Diary of Sweetie Belle, 19

March 7th
Dear Diary,

It’s a day. Very strange how it feels. You know, right? I thought that after the three of us got a new friend to share in our sessions, stuff would get mixed up again. And as you know, it did. You know my routine by now… All morning, while Honey was giving me the massage, I was blabbering about how worried I was, that you’d crank the crazy up a notch again. Honey is still a littlesilly.

Sure, changelings are changelings, it’s there in this title of yours… But it’s been more like vampires for the time I’ve spent over here. Hooking their magic up to us, then doing what they do. Luna still thinks they’re storing it, because groups like ours are doing something ~~special with the am~~ I still don’t get it, to be honest. Pinkie and I are pretty sure we’re keeping them around, this can’t be an easy place to keep working. It’s got to be such a tough job, making all this to house us. Taking the time to see what we need to really fall in. That’s got to take juice, I guess. Well, I think you know better. After all I’ve left over here, I’m pretty sure this is the kinda thing you pretty much want to be told. So, about changelings.

Just weird. I can’t really tell what came over me back then - over any of us. The more I think of it, the more riled up I get. Honey is helping with a massage. He should get something nice.

I know myself pretty well. Pinkie is ~~kinda ko~~ a bit of a mystery sometimes, but she acted strange as well. Luna too. The fourth, the really odd one, Sonata… As if the creepy wobbles out of all those devices you hid in every room weren’t crazy enough whenever she gets going. She acted nothing different at all. Which is, I mean… It was classic, right? Light to start with, to each their own… this whole scenario… but then it just turned into what it’s always turned into. And I just ~~pretty much~~ ~~sort of~~ didn’t care. Like a song gets played in G Major, but I don’t even notice. I wish I didn’t finish so hard. I need to talk about this to the girls. Honey isn’t too much use with this… the look he gets in his eyes.

The thing with this is what else happened, I’m not happy with it. Maybe it’s stupid to be mad at how you did it instead of what you did, but I can’t help. Perhaps if I was less of an airhead and thought more of how changelings worked, and tried to put it against the things I’ve been through? I don’t know. It’s tough to be philosophical right now.

At least I know for certain he’s not fake. I saw fake today, and it was weird. And it didn’t matter. Honestly, I’d rather take last week’s shouting contest between that Bitch and…

…

Sweetie Belle jerked in her seat, crunching her hands - tied behind a back section of the joint 4-piece chair she and her co-captives sat on - into fists. Her eyes shut by reflex and her breathing slowed, she moaned lightly, and heard the other three do the same. A higher pitched, more rapid, somewhat more agitated moan of Pinkie’s. A lower, languid, subdued moan of Luna’s. A whiny, almost cartoony, croaky moan of the new pony, Sonata’s. As per usual. This was the energies of the mass treatment chamber settling in before they would be group harvested. Luna’s explanation, not hers. Honey corroborated it, to the best of his ability, so it was an apt enough signal that things were about to get going. It could have been worse, Pinkie once noted out loud (which earned her full sensory deprivation for the duration of that session, which then focused on her having to go through intense upper body torture - bestowed upon Luna - and unbearable pedal stimulation - which Sweetie had to go through - at the same time). At least their bell tolled with a flush of pleasant sensations teasing the nethers and settling a warm hearth in their chests.

It seemed that today was to not be a happy sort of torture day, however. If here was one entity you needed to introduce into a setup for any heartful warmth to disappear, it was Tough Break. One of Sweetie’s anomalous pair of handlers entered with her usual grace, shouldering the heavily reinforced door open, hacking out a gob of spittle, landing some on her glovebolted hand, cursing out profusely, and then wiping it on the nice pink padding on the walls. Pinkie hmfed, Luna groaned, Sonata chuckled, Sweetie was glad she didn’t wipe it against her instead.

