What They All Want

Milkshake tossed her curly, chocolate brown hair and, with eyes glowing a matching shade of brown, stared lovingly at the stallion in front of her. A small smile played at her lips and cast small dimples under each eye. Scoundrel gazed back with his sea green eyes that contrasted against Milkshake’s cream-colored coat. He was leaning forwards eagerly, each hoof supported on Milkshake’s thigh. Milkshake blinked down at his hooves, thinking them a little too close to her nethers for her comfort, but she pushed the thought away and brought her head back up to look at Scoundrel again. Suddenly, he pushed in and kissed her. As usual, she was a little startled by the ferocity of his embrace, but she brought her hooves up to his navy blue mane and relaxed.

His hooves strayed from her back, to her cutie marks, to her neck, then back to her belly, exploring. Hating how he couldn’t keep still, she kept her hooves behind his neck and simply kissed back. That simple gesture was enough to spur the stallion on and he invaded her mouth’s privacy with a searching tongue. Milkshake resisted him for a moment, and then allowed him to explore her depths as he wished with a soft sigh that went unnoticed by her partner.

Not ten minutes before, Scoundrel had showed up at Milkshake’s little house unannounced. Delighted by his surprise visit, she had allowed him into her bedroom for what had been one of the first times, as she knew that the stallion’s huge libido often led to things she didn’t quite approve of in the bedroom. But, she had let her guard down and was now facing him, sitting on her bed, engaging in an activity that she wasn’t sure she approved of, but was slowly beginning to enjoy.

Slight pressure on her shoulder, dealt by Scoundrel’s hoof, brought her back to the present. Her mind had switched into pilot mode and she was startled when he pushed her back onto the bed. He was still kissing her, their bodies now horizontal, and Milkshake’s eyes were stretched wide open. Feeling threatened, she moved a hoof from his neck and put it on his chest, trying to urge him off. Scoundrel wouldn’t budge and she panicked, turning her head away from his. He followed, kissing her again. Tears formed at Milkshake’s eyes as she realized just how much power he now had over her. She twisted to the side with a squeak and he fell off with a surprised gasp.

Milkshake sat up quickly, arms behind her, staring at Scoundrel over the edge of her bed with a tearful gaze wrung with astonishment. He looked up at her, and she could tell that the stallion was just as confused as she was, but for his own reasons. After a moment of silence, Milkshake fighting tears, they both stood simultaneously. Milkshake stumbled off the bed, keeping well away from Scoundrel. Taking a moment to straighten her hair with a huff, she glanced at him with rage in her eyes.

“You’d better go. It’s getting late.” She said curtly, voice devoid of emotion.

Scoundrel blinked at her, and then silently crossed to the door. Something wild flashed in Milkshake’s eyes and she backed away from him. He paused, gazing at her, wondering if he could get so much as a goodbye. After a moment of disappointment, he disappeared out of her bedroom door. Milkshake waited for the click of her front door before allowing herself a shaky breath, and then rushed to the door to lock it behind him. The tears came before she could stop them, and she collapsed onto the floor in a shaking heap. Where had the sweet colt she had fallen in love with months ago gone?

The sun streamed sharply past blue curtains, turning Milkshake’s coat a similar blue. She opened her eyes and stretched, shaking her mane to work the haze out of her mind. With a dismissing sniff at the previous night’s events, she tossed her covers to the side and rolled out of her bed. She rubbed a hoof across one eye, sitting Lyra-style on the side of her bed, before hopping up to take a quick shower and, hopefully, arrive at work on time.

Milkshake had made a decision in the early hours of the morning. As she stood by the counter at the smoothie store she worked at, she considered this hard decision.

“Hey,” A voice tore her from her thoughts, and she turned to blink at Scoundrel, who stood on the other side of the counter. He always came to visit her in the mornings before going to his own job as a construction worker, though normally not this early. Milkshake hadn’t even expected him to come this morning, after the events of the previous night.

“Hello, welcome to Blended Berries,” She greeted him, putting on a steely smile, treating him like a simple customer. After a second of silence, Milkshake sighed. “Step outside with me for a second.”

Scoundrel frowned heavily, but consented and followed her out into the front of the building. They stood in silence, watching the ponies trot by awkwardly. Their relationship had never been awkward before, and Milkshake realized that most likely, it wouldn’t ever be the same as it had been at the start. This thought just reinforced her decision, even though it brought a painful lump to her throat.

