My sides burn as a choke for breath. I greedily swallow as much as I can before I'm supposed to stop and Father pulls me back down onto him. I take a deep breath and open my mouth as wide as I can. His member roughly forces its way inside me and down my throat.
Father’s hips slam into my face greedily, silently begging for more. I will readily swallow the first thing I've had to drink in days. I'm grateful that Father remembers to give me something to drink every now and then. Moments later Father groans and my tummy fills with his fluids. My stomach fills quickly and I begin to choke on the rest. Once Father is finished, he yells and bucks me off the couch. I stifle a yelp as my head hits the hard, wooden floor. My vision blurs as I groan softly. His dark blue coat walks closer towards me.
I watch as his throbbing member sways with each step. Before I know it, he bends down, raises my legs and grunts as he pierces my backside roughly. He forces his way in and out roughly, stabbing my tummy harder with each thrust. Father’s goal is for me to be in as much pain as possible. I try to keep track of time, but after a while, the rhythmic expansion of my backside and tummy leaves me in a daze, and the echoing of his hips slamming against me begins to make me sleepy. Finally, he finishes inside me. He grunts and my body begins to heat up. My backside fills with warm fluid, and my tummy begins grumbling soon after. Once he’s finished, he shoves me into the wall. Discarding me from underneath him. I am no longer useful. I release a wet burp as my tummy presses roughly against the floor.
"T-thank you," I say exhaustedly, "for not using the whip this time." tears spring to my eyes and I begin to tremble as his face twisted with fury. Please forgive me.
Before I can beg for forgiveness, Father’s hoof crushes my side. I hear something break, I think some wood broke or something. Tears stream down my face as he continues to kick me. Despite my wails, I can hear Father roaring with anger. I think Father would have liked to use the whip. Maybe Father forgot to get it out this time.
"You know what you little bastard," Father growls as I lean my withered frame against the wall. "You really want to be in pain that bad, don’t you?” Tears stream down my face as I watched him take out his box of throwing knives and walk towards the fireplace. He presses the button to wake up Mr. Pain.
Mr. Pain is always enjoy making things feel worse than they should, I don’t really know why though. I guess Father told him what I did and he doesn’t like me either. I can’t blame him though. His orange body shines brightly in the afternoon light as he dances inside the fireplace. His heat radiates throughout the room. Already I can feel him singing the fur off my body.
As Father heats his knives, I struggle to keep my legs from collapsing underneath me. I force myself up onto two legs and lean against the wall so I won’t fall over, and spread my limbs out to the side. I'm always happy to help Father practice his game. I hear him tell his friends about how good he is thanks to me. I’m glad Father is happy.
He places each of his knives on a tray each of them glowing a pretty shade of red. I’m not prepared at all for when he starts. Swiftly turning on his hind hooves, he launches the first knife. Before I can figure out where he’s aiming, pain explodes in my left foreleg. I look to see the hot blade of the knife sticking out, just missing my knee. I scream as another knife sinks its way into my . I watch Father smile as my legs finally give out, leaving me to writhe on the ground. At least he’s happy. Again and again waves of pain erupt through my body as each knife hits their mark. Through my tears, I can see Father smile. It’s all worth it to see him smile.
When we finally finish playing, my entire body is sticky with blood. I feel so tired but I don’t think he will let me sleep yet. I pull out the knives and Father cleans them and places them carefully into their case. Father begins to search the kitchen for his next tool. It's too dark to see him from this distance, but the familiar feeling I get in my tummy I get whenever Father gets excited about something makes me tremble viciously. Father walks towards me slowly, the silhouette of Father's flared wings bear down on me, wrapping me in an endless an endless void.
"Spread them out." Father orders.
