Terror of the BABScon Streaker

Rise of the Streaker

By Smiles

”I don’t think there’s quote for this kind of story.” - Smiles

Chris Malideus stood in front of the Fanfiction 101 panel at the BABSCon convention in San Francisco, giggling and jumping up and down with a hard cover copy of the famous MLP fanfic, ‘Past Sins’ in his hands. Behind the panel sat Pen Stroke in all his glory, seeming to always be above the crowds from any vantage. He turned his serene, beatific smile on all his fans and followers, who were waiting to get their books, shirts, and foreheads-that-they’ll-never-wash-again-until-their-mother-threatens-to-kick-them-out-of-their-basement signed.

Malideus shoved his book into Pen’s face. “SIGN MY BOOK, FAGGOT!” he yelled at the ‘top of lung’, foam dripping from his lips at having to wait hours upon hours in line while wearing an uncomfortable evil-wizard-costume. Pen Stroke chuckles tolerantly, and signs his name in the blink of an eye, as if bestowing a blessing, adding a small Smiley face at the end as an extra. Malideus squeals in autismic joy, twirling around and running of to not-even-God-knows-where. (Janitors later complained of finding white stains all over the men’s bathroom sinks.)

A fellow author behind Pen Stroke, hidden behind his divine glow, groaned, probably bummed out that no one was checking out his stories. He paid a pretty large penny to fly all the way over here from Hawaii too. “Next!” he calls out, before flipping out his smartphone and clicking the notifications on fimfiction.net over and over again.

A grossly incandescent man dressed in a knight costume heads the call, weilding a portable typewriter in one hand and a vine of grapes in the other. “Oh, your glorious highness, will you sign my helmet?” he asks, voice filled with charisma and admiration.

Pen Stroke smiles from on high, reaching down his hand. Before his pen could stroke against the helmet, he was kicked in the back of the head by a naked middle-aged man, Pen’s spittle anointed the cosplayer’s helmet. The cosplayer takes his helmet off and stares at the stain before screaming “PRAISE THE SUN!” and fainting on the floor.

“Somebody catch that man!” a police officer screams while brandishing a jelly donut in his left hand. He charges through the fanfiction booth in hot pursuit of the Streaker, knocking over several poor authors and crushing rips. Signed copies of varying kinds of fanfics belonging to other, insignificant authors are launched into the air, fimfic readers going into a mindless frenzy and trampling all who stand in their way. Reputations were ruined as the 4chan pony-hater mob bursted out of nowhere and began slapping everyone with their hands.

The Streaker dodges left and right through the convention center, running through booths of all kinds and confusing many onlookers who were too stunned to take a camera and record. Guards from all corners of the atrium chased the nudist in vain, their fat brony bodies held down by gravity and sperg. Running in circles and zigzags, many of the stands within the convention are torn down and destroyed by the ensuing chaos of one man and ten careless followers.

The Streaker laughs and runs through two double doors, entering the main entrance room of the small convention center. He looks left and right, noticing bronies from all over wearing black trilbies stare at him in disbelief. One, quicker than the rest, manages to tip his hat. Up above the main floor, three more watch guards were coming down with batons in tow.

The streaker does a 90 degree turn and runs down the hallway behind the escalators. Bronies scream in terror as the naked man charges through the narrow path, cringing as the odd man slaps their behinds. Strangely though, most of the men found it rather hot, and began smacking each other’s asses as well. The pegasisters took the smart and boring decision and got out of the convention center as quickly as possible.

Soon, the whole convention is filled with people running around naked, slapping each other’s asses. One by one bronies are pressured into a trend of stripping naked as the fedora fades into memory. Fat hairy bodies release a stench that fills the atrium, killing off the peasant non-bronies who could not handle the powerful scent of friendship.

Police Cars encircle the building, clogging up the streets and causing yet another child to be run over in the city of San Transico. Radio chatter and screams of chaos run rampant as bronies pour out naked out of BABScon into the streets, running back to the Hyatt Regency Hotel just a few blocks away and confusing the locals into thinking the Bay to Breakers Nudist Marathon had started early.

And all the while, the Streaker laughed to himself, as he stood atop the rounded curvature of the convention’s ceiling in all his naked glory. A proud red member of the 4chan anonymous group sent to destory bronydom once and for all, he had succeeded in his mission!

“Freeze!” a police officer shouts from behind him with a Desert Eagle he brought from home. Even though the Desert Eagle is the worst kind of gun to run around with, when an M1911 or an M9 could’ve worked perfectly fine. What a show off.

And then he gets nailed in the head. Even though police officers aren’t supposed to use lethal force in this sort of situation. Blame it on the culture of gun violence in America.

Now he’s in Equestria… Somehow.

I bet it was Hitler.

Nightmare Moon laughs to herself in a disney-evilish fashion inside the townhall, striking fear and terror into the poor ponies down below. “Oh, my beloved subjects. It's been so long since I've seen your precious, little sun-loving faces.”

“What did you do with our Princess?!” Rainbow Dash shouts in fury, struggling against Apple Jack as she attempts to hold her down.

“Why, am I not royal enough for you? Don't you know who I am?”

Pinkie Pie bursts from the crowd of ponies gaping in bewilderment. “Ooh, ooh, more guessing games! Um, Hokey Smokes! How about... Queen Meanie! No! Black Snooty, Black Snooty-”

“Does my crown no longer count now that I have been imprisoned for a thousand years? Did you not recall the legend? Did you not see the signs?”

Twilight Sparkle takes a dramatic step forward and looks the queen of darkness in the eye. “I did. And I know who you are. You're the Mare in the Moon: Nightmare Moon!” Ponies gasp in terror at the sheer mention of the name, the way ‘moon’ rolls off the tongue absolutely fearsome and game-changing.

Nightmare Moon grins. “Well well well, somepony who remembers me. Then you also know why I'm here.”

Twilight’s courages demeanor immediately falters. “You're here to... to…” She gulps.

With a heavy chuckle, Nightmare Moon flays her wings wide and bars her teeth. “Remember this day, little ponies, for it was your last. From this moment forth, the night will last foreve-”

The dark queen of the night is interrupted as a strange naked monkey runs through the front entrace, stealing her thunder as ponies gasp at the newcomer. “What the- who is this?”

Her question goes unanswered as the strange humanoid creature charges through ranks of panicking ponies uptowards the upper balcony where Moon Butt was standing. “No! Fear me, you lesser creatures! Pay attention to m- aaah!” she yelps in surprise as she’s smacked in the butt by a hand, unconsciously leaping off the balcony and forgetting about her wings. She lands on the floor with a thump, followed by a muffled grunt as the hooman lands on her. Darkness seeps from her skin into the air as she shrinks into a small and dizzy filly.

Twilight stares with a gaping mouth, utterly confused to the events that had transpired. Her spine tingles as the human looks her in the eye, winking before he runs out of the front door again.

“W-what just happened?”

“What the buck is this?!”

Princess Celestia looked into her super evil magical ball of see-anywhere-at-my-command, watching the spectacle from her banishment cell in the Sun.

“This idiot is going to ruin everything! All these years of planning, all these years of preparing. Twilight hasn’t even found the elements yet!”

Celestia twirled around in her seat, thinking deeply. “Just what is this horrifying creature?”

The very next day...

“What is that thing!?”

“It’s coming after me! Somepony help me!”

“I-i-it violated me!”

“Bad touch! Bad touch!”

“Won’t somebody save us!?”

And Twilight just sat in her Library, like a putz.

To be continued?