Peliobotanical Backwards Licorice
Photons, and billions of them, streaming through the atmosphere with little regard for decency or personal space. But what are light molecules to do in this economy?
Despite such useless prattling from the narrator in a foolhardy attempt at opening this story, the ponies continued on doing absolutely ordinary pony things and blatantly ignoring my words. Twilight Sparkler, possibly the most pony of them all, for instance, was doing what all ponies do in the evening. Mandatory stool collection and evacuation is an important part of pony culture, after all.
Her stubby little head-spike violently radiated, ejecting electrons in all directions as its plutonium core gave off an otherworldly glow, and across the room her 'no-no bag', filled to the brim with 'sin', was surrounded by an ungodly purplish aura. It rose from the floor, as though held aloft by some writhing, magenta Danny Phantom, and floated across the room to be deposited near the front door. The shit ponies would be along to collect it soon enough. Such was the norm in Pony Town.
With nothing to do and nowhere to go-oh, Twilight Sparkler found a nice cool spot on the floor, just next to her expensive and extremely comfortable doggy bed, and formed a 'bread loaf' shape with her upraised haunches as she lounged on her six-nippled belly.
Many presumptuous curs would dare argue that ponies only have two nipples, one for each side of the brain, but that's stupid and ignorant and anyone claiming something like that probably ate too many down syndromes and should consult a physician in an ultimately-futile attempt at salvaging the wasted husk that is their brain. It's clear, judging by how large a pony's head is that they have more than just two halves to their brains. What's more, they are quite adept at both three-dimensional travel and the casting of magic, so it's not hard to imagine that each half of their brains are capable of supporting more than just one nipple. Alas, the fact that you are even here on a pony-based website of all places, reading this mockery of good, wholesome fanfiction, is proof enough that you are beyond reckoning. But I digress.
Brace yourselves, for it is at this point in the story where the plot accelerates in the symbolic form of a knock on the door. Symbolic for what is for you to find out.
"Clippity clop," clippity clopped a clippity clopper against the heavy wooden door.
"Raow," Twilight perked up, her eyes widening and her fluffy wuffy ears swiveling at the sound of an intruder at the entrance to her domicile. "Who could it possibly be at this hour?" Her lips flapped as she uselessly offered a rhetorical question to the audience that she has no comprehension of. Despite her mention of "this hour", the time is irrelevant and should be ignored as should be all mentions of time in this story. After all, does time not flow differently depending on the speed at which one reads and comprehends these lines of text? What good is time if it does not remain constant? With that said, I don't believe that time has any place in writing, at least outside the garbled scribbles of an adolescent.
Intentionally using all her muscles, Twilight rose and then qwoped her way over to the door, which I should mention was closed this entire time. It's best not to just leave such little details out as I've already made the assertion that I presume my readers are mentally deficient, and, therefore, in need of constant clarification on even the most trivial of details.
Elongating the tendons in her neck, Twilight reached out and firmly grasped the door's steering wheel with her salivating muzzle-tunnel and, in one fowl swoop, she both retracted her neck and pulled the door open. Just outside, and with clippity cloppers firmly attached to both her hips and shoulders, stood Applejack. She had several red, formless blobs stenciled on her upper thigh and, while at a glance, they could be easily misconstrued as apples, implying that she has some apple-based talent, or any talent at all for that matter, I can safely assure you that that's not the case. They are formless shapes, holding no meaning or value in this story.
Applejack, interested in ending my ramblings in the only way she knows how, erected her cheek bones, parting her gaping, trout-like lips and revealing her unfathomable, chasm-esque food-vacuum. Somehow, through the magic of ears, Applejack had managed to hear Twilight's rhetorical question from earlier, and decided to respond despite me clearly stating not once, but twice, that it was, and I quote, "rhetorical". "The time is precisely four o'clock pm, which is not an unusual time for me to visit, me thinks, as I doth frequent your abode at this time periodically. It is Wednesday, August 6th, after all, and I fancy a visit each week at precisely this time and at precisely this place."
Her characteristic response only left Twilight Sparkler with more questions, however. "Do I know you?" being the most pressing at the moment, which is precisely why she asked it first.
