Diary of Sweetie Belle, 19

February 17th
Dear Diary,

I’m all tuckered out. Hard to write, have to keep wiping off sweat, or I’ll muck you up. I think I’ve done enough of that today. Stuff was pretty normal… He brought in some new movies to the lounge room. The morning massages are still nice. Looking back, I’m not that mad at having to run the treadmill every day anymore. I guess I did want to get into shape, but never got around to it.

Looking back again, though… I’m confused again. After Honey worked me over for the first time, I’ve been having these mood swings, all the time… You know what I’m talking about. I had some cold water and a shower before writing this time! And I’m still sweating, gosh. Sorry for that. I honestly can’t tell why I’m sweating. We didn’t get to have a session today.

I snapped a little harder this time. ~~Went a bit~~ Just started beating on him and yelling at him to let me out. Probably all of the steam I pent up over the day before got out. I screamed for a while, I hit him, I cried… He just kept hugging me closer and doing this sad noise, like he’s a cartoon puppy. I went all out. I was a complete spaz for at least an hour and a half. My voice was gone by the end, I’m still a little sore. My shoulders ache too. And he didn’t say or do anything! He just looked sadder and sadder every moment, and the only way I could go on was thinking of home. My head just kept getting blurrier and blurrier, and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t even making sense about a hour in. I thought I was a mess when I tried those crackers at Scootaloo’s birthday party…

Just had to take another shower. I thought about home again, and then, you know… it’s like dominoes. I’ve been mad for so long, it feels like there’s a piece of jelly between my ears, and it’s wobbling so hard it’s making my skull shake. Go figure that, it’s not pleasant. I think that is why I’m sweating, I got myself so exhausted being mad. I really have to rethink how I approach this… Just how many steps back did I take today? Screaming at Honey for so long when I want to gain his trust and find a way out. He’d never have let me out. That chick has him on a freaking leash. I find it difficult to blame him. If she was my super, I’d not be having a fun time. We haven’t had many run-ins since. I see her in the mornings when Honey comes in, she just looks at us through the door, grins, laughs to herself, and leaves. Thinking about her gives me the heebies. She’s bangy, lean, mean, she talks like she smokes a few packs a day, she acts like a school bully, ~~though~~ she’s kind of a bitch. My spine goes goopy looking at her just once. Hopefully I’ve not earned myself a visit from her. If I have, I don’t see why it wouldn’t have been today, and today, ever since I broke our schedule, nothing really happened. Sitting here, feeling sad, feeling mad, sweating, having a swirly head.

Right now I’m alone with my evening meal and movies. Completely blew the evening massage and our session. He said he’d be back tomorrow and he’ll give me all the time I need to calm down. That guy… I don’t know how to put it. I actually do not know, Diary. He has good taste in movies, I guess. ~~If other guys from Po wherever he’s actually from knew what sort of movies he had on hand to give out, he’d probably not hear the end of it.~~ Nevermind, it’s the changelings. They either spied on me or just probed my brain or something like that to find out what I like. Yeah, that’s sobering.

Anyway, I’m meant to reach a conclusion here. I’ll be more controlled now. It doesn’t pay to be angry, it really doesn’t. Less of a bitchy airhead and more of a cunning vixen. Something like that. That should work. Honey said that we’re about halfway through my "acclimatization", and that things will get "smoother" from here. Putting that in fat quotes. I mean, what he does to me isn’t something I’d complain about, even with the whole evil bad kidnapping thing, but still… I’m gonna stay keen.

I’ll leave you be now, Diary. Hopefully I don’t have sweat drops over the next entries. I feel cooler now that I’m cool, in any case.

Yeah, I’m sorry.

XOXO
Sweetie Belle

February 22nd
Dear Diary,

I’m sorry… I didn’t write yesterday. This is next morning, I made myself get up earlier. I know, I shouldn’t blame myself. If I did end up writing yesterday, I would have ~~fuc~~ made very little sense. Even now I am still all reeling. We’re going through a week ago all over again. I just realized that it has only been a week. Maybe I caught on to something, maybe the invisible stuff they have all over the walls is twisting my brains. Sitting here now, I feel like I have been here at least a month.

Well, I just spent over twenty minutes trying to think of how I ended up here, so I sweated, heaved, almost passed out, and had to take a shower. That’s it for the rambling, I can’t be late for the massage. I’m really doubting it’s gonna be Honey doing it this time.

To lay it out how it went down, for my own sake… Yesterday wasn’t a regular day. I don’t think any day is going to be a regular day now. I had to put together my own breakfast, there was no massage, I wasn’t reminded to do cardio, the lights were all dimmer, and there wasn’t even any sign of Honey. Started to worry, got sad, started thinking… I thought too much. I can’t even think of some things now. I get hot, wet, and… Wet. When I wrote the word ‘home’, it was like if I rubbed myself down there. Wasted ten more seconds just now! I don’t even get to think about what I’m thinking. I just start going into heat, and that’s realy distracting, and then if I try to keep thinking ~~about what I~~ Moving on...

So I basically panicked and rubbed myself until I fainted. Now that I’m feeling more fresh, I can remember Honey was there before I slipped away, and some voices and ch and stuff I don’t really know. I don’t think I want to.

I woke up in the second playroom. Sort of funny to think that it happened right on the other side from where Honey had his sessions with me. That door was closed ever since I moved in got put here, I think I kinda see why. The padded walls and all the shit on the walls doesn’t mess with the cozy woodland inn spiel they had going. Can’t blame myself for not getting that. Kinda want to blame myself for the things I told ~~that bi~~ the changelingTough Break because my tummy still aches.

Pretty sure I’m starting to get how this place works, and…

…

Sweetie Belle rocked in silent hyperventilation, biting on her lip and staring at her surroundings with eyes open wide. She’d been there for some time now, wide awake and seemingly forgotten. Even she couldn’t tell if she just gave up on screaming, or if her panic elevated to a higher stage. In either case, the level of fear within the unicorn was rising, enough to fiddle with certain thoughts and memories by chance, attempting a domino effect of devastation on her mind. Fortunately, Sweetie was always more of a linear thinking mare, so most of the fear’s spreading tendrils did was greatly quicken her breathing and create an amount of very particular heat within her - by prompting her to try and think of things she’d been taken away from. She barely did, too frozen with the fact of being locked in a dark, padded cell, equipped with all sorts of twisted, leatherbound items, its solitary light source a lamp up above, barred by grates that simulated it being a ray of hopeful sun. Since her mental state was barely good enough to recognize that that was indeed a light bulb, she couldn’t be expected to willingly kick herself down the road to mental despair, and was instead stuck at the point of rocking and huffing.