I whimper as I do my best to flare my wings. Father has told me ever since I first tried using them that I was not to use my wings. Eventually, they became nothing more then accessories. I start with my rump; flexing my muscles until I get used to the aching and tearing. I move on quickly, fearing that Father is getting impatient with me. I move my hips, then my shoulders; finally I get to my chest. I struggle to search for the group of muscles that are responsible for my wings, begging them to move. Growing impatient, Father lunges forward and grips my right wing, tugging at it until it has been fully extended.
Father knocks me to the ground and I don't dare to move; I tremble as my wing is forced into it's new position. All I can do is watch as Father takes out a large piece of metal with sharp slits in it. Father bites the tip of my wing and stretches it out. Placing the piece of metal against my feathers, he slides it downwards- the freezing metal slides gently across my primaries. After a few seconds of the gentle pulling against my wings, my body begins to relax; it was my own fault. Agony tears through my wing as he forces the tool in the other direction. Chunks of feathers and flesh break free from my body as the instrument eagerly digs into all it can get into.
I hear Father Father grumbles to himself and he walks into the bathroom, I hear water begin to fill up the bathtub. Being alone in the living room for a while, I finally get a chance to rest. I slump onto the floor, shivering as the cold floor presses against my backside. It doesn’t stay cold for long as my blood pools on the floor.
My short period of rest ends when I hear the water stop filling the tub. My heart starts pounding in my chest. I don't like the water, especially not the baths. Father always likes to bathe me roughly. As long as it makes him happy though, I can’t complain too much.
I cry out as I feel a sudden jolt of pain. I must have nodded off a bit as I open my eyes to see Father standing over me. I whimper as he roughly picks me up by the waist and carries me over to the tub. I try to wriggle free as he carries me across the room, but my body screams in protest, and his powerful leg locks me in place. I can’t take the pain, so I keep as still as I can. My breathing gets faster as he pushes me closer and closer to the tub. I whimper as I try to prepare myself for the inevitable. Before I know it, I fly through the air into the water.
I gasp as the freezing water shocks my body and tears the air from my lungs. I try to get my head up for a breath, but Father’s rough hooves are already on top of my chest. My back touches the bottom of the tub and I still can’t move. I begin to panic. I claw at the surface of the water, desperately trying to find a hold to pull myself out, sending waves of water flying everywhere. I try to force myself up by pressing against the back of the tub, but Father passes down even harder. My head knocks painfully against the bottom of the tub, making my vision blurry. The color of the water changes rapidly from clear to a dark, nightmarish, red as my blood joins the mixture. I’ve been under for minutes now. I need to breathe.
The world around me gets darker, and my lungs begin to burn. Thankfully, Father raises me out of the tub. I cough and choke for a moment before I take another deep breath. I look at Father’s face as his eyes glare at me, forcing me back into the tub.
For some reason, the water feels even colder the second time, and I fail to resist the urge to gasp as the water tears the air from my body. The water burns my eyes as I try to find comfort in Father's face on the surface, but it’s too dark. I thrash, desperately trying to fight off his arms. The pains I felt earlier explode to life as the chilly water no longer dulls them. The tub grows even darker as I accidentally use the bathroom. I can no longer see, and I no longer have the strength to beg for air. As I twist one last time until something inside my body shifts. I forget about holding my breath as I accidentally cry out in pain. Within seconds, I begin to choke. I wriggle violently once more as I try to force the fluid out of my lungs. I claw at Father's arm, begging him to let me up, but I don’t have the strength.
Before my energy fades, I am yanked out of the tub and tossed onto the floor. I lay there, vomiting a mix of water, pee, and blood. My eyes still burn, and I try blinking and rubbing them to try and stop it, but it doesn’t help.
That bath was terrible; I am far dirtier than I was before.
After I finish coughing and puking on the floor, I’m left sobbing. Without wasting any time, he bucks me in my side and I begin to crawl. Slowly, enduring the kicks to my body, I finally make it across the living room to a small door under the stairs. He opens the door and pushes me into my room, ignoring my whimpers. I heard some of his friends call it a closet, but isn’t a closet for storing things and not ponies? That’s just silly. Why would Father put me in a closet?
