The Evening Sonata: Horrifying Mind Worms are Magic
If you didn't hate me before...
The Evening Sonata: Horrifying Mind Worms are Magic
For those whose feelz are about to be dented because I took perhaps my best story and subjected it to a revolting fetish-plotline, we salute thee!
The late afternoon and early evening was perhaps the most beautiful time of day, at least in Sonata’s opinion. In her artist’s mind, it seemed to her to be the last elegant attempt by the daylight to make something bold and spectacular, to catch the eye of the tiny humans casually ignoring the colours and splendour that the daytime hours were so kind as to cast upon their short existences. It was the closing moments, the last breath, the final dredging seconds of something beautiful and unique that had existed, and would never exist again.
Sonata found that she often had these sorts of existential sorts of thoughts these days, and it frankly intrigued her to remember a time when her head had been full of simpler things.
Back during her siren days, her mind had been far too saturated by the all-encompassing desire for power and energy, egged on day-by-day to feed; it had been a relief to her that real hunger wasn’t quite so ravenous. Her particular kind of intelligence had been squandered under the paradigm of a trio clawing for domination. Not that the time after they’d lost their powers had been much better. Concerns of a more prosaic nature had pressed in to dampen down her wondering mind, cluttering up the space with fear, anxiety, and guilt.
Now however, her mind was free to think about things that it naturally ran to; things that inspired her passions as an artist, short-sighted and clichéd as that might sound. It made her happy. As did the other thing that occupied her mind.
She felt her face tingle with the sudden warmth of affection as Sunset Shimmer’s cheerful face bloomed inside her head. If anything reminded Sonata that she was as ditzy and far-away as she’d ever been, it was the very thought of her girlfriend. Seeing and appreciating the natural beauty of the world could be thought by some to be deep and philosophical, but it was a gift that brought happiness rather than practical application. And Sonata was honestly content with just that.
This was especially true when she thought of the benefits of where this sort of mentality had gotten her. A home of her own, shared with the most perfect and wonderful individual in the world. An individual who was caring, intelligent, responsible, extremely huggable, and – not to put too fine a point on it, but – sexy as all hell. Sonata honestly didn’t give herself over to overtly lewd thoughts very often, even in private, but she found it hard not to indulge for a few moments in an idyllic fantasy or two of what she and Sunset might potentially, perhaps, someday, if things went the right way, do together. Alone. Possibly in the bedroom if the opportunity arose.
Sonata blushed violently and looked around cautiously in case anyone noticed.
Sonata was wandering along the street with a shopping bag in one hand, and these rather ideal thoughts in her head, when on alert for any signs of someone watching her, wondering just what she was so red for, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the sound of footsteps echoing up the street. Ahead of her came a stumbling figure, making their awkward way towards her.
With the late afternoon sun behind them it was a little difficult to make out who it was, but they were walking with a jerky, stumbling gait that suggested either that they were injured, or that they’d just started walking again after recovering from severe muscular atrophy.
Sonata looked left, and then behind her. There was no one else on this small street. Not knowing who it was in front of her, she wondered if she should feign interest in something on the other side of the road, and make her way over there before the figure got close enough. Late as it was, it was entirely possible that some drunken person was wending their way home, and frankly Sonata didn’t much like the idea of being gawked at by an inebriated person too drunk to stay at the bar. She was just about to despair of finding something mildly interesting to investigate, when her slowed walk forward took her into the shadow of a line of buildings, where the sun’s golden radiance no longer blinded her, and the identity of the individual ahead of her was revealed.
“R-Rainbow Dash!?” Sonata exclaimed in shock.
Sunset had since grown tired of waiting in the kitchen. She couldn’t blame Sonata; it had been her own fault that she hadn’t gotten the dinner ingredients the first time they went shopping. Nevertheless, she was finding it difficult to understand why Sonata was taking this long to get back from picking up some simple ingredients.
“She’s probably found someone to talk to,” she muttered, unable to suppress a small smile.
Sitting in the living room with her feet on the table, Sunset was trying to valiantly to endure the endless adverts before Steven Universe came on. She’d wanted to get dinner started before now, but evidently that wasn’t going to happen. Just as an advert for suing such-and-such a company for such-and-such a drug that caused such-and-such problems came on, Sunset suddenly remembered the date as it flashed on the screen, and that she’d meant to send Twilight a note about moving in.
Standing up, she hoped to get it written and done before the show came on, shaking her head as she remembered what Twilight had written to her in her last message.
