Sweetie's "Saving Superhero Sidekicks" Strategy Suddenly Sours
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Sweetie's "Saving Superhero Sidekicks" Strategy Suddenly Sours
When Sweetie Belle woke up, she was naked. This was not an uncommon occurrence for the unicorn, but nine times out of ten it usually meant trouble.
She blinked, examining the room she was in. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all painted off-white, the only things that stood out were the metallic door in front of her, and a small vent in the corner of the ceiling.
Sweetie rolled her neck from one side to the other, groaning in exhaustion. She tried lifting up her right arm, her left arm expectedly tugged along. She didn’t know what was around her wrists, but handcuffs seemed to be a good guess. At the very least, she could see what was around her ankles. They looked like miniature metal stockades, a block of metal around her legs that didn’t allow her the same luxury of wiggle room that her arms had.
Before she could truly assess her situation, the door opened. Standing in the doorway was a pony, donning a white masquerade mask covered with an array of feathers of all different colors, the most common color being orange, the eyes had a black filter over them to obscure the iris color. A black body suit was worn to obscure species, cutie mark, coat color, and even mane and tail style. “Ah, Sweetie-Do-Well,” the voice was distinctly male, but unfamiliar to her. “How pathetically predictable. I thought that you may surprise us by giving us a challenge trying to capture you, what a shame.”
“Release me, y-you villain! Or else-” Sweetie Belle started defiantly, before the pony hushed her with a finger to her lips.
“Yes, yes, ‘Or else I’ll unleash justice on you’, I’ve heard those cliches before. Your two friends said the exact same thing to me when we captured them, too. Honestly, you girls have no originality.” he scoffed.
Sweetie Belle growled. Five days ago, Scootaloo had suddenly vanished, the next day after Apple Bloom told Sweetie Belle she had a lead to find their friend, she vanished as well. A day later, Sweetie Belle had gotten an anonymous package. Inside was a map leading to an abandoned warehouse in Manehattan, and a tape. Playing it showed scenes of her two friends, gagged, blindfolded, and moaning. She could only see their faces on the tape, but she knew her two superhero friends were in deep trouble. And so, donning her Mare-Do-Well costume, she set out to Manehattan to save them. Sweetie’s last clear memory was of arriving at the docks, before everything became a blurry mess.
“Where are they?!” she barked out, gritting her teeth.
“Now, now, no need for hostility. We were just about to take you to them,” the pony said with a carefree shrug.
As if on cue, two more ponies had walked into the room, both of them wearing the same black bodysuits, but masks with different designs on them. Without saying a word, they picked up Sweetie Belle and carried her out and into the adjacent room.
The room she was brought to had was larger, reminiscent of a museum. On the wall opposite the door, there were three mannequins in glass cases, held up by a pole from the base that locked the ankles together with cuffs, bars that wrapped around the shoulder and under the arms, and metal bracelets attached to a bar on each side of the case. Each one donning the outfits of her friends, with the one on the left containing her own costume. Upon closer inspection, each base had an engraved message. The one that contained hers said “Our captured heroine Mare Do Well”.
The stolen costume displays were the least of Sweetie’s concerns. On the left wall was a series of three large purple lockers, each one had the cutie mark of one of her friends, with her own cutie mark on the right. Above the cutie mark was an electronic display, with a name, the words ‘Long Term Mode’, and a timer counting the hours, minutes, and seconds towards zero. A chill went down Sweetie’s spine upon seeing how large the numbers were. There were more masked, anonymous ponies in this room, staring down at electronic tablets, she couldn’t get a clear view, but she was certain that she saw an orange foot on one of the screens.
One of the ponies grabbed the handle to Sweetie’s locker, pulling it out to its entire length. Gray bars ran horizontally across the back. On each side, there were thick rectangular bars with shackles and thinner, cylindrical arms with devices that had fuzzy pink interiors attached to the yellow circular joints. There were more holes on the sides of the locker, presumably for extra accessories.
“Welcome to your new home,” the voice said, gesturing to the storage device.
