Blue Frosting

by Kathairein_Puni

Rating: mature
Tags: Tragedy, Dark
Length: 16589

Pinkie goes insane, and drags the Cutie Mark Crusaders into a nightmare of pain and anguish.

Pinkie was never the same after she ate those strange flowers. She heard voices and saw things that weren't there. But most disturbingly, she became convinced the Cutie Mark Crusaders were beautiful Party Ponies, too shy to take off their disguises and acknowledge their love and lust for the now brain-damaged mare. Pinkie's descent into madness drags the trio into a nightmare from which there may be no return. Twelve different endings; some sad, some not as sad.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-05-29 19:36:13 UTC

Blue Frosting - Part 2

***********

Apple Bloom awoke with a start, hoping everything she remembered was a horrible dream. But reality hit her like a sledgehammer as she felt the packed dirt beneath her and saw the little slits of light in the room. She had wanted to stay awake to keep an eye on her friends, but she had passed out again shortly after Pinkie left. She could hear the irregular breathing of her friends and smelled a new, rank odor in the room.

Poop. Uncovered pony poop.

"Sweetie, Scoot; are you still there? What's that smell?"

"We're still here," came a very smooth and dreamy but tired voice. "I'm okay but Scootaloo's very sick." Sweetie Belle giggled. "I'm sorry I can't help her. Pinkie brought me some cupcakes and party punch, but she hasn't given Scoot anything since we got here. I think that's what she means by too little."

"I'm so thirsty and hungry," husked Scootaloo. "I'm sorry about the smell; I couldn't hold in any more. I just don't have any strength left."

"Hang in there, Scoot. We'll find a way out of this," started Sweetie Belle but she drifted off, lost in the agony and ecstasy of the blue drug. Scootaloo saw her eyes flutter closed and her smile become a cruel mockery of itself. This was the second time that she had lost consciousness because of the forced drug overdose.

Her distended stomach made it obvious that her intestines were bloated with the sugary blue solution. Had she not been so completely stoned she would be screaming in pain. Her body twitched and jerked from time to time. The side of her muzzle was encrusted with filly drool.

"Oh Celestia," choked Apple Bloom as she looked at her friends. "I am so scared. What are we going to do?"

"Pinkie says we should always," wheezed Sweetie Bell who had just regained consciousness, "always keep your smile up and..." She stopped to catch her breath. Sweetie Belle was also very sick. "your smile up and your tail down. Heh heh." She returned to her labored wheezing.

The clopping of hooves could be heard overhead. "Good morning contestants,' yelled Pinkie as she threw open the cellar door.  She tossed down the picnic basket and trotted down the stairs. Pinkie plopped herself on down on the old couch, a cloud of dust exploding from beneath her. "How are we all today? Roll call! Miss Apple Bloom?"

Pinkie was standing right in front of her. The taunting was almost as bad as the torture. "I'm here, Pinkie."

"Little Miss Too Much? Are you here?"

There was a pause, and then a hoarse voice cursed "I hope you get your head stuck in a cake mixer, you jerk."

No no, Sweetie, don't do it thought Apple Bloom, but at the same time she silently cheered her on.

"Oh ho! Lots of spunk left in the white filly." Pinkie walked over to the sassy filly and rubbed her tummy. "Well, there's lots and lots of something in there!" Pinkie gave her tummy a poke and Sweetie Belle spit up some of the pale blue fluid, almost hitting Pinkie. "Whoa! Don't show off just for me!"

She stepped in front of Scootaloo and lifted her head. "Oh Little Miss Too Little, you don't look so good. Aren't you sad now you stole my Party Ponies?" The filly's sunken eyes and cracked, bleeding lips showed she was seriously dehydrated. She trembled as her eyes a opened a slit and then closed again. Pinkie let her head drop.

She waved her hands in front of her muzzle. "You are one stinky filly, you know that?"

"But last night right before I went to bed," she started but was interrupted by someone not there. She staggered, then righted herself. "There are ponies who tell me I am a good pony and shouldn't be mean." Pinkie instantly switched from psycho-pony to very guilty-pony, "So I should say to you I am sorry for all the things I have done to you." A tear formed on Pinkie's cheek. "I know you are my friends."

"Then just let us go, Pinkie," begged Apple Bloom. "I promise we won't tell anyone. Show us kindness."

click. Psycho-pony was back. "Kindness? You are Party Pony thieves! They were going to be my best friends, not like you cheaters. Party Pony Haters!"

With that Pinkie reached into her basket, picked up a container and threw it at Scootaloo. The dehydrated pony barely flinched as the bowlful of water splashed her face, followed by the dull thud of the the empty bowl against her head. "There's your kindness!" She reached into the basket again and grabbed a pair of cupcakes. ”You look like you’d be good at eating LOTS of cupcakes!” She pried open Sweetie Belle's muzzle and crammed them down her throat. Instantly she started suffocating on the dry desserts.

"Oh, are those too dry for you? All the lemon-colored ponies said I should give you something to drink, too!" Pinkie grabbed Sweetie Belle's mane, jerking her head back and poured apple juice down her throat. Choking, she coughed out the now gooey cupcake matter into the air, a sizeable amount landing on Pinkie.

"That is so gross!" exclaimed Pinkie. "Bad Party Pony hater!" Pinkamena Pie stepped back and kicked the bloated pony in the stomach. A hurricane of blue fluid erupted from Sweetie Belle's mouth, followed by a hair-raising moan.

To Apple Bloom's horror, Pinkie turned toward her.

"Miss Apple Bloom, I apologize for not attending to your needs. The blue ponies were so concerned about Little Miss Too Much and Little Miss Too Little that we forgot about Little Miss Just Right." She plopped down on the couch, setting the basket beside her. "Come over here, filly."

Apple Bloom shook her head and tried to back away.

"I said get over here. We need to make things Just Right." She grabbed the chain with her teeth and pulled, jerking the wounded filly in the direction of the couch. Mouthful by mouthful she pulled the chain until Apple Bloom was in front of her.

"Apple Bloom, would you like some frosting?"

The hunger spoke for her, "Please Pinkie."

"How much do you want it? Would you kill Sweetie Belle to get some frosting?"

"No!" shouted Apple Bloom in horror.

"Ha ha ha. I didn't think so. That was the red and orange striped pony's idea. I thought it was dumb anyway. Did you know that all the new foals are solid pink? All 572 of them. They are very cute. I never thought my brain could hold so many ponies, but it does! Or they does. Maybe. It's too much for my simple Pinkamena brain; that's why I let the pony voices run things a lot of the time, now."

"Close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you." Apple Bloom complied. Pinkie opened a container from the basket and scooped out a hoofful of blue goo. She stuck in front of Apple Bloom's muzzle. "Take a sniff. What do you smell?"

The immature pony inhaled. "Blue frosting. Please Pinkie, I need some." Apple Bloom began to tremble.

"Now stick your tongue out, just a little. What do you taste?"

A pink tongue flicked out. "Blue frosting."

"Now see, all the ponies in my head are trying to make it just right for you. Aren't we generous? If you keep your eyes closed, you can eat some more. There's plenty."

The tortured filly took another lick and let the flavor of the drug wash over her tongue. When there was no reprisal, she leaned forward and took a huge bite, scraping her teeth along Pinkie's hoof as she tried to get all the frosting she could. She gulped down the mouthful of frosting just as a hoof reached out and smacked her up the side of her head.

"Such poor table manners for a Party Pony pretender!"

Apple Bloom opened her eyes in surprise at being struck.

"Did we say you could open your eyes?" scolded Pinkie Pie. "Did we?"

Apple Bloom closed her eyes again. "No, Pinkie. I'm sorry Pinkie."

"We need to teach you some manners. First," Pinkie's voice became low and sultry, “we learn table manners. You must always dine using the right plates. Blue frosting is for cupcakes, so we should always use the special dessert plates that we reserve for the yummiest treats."

Pinkie took another hoofull of frosting and waved it in front of Apple Bloom. The filly's nose twitched in anticipation. But instead of feeding it to her, Pinkie spread her legs and pressed the blue goo against her sex. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply as she massaged it into her puffy pony lips. Her clitoris, which had been anticipating this event ever since she kidnapped the Crusaders, was already stiff and swollen. As she rubbed her pussy, the blue frosting began to mix with the juices that were leaking out of her, making a pale blue slime that covered her cunt and inner thighs. She took another scoop and patted it on top of the other, forming a mound of solid frosting.

Pinkie grabbed the chain and pulled hard, forcing Apple Bloom's muzzle against her blue-frosted cunt. At first she fought against the chain, worried that she might suffocate, but as she smelled and tasted the blue frosting she couldn't resist lapping it up, the taste melting into her mouth and suffusing her body. When she reached the moist, fleshy material underneath she hesitated, repulsed by the idea of licking another mare but helpless to stop as the need for the blue raged within her. Pinkie kept the chain taut and put it underneath her and sat on it, still trapping Apple Bloom but freeing Pinkie to use her mouth and hooves.

“The blue ponies were right,” sighed Pinkie. “Using the correct dessert plate makes all the difference. Don’t you agree, Apple Bloom?” Pinkie put a hoof on her head and forced her to nod yes, without having to removing her tongue from her rapist’s vagina. “Make sure you clean your plate.”

Apple Bloom’s mouth was now saturated with of the salty taste of Pinkie as well as the frosting. The thought of doing fillyfooler things made her want to vomit, but her body’s need for blue would never let that happen. She also knew that the longer Pinkie was in a good mood the better chance she and her friends had of staying alive.

Apple Bloom wanted to get this nightmare over as soon as possible. She tried to remember the times when she was alone in the house and she had touched herself. There were some places that felt nice when you rubbed them, some places that felt really good if you flicked them with your hoof, and sometimes it felt good if she put her hoof or a small apple into what her sister called her ‘apple bucket’ and then rubbed herself real hard.