Applejack put a dainty clippity clopper to her frothing flesh-funnel and let out a girlish giggle at such an upfront and generally rude question. It was perfectly acceptable in this situation and with present company, though, so you have no need to fret your sweet, little noggin anymore, honey bunch.
"Perhaps I should explain," started Applejack, before pointedly looking past Twilight at the innards of her home. "I am very thirsty, however, and require sustenance lest my fragile and vital organs deteriorate from the lack of protons entering my belly."
Twilight's face twisted like a sudsy sponge, and a pond of anger-sweat pooled beneath her head as it was wrung dry like a wet cat on a clothes line. "How dare you demand entrance into my most sacred and private chambers? You best consider yourself lucky that I am a devout follower of family-friendly and hypocritical Christian beliefs, or I'd wring your neck with my newly-acquired horse hands." It appears I forgot to mention this earlier, but Twilight just got a new set of horse hands. She didn't use them to open the door because she was currently waiting for them to fully dry.
Applejack's cheeks constricted up into the cheek pocket in her skull, stretching her furry lips into a thin smile. "Me thinks Twilight doth protest too much. Besides, if thou dost'nt feed and water me, I'll never reveal my secrets to you, and you'll never know."
This Applejack character provided a solid argument, one that Twilight would be hard-pressed to refute. She couldn't survive without such useless knowledge to fill the cavernous void in her brain. The one that lurked facebook in search of new image macros to satisfy whatever dark desire drives mortals to continue on with their illogical lives despite the ultimate futility and worthlessness of all things. Scrunching up her lungs, Twilight released every oxygen in her body in a sigh before strumming her vocal cords with the tiny fingers in the back of her throat. "Fine, come inside. My dragon slave is inconveniently not in this story, so I'll have to prepare it myself."
Thankfully magic, therefore the tea was done even before the characters sat down at the living room table. It was made of mahogany. The table, that is, not the tea.
Unfortunately, despite her previous statement, twas Applejack that doth protest too much. "I prefer milk in my tee," she complained. The magic couldn't have possibly predicted this curve ball! Oh Applejack, you're so random!
With a sour look spread across the primary sensory organs and skin extending from the front of her skull, Twilight decided it best not to waste any more time with useless bickering. "I think I have some in the fridge," she said lamely, making to stand up before Applejack rushed to stop her.
"Oh, you silly pony, you. You misunderstood," exclaimed Applejack. "It would appear the intelligence centers in your brain are out of commission, my dear." Now she was just being rude.
Twilight, the repugnant flesh clothes she wore over her skeleton still firmly attached, was quick to rebuke such a harsh insult to her intelligence. It was well know that Twilight had a very smart brain. "My brain processors are each working optimally. Perhaps it's your brain that is on the fritz!"
Applejack merely giggled at the comeback, the smuggest smile all day threatening to split her face in twine! "Oh Twilight, my sweet, delectable friend. I merely jest. I know your brain smarts are above par. However, back to the topic of milk, I meant that I would much prefer your own to whatever is in your fridge."
Twilight couldn't help but blush and turn away as she was now forced to share her secret. "The milk in my fridge is my own. I wanted to unwittingly trick you into drinking it. That's my fetish, you see. That's why the magic didn't add any milk to your tee in the first place."
"Aw, very clever," said Applejack. It seemed she had been bamboozled, but she wasn't down for the count just yet! "However, I want your milk fresh. I wish to drain it directly from your bloody nips into my drink, you see?"
Twilight was hardly taken aback by the request, as she had ponies asking to suckle her teats on a nearly daily basis. After all, she was the only pregnant pony in the whole town. She stood up, revealing her undulating pony belly. "Sure, take your pick. I have enough nipples to go around! Just don't take too much, I need some for when the babies arrive in-" she cut herself off as she pulled the pocket watch from her tail compartment and took a gander at the time. "Holy stromboli! It's that time already?"
Applejack looked slightly confused. "You're on your period?"
"Double nope!" Shrieked Twilight in what we can only assume is an 'alarmed tone'. "I'm about to give birth!"
"Wowitzers on howitzers," explained Applejack despite not knowing what a howitzer is because ponies only use magic and not technology, duh. "Well then, it's a good thing I've got this," she explained for a second time this paragraph as she reached into her thoroughly-waxed tale and produced a medical degree. "I've been a doctor all along, and no one even knew."