Before she could even protest, the two ponies carrying her turned her around and started strapping in with the help of the other ponies in the room. Two ponies held her arms at a ninety degree angle, hands up and palms forward, as two other ponies began attaching the shackles to her wrists. Once her wrists were taken care of, they began sliding a connected set of silver rings with pink padding around her fingers, similar to brass knuckles. However, instead of sliding all the way down, they comfortably sat just below the fingertips. A similar ring was put on her thumbs, which attached to the contraption around her fingers.
The horn ring she had on was swiftly swapped out for a second one, with straps attached on both sides. Said straps were then pulled taut around her head and across the bar to buckle into a slot on sides of the container, effectively keeping her from moving her head in any direction.
A similar process that was done to her wrists was now being done to her ankles, the main difference being that there was a spreader bar between her legs. Her toes were forced to point down as the masked ponies slipped rings on her big toes. The rings were connected to a pad that was placed on the top of her foot, which attached to the shackles on her ankles, and much like the things around her fingers, what was attached to the top of her foot felt fuzzy. She couldn’t move her head much, but she swore she saw something behind her feet...
The thick rectangular bars in the middle extended forward, pressing rounded plates against Sweetie’s thighs. The straps on the sides wrapped around her legs to keep them in place like athletic pads.
A leather harness was also put on Sweetie, one strap around each of her shoulders, one right below her breasts, and one y-strap to connect the three together. A strap was also wrapped around her waist, a metal buckle with two straps lay right below her belly button.
The cool temperature of the room chilled Sweetie’s naked body, and she started to shiver with what little wiggle room she was given.
“I do hope you’re comfortable in there,” the pony Sweetie first encountered said. “Do rest assured that when we’re done, all three of you will be leaving this place together. As the loyal pets of our very generous benefactor.”
Sweetie Belle continued to struggle, finding that the most mobile thing she could do was wiggle her elbows back and forth a few inches. She wiggled her fingertips, curled her toes, sucked in her belly, but nothing got her any closer to breaking free.
“Please, don’t bother struggling. We’d rather you save your energy,” the pony said, grabbing onto her biceps. “Unless, you’d prefer more restraints?”
Sweetie Belle silently shook her head. She had no plan to get out, none of the super strength Apple Bloom had to break out of the straps, let alone the metal appendages’ grasp, and no witty comeback to what her captor was saying.
“...Good. Now let’s get your prepared for storage...” With a snap of his fingers, two of the masked ponies walked behind her. Unable to turn her head more than a few degrees in either direction, Sweetie Belle could only wait in fear. She let out a pathetic surprised yelp when she felt something brush between her toes. She tried to curl her toes, but it was too late, more fuzzy surfaces pressing on her heels and balls of her feet, more prickly surfaces ran horizontally against her instep. What scared her the most was how...perfectly it seemed to fit against her sole.
“Beautiful, right? We know so much about you: all your erogenous zones, how many of those erogenous zones are ticklish, horn length, bra size, and foot size and shape right down to the millimeter...Oh yes, we know everything about you and your friends. Well, everything important,” the pony said with a chuckle, pausing for a moment, before he added, “...Especially how much you love being tickled.”
Sweetie Belle gasped, her cheeks quickly flushing pink. “N-No, I...That’s!” was all she could say in her flustered state. There were times when she had been captured by one of the villains of the week, and on occasion, said villain might have resorted to intense tickling to get information or just to torture her. Of course, being a superhero, she would always want it to stop, but she couldn’t deny that being tied up, curious fingers and brushes exploring her bare feet left her flustered and excited.
“Haha, yes. Your two best friends and your worst enemies may not know that little part of you, but something like that cannot be hidden from us or your future master so easily. You can hide your blush behind your mask and make excuse after excuse, but it’s quite difficult to disguise your loins, isn’t it, Sweetie Belle?”
“S-so what?” she said with a huff.
“Come now, you should be happy. Once we take you out again, your friends will love being tickled and teased just as much as you do. You’ll all absolutely love what your new master has in store for you. They love tickling and teasing lovely mares, speaking of…” the pony took out his tablet, tapped on the screen for a bit, before looking back up.
The pink fuzzy surfaces that pressed against her feet started to move. Instead of the mechanical vibrating sensations like Sweetie expected, they felt more like miniature tendrils, poking and wiggling against the exposed flesh. The movement against her soles didn’t feel programmed to move in a specific way, almost as if each tentacle had a mind of its own. Sweetie tried her best to resist, managing to last a good three seconds before bursting out into laughter.