I wouldn’t want to ask anything too personal, of course, but you are my friend, and I’d love to be kept up to date about your budding romance with Sonata. Just an overview if you could, please. And I promise not to tell Rarity anything of it.
Or, at least I promise not to let her use the journal again. Once again, I apologise for that message from her; she meant well, I’m sure.
Sunset too was sure that Rarity meant well. If pony-Rarity was anything like human-Rarity, Sunset knew exactly what had been running through her mind. She felt a blush try to force itself over her cheeks and neck.
Pushing her way into her and Sonata’s bedroom, Sunset just had time to notice how dark it was before she picked the journal and a pen up from the dresser.
Dear Twilight,
Just writing to tell you that we’ve finished moving in. It’s weird that it’s taken us so long to finish, since neither of us had a lot of stuff to move from the apartment in the first place. But we ended up buying a lot of—
Sunset paused in her writing, and raised an ear to listen. She thought she heard something downstairs. She listened for a moment or two more, and then when nothing else seemed to happen, she went back to her note.
—furniture, since we didn’t have that much to start with, and the house is too big not to need it. I know it’s not a castle or anything, but it sounds like you had a similar problem when you moved into your new home.
Hope to hear from you soon,
Your friend, Sunset Shimmer.
Sunset closed the book, set it down, and then stretched, feeling a slight ache in her back from having sat in the living room for several hours. Looking out of the window again, she realised just how dark it really was. Sonata had to have been gone for more than five hours, on a journey that should only have taken one at most.
Sunset had thought nothing of it initially, just taking it for granted that Sonata had found some distraction; she was quite prone to that. But five hours? With no call, or any indication of where she was? That was less like her. Sunset suddenly started to feel a little uneasy. The sun had begun to set a good few hours back. Could something have happened to her? Surely someone would have contacted her if something had happened to Sonata.
Nevertheless a heavy weight began to grow in Sunset’s stomach. She pulled her mobile phone from her pocket and flicked through her contact list until she found the number, and dialled.
The process of worrying about people close to one typically goes through a set of stages. The initial fear part of her anxiety had transitioned smoothly into the irritation phase by now, and she began to think up of some choice words to say to Sonata when she picked up the phone for making her feel worried. She walked impatiently back and forth, holding the phone to her ear and chuntering various complaints under her breath.
Dial tone...
Dial tone...
...
Wait...
...
Sunset blinked.
She turned away from the window, and looked behind her.
She stared uncomprehendingly at the mostly-closed door, as the distinctive sound of Sonata’s ring-tone sang, muffled, from behind the door.
Sunset stepped over to it, and pulling it open, and found Sonata standing there, her phone still ringing in her pocket.
“There you are,” Sunset said, almost laughing sliding out of irritation and into the relief stage. She clicked her mobile off and set it down carelessly on the bedside table. “Geez. What took you so long?”
Sunset waited for an answer, but none came. After several long seconds of echoing silence, Sunset turned her head a little to one side, peering at Sonata with greater scrutiny.
“Sonata?” she said again, leaning in slightly. “Are you alright?” She leaned forward to get a look at Sonata’s face. “You came in so quietly; you’re usually like a herd of elephants up the stairs. Where’s the shopping? Did you leave it in the kitchen?”
Again, Sonata made no verbal reply. She simply stood there, looking oddly distracted, as though she was barely aware that Sunset was there.
“Sonata?” Sunset repeated again, a nervous and tremulous laugh sneaking into her voice. “Sonata, say something. You’re starting to scare me here.” She took a hold of Sonata’s shoulders, intending to give her a little shake, but the contact seemed to jar Sonata back to reality. She shuddered and took a clumsy step backwards. Sunset instinctively threw out her arms to catch Sonata, fearing that she would fall, but then instantly jerked back. Sonata’s eyes, which had been staring blankly to the side, suddenly darted around with pinpoint precision to look at Sunset directly. For a brief moment, Sunset had the strangest feeling that the look had been... malevolent. As though Sonata wanted to hurt her. But the look disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Sunset equally quickly supposed that she had imagined it. The look Sonata had now was the previous one of blank indifference.
“Are you okay?” Sunset asked fearfully. She looked Sonata over, and for the first time noticed that Sonata looked strangely dishevelled. Her jacket was dusty and stained as though she’d fallen over, and her trousers were slightly askew, as if someone had tried to pull them down. Her hair too bore signs that it had been roughly handled, and she suddenly noticed dried tear tracks down her cheeks, and a dark crustiness under her nose. Something remarkably like dried blood.
