The theater was packed, the seats were filled, and the red curtains were cracked ever so slightly as an anxious earth pony peeked through at all the well-to-do stallions and their high class slave mares. It was perhaps one of the most cliche traditions that anyone ever did on opening night of a play, but the routine did seem somewhat exhilarating.
Plays in Equestria were receiving a lot of attention since the caribou took rulership of Equestria away from the undeserving alicorn trifecta of Princess Celestia, Luna, and Cadence, with many of the previous classics altered and rewritten to become more tantalizing for the now sexually liberated pony populace. Of course that also applied to anything that showed copious amounts of tits and ass bouncing about unrestrained, but the ritzy ponies of Canterlot did love to keep up the facade that they had standards above everyone else's, when they would as soon as stick their dick in the ass of some used up, broken purple collar bitch as they would a mare the caliber of an alicorn.
To an artist like Brush Stroke, that didn’t really matter though. All that mattered was approval and artistic creativity. It didn’t take much to please ponies nowadays, since one could just use history as an adlib and come up with some sort of success, but to really knock the socks off of ponies took effort, a good idea, and a bit of money. Until a week prior, Brush only had the first part of that, and when Hearth’s Warming Eve passed, they acquired the second part. With both of those, all that was left was getting the funding for a play. When Princess Celestia was in charge of Equestria, it was hard to pitch a fresh, risky idea to a bunch of investors, but with the caribou in charge, it seemed that all one had to do is say “I’m making a play that shows how stupid women are compared to men” and the ponies would toss their wealth around like horseshoes at a stick, ensured their investment would be returned.
Taking one last peek through the curtain, the earth pony made sure that the king was in his seat, and not only was he there, but so was the entirety of the caribou council. Brush Stroke couldn’t ask for a better source of advertisement. Sure, the entire building wasn’t flooded with ponies like the previous week during the Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant, but that was actually a good thing. Brush Stroke didn’t want to be responsible if a fire or something of the like happened. The money they borrowed wasn’t quite enough to cover things if they became liable for a health hazard.
The earth pony took a deep breath, knots forming in their nerves. This was the kind of play that could make or break a pony, and if it was a flop, then it was over. Everything was accounted for though. The props were the best one could get on a small budget, they story was written to perfection, and it contained enough sex to satisfy the lust of a platoon of caribou stags. The production had to be a hit.
“Places everyone!” Brush Stroke said to the mostly female cast and crew, having only a couple handful of stallions on staff, since it was much cheaper to pay the owners of the girls a literal slave wage than it was to hire actual actors, “We are about to start! If one of my actresses has so much as a hair out of place, I’ll make sure that they don’t get fucked for a week!”
That got the attention of all the actresses that were going to be on stage, each reds whose only aspiration in life was where their next orgasm came from. Unfortunately most of them were so stupid that they could barely remember a line, so a few black collars had to be hired to voice act for them as another cost cutting effort. Brush was worried that with their abominable reputation for disobedience, that they’d have to be beat into saying the lines given, but they were all uncharacteristically compliant to the whole thing once they got a good look at the script. No need to look a gift mare in the mouth though, and as long as they obeyed it just made things easier.
“Now, just send out our special guest, and we’ll be ready to get this started.” Brush Stroke said, monologuing aloud to no one in particular before walking off to find said guest.
Everyone in the crowd was on pins and needles as they patiently waited for the play to begin. Since it was opening night, no one was truly certain what to expect. The only thing that they knew was that it was advertised as a “light-hearted interpretation of historical Equestrian events”, the name of the pony who made it, and that the title “Summer in Equestria for Caribou” was unlike any of the other satirized titles of recent plays, whose names were more akin to the original plays they were based on. Nothing had been leaked, and all the slaves participating in the play had been rented from their owners for a full week in order to maintain complete secrecy. For being something tossed together on the spur of the moment, it sparked a lot of intrigue simply on the merit that no one knew what to expect, except for a copious amount of sex acts that had no concepts of restraint or dignity, since all plays since the caribou took over featured that.
The first surprise of the night came quickly as a pure white unicorn with pink hair and a rounded belly stepped out onto the stage, holding a booklet in one hand and a microphone in the other. The applause from the audience followed just as quickly as everyone instantly recognized the mare as the practically perpetually pregnant red collar porn star pony, Fleur De Lis. Her mere presence was enough to excite the crowd. It didn’t matter that she had no theatrical background, talent as an actress, or extensive skill at speaking in front of a crowd. The only assets she needed to satisfy the viewers was a pretty face that they could easily recognize.
Fleur gave her little waves to her adoring public, making sure they got a good look at all her best features, before stopping center stage and looking down to open the booklet she held. She was just as clueless as everyone else attending, having just been rented from her master, Fancy Pants, for the opening night to add a bit of flare to it. Her job wasn’t hard though, all she was told to do was read what was given to her, pay attention to the cues, and act as narrator for the story. It was the easiest job she could get. Even the most brain dead mare in Equestria could do it, given they hadn’t had the ability to read fucked right out of their skull.
“Esteemed masters of Equestria,” Fleur said into the microphone as she read her script, “We welcome you all to this presentation, written and directed by Brush Stroke, earth pony artist and thespian. Tonight you will be privy to a creative interpretation of recent Equestrian history, and given further proof that all females of everywhere are nothing but ignorant, sex-craving whores who can only exist as loyal and dedicated slaves to their masters who dutifully guide them through their pathetic existence.”
Some small male chuckles, as well as a few overwhelming female groans, came from the statement. It was hardly anything they hadn’t heard before, but for some reason those kind of words coming from the lips of a red collar always frustrated the more resilient mares and got a positive response from the men.
Not really giving two shits about the opinion of mares who were beaten and raped on a day to day basis, Fleur basked in the approval of the many stallions with eyes trained only on her. Maybe if she played this part right, she’d be able to get a bit of time in the dressing room with some of her adoring fans. She might have had a baby in her belly, but she was still the most attractive pony present, and she did enjoy a game of “Full Contact Crotch Tag”, rapidly going back and forth on who was “it”.
“So, without further ado, we present….. ‘Summer in Equestria for Caribou’”
The light in the theater faded till all that was left was a dim radiance that allowed for only the silhouettes of those seated to be seen. With the room in near darkness, Fleur left the stage, followed closely by the curtains as they parted to reveal the set piece behind them. The appearance of green hills, wooded forests, and a small village was the first thing to greet the eyes of the audience. The set dressings were… a little slipshod, but no more than normal decor for something like this, and it wasn’t like that was what the audience was worried about. It could have the production value of an elementary school play and no one would give a damn as long as the raunchiness factor was cranked to eleven.
They were not disappointed with the first thing that they laid their eyes upon. In fact, they were outright amazed by the spectacle that was greeting them. Roughly twenty caribou cows, coming from either side of the stage in a line of ten, walked out on stage in little bits of leather and metal adornments that no one would consider actual clothing, as they concealed only the slightest parts of their bodies, and looked as if they'd fall off should a light breeze blow on them. As the two rows converged, their various body types acted as a delightful example of the only thing a woman had to offer. A pair of breasts, some thick hips to grab onto, and a pussy that desperately, and visibly, wanted a man to stick his dick in it and send them into the throes of depravity.
It was the first time the audience had seen so many cows, or even a single cow, on stage. Most other plays focused on having celebrity guests as the actors, and caribou females were highly underutilized to begin with, only brought out from time to time to prove that they were the epitome of how a female should act, so seeing a play full of them was sure to be a memorable performance on the merit of their participation alone.
With all the cows in place, the orchestra started playing and the show began. To the amazement of everyone watching, the cows moved about, dancing to the upbeat tune, touching and groping one another in odd, uncoordinated choreography. It was like almost immediately escalated to an orgy of heavy petting and fingering one another, until over the speakers a chorus of female voices started singing.
“The caribou’s homeland had been destroyed, what a sad story~ They needed a new home where they restore their former glory~ Where could that place be~ Far across the sea~ That prosperous land, they could command, a place for you and me~”
The cows did their best to move their lips along with the song as they continued their dance, hardly mimicking the words that they were supposed to be singing, and some letting out a bleating moan as one of the others stuck their fingers just a little too far inside them. When the lyrics ended, so did the caribou’s caresses, remembering that this was one of their many cues they rehearsed over and over till it stuck. They separated from one another, running off stage, and with them so did a couple of the cardboard hills in the background, revealing an earth pony in traditional caribou battle attire.
