Daniel Rogers in: ...Princess Celestia?

by Steambirds

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Comedy
Length: 2228

Celestia hates being a Princess. Ponies think of her too highly, and thus she never gets the chance to mingle, or find love. So, she decides to stop being a princess the only way possible.

Celestia hates being a Princess. Ponies think of her too highly, and thus she never gets the chance to mingle, or find love. So, she decides to stop being a princess the only way possible; she hangs herself. However, she's a little confused when she seems to come to, and continue being alive.

She wakes up in a strange land, populated by strange bipedal beings. She meets one named Daniel Rogers. Daniel Rogers isn't normal. Time travel, evil future clones, evil future clones from the past, and running with scissors are all daily troubles for him. What he isn't prepared for is an Alicorn princess.
Note: Lots of coarse language and swearing.
Note 2: I'm going to be updating this story mostly when bored.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-11-16 04:20:03 UTC

The Barn

A thin beam of sunlight struck Celestia's eye. She woke up, breathing heavily. She put a hoof to her head, wondering what she was, where she was, and why she was. Her suicide had failed it seemed. She stood, looking around the room she was in.

It was not a hospital room. It was far from it; it was a musty, dirty barn. She was laying in a pile of hay, the long strands of it getting stuck in her prismatic mane. Her horn glowed, and the door to the barn was thrust open, and she stepped outside.

It was NOT Equestria in any way, roads made of black pavement, strange metal machines passing down them, the air smelled of pollution; almost as if she were trapped in an iron mine.

"What is this place?" she said aloud, looking around.

- -- - -- - -- -

- -- - -- - -- -

Daniel Rogers was an ordinary man. Or so he thought. He wasn't exactly sure if people had to deal with time travel, evil future clones, evil future clones from the past and/or running with scissors as frequently as he did, if at all. He was just going for a stroll out at the edge of his hometown, Ridgeshire, NY. He saw a flash of light come from a barn door, so he decided to investigate.

He reached for the handle, but was stopped by the door flying open, knocking him off of his feet into a large bale of hay sitting next to the barn. He crawled out of the hay bale, but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a rich, feminine voice speak.

"What is this place?" the voice asked. He was surprised, it wasn't every day a sexy sounding lady woke up in a random barn.

"Uh, what's your name?" he asked as he brushed himself off and checked his pockets.

"Celestia, and yours?" the voice responded cheerfully, albeit curiously. Seems shy, odd name too. Maybe she's foreign? Daniel thought.

"I'm Daniel. Daniel Rogers, nice to meet you," he replied, walking around the door to the sexy sounding foreign lady. When he actually got a look at where the voice was coming from, he nearly dropped dead from a heart attack. It was a horse. A unicorn. A WINGED unicorn!

"Buh-buh, the hell! I didn't think horses could talk!" he cried, attempting to keep calm. The horse creature was a stunning alabaster white, with a colorful mane and tail with streaks of lime, cyan, purple and blue-green that flowed in a nonexistant wind. Upon her flank (ass?) was a stylized sun. She wore a golden crown with a large amethyst gem set into it. Embossed on the crown was a set of wavy lines.

"Ponies have always been able to speak. More importantly, what and who are you?" Celestia asked, giving him a quizzical look.

"There is no way in hell you are a pony!" he cried, attempting to come to terms with the (relative) sanity of this situation. "I'm just an ordinary person, you're the-the freak, thing!"

"This is all so confusing. Is there somewhere private we can discuss this?" Celestia looked around nervously, not wanting to be spotted by another one of these loudmouthed creatures.

"Uhh, sure. Follow me to my truck," he replied, turning and walking to his old 1989 Chevy Suburban. The hulking behemoth of a truck was painted an off white, the paint having chipped at the edges of the metal from the constant wear in the cold New York weather.

"Is this, ahem 'truck' safe?" Celestia asked, eyeing the steel contraption nervously. She doubted that this vehicle would even be remotely capable of getting up to speed, much less it being safe.