“Oh, why the fuck do I get the clownshoes brigade again…” the insufferable changeling complained, pulling out a sheet that detailed… whatever it detailed - their torturers for the day always had one of those, but none of them saw inside. “Wow, shit, thank you Breaking Brigade, like I needed the extra shindig…”

“But we don’t have any shoes,” Sonata perked up, her voice reverberating strangely - it always did. Luna noisily exhaled, Pinkie just sighed with a giggle.

“Holy hell, what hole did we even— Ah, right. Yeah, whatever, I’ll pretend you’re a fuckin’ vegetable.” Sweetie’s handler grimaced and leaned against the wall, squinting at each of the readily restrained four. “It’s more fun to fuck with vegetables than with you losers anyway.”

“Well… maybe let us go, then?” the dark blue alicorn suggested wryly with a grin. Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but admire the spunk that’s been preserved in her. She had the right idea, anyway. Tough Break was a harsh, nasty bully. You could as well talk back to them. No big loss there, simply have the courage to speak up. Somehow, the much more experienced young unicorn never did so, instead reducing herself to wobbles and sniffles at the showers of abuse each time. “If it’s so awful to deal with us, why not just play a bit of hookey.”

“I’m not a hooker, you’ll be a fuckin’ hooker if I want you to be.”

“Uh, guys!.. I volunteer to be first. For whatever! Just stop arguing,” Pinkie declared proudly, rapidly nodding her head. Sweetie Belle herself was, as per usual, mostly mute whenever the terrible pegasus changeling was around.

That allowed her to notice something others likely didn’t. She wasn’t wearing the light green long sleeve shirt and skirt that were her out-of-room outfit. Instead, pressing down on her breasts was a slightly tight sleeveless purple shirt, one that she used to— The unicorn bit on her lip and inhaled with a hiss. Her nethers rumbled with enthusiastic vigor, artificially so. She’d very much rather not pull more attention onto herself, so the thought had to be simplified, for it apparently contained forbidden topics of thought. Old shirt, not around anymore, suddenly back, really pronounces her boobs. As if they just grew by an entire size. Also, jeans.

The argument continued, fortunately having been shifted to more of the odd things Sonata was blurting out. It masked more of the odd ongoings. The entire room was full of hazy vibrations, ones that caused her eyes to avaunt after half a second of observing. So she did, and turned to her partners - who seemed to change as well. Pinkie Pie no longer had her uniform white shirt and quirky suspender pants, instead her respectable uppers were hugged by a teal sweater with a saucy heart-shaped cut-out that allowed a peek at the bosom. The two of them hadn’t met for a few years, but it seemed the sort of thing to wear in private, certainly not for business, even if Pinkie’s business was mostly performance. Princess Luna suddenly gained her old, recognizable royal garments - an impeccable nocturnal blue and moon silver dress that caused the unicorn another fight with her nethers, for the thoughts it riled up had too much to do with banned subjects. The thoughts were innocent, the fashion enthusiast within was in awe of how amazing the dress was - so it seemed that the origin of her enthusiasm was part of what her brain was derailed from. As for Sonata, she gained a light, proper looking buttoned jacket instead of the glorified, albeit neatly incrusted, underwear they mostly saw her in. It certainly grounded the odd mare in reality, as prior to that, Sweetie could almost bet there was something outlandish about her in more ways than one. But right now, that was not what she was thinking of.

Her mind made a few logical conclusions. Things were changing while words were being exchanged. Indeed, in the time it took her to maneuver around a few landmines to arrive at this conclusion, the room itself was no longer padding, bondage furniture and tools - it was a homely looking room, not entirely unlike the ‘inn’ they returned to after each day’s session. She could feel a fireplace crackling behind them. It was warm.

...Tough Break was gone. No one seemed to mind, or question it, even though she was just about to deliver a heavy, steel and leather-enhanced slap, on Pinkie’s wiggling soles.

When the door creaked with a wooden sound, much unlike the true clang and scrape of thick metal that belonged to it, the four mares had to undergo another heavy stimulation. Gasps, moans, huffs, and light mumbles emerged from each of them as their thoughts swirled and their eyes went blurry. Sweetie could almost hear the chittering whir of the machinery embedded in the shapeshifting walls, a thought for which her back arched to the best of its ability, and the wetness in her loins became more than a mere suggestion.