There was only so much relishment in the boons of young airheadedness. Some things Sweetie had plainly admit were distressing and highly implicative. For one, she was clad ankle to chin in a tight, leathery black and amber straitjacket. Its sleeves joined into one another and then did many a trip around her body, being bound evermore by some additional belts that connected somewhere she couldn’t see - aside from the ones that kept her legs pushed together, those ended in on themselves. It was no simple straitjacket, as it seemed to be rather considerably padded, creating a buffer between it and the body to prevent rashing and numbness. That, however, only spoke further volumes of what was going on here, and it was fortunate that the unicorn couldn’t really follow it in her current state.

Said current state was exacerbated by the fact that her horn was emitting a dull, inconsistent hum. It was like when she got cornipoxia several years ago, only with less sneezing sparkles and more intense horn vibrations. Sweetie only realized what was up with it by bending herself over, to no small amount of squeaking from the straitjacket. Having gotten it into the light, the mare saw a series of dark grey circles orbiting her horn, connected to it with blurry fields of amber energy. Shaking her head and whimpering did nothing to get rid of them. It had become clear why her attempt at conjuring up any sort of magic - which, in her case, would likely have resulted in destruction no matter what, a useful drawback just for once - ended up sending a sharp electric feeling down her spine. However, there was no end to the issues, as there was also that on which the light fell in the first place.

A distressing item to say the least, especially to a savvy pony like Sweetie, was what got the spotlight - not even her herself. A rather sizeable set of stockades nearly half her own height, imposing to look at even from behind - amber and purple, leather and metal, thick padding for her pushed together feet to be glued in. They were predictably, expectably bared, and poking out of the other side, doing absolutely nothing at all: she could feel tight grips on each and every one of her toes, keeping them pulled back and apart. Considering the pampered state of her feet, the increase in tautness was palpable even by the light motions of the air within the room. The unicorn, who had, until then, never actually managed to get herself into any sort of legitimate restraints, despite the often awkward means of trying to push it to that base in her previous relationships, was in severely serious binds.

There did come an end to her rocking and quiet muttering, which was beginning to test the courtesy of the soft, convenient padding she was sat onto. A deep, scratching, metallic noise saw the door on the other end of the room slowly open. The mare took in breath to call out to whoever was on the other side, and instantly let that breath out, turning it into a mere peep, once she saw the wave-haired bewinged silhouette on the other side. The silhouette wasn’t particularly speedy with making herself anything more solid, and spent some time finishing off a smokestick, the smoke of which she blew into the room in a series of ring shapes. A somewhat familiar, gravelly, distantly female voice was heard chuckling before ruining the rings with a blow of air, and a distinctly familiar, gasping whine was heard when the silhouette rashly turned around and kicked its leg. After that menacing procedure was done, Tough Break entered the room, speeding the automatic door to a close with a steel-bolted boot, while spitting onto her gloves and rubbing them together.

“Hey,” the grey pegasus said dismissively, flexing and yawning as she circled the room, browsing the many tools on the walls. Her eyes glowed an unsubtle amber whenever she was deep enough in the shadows. “And fuck you.”

“U… uh?..” Sweetie squeaked out, her mane getting in front of one of her eyes. She was too busy attaching her eyes to the presence within the room to even blow it out of the way.

“Oh shut up, you candyass. Don’t get fucking used to talking,” Tough Break mumbled, picking something out of her teeth, not even looking at the mare she was degrading. “You’re not gonna be doing that anymore.”

“W… wha?..”

“Ugh, you absolute pile of dumb. I’ve had you waste space in here long the hell enough. That moron’s had his fun, now I gotta justify flushing so much time down on your “Vee-Ai-Pee” ass,” the seething pegasus made air quotes while berating her, also covering the mare in a coat of spit. “Everyone else we’ve had here before has been better than you! You’re an overrated little dolt. So I’m gonna have to fucking make up for that now, and I had shit planned for tonight.”

“But— wait, NO DON’T!”

Sweetie, whose mouth was contorting in confusion and whose eyes were starting to wobble with a mixture of hurt, anger and the very same confusion, barely moved her head before a rough, gloved hand delivered her cheek a harsh slap. The sound was dulled in the all-padded room, and it was still loud.

“Oh, you’re gonna wriggle too, you stupid slut?!” Her second handler, whom she was right to never want to be with in a locked room, screeched at her in a slightly distorting voice. Another slap came down on the other cheek. This one covered the surrounding bulges of padding in a few tears.

The stricken unicorn finally stopped trying to escape at the fourth slap, now simply trembling and sobbing as quietly as she could.

“Finally. Be fucking useful. If your pampered ass knows what that’s even like,” the leather and chain-bound punkette growled at her before pushing a gloved palm into her snout, forcing Sweetie down onto the bed of padding… and then bouncing up again due to soft nature of it. The bullied unicorn got the idea and did all she could to immediately bring herself back down and try to lie down quietly. “Oh, and the chair sucks. I will make that runt wish he was never born, I swear. No surprise he likes groping you so much, his hands must be growing out of his lame freaking ass.”

The mare was still in a state of mental paralysis, and simply absorbed what she was hearing. The abuse hurled at her and what passed for her current ‘loved one’ was received and added to fuel the fire that was burning down the railroad of her thoughts. Hurt and angst were spreading out, and grew tendrils much like fear did. Those tendrils reached out for many of the things that saw her react in heated fashions, but found a certain jam on the way. Before they could very well process what it was in Sweetie’s inner workings that made them not the only presence of the hot-wet kind in this dire situation, she was frozen up yet again.

Tough Break had procured a stool from the wall, and it was too being bullied into submission, whining, squeaking and creaking as she tried to stuff it solidly enough into the profoundly padded floor. It took slightly longer to succumb than Sweetie did, but finally, it stopped wobbling, and allowed her to rest her bottom on it, now sitting halfway in the light, and halfway outside. The mare couldn’t see the changeling from the way she had been forced to lay - the most that could be seen was her boots from below, and the tip of the tidal wave of her mane at the top. Considering that even thinking of the piercing and tattoo-laced face made her scrunch up inside, it was likely a good thing.

“Well at least your feet aren’t as crap as you are. They’re, like… average.” Sweetie gasped and mumbled when she felt two projectiles of spittle land on her soles. “Egh. Maybe if I pretend to have fun, I’ll trick myself into having it. I hope you’re not as boring as that babbling moron makes you out to be.”

The mare gulped. The tendrils that sprung off of this bullying reached for her innards once again, and were again faced with the fact that her inner self was already… getting hot and wet. Sweetie fluttered her eyelashes and whined in her quickening breaths, getting more and more antsy every half a second nothing hit her utterly defenseless, exposed soles.