"Uh, seatbelts still work, if that's what you're asking," Daniel laughed as he climbed in the truck, starting it.

- -- - -- - -- -

- -- - -- - -- -

Daniel's apartment was interesting. It was open spaced, but cramped. A well-used dining table sat in the center of the tiny house, papers strewn all about it. At the left side of the room sat the kitchen, with an old stove and refrigerator. On the right side of the room was the living area, where Daniel's TV and Futon sat, the futon still lying in its "bed" position. It was a catastrophic mess, and Celestia loved every bit of it.

"Sorry my apartment is such a me-" he was cut off by Celestia saying, "this is such a nice break from my castle, you have no idea."

"Uh, yeah," he replied, scratching at the back of his head, running his fingers through his short dirty blonde hair. "I can see how you'd, uhm, enjoy it."

Celestia frowned. "Well, where I come from, I'm pampered and cared for to no end. I don't get a single break from anything!"

"I see. Given my average day consists of nearly being assassinated by an evil alternate future me, you probably aren't from Earth, or this universe," he casually replied as he walked over to the refrigerator, pulling out two cans of Coca Cola, tossing one over to Celestia.

"Hm, I hadn't thought of that. I honestly thought I was just in some far-off land in my universe," Celestia explained, wondering how the heck she was going to open the can. "Not to be awkward, but how do you open this?"

"Like this," Daniel answered, opening the can of Cola for Celestia.

"Thanks," she replied, levitating the can over to her from the table. Daniel watched her do this, seeming confused. "How do you do that," he asked.

"Oh? It just comes naturally to me. It'd be difficult to explain to a... um..." Celestia fumbled for the right word to call him, he certainly seemed like some kind of bipedal ape creature, but calling him an ape was (probably) rude.

"I'm a human. I would call you a 'winged unicorn' but that's probably not the proper term," Daniel informed her.

"Oh? So you are one of those mythical human things Lyra keeps going on about. I'm an alicorn, a unicorn with wings, or a pegasus with a unicorn horn. Call me what you see fit," she answered.

"Alicorn. I see. However, who's Lyra?" he asked, finishing his can of cola.

"Oh, she's just some unicorn from my universe. Really obsessed with hands. We don't have hands, you see," Celestia answered as she held out a hoof for him to look at.

"How does a species like yours reach sentience without having fingers?" he asked.

"Well, I am not quite sure about that," Celestia replied, finishing her can of cola. "Where do I put this?"

"I'll take that. Speaking of which, how did you get here?" Daniel asked as he put the can of soda in a paper bag overflowing with recyclables like two liters and cans.

Celestia bit her lip at the difficult question. "Uhm, it's probably something you don't want to think about," was her answer.

"Oh come on, I can handle all sorts of crazy and stupid situations," he answered, sitting next to her on the Futon. "Just tell me, I won't hold anything against you."

"Well, alright. I got here by-by... hanging myself. In retrospect, it probably wasn't a very good idea," she answered, feeling many pangs of regret. She hoped this... human wouldn't hold it against her. She didn't want to be on the wrong side of these creatures. Just judging by the atmosphere, she knew that they had used most of their technology for war, rather than peace.

"Really? Damn, that is dark," he answered, hoping that she didn't mind him cursing.

"No, it's quite alright."

He looked into her purple eyes, wondering what would drive her to suicide like that. He didn't understand why she killed herself, and it was awfully stupid if she killed herself because she was tired of her life at the castle.

Deciding to lighten the mood, Celestia asked, "Can you scratch my back, Daniel?"

"You're serious?" he asked, taken a bit off guard by the strange request.

"Yes, there's a really bad itch under my left wing. Can you scratch there?" she asked, lifting a wing. Daniel looked at her kind of strangely, it felt like an odd and somewhat sexual request, but he complied nonetheless. He reached a hand out to the side of Celestia's stomach and started scratching under her left wing. The fur was soft, and she was warm to the touch.