The smell that took over the room, in itself, was indicative enough. Estrus multiplied by four. The overwhelming majority of the unicorn’s thinking coincided with that of her partners in captivity: she was horny, incredibly horny. Sonata babbled something in a mildly gurgly tone, as if attempting to speak through something her body didn’t actually have. Luna hissed and huffed through clenched teeth, chipping out light moans at a rate of about two moans per huff. Pinkie visibly tried to thrash out of her restraints and start hopping in place, instead resorting to thrusting her bosom forward and upward. Sweetie herself nearly slumped, her facial expression melting down into a series of wobbly lines punctuated by half-lidded, sparkly eyes, which were already secreting tears as ordered.

And they were ordered, because her body only felt something like this after she had been thoroughly, heartlessly abused. Day into day of such abuse at the demented pegasus changeling’s hands, she learned the feeling well. This was the triumphant soar of her masochism. There were estrous scents on the air, and they were laced with implicit, absent suffering. New shapes and items populated the room, but none of them could truly notice. Base instincts took over. Artificially, they did - of course nobody abused or punished any of them, it was a mere few minutes ago that Tough Break vanished out of thin air. They were put into this masochistic high manually.

To an onlooker, as soon as the scent was removed, they looked like regularly happy, perhaps considerably horny mares. Of course, there was more to it. There was more to everything, though. Sweetie Belle, once her eyes opened at least three quarters of the way in, looked at their visitors, and realized that she could really only put her eyes on one.

Her childhood friend and once awkwardly failed romance attempt, Scootaloo, stood in front of her, smiling goofily. The unicorn’s mind didn’t even venture into the realm of why or how. It produced a healthy portion of happiness at seeing someone she hadn’t seen in some time, as her pegasus friend was busy with her final exams at the Wonderbolt Academy. That sincerely, truly didn’t matter, though. This was someone she felt one hundred percent safe with. Her thoughts, ridden with arousal and imposed artificial wear and tear, called Sweetie to feel good and nice and safe.

The athletic pegasus scratched at the back of her head, frazzling her short, unkempt purple mane, and said something with a shrug and a smile. Sweetie couldn’t truly make it out. Drool was dribbling out the side of her mouth, and she was slumped in the company chair, throbbing with some heavy juices. Whatever she said, the huffing mare concurred. The heavy reverberation and light vibration spreading all throughout the chamber, wherein three more similar conversations were going on, were now beginning to daze her out and give her a massage as she was bound and presented. Scootaloo continued to speak though, smirking warily and gesturing something… Not that there was much gesture reading going on at the moment, but Sweetie Belle inferred that she wanted to make sure about something? Or… something?.. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter hard. Her wobbly facial expression took on a slightly sterner look.

“Oh just… just get to it… you know you want to,” she whispered in a lithe, lustful lisp, her own tongue throbbing at the sensations.

It was quite very simple. Sweetie Belle, right now, was a whole sack full of sheer, unadulterated, sex. She was bursting at the seams. On a surface level, she was so horribly aroused, it didn’t matter that they appeared to be in her parents’ dining hall, that she was looking at a dear childhood friend, and that she was pretty sure it was Princess Celestia a pony away from Scootaloo. On a deeper level, one where her consciousness had been plunged oh so repeatedly over the passing weeks… it did matter. This warm, friendly homeliness.

It made her even wetter. Sweetie began to giggle even before a light, teasing sensation brushed against her expositiorially scrunching feet. She understood something just now… It wasn’t unsexy for her, for a lover of heavy bondage, of harsh abuse, of tear-guzzling torture, when all went lovey, dovey and safe. Somehow it never occurred to her prior, somehow she was undecided all these years, thrashing between one and the other. Forcing herself to be uncomfortable with one to try the other. It made sense now! It made sense, it did!

