A Little Vice

The rest of our day was spent as it should have been: entertaining ourselves amongst the nobles. We talked with unicorns and pegasi, I played games while she gossiped, I spoke highly of her while she left with the mares to powder her muzzle. Why do mares powder their bodies in the first place? We even met an earth pony that I didn’t feel was too far beneath me, more because she was an aid to Princess Celestia herself, but I digress.

We ate lunch at a fine restaurant and had dessert the block over at an ethnic place. I don’t know where they were from but the treats were delectable. I have a small box of various sweets being delivered at this moment. Speaking of this moment…

“Ah! Yes! Love zee cam-oh-rah! Pose like zee angel you vant to be. Turn and pout! Now love me like you were a filly again. Hate me like I insulted your coltfriend. Yes! Zat is eet!”

The flashing lights were hurting my eyes so I became very interested in a magazine, reading it facing away from the very loud photographer shouting at my marefriend. Oh my, my marefriend? That slipped into my inner monologue quite nicely.

I feel myself smiling, naturally. I turn to glance at the mare striking poses at the call of the nag with goggles instead of glasses and I feel, something. I don’t usually feel anything good, but this feeling, it’s warm and… I feel it in my throat, like nervousness but it’s not. I return my gaze to my magazine but the image of Fleur tossing her mane last night in the bath flashes through my mind.

The feeling is back. What is this, affection? Lust? No. Butterflies? I don’t think I’ve eaten any caterpillars lately, and… what if it’s love? No, admiration! That has to be it, it’s admiration. End of topic, moving on. Oh, look at the article on the importance of brushing after flossing for foals, interesting!

“And, I’m spent, no more photos from me, zee great Minty Shot. I shall tell you zat you are a natural and I see you in zee magazines across the nation. ‘Fleur de Lis, supermodel’ vill be zee title zey all see and love you for! Now go, I am exhausted and must have zees developed at vonce!”

“Thank you so much! I’ll keep in touch, you have my address, right?”

“Yes, you are staying vith Fancy Pants, zee cute colt over zere. If you vant I can take him off your hooves… Haha! Nay, I joke for you see, Minty Shot iz funny too!”

Fleur fake laughs and trots over to me, bumping into me and sending me an urgent look for us to leave. “Ah, it was a pleasure to meet you, Minty. I, we, she looks forward to doing business with you again. Ta ta.”

“Yes, ta-da to you both… Assistant! Give me my spring water-”

We quickly left the studio in the warehouse in the lower district and made our way back to my home. Normally a ride would be preferred, a taxi or carriage of sorts, but I wasn’t in the mood to sit alone with Fleur and have, feelings. We talk and exchange pleasantries with ponies as we pass, there’s even a gryphon we see exiting a jewel shop with bits in… claw? Paw?

“Faaancy? Can you buy me a necklace?” Fleur whines for the first time.

“My dear?”

“I realized I haven’t any jewelry and a pearl necklace would look amazing on me.”

“Ah, I don’t see the harm in buy a necklace can bring, let’s go.”

We greet the gryphon but, like the rumors say, they’re mean beasts and it flies away without more than a look of disgust at us. I wonder if that’s how I look at mud ponies, I wonder.

We enter the shop and she dances with glee for a moment in place before prancing to a display case full of horn and ear jewelry. “Darling, I thought we were here for a necklace?”

“Oh, I just want to try a couple things on before I buy the right one. It won’t take but a few minutes. Miss, can I try this one on please?”

“...By chance, are we almost done?” I bemoan loudly like an exhausted colt, which I am at this point. Hours of ‘trying it on’ and we’re back to where we began. “We’ve been here forever, isn’t this enough?”

The mares in the room giggle at my attitude and I resign myself to examining another display case, again. This one with overpriced hoof gems. The one to my right is ear accessories, the left of me is mane and tail clips. Average price of this case is 137 bits. Highest is 1,317bits while the lowest is- “I’m ready to go, Fancy, what do you think?”

I look over blearily to Fleur and nod. “Looks amazing, can we go now?”

