Tarnished Silver: “Dr. Feel Good”

"I beg your pardon?"

I glare at the young pink mare, sitting before me, in my den, a Miss Diamond Tiara Riche The Third. It is obvious that her pony form is unnatural and awkward as she squirms in her sitting position, finally giving up and laying on my couch, like an animal, on all fours.

I smirk at this.

It is October 27, Year of Celestia 2013.

I am playing hostess (reluctantly I might add) to two odd but remarkably fascinating young mares from out of town, far out of town.

"What did you call me?" I ask curtly with a sneer.

She chuckles with a fore hoof to her muzzle “Dr. Feel Good! Like, that is SO your new code name!” she smirks and laughs harder, only to get a back hoof to the back of her head, by the young gray mare, casually sitting beside her.

The gray mare doesn’t bat an eye. She sips her tea gently as she delivers the discipline to her fiancé.

The pink mare whines slightly as Sylvia Catherine Spoon sips her tea quietly, crossing her hind legs demurely. Obviously she is well practiced in operating her new pony form.

Unlike her mate, who just a few minutes earlier, fumbled with her hooves and dropped one of my fine China tea cups. I made no mention of this, accept to raise an eyebrow in rebuke, even as she expressed her unyielding disdain for me.

I even turned a blind eye to her holding the second cup between her hooves, afraid to drop it again. Ms. Riche and Ms. Spoon were not natural born ponies. They are bipedal and posses five digits where there fore hooves are now. Or such is their natural form.

"Earth ponies.. why did it have to be Earth ponies?"

I curse to myself as we now sit in silence. The only sound in the room is Ms. Riche’s awkward slurping of her tea. This I also ignore, though it grates on my nerves to no end.

I have nothing against the lessor races of Equestria. I am many things; a narcissist, and an introverted pedophile, but never a bigot!

Unfortunately my experiences with Earth ponies in the past have set me at odds with them. It’s not their fault they were born without magic, or even wings. I do not fault them for what they are. I am merely wary of them simply for the fact that when ever my life seemed to be in turmoil or in question, it was because of an Earth Pony.

The bane of my existence.

Again it is not their fault. It has nothing to do with who and what they are by design. Only circumstance, fate, random chance, that Earth ponies have caused me so much distress.

The lesbian couple, sitting in front of me, have good reason to despise me. They have every right to their contempt for my very life and existence.

I hold their daughter hostage. Adopted of course, but no less beloved as their own biological foal.

She is not merely in my care, she is in my possession. By all rights, I own her. I purchased her from a friend at a rock bottom price of 20,000 Bit$.

For all intents and purposes, Diamond Dazzle Tiara Spoon is my slave!

And yet only one of them seems to be dead set in expressing her ire at the concept.

They have not come to beg, steal, bargain, nor threaten me for her release. This they could easily affect with the spy and assassin in their employ. If they wanted me dead, I would already be so.

No. They come only to visit their darling Diamond Dazzle on her 14th Birthday, to wish her well and take her out for a nice dinner with her sister, Star Clover Spoon.

The Changeling foal, barely 3 years of age, is right now watching cartoons in my study with her elder adopted sister Dazzle, my newly acquired sex slave. Or she would have been, had circumstances been different, and I wasn't now hosting her parents for tea!

I am beset at the concept of just how ironic, my life can be.

And then they intend to return her unto me. For they know all too well, her mission is of vital importance. That the lives of over 100 foals hang in the balance.

But first they have opted out of good manners to sit and chat with me, this fine Sunday afternoon.

"Lucky me." I think and sigh to myself as we remain in silence.

My name is Triage Mash.

I am a Doctor.

No not "The Doctor"! Is he all you pathetic fan fillies and socially inept colts can think about?!

Once I was the most celebrated surgeon in Equestria. Now I am just a another rich pervert in Fancy’s exclusive little club!

The Inner Circle.

I am not a monster, as my friend Rarity may very well be. I have no desire to see foals suffer. My Victims are all blissfully unawares of what I do to them. And I would never break the bond of trust a foal needs with his or her family, in order to develop into a healthy young mare or stallion.

I have no foals of my own, save for Ms. Dazzle. No desire for one either. But I have a beautiful, all be it awkward little nephew, named Buttons Mash.

An Earth pony, as it so happens to be.

My brother and sister-in-law, (also an Earth pony) have no idea as to my dark desires for the forbidden fruit of a juvenile’s body. I do not look upon my nephew with lust in my eyes, only a love an aunt is meant to have for her brother’s child.

Only one other foal has made me feel anything in the last 5 years. That foal rightfully belongs to the two Earth mares that sit before me now. One full of a burning hatred in her sky blue eyes, identical to that of her adopted daughter’s, and the other a calm sadness or indifference in her gentle lavender orbs.

