Caged

        Celestia will save me.          Celestia will save me.          Celestia will save me.

        Celestia will save me.          Celestia will save me.          Celestia will save me.

        Celestia will save me.          Celestia will save me.          Celestia will save me.

        Wagon lay in his bed, in the same room he started his nightmare in.  He couldn’t move his legs and his speech was slurred, his right eye was nearly blinded, his memory was poor and nearly gone, save for a few bits and pieces; but he could still feel everything.

        Two days must have passed by this point.  Maybe a month?  A week?

He had been chosen by one centaur in particular to be its toy.

        Hours would pass as it rambled in its language about whatever Wagon couldn’t care less.  Minutes of being fed.  Time lost as he sobbed while he was mounted and violated time after time.

        The only thing that kept him sane was repeating his mantra and praying to be held by his mother in his bed at home; having woken from the nightmare.

            That she would be petting his mane and cooing to him, telling him everything would be okay.  That it was only a dream, nothing bad had happened.

        The taste of old salad and salty sperm permeated his taste as he came back to the world as he knew it now.

        A kiss on his head, a pat on his back, and an empty compliment signaled the end of the pain, finally.  He whimpered as the centaur withdrew with a whiff and pop; he sniffled and tried to beg for water, his words slurred.

        “The pony do well.  My love, you will know joyous of marriage soon, then we be one, for lives,” it said dragging a finger across Wagons face.  The look of love in its eyes met Wagon’s. “Pony isn’t pleased?” it said in broken Equestrian.

        “Llip me~, glow… Pthease.”

        “No let you go, you mine now.  Me tell you something… We are difference in worlds.  We live in war.  You live in peace.  We are many males.  You are many females.  We trade females.  You live each other for life.  Your nature is different, but we all need love,” it said, “Klothur loves Wagon and will be with him for years.

        “We will return to Centaur homeland, and you will be share with family.  But you will always be my love, to sleep with and be with with the most.”

        Wagon forced his eyes closed and wept, turning his head away.

        Celestia will save me.          Celestia will save me.          Celestia will save me.                  Celestia will save me…        Celestia will...

        “Pony!  You look at Klothur like husband going to be; with respecting,” Klothur said grabbing Wagon’s broken leg and squeezing.

        Wagon screamed in pain, coughing as his throats soreness made itself known from having to be force fed Klothur’s cock hours before.

        “Ah, I sorry.  Um, not mean make cry.  Please, how make better?” Klothur asked resting on his knees on the floor, leaning toward Wagon and caressing his head in his arms.

“Kkhl…”

“Yes, my love?”  Klothur said softly as he began to pet Wagons mane.

“Clth wum.”

“Ah, colts room time already?   It will be easy:  You are loose,” Klothur said with a warm smile before standing tall, “most centaur take years, you husband ready in days.  I much lucky,“ he said happily, lifting Wagon, cradling him in his arms. “I must remember be softer with weak mate.”

With his left foreleg Klothur pushed the door open before entering the hall.

Blood and vomit still stained where he was forced to taste that mare’s womb, the memory sending a queasy sense through his head.

He looked at the walls as he was carried, the only sound were the sobs of ponies from behind closed doors they passed.  One room he passed was without a door, blood sprayed a wall as though it was a water balloon that had been popped.

He flinched at the sight as it passed but kept looking.  The only memories he could retain were the worst ones he could imagine since he was brought here, he wanted to find some sign of goodness in this place, this; warehouse of horrors.

        His ears perked and his head moved before he knew why, stopping Klothur  in his tracks. “What, mate hear?”

        Wagon listened and turned his head, trying to see with his good eye the door behind himself.  Klothur turned and faced the door Wagon was listening toward.  A pictograph was drawn on the door.

        “This room? Is another pony, like you.  Let us leave-”

        “NGEE…”

        “Mate wishes to see?  Fine,” he huffed turning and setting Wagon on his horse-back before turning to grab the latch, forcing it to the right with a grunt, and giving the door a tug.  The door slid open with each of Klothur’s steps.  He stopped before it had opened all the way and scoffed.

        “Mate will look, then we will go,” he said cantering his rear so Wagon could look inside.

        “H-hello? Please, where’s my mommy,” a filly called, “please…  I said I’m sorry for whatever I did, I just want my mommy.  I just want my mommy.  I’ll let you hurt me again, back there... just, please, let me see my mommy again,” she said softly, pleading to him.

        Wagon’s eyes watered and he tried to tell her something, anything, but he couldn’t talk.  He saw her eyes in the darkness, reflecting the light as she begged the silhouette that looked like a centaur before he turned his head away.

        Klothur turned and started closing the door as Wagon let tears fall and the filly began to scream in panic.

