Payback: A Real Pain in the Rear

Chapters

What's a Safe Word?
Shit Gets Real
No Crusader Left Behind
Never Speak of This Again

What's a Safe Word?

Sweetie Belle stared down into her glass. She watched the level slowly drop as she sipped her milkshake through a straw. Suddenly feeling disoriented, she looked up to see Apple Bloom and Scootaloo sitting beside her at the counter of an old fashioned diner. She had no memory of such a place, and could not remember how she had gotten there. The other two girls seemed similarly confused.

“Hold on.” She said, beginning to piece it together. “None of this is real!”

“Well of course not, darling.” A familiar voice chimed in. “Everything in that milkshake probably came from powder.” The trio looked over to a nearby booth, where a woman who looked very much like Rarity -- but somehow...not -- was touching up her lipstick with the aid of a makeup compact. Seated around her were five other eerily familiar you women.

Sweetie was about to say that wasn’t what she meant, but couldn’t find the words. Behind the counter, three tall, muscular young men were busy washing dishes, clearing trays and otherwise tending to business. They were all quite attractive, with striking features and perfectly groomed hair...almost like models, and somewhat out of place. Through the large windows at the front of the diner, a large crowd was visible just across the street. They surrounded a platform or a stage of some kind, where it looked like a ribbon cutting ceremony was about to begin.

“What ah can’t figure out” mused the one who could have been Applejack’s twin “is why in the hay the mayor is going through all this trouble.”

Hiding behind a coffee mug and long locks of soft pink hair, the timid one nodded and added “He has been acting strange lately.”

“I KNOW, right!” exclaimed a highly caffeinated girl with cotton candy hair, accidentally knocking over the half dozen empty soda bottles in front of her. “And what’s up with that weird crystal necklace thingy?”

Apple Bloom was distracted momentarily by a sudden itching sensation on the back of her left hand. She scratched it and kept listening.

“I noticed that, too.” said the girl next to her, furiously thumbing through one of several books she had brought with her. “It looks like something I’ve seen before in my studies, but I can’t quite place it.”

Dabbing whipped cream off of her lip and nodding in agreement, the country girl added “Why, it’s almost like--”

From somewhere outside, a thundering explosion shook the floor and rattled the windows. Diners scattered, and the crowd around the stage ducked for cover. A very overweight, balding man -- presumably the mayor -- was quickly ushered off of the stage by his security detail.

“Ah hate it when I’m right about this kind of thing.” The Applejack lookalike dead-panned.

“No you don’t.” Smirked a rainbow-haired young woman sitting beside her.

In a flash, the six of them leapt from the booth and ran for the door to meet the trouble head-on. The almost-Rarity was the last of the incognito super-heroes to leave. Jabbing a well-manicured finger at the three milkshake girls, she commanded “Stay!” Then she was gone.

The second they were out of sight, a lone figure seated further down the counter set her fork down with a loud clang. “Mmm...most people have never tried it, but the chocolate cream pie here is just to die for.” she announced, oddly unphased by the turmoil from the explosion and the panicking crowd outside. With a vague sense of unease, the girls turned to look at her. The figure wore a long coat and a hat, looking a little like a generic reporter or maybe a private investigator from an old crime thriller. The hat concealed most of her features.

She pushed her empty plate away, and one of the three hunks silently took it away. Lifting her head to peek under the brim of the hat, she turned to meet the girls’ gaze. Her eyes were a stunning pink and green, with a dangerous, piercing spark of insanity. The girls gasped in unison, instantly recognizing the villain. Before they could even think about fleeing, burlap sacks came down over their heads. The three undercover henchmen cast aside their roles as diner employees and prepared to make a clean getaway with their captured prizes. The girls thrashed and cried out as they were lifted bodily and carried into a back room. Shouting for help, they struggled to get free, but to no avail. Scootaloo flailed about so much that the henchman carrying her dropped her on her side. With the bag over her head, she couldn’t see to break her fall. She hit the pavement with a sickening, wet cracking sound, followed immediately by the agonized crying. She wasn’t fighting anymore...just crying.

“Shut them up.” ordered the Mane-iac, her voice tinged with disgust. Rough hands held the girls’ heads still as a door opened, letting in the nearby sound of a truck’s idling engine. Rags were pressed against their faces, muffling their protests. The chloroform acted quickly. The truck’s metal door slid upwards, and then the world went dark.

“Where in the hay did you find a comic book like that?” Apple Bloom asked, peeking out the treehouse window, suddenly nervous about somebody finding the three of them with something so lewd.

Sweetie Belle narrowed her eyes and looked side to side. She leaned forward conspiratorially, and in a low voice she explained “I found it in Rarity’s underwear drawer.”

“Hold on a sec.” Scootaloo interjected, an eyebrow raised suspiciously. “What exactly were you doing in your sister’s underwear drawer?”

Sweetie Belle blanched. “Shut up! I was trying to find nail polish remover.”

Apple Bloom snickered. “In your sister’s underwear drawer?”

“You two are impossible.” Sweetie said with a scowl. “So, are we going to take a look or what?”

The three of them sat on the rug in the middle of the Crusaders Clubhouse and opened the first page.

Episode 11: Payback. When the Mane-iac’s plans are foiled, she can be a real Pain in the Rear!

“For 1-4 players” Apple Bloom read aloud from the second page. “What’s that supposed to mean?” The others shrugged, so they continued into the main part of the story.

At first they giggled and made jokes, but before long it got very quiet. The story was difficult to follow, especially towards the end, where it seemed to branch off into multiple possible endings. After turning the final page, the girls just stared into space, unsure of what to think or say.

“Wow.” A very wide-eyed Scootaloo said, finally breaking the silence.

Looking down, Sweetie Belle realized that she had subconsciously been fanning herself. Suddenly mortified, she clasped her hands together and glanced at the other girls, fully expecting them to make fun of her for getting hot over a stupid comic book. Somewhat to her relief, they seemed to have experienced a similar reaction to the action-packed, lurid and extremely graphic story they had just read. Suddenly, she was terrified of her sister noticing that it had gone missing. Scooping it up, she muttered something about how she really needed to find that nail polish remover.

“It isn’t real” Sweetie Belle whispered, her shaky voice echoing slightly against the cement walls and floor.

She had managed to wiggle out of the blindfold that had been placed over her eyes at some point, but the room’s oppressive darkness made that a hollow victory. Sweetie Belle grunted and tried to stand up, but an elaborate set of restraints held her in a crouched posture on all fours. Her wrists, elbows, ankles and knees were secured in some kind of metal contraption. Her knees rested on padded leather, and her ankles were tied together. It wasn’t painful, but it firmly rooted her in place. A rod rested across her waist, limiting her forward movement. Her torso was bent over the rod, and her elbows and wrists were tied together and secured to the ground, similar to her knees and ankles. Her head was blessedly unrestrained, and she was able to move it around freely. Somewhere to her left, a soft groan made her tense up until she realized it was one of her friends.

“Apple Bloom?” she asked cautiously.

Another groan.

“Apple Bloom!” she hissed. Rattling chains replaced the sound of groaning for a moment, and Sweetie felt a flutter of hope that her friends were there, and they might be able to help her figure out how to get out of this mess.

Moments later, that flutter of hope turned into pang of shame.

“This is all your fault, Sweetie Belle!” Apple Bloom finally replied.

