You are Lash Tight, Minotaur heroine. You may have partied a little too hard. Slept with another cow's husband. Profaned an altar during a drunken escapade. It doesn't really matter. What does matter is that the Goddesses have cursed you with barrenness and shrunken one of your teats. You can endure many things, but you would not want to hear bards sing about your achievements, referring to you as "Lash the lopsided". To undo the curse, you have a series of labors to perform, the last of which is to capture some of the darkness of the Abyss and deliver it to the Shrine of Night. You are far stronger than any of the pitiful ghosts you've encountered so far, but this talking gate is too immense for even you to open with brute strength. Your favorite tactic countered, you sigh and actually listen to it.
It just better not be a riddle.
"Cow of the world, trespasser of wastes, it is not your strength nor your wit that is tested, but your judgement. Judge righteously and you will be blessed, wickedly and you shall be cursed."
Thank buck. This will be easy, you are always right.
"The sun blinds and the night conceals, yet truth is known to all who think and feel. In whom is there the greater beauty, yea, even the greater booty?"
...
"Are we talking about the royal sisters?"
"Clearly."
You scratch your tit as you mull it over. You've only heard about their adventures, not how they look. Wait...the gate said "greater booty". And when you moon someone, you show off your rear. You chuckle to yourself. Maybe you're not so bad at riddles after all.
"Luna is the greater beauty."
A bolt of black lighting strikes you with unearthly fury! You roar in surprise, yet you don't actually feel pain. Then you look down at yourself, and your now even smaller teat.
"Hey! What's the meaning of this?"
The gate opens slowly, and the voice answers,
"You have chosen...poorly."
You stride through the gate, cursing at the unseen goddess. The spirits of the dead give you a wide berth as you trot down the narrow path to the next gate. You pay them no mind, even if there are bull spirits pointing at your chest and giggling to themselves. I-it's fine, nothing a warrior like you can't handle. Just shrug it off, you've shared a bed with princes, sorcerers, and even some nymphs, you have nothing to be insecure about. You are almost glad to see the next obstacle. You are far more wary of the second gate than the first as you approach it.
"Lopsided one,"
You growl at the gate. The gate continues heedless of your irritation.
"Between the king of burgers and five guys, which brings greater satisfaction?"
You sit down on a handy rock, this may take a while. Kings have excellent food, wine, and beds, and are often quite handsome. On the other hand, a king is but one bull. Five bulls, however, are almost too many to handle. And even if one or two are merely homely, their more attractive fellows can work your front while the others tend to your back. After an unknown eternity of contemplation, you emerge from your reverie and speak the wisdom you have carefully cultivated.
"Five guys are superior."
Your lesser teat glows, growing somewhat.
"I should have known one such as you would know the truth of this matter. Proceed."
You set forth once more, but something bothers you about the voice of the unseen goddess. You've heard and consequently laid with cows with a voice that low, but it had always been a rare occasion. If you are dealing with a bull...
Well, you know how to deal with bulls. But if they are a goddess, even the implication that they are bull-like may be a grave insult. This will require some delicacy. You beckon one of the floating spirits closer. She's a grizzled old cow, scars liberally littering her spectral hide. She stumps closer, using a pitted battle-axe as a cane.
"Honored Crone, this young cow wishes to suckle at your wisdom."
The specter lets out a bark of laughter.
"So you can speak well! Ask what you will, there may be milk yet."
You give a shallow bow.
"The ruler of this realm, are they bull or cow?"
The crone cackles.
"What a fine fire in your loins, to ask that here and now! Indeed, he is a bull, with all that that entails. Keep a tight hold of your desires and you will survive your audience."
You run a hand through your short-cropped mane. If you are being completely honest with yourself, your lack of control over your lust has been the source of a great many of the problems you have faced. You lower your head to the spirit.
"I shall heed your warning, Honored Crone."
The spectral cow pats your head.
"See that you do. Now go, lest you join me in my eternal rest."