“I also got a couple other things, you don’t mind, I’m sure,” she says as she casually strolls past me with a large bag in tow with her magic. I follow like a mindless mule until the evening breeze blows over me and wakes me up a little.

“I say, what time is it?”

“Oh? About six in the evening, why?”

I yawn then shake my head. “Just hungry and tired, also I don’t think we’ll be going shopping again anytime soon, dear.”

“Oh,” she looks back and pouts to me, “but I had so much fun shopping with you! You’re such a nice stallion and you helped me choose this delightful necklace!”

“Yes, indeed. However I’m afraid I haven’t the patience to shop in such a manner, I typically have my staff shop for me,” I inform her.

“Oh, pish-posh. A few more times and you’ll understand the joy that is to be had in shopping with a lady. Now, let’s get something to eat okay? I’m hungry after all that.”

Hungry? After doing nothing but gushing about jewels, anklets, horn rings and the like for hours? How?! It doesn’t make sense, mare, how can you find that inane waste of time enjoyable?!

“Ah, perhaps I can give it another try, someday. As for now I’ll take a salad the size of my bed,” and then a couple hours of personal time in my play room, ”and then rest like a foal.”

“Oh, you stallions always want to sleep after having fun. Just get over it and talk with me about you, about Fancy Pants the pony.”

I hum in thought and push my darker inclinations aside. “Very well, let’s begin over supper and move on through the night. Where shall we eat?”

“Home, and then I need to show off my new style to somepony! I’ll have to make a friend amongst the staff.”

“Ah, yes. There are many a nice pony, just remember that your life is an open book when you talk to those ponies. I only trust Grey Withers, myself, as he’s been with me since foalhood.”

“Oh? That’s so sweet! A confidant in the house, what scandals has he been privy to, I wonder?” she half smiles mockingly at me. I smile in return. Her smile warms my heart. I haven’t had a thought of darkness almost all day, all my thoughts reside on her. I clear my throat but she interjects.

“I was merely joking, Darling, no ill intention meant. Let’s hurry home and do something fun before we retire! Do you have any cards? A game of poker sounds nice, right?”

“Indeed! I haven’t played a good hoof of cards in a dozen moons, it feels like. Let’s hurry before,” I yawn again, “I sleep standing.”

“Awe, you really aren’t a shopper, are you, Fancy? Well, I’ll have to make some friends to go with so you don’t have to wait on little old me.”

With a pleasant nod I take the lead and nod at passing ponies, not indulging them in conversation this time. We arrive home just in time for me to feel slightly more awake from the brisk trot I’d taken all the way from the shops. I enter the house and look back to see Fleur panting as she makes her way down the walkway and even now I think of her as a professional model walking down that thing models walk around on, showing of their garments.

I look back and jerk in start as I notice Grey Withers before me. “Sir, your room is ready with a fine friend to play with.”

I straighten up and grin widely. “I nearly forgot, Grey Withers, you’re a fine steward as always. Please, show Fleur to supper when it’s time and I’ll arrive post haste.”

I trot past him quickly. “Indeed, sir.”

I enter my playroom with a happy step in my trot and before I can close the door there’s a dog happily hopping before me. A dog, Grey Withers knows me too well.

I seal the entrance and light up the room, taking a small dog biscuit from a bowl atop a dresser and give it to the hungry mutt. “Who’s a good puppy? Eat it all up, you’ll thank me before I’m done.”

With rabid hunger it gobbles the treat and licks the floor where crumbs fell and then it’s beside me, under me, and looking up to me for me treats. You’re the true treat, little one, I smile to it as I prepare the table. A side table is a nice addition I should add, I think as I bring over an assortment of blades, hammers, nails, gauze, and healing potions.

For what little they heal on a other creatures healing potions do wonders to stop bleeding on dogs. I pick a hacksaw from the cupboard and some extra twine, just in case. Looking at my setup and nod and turn my attention to the dog that’s wagging its tail and looking happily at me. I pick it up in my magic and turn it around, looking it over.