Sweetie Belle cringed, then hung her head. “I know” she said defeatedly. At first it had happened so fast, but now she was having a hard time figuring out how long they had been in this room. She darkly wondered if they have been drugged, and if it had been hours or even days since they were abducted. She took slight consolation in the fact that she at least seemed to be still wearing all of her clothes. After a moment, she pushed away those frightening thoughts and looked around the darkened room, vainly trying to see anything at all. “What happened to Scootaloo?”

“I’m here” came a familiar voice, sounding as scared and confused as Sweetie felt.

“Are you ok, Scootaloo?” Apple Bloom asked her friend.

“Ugh..ouch!” Chains rattled briefly as Scootaloo tested her restraints. “I can’t move, and -- oww! -- I think my arm’s broken.”

Sweetie Belle felt panic begin to rise again. Swallowing hard, she stammered “Listen...we got into this, and we can get out of--”

All three of them jumped, startled by the muffled sound of a very heavy door slamming shut a little ways off. The sound of heavy footsteps grew louder and louder as someone -- or something -- drew closer.

It isn’t real. It can’t be real!

“Well hold on, now.” Apple Bloom said, absent-mindedly kicking at a splinter on the floor of their clubhouse. “We should at least see where it came from. You know...in case something happened, and we needed to replace it.” she said, trying to sound casual while avoiding eye contact.

Sweetie Belle wrinkled her nose. “You just want to get more of these things, don’t you?”

Apple Bloom cringed at the accusation, but Scootaloo had no problem saying what all of them were actually thinking. Cutting through the awkwardness and denial, she blurted out “You guys, that was so fucking hot!” She grabbed the magazine from Sweetie Belle and squinted at the back cover. “Power Pornies, copyright 2014….yada yada, aha! It says it’s distributed exclusively to Minxy’s Menageries.”

“Huh.” Apple Bloom said. “Rarity must have gotten it during one of her trips to Manehattan.”

“What’s this?” asked Scootaloo, pointing at a section on the back page. It was an empty box that simply read…

IMPORTANT: BEFORE USE, WRITE YOUR SAFE WORD HERE.

Scootaloo could tell that at one point there had been something written in the space provided, but it was done in pencil and had since been neatly erased.

“What’s a...safe word?”

“No idea.” the others replied in unison.

Just below that it read CONTENT RESTRICTIONS, with a series of checkboxes. The columns were labeled “P1” through “P4” across the top, and the rows had odd titles like “allow pausing/resuming”, “skip intro”, “NPC rescue after 60 min.” or “improved Hum-Drum AI”. Of the twenty or so options, the only one that Rarity had already checked was “no v-card” under the P1 column. None of it made any sense to the girls. Even further down, a lone checkbox labeled “helpful hints” was also checked.

Sweetie Belle grabbed the comic back from Scootaloo and squinted at it herself. “There’s something else, too.” Holding the magazine very close to her face, she read haltingly “You can return to the place you started when the Mane-iac is defeated. Take a closer look to join the adventure in this...book?”

A flash of white light erupted from the comic. Uttering a surprised squeak, Sweetie dropped it. The light expanded until it had nearly filled the room.

“What’s happening?!” Scootaloo wailed as the three of them felt the light tugging them towards its source. Through the twisted portal of blinding light, the distorted image of an old fashioned diner came into focus. In a panic, they tried to scramble for the clubhouse door, but the powerful vortex swallowed them and popped out of existence as quickly as it had emerged, leaving the Crusaders Clubhouse as quiet as if nothing had happened at all.

The heavy footsteps stopped, and keys rattled impatiently. A loud click echoed harshly inside the cement-walled room, and a door opened, much louder and much closer than the last one. Light flooded into the room from a hallway, causing the girls to squint. A large, bizarrely shaped figure was silhouetted in the door frame, and it began to shamble towards them. A soft click turned on a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, Sweetie Belle was able to get a good look at her surroundings.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were similarly restrained, and the three of them had been angled towards the center of the room. They could see each other clearly, being perhaps five or six steps apart. Sweetie tilted her head for a better view of the large figure as it glided towards the middle of the room, between her and her friends. Under the glow of the light bulb, the menacing figure was actually a woman -- of sorts -- and quite possibly the last person that any of them wanted to see. A dozen locks of green hair sprouted from her head, writhing and undulating like monstrous tentacles from a horror movie. She practically levitated across the room, her unnatural appendages carrying her aloft seemingly without effort.

The vile woman-creature let out a low, menacing laugh. Horrified, Sweetie Belle’s pupils narrowed to pinpricks as she met the gaze of her captor. Those pink and green eyes were mesmerizing in the comic book, but heart-stoppingly awful when they could stare right back in person.

“The name of the game is simple.” Her voice was low and calm, but edged with sinister mischief. “You are the closest family of those who ruined my plan.”

As she spoke, she slowly turned to look at each of them. One of her hair-tentacles casually slithered around Scootaloo’s injured arm. “It is not my intention to harm you...” It squeezed, eliciting an agonized yelp. “...much.”

She sneered and relaxed her grip on the girl’s arm, only to slide another pair of tentacles around the restraints on Apple Bloom’s ankles.

“When you leave here, you will take with you a message from me to...them.”

Apple Bloom kicked defiantly, but uselessly against the revolting appendages near her feet. “Ah ain’t gonna do nothin’ to help you!”

The Mane-iac narrowed her eyes and frowned, as if annoyed that she would have to explain what should have been obvious. Leaning towards the feisty farm girl until they were face to face, she put on a nasty smile.

“Silly girl.” The tentacles gingerly slid from Apple Bloom’s ankles, up her legs and then snaked in between her thighs. The girl’s jeans offered some resistance, but the surprisingly strong tentacles forced their way between her legs, along her groin and around her backside. With a swift jerk it hoisted up her pelvis, pulling her hips roughly against the metal bar in front of her hips.

“Words make for such poor messengers.” she cooed. “Scars are so much more elegant.”

Apple Bloom cringed from the painful pressure of the bar against her hips, and from the revulsion of having her pelvic area man-handled. Out of the corner of her eye, the farm girl caught a glimpse of something shiny and green. Tucked between the villain’s breasts was a curious looking green crystal. It hung from her neck on a plain silver chain, and vanished from view as its owner stood up straight again. Something about it seemed familiar, but Apple Bloom was suddenly distracted by a burning sensation on the back of her hand. It went away as abruptly as it had appeared. The Mane-iac relaxed her grip, and her tentacles slithered lewdly against the denim over the girl’s groin as she finally withdrew them altogether.

“And I know what you must be thinking: that you’re a ‘big girl’, and whatever I do to you will only strengthen your resolve and blah, blah blaaah.” As she spoke, she lolled her tongue out and crossed her eyes to further punctuate her disdain for such a ridiculous sentiment.

Free from the Mane-iac’s loathsome grip, but still very much restrained, Apple Bloom glanced quickly over and locked eyes with Sweetie Belle for the briefest of moments.

“And that’s my favorite part.” The villain added with a diabolical laugh. “I won’t be hurting you at all. You will be hurting each other. Consciously. Through your own choices.” With an ominous sense of finality, she chuckled to herself and prepared to begin her work in earnest.

Apple Bloom squeezed her eyes shut, but not in time to stop a single tear from slipping down her cheek. Scootaloo shrank back as best as her restrains and broken arm would allow. Sweetie Belle felt the panic rising again, and began to hyperventilate in terror and despair. She shut her eyes and frantically tried to believe the single thought that she had been repeating over and over since the ordeal began.

This isn’t real.

