Various Weaknesses: Volume 2

by Dark Avenger

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Tragedy, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 16844

A few more short stories...

Welcome to the continuation of the vile atrocity that is its predecessor...
...
(A collection of short stories where I attempted to write stuff that makes me sick to my stomach. Inspired primarily by the music of the band Swans, as well as the writings of its frontman, Michael Gira.)
...
(My eternal gratitude to Nic-Fit and harpseal2 for contributing to this collection)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
To get the full experience, I recommend reading these and listening to the songs at the same time. (Right click ---> Open in new tab)

Published 2014-07-28 18:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-28 12:19:32 UTC

Red Sheet

RED SHEET

My legs are frozen in place. My blood is an icy river trapped in my body. I shudder as I stare into the dark void, where over a dozen pairs of glowing red eyes are fixed on me.

They approach me. They are calling my name. They curse it. They thirst for my death.

"No... no! Not again! Stay back! Please! Leave me alone!"

I turn around and run as fast as I can. Every cell in my body screams at me, as if a million tiny strings were pulling on them. I can't stand the thought of what is happening. I want to get away before it's too late.

I can hear them following me. The dull sound of hoofsteps chases me into the woods. The forest is dark. It's cold. I can barely see a few feet ahead of me. I close my eyes and just keep running. I don't want it to happen again. I don't want to hear it. Not again.

A blood-curdling scream tears through the night. It drills through my skull and howls into the deepest parts of my body. An unpleasant tingle moves through my teeth, bones, and skin. I almost bite through my tongue. My heart is squeezed into a dry little lump of flesh, though the blood keeps flowing. Even drained of all of its warmth, it keeps me running.

The wind howls stronger as my legs speed up. My throat and lungs burn as I breathe hard. My limbs ache from the exertion. A dozen tiny cuts and bruises adorn them as the undergrowth bites into me repeatedly. Tears stream out of my eyes and stain my face. The terror I feel is enough to rip my soul apart, but it's too cruel to let that be the end of me. It holds back so it can keep me together and watch me squirm. It even helps me run faster, just so I can live and entertain it longer.

There's a sickening sound of joints crackling. I yelp and stumble to a halt as the lifeless soil around me starts to shift. Dozens of lumps form all over its surface. They grow slowly, then split apart to reveal the awakening horrors.

"N-no! Please! Stop!"

Dark figures start to emerge from the ground. Thin, twisted, blackened appendages claw their way out of the soil. A pair of burning red eyes unveil themselves as the head becomes exposed. I watch in mind-numbing horror as they free themselves and stand on their hooves. They howl toward the sky, then turn their gaze upon me. Malformed husks that vaguely resemble the ponies they once were drag themselves in my direction.

"Get away from me!"

My eyes dart back and forth frantically. I find an opening and quickly make a run for it. I seal my eyes shut as I pass the beings by mere inches. I can hear their rotten limbs crackle as they try to grab me. I can hear the snapping of their jaws. The growls erupting from their throats. I scream desperately at them, but I no longer form words. I just want to drown the noises out.

The forest seems endless. Countless dark trunks rush past my vision. Never thin enough to show a way out, but never too thick to stop me. It feels as though the woods themselves are toying with me. Every other turn, I run into more of the abominations. They're everywhere. They hound me tirelessly. Their howls never stop.

My strength is running out. I can barely dodge them by now. A few of their swipes at me land glancing blows. My skin burns and boils wherever they touch me. An icy feeling spreads through me afterward.

There's a clearing up ahead. I burst forth from among the trees and collapse at the center of it. I'm gasping for breath. My limbs feel like they're about to fall apart.

For a moment, I feel a sense of relief. The horrifying noises are gone. All I can hear is the subtle voice of the forest during the night. It brings a smile to my face.

The tall grass rustles behind me. I inhale sharply and turn to look. One of the blackened beings is there, staring at me silently. I slam a hoof onto my mouth and give a muffled scream as it takes a step forward.

"Stay back! Go away! Leave me alone!"

More of them emerge from the edges of the clearing. They circle around me and start closing in. The one closest to me extends his hoof to point at me. My eyes go wide as the twisted appendage morphs into flesh and blood. It's soon replaced by a grey-coated hoof that belongs to an earth pony with a black mane. He looks at me with a hateful expression.

Behind him, the others change as well. A crowd of familiar faces are spread out before me, all of them as remorseless as the one leading them. They start chanting my name. They speak of a mark. A curse that must be destroyed.

"I'm sorry! I just wanted to help him! I didn't mean to do anything wrong!"

The forest around us dissolves into a bright scene: a small town bathed in sunlight and filled with decorations. Every detail speaks of a most wonderful celebration. But the innocence of this place dies quickly as the inhabitants succumb to their darker instincts.

The lead pony gestures for the others to act. They surround me, their figures blotting out the mercy of the sun. I close my eyes and curl up as their hooves reach out toward me. The icy terror lets out one last laugh in my head.

"No! Please! Somepony help me! Let me go! Don't—"

My throat is all but torn by the scream I let out. A white-hot flame touches me wherever their hooves meet my skin. It spreads all over me as they grab hold. My flesh and bones burn to ash while they rip me apart. My soul tries to hide, but the fire consumes it as well. Only my screams manage to escape.

Moments later, the forest goes silent.

This is my punishment. The same thing again and again and again. This is the fate that I must share with them.

I could have saved her. But I was too afraid. I thought they might do it to me as well. For all I know, I would have sold her out if I knew it could save me.

I'm a coward. I deserve this. We all deserve this.

There is no rest for us. Death will grant us no mercy, for we have shown none.

I don't know where you are now. All I know is your nightmare.

I live through it every single night.

My eyes open once more. The room is drowned in darkness. My face is buried in my blackened forehooves. I shake from my sobs, but there are no tears. All I can do is grovel like a pathetic weakling before the icon of my sin: a small pile of bones among the ashes. My own curse has turned me into something lesser than what they are.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

Author's Note

A tribute to Story of the Blanks by Donitz (link)

Blackout (guest chapter)

BLACKOUT

I make my way to the cellar, taking care to make sure I'm not seen. Its late, past midnight, so nopony else should be out. Satisfied that I haven't been spotted, I reach down and unlock the hatch.

The first thing I notice is a wave of putrid air hitting my face, followed by the pure, ineffable darkness emanating from the cellar. All is as it should be, so I continue down and lock the hatch behind me. Nopony can know. If they knew, they would try to send me away, tell me I was wrong, or sick. But I'm not, I'm just protecting what I love.

I reach the bottom of the staircase, then pull a candle and some matches out of my saddlebag. The light illuminates the area around me. It is grimy, filthy. The air is uncomfortably warm and humid. It stinks of sweat, waste, and blood. Of death. It’s oppressive and strong. I can taste it. I pull out a bottle of cider from my bag: their cider. It's as nasty as I remember. It always is, but it washes away the taste of the place. It’s my fifth one. I drink it because it gets me drunk. I forget my restrictions when I’m drunk, so it helps.

He's in the middle of the room, right where I left him. This one is chained by the neck to the ceiling. He has to stand, otherwise he can't breathe. I keep him like this until his legs give in, and he starts to choke. I wait until he passes out before I let him down. After he regains consciousness, I drag him back up to start again. This one has been here for three weeks now. The other one left two weeks ago. I brought them both in at the same time. I caught them as they left. It was easy enough, since they were together. They’re always together. The hard part was getting them back here before they woke up.

This one looks at me as I pace around him. His eyes are dull and lifeless. His coat is matted with dirt, his red and white mane greasy and unkempt. I can see his ribs through his skin. He is covered in bruises. His cutie mark has been branded over. It was too similar to mine, so it disgusted me.

I have broken him. I can feel him pleading, his pathetic gaze never breaking away from my face. He can't talk, his mouth is taped. I don't think he would talk, even if he could. His breaths are ragged and loud. It is obviously taking him effort to use his lungs.

I trot over to him and pull myself up on his side. He chokes from the extra weight on his back, which forces his throat into the restraints. I use him to boost myself up and hang the candle up onto the chain that keeps him in place.

He lets out a muffled yelp when the hot wax drips down onto his face. He handles it better than the other one, but it could be that he is more used to it. The other one never could take as much as him, that's why he left first.

He cries again. This makes me angry. I tape his mouth to keep him quiet. I kick him and call him a dog. I like insulting him. I like hurting him. It puts him in his place. He knows I'm in charge. The other one could never accept the situation. He was always putting up a fight. I had to make his punishments more severe. I think this one learned from the other one’s mistakes. He is a smart pony. Smarter than most, but he used it in the wrong way. It’s my job to fix that. The other was too far gone, too rooted in his old ways to change. I couldn't break his will like I could with this one. But it just goes to show how wrong he was that he is not here now, while this one is.

I bring water from my saddlebag and hold it in front of him. I make him beg. I could have brought cider. It would have been more ironic, but I won’t waste it on the likes of him. I make him know he is dirt. I tell him he's nothing. I'm shouting at him now. His replies are muffled by the tape. I rip the tape off, and he screams from the sudden pain. It makes me smile. I'm in control. He keeps quiet after that. He's learned his place.

I lift the bottle to his mouth, and he drinks it greedily. I've not given him water in three days. I try to give him as little as possible, just enough to survive. This means he has too little energy to fight back, and it means there is less waste. I use thirst as another tool in my inventory. I let him drink for a few seconds, then pull the bottle away.

