Cheating the Cycle of Life- A Padded Pony Collab

Rainbow Dash huddled with her plush falcon, as his father shouted outside the door.

"Dad is monster... dad is monster..." Rainbow Dash said, as she felt another surge of pain hitting her lower parts, before releasing out of her pained butt into the pull-up she was currently wearing, which was smelling like a latrine and had quadrupled its size in the span of twenty minutes.

His father kept shouting, until a female voice interrupted him. A loud cracking sound ensued, followed by a whimper, as then Rainbow Dash's bedroom door was slammed open, sending Swirly Sweet flying into it.

"Get otu of here!" Rainbow Dash's father kept shouting, rushing towards Swirly Sweet as she squirmed about to get up "I don't want any potential foal-killers in my house!"

"B-but it was h-her idea!" Swirly Sweet said, her voice cracking due to the pain. Rainbow Dash looked with widened eyes at her babysitter, as she was battered by her father, and as her feelings turned into a whirlwind of emotions, and as she felt going and leaking on her bed.

"D-daddy! Stop!" She shouted, as her father landed a punch on Swirly's chest, causing her to let out a suffocated croak of pain, and as the air filled itself with the smell of blood.

"NO!" He shouted "She tried to impale you onto the plunger, she pays!"

"B-but... I liked it!" Rainbow Dash said, lying through her teeth in the attempt to get her father to stop beating her former babysitter to a pulp.

"I can tell you're lying!" He bellowed, hitting Swirly's teeth, as Rainbow Dash recoiled "You complained way too much when you got your anal exams done for your word to be credible!"

Rainbow Dash's eyes started to water, as she looked at Swirly Sweet losing her front teeth, and his father beating her up savagely...

"What do you mean, she has Shy Bladder and maybe Post Traumatic stress Disorder? But why?" Rainbow Dash's father said, as Rainbow Dash sat on the examination table, looking around the colorful room for something to do. The psychologist adjusted his glasses and quickly stroke his non-existent mane.

"Yes, you heard it right, Mister. Your daughter, due to a psychological trauma, sufferers of paruresis, over to a striking fear of garments wrapping around her lower body. As for the PTSD, I'm not positive about it, but it sounds likely."