A chunk of ice dropped like a boulder into Sunset’s gut. “Sonata, what’s happened to you? Tell me what happened to you! Were you robbed? Did someone—” She peered closer to Sonata, hoping, almost begging for an answer to her questions as fear mounted inside of her. She led Sonata gently to the bed, trying not to touch her too much in case she provoked another reaction from her. If she’d been... assaulted, that would explain her jumpiness.
“Hey, it’s alright, you can tell me what happened,” she said, taking her hand and holding it with her own. She tried to keep her voice at a level, not wanting to startle Sonata, but all she did was sit with her jaw trembling slightly. Sunset waited for her to speak, but after several moments, all Sonata did was look down at her hand clasped within Sunset’s. She moved her head slowly, turning it as though the muscles in her neck pained her, her eyes fixed upon the clasped hands. Sunset was afraid to feel the trembling in Sonata’s dusky blue hand.
For a long moment nothing happened, but then quite suddenly, Sonata raised her other hand, and placed it on top of Sunset’s hand. Sunset felt the beginnings of progress at this, until she felt something that she thought was strange. Lifting Sonata’s other hand with her free one, she held the blue palm up to look at, and frowned. The fingers and palm had some kind of dried, shiny substance on them mixed with the same dust that coated Sonata’s jacket. Sunset had no idea what to make of this.
“I... like you...” Sonata murmured.
Sunset looked up quickly at this. Sonata was staring at her blankly, looking faintly puzzled.
“What?” Sunset asked, turning her head so as to hear her better.
“Love... it knows... I... love...”
The words seemed to come hard.
“I love you too!” Sunset said quickly, feeling it safe enough to put her hands back on Sonata’s shoulders. Sonata didn’t recoil this time, but the look in her eyes changed slightly. Or at least, they seemed to do so. The blankness in them was suddenly overcome with shininess as tears welled in them. They spilled out, leaking down the dried trails on her cheeks and spilling onto her lap. “Sonata, please tell me what’s wrong; I want to help you.”
“I...” Sonata said weakly, her voice breaking. “Don’t... w-want... p... lease...” Her eyes glazed over again, becoming dull and unfocused. Two more large tears ran down her face and off her chin, and she said no more.
By this point, Sunset was sufficiently alarmed to begin to feel the beginnings of panic. Feeling a tightness in her own throat and a stinging in her eyes, she gave Sonata’s shoulder a squeeze.
“Don’t worry,” she said, hoarsely, trying to reach blindly for her phone. “I’ll get help. Just sit still, don’t—“ she turned, reaching for where her phone actually was, when a pressure on her forearm made her stop. She turned back. Sonata’s hand was gripping her arm; not hard, but it was firm. Sunset hesitated.
“Sonata?” she asked tentatively.
Sonata’s hand was trembling still. Sunset rather thought she was going to say something, but then with surprising speed, Sonata tugged her arm so that Sunset was pulled closer towards her. The move was jerky, and a little rough. Sunset tried to pull away from her gently.
“Sonata, I really think that—Mmph!”
The kiss was as abrupt and awkward as the pull on her arm. Sonata’s lips missed Sunset’s own, and planted awkwardly on the left side of her chin. Nonetheless it wasn’t this that made Sunset pull back in surprise. Sonata pawed at her, still trying to reach her mouth with her own, as though desperate to kiss her.
“S-Stop!” Sunset cried, alarmed. “Sonata, you’re not well. Please, just let me call an ambulance.”
Sonata seemed to pretend not to hear. With a sharp shove she pushed Sunset insistently down and leaned over her, pinning her to the bed. Sunset stared at her, bewildered, trying to make sense of what was going on.
“You’re not well,” she said again. “Please stop; what are you even doing?”
Apparently in response, with her lower half firmly pinning Sunset down, Sonata sat up, and began pulling at the front of her jacket. Sunset had no idea what was going on until, becoming impatient with the buttons, Sonata pulled violently and sent them pinging across the room, the zip ripping down with a harsh buzz. Sunset’s face went brick red as Sonata’s generous bosom cast a shadow over her. With the same, almost clumsy motion as with the buttons, she pulled the jacket and the shirt beneath it off, and then tugged away her bra, leaving her torso entirely exposed.