Shit Gets Real

The Mane-iac placed a kitchen timer on the floor in the middle of the room. “This is how it’s going to work. I’m going to start the timer, and you’re going to decide how helpful you’re going to be.” As she spoke, she began removing her purple jump suit. She rambled on about choices and consequences as her shoulders and breasts wriggled free of the tight outfit. The green crystal dangled just above her sternum.

As she dropped the costume below her waist, the girls were shocked to see that “she” was really a “he” in at least one significant way. After kicking her clothing aside, she bunched up her shoulders, fluttered her eyelids coyly and spoke in a mock cutesy tone. “Please don’t stare; I’m shy!” She dropped the coy act and spoke matter-of-factly. “As you can see, the same accident that gave me my super powers also had some other interesting side effects.”

The girls traded frightened glances, wondering exactly how much weirder this ordeal could possibly get.

“Enough chit chat. You’re first, cowgirl.” The villain said, stepping right in front of Apple Bloom. The Mane-iac began to stroke her shaft idly, causing it to gradually stiffen. The girl flinched and turned her head, trying to stay as far away from it as the restraints permitted.

“It isn’t going to bite you, silly girl.” she chided. “In fact, although you’re welcome to suck it, you don’t have to. I won’t make any of you suck anything today, and I won’t be taking anyone’s virginity either.” At this, Apple Bloom tilted her head to glare up at her captor suspiciously. She was greeted with a diabolical grin that put a sinking feeling in her stomach. The room fell silent, except for the soft ticking of the timer. The Mane-iac slowly slid one hand up and down her shaft, resting the other hand on her hip. All the while, she leered down at the helpless girl before her. As if a casual after-thought, she willed her green tendrils of hair towards Apple Bloom. They slid over the girl’s back, along her legs and even slithered through her bright red hair. A snap and a zipping sound were all the warning Apple Bloom got before her jeans and panties were abruptly yanked halfway down to her knees. All three girls gasped in unison.

“As I said, you don’t HAVE to suck...” She leaned in so close that her lips touched Apple Bloom’s ear, and whispered “but you might regret passing up your chance to lubricate it.” The skin on her earlobe began to throb with a slight burning sensation where the lips had touched it. The Mane-iac stood quickly, dodging the feisty farm girl’s attempt to head butt her. Still stroking her increasingly rigid member, she held it a few inches in front of Apple Bloom’s face. “Last chaaaance” she sang mockingly. A repulsive hair tendril reached out and slithered through the indignant girl’s bright red locks of hair. Still defiant, she refused the offer. As if on cue, the kitchen timer emitted a loud “ding!” and the ticking stopped.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way. It’s all the same to me.”

Humming to herself, she slowly walked behind Apple Bloom, still casually stroking her erection. The eerie humming continued as the villain stood behind the bound girl and examined her exposed back side. Years of farm work had granted her with a pleasant muscle tone, and a few freckles dotted her smooth skin. Being bent over at the waist, her bottom made for an enticing sight. Her tender lower lips were just visible above the partially removed pair of jeans. Cotton panties clung to the skin of her inner thighs and her exposed vagina. The loathsome tentacles continued to caress the girl’s scalp and back in a mockery of sensuality.

The Mane-iac stopped humming and placed her hands on the girl’s butt cheeks. Apple Bloom blushed in embarrassment as her cheeks were gently spread apart. Her captor stared hungrily at the sight of such a beautiful young thing’s defenseless openings. The girl’s pussy lips spread apart slightly, along with her cheeks. Her pucker was slightly darker than the surrounding skin, and its multitude of little folds converged on what would surely be a very tight hole.

With but a thought, a hair tentacle reached past Apple Bloom’s head and tapped the kitchen timer. Its ticking resumed just as the girl felt something warm, wet and very stiff pressing against her sphincter. She reflexively pulled away, but the bar across her lap prevented all such attempts.

“Oh please, no no NO!” she cried out in alarm.

Ignoring her objections, the Mane-iac held her erection in one hand and spread out Apple Bloom’s cheeks with the other. She slowly rubbed the tip of her cock against the girl’s tight little butthole, smearing pre-cum all over it.

“As with everything we’ll be doing today, this will be much easier if you just relax and cooperate.”

Apple Bloom tilted her head and rubbed her ear against her shoulder to quell the sudden burning sensation.

“Hell…” the villain continued, “some girls even do this for fun.”

Having applied what meager lubrication her pre-cum provided, the devious woman-thing lined up as best as she could, and firmly pressed the tip of her cock into her captive’s tightest hole. It was indeed very tight, and it took considerable effort and some wiggling just to force the tip in. At the same time, her hair tentacles looped around the girl’s throat and began to constrict. Apple Bloom cried out in terror and anger more than pain. At this point, the prodding from behind could barely be considered penetration, and the pressure around her throat was more of a threat than actually choking off her airway. Watching her progress intently, the Mane-iac kept pushing. The tip of her cock slowly but surely stretched out the girl’s puckered little hole, admitting more and more of the unwelcome penetration.

Once she had pushed the whole head into the girl’s bottom, she stopped and pulled back slightly. The lack of adequate lubrication caused the skin around the opening to cling to her shaft, stretching outwards delightfully, as if reluctant to let her go. Pleased with her progress so far, the villain pushed her hips forward, resuming the punishingly slow plunge into Apple Bloom’s butt. The girl’s initial shocked and angry cries gave way to a distinctly different tone: the anal violation was painful, and her sobbing protests made very clear the suffering that she felt. As the first of Apple Bloom’s pained cries escaped her throat, the hair tentacle clamped down, stifling the outburst in its infancy. In a panicked gurgle, she shook her head back and forth, eyes wide in pain and fear.

As if taunting the poor girl, the Mane-iac slowly pushed her cock in one inch at a time. After each push, she stopped, leaving the tied up girl to wonder if that was finally the last inch. Each stop only brought heightened anguish for Apple Bloom, and as the seconds ticked by, her oxygen deprived brain began to slip into a terrifying darkness. She lost count of how many cumulative inches were forced into her bottom.

“You liar!” Scootaloo shouted, surprising everyone else. “You said you wouldn’t take anyone’s virginity!”

The Mane-iac stopped thrusting altogether and relaxed her crushing grip on her fuck toy’s throat. She gazed coolly at the injured girl a few steps away from her. Apple Bloom’s mind swam, dazed in her returning consciousness. The searing pain in her bottom quickly reminding her of her dire situation.

“Silly girl. Apple Bloom is still very much a virgin.” She slapped the freckled ass bent over before her, eliciting a yelp and causing the girl to reflexively clench her sphincter. The sensation thrilled her attacker’s cock, making her shudder pleasantly. She leaned forward and spoke softly to Apple Bloom. “They can’t see exactly what kind of fun we’re having. Be a dear and explain to them what kind of sex you’re currently enjoying.”

Apple Bloom breathed hard and shook away her tears as best as she could, but she didn’t reply. Growing impatient, the Mane-iac flexed her penis, causing it to swell slightly and further stretch out the girl’s abused butthole. Taking the hint, the girl mumbled “umm...it’s in my butt.”

“What was that, dear? I don’t think they heard you.”

It was true; the other two girls were still looking at her with concern and confusion. Prodding her further, the Mane-iac suddenly pulled most of the way out quickly thrust deep into the girl’s rectum. Agonizing pain flooded her nervous system and she screamed. “Anal! She’s...she’s doing me in the...it’s...anal!” Her explanation faded into sobs.

