Consumed by Blight on Nightmare Night
Consumed by Blight on Nightmare Night
The air was crisp, the kind of air that chilled the throat and nose upon inhaling. If anything, it was pleasant, a well-deserved break from the previous Autumn heat that had lingered for much too long this season. It wasn’t cold out, but it was cool, and it had rained earlier in the day; the misty fog that lingered in the air left a certain, wet taste on the breeze, a musky rot that blended with the scent of fallen leaves and tree bark brought out by the moisture and carried by the mist. Even so, the atmosphere still had an almost balmy nature to it—it felt much too warm for how dark it was. The sun had long since dropped beyond the horizon to yield the festivities of Nightmare Night, and the moon was now a beacon in the sky, a sliver away from being full, but still plenty bright enough to cast a silver glow down over a little town. A soft breeze drifted through the air, pulling leaves about and gently swaying the bare branches of the trees that had shed them.
Oil street lamps battled their way through the fog, illuminating the streets for dozens of ponies as they flitted in little groups and clusters between houses. Doorbells rang all up and down the block, accompanied with the almost constant knock of hooves rapping on wooden doors. It was a perfect Nightmare Night, bordering on too perfect, cliche even. The feeling in the air was akin to the spectacle of a light, pleasant snow on Hearth’s Warming Eve.
The night was winding down, however. Parents were already ushering the little ones home, their wailing ghosts and crying goblins carrying more candy than most children have a right to, yet still wanting more. The crowds were clearing, and one by one, porch lights were starting to go off. But with the children out of the way came the time of the teenagers, the real fun. Nightmare night had a sort of pecking order to it; the children, obviously, stampeded the night in the early hours, but once the sun was down, the ball was in play between them and the older teens. A couple more hours saw the rest of the runts heading to bed, and soon came the time of egging houses and toilet-papering front yard elm trees—the real fun.
Among the many in the street, a group of four made their way toward the end of the block. They walked with a certain suspicion about them—an onlooker might assume that the four high schoolers were up to no good simply by the way they carried themselves. An orange pegasus stallion with a gray-black mane walked with his wings drawn in tight and his head down as he peered every which way from under his glasses. A dark purple earth pony mare walked beside him to the right, her long, black mane dyed with streaks of red; her expression was almost completely blank, though her ears were perked sharply. A pair walked beside her, to the right, so close that their flanks rubbed together as they moved, the stallion and mare muttering to each other with their heads close, the mare occasionally giggling while the yellow earth pony beside her chuckled and continued his flirtatious assault, flicking his red mane out of his eyes every now and then with a small toss of his head. The mare he was rubbing up on was a prom queen in every sense of the word, from her clean, white coat, to the styled silver mane and the elegant horn that stood atop her head, right down to the way she carried herself with a skilless grace, like someone pretending to be royalty in a piss-poor, high school production of Hamlet.
“Hey, guys,” the orange pegasus, Sunny, asked, breaking the relative silence among the four as he threw a look down the street ahead, eyes landing on where the street lamps started to get a little more sparse. “How long do you think this is gonna take? My mom wants me home by eleven.” He spared a hoof to press the pair of wire-frame glasses back up onto his muzzle, and almost tripped as a result, staggering a couple feet before catching himself and trying to casually walk it off.
The yellow stallion immediately pulled his muzzle away from his marefriend’s lower jaw and shot the pegasus a shitty grin. “What’s the matter, little guy? You scared of a few ghosts?” Somewhere in the middle of his sentence, his words had blurred together into a mocking sort of whine, like that of someone imitating a whining toddler.
Sunny glared and ruffled up his wings. “No! I already swore I was gonna do it! I just... y’know, don’t wanna make my parents mad.”
This statement only seemed to give the stallion more ammo, and he pranced a couple of steps ahead before looking back at Sunny over his shoulder. “Pfft, what’re they gonna do if you come home late on Nightmare Night? Take your stuffed animal collection away?” He broke into a cackle, though it was cut short when flash of blue magic grabbed him by the mane and gave a soft tug.
“Be nice to him, Lufty,” the white unicorn, Snow, said with a lazy sort of charm to her voice. “What if he decides to start doing the answers on your homework wrong?” Sunny had a little bit of a chuckle at her comment, though a sharp look from Lufty killed it after no more than a second.
“He better not if he knows what’s good for him,” he rumbled, slowing down to fall back in stride beside his mare. “You’re not scared, are you, Snow?”
She tensed briefly, then tossed her head and flipped her hair. “Of course not.”
Smirking, Lufty tilted his head back to look to the left, over Snow’s back at the only pony who hadn’t spoken yet. “Huh, what about you, Dusk, you scared?”
The mare turned her head to the right to look at him, her face a perfect deadpan, eyes lined with heavy mascara. “I’ve only ever been scared once.”
Lufty waggled his eyebrows. “Oh yeah, when?”
The mare simply blinked, and then replied, without missing a beat, “When I came around the corner to you two eating face in the library.” The deadpan stayed on her face while Sunny and Snow laughed, but a small swathe of red crossed the yellow stallion’s face and he turned to look straight ahead.
“How much further is this place, anyways?” he asked in a voice of forced masculinity, a little deeper than his normal tone.
Dusk motioned up ahead, pointing with her muzzle. “You see that spot up ahead where the street lamps are out?” The scenery was getting progressively dodgier as they progressed down Jackson Street. The houses were getting a little bit more dilapidated, and the trees were getting larger, and more gnarled. “It’s just up there. Those street lamps never work. I had a friend who’s dad who worked maintenance for the town. She said that they could never get them to work.”
Lufty faked a ghost sound, to which Sunny scoffed. “Maybe he was just a bad repairpony.” The yellow stallion idly kicked at an acorn as he walked, sending it skittering off and into the gutter. “I’ve heard the story before. A whole family was murdered in their sleep yadda yadda whatever.”
“Actually—” Sunny piped up, though he was immediately interrupted by Dusk, who gave a sharp wave with her hoof in his direction.
“Actually,” the dark-colored mare interjected, “that’s completely wrong. No one has ever died there. Well... that I know of. The house has been there since the town was built, it was one of the first. They say he’s been living there for a hundred years.”
“A hundred?” Snow asked, perking her ears, curiosity flashing in her face as they crossed under the warm light cast by a street lamp. “But wouldn’t that make him...?”
“Dead,” Dusk answered flatly. “No one’s seen him for as long as anyone can remember. But every now and then, someone will see a light on inside, maybe even see a figure move in one of the windows, or the sway of some blinds.” The method in which she recited her words was cold and emotionless, like a bored high school teacher reading lines from a textbook. “Every Nightmare Night, only the bravest find a way through the fence and stay the night in the yard. No one ever has gone inside.”
Sunny leaned in close. “Ever?”
Dusk allowed the tiniest of a smirk to curl the left side of her mouth. “Once, fifty years ago, some kids went inside. Only one came out. But he never spoke of it, ever. He killed himself some time after.”
“Okay, bullshit!” Lufty chimed in loudly. “What were their names, huh? If some kids didn’t come back then everyone would have talked about it.”
“I’m sure you could find them if you checked for newspapers in the library,” Dusk said with a shrug.
“Yeah but you don’t know.” He huffed. “You’re just trying to scare us so we bail on the dare that your stupid friends set up. Is that what this is? You just don’t want to spend all night in the yard.”