        “No!  Please, put it in if you have to…  I won’t bite this time, please!  Let me see my mom, you said she was here still.  She’s a blue pegasus with green mane, please,” the filly screamed as the sound of hooves hitting the door sounded.  She began pounding and screaming, begging to see her mother as Klothur locked the door and reached to grab Wagon.

        “Wagon sees, you are lucky.  Not a mare to be traded, a colt to be loved.”

        Wagon grunted and opened his mouth, clamping as hard as he could on Klothur’s arm.  With a shout of pain Klothur grabbed Wagons broken legs’ splint and yanked, expecting him to let go.

        Wagon bit harder and began grinding his lower jaw, tearing the thin flesh and sending Klothur into a screaming rage.  He had had enough and, with his sharpened nails, dug deeply into Wagon’s broken leg.

        With a restrained shout he released and was tossed to the floor.  The centaur loomed over him baring his teeth.

        “My mate is fighter?  Good,” he grinned, “I like fighter.”

        Wagon sighed and let his head fall.  He knew he was forgetting something.  But what was it?  He was picked back up and cradled, hugged almost, and carried down the hall again to the room that was used as a restroom only because it had several holes in the floor from failed escapes.

        What was he forgetting?  It was right on the tip of his tongue.  The memory was so elusive.

        “My mate went well, good job,” he was praised.

        Why?  Did he… He did.  He was lost in thought and didn’t notice he’d relieved himself and was already being carried back.

        What was it?  What made him special?  What happened to make him forget so much of his life?

        Why was his body broken?

        Why couldn’t he think of anypony except his mother and Celestia?  Why were they familiar, anyway?  What made them stand out against the centaur that was carrying him?

        A flash of memory made Wagon squeal in fright.  The giant centaur.  How could he forget that thing?  The laugh it gave him when he wanted to go.  The broken leg.  The… knife.

        “Horng.”

        Klothur stopped and looked at the pony in his arms. “What, my love?”

        “Ny horng,” he said as drool ran from his mouth, “here?”

        “Ah, you miss horn?  It is there,” he said, tapping the inverse stub on Wagon’s head, “inside head, not on.  Now you are like pony that may have mark; Kortan searches, we follow.”

        Horn.  His horn.  So simple a thing.  A special bone that has magic conduits in it.  Magic.

        Thaumic energy.  Energy from the aether.  Aether.  Power.  Strength.  Knowledge.  Ability.  Skills… Kills.  Murder.  Vengeance.  Loss.  Pain.  Misery.  Alone.  Insanity.  Death.  Darkness.  Light...

        “We are you home, mate.  I lay you bed, then get foods. Bengi'bals for you.”

        Wagon was alone again.  Time lost meaning as his thought spun in a nearly unending spiral as sleep finally came.  For the first time since he woke up days ago he felt sleep tugging at him and he smiled.

        He was standing on a hill overlooking his home city of Baltimare.  He smiled at the city he rembered.  The sky was yellow and the grass was blue, just as it had always been.  The scent of blood wafted through the air and made him smile as an icy breeze washed over him.  The stench of rotting flesh made his nose twitch in eagerness.

        “Just like mom used to make,” he said smiling.

        He looked behind him and a beautiful lake of thick yellow sperm flowed.  A young filly played at the edge with a horn…  He froze.  His horn.  Why was his horn all the way over there?  He needed it back.  Empty.  Alone.  Sad.  He needed it back.

        He turned to trot down the hill to the little mare who was kicking the horn amongst the blue grass but stopped as she took notice of him.

        She turned her face to him… No, not a face.  It was missing.  A disfigured hole in her head was now facing him.  A shrill shriek came from the filly as it raised to four legs and began to trot at him.

        He watched and cocked his head as it approached, its shrill noise ebbing at it came to a stop before him… his horn lodged where it’s muzzle should have been, pointing at him.

        He opened his mouth and began to vomit various items from food to what he recognized as childhood toys of his as he spoke. “Little pretty filly, who are you.  And, why is horn?”

        “Scrrreeeeaaaeerrrr,” it replied before the horn fell into the blue grass.

        The horn stood tall and glowed an unreal green as she backed up, turned, and galloped into the thick yellow sperm, quickly drowning silently beneath its slow waves.

        “Me.  Horn.”

        He walked to it, a mere few paces before he tripped and landed on it.  He felt happy.  Like a piece of him was returned as he tasted blood and cold meat in his mouth, running down his throat.

The flavor of mother’s milk.

The scent of her baking.

The feel of the grass.

The blood red sun in the sky.

A perfect day to…  Live?  Die?  Smile?  Cry?

Slave to freedom or freedom through slavery?

Where is Celestia?  Why hasn’t she freed me?

Why hasn’t she done anything besides watch me in my pain?

My misery.

My violations…

        Wagon woke in the center of the enormous table in the warehouse with Kortan looking at him, his centaur beside him, holding him close.  The sound of miserable ponies in cages surrounded them.