Apple Bloom used her tongue and found the “rubbing spot” on Pinkie. The mare arched her back and gave a loud moan that filled the cellar. Pinkie grabbed the filly’s head and ground it into her cunt while her hips thrust up and down, milking every last drop of bliss out of her oral orgasm. She released Apple Bloom who fell back on her haunches, gasping for breath. Neither moved nor said anything for several minutes.

“Wowie Zowie!” exclaimed their crazed captor. “That was great, you little fillyfooler! Did you learn those fillyfooler tricks from your sister?”

“I’m not a fillyfooler,” countered Apple Bloom, disgustedly. Her muzzle was coated with mixture of Pinkie’s cunt juice, her saliva, and frosting, but she dared not touch it in case it might set off the dangerously unstable mare.

“Could’a fooled me.” Pinkie pulled down a “Welcome Party Ponies!” banner and used it to wipe the goo dripping from her vulva and thighs.

When she had scraped most of it off her body, Pinkie stared at the sign smeared with blue. She held it to her face and lovingly licked off the blue until all the words were legible again. “Party Ponies…: she whispered to herself. “My Party Ponies..”

And just like that the psycho-pony was back. “If you stole my Party Ponies, then you will have to be my new Party Pony!” she screamed at Apple Bloom, and knocked her over as she ran out of the cellar.

******************

Pinkie reclined on the couch, a position she had discovered was much more comfortable than sitting upright. Apple Bloom crawled out of her nest of broken boxes and fouled blankets toward her, unable to remember how this deranged monster had ever been her friend. She winced with every step, the weight of the heavy chain causing the metal collar to chafe and reopen bloody sores on her neck and shoulders. The pathetic creature stopped with her muzzle two feet away from Pinkie’s crotch and waited to play her part in the game.

It had been almost two months since Pinkie had drugged and kidnapped the three Cutie Mark Crusaders. Pinkie’s spotless reputation and her storytelling skills successfully convinced their parents, and the townsfolk, that although the fillies had been to Sugarcube Corner after school, they had left together before dark and she hadn’t seen them since. Mr. and Mrs. Cake were so preoccupied with their new baby that they didn’t notice Pinkie’s odd new habits and her frequent, unwarranted visits to the cellar.

The pink pony wiggled herself into the familiar worn spots of the couch and spread her legs, exposing her soft, moist parts to the filly. With her free hoof Pinkie gently massaged her cunt, manipulating the soft, puffy folds. Pinkie loved the feeling of control as she forced her prisoner to watch her pleasure herpony, within smelling distance of her marehood.

The pitiful prisoner had to wait until Pinkie's pussy began to leak pony juices before moving to the next part of the unspoken script. While Apple Bloom waited she reached down and carefully scratched the lesion on her flank. Several weeks ago Pinkie had decided her captive didn’t look enough like a Party Pony, so she poured buckets of brightly colored paint all over her. The paint, now dried and already flaking off, was meant for houses, not fillies, and as a result her hide was dotted with open sores.

The quiet squishing sound meant her tormentor was ready for her to proceed. "Please, Party Princess Pinkamena, I am a beautiful Party Pony who loves you very much. I have come from very far away to be your friend. May I please have some of your delicious frosting?” pleaded the filly acting the part of Pinkie’s fantasy friend.

"And how would you like your frosting served?" asked Pinkie, her voice muffled under the perfumed bandanna covering her mouth and nose. The bandanna was needed to cover up the putrid smell of the decaying ponies on the other side of the cellar. Pinkie’s torture of Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle had been so effective that they had died within a week of their capture. Pinkie had no way to get them out of the cellar, and even if she did there was no way for her to bury the bodies without attracting attention.

For the last month and a half their decomposing carcasses had been a source of sustenance for all matter of carrion-consuming creatures. Pinkie had tried to get Apple Bloom to bury the bodies, but the hard packed earth would not yield to a shovel, and any time Apple Bloom got close to the bodies she would wretch uncontrollably, regardless of how much Pinkie beat her. In the end, Pinkie used a cloth drenched in perfume to mask the odor, and Apple Bloom learned that if she didn’t think about it too much, she could live with it.

“I would like to eat your frosting off your best dessert plate because you make the best desserts.”

Pinkie used a frosting-coated hoof to work the tasty blue cream into her sex. As she rubbed her pussy, the blue frosting mix with her juices to make the familiar pale blue goo that covered her marehood and soft inner thighs.

"Party Pony, I love you so much,” responded Pinkie. “Please scrub my dinner plate with your magical tongue.”

********************************************

Blue Frosting Ending #00

********************************************

Pinkie was taking a long time to orgasm, which was perfectly okay, as it felt good and she had no pressing engagements. Her pleasure was magnified because it had been almost a week since she was orally sexed by her captive, and her ‘down there’ parts were tingly with anticipation. She tried rubbing herself sometimes, but nothing could compare with a blue-frosting addict slurping away between her back legs.

Pinkie gently guided Apple Bloom's head to the places that needed special attention. "Oh, right there. That spot still has some frosting on it." She looked at the beautiful Party Pony lapping away at the frosting between her legs. She saw her Party Pony as flawless and beautiful, but in reality any sane pony could see Apple Bloom was very ill.

Pinkie was distracted by tingle, a slight magical feeling in the air. It was familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her hoof on it. And then she saw it: a glow from Apple Bloom’s haunches. It must be her cutie mark. She waited for it to materialize fully. When it did, she burst out laughing so hard she peed herself, accidentally getting a little on her sex slave.

On Apple Bloom’s haunches was the brand new cutie mark the filly would wear for what little remained of her short life: a little, pink tongue.

Blue Frosting - Ending 01 - Chain

Long before he found his cutie mark, Carrot Cake loved making things out of wood. Never was he happier than when he had his toy hammer, building miniature carts, boats and houses. He prayed for his cutie mark to be a saw and hammer. But life doesn't alway turn out the way you plan, so the three slices of carrot cake on his haunches meant that he would spend his days standing behind counters rather than building them.

But this day Mr. Cake had decided to find a saw and hammer and relive the favorite part of childhood. The twins were almost tall enough to reach the sink, and they had been standing on boxes and pails or anything handy for the extra height. This was no problem for Mrs. Cake, who saw a pail or old box as good enough. Mr. Cake however, knew that with a little time, wood, and hoof grease he could make a functional, decorative hoofstool that the whole family could be proud of.

Mr. Cake made his way across the back field toward the cellar. It was so old and structurally unsound that Mrs. Cake had forbidden him ever to go near it; in fact she had demanded it be razed before the twins could walk so they did not accidentally kill themselves in it. She saw Pinkie playing near it and scolded her so severely she didn't tell a joke for two days. Well, old or not, forbidden or not, he needed a chisel to finish the scrollwork. It had been decades since he had been down there, but he was pretty sure there was a box of woodworking tools in the old cellar. But today was Mrs. Cake's once-a-year day at the Spa, and so there was no one to stop him from sneaking out a few tools. Pinkie had taken Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake to the park, so he had the entire house to himself for his big carpentry adventure.

The stench met him about ten feet from the cellar. Some unfortunate creature must have gotten trapped in the cellar and died. He was going to have to get the dead whatever out of there. He sighed; building this simple hoofstool was already becoming less simple.

He went back to the house and returned with a lantern and a washcloth soaked in vanilla tied over his nose to mask the smell. As he descended the cellar stairs it was obvious someone had been here recently; the dust on the floor and furniture had been disturbed and things that should have been on the shelves weres out of place. An old couch had been pushed into the center of the room and the area was littered by what looked like blue paint rags.

The back wall of the cellar was lined with old crates, which were the most likely spot for the tools. He brought the lantern up, trying to read the faded labels in the lantern light. A noise from behind the couch startled him. He swung the latern around, and he could see something trying to hide in a space too small for it.

"Who's there?"

A face peered out nervously. "Party Pony," it whispered, and ducked back into the shadows.

What was a filly doing in his abandoned cellar? "C'mere, I won't hurt you." "What's your name?"

"Party Pony."

"No. I mean your real name."

"I'm a Party Pony," replied the mystery equine in a monotone. Just from the tone of her voice he could tell she was traumatized and in a state of shock. Until she was sure that this masked pony wasn't one of Pinkie's tricks, she would just play along.

"I don't know who you are, but let's get you out of here." Cake rounded the couch and the lantern illuminated the space ahead. The first thing he noticed was the pitiful, disgusting creature on the floor. It was in fact a filly; its coat was matted in places with something that looked like paint. In some places it wasn't matted because the open sores had caused all the hair to fall out. "What happened to you, filly? We need to get you out of here."

The second thing he noticed was the chain, connected to the metal collar around her throat. Mr. Cake was speechless. He immediately found a pair of pliers and undid the clasp that held it in place. It fell to the ground with a clang.

He noticed the third and fourth things when he followed the chain back to its source. About ten feet behind her were the corpses of two small ponies, obviously the source of the unbearable odor. He raised the lantern. Blackened and shriveled by decay, there wasn't much recognizeable except a mass of faded purple and pink hair near one of the heads. Mr. Cake stared at the bodies for a long time, then he turned and stared into the eyes of the found pony. "By Celestia's horn, you're Apple Bloom! And that's Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle over there! No wonder nopony found you." Anger erupted over his face. "Somepony has kept you chained up in the cellar for months. What kind of monster could do something like that?" He cradled Apple Bloom. "It's okay filly, you're safe now." He worked her up onto his back so he could carry her out.

She buried her muzzle against his neck and kept repeating "I'm a Party Pony. I'm a Party Pony."

"Did you say Party Pony?" He turned around a slowly and took another look around. Now that his eyes had become accustomed to the light, he saw what he had missed when he first entered the cellar.

Deflated balloons.

Faded streamers.

Dusty noise makers.

And large signs welcoming Party Ponies. In Pinkie's handwriting.

"Oh no..." croaked Mr. Cake as he stared at creature on his back. He looked again at the signs, then Apple Bloom again. "The park!" he shouted in terror. "Pumpkin! Pound!"

He was up the cellar stairs in three steps and galloping at top speed for the house, the last Crusader slung safely across his back.

