A Call for Help

by Fetish Account

First published March 28th, 2020 06:00

It's absurd to think how fast you're life can go from being the picture of harmony and have the road to success paved ahead of you with gold and jewelry can be derailed and thrown into chaos. It's unfathomable how quick your life can go from what you're used to and throw you into a world that is simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar. It's unthinkable how just one small slip-up, one seemingly miniscule mistake can lead you to leading a life you couldn't have conjured up in your most psychotic of dreams, not even the most insane minds in the world could try and imagine.

What's my record to how fast my life had gone to shit? Just shy of 3 days. You'd be surprised by how many things could go wrong and so fast, almost at a breakneck speed that makes you wonder: is there any sanity in this crazy world of ours? In short, the answer is yes; as long as we have a conscience, sanity exists, however small it may be.

So, given the nature of how my life had become what it is now, I don't think it's wise to be posting it on the internet for all those weirdos to read. But now, with my mind finally able to rest from the turbulence of it all, I feel like I need to seek help before this spirals into something far out of control, probably even more so than it already has. So this is my story, and how the story of 4 very unfortunate fillies came to an unfortunate, premature, and untimely end.

You all know my work by name, my name is literally Fetish Account, please think before you read this. All characters will be aged up accordingly as they will be anthropomorphized.

Chapters

A Frantic Post

A Frantic Post
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A Call for Help

A Frantic Post

When I was but a youthful filly whose mind could barely comprehend the intricate frailness of morality, the nuances of right and wrong, or the concept that my actions will have consequences, my mom instilled in me the belief that I should be unwaveringly cautious about what the happenings in my life that I decide to broadcast to the world. The grand majority of her reasoning stemming from the idea that exposing my wrongdoings to the world would only bode wrongly for me as no matter how long it takes for it to gain traction, gain traction it will and bite me in the ass harder than a simple apology can remedy. And it’s a I held steadfast to this very day.

So, given that and the inherent, bizarre nature of the predicament I am about to share with you, some of you may incite insanity on my part to even think about posting this. But even with 3 years distancing myself from the events, they still burn brightly in my mind and eat away at me every day. But before you go on and get the wrong idea, I’m not searching for anypony to shower me with sympathy, dote on me for what they perceive to be sheer innocence, and I’m not as childish to believe that I could come on here and beg for forbearance. No, this is simply to get the weight of what I’ve done off my chest. Plus, living far away from that wretched village makes it hard for anyone to find me.

So, let’s take it from the top.

(3 years ago)

2 consecutive days of absurd work, teetering into the hours of Saturday midnight and overdosing on enough coffee to induce fear into the hearts of meth addicts, our brains fried to mush so thoroughly that simple cognizance was impossible. Our borderline self-imposed burnout would seem insane, absurd even, to anyone until they realize that this group project constituted over half of our collective grades. Add onto the sweltering summer nights and the ingredients for the most infuriating 2 days of my life right in front of you.

Running on autopilot since 6:00 PM today, I reached out for a mug of coffee, giving it no second thought to whether it belonged to me or AppleBloom, prepared to take a monstrous swig to rejuvenate myself. A deep grumble escaped my lips when all that graced my tongue was a miniscule drop of coffee, just enough to tease me endlessly. I peered into the cup, hoping by some magical mishap that it would magically refill with the delicious coffee essential for my survival, anger boiling when my wish didn’t come true. I spoke not a word as I stood up, leaving my room in search for more caffeine.

Unfortunately, I failed to realize that our coffee reserves had depleted rapidly, which while predictable to a degree even my conscious depleted mind could have seen coming from light years away, it was still mildly infuriating. Fortunately, however, I happened to catch sight of a pack of energy drinks, my mind briefly swimming to the memory of one of the servers saying that I was free to help myself to it if I ever need. And Celestia knows I need it now.

With salvation in hand, I returned to my voyage to my room, somewhat rejuvenated to know that we would be free of this burnout and it would no longer be a hindrance in our progress for the smallest of moments. Kicking my door open, I entered with a big-ass goofy grin, closing it, and locking it behind me to stop any further interruptions. However, this is where things had derailed out of control, just as I was reaching out to hand her her drink, I tripped on what was seemingly thin air. My trajectory; AppleBloom…

I remember everything with excruciating, undulating merciless detail. I remember the pain when I collided with AppleBloom, because even if it weren’t the pain from bumping heads, it was 10 times greater. A great stretching pain washed over my mouth as I had illogically descended upon her head, my throat sending waves of searing agony as it stretched out to accommodate my rapid consumption of the apple farmer, all the way down to her hips.

I remember, even with my dulled hearing, her screams as her face bulged out of my stomach. Her legs kicking wildly; she wanted me to let her out – hell I wanted her out – my brain scrambling for some sort of way to remedy this situation only to send me signals that I was suffocating. Somehow, even when her bulbous hips were in my mouth, I was still able to breathe, although somewhat complicated, and while I had no idea what to do, my body apparently did and without even thinking, I closed my eyes and…

*GLRK*

I tried my best to swallow, but the fact that she was still on the floor and I was on top of her made that impossible. Frantic, I reached out for my bed, taking hold of the metal handle and began pushing myself up, swallowing as rapidly and as quickly as I can. My mind was a haze of pain, panic, and a strange bit of pleasure, triggering an autopilot mode of some sort, my body taking complete control over what I did, swallowing strongly.

And before I new it, even if it had taken more than 3 minutes, it felt like nearly an eternity when her shoeless feet slipped past my lips and I took the final swallow. I felt my throat caress her tightly, pushing her the rest of the way without my input, and she was soon a pony sized bulge in my stomach so unbelievably heavy that it threw me on my ass.

Now, it was my stomach’s turn to roar in pain, the sensation of being stretched out so obscenely, so beyond anything it should be feasibly capable of. It didn’t help that AppleBloom, while no doubt as disorientated as I am, knew that this situation could only lead to an admittedly disgusting fate ahead of her, and struggled to try and force me to puke her up. But not only was the pain in my throat still there, the premonition of the pain repeated compelled me to not comply with her demands, it also helped not a bit that my body began to seize up as it began to relax from the ordeal.

Before I could say anything, the waves of pain and panic soon dissipated, sending me into a blackout state, not to wake up for a long time. While I was sleeping, I was still vaguely aware of my unexpected prey struggling for her life, slowing down into an agonizing crawl before stopping altogether. I faintly heard my stomach growling uncontrollably, ready to process the meat it had been given so unexpectedly.

This is the start of my story, and how many others ended prematurely.