My Life on a Cassette Tape

I hit the wall hard. I had managed two flights of stairs, reaching the second level of the castle, but even that had been a miracle. Now I was out of breath and in pain and thoroughly beyond any sensible extent of my physical capabilities. I had managed to survive direct contact with Dark Stone for a length of time beyond what should've been feasible... well maybe a tad less than that. I certainly had been exposed for longer than recommended by any doctor. My muscles ached, by breath was labored, and every inch of me screamed for every other inch of me to give it a rest. It was like this that I now was huffing and puffing while leaning against the wall.

My legs trembled and I turned about, planting my back against the wall before sliding down, plopping my tush on the cold floor as I struggled against my lungs, trying to live through the day. Perhaps I should take a break, I had just beaten what had previously seemed an unbeatable foe. If I was any other pony I probably would've stayed down there and lamented the death of a creature. I knew at least seven ponies back in Manehatten that would've been horrified to learn half the things I had done since finding the recorder, and most of them would've fainted at the notion of killing something even vaguely reminiscent of a pony in anything beyond video games. And yet, here I was, pushing ever onward against my body, giving little thought to the life I had just snuffed out - if one could even consider the doctor a life.

I looked up the stairs I had yet to climb. Two more flights and I'd at least be on the right floor. From there I could stumble down the hall towards Double and be able to present at least some morale support. I'd be able to report the doctor's defeat to some ponies I bet would be very glad to hear it, but at the moment, I was two flights of stairs away.

Each breath was a struggle, sending electric shocks of pain through my sides as I heaved and fought through the pain. I likely had something broken, despite rarely having gotten hit. My brief acquaintance with Dark Stone from Arcane 101 was that it sapped magic, and, in high enough concentrations and purities, vitality. That secondary effect, which also was the reason why Dark Stone lined prison cells were outlawed, could even sap the body of its durability. It was, therefore, according to my severely limited knowledge, entirely reasonable that some of my bones were just broken of their own inability to keep it together.

My hand wandered to the recorder in my pocket, circling the small indentation on the record button. Was I far enough from the Dark Stone that it wouldn't affect me if I activated the artifact? Had the artifact been affected even just being in proximity to the Dark Stone? I didn't know. For one, I was a short hallway and a set of stairs away from the Dark Stone, so honestly not that far on much of any scale beyond microscopic. Without an arcanometer I'd be unable to tell if I was still within the Dark Stone's effective range. The Nesting cases the doctor had to deal with weren't just to annoy him after all - they kept everypony that handled the package safe. I might be far away enough, but I could also be too close. I couldn't risk it, I had to press on without getting a heal. Maybe once I reached the third floor.

Struggling to my feet, I leaned heavily against the wall. One foot in front of the other, it was all I could do. Grabbing the hand rail I slowly pulled myself up the stairs, my breathing ragged as ever, only worsened by the strain I was putting myself under. I was not a smart pony - I was a stubborn pony. I was so close, I wasn't going to quit because my body wasn't really up to the task. I huffed and puffed - giving a warning to any little huts in the nearby area - and finally reached the first landing. I threw a glance at the last set of stairs, still trying to recover from the exertion. One more flight of stairs, and then I could take another short break. I might even use the recorder to give myself a bit more vitality. A little pick me up. It could be as simple as a bottle of sports drink.

Taking another gulp of air, I pushed off the wall, stumbling across the landing, and found purchase on the railing on the nearer side of the stairs. Looking up the stairs, I took another deep breath, hoisting myself up slowly, moving step by step, each muscle straining against itself as I did. One step, a second, a third, each seeming a mountain as I pushed myself ever onward, ever higher. My limbs screamed in protest, but I fought on; my lungs burned, but I fought on. Every step was painful, but every step also brought me that much closer to the summit. Another step, followed up by the next.

Even as I slowly ascended, I cast my mind's eye to the scene that I'd have unfold once I was out of here. Raven and the other mares naked, kneeling before me. I licked my dry lips, the thought more tantalizing than ever. I'd walk up to one, have her suck me off with one ate her out and the other played with her boobs. I'd walk around town and have one suck me off whenever I stopped, and no pony would protest. I could even have one of the bystanders step in just to ask if they might suck my cock.

I gave a wheezing chuckle, moving another step higher. I'd kiss my Raven tenderly while a stranger gave me head. I'd then fuck said stranger while my mares played with themselves in full view of everypony, and nothing would come for me for it. I'd have an open air version of the party at Pinkie's. I'd... I'd find Applebloom and Sweetie Belle! I hadn't talked to them in... two, three days? I still had to check if they were serious about that offer; and if they were, hoo hoo hoo!

I imagined playing the puppeteer, taking over Applebloom's body as she wished, making her dance naked before all the town colts letting her be fully aware even if the colts weren't. She grind on them, some of them would absentmindedly stick a finger or two up her pussy, not even thinking, but Applebloom would be thinking, boy would she be thinking! She'd be thinking and helpless. She grab one by the collar and drag him around the corner and pull down his pants and give him head, only to have another stallion walk around to see what was up. She'd wiggle her butt at him and then get rammed in the rear end by a thick dick.