Blue Frosting - Ending 02 - Blossoms

Before he found his cutie mark, Mr. Carrot Cake loved making things out of wood. He prayed for his cutie mark to be a saw and hammer. But life doesn't alway turn out the way you want, so the three slices of carrot cake on his haunches meant that he would spend his days standing behind counters rather than building them.

But this day Mr. Cake had decided to find a saw and hammer and relive his favorite part of childhood. The twins were almost tall enough to reach the sink, and they had been standing on boxes and pails or anything handy for the extra height. Mr. Cake knew that with a little time, wood, and hoof grease he could make a functional, decorative hoofstool that the whole family could be proud of.

Mr. Cake made his way across the back field toward the cellar. It was so old and structurally unsound that Mrs. Cake had forbidden him ever to go near it; in fact she had demanded it be razed before the twins could walk so they didn't accidentally kill themselves in it. She saw Pinkie playing near it and scolded her so severely she didn't tell a joke for two days.

It had been decades since he had been in the old cellar, but he was pretty sure there was a box of woodworking tools in there. It didn't hurt that today was Mrs. Cake's once-a-year day at the Spa, and so there was no one to stop him from sneaking out a few tools. Pinkie had taken Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake to the park, so he had the entire house to himself for his big carpentry adventure.

The stench met him about ten feet away. Some unfortunate creature must have gotten trapped in the cellar and died. He was going to have to get the dead whatever out of there. Building this simple hoofstool was becoming less simple.

He went back to the house and returned with a lantern and a washcloth soaked in vanilla tied over his nose to mask the smell. As he descended the cellar stairs it was obvious someone had been here recently; the dust on the floor and furniture had been disturbed and things that should have been on the shelves were strewn around the floor. An old couch had been pushed into the center of the room and the area was littered by what looked like blue paint rags.

The back wall of the cellar was lined with old crates, which was the most likely spot for the tools. He lit a lantern and tried to read the faded labels in the flickering light. As he walked along he stumbled, almost dropping the lantern. He swore, and saw that he had tripped over a chain stretched across the floor. Now what the heck was that doing there?

He followed the chain back to its source, and his discovery made him gag, even with the rag over his mouth. Behind two of the roof supports lay the decomposing corpses of two small ponies, obviously the source of the unbearable odor. He raised the lantern. Blackened and shriveled by decay, there wasn't much recognizeable except a horn and mass of faded purple and pink hair near one of the heads. Mr. Cake stared at the bodies for a long time, trying to make sense of the gruesome scene.

A noise from the other end of the chain startled him. He swung the lantern around, and he could see something crouching on the ground behind the couch. He approached and to his horror he found a small, emaciated filly lying on the ground. It was a pitiful and disgusting creature; its coat was matted with chips of paint, as if somepony had tried to literally paint the pony. But the coloring had caused her sensitive skin to break out in open sores. The poor thing was breathing erratically and trembling. It was obvious she was deathly ill.

"What's your name, filly?"

"Party Pony," she whispered

"No. I mean your real name."

"Party Pony," she repeated. She tried to lift herself up by her front legs but collapsed back to the ground.

This was getting stranger and more uncomfortable by the minute. "C'mon, let's get you out of here."

As he leaned over her he discovered this end of the chain was connected to a metal collar fitted around her throat. Mr. Cake was speechless. He immediately found a pair of pliers and undid the clasp that held it in place. He pulled it off of her neck and threw it angrily against the wall, a loud clang ringing out through the room. "What animal would do something like this?" he muttered under his breath. He stroked her mane, working around the clumps of dried, cracked paint. Who was this Earth pony, and why was she here?

He stood up and looked around the cellar. Mr. Cake stared at the dead bodies for a long time, then he turned and stared into the eyes of the found pony. "By Celestia's horn! You're Apple Bloom! Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle must be over there. No wonder nopony found you. You've been you chained up in this cellar for months. What kind of monster could do something like that?" He cradled the limp Apple Bloom. "It's okay Apple Bloom, you're safe now. Everything will be okay." He worked her up onto his back so he could carry her out. "We're going to get you to a doctor. Hang on tight."

She buried her muzzle against his neck and tried to thank him, but nothing came out.

He was out of the dim, foul-smelling cellar in three steps and galloping at top speed for the house without looking behind him. He was yelling at the top of his lungs for somepony, anypony to come help. As Mr. Cake raced across the lawn, Apple Bloom opened her eyes for the last time and saw an apple tree gently swaying in the wind. A gust dislodged a cluster of blossoms, and one of them landed on the filly's muzzle. The last Crusader smiled at the tree, closed her eyes, and never opened them again.

***

A meeting was held at town hall to discuss the crime and how to find the evil pony who had kidnapped the children. An investigation party was sent to Sugarcube Corner to investigate the old cellar. By the time they got there, however, they were shocked to find the cellar engulfed in flames. A few heroic individuals tried to form a bucket brigade, but it was hopeless. Within a few hours the structure was completely destroyed, leaving nothing but a pile of smoldering timber.

In the middle of the discussions of what to do next, Pinkie Pie rudely interrupted to ask Mr. Cake if she could borrow the lantern, mentioning loud enough for the assemblage to hear that she had seen him take it into the cellar. Suddenly he realized that although he had left the lantern in the middle of the room on the dirt floor, somehow it must have fallen over and lit the cellar on fire. He never forgave himself for accidentally destroying the only chance to find the truth of what had really happened to the Cutie Mark Crusaders.

The next day Pinkie Pie held a big party to cheer everyone up.

Blue Frosting - Ending 04 - Barrel

"Good bye, Princess Pinkamena. The Party Ponies will be lonely until you return," replied Apple Bloom in a montone that suggested she had recited it dozens of times before. But this would be the last time.

"Princess?" pleaded Apple Bloom, "The Party Ponies have been your friends for so long and had so so much fun playing with you. Could we ask one little favor?

"What is it?" asked Pikie, annoyed that her prisoner was changing the script without permission.

"We get cold at night. It would stop the draft if you could move that barrel in front of the red boxes. That way all your Party Ponies could sleep at night. Please? Please, please, please? We promise we won't ever ask for anything again."

Begrudingly, her captor agreed, and shouldered the barrel into position. Then the insane mare skipped up the stairs and locked the cellar door. The little filly exhaled a long sigh, half of relief and half quiet resignation.

She had lied. She did not get cold at night. Her tormentor's drug-damaged brain did not see was that the barrel was part of a series of steps up to the shelves at the back of the cellar. Although it was hard to be certain in the dim light, it looked like the key to her escape was stored in several large glass jars on the top shelf.

It about ten minutes for her to push the last piece of the stairway, a large wooden crate, against the barrel. She rested for several minutes, took a drink from her dirty, foul-smelling water bucket, and then started up. It took several tries with her bad leg, but she was able get onto the barrel. From there she clambered up on top of the boxes. From there she was within an leg length of three bottles labeled tile cleaner. Just as she stretched out to reach them, the chain when taut. "No!" she cried out. "No! Not now. Not this close!" She stretched out farther, but at that moment her bad leg buckled and legs flailing, and she hit the hard packed floor with a thud. She didn't yell out, but she gave herself a good ten-minute cry before getting up and trying again. This time, she found a cracked broomhandle she could use as an extension. Holding the stick in her mouth, she hooked one, two, then three bottles and sent them crashing to the ground, making a large, irregular puddle abutting the red boxes and the shelves.

Apple Bloom clambered down and went to the cellar wall. She removed the loose rock known only to her. Behind it was her most prized posession, the one Pinkie would most certainly confiscate: a match. The filly walked to the edge of the fluid and struck the match. She stared at it for a few seconds and dropped it.

The room was bathed in a fireball of light. Apple Bloom's muzzle was scorched and everything smelled like burnt pony, but there never a time in her short life that she happier than right now. A lake of fire raged in the cellar, tongues of flame licking at the shelves and support columns. Checking to make sure her chain wasn't fouled, she strode into the wall of beautiful orange and yellow lights.

She screamed, just a little, before she found peace.

Blue Frosting - Ending 05 - King

This chapter includes violent rape.

Mr. Carrot Cake built a small workshop on the back of Sugarcube corner so he could relax on his carpentry projects. But these days he was spending less workshop time woodworking and more time "woodie-working." Cup was still "not feeling up to it" a month after the birth of the twins. Every couple of days he excused himself for some quality time in the woodshop. Once the workshop door locked, he would take a couple squirts of lotion and lovingly massage it into his pony prick. He would pull long, slow strokes to thoughts of Rarity or Cherilee in some vulnerable situation, helpless to fend off his agressive sexual desires. Every fantasy he had climaxed with a rough throatfucking, forcing the mare to swallow his thick stallion semen. The feeling of domination and control that came with imagining a mare pinned underneath him, struggling to escape, left him panting for minutes after shooting his pony goo all over his workbench.

But this day Mr. Cake was actually woodworking, finishing the decorative hoofstool that he had promised to make for the twins. To finish the scrollwork he needed a special chisel from a box of woodworking tools in the cellar. He had been in the backyard recently and from the stench it was obvious something had gotten trapped in the cellar and died. He was determined to get this project finished, so he went back to the house and got a washcloth soaked in vanilla and tied it over his nose to mask the smell. He flung open the cellar door and headed down, enduring the odor of death and decay.

He took the cellar lantern off its peg, lit it, and started searching for the box of tools. As he rummaged around on the shelves, moving boxes and containers, his hoof sank into something gooey. He jerked back reflexively, pulling his hoof and a mixing bowl of something that a long time ago might have been pudding or frosting. The bowl  smashed as it hit the ground, splattering the back half of his body with the spoiled sugary mess.

"Celestia be damned!" he cursed. "How did that get there?"

He found a rag on the shelf and tried to wipe himself off, but he only succeeded on smearing it all over his hind legs. He swore a couple times more before returning to his scavenger hunt. Eventually he located the toolbox, and in it the chisel. As he picked it up and waddled toward the cellar door, he heard boxes falling over.

"Who's there?" he called out, holding the lantern high.