        “So, little minion.  You say he went to sleep and began speaking in the language of demons?  This little unicorn is full of surprises.  You have chosen a great mate to bring home, your father will be pleased.”

        Klothur grinned at the praise, replying hastily in their language.

        “Yes, yes.  I will conduct the ceremony after our task is complete and He is pleased.  Until then, let us see what your mate has to say, he awakens.”

        Klothur squealed in glee at the one open eye of Wagon’s, pulling him into a tight hug.

        “Hm, your name is worthless to me and therefore I will not remember it.  You are the mate to my minion here,” he said in a deep smooth voice, “and he says you speak in demon while asleep?  Is this true?”

        Klothur replied and Wagon watched as Kortan frowned.

        “Ah, you’re the one I turned the horn on.  I thought you dead, or at least on your way.  You are worthless to me and I am annoyed seeing you again.  Klothur, allow me to have one game with him before I let him return with you.”

        Klothur hesitated before nodding and moving away.

        “Return to your duties.  You have neglected them enough.  It will be here when you return.”

        A firm nod and a deep kiss was all Wagon received before the centaur galloped to the edge of the table and jumped down, out of sight.

        “So, little unicorn with your horn in your brain…  You lived to mock me?” Kortan said quietly, “I will have one game with you…  I want to see your ribs.”

        Wagon felt his heart beat slower as he laid his head down.  He understood he was to going to finally die, he was ready.

        The sound of something metal scraped against stone.

        The sound of ponies crying, screaming in pain, or mumbling prayers washed through him as he closed his eyes.

        He felt his broken leg first.

        A sharp pain at his knee that slowly slid up to his back.

        A sharp pain that screamed in agony from his front left leg to the center of his back and down.

        The knife bumping along his vertebra until it met the first incision.

        He screamed in his mind as the blade slowly worked its way under his skin and something pinched him, tugging slowly as the knife cut his hide away from his meat.

        “Ah, so there they are…  So many ribs, so white and pure.

WHITE AND PURE.

Celestia.NOT.  Save.  Me!

His eyes opened and he remembered what he forgot.

        He was a unicorn.

        Unicorns use magic.  Cast spells.  Do things no others can.

        And right now, he wanted only one thing.

        To violate Celestia.

        He focused and cast a spell he didn’t know if he knew or not, but it felt right… He cast a sphere of fire around himself, burning Kortan’s fingertips.

        With a yell, Kortan flinched back, dropping his knife and tweezers, Wagon’s flesh flap falling to the table with a slap as he began to rise; black and green smoke scorching his legs.

        He was going to hold her down and penetrate her.

        He was going to break her legs while she tried to escape.

        He was going to remove her wings while he violated her face.

        He was going to have her watch as he forced others to eat unborn foals.

        After she was violated to his satisfaction, he would move to another.

        Then another.

        Then another.

        Until every pony felt his pain.

        Until every pony had been violated.

        He felt a force above him and looked up to see a hammer, of sorts, smacking his shield.  His eye followed the handle to Kortan’s hand.

        The first he would violate.

No, that honor went to his husband, his lover.

Klothur.  The love of his life, who would stand by his side while he violated.

Wagon the Violator and Klothur the Centaur.

        “Kllth,” he said as his throat burned.

        “Die, you diseased failure,” Kortan grunted, striking again with the mallet.

        “Kllth?  Ooo?” he called as his tongue lolled from his mouth.  Looking around as his vision faded to black.

        Wagon was beginning to panic, making the heat grow outside the shield, beginning to scorch the table and driving Kortan back a step in reflex as a heat wave washed across his chest.

        Wagon winced as his flesh tore from its own weight as he rose from the table several inches, the blood that was beginning to ooze was held in by the black fire that surrounded his legs and began to climb his body.

        Wagon closed his eyes and remembered the beautiful filly.  The purple sky.  The red grass.  The grey water.  The black sun that warmed him with it’s radiant green aura.  Everything was just as it should be, just as he remembered it.

        A smile crossed his face as the black fire engulfed him, singeing his hide of all its fur and cauterizing the wound across the left side of his body.  It continued until he was completely charred, his flesh as black as charcoal and flaking and cracking as he moved.

The scent made even Kortan’s stomach threaten to empty as he watched in fearful awe, the few seconds it took was inspiring and terrifying at the same time.

        Klothur scrambled up the table and looked at the ball of fire which had turned a vibrant green with wisps of black smoke.  The fire died suddenly and the charred hairless flesh smoked as Wagon turned, still hovering by his magic, toward Klothur.

        Wagon’s face cracked as a smile formed, black steam hissing from various parts of his body as green fire dripped from his mouth.

Klothur took a hesitant step back, glancing toward Kortan whose mouth hung open.