The third gate looms before you. You cross your arms protectively over your bust.
"I am ready, fair God of the Underworld."
There is a pause.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, cow. Answer me this: Feather, hoof, or horn, which of these has the most wanton desires?"
You scoff, your personal experience directly useful for once.
"Earth ponies, easy."
Something in your voice must have made the god hesitate.
"Surely it's the unicorns. Voyeuristic perverts, the lot of them. Not to mention all the self-pleasuring spells."
You snort.
"Too self-absorbed. Half of them think they're some sort of divine royalty, the others think they are great scholars and so on, too good for a roll in the hay. Now, pick up an earth pony stallion and before you set him down, he's already out of his sheath."
You wait, wondering if you said too much.
"Huh. Really?"
Does he get out much? God of the underworld, maybe he has little experience outside of it.
"It's instincts. They want a strong mate that can plow the fields and protect them. Pegasi like endurance and flexibility, unicorns want fancy words and far too much tribute, but what an earth pony truly wants is a hard rutting."
"You know this from personal experience?"
You raise an eyebrow.
"Do you want me to regale you with my every conquest?"
The gate rumbles open.
"No, that won't be necessary. Move along."
You look down at your chest, which has not changed.
"What about my teat?"
"What? Oh, right. Yeah, whatever."
To your surprise, your cursed teat grows back to match its sister. You are mightily tempted to turn back now and abandon this quest altogether. Then again, there is nothing stopping the goddesses from cursing your teats again if you ignore their task. You stride deeper into the underworld, trying to remember what the lorekeeper said about Anonymous, God of the dead. Cast by lot to darkness, ebon-eyed, something something, shepherd of souls. Nothing really useful, that you can remember.
With each gate you pass, you sense his animosity turn towards innocent curiosity. The questions themselves become trivial, merely conversation starters. Even so, the air grows colder and more oppressive the deeper you go. You can feel it in your nips, this is no place for a mortal like you. The seventh and final gate stands before you.
"So, uh, mountains or the ocean? I don't really see the appeal of mountains myself, but I've never been to either."
You sit down on a rock to rest your weary hooves.
"Mountains are nice enough, a fine view from the top, a good test of strength and endurance. But the sea has cool wind, wet bulls, and plenty of food to catch. That's where I would want to be."
The gate opens.
"That does sound nice."
You get up with a grunt and continue onward. The rough-hewn stone path gradually becomes more polished and smoother. Braziers of blue flame line the halls, warding off some of the oppressive chill. A pair of black iron doors open at your approach, revealing an extravagantly decorated room. A full-length mirror with a golden, gem-encrusted frame, unbroken marble floor, walls, and pillars, bone white and gleaming under the torches of blue flame. Anonymous sits upon his throne, nearly as fair as the marble, clad in black velvet robes. You take a knee before him, bowing your head. He speaks, his voice deep and smooth, stirring your embers of desire.
"You've done well to come this far. Not many make it past the seven gates. Say, why are you here, anyhow?"
You have to stop yourself from raising your head, he hasn't told you to rise.
"As a penance, I am performing the tasks set by the Goddesses. This last one is to gather a portion of the darkness of the abyss and deliver it to the Shrine of Night. Did they not tell you of this?"
Anonymous growls.
"Of course they didn't tell me, I'm just the pale God of the Depths. I take the job no one else wanted, and this is what I get in return? Ugh. Stand, cow. I'll get you your darkness."
You raise your head to see Anonymous stomp on the floor, opening a yawning gulf of inky darkness. A skeleton emerges from one of the pillars, holding a bone-white jar with a cork stopper. You get to your hooves, realizing that this is not marble you are standing on. You shiver and resist the urge to scrub at your knee. Anonymous opens the jar and dips it into the abyss, then pushes the stopper back in. With a snap of his fingers, the floor returns to seamless white. Anonymous looks at you imperiously.
"You're going to Canterlot, right?"