I am reminded of 5 years ago when I botched a simple anesthesia spell on a little Earth filly. It’s a well known fact that Earth ponies have a stronger resilience to sleeping spells and the like. My mistake was one of unfamiliarity. Earth ponies are not a majority in Canterlot. But my oversight cost me dearly. The foal awakened during my “procedure” and screamed at the top of her lungs.

I was given a sabbatical while the higher-ups debated my fate. Faced with the prospect of life’s work being discredited and my reputation and freedom in jeopardy, I made my deal with the Devil.

Fancy Pants offer was clear. Join his Circle or he would throw me to the wolves.

I readily accepted.

But there was a catch. There is always a catch. I needed four foals to present as a potential offering. 2 colts and 2 fillies to be precise. I told him I had no idea where or how to get my hooves on four healthy foals.

That’s when he suggested I bring my nephew along. It took all my force of will not to lunge at him, but staring into the cold emotionless eyes of his servant, and body guard, ”Gaze”, it wasn’t hard to stay my hoof.

I refused, politely but still firmly.

To my surprise Fancy just laughed and informed me I will do as I am told, but he had no intention of my bringing family to his "Gathering". He said he often provided foals to potential members who knew not how to “hunt” for them selves. Fancy new many shady ponies in the sex trade. I would come to know them to before my dissension was complete.

And so it came to pass that I suffered through his little ritual of dissension and the offerings submitted for their approval and what not. I said my lines and made my vows etc etc, and hardened my heart to what came next.

The four children at my hooves were not just off the street. They had been foal napped and or sold into slavery on the black market, by ruthless crime families such as The Spoon Family in Manehatten, the Diamond Dogs of Ponyville and other unsavory individuals looking for a quick b$t.

One among them was a little yellow Earth filly with a musical note cutie mark, barely 10years old, who had been sold by her own mother to the cartels.

Most likely to support a drug habit. She was obviously a crack foal, manic, depressive, possible bipolar disorder.. talked constantly.. wouldn’t shut up about how her mommy used to touch her and make her hurt.

Made me sick to my stomach! Her name she said it over and over and OVER until it was forever burned into my memory!

"Happy Tune"

As it so happened the bastards chose her. They loved how she squealed an cried for her mommy, begging her forgiveness for displeasing her. I wanted to vomit!

I contemplated taking my lucky scalpel and slitting their throats! ALL OF THEM! but I was able to make myself see reason.

Even as they dragged her away and locked her in the Gallery. They hung around waiting for her to beat on the door.. but there was nothing. Silence reigned. I had to smile as they expressed their disappointment.

Since then I had learned to bury my emotions, what little was left of them. I only made any trip to the gallery on official business. As Fancy’s “pet doctor” I was charged with treating any foal who was sick or injured. And in rare cases.. to take the dead away.

I try to give them a kind bed side manner. But it is an act. I am far to withdrawn to care, or so I thought.

I watched Happy Tune degenerate, with little effect on my emotions. With each visit made, I expected to find she had hung herself. Celestia knows there are plenty of ropes and chains to garrote ones self with.

But though her mind was slowly slipping away, she just held on to the pleasure and pain the patrons offered her, and begged for more.

5 years I denied my emotions, pushed them down into a little ball.

Until I met her.

"Silver Spoon"

I wondered briefly if her own crime family had sold her to Rarity? But no.. this filly actually came to her and asked to be abused!

For the longest time I wouldn’t believe it. But two months ago I watched as she begged for seasoned sadists to beat and disfigure her, all to honor her beloved Miss Rarity.

I my self found I was drawn, mesmerized by her capacity to endure pain and revel in it. When she spotted my lucky Scalpel and ask that I cut her over her mark, I obliged her. She was fascinating, the moans and sounds she made as I carved her flesh.

Looking back it is clear to me just how mentally disturbed this child was. But she spoke to me with a grace and sophistication that many adults tried and failed to acquire.

I got no sexual thrill from her self destruction at my hoof. But again I admit my passion for finding out just how much she could take, drove me to fulfill her desires.

Fortunately for Little Miss Spoon, I was a seasoned professional surgeon. I knew just how deep to cut her to make it scar and spare her any life threatening injury. As I begin to cut her and blood poured out on to her flank, she cried out! Not in agony, but in ecstasy!

One by one even some of the hardest members I have known walked away, looking pale. Only a few stouthearted sadists remained. Otherwise I was all alone with her.

I had actually met this filly months before.

She had taken a dildo, too large for her and too hard and ruptured her cervix in several places. I suspected Rarity having been the cause of the injury.