Sunset fully intended to protest something to this along the same lines as what she’d already been saying, but her throat had tightened up, and all she could manage was a curious braying noise. Taking advantage of this relative silence, Sonata leaned down, and with shocking strength, tore Sunset’s shirt away by the thin loop of fabric around her neck. Sunset gasped and gave a little cry, jarred back into speech.
“Sonata, please! Stop!”
Sonata said nothing, but dived in again. Sunset felt real fear surging through her; it was like this wasn’t Sonata at all! What on earth could be wrong with her? She tried to pull away as Sonata’s mouth plunged towards her own, tried to fight away Sonata’s prying hands. She gasped again as Sonata took firm hold of her breasts and gave them a sharp squeeze. Adequately distracted, Sunset was unable to prevent Sonata’s lips locking onto her own. She felt Sonata’s tongue press eagerly, hungrily into her mouth. It lapped at her own aggressively, as though Sonata was trying to suck it out of Sunset’s throat.
Despite herself, Sunset felt a warmth grow between her legs. It spread like a tiny flame trying to warm a dark, cold room, egged on by Sonata’s feverish groping and voracious kissing. Sunset seized hold of one of Sonata’s wrists and tried to push it away, but Sonata twisted out of the grip and slammed the offending arm to the bed.
“S-Sonata...” Sunset whimpered. “Oh... oh Celestia...” She was finding it increasingly difficult to marshal her thoughts. The waves of reluctant pleasure, confusion, and outright fear at what was happening was pushing out her rational thought, subduing it under the weight of conflicting emotions. But when she looked into Sonata’s face, she saw... nothing. Pinned down, unable to stop Sonata’s aggressive advances, she held back a sob as she awoke to the banal reality of what was happening.
She... she’s raping me!
Apparently sensing weakness, Sonata’s other hand ceased massaging Sunset’s nipple, and reached down. It slipped easily under the waistband of Sunset’s trousers, and before Sunset fully understood what was going on, was insinuating itself firmly over Sunset’s nethers.
Sunset broke the kiss with difficulty and cried out. She struggled more forcefully, trying valiantly to push herself up on the bed. Sonata’s response was quick and merciless. Letting go of her arm, Sonata’s hand seized hold of Sunset’s chin to hold her face down. Her tongue ran long and heavily up Sunset’s neck, sending electric jolts running down Sunset’s body. She quivered, her eyes stinging with tears as Sonata bit at the tender flesh around her collarbone.
“Sonata...” she breathed thickly. “W-Why...?”
Rather to Sunset’s surprise, the question seemed to give Sonata pause. Her nibbling at Sunset’s neck stopped, and even her submerged hand ceased its intent exploring of Sunset’s labia. She pulled back, staring down at Sunset, and for the first time in her life, Sunset felt a different kind of fear. The fear of being prey to a lithe, powerful predator; a hunter that to resist was the most laughable foolishness. Her dull magenta eyes fastened onto Sunset’s turquoise ones, and Sunset saw with a thrill of utter horror, the expressionless, emotionless indifference of someone... or something, that was not Sonata, staring back at her.
“N-No...” Sunset whimpered. “W-What are you?”
With a wet schlick from Sunset’s pants, both of Sonata’s hands reached up to clutch at Sunset’s head. Sunset felt the warm stickiness from Sonata’s hand on her cheek and screamed. This was a dire mistake, and one that Sunset realised too late to correct. Sonata plunged, thrusting her tongue deep down into Sunset’s throat. Or... wait, was that Sonata’s tongue? Sunset didn’t know what else it could be, but it felt different. It moved differently, more dextrously than a tongue even could move, and... and was sliding further than a tongue could even reach!
Sunset struggled hard, trying to throw Sonata off of her. Whatever was in her mouth was definitely not a tongue; it had appendages; long, slimy appendages reaching forward, hauling a thick, smooth mass that stretched, elongated, squeezing itself into the confining spaces of Sunset’s mouth. It tasted awful; bitter and tangy, and metallic, like the taste of blood.
Sunset panicked. Unconsciously, purely on instinct, she let go of Sonata’s wrist, and swung her fist sideways into Sonata’s head. The blow knocked Sonata’s face away from her own. With a tremendous effort, she shoved Sonata away and leapt off the bed. She felt desperately at her throat, expecting to feel a bulge, expecting to feel the revolting, eerie feeling of something move inside of her torso and stomach. It took her a moment to understand why she didn’t feel this. A sharp pain from somewhere around her sinuses made her gasp and jerk back into the wall, holding her nose. Pressure built inside of her head, as though a bubble of air was pressing outwards from all sides behind her nose, but then quite suddenly, it was gone. She tasted something bitter again and was aware of something inanimate and slimy running down her throat. The residual taste was horrible; it made her gag, thinking it was the... thing. What was it? What was that? It’d felt so... so...