She seemed to be thinking much clearer, much better, and with far superior direction. As if the feathers being dragged across her feet slowly, amateurishly, were accelerating her mental processing, nudging it forward. Scootaloo could do that all she wanted, it was adorable in its newcomer’s attempt at tickling. Sweetie remembered now, how their attempt at a relationship fell through, it was sort of unique, it wasn’t Sweetie’s fault. Scoots felt too awkward being touchy-feely, and when she found out of her potential partner’s kink, her gut outright dropped and she had to blabber to her about how she couldn’t be able to do that sorta thing to her, and how this just didn’t mix with their friendship. Her pegasus friend was always adorable in her own special way. She’d grown to like a lot of things that Sweetie Belle very much liked to see in her partners - well, in boys, anyway, but she wasn’t too picky. A bit of a rebel, an athlete, a rowdy-ruff, charmingly clueless about some things, sweet on the inside. A dangerous posterior, a sweet, fuzzy interior… Sweet, but tough. And she wore those punkish clothes like very few ponies did.

The heaving, sweating unicorn burst out in proper laughter. Even more things made sense now! Tough Break’s jig was up. All of their designs were clear to her now. Well, maybe not all, but she got it now. She understood why it was Honey they sent to lure her in, and why they needed a second handler to torment her… Why she was called special, and why not even Luna and Pinkie could corroborate some of the things she’d gone through, as if she was on a slightly different program.

She was. And this was how she was special. This was why the friendly warmth of the situation they had been forcefully put into didn’t quelch the arousal she was forced into, but merely amplified it instead. Sweetie was a sexual omnivore. That was reason one for her laughter: reason two was that as soon as this thought entered her head in all its surprisingly crystal clarity, Scootaloo’s expression switched drastically, to a signature adorable smirk, and one of the feathers faced its pointy tip to her succulent soles instead. Perfect! She was longing for release… And feathers did quite little for that.

Quills were great, though. She recalled, in perfect, pristine memory, how she tried to explain that to Scoots once, and how even the idea of tickling eeked her out. It was adorable, though kind of mean-spirited, on her side, anyway - her pegasus friend couldn’t stand the idea of tickling somebody because she herself doubled over if you even tried to poke her. Good times. So good that her hood swelled up furthermore, ready to mess up a pair of jeans.

And, at the prickly, tingly, chilly-sharp poking of two feather-quills onto her blushing, scrunching feet, it did. The sound of unmitigated joy and relief purred out of her limp lips, creating a peculiar mixture of a moan and a raspberry. When Honey led her to climax on the bed, it tended to be heavily sped up by all the groping and stroking his tender, gentle hands did onto her. When Tough Break forced her to come in the torture room, the orgasm was positively ripped out of her, many times over. This one was… entirely freehand, the best of both worlds. A body already filled with signs of heavy abuse, thrust into safety and coziness, for a double whammy of ecstaticsensations.

She could sit up properly now, hugged tightly at her wrists by the rope, her ankles swimming in the thick, swampy padding, gladly offering themselves to further teases and pokes despite futile wriggles. The pokings surely came, as did a thin stream of hoarse nasties that she once wished for her winged friend to unleash upon her in just such a situation. Yes, her theory held up - she was already gathering juice back up.

Scootaloo’d switched from the feathers and onto more reliable tools, such as surprisingly poignant fingernails and a rather shocking set of teeth with which to nibble her digits delicately. Nowhere near to the flesh-digging magnitude of Tough Break’s, this pegasus tickled much more on the gentler side, albeit certainly with a nasty, sharp streak, one that made her not only scrunch and wiggle, but also thrash and whimper-moan on top of the reliable giggles being squirted out. The introduction of her apt mouth was a legitimate surprise, and a very welcome one. Honey Pot provided her with a fair amount of oral action, but he somehow managed to make tooth contact minimal, suckling all the time instead. His predecessor from a few years back didn’t bother - she poked her sharpish teeth all over her toes, instead keeping tongue contact to a teasing low. It was wonderful, livening, exciting, a mixture of every feeling up until now, delivered in one perfect potion. Sweetie Belle was radiant, and her consciousness sighed in relief when she disregarded the last remnants of hesitation at what was going on.