“Annnnnndddddd nnoooowww iittts, Summer~ In Equestria~ For caribou~” He belted out, singing at the top of his lungs, “Lindisbarne, is not far, awaaaaayyyy~ Females will always know their place~ Stuffing, penis inside their face~ Summer~ In Equestria~ For caribou~ Warm lips, wrapped around, your lance~ Summer~ In Equestria~ For caribou!~ Come on cock slaves, come show them, your dance.”
A chorus line of red collared mares bounced out from the side of the stage, each with their right ankles shackled to the left ankles of the mare next to them. Their wrists were similarly bound, and as they did their synchronized kicks, their chains rattled so loudly that it almost overpowered the ambient music. It was a humorous display, though unusual because of the attire the mares were wearing. Each of them were fully clothed, wearing unaltered shirts and concealing pants. It was a confusing choice to hide away all those delectable parts of these red collars, but this was looking to be a historical reenactment of the caribou’s landing in Lindisbarne, the first town they liberated on arriving in Equestria, and before they came around, mares did wear clothing. It wouldn’t take long for their outfits to end up tatters on the floor, and then everything would be exposed in their full glory. The only question was how much ‘glory’ they had, because these mares looked to be some of the most flat chested ones a stallion could find.
The red collars danced for several minutes, being incredibly flirtatious with the crowd despite not being depicted sexually in the least. They took every opportunity to shake their flanks, run their hands along their clothed forms, and blow the occasional kiss to those watching them. It was provocative in its own unique way, weirdly so since everything was left up to the stallion’s imaginations instead of being laid out for all to see. Some of the stallions were already at the point of removing their dicks from the boundaries of their dress pants, and have their chosen escort relieve their erections as they continued to watch this unique performance.
The music and dancing went on for a few minutes, with the caribou girls brought back mid musical number to grace the audience with their assets once more. Watching the combination of the clothed red collars and the stark naked cows dancing together, the superior caribou slaves laying hands on the mares freely, slipping hands into their button up shirts and down the beltline of the jeans they wore, feeling and groping the private parts covered up underneath. The whole thing was stimulating, to say the least, and the arousal of the stallions overcame any qualms they previously had with the attire the actresses were wearing.
As the music died down, all of the actors, mare and cow alike, left the stage. Likewise, the background set pieces were swiftly rolled out and at the same time replaced with new scenery that moved the story directly inside the city of Lindisbarne. A pair of pegasus stallions, a rather busty earth pony mare, and a unicorn mare wearing a paper mache horn over her forehead stump entered into the scene, and thus the play begun.
“How are the decorations coming along?” said the earth mare to the two pegasi flying above her.
The two stallions did their best to restrain their snickering. Though they were actors, the absurdity of the mare’s role was a bit too much for them. “Things are going along fine, mayor.” One managed to get out before turning away to hang up some prop ornaments.
The mare crossed her arms under her clothing contained buxom breasts. “Good, because we have some special guests arriving today, and everything will be perfect for them, or I’m not Mayor Top Kunt.”
“But mayor,” said the unicorn mare standing aside her, “The boats carrying your guests are coming into the dock right now.”
From behind the curtain, a small raft carrying a bunch of caribou was pushed into view, the small floating structure carrying so many of the cows that they were toppling over the side from being packed in too tightly.
“Well shoot,” Top Kunt said, flicking her hair, “I was hoping we’d have a few more hours to get the place looking nice. Anyways, please, make yourselves at home in our beautiful community.”
While many of the cows in the raft tried to assist the ones who had fallen out, one wearing a glowing bracer on one arm stood up from it, stepped out, and introduced herself directly to the mare mayor. “I am Vestria, second bitch under the mighty, and insatiably horny, Queen Diana.”
“NOW WAIT JUST A MINUTE!” yelled another cow, slightly bulkier cow as she stood up and stomped aside Vestria, “YOU KNOW THAT IT IS I, IVANA, WHO IS THE QUEEN’S SECOND BITCH!”
Vestria laughed, “Don’t you know by now that the queen prefers brains over brawn? And since I’m the one who knows how to count to five, that makes me second bitch.”
“NO!” Ivana continued to yell, “THE QUEEN PREFERS A STRONG WOMAN WHO CAN ENDURE A NIGHT OF UNRESTRAINED SEX WITHOUT CRYING ABOUT HOW MUCH THEIR VAGINA HURTS IN THE MORNING!”
“Bitch, you stupid,” Vestria said, turning her attention back to Top Kunt, “Now, if my sister is done flexing her pussy muscles, allow me to extend a hand of friendship to you and your people.”
The cow put out her open hand, and Top Kunt gladly took it up with a smile. “Here is to years of peaceful cooperation.”
The two gave each other a firm handshake, exchanging a smile as a symbol of their truce. They stayed in this awkward position for a short while, long enough to tell that gesture was being drawn out, and then finally released. Vestria then took a few looks around while the rest of the pony cast slowly walked into the spotlight.
The moment the ponies had gotten in one spot, the cow gave a heavy sigh. “You know what, this is boring. So instead of coming peacefully, we’re just going to take over the city. Everyone, surrender now, or else.”
“All of the ponies looked to one another, exchanging looks of worry and fright.” Fleur narrated over the loudspeaker, making sure that everyone was on the same page with what was going on, “They had no means of escape, or at least that is what most believed. However a few quickly realized a fatal flaw with the invaders’ plan.”
Suddenly, the male pegasi actors spread their wings out full span, and with a single powerful flap took to the sky, flying into the rafters and out of sight. A moment later, a few of them dive-bombed the group of caribou, knocking over both Vestria and Ivana before flying off out of sight once more.
Vestria, now flat on her ample rump, looked upwards. “Oh right, wings. How did I forget about those.” she said, giggling like a ditz, “No matter, we can stop them. You lot, follow after them. They are heading off towards that big white building off in the distance.”
A large bunch of the cows ran past the remaining female ponies, many tripping over their own hooves as they made attempt after attempt to stand back up after the pegasi bombarded them, having to do so again and again as the group fell over one another in their chase.
“Now that that’s out of the way, we will deal with the rest of you. Round up all of the remaining ponies here and strip them of those unsightly cloth things they’re wearing.”
Another force of caribou girls appeared, and surrounded the mares on stage. One by one, the ponies were grabbed and pulled them aside to be stripped of their easily removed, tear away garments.
“Hey! What about our deal!?” Top Kunt interjected as one of the caribou ‘warriors’ took her by the wrist, “You said that if I let you take the town, the mares would be spared!”
Every pony on stage let out a combined gasp of surprise at this revelation, with one then saying, “Top Kunt, you sold us out to these barbaric women?!”
“Well, yes!” Top Kunt replied, “But I had to! I had absolutely no other options, except for sending a bunch of pegasi off to tell someone it seems, but really, you expect a mare to come up with something as complicated as that?!”
“Curse your sudden, but inevitable betrayal!” the mare yelled as her shirt was being torn to rags. “This is what we get for having a woman run things!”
“Enough of your prattle,” Vestria said, walking up to the mare and slapping her across the face, “Take Top Kunt somewhere for safekeeping, she has served her purpose for now. As for the rest of you, the queen’s ship is coming, and you will pay your proper respects to her royal hiney.”
“Don’t you mean highness?”
“Apparently you’ve never seen the queen’s ass before.” Another boat was pushed on stage as Vestria finished her line, and with it’s arrival came eleven more caribou, each wearing distinctly unique scraps of leather, metal and cloth that made them stand out from the rest of the cows, as well as one another. “But you’ll be able to see the new object of your worship soon enough.”