The other two girls cringed and looked at her with fear and pity. The timer went off again, sending out a single “ding!” followed by silence. The Mane-iac pulled her cock out of Apple Bloom’s burning, aching rectum, making her grunt in pain and relief. Admiring her handiwork, the vile woman-thing smiled down and enjoyed the sight of the girl’s ruined asshole. The skin around the opening was bruised from the initial penetration, and the sphincter itself was swollen and puffy. Its normally-concealed soft tissues were bright red and irritated from the unpleasant friction. Apple Bloom was actually trembling, possibly in shock.

Humming to herself, the Mane-iac slowly walked around Apple Bloom, her erection swaying gently with each step. She stopped in front of the girl and faced her. “So. I bet you’re wishing you had sucked on it earlier, hmm?”

Apple Bloom’s only reply was ragged breathing punctuated by an occasional sob.

“Live and learn. In fact, you can suck it now if you want.”

The humiliated girl glanced up at the penis offered to her and quickly turned away. The engorged organ was considerably larger than the last time she had seen it. Worst of all, it was lightly streaked with blood and a few little brown flecks here and there. A sudden wave of nausea came and went, and a surge of indignation took its place.

“Go fuck yourself.” the girl growled up at her captor.

“Why would I do that? It’s your friends’ turn, after all.”

With that, she reset the timer and turned to Scootaloo. Cowering and doing what little she could to favor her broken arm, the injured girl couldn’t tear her eyes away from the frightening cock that was making its way over to her.

“You don’t HAVE to suck it, little girl.” The Mane-iac leaned in with a smirk. “But you should at least consider it.”

Scootaloo glanced over at Apple Bloom, who refused to meet her gaze. Reeling in panic, she couldn’t decide if putting that -- thing -- in her mouth would be worth sparing herself the worst of the pain that her friend had just endured.

“Clock’s ticking.” The villain warned.

Desperate and terrified, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth. An instant later, the massive, disgustingly unclean shaft was thrust between her lips. A foul smell stung her nostrils and unpleasant residues rubbed off onto her tongue. She instantly regretted opening her mouth. The coppery taste of blood mixed with the bitter, earthy taste of shit was just too awful. Her stomach churned, and her esophagus convulsed in an attempt to vomit. As her throat opened, the foul invader only pushed further into her throat, stifling the reflex in its tracks. Scootaloo half-coughed and held her breath, which made the experience slightly less miserable. With her jaw hanging in a limp daze, the eager cock pumped in and out of her throat unimpeded.

“You’re such a terrible friend, Apple Bloom.” The Mane-iac taunted. “If you weren’t such a stuck up bitch, you would have at least had the decency to lick this thing clean before sending it off to torment your friends.”

Shame and hatred stabbed Apple Bloom to her core, but she could only stare at the floor in front of her bound hands. A sickening, half-wretching sound accompanied every thrust into Scootaloo’s windpipe. She started to get light-headed from holding her breath.

“You’d rather make your friends lick your own shit off of my cock? Shameful, really.” The villain gave a nasty smile and thrust her cock deep into her latest victim’s throat just as the timer went off. Scootaloo’s gag reflex rebounded with a vengeance, and the Mane-iac yanked her cock free just as the girl began to vomit. Her stomach heaved uncontrollably, wrenching her abs inward while her back muscles spasmed and clenched painfully. The contents of her stomach churned upwards, burning its way through her throat.

Remnants of apple sauce and Pringles -- a warm, soggy yellow-green soup -- surged over her tongue and teeth, and past her chapped lips. She tried to turn her head, but too late. Gushing fountains of foul smelling liquid splattered on the floor beneath her, and some of it landed on her bound hands. She vomited again, mostly clear yellow bile this time. It spurted over her hands -- now reflexively clenched into fists -- and joined the first puddle, slowly cooling and congealing on the cement floor near her leather and metal constraints. The lingering taste of her friend’s shit still clung to the back of her throat, mixed with the burning bitterness of stomach acid. She wretched a third time, but nothing came up.

She coughed and spit several times, ropes of various fluids dripping from her cracked lips, down to the floor. Her forearm continued to ache, the swelling clearly visible around the break. Her purple-dyed hair, normally brushed forward in a cute tomboy-ish sweep, lay limp and sweaty, matted across her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she mewed pitifully, a mix of fear and pain. She barely registered her rapist’s hair tentacles roughly pulling her pants down to her knees.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t puke on my cock, little girl.” The Mane-iac slid a few fingers between the side of Scootaloo’s panties and the skin near her labia. “I somehow doubt...that using bile as an anal sex lubricant would be very pleasant for either one of us.” With a violent tug, she ripped the undergarments at their narrowest point, exposing the terrified girl’s pussy and ass crack.

Resetting the timer with a hair tendril, the villain unceremoniously groped Scootaloo’s butt cheeks and spread them apart. The girl was still delirious from the ordeal so far, but in a moment of clarity she had the presence of mind to focus on relaxing her muscles as best she could. The clenching and relaxing of her asshole didn’t go unnoticed by her captor. Cooing praises for the girl, she pushed the tip of her erection against the soft skin of the tight pucker in front of her.

Scootaloo hadn’t done a very good job cleaning or lubricating the shaft, but it was certainly better than nothing. The initial thrust was still quite painful, but the villain’s cock stretched out and invaded the girl’s asshole with far less resistance than its previous victim. Scootaloo clenched her eyes shut and ground her teeth together, trying to focus on staying relaxed despite the stretching, burning pain in her rectum. The Mane-iac soon fell into a rhythm of steady thrusting, her cock plunging deeper and deeper until she had buried every inch into the girl’s tender bottom. Scootaloo grunted and winced as the tip of the invading member jammed deep into her colon, accompanied by the surprising sensation of a scrotum slapping against her otherwise ignored vagina.

As the villain’s manhood ravaged the girl’s back door, a pair of hair tentacles snaked around her torso and darted under her shirt. Her small, perky tits swayed slightly with each thrust of the hips behind her. Each of her breasts would barely fit in the palm of one’s hand. Still, they complimented her athletic frame, and her light brown nipples stood out, the last defiance of a humiliated, injured and now sodomized sex slave. She was so dazed by her rough treatment that she didn’t even flinch when the tentacles roughly constricted around each breast. Like pythons attacking helpless little bunnies, the tendrils wrapped around her tits and squeezed, distending her soft tissues and engorging the nipples. Scootaloo whimpered pitifully, a stream of saliva and clumps of less savory things still hanging from her chin, down to the leather buckle that held her hands firmly in place beneath her.

Sweetie Belle swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes away from the horrific treatment her friend was suffering right in front of her. She desperately mulled over possible ways to escape the fate that surely awaited her. Maybe she could talk her way out of it? Didn’t seem very likely. Spike had rambled on and on about his own adventures inside an enchanted comic book...if only she had been paying more attention at the time. She racked her brain, trying to remember how it was that the others had managed to escape. Defeating the villain? No doubt it would end the enchantment, but the question of HOW still remained. Maybe the only option here was to beat the Mane-iac at her own game. Again though, that seemed highly unlikely, given the circumstances.

Then it hit her: maybe they just needed to follow the same storyline that was depicted in the comic book when they were reading it in the Crusaders Clubhouse. She vividly remembered the final pages of the story, where the hero distracted the villain by helping it to achieve full release, then tricked it into compromising its own power source. During that part, the full-page panels -- replete with meticulously illustrated cutaway views -- were astonishingly messy, she recalled with a grimace. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the timer going off.