Whatever it was, it needed to continue. Even if it was technically adultery. Honey would understand. The other three did too, she knew, she could tell - their minds weren’t exactly connected, but it couldn’t be any other way, not with something like this… This overfilled her pleasure centers, both physical and mental. She was in what made her comfortable - a sentimental shirt and nice bondage, she was where she felt good - at home and surrounded by horny ponies torturing and being tortured on a kinky chair, she was taking what made her feel good - sweet thoughts of her requirements being met at record checks per minute, ravishing jolts of meanish tickles jabbing right in the spot. What else was there? There was something, though. There was everyone else, whom she saw evermore clearly in the afterglow.

Pinkie was still trying to launch herself off the chair and presumably into space, her breasts threatening to poke out of the previously minimalistic boob window. Her giggles played as if on repeat, alternating between frequencies and volumes, but pealing out so consistently it was as if she had no need of oxygen whatsoever. It made sense that despite her being so close to Sweetie, she found it so easy to put the pink pony out of her mind… like everyone else. At her feet was a faintly recognizable grey mare with a long, straight mane of a darker grey. Wielded by her were two prongy forks, tools that the young unicorn’s marehood instantly approved of. They were used peculiarly, too - instead of tracing lines on the amazingly mobile feet, they found themselves very specific spots at the arch intersections and scrubbed over there, as if digging a shovel into the soil. Pinkie’s face and laughter seemingly compensated for her tickler’s, as that other earth mare appeared either incredibly concentrated, or utterly absent from the experience. Probably not absent, since her eyes were tracing the pink pony’s feet while they made their way through the goopy stock padding, her being the only one to have any success in actually being pedally mobile.

Luna was cackling away with a wide grin and almost wider eyes, bits of pretties adorning her jiggling along with the shaking of her body. Her laughter was heavy and throaty, certainly a pleasure to hear, even for a predominantly submissive masochist. Despite her being an alicorn, she was a notch worse off than Pinkie Pie, her laughter descending into brief coughing fits from time to time, which only strengthened the appeal. At her feet was one pony Sweetie could certainly recognize - Princess Luna’s sister, Celestia. She’d probably have recognized her even if her silly mind with its silly thoughts was still as confused as it once was. Just this thought gave her another spine-chilling boost in arousal. Despite her regality, she wielded something not fancy, but excruciatingly effective: dual harbrushes with bright red, visibly sharp bristles. They swept all over the nocturnal Princess’ sizeable soles, again and again, delivering onto them a sunrise in the form of a pinkish blush. The scrubbing was so intense, she could hear the scritching over from there, and there was certainly some convenient sound muffling going on, so it had to have been at least as loud as Luna herself whenever she was reduced to coughing. It must have been as nasty as Tough Break’s worst. And that actually made Sweetie even more orgasmic than before! Oh sweet joy, now thinking of her designated Bitch didn’t make her feel any worse. In fact, it made her feel even more throbby.

Scootaloo seemed content to abide with her moaning, sniffling, faintly pealing never-marefriend’s unvoiced demands - her fingers took to raking the arches specifically, and her mouth started working double time on every toe, the tongue no longer slacking. There were certainly orgasms to be made, and that was what today was for. Sweetie Belle contorted, half throwing herself around from the burning, chilling, electric, watery combination of sensations being applied to her feet, half jittering from the sheer pleasure it brought her, causing ears to twitch, eyes to roll, and drool to slip out her mouth. Tracking the last mare of their lineup was a matter of persistent curiosity. Sonata wasn’t too badly off, even if judging by her over-animated facial expressions, she’d be sweating in her jacket before long. Her voice trailed into ghostly whispers, only to reverse itself back into a single powerful laugh, and then again, and then again. That spoke of something, as her elongated, toeful feet were being teased by a rather regular-looking pair of thick paint brushes. For her to exhibit that range of laughter, repeatedly, she must have indeed deserved a place next to them. The mare that tickled her, a yellow unicorn with an almost literally fiery mane, certainly seemed to enjoy what Sonata had to offer, having a grin so smug, Scootaloo multiplied by Rainbow Dash wouldn’t compete. A grin so absolutely sexy looking, her loins were evermore burdened. The movements of the brushes seemed somewhat more scripted than the tools of the other ticklers (as the rest either scrubbed viciously, or focused on a pair of spots, or were just scrabbling and nibbling wherever) - four vertical swipes up and down on each foot, then four horizontal swipes against the toes on each foot. Judging by the very specific eruptions of laughter, it was to facilitate particular reactions, get her to do what the fiery mare wanted. A fun concept, one that she felt a tinge of interest in, which said something, for her mind was once more awash with need.

