A Clockwork Apple

by Vanillacider

Rating: mature
Tags: Princess Celestia, Crossover, Sex, Twilight Sparkle, Big Macintosh, Gore, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Princess Luna, Cutie Mark Crusaders
Length: 3485

The story of Countermelody, a wayward mare of the Canterlot elite. A parody of A Clockwork Orange.

Life in the future Canterlot gets rather boring at times, does it not? This is a story of the rather questionable actions of one Countermelody, distant relative of the Princess, who fills her time taking time away from others.
A parody of A Clockwork Orange.

Published 2012-04-02 23:04:05 UTC
Last updated 2012-04-02 23:04:05 UTC

What'll it be then eh?

“What’ll it be then, eh?”

We were sitting on our flanks in the Totepferde absinthe bar, wondering to ourselves what we should mach’ tonight.

We were all mares, of course, as mares are the paragon of equine civilization. There was Fallfeather, the rather langsam one, Shadowflare, and Harmony, who was rather more delicate, but more keen to prove her sharpness to make up for it.

Fallfeather was a crippled Pegasus, so had the muscle of three ponies, but had the intelligence of a quarter. Shadowflare, Harmony, and I were all unicorns, which of course made us far superior to any other pony in the area.

My mane back then was kept in bloodboiling shape, low spikes, dark purple, with stripes of palest pink. My coat I had dyed nearly the same purple, but a hint lighter. The others did nothing noteworthy with their physical appearance, so I shall not note them.

We wore what was then the height of fashion, which was obviously nothing at all. We had nothing to hide from others, even though we sat in the same position as the fabled human of old, with our underbellies facing toward the sky. The server colts would lauf themselves over to our table once in a while, telling us to better cover up our better parts. A schlag to the snout taught them better than to filly with us. I liked to have my body exposed.

A sip of absinthe brought no fresh ideas. I blew the a soft spike of mane out of my glazzies. Then I said, “Perhaps we just wait for another chance for some fillyin’, what think you all?” For we spoke in a curious dialect then.

The others nodded, no better ideas with them.

It was another few minutes before a couple of colts wandered in, one wearing a greenish mane, the other wearing headphones, presumably for that awful dubtrot music that I had never become accustomed to.

We waved them over to our platz. They eagerly trotted over, seeing bodies that may be ready for some of the old in-out later, not to mention two for each of them. We paid for their drinks, and mentioned to them, with a few of the single-glazzy-blinks to convey our message, “We’ve been here the whole time, haven’t we, colts? We won’t be goin anywhere this fine night, right?”

They were rather schnell for colts, and caught on, single-glazzy-blinking us back. As soon as they both understood, we all stood up, and laufed ourselves out of the bar, into the Canterlot street. It was a bit frosty out, but we were fine, being four premium mares. Trotting around, it took us not long to locate a lone mare with a stack of disks.

“Pardon me, Frau, may I perchance take a schau at your musiks there? With all of the newer musics going around, not many times do I locate one who carries with her disks of musik.”

The mare smiled, and lent over the disks. “Certainly. But please, be quite careful with them. Not many can come about such antiques anymore.”

I casually flipped through them, picking out the ones I wanted to nimm for myself. I glanced at the ones I had chosen for wreckage. “Look at this trash!” I lent it to Shadowflare for a schau. She clicked her tongue as I desired, and shook her head.

“Tis a shame, that one with such bloodboiling taste in music should also like this mull. And that as well, look at this one, Countermelody! It’s got one of those evil stickers on it!”

“Aye.” I said. “This one here is no lover of the musiks, but a fiendish little thing that likes to bathe in the sounds of others in pain.”

“No! That’s simply not true!” Shouted the mare, indignant, oblivious to the fillying we were doing.

I cracked my neck, the others following my lead. “I say.” I took a step forward, “We teach this frowsy little mare here what happens when one disgraces the higher musiks.” Then we begun, beginning with a few schlags to the snout, till she dropped her whole body to the ground, wrapping her trotters around her glazzies.

The others took to her body, horning her well between the legs till she moaned in less pleasure than pain, cracking her ribs well enough, and shearing away her mane. I broke the disks that I did not like, and sent the others back to my abode with a quick transfer spell.

When I decided that it was enough, I said so. “Alright, my mares, it’s time to go back.” We turned and laufed ourselves back to the Totepferde absinthe bar, leaving the older mare to her own scheisse.