"P-lease...more..." he whimpers.

His ragged voice is like a hammer blow to my skull. I have taught him. I have made sure he knows. I'm now seething with anger. I drop the bottle and turn to face him while screaming. He grimaces and tries to back away, but his restraints prevent him from moving very much.

I turn and deliver a solid buck to this one's left hind leg. I’m good at bucking. I pride myself on it. I hear the bone snap. It’s a sickening crunch. I enjoy the sound. I can see the end of the broken half of bone piercing his skin. He attempts to scream, but all he can do is choke. His leg isn't taking any of his weight, which causes the restraints to suffocate him.

I trot around before him. His face is losing color, and his eyes are bulging. I can see the chain cutting into his flesh.

"DON'T TALK UNTIL YOU'RE SPOKEN TO!"

I spit the words into his face. He doesn't reply. He simply continues gasping and clawing at the chain with his front hooves. It makes me laugh. I grab one of his forelegs and spin him around. His broken leg drags on the ground. I turn him so he has to face the decaying, bloated pile of flesh on the other side of the room. The other one: his brother. I do it to make it clear to him that he isn't going anywhere that he'll soon be joining his brother. They always were inseparable anyway. Twins usually are.

I tighten the chain around his neck and lower him to the ground. He is too weak to stand. He lies down on the floor like the animal he is. I kick some dirt into his face. It’s a combination of dust, his own refuse, and his brother's remains. He doesn't respond. He just continues wheezing, now blue from the lack of air. It contrasts nicely with his mane and moustache.

I use him again to boost myself up and get the candle. I’m careful to avoid the pool of blood that he made. I give him one last glance before I go. A bloodied, broken mess lies before me, the remains of the one who knew him best next to him, his cream coat stained with his own gore. There is nothing left for me to do. He'll soon be dead.

I've won.

I trot back up the stairs and exit the chamber. I blow the candle out and lock the hatch back up, for good this time. I keep my hat low over my face, just in case anypony might spot me, although I’m almost certain there’s nopony else out here. I head back to the farmhouse unseen.

I've won.

Author's Note

"We've got opportunity in this very community..."

As the title suggests, this is a guest chapter which was written by the magnificent Nic-Fit ~~as a part of our now combined plan to dominate the entire world through ridiculously bleak stories~~ as a result of a story suggestion he made, to which I kindly replied "go do it yourself!" :trollestia:

I have to say I'm pleased with the results, and I hope all of you are, too...

Notes by Nic-Fit:

Oddly enough, written while listening to Black Flag.

Okay, I was listening to Swans as well…

And drinking. But only at the end of writing it.

Love Will Save You

LOVE WILL SAVE YOU

Today is that day again.

The day of colorful bouquets, nicely wrapped gifts, and laughable romantic poems. The day the young start to learn of the wonders that the old can only see in their fantasies and memories. The day of the strangest couples a pony could ever see together. The day when money and lies trade hooves thanks to the desires of the flesh. The day that has nothing to do with a "heart" or a "hoof."

Today is the day when dreams are supposed to come true.

But it's not just now. I see them every single day. Those couples who keep showing off their lust. All day long, they embrace each other, taste each other, and confess a great deal of nonsense to each other.

It makes me sick. In fact, "sick" isn't even the right word for it. I don't feel anything at all. That's the point: they make me feel hollow. Empty. I feel as though what they're doing is entirely disconnected from me. I've never done such things, and I'm certain I never will.

The fact that we have a holiday for this annoys me to no end. In fact, why should we restrict this little habit to just one day? Should love not be shared all day, every day of the year? That's why it doesn't make any sense. That's why it's just another whimsical thing in life that has no real meaning.

I don't waste my time with meaningless things. I'm a teacher, and good teachers set a good example. I can't just go and dive into something I don't believe in. How would anypony look up to me that way?

Then again, accidents are bound to happen. But how could I have seen it coming? At first, it looked like nothing more than an innocent meeting with a good friend. Then it turned out to be just a silly idea of some of my students. Neither of us expected what happened afterward.

I must say, he's a fine gentlecolt. He was so nice to me. He looked really good, too. A stallion of few words, strong and stoic. A calm and firm foundation for one to lean on when they are too weak to hold themselves up. What more could I ask for?

Despite myself, maybe I was tempted for a moment. It doesn't matter now. For all I know, there never was anything genuine between us. Potions have a way of stirring up your thoughts and your feelings.

To this day, I sometimes think back to it. All the insane things we went through on that fateful day. All the silly things we decided to do for a week after that. Maybe we just did it to amuse ourselves. Maybe we wanted to avoid embarrassing ourselves after that great show we put on. When you wake up from a dream and start to remember all the senseless things you did in it, you always try to justify them somehow.

Love cannot be forced. That much was clear to us. It was a good little charade while it lasted, but we both had to be honest with ourselves in the end. The little ones might have thought it was cute, but I won't be their clown any longer. It wouldn't be right to torture him with it, either. He deserves better than that.

He deserves better than me.

It was a harsh lesson, and I made sure to toughen my skin since then. Beneath the surface, however, I must admit that I do feel something. Whenever the clutter of everyday duties and worries are left behind, and I find myself alone with with my thoughts, it hits me again. That odd emptiness in my chest. If I try to hold it back, the sensation turns into pain. Like a black hole in my heart that eats away at the rest of me around it. I have no idea what else I could feed it to make it stop hurting me.

I walk down the empty hallways. My ears bathe in the echoes of my hoofsteps. I cringe and halt all of a sudden when I hear the noise of the children outside. They start reading poems to each other. I hear fillies giggling. I hear colts starting to weep.

I run away from all of it.

My hooves drag me through the town. I do my best not to let my gaze wander. All around me, I can hear the noises: chatter, giggling, chanting, music, and the sounds that feel the most painful to me.

"Why do their lips have to make a sound when they touch?"

I open my front door, enter, then lock it behind me. I close all the windows and the blinds as well. I don't want to know about anypony else today. The lights are all off. I let the darkness embrace me.

It feels good to feel nothing.

A small shard of light bleeds in through a gap in the curtains. It catches my eye as it lands on the shelf nearby. In the small patch of brightness, I notice the one picture I still have of him.

His flawless red coat flares in the sunlight. His eyes speak a blessed warmth. He's smiling at me. That calm, reassuring smile finds me again...

I reach out to knock that picture off the shelf. I don't want to see it. I don't want to remember.

My legs are shaking. My eyes hurt. I try to rub them, and my hooves come away with wet stains on them. I bite my tongue and turn away. I even close my eyes and hide myself in the darkest corner of my home, but the picture is still clear in my head.

I bury my face in the floor and cover my head with my forelegs. I try to plug my ears, but my sobs crawl into my mind either way. I want my eyes to dry out, but they just keep bleeding.

No, I'll never trot down that path again. No matter how powerful the experience was, it offered me no salvation. Others may go on and play their little games, but I'm not throwing myself into the fire any longer.

Love is not a "cure-all," no matter how many would like to believe that. It's just one more urge in our minds and bodies that we cannot control, only endure. Some even find a way to enjoy it. The pleasure allows them to blind themselves and take shelter from the truth.

Love is just another lie, not unlike the potion that forces you into it.

Author's Note

"Oh, I don't have a special somepony..."

...

This chapter is dedicated to my good friend (if I dare call myself that), who is none other than... er... um... "whatever-your-username-is-at-the-moment" :derpytongue2:

Bah... I'll try to track you down somehow and add a proper name here. Until then, may you rest in peace... :trollestia:

Cop

COP

Okay, so we drank a little. How much, you ask? How the hell should I know? The last thing I remember is us getting thrown out of that club. Not much else. I don't really care either, to be honest. Right now, I'm more focused on trying to stand up straight. That, and on all these big ponies standing around us. A dozen or so Royal Guard members in either golden or dark blue armor. They round us up and start asking for papers. They talk to us about "causing a disturbance" and a lot of other nonsense.

"Blah blah blah..." I babble while swaying on my hooves. "'Intoxicated' my flank... I'm drunk! So what if I'm fucking drunk? I can't have a little fun every now and then?"

"What?" one of my friends asks. "We throw a couple of bottles and shout a little and now we're the bad guys? Fuck you all..."

We just giggle and keep drinking right in front of them. One guard reaches out to take the bottle away from my friend next to me. He moves back and shouts a rather colorful slur that insults pretty much every batpony in Equestria. The guard seems unfazed, and that just encourages us even more.

We mock them non-stop while they lead us through the slums. The guards do their best to keep us together as they march us toward a large, black carriage parked nearby. Whenever somepony trots past, they kindly tell them to just keep moving and ignore the scene we're causing. They don't need to ask twice. Everypony gives them a wide berth. In the distance, we even see a few figures yell and run away at the very sight of them.

They don't scare us, though.

"Hahaha, pieces of shit... you're only picking on us 'cause you don't like working for minimum wage, right?"

"Equestria needs better cops. You lousy fuckers are weaker than my little sister!"

They push us inside, then slam the door behind us. Moments later, we feel the vibrations as the carriage starts to move. As we sit here in the darkness, I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes. I feel a wave of dizziness and smile as I'm lulled into alcohol-spawned dreams.