A need that was relieved. The nibbling and the suckling combined the exotic, positively tickly sensation on the sensitive stems and the biteable pads, with the teasing, juicy strokes of a dexterous tongue. The raking and the scrabbling provided a foundation for it, a foundation of hysterical, thrash-inducing, delightfully protestable, invasive sensations. All in all, it and the other factors combined together for a doubtlessly wonderful orgasm.

Fluttering her tearful eyes, feeling the streams of sweat shower down her tense body, Sweetie smiled a wobbly smile that invited more. Her crevice was only beginning to be worn out… she could do with more. With nothing held against Honey, he couldn’t combine everything so perfectly… This was...

This was the formula of ecstasy.

Sweetie shook as fingers pressed into her soles, but not to tickle, instead to massage. She started out with no fight for any of this, and this put her fight into the negative. If it was going to be like this from now… she was signing up. Was she, really? Weren’t there other things to consider? What about the other three? Her consciousness whacked away those thoughts, focusing on the real answer, one that grew evermore clear as she zeroed in on it. Yes, she would. Her body was in pleasure, all that she loved. Whatever tiny inconsistencies took place, would be eradicated. Even the ones that existed didn’t truly matter.

Scootaloo wasn’t one she would have wanted to be torturing her. It was an amusing, curious image, and her sharp teeth and notably jagged fingernails were highly apt tools, but she was still Scootaloo. There was no intimacy between them, not anymore, she was just better than someone nondescript. Was her presence as a relic of the past any troubling? They were so close they could as well have been sisters. No, really, it wasn’t. Sweetliness and niceliness gave her loins a good, warm hum. She didn’t feel awkward or restrained, if anything it made her sexual output less sporadic and jolty, more contained and flowing. Now, as her sweaty body pressed into the chair, she purred and murmured, tight fingerpads pushing the exact right spots, rough nails pecking slowly into the thicker parts, creating minimal electric sensations. So long as whoever did it passed her standards, which she had multiple sets of, it was… what it was. Wonderful! It’d only be better if that someone truly hit the spot. Honey would be the perfect masseur, and indeed he was. Sweetie Belle relished in the memories of her time with him here.

These memories didn’t blur her mind and instill a forceful arousal within her loins. They were simply pleasant and relaxing. She hung onto them, as if she needed anything to hang onto in such a comfortable situation. Perhaps another pillow for the pile that she had been so graciously thrown into… So, what about those other pointless questions? Other things to consider? The unicorn showered her pretty purple shirt with drool. Whatever she considered, it simply boosted the orgasmic sensations and heated the bonfire of her contentment another notch. Just so simultaneously with the dexterous pegasus and her pokey, convenient claws finding a particularly wonderful pressure release spot just by the merging of the side and the arch… Sweetie could just cum forever like this, really. Her marehood wasn’t complaining. Her jeans appeared to be soaking it up like troopers.

And thinking of troopers, the rest of her group? Now that she’d found some way into her memories, being lead by a helpful crystalline trail of things she indeed had to remember, Sweetie estimated that things were even better there. They were all completely fine. Each of them faced the same circumstances, someone they are familiar and comfortable with, for one reason or another, be it familiarity or indeed even family. None of them had any reservations about letting loose their real feelings. The only ones that truly fit, of course, were a hysteria of sensational glory and a profound degree of enjoyment. It was simply right, by virtue of not being wrong.