A golden retriever, about six years of age. Female, survivor of several fights. I don’t see signs of motherhood, but that’s something I can look into later. Teeth are in fine repair, as are paws and nails. Certainly you’ve seen better times, but the worst have been few and far between. You’ve got some fat on you, so perhaps you were once owned, or maybe recently fed often from somewhere.

I move to take notes in my notebook and notice I’m nearly out of pages. Odd, there haven’t been almost one hundred of these creatures in my room this year, have there been?

I take my notes and fill in some parts I missed about that darn cat and move the dog close so I can nuzzle it. “You’re such a good dog, aren’t you?” I coo to it as I move it to the table. It lays down on its belly on the table and wags its tail. I get one more, last treat and give it to the mutt and smile as it gobbles it down.

“So, shall we begin?” I ask as I begin to undress and hang my clothes up by the door this time. I shan’t forget them this time like the last ones. They were quite nice, to be honest but I’ve got plenty of others to choose from.

I hang my clothes and take my old set from the hangars by the wall and look them over before disassembling the pieces and scattering them across the floor beneath the table, to catch any drippings they can.

“Now, you’re going to be a good doggy, right?” I ask as I lean in and let it sniff my muzzle. It licks my cheek and I chuckle out of habit. Taking a long length of rope I coil it properly above the dog and take the dog in my magic, laying it on its side. I snort as it looks at me curiously and turn it over, trying where to start is harder on dogs.

They’re larger and fight with more of that carnivorous might than cats ever can muster. I decide to start like the last darned cat and roll it to its back and I rub its belly softly as the ropes loosely round its legs and neck, then suddenly the ropes tighten and she yelps in surprise at the tautness of her binds.

I waste no time tying the ropes to the table’s underside and I make sure with my own eye that they’re knotted correctly before I rise and look to my left at my play toys. Where to start? I wonder. The cat flashes through my mind and I glare at a desk, polished and like new, and remove a hatchet from the center drawer.

I tie some twine at the base of her tail and bring the axe down sharply and quickly without hesitation and remove the blasted appendage. The mutt thrashes and whimpers against her binds as the tail squirms slightly even though it’s free of its owner. I use the axe blade to slide it off the base of the table and let it fall to the floor.

I place the axe below the table, out of my way, and pet the whimpering dogs belly. The look only dogs and ponies have reflects back to me. She’s pleading for an answer, why that just happened. “I can explain for days what’s going to happen to you, but you’ll never understand until the moment before you die,” I tell her as I take a flathead screwdriver from my toys and bring it to the dogs mouth.

“Now, let’s see your mouth, shall we?” I ask as I move over its head. It lunges with a vicious bark it lunges at me and bites, but I don’t flinch, not anymore. I know the limits of my rope tying skills are strong enough and where to stop to stay just out of injury. The dog, not so much. With another yelp and thrashing it sprays droplets of blood around as it shakes the screwdriver from it’s lower jaw.

Of all the ways to attack dogs never change their tactics and move the same way, so I know to hold the screwdriver at just the right angle so with a slight move on my part it will enter just below where the chin is, the crest of the lower mandible, I believe.

It shakes the tool loose and I stay on guard incase it flies towards me, but I instead watch it fly shortly and clatter to the floor, rolling under an armoire. “Nice distance,” I mention in passing thought as I look to the dog again. It’s bleeding slightly from its wound but not enough to worry about.

I ignore its noises as I take a small hammer and a crossed screwdriver, as its name eludes me so that’s what I call it, and bring it to the dog’s right paw but stop. I look into its eyes and see it pleading with me to stop. It’s whimpering is becoming annoying so I cast a silence spell on my head so I can’t hear it for a moment while I think.

A screwdriver isn’t what this calls for, no. Ah! Perhaps something a little more mundane and basic. Let me see, I think as I make my way to my desk of accessories. I smile as a box of screws catches my eye. “Yes, this will do most nicely!” I take them in my magic and prance happily to the bound animal.

I take several screws and cancel my silence spell before moving a screw to the front right paw. It’s easily long enough to screw into the table! Oh, this will be delightful! I giggle to myself as I align the screw to the middle of its paw and carefully maneuver the screwdriver into place. I roll my eyes at myself and move around the table so I can closely watch the action.