You nod mutely. Another snap of his fingers and he is holding a scroll bound with a black ribbon.
"Deliver this to Princess Celestia and no one else. Anyone other than her that opens it shall die. Understood?"
You nod sharply.
"Yes, your divine majesty."
He pauses.
"No need for the formality, we were talking just fine at the gates. Tell me, what did you do to receive divine punishment?"
Your heart sinks.
"I am not entirely sure, I was drunk at the time. But, ah, the statue of Incognito at Menelea ended up requiring repair. At the loins."
Incognito, God of health and the dawn. Twin brother of Anonymous. You are so dead.
Anonymous looks at you blankly for a moment. His lips tremble. Then he breaks out into laughter, growing louder and longer. You relax and manage an embarrassed smile. It is some minutes before the last echoes of his laughter fade. He shakes his head at you.
"I can only imagine his face when he saw what you did. Tell me your name, cow, and what you desire. Once you deliver my message to Celestia, you will be rewarded."
You eye him speculatively. Now that the fear of death and endless dark has faded, you have to admit more than a little desire to take him to bed. You open your mouth to ask, but then you remember the crone's words. Maybe you should ask for something more useful.
"I am Lash Tight. As for my boon... Could you make my teats larger than they are? By this much?"
You hold your hands a finger-span from the surface of your breasts. Ebon-eyed Anonymous hands you the jar and scroll with a wry smile.
"Easily enough. And next time you get in trouble with the divines, come to me and I'll do what I can to help."
You bow.
"Thank you, Anonymous. You are most generous."
He waves a hand dismissively.
"If you do come to me, it would be because there is another amusing tale behind it. That is well worth my time. Now go, you have your tasks."
You bow once more and turn to leave. Maybe next time you defile a shrine, you'll get a proper chance with Anonymous.
The journey to the Shrine of Night is relatively uneventful. Some slaughtered bandits along the way, a dozen nights of pleasure in earth pony farms, and before you know it, you're handing the jar to the high priestess. The unicorn takes it solemnly and turns towards the stone pool of water. The jar opens with a pop, spilling inky black upon the water, only to be absorbed by the chains anchored inside the pool. The high priestess turns to you, her eyes glowing with divine revelation, her voice echoing another.
"Your last task is complete. You may go now, Lash. The curses laid upon you are lifted."
You nod respectfully and depart.
Getting a royal audience isn't as difficult as you had feared. You aren't sure if it's your fame or notoriety that eased your path, but it hardly matters. The guards open the door to the antechamber. You take a step forward, then hesitate. Both princesses lounge before you on sumptuous cushions, but that is not what made you pause. It is Incognito, lying beside Luna and feeding her grapes. Perhaps he senses your fear, he looks up at you. His expression contorts into one of disgust.
"Oh, it's you."
You break out into a cold sweat.
"I bring a missive from Stygian Anonymous to Princess Celestia."
So saying, you withdraw the scroll from your belt pouch and offer it to the Sun Princess. Her magic plucks it out of your hand, her expression curious.
"I hope he's doing well?"
You shrug.
"As far as I could see, yes."
The ribbon falls away, and Celestia unrolls the scroll. In the moment the royal and divine attention is diverted towards the scroll, the weight of your bust suddenly increases. You resist the urge to grin.
Celestia's brow furrows, then her eyes widen. The scroll is completely unfurled before her, rather longer that you would expect for a simple letter. Celestia's cheeks redden. Abruptly, she rolls up the scroll and tucks it under her wing. Luna raises an eyebrow.
"Do not leave us in suspense, sister. What tidings does the king of the dead bring?"
Celestia licks her lips.
"Oh, no tidings, exactly. Fleeting Wind, notify Starswirl that I wish to commission a mirror-portal, to be completed as soon as possible."
A guard departs without a word. Incognito frowns.
"Is it so sensitive that it couldn't be trusted to a cursebound scroll?"