Sunny spluttered in Lufty’s direction over the backs of Dusk and Snow. “Wait, all night!? You’re the one who challenged them to a dare, and then dragged me into it cause you needed a third guy!”
Lufty pointed a hoof over at Sunny, causing Snow to yelp softly as she was nearly clotheslined. “Hey, can it, glasses. You’re not unpunchable just ‘cause you do my homework.”
“I am if you want me to—”
Dusk stopped in place, motioning for the others to freeze as well. For a second or two, there was confusion among the three of them, then the darkly-colored mare motioned with her hoof towards the wrought iron fence, and the house beyond it. “We’re here.” She cast a pair of dark purple eyes to Lufty. “And no. Of course I don’t. I did it last year. But someone’s gotta come along to make sure none of you chicken out. Trust me, you don’t want to lose a dare to my friends.”
An iron fence guarded the front yard, which was a mess of discarded trash and leaves. Two, massive elm trees flanked the crumbled stone walkway that lead up to the front porch. The house itself wasn’t in too bad of shape. It was two stories, with a sharply angled roof the most likely housed an attic. Some of the shingles were missing, either gone completely, or scattered around the yard, and the wood paneling that protected the exterior walls from the elements had seen better days, worn and pockmarked and rotting away. Four simple, square windows looked down from the second floor, dark, curtained, and uninviting. The front door had lost whatever paint or stain it had once been coated with, and was now little more than a peeling, gray-black slab of wood; the railing surrounding the porch was in similar shape. The ground floor only had two windows at the front, both curtained as well, the dusty glass revealing nothing more than a gray backdrop just behind the panes.
“Seriously,” Sunny hissed under his breath. “I can’t stay here all night. My parents will freak!”
“Can it, squeaker,” Lufty hissed right back.
“That wasn’t part of the deal, Lufty!”
Dusk interrupted before the yellow stallion could get a word back in. “It’s too late to back out now. You know what happened to the last ponies who lost a dare to Ember, and her friends.” She gestured a somewhat smug hoof towards herself, and the other three cringed.
It seemed that they did know.
“Yeah, dude,” Sunny muttered. “Brick had to move ‘cause it was so bad.” He ruffled his wings, then let them extend with a sigh and a small droop of his ears. “So should I like... fly over?”
“No.” Dusk shook her head. “There’s enchantments. You have to go through the fence.” She motioned off towards the left, where the rusty metal met with an entwining, overgrown hedge, then started in that direction.
Sunny started right after her, though Lufty and Snow lingered back for a second, the white mare leaning in close to whisper in the stallion’s ear. “Who is this bitch, anyways?”
Lufty lowered his head and started after Sunny, shooting a look over at Snow. “Dusk is in with the witches.”
Snow cocked a brow. “Witches?”
“They’re not really witches, but they’re a couple of weird, freaky emo mares who know some mean spells. If you make a bet, or a dare, they’ll do something for you if you win, but if you lose... Well yeah, Sunny’s right, Brick had to leave town.”
“Well then why did you bet with them?” she hissed.
He sighed and glanced away, towards Dusk, who had pushed aside the hedges, horn glowing a deep purple in order to illuminate a place where two iron bars had been bent apart, just wide enough for a pony to squeeze through. “I wanna win the game next week.”
Dusk motioned for Sunny to go first, and the little pegasus swallowed hard before nodding and sticking his head between the bars. He gingerly stepped through, easing himself forward before his orange rump disappeared completely. After a moment, Dusk looked back at the both of them. “Well?”
The yard didn’t look any nicer from inside the fence. A creeping scent of compost lingered in the air as the four ponies plodded slowly through the thick layer of leaves on what had probably once been a lawn, drawing ever closer to the looming, dark structure. The wind picked up, if only ever so slightly, sending leaves dancing and skittering across the ground while the bare branches above rattled against one another.
Naturally, the three of them seemed to clump together, heads low, while Dusk took up the back, looking almost bored with herself as they drew near the front porch. Sunny was literally shaking with each step he took, wings halfway extended, tips bristling as the pegasus looked around every which way. “Why did I let you talk me into this?” he half-whimpered, half-stammered out. “Why do I even hang out with you? All you do is... make me do your homework and bully me!” He glanced back at Dusk with folded ears, then stopped just short of the porch, leaving Lufty and Snow to step up onto it.
There was a dull creak from underhoof as the old wood protested their weight, but otherwise, nothing. “Because...” Lufty said, tilting his head left, then right as he peered at the window overlooking the porch, tone somewhat distant as he narrowed his eyes. “Because I’m on the hoofball team, and everyone leaves you alone when you’re with me.” He stepped forward, ahead of Snow, testing each board with a hoof before settling his full weight down on them. “Be grateful that I liked you enough to bring you along.”
“Bring me along!?” Sunny sputtered quietly.
Dusk gave a quiet snort from somewhere behind all of them, turning to start off to the right, towards the side yard. “I wouldn’t bring anyone I liked here.”
Her comment caused an awkward moment of eye contact between Lufty and Snow, though before either could say anything, Dusk disappeared around the right corner of the house.
“I wouldn’t stay out front if I were you guys,” her muffled voice called out. “We are on private property.” Almost without hesitating, Sunny scampered off after her, leaving Lufty and Snow to cautiously dismount the porch with a look towards the street.
The side yard was no better than the front. The wooden skirting that lined the foundation of the house had completely rotted away, creating a perfect place for critters and spiders to set up shop, and the old wooden fence that ran along the right side of the yard was leaning dangerously towards the house, making the pathway to the back yard feel narrow and constricting. The backyard beyond it was plain. An old patio table sat atop a second, larger porch than the one in the front, three sad chairs sitting around it. Two more, old elm trees stood high in the back yard, ensuring that not an inch of the ground could be seen below the thousands of yellow leaves they dropped.
A silent tension hung about the four ponies as they wandered around the yard, the nature of the air overwhelmingly uncomfortable. Sunny seemed tense, Lufty was acting flustered, Snow looked unsure, and Dusk was sitting by the porch looking bored. The house, sat cozy below its canopy of trees, if anything, seeming more depressing than intimidating.
The silence only lasted about a minute, maybe two, before it was broken by Snow’s voice. “Lufty, I’m bored. Do we really have to do this?” She trotted up to the porch and mounted the creaky steps, moving toward the table to the right of the door. “It’s gonna get cold tonight and I didn’t bring any warm clothes.”
“Yeah, really dude,” Sunny added in. “My parents are gonna kill me.”
Lufty didn’t seem to be listening, however. He’d gotten this look about him, a look of curiosity and general delinquency. He paced towards the rear porch slowly, then started up the old steps. “Hey, Dusk, didn’t you say no one has ever been inside?”
Dusk blinked at the question, then shot him a funny look. “Yeah, of course no one’s ever been inside. What kind of a stupid question is that?”
Lufty paused at the top of the steps, shooting Snow a raised-eyebrow look. “And why’s that?” he asked Dusk.
“I don’t know... because it’s locked?” She rolled her eyes, then turned to face him with a huff. “And it’s scary? No one would be crazy enough to go inside.”
Lufty grinned at Snow, then turned that grin back on Dusk. “Come on, it’s just an old house, right?”
She blinked again, then narrowed her brows at him and stood up. “Don’t do it. Whatever you’re thinking... don’t. If you do something stupid and get the cops called, I get in trouble too.”