When we got back, we were pleased to see the two colts still sitting where we had set them before. We sat ourselves back next to them, I gave them both an invisible stroke to the soft-rod with a quick spell, to keep them quiet and contented.

We smiled at them, and spoke to them well. “We didn’t leave, now did we?” We spoke to them.

They kindly reciprocated, repeating what we had said. “Sure, you sharp fillies never left the table the whole time we were here!”

It was a while before the Polizists decided to show their hasslich snouts around the bar. They poked their way in, asking all sorts of annoying questions. “We found a victim of a rape and heavy beating nearby. She claims she was assaulted by four mares.”

The colts shook their soft little heads. “No way bros, they’ve been sitting here all evening. It couldn’t have been them.”

The Polizists left after a few blicks between them, anxious to find some other four mares without witnesses to defend their cases.

It was getting late, and my lower body was eager for some of my expert attentions. “Same time, on the morrow?”

We all agreed to meet in the bar again tomorrow, and laufed on our own separate ways. I returned to my house on the edge of the city, greeted my parents, and trotted up the stairs to my room for some bloodboiling time with Countermelody herself. Locking the door, I turned up one of the disks I had nimmed from the mare we had played with earlier. It was a rock band, from hundreds of years ago, when that sort of music was as popular as it gets.

The music lulled myself nearly to sleep, my right trotter playfully stroking my better parts. The family knew better than to interrupt the time Countermelody spent with Countermelody, perhaps more from the scars than the memory.

I thought about how much of a schade it was that I hadn’t taken the time earlier to rub bodies with the mare we had fillied with. I casually rubbed my horn while thinking about it.

Dreams took me then, and I wondered about what I was to mach’ tomorrow. There was nothing more to come to my mind but sleep at that time.

Same time tomorrow, then?

“So, what will it be this evening?” Asked the server colt nervously. He sported a rather premium bruise on the snout.

I grinned. “Six absinthes around. Extra sugar drops in the colts’ drinks.”

He swallowed, unsettled by my impressive smile. “Will that be all?”

“Aye. And you should probably mach’ something about that bruise on the snout. It doesn’t schau very comfortable.”

“I… I guess I will.”

I sat back, displaying my better parts for the whole bar to see. It had the desired effect, as a group of older stallions a few tables over stood and left, unsettled by my bloodboiling lower body. I didn’t want them around. “What’ll it be then, eh?” I asked. “Tonight we surely must design a more interessant activity to mach’.”

Fallfeather spoke up. “Why don’t we break into somepony’s house or somethin’?”

Harmony snorted. “That’s deplorable! Too simple.”

“Perhaps.” I said, “The most simple ideas from the most simple minds are the best ideas.”

Harmony shrugged.

Fallfeather smiled to herself, thinking she had come up with a bloodboiling idea all on her own.

“Don’t you get thinking you’re so premium.” I said to her. “It’s still a rather basic plan, the only really difficult part of designing it is getting over one’s own dismissal of such a ridiculous idea. Let’s go, mares.” So we trotted off, not forgetting to give our colts a little stroke to the soft-rod as we left. We would have to get some new colts soon, or they’d expect some of the old in-out eventually, and that’s not quite what I find to be bloodboiling, from a colt at least.

So we went down the street, not knowing where to head. So we wandered back through some of the darker ends of the city, looking perhaps for a smaller house, which always had easier nimms than big houses.

We almost bumped into another group of mares, these looked like they wanted a bit of fillying as well. It was Scoots, Shadowbelle, and their three other helpers. By mutual agreement, our groups took to sides, and began a little schlagfest.

I took to Scoots, who I knew was the schnellest and toughest of their group. I chose not to fight with magic, not because I was unskilled in the workings thereof, no, but because I wanted to feel the pain with my own hooves.

We circled around each other, daring the other to make the first move. The others had already began uncourteously, without regard for their leaders beginning their schlagging.

Scoots jumped forward, aiming to plant a trotter directly in my right glazzy. I hopped deftly to the side, and reached around her flank, lightly brushing her better parts. She melted, moaning in pleasure at my bloodboiling skill.

I hopped on top of her, driving my own trotters repeatedly into the back of her skull, shoving her snout into the ground. The life-liquid dribbled out, black in the dark. I kept at her head until I was sure she was sufficiently defeated.