The flickering light revealed a terrified filly. She was backing away, trying to put a wheelbarrow between the two of them. Whoever she was, she disgustingly filthy and mangy. One ear was torn, and her coat seemed to be covered in flaking paint. In the lantern light it appeared she was dappled pink, green and yellow in a haphazard fashion. What in the name of Celestia was this?

"Hey there, don't be afraid. What's your name?"

She shook her head, casting furtive glances between the masked man in front of her and the cellar door, like she expected somebody to come crashing in at any moment. This could be one of Pinkie's tricks, she thought, so she decided to play the role of the Party Pony until she knew for sure who this masked pony is.

"It's okay, you're safe. What's your name, little filly?"

"I'm..." she hesitated. "I'm a Party Pony." Her monotone voice and glassy-eyed expression hinted at a creature that had been severely traumatized.

"No, filly, your real name."

She glanced at the cellar door. She buried her head between her trembling hooves and repeated. "I'm a party pony. I'm a party pony. I'm a party pony."

After about five minutes he gave up getting anything more out of her. For the first time he noticed the chain. On one end it was connected to a band of metal encircling her throat like some kind of cruel bondage instrument. On the other end it was securely fastened to a roof column, preventing her from escaping her fate. Huddled on the cellar floor before him, she looked like some nameless slave girl, one of a dozen this day waiting to be mercilessly raped by the king, then tossed aside like all the soiled trash before her. Weakend by days without food or water, she would be unable to resist as he forced his iron-hard cock into...

He shook his head. Where did that come from? The alcohol fumes from the vanilla must be going to his head.

The filly lifted her head and sniffed the air. Blue. The masked pony in front of her stank of blue frosting. Drawn by the addictive substance, she got up and cautiously moved toward him, watching the puzzled cellar owner intently. When she was a foot away, she lunged forward, licked his left hoof, and then backed up and crouched defensively.

"What was that all about?" he asked in surprise. "That stuff must taste nasty." Still, he extended out the hoof and motioned her forward. "If you want it, you can have some more."

She stepped up and gave it another quick lick. When there was no reprisal, she swallowed half the hoof into her mouth. Her tongue scrubbed the surface, vaccuuming every molecule of blue she could and covering it with saliva. This was a good sign, because as king he had the largest cock in all the realm, and it needed to be well-lubricated before he could pound it into her body. Even though the size of his fuck-stick and the fierceness of his sexual assault would burst any orifice he attacked, he was still royalty and demanded a smooth ride.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed and fell backward. The unbidden fantasies had engorged his penis with blood. Had Apple Bloom been more familiar with stallion pricks, would have noticed the thicker-than-usual flagpole looming over her head. But she was unable to think of anything other than scouring his legs for the spoiled frosting. He was delerious, unable to tell which erotic situation was real and which imagined. By the time she had worked her way up to his inner thigh, Mr. Cake was trembling with sexual tension. He looked around and whispered "Party Pony, I think we need a little privacy."

The King strode over to the door of the slave's cell, careful not to trip over his enormous, swollen member. Making sure it was closed securely, he prepared to penetrate his victim, whose only crime was having moist holes that could be ripped apart by his cock.

"You like to lick things? Here Party Pony, I've got something for you." Although she couldn't see his face under the cloth, Apple Bloom recognized the tone of a sexual predator about to strike. He started towards her, and she began backpedaling as fast as she could. The king's large, swollen pony cock swayed beneath him, a hateful weapon he would use to beat the worthless creature into submission.

She let out a little cry as her back bumped into the cellar wall. She frantically looked for an escape, but found none. The king advanced until he stood over her. His large, muscular form towered over the quivering creature. Against her will his heavy, musky smell ignited a tiny, unwanted flame of arousal within her.

She winced as Mr. Cake's hoof accidentally knocked against her broken leg. "Oh, is your leg hurt, little filly?" His cock gave an involuntary twitch of excitement. "I'll have to remember to be more careful with my damaged slaves," he smiled a broad, evil smile.

"You're a worthless little slave, aren't you?" he said as he stroked the top of her mangy head. He could not believe he was doing this. "I bet a slut like you loves big stallion cock, don't you?" He stroked his hoof along her lips and then gently pushed, motioning that she should open her mouth. She shook her head defiantly and refused him entrance. His cock throbbed.

This was not happening. He had stumbled upon a frightened filly chained up in his cellar. He didn't know who she was or who hid her here. He should run straight to his wife, and after he had told her he should alert the mayor. He knew that's what he should do.

But the only thing that mattered right now was jamming his fuck-stick down this helpless creature's throat. And it horrified him. And made his cock as hard as iron.

The climbed over her, his stiff penis directly in front her face. "Open!" he commanded. He leaned against the wall so his hooves were free to hold her head in place. He let the flat head of his cock muscle gently bump against her lips. She tried to twist her head, but the wall and his hooves had her pinned. He wiggled his hips from side to side, his dick smearing pony pre-cum on her muzzle.

Still resisting, he stepped on her bad leg and she screamed in pain. He took advantage of the oral opening and thrust his royal scepter into her mouth. "Don't you even think about biting down, or I'll put both hooves on that leg and you'll find out what real pain is."

He adjusted her head to the right angle and pushed his monster dick deep into her. Caught off guard, almost three-quarters of its length slid into her body before either of them realized what had happened. Never before had he experienced the ecstasy of being completely enveloped by the warm, slippery moistness of a pony throat. Twice his wife had let him put it in her mouth, but as soon as she tasted the first drop of pre-cum she made him pull out. Even when she was pregnant with the twins and his balls were the size her stomach, she still refused.

His Highness could feel her throat jerk and spasm as her gag reflex tried to expel the oral invader. This was typical of the low-quality slaves they had been bringing him lately. He slowly withdrew until just the fat cock head was lodged between her soft pony lips. He gazed into the slave's eyes and saw her grimace in pain as she fought for breath. The slave closed her eyes, vainly trying to shut out the unbelievable horror unfolding before her.

Carrot had rehearsed the domination of Rarity and Cherilee hundreds of times in his pony-prick stroking sessions. He knew just where to position them, just where to grab their manes and jerk them back so their mouths gaped open. The filly fought against him, but his grip was firm and he began fucking her mouth in earnest. In and out, in and out, he sawed. Pony drool completely lubricated his prick and dripped out the side of her mouth.

For several minutes the king had been sliding his slave's mouth back and forth along his enormous penis. Tears stained her cheeks from the pain of having her lips stretched around the fuck-pole of her master. He was concerned that at any minute the Prime Minister might poke his head into the Royal Raping Room to remind the King that matters of state required him to be elsewhere. Now pressed for time, he shifted into high gear, pistoning his meat muscle faster and more forcefully into her face. The strokes became longer; just to her lips on the outstroke, then deep into her warm wet throat.

Every cell of Mr. Cake's body cried out, begging permission to pollute her once innocent body with Royal Fuck Cream. "Oh Rarity, you worthless slave, that's it. Take my creamy cum down your throat, you slut. I'm gonna' fill your whore stomach with stallion sperm. Here it comes you sexy stuckup bitch...," he husked.

His heavy stallion ball sack contracted, and a wad of foul-tasting, sticky goo exploded into her mouth and throat. He let out a long moan and felt the filly swallow what felt like gallonsof cum into her belly. Cup's denials plus a busy schedule at the store meant he was overly full of lust and sperm. He pushed deeper into the innocent filly's throat as his piss hole vomited up its contents. Air whistled through her nose as her body fought for oxygen.

It ended as quickly as it had begun. The King/Mr. Cake felt his engorged cock shoot the last of his thick sperm straight into her throat and airways. Unprepared for his sudden onslaught of cum, the slave/Apple Bloom convulsed as it simultaneously suffocated on the great fleshy spear in her throat and the viscous semen in her lungs.

He took a step back, and his cock slid out of her mouth with a soft, wet pop. She immediately began a deep, wracking cough as her body struggled to expel globs of thick jism out of her lungs.

Mr. Carrot Cake, businesspony, husband, father and respected member of the community, began to grasp the extent of what he had just done.  He had just found a nameless, wounded, traumatized filly chained in his cellar and acted out his ultimate fantasy by giving her a brutal facefucking. What should he do? If he just set her free eventually she would tell someone of the brutal rape, regardless of what ever other horrors she had endured. He could just keep her down there, but that would be cruel. But then he had a family that needed him more than some tramp filly. Hell, the way she'd tried to seduce him she had probably blown every stallion from here to Canterlot. That's not the kind of trash that should be in a respectable place like Ponyville.

He looked at the unfortunate creature. Although she was barely able to breathe, she held a leg out in his direction, beckoning for help. Each explosive exhalation coughed up a cloud of sperm and phlegm.

"I'm sorry."

Mr. Cake trotted up the stairs and out into the daylight. He closed the cellar door behind him and made sure it was locked very tight.

Blue Frosting - Ending 07 - Free

She had been brave until she got onto the beam that ran the length of the cellar. Here there was nothing to brace against and she wobbled precariously. To compound the difficulty she was also dragging the chain attached to her collar. She had to stop every few feet to give it a flick to free it from a the roof pole or some rough spot on the beam.

Tears were streaming down the filly's cheeks as she fought the pain. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony as she neared the end of her journey. She hadn't eaten in a day, deciding to pass on the bucket of moldy pastries her jailer had left her. She had licked Pinkie's dessert plate clean of blue yesterday, but she could feel the drug addiction start to gnaw at her already.

Apple Bloom's life as Pinkie's captive was a nightmare that would never end. The endless cycle of euphoria and hunger associated with the blue frosting addiction was tiny compared to playing the bit part of a Party Pony in Pinkie's sadistic insanity. Her unpredictable instability made every moment in her presence a terrifying encounter, but always predictably terminating with Apple Bloom's tongue on her genitals.

The thought of more years, let alone minutes, of being her plaything, gave her the strength to stack the boxes and pull herself up. Having reached the center of the beam, she reached down and wrapped the chain around the a spike that had been embedded in its side by some previous occupant. She released her vise-like grip on the beam, and surrendered herself to gravity's embrace.

A second later the chain went taught around the spike, and the world went black.