Celestia doesn't seem to know what to say, her blush growing by the second. You consider all that you have seen in your adventure, both in the depths of the underworld and in your travails upon the surface.
"Is it a nude?"
Celestia jolts at the question. She makes a futile attempt to regain her composure.
"It is nothing important. If that is all, this audience is concluded."
You bow to her.
"That is all."
The last word barely left your lips, and Celestia teleports away in a flash of golden light. Incognito blinks.
"Huh. It's about time."
You quickly escape before he can turn his attention towards you.
Outside of the castle, you find yourself with nothing to do. It's been a year since you started your tasks, and now you are finally free to do whatever you want.
...
Time to get drunk and pass out in a brothel.
I am Lash Tight, Minotaur heroine. I may have partied a little too hard. Slept with another cow's husband. Profaned an altar during a drunken escapade. It doesn't really matter. What does matter is that the Goddesses have cursed me with barrenness and shrunken one of my teats. I can endure many things, but I would not want to hear bards sing about my achievements, referring to me as "Lash the lopsided". To undo the curse, I have a series of labors to perform, the last of which is to capture some of the darkness of the Abyss and deliver it to the Shrine of Night. I am far stronger than any of the pitiful ghosts I’ve encountered so far, but this talking gate is too immense for even me to open with brute strength. My favorite tactic countered, I sigh and actually listen to it.
It just better not be a riddle.
"Cow of the world, trespasser of wastes, it is not your strength nor your wit that is tested, but your judgement. Judge righteously and you will be blessed, wickedly and you shall be cursed."
Thank buck. This will be easy, I am always right.
"The sun blinds and the night conceals, yet truth is known to all who think and feel. In whom is there the greater beauty, yea, even the greater booty?"
...
"Are we talking about the royal sisters?"
"Clearly."
I scratch my tit as I mull it over. I’ve only heard about their adventures, not how they look. Wait...the gate said "greater booty". And when you moon someone, you show off your rear. I chuckle to myself. Maybe I’m not so bad at riddles after all.
"Luna is the greater beauty."
A bolt of black lighting strikes me with unearthly fury! I roar in surprise, yet I don't actually feel pain. Then I look down at myself, and my now even smaller teat.
"Hey! What's the meaning of this?"
The gate opens slowly, and the voice answers,
"You have chosen...poorly."
I stride through the gate, cursing at the unseen goddess. The spirits of the dead give me a wide berth as I trot down the narrow path to the next gate. I pay them no mind, even if there are bull spirits pointing at my chest and giggling to themselves. I-it's fine, nothing a warrior like me can't handle. Just shrug it off, I’ve shared a bed with princes, sorcerers, and even some nymphs, I have nothing to be insecure about. I’m almost glad to see the next obstacle. I am far more wary of the second gate than the first as I approach it.
"Lopsided one,"
I growl at the gate. The gate continues heedless of my irritation.
"Between the king of burgers and five guys, which brings greater satisfaction?"
I sit down on a handy rock, this may take a while. Kings have excellent food, wine, and beds, and are often quite handsome. On the other hand, a king is but one bull. Five bulls, however, are almost too many to handle. And even if one or two are merely homely, their more attractive fellows can work my front while the others tend to my back. After an unknown eternity of contemplation, I emerge from my reverie and speak the wisdom I have carefully cultivated.
"Five guys are superior."
My lesser teat glows, growing somewhat.
"I should have known one such as you would know the truth of this matter. Proceed."
I set forth once more, but something bothers me about the voice of the unseen goddess. I've heard and consequently laid with cows with a voice that low, but it had always been a rare occasion. If I am dealing with a bull...
Well, I know how to deal with bulls. But if they are a goddess, even the implication that they are bull-like may be a grave insult. This will require some delicacy. I beckon one of the floating spirits closer. She's a grizzled old cow, scars liberally littering her spectral hide. She stumps closer, using a pitted battle-axe as a cane.