A drawbridge lowered from the tiny boat, allowing a rather tall, by cow standards, caribou to step onto the wood floor of the stage. On first glance, anyone could see that this was the aforementioned ‘Queen Diana’. Her figure was astounding, with thick thighs, rounded hips, and breasts the size of small watermelons, all brought into an hourglass shape by a tightly tied corset. Her face bore naturally pouty lips, and her areolas were the size of newly minted bits, painted gold to make the comparison all the more easier. From her fully erect nipples fell a pair of likewise golden chains, all the way down to her clitoris, attaching to it by a large ring so that the three sensitive spots were connected together. Just below the swollen pierced clit, where the entrance of her pussy should have been exposed to the audience, was some sort of curved metal covering with a ribbed rod sticking out of the center of it. Finally, the whole ensemble was completed with a short, regal looking cape that stopped at the spot where her spine met her hip bone, keeping her deliciously plump rump visible for all to see.
The cow bore a cold expression, one that would earn a woman an immediate smack to the face under normal circumstances, and turned towards the captive, still mostly clothed mares. “Why are they not naked?” said the queen.
“Well I mostly blame Ivana,” Vestria explained, “She thought that she was second bitch-”
“I AM SECOND BITCH!” Ivana roared.
“And we started arguing about it.”
“And that is why these ponies aren’t muzzle deep in your snatches?” Diana asked, frustrated with how her two subordinates were openly bickering, yet incapable of getting either to stop.
“Well… no.” Vestria said, “We just got kinda distracted. There was this big-breasted pony, and she started saying stuff, and then I noticed this!” The cow lifted her glowing bracer to her queen. “Look at how it glows. It’s detecting some sort of magic!”
Diana put her hand over her face, “Vestria, how many times do I have to tell you. That armlet of yours glows when in the presence of any magic. It was glowing all the way across the ocean because of our own runes.”
“But this time it’s different,” Vestria declared as she waved the small piece of protective metal about.
“How so…?” Diana asked, knowing the answer would be in no way intelligent.
“This time I think it’s detecting pony magic.” The lesser cow replied, grinning ear to ear.
“Quite…” Diana replied deadpan, “But can we focus on our goal?”
“Right!” Vestria went over to a restrained red collar, and slipped her hand into the waistband of the her pants, “These have got to go!”
With a simple yank, the fragile seams of the loosely held together jeans broke apart, leaving nothing behind. The mare was finally exposed, full frontally, for everyone to see. The mare gave a full faced blush, almost matching the shade of the collar around her neck. It was rare to see a willing mare so embarrassed from being naked, more commonly seen on the face of some unwilling black collar, but it wasn’t her nudity alone that cause this reaction.
The moment her lower half was made visible, so too was the rather large dildo inside her pussy. Of course, any experienced mare wouldn’t have a problem with this either, except that the rubber phallus in her was of a rather peculiar shape. If one saw it outside of her body, they might just see it for what it was, a double ended dildo, but when partially inside a mare it looked quite a bit different. For starters, they weren’t able to see the ‘U’ shape of the toy, or how one side had a bulbous knot in the middle of it. Instead, all they saw was the other half that looked remarkably like a stallion’s manhood. This specially customized piece of rubber also had connected to its bottom part a sack-like compartment that could be filled with semen, which could be shot out the “cock end” when the woman wearing it squeezed down on the bulb inside her with the muscles in her vaginal passage, simulating a male ejaculation.
If that wasn’t enough, Brush Stroke had ordered them to be made in one solid color that was slightly off hue from the fur color of the mare. This made it so the object blended in enough that one could think that it was a part of the mare herself, but because of it not being a natural flesh color, they wouldn’t confuse her as a stallion about to be raped on stage. The removal of stage mare’s shirt revealed a heavy application of tape was wrapped around her chest, binding her tits as flat as they could get, the tape having to be likewise specially ordered to match closely to her fur color to keep up the theatrical illusion. The lumps she still had through the tape helped to assure no one would mistake her for male, but the way she appeared identified what her character was clearly meant to be. The remaining mares were similarly stripped down to their collars, and revealed to be likewise equipped to present them as oddly curvaceous stallions.
With her captives devoid of clothing, Queen Diana smiled at the bounty before her. “That’s much better. You all are so much more attractive with those dicks of yours out in the open.”
The mares all covered their rubber members, some having to feign a bit of humiliation for their role, while most were legitimately mortified being seen this way. If their masters saw them like this, it could be some time before they were able to look them in the eye without reliving this moment.
“W-who do you think think you are, doing this to us!?” One of the ‘stallions’ yelled at the callous caribou.
This immediately drew the attention of Queen Diana, and a split second later she was standing in front of the pony. While Diana and the mare were perhaps the same height, the pony was made to bend her knees ever so slightly to make the caribou look bigger, which allowed her to look up at the cow in terror.
“You wish to know who I am?” Diana said, reaching down to grab the rod sticking out from her crotch, and pulled on it until she had completely removed from her person. The part she was holding looked like a sword hilt with a pommel, but in place of a blade, it had an enormous dildo piece. The ‘weapon’ looked almost surreal in its absurdity, saturated in its entirety along its ‘blade’ in the caribou queen’s sexual fluids and inscribed with what looked to be caribou runes.
Diana placed the tip to the mare’s neck, and as she did, the stage lights dimmed, and a single spotlight shined down upon her. The orchestra took their cue, and begun to play the next song of the play.
“Silence, whelp~ Bow to me~ I’m the cow who’s ‘bout to bring you to your knees~ Silence whelp~ Raise your cock~ There’s no greater, dick tamer, on this rock~”
The cow stepped away from the mare, and turned her attention towards the audience itself. Parting her arms, with her phallic sword still in her grasp, she pushed aside any bits of her cape covering her front. Vestria, Ivana, and the other cows that accompanied Diana on the boat join her at the front of the stage, staying behind their leader while joining in as she continued her song.
“Everything I do, I do to screw~”
“Yes you do~”
“If you were looking for a whore, I came to you~ So silence whelps~ Coward in fear~”
“Look out!~”
“Cause I’m gonna stick my schlong sword in your rear~”
The entire building was bustling with laughter, and it had been that way for some time too. There was a bit of confusion at first, bouts of pure silence and awkward chuckling, but as the play went on and got increasingly worse and worse. It wandered into an area of being so bad, so outlandish, so uniquely terrible in the way that it chose to treat mares like mares should be treated while depicting this ludicrous world view of women, clearly stupid women, somehow conquering a village of men, that they couldn’t help but enjoy it.
Every pony there had a reason to find the production hillarious. The stallions liked it for the lovely cows trying their hardest to act like soldiers, and the ridiculous situation of a cow barbarian running a ragtag band of incompetent females who didn’t seem to have a thought in their head until it came to where and how they would get their next dicking. The mares that submitted to the regime were delighted to see the cows treated with less respect than they were, and comical antics they were displaying, while the the more rebellious mares were in a laugh riot over seeing their caribou oppressors depicted so poorly, even if these cows were only a loosely based parody of the stags who put them in the bonds of slavery.
Not everyone watching was pleased with what they were witnessing, however, as a band of stags brooded over the atrocities this play was committing. The caribou council seated in their private box, had found this all humourous until the boat full of female caribou arrived, about when the ponies laughter started. Now, they were watching in shock and awe as cows pranced around in scapes that they could now tell were suppose to represent caribou armor, being called by names that were clearly variations of their own, and making a mockery of their very first conquest in these lands.
“Dainn…. this is sickening.” Vestri declared to the caribou king, sitting beside him with his personal unicorn slave mare in his lap.
“They are allowing those mares and cows to act like men,” Ivangir said furiously, clutching the arm of his seat so tightly that it snapped in twain, “To act like us!”
“Is the one holding that square piece of foam on a stick supposed to be me?” Durnir said, spotting his womanly counterpart amongst the lipsyncing caribou females.
An elderly caribou male lended forward, “Whoever made this abomination is breeding insolence in our cows. It must be stopped immediately.”
Dainn glared in silent anger, the imagery before him disgusting every fiber of his being. Caribou cows that were depicted as warriors, ridiculing the accomplishments of his men and himself, playing out some farcical story that put males in a position of inferiority to creatures weaker and dumber than a man could ever be. Mares playing the roles of these men, their physical female traits disguised and hidden to make them look more masculine, with those deplorable phalluses allowing them to pretend they had penises instead of easily penetrable flesh holes.