Milkshake turned to the stallion waiting impatiently for her to speak. “I can’t do this anymore.” She breathed.

Scoundrel stared at her for a moment, as if expecting more. When it didn’t come, he fixed Milkshake with a glare. “So that’s all I get?” He growled. Milkshake was taken aback by the ferocity that burned in his aquamarine eyes. “You wimp out because you ‘can’t do’ with me?” He turned and lashed out with a powerful back hoof, knocking over the table behind him and sending napkins flying across the front of Blended Berries. “Well buck you!” He yelled, and then stomped into the crowd bubbling through the marketplace.

Milkshake stared after him, pain twisting across her face and furrowing her brows. ‘Would he ever hurt me like that?’ She wondered, and then shook her head with a sad sigh. She turned and trotted back to her post at work.
“What was all that?” Her coworker, Amethyst, looked out the window and at the table, upended by Scoundrel’s rage. Her happy voice sent hot waves of anger shooting up Milkshake’s spine.
Suddenly fighting tears again, Milkshake slipped behind the counter and looked at an order set by her station. “Nothing, Amethyst. Could you pick that table up for me? I need to fill this order.”

Milkshake lay on her couch, staring at the ceiling. Threads of doubt trailed through her brain; should she have discussed her problem with Scoundrel before ending their relationship? Was he angry? Had she been too brash? It had been three months, and he did deserve more than a simple, “I can’t do this.”
She bolted upright as a ‘thunk’ on the window shattered the silence she was cloaked in. Eyes stretched wide, she stared out the window, waiting for some movement to invade her vision. When nothing had moved for some time, she gingerly stood up, not wanting to startle whatever was waiting outside her window. With a deep, shaky breath, Milkshake leaned into the window and glanced out. Seeing nothing, she angled her vision down to see if something had been thrown at her window. She gasped, backed up, and tripped over her own tail. With a “Oomph!” she landed on her backside.
There was a little bird with a broken neck below her window.
Milkshake shook her head, ridiculing herself for being spooked so easily. It was only a dead bird. Though she was upset that it had died, she figured that if it was stupid enough to break its neck on a solid pane of glass, the world was better without the creature. Wanting to rid her house of the dead bird, she trotted to the bathroom to find the rubber gloves she kept in the medicine cabinet. Milkshake couldn’t bring herself to touch something dead with her bare hooves, as squeamish as she was.
The bathroom was dark, and she fumbled for a moment to find the switch. She threw it up and with a loud “Pop!” the light bulb blew. With a squeak of surprise, Milkshake darted in and ripped open the cabinet, using the dull light streaming from the living room lamp as a guide. Feeling the inside of the cabinet, she stood on the tips of her hooves to reach for the top row where she kept the gloves.
The loud hum of her burglar alarm cranked on just as she found the gloves. Milkshake screamed in surprise, falling over backwards and flinging the gloves into the hallway during her short descent. Landing on her rump for the second time that day, she wasted no time in ridiculing herself and rushed forwards, crawling like an infant.
She peeked around the side of the bathroom doorway, eyes stretched wide and heart pounding uncomfortably. Nothing seemed out of place, so she inched forwards another few steps. The pulsing screech of her alarm nipped at her ears and she cringed. With eyes even wider than before, she stared at the door. It swung on its hinges, open wide and swaying in the cold night breeze. Milkshake took a unsteady breath and stood back up on all four hooves, then tip-toed forwards. She paused for a moment, looking around, and then slammed the door shut and secured the lock in place. Moving to the side, she reached up with a shaking hoof and clicked the alarm off.
Milkshake turned around quickly, scanning the living room for anything out of place. A deep pang of dread caused her heart rate to spike as she realized the danger of her situation. She shook violently, sweat beading on her brow. An object in the corner of the room behind the fireplace caught her eye and she darted forwards, leaving the safety of the wall to plunge through her open living room. She scooped up a wrought iron fire poker and held it in her mouth, clumsily poised as a weapon.
Every dark corner held something terrible, it seemed to the mare. Watching her back with a fearful eye, she nervously trotted forwards and flicked the light switch on. The room was illuminated further and her eyes darted around desperately. Nothing. She trotted around the room, scanning under the tables, behind the couch, and in the corners. Relieved, she turned to assess the kitchen.