The young mare’s memory circled for her through some relevant footnotes about each of them, to compare with how much better off they were now. Pinkie Pie was always a bit over-enthusiastic, clearly trying to win favor with whoever was putting her through the wringer, there was always a degree of desperation in her actions. Now that someone she recognized and felt content with was before her, and doling out something worthy of driving her into helpless, shivering joy, it didn’t seem like she had any issue anymore. It made sense. If Sweetie was okay with being pumped up through sheer sensations, everything else being secondary, why not her?

Luna was always a dominant personality, at least among their group, and when they had their relaxation get-togethers, she always made sure to put up as strong and resourceful a display as possible. All futile, of course, obviously, all of her and Pinkie’s attempts at devising a way of conversing about irrelevant things. She wasn’t faking and pretending any longer - now she was just growling, hissing, chuckling and cackling, a fiery blush and a coat of tears covering her all over, her thrashings severe, but her smile, grin, and wide eyes talking of ecstasy much of the kind the slumped, borderline liquified unicorn was experiencing. Sonata was not someone they got to talk to an awful lot, or find out that much about, and indeed little would be different about her, aside from desperately rolling eyes, if not for the fact that her laughter had changed entirely. If somebody could laugh underwater, that’d be how it would sound. Pretense stripped, pretense of needless standards, pretense of goals and minds, she sang a different song. Perhaps underwater laughter wasn’t the most gracious descriptor, but it was indeed melodic, like a siren’s song from long forgotten tales, only molded and directed by a fanged, amber-eyed changeling with brightly pulsating head nubs. The magical vibrations around the fourth mare were so intense that they rippled at the visage of the room, shredding open the image of the padded holding chamber.

Sweetie Belle pulled her eyes open and glared at the equine in front of her, a slightly differently built changeling, with decorative rings stuck through some of the holes on its body, and a familiar wavy quasi-mane of pure amber topping its head. It looked back at her, grinning profusely, its sharp claws giving her feet a nasty rack in heavy contrast to the melt-massage that had been given out to her prior.

“Bweheheheh. Such a fuckin’ chump. Yeah, laugh it up, block-head,” the changeling teased, its body blurring, melding into an all too familiar shape. Tough Break glared at her with a grin of occasionally fake, occasionally golden teeth, and breathed an air of pungent taurine, caffeine and alcohol as she outright cackled at the pupil-shrunken mare. “Whaaat? You like it, you slllut.”

The unicorn wriggled and thrashed as she laughed in dumbstricken desperation, poignant strokes and scathing pokes tittering all over her puddified soles. She was lost for words, and her head felt extraordinarily heavy, as if she was entering her consciousness for the first time after a short vacation. Her snout scrunched up while she coughed up sporadic squeal-giggles. Sweetie threw her head around.

It was the same padded room as before, with their chair in the middle… All ablur, all buzzing with previously concealed magical items. Now she saw them, beehive-like things floating in the air, goop-connected crystal formations circling over each of their heads, buttony things pulsating on the walls. Some were light blue, some were nocturnal, some were pink, some were white and pink. They communicated together, creating a lightshow to rival some of Pinkie’s best Hearth’s Warmings. Squealing worriedly, and still feeling as if a bucket of icy water was splashed onto her head, Sweetie Belle looked to her neighbor.

“Harharhar. Yeah, no, they don’t give a fuck. You taught them how to! Con-fuckin’-grats, Sweetie Belle, you found your purpose. You like oranges AND apples. And shit. You’re so completely lame that with just a bit of our good old, ponies that are compatible with you, we can make’em just as lame.” Tough Break explained coarsely, while Sweetie stared at Pinkie’s enlarged, slow-moving pupils, and at the smugly grinning changeling at her feet. Obviously, similar ones were by the other two mares, each slightly different from the last, dark grey bodies with certain ornaments and amber highlights. “Everybody here got fuckin’ icky at some shit. You? Bwah, you’re a SPONGE. And now we know how you work. And holy fuck, you got no idea how much time and energy that frees up! We can actually torture some of you idiots for fun now! Yeah, eat them compliments up, bitch, you made a bunch of your Masochist comrades a WHOLE lotta’ more abusable. Hope you’re happy!”