Her words only widened the grin of the jock, and he took a few steps backwards, towards the door, grinning at Snow. Grinning back at him, the white mare reached for the handle and gave it a turn. She O-faced at Lufty, then gave the door a push.
It didn’t move.
Dusk’s sigh of relief was drowned out by Snow’s crestfallen whine. “It’s deadbolted.”
“Good!” Dusk fired back at her. “Last thing I need is you guys pissing off the—” She winced, doubling over as the sound of splintering wood filled the night, and Lufty, who had taken a running charge at the door, toppled right into the house, having blown the deadbolt out of the frame.
Dusk staggered her way up the porch steps, eyes wide as she peered at the shattered frame and the looming, dark hallway ahead. “Why in Luna’s name did you do that!?” The ruslting of hooves in the leaves signified Sunny’s approach as well, the orange stallion stopping just behind Dusk and keeping himself sparse, occasionally peering left or right over one of her shoulders to get a better look.
Lufty only chuckled as he lifted himself up the wooden floor, standing in the dark entryway. Squinting some, he looked around. “Looks like... a kitchen I think.” He motioned his hoof towards Snow. “Hey, get in here. Do your light thing.”
“Don’t you dare!” Dusk hissed as Snow stepped forward, reaching for the white mare’s shoulder. Snow, noticing the movement, gave a small jerk away from Dusk, keeping herself out of range, then lit her horn, a cold, ice blue light washing over the wood paneling on either side of the doorframe before she stepped inside.
It was a kitchen. The yellow wallpaper was old and faded, dancing, swirling patterns of dirty white running up and down it in repeating patterns. Four wooden dining chairs sat around a battered table, set with a single plate and pair of silverware. Dust covered every flat surface like frost, and even Snow and Lufty’s entry into the kitchen had left a twin pair of hoofprints in the thin layer covering the linoleum tile.
It was also warmer inside, the heat of the sun from earlier in the day, and the greenhouse effect ensuring that the temperature inside was quite comfortable compared to biting chill outside.
Sunny poked his head around the doorframe, peering at the two before stepping inside gingerly, light on his hooves, wings half fluffed. Dusk followed, looking a broody combination of upset and unsure. Looking about, she swung the door closed behind her and took a moment to glare at splintered wood where the deadlock had blown out. Peering around in the blue light cast from Snow’s horn, Sunny’s eyes landed on the dusty light switch beside the opposite door, and tiptoed his way over to it, flaring his right wing to flick the switch.
Surprise registered on his face when the light actually turned on, and two, dirty yellow bulbs below a frosted glass bowl on the kitchen ceiling flashed to life. The result was a synchronous wince from the other three in the room as the light washed over them. Dusk rushed forward immediately after Sunny, shouldering him out of the way to get to the switch and flick it back down, plunging them into the wan lighting cast from Snow’s horn once again.
“What are you doing!?” she hissed at the orange pegasus. “What if someone sees the light?” The mare’s right hoof had developed a bit of a tremble, a frantic tapping against the ground as she looked around, ears flat against her head.
Lufty, still grinning like a proper shithead, stepped out into the narrow hallway beyond the kitchen, Snow following close behind. After a moment or two, the white mare paused to look back over her shoulder at Dusk and Sunny. “Pftt, you two look so cute together. Both cowering.”
Sunny and Dusk both glared her way, but as Lufty and Snow went into the hall, the light went with them, leaving the other two to sit in the rising gloom. Sunny blinked, threw a look at Dusk, then scampered forward after the light source with a little yelp. Dusk hesitated a little bit longer, but followed with a groan and a few dragging steps.
On his path down the hallway, Lufty yanked open a door on the right. “Hall closet,” he said flatly to the rest of them before proceeding to the next door. “Another... hall closet,” he droned. The yellow stallion looked back at Snow, flashed her a grin, then took a few bold steps up to a slanted door on the left of the hall, below the staircase. A sliding lock held it closed, and he undid it with a yawn before yanking it open as well. Immediately, Lufty’s ears perked up as he peered down inside. “Basement!” A small frown crossed his face. “Is it a basement or a cellar? What’s even the difference?”
Snow, having moved up beside him, narrowed her brows in an attempt to focus the glow of her horn down the stairs, though there wasn’t much to be seen beyond the first couple rows of wooden steps.
“What’s down there?” Sunny asked in a whisper, not willing to proceed far enough to see through the doorway.
A slow grin spread across Lufty’s face as he took a step forward, resting his hoof on the other side of the doorframe. “Wanna find out?” he asked with a flash of his eyes towards Sunny.
Dusk intervened, giving a couple heavy stomps forward to stop just behind Lufty. “No one is going down there.” She cast a look down the staircase and shivered. “What if it was locked for a reason?”
With a scoff, Lufty nudged Snow forward with a hoof, down the first couple of stairs, then looked back over his shoulder at Dusk. “What, the witch mare is scared of a basement? I thought you and your weirdo friends were like, supposed to embrace fear, or something?”
“Embrace fear, not stupidity, dumbass,” Dusk fired back.
Snow, with an obnoxious and overly-dramatic roll of her eyes, slowly turned herself around to face Dusk and proceeded back up the stairs to the door. She fixed the mare with a smarmy, half-lidded grin, then took a firm grasp on the basement door before closing it in the other mare’s face. Dusk blinked, then let out a scoff in the dark. “Yo, you, pegasus.”
“Sunny,” the stallion drawled from somewhere to her right.
“Yeah yeah, feel around for a light switch, yeah? Shit, I wish I knew how to do that light spell.” Dusk reached out for the basement door, using the wan, blue glue from below the door to guide herself. Her right hoof landed on the latch, and with a low growl in her throat, she slid it back into place. “Fine, you fuckers can stay down there.”
“Huh?” Sunny asked from down the hall.
“Nothing.”
The soft click-clack of the ceiling bulb flickering to life intruded the silence as Lufty yanked on the dangling string brought the surroundings into perspective, and allowed Snow to snuff out the blue light from her horn as the two looked around the basement. The floor was dirt, and the walls were an old brick. Moisture crept through where the grout had cracked and split away, and the whole place smelt of mold and hundred year old dust. It looked like it had been dug out, but never completed. The stairs were little more than framework with planks to walk on attached, not even a railing, and two thick, square beams had been screwed to the support beam of the floor above in order to serve as structural support.
“Dirt floor,” Snow said in a low, faux spooky voice. “Good place to bury a body.”
Snickering, Lufty sat back on his haunches and glanced around at the surrounding clutter. Boxes and trinkets and old furniture under dusty sheets lined three of the walls, but against the furthest wall, directly across from the base of the stairs, was a long table. Atop it was a lumpy sheet, the shape below it vaguely pony-sized.
Lufty’s eyes narrowed in on it, and his jaw dropped a little. Snow squinted at him, cocking her head to one side, then looked in the direction he was and did the very same thing. “No way,” Lufty said under his breath.
Snow took a slow step forward, lowering her head some, folding her ears. “Is that a...”
“It can’t be,” Lufty chimed in, stepping forward as well, creeping up beside her. “If it was a pony, there’d be like... maggots, and it would smell and shit.” He glanced over at Snow. “Right?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen a dead pony before.”
