The CalmView OnlineNo Ship to SailThe CalmThe shower had completely frizzed her mane. Pinkie shook the excess water from it and toweled the ends dry, shaking her coat from neck to haunch. Her fur stood every which way. She giggled. It had been a hard day at Sugarcube Corner. Mr. Cake had been home sick with a headache, so Pinkie had volunteered to stay in the back and do all the baking. Mrs. Cake had been uncertain at first, but relented after the seventy-fifth time Pinkie had assured her she could do it. "See, Gummy? And nothing burned down!" She laughed, emerging from the small bathroom. The toothless alligator offered her a vacant stare before scuttling under the bed. Pinkie giggled some more and tossed the towel into the hamper, trotting bouncily to her dresser. She picked up her brush and frowned at her frizzy mane in the mirror. So many tangles! She winced as the bristles caught after the second stroke. "Stupid mane," she grumbled, yanking on the brush. "You could condition it, you know." Pinkie looked up and sighed at her reflection. "I don't have time for you tonight." Her reflection folded her forelegs and cocked her head. Her mane hung straight and flat. Her eyebrow was arched, and a sardonic smile tugged at the corner of her muzzle. Smirky, that one. Pinkie hated her. "Oh? Hot date?" Her reflection teased, making a kissing motion. Pinkie wrinkled her muzzle. "Buck off," she grumbled. She always appeared at the worst of times, whenever Pinkie was feeling tired or sad. But today wasn't bad - just long. Nothing horrible had happened. She had done well at work - only two bags of flour had spilled and one cake caught on fire and there were only three times she had to scrape icing from the ceiling - "I forget. You're Miss Success, here in your studio apartment above a bakery," her reflection continued, her tone biting. Pinkie met her eyes in the mirror, setting the brush down on the dresser. "You're a meanie, and I really don't have time for you," Pinkie insisted. Why is she here? Today was fine! she screamed inside. Fluttershy and Rarity... oh... "Yes... they stopped by today, didn't they?" her reflection purred, putting her hooves up against the glass. Pinkie looked down. "Awfully... snuggly... weren't they?" "They're bestest friends. It's what bestest friends do," Pinkie replied softly. Her reflection snorted and laughed, her tone dripping with derision. "Yes, friends. Why, I bet they're special hugging right now!" "You be quiet!" Pinkie shouted angrily, glaring at her own mocking face. "You don't get to be in my mirror and in my head! We agreed! You live in the mirror or I take the daily magic that makes you away forever!" "Oh Pinkie Pie... darling..." The voice was behind her now. Warm breath tickled the soft fur lining her ear, and Pinkie shivered. She stared in horror at the empty mirror. Well, not empty. Pinkie saw herself - Pinkie - as she should, but she was on the wrong side! The mirror her slid her forelegs about Pinkie's neck and nibbled her ear seductively. "We both know... I'm the only one who will ever always be here for you..." "Get... get away from me!" Pinkie stammered, scrambling to escape her doppelgänger's embrace. Mirror Pinkie - Pinkamena - smirked. It was sultry, knowing. It terrified Pinkie. "You are so horribly alone," Pinkamena said softly, dropping her head to the side so her straight mane fell in a solid magenta wall. "So terribly broken. No pony could ever love you." "No! I have friends! Lots of friends! All of Ponyville loves me!" Pinkie insisted angrily, desperately. "I make them laugh!" Pinkamena inclined her head the opposite way, clicking her tongue. "Oh dear... don't you see? You are a clown." Pinkie blinked. "Ponies don't laugh with clowns, Pinkie Pie." Pinkamena smiled wickedly. Pinkie Pie continued her slow retreat across her small bedroom, backing up, hoof over uncertain hoof. She hated her. She hated her. She didn't belong here. The mirror was where she lived, so Pinkie could get away from her when she was being nasty like this. Why was she chasing her down to be so mean?! "Look at your peers," Pinkamena continued. "Applejack runs a farm. Rarity... gorgeous, famous designer with a stunning model girlfriend." She winked evilly at Pinkie, who winced. "Rainbow Dash, accomplished athlete. And Twilight - no, no... forgive me. Princess Twilight Sparkle." "I'm proud... of my friends," Pinkie retorted, though her voice caught in her throat. She had backed up as far as she could, and her haunches hit the edge of her bed. Pinkamena stopped her approach, muzzle to muzzle. "You have nothing to offer the world but your silliness," she whispered. "You can not create. You cannot teach. And when your friends tire of your childish antics... they will tire of you. You wonder why you lay here, alone, every night, without a special somepony?" "Stop..." Pinkie begged. She felt fat, hot tears spill down her cheeks, and heard them hit the floor. "Who wants a party from a sad clown?" "Stop!" Pinkie sobbed, sinking to her knees, burying her face in her forelegs. "Just... stop..." A gentle hoof caressed her back. Pinkie's body shook with the force of her emotional turmoil. Pinkamena stroked along her spine until the sobs subsided to whimpers, and pulled the distraught pony to her hooves. "Come lay, sweetness," she whispered, helping Pinkie into bed. Pinkie felt numb. Her limbs were heavy, and her eyes burned. She crawled under the blankets and turned to lay on her side. Pinkamena embraced her from behind, that soothing hoof stroking her mane now. "I am always here..." she whispered. "I hate you," Pinkie whispered back, closing her eyes. Alone, above Sugarcube Corner, the rock farmer's daughter softly cried herself to sleep.