And her nethers were covering the insides of the straitjacket with more and more female secretions for every hump this launched her into. Her feet had not even been touched, and she was already getting off on this, whether her conscious liked this or not. Sweetie Belle did have a number of significant attractions. She, by herself, was a nice girl, she liked warm, nice things, she adored kind, fluffy guys, even her more unusual fetish was something as seemingly friendly and innocent as the tickles. Deeper in, her prevalent fetish was that for the feet, which was nothing much to have to explain. But deeper in yet… There was another detail, and one that she had been all but made to forget over the seven days when it was nothing but fun, fluff, fuzz and feets.

She was kind of a clinical masochist. Bondage-discipline-submission-masochism. Suffering made her wet. Her own suffering. She’d begun to heat up the moment she realized she was in tight bondage gear. The first slap made her properly wet. The tendrils of bullying weren’t ripping up something previously pure and untouched, they were simply helping clean up a very messy back yard that hadn’t been explored over the entirety of her life.

Perhaps for good reason, because the good girl Sweetie and the miserable whorebitch submissive slave Sweetie, despite sharing one body and mind, didn’t exactly agree on what they were feeling about all of this, and no, the intense situation, the device on her horn, the straitjacket, and the hateful bully at her feet made it no easier to digest, and then that bully scratched her horrible claws down the entire length of both of her soles.

“HHHHGGHHHAAAAAAH!!!” She let out a loud screech.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Tough Break spat on the padded floor and rushed off the chair. Within moments, the fuming changeling was next to her. Bearing a wolfish snarl, she forced a large black gag into the blushing, crying mare’s mouth, fastening it around the back of her head less than gently. “Enough out of your stupid mouth. I’m not dealing with this,” she hissed, putting a heavy boot on top of Sweetie, nearly bulging her eyes out. “You got it, pony?”

With most of her cognitive functions frozen, the unicorn simply nodded her head rapidly. That seemed to be good enough, and the pegasus departed back to her stool, bearing a frown. Sweetie Belle’s guts were scrunching up in abject, cold misery. Somewhere below them was actively heating them up, though.

Another quick, sharp rake against her soles made the mare arch her back as hard as the restraints allowed her to. There was no seeing details, but it definitely felt as if her tormentor’s fingernails were electric outlets. Her back contracted and released, like a slinky toy, only it didn’t - the straitjacket performed its primary function and kept her contained. There was an active, functional, working power station inside her spine, it felt like. It produced scathing bolts of searing electricity and sent them to be zapped off her fingertips and other extremities or something to that metaphoric effect. Only it didn’t, owing again to her bindings - instead, it was a perpetual cycle, seething, rumbling hot lightning emitting from inside at each inch of the merciless drag, conjoining in on itself. Red hot trails were palpably left on her immobile soles, and more and more stacked on top of them as her feet were practically torn into. This could barely be denoted as tickling, safe for the fact that the tickling sensation was very acute. Very raw, too.

“Ugh, you sound like a deer,” Tough Break complained, sinking her claws into the supple flesh again and again. She took a pause to spit on the soles once more, for further insult, seemingly. “And deer suuuck.”

She was indeed less than silent. Panic poured intensely out of her mouth, and was turned, on its way, into desperation. Her eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets, and her mind was in a state beyond description. It was bad enough that she was never, ever restrained anywhere near this heavily. It was bad enough that her ever so sensitive soles were never abused with anywhere near as much raw strength. It was bad enough that she had never been gagged before in her life. It was bad enough that the abject lack of consent or safety of this situation was hammering on her consciousness like a woodpecker on a wooden door.

But did it have to transfuse itself into sheer, poignant hot knives, slicing through the butter of her being and into the vulnerable, secluded, pale white center? Which just so damningly happened to pulsate with pure, overwhelming, chemical, arcane pleasure at all of this? Her nethers were being blasted with tidal waves of extreme sensations, and there was exactly nothing touching them but safe leather. She may as well have been being eaten out while having two sporty stallions lick and caress her nipples while one more gave her a horn job and one more - an erogenous back massage. She’d never been through all of that at once, but for crying out loud, that would have made her produce less cum than she currently was.

Sweetie’s thoughts told her that surely this horrible treatment was simply to deride her and bring about her mental dessication. This was not only an assault on the senses, this was an assault on… more or less everything. Her privates were producing liquids at waterfall rates. She lay there and suffered, many times worse than any kidnapped damsel from any movie she’d ever watched or book she’d ever read. And that was it. Horrible! She could not, however, run away from the simple fact that however much time Tough Break spent abusing her feelings and feet, she was approaching an orgasm. Orgasms could be non-consensual, of course, but without direct genital stimulation? That was different.

They knew. They knew it all. They knew her, they knew her in extreme depth. They knew more about her than SHE did.

“You’re a boring little slut. Geh, my fingers are aching. Fuck this, I don’t have to put so much effort into this, you’ll moan like a zombie at anything,” Tough Break mumbled with a burp, and spat generously on her feet once again, spreading the saliva over with the back of a gloved hand. “Eenie, meenie… Alright, good the fuck enough.”

Sweetie found herself bashing her tear-soaked, infernally blushing face against a nearby bump in the padding. It felt as if one of her soles just got run over by traffic. If spiked metal tires were the new automotorist’s hottest trend. Her teeth bit hard into the gag. Whatever it was, it rolled over the other sole as well, to the same result. Frictious, hot, pokey, hard. So hard, her immobile feet attempted to at least vibrate, futilely. Then again… She herself began to roll in place, to throw herself from side to side. At the fourth journey of whatever it was over her soles, she ceased to gurgle and screech through the gag, now simply whimpering and breathing loudly through her nose. Steaming. Hot. Rubbing. Poking.

“You want me to fall asleep or something? Nah, you’re not that smart. Fuck you anyway!” Tough Break declared, and there was a short pause in the torment. As soon as the implement was gone from her feet, they began to hopelessly try to thrash in place. About five or ten seconds to gather her thoughts was not good enough time, but it was enough to register a few important things. Despite the friction-generated heat and the harsh pokings, she felt no real pain. It was, instead, more of an incredibly intense massage - a massage she would definitely have called off if she had the power, but still, a massage. One that felt like it should be shattering bones, but it mostly seemed to perk up her nerve endings and set them on absolute edge. That was it for the thinkings, because as soon as the pegasus was back on the stool, both her feet were assaulted simultaneously. “Shit, I can’t even watch how you get pink on your feet! You’re freaking red already. Damn marshmellows…”

Despite it being more of a massage, it was nowhere near bearable. It was, in fact, a touch too much. Passage of time was hard to tell, but it wasn’t entirely too long until the drooling mare arched her back one more time - this time for a long, long while. There was a limit to how long she could simply leak hot wetness: she had hit the climax. It was a harsh, fiery one, torn out of her by force, with wheels and teeth. Whatever she tried to think of only made it worse, triggering things that put her into heat, extending the orgasm by a second here and there. It lasted for much longer than any previous ones did - and obviously, Tough Break showed no intention of stopping. When her juices were spent, Sweetie felt like a spent husk of a mare - a spent husk that was still being harassed. A mournful, sorrow-filled moan left her throat. Her tongue licked the rubber inside her mouth out of desperation, and found little more than that it had no real taste.