Lufty took another slow, step forward, then blinked, and straightened up with a roll of his eyes. “No way, this is Dusk and her friends fucking with us. Look, it’s probably just a bunch of pillows.” With two swift steps in the direction of the table, Lufty took a firm grasp on the corner of the sheet, then gave it a hard yank. The sheet pulled away in a shower of dust, momentarily obscuring the figure that it had been covering in a cascading layer of dirty fog. Though when Lufty actually spotted what it was on the table, the smug look on his face vanished, and suddenly, the yellow stallion was starting to look rather white. Even Snow, who’s pristine, white coat made winter look gray, still managed to look pale.
The clammy, gray shape curled up on the table could barely even be considered a pony. No fur covered its sickly, yellow-gray flesh; spiderweb veins of blue and red and green covered it’s back and shoulders in a roadmap of disease and grotesque patchmarks. The creature was nothing but skin and bone, and as it was, laying with it’s back to them, facing the wall, every vertebrae of it’s spine could be seen and counted, right down to the tail, which had a pitiful clump of gray hair still clinging to the flaking skin. It’s barrel narrowed drastically near the belly, below the ribs, where the stomach would be, like some anorexic nightmare.
“I-is it dead?” Snow whimpered, staring in fear at the back of the creature’s head, which, in a similar fashion to it’s tail, had a pathetic collection of gray hair that obscured the base of it’s horn.
Lufty didn’t reply for a full five seconds, in which he took a couple of short, shuddering breaths. “I mean... how could it be alive?”
“Lufty...” Snow glanced back towards the stairs. “We should go.”
“So that’s what happened to the old bag,” the stallion whispered to himself, stepping forward. “He died down here. But...” He paused, staring closely at the flank of the creature. “That door was locked from the outside.”
“Lufty. I don’t care. Let’s just go.”
Lufty froze in place as the flank of the gray bag of bones on the table rose ever so slightly, his eyes dancing up and down it’s form, confusion and disbelief on his features. “S-Snow...” he stammered, not daring to move his eyes, not daring to move. “It’s....”
The white unicorn took a couple of swift steps back, stopping only once her rump hit one of the support beams. “It’s moving,” she finished for him in a squeak.
And it was. Neither of the two ponies could bring themselves to move as the sickly creature almost drunkenly rolled over onto it’s belly, weak, scrawny forelegs moving with no grace, nor dexterity, scratching across the wooden tabletop like that of a fawn that had yet to learn to walk. Slowly, it lifted it’s head and turned to look at the both of them, hollow eye sockets housing two, dull, gray eyes. For a second, the creature almost looked... confused, and were it to have eyebrows, they would be narrowed. It’s grotesque mouth fell open, revealing teeth with no gums and a tongue that roughly resembled a beef jerkey stick. It moved like a tape played in slow motion, and the creaking of the bones in its neck as it turned to look from Snow to Lufty was actually audible in the still air.
“L-Lufty,” Snow whimpered, taking a baby step to the side in what seemed to be an attempt to get her rump out from in front of the support beam.
Lufty didn’t respond, didn’t move, didn’t even blink. He stood there, white as a ghost, limbs locked, eyes as wide as saucers as the creature made eye contact with him. The open, gaping mouth of the ghoul slowly closed, and those leathery, dry lips curled some. It was smiling.
It made a sudden lurch towards Lufty, stiff and clumsy, every bone and every joint in it’s body seeming to crack and pop all at once. Snow squealed, and Lufty exploded backwards all at once, tripping over his hind hooves and rolling onto his back. Despite it’s lack of overall agility, the ghoul was still fast, and with an awkward, unstable leap from the edge of the table, it half soared, half fell through the air to land directly atop the smaller stallion. Lufty was large for his age, though when compared to the average adult, he was still smaller. The creature that was atop him now must have been quite larger than the average adult, for it dwarfed him in size.
Lufty gasped and kicked and thrashed below the creature, planting his forehooves on its shoulders and kicking at it’s belly with his hinds, even managing to lift it up off him some with a combination of trained strength and adrenaline.
“Lufty!” Snow cried out, having since sidestepped the pillar while continuing to move towards the stairs, away from the scene unfolding on the basement floor.
“Snow!” Lufty shouted back, arching his back and pressing the back of his head against the floor as the ghoul lunged for him, it’s teeth snapping inches away from his muzzle. “Help me!”
Snow took a conflicted step towards him, then two more steps back. “How!?” Her eyes darted around the basement.
“Just do it!” Lufty gave a good kick with his hind legs, right up into the ghoul’s stomach, though it didn’t even seem to flinch at the blow that would have sent a normal pony reeling. In a last, desperate attempt to free himself, the earth pony removed one hoof from the creature’s shoulder and pressed it down against the ground below him in an attempt to sit up, still pushing with his other hoof.
At first, it worked. Lufty was able to lift his front half off the ground, though the small victory was short lived. The ghoul, which remained atop him, planted it’s right hind leg right right above his groin and pressed down. It’s left forehoof, in a surprising display of sentience, flashed out and wrapped around the back of his neck, all while the creature's jaw stretched open, the skin of it’s cheeks and lips stretching so thin that the light from the hanging bulb could be seen within it’s mouth as a wan red glow through the semi-transparent flesh. It’s jaw creaked and popped, and soon enough it was wide enough to likely be able to fit a whole pumpkin.
Once again, Lufty froze, staring up into that maw. The yellow earth pony found himself staring right into the creature’s dark, dry throat, through a reeking, rotting mouth. Then the creature lunged forward, and in one fell swoop, Lufty’s head was gone as yellow teeth and dry lips closed around the base of his neck, constricting his windpipe and silencing the stallion’s terrified attempt at a scream. Snow screamed for him, though. She screamed a terrible scream, a raspy, raw, instinctual scream of pure terror. She staggered backwards until her hinds hit the first step, then fell over onto her back on the stairs.
As Lufty thrashed and kicked, his head trapped in the larger creature’s maw, the ghoul closed it’s eyes, it’s expression blissful, in a way. It was a perverse expression, one that would more than likely be found on the face of a stallion near climax. Had the creature any saliva, it likely would have been drooling.
It’s powerful jaws released Lufty for a brief moment, though it was only to shovel more of the smaller stallion it’s it’s sickly maw, those tombstone teeth scraping down over Lufty’s chest as his broad shoulders were stuffed past it’s thin cheeks. The bulge of the jock’s head showed below the creature’s jaw, along the front of it’s neck, and with his throat no longer constricted, Lufty was able to scream. It was a shattered, broken sound, cracked and very much unlike Lufty. If fear had a sound, that was it. Seated as he was on his rump and held in place, there wasn’t much Lufty could do with his hind legs but kick them back and forth across the dirt floor, and with the upper portion of his forelegs now pinned to his side’s by the creature’s jaw, he was more or less rendered completely helpless.
Snow wasn’t screaming anymore. In fact, she wasn’t doing anything at all. The mare had collapsed on the stairs, and at least managed to sit herself up, though now she was watching the scene unfold with unfocused eyes and a full-body tremble, completely locked up like a deer in the headlights.