Before...View OnlineNo Ship to SailBefore...Author's Note This fic coincides with "A Model Relationship", but more specifically this chapter if you don't want to read the whole thing. Before... "Time to wake up, loser." Pinkie groaned, covering her head with her forelegs. Pinkamena jabbed at her face with her hoof. "You expect to sleep all day, eat like you do, and still look like this when you're an old mare?" The snarky filly smirked, poking at Pinkie some more. "Why are you still here?" Pinkie mumbled into her pillow. Hot breath tickled the feathery fur lining her ear. "I'm always here." The words chilled her to the bone. The sun shone brightly through the window of Pinkie's upstairs apartment. A bluebird landed on the branch outside, chirping prettily, announcing morning's arrival to Ponyville. Pinkie wished it would shut the buck up. "Up up up!" Pinkamena screeched suddenly, yanking the blankets Pinkie had cocooned herself with away. Pinkie shrieked. The other filly laughed unkindly. "Oh you are such a sad sight in the morning. Equestria should be thankful that I'm the only one who has to look at you." "You don't belong here," Pinkie grumbled, sliding begrudgingly out of bed. She wiped the crust of last night's tears from her fur. "I told you to go back in the mirror." "I've decided to stay," Pinkamena replied. Pinkie blinked, whirling around. "What?" Pinkamena grinned. It was anything but what the expression was meant to convey. "I. Have decided. To stay." She repeated herself, slowly enunciating each word, as though Pinkie were an imbecile. Pinkie shook her head frantically. "No no no no no no you can't do that you can't do that!" She gushed frantically, her heart hammering against her ribs. She felt short of air, her head starting to spin. "You have to live in the mirror!" "I don't like it there," Pinkamena answered, sitting on the edge of the bed, examining one of her forehooves for imperfections. "Too boring." Pinkie narrowed her eyes. "I'll do it," she whispered. Pinkamena arched an elegant eyebrow and lifted her gaze from her hoof to her alter. "Do what?" "I'll take the magic." Pinkamena blinked innocently, holding up a small, dark brown jar. "Oh... these?" Pinkie felt her heart explode as adrenaline rushed into every smallest nook and cranny her body had. Pinkamena smiled knowingly. "I thought you might try that. Go ahead. Swallow away, my dearest." She tossed the jar, and Pinkie dove to the ground to catch it before it landed. Something wasn't right with it... It was... It was... "Empty..." Pinkie whispered, holding the lid in one hoof, jar in the other. "Oh my," Pinkamena gasped with faux surprise. "As if somepony disposed of all the magic bits overnight while a lazy worthless filly was sleeping so she couldn't banish her better half back to the boring nothingness of not existing." The straight-maned filly placed the tip of her hoof against her lips in another mock display of shock. "And didn't that unicorn doctor get banned from practicing medicine by the Sisters themselves after it was discovered he sewed snake heads on a lizard and declared it a hydra?" "You can't be here." It was less a command than a plea. Her voice caught in her throat. Pinkie swallowed a sob. Losing... She was losing. Pinkamena slid from her perch at the end of the bed and came forward, nuzzling Pinkie's neck. "You need me, Pinkie Pie. You need me more now than you ever have." "No..." "Alone..." Another nuzzle. "No pony to love... "A nibble at her ear. Pinkie hated the way her skin tingled when she did that. It made her heart skip in a nervous way that wasn't bad, but felt like it should be. "Your friends choosing each other instead of you-" "It's not like that!" Pinkie screamed, shoving the other filly as hard as she could. Pinkamena smirked, recovering from the stumble as though it had never occurred. She tossed her mane. "Oh it's not... is it?" She said softly. Light began to emanate from Pinkie's mirror on her dresser. She cast a distrusting glance at the glow. "W-what are you doing?" She demanded. Pinkamena sidled up to her with a concerned expression. "Take a look," she replied softly. Pinkie eyed her warily, but took a step toward to mirror. Pinkemena followed. "Where are Rarity and Fluttershy anyway?" she asked. Pinkie blinked. "Rarity had a show... in Manehattan. Fluttershy's her dress model so-" "Is that what dress models do for designers?" Pinkamena interrupted. One hoof on the back