For years, I longed for this day to come. I never imagined it would be this good. The six of us, all freshly graduated officers in the Royal Guard, are on top of the world now. Our families are going to be so proud. I can almost see Twily dancing around me, chanting how happy she is for me.

I can't wait to see it all.

But the brothers-in-arms come first, and what better way is there for us to celebrate than with a little booze? Better yet: two barrels of booze. And who gives a shit if we got into a little trouble? These guys are my closest family on this day, so we're sticking together for the night.

"Fuck these stupid 'foot soldiers,'" one of the guys says. "They're just jealous because all they get is guard duty."

"Fuck the whole Royal Guard, too," another adds. "Bunch of bullies. All they can do is order you around and punish you if you resist."

"We'll be better than them," I say with a grin. "Those dicks can't tell us how to behave."

A few minutes later, the carriage comes to a halt. One of the guards bangs on the doors a few times to wake us up, then opens them. They tell us to get out. We tumble out of the carriage while laughing like a bunch of foals. Strong hooves grab our limp legs and start dragging us toward a large building nearby. We enter through a small side door and find ourselves in a long hallway. Our laughter and belching echoes off the white and blue walls.

"What do ya know..." one of my buddies says and turns to us. "This is the local station. We're in the can, guys!"

"Aww, shit..." another says in a mock-worried tone. He grins and starts jabbing the guard next to him in the side. "Are you gonna throw me behind bars? Will I ever see my mommy again?"

We struggle to stand as we laugh at them uncontrollably. The guard doesn't move a muscle. His gaze is fixed on his colleague, who trots back to the door we came in through and closes it. The loud click of the lock resonates throughout the hallway. He then turns around and gives the others a small nod. When I notice the gesture, I immediately stop laughing, and my blood runs cold as I realize something is wrong.

In a blink of an eye, the guard next to my friend wraps his hoof around his neck and pulls him into a stranglehold. Before the colt can react, he is forced to his knees by the pony behind him, while another guard runs up to them with what looks like a thick black stick in his hoof.

"Hey! No... no, wait!"

My friend thrashes about frantically, then cries out in pain as the baton cracks against his skull. The guard follows up with another blow into his side, then one into his belly. An odd sound comes up from colt's throat as his air is knocked out of him, and his stomach tries to empty itself at the same time.

"Stop! Stop it! Goddesses dammit! Stop!"

The alcoholic haze in our heads is washed away instantly by the sight before us. The baton strikes again and again. I wince as I hear ribs cracking. My friend is curled up into a pathetic little ball now as one guard kicks him, while the other hits him with the weapon. They bludgeon him wherever they can, despite our protests.

"Calm down! For Celestia's sake! Just be cool!"

"Leave him alone! Dammit, let him go!"

One of my friends tries to rush the struggling trio. The guard behind him immediately grabs his hind legs, and the colt falls to the floor. The guard then retrieves his own baton and starts beating the kid senseless with it.

The rest of us hardly get a chance to do anything at all. One of my friends tries to run. Another is still yelling for everypony to stop. I take a step back and hold my hooves up to show that we don't want to fight. I try to tell them who we are. It doesn't matter to them. Within seconds, each one of us has at least two guards ganged up on them.

I try to move and help my friends, but a pair of hooves wrap around me from behind. I struggle as hard as I can, but the heavy armor of the guard allows him to anchor me in place. My horn flares as I try to use my magic to free myself. The next moment, an explosion of pain in my head makes me scream like never before in my life. There's a sickening crack as something hard and heavy collides with my horn. It nullifies my magic instantly, and the agony prevents me from summoning it again.

I drop like limp a sack of flesh from the guard's hooves. My eyes are sealed shut as my forelegs cradle my horn. My head is spinning from the pain, and my hind legs flail about as I helplessly try to crawl away.

"Fucking cops!" I hear one of my friends shout. He sounds like he's being grappled as well. "Just leave us alo–"

His words are cut off by a swift blow to his skull. I hear his body slump to the ground. An odd-sounding groan escapes from his lungs, after which he doesn't make another sound. One of the guards mutters something about "blood all over his stick." I open my eyes slightly. The colt's empty gaze meets my own. His mouth is hanging open. A small, reddish pool is forming beneath his head.

I grit my teeth. My anger helps me overcome the agony for a moment. I push myself up from the floor, only to freeze when I find the gaze of all of the guards fixed on me. None of my friends are making any noise now. I'm the only one left.

The guard that's closest to me smiles and gestures for the others to approach. My heart sinks as they surround me in an instant. They raise their batons and prepare their limbs for the next round.

I weakly lift my forelegs to defend myself. The blows rain down mercilessly. It feels like a stampede going back and forth over me. I curl up and scream as I hear and feel everything in my body breaking. I can hardly breathe. They all but crush me under their hooves as though they were a machine designed to grind me into dust.

"Stop! Please! I give up! Stop it! I didn't do anything! Please!"

A strange sound penetrates the vortex of my agony. I hear laughter. Heartfelt, carefree laughter. I hear the voices of demons. They joke among each other and laugh at us. Like a bunch of children wrapped in the skin of monsters, they giggle at our suffering.

"Stop hitting me! Please... just stop fucking hitting me! Stop hitting me! I beg you! Stop it!"

My screams become muffled when something hard collides with my face. I feel everything break inside. Several bone-like shards fill my mouth, along with a fluid that has a coppery taste.

A minute passes. An hour. A day. A lifetime. I lose track of time as the beating seems to go on forever. My voice turns into incoherent groans. Finally, after I feel like every inch of me has been pulverized, the barrage comes to a halt. For a moment, all I can hear is the sound of breathing: colts that wheeze weakly as they struggle to breathe, and stallions that pant from their little "evening workout."

After that, the noise starts up again. Their laughter fills the hallway and rushes into our skulls. Merciless, inequine voices. They wander back and forth among us. They land a few extra kicks and spit on us. They say we're weak. Stupid. Worthless.

Being so helpless makes me sick. I feel like I'm sinking into the ground. I want to bury myself. I hate them, but I can't do anything to them.

I want to go home. It hurts. I don't even want revenge. I just want out. It hurts...

They grab our limp legs and drag us down the corridor. Each one of us leaves a trail of smeared blood on the floor the whole way. After a couple of turns, we arrive at a wall made of black metal bars. Several doors on it are opened with a loud grinding noise.

Let me out. It hurts.

One by one, they drag us in front of a cell each and toss us inside. They land a couple more kicks for good measure, then close the doors. I can hardly see them anymore. My eyelids are swelling shut. I hear them walk away, still laughing.

The lights go out. Everything goes silent, save for our breathing. We don't move. We can't. We're nothing but piles of blood, damaged flesh, and broken bones.

It hurts...

I'm choking on the teeth and blood in my mouth. I try to think, but the pain makes me blind to everything. I want to drift away and see my loved ones again, no matter how ashamed I would be. But all I can feel is pain. It haunts me all the way into unconsciousness.

It hurts...

Author's Note

A certain BBBFF isn't having a very good day...

By the way, I guess if you've been able to "survive" this long and are now here to read this note, then it's worth asking: if you are interested in contributing a story of your own to this collection, then send me a PM, and we'll work it out. :raritywink:

Thug

THUG

I stand alone on the corner. I'm leaning against a brick wall. A gust of wind blows handfuls of litter past me. The cold rain relentlessly pelts my feathers. I don't feel it. Every extremity is numb. My mind is floating in a dull, warm haze.

My eyes are locked on the dirty pavement before me. I want to look up. I want to see the sky, but I stop myself each time. The way I am now, it would only make me sick. I might throw up. It would be a relief, but someone might see me. I'd look like an idiot, and I'd hate that.

I hear hoofsteps to my left. Half a block away, a pair bicker among each other as they trot toward me. They haven't noticed me yet. This part of town is shrouded in darkness. The shadow of the building behind me hides me from the moon. The black cap I'm wearing prevents the white feathers on and around my head from standing out. My black leather jacket does the same for the brown feathers and fur on the rest of my body.

The half-broken streetlight above me flickers to life every now and then. Its blinking glow flashes the various crudely drawn insults on the wall. I only remember fragments of words. They sound pretentious and boring. I think they are referring to the local guards.

I raise the bottle to my beak and take a swig. Liquid fire and acid caresses my tongue. A demon pisses into my mouth, then forces its way down my throat. Once it gets into my stomach, it starts kicking around like a rampaging minotaur. I can just barely hold it in. A wave of nausea and warmth passes through my body. When it hits my head, it washes away every other sensation. It wipes my mind clean. I lose every thought. Every feeling. The ache in my head, the drought in my mouth, and the sickness in my belly is gone. My eyes are half-lidded as I lose touch with my body and drift away.

A thought in my head takes hold. I can faintly feel movement. My head turns, and I notice that my foreleg is raised. I hold the bottle in my view. It's almost empty. I have no idea what's in it, but it's good enough. I took it from a drunk pony I found outside a pub. He didn't fight back much. I smashed his face into the pavement anyway. Just for the hell of it. The memory makes me chuckle silently. I think he's still alive, but I doubt he'll survive tonight's storm alone.

The chatter to my left intensifies. It breaks through my haze and makes me take a look again. The pair is still advancing toward me, completely oblivious. They trade short and angry bursts of speech. I hear every word they say, but it all just swims around in my head and coalesces into white noise. Their voices set off an irritating buzz in my ears. I grind my teeth together.