Scootaloo yelped softly as the massive erection was removed from her ass. Her pucker made a soft, wet popping noise -- like a kiss -- as the head of the Mane-iac’s cock was pulled free after several minutes of vigorous thrusting. Still holding her cheeks apart, the villain was pleased by what she saw: glistening with saliva, the opening gaped wide as if expecting further violations. She ran a finger gently along the girl’s gaping asshole, making her victim shudder. After a few seconds, the hole gradually closed, returning to its natural state of a softly puckered ring. Slowly, painfully, the tentacles released their grip on her tender little breasts. Already, dark bruises began to form where the vile things have ravaged and crushed the sensitive tissue.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you almost enjoyed that.”

Scootaloo didn’t answer; she just hoped it would all be over soon.

A moment later, the odious thing was again offered to her for oral ministrations. She glanced over at Sweetie Belle, whose eyes were filled with tears. With a sigh, Scootaloo opened her mouth and let the pungent shaft slide between her lips, across her tongue and towards the back of her throat. As before, it tasted terrible, but not quite AS terrible. It smelled the same as before, but the flavor was more mild. She couldn’t tell if that was simply because she had gotten used to it, or if the saliva she applied to it earlier had helped it slide in and out without picking up quite as much of the nasty stuff. As she sucked, the tentacles -- the ones that had so mercilessly tormented her breasts -- began to softly caress her scalp, pushing her purple hair up out of her face, and gently stroking her cheeks. She glanced up ever so briefly, and saw the Mane-iac smiling, her eyes closed, savoring the humiliation and savagery of inflicting ass to mouth on a helpless little girl. After about a minute -- and several swallows -- Scootaloo noticed that the taste was almost entirely neutral. A slightly musky smell was the only remaining indication that she was sucking on a cock that had just spent several minutes balls deep in her shit pipe.

As before, a sudden thrust pushed the head of the cock deep into her throat. She sputtered, and it withdrew. She gagged and coughed several times, but didn’t throw up this time. She got a good view of the erect penis that had tormented her, and it was now surprisingly clean. She glared over at Sweetie Belle and silently berated her for getting better treatment than she deserved. After all, it was still her fault that they were here in the first place. A hand on her chin caught her by surprise, and she looked up into those mesmerizing pink and green eyes. With a suspiciously gentle level of thoughtfulness, the Mane-iac wiped the drying tears from Scootaloo’s cheeks and eyes.

“See? Giving me what I want doesn’t have to be a completely terrible experience.”

It’s just fantasy. It isn’t real.

No Crusader Left Behind

Sweetie Belle swallowed hard again, and silently decided “I’ve got this.”

And not a second too soon, either. The Mane-iac turned to face her, reset the timer and presented the massive erection for her to suck as little or as much as she pleased.

Almost trembling from the knowledge of what she had to do, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “I...I thought it would never be my turn.” She said in her best effort to mimic the sultry voice that Rarity deployed to get her way sometimes.

The Mane-iac raised an eyebrow at the cheesy attempt at bravado, but shrugged and waited to see if the girl was more than just talk. She didn’t wait long, as Sweetie Belle leaned forward to gently place a kiss on the underside of the shaft. The lingering scent of her friends rectums was a sudden and unwelcome hurdle to her act, and she had to fight the urge to turn away. Out of desperation, she wrapped her lips around the tip. To her surprise, the taste wasn’t as bad as the smell. She began bobbing her head up and down slowly, while fluttering her eyes at her captor. A salty drop of precum rubbed off onto her tongue, and she closed her eyes and moaned softly.

Suddenly remembering the real purpose of this blowjob, she took as much of the cock into her mouth as she could. With conscious effort, she pushed the massive member into her throat, almost all the way down to her tonsils. Her gag reflex was screaming at her, and she couldn’t breathe, but she moaned and pushed it further. Her eyes watered and her lungs burned, but she kept sucking it down until she felt the Mane-iac’s scrotum resting against her chin. The shaft near its base tasted and smelled much stronger than the rest of it. Apparently Scootaloo had taken it an inch or two further up her ass than down her throat, and she hadn’t been able to deep-throat it far enough to clean its base.

She imagined a closeup view of it sliding into Scootaloo’s bottom. The vivid image, combined with the taste and scent caused a rather sudden flash of warmth between her thighs. Careful not to scrape the shaft with her teeth, she slowly pulled back, moaning. Turning her head to suck on the side of the shaft, she could see Apple Bloom staring intently at her performance. In the moment that their eyes met, Apple Bloom began to frantically jerk her head upwards, directing her friend’s attention. Looking up, Sweetie saw what she was pointing to: the green crystal. Suddenly wary of being too obvious with her realization, she shifted her focus to the breasts that the crystal rested between. The villain’s puffy nipples stood erect in the cool air of the torture chamber, and she continued to enjoy the oral gratification.

Emboldened, Sweetie Belle began to vigorously bob her head up and down on the shaft, generously coating it in saliva. More precum dripped out, and she made a show of licking it off the tip, making eye contact with her captor while doing so. The Mane-iac licked her lips and breathed heavily, clearly enjoying the enthusiasm that her latest victim was bringing to the game. As a mild reward -- or perhaps a cruel false hope -- a pair of tentacles slipped under the girl’s blouse and gently snaked around her rubbery little nipples.

She shuddered at the unexpected stimulation and licked her lips. Giving a dramatic flip of her pink and purple hair, Sweetie Belle pouted up at her captor and whispered “You gonna fuck me in the ass, or do you expect me to beg for it?” She fluttered her eyes again, and breathed “...because I will.”

Ding!

With a devilish grin, the Mane-iac hummed to herself and walked around the subdued girl. Sweetie Belle was the only one of the three who had been wearing a skirt. The villain flipped it up, letting the light fabric crumple onto the small of the girl’s back. With exaggerated flair, she peeled her panties away. Gripping the elastic along the top with two fingers, she pulled it down to reveal soft, shapely buttocks. Sliding the fabric further down, she exposed a glistening vagina. The girl’s naked flesh was smooth as milk, and gleaming. It was hard to tell if that gleam was from a cold sweat or droplets of arousal. Hopefully both...the Mane-iac smiled that nasty grin all over again.

Sweetie Belle opened her mouth to offer further erotic word fodder, but she was completely caught off guard by the sensation of a huge, saliva-coated cock thrusting every inch into her pussy. She gasped and squeeked in alarm.

“Hey! But that’s not…!”

A hair tentacle -- rigid and surprisingly smooth in texture -- plunged into her mouth, silencing her abruptly.

“Silly girl.” The Mane-iac interrupted. “You and I both know you’re no virgin. Can’t take what isn’t there.”

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom exchanged shocked glances.

Sweetie Belle blushed, partially from embarrassment and partially because the sudden attention to her tender bits was far from what she expected. A sharp aching sensation -- like a pulled muscle -- signaled the stretched and eventual rupturing of her hymen. It dawned on her that the Mane-iac was operating off of a specific narrative: one apparently provided by Rarity’s use of the inscrutable checkboxes in the back of the magazine. In that moment, she darkly realized that she was Player 1, and all bets were off.

The tentacle in her mouth didn’t quite have the girth as her captor’s erection, and its unexpected invasion was more of a nuisance than a choking hazard. Still, she reminded herself to play it cool: if they expected to get out of this mess, the show must go on. She genuinely didn’t expect anything about this to actually be pleasurable, but in that moment of role immersion she forgot all about the peril of the situation. Tossing aside all semblance of caution and decency, she was content to just savor the feeling of being ravaged. She was no longer acting; if vanquishing her foe meant milking that cock for the rest of the day, she so be it. After just a dozen thrusts, she felt the tingling onset of an approaching climax.