***

She awoke some time later. She grabbed at her neck. The collar! It must have broken when the chain went taut. She didn't die after all.  No collar meant no chain. Beyond those cellar doors was freedom; it would be so easy to just walk right out. But what if Pinkie came and found her Party Pony tring to escape? Could she live without blue?

Pinkie had kidnappped and tortured and murdered Apple Bloom's best fillyfriends because she was insane. She imprisoned Apple Bloom because she thought the filly was a magical Party Pony. She covered her with paint that made her hair fall out and abused her all because she was insane.

No force in Equestria could make Apple Bloom stay one more second.

As fast as she could, she scurried up the steps and peered out. With no Pinkie in sight she wormed her way between the cellar doors and out onto the grass. Her only hope was to get around to the front of Sugarcube Corner where she could be seen. Pinkie couldn't get her in a crowd.

Dragging her bad leg behind her, she limped across the lawn. Just at that moment, Pinkie stepped out the back door of Sugarcube Corner and instantly spotted Apple Bloom.

"Bad Party Pony, bad!" shouted Pinkie as she headed toward the filly at a gallop. "You should be in the Party Palace with the other Party Ponies!" Apple Bloom limped twice as fast. She was on the side of the house, within sight of the street. Glancing back, she could see Pinkie was almost upon her. When it looked like the escapee might succeed, Pinkie's expression changed from one of anger to desperation.

"Party Pony, wait! I love you!"

Not looking where she was going, Apple Bloom ran head-on into a wall of purple flank and tumbled on her back. "Hey little filly what..." Twilight paused mid-sentence. "By Celestia's Crown, what happened to you? You look terrible. What is on your coat?" She flicked of a few of the paint chips off her coat "Paint? And why.." Then she noticed the first of the lesions that dotted her flanks. "You are very sick, filly, but we are going to get you to a doctor and everything will be better." Taking command of the situation, Twilight Sparkle began barking orders: somebody get a cart, you there alert the doctor, you run and inform the Mayor, and so on. The street became alive with a frenzy of activity.

Twilight looked up and saw Pinkie standing there, staring at the mob scene before her. "Hey Pinkie, get over here! Who is this and what was she doing in your back yard?" asked Twilight, who turned her attention back to the creature in front of her. "What's your name, filly? It's okay; you're safe now."

"I'm a Party," she started, then halted. She glanced all around her and could only see a shield wall of friends. "My...my name is... Apple Bloom."  There was a collective gasp from the crowd.

A single voice somewhere cried out "somepony get Applejack!" which was picked up by others until it echoed across Ponyville.

Pinkie was emotionless as the crowd grew larger around her Party Pony. They were taking her Party Pony away from her. Pinkamena Diane Pie would no longer be a Party Pony Princess.

She turned and trotted westward without a word. No one ever saw her stop.

Blue Frosting - Ending 08 - Candy

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"You are too a scaredyfoal," taunted Snips. Snails stuck out his tongue in response.

"Stop it you two or somepony's going to hear us," hushed Twist.

The trio of would-be candy thieves crouched underneath a long row of bushes behind Sugarcube Corner.

"I don't know if we should do this. What if we get caught?"

"Are you a scaredyfoal too, Twist? There's nothing to worry about," chided Snips. "I've been watching all week. Mr. Cake sends Pinkie out to the cellar every day or two with a basket. She goes in, opens the secret candy vault, fills her basket with candy and comes back out. There is so much candy that it takes her more than an hour to swim through it to find what she wants."

Twist furrowed her brow. "She swims in the candy? Are you sure?" challenged the bespectacled pony.

"Well maybe she doesn't swim in it," backpedaled Snips. "But I'm sure there's a lot of candy in there."

"I don't want to get detention again," muttered Snails anxiously.

"Listen you two," started Snips. "First, you don't get detention from stealing candy. And secondly, Pinkie is the only one who comes back here to get the candy. I told Pipsqueak he could have a share if he kept Pinkie busy out front. All he has to do is mention something about parties and she won't shut up for hours." He poked his head out of the bushes and looked around. "The coast is clear, let's go."

Snips, then Snails, followed by a reluctant Twist darted across the lawn to the cellar door. Snails grabbed the handle in his teeth and pulled, but the door only moved a couple of inches. "Ith too hedy" mumbled Snails. "I cand hobe ith."

Snips jumped forward and stuck his horn in the crack. "I got it. Keep lifting." The two of them were able to lift it up a few feet. Twist squirmed her way into the cellar. She put her back against it long enough for the other two slip inside. It fell shut with an ominous thud.

The cellar was eerily gloomy, the only light coming through slits in the cellar door.

"What do we do now?" whispered Snails.

"I don't like this place," whispered Twist. "I shouldn't have let you talk me into this."

"C'mon," urged Snips. "Look for a big metal door with CANDY written on it." Their eyes, trying to adjust to the dim room after broad daylight, could hardly see anything.

There was a shuffling noise and a noise like old rusty chains clanking. A hoarse croaking voice appeared to be nowhere and everywhere in the room.

"Snips? Snails? Is that you? Help me please, help me!"

"Ahhh!" screamed Snails, jumping up and down. "It's the Peppermint Phantom! And it knows our names!"

As scared as they were, Snips and Twist could not help but turn and stare at the screamer. "The Peppermint what?" asked a thoroughly confounded Twist.

"Huh?" added Snips.

"You know, the Peppermint Phantom! It lives in old graveyards and eats the horseshoes of colts and fillies who don't leave peppermints under their pillows on Nightmare Night!"

"What?" asked Twist and Snips in unison.

"Please help me!" the voice cried out. "I'm trapped down here and I can't get out. Please!"

A shape crept around the back of the couch toward the totally freaked-out trio. Their eyes still not adjusted to the darkness, it looked like some kind of one-eared zombie pony, its skin crusty with what must be rotted flesh, dragging its useless undead leg behind it. Who knows how long it had been imprisoned in this dank hole, its unholy corpse kept semi-alive by some evil curse.

"Peppermint Phantom!" screamed Snips, Snails, and Twist in unison. They raced up the stairs and threw their bodies against the cellar door.

"No! Wait! Help me!" croaked the zombie. "Tell Applejack where I am!"

But the frightened ponies did not hear her as an undead-terror-fueled adrenaline surge gave them the strength to lift the cellar door enough to scramble onto the lawn. The cellar door slammed shut as they took off toward the safety of the bushes.

Had they not been screaming at the top of their lungs, they might have been able to hear the sobbing coming from deep within the obviously haunted cellar.

Blue Frosting - Ending 09 - Broken

"You smell like Scootaloo did," Apple Bloom said with disgust. The air was filled with the fetid aroma of pony poop. She picked up the last piece of the last dirt-covered cupcake that had fallen within reach and put it in her mouth. She limped over to her water bucket and took a sip of stale, dirty liquid to wash it down. Then she lay down and stared at her captor which was the only thing to do. She had planned on rationing out the frosting to put off the pain of withdrawl a little longer, but she couldn't help herself and licked off all the blue within an hour.

Yesterday morning, as she had a hundred times before, Pinkie had thrown open the cellar doors and come dancing down the stairs with her basket of drug-infused treats. Apple Bloom could smell the crisp morning air and the dew on the grass. Unfortunately, the dew was on her captor's hooves as well, and at the second step she slipped, falling backward onto the stairs and then bouncing over the side. Her basket flew up, sending cupcakes flying up and then crashing down to the cellar floor. About half of them ended up with their frosted crowns in the dirt.

Likewise Pinkie flew up, and over the side. And just as with the the cupcakes, she landed on her crown. But instead of a quiet frosted-cupcakes-hitting-the-ground "splut" sound, her crown impacting the floor was accompanied two popping sounds, one right after the other.

Pinkie landed on her back, rolled onto her side, never moved again. Several hours later the smell began as her excretory system let go, a consequence of her shattered spine and the loss of nerve control to her lower body.

It was hard for Apple Bloom to remember that there had been a time when Pinkie was her friend. Now, staring at her twisted body across the dirt floor, Apple Bloom wanted to be mean to Pinkie. She wanted to hurt the pink monster who had killed her friends, broken her leg, torn off her ear, and made her hurt all the time because she was addicted to the blue frosting. She was scared and cold in the cellar and Pinkie had made her do fillyfooler things to get the blue frosting.

She glared at the broken mare lying just beyond the reach of her chain. Sometimes she couldn't control herself and she would pick up a rock and throw it at her paralyzed jailer. Apple Bloom tried to bury her head in her hooves to shut out Pinkie Pie's incessant rambling. She had been insane for months, capturing the Mark Crusaders and torturing them in her cellar. Pinkie had been babbling unabated since she fell, but in the last hour the constant prattle had slowed as she was getting hoarse from dehydration. Even when addressed directly, Apple Bloom tried to ignore her, saying as little as possible, hoping Pinkie's end would come sooner than later.

"Party Pony? I can't move my arms or legs," croaked Pinkie. "How can I hang decorations if I can't move my legs? All of the other Party Ponies will laugh at me."

Apple Bloom tried to distract herself with happy thoughts, found none, but contined to ignore Pinkie.

"Party Pony? Are you there?"

"I'm not your party pony. Just shut up, Pinkie."

"If I die will I meet the Queen of the Party Ponies?"

Apple Bloom did the meanest, most spiteful thing she could thing of. "No, Pinkie," she shot back. "You will never meet the  Queen of your stupid party ponies."

"Why, did I do something wrong? Did she not like my party?" Pinkie started to cry. "All I wanted was to meet the Queen and have her tell me I was a good pony and that she liked my party." She sobbed quietly for about fifteen minutes.

"Apple Bloom?"

The prisoner raised her head. It had been a long time since Pinkie had used her real name.

"Apple Bloom, I'm sorry I smell like poopy; I couldn't hold in any more. I don't have any strength left."

The last remaining Cutie Mark Crusader sat up, her eyes beginning to tear. Those were the words that Scootaloo had said when she messed herself, and Pinkie hadn't even been in the room. Maybe deep down inside there was a little bit of her friend left.