In his time, Dainn had experienced insubordination. He had encountered stubbornness. Met face to face with insolence, and dealt with them all. This was new though. This went beyond all of those. If Dainn used the terminology, he might of called this blasphemous. Whatever it was though, it filled him with resentment and repulsion unlike anything any willful or rebellious mare had ever brought him to before.
After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Dainn replied to his men’s comments with a single word. “Indeed…” They were each completely founded in their indignation, the writer of this appling performance having absolutely no respect for the deeds they had done to make Equestria the powerful nation it was now. This needed to be put to an end, and perpetrator of such insult punished for their actions.
“Vestri, go put a stop to this, but do so in a subtle manner. We don’t need to cause a panic.”
Vestri nodded and shoved the unicorn mare in his lap off of him, his apprehension outweighing any concern he might have had for his pet pony. “I’ll go backstage and get them to shut this down. Then we can have a word with the mare who made this filth.”
With that, Vestri rushed off, leaving behind his king and compatriots to continue watching what little would be left for this soon to be canceled play.
“I hope that has answered any questions you had, you pathetic excuse for a male.” Diana spoke to the mare who had initiated her musical number.
“Not really....” the pony replied as her arms were chained to a post, looking incredibly dissatisfied, “It actually just made me think of a bunch of new questions because most of what you said didn’t make much sense. For starters-”
“Silence!” Diana yelled, once more throwing her weight around by point her massive cock sword at the mare’s mouth. “I don’t have any time to explain the logic behind the actions of myself and my followers. All you need to know is that in our culture, males are slaves that only exist to service our mighty cunts.”
“Queen Diana! Queen Diana!” A caribou carrying a foam smithing hammer ran aside the cow queen, looking distraught.
“What is it Durna, can’t you see that I’m trying to educate this male about his proper role in life?”
“I know, but this is important!” The cow exclaimed, revealing a bracelet sized metal ring, “The slave rings we use for our males are far too big for the puny penises of these ponies.”
“That is a problem…” Diana said, taking the ring so she could slip it around the fake phallus protruding from the pussy of her pony prisoner, finding enough space there to allow her fingers to reside within it as well with room to spare.
“Don’t you worry my queen,” the mallet wielding cow assured Diana, “I’ve already taken the liberty of using this town’s limited resources to make a fresh batch of cock rings. Not only that, but I also decided that instead of giving out generic rings to all our new boy toys, we should use a color system to separate those willing to obey from the ones who are too smart to follow the commands of stupid women like ourselves.”
“I’m surprised,” Diana replied, removing the ring in her hand from the plastic pony cock and tossing it aside, “That is the first good idea I’ve gotten out of one of you in… well, ever.” A pleased look grew over Diana’s face, but soon vanished as she added, “What did you do to mess this up?’
Durna turned rather meek, rather quick, and pulled out two rings from her pouch, one black and one red, “Well, I made it so the red rings, the ones for our willing stallions, would cause an immense, unending pain to the wearer. I didn’t really have to add that to them, I mean we never did before now and it worked out fine for us, but I just kinda wanted to see what would happen.”
“And the black rings?”
“They are for the unwilling slaves. They are really, really comfortable, and vibrate ever so slightly to make them feel really good.”
“Durna, you idiot. That’s just going to make the stallons want to stay as unwilling slaves. They aren’t dumb enough to subject themselves to a life of sexual torment just because we want them to.”
“Right…. but the longer they stay unwilling, the longer we get to rape them.”
“Well I do prefer rape over consensual sex... so good job Durna. You may make your rings with my blessing.”
The caribou cow gleefully skipped off stage, letting out little squeals at the approval given to her. Diana could only shake her head as she watched her subordinate leave. The inherent ignorance of her troops made them very easy to keep contented. “Speaking of rape, it is time for us to partake of the booty our conquest has rewarded us with.”
Diana turned back to the mare she had been speaking to since her entrance onto the stage, and snapped her fingers to a pair of her loyal soldiers. The two cows grabbed the mare by arms and collar in order to force the pony to bend forward.
“Wait!” she yelled in mock shock while she was turned on spot to present her ass to the crowd, “You can’t be serious!”
“My dear, dear stallion slave,” Diana spoke, licking the length of her glistening sword as she walked to one side of the mare, “I’ve never been more serious. Can’t you tell?”
Diana wrapped her lips around the cockhead-like tip of her weapon, and swirled her tongue around it wildly with the intention of moistening and lubricating. The audience could hear her every suck and slurp, as well as her muffled grunts as she pushed the cylindrical object into her gullet. Her ability to swallow matched her talents to take objects into her pussy, the cow gladly exhibiting her ability to ingest the oversized dildo. She showed no signs of gagging, not even as the hilt presses against the front of her muzzle, her reflex trained to perfection.
The feat was met with amazement from those watching, the cow appearing to defy both biology and the laws of physics as she filled the space inside her esophagus to capacity. No one could say that the cow wasn’t a master of her disturbing skill, and were only more impressed when she pulled the object out in one solid motion, the sexual fluids that covered it before now replaced with a thick coating of saliva.
With the weapon properly lubricated, the cows holding the mare took hold of her tail, and brushed it aside so the entrance to her anus was left completely unprotected. “No! Please! I’ll do anything, but don’t stick that thing in my ass!”
“Foolish man, who do you think you speak to?” Diana said, aiming her blade, “We cannot be negotiated with. We will take everything from you, and give you nothing in return. For as you should well know, females are fueled by self centered desires and arrogance.”
Diana did her best to simulate a powerful thrust, and the blunt, phallic object drove into the mare’s open hole with little resistance. The red collar filled the theater with lustful cries, the invader sended her over the edge with minimum effort, hitting many erogenous zones in her well trained ass. Despite the many rehearsals she had to endure to make sure this scene wouldn’t be spoiled by an uncontrolled clench, the sensation of her insides being filled so quickly was too much. Her pussy squeezed involuntarily, applying pressure on the knot in her cunny, and forced a stream of creamy cum to shoot out the end of her pretend dick.
“See, even as you object, your body reveals that you love this. Admit it, you want to be a slave as much as we want you to be one.”
“NOOOOOOO!” The mare announced, more in the form of a moan than actual protest. Even if the character was suppose to against its defilement, the mare was fully enthralled.
“Still you refuse to submit!? Then I have no choice but to act on my unreasonable nature and break you.” Diana lifted her thumb off the pommel she held, and flipped a switch placed near the sword’s guard.
The mild moans of the mare switched to a solid shriek, her knees buckling on the spot, body seemingly vibrating as the soldier cows did all they could to keep her upright with their insufficient strength. The mare and the two cows holding her stumbled about, all the while a loud whirring noise resonating from Diana’s schlong sword, the device vibrating with such intensity that it made the mare’s form resonate with its shakes, and emitting a glow that could be seen through her body as the ‘runes’ on the blade lit up.
“And the rest of you will share this one’s fate as well! Take them, my loyal battalion of bitches! Use your cocklasses and your rape-iers to violate every hole they have!”
The spotlight was removed from Diana, and the lights in the theater brightened to a dim glow once more, revealing the chaos going on in the background. Mares awkwardly running about, impeded by the large things between their legs, chased by caribou girls who were having a hard time keeping up without such obstructions. Each cow held weapons like their leader, which ranged from variation of the runed sword that Diana wielded, which were smaller and shaped into a curve, to long narrow rods made up of metal beads fused together, to dick shaped daggers that were small, but had decent girth to them.
When a mare would be caught, the cows would take the opportunity to shove the devices into a hole most appropriate for it. Cocklasses buried themselves between the cheeks of their victims, and daggers were shoved into mouths and ‘stabbed’ several time to pound the ponies into submission by repeatedly pressing the pillowy ends of the phalluses into the back of their throats. A group of six cows hoisted a single pegasus off the ground, and carried her to a spot where another two caribou were keeping a leg long penis pole erected on the stage floor, and lowered the mare down on it in one combined effort. An extensive amount of semen shot like a geyser from her double ended dildo as she was impaled, until the artificial orgasm was cut short by the insertion of the bead rod rape-iers into the tiny passage the white liquid was flowing from, blocking it so much that a bunch of tiny bulges could be seen what would be considered the phony phalluses urethra.