Just before she could finish, the shafts in her pussy and mouth were pulled away, rudely denying her the release she had been anticipating. She was about to complain, but before she knew what was happening, the throbbing member appeared right in front of her and thrust into her mouth. She had never tasted herself -- or any other girl’s vagina -- before, and the sharp, tangy taste of her pussy juice was exhilarating. She rubbed her thighs together, desperately seeking release. With the thick, veiny erection in her mouth, and her own sticky juices dribling down her chin, she furiously ground her thighs together as much as the leg restraints allowed. In a moment of frustration, she thought she might not be able to get there. A split second before she was about to give up, the hair tentacles under her shirt gave an extra hard tweak to her nipples, while a third one slapped her bottom with a CRACK that reverberated loudly in the dreary room.

She reached the edge. Her bottom burned as the point of impact quickly turned red and swollen from the blow. The tentacle -- so harsh a moment earlier -- ever so gently brushed against her clit. The dam broke, and her vagina pulsated waves of pleasure through every inch of her body. The waves of ecstasy flowed down her trembling thighs, to her feet, causing her toes to rapidly clench in restless spasms. The waves burned upwards, along her stomach, through her furiously pounding heart, up her throat and out to the tip of her tongue as it cradled the rock hard organ that rested there. She cried out, lips still firmly locked around her captor’s member. She shut her eyes and rode out wave after wave of blinding, electric bliss. Rivulets of natural lubricant slid down her thighs and soaked her panties as her vaginal canal clenched and released over and over until her mind and body were thoroughly exhausted.

The hard shaft slipped out of her mouth and she lowered her head, breathing in heavy, ragged gasps. Her neck was a little sore from holding her head up for so long, so she rested it on her forearms while she caught her breath.

“That...that was…” She was cut off rudely by the sensation of something big and hard pushing directly against her little rosebud.

“Oh shit!” was all she managed, before words failed her. In one smooth motion, the eager erection pushed against the girl’s tight sphincter, stretched out rings of muscles, eased past, plowed through her warm, tender rectum and came to rest in the deep, messy recesses of Sweetie Belle’s colon.

Her mouth hung open in a soundless scream. Her watering eyes shot wide open, then tightly clenched shut, pushing a single tear down her cheek. It slid past her open lips, to the bottom of her chin, leaving a shimmering trail, until it dripped down and landed on her hands as she clasped them together in a flight of panic. Her feet kicked and flailed against the restraints while her body and mind tried desperately to process the mind-numbing agony and ecstasy of getting anally raped.

“Ffffffuck.” She finally screamed as the cock impaling her intestines began to piston in and out. Resting her head on her forearms, she arched her back to get a more manageable angle for the unbelievably deep penetration. More tears quickly followed, leaving a spattered collection of wetness on her hands and the floor beneath her. Still clasped together, her hands jiggled slightly with each thrust into her bottom. The fingernails on each hand dug into the soft skin of the back of the other. Restrained as she was, her subdued posture resembled a groveling acolyte offering a fervent prayer to the gods of pleasure and pain.

The Mane-iac hadn’t even bothered with the timer; it had served its purpose, and wouldn’t be necessary with this girl. She slapped her victim’s rump, leaving a red hand-shaped welt on her marshmallow soft skin. The girl squeaked adorably from the abuse, so the her captor slapped her again. And again. All the while, her cock thrust faster and faster, sliding in and out of the helpless girl’s slicked asshole. The ridges of flesh -- normally folded up into a starfish pattern -- were taut and bright pink as her sphincter stretched to its absolute limit, to encompass the penetrating member. The skin around the opening was stretched so tight along the circumference of the invader that it was positively glistening.

Sweetie felt that familiar pressure, the elusive tingle and ache of a building orgasm. Her nerves were assaulted by the sharp sting of her opening stretched beyond its limit, and the dull ache of her insides being ruthlessly bludgeoned. But rather than impede her arousal, the pain seemed to accelerate its onset. Again, when it was seconds away from being within her reach, the source of her pleasure was ripped away from her. Spreading her cheeks wide, the villain slid her erection out of the frustrated girl, admiring the perfectly round, gaping asshole. She let go of the girl’s cheeks, and her hole quickly closed. She spread the cheeks again, and the submissive girl’s sphincter dutifully inched open again.

“Goooood girl” the Mane-iac cooed, genuinely impressed with the young girl’s whorish aptitude for such a professional level of kink.

Sweetie felt a hand gripping her hair, pulling her head up from its resting position. The maddening instrument of her pleasure was right in front of her, when it should have been behind her. She decided she really didn’t care anymore. Without further prompting, she opened her mouth. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she savored an exotic cocktail of flavors: the salty pre-cum, the tangy remnants of her cunt juice, a hint of blood from her stolen virginity, and the newest sensation: the gritty texture and bitter taste of her own excrement. She moaned softly, working her tongue along the muscular underside of the shaft. She obediently collected every drop and morsel of each flavor, and swallowed it all down. The penis was removed from her lips, leaving behind a rope of saliva between them. A little streak of something was smeared along the corner of her mouth, and in a lust-fueled daze, she flicked her tongue out to collect it. With a final swallow, she again rested her head on her hands.

Hands roughly spread her cheeks once more, and her well-conditioned rosebud relaxed into a gaping invitation for further pleasure. She moaned as the cock plunged into her rectum and resumed its vigorous fucking. Her tormentor pulled her hair, forcing her head up and her back to arch further.

“What’ll it be, little girl?”

Not comprehending, Sweetie’s eyes half-opened, and stared at a spot on the far wall.

“I’m about to come...do you want it up your ass or down your throat?”

Her mind idly drifted back to the comic book’s macabre illustration of a see-through view at the moment of ejaculation. Rivers of semen gushing past the sex-crazed victim’s cervix. Into her womb. Up her bowels. Down her throat. Positively drunk from sensory overload, Sweetie took a few moments to answer.

“Both. I...I want it all.”

The Mane-iac laughed softly, let go of the girl’s hair, and leaned back to continue the merciless assault on her insides. Every thrust pulled almost entirely out, then jammed all the way back into Sweetie’s colon. Her pussy was leaking a steady flow of sticky fluid, soaking all the way through her half-removed panties, and forming a small puddle between her knees. Her stretched out rosebud was developing a frothy coating: the result of saliva subjected to constant friction as both of them approached an orgasm.

“Tell me what you need, my little anal cunt.”

Sweetie moaned pitifully. “Please d-don’t stop.”

Her captor slapped her bottom sharply, eliciting a delirious yelp.

“Be specific!”

Sweetie’s eyes began to water again, blurring her vision. Still, she could make out the figures of her two friends staring in slack-jawed amazement. She shut her eyes tight, unable to face them during the moments to come.

“Fuck my ass!” she screamed. “Pump my--”

Smack!

“Oh god, pump...” she faltered and gasped before gritting her teeth and forcing herself to continue denigrating herself for her captor’s pleasure. “Pump my shit hole full of cum!”

The dirty talk definitely seemed to be working. The Mane-iac’s breathing became more ragged, and she started to moan with each exhalation. Sweetie looked over her shoulder longingly and gave her captor the best version of Rarity’s sultry, begging pout.