Poor Lufty’s struggles did nothing to slow the creature as it scarfed him down, several hard swallows as it hunched it’s back over and pressed its face towards the ground, keeping it’s meal trapped vertically between it’s own mouth and the dirt floor. Lufty’s barrel went down fast and easy, swallowed down like a pigeon would deal with a worm, though when the ghoul’s jaw reached Lufty’s groin, and the sides of its mouth nestled firmly against the crease where his hind legs met his body, the progress momentarily stopped; at that point, however, he was so far down it’s throat that the bulge of his head could no longer be seen in it’s throat, and was instead, lost somewhere within the ghoul’s sickly body. It bit down on his groin and the small of his back, and Lufty screamed again, this time in pain, however the sound was muffled, as if made from the next room over. “Snow!” he managed to cry out, yellow hind legs kicking in the air as the creature wrenched his head back and lifted his entire rump into the air. “Snow help me!”
With that same perverse look on its face, the sickly creature struck up a satisfied pose, clacking its fore and hind hooves together to stand neatly and self-contentedly before Snow, almost prideful in posture in a display of sentience that no monster such as it should have possessed. Then, with a simple shrug of it’s shoulders, it tossed its head back and angled it straight up, showing off it’s bulging throat and the swollen underside of it’s jaw before giving two, sharp, hard swallows. The first one plunged Lufty’s entire rump into it’s maw, along with the first five or so inches of his thighs, and the second put him down in his entirety, leaving nothing but it’s bulging throat and the tips of two yellow forehooves to signify that Lufty was even still there.
Still standing there like a content poodle, it fixed those sickly, gray eyes on Snow, then gave a hard, pointed swallow, a resounding gluck filling the chill air as the squirming shape of Lufty’s hind section slid downward into its barrel. With such a skinny creature, there was no way to fully hide a pony as large as lufty within, so it’s shrunken stomach began to swell outward, kicking and bulging with the shape of the terrified stallion’s hooves as he continued to struggle. A sharp series of thrashing rolls from Lufty caused the ghoul to sway a little bit where it stood, and it had to spread it’s forehooves out in order to stay balanced. One last, casual swallow saw the creature’s throat return to normal, and shortly following it was a heavy bounce from it’s gut as Lufty was fully deposited inside.
And then it just stood there for a moment, eyes closing as it’s head slowly lowered and a thin, satisfied smile spread across it’s face. It’s swollen stomach kicked and writhed and bounced with the shape of Lufty as the jock struggled, despite the fact that he was trapped and contorted into a rather tight ball. After a moment or two, the creature opened its eyes to peer at Snow, then opened it’s mouth and spoke in a voice that best resembled a wire brush on concrete.
“You might want to look away for this part, dear.” The statement was followed by a low chuckle that sounded more like a cat choking on a furball. “And maybe plug your ears.”
Snow seemed to be getting little movements of her limbs back as she twitched and arched her back on the stairs, hind legs starting to dig at the dirt in an attempt to push herself back up. The creature’s words brought a shiver to her form, and she gave her head the tiniest of shakes, a whimper leaving her mouth.
“No?” he asked, giving her a pointed look with those lifeless, dead eyes. “Hm, guess you’re the morbid type.” Another one of those sickly chuckles escaped him, accompanied with an almost giddy sway of his hips. From within, Lufty gave a scream, an agonized scream. There was fear there, but on top of fear, there was pain. Additionally, the creature’s tight-skinned stomach began to shrink and squeeze from all angles, showing every curve and contour of Lufty’s body, the outline of the side of his face and open mouth showing through the sickly skin. “I must say, it has been far too long since I’ve eaten,” it chimed happily, glancing to Snow. “I think... that it’s had an effect on my complexion.” The creature’s skin seemed to get tighter and tighter, drawing Lufty upwards, towards its middle, until finally, there was a meaty, wet crack from inside it’s belly, followed up with a muffled, agonized scream and a series of weak kicks and wiggles.”Don’t you think?”
Snow was shaking so bad she couldn’t even get her hooves under her, and several attempts to prop herself up on the stairs with her forelegs failed, though she was able to lift her head enough to gaze in terror at that shrinking stomach.
“Stop!” Lufty wailed from within the depths of the creature. “Please stop, it hurts!” He continued to shout more, but the pleas and words all sort of blended together into incoherent screaming, all while the ghoul stood there, having adopted that satisfied, perverse look again. Though, something was happening to it. It’s skin was looking a little less gray and yellow and a little more pink, and it’s irises were starting to gain color. More pops, and cracks sounded from it’s stomach, joined shortly by a caustic gurgling and grotesque sounds of metabolism. What came next from Lufty was no more than a gurgled scream, though it was cut off sharply halfway through by a loudest crack yet. Then there was silence, silence that was only punctuated by the continued gurgling and the popping of bones from within the creature’s still shrinking stomach.
The creature fixed its eyes on Snow and took a lumbering step forward, still weighed down by his swinging, sloshing gut. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry.” It’s voice was somehow clearer, less raspy, and less sexually ambiguous, most certainly male in origin.
Snow rolled over onto her belly, and finally seeming to find her legs, shoved herself up to all fours and made a desperate scamper up the stairs, whimpering and babbling to herself. In a rush, she reached the door, grabbed the knob, gave it an almighty yank... only to find that the door wouldn’t budge.
“Oh shit,” she gasped to herself, pounding her left hoof against the wooden surface while her right continued to yank desperately at the knob. “Let me out!” she screeched, rattling the knob. “For the love of Celestia let me out!” She slammed at the door a few more times, then looked down at back at the ghoulish creature approaching from the bottom of the stairs. His eyes had even more color now, nearing a shade of magenta.
“Now come on,” it rasped up at her. “I don’t have the energy to chase you.”
“Yo, geek. Goth girl!” Snow shouted through the door. “Let me out. It’s coming!” Two more slams of her hoof against the door did nothing, so in what appeared to be a desperate, last ditch effort, Snow grabbed the knob with both hooves and pulled hard, bracing her right hind leg against the doorframe for leverage.
There was a crack, a snap, and the door handle came right off in her hooves. Snow tried desperately to recover, giving a sharp turn as the muscles in her own hind legs shoved her off the stoop and sent her careening down the stairs. In an attempt to not tumble down to land in a heap at the ghoul’s hooves, Snow made a last ditch attempt. She was somewhere between tumbling and falling with style, and there was no stopping her forward momentum. The unicorn landed on the fourth step down, the brass doorknob clattering down the steps as it slipped from her grasp. With a grunt of effort, she shoved off hard with her forehooves, following it up with a sharp kick of her hind legs that sent her soaring.
She had drastically undershot. Instead of going over the ghoul waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, she was going right towards him, her rump starting to rise above her head as she pedaled her forehooves in the air.
The ghoul took a step back as she soared towards him, the look on his face a hybrid of surprise, enjoyment, and hunger. His muzzle tracked her through the air, and as she fell nearer, that large, ravenous jaw dropped open, revealing the abyss of it’s throat beyond. Her terrified scream was reduced to little more than a muffled cry as she almost gracefully plunged head-first into the creature’s maw, it’s throat stretching happily to accommodate the mare as she was swallowed right down to her haunches in one quick gulp.
Somewhat of a pleased rumble escaped from the ghoul’s throat as it lowered its head, the mare’s rump and hind legs dangling from it’s mouth. It’s grotesque tongue slithered out of it’s mouth and up between Snow’s hind legs, curling between her cheeks and helping to further pull her in as he gave a leisurely swallow and a little, backwards pitch of his head. Her rump slid into his mouth, momentarily bulging those sallow cheeks out before a final swallow sent her sliding down to her demise, the bulge that was her form working it’s way down the front of his throat as she was forced to settle down in his stomach with what was left of Lufty. Snow’s cries of terror went from muffled, to muffled and garbled, barely audible at all, the sound of somepony crying out underwater.