"Apple Bloom, I'm scared."

The victim wanted to hate her so much; she did hate her. But at the same time she knew that Pinkie was a very, very sick mare. Not a spots-on-the-body sick or sneezing-a-lot sick, but a thinking kind of sick that made her do the things she did. She remembered that right before Pinkie attacked them, the not-yet-insane mare had said it was her birthday. It clearly wasn't, but Apple Bloom had apologized anyway for not remembering to bring a present.

Maybe the little filly, broken herself, had that one last gift to give.

"Pinkie?"

"Yes, Apple Bloom?"

She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Pinkie, I'm sorry I lied to you. I saw the Pony Queen here while you were asleep. I saw her talking to you and saying how proud she was of your parties and that you are the best Party Pony Princess she has ever met."

"She really said that?"

"Yes she did." Apple Bloom continued her white lie. "She also said that when you die you can come and join her in her big Party Palace."

Pinkie cried softly to herself for a while.

"Apple Bloom?"

"Yes, Pinkie?"

"Thank you."

That was the last think Pinkie ever said. A few hours later the soft breathing of her tormenter ceased, and Apple Bloom was alone.

A few days later Apple Bloom was reunited with her friends, and she never hurt again.

Blue Frosting - Ending 10 - Late

She felt them before she heard them. Hooves on dirt, running fast.

"Scootaloo! Sweetie Belle!" a stallion yelled outside the cellar door. "Apple Bloom, are you there?" The lone survivor of the Cutie Mark Crusaders recognized the familar drawl of her sister.

She heard the ponies pull up outside the door. A mare's voice screamed "look out!" There was a whistling sound followed by an explosion of wood and light. Apple Bloom stepped back behind the couch as the room was showered with splinters. A blue blur slammed into the steps, hard, and bounced once onto the dirt floor. Applejack barrelled her way behind, shoulders widening the opening. She jumped onto the floor, almost crushing Rainbow.

"App... Applejack?" called the wounded filly, standing up.

The older sister spun around and saw her sibling. "Applebloom!" The older sister almost her knocked over she enfolded the wretch in a big hug.

"How did you find me...?"

"That's a long story, sis." She noticed the collar around her neck, and reached down and bit right through the bolt holding it on. It fell to the ground with a clatter.

Just then the room darkened as a figure stood in the entry way. "Sweetie Belle! Sweetie Belle! Your big sister is here to rescue you!"

******

Aloe dropped her jar of apple-milkweed facial mask when they dragged Pinkie through the front door of the spa. She was thrashing around wildly and yelling about parties and cupcakes. Something was seriously wrong with Ponyville's happiest resident.

"What's going on?" yelled Lotus, worried that the stampede of ponies was going to destroy the massage tables.

Donut Joe, always looking for a chance to hit on either of the spa ponies, trotted over, panting heavily. "Nobody knows. Pinkie was shopping in town when she suddenly started talking nonsense to anypony passing by. Everpony thought it was one of her silly games, but then she started screaming and hitting fillies in the town square. The Mayor and I wrestled her to the ground and Applejack managed to get a rope on her. This was the closest place so they dragged her in here."

Mr. Cake's voice could be heard over the din. "Pinkie? What's wrong! Stop struggling; you're going to hurt someone!" The maniacal pony ignored his pleadings and continued her rantings.

"You're trying to steal my blue frosted cupcakes! The blue cupcakes are only for the Party Ponies! The blue cupcakes are only for the Party Ponies and you can't have any!" Pinkie threw herself against the rope but Applejack's knots held tight.

"What's she talking about?" asked Applejack, fighting to keep the maniacal mare under control.

"I don't know," said Mr. Cake, very worried about his virtually-adopted daughter. "Wait. She used to make blue cupcakes as a special treat for those three fillies before they disappeared. Those kids were crazy about them. That's all they talked about when they came in the store."

Mr. Cake got a very strange expression on his face.

"What?" asked Applejack.

"Well, the other day I came home early from a delivery and I found Pinkie making a couple dozen of those blue cupcakes. I didn't think anything of it."

"Did you sell any of them in the store?"

"No, Pinkie said they were special and kept them for herself."

"All two dozen?"

"Actually, it was probably closer to three or four dozen. She had both ovens going and a really big bowl of frosting."

Applejack put two and two together and became scared. Really scared. She grabbed Pinkie's shoulders and got right into her face.

"Pinkie, did you make blue cupcakes for your party pony friends?"

"Party pony party pony. Blue cupcakes on the dessert plates, but only for bad pony party haters."

Applejack thought for a moment. "Pinkie," she began hesitantly, "is Apple Bloom a party pony hater?"

"Little Miss Just Right. Little Miss Just Right," sang Pinkie to no particular tune.

Applejack gasped. "Oh my god. Pinkie, where are they?" Applejack shook the hysterical mare's shoulders. "Where did you put the party pony haters?"

"Nobody likes a hater," she said with an exaggerated frown. "They fell into the party pony palace but party pony haters were cheaters. So no party hats and no candles."

"Falling..." muttered Mr. Cake to himself, then his eyes widened. "I think she's talking about our cellar. She's been playing out there a lot, taking her basket with her. I never thought anything of it."

Applejack passed the rope to the pony standing next to her and started barking out orders. "Hold that rope! Don't let her loose! Mayor," she continued as started running toward the door, "keep her talking and see if she says anything else."

Just then Twilight poked her head in "What's going on? Where's Pinkie?"

"No time!" shouted Applejack as she burst out the door, almost knocking the purple mare over. Rainbow was less than a wingbeat behind her. "Use your magic on Pinkie!" yelled Applejack. Twilight stood there, not sure what to make of the situation. She started in, almost knocked down again by Mr. Cake as he took off at a full gallop toward the cellar behind his house.

Blue Frosting - Part 1

The Cutie Mark Crusaders were so proud of themselves. Pinkie Pie had promised them a "good-grades" party for each week they got straight A's in school, and this was their fourth week in a row, except this week Scootaloo had gotten one B in Math, but Pinkie had said it was okay anyway. "It's getting real hard to concentrate on Friday afternoon," admitted Scootaloo. "It's like somepony filled my head with sand instead of brains." They all agreed that it was getting harder to concentrate as the week went on; all they could think of was the celebration party at Pinkie's house. Actually, it wasn't the party that excited them, it was Pinkie's extra special you're-a-fabulous-student prize: blue cupcakes. The cupcakes were delicious and made them feel so good and happy that by Friday they were tempted to skip school altogether and head straight for the cupcakes.

"CUPCAKES!" screamed the trio as they burst through the front door into Sugarcube Corner.

"Wowie Zowie!" exclaimed Pinkie. "Are you fillies ready for a fun, fun..."

"CUPCAKES! CUPCAKES!" screamed the trio as they ran past Pinkie.

"Okey dokey lokie! You fillies sure are excited about my cupcakes," remarked Pinkie, who was just as excited to see the sweet young things return for a special sleepover tonight.

"CUPCAKES CUPCAKES CUPCAKES!" shouted the students as they skidded to a stop in front of the cooling rack, ogling the blue cupcakes. Scootaloo reached up and took one of the special creamy, blue cupcakes in her mouth.

The blue cupcakes were special; special in ways the fillies could not understand. A year ago Pinkie had been picking flowers near the Everfree forest. When she got home she noticed that her lips had been stained blue by some of the flowers and she felt very, very strange but very, very, very good for the rest of the day and then she stopped breathing and started again and stopped and started again and was asleep for a long time before she finally woke up. Zecora was consulted and told Pinkie those were very special flowers and she should never pick them again. When asked why she couldn't pick flowers that made her feel good, Zecora said that some ponies who ate the flowers couldn't stop eating them, and sometimes they got sick and died.

But Pinkie was never the same after that. She heard voices and saw things that weren't there. She thought Twilight Sparkle was a human in a pony suit. She thought a Fluttershy lived in Rarity's basement and ate clouds. But most disturbingly, she became inappropriately, very inappropriately, infatuated with the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Through her drug-damaged brain she saw Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle as strikingly beautiful Party Ponies. In Pinkie's mind, everybody wanted to be best friends with Party Ponies, because they were the bestest, most funnest, and prettiest ponies that ever went to parties. She also knew that for all their fun nature, they were too shy to admit their strong sexual attraction to the vivacious, party-loving, and attractive Pinkamena Diane Pie. They were so shy they pretended to be fillies so they could hide in the school all day.

Pinkie longed to have the soft, beautiful Party Ponies comb her mane and stroke her ears. She would lie on her back in a bed of pink party balloons and let the mares nibble her teats and lick the insides of her thighs. One at a time they would slowly drag their tongues down to her sex, and penetrate her with their tongues. At the same time they would present themselves to Pinkie’s mouth, their mare juices tasting like strawberry candy, or lime punch, or vanilla-cream cookies. Pinkie would eagerly slurp them up, and the Party Ponies would ask her to party with them forever. Before she had encountered the blue flower, she never would have thought of herpony as a fillyfooler, but the voices in her head told her to think and do things odd things. Wanting to be licked by other mares seemed perfectly natural now.

Pinkie was sad that she couldn't make the fillies admit they were her Party Ponies, who Pinkie just knew wanted to love her both emotionally and physically. Then Pinkie thought about the blue flowers that made you feel good. Maybe if she could just make the Party Ponies feel good with the blue flowers then the Party Ponies would like her forever.

So every Friday she would play along with their ruse and invite them to Sugarcube Corner and praise their academic efforts and serve up a pile of blue-frosted cupcakes. Pinkie kept the pastries coming, until the fillies could eat no more. As time went on the fillies became addicted to the blue drug in the frosting. Eventually they could no longer fight the compulsion to come back and visit Pinkie Pie and her delicious blue cupcakes.

Apple Bloom knocked the cupcake out of Scootaloo's mouth and it rolled onto the counter. "No!" scolded Apple Bloom, forcing herpony between Scootaloo and the cupcakes. "We always have to be polite and ask first."