“Please…” she said, brimming with fresh tears as she locked eyes with her captor. “At first I was afraid of the pain.” She flinched as the the cock plunged particularly deep into her battered, aching insides. Those fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

“But…” she finished in a whisper “It hurts so fucking good when you do it in my ass.” She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes, anticipating the climax. The pressure had returned in full force, and she had to concentrate in order to not reach her own orgasm before her partner. Finally, the villain’s thrusting slowed and her moans became more labored. She jammed her cock up to the hilt as it started to twitch. Deep in her bowels, Sweetie could feel the amazing sensation of a strong throb, followed immediately by a burst of cum erupting into her colon. The first gush sent her right over the edge. Her pussy and sphincter clenched in time with the squirting erection, as if coaxing each and every spurt out of the invading organ, to welcome it into her warm, hungry depths. Like a grotesque slow dance, her clenching orifice elicited another throb and spurt, which in turn brought about another clenching spasm. Holding their breaths, the two went round and round a dozen times, eventually slowing.

As the pulsating sensation faded, the two took a minute to catch their breath. The Mane-iac gingerly pulled her cock out of Sweetie’s distended rectum. It was still quite stiff, though not as ferociously rigid as before. With a soft, wet “plot”, her shaft pulled free of the punished sphincter, which hung open. Looking down, the villain soaked in the impressive view: her enormous ejaculation had pooled in the girl’s wide-open rectum, filling her pink insides nearly to the brim with a whole lot of white. With the slave’s shoulders down and her hips up, gravity alone kept the load from spilling out. Very slowly, the hole began to wink shut. After nearly a full minute, her thoroughly distended butthole had shrunk almost all the way back to its original position. Aside from a slightly bruised appearance and a few stray drops of saliva and semen, there was no sign of the abuses it had just endured.

Despite her commendable performance so far, a tiny bit of creamy white spunk leaked out as Sweetie relaxed her back and lifted her head. She winced a little bit. The rough anal session had stretched, rubbed and slightly torn sensitive tissue in a number of places, and the viscous fluid stung as it leaked out.

Biting her lip, she tried to clench her sphincter to prevent anything even more embarrassing. The Mane-iac once again stood in front of her captive, offering the erection one more time. With a wry smile, Sweetie took it into her mouth. As before, the taste was an exquisite bouquet of flavors. This time the addition of semen gave it a more bitter, masculine taste. The villain smiled triumphantly down at her completely subjugated fuck puppet, who could only moan slowly and struggle to keep her butt clenched. All that aggressive pounding had pushed a lot of air up into her bowels, and her insides were demanding that this was the opportune time to get rid of it.

With a wet smack, she pulled her lips off of the tip of the softening penis. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye, and she glanced over at Apple Bloom, who was once again gesturing for her to do...something. Then she got an idea. With an exaggerated slurping action, she sucked out the last few drops of semen and made a show of swishing it around in her mouth.

“So…” she said casually, “if I swallow your stuff, I bet I would get some of your powers.”

The Mane-iac’s triumphant smile turned into a sneer, then a scowl.

“Take...take MY power?” She was growing furious at the idea of a slave even thinking such a thing. “You wouldn’t even know what to do with it. Now give it back, you little shit!”

Clutching the girl’s jaw with one hand and roughly pulling her hair with the other, she wrenched Sweetie’s head up, while crouching down to meet her face to face. “Spit it out, bitch!”

Sweetie put on her most innocent look and asked “You mean this?” She opened her mouth just enough for the villain to see her tongue, covered in the last remnants of ejaculate.

“I’ll choke it out of you, then leave you here to rot.”

The girl narrowed her eyes. “Come and get it.” She stuck her tongue out.

Infuriated, the Mane-iac coiled her tentacles tightly around the girl’s throat. A crushing force far exceeding her previous efforts made Sweetie flail and almost spit out her precious payload. Gripping her jaw with both hands, the vile woman violently forced her own tongue into the girl’s mouth, hungrily swishing over her teeth, lapping up any traces of cum. The tentacles coiled so tightly around her throat that they restricted blood flow. Something bumped against her hands as her vision began to fade.

“Sweetie Belle!” Apple Bloom screamed to her friend. “Get the crystal!”

Fumbling against the fog of unconsciousness, Sweetie unclenched her fists. Her wrists were still tightly restrained, but while the Mane-iac was kneeling down to tonsil-fuck her with her tongue, the necklace had dangled right over Sweetie’s hands. She turned her hand over and groped about blindly with her fingers. Just before the lights went out, she grasped something cold and hard, about the size of a finger. With her last remaining strength, she bit down on the invading tongue as hard as she could.

Blinding pain flooded her skull and she saw stars. The villain had brutally smacked the side of her head, freeing herself from the girl’s bite and knocking over Sweetie and her entire restraint contraption in the process. The world tilted as she toppled onto her side, still fully bound, but now bleeding from a gash by her eyebrow.

Roaring in disbelief and fury, the Mane-iac stumbled along the far wall. As she began to recover, her miasma of tentacles erupted into a swarm of activity, propelling her towards the girl to seek final revenge.

“Crush it! Break it now!” Scootaloo yelled to her friend.

As if in slow motion, Sweetie tore her eyes from the charging monster in front of her, down to her own tied-up hands. A strand of silver was visible from between two of her fingers, and she could feel something hard and heavy in her clenched fist. Glancing up, the monster was almost on top of her. If those eyes were unsettling at the best of times, they radiated pure death as she began to pounce on the girl. With mere moments remaining, Sweetie lifted her hand, then brought it down, palm-first as hard as she could onto the cement floor.

A sharp cracking sound reached her ears, and the world froze. The Mane-iac, her face contorted in rage, was barely an arm’s length from her own. Dozens of tentacles were angled towards the girl, each morphed into a claw with cruelly barbed tips. But it was completely frozen, like somebody had pressed pause on the universe. Behind the villain, the other two girls were likewise frozen, their eyes wide, their mouths open in either terrified gasps or unheard fragments of advice.

As Sweetie was taking in this scene, she became aware of a change in light. The room became brighter and brighter, and she realized that the light was coming from her hand. Curious, she lifted her hand off of the floor, and found fragments of green scattered about. From this impact point, the light grew to fill the room. She closed her eyes and let the light carry her away.

Never Speak of This Again

Sweetie groaned and rolled over. The uneven boards of the clubhouse floor scraped and poked her shoulder.

“I need to go to the bathroom” she mumbled, slowly getting to her feet and struggling to keep her backside clenched.

“I need to go throw up” Apple Bloom added, wiping her lips and tongue on the sleeve of her t-shirt.

“I need to go to the doctor” Scootaloo whimpered, clutching her broken arm.

Silently, in unison, the three put their disheveled clothing back to sorts. Apple Bloom winced as she pulled her jeans up over a very sore bottom. Scootaloo’s torn panties and broken arm made it especially uncomfortable for her to cover herself. Sweetie gingerly pulled her panties up and straightened out her skirt, trying to ignore the gurgling sound of her (still very full) plumbing.

Eventually, all eyes turned to the magazine, still laying inconspicuously on the floor in the middle of the room. Reluctantly, Sweetie walked over to it and picked it up. She sighed heavily and turned to her friends.

“Look...I’m so SO sorry, girls. It was my idea, and it’s totally my fault--”

“What’s all yer fault, Sugarcube?”

Startled by the unexpected voice, the three turned to see Applejack standing in the doorway to the clubhouse. She took one look at their expressions and overall condition, and gasped in alarm.

“What in the tarnation have you girls been up to this time?” she hollered, running up to Sweetie Belle to help stop the bleeding on her temple. Caught flat-footed, Sweetie didn’t have time to do anything about the magazine. For better or worse, AJ was entirely focused on the wound, so she didn’t notice when Sweetie slowly slid her hand -- and the smoking gun behind their mischief -- behind her back.