I try and rearrange myself, but my head and legs are squished against the opposite walls. There’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t possibly bear the pain of curling up into a ball. With no other options, I make sure everything where it belongs. Trying to dodge the only source of light that peeks its way through the crack, I am able to make out vague shapes. Mr. and Mrs. Bowl are right next to my face. Mr. Bowl kindly offers me the old scraps from Father’s dinner a few days ago. Usually I would take him up on his offer, but I’m not very hungry. Remembering my manners, I give him a quiet ‘No thank you,” and shift my head away.
I grumble softly as Mrs. Bowl still chooses to be super greedy. For some reason, in the past four days, she has drank all of the water for herself. That’s okay though, if she’s so thirsty, she really must need it. I can’t help but wonder why Mr. Bowl would be married to such a greedy person though. On the other hand, their rusted surfaces match each other perfectly. I’m happy for them.
The last one in here is my best friend Fuzzy the Lion. His yellow orange coat reminds me how long I’ve had him. I wish I was able to keep him in better condition, but his stained fur reminds me how many accidents I’ve had, and his torn ear reminds me that I should stop having midnight snacks.
"Hi Fuzzy." I whisper as I pull him close and nuzzle him. A tear streams down his face and on my muzzle. "Don't cry buddy, I'm here for you now." I wipe another tear from his face and remember something that I think of when I'm sad. "Hey Fuzzy, don't cry. You wanna hear a story?”
I sigh and lean myself back against the far wall. I still don’t fit entirely, but at least I can put my legs up. I try to think of a story, but I can’t think of anything that I enjoy. There is one story though. Father used to tell it to me when years ago when he could talk to me without exploding at me.
“Let me tell you a story Father calls: The Happy Family and the Demon Who Ruined Everything.”
"So. Once upon a time, there was a very happy family. There was a mother and a father who loved each other very much. That love was only beaten by the love they had for their daughter. They had everything they could have asked for. The mother was a very beautiful mare. Some ponies often wondered if she was the Princess of Beauty maybe even a succubus that was looking for prey. She was just a radiant mare with a heart of gold. The father was a soldier for Celestia. He was hardwired for battle and has spilled more blood than anypony else. It's considered an honor to be fighting under his command. The soldiers that are under him know that they will be seeing their families soon. Then there was their daughter. She was a prized possession; their little gem. She had an eye for adventure and a soul full of courage.
"One day, at their monthly visit to the hospital, the doctor said the mother was pregnant. The family didn't understand, they haven't done anything ever since their daughter was born! Understandably, they didn’t believe him. They called him a loon, pulled some strings, and got him fired. Yet, as the doctor said, the mother was pregnant. Months passed and they thought that they were very fortunate to have another child. The mother couldn’t move like she used to, but the father loved her all the same. Yet, a week after that, she couldn't move at all. The husband called in the best doctors he could find from all over Equestria and beyond, yet none of them could understand what was wrong with her. Eventually, the father called in a zebra shaman to figure out what was wrong with her. After testing her, the zebra prophesized that what ever was growing inside her would slay both her and the young foal. She went on to explain that she was decaying-being eaten alive by the spawn inside her. It was too late for her now.
The following weeks were painful for the father and daughter to watch. At night she would scream and howl in pain, begging for someone to kill her, and in the morning the they would enter her room to see her too weak to move from the night before. They saw how violent the decaying was, first her flesh would peel and tear like paper, then her innards would show. Mercifully, the day they feared had come. The birth of the child was agonizing for them to watch; yet they didn't want to miss her final moments of life. As the child passed through her womb, it tore her body apart. There was no chance she would survive, and she was so happy when death finally free her from the pain. When the baby was born, the father stared at the newborn child that was lying on his wife’s empty carcass, and shook with anger. Right in front of him, this monster destroyed his wife, and there was nothing he could do. He vowed to himself, and his family that he would destroy the foul creature.