I straighten myself a little, look straight ahead, then take a deep breath and wait for them in a firm stance. When they're but a few hoofsteps away, the streetlight comes to life again. The words become caught in both of their throats. Their eyes widen, and they give a short gasp of surprise as they notice me: a lone, imposing figure leaning against the wall, blocking their path.

I don't move a muscle. Only my eyes turn onto them in a playful glance. I can barely hold back my laughter at their sight. They tremble uncontrollably and all but wet themselves at my mere gaze, and I'm not even trying to threaten them yet.

The stallion is the first to move. His foreleg tugs on the mare's shoulder, and he quickly whispers something into her ear. She gulps and nods quickly in agreement. They carefully take a few steps, then gradually move toward the edge of the pavement as they get closer to where I stand. My eyes follow their every move, while they only dare to take a few quick glances at me. I give them an evil smile whenever they do.

At first, it seems like they just want to give me a wide berth, then the stallion grabs the mare and drags her over to the other side of the street. She's drained of all color as she struggles to put one hoof in front of the other. I hear the stallion mutter things to her to keep her calm. I can sense the trembling in his own voice. Once they'd crossed the street, they turn at the corner and trot away quickly, though they try to make it look like they're not running from something.

I grin at their cowardice and lift the bottle to drink again. After the last drops hit my tongue and slides down my throat, I toss the bottle as hard as I can at the pavement ahead of me. The sound of it shattering echoes loudly off the walls around me. I hear the mare yelp in the distance, followed by the noise of fast-paced hoofsteps. No doubt the two made a run for it. I belch, letting a foul stench rise from my belly, then let out a long, hearty laugh.

"Dweebs..." I mutter to myself and shake my head.

Their cowardice isn't misplaced. Many who dare venture into the shadows in this part of the town don't come back out alive, or come back at all. Some who come back wish they never did. Not after what has been done to them. So even though I didn't try to hurt them, it was smart of them not to even risk it.

Getting to see their fear never seems to get old, though, and I always like to have a good laugh. If my stare alone is enough for such good results, then one can imagine what the rest of me is capable of. I just wasn't in the mood for any greater effort right now. I just wanted a good drink. Then I don't have to feel. I don't have to remember.

But the booze soon begins to wear off. I feel shaking in my arms. I feel the ache in my head return. My bladder throbs. My throat is dry and is filled with a foul taste. Voices and images float around in my head. Blue wings. A rainbow trail. Pink. A high-pitched, bubbly voice. For some reason, this stupid chant keeps looping in my ears. Something about "speedsters" who want to be "the very best."

My stomach burns, overwhelming every other sensation. I groan as I caress my belly with my claw. I reach into my pocket, then decide against it. Alcohol can only stave things off for so long. It's time to give my body what it really needs.

I push myself off the wall and start walking on unsteady legs. The streets become a blurry, dark mess in my eyes. I use the walls of the houses next to me to guide myself. Everything looks the same. Everything is rotten and dirty, including me. I can smell myself. I'm garbage, just like the piles of it that I pass every now and then. I don't care. I need something, and that's all I want to think about.

A few minutes later, I find myself in a more well-lit neighborhood. I creep into one of the alleyways and peek out from there to avoid being seen, though hardly anypony is outside at this hour. An old pony trots out of a nearby liquor store. A pair of large paper bags hang from a saddle on his back. He whistles a happy little tune as he makes his way down the street.

My legs drag me after him. I wait for us to reach an unlit section of the street, then lick my lips as I reach into my pocket. The cool metal handle sends a tingle down my spine. I take out the blade, flick it open, and my legs pick up the pace to close the distance between the pony and me. The gentle rain covers up the noise I make. He doesn't hear me approach.

I hope he was as hungry as I am. Those bags he's carrying look promising enough. One of my claws readies the blade, while the other reaches out to grab his neck. I take a deep breath, and my foggy mind prepares my speech for him.

If all goes well, I'll have another good laugh for tonight. After that, I might even let the old guy live.

Author's Note

"All these lame ponies are driving me buggy..."

Time is Money (Bastard)

TIME IS MONEY (BASTARD)

Start it up...

The engine roars to life. Its gears give a piercing shriek as they grind on each other. The pistons hiss, groan, and rattle against the metal frames that hold them.

Stand by the conveyor...

My ears are ringing. They ring all day long, though I can't hear it right now. The machines are too loud. They pound on our heads all day long. A giant chorus of sharp drums that play non-stop. We sit next to them and nurse them to keep running.

A loud horn blares, signaling the start of our shift. Everypony bends over their station and gets to work.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Check oil gauges.

Check temperature.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Bend...

I'm sure my hearing is damaged. I can barely sleep at night. The ringing never stops. A thick and corrosive smell floods my nose once the invisible smog fills the room. It seeps into my mouth and burns everything all the way down to my lungs and stomach.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Bend...

I don't want to be here. What am I doing here? I've been here longer than I can remember living. It never ends. The same thing every day. I should have amounted to better things.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Bend...

There you are again.

I see you step inside and wave at us. I hear your cheerful voice. I can smell the expensive things you've used on yourself, like this place was some high-class joint.

My grip on the tool in my hoof tightens. My whole body is trembling. I see your clean white shirt, your bright red tie and expensive suit, and that smug fucking grin on your face, full of pearly teeth.

You smile and say hello and talk to us and pat us on the back and eat with us and meet us at the bar like we were all one happy family. It's a lie. You act like you don't know we all fucking hate you more than anything in the world. Just to amuse yourself. That makes it worse. I'd rather have you beat me with a whip than pretend to be my friend.

I imagine throwing you against the wall. I see me beating your face to a pulp with the hammer. I see me breaking all of your perfect teeth and shoving them down your throat. Every single cell in my body wants you dead. They want you to suffer. To stuff you into these loud fucking pieces of trash so you'll be mauled and crushed to death...

"Back to work!"

The baton prods me in the back. I yelp and jerk away, slamming my forehead against the metal frame. I realize I've been staring daggers into your back the whole time, my hooves not moving an inch.

My head throbs. I dare not turn around. That will just earn me another.

The guard waits until I return my attention to my machine and slowly walks away. Seconds later, I hear somepony cry out in pain. He's poked one of my friends in his temple. That's their favorite spot for a "wake up call."

I hate this place. I go home with bruises every day. I'm going to be deaf before I get the first wrinkles on my face. The smallest bones in my body will make me a cripple, and it's all thanks to you. The machines we cradle spew foul smog. The place doesn't let in enough air. My doctor hears my breathing and thinks I'm a heavy smoker. Everypony will have to treat me like a crazy old stallion who spent his whole life ruining his body. One who can barely breathe, let alone hear.

All thanks to you.

I glance at you again. You're in your office, flipping through pages on your desk. You're still smiling.

I want to bend you over that desk and nail your dick to it. I want that wimpy kid who cleans your room to stick his whole hoof up your ass. That would be a laugh. He can't even get a filly as a date, but he'd get the chance to destroy your flank.

But he's not alone. We all want a piece of the action. I'd watch him rut your worthless ass. Maybe I'd even get off on it. But he's just going to be the appetizer.

I want to rape you. Not because I'd enjoy it. Not that way. I'd rather stick my dick into the waste disposal. I'd only do it because I could, and you couldn't stop me. I could hear you scream for help and only get laughed at in response.

You stand up and walk up to the window. Yes, of course you had to get a window on that office. Just so you could watch us toil away for twelve hours and mock us with your grin. We sweat and bleed so you can make all that fucking money. You're filth, and yet you're rich. It's even in your name. How appropriate.

How fucking unfair.

I'd take all that money and use it to pay every single twisted creature in the world to come along and violate you.

There's a scream, followed by one of the engines hissing. The horn blares, this time in short bursts. All of us wince, but few dare to look. We're not allowed to.

I steal a glance. The machine at the far end of the chamber groans and hisses. There's a sickening crunch, and the engine returns to its normal drone. The gears on its side are stained red. The conveyor belt turns into a deep red carpet, running back to an opening that spews forth hooffuls of mangled flesh and bone.

Spare parts. Nopony could never assemble them back into my friends.

"Occupational hazard," it is called. That's what the paper said. We signed on the dotted line. The company takes no responsibility. There is no compensation.

A guard nonchalantly walks up to a small sign next to the entrance. He flips the number cards back to zero. It might as well read "zero days since the factory produced another batch of orphans." And we were about to break our record too...

The horn goes silent once more. We bend over our stations and keep working. There's nothing we can do. No work means the rest of us won't even leave orphans. We are doomed to toil away for crumbs and dream of destroying you, while you keep raping us and looting our corpses.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Bend, flatten, round off, screw in, next.

Bend...

Don't you worry. I'll wait. I have time. I'll make the money I need. And before I become weak enough and get "decommissioned," I'll see to it that you get what you deserve.

Author's Note

WORKWORKWORKWORKworkWORKWORKWORKworkWORKworkworkWORKWORK

God Damn the Sun

*****

Her hoof reached for the door handle, only for somepony to quickly run up beside her and grab it instead.

"Allow me, milady," he said and opened the door before her.

"Oh," she replied. "What a fine young gentlejack to grace the Gala with his presence tonight."

The donkey bowed with a wide smile. "And what a fine jennet to bless his eyes in return."

