next screen to load. Couldn’t the internet see I was a busy man and things to attend to? When I refocused my gaze I blinked widely in confusion. The words remained, but the crazed face was gone. I scratched my neck and began to think. Maybe the exact same meme had failed to load or perhaps this was a new one just missing the picture. I chose the former. Pony memes always have pictures, and I consider myself something of an expert on the subject. Once again my gaze wandered away in impatience.

I screamed higher a seven year old girl, reaching such a pitch I’m surprised every window on my block didn’t shatter. Standing above my bed was a shadowy figure. Its eyes were a bright yellow, and in the dim morning light I could make out a shade of teal in the darkness. Its lips part widely to reveal a set of large blocky teeth.

“Oh my god your real!” I squeaked happily, a wave of childish glee washing over me. I was now inside every My Little Dashie spin off ever created. Joy was bubbling up in my body causing almost painful experience to get it all out. “I can’t believe this. We’re have so much fun. You’ll teach me about Equestria and I’ll show you how earth sucks. I’ll raise you like my daughter and IT CAN BE LIKE MY LITTLE DASHIE, except your fully grown already, you’re real, and you’re drooling and… and…”

As I slowly came down from my ‘oh my god, it’s a real pony high’, I began to see a few critical aspects that I may have missed in my earlier excitement. First, she hadn’t blinked once in my entire ramblings and references to countless cliché fan fictions and a puddle of drool had formed on the floor. Second, her gaze was fixed on my hands and there was a hungry look in her eye. And last but not least, the smile on her face seemed oddly familiar. I poked her just to make sure she was actually real and I wasn’t hallucinating due to a pony overdose and lack of sleep. Her eyes tracked my hand and her whole body shuddered when I touched her. I retracted my violated hand, revolted at the pervert. Her muscles tensed up and she pounced.

“OH SHIT!” It was all could say before she landed on me.

My right hand shot out of my blankets to prevent her from mounting me, but the pony on top of me was surprisingly heavy and it was all I could do to hold her off. My left hand fumble through the blankets that restricted my movement, searching for something, ANYTHING, I could defend myself with.

I was a fool. All the times I stumbled across that meme I read it like it was some kind of joke. It had never occurred to me that it would, or even could, happen in real life and to me none the less. I should have been prepared, but I wasn’t. I refused to heed its warning so many times and now it looked like the joke was on me. My friends would never let me live it down if I got raped by teal pony, brony and non-brony alike.

As I wondered whether or not I could even be a brony after this, I felt a warm slimy substance all around my right hand, and I refocused my attention to the whole ‘being raped’ thing. Seriously, how can you lose focus while someone (Or somepony… you know what? I think I’ll refrain from using equestrian pronouns just to preserve a shred of dignity in my life. I mean come on, I’m getting raped by a cartoon pony. Really, at least let me have that much.) is beyond me. Maybe I’m in denial because of some left over traces of my ‘IT’S A PONY’ high. Maybe it was the fact that the pony was only a third my height and I wasn’t really taking it seriously. Whatever hesitation there was went away when I looked to my right.

The fingers of my right hand were in danger. They were locked in the iron grip of Lyra’s jaws. I tried to pull my hand out, but she bit down hard, causing me to squeal like pig. My hand was being crushed by the strength of her jaws, so I balled my left hand into a fist and gave her my best left cross that I could give while I was laying down.

I’m no fitness nut, nor do I claim to be, so I think it’s safe to say that it wasn’t my raw physical power that loosened her grip on my right hand. She likely thought I would go down with little or no fight. I probably would too if I were in her shoes, I mean horse shoes, I mean hooves, I mean you know what I mean. Part of it could have been the adrenaline too, though. I didn’t care. I used both of my hands and pushed her off my bed with THUD. I bolted to my door, twisted the lock, slammed the door behind me, found a chair, rammed it under the knob, and ran to the phone (Yeah, I have a home phone, got a problem with that?). I needed help. Fast. I dialed the first number that came to my mind.

“This is Sierra, how may I help you?”

“Is this Jimmy Johns”

“Yes it is, what can I do for you today?”

“Servile attitude, I like that…”

“Sir?”