She coughed, a wet, thick cough, and a thick stream of mucus emerged by degrees, spraying over the floor as Sunset choked it out.
Then terror shot through her, as she felt the certain feeling of something hot, and wet, slide down her face, over her mouth. She raised a hand and wiped at her nose. Her palm glistened shockingly scarlet, as she wiped fresh blood away from her face.
“W-What have you done?” she asked Sonata shakily. “What did you do?”
Sonata said nothing. She sat, kneeling on the bed, her arms held limply at her sides, her eyes blank and lifeless like a discarded doll.
“Sonata!” Sunset screamed, pressing herself into the corner and clutching at her own head. “Tell me what you did! Please!” She felt tears on her own face as she sank down the wall. “Please,” she sobbed. “What have you done to me?”
A short silence followed this, punctuated by Sunset’s own feverish gasps and sobs. Sonata on the other hand remained perfectly still and silent. She didn’t so much as look at Sunset; one might have supposed she was entirely unaware of the other’s existence. Kneeling on the bed, gilded by starlight, the dried tears on her cheeks made her look like a lifeless manikin. Something less than human.
No... no, no, no! Sunset thought feverishly. This can’t—What is this? What did she—
Panic engulfed Sunset’s mind, but in the thick of it all, a rational response broke in on her terror and confusion. Her phone was just on the dresser; all she had to do was reach it, dial the emergency services. Her eyes found the mobile device, and her hand automatically thrust out to seize hold of it. She lurched forward, propelled by desperate instinct, a surge of hope granting her a little energy... when quite suddenly, the outstretched arm lost momentum. She tried to move it forward again... but nothing happened. The arm didn’t move.
“W-What’s happening?” If Sunset had been obligated to describe it, she might have said that the command to move wasn’t reaching her arm, as though the wires between it and her brain had been cut. The arm tensed, sending a wave of nausea through Sunset’s torso and abdomen. The feeling had been sickeningly alien, the sensation of her body moving without her volition, leaving a dreadful sensation akin to sea sickness. At the same time, another creeping presence forced itself upon Sunset’s notice. She felt her head lean slightly, almost imperceptibly. Scared and tense as she was, she felt the insides of her head move as she tried to pull her head back up, and felt... something else there. Something adding its own weight to her own. And she suddenly realised just what was happening.
“No...!” she breathed, terrified. “N-No! Please, stop! Get out of my head!”
There was no response at all. The weight slid slowly forward, shifting ponderously inside of her, and she felt the little energies of her mind, and the thoughts that they represented, become fuzzy. Even her vision seemed to blur slightly.
No! she thought. Stop it! Get out! You can’t do this!
Whatever it was inside of her either didn’t understand, couldn’t hear her desperate thoughts, or was coldly ignoring them.
I need to get help. Must get help. She reached for the phone again, but her arms just wouldn’t work; they hung limp and numb at her sides, dangling there like dead creatures stuck to her torso. She tried to move her legs, and felt with relief that she could still move them. She tried to push herself up, but as though in response, a sudden burning exhaustion ran through both of them, and she collapsed face forward onto the floor. She spat blood from her mouth, inching forward.
Bastard! she thought, trying to cut through the distracting hum in her brain. Stop... stop it! Get out of me! I want to... to fu... to fuck... Wait, what!? Insistently wiggling forward, she hit something hard with her shoulder. A loud thump next to her told her that she’d knocked something off the dresser. Her phone!
She turned over, straining, and found that it wasn’t her phone, but the journal. The magical journal, and the pen too. That’s it! she thought, hope thrusting through the thickening fog in her mind. If I can just get a message to Twilight. She can fix this; she can help! I just need... I’m a... I’m pathetic... just need... She shook her head of the intruding thoughts. This thing wasn’t getting to her so easily!
Sunset reached for the pen, biting down on it with her teeth. Inching forward, she hovered over the page, the pen poised to write. She managed to write one squiggly letter, and then a second. Then her jaw tightened suddenly. Her gums cringed in pain as the plastic pen splintered, jabbing shards into the soft flesh of her mouth, sending blue ink and dark blood splattering over her teeth and lips. She cried out in agony, feeling the revolting mixture seeping sickening out of her mouth and onto the pages of the book.