The wheeling continued for a while. Her brain kept track of it, each roll getting heavier and sending quakes deeper down her wriggling, sweaty, sensitive nerve sack of a body. Then it kind of stopped, as it got too severe to comprehend. Something was starting to get clearer then, but it became truly apparent once her peds were given a break. All of her body felt like rumbled dough, soft and malleable, always able to be pushed in harder when it seemed there was no more pressure to be survived. Her feet, however… The unicorn’s kink-savviness came to her enlightenment there.

Now that there was a second to think, she figured out that a pair of very cruelly modified massaging wheels had been being used on her, which explained the feeling, however savage it was. After a massage, a bodypart tended to become lax and more sensitive. It was bad enough to begin with, and was currently confirming that theory, feeling as if phantom prongs were rumbling all over the hopeless surface, driving earthquakes up the length of her body. After a climax, one that she was barely about to start recovering from, tit did just that as well (from hearsay, anyway). Thusly, she came to a conclusion.

“NnnmnmNMNNNMNM!” the pony whisperscreamumbled into the harsh gag. “Pmmfhse snmntp pmmfhse pmmfhse pmmfhse MMM CNMNT HMMNDL NMMMMMT!!!”

“Shut up,” was the brief response that she got verbally. The physical response was even more telling.

The changeling’s gloved hand delivered a mighty slap against the surface of both her soles. Their surface was so doughed up that the slap almost felt chilly - before spreading out a wave of hurty heat, giving her toes a good taste of the binds as they reflectively tried to scrunch. Sweetie jerked so hard that her restraints almost creaked, and her straitjacket made an ear-splitting squeak. Hot tears streamed out of her eyes at an increased rate. The sharpness of the pain was quickly overriden, however. Tough Break’s hard fingernails raked heels-to-toes, and the hurt whimper turned into a drawn-out, panicked squeal.

When she raked there the first time, it was overpoweringly terrible. This? This her body could scarcely comprehend. So sharp that it tickled, so tickly that it stabbed, so stabby that it zapped, so zappy that it heated, so heaty that it chilled, so chilly that it was heavy. Worse with every single solitary inch of her flesh, weak spots were lost on her, it was all a weak spot. She felt like an outdated machine trying to compute a purpose it wasn’t programmed for. Many words could be applied to her torture prior, but this seemed to transcend words. This was… a searing pink sensation. It sparkled, it sizzled, and it smelled vaguely of fresh air. How could she even? No, she couldn’t even.

It didn’t seem to be stopping, either. Rake, rake, trawl, scratch, slap. Spit. She no longer screamed or complained, she just moaned. Moaning was simple, anything else simply required too much thought. Her cognitive system was overloaded… And yet the warm embrace of nothingness wouldn’t come. Awake, but not so aware, not at all. The entirety of her inner being was hopping from desk to shelf, the ceiling cracked open for a downpour, the floorboards rotted away to let in a wildfire, the walls clicked and allowed inside a hurricane. Rake, rake, trawl, scratch, slap… Spit. This was too much for her! She couldn’t! Couldn’t even!

And that was another orgasm.

“Holy fuck. Are you actually a marshmellow? I’m just fuckin’... I’m not even doing anything special! Holy shit! You just came again! Wow,” Tough Break half-coughed gravelly, and then erupted into laughter. It wasn’t too comforting. “Okay, you’re good for something. Comedy fucking gold. There, see, up there? Yeah, it agrees.”

Sweetie was already looking ‘up there’ - her head didn’t even thrash side to side any longer, and her eyes only blinked so often. It did take some effort to actually look at what she was staring at. Her feet reeled in their restraints, temporarily free of abuse, giving her those precious seconds. Up above was the grated light… that had turned bright pink instead of plain white. More lights peppered the ceiling now, too, hidden inbetween the padded bumps. All of them shone a candy pink. She had no clue what that meant, but that was a change, and her torturer laughed, so… No clue.

Actually comprehending something visually for too long was tough, so the mare shut her eyes and shook her head lightly, to balance out all the things boiling within it. She wriggled in the straitjacket, squeaking it up, distantly surprised at the lack of sweat she surely must have produced over however long this had been. Her orgasm stains, too… Fortunately, she was all but formally broken, so that was only a convenience.

To compensate for that pleasantry, she was kicked on the rump by a boot. Somewhat lightly, but her dreadfully increased sensitivity made it very noticeable regardless. She fluttered her eyes open, and they were instantly frozen in terror. Tough Break stood over her, grinning, her eyes glowing bright amber, and her fangs blicking off the pink rays that the ceiling had begun to emit. In her hands was a tool that the pony was familiar with, being, on one hand, a fetish enthusiast and all, and on the other, having used it on a daily basis before. A hairbrush. A familiar one, a vented model - an arching rectangular paddle-like head with rows of pointy bristles separated by vents, row after row after row of owchy protrusions, ending with a stubby handle. Black with amber bristles.

“Yo. You recognize this? Eh? Still got any brain left in there? Just wanted to show you something you’d at least know the fucking name of,” the pegasus said, dragging a finger across the fine, pointed bristles. They emitted a sound that no vented hairbrush Sweetie could recall (not many, in her condition - but still) ever making. These tended to be pretty silent. Mush harsher, sharper, almost electric. Stuff tended to get electric in this place a lot… “I haven’t had my nails done in two weeks, and you still freaking came. This thing’s waaay sharper. Shit’s gonna be amusing.” She grinned, and for a moment, there was only the hairbrush, the fanged grin, and the eyes.

The pony continued to stare where she was staring until then, even when the changeling left. And when the vicious bristles descended upon both her feet at once, in the middle, covering both arches, she simply closed them.

Tough Break was right. Her brutal fingernails didn’t hold a candle to this. They sincerely, honestly did not. If there was a sensation that could be generalized as “NOOOOOO”, that was it, this was the stuff of nightmares, her poor exposed feet simply could not deserve such treatment. The bristles were flashy, scrabbly, pokey, and they were legion, and they marched in perfect, sporadic, harsh, quick, scrubby unison. In her current state, even touching one bristle with a heel would have gotten her to giggle - this had her roll her eyes as her aching stomach desperately tried to produce muffled laughter.

Sweetie thought she was exploding, and had all the rights to do so. All of her body was riding off the massage, the climax, the everything. The changeling covered her feet in another layer of spittle, and continued raking them all over. There didn’t seem to be a bodily way she could remain conscious - or, well, alive?.. - for too much longer. The sensation was so much more powerful than her nervous system’s puny processing power. She legitimately wasn’t good enough to really comprehend the extent of what was being done to her.

