Fall of Equestria: Insurrectionby MARINEav8rChaptersDistressRegretsDuressAddress ManumissionsBoundlessFriendlessDistressAuthor's Note Chapter one! Because this is the first fanfic that I am intending to make public, I am starting off with small chapters, setting the scene and a tone. Any and all criticism is welcome! ~~I am currently in collaboration with non_creepy_nickname in an attempt to make it fit into canon.~~ Most of all, enjoy! And keep an old sock nearby. Distress Rainbow Dash hugged Spitfire. The breasts of her former commander were warm and erect as the two Pegasi fought back the cold of their cell. And that damned itch on her back.... Despite the despair that Dash felt, she was happy to be free of that sadist bastard, Soarin. For two straight years, she struggled to keep her sanity and dignity as he and her former brothers-in-wings abused her. Yet, despite her pitiful state, she could not bring herself to hate them; many of the stallions, whether they knew it or not were just as victimized as she was. The two nude mares started as somewhere in the corridor, keys jangled and hooves were dragged across the tread plating that used to be the floor of the academy's armory. They scrambled apart and feigned masturbation as Thunderlane opened the makeshift cell and roughly dragged Spitfire by her wing sheaths, making his former mate growl in annoyance. A guard behind him, a wet bulge in his trousers, slammed a sobbing, manacled Lightning Dust against a safe and whipped out his shaft and rammed it up her bruised pussy. She struggled, but he whistled and a red- collared Fleetfoot shuffled in with a wheeled St. Andrews' cross. As the guard held Lightning Dust still, Fleetfoot snapped the restraints shut, and guided a mechanical phallus into her slit. "This bitch just kicked me," the guard spat, "can you believe it?!" "She deserves to be punished, master. Would you like me to get your shock stick?" Fleetfoot rubbed her pussy against the helpless pegasus as the guard slid the cage shut, rubbing his swelling cock. "There is no need for that, pet." He rubbed his knee against Dust's vulva. "It is Dashie's breakfast time." Fleetfoot bowed as he pushed the squirming mare out of the chamber. She poured a bowl of white pellets, but as the armored door clicked shut , she dumped them and produced a brown plastic pouch. "Oh, yum," Dash breathed, "cardboard. This IS a treat." Fleetfoot chuckled as she poured the MRE into Dash's bowl. "Soy omlette with hot sauce and onion. Possibly the last of them without some dumb-ass caribou's spunk in it." "Rah," Dash affirmed as she savored the meal. Spicy sauce dripped onto her raw nipples, but she ignored the sting: it was a sensation that she could control; a miniscule instant of freedom that was oh-so rare. "Rumor has it that your friend Applejack neutered her brother while he was sleeping with Cheerilee." Dash wiped the last traces of food from her flat chest, accidentally rubbing some into a wound from Soarin's whip. "That's the Applejack I know. One kick, and she probably turned his nuts into jelly." She chuckled, remembering the kind stallion and her fierce friend. Rainbow dash wiped away a tear and reached back to scratch the base of her wing sheaths. That damned itch.... In the next room, Soarin stroked his cock in anticipation. Spitfire was tied to a sybian, her wrists bound to the sides of a heavy cabinet at her back. He draped his pulsing stallionhood on her muzzle as he secured a strap to her head, and linked it to the end of a thrusting fuck machine. It was still covered in the warm juices from Lightning Dust who was now being dragged to the base's mess. Soarin secured the final implement: a ring gag. He reached down, tracing the yellow mare's curves, pausing to massage her pink nipples with his thumbs. He thrust his tongue into her mouth as he turned on the sybian, ramping it up to full intensity instantly. Spitfire tried to recoil from the vibration and Soarin's invading mouth, but she was bound fast. Soarin bent further, licking her tits, navel, and pussy. Then he switched on his favorite part of his contraption. The piston began to force spitfire's head forward, slowly pushing her vulnerable mouth towards his crotch. It stopped less than an inch from his waiting penis, and was drawn back again. Seeing that all was in order, Soarin stepped forward, thrusting his meatus into her open mouth as it was thrust forward again. She tried to turn her head as his warm cock slid over her tongue. She tried to bite down, to resist his incursion, but the gag kept her jaws apart. The machine reached it's apex, stopping her halfway along his fully erect shaft. He stepped forward more, making her gag and increased the speed. An involuntary, orgasmic moan escaped as her clit began to leak. Through the corner of her eye, she saw Fleetfoot exit the makeshift prison, avoiding eye contact with her friend and boss. Soarin, on the other hoof, was too busy with his swelling euphoria to notice her. Fleetfoot watched his assault, and shook her head. She looked at her captain in admiration. To remain a black collar and continue to resist despite the endless abuse was, she thought to herself, one of the most solid of measurements for a warrior's character. To break under the crushing fear, pain, and depression was, she realized no act of cowardice. For months, she had worn a black collar herself and had resisted the stallions' rape. Now she looked at Spitfire and felt... dirty. Unclean. Her body now craved sex, and she had to resist the temptation to massage her marehood as she watched. She felt a tear drip down and began to turn away, but forced herself to bear witness as her friend was raped. After what seemed like hours, the whine of the machine slowed. Spitfire, slick with her subordinate's seed dropped her head weakly as her head was released from the machine. Soarin shut off the contraption and strode to Lightning Dust, wiping his cock on her bare ass. With a slap on her pussy, he turned to Fleetfoot and forced her to her knees. "Clean me," he commanded, his cum beginning to harden on his scrotum. When she hesitated, he slapped her and pinched her nipple. "Did you hear me, bitch?" his voice was smooth and calm. "Yes sir, " Fleetfoot muttered as she leaned forward to lick. "THEN GET TO IT," He roared, causing mares and stallions alike to peek in, alarmed, "UNLESS YOU WISH TO TRADE COLLARS WITH THIS WORTHLESS WHORE!" RegretsAuthor's Note This chapter relies heavily on "Bruised Apples" by Schorl Tourmaline as it stands as of 5/25/15. If at any point you are confused, check it out. Regrets Big Macintosh watched Applebloom pick apples with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle under Cheerilee's watchful eyes. Unlike most female Equestrians, the three young mares wore garments that Granny Smith had fashioned from discarded latex suits. Legally, he could not cover them, but even the exposing bondage gear was wore modest than outright nudity. Big Mac knew that the other stallions thought that his actions were unorthodox, to say the least, but the red stallion ignored them. Two months earlier, he had bought the three of them from the bar where they had been dishwashers. No longer would he permit them to suffer, he resolved. He closed his eyes as the cool breeze blew through the west orchard. Leaves rustled as the air twirled in invisible vortices, and the scent of rich sod wafted into his nostrils. His erect ears told him that his slaves work hard at work in the fields and vinyards. He turned around and open his eyes, ready to face the harsh world again. He strode confidently into the barn, where Applejack was repairing the old cider fermentor. Her legs and pelvis protruded from the bottom of the machine. Big Mac felt his member harden, but forced himself to check the barrels within which the cider was aged. He began to shift them, loading the ones that had reached the proper brix. Abruptly, he stopped. Scorched upon one's lid was a date from which he could not avert his gaze. There was a soft shuffle of fur as Applejack rose and hugged him. Her ample, oil covered breasts pressed against his arm. Silently, she reminisced, her tears watering at the sweet memories. She closed her eyes. That autumn, the Apples had organized a massive harvest feast in Ponyville following their most successful harvest in recent memory. Foals and fillies ran, laughing and yelling as they played their innocent games, and were entertained by Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy while Rainbow Dash got a head start on the cider. Twilight and Rarity had been placing silverware, chatting about some new textile machine. Celestia and Luna had joined them as well. There had been laughter and a sweet innocence had permeated the air, mixing with the scents of the myriad of dishes so that even the warm breeze seemed to be alive with joy "We may never have another like it," she murmured into her brother's ear. They stood in silence for several moments before he slid it into the cellar. He smiled warmly at the memory as he lifted it onto a rack. "No. We won't." He checked to ensure that it was still sealed and to a faucet, removing his shirt. "Those days are long gone," he muttered as he saturated the cotton and wrought it. "We need to keep on making the best of what we've got." He scrubbed at the machine oil that matted the fur on her tits. "We're Apples to the core," Applejack continued as she scratched her neck beneath the red collar, "and we Apples ain't quitters." "We won't have harvests like those ever again," the large stallion agreed as he finished cleaning his sister, "we'll simply have new ones. They won't be grand and " If only, he thought to himself as he strode out to check the slaves in the field, I knew when. He looked back at his sister, the element of honesty, and silently pondered. That night, Braeburn made a surprise visit with Granny Smith. The slave girls were asleep in their barracks, so the Apples smiled quietly at jokes and warm tales. "I hear that you gave Big Mac here a solid hoof the other day," he turned to the stallion and rested his hooves on Big Mac's thigh, "mind if I take a look?" Big Mac could only roll his eyes. "How did that even start?" Cheerilee asked. Big Mac had bought her at the same time as he did Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. "As I recall, yesterday, you did me at the bar." Big Mac nodded. Despite the changes he and the family had made, rumors of him being a mare sympathizer persisted. As a result, he and Cheerilee elected to put on a public display every now and again. "I dunno. Probably some drunk half witted foal running his mouth." "Probably. Although, ya'll must admit that it's what she would have done to any other stallion a few years ago. Had we not lost each other to that damned breaking and corruption and all, you and the elements could have made a successful business selling jellied traitor balls." At Granny Smith's failed attempt at humor, the family fell silent. Pinkie Pie had been driven to near insanity by the assault, Fluttershy and Rarity had been broken almost immediately, Rainbow Dash, being a Black, was regularly put on display in Cloudsdale, and Spike and Twilight... Applejack didn't know is she should loath them for their treason or pity them for the foul corruption that they must have endured. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair as Granny Smith rose and guided the fillies into the barn. After several moments, Braeburn broke the silence. "That actually brings me to why I came." Big Mac rose. "Perhaps we should go inside." In mute agreement, they resettled in the living room where Braeburn resumed their conversation. "Do you recall your friend Rarity?" The well meant rhetorical question stung worse than a barbed whip. What had once been common speech had been corrupted by the occupation. "Cele-" Applejack stopped short of infringing on the Caribous' taboo, "Bless her. She was one of the finest mares I knew, before the Fall." She let the words hang. As long as the Caribou and that wretched Seductive Heart tainted Equestria, there would be no curing any of her friends from their trauma. "Well she, according to my... business partners, was-" another pause as he swallowed his discomfort, "-'on display' for a vendor in Stalliongrad." "She and several Blacks made off with a Tartarus-be-damned oiler and made for Maretania," a coarse, but feminine voice finished from the hallway. Applejack's heart leapt into her throat as the unannounced, hooded speaker walked into the room. "By the way," she said removing her hood, "you left the door open." "Business partners, you say?" Applejack's eyebrow spocked at as she studied their unexpected visitor. DuressAfter the stallions had finished raping them the previous morning, the three mares were fed slop and forced to run hobbled on the base's neglected airstrip. The cracked pavement, once a smooth strip of freedom incarnate, was now cracked and jagged. Thorns pressed through the aging surface and stabbed at the frog in Rainbow’s hoofs, and the hobbles made her progress slow and clumsy. A seedling rapevine lashed out at her, hidden beneath a slab of loose asphalt, and coiled around the link between her legs. She fell face-first and a thistle pierced her left breast making her cry out. Spitfire and Lightning Dust shuffled past her, not daring to stop whilst their masters looked on. Dash shook free of the weak tendril and rolled to her feet. Instinctively, she tried to spread her wings to stabilize herself, but her prized appendages only pressed against the hard sheath