Milkshake flipped on the light switch just inside of the kitchen door. She held her breath and her eyes searched the room; again, nothing was hiding in the dark. Suddenly, she heard a soft click. Her burglar alarm buzzed out again, louder than before it seemed. With a startled yip, she sprinted into the living room and stared at the door, forgetting to breathe. It was wide open again, the lock undone. She cried out, wondering how somepony had undone the lock from the outside, and why they were toying with her. The fire poker hit the ground with a clang as she dropped it in her stupor, startling herself. Milkshake darted forwards, slammed the door shut, suppressed the alarm in one fluid motion, and then slid down the back, plopping onto the floor. A wild sob escaped her throat and she was suddenly crying and shaking like a little foal.
After a few moments filled with her bawling in fear, Milkshake realized how burnable she currently was. The mare grabbed the fire poker, hopped up, and dashed into her room. She pressed her body against the wall for protection, and then slid the light switch up. Light illuminated the darkness, and, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she scoured her room like a watchdog. Everything was in place. All that was left to search was the closet, and then she would be satisfied that she was completely alone. Trembling with fear, Milkshake quickly turned and locked her door. Nothing was getting in or out.
Silently, as if not to alert whatever could be hiding in the closet, she crept forwards, stemming her tears with a quiet sniff. Reaching forwards, she paused, her hoof hovering over the silver knob. She flung the door open, and then darted away. Lying on the floor, she panted, watching desperately with her heavy fire poker clasped tightly in her jaw. Nothing emerged from the eerie darkness that her closet held at bay. Slowly, Milkshake crept forwards and peeked around the open door. Her books and the spare dress or two, reserved for the gala, greeted her from the back of her closet. Satisfied with the emptiness, she closed the closet door and trotted to her bed. She was still shivering madly, but forced herself to relax for a moment. She laid her makeshift weapon by her, but kept an unsteady paw on it.
Something on her bed caught her eye and her head snapped up to get a good look. Milkshake whimpered with desperation. On her bed was a bloody hoof print, staining the white sheet with a fresh red. She could not tear her eyes from the blemish; somepony had been in her room.
She scooted off the bed and sat on the floor, back against the wall. Tears were rolling down her cheeks anew and a cold terror gripped her heart, squeezing the blood out until she could no longer take a steady breath. Milkshake wanted Scoundrel here, with her; she would give anything to have his company now.
Something moved outside her bedroom window. Milkshake’s eyes stretched wide and she stared at the dark figure looming outside. The only thing separating her from this pony was a thin sheet of glass, and she had left her weapon on the bed. She told herself to jump up, to reach for the weapon, but she was frozen in terror.
Her breath came ragged and loud. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the dead bird with the broken neck fluttering in her chest, trying desperately to get out. A loud crack pierced her room and she moaned as the glass on her window was wrought with long, spider-webbing cracks. Another crash and the glass shattered, casting sharp shards of glimmering glass across the room. Pain flashed along Milkshake’s cheek in a streaking line and she felt warm blood bubble from the wound. But as the dark figure lithely jumped through the window, the gash blemishing Milkshake’s cream coat became the least of her concerns.
The stallion standing just inside her window had a strikingly familiar blue coat and mane that Milkshake had no trouble putting a name to; Scoundrel, her ex. She blinked at him, mouth wide, unable to produce any intelligible words save for a high-pitched squeak.
He took a step forwards and Milkshake scrambled back, scooting into the corner. She was helplessly trapped.
Scoundrel leaped over the bed and landed with heavy hooves in front of Milkshake. No longer able to contain the fear coursing through her brain and down her spine, she felt her bladder release itself without her consent. The sharp smell filled the room as Scoundrel progressed until he was right in front of Milkshake. He suddenly turned and lashed out with a hoof, catching Milkshake in the head in a way similar to how he had kicked the table at Blended Berries. Milkshake cried out, and then swooned as the world darkened in front of her. She lapsed into unconsciousness and slumped to the floor.