“Ah, good. It’s working.” The pony tapped his tablet again, the prickly rollers pushed up against her insteps and the fuzzy rods between her toes started to spin, each one moving at a different speed. The rotating created a low hum and whirr, which was quickly drowned out by Sweetie Belle’s screaming.
“Eeeeee! Nooohohohohohoho!” She tried to pinch the rollers between her toes, but it only served to intensify the sensations. Two more cups pressed against her palms. Though she could barely focus on them, she definitely felt the same fuzzy surface on her palms that she did on her soles, fearing for when they would activate.
“Hm...I wonder which one I should do next…” the masked pony pondered, his finger hovering between two different spots on the tablet, before shrugging and pressing both in quick succession.
Four of the devices started to move. First, the curved devices started moving forward, finding their way to her sides, fitting perfectly between the straps under her breasts and above hips. With an extra restraint in place, it allowed the next two bowl-shaped attachments to latch onto her breasts. On the new attachments, the pink tendrils started moving. The ones on her sides were relentless, dozens of little tentacles making quick swipes up or down. Her breasts got a slightly softer treatment, a couple began stroking around her stiff nipples, while the rest vibrated at a low frequency. Even the ones on her hands started to wiggle, gently teasing the palms.
Sweetie Belle let out a high-pitched squeal, before dissolving back into ticklish mirth. The sensations were so intense, even the light teasing on her palms started to genuinely tickle. “Waaaaiiiit! Pleeheeheeheeheeheeheease! Make it STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Amid her hysterics, a moan escaped her lips. Then another, and another, liquid dropping down onto the fuzzy surface below her.
“Getting wet already? You are quite the naughty pony, enjoying this torture so much,” the masked captor chuckled. “Well, we can’t have you making a mess of yourself yet.” He pressed another button, looking back up.
The last fuzzy attachment started to move, slowly rising up until it began pressing against Sweetie Belle’s body, strapping onto the buckle under Sweetie’s navel. The tentacle texture ran from her groin to right underneath her wagging tail. Just the mere contact would be enough to make her shiver.
Of course, with all the squirming she was trying to do, even the smallest movement had her clit rub up against the inactive tentacle, giving her a little jolt of pleasure each time. When the final fitting did start to move, however, it started to shove Sweetie Belle towards the ends of her sanity. They moved much slower than the others, but what they lacked in speed, they made up tenfold in intensity, as they slowly made loops around her vulva, teasing her needy lips and clit. “Nnngh! A-Aaaahahahahahahaaangh! Pleheheheheheeheeheeaase! I w-wanna-aaaahhn!”
“It’s a shame we cannot listen to your beautiful laughter for much longer, but we do have to get you prepared in time for your new master,” the pony sighed, gesturing towards two of the other masked ponies.
One of them stood in front of Sweetie Belle, the other behind her. With Sweetie’s mouth open with laughter, it was easy to slip the ring gag between her lips. The tricky part came with making sure it stayed in. The pony in front quickly pulled the straps around Sweetie’s head, where the pony in the back connected the buckles. The ring, now secured in place, stifled Sweetie's hysterical laughter.
The two masked ponies pressed a large pair of metallic goggles against Sweetie’s eyes. As the pony in back buckled it behind her head, the one in front began hooking it onto the straps that kept her head in place and the ring gag in her mouth. The glass in the frames seemed to only tint Sweetie’s vision instead of detriment it.
“And now to make sure you can enjoy your stay to the fullest…”
The masked ponies started working at twice the speed, running back and forth between Sweetie Belle and another section of the room, grabbing various tubes and wires and rubber fittings, all while Sweetie Belle could only watch and moan.
One pony with a feathered mask kneeled down, holding two rubber tubes, attaching one end to the wall of the storage unit, and the other to the machine between Sweetie’s legs. This would collect any sort of waste during her stay. Just to tease her, they nodded their head up and down, the feathers lightly brushing up against her inner thigh.
Another pony began slipping dark, thick, silicone fittings on Sweetie’s ears, her sense of hearing dulled instantly. The pony then slipped two rubber rings onto her ears. These were speakers meant to directly control what Sweetie Belle was to hear while in storage. Although nothing was playing yet, they also doubled as vibrators, teasing yet another part of her ticklish body. A more extensive magic nullifier was slipped onto her horn, a metallic cone that fit her horn perfectly.
