I opened my eyes slowly, feeling as the sleep fell from them and I pulled my head from my hooves to survey my surroundings. I was on a bed, a very small bed that should probably have been for a child. Thankfully, the pony lying next to me was not a child, but actually a older teen. It was Scootaloo, and by the convenient framed birth certificate hanging on the wall above, she was very much so 18, by about a day.

I wiped my eyes, and groaned in despair and disgust.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

"What the fuck is wrong with you," I repeated to myself aloud, unable to contain the pure cringe as my face formed into a perplexing amalgamation of contortions and downright aghast features.

"Come off it, I weren't that bad were I?" a rather British-sounding voice asked, the messy-maned and bad-toothed orange delight smirked as she rolled over and looked at me, the covers being all that covered her feral body. "

Why is she British?

"Why are you British?" I asked in confusion. I remembered almost everything. I'd been dreading returning to this memory if you could call it a dream memory. A fabrication of a reality that didn't exist? I was still trying to work it out myself, so there wasn't much hope. First off, I needed to understand why Scoots decided to sound like she was a fish finger muncher. Then I had to try and figure out why I was such a freak."

She had said she was 18. That she was small but totally legal for her age before we'd engaged in coitus. However, I had completely based her personality on the show. They showed her clearly as a child and I had barely altered her personality. Some part of me was fucked up, but not without a clear line I had thankfully not crossed, not that the elaborated methods to justify our intercourse were in any way moral.

"Whatz the mattah love? It didn't taste that bad did it!? If you want I could give the old King Charles a once over?" She puckered her lips, her face and teeth contorting into a beast of legend as I reacted rather strongly by falling out of the bed. She looked like some sort of fish pokemon and I wasn't about to stay in kissing proximity to her.

"Fuck," I murmured, unable to conjure up a conversation with this horrible creation. "I can't keep doing this anymore. What would my great friend Doug Walker say if he was in this situation?"

"So, um... Yeah, I guess when you come down to it, it is just cultural differences. I mean, sexual urges in young people does start well before 18. My personal problem is, like media in most cultures, it doesn't try to help younger people understand sexuality, but rather exploits it. Rather than educate young people about sex, it's honestly just easier if we can make money off of it.

But, of course, all this talk about Sailor Moon being a sexy 14-year-old pinup is all building up to one important question: Given this information, why did I still put her on the Top 11 Hottest Animated Women list? I DIDN'T KNOW!!! I SWEAR I DIDN'T KNOW!! I mean, look at the way they're drawn, man! I thought they were in college or at the very least late high school! Wouldn't you have made that guess?! Come on, look at the way they're showing them off! I swear, officer-- I mean audience! I had no idea their real age! I mean, you might be saying to yourself, "Oh, what, didn't you grow up watching the show? Didn't you pay attention to it at all?" ...NO! No, I didn't! I mean, I watched it, but I didn't really listen to it! I too was 14 at a time! And...maybe I viewed it for...different reasons."

I blinked and realized that I was a complete and utter fool with a shitty taste in idols. I had chosen people who had shown themselves in later life as the scumbags they truly were. Christine, lost to madness and victim-hood. Doug, lost to the ego and the myth of himself as a famous critic and the proprietor of the famed Channel Awesome. These people weren't heroes to be held to such high levels of greatness. They were just people. They were flawed and their views were not any more clever or sophisticated than mine would have been if I'd chosen to think for me.

I stress sighed.

No matter how much I tried to justify it within myself, it was unjustifiable. There was a dark part of me, that was for sure very clear and this part probably had some sort of taboo for the real Scoots. The justification for aging her up meant nothing as I hadn't altered her personality or maturity to match her growth. Indeed even if I had, it was more like some weird grooming if anything, but in my own genius imagination, I'd gone the lazy route and skipped to the buidness.

"Scootaloo... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have slept with you. I've known you since you were a child. I justified my act with a number when in reality I had a position of trust and authority over you for most of your life. A life which I'm sorry to say is a very depressing chapter inside my fucked up head."

She looked blankly at me, as blank as her flank. "What the fish and chips are you on about fam?" she demanded, pouncing on me sultrily as she prowled over my stomach like some sort of cougar, only very much younger, making me highly uncomfortable, given these revelations about myself. I pushed her off forcefully, making her smack her head into the wall, a loud *bang* echoing throughout the house as I realized my strength had been underestimated.

"Fuck... did I..." I watched as blood trickled from her nose and ears. I'd only gone and done her in!