Fallfeather had taken down two others, breaking their body-supports with impunitous schlags from her heavy trotters. She had taken several gashes to the flank, life-liquid dripping out. I was sorely tempted to lick it off myself, but knew that there was more important business to attend to.

Shadowflare had taken down one, covering it in tears and bumps that looked hardly possible to survive. Harmony stood among pieces of what resembled hairy pieces of meat dipped in tomato sauce, with no apparent tool for such defeating.

“Come along then, mares. We have much better things to mach’ tonight.”

After a while of wandering about, we came across a large house near the castle with lights on inside, but only in the lower floor. “Come mares, there can’t be too many ponies in there right now. Let’s fall this house.”

By mutual agreement, we all laufed up the stone walkway to the door. I cast spells of forgetfulness over our faces, so that anypony who saw our face within the next few minutes would quickly forget it. I gently hoofed the door to call the inhabitants within.

“Yep?” The door opened a little way, and a large red stallion poked his glazzy out the door. “Y’all need somethin’?”

“Yes.” I said to him. “Our friend out here collapsed a little ways down the street, and we were wondering if you might allow us to nimm a glass of water or something like it to splash on his snout to get him awake.”

“Eeyup.” He said. He stepped away from the door.

I licked my teeth, and cast a spell to schlag open the door. It flipped away, the chain barely holding it in place. The stallion barely put up any resistance, and a single schlag to the snout from Fallfeather had him down on the ground. Harmony lifted his body with magic, and we charged through the house, yelling triumphantly as we did.

The only other pony was a purple mare with a gray stripe in her hair, sitting at a desk with stacks of papers around her, staring fearfully over her glasses, her glazzies shaking.

I ran for her, and she met me at the half. She tried to cast a spell of some sort, but it was completely useless, as my magical abilities far outweigh any other pony’s. I quickly subdued her, and cast a spell to keep her from laufing away.

I nimmed up and shuffled through the papers she had on her writing desk. It was the manuscript for some kind of book. “What’s this mull then, eh? A Clockwork Apple? Sounds like a load of humanscheisse.” I started to tear at the edges of a pile of the papers.

“No..!” The mare tried to fight against the spell I had holding her down.

I ripped the paper into brownish snowflakes, and rained them all over the room. “Ta da! It’s snowing mull now! What a bloodboiling day!” I hopped and frolicked derisively through the shredded papers. I hopped off of the stallions chest, causing a support in him to crack. He yelped.

“You three take that stallion, and mach’ what you will with him. The mare’s mine.” My three mares carried him into the nearby bedroom, and mach’ed what the wanted to with him.

I remember not much of what I did with that mare, as my memory grows fuzzier when I am enjoying myself. I do remember horning her well between the legs, and getting a bit of blood on myself after a rather poorly-aimed thrust. When I was finished, I schlag’ed her over the head till she slept, then trotted away with my mares, not nimming anything, not because we didn’t see anything worth nimming, but because we didn’t want to.

My mares were covered in spots of blood that didn’t look like they were from their own bodies. I casually licked a spot off of Harmony’s flank, lach’ing a bit when she snarled at me.

“So then.” I inquired. “Same time tomorrow night?”

Ascent

I awoke to the sound of one of my parents’ trotters schlag’ing my door. “Hey, Countermelody, Miss Pie is here to talk to you.”

I grumbled as I rose from the bed. Making sure my better parts were clean, I adjusted my mane and walked down the stairs to see a familiar pink pony sitting on one of our couches. She smelled lightly of a cigarette, and wore a sharp expression underneath her glasses.

I sat across from her, in the more polite stance, with my better parts facing the ground instead of the sky. “What can I mach’ for you- er, what can I do for you today, Pinkie?”

The rather grim mare blinked, unimpressed by my premium greeting. “It’s still Miss Pie to you, Countermelody. It’s time for our weekly meeting, remember?” She blew her unsettlingly straight mane out of her glazzies.

“Oh… er, sure.” I switched expressions from a happy expression to a rather somber one, to match the frowsy mood that Pinkamena always brought with her.

She scowled, as if I had made a scherz about her mother or something. “First things first. A rather important pony, one close to the Princess, and myself as well, was found beaten and raped inside her house this morning, her husband dead. She says she has no memory of it, so I can’t even begin to pin it on you, but remember that we’re watching.”