The next pony slipped a mask onto the lower part of Sweetie’s face, covering her nose and cheeks. A pink tube was inserted through the ring gag into her mouth, the other end plugging into the storage wall. Two golden buckles attached to her gag’s straps to assure it would stay in. The tube also had two smaller tubes that were inserted into Sweetie’s nostrils. This was to collect the drool and provide oxygen and liquefied meals to keep her energized.
The final installment was to the goggles Sweetie was wearing. Thick, metal, hexagonal frames were positioned in front of Sweetie’s eyes and bolted in place. Two red wires were then plugged into the frames of the goggles, connected to the frame of the container.
It’s at that point, Sweetie’s world went dark. No matter what direction she looked at, she was staring at an endless, empty, muted void. It was just her, and the hundreds of tendrils keeping her feet, crotch, breasts, sides, and palms company. Fresh air entered her lungs with every gasping breath she took.
“She’s all ready for storage. I suppose there’s nothing more we have to do except put her away and come back when their master is ready to pick them up,” the pony said with a shrug, tapping a few more buttons on his tablet.
Sweetie’s locker started to slide back into place. The masked ponies began to leave the room one by one, all while Sweetie was stuck in her new world of tickling and teasing. The locker finally closed, with four clicks confirming its sealed state.
The last masked pony was the one who first confronted Sweetie Belle. They looked at the tablet screen, confirming that each device and life support system was fully functional. Without saying a word, he turned around and left the room like his associates before him, turning the lights off before he shut and locked the door.
As the lights went off, the display started to blink on Sweetie Belle’s locker. One second down, only four hundred and ninety-nine hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-nine seconds to go.
Locked away in total darkness, Sweetie Belle’s focus was solely on the tentacle’s torturous, ticklish treatment. With nearly every other sense of hers muted or hindered in some way, her sense of touch skyrocketed. Rather than feeling a blur of ticklish sensations, she started to feel the individual tentacles writhe against her naked body. Whether there was some mystery concoction being slathered onto her body by the tendrils, or if she was inhaling some gas through the life-support system that made her more sensitive, or that her mind could find nothing else to focus on, she started to feel in great detail every sensation that assaulted her. As time passed, she could count how many spinning miniature rollers were rotating counter-clockwise against her instep. Eight on each, to be precise.
Each moment was a different kind of hell. She couldn’t quite nail the exact time, but it seemed that every hour or so, her body was put through a different treatment.
First, she had been given a full taste of what each tickling machine was capable of. Each specific spot got a turn to focus on her body while the rest were either set to a low setting or temporarily turned off.
As if to start out merciful, the machines at the palms of her hands were the first to go all out. For being the smallest area overall, it alarmed Sweetie Belle how much it actually tickled her. Enough stimulation applied to them combined with the rest of the torment happening to her body left the tickling sensations on her palms equal to the sensations on her sides. While it didn’t induce a stream of heavy laughter, it was enough keep her shivering and squealing in her straps.
Next were the two panels pressed against her sides. Unlike the focus on her palms, which was just a series of random tendril movements, the ones on her sides seemed to be more coordinated. From both sides, the tentacles simultaneously stroked up and down her body. She swore she felt something being written on her sides. A message? A code? A signature? Or perhaps just a flight of fancy made up while being tickled past the point of sanity.
Following that were the machines cupping her breasts. Each machine had a different pattern. The one on her left had the tendrils circles around her breast, slowly closing in on her nipple, while the one on the right had the tendrils poke and prod at the tender flesh, focusing more on the underboob. The mix of sweeping strokes and teasing pokes gave Sweetie the shivers, arousing her rather than tormenting her.
That arousing feeling quickly changed when the machines on her breasts turned off, and the ones on her feet turned on. Each of the rollers between her toes moved at a different speed, some rotated in the opposite direction, just to keep her guessing. The rollers against her insteps followed a similar routine, all sixteen of them spinning at different speeds, changing speed every four or five seconds. Of course, the tendrils started to cover the rest of her feet. They circled and prodded at her heels, brushed past the balls of her feet, and scribbled along her soles. There were so many speeds the spinners could go between her toes and against her soles along with the different ways the tendrils could move, there were more than enough combinations of speeds and movements to keep Sweetie’s feet busy, and they made sure to try as many as they could before their hour was up.