The brush was everything she’d been subjected to all at once. The bestial strength with which it was being rubbed into her immobile soles created heat and friction much like the wheels did. The pokey bristles tickled as horribly as the fingernails did, only there were loads more of them, and they indeed were superior. And the realization that this was all actually much worse than she could comprehend, that she was simply not tuned well enough to feel the extent of the torment, with all of the applied amplification… That made her feel as downtrodden as before. This was torture, horrible, terrible torture! And the only reason it wasn’t even worse was because Sweetie Belle was such an inferior sex toy. Apparently.

Good girl Sweetie weeped, screamed and howled. Sex slut slave Sweetie, in turn, produced another climax. A harsh moan left her raspy, in spite of the gag and all. Her eyes burned slightly, for there were only so many tears she could shed.

The lights on the ceiling glowed brighter, more and more, with each passing minute of the seemingly infinite brushing. Brighter… brighter… brighter… the tone changed as well, the color switched. From candy pink to dark blue, then dark blue for a decent while, then a paler teal… then the lights split equally between dark pink and pearl white, covering the entire horrible room in the colors of taffy and marshmallow.

The brushing went on and on. She only got breaks for the changeling to spit at her soles again. It took four such breaks for her to realize that there was more to it - for an entire minute (or more?) after each spit, the sensations got even worse. It truly was hard to track, for the actual tickling feelings were barely comprehensible any longer. The friction was what gave it away. No longer was she riding on the massaging impacts of before and the orgasmic sensitization of the now - Tough Break’s saliva acted as a sensitizing lotion in and of itself. If only Sweetie was good enough to make use of all these improvements put upon her…

At least she was good enough to orgasm. The next one was so powerful that she saw the pink and white exchange for a warm, amber. Her swirling mind caught on to the suggestion of a light dinging, clicking noise. Light humming could then be heard… not that it registered for her very much.

“Uhuuuh. Damn, bitch is a privvy… nice freaking company, huh?.. Well, guess shit’s working right then. Gah, fuck, just as it got good. Fine. Hey, you!” she heard Tough Break bark, at the very edge of her hearing. “Take care of her. And get me a smoke. Fuck up, and I’m not gonna forget this shitty chair!”

“Hey… Hey, hey… hey. Shhh. It’s okay! You’re alive… you’re back here… It’s, uh. It’s gonna get better. You’ll be with friends soon. Just relax and let me…”

She felt the straitjacket click open, and did absoltuely nothing with it aside from drift into unconsciousness. The thoroughly abused mare had plenty to think of when she woke up on her cough in a tight embrace, some movie running softly on the TV, and a warm snout rubbing against the back of her head. She was quiet that night.

---

February 28th
Dear Diary,

Today was… interesting. I had my walk again, this time it was more eventful. So I get to write more than a few lines in you. Hooray… My gut still kinda crawls when I look at the past days. There, I just blushed too. Good thing stuff got a bit different today. I’m snapping out of routine, it feels pretty good.

I finally stopped being a creep at lunchtime and ~~talked to~~ got talked to by someone. Never had the gut to approach anyone from the other pens, and I was too afraid, and I know I can’t really trust him… Again, I am very goopy after the ~~tor~~ sessions. So guess who broke the ice today. No points for guessing.

I’m both happy and sad Pinkie is around here, to be honest.

…

Sweetie sat cross-legged on her bench and sipped sweetened tea out of the mug, her skin perspiring slightly under the simulated sunshine of the fake outdoors. The atrium of the compound she was kept in was quite the magimorphical wonder to behold - a large, open space with invisible barriers that separated the acclimatized captives as they took their time off. It appeared as a different environment for everyone, Honey told her - the magic sought to create the most soothing, relaxing vista possible, melding the malleable surfaces and winds of the pony’s allocated cell to be exactly fitting and blend right into the desires and wishes of the broken-in captive. So for Sweetie it was a nice, warm resort beach with a gazebo to provide shade, some smooth grass, some palmtrees for ambience, and a slushy, wavy sea that the unicorn could actually swim in, albeit only for a few meters - more of a neatly glorified bathtub, really.

At the moment, the mare had just done exactly that, and was drying off, wrapped in a towel, on one of the sun benches, seeping tea, while Honey had some alone time, splashing in the water a while longer. This was a relatively innocent time. The pleasant smells, the seaward sounds and the temperature all called for Sweetie not to question overly uncomfortable things, pushing them back in her mind’s queue, so they had not had a falling-out yet. They chatted and chitted idly, having pleasantries. He told her about how this place worked, in a somewhat amusingly nonchalant way. It was nice to listen to, in his words and voice, anyway. This cell of the atrium space was give to her only after she’d gone through her breaking-in week - and then she was allowed to use it over the week her assessment continued. Assessment being the tingly, huffy, and all-around blurry hours she spent with Tough Break, who was mercifully absent, for the poor innocent Sweetie wanted as little to do with the punkette as possible as soon as their infinitely long session was over. She deserved this place, and it would expand and change as she was more thoroughly introduced into the peculiar, nondescript system that this place revolved around…

There was a list of perks to that, and one of them Sweetie was eagerly surprised by as her cup was half empty. It was not her that was bestowed with it: it was someone else who decided to use it.

“Oh. Um! Oh, Sweetie, puppy!” Honey Pot’s voice broke her melding, flowing reverie. “Sweetie, we’re having guests… apparently.”

“Huh?” she wondered slurredly, in a slight daze. Honey’s pleasantly toned figure scrunched up, hands raising nervously to his chin, as he splashed to the very edge of their cell for some odd reason. The confused unicorn didn’t get to voice more of her quandries, even though she didn’t really get why the stallion pushed his palms against the invisible barrier, which then glowed amber. For there was a phantom pull on her gut - the debilitated remnants of her acute self-preservation instinct - and a soundly thud right to her side. A bit of tea splashed on the sand underneath her freshly repedicured feet. Her and the object of the thudding blinked at each other for a few seconds.

“Hi!” her guest greeted her, and wrapped her towelled self into a neat, rubby hug. “Thaaank you!” the new pony yelled at nobody in particular - nobody visible - in the distance, and then returned her attention to the befuddled Sweetie in her grasp, who’d already made herself comfortable by reflex. She had good reasons for that.

“He- Hello. You’re… They got you here as well, huh?” the unicorn asked weakly, looking into the pink earth mare’s pleasant teal eyes. “I… oof… I… I knew it… ooh…” Her body immediately produced a few streaks of sweat and brought her into a moan as her mind coursed into several forbidden territories.