Now in the right place I reset my accessories to my toy’s paw and holding the screw still I move in close and watch intently as the screw begins to slowly turn and descend into the animal’s body. It howls in pain and thrashes violently against the bindings as I watch a third of the screw disappear into its flesh, then the screw stops. I turn hard a couple times and huff. Bones, I forgot about that. “Puppy, time to play a little game I call ‘crack the nut’.” I take the hammer from the other side of the table and don’t wait. The hammer impacts the screw and I wish I could hear if there was a crack or not, but the dog is almost wailing in its howl.

I actually prefer the louder noises it makes, because I know I’m playing right. I turn the screw again and it moves freely through its paw and I press hard and with luck it penetrates the thin metal and locks the limb to the table! I’m overjoyed with myself, as I’ve never done this before. I do the same to the other paw and now the creature’s noises are dying off. It’s tiring out already and I can’t have that.

I call over a large bag and open the zipper slightly, enough to remove a single hard covered syringe. I give it a test plunge and watch at the liquid inside squirts through the needle. Taking a lesson from my veterinarian friend I place it to the inner thigh of the creature and inject it. I hold it still for a count of ten and move the spent syringe to the edge of the table and let it fall onto the floor. The dog is stirring again now, it’s body is moving with vigor and its bladder releases as it howls and whines, crying into the room for help or release, neither will come anytime soon.

I take my time over the next two hours and with careful precision learned from hundreds of other small animals. With the gift of magic I take her apart while she’s alive and then release her from all my spells and let her die.

It’s, just not the same anymore, I sigh as I look to the open cavity of the dog’s body. From neck to it’s vulva, sliced open and empty. The innards are in piles on the floor and I’m covered in its blood. Limbs disjointed, bones exposed but, the thrill isn’t the same as it was. I’ve played with enough cats and dogs over the years to know almost exactly what noises they’ll make and what to do to them to end our play time.

I have mastered the art of cats and dogs, birds and snakes… I need a new playmate… A pony, perhaps? That mudpony that made a point to try to trick me. He’ll be here in three days, when his contract with Whitemane is over and before he leaves Canterlot for a new city to waste space in. I call to the bucket by the door and gawk at it. It’s empty! There should be water in it, yet it’s dry. Grey Withers, I should put you on this table for this, I seethe and glare at the water faucet on the wall that’s just horn height for me. It’s in a small shower that I’d expect a commoner pony to use in a cheap hotel in the slums.

Emergency well water, how am I to know that a mudpony didn’t swim in the reservoir, or a cloud humper didn’t pee in the streams this was harvested from? I have no choice and trot over and turn it on. The pipes rumble at first then a splurt of water, then another, and finally the water itself is running down the drainpipe that leads into the aqueduct waste systems. I look and sniff the water, it seems fine enough, especially given the circumstances.

I stand under the spigot and let the ice cold water wash over me and I watch the red wash down the drain. After a while it’s clear and I take the soap from the bucket and scrub myself, to make sure I’m clean and smelling nice.

I put the carcase in the box and close the top, leaving the rest for Grey Withers to clean up and pack away. When I return I will cast a simple spell, after which it seals itself and teleports away to where I don’t know, but it’s not yet drawn attention, apparently.

Alas, I don’t even feel a tinge of joy anymore at the effort I put into playing, perhaps I should find a new way to ease my mind.

I redress and make my way from my playroom, sealing it before I ascend the stairs. “Grey Withers!” I call. He’s in the dining room and speaking with Fleur and a servant mare as I exit the kitchen door. “Oh, am I early for supper?”

“Yes, Fancy! Darling, did you know Brown Bark here was born on the seas?”

“Oh? A family of sailors?”

“No, Master,” she speaks softly, “my parents were on a cruise and I happened to come early. I’ll go, Master. I apologize for intruding on your meal-”

“Dear, stay, I’m certain Master Fancy Pants wouldn’t mind your entertaining me while the stallions chat.”

