Hi, my name is Action Jackson and I am a little smarter than the average ~~bear~~ Brony. I found a way to Equestria one day by flexing my totally not overpowered biceps while riding a talking train. Its name was George.
“Baybee! Mama’s gruntin out another little miracle! Get mama’s birthin’ bucket!” Lyra calls. She is my sweetie-peetie cutie-wutie pony waifu.
In the living room, I hear what sounds like a large water balloon full of oatmeal bursting followed by profanity.
“Never mind!” Lyra calls lyrically. “Best get the mop!”
_
This all started several months ago, when I wrote my own version of Equestria while riding George the Train that is basically just like the show, but SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT so I have immunity from criticism. Action Jackson is a clever man as well as a handsome bad boi senpai. George agreed with a whimsical toot.
It didn’t take long for me to meet Lyra Heartstrings. She was chewing on some grass along the riverbank, swatting some flies off her hindquarters with her luxurious, matted tail. That was when I first saw her gorgeous rubbery folds. They spasmed invitingly, like the amorous mouth of a defanged lamprey, and I knew instinctively what I had to do.
The ancient axiom came to me like a flash from Heaven.
If you like it, you should put a ring on it.
I flexed myself home and, with George’s help, used my entire bank account to buy the most expensive ring I could find. With the theme to The Princess Bride humming through my head and my heart, I slipped the gold-plated wedding band from Wal-Mart onto the gray unicorn’s knobbed horn. The cubic zirconia glittered in Celestia’s sunlight like a diamond.
“Marry me, plox,” I implored like the most romantic character from the most romantic Shakespeare play.
“Okay, sounds good m8,” Lyra replied. Her voice tinkled like a glass bell and she pawed at the ground several times.
We had a simple wedding ceremony without undue ornamentation or those blasphemous wacky waving inflatable arm-flailing tube men that plagued weddings in my hometown. Both of us cried. Then Lyra winked and dripped, and I knew she was ready.
Scented candles littering the room, I sighed in the rapturous bliss of God's love as I took my Lyra to our marital bed and tongue-punched her fartbox.
It was true love at its most beautiful.
_
I have always been special. Not only because this story is going to get featured (wink wink nudge nudge), but because I have spoken to God on several occasions. You can find him on the corner of 31st and 9 ¾ on most days. He usually tries to bum a smoke, but will accept a McGriddle if it’s after ten. He’s guided me through most of my life’s difficulties with his wise words and crusty hands.
I’ve had flashes of him speaking to me even when he’s not there. My parents had always said I was special and the school counselors agreed. I usually get these whenever I am eating a hot dog or banana, or whenever I’m washing my hands because I’ll never be clean never be clean never be clean never be clean never be clean
Where was I? Oh, my visions from God.
One day while I was rubbing my chub up against my horse-wife’s gloppy gash, I realized that homosexuality was wrong. The thought of two men grinding each other’s sausages got me sweaty and flustered, but not in a gay way. I knew that it was my destiny to put an end to the insidious fudge-packing industry that apparently existed in Equestria even though I wrote it shut up.
But where does one begin their holy quest to eliminate from this brave new world all the ass bandits, bun dusters, clam jousters, colon commanders, exhaust pipe engineers, pirates of fire island, backdoor men, knob jockeys, muff divers, beaver eaters, and cunning linguists? Being a one-hundred percent heterosexual Christian, I had no idea. Tearfully, I fell to my knees and prayed for guidance, while also thanking Lord Jesus that thanks to pony races not correlating to ours, I didn’t have to deal with any snicker lickers.
I started by visiting the local steel mills, studying the stallions intently for signs of lingering homosexual thoughts. The sweat beading on their abs amid the myriad sparks tempted me, but only briefly. Action Jackson will not be swayed by such rippling temptations.
I next tried the inexplicable dubstep club, which was ruled over by the frankly dykish DJ PON-3. As a smarter than average Brony, I knew how the fandom liked to make her and Octavia peel each other's peaches. I had saved Lyra from her impending homosexuality and would begin my long and righteous quest by saving the other couples from the dark pleasures of their fanon shippings.
At first, it seemed like it would be an impossible task to sneak DJ PON-3 out of the club, seeing as how she was on a raised dais in the center of the crowd. However, I used my brain smarts from my head to come up with a brilliant plan.
When the bass dropped, everypony whipped themselves into a frenzy, keeping their eyes shut tight to avoid the flailing glowsticks. I made my way to the center of the stage as a new song began, knowing that I had anywhere between 60 and 65 seconds before the bass dropped again. I winced and gritted my teeth as several glowsticks bopped me on my noggin, but managed to get to the foot of the stage just behind Vinyl when the bass dropped again.
Popping a black bag over her head, I wrenched the struggling pony through swathes of whirling dervishes and escaped that awful club. I don't really know why I wrote it into existence in the first place. I'm not behind the times or anything, but I don't really like dubstep all that much. I prefer bands like Skillet. Have you heard of them? Because if you haven't, you totally need to check them out after you like, favorite, and subscribe.
Author's Note
Did I tell you it got featured already?
Don't you call me a liar!
Chapter 2: Droppin the Deuce
Vinyl awoke in the semi-permanent darkness of my human world apartment. I mentioned that because I can travel between the worlds so easily and frequently, I've actually started a tourism business for humans, right? Well, damn. I must have forgot. It's kind of beside the point anyway, since I'm not going to reference that again in any meaningful way.