“Nmmm… Hushy-hushy nom-nom-nom,” Pinkie Pie, a mare that had last been seen only so recently before the fateful day, vocalized while digging her snout’s way onto Sweetie’s neck and nibbling on it. Somehow, the pressure relented. “Sweetie… it’s so nice to see youuuu!!!” the earthen mare squealed gently into her neck, eliciting a giggle out of the younger unicorn. “And you’re so sweeet! Mmm, totally worth the six hour shift,” she murmured, presumably to herself, but audibly, as her eyes rolled back in enjoyment. They cuddle-bumped for about a minute more, like sleepy puppies, before finally untangling themselves from each other.

Honey stood waist-deep in water, one of his arms touching against the wall, blowing a wet hair out of his face, sighing. Sweetie waved to him, struggling to do so over Pinkie’s superior posture and poofy mane. The unicorn managed to give him an “OK” gesture.

“It’s okay! She’s a friend!” Sweetie notified him, a notion which caused her to almost choke - the earth pony’s hug became a crushing vice on her abdomen for a fraction of a second. “She… she’s okay!..”

“I know, kitty, I know! It’s fine, I’ll be here for a bit if you don’t mind!..” her handler’s croaking voice reached her ears, and the mare couldn’t investigate for reasons of having a very old friend caressing her right into her lap. “I have… things to manage, you know… work!”

“Oh, your ringmaster’s so cuuute. Mm, I’d eat him up, but, ah-heep, um, my butt’s still a bit… oof… achey.” Pinkie cheek-nudged her, pressing Sweetie deeper against her chest. The older mare wore a plain white singlet and underpants, looking slightly frazzled and bedraggled, making her more satisfying to snug into, which her body very eagerly did. “Lettem’ do his stuff. He’s not lying, I don’t wanna be launched into the ceiling or anything! Already done that today!”

The younger mare blinked at her with a confused smile.

“He’s holding connections between our cells. Y’know, can’t just let us visit each other willy-nilly, or we’d ACK—” Once again, the pleasant hug turned into a crushing vice, and her snout got mushed hard and deep into the sizeable breasts - while their owner arched her back, mouth agape, widened eyes rolling, moaning in a sharp falsetto, and producing bodily vibrations Sweetie herself was all too well acquainted with by now. She got away with heat, sweat, and wetness… Pinkie’d gathered some things that caused her to instantly have a harsh orgasm. The younger pony caressed and consoled her newfound friend. “Okay!.. So, so sorry… Ow, I got my fun juice all over your thigh… Ohhh my panties are a mess nooow… Whew.” After the five seconds it took her to huff those words out, the earth mare suddenly perked up, ceased puffing, shook her head, and cleared her throat. “Alright, that was fun, whoo! Anyway, how are you.”

Sweetie was still kneading gently into the bigger pony’s back, but now had some issues keeping up with the program. Pinkie Pie was quite abrupt, even when you knew she was. This seemed particularly unusual, though.

“Me, um… I… I dunno where to begin, Pinkie. This is, you knooow… kinda very sudden. Like, all of this.”

“Oh, I getcha, I getcha.” She received an encouraging nuzzle. “Well let’s see. We got matched, sooo… you’re here for about three weeks, am I right? Wouldn’t have gotten to see you otherwise!”

“Actually, I’ve been here for… two weeks now. Yeah, actually, actually… actually, today’s exactly two weeks since I got here.” For revealing such information, she received a tighter, albeit less lethal, hug, and a shower of kisses.

“Mmmwahmmmwahmmmwah, happy anniversary! I hope you’re liking it here.” Sweetie raised an eyebrow - somehow, it seemed a strange thing for Pinkie to say. “Cause, y’know… may as well. We got two types of ponies in this place. Ponies that are liking it and ponies that aren’t liking it yet.” The answer to her rising eyebrow was a shrug and a very brief moment of somberness on the other mare’s face. “I sure am glad you’re already acc-coo-kii-kaa-klookloo-climatized. Jeesh, that first week, it’s always the toughest, I hear. I still remember mine, and it ain’t really that bad when I think about it!”

That got Sweetie to giggle in morbid amusement.

“I dunno about that, Pinkie. I’ve been getting… absolutely… murdered this entire week. The first week was actually pretty nice, Honey’s…” The suggestion of dreaminess in her expression allowed the earthy to nod slyly, allowing the unicorn not to finish. “Yeah. And this week… The first few days, I was so wrecked after that bitch was done with me, I didn’t even care for this place. The first day, I was so out of it, I didn’t even get to go.”

“Aw… Poor Sweetie,” the pink mare consoled her while giving out a nice ear scratch. “You have to hand it to these guys. Eeeveryone’s got a thing of their own… I think of my first week, and hooh boy! Nuh! Nuhuhuh! Wow, that was fun.” Sweetie scrunched her snout at how unusually high pitched and static the last sentence came out. The hug got a bit tighter, too - for a second.

“Hey, ahm—”

“So, like, m-my ringleader is… Miss Strawberry Crimson. We found some common languages now, but at first, lemme tell you, we had dog fights! Slug races! Snail lifting!” Pinkie gulped to stop her tirade, and stared in front of herself for a few seconds, sighing. “Theeese are all metaphors.”

Sweetie scrunched her face and took a glance at Honey, who stood with his head hung low and hand sustaining the connection at the edge of the cell. She shrugged.

“Well, hmmm. Alright, Pinkie - how about you tell me how things’ve been. Let’s, y’know… make us a picture of the situation! And stuff. Um. You know?..” the unicorn nudged her friend, who began to nod quite quickly. “Yeah. Find out more about how we’re doing. Mhm. Sooo… you never really got to meet anyone else before now?”

“I have! After my first two weeks, too! You wouldn’t believe what sorta ponies you find up here. I didn’t even find ‘em, and they were still toppa the line,” Pinkie nodded to herself while Sweetie tilted her head at the qualitative evaluation of ponies. Personality marketing was scarcely a thing associated with that mare… Things had changed. “Princess Luna’s here!”

“...whoa. Damn. Oh… oh. Oof.”

“Yeeeah, she wasn’t taking it thaaat great at first, but I helped her ease into it. She was going tweedly for a while! They were about to lock her up in the Breaking Room for the fourth day in a row, but I finally earned enough credit from Miss Crimson, paid her a visit, used up the one hour they gave the poor mare inbetween all the nastystuffs, aaand she came ‘round.”

“...Breaking Room?..” she asked with a considerably shaky voice. What she was going through for a week now fit her definition of breaking perfectly, and it seemed to be part of the course for her. It got worse? She felt her inner cautiousness rise up about tenfold. Her arms gripped Pinkie for comfort.