Milkshake slowly blinked her eyes open. She felt oddly relaxed and at ease, and she gazed around at her room with a small smile. As soon as she had turned all the way to the right, she paused on a pony standing to the side, watching her with conviction. Her smile dissipated and she frowned, blinking the haze from her eyes. She huffed, frustrated. Why was she so confused, numb, and sluggish? After a long moment, her mind finally decided to turn its gears and spit out an answer. That was Scoundrel, sitting by her locked door; watching her like a father might watch a child he was disappointed in.
Cocking her head, she calmly wondered what Scoundrel was doing there, and why she hadn’t slept in her bed. She was on the wall, hanging. Like a bat, her drugged mind added, and she giggled.
Scoundrel’s patient gaze broke into a maddened glare and he trotted over to her with a snarl on his lips. He shoved his muzzle in her face and yelled, “Why are you laughing?”
Milkshake blinked, hurt by his sharp tone, and then looked around. Her window was broken. That was what Scoundrel had climbed through… She gasped as realization suddenly dawned on her. She had broken up with him, and he had broken into her house. With a grunt, Milkshake struggled against the wall, but she couldn’t even loosen its grip on her. Looking down, she noticed that her hind legs were cemented to the wall; splashes of grey behind each joint, contrasting with her blue walls. Her front legs were in the same situation, and she assumed with a jolt of dread that her whole body had been glued to the wall.
Squirming, Milkshake let out a cry of frustration as she realized that she was stuck, with no way out. Tears sprung to her eyes and she looked up at Scoundrel, who was watching her with a smile.
“Like my design?” He laughed, his voice sounding high and maniacal, sending shivers of fear down Milkshake’s spine. Strutting forwards, he stood on his back hooves and put his front hooves on the wall beside her; one on each side of her cutie marks. He lifted his right hoof and traced the line of her ribcage, made discernible by her body being awkwardly stretched by its own weight. “Now, just to figure out how to deal with you further…”
Eyes wide, Milkshake stared down at him and wondered at her fate. She shook in short spasms, as it was hard to move while being cemented to the wall. She hated being at the liberty of anypony; Scoundrel now had complete control over her to every extreme.
Scoundrel wondered away from her slowly, having no need to hurry. Obviously enjoying his position of power, he walked to a bag that was stashed in the corner and opened it.
Milkshake’s screams split the silence like a hot knife through flesh. Scoundrel jerked up, glaring at her.
“Now, that won’t do.” He commented loudly, having to raise his voice to be heard over her pleas for help. Drawing a small knife from his bag, he turned to her. Milkshake fell silent and began crying fresh tears.
Slipping the knife handle into his mouth, he strode over to her, stopping in front of her close enough to rear up and put his front legs on the wall again. He leaned close and mumbled softly through the leather handle, “We can’t have you making a commotion.” Propping himself up on his hind legs, he used his front hooves to pry her mouth open. Milkshake let out anther scream, thrashing her head back and forth in defiance.
But the stallion was strong, and he soon had her mouth open wide. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she sobbed openly, moaning through his hooves, “Why?”
Scoundrel slipped the sharp blade in her mouth and smoothly plowed through her tongue. He kissed her around the blade, then pulled back as she spat out the muscle and screamed loud enough for Scoundrel to cringe. Her scream was cut off by the gurgling of liquid in her throat and her head lolled as blood streamed down her front. As sharp slices pain coursed like lighting through her whole face, Milkshake was forced to fight for each breath through the pain and blood.
Scoundrel propped her head back with a smile, and blood filled her throat. She coughed but was unable to draw a breath through the warm, red liquid. Her chest tightened and she squirmed, groaning in pain and trying to get free and breathe. After a long, breathless moment, she felt something sticky on the side of her face. Scoundrel’s blue hoof silently slid over her face, pressing the duct tape around her mouth. She tried to spit out the blood one last time, but without a tongue that was impossible.
Milkshake panted through her nose, but with each breath in, blood trailed into her lungs and clogged her throat. Terror gripped her heart, and she realized that Scoundrel really was trying to kill her. And he would succeed.
She thrashed again, hoping to somehow loosen the concrete holding her to the wall. This desperate attempt only irritated the liquid in her mouth and caused more to flow into her lungs. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her breathing got shallower and shallower. Milkshake was drowning in her own blood.
Scoundrel watched smugly as the mare’s efforts to escape slowly grew stagnant. He sat back on her bed, watching calmly until his ex could hardly draw a breath. The blood would be filling her lungs, rendering her incapable of drawing a full breath.
“Because I can’t have you, so nopony will.”