"You flatter me," she said and held out her hoof. "My name is Matilda."

The stallion blushed and lowered his head a little as his own hoof embraced hers. "My name is, uh..." He gulped and took a deep breath. "My name is Cranky. Cranky D. Donkey."

"Nice to meet you, Cranky." She smiled. "Hmm... And what does the 'D' stand for?"

"Um... Well, it's... uh..." He trailed off, looked away, and mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that, dear? I didn't quite catch it."

"Doodle."

"Pardon?"

"Ugh... Doodle," the donkey said through gritted teeth. He turned to look back at her with a frustrated expression, but she only gave a small chuckle in response.

"Honestly, does that name bother you whenever you must share it?" she said. "I find it rather endearing."

"Y-you do?" Cranky asked sheepishly.

"Of course," she said. "It's just a name, isn't it?" She held out her hoof for him again. "You've been a fine gentlejack so far, Cranky D. Donkey. Don't stop now."

Cranky chuckled and took her hoof. "As you wish, my lady," he said. "Would you like to dance?"

"Isn't it odd?" the mare asked. Her eyes squinted as she stared up at the open sky. "It's almost like She's laughing at us. Levitating a giant fireball in the sky to burn the backs of the ponies that walk under it."

Cranky placed the last of his bags onto the cart and gave a long sigh. "I guess so..."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay a bit longer?" she said and turned back to him. "We're more than happy to keep you welcome."

"No. I'm sorry. I..." His hooves checked the straps on his harness. The contents of his cart rattled as he took a few steps. "I have to go." He stared off into the distance, a longing in his eyes. "I must find her."

The mare smiled compassionately. "I understand. Best of luck to you, Cranky. Be sure to visit us sometime."

"I will." The donkey bowed. "Thank you, Poinsettia. For everything. It's been a pleasure knowing you."

He started down the dirt path toward the empty plains ahead. Everypony he passed politely waved him goodbye. None tried to stop him. They all understood. Just as he reached the outskirts of the town, however, his ears perked up at the sound of somepony galloping after him.

"Wait!" Poinsettia called out. Cranky halted and turned around while she ran up beside him, gasping for breath.

"Here, keep this," she said and presented a small jar. "The finest herb tea in Flankfurt. Stops a cold as fast as you catch it."

"I... uh..." Cranky stammered. His hoof reached out hesitantly and took the gift. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Poinsettia smiled and patted him on the back. "It's the least we can do, as long as it means you won't forget us."

She glanced at the heavily laden cart behind him. "Wow... Looks like I wasn't the only one," she went on. "Are all those things gifts from friends you made along the way?"

Cranky sighed again. "You could say that..."

"Isn't this wonderful?" Her hoof caressed his side. "You finally found me, and it's such a lovely day too."

The grass formed a soft and fragrant cushion under their backs. The sky was bright blue, and no cloud was in sight. The air felt warm and welcoming, as though the two of them were in the motherly embrace of the world itself.

"It's like a gift," she went on while gazing at the sky. "A gift from somepony above. Somepony who wanted our dreams to come true."

"Yes..." He looked away and sighed. "It is."

She raised an eyebrow and turned to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"After all these years, I... I stopped caring." He shook his head. "I couldn't find beauty in anything. All I wanted was to find you..." His forehooves rubbed his eyes. A wet stain formed in their corners. "Or maybe some proof... that I have no reason to look anymore."

She smiled. "But you did, didn't you?" Her hoof gently grasped his own. He held onto it tightly, as though he were holding on for dear life.

"Yes. Right after I gave up." He rolled onto his side to face her. "In a way, I feel guilty. Like I don't deserve it." He sighed again. "Especially after the way I treated that kid."

"Who? Pinkie Pie?" She chuckled. "Don't worry, it bounces right off her. She's way more happy now that you're happy."

"Happy?" Cranky smiled and nuzzled her cheek. "You have no idea..."

A touch of warmth brought him out of his slumber. The old donkey sluggishly opened his eyes. The sun peeked in through a tiny gap in the curtain, caressing his face to end his dreamless sleep.

He glanced at his beloved resting beside him. She was still asleep. Her mouth hung open in mid-snore. Even now, in the dim light and the lack of grace in her pose, Cranky saw her as the most beautiful creature in existence. At first, he thought of waking her up, but it felt wrong to just disturb her like this. So he had a better idea.

The floorboards creaked under his hooves as he climbed out of bed and made his way toward the kitchen. His joints ached, making him wince, but he was determined to go on. He lit the stove, prepared a few eggs, some toast, boiled some water, and ground a hoofful of coffee.

A few minutes later, he returned to the bedroom, a loving smile on his face.

"Would my beloved jennet like to enjoy a meal in bed?" he said and presented the tray in his hoof.

There was no response. The shape of Matilda under the covers did not move. Oblivious, Cranky stepped inside and opened the curtains to let the morning light in.

"Mmm..." His nose wrinkled. "I hope you don't mind, I think I burned the toast a little."

He chuckled, only to trail off awkwardly. His wife remained silent.

"Matilda?"

Cranky inched a bit closer. His forehoof gave the bed a gentle shake.

"Are you asleep?"

He leaned forward until he could see her face clearly. His lips began to tremble. The contents of the tray in his hoof rattled slightly.

"Wake up, Matilda," he whispered. "Please, wake up. I made you breakfast. Wake up."

She did not move. Her face was pale. Her mouth hung open slightly, no air moving through it.

"It's time to get up," Cranky said. His voice shook. "Come on now. The breakfast is gonna get cold, and there's a whole day ahead of us."

He calmly set down the tray on the nightstand next to the bed and turned back to her.

"You're just gonna lie there all day? Didn't you sleep well?"

His forehoof reached out and brushed against her forehead.

"Cold," he muttered. "You're... cold..."

There was a sudden touch of warmth. His eyes widened, and he quickly looked down, only to find that a small patch of sunlight was on her forehead, and his hoof managed to wander into it.

Gritting his teeth, Cranky turned around and trudged out of the room. Every step felt like a heavy chain was wrapped around his hooves. It tried to pull him back, to make him see her and speak to her again. To curl up in bed next to her and join her in her sleep. But he resisted.

He stepped outside, squinting as his eyes were drowned in a bright light. The heat of the dawning sun wrapped around him. It felt suffocating. He raised a hoof to shield his face and raised his head. Obscured behind his limb was the great ball of light, staring right at him.

Cranky opened his mouth. He wanted to say something. To scream. To utter a curse. Nothing would come out. Eventually, he just turned around and went back inside. He slammed the door shut, followed by every window and blind in the house.

The funeral was held the next day. He requested that only her closest friends from town make an appearance. He was surprised to see so many ponies show up. He felt ashamed for knowing so few of them himself.

The procession and ceremony were modest. Quiet, just as he wished. It was good to know they respected him in that regard at least.

His cart was already packed and ready to go. He strapped himself in and made his way back through town. Back the way he once came in on that fateful day. His eyes bathed in the pleasant sights one last time, and cheerful memories replayed in his head.

The constant pestering along the way, however, was less welcome. So many ponies wanted him to believe they felt sorry for him. They tried to cheer him up. They thought it was all he needed to change his mind. Thankfully, with most of them, a stern look or a response in the right tone was enough to make them stop.

Except one of them.

"Cranky?"

He ignored her. He blocked the voice out altogether. His hooves kept dragging him forward without hesitation.

"Cranky!" she said and galloped after him. "Cranky, wait!"

They were beyond the outskirts now. No more houses remained in front of him. The mare still would not give up.

"Don't go!" she cried. "Please! I know it hurts, but... We can help! We're your friends!"

Go away, kid. Don't make me have to say it...

"Cranky! Listen to me! Think of Matilda! Think of what she'd want you to—"

The donkey froze. Gritting his teeth, he wheeled around and fixed her with a hateful gaze.

"How would you know?" he growled.

The words got caught in Pinkie's throat, and she all but sank into the ground. Her eyes welled up with tears as she tried not to look away. To not even blink from all the anger pouring out of his expression.

"She... she was my friend too..." she whimpered.

There was something wrong with her mane. It was all straight, nothing like the pink cotton candy she always had on. Her limbs shook uncontrollably, but not out of fear.

She was in pain. Agony from knowing that nothing she could say or do would stop him.

"Go home, kid."

Pinkie did not move. Something twisted around in his Cranky's chest. Sighing, he looked away, unstrapped himself, and went back to search through the contents of his cart, eventually returning with an old and worn blue tie.

"Keep this," he said. He couldn't bear to look at her. "So you don't forget me."

A trembling pink hoof reached out to take it, and the mare's eyes widened once she got a closer look. "This... this is the tie," she muttered. "The one that you wore... on that night..."

He nodded silently. Moments later, he turned around and strapped himself in again.

"But... but wait..." She got back up and ran in front of him. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "What about you? Will you remember me?"

He met her eyes one last time, and even managed to force a smile.

"How could I forget somepony like you, Pinkie Pie?"

Before she could say anything else, the old donkey marched past her and into the hills beyond. Everything seemed to fade out around him. Faintly, he thought he could hear her voice again, but he didn't stop. He couldn't look back a second time.

North. That's where he wanted to go. Somewhere cold and quiet to meet his end.

To find her again...