“In spite of the stupidity presented by her troops, Diana’s plan to conquer a small village had succeeded.” Fleur narrated, as the mares were rounded up one by one and the scene moved from the initial invasion to its aftermath. “Of course a woman like Diana, one foolish enough to believe that she was somehow better than a man, could never be satisfied with this achievement. She wanted everything. She wanted all mares to follow her terrible plan of female domination, for all the stallions to obey any stupid rule they gave them, regardless of the damage caused from it.”
Diana flicked her cape dramatically with her arm as she looked away from her pony victims and to her troops, “This is very good. We’ve managed to overwhelm this town on the mere merit of surprise. This comparably unimpressive conquest is our first step to taking over the entire world. Now, since we have all the ponies of this city detained, we can start pillaging everything inside the houses and converting them to house our troops.”
As soon as the words left her lips, several cut outs of fire appeared over the cardboard homes, eliciting another sigh from Diana, as she knew there could only be one source for this.
“HRATHRA!!!”
“Right here my queen!” A new cow appeared on stage from behind the cardboard structures, riding on what appeared to be a stampeding hog with a lion-esque mane on its head. Its squeals reinforced to the crowd that it was some sort of swine as it tossed the new cow onto the ground before the other caribou, and ran off to parts unknown.
“Having trouble with your warbeasts again?” Diana asked, exasperated.
“A little, but at least I got to set fire to the buildings before they ran off.”
“Hrathra… we had already captured the town. The ponies are all held captive, and there is no one left to oppose us. Why are you setting fire to the buildings?”
Hrathra scratched her head, “I don’t know. It just seemed like the right thing to do. A group of invaders come into a town, terrorize the villagers, and set fire to things just because. You know, it’s just something cool.”
Diana glared at the cow sitting on the ground before her with intense anger, “How many times must I explain,you can’t set fire on things that that we are intending on using. Please, try not to do that again, okay?”
“No promises,” Hrathra said, standing up and running off in the direction her hog ran off to.
“Okay, so turning the buildings into our new homes isn’t possible,” Diana said, abandoning her first plan,”Let’s at least try and get some information that will help us achieve our goal of complete female domination. Bring in one of the ponies for interrogation.”
“Shall I fetch one of the women, Queen Diana?” asked one of the cows at her side, “They are the only ones we can even remotely trust. The stallions are far too smart to just tell a group of barbaric invaders like us important information that would ensure their enslavement. I mean, they would have to be as dumb as us to do something like that.”
“Quite... but then who should we interrogate?”
“We could get Top Kunt. She did make a deal with us, and she probably knows as much about this land as anyone else here would.”
“STOP!” A voice yelled from stage left, drawing the eyes of every cow, as well as the audience, in that direction. “I can’t let you do that!”
“Why not?” Diana declared to this unseen interruptor.
“Because,” a spotlight landed on the curtain, and from it stepped out Vestria, towing along a unicorn red collar with her, “I found someone better than a government official!”
Diana looked at the approaching pair, completely unimpressed. “Oh really, what qualifies this mare to be a better person to ask?”
“I’ve chosen her to be my personal sex pet, that’s what!” Vestria answered proudly.
“Oh right, I tend to forget that you have a thing for girls, but there has to be more of a reason to use her than simply being your chosen fuck toy. Can we even trust her?”
“Well, she’s apparently from that big white city in the distance, and just happened to be here today for some reason. As for if we can trust her, she’s actually really excited about the whole thing, and says that she’s been into this kind of stuff for a long time. It wasn’t even really hard to convince her to switch sides. Heck, she even showed me and my group where her father and some other stallions went to hide after slipping past our inept guards.”
Diana put her hand to her chin, and then nodded. “Very well. You have a chance to prove yourself.”
The unicorn gave a nod in return, and thought hard about what she would say. “Well, I know that there is a single alicorn prince that rules over everything in this kingdom. He makes sure that all the mares know their rightful place, and for the most part has stallions act as the rightful lords and masters of us all. In fact, the only reason this city had a female mayor is because we are so far out that no one pays attention to what’s going on over here.”
“Wait, didn’t you tell me there were three princes that ruled this kingdom before?” Vestria questioned.
“I had actually heard rumor of four princes myself….” Diana added.
“Oh right! There are four princes of course, and they all rule over this kingdom together.”
“Okay then... “ Diana said, sensing already that this conversation was going to take a turn for the worst, “What else do you know?”
“Umm… nothing really.” said the mare, “Please forgive me, I really don’t pay too much attention to current events. I’m usually far too busy trying to brown nose my way up the social ladder, and spreading my legs for any man who’s willing to fuck my nasty cunt. They don’t call me the town bicycle in Canterlot for nothing.”
“.... Thank you, Vestria, as always you have given me the kind of results I have come to expect from you.”
“I live to please, my queen.” Vestria said with joy, “I also live to please my queen.” she tacked on with a wink.
While Diana rolled her eyes at the statement of her right hand cow, another caribou stepped up. Looking both pale and anemic, the cow shambled over to Vestria. “Actually…” she said in strained, drawn out sentence fragments, “If you don’t mind…. I could probably…. you know… get her to say more…. I guess….”
“Um…. well okay. If you think it will help, Etna.” Vestria said, seeing no problem with the cow’s proposal.
The frail looking cow slowly turned towards the unicorn, barely lifting her hooves as she got close. For a moment, the two looked at one another, the mare uncertain as to what would happen to her. She braced for anything, expecting the worst of the worst from this caribou who looked like she had some sort of disease.
The caribou jolted forward, placing her hands on the mare, and before she could react, Etna moved her fingers about wildly. Laughter erupted from the unicorn’s mouth, and she started squirming around, unable to keep still. “Stop, stop! It’s too much! I can’t breathe!”
This went on for a few more seconds, until Vestria finally stepped in. “Etna! How dare you?!”
“How dare I…. what...?” Etna responded.
“You know we don’t tickle slaves that are loyal and obedient! We only torture them sexually to satisfy our sadistic urges!”
Etna stared blankly at her fellow caribou, “Vestria… how long have we know each other….?”
“A while, I guess.”
“...long enough to know… that this is all I really do… If you didn’t want her tickled…. you would’ve stopped me...”
“Oh… I suppose you’re right.” Vestria submitted to the slightly higher intelligence of her associate, and stepped aside to let her continue.
Etna leapt on the opportunity, and held back nothing. The mare couldn’t handle the onslaught of fingers, and crumpled to the ground in hysterical laughter. “OKAY! OKAY! ONE OF THE PRINCES CAN WALK INTO THE DREAMS OF PONIES!”
With this added detail given, Etna stopped and shambled over to Diana. “There… I got her to talk…”
“Very good Etna,” Diana said, legitimately please, “I would expect nothing less from one of my cum guzzling cock masters. However, this is disturbing news. How are we ever going to protect ourselves from such an ability?”
“Don’t worry…” Etna reached behind herself, and slipped a finger into a small loop poking out of her anus. She tugged and tugged on it, until finally a large, rune etched rod came out with a pop. “This magical dildo…. has the power to block out… any kind of magic that could… let people know we’re here…”
“Ah of course. I should’ve known you would be able to pull something so convenient right out of your ass.”
“I’ll go tell… the other cock masters… to set theirs’ up too…” The cow stated, shifted out of sight as she went to set up the dream barrier.
“NOW THAT THAT IS OUT OF THE WAY,” yelled Ivana, startling most of the other cows, “WHAT SHOULD WE DO NOW?!”
“Do whatever pleases you,” said Diana, “Longue about, fuck a stallion, act like a bunch of animals for all I care. Tomorrow though, we remove the horns and wings from those dicks with bodies attached them, and usher in a new era where females reign supreme. Before I forget though,” Diana looked down at the mare crumpled on the ground, “You…. if you are going to be acting as Vestria’s stallion replacement, you are at least going to act like one. I better see you shove a buttplug into your ass everyday. Understood?”
“Don’t worry…” the unicorn said as she caught her breath, “If there is one thing I know how to do, its self insertion.”
“Good. Now… if you excuse me… I have to retrieve my sword from its new sheath.”