For a short time the pain and heaviness on her mind lay upon her, sending bizarre and perverse messages across her brain. She found the presence of mind to spit the broken pen from her mouth, trying to focus, trying for all she was worth to resist the sluggishness overtaking her thoughts. But the creature inside was not to be dissuaded so easily. Once again, Sunset’s arms began to tense, twitching, moving in jerky, spasmodic motions like a newborn.
Through streaming eyes, Sunset looked to the side. The journal shook slightly against the floor, vibrating. She leaned up and over it, desperately trying to see what Twilight was writing.
She’ll know something’s wrong, she thought with grateful relief. She’ll come. She’ll find us... we’ll... she’ll eat me... so hard...
It took a great deal of effort to ignore the intruding thoughts and read the message, each word a painful step forward.
Dear Sunset,
In regards to your last message, thank you ever so much for letting me know, and I’m glad to hear that your move-in has gone off without a hitch. If it’s anything like me and my new home, you’ll be finding your new situation a little scary and new. But I know that the power of friendship and love will see you through it. I have every confidence that Sonata will help you through this difficult period.
Wishing you all the best,
Your friend, Twilight Sparkle.
P.S. I like that colour of ink you used just now, whatever it was. It’s a shame though that you seem to have spilt it over your journal. I used to have a spell to fix that sort of thing. If I find it, I’ll send it along.
The smiley-face that accompanied the end of this message seemed to mock Sunset like a spiteful child.
Tears splashed down onto the pages as Sunset’s hope died like embers from cheap paper. Her body ached her, her mind was heavy and slow, and the last holdout for rescue had just abandoned her without even knowing it.
Her heart felt leaden as she cast desperately around for something, for anything that could help her. She was a useless little bitch... But as each fresh idea met with the reality that none of it could do anything to save her, a deep internal despair gave herself over to the cold, dark nature of her impending fate. It piled on top of her like heightened gravity, pressing her down as the creature inside set itself to take control.
I want it... I need it... something inside of me...
No! she thought savagely. No! Fuck you!
“Fuck you to tartarus!” she shrieked, wrenching her jaw open and thrashing sideways. She felt her arm tense again, felt it rise up. With lightning speed it crossed over her chest and held tightly to the side of the bed, trying to pin her down. But the grip was slack, the motions clumsy; the controlling intelligence was clearly unfamiliar with its workings. Sunset yanked it away and sat up, jolting forward into the opposite wall. She hit it head-first with a sickening crack, jolting her fuzziness and providing something to focus on. She didn’t know whether she was inconveniencing the creature inside or not, but it fed a rage-filled sense of petty vindictiveness to think that she was.
She struck her head again, trying hard to focus on the stabs of pain shooting through her skull, on the trickle of wetness running between her eyes. Then strong fingers clasped themselves over her ears, pulling her roughly back.
“Get off!” Sunset screamed, her words slurring; her tongue quivered, rising up to the roof of her mouth to cut off her speech. “Let go! Ah leel ah lesch!”
The fingers dug into her hair, yanking her roughly away from the wall. Feeling hairs parting company with her head, Sonata lifted her abruptly up and threw her awkwardly up and onto the bed. The muscles in her neck recoiling from being jerked back so suddenly, she heard the tell-tale squeak of bedsprings as Sonata mounted the bed.
Sonata... please, help me... Sunset thought desperately, beseechingly. All thought of shame, reason, and reality had been swept away by the long shadow of fear closing down over her. Please... you love me... don’t you...? Don’t you...?
They’re eyes locked. Sonata’s hands pulled and undid the button of Sunset’s trousers, and with a rough tug, pulled them away. There was no pity in Sonata’s blank stare, no remorse, no kindness. But at the same time, there was no malice there either. No cruel humour, no sorrowful reluctance. There was just nothing there. Nothing but cold, empty drive, a determination driven by the most basic of instincts, and Sunset was nothing more than a part of the cycle. Nothing but fuel to keep the cycle going.
Despite the rough and abrupt nature of Sonata’s manikin-like movements, when she bore down for the last time upon Sunset Shimmer, the touch was slow, careful, and tender as a lover’s should be. Perhaps because of its tenuous control over its host, or because it understood the delicacy of what it was about to do, the creature inside of Sonata moved her fingers with what seemed like loving care, sliding them slowly over Sunset’s neck and chest.