“I had nothing to mach’ with it. I and a few of my mares spent the whole night in the Totepferde Absinthe Bar.”

“A little too quick of an answer, Countermelody. But not enough for any sort of indication.”

“It’s true! I’m not scheiss’ing you, we were with a couple of colts who can tell you that we never left the bar.”

“Those two mini-celebrities? Sure, they can say what they will. But it’s not yet necessary.”

“Alright, then.”

“Look, Countermelody. I just don’t want you to end up back in the dungeon. Be careful who you mess around with. And if that’s too much, be careful what you get caught doing.”

“There’s no need to be too worried about me, Miss Pie. As you might say, I’ve reformed.”

She raised an eyebrow at me, glancing down briefly. “I sure hope so.” She stood, laufing toward the door. “This meeting is concluded. I’ll see you again, Countermelody.”

I softened up as she ceased to exist within my home. Glancing down, I saw what Pinkie had been glancing at. There was a spot of dried love-juice on my lower belly that I had missed. Taking a blick around, I licked it off, thinking of the mare I had acquired it from.

Later that day, we sat at the Totepferde Absinthe Bar, drinking. I ordered a heavier drink than usual, and found myself dancing with a human male. He had black hair, rather paler skin than what I had previously seen in drawings of them. I kept trying to schau his glazzies, but I never was able to. After a while, I decided I had had enough, and shoved him over onto his reverse.

I shoved the black hair out of his face, and aimed my glazzies at his. His were glowing red, without pupils. He opened his mouth, which was filled with snow-colored messers. Growling, he reached for my neck.

I felt a schlag to the shoulder, and woke. “Countermelody?” It was Harmony. “The bar’s closing, we should go.”

I lifted myself off of the ground, and felt rather sore in the lower regions. Sore inside as well, and a bit moist. “Harmony… did somepony do anything with my body while I was rather incapacitated?”

She grimaced. “Yeah… those two colts we’ve been hanging with took turns with you. I’m sorry, but I was too drunk to stop them.”

“At least I don’t have to remember it.” I said. Those two were in for the schlagfest of a lifetime the next time we trotted into each other. “So… what say you we do a bit of the old in-out as well, my mare?” I did a single-glazzy-blink at her.

Her snout turned rather pinkish, and she looked away. “Oh, come on. You know I’m not into that kind of thing.”

“I know, I know. Worth a try.” I laufed to the door, with her following. “Let’s go find somepony to filly with, eh?”

We soon found the pony I had referred to. An old mare with pink hair that looked half-dyed gray was sitting by the side of the road, singing to herself. “My little pony, my little pony…. “ She trailed off into incoherence.

It always disgusts me to see such a mullish thing. An old, useless creature wasting her life away in the bottom of a bottle.

“Oy there!” I said. We trotted over, and I started things off with a light schlag to the snout to get her to the ground. The drunk thing fell, still attempting to sing. “Care to cease that awful noise, would you?”

The old mare blicked in my general direction, obviously not seeing well. “What? No! I’ll sing what I will.”

“Not if I tear out your tongue!” snarled Harmony.

“Patience, my mare. There will be time for that in a moment.” I pressed the mare’s snout into the ground, pressing much of my size onto the single trotter.

“Alrigh’ then, go ahea’ and kill meh!” She managed to spit out.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“There’s no more law! Criminal scum like you rule the streets, destroying all that we once stood for!”

“Calling us scum, but then spewing all of that mull and losing herself in the bottom of a bottle? I’ve had enough talking. It’s time for mach’ing.” Before the mare could lift herself off of the ground, we began. Kicking with trotters only, we managed to keep the mare alive for several minutes, blood gently oozing out of each orifice and new tears that we were creating in her flesh. Most of her supports splintered.

Her glazzies were pointing different directions, and I could barely schau what her mark was supposed to be.

As we walked away, I licked a spot of the old thing’s blood off of Harmony’s neck. “Quit that, you!” She said, darting away.

I lach’ed a bit at that, and made my way home. Some member of my family had left some of that awful dubtrot mull playing on the stereo. I turned it off, nimmed the disk, and broke it in half.

I laufed up the stairs, and turned on my own far more bloodboiling musik in my room. The sounds of guitars and drums lulled me into a rather sensual sleep, as I considered how premium the flavor of blood on Harmony’s neck was.