on her back, turning the now persistent itch into a cramped jolt of pain. She increased her gait, passing her two compatriots once again. She knew it wasn’t supposed to be competitive, but she pushed herself faster and faster down the two mile stretch. She had always considered herself to be a champion, and damned if she would let that be taken from her too. What happened next was even worse. Two cadets grabbed her arms as she crossed runway's threshold and began to drag her to the mess hall. Rainbow stumbled and faltered as she was pulled faster than her hobbled legs could maintain. They bound her to a table and began to ferociously fondle, tickle, and rut her naked form. Rainbow winced as they called one of the building's three Reds over. The submissive mare offered them steaming coffee as she ground her sex against Dash's. One stallion produce a set of cuffs and positioned her on top of Dash. Her fur was already encrusted with dried cum and chafed at Rainbow's erect nipples as her weight torqued Rainbow's sheaths, making her grunt and squeeze her eyes shut in equal parts pleasure and pain. Linking the two mares's wrists and ankles, the stallions stepped apart. Out of curiosity, she opened her eyes and instantly and began to panic. A large machine had been rolled up, to which the had been attached a thick U-shaped dildo, the largest she had seen since the abuse had begun. She felt the Red shifting as the blue stallion lubed her, and Dash noted with irritation, that he had no intention of giving her that small mercy, and squirmed futilely as the stallions stuffed it in. They stopped pushing and pulling the fake phallus, so she allowed herself to exhale. The flywheel began to spin and Rainbow cried out as she realized that they had barely put the tip in. The soulless bastards laughed and jeered as the machine did it for them, and she did the only thing she could: she buried her muzzle in the Red's breast to stifle the imminent scream. Each emotionless thrust seemed stretch her cyan clit, and the relief from it's retreat only a fraction of a moment as the pain saturated her pelvis. She felt her thighs become slick with a warm fluid. Surely, she couldn't have climaxed already. The mare moaning gleefully on top of her? Cum from the jerking stallions? Blood? In the distance she heard the stallions' laughter turn to yells, and the distinct sound of bone breaking. In an instant, the instrument of her despair was ripped from her vagina and a tidal wave of sound crashed on her ears, as she gasped in relief as the pain ceased, punctuated by the cacaphony of the machine toppling. Rainbow opened her eyes as two soft but strong hands unlocked the infernal constraints that pinned her. She opened her eyes to behold Spitfire's yellow face. Spitfire finished removing the restraints and chased off the Red with a mild buck. Rainbow looked about, bewildered at the turn of events and beheld a sight that flooded her with emotions. The cadets that had moments ago been an abusive rabble stood abreast, the green one at attention and the blue one cradling his broken wrist. Before them, a furious Soarin, flanked by Lieutenant Thunderlane and Gunny Fast Clip who wore a Smokey Bear, bellowed a string of epithets and wielding his revolver like a club. He looked turned and looked at her. Her heart fluttered as she looked into his green eyes. For two years, she had come to recognize them as hard and narrow, perpetually radiating lust and anger. Now, they betrayed sorrow and pain, something that she found completely alien in the Stallion. Spitfire followed her gaze and gasped as she too beheld his suddenly softened features. Thunderlane whispered into his ear and he blinked. The two mares sighed in unison as his eyes became cold and furious once more and he refocused his rage on the two subordinates. "You Cele-, you damned foals," he hissed. He winced at his near use of the taboo phrasing, but continued. "How DARE you treat my property like that?!" He slapped the stallion's broken wrist with his sidearm, making the stallion yelp, and forced his naked, shaking body into the proper position. The green one's stiff stance gave him little refuge as Soarin brought his knee up into the cadet's nethers, doubling him over. The Gunny wasted no time, and hollered into his ear, screaming at him to get up. Soarin continued, heedless of their pain and pointed at the two mares. “Do you recognize them?” He holstered the pistol and began to slowly pace around the trembling cadets. “They are two of the last bastions of disorder and impurity from the Old Order. As such, Dainn has tasked me with making examples of them. NOT to break them." His voice suddenly smooth and calm. "You two were graced by King Dainn when he gave you the right to be a cadet for my beloved unit."He slowly, deliberately, took a step, his boot clad hoof ringing on the faux-wood floor. "Stoicism." Step. "Honor." Step. "Heroism." Step. "Discipline" With a final pace, he stopped abreast of the two offenders. "It was under these three ideals that the Wonderbolts were formed under the EUP." Dash swallowed, expecting him to corrupt the historical narrative that she had learned. "In our New Order, if not even more so, we are obligated to carry out those directives." In a flash he drew his revolver and ejected three shotshells, tossing one at the feet of each cadet, and one at the feet of the two mares. He cocked the hammer and tossed it to the blue stallion. "Private Dusk. Reload it." The injured cadet wrapped his hand around the gun's rubber grip and rested his finger on the trigger. Bending at the waist he reached for the fallen round, sliding it into the cylinder with his hoof. "Private DeSal, your turn." Dash winced as the firearm drifted towards Thunderlane. "That's enough. Give it to Dash." "Sir?" The mess hall became quiet and all eyes turned to Soarin in shock. "He means 'hand Rainbow Dash the gun' dipshit," Thunderlane drawled. Hesitantly, the green stallion handed the stunned mare the weapon. "Reload it," ordered Soarin. Haltingly, she gently lowered the hammer, subconsciously laying her finger on the side of the trigger guard and lowered the barrel to the floor. Kneeling to conceal her sex, she opened the cylinder and loaded the remaining round. She rose shutting the now full cylinder, and engaging the safety with her thumb. "Spitfire, what did they do wrong?" He indicated the two cadets. "A-amateur mistakes, sir. Private Dusk put his finger on the trigger when he did not intend to fire it, and Private DeSal pointed it in an insecure direction. Neither of them lowered the hammer out of the firing position" "That is Master to you, cunt!" "Shove it, DeSal!" Soarin growled in the cadet's face. Was he actually going to defend them? After that twisted speech? After years of torturing them and other mares? Rainbow was not sure what she had expected, but her hopes were shattered as he stepped forward and pinched and twisted their nipples. Rainbow considered the gun in her hand, but forced herself not to use it. "These two are females, inferior and weaker than males in every way." He released them and turned, retrieving the firearm and clasping his hands behind his back. "And YET," he snapped, "these two worthless bitches are more adept at a stallion's work than YOU!" He pointed at the two offenders. "Get off of my beloved base." The two stallions looked at each other and quickly grabbed their uniforms and sprinted for their quarters, desperate to escape the wrath of the imposing officer. Soarin watched as they scrambled, still naked, out of the building. "Tell me, slut, you had the gun. Locked and loaded. All you had to do was pull the trigger. Three lead and copper slugs, and you could have your revenge." He turned. "Why didn't you?" He grinned, and Rainbow knew that another punishment was following close behind, regardless of what they said, having trapped them by allowing them to criticize the two cadets. She opened her mouth to make a quip, but Spitfire beat her to it. "Buckshot is worth more intact than you are," she spat at her former lover. "Take the day off, boys," he proclaimed to the stallions flanking him, "but I need them at the cloudiseum by ten hundred. You know the rules." As his horny henchmen seized the two mares, he drew his weapon once more, and emptied it into the toppled sex machine, scattering plastic, metal, and wood splinters across the room and pitting the floor. The three startled Reds watched wide-eyed as Soarin reloaded and tucked it into his holster. "You have until lunch to clean up their mess," he proclaimed as he left to prepare Lightning Dust for the next day's festivities Author's Note Until this point, I was attempting to make this story canon. However, non_creepy_nickname has made it clear to me that he/she has no interest in conclusions. I will update this story to keep it plausible in the FoE universe, but I cannot, in good consciousness, allow this to become yet another one of despair and futility. However, should ncn and the other authors decide that the time has come to end their saga, I will be eager to collaborate with them again Address Address Rainbow woke the next morning to a horribly bungled Reville, and winced as the distinct snap of a whip rang out, punctuated by a feminine yelp. Trying to shut it out, she looked about to take stock of her situation. She was bound to Thunderlane's bed, which was wider and plusher than the bunks that enlisted ponies got... at least from what she recalled. The owner in question was draped over her naked, his semi-erect cock prodding her sore genitles as he breathed. He stirred, and turned his head as he began to snore. His foul breath oozed into her nostrils. Cheap liquor and her own fluids laced the warm exhale, making bile rise in her throat. Had she really competed with Flitter and Cloudchaser for this? She turned away as her stomach growled; she had been no food, and only a little water as Thunderlane explored the various positions that he could fuck her in. At least, unlike most nights, the surface on which she lay was warm and soft. On the other side of the room, a soft alarm clock began to beep. Thunderlane quickly stirred and rolled off of her. Quickly turning it off, he sat beside her and teased her labia with his silver tail, while he kneaded her right breast. "Good morning, Dashie. Ready for your big day?" Every month, Cloudsdale's Blacks were gathered in the Cloudiseum to compete in a sexual obstacle course. Of course, Lightning Dust, Spitfire, and her were a primary attraction. Pegasi from across Equestria came to cast lots, wank to their predicaments, and show their own slaves what noncompliance could lead to. Dash shuddered at the thought; while each day seemed to drag on for an eternity, there was little distinction between them. The cell she shared with Dust and Spitfire was barren aside from a few propaganda posters. They had no calendars, no clocks, marking the passing moons by tallying each exhibition on the stone wall with the foot of an iron cot, the mares' only furnishing. Thunderlane untied her hands and sat her up, cuffing them behind her back. He hastily stepped into his yellow and blue trousers, and pulled on his dress shirt, attentively sliding the epaulettes into their loops. Buttoning it, he turned and untied her ankles, giving them a slight tickle with his fingers. Dash sat up. With the coming exhibition, she would need to save her energy, not waste it on this scumbag. She slid off of the bed, and stood, clamping her thighs together to obscure her moist sex as the black stallion attached her leash. He opened the door and frog-marched her to the the cell, where Spitfire and Lightning Dust had their muzzles in the trough of mare-food. Thunderlane opened the cage and uncuffed her, shoving her in. “You ladies enjoy your meal,” he laughed degradingly as he slid the door shut with a clang. He leaned against the chamber’s wall and slowly began to jerk himself Rainbow Dash crouched at the trough, and lapped at the brown gool. Even though she had become used to the taste and smell, she couldn’t stand the fact that they were forced to eat it like dogs. Yet, she did it anyway, reminding herself of the severe beating that would follow if she tried to use her hands. Silently, she looked at the two mares before her. Spitfire had bags under her eyes, and Lightning Dust bore red welts on her breasts, groin, and ass. Dash shook her head in disgust, as she realized that she had fared the best among them. She silently are her fill and put her hooves on the cot and began to do push-ups, flicking her tail tauntingly at Thunderlane, who growled and ceased his masturbation as he recognized the gesture. Soarin had, at the beginning of the exhibitions, forbade him and the other stallions from raping them when they warmed up and stretched, and they knew it. He stuffed his junk away and huffed as he walked out, trying to ignore Dash's dare. It was times like these that she relished, the small slights that she could hurl at her abusers empowered her. Spitfire and Lightning Dust, finishing themselves, began to clean themselves and stretch. "You know that he'll only beat you later." Lighting Dust jumped, grabbing a cage bar above her, and began to pull herself up. "He'd beat me anyway. Might as well get something out of it," Dash Chuckled, "but he can still kiss my ass." They'd had this discussion many times before, and it had become a running half-joke between the three mares. Even in their situation, they considered themselves a unit, and while they all participated in taunting their captors, they consistently