With a breathy, exerted exhale, the ghoul let his head hang down and shut his eyes, his bulging gut hanging so far below his malnourished frame that it almost touched the ground. “Now that hits the spot.”
Dusk and Sunny sat side by side in the hallway, leaning against the wall and clutching their mouths as Snow screamed from down below. Sunny was the very definition of uncomfortable in appearance, though Dusk was doing her best not to snicker into her hoof. “Holy shit,” she finally blurted in a half-whisper to Sunny, reaching out to elbow him in the side. “They’re scared out of their minds!”
Sunny threw a glance towards the latch and made to stand up. “Should we... let them out?”
Dusk shook her head swiftly and pushed a hoof down against his lap, causing his rump to thump back to the floor. “Nonono, don’t open it. Let them stay down there a little bit longer. I’ve never seen two ponies so afraid of the dark before.”
Glancing up at the dusty ceiling lamp in the hall, Sunny stared for a moment, before wincing and turning his eyes away. “Yeah well... Lufty’s gonna kill me after this.”
Snow’s desperate screaming sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a rough pounding against the wooden surface. Dusk cocked a brow as she watched the door shake in it’s frame, then tossed Sunny a lazy grin. “Well then, go ahead, let them out.”
The orange pegasus stood and took a half step towards the door, then froze in place. “I... think I might wait until they calm down a little bit.” He blinked. “You think they’re okay down there?”
Snorting, Dusk pushed to her hooves, then started towards the foyer with a casual bounce in her step. “If they can’t handle being locked in a basement for ten minutes then I will be seriously surprised.
Approaching the door, Sunny pressed his right to it, closing his eyes to listen. A small frown crossed the pegasus’ face after a moment or two and he looked back over his shoulder in Dusk’s direction. “Hey... I think I hear someone else down there.”
Dusk froze, then threw a quick look back towards him from the end of the hall. “...So, who?” she fired back, voice weighted down with sass.
He shrugged and pressed his ear back to the door. “I don’t know—” A heavy, firm knock from the other side drew a startled yelp from the pegasus as he hopped away from the door. He hit the opposite wall and bounced, staggering for a few steps before settling down on all fours, facing the door. Sunny looked over at Dusk, a frantic, sort of confused expression on his face, before his eyes were drawn back to the door by three sharp, slow knocks, each one jostling it in it’s frame.
A gravelly, rough male voice spoke from the other side, and it certainly wasn’t Lufty’s. “Open the door or I will break it.”
Sunny looked to Dusk again, who shook her head. In response, Sunny flicked his eyes towards the door then gave a tiny nod. Dusk shook her head again, this time, with more vigor, though once the knocking at the door resumed, Sunny skittered forward and undid the latch to the whispered curses of Dusk from down the hall. Trembling, he took ahold of the doorknob, then gave the door a small push. It swung open slowly, creaking on the hinges, revealing the pony standing just beyond.
It most definitely was not Lufty. In fact, Sunny didn’t see a trace of him or Snow. The unicorn that stood before him in the doorway was looming, quite large for a pony. His coat was a midnight purple, with maybe just a little dash of gray, thinning in spots, showing the pink skin below in occasional, bare patches. A ratty, wine-red mane rested atop his head, streaked with gray. Stunning purple eyes looked down on Sunny, the expression on the stallion’s sleek face somewhere between a glare and an amused smirk.
“I... I-I—” Sunny stammered as the large stallion stepped out of the basement. “I don”t... I-I swear I didn’t.”
The unicorn gave his head a tiny bow, putting on a thin, warm smile. “Thank you, young one, for opening the door.” He had a refined, elegant voice, which made it even stranger that it had such a gravelly rumble to it, like he was recovering from a bad cold. The unicorn didn’t look old, not exactly. He looked like a young stallion who rather suddenly, and rapidly, gotten old, or fallen greatly ill.
The purple unicorn looked left, down the hall, to where Dusk stool balking. “Oh, charming, another.” His voice was less warm this time, and a little facetious in nature. A loud gurgle from the unicorn’s stomach broke the silence, and it was immediately followed by a couple of wet, meaty pops. Sitting back on his haunches, the stallion rested his left forehoof on his bulging belly, then held the other out to stifle a burp. “Please, excuse me. My meals didn’t exactly agree with me.” His purple eyes flashed to Sunny, whose gaze was locked on his stomach. “Now, I know you rescued me from that basement, but no matter the case it’s not nice to stare.” He reached down with his right hoof, the one he’d burped into, and used it to lift Sunny’s chin. “That is rude. Stop doing that.”
“W-who are you?” Dusk called from down the hall, still standing in the entryway to the foyer.
“Why are you asking that!?” Sunny blurted over to to Dusk, sidling backwards, towards her along the wall. “Where’s Lufty and Snow!?”
The unicorn rolled his eyes and stood, starting down the hallway with a brisk stride. “Oh yes, dumb and dumber.” He managed a small shrug while walking. “Currently indisposed.”
Sunny just about ploughed into Dusk as he was casually chased out of the hallway, who sidestepped at the last minute and cleared the way for the large unicorn and his slowly shrinking gut. Dim, purple light flashed from the tip of his horn, and the lights in the room flicked on.
It was a nice, quaint sitting room. There was a love seat against the front window, by the door, a coffee table in front of it, and two high-back, stuffed armchairs across the from the couch on the other side of the coffee table. Bookcases lined the far walls, littered with dusty books and trinkets.
“Oh dear,” he muttered to himself, glancing with concern to the thick layer of dust on the couches. “I really have let this place go.” His horn flashed, this time a brighter shade of purple, and from it, a small whirlwind of air went rushing out into the sitting area, whisking over the chairs, drawing the dust away before slowly spinning it’s way over to the corner to die out, dumping what it carried across the floorboards. “Well,” he said with an impatient look to the two high schoolers standing at the rug by the front door. “Have a seat. We have matters to discuss.”
Dusk and Sunny shared a look, a confused, tense look, though after a moment or two, the both of them made their way to the love seat, leaving the unicorn to settle himself down in one of the stuffed armchairs.
He flopped down with a heavy sigh and reclined back, both forehooves resting on his rounded belly, even giving it a squeeze that coaxed a couple more pops and cracks from it. A violent burp worked it’s way up his throat, exploding from his mouth like a shotgun blast, peppering the coffee table in front of them with saliva and small clump of yellow and white fur. The large stallion glanced at it, then gagged, clutching at his throat. Sunny and Dusk both tensed up, glancing between him and the door as he retched, though after a few seconds, the large stallion hunched over, and with a throaty gag, spit out a slime-covered, white horn, the broken end etched and corroded. Immediately following that came a slow stream of light blue magic from his mouth and nose, drifting from him like cigarette smoke. With a huff, he waved his hoof through the air to disperse it, then levitated the horn before him to idly look it over.
“Damn unicorns.”
Sunny was trembling by now, white in the face as his eyes locked on that horn. “Where...” he mumbled out, his tone slow and and drunk in nature. “Where’s Snow and Lufty?”
Dusk looked over at him with a bit of a growl, then gave him a punch in the shoulder. “He just threw up her horn, dumbass!”