"Good morning, Sunshine," I called, unwrapping the bag from Vinyl's head. There were a few scrapes on her face and neck from when, to my embarassment, I realized that I had forgotten to make any air holes in the bag and had stabbed at it frantically with a pencil. Oh, I am quite the silly goose from time to time.
But no matter; I made a mental note to write that she's just fine when she goes back to the Pony World. Briefly, I considered just rewriting every pony as explicitly straight, but that would make me look like too much of an impersonal try-hard. I put my faith into my Faith, because this kind of work needed the personal touch.
"Ugh, where am I?" Vinyl groaned. Thin streams of blood crusted her ears, but I'm sure she was fine. "My name is Bobbin Threadbare..." she murmured. "Are you my mother?"
"My name is Action Jackson, and you are in grave danger of succumbing to your homosexual fanons," I said with my chest puffed out like General Patton. "You want to be cured."
"I want to be cured," she repeated.
"Splendid!" I giggled, grinning and clapping my hands in a most manly manner. I clicked my tongue to call my beloved Lyra to me.
"Lyra, my darling, we are going to demonstrate to our guest here the joys of heterosexual sex. It's going to be positively spiffy!"
"K," Lyra whickered and turned around dutifully, plump pussy hanging loose like a sexy slackjawed muppet mouth.
"Yeah, baby. Let me see that little red corvette!"
Lyra shook her hips, her Hardee's thickburger folds applauding juicily as I lost myself staring into that sexy slimy sarlaac pit.
"I can levitate birds, but nobody cares..." Vinyl groaned, squirming against her restraints. Her interruption brought me back to my senses, tearing off my pants like the Hulk and exposing my turgid six and a half inch (Laaadies!) pork sword.
With a rebel yell, I plunged my pregnancy pudding pump into her stinky pink baby cave. "I can fly higher than an eagle!" I cried out in the throes of passion, unable to restrain myself, "Because you're the wind beneath my wiiiiiiiiiings!" Lyra whinnied and stared romantically at the wall straight ahead.
"What is this. I don't even," Vinyl commented unhelpfully as I experienced a most delightful orgasm, grunting our first runt into Lyra's cunt, filling her fuckflaps with my loin poison. It was... really amazing. Like... peeing warm snow. Electricity snow. I do too know what sex is like fuck off with your camera.
I collapsed atop Lyra's spongy hindquarters, gasping for air. "How much do you love me?" I crooned stoically like brave Ulysses.
Lyra pawed the carpet four times before taking a step forward. She chewed on the apartment's chair railing and shit on the floor, where my copy of "FIMCOMPLETESCRIPT" lay.
"Four... four EVER????" I squealed. "Oh darling, that's so sweet!"
The name "Lauren Faust" at the top was obscured by my wife's fragrant buttfudge. The old me might have found this oddly symbolic or something, but all I wanted was to dip my finger in and sample some of that sweet chocolate pudding.
"Oh Lyra, my darling, I love you so much I could eat the peanuts out of your shit," I purred, running my tongue over her wooly withers.
"Kthx," Lyra said.
For no reason other than to reassure ~~myself~~ the readers that homosexuality is extremely rare in Equestria, I flexed my way there momentarily to watch Twilight Sparkle frantically tongue wrestling with Flash Sentry and Dr. Whooves hoofblasting Sweetie Belle (in my canon she is of age, okay? If there's grass on the field, play.)
By the time I had reassured myself sufficiently for science's sake and flexed back home, Vinyl was a little more coherent.
"Please, I don't have much money. I'm not going to tell anyone. Just please let me go home!"
"You're such a frigid bitch, I could keep sodas cold in your cunt," I remarked wittily (I AM a genus.) "Be more grateful to your hosts. Now then, it's time for Phase 2."
We had successfully shown her the true beauty of a God-ordained monogamous Christian coupling, but had yet to enlighten her about the dangers of going down the wrong path.
As we sat Vinyl down on the couch, she started to squirm and whimper, but playfully grinding my knuckle between her ribs let her know that I wasn't playing around. I am such a giddy goat sometimes that I make myself giggle.
I popped open the CD drive on my 2007 Macbook Pro, because I'm totally alt rock like that, and put in the DVD of Les Miz, better known by its English title: Miserable Lesbians.
Two hours later...
_
"P-please... I just want to go home! I wanna see my mooooooom!" Vinyl sniveled. What a bitch. But still, there was no doubt that she would be walking the straight and narrow from this day forward.
"Just make sure that you never forget the valuable lessons you have learned here today, Vinyl. Remain heterosexual and all will be well."
Vinyl blinked, just staring for several minutes. "...that's it?"
"Yes."
"And I can go home now?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"...really?"
"SHUT UP, BITCH!" I flexed us back to Equestria and Atomic Dropped her back into the club (RIP Ultimate Warrior).
Lyra winked and dripped, and I knew she was ready.
_
Lyra is curled up on the floor. I rest against her, cradling our four waterheaded little miracle babies in my arms. The homosexuality has been defeated... for now.
Under the light of Lord God Jesus, all is right on God's graying Earth.
Good night, and good luck.
Author's Note
I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT I GOT 20 DOWNVOTES THIS STORY WAS ONLY FOR MY TRVE AND KVLT FOLLOWERS NOT YOU SLANDEROUS TROLLS I AM SERIOUSLY CRYING RIGHT NOW YOU DISEASED HOMOS SOMETHING SOMETHING MORMONISM