reminded each other of what the consequences could be if they pushed the stallions in the wrong way. Spitfire smiled at her subordinates' banter as she crunched her abs. She was proud that they had refused to submit to Soarin and his brutes. "Perhaps you should invite him to experiment with French kisses. More soft laughter followed, but they otherwise remained silent as they exercised, switching positions and helping each other stretch. Before long, they heard the rattle of keys. Soarin, Thunderlane, and an embarassed Fleetfoot, bearing bonds stepped in. "Good morn'in, ladies," Soarin grinned as he strode in, "I trust you all had a pleasant night's sleep?" The Mares rose in silence as the cage door slid open, their silent resentment apparent. "Now, now girls," Thunderlane taunted, "y'all are Wonderbolts ain't ya? What ever happened to 'Every meal a feast, every paycheck a fortune'?" "Damn I love the EUP," sneered Soarin as he took a pair of cuffs from Fleetfoot. "Given the cesspit it's become, I don't doubt it," grumbled Lighting Dust. Soarin's eyes narrowed and his ears pivoted towards the rebellious mare. With a backhand and a yank of her mane, the stallion pulled her face to his. "Listen, you worthless slut," he hissed, "You have no clue how hard it is to not fuck you silly." With one hand, he cuffed her wrists and pulled her to Fleetfoot, pulling and twisting on her teats. Affixing a leash to Dust's collar and handing it to the red collared Pegasus, he swung about and nodded to Thunderlane who bound Rainbow. "It is only by the grace of Dainn and General Armor that I do not throw you to a patch of Rape Vines in the scorching sun." As Thunderlane pulled Dash to Fleetfoot, he turned to her and twisted her wing sheath. "If it were up to me, I'd lop these useless things off of you, and beat you with them." Soarin turned to his former wife and bound her arms and neck with a metal yoke. "Bitch, I'd switch you so hard and often that other ponies might think that you were born with a red ass!" The two stallions guffawed at the crude joke. He led her to the other mares and gave her leash to Fleetfoot who gently began leading them to the old runway, where a helicopter was waiting; stallions had long since ceased to draw chariots for mares. It was old and rickety barely more than a motorized descendent of Pinkie's pedal powered contraption, Dash summarized. Pinkie... where was she now? Would she ever be healed? Perhaps it would be more merciful if her miserable existence were to end.... Dash shook her head slightly and refocused. How dare she even consider such a thing, she chided herself as she looked at the flying machine for a tactical advantage that. It only had one door, a non-issue since the mares were effectively flightless, and jumping would almost certainly be fatal. On top of that, there were anchors in the deck that their bindings would be fixed to. Coaxial rotor. Armored cockpit containing a white Pegasus. Rusted landing skids. Nothing seemed to give her an edge. She glanced at the still blades and chuckled at the obvious pun. Again, she felt her mind begin to wander. Focus Dash! She knew that it was futile to consider means of escape; the caribou were expert slavers and had taught the stallions their twisted trade well. The Pegasus mares sat on the deck, the cold metal pressing against their exposed sex. Chains were affixed to their collars, securing them to the deck. The chopper began to whine, rising to a roar as the blades whirled above them. The old bird shook violently as the RPMs increased, vibrating the deck, and arousing Dash. A unicorn guard nonchalantly climbed aboard and, as the helicopter rose, rubbed her erect nipple. Pitching forward, they accelerated past the neglected base and hurtled through a thin cloud bank. Dash felt the unicorn’s administrations become more and more violent, but she urged herself to ignore it. Rather, she pictured the Cloudiseum in her mind, and pondered the events that she would be participating in. Last month had been a crotch-bead race; moving too fast would cause her to violently orgasm and fall, while moving slowly would get her beaten. She remembered her hands being bound with barbed wire as she was rutted by tentacles in an orgasm race, the pain of having a massive dildo stuffed in her anus, and the joy of breaking the sound barrier as she dove at the Young Flyers’ Competition. The Young Flyers’ Competition… tears welled in her eyes as she remembered her golden years, only to be whisked away by the turbulent rotorwash. She felt the guard release her cuffs from their anchor as he tried to spin her around as he unzipped his fly. She looked down below them, where white clouds looked like a billowing white carpet far below. Her eyes widened as an insane inspiration gripped her. She swung the loose chain into the arc of the whirling blades above and time slowed. With a deafening crunch, a blade sliced into the metal obstruction, demolishing it and splintering the leading edge. The machine began to wobble violently as it’s rotors’ delicate symmetry was disturbed. The unicorn that had moments ago been violating her reached for a grip and tumbled at the cabin pitched and rolled as the pilot fought for control, straight towards Rainbow Dash. The naked pegasus braced her hooves on the landing skid and caught the guard’s shirt in her powerful jaws. His legs were still aboard, but his entire torso was suspended in mid air. “Pull me up!” His scream was shrill and full of terror, but Dash stared into his eyes. “AH CAHNT,” she hollered through clenched teeth, “MAH HANDS!” She brought her hands around so he could reach them. The guard tried to grab them as a handhold, but Dash pulled them away. “UNLOCK ‘HEM!” The Unicorn pulled a ring of keys from a chain on his neck and, with his magic, slid one into the locks binding her. As her hands were freed, she pulled him aboard and linked his wrist to the side of a jumpseat. “You have no idea,” the raging mare hissed into his ear, “how easily I could have let you go.” She made her way to Lightning Dust and Spitfire, unbinding them. “Great!” Lightning Dust exclaimed, “Now what?!” Dash looked down at the clouds below. They were drawing nearer, as the pilot traded maintaining altitude for retaining some semblance of control. Dash grinned, “Now, we jump!” Not waiting for a response she reached into open space with her hand and felt the downwash, the pressure of the air and the density of the gasses. She closed her eyes… and let herself get sucked out. The two mares dove after her, unsure of her intentions, but not daring to stay aboard the gyrating craft. They fell towards the clouds below, spreading their arms and legs to slow their descent, but Dash stayed in her dive. She reached into her dive and felt the pressure increase. Warmer. Thicker. Wetter. She felt the upper fringes of the cloud below and broke out of her dive. With a flash of her long-unused pegasus magic, she compressed the air that pooled against her belly and thrust it at the cloud. The naturally floating cloud grew denser, grabbing at her exposed body and slowly, unmistakingly slowed her to a halt. The two mares sank into the cloud, slowing and stopping. With a sigh, the cyan pegasus drew her first free breath in years, and allowed herself to fall asleep in the cloud’s soft embrace. ManumissionsRainbow Dash jumped as a loud buzzing filled the air. Looking about wildly, her eyes settled on Fleetfoot. The red-collared mare was curled up, her bare chest rising and falling to the rhythm of the offending noise. Dash smiled at the sleeping Pegasus and looked about. Lightning Dust had carved herself a loft on which she slept, and Spitfire was quietly expanding the cloud's small cavity into a small room. Rainbow looked at the ceiling, for the shaft that she had burrowed on her descent. It had been sealed, her compatriots' work, no doubt, to conceal themselves from any searching stallions. "Where are we? How long have I been asleep?" Her commander stopped her work and sat on the plush floor. "At the moment, beneath Cloudsdale." Catching the worried look in her subordinate's eyes, she continued. "Don't worry, we're slowly drifting away and a fair distance below." Rainbow sighed in relief. She had impulsively chosen their current residence because of it's size, without bothering to determine it's speed and direction. If it were headed away from their captors, or too fast, it would attract the attention of searchers, who were no doubt looking for the four fugitives. "Everypony seems to have crashed pretty hard," Spitfire chuckled at her own pun, "It's almost sunset." “I’ve almost forgotten how it felt to sleep on a proper bed without being stuck in one position for hours on end. Damn, I miss my Cloudominium….” Spitfire shrugged, “I wouldn’t know; I grew up sleeping on cots with my parents on dusty bases until I went to college.” She chuckled as she scooped a chunk of cloud from the wall and packed it down into a roughly shaped seat and planted herself in it. “I sleep like a baby on a stone floor.” “Everypony knows that babies are terrible sleepers.” She turned as Fleetfoot let out a particularly loud snort, and smiled to herself, she turned back to Spitfire to continue, but was greeted by a view of the nude officer stretched out on the chair, already asleep. Dash glanced at her exposed marehood and turned away quickly as a warmth filled her own. “But feel free to prove me wrong.” Stomping a small hole in the floor, she stared down at the greenery passing slowly below. She was a warrior, with a soul that belonged to the sky. Yet, as she gazed down, she felt her heart tug, as if it were being physically pulled to the lush scene below. She closed her eyes and pictured the a field of grass. She saw herself lying on her back, the blades tickling the joints of her sensitive wings. She reached back to scratch, but her hand was stopped short by her blue and yellow wing sheath that Soarin had given her as a “gift”, as he had called it as he roughly crimped it into place. Part of her yearned to have the plastic ripped free and to spread her wings, but she dreaded what she might see. What would her former pride and joy look like? Wasted, neglected nubs, atrophied from disuse? She knew that new feathers had probably grown, but what would they be? She pictured her cyan feathers, matted and split, tangled in older, mottled plumage that was slowly decaying into dust. Her stomach churned as she imagined the horrid stench of years of sweat, bacteria, and rotting flesh that had been shed. Nausea overtook her, and she crouched at the hole as bile rose in her throat. She heaved as worry and the imagined sensations. As she spewed the contents of her belly earthward, she felt the gaze of the Fleetfoot and Lightning Dust, startled by her retching. Fleetfoot kneeled beside her and patted her shoulder as Rainbow Dash's convulsive vomiting slowed and stopped. As she sucked in air, she felt the delicate hands working at the black collar on her neck and pulled it loose. "All of it!" Sobbed Dash as fresh air washed over her sweaty neck, like a wave over a dry rock, her flattened cyan fur rising as the constricting walls of leather receded. "Are you sure?" Fleetfoot's lisping voice was soothing, but strained as Rainbow Dash's tears sparked her own concern. "Maybe we should take it -" "JUST FUCKING DO IT!" She roared at the mare, waking Spitfire, startling even herself. "I'm sorry Lieutenant Commander. That was out of line." "It's okay," Fleetfoot whispered as she worked the crimped plastic. Another two pairs of hands joined her efforts in twisting and pulling at the seams. As the seal cracked open, the stench of sweat and decay wafted through their sanctuary. Lightning Dust gagged and turned away, but Spitfire and Fleetfoot, who had smelled worse in the field, persisted. With a crackle, the sheaths parted, and cold, clean air surged against the emancipated appendages. Her left wing was barren, devoid of feathers, but her right was overgrown with them. Stiff and arthritic from years of being held in a semi-extended position, Dash felt her joints grind in protest as her weak wings drooped in surrender to gravity. "Lay down, Dash." Spitfire's tone was kind, but authoritative. She eased Rainbow onto her belly, gathering the cloud around her face to serve as a pillow. Fleetfoot began to knead the base of the wing, while Spitfire worked her way along the wings' humeri to the elbows, which she slowly massaged open. Rainbow Dash squeezed her eyes shut as her wings slowly stretched to their full extent. Carpals, metacarpals, and the bones between.... In order, her joints were massaged and, with uncomfortable pops and snaps, slowly extended and contracted until they could move freely. Gentle hands preened her, pulling loose feathers free and cleaning the healthy. Behind her, she felt Lightning Dust come back and massage her atrophied muscles, kneading and pressing on the dilapidated limbs, and rubbing feeling into long-forgotten nerves. “You have some broken Primaries that I need to pluck.” Rainbow slowly turned her head to look sidelong at her friend. “I’ll make it quick.” She grasped the base of the damaged feathers. “On the count of three.” Without hesitation, she simultaneously pulled them free. “Who the hell taught you to count?” “Medic on my dad’s base,” Lightning Dust chuckled as she dabbed a patch of cloud against Dash’s bleeding wing. Rainbow Dash held the puff of cloud to the wounds and stood up and experimentally flexed her wings. She grimaced as the movement strained her unused tendons, but forced them to spread wider and wider to their full length. Groaning with the effort she flapped, lifting herself into a low hover, before lightly touching down again, off-balence from her plucked wing's lack of lift. With a grin, she turned to her colleagues. “Who brought their PT belts?” Author's Note One of the major questions that I've noticed floating around the comments of the FoE stories is what happens to the wings of the pegasi. Sun's Setting by Twipet mentions that the sheaths have runes within them that prevent feather growth. So why did Rainbow's wing grow back? Stay tuned folks. BoundlessKa'leth flew low over the desert's sparse foliage, his gossamer wings creating a hypnotic buzz. With a roll, he dove into a shallow canyon and landed beside a thin stream. With a chitinous hand, the changeling drone pushed aside a young cactus, and dipped his face in the warm water, lapping up the liquid of life with his forked tongue. Tossing his head back as he swallowed, he relished the sensation of the refreshing fluid trickle down his parched throat. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and gazed skyward. Once he would have shot skyward, darting to the atmosphere's thin outskirts before letting himself drop. The cool air rushing over his armored body and whistling through the holes in his legs. Shaking his head, reality rushed back at him. Where once Pegasi had delivered rain to the mountains in the north, swelling the gorge in which he stood with with cold snow melt, the clouds drifted with the air currents as the now uncontrolled sun heated the land below, silently obeying the laws of nature. Now, the normally steady river had become a thin, snaking trickle, brown with silt. The Queen, in her wisdom, had dispersed the hive when it became clear that the drought would be punishing, and that they could not be sustained. Ka'leth, skeptical of his ruler's decree, had elected to stay behind. Sustained by the faint echoes of love as the desert's creatures continued their blessedly ignorant lives, he was able to move freely to find a new source of water. However, wherever he journeyed, from the salty ocean to the east, to the stagnant marshes in the west, he could not find a single spot in the hive's lands other than this solitary rivulet that he could survive on. Perhaps he should have joined his fellow changelings as they disguised themselves as stallions, devouring the openly flowing lust that flooded the corrupted nation. He had tried, but lust was not love. Where love had filled him and made him content, while lust merely staved off starvation and tore at his consciousness. No, he would remain here in his home, like his ancestors had, only leaving when the drought finally drove him away. Flying out of the ravine, he spotted a large, low cloud to the north. It was unusual, but not completely alien to the dry landscape. Too small and thin to bring rain, he flew towards it to cool off in it's shadow before returning to his den. His den? An inspiration filled him: if he could guide the cloud to the old hive to the north, it would cool and condense as night fell, pooling at the bottom of the cavern that he called home. He would be set for months! With a loud buzz, he surged towards it, running his tongue along his fangs in anticipation of the wonderful sensation of drinking cool water. Green magic surged along his horn and grasped the cloud. It seemed light for it's size, but he was too distracted by his excitement to care. Inside, Rainbow Dash and her comrades started as the cloud around them began to shift. Lightning Dust spread her wings to investigate, but Spitfire held her back and put a finger to her lips. It had been two days since their escape and were slowly gaining the strength back in their wings, but they were far too weak to run far or fight more than a couple of attackers. Wait, she motioned to the three mares. They could feel the aura of telekinesis around them, and hear a buzz like a mosquito in their ear, but they had yet to see or hear a stallion. For several minutes, she held her hand out before crawling to a small hole in the wall of the cloud. Silently, Rainbow Dash scooped a section of the floor out as they passed into a shadow. Another cloud? She peered down through the hole to discover a stone, stalagmite covered floor passing beneath. "Look down!" Her whisper was quiet, but urgent, and the other mares quickly dug their own holes to observe their situation. As they watched, the dim passage rose away into a massive cavern. The glistening walls looked more like a trachea that Dash had dissected in a field trauma course, than rock, oozing a green muck. She stared at the thick fluid as a gob fell from an outcropping. As it plummeted, she remembered where she had seen the substance and heard the annoying hum before. Her ears twitched as she tried to pinpoint the source and gestured to her Spitfire. One enemy. Armed. In cover. She pointed to the far wall of the cloud. The captain nodded. Fleetfoot, flank left. Lightning Dust, flank right. I’ll go under. Rainbow Dash, Takedown. They positioned themselves, wings spread. 3, motioned the captain, satisfied with their formation. The mares planted their hooves, ready to sprint through the cloud. 2. Rainbow glanced at her naked body. What she wouldn’t give a bra and panties to cover herself. 1. As one, they burst through the wall. Rainbow dove at the unsuspecting changeling. Using her momentum, she slammed him into the cavern floor As she spun Ka'leth into a headlock, the other mares scanned the chamber for other enemies. Feeling her grip begin to fail, she shoved the drone to an stalagtite and pinned him. Satisfied that they were alone, Spitfire patted him down before emptying his rucksack. His knife, canteen, tarp, medical supplies, clothes... all were roughly dumped onto the rock and examined. Ka'leth offered no resistance. He felt the cyan mare's forearm beneath his chin, her hand grasping his head. One tiny twist.... "He's clean." Spitfire proclaimed. Lightning lighted on the ledge as Dash took him down. "Cap, I've only gotten cold water from a hose for five years now. I'm no fragment flower, but I can tell you that that" she nodded to the changeling "is not clean." Dash pulled a rope from the pile of his belongings and bound his wrists before sitting him against the wall. Shaking the stars from his eyes, he summed up his captors. "Mareth!?" The panicked utterance was distorted by his forked tongue and parched throat, but understandable. "Who the fuck are you?" Spitfire hissed at the changeling as she strapped the knife to her leg. "Firth Thargent Ka'leth. I am a Changeling drone." "No shit." Lightning Dust was trying on a pair of kakhi trousers and a jacket. The clothes were tight on her, the smallest of the mares, but they covered her. Fleetfoot nodded approvingly. Dash knelt by him calmly and studied him. "Where is the hive?" "We're in it, mith Dash." "What the hay happened?" Fleetfoot looked about. "Dainn did this?" He nodded. "Indirectly. You pegathi aren't exactly the thame." He snorted. "When you thtopped controlling the weather, the rain thtopped too." "Oh, cry me a river." Spitfire snorted derisively. "At least half of you weren't brainwashed, bound, and beaten into submission" "No. We died." All four mares looked at their prisoner. "We feed on love, yeth. Even the perversion that fillth Equesthtria fulfillth our bathic needth, but we thtill need water." "So your hive dissolved. Why should we care?" Lightning Dust's cold tone made Dash shiver. "Hell, we should be celebrating that we needn't defend against you anymore." " Oh, you're thtill on about Canterlot? It'th been theven yearth!" He paused "And I thtill have thome cracked chitin from that damned Pinkie'th can-" In an instant, he had been hoisted by the neck so his hooves dangled without purchase. Rainbow Dash squeezed on the changeling's neck, making his eyes bulge. "One more word, bug," she hissed, "one more word against my friends and I'll make you envy your dead." "Lieutenant-" Fleetfoot began to scold Rainbow, but she continued heedlessly. "Five years. FIVE BUCKING YEARS, we have been raped and beaten. That 'damned' filly was hit by it so hard that it broke her. Rarity and Fluttershy brainwashed, and CELESTIA KNOWS how Twilight got corrupted!" She released his neck and let him collapse, gasping to the floor. "I meant no offenth-" "The hell you didn't-" "That's enough Lieutenant," Spitfire gently put a hand on Dash's shoulder, "you two can settle this later." Rainbow nodded to her superior and flapped off to ease her flaring temper. Spitfire watched her claw her way into their cloud with a huff before turning to the Changeling. "Now, You will tell us everything you know." FriendlessRainbow Dash sat in her corner of the cloud and cried. She had tried sleeping, working off her pent up rage, and even carving rough drawings into the cave wall to distract her, but all to no avail. In the end, she had let herself slump against the billowing wall and let the wave of uncertainty, shame, and despair break over her. Confiding in her solitude, she allowed her long-suppressed tears to well and drip as her body wracked with muffled sobs. Five years. Had it really been that long? The implications of the lost time hit her like a club. She had last seen her mother and father a week before the Fall. Were they still alive? What would they look like? Liquid grief fell from her chin and fell through the mist on which she sat. And her friends.... the changeling's words were like a knife in her heart. Betrayal and the thought of having failed to protect them had always haunted her, even as she told herself that they were all victims. The stallions, the Reds who threw themselves at their masters... they were all unwilling pawns in the grasp of Cadance's corrupted sorcery. She had betrayed them, and Twilight had followed her disgraceful descent. Twilight? Cadance? No, neither of them would do this without something making them. But they have! Her guts felt twisted, contorting and tearing themselves apart as her thoughts devolved into a nonsensical ramble. She stood and strode towards her former wing sheaths to distract herself. Lifting the four plastic plates, she examined the interiors, curious about the state of her wings. Within, silver Caribou runes were etched into the interior walls, which were still dank and musky. She looked closely at them. One plate that was plastered with her old, rotting feathers (from her right wing, she presumed), however was cracked and faded along the swirling runic text. From what she knew of caribou magic, their spells were cast through text like this, channelling the world's natural magic. She shook her head Twi would have loved to study this. "Shut up, brain." Why? You should be thinking about them. They betrayed me. Did they? Is that the element of loyalty saying that, or a pathetic, lonely filly trying to justify her failure. Why should I care? The only one that I have even the slightest modicum of respect that I have respect for is Applejack. And even then, I am still skeptical if her. Twilight, Rarity, Fluttershy, they've all betrayed Equestria! Did they? Why? Because... Dash's mind blanked itself. You have shed blood, tears, and sweat for each other, put your own livelihoods on the line protect each other. What kind of traitor does that? But- What has changed? My friends- Ponies don't change. Circumstances do. "But they gave up on me!" Her cry echoed through the cavern. They love you. No! They used to! Love doesn't fade without being forced out. "They left me!" She sobbed into a patch of cloud. "No they didn't." The hissing voice was but a mutter. Rainbow started as the changeling offered her a spare pair of trousers and began to carve at a wing sheath. "Spitfire let you...." "Nah. Your green friend fell athleep and the otherth are out looking for food." He sat beside the cyan mare as she hesitantly slid the cloth over her legs, all the while looking warily at him. "You aren't running." The flat statement was edged with unconcealed suspicion, but she made no move to secure the unbound creature. "The enemy of my enemy ith my friend. Thothe mangy caribou have Tartaruth to pay for. Bethideth, where would I run to?" Enemy? "I thought that the changelings had allied with Dainn?" "A few of uth have... bred with ponieth in the patht." He caught a sidelong glare from the Pegasus. "Not all of it wath conthenthual, I regret. Cadenthe'th thpell during the fall... a fair fraction of our mixed offthpring were...." He trailed off, his lisping voice betraying poorly concealed shame. "Chrythalith gave herthelf to them to thtave off any more bloodshed than had already filled our hive, and in turn, they gave her to Dainn ath a... gift." "Canterlot?" Dash changed the topic, feeling the poorly concealed shame in his voice. A nod. "Thought so. You mentioned Pinkie's party cannon." "Yeah. I never would have thought that tho few thivilianth could fight ath effectively ath you thix." The two sat silently as Ka'leth sliced and stabbed at the sheath. A few more times before lacing a rope of thick twine and presenting the makeshift bra to the mare. "From one warrior to another." Rainbow Dash slid the plastic sheet over her flat breasts. The twine itched and chafed, but the feeling of vulnerable exposure leaving her bosom outweighed the discomfort. She stood. The kakhi pants clung to her tightly, but she welcomed the concealing constriction. "Thank you. From one warrior to another." Author's Note A very short world building chapter. Was Dash's argument confusing? If so, it's not supposed to.
