My Disco

by harpseal2

Rating: mature
Tags: Dark
Length: 1085

Rainbow Dash has a foal with Soarin. Unfortunately, her foal is highly disabled, and unlikely to survive. She and Soarin can not pay for the upbringing of the foal. Rainbow Dash solves this problem.

Rainbow Dash and Soarin have a foal, who unfortunately, due to complications during birth, was physically and mentally disabled. Despite Soarin's Wonderbolts fame, the costs for the struggling family to keep their foal would be too much.

Rainbow Dash solves this problem.

Re-uploaded.

Warning: Contains Coarse Language, Extreme Violence, and Blood and Gore.

This is based off the song "My Disco" by Big Black, off their EP called "Headache", which was inspired by a real-life event. Here is the writer of the song discussing the event.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-01-10 19:57:58 UTC

My Disco

Hospitals are dark places. Full of diseases, sickness, and death. I hate hospitals. I used to have to go to them all the time. I was flying at an early age, and I would always bump into things. Hard enough to break legs. I cracked my skull right fucking open once when I smacked into a tree. Luckily, Dad was around, and he rushed me right to hospital. Thanks to him, I was okay. It hurt a lot.

None of that matters, now. I was in the Ponyville Hospital, for what should have been a joyous moment. I was expecting a newborn foal. Soarin rushed me to the hospital as fast as his (and my) wings would carry him. Three long, painful hours later, I gave birth to the foal. They didn't tell me the gender, they were busy inspecting it.

"Ma'am," the Nurse started, "We believe your foal... may have some disabilities."

I started panicking. What if the foal was disabled? I couldn't look after a disabled foal. I would need a second job to get by. The Wonderbolts are, somehow, going out of fashion. No-pony goes to see them anymore, strangely. When I was a filly, I would save up ALL my pocket money to see them when they came to Cloudsdale. My Dad would get pissed, because I spent ALL of my pocket money to see them.

I'm getting off topic.

The nurse came in, and they delivered the "wonderful" news;

"Ma'am, it's a filly..." she started.

I was relieved.

"Unfortunately, she is... has major.. disabilities..."

My heart stopped.

Fuck.

I cried. The nurse came to comfort me, but she couldn't do shit. Fuck, man, my foal was completely retarded! I'd need to get 4 fucking jobs to look after the little shit!

I couldn't think properly. I was in deep trouble.

What would Soarin think?

The nurse walked out into the hallway to tell Soarin the news, and he broke down too. We were lucky I even got pregnant. He had such a low sperm count, he was almost sterile.

Almost.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was over the moon! We were gonna have foals! I was so happy.

Everything looked fine on the ultrasound, and every doctor we went to said it would be a healthy baby. How fucking wrong were they!?

Soarin rushed into my room and the nurses and the doctors left us alone. We had to talk about this.

"How are we gonna survive?" Soarin asked.

"I'll need to get a second, maybe even third job!" I panicked.

"Shit, what are we gonna dooooo?!"

"Maybe, we should say it's somepony else's!"

"It's got rainbow hair like you, Dash!"

He's got a point there.

"We should forget to take it home!"

"How could we use that excuse?!"

"We could put it up for adoption?"

"No way we could! Who the fuck would want a baby that deformed?!"

"Maybe we should leave it in a dumpster!"

Soarin was shocked, but he realised the situation. We had to fix the problem.

"That's too risky! Somepony will hear it crying!" Soarin reasoned.

I thought hard. We had to take drastic measures.

"Pillow over it's face?"

"They'll think we did it!"

"Frame it on that couple!" I pointed to another couple who walked past our door.

"It's too fucking obvious, Dash!"

"Well, what do you think we do!?" I yelled at him.

"I don't know, sneak into the nursery, take out the deformed little shit and bash it's fucking head in!"

I stared at him. We were desperate. We didn't have criminal records. We were clean. They would think it would be somepony else for sure. We'd have to move away from Ponyville. Far away. Change our names. He'd quit the Wonderbolts. I'd dye my hair.

To be honest, I'm getting pretty sick of this town anyway.

"I'll do it."

"WHAT?!"

"Soarin, they won't think it's us! We're clean! Spotless criminal records! You're in the Wonderbolts! You wouldn't fuck up your reputation, by doing something as fucked as that!"

"Are you fucking crazy!?"

He was freaked. He thought I was insane.

"Listen, Soarin, we move out of Ponyvillle. Far away from this place. We change names. I'll dye my hair. I'll grow my hair out. They wouldn't even recognize us if they saw us," I reasoned.

"This is crazy, Dashie," Soarin was calming down.

"You suggested it!"

Soarin was silent.

"It'll work, trust me."

Soarin thought about it for a minute. He finally responded.

"You're the one doing it, okay?"

It was dead silent in the hospital. All the foals in the nursery were asleep. Most of the staff had gone home, and the lights were off.

Perfect.

Soarin was currently flying to Cloudsdale to hand in his resignation. After that, he'd buy our train tickets. We would meet outside the hospital and race to the station. He'd already submitted our new names to the board for approval.

It was going to work.

No way it wouldn't.

I had stolen the keys off a hospital worker. Luckily, he worked in the maternity ward, so he had access to the nursery. The lights were on in there, but no-pony was on this level. No-pony would see this, except for me.

I unlocked the door, and I quietly stepped in. I slowly walked over to my foal's cot. I looked into the bed.

How the fuck did that thing come out of my cunt?

This thing was fucking deformed. It looked worse than a Picasso painting.

It was lucky I was gonna put it out of it's misery.

I picked it up. I held the little piece of shit in my hooves. I was so disgusted. How could this thing have possibly come out of me? I was actually about to vomit just looking at this thing. Time to get this over and done with.

I threw it at a wall. I heard a sickening crack. It's neck must have snapped.

I walked over to it, and it was still fucking breathing.

Won't be when I'm done with it.

I started pounding my forehooves on it's head. It burst like a rotten egg after a few hits. It was so satisfying. I kept beating it until it was nothing more than small fragments of brain and blood. I worked up a steady rhythm, hitting the piece of shit so many times.

It was like a dance.

It was like a disco.

It was like my disco.