“Queen Diana left the gathering of her trusted, yet moronic, advisors and companions,” said Fleur as the curtains closed, “And decided to rest up for the struggles that awaited her when she awoke. Act one is has now concluded, and there will be a thirty minute intermission before the next act. Please take this time to stretch and...”
The audience was almost too lost in laughter to listen the what the mare narrator was saying, a small few hurting themselves from how much their lungs were inhaling air, only to send it back out in a burst while the cows did stupid thing after stupid thing. If it wasn’t all an act, they would have questioned how any creature considered sentient could ever be so blindly stupid. However, with the absence of the humorous acts on stage, the eventually were able to stifle themselves to the occasional fit of chuckles, and found the ability to leave their seats to relieve themselves in whatever manner they need to before the next part started.
The council left their private booth early, having reached their limit upon seeing the cow that represented Etadys. The audacity of it all. To have to suffer that kind of ridicule, after the contributions they had made to improve and enrich this kingdom. The mare that wrote this travesty was going to pay dearly. Blanking was far too lenient, and mere torture and abuse would only be the beginning of her punishment. When they got this ‘Brush Stroke’ in their clutches, they would have to create a whole new word to describe what punishment awaited her.
“I can’t believe it’s still going on.” said Nothri, fiercely gripping the leash of Vestri’s unicorn slave as she tagged along behind the caribou males, “What’s taking him so long?”
“I bet he was so enraged when he saw the mare that did this that he started beating the shit out of her on the spot,” said Ivangir, “That’s what I would have done. Heck, that’s what I’m gonna do. After that, I’m gonna rip her a new cunt hole. She’s gonna wish that she had never been born.”
“Indeed.” Dainn added, agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiments of his left hand advisor, “But try to restrain yourself enough to keep this insolent mare alive. I want her to act as an example for some time.”
“I’m not making any promises,” said Hrathr, cracking his knuckles, “I’m gonna toss her in a pit of horny warbeasts and see what comes of it.”
“Let’s focus here,” said Sindri, the eldest of the group, “We’ll stop this ‘play’ first, and then we can concentrate our efforts on destroying every defiant thought in this mare’s head.”
As the group walked down the halls with determination, they headed to the door that lead backstage, and rounded a corner. To their curiosity, they found Vestri standing next to the door, standing aside a stallion, talking to him.
“Must be the mare’s master,” said Anvari, “He better not be trying to protect her.”
Vestri heard Anvari’s voice, and turned towards the approaching group of stags. For some reason, he had a very bewildered look on his face. However, as the distance was closed between him and the rest of the caribou, it wasn’t Vestri who spoke up first. It was the stallion instead.
“King Dainn, esteemed members of the council.” The earth pony stallion practically sung, nothing but cheer on his muzzle as he stepped forward, “But allow me to Introduce myself. I am Brush Stroke, writer and director of this wonderful production that you have honored with your presence. Lord Vestri here said that you all wished to speak with me. That you were very excited and interested in the play.”
Dainn, confused by not only the knowledge that the writer of such a slanderous story was a stallion, but at the stallion’s words as well, looked to his advisor, “Vestri?”
“That’s not what I said.” Vestri quickly clarified. The conversation he had with the stallion prior to the council’s arrival was mostly one of disapproval, but the stallion kept misinterpreting it as praise, unable to believe that his work was anything but brilliant.
“Then I’ll make things clear,” said Dainn, “Is it your intention to offend us?”
“Offend?” Brush Stroke said, shocked that the king would even suggest such a thing.
“Yes, this play you have created is insulting on every possible level. You’ve created characters in our name, recreated events to show our brilliant strategies as idiotic blunderings, and did so to spread what appears to be a message that women are superior to men. Are you trying to tell us that this is all unintentional?”
Brush Stroke put a hand to his forehead, his fingers slipping into his mane as he took in what was being said to him. “Well.. no… I meant to…” The stallion took a moment to contemplate what he had done, piecing together where he might have gone wrong, Eventually, he looked up his king, a bit apologetic in his expression, and said, “Are you saying you didn’t get the joke?”
“The… joke?” Dainn replied, not seeing what was so funny.
“Well I can’t say I don’t understand where you are coming from. I was in a similar position just last week.” the earth stallion said, “I went to see the annual Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant last week, as I do every year, and saw the changes that were made to it. Honestly I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Two of the most prominent earth pony stallions in Equestrian history, rewritten to be mere mares, and presented in a way that made them look like utter buffoons.”
Diann did recall recently attending a play that he himself funded to be made in order to ‘correct’ the history of the ponies to something that reflected the current world view of females in general. “Ah yes, but that was a historically accurate representation of actual events.”
“My king, surely you jest!” Brush Stroke objected, “Chancellor Puddinghead and Smart Cookie are historical hero figures to earth ponies, and the true original founders of Equestria. Without the ingenious planning of those two stallions, you wouldn’t have a kingdom to rule over.”
“They… were?” Dainn asked, not exactly as in the know about Equestrian history as he could be. “What do you mean they are the original founders?”
“Well who else do you think could have discovered this land? That pair of unicorn sluts, Platinum and Clover? Or the birdbrained Commander Hurricane who toted around a woman with the lowly rank of private instead of a man of proper rank? No, it was clearly the two earth pony stallions that discovered Equestria, and the rest just followed by their lead.”
“Indeed…” Dainn said, finding some logic in what the stallion was saying.
“Not to mention that Chancellor Puddinghead was the one that united the early earth pony tribes together, and that Smart Cookie was recorded to be one of the most brilliant earth ponies to ever exist, coming up with many of the designs for tools that we still use to this day for farming. That’s not even taking in consideration all the other things they did to improve pony life and shape Equestria. It was like that play was trying to remove every accomplishment those stallions ever did by converting them into incompetent, brain dead mares.” The earth pony’s temper flared slightly as he went on, the slander of stallions of such high quality breeding feelings of rage, “It was like the person who wrote it didn’t put any thought into what they were doing!”
The group of caribou were beginning to understand where this stallion was coming from, having now felt a little taste of the same thing in the form of his own play. Still, none of them felt it justified that this play was created to begin with.
“You could understand how I could see it this way after they kept Commander Hurricane a stallion, which made me think this was all part of some pegasus agenda to make the other pony races look bad. Later I learned that this was only partially true – that the play was written by a uniwhore slut and that she had originally intended to make Commander Hurricane a mare too, only to have them turned back when Captain Orestes of the Crystal Empire found out about it and made a complaint. As you can tell, I was more than a little peeved from the whole thing. That is…. until I realized what it was supposed to be.”
“And what would that be?” asked Ivangir, arms crossed, still unconvinced about this stallion’s reasoning.
“Why, political satire, of course.” Brush Stroke said happily, “It took me a day to figure it out, which I mostly blame on that Orestes fellow for altering the play, but it struck me as I was waking up the next morning. It was oh so clever of you, King Dainn, to take the embarrassing faults of the past, and parody them for our amusement by having the stallions be acted by mares. If I had understood that to begin with, then I would have been joyfully cheering along with my fellow stallions at the sight of those silly ‘elements of harmony’ getting what little brains they had fucked out of their skulls as well. I should have figured it out sooner too, since the play ended without Equestria ever being truly founded.”
As the caribou stood in amazement of how Brush Stroke rationalized this whole thing in a way they never intended, the earth stallion reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a novel. “It so inspiring that I wanted to offer my own play with the same concept. So I rushed to a bookstore and picked out something that had historical merit. This is what I found. The writing’s not spectacular, since there are so many errors in it and the mare that it was written by can’t seem to get enough of herself, and it goes into long sections where she tries to make herself seem more sympathetic than she really is. Honestly I have a feeling parts of it are embellished, since much of it seems to demonize the actions of the caribou, but it did help me out a lot. I’d even go as far as saying that without this book, I would’ve never been able to make my play.”
“Let me see that.” Vestri said as he swiped the book from the stallion’s hands, looking for some mare he could pin this whole fiasco on. What a surprise it was when he found his image on the cover. “What the…” He had no idea where this had come from, the artwork on the novel featuring him in a pose that made him look like some evil, near demonic creature, the drawn version of himself practically snarling at him as carnage not too far from the kind in the play went on around him, and a leash in his hand that connected to the collar of a crying, bruised mare he recognized as his personal pony plaything.