DistressAuthor's Note Chapter one! Because this is the first fanfic that I am intending to make public, I am starting off with small chapters, setting the scene and a tone. Any and all criticism is welcome! ~~I am currently in collaboration with non_creepy_nickname in an attempt to make it fit into canon.~~ Most of all, enjoy! And keep an old sock nearby. Distress Rainbow Dash hugged Spitfire. The breasts of her former commander were warm and erect as the two Pegasi fought back the cold of their cell. And that damned itch on her back.... Despite the despair that Dash felt, she was happy to be free of that sadist bastard, Soarin. For two straight years, she struggled to keep her sanity and dignity as he and her former brothers-in-wings abused her. Yet, despite her pitiful state, she could not bring herself to hate them; many of the stallions, whether they knew it or not were just as victimized as she was. The two nude mares started as somewhere in the corridor, keys jangled and hooves were dragged across the tread plating that used to be the floor of the academy's armory. They scrambled apart and feigned masturbation as Thunderlane opened the makeshift cell and roughly dragged Spitfire by her wing sheaths, making his former mate growl in annoyance. A guard behind him, a wet bulge in his trousers, slammed a sobbing, manacled Lightning Dust against a safe and whipped out his shaft and rammed it up her bruised pussy. She struggled, but he whistled and a red- collared Fleetfoot shuffled in with a wheeled St. Andrews' cross. As the guard held Lightning Dust still, Fleetfoot snapped the restraints shut, and guided a mechanical phallus into her slit. "This bitch just kicked me," the guard spat, "can you believe it?!" "She deserves to be punished, master. Would you like me to get your shock stick?" Fleetfoot rubbed her pussy against the helpless pegasus as the guard slid the cage shut, rubbing his swelling cock. "There is no need for that, pet." He rubbed his knee against Dust's vulva. "It is Dashie's breakfast time." Fleetfoot bowed as he pushed the squirming mare out of the chamber. She poured a bowl of white pellets, but as the armored door clicked shut , she dumped them and produced a brown plastic pouch. "Oh, yum," Dash breathed, "cardboard. This IS a treat." Fleetfoot chuckled as she poured the MRE into Dash's bowl. "Soy omlette with hot sauce and onion. Possibly the last of them without some dumb-ass caribou's spunk in it." "Rah," Dash affirmed as she savored the meal. Spicy sauce dripped onto her raw nipples, but she ignored the sting: it was a sensation that she could control; a miniscule instant of freedom that was oh-so rare. "Rumor has it that your friend Applejack neutered her brother while he was sleeping with Cheerilee." Dash wiped the last traces of food from her flat chest, accidentally rubbing some into a wound from Soarin's whip. "That's the Applejack I know. One kick, and she probably turned his nuts into jelly." She chuckled, remembering the kind stallion and her fierce friend. Rainbow dash wiped away a tear and reached back to scratch the base of her wing sheaths. That damned itch.... In the next room, Soarin stroked his cock in anticipation. Spitfire was tied to a sybian, her wrists bound to the sides of a heavy cabinet at her back. He draped his pulsing stallionhood on her muzzle as he secured a strap to her head, and linked it to the end of a thrusting fuck machine. It was still covered in the warm juices from Lightning Dust who was now being dragged to the base's mess. Soarin secured the final implement: a ring gag. He reached down, tracing the yellow mare's curves, pausing to massage her pink nipples with his thumbs. He thrust his tongue into her mouth as he turned on the sybian, ramping it up to full intensity instantly. Spitfire tried to recoil from the vibration and Soarin's invading mouth, but she was bound fast. Soarin bent further, licking her tits, navel, and pussy. Then he switched on his favorite part of his contraption. The piston began to force spitfire's head forward, slowly pushing her vulnerable mouth towards his crotch. It stopped less than an inch from his waiting penis, and was drawn back again. Seeing that all was in order, Soarin stepped forward, thrusting his meatus into her open mouth as it was thrust forward again. She tried to turn her head as his warm cock slid over her tongue. She tried to bite down, to resist his incursion, but the gag kept her jaws apart. The machine reached it's apex, stopping her halfway along his fully erect shaft. He stepped forward more, making her gag and increased the speed. An involuntary, orgasmic moan escaped as her clit began to leak. Through the corner of her eye, she saw Fleetfoot exit the makeshift prison, avoiding eye contact with her friend and boss. Soarin, on the other hoof, was too busy with his swelling euphoria to notice her. Fleetfoot watched his assault, and shook her head. She looked at her captain in admiration. To remain a black collar and continue to resist despite the endless abuse was, she thought to herself, one of the most solid of measurements for a warrior's character. To break under the crushing fear, pain, and depression was, she realized no act of cowardice. For months, she had worn a black collar herself and had resisted the stallions' rape. Now she looked at Spitfire and felt... dirty. Unclean. Her body now craved sex, and she had to resist the temptation to massage her marehood as she watched. She felt a tear drip down and began to turn away, but forced herself to bear witness as her friend was raped. After what seemed like hours, the whine of the machine slowed. Spitfire, slick with her subordinate's seed dropped her head weakly as her head was released from the machine. Soarin shut off the contraption and strode to Lightning Dust, wiping his cock on her bare ass. With a slap on her pussy, he turned to Fleetfoot and forced her to her knees. "Clean me," he commanded, his cum beginning to harden on his scrotum. When she hesitated, he slapped her and pinched her nipple. "Did you hear me, bitch?" his voice was smooth and calm. "Yes sir, " Fleetfoot muttered as she leaned forward to lick. "THEN GET TO IT," He roared, causing mares and stallions alike to peek in, alarmed, "UNLESS YOU WISH TO TRADE COLLARS WITH THIS WORTHLESS WHORE!"
RegretsAuthor's Note This chapter relies heavily on "Bruised Apples" by Schorl Tourmaline as it stands as of 5/25/15. If at any point you are confused, check it out. Regrets Big Macintosh watched Applebloom pick apples with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle under Cheerilee's watchful eyes. Unlike most female Equestrians, the three young mares wore garments that Granny Smith had fashioned from discarded latex suits. Legally, he could not cover them, but even the exposing bondage gear was wore modest than outright nudity. Big Mac knew that the other stallions thought that his actions were unorthodox, to say the least, but the red stallion ignored them. Two months earlier, he had bought the three of them from the bar where they had been dishwashers. No longer would he permit them to suffer, he resolved. He closed his eyes as the cool breeze blew through the west orchard. Leaves rustled as the air twirled in invisible vortices, and the scent of rich sod wafted into his nostrils. His erect ears told him that his slaves work hard at work in the fields and vinyards. He turned around and open his eyes, ready to face the harsh world again. He strode confidently into the barn, where Applejack was repairing the old cider fermentor. Her legs and pelvis protruded from the bottom of the machine. Big Mac felt his member harden, but forced himself to check the barrels within which the cider was aged. He began to shift them, loading the ones that had reached the proper brix. Abruptly, he stopped. Scorched upon one's lid was a date from which he could not avert his gaze. There was a soft shuffle of fur as Applejack rose and hugged him. Her ample, oil covered breasts pressed against his arm. Silently, she reminisced, her tears watering at the sweet memories. She closed her eyes. That autumn, the Apples had organized a massive harvest feast in Ponyville following their most successful harvest in recent memory. Foals and fillies ran, laughing and yelling as they played their innocent games, and were entertained by Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy while Rainbow Dash got a head start on the cider. Twilight and Rarity had been placing silverware, chatting about some new textile machine. Celestia and Luna had joined them as well. There had been laughter and a sweet innocence had permeated the air, mixing with the scents of the myriad of dishes so that even the warm breeze seemed to be alive with joy "We may never have another like it," she murmured into her brother's ear. They stood in silence for several moments before he slid it into the cellar. He smiled warmly at the memory as he lifted it onto a rack. "No. We won't." He checked to ensure that it was still sealed and to a faucet, removing his shirt. "Those days are long gone," he muttered as he saturated the cotton and wrought it. "We need to keep on making the best of what we've got." He scrubbed at the machine oil that matted the fur on her tits. "We're Apples to the core," Applejack continued as she scratched her neck beneath the red collar, "and we Apples ain't quitters." "We won't have harvests like those ever again," the large stallion agreed as he finished cleaning his sister, "we'll simply have new ones. They won't be grand and " If only, he thought to himself as he strode out to check the slaves in the field, I knew when. He looked back at his sister, the element of honesty, and silently pondered. That night, Braeburn made a surprise visit with Granny Smith. The slave girls were asleep in their barracks, so the Apples smiled quietly at jokes and warm tales. "I hear that you gave Big Mac here a solid hoof the other day," he turned to the stallion and rested his hooves on Big Mac's thigh, "mind if I take a look?" Big Mac could only roll his eyes. "How did that even start?" Cheerilee asked. Big Mac had bought her at the same time as he did Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. "As I recall, yesterday, you did me at the bar." Big Mac nodded. Despite the changes he and the family had made, rumors of him being a mare sympathizer persisted. As a result, he and Cheerilee elected to put on a public display every now and again. "I dunno. Probably some drunk half witted foal running his mouth." "Probably. Although, ya'll must admit that it's what she would have done to any other stallion a few years ago. Had we not lost each other to that damned breaking and corruption and all, you and the elements could have made a successful business selling jellied traitor balls." At Granny Smith's failed attempt at humor, the family fell silent. Pinkie Pie had been driven to near insanity by the assault, Fluttershy and Rarity had been broken almost immediately, Rainbow Dash, being a Black, was regularly put on display in Cloudsdale, and Spike and Twilight... Applejack didn't know is she should loath them for their treason or pity them for the foul corruption that they must have endured. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair as Granny Smith rose and guided the fillies into the barn. After several moments, Braeburn broke the silence. "That actually brings me to why I came." Big Mac rose. "Perhaps we should go inside." In mute agreement, they resettled in the living room where Braeburn resumed their conversation. "Do you recall your friend Rarity?" The well meant rhetorical question stung worse than a barbed whip. What had once been common speech had been corrupted by the occupation. "Cele-" Applejack stopped short of infringing on the Caribous' taboo, "Bless her. She was one of the finest mares I knew, before the Fall." She let the words hang. As long as the Caribou and that wretched Seductive Heart tainted Equestria, there would be no curing any of her friends from their trauma. "Well she, according to my... business partners, was-" another pause as he swallowed his discomfort, "-'on display' for a vendor in Stalliongrad." "She and several Blacks made off with a Tartarus-be-damned oiler and made for Maretania," a coarse, but feminine voice finished from the hallway. Applejack's heart leapt into her throat as the unannounced, hooded speaker walked into the room. "By the way," she said removing her hood, "you left the door open." "Business partners, you say?" Applejack's eyebrow spocked at as she studied their unexpected visitor.