The unicorn pointed a hoof at her and grinned. “Ah, this mare is perceptive.” He gave Snow’s horn a light toss in her direction. “Here, souvenier.” It landed directly in her lap, and Dusk jerked, giving a small spasm as she more or less sidled over into Sunny’s lap in an attempt to avoid it. “Also, that may have had a little bit of stomach acids still on it. Be sure to wipe that off. Nasty stuff.” He patted his stomach. “Lufty and Snow can vouch for that.” After a moment or two, a small frown crossed his face and he glanced up at the two. “You know, you mustn't have liked those two very much because neither of you seem very upset.”
Sunny was too busy staring in shock to answer, and Dusk was more concerned with desperately patting at her sizzling fur while sitting halfway in his lap. After a second or two of struggling, she slid over just enough to get off of Sunny, though kept as much distance as she could from the only remaining piece of Snow resting on the couch cushion.
In the short time they’d been talking, the lines between the stallion’s ribs had been filled, and couldn’t be seen at all. His face had grown much more lifelike, and his coat was already starting to look full again. Even as he sat there, the pink patches of flesh beneath were being slowly hidden away by the growth of new fur.
“Anyways, awkward first meetings aside.” The stallion leaned back in the stuffed chair with a satisfied groan as he rested both hooves on his stomach. “My name is Sir Alex Bunbury Samuel the third, or, as I was known back in the day, Blight.” He grinned at the both of them in turn. “However, since I am your elder, you may refer to me as Sir.” He lifted his left hind leg and crossed it over the top of his right, slouching back further in the chair as he casually kneaded his gut with both hooves. “I suppose you two would like an explanation? I mean, technically I don’t have to give one, but you’re the first two I’ve seen in ages and I am just dying for some good conversation.”
Sunny gave the tiniest nods of his head, and Dusk hesitated a moment before giving a quiet, “Yes...”
Blight pointed a hoof at her. “Ah, now what did I say?”
Dusk bit her lip, tensed up, then slumped back, “Yes, Sir.”
Closing his eyes and smiling to himself, Blight tilted his head back briefly. “Ah, yes.” He dropped his head, then cleared his throat before letting out another burp that smelled suspiciously of blood. “Well, as a young pony, you see, I feared death. I had recently lost my brother to disease—it was a terrible time, famine all across the kingdom, ponies were fighting over scraps of food. And you see, I just didn’t want to die. I was but a peasant, and the lord was taking all that we had to maintain his luxurious lifestyle—you see, that was the problem with feudalism.” He wiggled a little bit in his seat, seemingly giddy at the chance to tell his story. “I stumbled across this witch you see, a powerful sorcerer mare, older than any pony I had ever met, skin and bone. She told me that she was over a hundred years old.” He stared off into the distance for a second or two, then brought himself back with a small snap of his head back to Sunny and Dusk. “I rescued her from someone even worse off than I, looking for food. Come to think of it, I don’t think she ever actually needed my help at all... such power... She knew what I wanted before I even knew I wanted it. She looked me in the eye, and said, ‘you want to live forever, yes?’ Now, at the time, I had never been thinking about living forever... but the thought struck me. I mean, just imagine it—living forever. How could I say no? She just sort of grinned at me, like she knew something I didn’t. She told me about the world, about life and death, and how it all stays in this strange... balance. You see, in order for new life to go on, there must be death. So in order to live forever... you must take your life.”
Dusk and Sunny looked briefly at one another, and Blight paused just long enough to give a loud and aggressive cough to draw them back to his story.
“Anyways, she gave me the whole rundown. This is not only a blessing, but a curse. If you choose this path you can never return. I didn’t care. I wanted to live forever. So, she cast a spell on me, and just like that, I’m gone. I wake up in my bed thinking it’s all a dream.” He leaned in close, pressing down on his gut in the process and coaxing a long, loud gurgle from it. He grinned at them, his gums creeping up over his rotten teeth as the small holes and patches of decay started to fill themselves in. “I went about my work. But I was hungry, I was always hungry. It didn’t matter what I ate, or how much of it. I felt like I was dying. And later I realized that I was. You see, in order to live, I needed more than just food. I needed life.” He licked his lips, then leaned back. “My eyes grew gaunt, my ribs showed, I started to lose my fur and soon I was just skin and bone. My wife thought it was sickness, like my brother. She would tend to me in bed. Though one day, when she came in with the food I could no longer bear to eat, for it did nothing for me, she leaned in close to kiss me on the lips.” His eyes landed briefly on Sunny and he grinned a wicked sort of grin. “It was like second nature. I ate her whole, three months with foal, and it tasted better than anything I had ever tasted before in my life.”
“H-how could you?” Sunny whispered.
Blight shrugged. “Oh, very easily. You see, times were very much different then. Ponies died of all sorts of things, every day. Husbands would kill their wives if they were suspected of cheating. We didn’t even have outhouses. We shit in the streets and the yard. The rich at least had chamber pots.”
“No... I mean,” Sunny blurted. “How could you just eat your—”
Blight held up his right hoof to motion for silence. “Now, I have learned, that in order to stay alive, the bare minimal, I must have at least one, normal-sized pony a month. Otherwise I...” He tugged at an invisible collar and gave a small, uncomfortable swallow. “I could be put on display in a museum as a mummy.” He gave a small laugh, his voice smooth, oily, charismatic. “Now, I must thank you two. I had but a mere sliver of life left when your friends stumbled upon me in the basement—I had been saving it, ever since I had been locked down there in a weakened state by some children very much like yourselves, and had I not consumed the dumb yellow one immediately, I likely would have died right there on the spot.”
Suddenly, Blight clapped his hooves together, then rolled forward from the chair. He slammed both of his large forehooves down on the coffee table, looming over the two ponies who were both now recoiling into the back of the couch. “But I can already feel the buzz of the two fading, I can feel myself starting to die. After so many years without so much as a morsel, I have a... need.” His hungry, purple eyes flashed between Dusk and Sunny. “So here is the deal. I am going to eat one of you, and the other may go.” He paused, then frowned. “Say, what day is it today?”
Trembling, eyes as wide as saucers, Sunny slowly started to sidle downwards, rump hanging off the couch. “...Nightmare Night,” he managed to murmur.
Blight’s face lit up with delight. “Oh, really!? That is simply superb, I adore Nightmare Night. All those little children running about with no supervision. He leaned back some. “Oh, I suppose that would explain why you’re here. Hm.” He glanced around the house. “Yes, I suppose that I have been down there long enough for this to be considered one of those so-called ‘ghost houses.’ Why, I do recall losing count of how long around year forty three.”
Dusk finally seemed to break. The mare exploded into a kicking ball of limbs as she staggered her way over the back of the cough, pressing herself against the window before attempting to sidle along the top of the couch like a cat, past Sunny, who was still sitting in a relative state of shock. “Eat him, not me! I was the one who dared them to come here and it was my idea to go inside. I even locked them in the basement.”
The mare gave an elegant leap from the edge of the couch, towards the door, though halfway through the drop, a flash of purple magic wrapped around her middle and hoisted her back into the air. “Oh that was you?” Blight chimed happily, sitting back on his haunches while his magic drifted her over to dangle before him, held below the armpits in a vice grip. “Well thank you very much. You, my dear, uh...”
“Dusk...” she said with a tense whimper.