“Yep! Sure’s a good thing she’s an alicorn, cause jeesh, they’d have to run us all dry to power up the magic to keep her healthy for that sorta thing. Brutal,” Pinkie concluded and licked her lips unconsciously. Sweetie scrunched even harder. “Lemme tell you, after what she told me, I haven’t paid this much attention to rules since preschool. And I ain’t telling you, cause that’s… twenty one plus on the disc, Sweetie. Yoof!” Somehow the lack of details said enough.

The younger mare only gulped and let out a squeaky noise in response, but it seemed her input wasn’t necessary for her friend to keep informing her.

“So, yeah… Princess Luna’s around now, we have sessions together every day. I sorta miss Rainbow, buuut… Well, Miss Crimsons right, it’s by the rules. Weee are the Masochists. Smack-fwomp-tickle-unf.” A weird smile crept up on the unicorn’s face. At least she definitely wasn’t alone in her kink plight as far as her place of captivity was concerned. All of them like her, one way or another… “Dashie’s more like, add about twelve more steps fulla’ screaming and crying, and then multiply the unf by about a hundred times. That’s tough, so she’s with the other Breakers now. I’m sure she’s fit in. I tried to send her a letter, but that was minus forty credit. Ow.”

As her heartbeat increased and new information was processed, Sweetie Belle steadied herself to keep going. Pinkie sure talked a lot about rules - and while some things she was clearly barred from even thinking of, it seemed a wise move to get as productive as possible before there was a chance for something to happen. Not to discredit her old friend, but her presence sure gave Sweetie a wider range of paranoias.

“I… see. Gosh. This place is sick.” That phrase caused a few seconds’ pause, as apparently even hearing that made the earthen mare arch her back. The two of them communicated through the eyes, and the unicorn resigned not to criticize any of the local design again. “I mean, it’s, uh, tough. To figure out. So, ahm. Credit?..”

“Oooh, don’t, don’t worry about that. Strawberry Crimson has that stuff, came up with it for me after a few days. She’s really smart, I can see why they got this job! See, they’re… Well, I’m a pony sorta pony, y’know? Comes with the parties. So I have potential, she says. I ain’t gonna argue with that. Buuut, I’m…” The pink pony sighed and her lips trembled for a few moments. “I have kinks to iron out… skills to learn… I’m not good enough yet. That’s bad. All of these ponies in here, we crave the ticklings. And I’m the Element of Laughter,” she said dramatically, her voice shifting in tone completely to announce her title, suddenly going lower, more subdued, less squeaky, aback-taking. “But I keep doing all the rookie mistakes. I didn’t know there was so much of a science to… Laughter. There’s how to laugh… when… why… how to make others laugh… then an advanced study in every way of making others laugh… and we’re not even pickin’ stuff got nothing to do with tickling… Well, it wasn’t fair that I get to have regular schedules and stuff like everyone else. I shoulda had an advantage, and I blew it. So, I get points for doing stuff right, and that’s how I get to sleep in bed, have my book-and-movie hours, and talk to ponies during break.”

“That’s…” Sweetie stopped herself short of ‘horrible’. “...interesting. So how long do you have to work to do something like this?..” The earthy nodded in gratitude. The younger mare pulled up the towel around her slender body, and the light tickle she delivered to herself via poking reminded her that not only was she not the only masochist in there - her affinity for tickling was also much more of a key thing than she ever assumed. Not so fringe. A picture may have begun to form, if there was the processing power.

“Ooo, credit earnings, that’s tough. They already cut me a lot of slack, I got to see Rainbow for free, now that’s Luna though. To get to meet you though… Hmmm!” As her hands were busy cuddling the younger mare, she simply began to nudge the unicorn around instead - scratching her chin with the horn as she pondered. “First I managed to escape from the brushing rack in under thirty minutes, and only broke one of the belts… so that’s when [PRONOUN] told me I had a new friend here. Then I kinda blew the tickling theory quiz, though. It’s pretty difficult, I shoulda prepared harder. Can’t go anywhere if I don’t know how to get a crowd in on the action before they ask too many questions! I can kinda get through the questions at first, it’s just a pair of hands on each of my feet, and I only gotta talk for three minutes on each topic, but then when the belly button fuzz-stick comes in, I just can’t plan my laughter out anymore, and the questions keep piling up, geez! I mean, I can handle it when all three copies of her give me questions, but my ears just go whoosh-whoosh-whoosh when they do that. And if I get more than five questions wrong, they gag me, and I haven’t figured out how to do the quiz then at all!”

“Uuu… hhhh… uhuh…” the chinscratch mare whimpered, hoping she did make it obvious she needed Pinkie to move on. Not just because of the time constraints, but because the picture she painted was… something else. Either Pinkie Pie was always a special case, no matter what, or every single pony in here had a very different approach to them.

“Oh, oh, yeah, yeah, sorry, my bad! You’re still in school, and I made you think about tests.” The young adult’s ‘but’ died in infancy, as the older mare cleared her throat and sighed. “Well, crud, I’m gonna have to ask for another punishment. Ah, well, anyway! Miss Crimson was real nice, didn’t take any points off me, so I just had more ways to gather more. I’m not bragging, but I am, tee-hee. An hour of not pulling away from four fine-toothed brushes, a forty minute improvised speech during an upper body assault, and then I aced the multiple cho—” More befuddlement was inserted into the mentally weary Sweetie as her friend somehow managed to make a car break sound with her mouth, and then, instead of ‘—ice test’, continued with a: “—ose your own adventure challenge. And I never managed that before, so that was really exciting. It’s sorta hard to be sure which finger presses A, B, C or D, the blindfold is reeeally thick, the real trick is holding your breath when the question’s being told, cause the earmuffs here are the real deal! Now that wasn’t easy, cause I had a clawsy claw between each of my toes, and they were just scraaabbbling all over the rest of my poor old feet with those wheels, but I got every one right. Lotta credit for that one. And now we’re here!” After the long and frankly horrifying account of her torments, Pinkie smooched Sweetie’s cheek and finally stopped nudging her around. “Hi.”

“Gosh. That’s… well. That… that… that’s nothing like what I got. My first… um, first week…” the younger mare stammered, fighting with her brain to please not get wet at imagining all of the things she just heard. “It, eeaaooh. Oof…”

“Ohhh riiight. Bah, bad Pinkie. Yeah, this is definitely more escape artistry for me. I didn’t tell about my first week. Was pretty simple, actually. I was kind of a blasty, crusty nasty. I even tried to tickle her! Orsomething like that, it’s been a while, my memory’s a bit fuzzy-wuzzy. They actually forgave me that one. I do remember that. Cause on week three, I had my tickling practice courses, now those are a whooole other th—” Another car break sound gave Sweetie a startle. “Right. First week. Mostly detention, learning the rules by heart, punishments, sorta stuff. Week two was great, I got to actually do this stuff like it’s meant to be, they even turned the lights on and brought me some plushies! Yeah, it’s kinda nice from here on out. Sure is.”