DuressAfter the stallions had finished raping them the previous morning, the three mares were fed slop and forced to run hobbled on the base's neglected airstrip. The cracked pavement, once a smooth strip of freedom incarnate, was now cracked and jagged. Thorns pressed through the aging surface and stabbed at the frog in Rainbow’s hoofs, and the hobbles made her progress slow and clumsy. A seedling rapevine lashed out at her, hidden beneath a slab of loose asphalt, and coiled around the link between her legs. She fell face-first and a thistle pierced her left breast making her cry out. Spitfire and Lightning Dust shuffled past her, not daring to stop whilst their masters looked on. Dash shook free of the weak tendril and rolled to her feet. Instinctively, she tried to spread her wings to stabilize herself, but her prized appendages only pressed against the hard sheath on her back, turning the now persistent itch into a cramped jolt of pain. She increased her gait, passing her two compatriots once again. She knew it wasn’t supposed to be competitive, but she pushed herself faster and faster down the two mile stretch. She had always considered herself to be a champion, and damned if she would let that be taken from her too. What happened next was even worse. Two cadets grabbed her arms as she crossed runway's threshold and began to drag her to the mess hall. Rainbow stumbled and faltered as she was pulled faster than her hobbled legs could maintain. They bound her to a table and began to ferociously fondle, tickle, and rut her naked form. Rainbow winced as they called one of the building's three Reds over. The submissive mare offered them steaming coffee as she ground her sex against Dash's. One stallion produce a set of cuffs and positioned her on top of Dash. Her fur was already encrusted with dried cum and chafed at Rainbow's erect nipples as her weight torqued Rainbow's sheaths, making her grunt and squeeze her eyes shut in equal parts pleasure and pain. Linking the two mares's wrists and ankles, the stallions stepped apart. Out of curiosity, she opened her eyes and instantly and began to panic. A large machine had been rolled up, to which the had been attached a thick U-shaped dildo, the largest she had seen since the abuse had begun. She felt the Red shifting as the blue stallion lubed her, and Dash noted with irritation, that he had no intention of giving her that small mercy, and squirmed futilely as the stallions stuffed it in. They stopped pushing and pulling the fake phallus, so she allowed herself to exhale. The flywheel began to spin and Rainbow cried out as she realized that they had barely put the tip in. The soulless bastards laughed and jeered as the machine did it for them, and she did the only thing she could: she buried her muzzle in the Red's breast to stifle the imminent scream. Each emotionless thrust seemed stretch her cyan clit, and the relief from it's retreat only a fraction of a moment as the pain saturated her pelvis. She felt her thighs become slick with a warm fluid. Surely, she couldn't have climaxed already. The mare moaning gleefully on top of her? Cum from the jerking stallions? Blood? In the distance she heard the stallions' laughter turn to yells, and the distinct sound of bone breaking. In an instant, the instrument of her despair was ripped from her vagina and a tidal wave of sound crashed on her ears, as she gasped in relief as the pain ceased, punctuated by the cacaphony of the machine toppling. Rainbow opened her eyes as two soft but strong hands unlocked the infernal constraints that pinned her. She opened her eyes to behold Spitfire's yellow face. Spitfire finished removing the restraints and chased off the Red with a mild buck. Rainbow looked about, bewildered at the turn of events and beheld a sight that flooded her with emotions. The cadets that had moments ago been an abusive rabble stood abreast, the green one at attention and the blue one cradling his broken wrist. Before them, a furious Soarin, flanked by Lieutenant Thunderlane and Gunny Fast Clip who wore a Smokey Bear, bellowed a string of epithets and wielding his revolver like a club. He looked turned and looked at her. Her heart fluttered as she looked into his green eyes. For two years, she had come to recognize them as hard and narrow, perpetually radiating lust and anger. Now, they betrayed sorrow and pain, something that she found completely alien in the Stallion. Spitfire followed her gaze and gasped as she too beheld his suddenly softened features. Thunderlane whispered into his ear and he blinked. The two mares sighed in unison as his eyes became cold and furious once more and he refocused his rage on the two subordinates. "You Cele-, you damned foals," he hissed. He winced at his near use of the taboo phrasing, but continued. "How DARE you treat my property like that?!" He slapped the stallion's broken wrist with his sidearm, making the stallion yelp, and forced his naked, shaking body into the proper position. The green one's stiff stance gave him little refuge as Soarin brought his knee up into the cadet's nethers, doubling him over. The Gunny wasted no time, and hollered into his ear, screaming at him to get up. Soarin continued, heedless of their pain and pointed at the two mares. “Do you recognize them?” He holstered the pistol and began to slowly pace around the trembling cadets. “They are two of the last bastions of disorder and impurity from the Old Order. As such, Dainn has tasked me with making examples of them. NOT to break them." His voice suddenly smooth and calm. "You two were graced by King Dainn when he gave you the right to be a cadet for my beloved unit."He slowly, deliberately, took a step, his boot clad hoof ringing on the faux-wood floor. "Stoicism." Step. "Honor." Step. "Heroism." Step. "Discipline" With a final pace, he stopped abreast of the two offenders. "It was under these three ideals that the Wonderbolts were formed under the EUP." Dash swallowed, expecting him to corrupt the historical narrative that she had learned. "In our New Order, if not even more so, we are obligated to carry out those directives." In a flash he drew his revolver and ejected three shotshells, tossing one at the feet of each cadet, and one at the feet of the two mares. He cocked the hammer and tossed it to the blue stallion. "Private Dusk. Reload it." The injured cadet wrapped his hand around the gun's rubber grip and rested his finger on the trigger. Bending at the waist he reached for the fallen round, sliding it into the cylinder with his hoof. "Private DeSal, your turn." Dash winced as the firearm drifted towards Thunderlane. "That's enough. Give it to Dash." "Sir?" The mess hall became quiet and all eyes turned to Soarin in shock. "He means 'hand Rainbow Dash the gun' dipshit," Thunderlane drawled. Hesitantly, the green stallion handed the stunned mare the weapon. "Reload it," ordered Soarin. Haltingly, she gently lowered the hammer, subconsciously laying her finger on the side of the trigger guard and lowered the barrel to the floor. Kneeling to conceal her sex, she opened the cylinder and loaded the remaining round. She rose shutting the now full cylinder, and engaging the safety with her thumb. "Spitfire, what did they do wrong?" He indicated the two cadets. "A-amateur mistakes, sir. Private Dusk put his finger on the trigger when he did not intend to fire it, and Private DeSal pointed it in an insecure direction. Neither of them lowered the hammer out of the firing position" "That is Master to you, cunt!" "Shove it, DeSal!" Soarin growled in the cadet's face. Was he actually going to defend them? After that twisted speech? After years of torturing them and other mares? Rainbow was not sure what she had expected, but her hopes were shattered as he stepped forward and pinched and twisted their nipples. Rainbow considered the gun in her hand, but forced herself not to use it. "These two are females, inferior and weaker than males in every way." He released them and turned, retrieving the firearm and clasping his hands behind his back. "And YET," he snapped, "these two worthless bitches are more adept at a stallion's work than YOU!" He pointed at the two offenders. "Get off of my beloved base." The two stallions looked at each other and quickly grabbed their uniforms and sprinted for their quarters, desperate to escape the wrath of the imposing officer. Soarin watched as they scrambled, still naked, out of the building. "Tell me, slut, you had the gun. Locked and loaded. All you had to do was pull the trigger. Three lead and copper slugs, and you could have your revenge." He turned. "Why didn't you?" He grinned, and Rainbow knew that another punishment was following close behind, regardless of what they said, having trapped them by allowing them to criticize the two cadets. She opened her mouth to make a quip, but Spitfire beat her to it. "Buckshot is worth more intact than you are," she spat at her former lover. "Take the day off, boys," he proclaimed to the stallions flanking him, "but I need them at the cloudiseum by ten hundred. You know the rules." As his horny henchmen seized the two mares, he drew his weapon once more, and emptied it into the toppled sex machine, scattering plastic, metal, and wood splinters across the room and pitting the floor. The three startled Reds watched wide-eyed as Soarin reloaded and tucked it into his holster. "You have until lunch to clean up their mess," he proclaimed as he left to prepare Lightning Dust for the next day's festivities Author's Note Until this point, I was attempting to make this story canon. However, non_creepy_nickname has made it clear to me that he/she has no interest in conclusions. I will update this story to keep it plausible in the FoE universe, but I cannot, in good consciousness, allow this to become yet another one of despair and futility. However, should ncn and the other authors decide that the time has come to end their saga, I will be eager to collaborate with them again
Address Address Rainbow woke the next morning to a horribly bungled Reville, and winced as the distinct snap of a whip rang out, punctuated by a feminine yelp. Trying to shut it out, she looked about to take stock of her situation. She was bound to Thunderlane's bed, which was wider and plusher than the bunks that enlisted ponies got... at least from what she recalled. The owner in question was draped over her naked, his semi-erect cock prodding her sore genitles as he breathed. He stirred, and turned his head as he began to snore. His foul breath oozed into her nostrils. Cheap liquor and her own fluids laced the warm exhale, making bile rise in her throat. Had she really competed with Flitter and Cloudchaser for this? She turned away as her stomach growled; she had been no food, and only a little water as Thunderlane explored the various positions that he could fuck her in. At least, unlike most nights, the surface on which she lay was warm and soft. On the other side of the room, a soft alarm clock began to beep. Thunderlane quickly stirred and rolled off of her. Quickly turning it off, he sat beside her and teased her labia with his silver tail, while he kneaded her right breast. "Good morning, Dashie. Ready for your big day?" Every month, Cloudsdale's Blacks were gathered in the Cloudiseum to compete in a sexual obstacle course. Of course, Lightning Dust, Spitfire, and her were a primary attraction. Pegasi from across Equestria came to cast lots, wank to their predicaments, and show their own slaves what noncompliance could lead to. Dash shuddered at the thought; while each day seemed to drag on for an eternity, there was little distinction between them. The cell she shared with Dust and Spitfire was barren aside from a few propaganda posters. They had no calendars, no clocks, marking the passing moons by tallying each exhibition on the stone wall with the foot of an iron cot, the mares' only furnishing. Thunderlane untied her hands and sat her up, cuffing them behind her back. He hastily stepped into his yellow and blue trousers, and pulled on his dress shirt, attentively sliding the epaulettes into their loops. Buttoning it, he turned and untied her ankles, giving them a slight tickle with his fingers. Dash sat up. With the coming exhibition, she would need to save her energy, not waste it on this scumbag. She slid off of the bed, and stood, clamping her thighs together to obscure her moist sex as the black stallion attached her leash. He opened the door and frog-marched her to the the cell, where Spitfire and Lightning Dust had their muzzles in the trough of mare-food. Thunderlane opened the cage and uncuffed her, shoving her in. “You ladies enjoy your meal,” he laughed degradingly as he slid the door shut with a clang. He leaned against the chamber’s wall and slowly began to jerk himself Rainbow Dash crouched at the trough, and lapped at the brown gool. Even though she had become used to the taste and smell, she couldn’t stand the fact that they were forced to eat it like dogs. Yet, she did it anyway, reminding herself of the severe beating that would follow if she tried to use her hands. Silently, she looked at the two mares before her. Spitfire had bags under her eyes, and Lightning Dust bore red welts on her breasts, groin, and ass. Dash shook her head in disgust, as she realized that she had fared the best among them. She silently are her fill and put her hooves on the cot and began to do push-ups, flicking her tail tauntingly at Thunderlane, who growled and ceased his masturbation as he recognized the gesture. Soarin had, at the beginning of the exhibitions, forbade him and the other stallions from raping them when they warmed up and stretched, and they knew it. He stuffed his junk away and huffed as he walked out, trying to ignore Dash's dare. It was times like these that she relished, the small slights that she could hurl at her abusers empowered her. Spitfire and Lightning Dust, finishing themselves, began to clean themselves and stretch. "You know that he'll only beat you later." Lighting Dust jumped, grabbing a cage bar above her, and began to pull herself up. "He'd beat me anyway. Might as well get something out of it," Dash Chuckled, "but he can still kiss my ass." They'd had this discussion many times before, and it had become a running half-joke between the