Looking up to the title, Vestri found the words “Sun’s Setting” in cursive. The name of the book was unfamiliar to him, however, the name of the author was all too known by him. Slowly, he raised his gaze up from the book, until he was looking past the council, and to the yellow furred, blue haired mare behind them. The eyes of the other caribou followed his lead, and the mare gulped as she became the center of attention.
“Excuse me for a moment….” Vestri said as he opened the book, “I need to read this.”
“By all means,” said Brush Stroke, “Anyways, with my mind lit with ideas, I did everything I could to get my play funded, casted, and ready as soon as possible. I kept the details of the play a secret, to make sure no one could make a complaint about my artistic vision until they saw the play and understood the intent properly, and that’s what brings us here today.”
The caribou were at a loss. Not that they would ever admit it, but they brought this on themselves. Now ponies, both man and mare alike, were laughing their asses off at their expense. They really didn’t know what to say about it either, since the whole scenario was so far fetched that they never expected it to come from something like a silly play and a likewise silly book.
The only thing they could really do now was try to manage the situation. So after a moment of thought, Dainn stepped forward. “I think the biggest issue is that we feel the performance isn’t really adhering to…. decency standards.”
“How so my king?” Brush Stroke asked.
“For starters, it’s insulting to caribou men. It makes us look like a bunch of buffoons.”
“My king, it’s really not meant to be taken that way. It’s suppose to be taken as a sort of ‘What if’ that shows what would have happened if a bunch of caribou cows had come to Equestria started tearing things apart under some silly notion that they are inherently better than men. Of course a group of women are going to make a bunch of mistakes, but that is where this group of imaginary females differ from real world men. You made all the right choices when you liberated Equestria, where they made all the wrong choices trying to enslave it. They are completely original characters that are in no way supposed to represent you or any other male caribou, and aside for somewhat similar names, there is no way that anyone would even associate their inane antics with you or your achievements.”
“Then there is the issue that you had the men lose to the women. Thoroughly, I might add.” Dainn said, bringing up his next big qualm.
“It’s all part of the comedy of it all, my king,” Brush Stroke explained, “It’s funny because of how incredibly absurd it is. The more you exaggerate something silly, the more humorous it becomes.”
Vestri came aside the stallion, his eyes still glued to the book in his hands, “But what about that part where you had the male characters cum buckets from getting fucked in the ass, like the feeling was the best thing in the world.”
“Lord Vestri…. it is one of the best feelings in the world.” Brush Stroke replied.
“WHAT?!” All the caribou declared at once.
“Well, I’m bisexual. So my male partner and I have anal sex a lot and I have to say it feels really good when I get a dick shoved inside my ass. Though I’m surprised you would bring that up, Lord Vestri. That book said that you were bisexual too, in fact is says that lots of caribou are bisexual, that is… unless that was something the writer tossed in on the fly.”
“No… that’s true... “ Vestri said as he resigned back to his reading, wondering what else was put in the book that he wasn’t aware of.
“Well then, why do you have to have mares in the roles of men?” asked Anvari.
“Lord Anvari, are you suggesting that I put stallions in those roles instead?”
“No, no, no! Don’t do that.” Anvari quickly retracted his statement, realizing what results could come from it.
“This is all just a bit much,” Dainn finally said, “We understand the… good intentions, but what if someone out there misunderstood what you were trying to do here?”
“King Dainn, I think the reaction that was given goes to show that everyone took it the way it was suppose to be seen. I mean, no stallion would ever truly believe such nonsense as what I’ve written, and I don’t even believe a mare is stupid enough to believe that is what really happened.”
At that very moment, a couple of mares, both in red collars, walked out of the backstage area, talking to one another as they carted out crates full of used sex toys.
“Do you think this is really how it all went?” asked one to the other as they passed by the caribou.
“Of course it did! The play was written by one of the masters, would you really doubt them?” said the other.
All at once, the caribou looked back to Brush Stroke, but he just laughed it off. “You can’t judge what I said based on those two. They are a couple of blanks that are owned by the theater. They were programmed to believe literally anything a stallion says. Watch,” The earth stallion cupped his hands around his muzzle. “Hey you two!”
“Yes, master?” The two said in unison as they turned to the one who called to them.
“Two plus two equals three.”
The two mares looked to each other, “Do you really think that’s true?” the first mare asked again.
“Of course it is!” the second assured, “The master said so, would you really doubt them?” With that, the mares went along back to their task, shaking their tails side to side as they walked.
“See, nothing to worry about.”
The caribou wanted to make another argument as to why this play needed to be stopped, at least for the night until they could edit it to something more agreeable, but just then a bunch of ponies came from around the corner and stumbled upon the gathering.
Amongst the ponies were several very important stallions, well to do stallions. Hoity Toity, Jet Set, even Fancy Pants was there, having been given a VIP ticket for allowing the use of Fleur for the night. The unicorn instantly recognized Brush Stroke, and brightened at the sight of him.
“There is the stallion of the hour,” Fancy Pants said, rushing up to personally shake Brush’s hand, “I say, I’ve never had such an amusing time in all my life. The whole thing was just one laugh after another. I could hardly contain myself.”
“It was just something I threw together on short notice,” Brush Stroke said modestly, “Nothing all that special. I’m sure that it’s nothing that some other stallion with more talent than myself couldn’t have done better.” The earth pony paused, and then smirked, “But it’s certainly better than all those plays that have been written by mares as of late.”
“Here, here,” said Hoity Toity, “I was just telling my Sassy about how upset with her I am that she couldn’t have made something like this. It’s been so long since I’ve given such an extended chortle. I’m hoping that the second act will be just as good. I am wondering though how you are going to manage keeping those cows in control of all those ‘strapping’ stallions on stage.”
Brush Stroke gave Hoity’s pun a laugh, “Well, please be aware that this is just a pornagrapic parody play. It’s not suppose to make sense in any way, shape or form. It’s just suppose to be something fun.” Turning his head back slightly, Brush gave the caribou counsel a wink.
“Ah, but of course,” Hoity said, “But it would be interesting to see how you pull it off.”
“Actually, I’m more concerned with something else,” Jet Set intervened, “I think a bunch of us would like to know if the ‘queen’ and her minions will be available when the performance is over.” The other stallions gathered round shook their head in agreement, everyone wanting a piece of each cow’s cunt. The very thought of putting the barbaric females in their proper place was forming tents in the fronts of their high priced dress pants.
“Gentlecolts, gentlecolts, what kind of host would I be if I denied you your desires. Each and every actress here tonight will be presented out in front of the theater for open access once the play is over so that every stallion can enact their ‘revenge’ on them. We can’t have those savage females thinking they got the better of us, can we now?”
The men all laughed, amused and excited for the after performance party they would have. “That sounds quite good,” Fancy said as he looked at his pocket watch, “Say, would you like to come out for a quick smoke. We still have fifteen minutes before curtain call.”
“I would love to,” Brush replied, before turning to the king and saying, “See there is nothing to worry about. Now, if you excuse me, my public awaits.”
The stallion left the crowd of stags, and exiting the theater to hobnob with the celebrity stallions. The caribou watched as he did, angry that they were unable to convince the stallion to stop the play. Dainn could have used his authority then and there to shut down the theater himself, but the stallions all seemed enthusiastic about the next part, and he was smart enough to know that stopping it now would only cause it to become bigger than it could ever be on its own.
As the counsel stood there, at a loss, Vestri finally close the book in his hands, having read enough, and grabbed his mare by the hair. “You and I are going to have a long talk about this,” he declared, shoving the book into the unicorn’s face before turning her around and paddling her flank with its hard bound cover.
“I think I want to join in on that talk too,” Ivangir said, taking the mare’s mane from his brother so he could escort her to the back exit of the theater.
“No, please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to cause trouble, master! You have to believe me!”
The mare could cry all she wanted, but it would make no difference. Whether they believed her or not, they were pissed, and right now there was really one person to blame for all of this.
Author's Note
Hey everyone, Schorl here with another long diatribe about how I hate everything to do with FoE, and how I'm the femminazi equivalent of Hitler. J/k, though OMG that really has to be a thing. If anyone has a link to a macro of femminazi Hitler please leave a link in the comments. 