She wasn’t. She was worried, scared and confused. Nothing in her mind was crystal clear, nothing in her mind was leading her, she was next to three mind-tricked ponies, they were mind-tricked thanks to her, and Tough Break’s mere presence made her fingers that much more rakey and sharp, and the jolts they sent up into her nethers that much more raw and suffersome.

“We can do anything we want to you, you know? You outlived your usefulness! Shit, now that we know this works, why even bother, I can keep you tortured for… however long I want. Fuck Honey, he’ll get a new one, I didn’t break him just so he wubby-wubs your stupid ass anyway. Yeah, fuck’em, and I’ll fuck’em even harder if he starts whining about how much he liiikes you. Can’t eat sadness,” the pegasus, who faked a wholly different one not so long ago, continued over the sound of much, much laughter, some of it distorted, some of it interlaced with huffs, some with whimpers. “Oh yeah. Sniff it in, whore. Y’know, at the start, when you felt like you already got a bout with me? I heard all that in your tiny little brain, don’t you worry. Soon as we figure out how to do that without losing more power than we gain, you’re gonna be on that twenty-four-seven. And this shit, Sweetie? This shit means that day’s very fuckin’ close! Bwahahahah.”

The sweat-soaked unicorn sniffled on the arousal, magic and salt-laced air and descended into equal part miserable bawling, equal part hysteric laughter as sharp fingernails crawled all over her pudding-like soles.

“Gonna do whatever we fuckin’ want with you. Whine about it in your diary, we’re taking ideas!”

---

There you go, you wanted it. You tell me how many times I orgasmed while I flipped through all these pages. It’s a creative way to stop me from thinking about things. It’s even funnier that I had to read weeks ago to find out why I was sucking up to Honey. Things sure are a lot different now, aren’t they? These were different times. I can see where I went wrong back then. Honey went through something like this. Considering how I felt today, in there… I am going to guess that you did the same mind tricks on him. I can’t hate or blame him. Yes, I am happy he is here, for the record.

Whenever you take this diary to ~~fuc~~ get your daily feedback, do know that I give up. I know I’m not getting out of here on my own. Right now, I just want to have my rest, and to be sure that what I’m thinking is what I really am thinking. You flipped to the very start of the diary to pull Scootaloo out. Now you have locked her away from me again, I just had to have Honey relieve me. You went through all those pages to find the second best thing next to him. Just to see if you can ~~fucking~~ mess up my friends’ brains even harder? What did I do wrong? I wasn’t even doing that well with my dumb escape plan… I don’t want their minds to be changed with pieces from mine.

That is all assuming you didn’t lie. I honestly don’t know. I feel like myself, very lost and confused. I hope they are the same right now, and they’ll still be them when I meet them tomorrow. I don’t want to think too hard about this… There isn’t any point, I can only wait. You guys worked really hard to figure out how to make us feed you as best as we could. It must have been a lot of thinking, doing all of this diary analysis, and whatever you do to spy on the others… You even spared an entire broken pony to cater to me because I’m ‘special’. Very charming. To make your jobs easier, I’ll be more straightforward as we go on ahead.

Just because I like it when more than one sort of thing is done to me doesn’t mean I don’t give a damn at all. They didn’t deserve getting mind-freaked, even if you lied to me. They’re still my friends. So if you want to keep me happy, consider that. Also… Honey says I shouldn’t, but he should go back to eating me - you’d know how hard it was putting all these thoughts together, with these damn walls you put up all over my brain. I don’t care. Here’s for directions:

Fuck you, guys. Sincerely,

Sweetie Belle.