three mares. Even in their situation, they considered themselves a unit, and while they all participated in taunting their captors, they consistently reminded each other of what the consequences could be if they pushed the stallions in the wrong way. Spitfire smiled at her subordinates' banter as she crunched her abs. She was proud that they had refused to submit to Soarin and his brutes. "Perhaps you should invite him to experiment with French kisses. More soft laughter followed, but they otherwise remained silent as they exercised, switching positions and helping each other stretch. Before long, they heard the rattle of keys. Soarin, Thunderlane, and an embarassed Fleetfoot, bearing bonds stepped in. "Good morn'in, ladies," Soarin grinned as he strode in, "I trust you all had a pleasant night's sleep?" The Mares rose in silence as the cage door slid open, their silent resentment apparent. "Now, now girls," Thunderlane taunted, "y'all are Wonderbolts ain't ya? What ever happened to 'Every meal a feast, every paycheck a fortune'?" "Damn I love the EUP," sneered Soarin as he took a pair of cuffs from Fleetfoot. "Given the cesspit it's become, I don't doubt it," grumbled Lighting Dust. Soarin's eyes narrowed and his ears pivoted towards the rebellious mare. With a backhand and a yank of her mane, the stallion pulled her face to his. "Listen, you worthless slut," he hissed, "You have no clue how hard it is to not fuck you silly." With one hand, he cuffed her wrists and pulled her to Fleetfoot, pulling and twisting on her teats. Affixing a leash to Dust's collar and handing it to the red collared Pegasus, he swung about and nodded to Thunderlane who bound Rainbow. "It is only by the grace of Dainn and General Armor that I do not throw you to a patch of Rape Vines in the scorching sun." As Thunderlane pulled Dash to Fleetfoot, he turned to her and twisted her wing sheath. "If it were up to me, I'd lop these useless things off of you, and beat you with them." Soarin turned to his former wife and bound her arms and neck with a metal yoke. "Bitch, I'd switch you so hard and often that other ponies might think that you were born with a red ass!" The two stallions guffawed at the crude joke. He led her to the other mares and gave her leash to Fleetfoot who gently began leading them to the old runway, where a helicopter was waiting; stallions had long since ceased to draw chariots for mares. It was old and rickety barely more than a motorized descendent of Pinkie's pedal powered contraption, Dash summarized. Pinkie... where was she now? Would she ever be healed? Perhaps it would be more merciful if her miserable existence were to end.... Dash shook her head slightly and refocused. How dare she even consider such a thing, she chided herself as she looked at the flying machine for a tactical advantage that. It only had one door, a non-issue since the mares were effectively flightless, and jumping would almost certainly be fatal. On top of that, there were anchors in the deck that their bindings would be fixed to. Coaxial rotor. Armored cockpit containing a white Pegasus. Rusted landing skids. Nothing seemed to give her an edge. She glanced at the still blades and chuckled at the obvious pun. Again, she felt her mind begin to wander. Focus Dash! She knew that it was futile to consider means of escape; the caribou were expert slavers and had taught the stallions their twisted trade well. The Pegasus mares sat on the deck, the cold metal pressing against their exposed sex. Chains were affixed to their collars, securing them to the deck. The chopper began to whine, rising to a roar as the blades whirled above them. The old bird shook violently as the RPMs increased, vibrating the deck, and arousing Dash. A unicorn guard nonchalantly climbed aboard and, as the helicopter rose, rubbed her erect nipple. Pitching forward, they accelerated past the neglected base and hurtled through a thin cloud bank. Dash felt the unicorn’s administrations become more and more violent, but she urged herself to ignore it. Rather, she pictured the Cloudiseum in her mind, and pondered the events that she would be participating in. Last month had been a crotch-bead race; moving too fast would cause her to violently orgasm and fall, while moving slowly would get her beaten. She remembered her hands being bound with barbed wire as she was rutted by tentacles in an orgasm race, the pain of having a massive dildo stuffed in her anus, and the joy of breaking the sound barrier as she dove at the Young Flyers’ Competition. The Young Flyers’ Competition… tears welled in her eyes as she remembered her golden years, only to be whisked away by the turbulent rotorwash. She felt the guard release her cuffs from their anchor as he tried to spin her around as he unzipped his fly. She looked down below them, where white clouds looked like a billowing white carpet far below. Her eyes widened as an insane inspiration gripped her. She swung the loose chain into the arc of the whirling blades above and time slowed. With a deafening crunch, a blade sliced into the metal obstruction, demolishing it and splintering the leading edge. The machine began to wobble violently as it’s rotors’ delicate symmetry was disturbed. The unicorn that had moments ago been violating her reached for a grip and tumbled at the cabin pitched and rolled as the pilot fought for control, straight towards Rainbow Dash. The naked pegasus braced her hooves on the landing skid and caught the guard’s shirt in her powerful jaws. His legs were still aboard, but his entire torso was suspended in mid air. “Pull me up!” His scream was shrill and full of terror, but Dash stared into his eyes. “AH CAHNT,” she hollered through clenched teeth, “MAH HANDS!” She brought her hands around so he could reach them. The guard tried to grab them as a handhold, but Dash pulled them away. “UNLOCK ‘HEM!” The Unicorn pulled a ring of keys from a chain on his neck and, with his magic, slid one into the locks binding her. As her hands were freed, she pulled him aboard and linked his wrist to the side of a jumpseat. “You have no idea,” the raging mare hissed into his ear, “how easily I could have let you go.” She made her way to Lightning Dust and Spitfire, unbinding them. “Great!” Lightning Dust exclaimed, “Now what?!” Dash looked down at the clouds below. They were drawing nearer, as the pilot traded maintaining altitude for retaining some semblance of control. Dash grinned, “Now, we jump!” Not waiting for a response she reached into open space with her hand and felt the downwash, the pressure of the air and the density of the gasses. She closed her eyes… and let herself get sucked out. The two mares dove after her, unsure of her intentions, but not daring to stay aboard the gyrating craft. They fell towards the clouds below, spreading their arms and legs to slow their descent, but Dash stayed in her dive. She reached into her dive and felt the pressure increase. Warmer. Thicker. Wetter. She felt the upper fringes of the cloud below and broke out of her dive. With a flash of her long-unused pegasus magic, she compressed the air that pooled against her belly and thrust it at the cloud. The naturally floating cloud grew denser, grabbing at her exposed body and slowly, unmistakingly slowed her to a halt. The two mares sank into the cloud, slowing and stopping. With a sigh, the cyan pegasus drew her first free breath in years, and allowed herself to fall asleep in the cloud’s soft embrace.
ManumissionsRainbow Dash jumped as a loud buzzing filled the air. Looking about wildly, her eyes settled on Fleetfoot. The red-collared mare was curled up, her bare chest rising and falling to the rhythm of the offending noise. Dash smiled at the sleeping Pegasus and looked about. Lightning Dust had carved herself a loft on which she slept, and Spitfire was quietly expanding the cloud's small cavity into a small room. Rainbow looked at the ceiling, for the shaft that she had burrowed on her descent. It had been sealed, her compatriots' work, no doubt, to conceal themselves from any searching stallions. "Where are we? How long have I been asleep?" Her commander stopped her work and sat on the plush floor. "At the moment, beneath Cloudsdale." Catching the worried look in her subordinate's eyes, she continued. "Don't worry, we're slowly drifting away and a fair distance below." Rainbow sighed in relief. She had impulsively chosen their current residence because of it's size, without bothering to determine it's speed and direction. If it were headed away from their captors, or too fast, it would attract the attention of searchers, who were no doubt looking for the four fugitives. "Everypony seems to have crashed pretty hard," Spitfire chuckled at her own pun, "It's almost sunset." “I’ve almost forgotten how it felt to sleep on a proper bed without being stuck in one position for hours on end. Damn, I miss my Cloudominium….” Spitfire shrugged, “I wouldn’t know; I grew up sleeping on cots with my parents on dusty bases until I went to college.” She chuckled as she scooped a chunk of cloud from the wall and packed it down into a roughly shaped seat and planted herself in it. “I sleep like a baby on a stone floor.” “Everypony knows that babies are terrible sleepers.” She turned as Fleetfoot let out a particularly loud snort, and smiled to herself, she turned back to Spitfire to continue, but was greeted by a view of the nude officer stretched out on the chair, already asleep. Dash glanced at her exposed marehood and turned away quickly as a warmth filled her own. “But feel free to prove me wrong.” Stomping a small hole in the floor, she stared down at the greenery passing slowly below. She was a warrior, with a soul that belonged to the sky. Yet, as she gazed down, she felt her heart tug, as if it were being physically pulled to the lush scene below. She closed her eyes and pictured the a field of grass. She saw herself lying on her back, the blades tickling the joints of her sensitive wings. She reached back to scratch, but her hand was stopped short by her blue and yellow wing sheath that Soarin had given her as a “gift”, as he had called it as he roughly crimped it into place. Part of her yearned to have the plastic ripped free and to spread her wings, but she dreaded what she might see. What would her former pride and joy look like? Wasted, neglected nubs, atrophied from disuse? She knew that new feathers had probably grown, but what would they be? She pictured her cyan feathers, matted and split, tangled in older, mottled plumage that was slowly decaying into dust. Her stomach churned as she imagined the horrid stench of years of sweat, bacteria, and rotting flesh that had been shed. Nausea overtook her, and she crouched at the hole as bile rose in her throat. She heaved as worry and the imagined sensations. As she spewed the contents of her belly earthward, she felt the gaze of the Fleetfoot and Lightning Dust, startled by her retching. Fleetfoot kneeled beside her and patted her shoulder as Rainbow Dash's convulsive vomiting slowed and stopped. As she sucked in air, she felt the delicate hands working at the black collar on her neck and pulled it loose. "All of it!" Sobbed Dash as fresh air washed over her sweaty neck, like a wave over a dry rock, her flattened cyan fur rising as the constricting walls of leather receded. "Are you sure?" Fleetfoot's lisping voice was soothing, but strained as Rainbow Dash's tears sparked her own concern. "Maybe we should take it -" "JUST FUCKING DO IT!" She roared at the mare, waking Spitfire, startling even herself. "I'm sorry Lieutenant Commander. That was out of line." "It's okay," Fleetfoot whispered as she worked the crimped plastic. Another two pairs of hands joined her efforts in twisting and pulling at the seams. As the seal cracked open, the stench of sweat and decay wafted through their sanctuary. Lightning Dust gagged and turned away, but Spitfire and Fleetfoot, who had smelled worse in the field, persisted. With a crackle, the sheaths parted, and cold, clean air surged against the emancipated appendages. Her left wing was barren, devoid of feathers, but her right was overgrown with them. Stiff and arthritic from years of being held in a semi-extended position, Dash felt her joints grind in protest as her weak wings drooped in surrender to gravity. "Lay down, Dash." Spitfire's tone was kind, but authoritative. She eased Rainbow onto her belly, gathering the cloud around her face to serve as a pillow. Fleetfoot began to knead the base of the wing, while Spitfire worked her way along the wings' humeri to the elbows, which she slowly massaged open. Rainbow Dash squeezed her eyes shut as her wings slowly stretched to their full extent. Carpals, metacarpals, and the bones between.... In order, her joints were massaged and, with uncomfortable pops and snaps, slowly extended and contracted until they could move freely. Gentle hands preened her, pulling loose feathers free and cleaning the healthy. Behind her, she felt Lightning Dust come back and massage her atrophied muscles, kneading and pressing on the dilapidated limbs, and rubbing feeling into long-forgotten nerves. “You have some broken Primaries that I need to pluck.” Rainbow slowly turned her head to look sidelong at her friend. “I’ll make it quick.” She grasped the base of the damaged feathers. “On the count of three.” Without hesitation, she simultaneously pulled them free. “Who the hell taught you to count?” “Medic on my dad’s base,” Lightning Dust chuckled as she dabbed a patch of cloud against Dash’s bleeding wing. Rainbow Dash held the puff of cloud to the wounds and stood up and experimentally flexed her wings. She grimaced as the movement strained her unused tendons, but forced them to spread wider and wider to their full length. Groaning with the effort she flapped, lifting herself into a low hover, before lightly touching down again, off-balence from her plucked wing's lack of lift. With a grin, she turned to her colleagues. “Who brought their PT belts?” Author's Note One of the major questions that I've noticed floating around the comments of the FoE stories is what happens to the wings of the pegasi. Sun's Setting by Twipet mentions that the sheaths have runes within them that prevent feather growth. So why did Rainbow's wing grow back? Stay tuned folks.