It was past noon by the time he made it over the first hill. Sweat poured from his forehead into his eyes, and his lungs burned as they struggled to draw air. Stopping to rest for a moment, he glanced up at the sky.

The burning eye was there to meet his gaze.

"You're laughing at me again, aren't you?" Cranky said. "After all this time, you still had to have the last laugh?"

The sun traveled along its arc unfazed.

"I'll never love you again. Give her back to me!"

Silence. It felt deafening. Cranky's hooves began to shake and dig into the earth.

"Oh, now you're not that strong, are you? All you can do is take away." He spat. "Then take me away! Go on! Do it!"

His eyes burned, but he stared defiantly into the ball of heavenly light. He despised it with every inch of his being. He wanted to bury himself just to hide from its warm grip.

"Scared? Or you just want to keep having fun with me?" He returned his gaze to the ground. "You'd like to see me do it, wouldn't you?"

Once his breathing managed to slow down, his legs dragged him forward once more. The sun eventually disappeared behind one of the hills. It was the last time he would let it see him roam the earth.

"I won't play along. I'll keep going."

He would march on for as long as his legs would allow him. As far as it took to escape the pain from the place he left behind.

The sun followed him relentlessly. Forests, mountains, valleys; whatever he could find to take refuge from her light, he made use of it. He cursed her every time she woke him up. He cursed the warmth she made him feel.

He cursed the day the sun rose to watch him be born. He would curse her until the day he could escape into darkness forever.

Author's Note

"Kid... you're smarter than you look..."

Prequel to another fic of mine.

Dedicated to Chained Marionette

A Screw (guest chapter)

A SCREW

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

A potted plant lies dead on the windowsill. What once was living, now rests. How did it die?

I don’t fucking know. I don’t care.

I close my eyes again. Maybe I’ll fall asleep finally.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

“C’mon, bitch, you love it. Say you love it.”

“Y-yes... I do... I love it.”

Prick.

I don’t do this because I like it. I do it because I need to. Weather control doesn’t pay much, at least not anymore. My boss. My fucking boss. He thinks we're subpony. He’s cut our paychecks again, for the third time this year. I had to sell my old fucking house months ago because of him. I live in a shitty fucking apartment. What else am I supposed to do? I'm not really smart. I gotta use some other way to get money.

I need the money. I use my body to get the money. I don’t like it, but I need to do it.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I stare out the window. I try to think of something else. Luna’s beautiful, yet mysterious orb hangs idly in the sky, beaming in and illuminating the room. The room. It is barren, and rotted. There are several floorboards missing. The room is decorated only with the bed that I’m lying on, with the… stallion. The bed creaks and breaks the otherwise all-encompassing silence, save for his grunts, and my moans. The smell is revolting, like the room hasn’t been cleaned in years. It smells like a garbage can, mixed with a gallon of sweat. That’s probably the stallion’s fault. Yet, this is my home. It’s the only one I could afford.

It hurts, to be honest. It always fucking hurts. The other mares on the weather squad, I think they’re used to it. Not me. I never want to get used to it. I don’t need to. After this one, maybe another one, I’m gonna be high-flying. I’m gonna go to Cloudsdale. I’m gonna become a Wonderbolt.

Hopefully.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I keep staring out the window, like I’m a retard. Like I’m in a fucking coma. They must think I’m dim. I’m not. I’m not really smart like Twilight, but I’m not stupid. Not everypony is a success story like her. I tried to go to college, but I ran out of money. Would I be doing this if I went to college and stayed?

I think they like to think I’m stupid. So they can feel better about what they’re doing, I think. Maybe they think it’s okay to do this to somepony as stupid as me.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Sometimes, I feel used. Like I’m losing control of myself. Like I’m worthless. I’m not. I’m the fastest flyer in Equestria!

I close my eyes and grit my teeth. I let out a small moan. He really hurt me then.

“Ohhh, did that hurt?”

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Yes, it did fucking hurt. This is painful. Do I look like I’m enjoying this? I breathe out.

A hoof collides with my jaw.

“I asked you a fucking question, whore!”

“Y-y-no…”

“Good.”

Like he really cares if it hurt.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I don’t want to do this. This asshole thinks he owns me. I’m not his fucking toy. I need the money. My whole life revolves around money. I need the money. I need the fucking money.

I love my job. I really do. I love being up in the sky, kicking clouds, being free. I hate being paid like I’m a slave, though. My fucking boss. I’d kill him if I could. Pays us almost nothing so he can sit back and smoke expensive cigars. Makes me do stuff... like this… so I can keep afloat.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I look behind me. The stallion pushes my face into the bed.

“Keep your head on the bed, bitch.”

“Y-yes… sir.”

I go back to staring outside the window.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I feel my hooves slipping, and my rear lowering.

“Keep your ass up, whore.”

“ O-ok…”

I readjust myself, repositioning my hooves.

“Good girl…”

Why do I bother anymore? I’ve got no chance of being a Wonderbolt. I’ve blown it. Spitfire would never have stooped this low. I’m a failure.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Why is this taking so long?

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

When will he just pay me and leave me alone?

Why is he doing this to me?

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

He starts pulling my hair with his mouth. I squeal. A hoof collides with my jaw once again.

“Did I say you could speak?”

He twists my wing. I gasp in pain. He starts hitting me, over and over. I suppress my yells, out of fear of him doing worse to me. He pulls my hair again.

Why is he hurting me?

A tear rolls down my cheek. I sniffle quietly. I don’t want him to hear. He doesn’t even notice.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

How can a worthless whore like me be worth anything? I can’t be a Wonderbolt. I can barely pay my landlord on time. I can’t live like this anymore.

But I have to.

I can’t afford to live normally.

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. He continues to assault me. He bites down on my ear. I bite down, so he can’t hear me cry. I grind my teeth together. I feel my warm blood drip down my face, and onto my sheets.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I let more tears trickle down my face. I need more money for this. I need money. Money will save me from this. Money is power. Money is holy. I need money.

I am worthless. I’m a toy for stallions to play with. This stallion, he has full control over my body. He has full control over my love. He can use me whichever way he wants.

As long as he gives me the money.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Money is power.

Money is holy.

Holy money.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

“Say you love it again.”

“I love it, sir.”

“Say you love me.”

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

“I-I-I…”

“Say it!”

His yell utterly shatters the silence. He starts hitting me again. I feel more tears welling up in my eyes.

“I… I love you…”

“Good girl.”

I let more tears roll down my face.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

His love is holy.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Holy money.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Holy love.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I am a slave to his will.

Thud.

Thud.

He lets go of me. I feel a burst of his hot love fill me up. It coats my insides.

I feel dirty. I feel wrong. I feel like cleansing myself.

It’s finally over. He relaxes for a minute. Or two. I’m not counting. Then he tackles me onto the floor, and starts again. Faster. Harder. More painful.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

“You were so good, I couldn’t keep away.”

I remain silent.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

“My wife, she never woulda gone for this,” he started, “See, I like it rough. “Rough”, as in, bloody, painful, makes the bitches cry. I ask her almost every fuckin’ night, and she goes ‘No, I don’t wanna do dat.’ Fat bitch will smoke a cigarette and kill herself slowly, but can’t take a lil’ bitta pain? Fuck her, y’know. You, on the other hoof… wow. Fuck me. You take it like a champ. Best I’ve had in a while, you follow me? I could almost love you, more than my fat bitch of a wife. I’d fucking divorce her if she didn’t have my kids. I could love you. Do you want my love?”

I nod. He is giving me his love. I want his love.

“Say something, bitch.”

“Y-yes. I-I wan… want it...”

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

“Well, you’re gonna geddit.”

He slams his hoof into my jaw again. He starts going harder, and faster. He twists my wing, and pulls my hair with his mouth. He lets go of my hair, and bites into my wing. He tears away my feathers, and I feel my blood spill down my wing. He spits out my feathers. He pulls my head up, and starts smashing my face onto the floor. I see my blood shine in the moonlight.

I can’t scream. I can’t even cry.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

“I’m close. Do you want my love?”

“Y-yes… sir…”

He starts smacking me again, and beats my head on the floor. I deserve this. I’m worthless.

I’m his slave. I’m his toy.

Thud.

He starts pulling my hair again. He tenses up, and I feel his warm love fill my insides up once more. His warm, holy love.

He gets off the bed and he opens his wallet. He digs around, searching for the right amount.

“Here’s your money…”

He throws 5 bits at me. Holy money.

He pauses. His hoof goes into his wallet once more.

“Since you were real good, I’m gonna give you a tip.”

He throws me 2 more. Holy money.

“T-thank you sir…”

“My pleasure, slut.”

I look at the money. I stare at the money. It is glowing dimly in the moonlight, like an ancient golden artifact. It’s worth much more than that to me. This is truly holy.

Ponies worship Celestia, but not me. I worship money. Money is real. Money controls me. Without money, I would be nothing. Money keeps me alive. Money is holy.

It is holy. Money is holy.

Holy money.

Holy love.

Holy money.

Author's Note

"It needs to be about 20% cooler."

Guest chapter written by the amazing harpseal2 after I invited him to join my little kindergarten "show and tell..."

I think it turned out very well.

Stupid Child

STUPID CHILD

"Moooom!"

My legs shuffle nervously as I wait. But Mom doesn't shout back. I don't get it. She always does when I do this. I frown and stomp my way into the living room, hoping the noise will make her want to pay attention to me. But she's not in there either. I grumble to myself as I keep looking around the house and call out to her again.