of her head, she guided Pinkie's gaze to the mirror. Pinkie's eyes widened. Her jaw fell. What she was seeing... It was beautiful, and sacred. She should not be seeing it. It was for Rarity and Fluttershy alone to experience, and no business of hers to even ponder. So why did it make her quiver and warm in some places, and shrink and chill in others? "Make it go away," Pinkie whispered, closing her eyes. Pinkamena cocked her head. "Oh, I forgot to turn on the sound." Moans, gasps, and a passionate squeaking scream filled the room. "Is that... Is that how... Mares do it?" Pinkie heard Fluttershy breathe. "I said make it go AWAY!" Pinkie roared. She thrust out her hooves. The mirror shattered. Large shards of glass fell around her shoulders and face, and she threw her forelegs over her head for protection. Peripherally aware of stinging beneath her fur, her breath coming in short, heavy gasps, Pinkie looked up as the sharp onslaught subsided. "Pinkie!" She heard Mrs. Cake pounding at her apartment door. "Pinkie, I heard glass and thumping! Are you alright, dear?" Pinkie took a deep breath to steady herself. "I'm fine, Mrs. Cake... Just, ah... dropped a plate, haha! Clumsy ol' me!" The lilt was forced, as was the smile that naturally tried to accompany it. "Oh..." She heard hooves hesitate. "Well, the bakery is heating up. Will you be down soon?" "Yes, Mrs. Cake." Pinkamena was grinning from ear to ear. Pinkie simply stared. "Why are you so happy?" she demanded after a long silence. Pinkamena's grin intensified, reflected brokenly in fractured mirror shards on the floor. "We're going to be together. Forever."
The Storm - (sexual content)View OnlineNo Ship to SailThe Storm - (sexual content)It was getting progressively more difficult for Pinkie to maintain her bubbly demeanor. "Miss?" the stallion prompted from across the counter. Pinkie blinked, trying to ignore the way Pinkamena was mocking his every word and movement. "I said I needed a dozen cinnamon rolls." "Haha, of course! One dozen, coming right up!" Pinkie smiled. " 'Coming right up!' " Pinkamena sneered mockingly, hopping over the counter. The stallion ignored her. Pinkie shook her head. It had been two weeks since the atrociously behaved doppleganger had made her escape from the mirror, and her invasion of Pinkie's day to day life was becoming progressively worse. She'd become harder to ignore, and Pinkie feared one day she was going to slip and scream at the pony on she could see. Like right now. All morning during her shift, Pinkamena had been mimicking her every word. "I don't even sound like that," Pinkie muttered to her double as she bent down to retrieve the stallion's request from the pastry case. "You do, you simpering sad sod," Pinkemna giggled, and smacked Pinkie as hard as she could on her rump. Pinkie yelped. Loudly. Everypony's head popped up, even Mr. Cake's from the kitchen, and Pinkie felt uncomfortable stares land on her. She smiled nervously. "Just, ah... caught my mane in the register drawer, haha!" she recovered. "Clumsy ol' Pinkie Pie!" "Miss, I really need to go," the stallion at the counter pressed, looking at his watch for emphasis. "Of course, of course," Pinkie bubbled. "Here you go, eleven plus one yummalicious cinnamon rolls, baked fresh this morn—" Pinkamena slapped the box from underneath, sending the cinnamon rolls bouncing out of the cardboard container and into the air. Pinkie watched in slow-motion horror as they sailed, icing first, right at the stallion. She winced as they landed, sticky side down, all over his coat and mane. "What... on Equuis... was that for?" he demanded, clearly trying to contain his anger. "I have a twitch?" Pinkie tried, feeling hot tears of frustration and embarrassment well in her eyes. "I demand your manager." "Pinkie." Mr Cake's voice came from the kitchen. "Yes, Mr. Cake?" Pinkie replied. Pinkamena wordlessly mocked her, continuing to lob cinnamon rolls at the stallion. Thankfully, these either missed or he could not see them. "Take the rest of the day off, will you hun? Mrs. Cake and I can handle this." "But there's a line—" The look he gave her as he came to the kitchen doorway was enough to still her tongue. Her mane sagging, Pinkie Pie nodded, and defeatedly trod into the back. "Well that was an eventful morning!" Pinkemena chimed cheerfully, trotting bouncily beside her. It was as though their energies had switched. "I hate you," Pinkie whispered. "I only do