“Oh yes, uhm… I’ll something with a little flavor and preferably not extremely dry, thanks. And I’m going to need that ASAP, a few seconds at most.”

“…”

“Sierra, are you there? Did you write that down? Read it back to me.”

CALL ENDED

“Damn, that was a bust. I was sure that would work.” I said aloud. This time I was going to get help from another brony, my friend Brian. I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

“Ned, it’s four in the morning and I don’t want to hear your fan fiction ideas. THEY”RE GAY. I mean really, MacinArmor?”

“It isn’t that. Lyra Heartstrings is in my house and I’m pretty sure she’s trying to rape me.”

“How sure?”

“100%”

“… I believe you.”

“Oh thank god, get over here and –“

“I also am a firm believer that it’s only rape if you let it be.”

“Brian what the –“

“You know, some people want to have sex with them in real life, and the fact that your just automatically going to call it rape and be so ungrateful for this once in a lifetime opportunity, is just plain disrespectful to all of them.”

“Brian, I –“

“Just don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Pun intended.”

“But I’m not a –“

“Now I’m going to stop bothering you because you’ve got some hot pony flank to attend to. Am I right or am I right?

“You really believe I want to –“

“Oh, and don’t forget to take pics! Brohoof, Briguy out.

CALL ENDED

“Shit” I said to myself, trying to ignore the sound of wood beginning to give way to pounding hooves. I was beginning to panic. How could I forget Brian was a clopper? Time was running out and I picked up the phone one more time to dial my final hope.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“Hi, this is Ned and I’m calling to report an attempted rape.”

“Ok, let me get that down… you said your name was…?”

“Ned.”

“And you spell that…?”

“N-E-D.”

“So how it sounds. And your emergency was…?”

“Somebody is trying to rape me.”

“Somebody is trying to rape you. Let me get all that down, one second…”

“Actually, it’s somepony. Look, can just put your boss on? This is a pretty complicated case, a lot of ins and a lot of outs.

“Somepony?”

“Yes, a cartoon pony is trying to rape me, why?”

“Ahh… I see… and you would be a ‘brony’, correct?”

“Yes, I am a grown man who watches My Little Pony, how is that relevant?”

CALL ENDED

“Damn!” Just my luck to get connected with an operator who was also a hater. Whoever they were, they just neglected their civil duties to troll me. I didn’t like it, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t respect it.

Two hooves crashed through the door creating a hole large enough for her small body to fit through. I turned to see Lyra holding a sock, a substantial amount of rope, and a roll of duct tape. She must have found my stash underneath my bed. Now before you perverts start thinking of all the provocative reasons I would have those beneath my bed, I would like to point out some perfectly normal everyday activities that require those items, and those items alone, like… well nothing comes to mind right now, but that’s enough about that. Besides, my attention is kind of being occupied by the whole “rape” thing right now.

I opened my mouth to scream, but she shoved the sock in my mouth and muffled it. The sock tasted like chemicals and I knew what it was immediately. Lyra must have found it under my bed along with my other… tools? Alright, I can see how this beginning to sound bad for me, but before I could explain my myself and my tools (that just sounds wrong), I inhaled and fell into darkness.

My head was pounding when I woke up. I saw Lyra in the corner of my room the recognized as my own. I could wooden splinters scattered on the floor from Lyra’s previous engagement with the door. As for myself, I was bound to my naked bedframe laying on my stomach. I’m no genius, but I can put two and two together. Somehow, the bitter truth was too hard to swallow, and began whimper and beg for Lyra’s mercy.

Whether she heard me or not, it made no difference. My please fell against her deaf ears. She came close to me and leaned next my own ear with a familiar grin on her face.

“Anal fisting” she whispered, her words seeping in to my brain like a maddening poison. I lashed out against my restraints, but the rope was strong and the duct tape was top of the line.

Though she didn’t have fists, she had hooves. I’m not sure if that made it better or worse. Probably worse. At least I could take solace in the fact that – wait, if Pinkie was able to fit her whole body in a sponge bucket, then there was no telling the horrors that my body was in for. I now knew another meaning to smash and, I tremble even thinking about it, stretch cartoons. I fought the rope and duct tape violently once more and let out a blood curdling scream.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- mf”