Twilight would have likely felt absolutely no excitement at the revelation, however the copious waterfall of goo and blood dripping from the inflamed opening in her tummy, like a cornicopia but with birthing liquids instead of fruit, was distracting her too much to remember that she didn't care at all about Applejack or any aspect of her character. She still didn't care, mind you, she just forgot not to care is all.
Without uttering even a single "please", Applejack got to work, putting on her rubber gloves and getting ready to do her job. Deciding now wasn't the time to be gentle, she pushed the purple one down on the floor, pulling up her tale so as to expose her opened rear entrance. What Applejack neglected to mention is that she got her doctorate in colonoscopies, so this whole "giving birth" business wasn't really up her alley. It mattered little, though, as she had a completely different "alley" in mind. I'm referring of course to Twilight's ass.
Seeing the inevitable anal rape that was about to take place in her most vulnerable of times, Twilight couldn't help but gasp in shock like an anime character. "No, Applejack-chan, please don't violate my anus. I'm a virgin."
"That just makes my rock harder," she quoted directly from the rock biter as I have little to no originality left at this point and just reuse the same jokes over and over again because I'm a shitty writer and I hate myself and I wish I could just take a permanent nap and other melodramatic things. "By the way," she finally confessed after all this time, a look of shame dominating the tortilla-like mask she wore over her armored frontal lobe, "I lied about being a doctor."
Twilight gasped, this time like a whole group of anime characters.
"Shocking truth!" shouted Chaika from the other room.
"B-b-but, the babies are coming!" Twilight Sparkler protested, feeling the little monstrosities threatening to break free from the birthing sack in her tummy at any moment. This seemed to only spark a lustful look in Applejacks honey-glazed eyes as she examined every aspect of the exposed purple one.
She leaned down, practically straddling Twilight as she exhaled buttery breath with each word. "I've never told anyone this before, but I think giraffes are really awful animals. They're just like elongated cows and I hate them. If trees wanted you to eat from them, they wouldn't be so tall, you know?"
Twilight nodded, understanding completely. In fact, she had something she really wanted to get off her chest. With that said, the birthing sack on her chest opened up and dozens of little, eel-like half-owl, half-pony spawns slithered out, bolting across the floor in whatever direction they could, trying to hide under furniture. Twilight wasn't about to let any of the weak ones survive, after all. Without waiting for them all to escape from her chest, she reached down and grabbed a pair of them with her horse hands and shoved them in the mouth, savoring the sweet aftertaste of the birthing fluid as the runts flopped across her taste buds.
Across the room, Owlicious seemingly had the same idea as he swooped down and carried one of his children off in his talons, likely to consume its flesh and vomit its bones in a little ball in the yard later.
Applejack couldn't help but get aroused, seeing as she had a pregnancy fetish and all, and she leaned down, her bottom jaw unhinging as she engulfed all of Twilight's snout in a passionate kiss. Expelling excess air from her rear, she then sucked the infantile pony tadpoles from Twilight's mouth like an advanced, biological vacuum cleaner. Wasting no time, she got to work, reaching down with one glove-clad hoof to find the opening she had based her career, and entire life on. It was too tight for what she had in mind, so with practiced precision and not a bit of lube, she forced her entire hoof inside Twilight's colon. Don't worry, she's a doctor.
Twilight didn't feel a thing, though, as an accident when she was younger had left her paralyzed from the waste down. Within record time, her anus had been molded like silly putty by the expert horse hands of a true professional, and sagged lamely like a deflated balloon. More than eager to move onto the next step in her plan, Applejack wasted no time in leaning down, putting her lips to Twilight's semi-malleable rectum and blew the pony tadpoles into her large intestine. They'd be dead soon, but that was just survival of the fittest in action. Nature truly is a beautiful thing.
Violated so, this was truly Twilight Sparkler's darkest hour. As she lay on the floor, exposed and absolutely coated in innard goo, she couldn't help but briefly reflect on her many mistakes in life that lead her to this point. "I just couldn't believe it wasn't butter..." She mumbled to herself, displeased by her past ignorance. Then, like jaws of life suspended from the wings of angels, her savior arrived in the form of a newcomer at the still-open door. That's right, it's been open this whole time, or did you forget so soon?