"Used to be a hot chicken dinner, now she's just a cold turkey," came a sneering voice that I was honestly getting fed up with. I looked over at the window of the 6th-story apartment we were in. There he was. Harry, probably standing on a ladder, possibly one had acquired from the local fire department. That was if my theory that our power levels were mostly balanced was accurate.

"Sup dweeb. Did you enjoy fucking her and then killing her? You know we've not reached that chapter yet?"

He let out bellowing laughter right from his stomach, shaking the ladder as I snarled "Fuck you Harry you gosh darn son'bitch!"

I stood and with a grimace turned away from Scoots body. "I'm messed in the head clearly. But I'm coming to terms with it. This world... this fantasy... this sickness... is over..."

I felt a burst of pride and accomplishment within myself. Charging Harry I smashed through the glass, shards as sharp as sharks speckling on my aqua fur as I knocked into Harry, the stallion crying out, not having expected the sudden suicidal charge, flailing as we both smashed into the ground, the ladder rung his head had been against ringing out as it smashed his skull in.

Laying in a heap after a 6-storey fall, I felt my punctured lung start to fill with blood. "Fuck this is painful... why did I do this?"

I thought that with one lung filling with blood it would take only a few minutes to die. But I was wrong, a nice pony walking by spotted us and called on a local paramedic. The ambulance came in record time, Nurse Redheart packing me into the van and hooking up an IV.

"No, please... Let me die," I begged weakly, but my jaw was broken so all that came out was a vague muffle. It took 2 weeks for me to die. Day after day of intensive care and surgery. Every bone in my body was broken, my lungs collapsed, spine shattered. I'd lost about 8 pints of blood yet by a miracle I kept pulling through. In the end, the surgery to fix my ruptured organs went south and so I slipped away. It was probably the most I deserved after the sordid actions I'd performed in this world.

"No ladders!" I cried, waking up with a start, heart pounding in my chest and sweat dripping from my forehead.

Lying on a beach with the hot sun beating down I was confused. One I was confused that it seemed more real and like a human beach and place and another that there was a human woman lying next to me with Mediterranean skin and a bikini on. I however looked down. I was still a pony, my aqua mane and blue fur going quite nicely with the white sands and the glowing blue waves that gently washed against the shore.

It felt tranquil and I wondered briefly if I could perhaps stay in this world.

This world of Madagascar 3? You went over the hedge here and completely lost cohesion to any form of narrative. You might have subconsciously realized you could control your actions, something you can't seem to do now. Personally I think you hit your head on the sideboard in the real.

I shook my head, retorting "You're my subconsciousness I thought though? So wouldn't it be you controlling my dreams?"

The voice in my head that had been guiding me, helping me realize how fucked this all was, decided to not respond.

"Alright then keep your secrets," was all I had to say smirking as I stood up, shaking the sand from my fetlocks and staring out at the ocean, inhaling the sea air. It would be nice to stay here."

Then I spotted something on the horizon, it had speed. A speedboat. It was heading quite fast towards me at speed. The boat speedily sped towards me and my Portuguese girlfriend. Suddenly a megaphone on the boat that was speeding towards us droned "SUP DWEEB!?"

"For fuck sake Harry, can you stop!? I just want to go home! I don't want to be dying in excruciating pain for the next 2 weeks! Can we just make this quick?"

Of course, Harry had no way of hearing me, as I had no megaphone or radio on my person. I tried to think of a speedy way out of this situation. I looked to see if maybe I could kill myself quickly. I had thought maybe Harry had to do it, or that I had to realize some sort of fault in myself, maybe an epiphany? However, the thought of being tortured for weeks if I did it wrong, was enough to spur me into instantly wanting to take my chances.

"Qué quieres, mi amor?" Gorgonzuela asked, and I hushed her lips with a hoof. "Non parlare amore mio, devo allontanarmi da questo piano mortale prima che venga a prendermi. Il mio demone, che un giorno dovrò affrontare, ma questo. Ti amo, per sempre in questo tempo, ma solo ora. devo andare via"

I ran into the treeline, away from the boats speeding towards me, and into the jungle. The sounds of kookaburras and other less important birbs filled my ears as I strove into the unknown. I saw a lot of things in my time in the military. Or my perceived time in the military and I craftily made a bunch of jungle traps to snare Harry and his men.

I heard a scream from behind as I finished sharpening the stakes for the stake pit trap. Someone had triggered my grenade snare and a cry of "Alex!" came forth.