"Why does she always have to be somewhere else when I need her?" I mutter. "I wanna play..."

My JoyBoy is gone again. It does it all the time. When I complain to Mom, she says things don't just get up and walk away. I used to believe her, but now I'm starting to think she's wrong. There's no way I could have lost it so many times in just one week. Or maybe she's pulling a prank on me?

No, that's not right. I shake my head. My Mom knows everything. She's always right. She loves me and would never want to mess with me. She'll be able to help me.

I run up and down in the house. I look in every place where it could be. Under the table. Under the couch. In the cupboards. Under the rug. In the trash can. I even try to look in the toilet tank, only to fall into the bowl and get my hooves all wet. I'm getting really mad now. Why can't Mom help me?

I go through every little corner of every room. I throw stuff all around as I dig through them. I make a huge mess, but I don't care. If my JoyBoy wants to play hide and seek, then I'll just dig him out. And if Mom or Dad get angry, I'll just tell them they should have helped me.

There's only one room left. Mom and Dad's bedroom. The door is locked. I tap on it a few times, but nopony answers. I press my ear against it, but there's no noise coming from inside. I guess they're not home.

I step away from the door and turn around, only to freeze when I hear Mom's voice from behind me. My cap falls off as I run back, slam against the door, and press my head against it again. There's an odd noise that keeps repeating. Metal and wood squeaking, sort of like when I'm jumping on my bed. A weird thumping and a wet noise. Moaning. Somepony breathing really fast. Giggling.

"Mooooom!" My hooves pound on the door. "Are you in there? Hello?"

She doesn't answer. I keep hearing the same noises. My hoof pounds on the door again.

"Mooom! Hello? Can you hear me? I can't find my JoyBoy!" I try peeking in through the keyhole, but it's blocked. "Hey, what's going on in there?"

Nopony answers. I just hear the same moaning and panting and weird noises. Why doesn't Mom answer me? Maybe she doesn't want to notice me? Doesn't she love me anymore?

I hang my head. My lips are trembling, and I just barely stop myself from crying. I feel helpless. Pathetic. Too weak to make myself heard.

"Come on, Mom!" I sniffle. "Please?"

She calls out somepony's name. My eyes widen.

"Mr. Vegetable Vendor?" I whisper. The image of the big stallion from the market pops up in my head. "Is he in there?"

I shake my head. It's gotta be a mistake. That can't be him. It's probably just another pony with the same name. No, not "Mr. Vegetable Vendor." I know that's not his real name, but that's what Mom always calls him when we go shopping at the market.

I grind my teeth together. She always talks to me like I'm some stupid baby. Stupid babies don't beat hard video games!

I hear a deep, loud groan. My hooves shake as I take a step back from the door. I recognize the voice.

"It really is him..."

That just makes me more confused. I don't even care who it is. What matters is that it's not Dad. And I know it couldn't be Dad anyway. He's still at work.

But somepony is still in there with Mom. How can that be? I mean, I sometimes hear Mom and Dad do this, so it's nothing new. They stay inside for a few hours, make noises, and come out together again. Then they're always really tired, but also very happy.

Is it some kind of exercise? Something that helps them stay happy? Maybe because Dad is too busy today, Mom is doing it with somepony else?

I sigh, turn around, and trudge back to my room. Whatever is going on, looks like Mom can't help after all. I close the door behind me, lie down in my bed, and stare up at the ceiling. My ears twitch. I can still hear the noises from that room. If it's a game they're playing in there, it must be very rough. I think Mom is winning though. She's screaming even louder now. She keeps shouting that name. Maybe she's taunting him.

I frown and bury my head in a pillow. This isn't fair! I'm not a dumb little kid! They can't ignore me like this! I beat every video game I ever got on the hardest level. No "stupid foal" could get away with that!

I sink my teeth into the pillow and let out a tiny sob. Tears come out of my eyes. I remember all those times Mom argued with me. All those times she told me I should stop playing these games all the time. That it's bad for me. That I'll end up dumb as a post if I don't quit.

Not like I care. I like playing, and if I like something, I'll do it. I'm not dumb. I'll even get my cutie mark in gaming. That'll show them.

Sighing again, I throw the pillow away and reach down with my forehoof between my hind legs. Since I can't find the game I wanted, and Mom took away my console, I'll just play this one. At least this one is on me all the time, so I can always play it.

Well, except maybe in front of somepony else. I once started doing it in school. Everypony was staring at me. Some of them laughed. Miss Cheerilee got really mad. She had me in detention for a whole week. I asked why, but she didn't even want to talk about it.

My forehoof rubs against my crotch. I moan as I feel that odd tingle in my little joystick. It quickly pops into place, hard and ready to play. Licking my lips, I press both hooves against it and stroke it faster and more tightly. It's just as good as ever. I close my eyes and moan even louder, almost like Mom now.

I've known how to do this for as long as I can remember. I always liked to rub stuff against myself down there. It felt funny. But I only really figured it out when I started to touch it. I was busy playing some other game, and one of my hooves was free, so I just reached down and rubbed it without really thinking about it. Next thing I know, I'm on my back, and there's this weird wet stuff on the carpet. I thought I peed myself.

Mom got really mad, but she didn't want to talk about it either. Dad just laughed at me. Or was it with me?

I don't remember. I don't care. I've been doing it ever since. It's the one game that never gets boring no matter how many times I've played it, and I play it almost every day. Sometimes more than once a day. I try to keep it a secret though. I don't want Mom to get mad at me again.

I can still hear her. She moans louder, and I moan louder too. My bed is squeaking from my movements. My thingy twitches. I feel pressure in it. My tongue hangs out, and I drool all over my face. It feels amazing.

Mom's words echo in my head. I feel my eyes burning as I stare at the screen, not even blinking while she's shouting at me from the door. I watch my games disappear behind the door of the closet. Punishment for what I did. I hear the other kids laughing at me. I see Dad smiling. I see Mr. Vegetable Vendor staring at Mom from behind. I see Miss Cheerilee frown at me and make me clean the whole classroom. I hear the same words over and over again: "freak," "nerd," "loser," "weirdo."

This is what I am.

I breathe in and tense up all over. My joystick almost slips out of my hooves. Something wet and warm pours out of it. It stains my legs and pools on my bed. I giggle happily once the game ends, still feeling giddy from it.

"I win..."

Author's Note

This is for all of you who fap to Button's mom. ~~Shame on you~~

Inspired partly by a pic made by Lil Miss Jay (NSFW, so no links)

So I recently read one of harpseal2's fics and thought it was a bit weird, since it was almost like an outburst against the readers and humanity in general rather than the genuine feelings of the characters involved.

Or maybe not. But it was still kinda weird.

Well, whatever the case, I don't feel that way anymore. If it was an outburst, I now think it's a well-deserved one for the site. I do love this community, but sometimes I can't help but feel that the same swill just keeps being recycled over and over again, and the audience is none the wiser.

Case in point: Button Mash. This little fucker is always somewhere around the front page, along with other "classics" like Snowdrop, Sonata Dusk, *insert the latest utterly forgettable new canon/fanon character here*, etc.

You also get your healthy dose of totally not overused premises like "*insert pony here* was a changeling all along", "villain goes completely OOC and redeems themselves", "TaviScratch shipping", "pony X shags pony Y for no good reason," "I'm a human, I'm in a different world, OMGWTFBBQ ponies," and other mindless crap...

Well, how about I start doing my own version of all the "favorites" here? Let's start with Button Mash. Turn his little kiddie world into something a bit more interesting. I'm also aware that people have a particular soft spot for "Fall of Equestria." Perhaps my own take on it would liven up people's days as well...

Blood Section

Before reading, I advise that you catch up a little first: (link)

BLOOD SECTION

Free at last.

All the weights disappear. All the agony is gone. A great sense of joy and relief washes over me. I let myself drift in the bliss for as long as it will hold me. An urge to act remains, but I ignore it. I would rather stay here forever than struggle any longer.

Everything is white. Everything is quiet. Nothing moves.

White.

Empty.

Numb.

But my body stays restless. There is no respite. A vortex of unbelievable size and power rages around me. It howls into my ears and tugs on my skin. But not in any real way, almost as though I were creating it in my mind, and my body just reacts to that. It does so even though I know I do not actively imagine these things.

I want to take a step, but fear holds me back. Though my essence remains firm, I feel helpless to the currents of the storm. Move an inch, and it will pick me up and tear me to pieces.

Where am I?

The white light blinds me, though there is no pain, only confusion. I cannot tell whether I really see any of it, or if this is just what a lack of any sight feels like. Perhaps I am now in a place where there is nothing to see. Or perhaps "sight" has no meaning here. Nothing makes sense.

Am I dead?

Blind and deaf, or maybe blinded and deafened, I struggle to grasp at my memories. I hope they can guide me if my senses cannot.

There is nothing but noise. Strange colors and odd sensations. Emotions that are too frightening to revisit. A face that calms me. A face I despise. Another that I cannot comprehend. And one more...

Mother?

I remember loud music. My hooves pounding on metal strings. Chords ringing out. Pain ripping into my limbs. A mare screaming desperately, begging me to stop.

Did we make it?

I remember seeing your face. I remember running back to you.

