Pleasured Viscera: Whispers Beneath The Boards

Spoon had a gang that she called 'The Merry Slams'; she was known as 'Silver Slam the Piercing Plan'. They were funding me. For once, I had a freelance operation. Today was vacation. Because I didn't wanna kill. Not yet. Shining's blood was in my mouth. I opened my maw, so to taste the trash musk all around.

I watched the city below me on their macbooks and little hoof-held electronics. Browsing. Watching porn and messaging loved ones. Was anyone busy these days, I heard an older pony grumble, climbing our sniper's nest. Yes, I imagined. Just because people weren't working themselves half to death didn't mean nobody had hardship. Labor was labor like pain was pain. A heart's laceration stung the many, old and young like arrows punching in through leather and skin. The only sin I saw was the need of one over many. Little raiders and bandits in the making. Someone touched my shoulder and, deep in thought, I felt the Night Stallion.

'You're my child.' He whispered, trailing feathers down my squishy, rounded cheeks bleeding rosy meats.

'You'll never have it back. ' My memory aggravated, drinking tears behind my fears of sleeping alone.

His lifeless eyes studied my living corpse. Like before, he'd break my core and drug my pores sweaty and numb. I knew the light that day, brilliant navy blues trickling in my solitary room. He came through my window with his wife. I had needles in my arms. Mixtures of irritable salt, tranquilizer and ecstasy. They made me watch and daddy wasn't there. How old was I. Fifteen. Sixteen and clean but never to dream past that day, a stray rape because I was schizophrenic and didn't want to be gay. The schools called me 'witch' and thought I was insane, but really, I was better younger. The Night Stallion had my cherry and slowly, he popped my boundary, slick and thick like master's trick of growing his dick with every chick he'd stick because nature got off on fucked-up shit.

"Mom...?" My silver murmured, brushing my shoulder.

I tensed, hugging my vest-pressed chest, twitching like I did the hours after.

"Mom, he's not real.. I'm real, see? I-It's okay." Silver Spoon soothed, stroking my mane like winter day.

Though people called me freak, 'machine' and monster, I didn't know why. All I did was take lives. I didn't break people. I didn't pry their maws open and shove maggots. The world burned like mother's joy, a depressed post-traumatic nurse with a curse of tickets to death's hearse. At home on her phone ignoring foals screaming full-blown, she gave me scars like father belt-burned and flank-up. I felt the wind whistle and Silver's hooves bristle my free, party girl scalp vegetation. Who was 'mother' I wonder, or, was it both of us. Cold, stony roof floor kissed my haunches, both calloused from being on my knees. She kissed my muzzle, licking warm to take me back. Touch made me lash. But, in my wounded limpness, all I could do was stare up. Stare and stare and stare because I felt I was still there.

Vibrant, stony violet hushed my thousand-yard eyes. They weren't mine, but, I wanted them to be. I wished I'd birthed her and had the honor of 'mother'. Minutes flew and, eventually, I stood with Silver. It was slow and clumsy, yet cathartic to know her hoof. We watched the absence of Sisters' Towers in quiet memorial. Our sky was grey-green and motorized with angry wishes.

"How... how'd you know it was him?" I asked, shaken and blank, murmured frank with cigarette stank.

My child, in her coat of black like old detective movies, watched the rain pour. It kicked her collar about, up and unzipped to make her words clear. Silver Spoon, some called her, but, to me, Silver Spade, held me lap-sat. I knew her scent strawberry and cream. Was anypony there, she made me ponder. Was I puppet playing with my own.

"I know that look anywhere, mom. You only hug yourself when your heart's racing. Plus... come on. I've been here for two years. Of course I know." My daughter stated, low and womanly with natural musculature.

I felt her forelegs, so grown and dense. So different from when she wasn't legal. Barely able to box a beagle. Now, she was an eagle. Pouring rain made her clean and never lean to wind's shivered meanness. I felt exposed when water drenched my little coat. My thick, jacket-worthy fluff kissed her hooves. I guided her lukewarm tips back and forth, pressing them against my sternum. We were smoking. Maybe no one cared about us. But, I realized we had each other. We didn't need a city full of fish and filth. We didn't need to look for more mates. More and more till we were fat with greed and gluttony.

"Lily..." Silver Spoon whispered, making my head spin.

"Wha... Who... who're you talking to...?" I slurred, hammered over and over by shattered walls.

"Lily Viscera. Is that your name, mom...?" My saviour uttered, not at all my child, but, my equal.

"It's here on your neck. What's that bug supposed to be, though? It's running down your spine- um, it's full of legs and segments..."

I hushed her, kissing lithe over my own, pink-kissed shoulder. I nipped her lips, grazing canines shiny with drool.

"It's a centipede... A-a giant centipede from where I grew-up. maybe. Is it black and gold? Then, it's a mukade. Sometimes, bushi would find them in their scouting. But, instead of killing them, they'd celebrate because mukade were an omen of victory. Back when swords reigned, they were all over. The bushi revered their toughness, since, mukade can survive hammers... I, um, studied them when I was... ten or eleven. When I let my hair long like you."

Thunder lit our night. One boom. Two boom. Red boom. Blue Boom. It wasn't thunder, but flares and from up above. A nightly craft testing, maybe. I saw them glide invisibly, never once stopping because we were children among gods. Little Silver Spoon fondled my chest coat. I gasped, unsure of how to feel. Was she using my fur to feel, or studying me. My cheeks were flushed and every, little freckle seemed to shine.

"For such a strong pony, you sure are sickly... You're built like a linebacker." She hushed, fixing her thick, plastic frames.

My back and chest, yes. Everywhere else, not even close, I added. Even though, by all means, she disproved that by rubbing my sheathe region.

"That's why you never sleep. You don't take your pills, do you? Doctor Brazen called an hour ago. She said you were 'withering from stress hormone overkill.' I... I know you don't trust them, but, let's go buy some. I'll take you to Tallgreens." Silver stammered, awkward, but clearly taking me 'yes' or 'no.'

Fine, I huffed, to her general disbelief.

"Even if-"

"What...?" My angel double-took.

I shrugged.

"I said 'fine'. Let's go. And buy me a drink, too... I'm fucking starving." Lily hushed, stretching canine with rain washing away.

The rain said 'put your head to bed'.

But... I couldn't sleep. I had promises to keep. And miles to go before I'd sleep. And miles to go before I'd sleep.