"Taking every precaution, he sent his daughter away, placing her inside a cargo shipment leaving from Cloudsdale. He feared that as long as he knew where his child was, then the monster would know as well. Days bled into years and he still could not slay the creature. No matter what he tried, the demon always survived. Whether he tore it apart with his bare hands, or ran it through with his longsword, the creature wouldn’t parish. No matter where he left it, the demon always returned. The father did not have the time to continue plotting the demon’s death, so he stayed home from work for weeks on end. Eventually the father lost his job, and moved to the outskirts of a small town. Every day, the father spends a little of his time tearing away at the demon’s defenses. He locks it away, tortures it, defiles it, anything he could do in hopes of bringing it the pain it deserves. The end”
Fuzzy begins to cry once again, and I press him against my muzzle. “It’s alright Fuzzy. I don’t blame Father for wanting to kill me. If I really did hurt him so badly, how could I possibly be forgiven? I’d do anything to make Father happy.” I smile as he finally stops sobbing. Pressing him against my chest, I curl up into a ball and fall into a dreamless sleep.
I look around the room once again. The walls are made of wood, but they aren't all splintery like the ones at the house are. A tall stand with shapes on it is being used by an even taller pony. The second pony paces back and forth, my eyes following every movement.
The pony's dark blue fur shines brightly in the daylight, each strand lying perfectly next to its neighbor, unable to conceal the muscle underneath. The pony's legs are strait, perfectly spaced apart, displaying nothing but its raw power. The pony's chest expands and contracts with every powerful breath he takes, each one being used as fuel for a magnificent machine. The wings are beautiful. Two large receptacles of energy draped delicately against its chest, rising and falling with each breath. The smile the pony wears is spiteful, filled with disgust and venom. Father's sneer reveals the fangs of the mouth, each one eager to tear into whatever gets in its way. Father's eyes are cold, forcing their way into my mind.
"We heard enough."
The voice makes me jump, snapping me out of my memory - the possibility of Father persuading him to hurt me was suddenly very high. I turn my eyes to the tallest one in the room. The coat is very bright, and I can't help but to squint in order to look at it. Unlike the first pony, this one does not look as scary. Its mane is very colorful, and it flows like it's at the mercy of a strong breeze. I feel sorry for the poor pony . . . the large spike in its head must hurt a lot. Did Father do it?
"Um . . ." The two pony's turn their focus towards me. The smaller one looks at me strangely, but I ask my question anyway. "Did it hurt? The spike?" The tall one looked at me for a while until I move a hoof to my head.
"No little one," the pony says. "It's been there since I was born." I don't understand. Why would ponies be born with spikes in their heads? Seeing my confusion, she tilts her head. "Where are you in your studies my little pony? Have you gone to school?"
I'm not sure what a school is, but I don't think Father kept me in one. I shake my head. "I only stayed in the house with Father." The pony nods.
"And, to your understanding, what was your father trying to accomplish by locking you away your entire life?"
"Father was cursed by a demon. It destroyed everything that he has ever cherished, so to keep everypony safe, Father locked the demon away. Every day Father fought the demon, but Father was unable to slay it. Before Father had a chance to, I was taken away." The pony nodded slowly at me. "What did you do to Father?"
"He was taken to a place for bad ponies. It's not allowed for ponies to treat each other like your father has treated you."
"It wasn't Father's fault!" Tears fill my eyes before I can make any attempt to stop them. "Why is Father in trouble for trying to vanquish a demon? It's my fault!" My body begins shaking as I start to cry. "Please don't hurt Father!"
"He's obviously traumatized Princess, shouldn't he be going to a ward instead of having this hearing?"
"In order to help this child, Percival, he needs to have a true family and receive a proper education. In order to vanquish a demon, you mustn't use blades, fire, or hate. You destroy demons by not caring for them. By paying no heed of the sins of other ponies or the evils in this world, evil spirits no longer exist. If this child is truly a demon, then I know just the place to send him so he can be properly cared for."
