It's Going Down; I'm Yelling Timber

We shift our focus now back to the commune. In the largest estate in the middle of town lived Corn Flake. He was pacing the empty halls convincing himself Sunday wasn't a disaster, muttering quietly, lonesomely. It could be said that he believed the things he preached, but on some deep level he knew there was a truth to what Hoofbeats said about cognitive dissonance.

He looked out on the tiny universe he had created. Ponies dressed in modest garments trod the clean streets, surrounded by monogamous straight friends with average nuclear families, not a single nightclub or muffin factory in sight. No temptation, no indecency, no delinquency. It was perfect. He knew it was manipulative, but were they not happier this way? Was the godhood of Celestia a lie? Maybe, but he wanted it to be true and that was enough. If the whole world could just be like this then maybe they could return to a simpler time, when relationships had value, when mares and stallions cared enough to make it work. Truly allowing ponies to make their own decisions would be the end of society as we know it.

Suddenly, he heard something that sounded like the snorting of a pug, if that pug was snorting underwater and the water was actually sulfur hexafluoride. It's not the best simile, but I stand by it. He turned his head to see a wooden figure stumbling across his lawn. It was a Timberwolf! He had never seen a Timberwolf this far into town before. They were usually skittish around ponies, unless somepony had been feeding them. This one, however, was injured. It was missing its lower jaw and shaking uncontrollably. It lowered its head to the ground to attempt to pick up a scent, while its tongue lolled out of its gaping maw and dragged on the ground behind its nose.

“Well,” thought Corn Flake, “This is certainly more interesting than self-reflection.”

He followed it, keeping his distance so it wouldn't see him, as it sniff-licked around town. Ponies hid inside their houses as it approached, but it wasn't interested in them. It was searching for something specific. It led him out of the gates of the commune and into the neighboring suburbs. It stopped in front of a two-story house with a damaged roof, not that the roof was a distinguishing feature; that happened often. Its ears straightened and it threw its head back in a howl, which came out as a scratchy gargle.

Hoofbeats was once again trying to pound out a violent orgasm, with a bigger shlong this time, when she heard the disgusting noise. She rolled over and kept going and tried to ignore it, but it happened again.

"Hey, shut up!" she yelled. It did not. Finally she stuck her head out of the roof to see what was going on.

A Timberwolf! The same Timberwolf! This was actually quite a fortuitous circumstance for her, because she needed more magical wood since she lost her masterpiece.

However, this pissed her off immensely. It wasn't enough that her session had been interrupted; it had to be something she was pretty much obligated to address immediately. She let out a loud, angry groan, slung her giant dildo over her shoulder, and went outside.

High on adrenaline and revenge fantasy, she faced the beast directly and shouted, "You want some more of this, you asshole? Well, I'll show you what I do with assholes!" She brandished the still-dripping cock and gave it a hard smack against the face. It recoiled and snarled the best it could. It lunged at her and she gave it another swift blow, to the ribs this time. It was much easier now that it had been weakened from their last confrontation, and it was still shaking, as it was still trying to reconnect with its missing piece.

She dashed a few Lunameters away toward her backyard, where she kept her tree harvesting equipment. It followed her and she led it to the glass mason jars she had been using for raw latex sap.

"Come at me!" she urged

It pounced, but she dodged and gave it a swift buck with her hindlegs, which dislodged some twigs.

"Bingo!" She quickly jarred the vibrating pieces before they could attach themselves back into the animal's chest. She held her weapon high and whacked it in the back, sending much of the ribcage clattering to the ground. She scooped those up in mason jars as well.

The wolf cowered before her and tried to turn tail and run, but it was far too valuable a resource for Hoofbeats to let escape. She savagely slammed the blunt testicle end of the dong into the creature's spine. It yelped and she scooped up some loose vertebrae. Another buck fully severed the back end from the front, and she was at last in the right position to knock its head clean off. She stomped on the remaining torso and limbs to pulverize them and store the small chunks individually.

Finally, she picked up the wolf's head and it whimpered at her. She had a suspicion that if she killed the head then the rest would stop shaking, and she didn't want that, so she buried it in the soil with its snout sticking out. She figured maybe with water, sunlight, and perhaps raw meat, she could keep it alive and grow her own personal supply of Timberwood, maybe even Timberpups.

She paused. Was she really going to become the kind of pony who grinds puppies into luxury sex toys? No, no, she wouldn't go that far, even if they were just plants. After all, she was the hero of her own story, and therefore morally superior and could do nothing wrong. She thought of this as she carried the jars of severed animal parts and penis mace up to the processing chamber.

Author's Note

I wanted to create a moral gray area here. Hoofbeats is the “hero” but she isn’t perfect. Also, I wanted to raise the danger factor here. Those of you who know me personally know that I have never once written a story where the protagonist survives at the end. This is just a fun pony story so I might not do that, but maybe I might. There have to be stakes. If you know the good guys always win then you won’t have any real concern for the character. Like, was I really supposed to mourn for everyone at the end of Infinity War? Yes, because I like sad endings and I pretend Endgame never happened.

(P.S. I love comments, even more than upvotes.)