"Don't touch my cupcake again," shouted Scootaloo "or I swear to Celestia that I will KILL YOU!" She threw a wild swing at Apple Bloom. The startled filly ducked just in time, eyes wide with surprise. "Scoot, what's gotten into you? You're all crazy-like on account of cupcakes?"

Scootaloo shoot her head and apologized. "I'm sorry Apple Bloom, I don't know what got into me. I just saw those delicious cupcakes and..."

"Hey, no arguing in Sugarcube Corner!" interjected Pinkie. "That's a rule. And it's an official rule because today is the most specialist, most wonderfulest, most excitingest day in the whole world!" Pinkie threw up her arms and spun around. This should get the Party Ponies to be nice to her!

The fillies turned toward one another, puzzled.

"Is it Rain Appreciation Day?" hesitantly asked Sweetie Belle.

"No, silly!"

"Did another load of crabapple jam come into town?" guessed Scootaloo.

Apple Bloom glared at the pegasus pony. "Don't be stupid. Everypony knows crabapple season isn't for another two weeks." Scootaloo responded by sticking out her tongue.

"Nope. One more guess why this is a super, super, super wonderful day."

It was Apple Bloom's turn. She was having trouble thinking today. Was it a vegetable holiday? "Is it maybe Eggplant..."

"WRONG!” shouted Pinkie. "It's my birthday party!"

There was a long pause. "Wasn't your birthday last month?" asked Sweetie Belle, confused.

"No, that was my pre-birthday rehearsal day party. Today is the real birthday party, but only for my favorite Party Ponies." Pinkie gave them a sly wink.

The fillies looked at each other and gave a collective shrug. "She's acting kinda weird, even for Pinkie," whispered Scootaloo.

"I'm sorry we didn't get you a present," apologized the quick-thinking Apple Bloom, "but we didn't know."

"That's okay, you get to spend the weekend with me while Mr. and Mrs. Cake and the baby are away. You can be my birthday presents!"

"Pinkie," interrupted Scootaloo with a little quaver in her voice, "I know it's not polite to interrupt but I was wondering if maybe we could really please have one or two cupcakes right now please before you talk any more now?" Her wings were twitching involuntarily, and she was literally drooling in anticipation. The other ponies were merely antsy but nodded their heads enthusiastically.

"Sure! Dig in!"

Almost before she finished the sentence, Pinkie's guests were cramming their mouths full of cupcakes. Their noses and chins were plastered with blue icing.

"Ah, I feel better," exclaimed Sweetie Belle about twenty minutes later. She let out a long, loud, un-filly-like burp and slid down to the floor.

"So do I," said Scootaloo, who immediately burst into a fit of giggles that lasted for five minutes.

Apple Bloom just stared blankly at the ceiling, a very contented look on her face.

They laughed and joked and played for a long time, until Pinkie said they should all come outside to the cellar for more fun. She was going to have a special party that would be so special that they would stop pretending and be real Party Ponies.

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom waited at the door, but Scootaloo wouldn't stop racing around the kitchen. The brain-scrambled, sugar-fueled pony was attempting acrobatic flips over the pastry tables, knocking almost every pot and pan to the floor. Pinkie grabbed a broom and swatted her out of the house, but not before taking a hoof to the head from the rambunctious little pony. Pinkie stumbled out the door as the giggling, snorting, hiccupping, farting, and burping trio headed across the lawn to the cellar. She swooned and tried to focus, the brain-jarring impact scrambling her already schizophrenic thoughts. She looked out toward the cellar and saw...

Three totally stoned fillies, dancing across the lawn.

Still holding her head, she looked around frantically for the Party Ponies. She looked up to see if they were flying. She looked to see if they had already gone into the cellar. She spun around to see if they had gone back into the house. They had left her! "Come back!" she screamed. "Be my friend! Come back!"

The Cutie Mark Crusaders stopped their laughing and giggling and turned back toward the voice. They paused for a moment, then pointed at the horrified expression on Pinkie's face, laughed hysterically and continued on toward the cellar.

The voices in Pinkies head were very angry at the fillies who had pretended to be her Party Ponies. The voices were very, very angry. She had worked so hard to be so nice to them and they had tricked her. Pinkie took off at full gallop toward the little ponies who had been so mean to her. The voices were telling her to do bad things, very bad things.

The intoxicated ponies saw Pinkie charging at them at top speed. And she didn't look like she was in a party mood anymore.

*******

Apple Bloom's leg woke her up by loudly announcing that it was broken in three places. The pain was excruciating, just slightly more than her headache. She gently probed the right side of her head with a hoof and discovered it was caked with dirt and dried blood, most likely from what little remained of her equine ear. She opened one eye to see she was lying in some kind of room, with sunlight spilling through cracks in the ceiling. It smelled of damp earth and mildew and rotted wood.

She knew instantly it must be the Cake’s cellar. In the dim light she could see the room was decorated with balloons and streamers and banners welcoming somebody called Party Pony.

"Hello? Is anybody else here?" whispered Apple Bloom.

A low moan came from the darkness. "Apple Bloom? It's Sweetie Belle. You’ve to get out of here, now. She's insane! Go!" There was urgency in her voice that implied life or death.

"I can't; my leg is broken. Besides, I'm not leaving you here." She started to crawl in the direction of the sound but felt a tugging at her neck. It didn't take her long to discover there was a metal collar around her neck, attached to a chain. "Are you on a chain? I am. Where's Scootaloo?"

"She's tied up next to me. I don't think she's doing very well. I think she needs cupcakes real bad." Apple Bloom’s head throbbed in sympathy. She also felt the siren call of the blue cupcakes.

"What happened? How long have we been here? Where's Pinkie?

Scootaloo cried as she piped to answer those questions. "I don't know. Pinkie just went crazy. One minute she was our friend and the next minute she started hurting us. We were laughing and playing and then she flank-slammed Sweetie Belle down the stairs and it knocked her out cold. Then you were brave and you got between Pinkie and the cellar and told her that if she wanted to hurt any of us she would have to go through you first. I ran down the stairs behind you to help Sweetie Belle but I couldn’t get her to wake up. You tried to fight Pinkie but she was just too big for any of us. We heard you scream when she broke your leg. Next thing we saw was Pinkie dragging you down the stairs by your ear, but you were unconscious before you hit the bottom of the stairs."

"Then Pinkie told me she would crush your head if I didn't help tie up Sweetie Belle. I was so scared, Apple Bloom, so I did it. Then she turned on me and she was kicking me and kicking me and she wouldn't stop kicking me and then I hurt too much to fight back and she tied me up, too. I don't remember when she put the collar on you." Scootaloo pulled herself together. "Thank you for being so brave. I know it didn't help much but I'm glad you’re my friend."

"I don't know how long we've been here," offered Sweetie Belle. "Scoot's not thinking too clearly sometimes, but from what she said and the shadows I think it might be late afternoon on Saturday. I haven't seen Pinkie since the fight.”

Just then they were blinded as the cellar door opened and Pinkie Pie descended the steps carrying a picnic basket and a bouquet of balloons. Apple Bloom saw Sweetie Belle tied against a pole, front hooves over her head. Her white coat was covered with mud and dust, and she had a long gash down one flank. Next to her was Scootaloo, restrained in the same way.

"Apple Bloom!" chirped their captor. "You're wakey wakey! Great! We are going to have so much fun. I brought cupcakes, and a new game to go with them." As she stepped off the steps a balloon scraped the rough ceiling and popped. "I love party games and made a new one up for all of us." Pinkie was standing over Apple Bloom and glaring down at her. "I mean all of YOU."

"Why are you doing this, Pinkie? Please let us go," begged Sweetie Belle.

"Why am I doing this?" Pinkie's expression changed instantly from bubbly cherub to sadistic demon. "Why? WHY? Because you pretended to be my Party Pony friends just to get my blue cupcakes!" She started screaming now. "I made those cupcakes for Party Ponies. They were MY Party Ponies and you made them go away because you were you!" She kicked a clod of dirt in Apple Bloom's face, which sent her coughing and sputtering. "Mine mine mine mine mine Party Ponies all mine but you little griffon turds stole my PONIES!" She stomped her hooves at each rambling syllable. Eventually she ran out of breath and paused her ranting.

"So me and the new pony friends who are in my head made up this game, which is possibly the most funnest game ever made up, called Too Much, Too Little, or Just Right. Doesn't it sound great?" she asked, bobbing her head in a way that let her captives know that they should bob their heads too, which they did.

"Okay, here's how you play. It's all about the blue frosting. Since you love it so much you are all going to die for it." Her face took on an evil grimace. "One of you will get too much of my delicious blue frosting, one of you will get too little, and one of you will get an amount that's just right. And I've, I mean we've, got it all figured it out.

"Your horrible death," she pointed a hoof at Sweetie Bell, "will be caused by too much frosting, because you have a sister who has a cat, and a cat sees very well in the dark. Now 'sees' rhymes with 'keys'..."

In the background Apple Bloom made the crazy motion with her hoof, and Sweetie Belle gave a barely perceptible nod.

"and keys go in locks, and Sweetie Belle's sister has locks of beautiful purple hair. So all the ponies in my head, except the brown one who couldn't take even a second away from her math homework ..." Pinkie stopped, swatted an imaginary fly overhead, and continued. "voted, and everypony agreed that you would get too much frosting." Pinkie gave herpony a very self-satisfied, I-am-a-smart-pony smile.

"That means that the pony that kicked me in the head," she motioned toward Scootaloo, "will get too little. In fact, she won't get any at all. I asked all of the Ponies in my head, even the ones living in the apple pastries, and none of them like her."

'Too little' was Scootaloo's dangerous predicament at the moment. The pegasus pony was in excruciating pain, with tears at the corner of her blood-shot eyes. Little Scootaloo was the first to become hooked on the blue stuff at the "good grades parties", and always ate twice as many cupcakes and got twice as stoned as the other fillies. Tonight she had made an absolute pig of herpony, and later snuck back into the kitchen and eaten all the leftover cupcakes, and devoured the leftover frosting. Tonight she had eaten almost three times as much frosting as the other fillies.