Finally, the last of the spots that she hadn’t gotten a full taste of: her crotch. Before, the tendrils would merely graze her labia, at a much higher intensity, they started to wiggle their way into her vagina, providing her with a more arousing experience. Each thrust from the tentacles made her gagged moans louder. The one thing that she was grateful for was the satisfying orgasm she was granted, even if it temporarily heightened her sensitivity afterwards, making the tickling the followed ten times worse.
After she was given a taste of what each machine could do, they started working in tandem to further break her spirit and psyche. The machines could somehow detect when the tickling got less effective, and either increased the intensity or switched focus to accommodate.
There was one “phase” during the torture that Sweetie swore went on for a day at the very least. The machines on her palms, sides, and feet started to slow, making her focus on the ones against her breast and crotch, particularly her nipples and clitoris. Three of the smallest, yet most sensitive parts on her body were teased by a few wet tentacles. While the tendrils on her nipples circled her areola, the ones on her clit stroked up and down the sensitive nub. They started out slow, but gradually sped up over time, but just when Sweetie was about to reach the point of no return, the tendrils either slowed down or stopped completely, only to resume the slow buildup back to what she thought would let her reach climax. Each moment on the edge of orgasm put another crack in her resolve.
It was hard to determine what was the worst part of it all was. It certainly wasn’t the intense tickling, all things considered, that was probably the most enjoyable aspect of being sealed away. The one minor benefit of being sealed away for hours upon hours against her will was that at the very least, she was subjected to her own fetishistic fantasy. It might have been the constant denial, the gentle stroking against her clit that was just enough to send her to the edge, but not enough to send her over the edge to a satisfying orgasm of any kind. It was either the gag in her mouth combined with the goggles in front of her face. With nothing to look at but darkness, she couldn’t tell whether her eyes were open or closed anymore. With the gag and tube in her mouth constantly refreshing her energy, her way of expressing her mirth was taken away from her. It was an unnerving feeling of isolation. Her muffled screams and cries went out to a uncaring void.
It had almost been twenty-four restless hours, but for Sweetie Belle, it felt more like years. Her view finally changed from the endless sea of black. A brief static flicker caught Sweetie Belle’s attention, and the view gradually changed from a despairing black to a more pleasing lavender gradient. The change in view gave her moments of peace between sudden shocks from the spinners between her toes changing direction.
However, her pleasant view began to sour when she saw two separate racks, and two familiar ponies attached to the racks. Had she not been gagged, she would have screamed out the names of her two best friends.
What Sweetie saw was Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, side by side, strapped onto a metallic frame, strapped down and tortured with the same machines that were on Sweetie Belle, with some minor changes. They had no gags or tubes in their mouths, only a strap on their foreheads to prevent shaking, allowing them to laugh and beg, and more importantly, the metallic instruments housing the tickling tendrils were transparent, allowing her to see with clarity what was happening to them.
Of course, while it was an accurate depiction of what Sweetie’s friends were going through, it was only a virtual simulation of their plights. The fact that Sweetie Belle could see through the metal should have been proof of that. But Sweetie’s psyche had become so shattered after twenty-four hours of constant tickling, teasing, and edging that she believed that what she was seeing was live, and that she was forced to bear witness to her friends being tickled out of their minds. Shutting her eyes didn’t help her, as the speakers wrapped around her ears continued to play her friends squeals, laughs, and moans, all of which flustered and aroused Sweetie Belle. As the volume kept increasing, she slowly became more compelled to open her eyes and watch.
The view cut to Apple Bloom. Unlike Sweetie Belle’s feet, Apple Bloom’s were completely encased from the ankles to toes. Though she was able to see the necessity in why. Along with the fuzzy rollers between her toes, two longer ones was placed underneath them, one for each foot. The idea was to discourage curling her toes, not that Apple Bloom could help herself from doing it anyway. Her toes continued to grip onto the rollers, only increasing her laughter as they continue to shift speeds, speeding up and slowing down at random just to keep her guessing. Purple tendrils galore had free reign over her soles, wiggling back and forth with varying speeds. Some took long strokes up and down her arches, others made small circles at the balls of the foot, some even snuck past the rollers and attacked her toes directly. Apple Bloom’s hysterical laughter was only interrupted by the necessary gasp for air and the involuntary hiccup.