I finished my stake pit trap and moved on to my snake pit trap. Unfortunately, I only had 2 minutes to prepare, so I only had 10 varieties of snakes, but they would have to do. "MARTY!" Another voice called from behind. I didn't hear a scream, it was likely that this soldier had his gullet pierced when he went down.

What the hell are you doing? You were supposed to swear off this nonsense, reject the myth of yourself. Reject pony and military and return to the man you are.

Convenient timing as always. "Thanks disembodied voice, but I think I've got this," I smirked. I was in my element here. Outwitting that sly bastard after all the times he'd crept up on me. Of course... this was my undoing.

I wasn't paying attention when I stood on the pressure plate and fell into my own snake pit trap. I yelped as the snakes started to bite me, devouring me slowly as I let out a scream of pain. "HARRY!" I cried, not even realizing he was standing over me. He'd fished me out of the pit and was trying in vain to stop my body from swelling up from the poison.

"No... NO!" I realized my mistake. I had to kill myself if I wanted out. Harry knew the game now, he was saving me, and his magic was slowly draining the poison from me. He would keep me alive, probably in agony, and get to live out this world for who knows how long? I would be trapped inside my mind forever. What foalishness had made me so cocky all of a sudden? Was it confidence? No... arrogance had led me here. Stupid arrogance. I was chock full of it, and my body felt it as with a whine the final poison draft was removed and my hooves were hogtied by Harry's henchmen.

"Well, well, well."

Harry started to pace around my body. "Looks like there's no freaky bitch CPU weirdo to save you now. Should have charged me head on like with that ladder. I watched you score that chicken dinner that night by the way. 30 seconds is not impressive by the way."

I felt myself blush. Was I accusing myself of not being a playa?

"I'm going to ensure you stay alive for a very long time. I mean, I'm positive I'm real. But just in case this is all a fantasy and I'm some elaborate manifestation, we'll make sure you're only tortured in the finest psychological ways possible. Hell, maybe we'll break your mind so much, that you'll never be able to think clearly enough to escape this world again."

I grit my teeth. "You're all talk Harry. Just fucking get on with it, I want to go home. Whatever home I have that is."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head, his long shaggy mane casting shadows in the dim light of the jungle as one of his henchponies started to throw a rope over the large trees. "Let's start with something familiar. It'll be sure to be nostalgic. Don't worry, I won't go too far."

I looked suddenly in fear as the noose appeared, pre-tied on the end of the rope, lowered to the ground, and soon around my neck. I'd been hung as a human before and it had been agony. I recalled the intense panic, betrayal, and pain as I, a military brony, had been hung for the crime of liking a cartoon show.

Now he was repeating it, and perhaps without the intention of letting me die. I let out a small sob and trembled. Harry really knew how to generate fear and get under my fur. Almost as if he knew me inside out.

It clicked suddenly and I stopped sobbing.

Nobody in the history of anything would bother to hand someone over liking a cartoon show. At least, certainly not someone in the military. What was I thinking? Did I give myself a persecution complex to feel better about what I liked? Was that on top of the stole valor? I wasn't even in the military really was I? I just thought it made me more of a man, when in reality it made me more of a dumbass.

As Harry began winching me up, I realized I had to take the chance. Bracing myself as the rope tightened and restricted the air I swang carefully left and right before my hooves connected with the tree.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Harry demanded as I ran up with as much momentum and purchase as I could, enough to lift my body up a few ft from the rope, going slack for a moment as I almost was able to breathe before my body weight crashed down with the help of madam gravity and I heard a thick *Crack* my neck snapping and my vision going dark.

I didn't hear Harry swearing, in honesty, it probably didn't happen, as with one dream fading, another would take its place.

Opening my eyes, I felt blood dripping from my eyelash. There would be blood. I wasn't ready for the monster, but I knew I must face him.

I inhaled, smelling the stench of death on my body. It felt good to my disgust. But I would be sure to face my demons as I got closer to the real.

Closer to ending this nightmare of my own creation.

Author's Note

Another tail finished

I feel like I'm reaching my zenith now. I thought that I didn't understand what direction I was going in, but now I realize... I think I needed this about as much as Siegefire. In a way, I'm letting go and moving on. Shaping up and choosing life.

I remember this one meanie comment I got calling Siege Fire a self-insert. He is NOT a self insert. I would hate to see myself in him... and yet...

Thank you for reading.

Bazinga to all you haters.

You cannot stop me. Nor socialism. It will overcome.