Sunset felt her skin as though it was something apart from her. The tingling warmth Sonata’s dusky blue skin was sending across her body dulled the feeble resistance her mind was giving to the encroaching darkness. Whatever remnant of her conscious mind remained quaked and shuddered and cowered... although, it couldn’t quite remember... why.
Why? echoed her thoughts, as her body was laid bare, slowly caressed, explored by the empty shell of the one she had loved. “Why... do I feel so...”
Sonata probed the entirely naked form of her golden-skinned victim, her fingers tracing the smoothness, the small curves and bumps of the body; the creature inside her sensed that its offspring had all but settled in. It watched through Sonata’s eyes as Sunset’s hand rose slowly, like a newborn, reaching down the traced path to her nethers. The fingers were still awkward, searching by touch until it found the already wet folds and reddish fuzz surrounding them.
Despite the human capacity to apply emotions to other creatures, the brain parasite possessed no advanced capacity for malice of any kind. It didn’t hate, love, or even appreciate the lumbering hosts it needed to feed upon, at least not in any degree as deep or introspective as a human’s might have been. Its appreciation stretched as far as being grateful for their being present to be fed upon, no more than a horse is grateful for the grass, or an ant is grateful for dirt to be toiled. Wrapped tightly around the soft, grey organ in the young girl’s skull, it responded to the small electrical impulses and chemicals that occasionally passed it by indicating the foreign sensation of sexual pleasure. The feeling titillated the creature in a detached sort of way, enough for it to want more, and thus make their hosts want more; an insidious design by any account. Reason and sentience crushed beneath the most ancient and basic of living instincts: procreate.
If Sonata had still been self-aware, even she, an utter newcomer to the game of sex, would have appreciated Sunset’s untouched virgin body. She’d long admired it, its sleek, slender form, the smallish breasts, the noticeable feminine curves about the rear and middle. The luscious red and gold hair and blue-green eyes, now blank and devoid of expression. She watched Sunset play with herself for a while, the intelligence inside gauging the need for it to intervene. Sonata’s tongue lolled from her mouth, and with the same slow, almost tender application as before, trailed her mouth over sensitive areas, pocking and prodding, testing for areas of weakness, eager to see if there was any resistance left. She found little. The odd spasm here and there, the occasional half-word or struggling syllable, but nothing more.
Tracing her palm upwards, following the contours of the chest, neck, and face, two fingers extended hesitantly towards the parted lips. They slipped inside, feeling softly at the moist walls of the mouth, over the teeth and the faintly shivering tongue. They pressed down on the muscle, forcing it to be still, sliding deeper backwards down the throat. Sunset’s body jolted. Then trembled. She gagged and choked.
Sonata methodically extracted the fingers, gazing sightlessly at the coughing form beneath her, as though considering the damage. She ran the hand over Sunset’s cheek, leaving a wet trail across it as the flesh tingled beneath. She watched the greenish eyes for a few moments more, and then she moved abruptly downwards.
The entity squirmed a little in its new home. Tightly connected to the inner machinations of Sonata’s senses, it found some of the sensory data to be puzzling. It felt a curious mixture of hormones and activity spike as its host drew in a deep breath over the exposed folds of the exposed area before it. All it knew was that the more befuddled the host, the more secure its own position was. Instinct drove it forward, into the ease of its manipulations, the certain pull of this or that tendon or muscle.
It had won; if only it cared about such things.
In some deep, dark recess of Sunset’s shattered mind, where the final fragments of awareness coalesced with the sweetest memories of her life as it had been, the feel of Sonata’s hands and tongue laying her bare, doing the very things that a few times – private times – she had dreamed Sonata would do to her, Sunset felt happiness. Sonata’s kind, ditzy smile, her warm magenta eyes, and the warm sensation of her skin; their bodies pressed together as though they would never come apart. It was almost a relief to give up that last part of herself, that last, broken vestige of panic, fear, and self preservation, slipping away into the darkness, as Sonata’s mouth pulled away from her thigh, sweet juices dripping from her chin.
Her job done, Sonata rose from the end of the bed, and wended her way upwards to lie next to her lover. They intertwined, blue and gold together, their foreheads gently touching as they huddled together in the pale moonlight.
Anyone looking upon them might have been struck by the tender and loving sight, had they not known the truth, and the terrible future these two broken shells heralded for the unsuspecting town.
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