Aside from the necessary bound wings, there were two major changes between Sweetie’s setup and Scootaloo’s. The most glaring being Scootaloo had a penis now. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that her clit had been experimented on in order to transform it into a functioning penis. Her cock was encased in some sort of fitted cage, the tendrils circling her shaft, gently squeezing and pumping up and down in a rhythm. Her cockhead leaked pre, but was never brought to orgasm. Meanwhile, her vagina went through similar edgings Sweetie had been put through, grazing the labia without penetrating her. The second change is that to compensate for the lack of prominent breasts, Scootaloo had been fitted with a chestplate, one that allowed the tendrils to attack her ribcage, poking and wiggling at the spaces between the bones. The primary target for the tendrils, however, were Scootaloo’s nipples. They surrounded the nipples, closing in on them, wiggling the entire time, the untouched area on her chest growing smaller with each passing second. When they finally reached her nipples, they showed no mercy, each one seeming to take a turn lapping and brushing up against the hard teats. Instead of wild laughter, Scootaloo was crying and moaning out in sexual frustration from both her sex organs being constantly edged.
As she watched, the machine strapped to her crotch seemed to kick into overdrive, the tentacles directly penetrating her vagina and swarming her clit. The orgasm that Sweetie Belle was so deprived of was given to her in droves. Sweetie’s view would constantly change. One moment she’d be looking at Scootaloo’s sides, another moment she’d be starting at Apple bloom’s crotch, sometimes two different parts from two different ponies in a split-screen. The imagery of Apple Bloom’s toes being brushed by the rollers and Scootaloo’s nipples teased by a few tendrils running up and down the sensitive teats combined with the sensation of orgasm after orgasm, it was as if she was deriving erotic pleasure from watching her friends being tormented. She wanted to close her eyes, but couldn’t find it in her to look away, slowly connecting the orgasmic feeling with the intense tickling performed on her and her friends.
As the hours passed, the torment continued. The machines working with a variety of combinations of machines and intensities to keep Sweetie’s mind constantly thinking about the tickling. One hour would be exclusively her feet and breasts, another hour, her sides and instep. Without her even noticing, two more tendril-filled appendages were inserted into her armpits. Sweetie was so far gone, she had assumed that they were there since the beginning. No two hours of torture were the exact same. Her view was pitch black as she was constantly edged, only allowed to orgasm over and over when watching the different ways that Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were being tortured. No doubt a similar situation was happening to them, with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo forced to see a simulation of Sweetie’s clit teased.
After five hundred hours, the masked ponies finally freed Sweetie Belle from her containment. One by one, the tickling machines and life support shut down. The storage unit finally opened, and with just as much speed put into immobilizing her, she was free of any restraints. Sweetie Belle collapsed to the ground onto her knees, unable to stand or push her hands to sit upright. She shivered as the cool air hit her naked body. She felt deprived, like something wasn’t right if something wasn’t brushing up against her hypersensitive body. She looked up to see her friends Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, both with handcuffs in front of them and collars marking their pet status. Sure enough, Scootaloo’s clit had been transformed into a fully-functioning penis. Sweetie Belle didn’t even resist when the cuffs were put on her wrists or the collar wrapped around her neck.
“Welcome back, are you girls ready to meet your master?” the masked pony said with his hands behind his back, looking over Sweetie Belle in particular.
Without even thinking, the three girls nodded, staring back at the masked pony with a blank stare and a giddy grin.
Sweetie Belle had completely forgotten about everything before she was put into storage. Her mind was hazy, no thought of resistance even existed, she was just happy to be reunited with her friends, and hoped that her new master would spend their time teasing and tickling her, just the way she liked it.
Author's Note
So does this make me part of the Abandon All Hope canon?
Rejected Chapter Titles
"Sorry, Superhero Storage suddenly seems slightly surreal." says storywriter StarkyShy snarkily, snoozing subsequently.
Sweetie Belle's Scheme Backfires. Shocking? Barely.