BoundlessKa'leth flew low over the desert's sparse foliage, his gossamer wings creating a hypnotic buzz. With a roll, he dove into a shallow canyon and landed beside a thin stream. With a chitinous hand, the changeling drone pushed aside a young cactus, and dipped his face in the warm water, lapping up the liquid of life with his forked tongue. Tossing his head back as he swallowed, he relished the sensation of the refreshing fluid trickle down his parched throat. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and gazed skyward. Once he would have shot skyward, darting to the atmosphere's thin outskirts before letting himself drop. The cool air rushing over his armored body and whistling through the holes in his legs. Shaking his head, reality rushed back at him. Where once Pegasi had delivered rain to the mountains in the north, swelling the gorge in which he stood with with cold snow melt, the clouds drifted with the air currents as the now uncontrolled sun heated the land below, silently obeying the laws of nature. Now, the normally steady river had become a thin, snaking trickle, brown with silt. The Queen, in her wisdom, had dispersed the hive when it became clear that the drought would be punishing, and that they could not be sustained. Ka'leth, skeptical of his ruler's decree, had elected to stay behind. Sustained by the faint echoes of love as the desert's creatures continued their blessedly ignorant lives, he was able to move freely to find a new source of water. However, wherever he journeyed, from the salty ocean to the east, to the stagnant marshes in the west, he could not find a single spot in the hive's lands other than this solitary rivulet that he could survive on. Perhaps he should have joined his fellow changelings as they disguised themselves as stallions, devouring the openly flowing lust that flooded the corrupted nation. He had tried, but lust was not love. Where love had filled him and made him content, while lust merely staved off starvation and tore at his consciousness. No, he would remain here in his home, like his ancestors had, only leaving when the drought finally drove him away. Flying out of the ravine, he spotted a large, low cloud to the north. It was unusual, but not completely alien to the dry landscape. Too small and thin to bring rain, he flew towards it to cool off in it's shadow before returning to his den. His den? An inspiration filled him: if he could guide the cloud to the old hive to the north, it would cool and condense as night fell, pooling at the bottom of the cavern that he called home. He would be set for months! With a loud buzz, he surged towards it, running his tongue along his fangs in anticipation of the wonderful sensation of drinking cool water. Green magic surged along his horn and grasped the cloud. It seemed light for it's size, but he was too distracted by his excitement to care. Inside, Rainbow Dash and her comrades started as the cloud around them began to shift. Lightning Dust spread her wings to investigate, but Spitfire held her back and put a finger to her lips. It had been two days since their escape and were slowly gaining the strength back in their wings, but they were far too weak to run far or fight more than a couple of attackers. Wait, she motioned to the three mares. They could feel the aura of telekinesis around them, and hear a buzz like a mosquito in their ear, but they had yet to see or hear a stallion. For several minutes, she held her hand out before crawling to a small hole in the wall of the cloud. Silently, Rainbow Dash scooped a section of the floor out as they passed into a shadow. Another cloud? She peered down through the hole to discover a stone, stalagmite covered floor passing beneath. "Look down!" Her whisper was quiet, but urgent, and the other mares quickly dug their own holes to observe their situation. As they watched, the dim passage rose away into a massive cavern. The glistening walls looked more like a trachea that Dash had dissected in a field trauma course, than rock, oozing a green muck. She stared at the thick fluid as a gob fell from an outcropping. As it plummeted, she remembered where she had seen the substance and heard the annoying hum before. Her ears twitched as she tried to pinpoint the source and gestured to her Spitfire. One enemy. Armed. In cover. She pointed to the far wall of the cloud. The captain nodded. Fleetfoot, flank left. Lightning Dust, flank right. I’ll go under. Rainbow Dash, Takedown. They positioned themselves, wings spread. 3, motioned the captain, satisfied with their formation. The mares planted their hooves, ready to sprint through the cloud. 2. Rainbow glanced at her naked body. What she wouldn’t give a bra and panties to cover herself. 1. As one, they burst through the wall. Rainbow dove at the unsuspecting changeling. Using her momentum, she slammed him into the cavern floor As she spun Ka'leth into a headlock, the other mares scanned the chamber for other enemies. Feeling her grip begin to fail, she shoved the drone to an stalagtite and pinned him. Satisfied that they were alone, Spitfire patted him down before emptying his rucksack. His knife, canteen, tarp, medical supplies, clothes... all were roughly dumped onto the rock and examined. Ka'leth offered no resistance. He felt the cyan mare's forearm beneath his chin, her hand grasping his head. One tiny twist.... "He's clean." Spitfire proclaimed. Lightning lighted on the ledge as Dash took him down. "Cap, I've only gotten cold water from a hose for five years now. I'm no fragment flower, but I can tell you that that" she nodded to the changeling "is not clean." Dash pulled a rope from the pile of his belongings and bound his wrists before sitting him against the wall. Shaking the stars from his eyes, he summed up his captors. "Mareth!?" The panicked utterance was distorted by his forked tongue and parched throat, but understandable. "Who the fuck are you?" Spitfire hissed at the changeling as she strapped the knife to her leg. "Firth Thargent Ka'leth. I am a Changeling drone." "No shit." Lightning Dust was trying on a pair of kakhi trousers and a jacket. The clothes were tight on her, the smallest of the mares, but they covered her. Fleetfoot nodded approvingly. Dash knelt by him calmly and studied him. "Where is the hive?" "We're in it, mith Dash." "What the hay happened?" Fleetfoot looked about. "Dainn did this?" He nodded. "Indirectly. You pegathi aren't exactly the thame." He snorted. "When you thtopped controlling the weather, the rain thtopped too." "Oh, cry me a river." Spitfire snorted derisively. "At least half of you weren't brainwashed, bound, and beaten into submission" "No. We died." All four mares looked at their prisoner. "We feed on love, yeth. Even the perversion that fillth Equesthtria fulfillth our bathic needth, but we thtill need water." "So your hive dissolved. Why should we care?" Lightning Dust's cold tone made Dash shiver. "Hell, we should be celebrating that we needn't defend against you anymore." " Oh, you're thtill on about Canterlot? It'th been theven yearth!" He paused "And I thtill have thome cracked chitin from that damned Pinkie'th can-" In an instant, he had been hoisted by the neck so his hooves dangled without purchase. Rainbow Dash squeezed on the changeling's neck, making his eyes bulge. "One more word, bug," she hissed, "one more word against my friends and I'll make you envy your dead." "Lieutenant-" Fleetfoot began to scold Rainbow, but she continued heedlessly. "Five years. FIVE BUCKING YEARS, we have been raped and beaten. That 'damned' filly was hit by it so hard that it broke her. Rarity and Fluttershy brainwashed, and CELESTIA KNOWS how Twilight got corrupted!" She released his neck and let him collapse, gasping to the floor. "I meant no offenth-" "The hell you didn't-" "That's enough Lieutenant," Spitfire gently put a hand on Dash's shoulder, "you two can settle this later." Rainbow nodded to her superior and flapped off to ease her flaring temper. Spitfire watched her claw her way into their cloud with a huff before turning to the Changeling. "Now, You will tell us everything you know."
FriendlessRainbow Dash sat in her corner of the cloud and cried. She had tried sleeping, working off her pent up rage, and even carving rough drawings into the cave wall to distract her, but all to no avail. In the end, she had let herself slump against the billowing wall and let the wave of uncertainty, shame, and despair break over her. Confiding in her solitude, she allowed her long-suppressed tears to well and drip as her body wracked with muffled sobs. Five years. Had it really been that long? The implications of the lost time hit her like a club. She had last seen her mother and father a week before the Fall. Were they still alive? What would they look like? Liquid grief fell from her chin and fell through the mist on which she sat. And her friends.... the changeling's words were like a knife in her heart. Betrayal and the thought of having failed to protect them had always haunted her, even as she told herself that they were all victims. The stallions, the Reds who threw themselves at their masters... they were all unwilling pawns in the grasp of Cadance's corrupted sorcery. She had betrayed them, and Twilight had followed her disgraceful descent. Twilight? Cadance? No, neither of them would do this without something making them. But they have! Her guts felt twisted, contorting and tearing themselves apart as her thoughts devolved into a nonsensical ramble. She stood and strode towards her former wing sheaths to distract herself. Lifting the four plastic plates, she examined the interiors, curious about the state of her wings. Within, silver Caribou runes were etched into the interior walls, which were still dank and musky. She looked closely at them. One plate that was plastered with her old, rotting feathers (from her right wing, she presumed), however was cracked and faded along the swirling runic text. From what she knew of caribou magic, their spells were cast through text like this, channelling the world's natural magic. She shook her head Twi would have loved to study this. "Shut up, brain." Why? You should be thinking about them. They betrayed me. Did they? Is that the element of loyalty saying that, or a pathetic, lonely filly trying to justify her failure. Why should I care? The only one that I have even the slightest modicum of respect that I have respect for is Applejack. And even then, I am still skeptical if her. Twilight, Rarity, Fluttershy, they've all betrayed Equestria! Did they? Why? Because... Dash's mind blanked itself. You have shed blood, tears, and sweat for each other, put your own livelihoods on the line protect each other. What kind of traitor does that? But- What has changed? My friends- Ponies don't change. Circumstances do. "But they gave up on me!" Her cry echoed through the cavern. They love you. No! They used to! Love doesn't fade without being forced out. "They left me!" She sobbed into a patch of cloud. "No they didn't." The hissing voice was but a mutter. Rainbow started as the changeling offered her a spare pair of trousers and began to carve at a wing sheath. "Spitfire let you...." "Nah. Your green friend fell athleep and the otherth are out looking for food." He sat beside the cyan mare as she hesitantly slid the cloth over her legs, all the while looking warily at him. "You aren't running." The flat statement was edged with unconcealed suspicion, but she made no move to secure the unbound creature. "The enemy of my enemy ith my friend. Thothe mangy caribou have Tartaruth to pay for. Bethideth, where would I run to?" Enemy? "I thought that the changelings had allied with Dainn?" "A few of uth have... bred with ponieth in the patht." He caught a sidelong glare from the Pegasus. "Not all of it wath conthenthual, I regret. Cadenthe'th thpell during the fall... a fair fraction of our mixed offthpring were...." He trailed off, his lisping voice betraying poorly concealed shame. "Chrythalith gave herthelf to them to thtave off any more bloodshed than had already filled our hive, and in turn, they gave her to Dainn ath a... gift." "Canterlot?" Dash changed the topic, feeling the poorly concealed shame in his voice. A nod. "Thought so. You mentioned Pinkie's party cannon." "Yeah. I never would have thought that tho few thivilianth could fight ath effectively ath you thix." The two sat silently as Ka'leth sliced and stabbed at the sheath. A few more times before lacing a rope of thick twine and presenting the makeshift bra to the mare. "From one warrior to another." Rainbow Dash slid the plastic sheet over her flat breasts. The twine itched and chafed, but the feeling of vulnerable exposure leaving her bosom outweighed the discomfort. She stood. The kakhi pants clung to her tightly, but she welcomed the concealing constriction. "Thank you. From one warrior to another." Author's Note A very short world building chapter. Was Dash's argument confusing? If so, it's not supposed to.