        “Kllth!” Wagon called, his voice as damaged as his flesh; rough and gurgling as he breathed in excitement to see his mate with his new catlike green eye while the other swirled, filled with black smoke.

        “W-wh-wh-?”

        Before he could finish the word, Wagon was inches from his face, eliciting a scream of panic from the small centaur who scrambled back from the pony who transversed the table length in nearly the blink of an eye.

        A strong grin crunched across Wagon’s face as black smoke engulfed them both, whisking them back along the path Wagon had once feared, to his room and through the crack in the door before they reformed in a puff of green fire.

        Klothur tumbled to the floor gasping for air before looking back and taking a fighting stance, ready to punch then kick at the creature before him.

        “Kllth, Wnn.”

        “...Wagon?  What Kortan, DO?!”

        Another cracking noise as Wagon smiled and the smoke focused around his legs, landing him to the floor and aiding his walk towards Klothur.  His entire body seemed to be steaming and cracking and his features brightened, as best they could, sending a wave of nausea through the centaur.

        “Kllth. Wnn. Nove mngk.”

        “Oh.  Uh, um…  No, is okay… No make love, see healer, now.”

        Wagon’s features fell and a cracking sound came from his legs as he levitated into the air, his one eye glowing green. “Kllth.  Wnn. Nove mngk,” he said chewing on his tongue as he tried to speak.

        A look of disgust was what Wagon received.  “No.”

        ““Kllth. Wnn. Nove mngk!”  Wagon growled before black smoke coated the floor, solidifying into a heavy crust that stuck Klothur’s legs to the floor. “Kllth. Wnn. Nove mngk,” he said smiling slightly as he hovered behind the creature.

        “No, no touch me!  Help,” he yelled as he felt sharp prickles along his hips. Looking back he saw Wagon mounting him, to his horror he glanced at the rough, jagged, blistered, huge  member swaying under Wagon just before it vanished beneath him.  “No, please, no!  Augh. Augh... Augh~!”

        He grunted in pain as he was penetrated by Wagon’s burning hot member; his seasoned experience in a herd of males was meaningless against the large and painful sensation burning inside him with each thrust.  The sound of crunching flesh behind him and the feel of it crumbling onto his back sent him into a panic as he turned and tried to push, punch, hop, and wiggle free.

        Every movement encouraged Wagon to move faster and press deeper until, after only a minute, he finished and collapsed onto Klothur’s trembling back, his skin scratching cuts into Klothur’s horse back.

        “Mate done, now, leave me body, please,” he stated without looking back.

        The squishing, crunching sound that was made:  The feeling was unlike any Klothur had felt as Wagon pulled out; he shuddered as he felt something brush the back of his rear leg.  Wagon floated in front of him and reared to show his cock.

        The yells and shouts of disgust from Klothur resounded through the entire area of the building as he looked at the bleeding, skinless dick waving in front of his face.

Wagon began happily swinging it and sent blood across Klothur’s face before he lowered to eye level, just outside Klothur’s reach.

        A smile on his muzzle and a tear in his eye, Wagon spoke.

        “Wnn, Kllth, nate. G’in.”

        Klothur’s eyes widened as he realized what was said.  He shook his head vigorously.  “No, no mate again,” he said as Wagon floated behind him again.

Klothur looked back and retched a dry heave.  The skin from Wagon’s member was hanging from him, still inside his body, resting against his right rear leg like a used prophylactic…  Just as Wagon’s body blocked the disgusting view and returned behind the trapped centaur, grabbed his hips again, this time using the smoke which burned the centaur.

The burn was persistent, as was his screaming in pain, as Wagon entered Klothur again, grumbling happily.

        Klothur sobbed as he stood, unable to move from the painful assault from behind him.  He held himself, arms tight across his body as he felt the blood running down his legs and the bumpy, rough member entering him until Wagon’s balls slapped against his.  The guttural noises grew deeper as the crunching grew more distant between thrusts until a final push signalled the end of their third and final session.

        The black cloud puffed and evaporated beneath them and Klothur fell to the floor, disgusted.

He vomited.

        He wept as he felt Wagon lay on his back and grumble contently.

        He didn’t want to look back at the creature that he had loved, that had changed so suddenly, that had just hurt him in such a disgusting way, but he had to see.

        He felt his stomach cramp as he vomited again after what he saw.

        Red, blistered skin covered most of Wagon where his char had rubbed off and coated his horse back in a black dusting.

Blood pooled lightly beneath Wagon as he dozed to sleep, a smirk on his blistered and red face, blood oozed slowly from cracks across his body as the green fire seemed to burn inside him, replacing the blood he lost in a never ending cycle.

My love.

My husband.

My life.

By my side.

Wagon the Violator and Klothur the Centaur.

Together, forever.

Wagon the Violator