I wiggle my moustache as I contemplate. “I believe that would be fine, however Grey Withers rarely eats with me.”

“I agree with Fleur. I haven’t eaten in this room in far too long with Fancy Pants here. What do you say, Sir, may I join you?”

He looks so hopeful I can’t say no. “Very well! I’ll take my seat, though. Thank you for guarding it, Grey Withers. Shall we begin?”

“Cooks! First course, post haste!” He calls and I hear a scramble of platters and hooves before three servants begin to bring our meals out. While they’re setting our plates before us he’s scrutinizing them, as usual. I see his eyes narrow at a stallion who flattens his ears to his head but maintains his posture as he finishes his task and leaves the room.

“What was that about, old chap?” I ask the older stallion.

“Absolutely nothing, but he’ll think he did something and will do his best to find out what it was until he practically goes mad,” he chuckles and looks to his plate of pasta with sauce and rice balls, “then he won’t make mistakes next time and be a better example for the others.”

“Hrm, that’s quite a smart tactic, Grey Withers,” I offer.

“Yes, it works for servants and young stallions the same.” We all share a laugh and I can’t help but recall the same tactic being used on a much younger self, now that I think about it.

We finish our meals over the next hour and I notice Brown Bark opening up quite well with Fleur. It seems they’re actually becoming friends, which is nice to see, as Fleur will need somepony to gossip with over the long winter months. Oh my, I’m actually thinking of being with her months from now?

” Cooks! Cleanup!” Grey Withers shouts as he enters the kitchen. A clamoring of hooves and then two pegasi enter the dining room stoically and proud, beginning to collect our dishes.

“Grey WIthers, would you walk with me while the mares finish their talk?” I send him a look that includes my intent.

He nods and follows me into the hall.

“Yes, Sir?”

“A bucket?” I ask sardonically.

“Ah, I figured you were old enough to fill it yourself from the faucet, is that all?” He’s so casual about it, he knows he’s the anchor to my life.

“I need something exciting next time.”

“Oh? Like what, may I ask, a bear?”

“The usual aren’t working. I have an acquaintance coming this weekend and I need to show him a good time.” He stops and I look back to see the horror on his face. He isn’t moving as I continue my trot and turn the corner. It’s unlike him to not catch up, I certainly hope I haven’t put too much on him lately. I’ll be certain to give him a day off monday, he’s earned it.

He catches up quickly and stammers. “What are you babbling about, Grey Withers?”

“I, uh, w-well…”

“Out with it, stallion.”

“I am not comfortable with this stallion playing with you over the weekend, Sir.”

“I don’t understand. A houseguest is just that, a guest. If I should play with him, then he’ll surely have fun as well, right?”

“But,” he moves in front of me and looks at me with an expression I haven’t seen him wear before, almost a pleading look. “a pony? Fancy,” he hushes his voice, “are you seriously suggesting-”

I lower my voice to not be heard by prying ears. “I am, and I shall. I am Lord of Land in Equestria, I will be Lord of the bodies of my subjects as well.”

He blinks as he stares into my eyes. “You’re serious… I, I need to prepare for breakfast, I’ll see you this evening, Sir.”

“Yes, have a fine day until then, I certainly shall,” I say jovially as I return to my trot. When has he ever prepared breakfast as soon as supper was finished? I wonder.

I make my way to my library and spend two hours reading through the medical book and memorizing muscles, bones, and vein pathways and patterns. When a knock against the doorframe breaks me from my reading I blink and take in the time on the clock with bleary eyes. “Master, you’re being summoned to bed with Miss Fleur de Lis.”

“Ah, I lost track of time reading again… Aloe Vera, right?”

“Yes, Master,” she bows her head and I notice her wings trembling.

“Miss, are you afraid of me?” I ask casually. A servant afraid of their master is of little concern to me, after all, yet nice to know.

“No, Master. If you’d excuse me I must attend to other duties.”

I hum in agreement and stand as the mare leaves. I stretch a little, yawn, put away my book, then make my way to bed.

With Fleur talking to me about her conversation with that talking parrot she befriended I fall asleep to the sound of her voice.