As a result she was crashing hard. Really hard. Every cell in Scootaloo's body was screaming for more blue. Her body remembered drowning in an ocean of ecstasy, and it wanted that feeling again more than anything else. She was trembling and twitching, and the light from the cellar door revealed she was covered in sweat, as well as huge bruises.

Pinkie smiled a crooked grimace at Apple Bloom, cowering beneath her. "And you are going to get an amount that's just right, because your red bow looks like a party ribbon. But you'll get your prize, which will be the most painful of all, after I take care of the other two." Pinkie motioned to a dusty couch in the corner. "Now be a good little filly and wait over there for me." Apple Bloom just sat there, in shock over the whole situation.

"I said move!" and Pinkie kicked her bad leg. The wounded pony screamed, causing the other two prisoners to wince sympathetically. Apple Bloom, sobbing, started dragging herpony and the chain in the direction of the couch.

"Now for Little Miss Too Much." Pinkie picked up the basket and walked over to Sweetie Belle. Reaching into the basket, she pulled out a large, bulging pastry bag and hung it on the pole over Pinkie's head. A tube dropped from the bag and twirled around her ankles.

"I have to admit, I wanted Sweetie Belle to win this game, so I came up with a way for her to cheat." She picked up the tube and waved the end under her victim's nose. "What's that smell like?"

Sweetie Belle's weary face lightened. "Frosting. It smells like frosting."

"That's right! I needed a way to make sure you could eat more frosting than anybody else, but this dainty little mouth of yours," Pinkie squeezed Sweetie Belle's mouth into a perfect O, "couldn't eat nearly enough of my precious cupcakes fast enough. So all the lime-colored ponies in my head came up with a positively splendid idea."

With that, Pinkie spun her around and smashed the strengthless filly against the pole. From her vantage spot across the cellar, Apple Bloom stared in disbelief as Pinkie spit once, then twice onto her hoof and jammed it between Sweetie Belle's cheeks, making her asshole slick with saliva. Sweetie Belle cried out in pain, surprise, and fear.

Apple Bloom watched with amazement and disgust as Pinkie reached down, grabbed the end of the tube with her teeth and shoved it and her muzzle in the crack of Sweetie Belle's ass. Sweetie squealed and kicked as the tube searched for and penetrated her anus. The dusty white filly froze as her sodomizer forced inch after inch of tubing through her bowels into her large intestine. Pinkie stood up and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Pinkie took a strip of cloth and tied the tube against Sweetie Belle's leg. "That's to make sure it doesn't slip out. Now, get ready for this."

"Pinkie, don't," croaked Scootaloo "Don't do this."

Their torturer ignored her. She grabbed the bag and gave it gave it a squeeze. A couple of seconds later Sweetie Belle's eyes got very wide. "Oh!" she exclaimed.

"What is it Sweetie?" asked Scootloo.

"Yes, dearie, tell her how you’re going to win the game."

"I don't know. It feels kinda like when you eat a cupcake, but better." Pinkie gave another squeeze, and Sweetie Belle's eyes fluttered and her body gave a little shudder. "Wow. That feels like eating a whole lot of cupcakes all at once." As if in confirmation her eyes took on that glassy look of somepony who's had too much blue.

"Yes, I think that is working quite nicely. We'll just leave you and your little bag of blue happiness for a while."

Pinkie grabbed the basket in her teeth, pushed the cellar door open and left, without leaving anything for the other two ponies.

End of Part 1

Blue Frosting - Ending 03 - Wife

Delayed onset petit post-partum psychosis. It didn't matter what the doctor whispered to her husband. More sleep; that's what Mrs. Cup Cake's pillow whispered to her. Literally. The doctor said she needed peace and quiet and no aggravating stress. What could possibly be aggraving her?

Certainly not Carrot drooling over that pretty young slut from the spa every second she's in the store.

And it couldn't be worrying about the twins flying out the window or levitating the door off its hinges.

And it surely wasn't Carrot screwing up more in general, because she found herself screaming at him more and more often for nothing specific.

And it certainly was not Pinkie being more agravating than usual, because she found herself screaming at her more and more.

And it certainly wouldn't be that the cake display case was dirtier than usual, because she found herself screaming at it more and more.

And the thing that was definately not any aggravation of all was that cellar. She hated it. And she knew it hated her back. It was nothing but a eye sore. From the stench it obviously was a health hazard. And one day soon it would likely be a death trap for the twins. And she was sure griffons were nesting in it. She had been telling Carrot for years how dangerous the cellar was, but he would always find some way to put it off or poo-poo her concerns.

Not any more. If he wouldn't take care of the cellar, she would. Today. Now. That would be one less source of aggravation in her life. Her pillow would approve.

She pulled open the cellar door and almost vomited from the smell. Below she could hear the vermin scurrying around, knocking things over, clanking. She pulled the bottle of cleaning solution out of her saddle pack, lit the rag on top and gently nudged it down the stairs. It bumped its way down until it hit the ground where it shattered, creating a lake of flammable liquid that ignited instantly.  As she slammed the cellar door shut she caught sight of a pair of huge eyes peering from behind the couch, confirmation of how extreme the vermin problem was.

Mrs. Cake sat on the garden bench, waiting for the first tongues of flame to show through the cellar door. Then she rubbed her hooves in her hair until it was a total mess, smeared a little dirt on her face, and ran as fast as she could toward town hall. "Fire!" she yelled, triumphantly. "My cellar's on fire!"

Blue Frosting - Ending 06 - Beam

She had been brave until she got onto the beam that ran the length of the cellar. Here there was nothing to brace against and she wobbled precariously. To compound the difficultry she was also dragging the chain attached to her collar. She had to stop every few feet to free it from a the roof pole or some rough spot on the beam.

Tears were streaming down the filly's cheeks as she fought the pain. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony as she neared the end of her journey. She hadn't eaten in a day, deciding to pass on the bucket of moldy pastries her jailer had left her. She had licked Pinkie's dessert plate clean of blue yesterday, but already she could feel the drug addiction start to gnaw at her.

She had stopped long ago trying to find words to describe the pain she felt in her leg. Apple Bloom looked back at her useless hind limb, which had been shattered in Pinkie's vicious attack on the Cutie Mark Crusaders. In the end, her fillyfriends Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo had been the luckiest. Their terminal torture at Pinkie's hooves was horrific but short, as their decaying bodies on the other side of the cellar attested.

Apple Bloom knew that her life as Pinkie's captive was a nightmare that would never end. The endless cycle of euphoria and hunger associated with the blue frosting addiction was tiny compared to playing the bit part of a Party Pony in Pinkie's maniacal sadism. Her drug-damaged brain made every moment in her presence a terrifying encounter, always terminating with Apple Bloom's tongue on Pinkie's genitals.

The thought of more years, let alone minutes, of being her plaything gave her the strength to stack the boxes and pull herself up. Having obtained the center of the beam, she reached down and wrapped the chain around the a spike that had been embedded in its side by some previous occupant.

She slowly stood up on her one good hind leg, just like the Cutie Mark Crusaders had done long ago when they were seeing if "great balancer" was their special skill. The leg buckled, and she tumbled off the beam. For a moment it felt like she was flying.

A second later the chain went taught.

Apple Bloom kicked and thrashed for several minutes as she swung back and forth over the floor. Instictively she tried to free herself from the metal collar that was slowly strangling her. Towards the end, though, the body finally heard the calming words of her mind and stopped fighting.

As consciousness and life itself began to slip away, she thought of her fillyfriends Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, her big sister AppleJack, her family, and all the friends she had ever known in her short life.

And she cursed Pinkie's name with words a little filly should never know.

Blue Frosting - Ending 11 - Clouds

Apple Bloom had been asleep for a long time when she was awoken by activity outside. Multiple hoofbeats on the ground around the cellar door, and a deep voiced pony barked out orders. There was a rumble and a golden-armored hoof punched its way through the cellar door, knocking it off its hinges. A second kick sent it crashing to the cellar floor. A stallion of the Royal Guard jumped through the broken door and landed in a fighting stance. He surveyed the room with military precision, on the lookout for anything dangerous or potentially dangerous. Satisfied the room was safe, he called the same up above.

Princess Celestia, Supreme Co-ruler of Equestria, floated down the stairs and immediately gagged on the odor of decaying flesh. A quick thinking guard handed her a mostly-unused handkerchief which she immediately placed over her muzzle.

"Oh my," said the startled princess, as she looked around. "This is a truly horrid place. Now where is she?" The decrepit pony poked her head around the corner. The Princess spied her immediately. ""Come here, filly," reassurred Celestia. "I promise you I'm safe." Apple Bloom limped toward Celestia but stopped at the end of her chain. The Princess spread her wings wide and smiled, and Apple Bloom half ran, half stumbled the rest of the way across the room. The filly was instantly enfolded by her soft wings. Knowing that she was truly safe, Apple Bloom cried and cried and cried.

As Apple Bloom sobbed, Celestia closed her eyes and bent over the filly. Her horn began to glow, the little chips and clumps of paint fell off her hide like rain. The open sores, so painful, were healed and the bones of her shattered leg knit back together correctly until it was as healthy as ever.

"Come filly, you don't belong here any more."

A guard started to hoist Apple Bloom onto his back. Celestia stopped him. "No, the bravest pony ever in all of Equestria flies with me." She smiled at her loyal subject. "Put her on my back."

It was done. Celestia and her passenger took to the air and her powerful wings quickly gained altitude. Below them Ponyville receeded.

"What about Pinkie Pie?" asked the passenger.

"She forgot the true meaning of friendship, so she won't be coming." Banking right, they came out of a cloud's shadow, and Apple Bloom felt the warmth of the sun on her face. There was a time when she believed that she would never know the bright kiss of Celestia's heavenly charge again.

Apple Bloom peered over the princess' shoulder. "Aren't we going to Canterlot, Princess?"

"No dear, you're going to a place even more special than Canterlot." The Princess gave a flap of her mighty wings, and the bravest pony ever in all of Equestria ascended above the clouds.