"Left," Celestia instructed. Daniel moved his hand left, now just under her wing joint. He could feel that there was a lot of muscle there, the area was much firmer to the touch.

"This is kind of weird," he spoke, thinking about the strangeness of the situation.

"You want to stop?" she asked.

"No, I just think that there's some kind of underlying sexual tone," he answered, biting his lip.

"Not at all, if I wanted anything sexual to happen, I would've said so," she answered. "Scratch my stomach, please." She rolled onto her stomach, folding her wings and front hooves up against her body. Daniel decided to get into a more comfortable position, so he sat on her, just past her rear legs. He scratched her stomach with both hands, moving up and down.

"Mmh, harder," she spoke, her eyes closed, a string of drool hanging from her mouth. Daniel complied, which got a few noises that would be better placed in the bedroom from Celestia.

"Thank you, but I've had enough," Celestia spoke, gently nudging Daniel off of her. "By the way, that was nice," she added. Daniel blushed. Not wanting to allow the situation to get any more awkward, he quickly thought of something.

"Hold on, you're probably gonna want to keep a notebook of whatever you've learned-," Daniel uncapped a sharpie marker in his mouth, "-here wish ush humansh," he spoke through the marker's cap in his teeth as he wrote Celestia's name on the inside cover of a notebook. He tossed the notebook over to Celestia, who caught it in her magic aura. Daniel tossed her a pen, which she also caught.

"Hmm, I guess I better start writing," she spoke, wondering how she'd be able to begin.

Prequel: Bad Noose

This is a recollection of the last events of Princess Celestia.

-- - -- - -- - --

-- - -- - -- - --

Princess Celestia woke groggily, looking around at her bedroom. The location was lavish in every way: a bed larger than king size, with blankets that had sun and moon motifs; next to the bed sat a night stand, with Celestia's crown upon it; a desk sat at one side of the room, adorned with stacks of paper, an abacus, and a large tiffany lamp with sun designs for the stained glass shade, and a brass neck; and a large mahogany door with big brass and crystal doorknobs and a large bar lock; and a large wooden dresser painted white.

Celestia hated her bedroom; it was far too nice. She wanted something practical, not the most luxurious bedroom ever designed. She didn't like being a princess, she felt ponies looked up to her too much, which prevented her from ever being able to mingle and have a normal life.

This cannot go on any longer, she angrily decided, rising from her bed and trotting over to her dresser. She looked terrible, her mane was a mess and she looked incredibly tired. She nodded at her reflection in the mirror on the dresser and walked over to her desk, her hooves clicking on the well-polished wooden floor.

She rummaged through the desk, searching for a rope. The rafters would do nicely, she thought as she levitated a long piece of rope from a drawer, wondering why it'd be there anyhow. Not like it'd matter within the next ten minutes. She'd be the hell out of this place, away from her life as a princess. Quite literally.

She tossed the rope over a rafter, briefly wondering if it would be worth it. She'd be taking her life. Of course it'd be worth it, she thought. This cannot continue any further.

She wanted to tie the noose without using magic. If she wanted to kill herself, then she was going to do it with her own hooves. She spent the next twenty minutes making a noose. She "admired" her work, noting how that she wouldn't have much time to actually enjoy the own work of her hooves.

She dragged the chair from the desk all the way over to where the noose dangled, raising the noose up to her head, stuffing her head through the rope. It was scratchy and uncomfortable, just as she'd imagined it. She stared down at her reflection in the wooden floor.

She kicked her rear legs and the chair toppled over, her neck getting caught in the noose. Death was not instantaneous: there was too little room to break her neck. She did not die quick and painless: the noose simply crushed her windpipe, choking her to death.

She struggled against the choking grip, suddenly having lost the urge to die, but it was too late: her vision was fading, getting fuzzy. She soon stopped struggling, dangling limply from the ceiling.