I heard a voice through the door to your room.

Or is this it?

I blink and find myself lying in a bed. The cushions are soft and warm. The sheets are white. The walls are all white.

Everything is quiet. White light streams in through the open windows.

Is this where we go after we...?

A door to my left opens. The same white light streams in. A pair of figures slowly enter.

My heart leaps the moment I recognize the first one.

No! We're alright! You're okay!

I jump out of the bed and run over to you. I stumble several times along the way. My legs feel smaller somehow. Every part of me feels smaller than I remember. It does not make sense, but I do not let it worry me right now.

You smile, sit on your haunches, and spread your forelegs before me. I collapse into your embrace, crying and laughing at the same time.

The second figure approaches. A pegasus in bright golden armor. It takes me a moment to figure it out, but once I do, I almost scream from joy.

We're here! We're finally here!

Father is here too. He smiles at me and wraps his strong forelegs around us.

Safe and warm, at last. Nothing can hurt us now.

It's so good to see you again! I'm sorry for what I did. It's been so long and... I just couldn't wait any longer...

His warm voice caresses me. Mother holds me tightly against her chest. They tell me that everything is all right. I just need some rest. I will get better soon, and we can all go home.

They tell me I need to stay for a while longer. They say they will come to visit every day. I just need to wait.

I nod happily. I will be good. I will do better this time.

The yellow pegasus mare is here too. She watches us silently from the far corner. I turn to her and tell her how grateful I am. She looks away and blushes while giving a weak smile.

You put me back into the bed. You stroke my head and sing to me, while my eyes bathe in the beauty of your face.

Father hugs you from behind. He tells me to stay strong. He gives my head one last caress, and the two of you exit the room.

I wave at you both all the way until the door closes. My head sinks back into the pillow, and I smile as I let myself drift off into sleep.

Your voice still faintly rings at the edge of my mind.

Author's Note

My final addition to the story that began with "The Sound." This song always felt like a "conclusion" to the song of the same title that I mentioned before, thus it seemed appropriate as a "conclusion" here as well.

I'll Cry For You

I'LL CRY FOR YOU

I hear you crying for help. Your voice echoes throughout the house. The hollow noise surrounds me. My blood runs cold. I run up the stairs as fast as I can. The bathroom door is closed, your voice streaming through it. My heart is pounding as my mind paints images of what awaits me.

The door slides open with a tiny creak. A cloud of warm vapor spills out from behind it. The room is drowned in a thick, wet haze. I look down and see you lying there again. Your sobs resonate throughout the tiled chamber. You can barely whimper now. Your hair is a matted mess. Tears and ruined makeup are streaming down your face.

Your right forehoof is between your hind legs. I hear an odd, wet noise that makes me cringe. A pool of water, sweat, and other fluids surrounds your prone shell. Your face is twisted into an odd grimace: a wide smile and a look of agony that seem to have merged together. Your jaw drops, your tongue hangs out, and you let out another loud shriek as your body starts to convulse. I recoil from the piercing sound.

You let out a long sigh of relief and collapse onto your back. You're panting from the powerful release. A familiar stench hangs in the air. It tells me everything I need to know, even though I already know it.

One of my hind legs bumps against the door. It knocks you out of your daze, and your head snaps up from the floor. "Hmm?" you mumble. "Wait... who's there?"

I grit my teeth. My hooves start to shake. My eyes tingle. Something wet starts to form in their corners.

"Sweetie Belle? Is that you?"

Your eyes focus on my own. A shocked expression takes hold on your face. I shake my head as I back away. Then, before you have a chance to react, I turn around and gallop out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me.

"Sweetie Belle!" I hear your muffled cries as I run down the stairs. "Darling! Wait! I'm... I'm sorry. I just... I had to... ohh... ahh! Oh, yes! Ahh!"

I close every door that I can put between you and myself. I run into my room, lock myself in, then trot into the closet at the far end. I lie down among a pile of old clothes and curl up into a miserable little ball. The scent of the fabric helps me banish the foul odor.

But I can still hear you. I still hear those awful moans. They pierce through every wall and every thought. I groan and slam my hooves onto my ears. I grab an old sweater and pull it over my head. The muffled cries still manage to get through. I try to hum a song. Any melody that I can remember. I bang my hooves against the walls. I do everything I can to drown it out.

Another piercing shriek echoes throughout our home. My voice is reduced to pathetic whimpers. My eyes are squeezed firmly shut as I try to choke the tears before they can escape.

I sniff at the sweater on my head repeatedly. The scent of the fabric feels pleasant. It sets off memories of better days. I do my best to focus on them. I don't want to be here right now.

The moans and squeals die down. For a minute, the great house becomes silent. In the darkness of the closet, buried under the warm fabric, I feel safe. I feel like I'm back in the womb. I never want to leave.

The bathroom door opens again, and a series of hoofsteps ring out as they move through the house. They become louder and louder as you approach my hiding spot. I hear a soft tapping on the door to my room.

"Sweetie? Are you in there?"

I bite my lip and curl up even tighter. The tapping comes again, a little louder now.

"Look, I'm sorry for all the noise and... everything. I've stopped it. Please, just come out."

I don't want to. But even if I did, then I'd want to go all the way. I want to get out of this place. I hate this house. I hate this life. I hate this unlit haze, the lack of color, the lack of life. I hate the sounds you make and the silence that follows.

But I cannot leave you. I have to stay, even if this kills me. As long as I live, it won't kill you.

"Mommy just had to... relax a little... but she's alright now. Better than ever. So can you come out now? Please?"

I cringe from the tone you use. The way you try to sound so innocent and compassionate makes me sick. I refuse to move an inch. You might as well give up. Go back to your "relaxation."

You wait for a while, then stomp your hoof. "That's it! Sweetie Belle! This is very rude of you. I'm your big sister. Now open this door this instant!"

Terror grips my mind when you raise your voice. My limbs shake. They instinctively start pushing me off the floor. I try to resist them, but they dread your punishment too much, even though you never punish me. You never do, or at least never call it "punishment."

Against my will, my legs drag me toward the door. Every inch I travel makes my heart beat faster. My eyes are focused on the floor. As I reach for the handle, I silently make a wish. I pray for the sister that I used to have. The one with flawless skin and mane. The one with elegant taste and proper character. The one with a pure soul.

The lock clicks. I open the door slowly and reveal what you are instead. The mare with a fake look of compassion on her face. A facade over a grin twisted by lust and malice. The claw marks still adorn your visage. The heart-shaped abomination is still on your chest. Your mind is still plagued by the thirst for pain, the sensation that brings you pleasure like no other.

You smile at me, the sight of which makes me want to scream. I lift a hoof to cover the mark on my own chest. The scar you left on me when you showed me your true colors. It stings as I relive the memory. My insides twist around, and an odd tingle runs down my spine.

"There we go," you coo and reach out to stroke my head. "Was that so difficult?"

I mumble something in response and try to pull away. You just smile and pull me into a tight hug.

"It's alright. I love you, Sweetie Belle, and I know you love me too. Now please tell me what's wrong."

I blink away at my tears and look up into your eyes. I search for the slightest hint of honesty. Somewhere, deep down, I know your feelings are genuine. I know not all of your words are lies.

No, there are no lies. You just see me as a different pony than what I am. Whatever you say is based on that belief. I'll just have to live with it.

I shake my head slowly.

"See?" You hug me again. "What could ever go wrong between us? The two of us are the best sisters in the world!"

You break the embrace after a while, then turn around and trot away with that smile on your face. I sigh, lower my head, and trudge after you.

It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. I'll play along the way I always do. I'll smile and be your sweet little sister. I'll take part in your "games." I'll clean up the mess you make whenever your lust clouds your head, and you lose all sense of dignity. I'll drag you back to your room when you pass out after inventing your newest form of self-stimulation. I'll watch you silently as you make your new "toys." As you bring in your new "friends."

As you play with her.

The doll is on my bed. I can't bring myself to look at it. I don't even want to be in the same room. I slept on the couch just so I wouldn't have to touch it again to get it out of my bed. I'd ask you to take it away, but you were the one who put it there.

I remember how I tried to accept it. How I pretended it's a nice little doll, like any other. I hugged it, played with it, slept with it. I did it all to make you happy. I saw how happy it made you, and I want you to be happy.

I watched the two of you spend time together. I watched it slowly poison your mind. Bit by bit, it drained away everything that you were. I couldn't stand it. I didn't want that to happen to me. Already it was making me do things. Things I don't want to remember.

I won't play with her anymore. But I'll follow you all the same. I'll stay here and watch over you. You can do whatever you want to yourself, and I'll be there. Whenever you suffer, I'll smile so you can be happy again. Whenever you cry in ecstasy, I'll cry for you. I'll shed my tears for what you were. When nopony else will mourn you, I'll remember you.

I'll cry for you.

Author's Note

"Having a sister is just about the bestest thing in the world... but it sure isn't the easiest..."

A tribute to the fabulous Lil Miss Rarity blog (NSFW, so no linx 4 u) created by Lil Miss Jay, ~~who really needs to get off his ass, stop whining, and get to drawing more of his vile shit...~~ :trollestia:

LMR is the property of Lil Miss Jay
MLP is the property of Hasbro
...
...
...
...
...

I keep thinking the first line of the song is "My balls in your mouth..."