“You, my dear, Dusk, are responsible for bringing me back from the dead, or at least, very close to it.” He glanced down to Sunny, then winked. “Of course, the logical thing to do would be to let you go to show my gratitude.” He paused briefly, chewing the corner of his lip in thought. “Did I ever tell you what my favorite color was?”
Dusk squinted, initially confused by the question as she glanced down to look at Sunny, who had turned his attention purposefully elsewhere. “N-no?” she said, looking back to him.
Blight licked his lips as he pulled her closer, putting her muzzle within inches of his. “It’s purple.”
Confusion crossed Dusk’s face as she squinted up at him, though by the time the dawning horror hit her, it was too late to struggle. The purple magic suspending the mare pinned her forelegs to her sides and squeezed her hind legs together, all while hoisting her up into the air and inverting her completely. Dusk shook her head back and forth frantically as all the blood in her body rushed to her brain and her hind legs tapped against the ceiling. After a second, Blight’s magical vice grip even took ahold of her head and pointed it straight down, forcing her to look right into his wide open, awaiting maw. As he lowered her, the unicorn let out a breathy chuckle, hot, humid, acrid smelling air washing over the mare’s muzzle from the abyss of Blight’s throat with a lingering scent of blood and Snow’s perfume.
Sunny stood by in shock and horror as he watched Dusk’s entire face plunge into Blight’s maw, her wide, terrified eyes disappearing past his lips while she screamed through her held-closed mouth. Chuckling contentedly to himself, the larger unicorn closed his lips around the base of her neck, then cast a short look over and down at Sunny and bounced his eyebrows, as if to say ‘watch this.’
Pressing Dusk’s muzzle down against the back of his throat, he gave a hard swallow and a blissful sort of groan, stuffing her shoulders into his mouth while the clear, distinct shape of her head showed as a bulge below his jaw. Releasing her partially trapped forehooves from his magical grasp, he let them flail, and instead, focused on holding Dusk’s hind legs as he gave a couple quick jerks of his head, sending her plunging right down to her flanks in two quick, heavy gulps.
Sunny started to shiver, unable to draw his gaze away, unable to move for the door. By now, Blight’s stomach wasn’t even all that swollen, little more than a sloshing, kid sized bubble below his ribcage, though it wouldn’t be for long, not as he hungrily swallowed up Dusk’s haunches and made a lazy show of sucking up her hind legs, the mare’s two tone tail hanging from the corner of her mouth even as he pulled her hooves in.
Sunny made a break for it, half flopping off the couch and staggering for the door. He hardly made it more than three feet before Blight’s magic grabbed him by the tail, and yanked him backwards across the rug, right into a waiting pair of hooves. The large unicorn made a sound of annoyance as he pressed one forehoof down between Sunny’s shoulders, and the other on the small of his back, forcing the orange stallion into a sitting position, before wrapping both of his heavy forehooves over the tops of Sunny’s shoulders and pulling him back into his chest and swollen stomach. Blight lowered his head, scrunched up his face, then gave a hard swallow, sending the swollen bulge that was Dusk’s rump sliding down his throat like a knot, her long tail sliding past his lips before disappearing as well. His stomach swelled, gurgling and churning as Dusk was deposited into the pot of pony goop that was likely stewing within. For a stallion of his size, his stomach didn’t swell too much with Dusk’s smaller form; it was still easily manageable. If Blight were a mare, he could have easily pulled off just looking pregnant, were the bulge in his belly not kicking and screaming in garbled tones. Of course, with it pressing into Sunny’s back, the orange stallion was starting to wig out a little bit, squirming, thrashing make small noises of distress.
“She tried to sell you out, champ,” he said to Sunny, sparing a hoof to press up on Sunny’s chin and lift his head, shooting the trembling pegasus a lazy, upside down grin.
Sunny shook like a leaf “P-please,” he stammered out. “Don’t eat me.”
Blight rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to. Please, I am a stallion of my world. Do not insult me.” He let the pegasus go, giving a small shove that sent Sunny reeling. He flopped down on the rug, rolled over onto his back, then shimmied across the floor until his back hit the bannister by the door.
“Why are you doing this?”
A small frown crossed Blight’s face, and he tilted his head to one side as if he were actually thinking. “Well, aside from the fact that I have to in order to stay alive, I just really enjoy it.” His shoulders tensed up as he let out a burp, a long, resonating tone that ended with a little gag and a quick jerk of Blight’s head. “Oops, little bit of your friends almost came back up.”
Still shaking, Sunny started to sit himself up, adjusting his glasses with an unsteady hoof. “T-they weren’t my friends.”
Blight nodded. “Oh yes, I know your type.” Dusk screamed from his belly, continuing to thrash and wiggle, the clear outline of her face showing ever so briefly in the left side of it. “A loner. The unpopular kid.” He turned and planted his forelegs on the coffee table, blatantly showing off his squirming gut as he stretched out his spine. “Which is why you’re perfect for what I have in mind.” He blinked once or twice, then struck off on an unrelated topic. “Oh, I can not tell you how great it feels to be alive again.”
“What do you have in mind?” Sunny asked, his voice a little steadier as he leaned forward.
With a grin on his face, Blight slowly stepped down from the coffee table and made his way to the love seat. With a groan of content, he laid himself back on it, one hoof remaining on his stomach to steady it. “A pony like you is sure to have some bones to pick, right? I take it you have... a bully? Maybe that kid who stole your lunch money? That one who calls you names?” He wiggled a little bit to sink himself into the couch, getting comfortable, then winced. His horn glowed as he sat up an inch or two, then pulled Snow’s horn out from below him. He eyed it for a second, then shrugged and tossed it backwards over his shoulder. “I, need food. And you... want to not be eaten?” He lifted his head to peer at the pegasus.
Sunny nodded along somewhat frantically, though as he actually started to think about it, interest flashed across his face and his trembling stopped entirely. “Yeah... I’ve got some of those.”
“Well then!” Blight rubbed his forehooves together, then settled them on his gut, giving it a good squeeze that coaxed out a muffled scream and a couple of grotesque popping sounds. “We have an understanding. Oh, and bonus points if you bring me a mare. I spent a rather long time in that basement. I don’t feel the need to go into details.” He let out another burp, tilting his head back and letting it rip, a couple patches of dark purple fur taking to the ait in sopping clumps. Sighing, he motioned his hoof to the front door. “You may leave. The key to the gate is in the letterbox. Take it with you. You’ll need it.”
Sunny nodded numbly, taking one last look at the unicorn reclined on the couch before slowly padding his way over to door.
“Oh, mind giving me your name?”
Sunny froze, then looked back over his shoulder. “Sunny.”
“Right, Sunny, I just wanted to mention. If you don’t come back with someone in less than a week, or if you tell anyone about this, I will find you.” He gave his gut a small pat to drive home the implication. “I’m looking forward to next time we meet.”
The orange pegasus nodded slowly, showing his morbid understanding of the implications. “Yes S-Sir.” The bolt was locked, so he undid it, then stepped outside into the chill air of late Nightmare Night. Still somewhat blasted, he swung the door shut behind him, then threw a look over to the light shining through the curtains from the living room window.
Eventually, he looked out ahead, towards the locked gate, and the letterbox just inside it.
Dismounting the steps, Sunny trudged through the leaves, back towards the street.
Slowly, a smile spread across his lips.