the things you're too much of a coward to do for yourself," Pinkamena replied helpfully, sticking a hoof in front of Pinkie's, causing her to take a tumble. The straight-maned doppleganger giggled. "You are a piece of work!" "Bully," Pinkie muttered, climbing to her hooves. "Oh, sticks and stones, Pinkie my love." "Whatever," Pinkie replied, nudging the door to her room open. "So, what shall we do today?" Pinkemena grinned, plopping down on Pinkie's bed. Pinkie gave her a look that would have been menacing from anypony else, but, given that this was Pinkie Pie, ended up being just cranky. "I'm going to see Twilight," Pinkie decided, stopping before her shattered mirror. She had gathered all the glass shards and glued them back to the frame—the effect was eerie and disturbing, but would have to make do until she had the bits to buy a new one. Pinkamena oozed in behind her, too close for Pinkie's comfort. "Whatever for?" Her double's breath was hot in her ear. It made that tingly feeling in Pinkie's thighs again. She didn't like it. "You," she replied plainly, trying to ignore how the proximity of another pony's body was making her react. Pinkamena had been doing it far too often—ever since her emergence form the mirror. It gave Pinkie thoughts she'd never had before, and she was pretty sure they were wrong. "They'll just put you in that hospital with Screwball," Pinkamena whispered. This time, she nipped Pinkie's ear. Pinkie trembled. "Everpony already things you're a little 'off.' Imagine when you tell them a better looking smarter version of you is following you around making your life miserable, but only you can see it." "Twilight will believe me," Pinkie maintained, pushing back against Pinkamena. The other pony stepped forward and placed a leg between Pinkie's hind ones. Pinkie gasped at the sensation. "No one will believe you," Pinkamena hissed, biting Pinkie's ear again. "S-stop it," Pinkie stammered. "You like it," Pinkamena countered. "You want this. You always have, but you've been too timid to do anything about it." She ground her leg against Pinkie's place, and Pinkie gasped again, feeling a warmth spread deep in her belly. "S-stop it, p-please," Pinkie tried. "Give in," Pinkamena purred in Pinkie's ear. Her breath was warm... It always was. Pinkie felt like crying. It was good and bad at the same time, this feeling that was growing inside her. "Little Pinkie Pie, you've never had a climax, have you?" Pinkie whimpered, feeling that place pressed against Pinkamena's leg grow wet and hot. The acrimonious alter smiled knowingly, and lifted her leg, drawing the length of it along that burning spot. Pinkie moaned. "Never ever, so behind your friends..." Pinkamena continued. She placed the tip of her hoof against a place Pinkie had felt throbbing but did not dare voice her desire to have touched. It was for naught—Pinkamena knew her thoughts, and started rubbing that place with her hoof in small, fast circles. Pinkie bit her lip, slamming her forehooves on the surface of the mirror. "Say it feels good Pinkie." "N-no..." "Admit it. Admit you're a dirty little horse." "I-I'm not doing anything wrong..." "Say it!" Pinkamena pressed harder, almost painfully so, and Pinkie cried out as a rushing, tingling heat cascaded from her place to her thighs, up her belly, and into her chest. She gasped for air, her muzzle covered in a fine sheen of sweat. When she raised her eyes to the broken mirror, she saw her own shattered reflection, hoof between her legs... and nopony else, her blue eyes with pupils large and dark in post-orgasmic ecstasy. She's... gone? "Always with you..." Pinkamena's voice sounded in her ear. Pinkie began to sob.
~Author's Note~View OnlineNo Ship to Sail~Author's Note~This story will not sit right with everypony. It's dark. Not dark in a "oh gross, she cut up Dashie and put her in a cake!" way, but dark in a "hold a mirror to your soul and see the monster that lives within" type of wickedness. Depression and mental illness are very, very real subjects, and, as Americans, we dodge them. Every day. Facing one's demons is something no one but the pony fighting that battle can do, but you don't have to do it alone. Friends and family WILL stand by you. In the US, the Suicide Hotline number is 1 (800) 273-8255. A list of international suicide hotline numbers can be found here. You are not alone. I am with you. I am one of the broken ones. And we will heal together. ~Noir