“I’m… suuure, yeah. T-totally agree.” They nodded at each other furiously. “Well, uh. Mine’s very different. Honey there—” The unicorn waved her hand to him, and he waved his in return, smiling at them, eliciting a coo out of the pink pony. “—took care of me, I guess you could say. We had a bit of a rocky start, but it’s past us now. He’s... “ She deliberated for a few seconds, deciding whether to hint at her scheme or not. After having realized she had issues piecing said scheme together in enough time, she decided that that was a no. “Kind of my boyfriend now.”

“That’s nice! I’m very happy for you, you get a lovey-dovey handler! Boyfriend’s a cuter name than Ringleader. Iii’m going into the Iron Mare, I may as well be nasty now.” That line saw Pinkie’s head turn upwards, to the peaceful blue sky, where she originally fell from. A spreading web of amber, much like one emitting from Honey’s hand, was located there as well. “Rainbow Dash had an Instructor. Princess Luna… actually, I’ve never met hers.”

“Wait, actually… He’s nice, yes, we’re okay with each other.” Sweetie frowned, battling thoughts she couldn’t actually even recognize.

“Hah! Is he a lupony or something? Does the full moon, like, go up and he tears you into tiny teeny Sweetie-pieces?” her friend joked bemusedly, to which the unicorn was happy, as it seemed the older pony found genuine joy in the humor of it - the laughter lacked the strange, overly refined tinge to it. “Way to strain poor Pinkie’s imagination, whoo! That guy, gee.”

“Aaactually… Despite whatever we, uh… disagree on, I guess…” Her throat went a little sore at the remembrance of the treatments - one of which was only over a few hours ago. “Honey’s an angel compared to her.”

“Her?” Pinkie asked, mimicking Sweetie’s tone for authenticity. Her eyes, however, spoke of genuine wonder.

“She calls herself ‘Tough Break’. She’s, well. A changeling, she’s a real changeling. She’s also a real bitch! I don’t, I… wuaaah, grrr!” the unicorn resorted to angry noises, snuggling deeper into the huggable mare. “She makes my skin craaawl.”

“Oooh. You get to have twooo… Hey that’s interesting. Heh!..” An element that persisted within Sweetie became apparent in the earthy’s visage - curiosity and active thought. “We all get one pony who’s pulling double duty, and you get to have two!.. That’s iiinterestiiing...”

It took until a wink from the earthy for Sweetie Belle to get it and wink back, the two of them exchanging a nod.

“Uhuh. Sure, totally! Yeah. Eh, um, exactly. You have a Ringleader. I have a Boyfriend and a Bitch.”

“Tee-hee! I guess she isn’t listening in on you, though, that’s cool!” The earthy patted her on the head.

“...ahhh crap,” the unicorn whispered. “Anyway, so… that’s not normal?” Sweetie put in a lot of effort into hiding the dread of the fact she may be being listened to by that changeling.

“Well nobody I’ve met over here had two. Gee, Sweetie, I wonder why these cheesy guys let you have two handlers - you must be more potent than us. That’s probably fun!” The grimace on the younger pony’s face got the earthy to quickly start hushing. “No-no, I’m not being a jerkface, Sweetie. I mean… Changelings don’t really… Don’t be surprised, I took a while to get it, so - you know what, I’m not gonna force you into it! You’ll see it with time. Maybe I made miss Strawberry Crimson sound nastier than she is? She’s not nasty at all, I swear I swear! Yeah. I’m not gonna plomp on your mood and say nasty things. Just know it’ll be fine.”

“Wait, Pinkie Pie, hold up, what were you—”

“I think I need to go, actually. Sorry-sorry-sorry. Crimson’s caling. I can feel it. Oomff, yeah, yeah I can. Yeeaooowch…” Pinkie pulled out of the hug, going cross-eyed for a second, arching her back first, and then doubling over. She began to huff, staring at Sweetie. The bright teal eyes glowed a blurry, goopy amber, which seemed to spread from her eyes directly into her head. The earthy’s ears flicked in a sharp staccato. “Oh, oh, oh jeesh, wawawawawawawa… Ohhh, I wondered if I deserved all that credit, now I get it… Looks like she’d have asked me to talk to you regardless, now I learn a lesson in resourcefulness as well.” The earthen mare sighed and hung her head, then cleared her throat, and primed herself up. She proceeded in a significantly more ‘normal’ voice, which for her, wasn’t that normal. “Alright, so. Good news and bad news! We’re gonna meet again soon.” As she talked, she stood up from the bench and walked around on stilted legs, sighing as her imbued eyes glazed over the inviting water.

“Really? That’s cool! We really should talk more, I feel much better now that I’ve talked to you!” Sweetie put a hand on her shoulder, encouraging the friendly mare. “Stuff’s gonna be much better now, you’ll see.”

“Aaand by soon I mean tomorrow. And then overmorrow,” Pinkie said bluntly, stumbling over her words, scratching her back of her head. “And then over-overmorrow. And, well, like, for a week. Crimson says we’ve been matched.”

“What does that mean, again?..”

“Oh, like me and Rainbow. And Luna now. You’re part of our group! Apparently… I, I didn’t know, Sweetie!” Pinkie suddenly gasped and lunged at the mare, but instead of bringing her down on the sand, it was herself who plastered at the younger mare’s pampered feet. “I’d have told you if I knew, pleaseforgivemepleasepleasepleaseokaaay?!”

“It’s okay!... It’s fine, don’t be so worried, we’ll get through it…” she hushed the teary-eyed pony, kneeling over and rubbing her cheeks, smiling as reassuredly as she could. “Why’d you even need to apologize?..”

Puppy eyes took up five seconds of what turned out to be valuable time.

“I… kinda put off telling you about our group sessions for a reason, Sweetie…”

Both of them gulped.

“Wait. What’s even—”

Pinkie tightened the pinching hug on her legs, but it wasn’t uncomfortable for long. Within little time, she began to wisp away - slowly being lifted off the ground and flushed upwards into the sky. They stared at each other, and all either of them could do before sharing goodbyes was shrug and sigh.

“Sweetiee-puppyyy…” Honey’s soft, slightly tired voice sounded out from the simulated sea, over the phantom seagulls and the flushing waves. “Come on, let’s go splash together and you’ll tell me all about it.”

The mare fixed up her towel and brushed aside locks of her slightly sweatened hair. She sighed at the new light cast upon receiving requests from her handler.

“Alright… In a second, Honey.”

“My arm really aches,” his implying whine echoed over to her.

“Okay, I’ll rub it all the better,” she conceded, and went back to the sea, casting off her towel to a pleased, sweet smile of her Boyfriend.