She'd scream and howl into the other stallion's dick, loving every second as she was spit roasted. Once they had finished, she'd saunter out of the alleyway and find the town looking like a bunch of nudists - not a single scrap of clothing. She'd consciously know that was weird, she might even panic, but I'd still have control over her as she strut out into the center of the market square.

She'd kneel down and spread her lower lips and open her mouth whorishly. And then, one by one, the entire town would use her. She'd be covered in cum and sweat by the end of it. And she'd love it! After servicing the last pony, she'd be set free. I bet she'd fall over and begin to masturbate at all she had done, at all she had had done to her. She pant and wish for more. And then Sweetie, as naked as the rest, would emerge and make out with her, horny because Applebloom was horny.

I took one final step, and rose to the third level of the castle, and immediately fell over. I breathed raggedly, my limits long having been outdone, leaving me in quite the state. I really needed a rest, but I also knew I couldn't take one. Images of Applebloom sprawled on the floor after thorough use came to mind once more, and lines of comparison were mentally drawn between her fallen, cum covered form, and my tired and battered body. One was extremely hot, the other was simply a tortured pony, but both desperately needed a third party to come out and help lick their wounds - one literally, the other metaphorically.

The thought of Sweetie licking off every inch of cum from Applebloom's body was one that was supremely arousing, despite vague connections my brain was drawing between the still very sexy fantasy and the very unsexy time that had caused Dick Slut to appear in the world.

I had also been beaten and battered - both physically and emotionally, both with strong blows and baby batter - and laid low on the floor. Reduced to a body lost in the cum of others. The hole in my memory as Raven and the others pulled me out of the chamber, something struck me. In the indistinctness of the memory, imposed by having it removed and placed in Dick Slut's head, I saw myself. I had still been awake, lying in a pool of spunk.

I had no idea how I had come to be on the floor, that part of my memory so thoroughly placed in Dick's mind that I didn't even have glints or shimmering outlines of memories to try and trace, but I was awake. I was in as terrible of a state then as I was now. In pain, desperate for saving, and above all, not really able to help myself. A stinging clarity came to a memory as I mulled it over, slowly forcing myself from the ground in the real world.

There on the ground of my cell, covered and face down in a pool of cum, I had fought with myself. So much of me was tied to the time with Applebloom's body that it felt oddly like I was reading through a vague transcript of my memories most of the time, but this one memory... it was distinctly me. There in that dismal place, unable to stand... I had given up. I had forfeited the match. Unknowing seconds from freedom, I had resigned from the game. And what was worse, I had begun to drink. Straight from the filthy floor I had taken in cum of a dozen sources, embracing Dick Slut as myself, despite the clarity of my true self peaking through.

Even as I was dragged out of the cell, my memory still my own, untouched by Dick Slut, I protested. Weakly as it might've been, I protested having been taken from the cum. Once dropped on the floor so my mares could defend me, I lay there and lapped up the small pool of cum as it formed - a broken soul unwilling to accept his victory, his salvation.

Pressing against the wall, now standing, I closed my eyes tight and hissed at the memory and at the pain. I wanted to punch the wall, but some modicum of self control stayed my hand. I could still feel it. I could feel the cold, slimy cum dripping off of me, and somewhere... somewhere inside me, I felt like kneeling to lick it up - to lick up that phantom cum, and surrender once more. I could. It would be easier after all. Going to my knees and licking up cum from the floor would be so much easier than fighting past my own pain. I'd only have to move my tongue and throat.

I grabbed the doorknob of the door that led into the next hall, forcefully pulling it open, struggling to walk around it. It would be easy, yes, to just kneel and become a dick slut, to become THE Dick Slut. It was always easier. I set my eyes before me, counting the doors. Third door on the right.

Pushing off the door, I forced myself to stand on my own feet. I was Cress. I would prevail. I would NEVER kneel! One more step forward, one more ragged breath. I fought each and every inch of me, bit back my urges, and simply focused. Suddenly I stumbled, but I didn't hit the ground. Looking over I saw a chestnut stallion holding me up.

"Button?" I whispered blearily.

"Come on buddy, let's go." He said in a tone I hadn't expected. Was I dreaming? Was I gay for Button? The heck!? I wasn't gay! I'd never been anything but straight! Stupid dreams making me gay! I got fucked once by a stallion, but that was when I was a mare, so it was still straight! Fuck you dream! "Where we moving you?" Button asked.

"Th... third... door... right..." I struggled out, my lungs not seeming to be able to fill themselves any more than a thin gasp's worth. Assuming this was real, assuming somehow Button had avoided capture or had escaped... I had to press on. There were more ponies to save. There would always be ponies needing to be saved. I would save them. I purposed, even in my weakened state, that I'd find all of this Empire, I would get rid of each of their powers, and then set their slaves free. No more unwilling slaves. No more forcing families into that grief. No more. Not on my watch.