"Darling, what's going on in here, darling?" (cue audience laughter) Asked Rarity as she absorbed the scene into her eyes via osmosis. "It seems I was a bit late to the birthing ceremony. You've made quite a mess, and now I'll have to spend figuratively decades trying to find all my darling children," she explained, both flustered and caught in the middle of a never ending rage spiral that is life. "But that can wait until later, after all, I'm here for your no-no bag."
Twilight's eyes nearly exploded as realization coursed through every bone in her brain. "Aw jeez, you've really done it this time Applejack!" She spouted, both birthing goo and the leftover puss from a pimple she had been eating ejecting from her mouth in conjunction like a flurry of thanksgiving mashed potatoes right into Applejack's sniveling gob. "You just had to distract me!" Not waiting for a response from the other, equally-sized tiny horse, Twilight ushered forth her considerable might to push herself up off the ground, orange one still clinging desperately to her abdomen. Without another moment's delay, she eloquently wobbled across the room to her brown-paper stool bag, conveying her unending despair through the rhythmic throbbing of her tender haunches.
With movements much too fast and fluid to capture in text, she gave the bag to Rarity, happy to see it gone from her life, hopefully for good. "Get it out of my sight," she demanded, almost pleadingly, incapable of coping with any more 'sin' in her life as she could hardly bear the thought of ever having to see another poop as long as she lived.
"Don't worry," reassured Rarity, her best and only true friend in the world with a loving undertone only a true friend could ever appreciate as she took the poo bag in her secondary mouth used primarily for holding objects as she walks, "I can guarantee with utmost certainty that you'll never see another poop for the rest of your life." This was a promise she intended to keep. But from outside the home came a noise.
"Weeeooo, weeeeoooo!" squealed the siren pony who's special talent is making loud, repetitive noises.
Even without the obnoxious sound, one would be hard-pressed not to notice that something was wrong. One look up at the sky was all it took to see the gargantuan monolith hurtling towards the Pony Earth, its massive girth easily eclipsing the midday sun and casting Pony Land in its inky shadow. Down below, ponies screeched and thrashed and ran in all different directions, trying in vain to escape their impending doom like a bunch of lobsters in a bucket. Their panicking only intensified as the object entered the atmosphere, giving off a sonic boom that shook the very Pony Earth as it was immolated in friction fire.
Rarity, having worked with horse shit literally her entire life, instantly recognized the object, and rushed over to Twilight to shield her gaze lest her promise be broken so soon. Alas, it was not to be, and poor Twilight Sparkler had already rolled her way to a nearby window. She saw it all, and Rarity realized at that point that she could no longer go on. She had blatantly betrayed her only friend's trust. Her honor had been squandered, and now she could hardly even call herself a friend. Ashamed and beaten, she was forced to commit sudoku in order to regain a shred of her lost honor and dignity. In a burst of magic she became a 9x9 set of boxes all containing numbers between one and nine.
Having already gone through the 13 stages of grief, Twilight was over Rarity's betrayal long before you even finished reading this sentence, and instead focused her attention on the object that was hurtling towards her home. Her stubbly-wubbly head poker illuminated with fowl energon as she performed a magical scan of the object.
"It's done," she burped after only seconds, "I've managed to identify the object with 100% certainty."
"And?" Questioned Applejack, still firmly attached to her tummy, prompting the purplest one in the room to continue.
"This is no ordinary-human meteor we're dealing with," started Twilight, dramatically pausing for just a moment. "The object in question is actually composed almost entirely of feces. And not just any feces, it's pure, unadulterated, pony shit! I even distinguished some of my own among the mass. I'd recognize it anywhere... What we're dealing with here is a giant, continent-sized turd, likely teleported in small chunks into space over thousands of years and then balled together by gravity. Codename: The God Scat."
"Holy shit!" exclaimed Applejack.
"Exactly!"
"So what are we going to do? It could hit at any mo-" She began before being interrupted as the colossal turd shattered the crust of the planet utterly annihilating all life and ruining the atmosphere.
The moral of this story is: Don't make promises to your friends you aren't able to keep.