I made my friend a deal. let the filly recover for three weeks and I will wave my fee. She had complied. Had she not, Silver Spoon would have experienced more pain then she bargained for every time she had intercourse,

for the rest of her life.

But on that day 2 months ago, laying on that couch, she was no patient, she was a test subject.

I carved an X right over her little spoon mark. And yet though I was the adult and held the power to inflict pain, I have to admit it seemed like she was the one using me, and every other pony in the room! I can't rightly blame "Fancy Prick" for his obsession with her.

She was.. is if nothing else, a fascinating creature. A prime specimen. A lady and a whore all in one demure teenage frame, wrapped with a pretty Prench braid of stunning silver and adorned with a simple yet elegant strand of blue pearls.

Well she had those things, before she got carried away and told one member to rip her mane out by the roots. Her precious pearls, the first gift her mother gave her as a foal, as she had revealed it to me, I can only assume must still be scattered across the floor by that couch. I can't think of anypony stingy enough to bend down and pick them up one by one. No that would be beneath them. Bastards.

Not surprising she wasn’t chosen. And I don’t mean because she went and kicked Fancy in his stupid head, when the bastard tried to choke Rarity’s sister to death.

No. Silver Spoon was a willing slave, just as mentally deranged as Happy Tune. Most patrons want to hear them cry or beg. They get off on it.

Have I said "bastard" enough yet?

And just a few days ago I met a pony who made me feel shame once more.

Diamond Dazzle Tiara. And now I learn she legally changed her last name to Spoon in honor of her new mother.

I had purchased her from Rarity, but I was deceived. Dazzle is some kind of Jr Spy or apprentice, working under a mysterious changeling named Cypher. The same Spy and Assassin that Ms. Spoon and Ms. Tiara had not set against me. Though they could just as easily give the order and neither Fancy's little house colt "Gaze" nor the Canterlot Civil Guard would ever find my body, or so I am told.

Her friend, the damaged Silver filly, is now a spy herself, keeping Fancy busy, sleeping with him and garnering information from the old fool while keeping contact with her little red headed friend in the glasses, I suspect, inside the Gallery.

In 7 days from now their mission will be over. Silver Spoon will return to Ponyville and her Mob family. Diamond Dazzle will go home with her new mothers and my transaction to acquire her flesh will be quite inconsequential.

"Operation Day Break" they call it. How theatrical. Makes me wonder is it just because the event will take place next Sunday night, and is predicted to have been resolved and concluded by the dawn, or is Celestia herself behind the scenes, working with these spies and remarkable foals?

I am once again guilty of bringing a foal to the gallery to be raped and abused on a daily bases. But she is, in actual fact, a changeling Spy named "Poison" and a full grown adult.

She walked in as the stallion, Filthy Rich, but thanks to her I walked out with Happy Tune in my saddle bag. I am unsure what to do with her, so I am keeping her sedated for now.

But in saving her, I get a little piece of my soul back.

So now knowing the truth, I work against the ponies I once called my brothers and sisters.

All I want is my life back.

I want my freedom.

And if in helping them, I save a few 100 foals or so, well that’s just fine by me.

As long as I am not stuck watching them.

Author's Note

I see Dr. Triage as a pony female equivalent to Dr. House.

I came up with the name Triage Mash from the M*A*S*H Unit in military medicine and later realized another fan character shared the name.

So by association Milano Mash is Triage's Sister-in-law and Buttons Mash is her beloved (platonic-ally speaking of course) nephew.

Dr Triage is a creation of Ham Gravy
Tarnished Silver: Dr Triage (my fav filly fooler ;P)

SUBJECT: DR TRIAGE

AFFILIATION: CIRCLE MEMBER

"her coat was an especially lovely shade of autumn gold, which was complimented by her brown mane, always cut short, and her cutie mark, a red Caduceus. These traits made her social life, what little of it there was, relatively painless. She did not find the company of others uncomfortable; she simply did not care for it. No matter how interesting another pony was, she had never met anyone whose thoughts could compare with her own. Whenever she chose to listen to someone else, she always came away disappointed. Why lower herself to speak to others, she reasoned, when she was already in possession of the most brilliant mind in Equestria? Her own thoughts were the best company of all.

Triage had always loved children. Their youth meant she didn’t find herself looking down on them for their obvious lack of intelligence. It wasn’t their fault that they were such dull creatures. An adult pony had no excuse, but a child could be forgiven. When she was around them, she didn’t feel the annoyance she felt around grownups.”

((story and character by Ham Gravy))

Diamond Dazzle is the property of Diamond Dazzle Tiara Spoon

Sylvia Spoon, Star Clover Spoon, Diamond Rich and Cypher are characters I claim because the SS and DT in my story are hardly like their canon counterparts.