But no, this is just me being me and typing out some stuff because I want to, or feel that it needs to be said, or that I'm just an evil bitch with too much time on my hands, take your pick. Don't worry, this isn't going to become a "thing" with me, but for this story I think it is warranted, since just like BA, there is a bit of backstory to this.
Today I would like to discuss two thing that I personally despise: Censorship and Twipet. Let's start off with the more common topic first, which is censorship, and why it applies to this fic in particular. You see... this little story shouldn't be here. It shouldn't be anywhere. It should just be sitting in my google docs collecting dust where no one would ever see it, or at the very least that is how NCN feels about it.
Let me explain. A while back, around Christmas, one of my former FoE colleges wanted to make a story about "The Hearth's Warming Eve" pageant, except with an FoE spin on it (which I would only recommend reading to have a bit more context to my rant. Otherwise it's pretty crap in my opinion). At the time I saw a few issues with this, like how this was going to be the second "Christmas" story she had made for the setting, how she was already behind with other more important projects, how she had been half a year late with her previous holiday themed story, ect. The biggest issue I saw though was that she was just going to do exactly what I stated above; rewrite Heath's Warming Eve and porn it the fuck up. She wasn't going to make any huge changes or actually do anything interesting with the concept. She was just going to steal shit whole sale from the show, using the same exact characters in the same exact roles, and add in some guys to act as "eye candy" since the mane six had to be fucked by someone, only replacing Spike's role as narrator with Sassy Saddles because she just happens to like her.
Well I'll give Twipet some credit, this time it only took her one month past the point of relevance to get it out, with her handing out her usual excuses for her tardiness, but in the end I think that the comments (and their scarcity) showed that I was right to assume she could have spent her time on other things, especially when she had already did an FoE rehash once before. Rather than be happy with that though, I was furious. You see, I actually hate being right in these sort of things, because I would rather people do a good job and do things properly, and I have never felt that anything Twipet wrote was ever particularly good, or at least not purposely so (more on that later).
So.... doing what I always do when I'm pissed, I wrote. I was determined to show Twipet how something like this was suppose to be done, and how it could be done in a appropriate amount of time. My goal was to write out my own "rip off" story, but add an actual twist to it besides sex and misogyny. I was going to parody her own method of "adlibing" a story, and do it in a way that people could enjoy, using another one of her ideas as the focus: Her own story of how the caribou came to Equestria.
It was the perfect plan, and really easy to do since all I had to do was, just as Twipet did, rewrite a story that had already been told. I got the whole thing done in a week, doing more than the same amount of work in a fraction of the time, but hell, I couldn't just post it up. There was still someone I had to show it to. 
Thus in came NCN, who I gave this brand new FoE story to in order to "get his approval". Now I know what you're thinking, and hey I would have thought it too as an outsider, but in this case you are wrong. While I was a bit vocal about my objections to Twipet's story, and this was clearly an objection to it in perhaps the most hurtful of ways, he didn't outright dismiss it there and then for the simple fact that this could be considered a hate fic against Twipet. In fact, he stated that this was his "preferred form of counterpoint". He was even going along with it for a long time, getting a kick out of what I had done, that was until my story started matching reality.
You see, I know NCN. I've learned over the years how his mind ticks, and I knew exactly what buttons to press to "offend" him. I even pointed out all the issues that I knew he would hate in the story itself, which he noticed when he got to that point, and went no further. This is where he drew the line, and I said that was fine. I really didn't expect him to approve it, but that didn't mean I wouldn't post it.
Once he showed his dis-enthusiasm, I expressed my intent to post it as a non-canon story, just so all the fans could enjoy the story for what it should have been seen as; some silly story that spoofed the setting. NCN refused. I told him that I felt I had to post it, and he remained adamant. I told him plainly that I was going to do it, and he just kept trying to prevent me from posting a stupid little story that didn't really affect him in the slightest. He was determined to not have this story posted, to prevent something related to setting that featured something that disgusted him.
It was only when NCN said, of his own unprompted volition, "If you want to have a riposte with her, you can't do it in a way that hits me, too" and "If you wrote "Sunrise gets raped for her incompetence and failure before falling into a garbage shredder and being fed to dung beetles", well... I wouldn't've disliked that as much as I hate this." that I finally relented, getting a heck of a laugh out of how casually he was willing to toss Twipet under the bus over something as trivial as "girls with dicks".
I suppose this is as good a place as any to get into the other topic... Twipet. For those of you who were active in the FoE Forums, or looked at it from time to time, it is no secret that I hate this person who was once my fellow contributor in FoE. I don't hate them for being an FoE writer, that would be silly, and I don't hate her specifically because I think her work is crap, since I think she is pretty good with how she uses words, just not in the whole "story telling" aspect. No, I hate Twipet because of the kind of person I perceive her as, which is a lying, lazy, petty egomaniac.
Call it slander if you wish, but this is really how I feel about her. I won't go into major details, since I don't want to spend a week typing out her every flaw, but when it comes down to it I think that simply looking at her work and speaking with her for a prolonged period of time would give most people that impression. I know this, because pretty much everyone I have ever talked to about her has said the same thing, FoE contributors and NCN included. One of the other contributors doesn't even want her to be part of the group, much like myself, while the others simply don't acknowledge her in general, deeming her "harmless" cause their not going to give her work the time of day anyways, so why should they care.
Well I always cared because I had standards, and I knew that having a person like them around poorly reflected on me, especially when she likes to promote herself while offhandedly putting everyone else in the group down. Personally, I always found it as a slight insult that NCN felt that she was the kind of person the group needed or, perhaps more accurately, that she should be a part of it just because she was one of the few people willing to write for FoE. A person who has rewritten MLP episodes twice, and creates unavoidable plot chasms and logical fallacies every time she takes the time to actually write something in what is suppose to be her main story, which at this point she has pretty much ditched in favor of these side stories that don't add anything to the setting. That, plus the fact that puts herself above everyone else, made it impossible for me to understand why she was treated as a welcome member in a group of people whose talent and/or dedication to the project vastly outweighed hers.
Then again, I bet her laziness has come to an end now, as my Bruised Apples finale has probably lit a fire under her butt. I see this not of motivation or responsibility though, but of fear of what I might do with some of the characters she felt she had claim over. Hell, I bet after my leaving FoE and revealing that NCN was going to let me write about Sunset Shimmer, a character she wanted dibs on, she started working at a cheetah's pace to rush out some sort of story with her in it. because she's just that petty. Then again, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she will just remain lazy, or will actually get to work on the story she should be writing.
But ok, I'm ready to take a breather and say "despite all my rambling, I suggest you read her stories and form your own opinion". Perhaps you will see something there that I don't. Perhaps you will enjoy them for what they are and not what I feel they should be, and if she is entertaining people at least, then she's not a complete fuck up. Maybe I'm just plain wrong and have a personal agenda. IDK 6_9. I do feel there is, or at least was at some point, potential in her to be a decent writer, but her personality and self-centered ideology shrouds any of that potential from raising to the surface. However, if you want my two word review of her stories then "They're garbage". Though, when it comes to her stories about Sunrise Splendor, her obvious self insert OC, I will give it this disclaimer.
Any story featuring Sunrise is actually really, really good... so long as you do one thing. Pretend the character is telling you the story directly, and try to catch her in her lies. Try to pick up on the points that she makes the narrative sympathize with her, when her actions say otherwise. Look at the times she demonizes other ponies, or makes them stupid, for the sake of presenting herself in a better light. Take in every inconsistency, event that defies logic, or simple situation that doesn't add up, and start to piece together what really happened when the caribou came knocking. It turns a boring, cliche story about a woman being enslaved by invaders into a psychological mystery to determine if Sunrise really is as innocent to everything as she wants to make you think she is, and gives you a good idea of how the person who "Sunrise" is clearly suppose to be is in real life (at least in my opinion).
Sorry again for the rambling. Just really needed to get that off my chest, and now I feel much, much better. I hope you all enjoyed this little parody story, and that you all have a wonderful day. Oh, and before I forget, next week is going to be busy for me, so there will be no FoE story, but expect an EqTS story soon as my next post. Until then, see you all soon.