“I’m uh..I’m fine, really.” Sweetie lied. “It’s not bleeding anymore. But...I think Scootaloo’s arm is broken.”

“From the falling timber.” Apple Bloom added.

“While fixing the...roof?” Scootaloo embellished further.

Applejack took a step back and gave the three of them a perplexed look.

“Cutie Mark Crusaders” Apple Bloom offered weakly.

“Roof...uh, fixers.” Continued Sweetie.

“Yay.” Finished Scootaloo, clutching her broken arm and clearly lacking any enthusiasm about their hastily assembled lie.

Utterly baffled, AJ looked back and forth between them, then shook her head. “Ah really don’t know why ah’m surprised anymore. Scootaloo, let’s get you to Nurse Redheart. Apple Bloom...”

Apple Bloom gulped nervously.

“You just keep quiet and follow me, little lady.” Her big sister said with a withering glare.

Fidgeting nervously, Sweetie offered “Umm...I’ll go home and get cleaned up, and tell Rarity what happened.”

Nodding, AJ led her sister and the injured girl out of the club house, leaving Sweetie alone with the magazine. As soon as the others were out of earshot, Sweetie exhaled in relief. The relief didn’t last long, though. An urgent gurgling sound reminded her that she wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“That’s it. The woods!” she thought. Stuffing the magazine under the rug, she rushed out the door, down the ramp and into the treeline. Looking around carefully, she made sure no one else was nearby. Satisfied that she was alone, she peeled her panties all the way off, lifted her skirt and leaned against a big oak tree for support. Still glancing around anxiously, she braced herself, hovering over a bowl-shaped tangle of roots.

She closed her eyes and relaxed her bottom. At first nothing happened. She held her breath and gave it a little push. Then all at once -- and with an alarmingly loud clarity -- the floodgates were opened. She steadied herself against the tree with one hand. She used the other hand to simultaneously hold her skirt up out of the way and clench her soiled panties in a tight fist. She would need them later, since she had nothing else to wipe with. A torrent of hot, sticky white fluid gushed out of her rectum, splattering into a messy puddle by the tree. As it flowed out of her aching butthole, it burned and stung, making her flinch in pain. Looking around frantically, she was almost positive that somebody would hear, and come investigate. Meanwhile, a stream of urine began to spray from her slit, taking further pressure off of her tortured mid section.

Horrified at the thought of being found in such an undignified position, she panted, took another deep breath, held it, and pushed again. An even bigger stream of fluids roiled through her pipes, out her opening and down to join the first puddle. She kept pushing, and it kept flowing. Finally, the stream of stinging liquid abated, and her bowels sputtered out the bubbles of air that had been pushed up her pipes during the various gapings. This couldn’t possibly be normal, she thought dismally. She silently wondered exactly how much fluid the average climax yielded.

“Glad I didn’t ask that jerk to cum in my mouth.” She muttered. With a final gurgling spurt, her bowels were finally free of that horrible woman’s affections. Shifting slightly, she reached down with her wadded up pair of panties and dabbed at her vagina. A few droplets of urine and the faintest streak of red from her torn hymen...not so bad.

“Front to back” she thought with a wry smile. “Especially today.” With a slow awkward swipe, she used the panties to wipe away the streaks of cum and shit from her ass crack and tender, puckered asshole. It stung a little bit, having just been ravaged so thoroughly, but it wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Folding the panties over, she wiped again and tossed the hopelessly ruined undergarments onto the brown and white puddle between her feet.

She sighed and scooped some dirt and leaves over the icky mess she had left in the cluster of roots. Standing up, she smoothed out her skirt and sat down, leaning against the opposite side of the tree. She let her mind wander, recounting the depravity she had just survived at the hands of a made-up super-villain. It all seemed so ridiculous in hindsight, but she couldn't help wondering.

“That was so messed up.” She thought, shaking her head in dismay. “I was...violated...in the worst ways imaginable. But still, I came so fucking hard. Twice! That was absolutely disgusting, but...why did I enjoy it so much?”

She hugged her knees and sobbed into her skirt for half an hour.

Standing some what shakily, she walked gingerly back to the clubhouse to retrieve the magazine. Tucking it into a folder with some schoolwork, she made her way to the Carousel Boutique.

Something was wrong.

It had been 6 days since the incident. Scootaloo had been patched up well enough, and Apple Bloom was finally starting to walk without a tender limp. They had agreed to hold off on any and all crusading for the rest of the month. But none of that was what bothered Sweetie Belle. It has been almost a week, and she had become increasingly concerned with her inability to...satisfy herself...ever since then. At first she was in denial that anything was wrong, but that was no solution. Deciding that enough was enough, she pulled out all the stops. Her big sister was at the spa, which should give her a little over an hour to draw a bath.

Within minutes she was up to her chin in bubble bath. A pilfered candle -- swiped from a candelabra in the parlor, and a little thicker than her thumb -- was halfway up her backside. Three fingers nestled snugly in her crotch, gyrating aggressively.

Aaaand nothing. As much as her mind wanted it, her body simply wasn't impressed. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, she was quite certain that people spent lifetimes in therapy over this kind of thing.

She closed her eyes and redoubled her efforts. She didn’t care how long it took; she was determined to get off and regain control of her own sensuality.

“Let me guess” her sister’s voice shocked her back to reality. Sweetie froze. Hoping desperately it was just her imagination, she peeked one eye open and looked at the bathroom doorway.

Rarity frowned at her, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. She was wearing a bathrobe and a...scarf? She had been wearing that scarf everywhere lately.

Anyways, all that mattered was that Sweetie was busted.

Busted as fuck. She turned bright crimson and sank further into the bubbles.

“You went into my dresser, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“Underwear drawer?”

She nodded again.

“You read Episode 11, didn’t you?”

Damn.

“Your friends, too?”

It wasn’t fair that anyone could be so good at this, let alone a big sister.

Rarity sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, where her red framed glasses sometimes rested.

“And now you can’t climax unless you’re tied up and raped in a dungeon?”

Silently wishing to be the victim of a sudden onset, fatal brain aneurysm, Sweetie sank even further into the bubbles. A precariously positioned toaster might be nice right about now. Or maybe a perfectly placed, baseball-sized meteorite could do the trick. Would it be unreasonably selfish to wish for a plane to crash on top of her house? She didn’t care. She would settle for literally anything to end her humiliation.

Her big sister sighed again and a long moment passed in silence. After a bit of deliberation, she lowered the scarf just enough for Sweetie to see that it had been concealing ugly bruises. The kind a girl might get from being choked. By a super villain. With hair tentacles.

In a moment, Sweetie understood. Rarity turned away and walked to her room.

“If you hurry,” she called out from down the hall “we can just make the afternoon train to Manehattan.”

The younger sister raised an eyebrow uncertainly.

“Episode 12 was released yesterday. It’s the end of the arc, you know. We’ll each pick up a copy, then we will never speak of this again.”

Sweetie frowned, sat up and leaned over to sneak a peek down the hallway to make sure it was clear. Biting her tongue to avoid making so much as a peep, she slowly removed the candle from its decidedly non-traditional perch. As soon as it popped free, Rarity’s voice rang out from the other room. It barely concealed a hint of laughter.

“Oh, and by the way...I don’t care if you keep it or not, but I never want to see that candle again.”

With a defeated groan, Sweetie sank all the way down into the bubble bath. With her vocalized exasperation slinking below the surface, it dissolved into an indistinct stream of bubbly humiliation.

Still...she had to admit that sometimes when a girl gets in way over her head, it can be nice having a big sister there to help.