"Honored Crone, this young cow wishes to suckle at your wisdom."
The specter lets out a bark of laughter.
"So you can speak well! Ask what you will, there may be milk yet."
I give a shallow bow.
"The ruler of this realm, are they bull or cow?"
The crone cackles.
"What a fine fire in your loins, to ask that here and now! Indeed, he is a bull, with all that that entails. Keep a tight hold of your desires and you will survive your audience."
I run a hand through my short-cropped mane. If I am being completely honest with myself, my lack of control over my lust has been the source of a great many of the problems I have faced. I lower my head to the spirit.
"I shall heed your warning, Honored Crone."
The spectral cow pats my head.
"See that you do. Now go, lest you join me in my eternal rest."
The third gate looms before me. I cross my arms protectively over my bust.
"I am ready, fair God of the Underworld."
There is a pause.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, cow. Answer me this: Feather, hoof, or horn, which of these has the most wanton desires?"
I scoff, my personal experience directly useful for once.
"Earth ponies, easy."
Something in my voice must have made the god hesitate.
"Surely it's the unicorns. Voyeuristic perverts, the lot of them. Not to mention all the self-pleasuring spells."
I snort.
"Too self-absorbed. Half of them think they're some sort of divine royalty, the others think they are great scholars and so on, too good for a roll in the hay. Now, pick up an earth pony stallion and before you set him down, he's already out of his sheath."
I wait, wondering if I said too much.
"Huh. Really?"
Does he get out much? God of the underworld, maybe he has little experience outside of it.
"It's instincts. They want a strong mate that can plow the fields and protect them. Pegasi like endurance and flexibility, unicorns want fancy words and far too much tribute, but what an earth pony truly wants is a hard rutting."
"You know this from personal experience?"
I raise an eyebrow.
"Do you want me to regale you with my every conquest?"
The gate rumbles open.
"No, that won't be necessary. Move along."
I look down at my chest, which has not changed.
"What about my teat?"
"What? Oh, right. Yeah, whatever."
To my surprise, my cursed teat grows back to match its sister. I am mightily tempted to turn back now and abandon this quest altogether. Then again, there is nothing stopping the goddesses from cursing my teats again if I ignore their task. I stride deeper into the underworld, trying to remember what the lorekeeper said about Anonymous, God of the dead. Cast by lot to darkness, ebon-eyed, something something, shepherd of souls. Nothing really useful, that I can remember.
With each gate I pass, I sense his animosity turn towards innocent curiosity. The questions themselves become trivial, merely conversation starters. Even so, the air grows colder and more oppressive the deeper I go. I can feel it in my nips, this is no place for a mortal like me. The seventh and final gate stands before me.
"So, uh, mountains or the ocean? I don't really see the appeal of mountains myself, but I've never been to either."
I sit down on a rock to rest my weary hooves.
"Mountains are nice enough, a fine view from the top, a good test of strength and endurance. But the sea has cool wind, wet bulls, and plenty of food to catch. That's where I would want to be."
The gate opens.
"That does sound nice."
I get up with a grunt and continue onward. The rough-hewn stone path gradually becomes more polished and smoother. Braziers of blue flame line the halls, warding off some of the oppressive chill. A pair of black iron doors open at my approach, revealing an extravagantly decorated room. A full-length mirror with a golden, gem-encrusted frame, unbroken marble floor, walls, and pillars, bone white and gleaming under the torches of blue flame. Anonymous sits upon his throne, nearly as fair as the marble, clad in black velvet robes. I take a knee before him, bowing my head. He speaks, his voice deep and smooth, stirring my embers of desire.
"You've done well to come this far. Not many make it past the seven gates. Say, why are you here, anyhow?"
I have to stop myself from raising my head, he hasn't told me to rise.
"As a penance, I am performing the tasks set by the Goddesses. This last one is to gather a portion of the darkness of the abyss and deliver it to the Shrine of Night. Did they not tell you of this?"
Anonymous growls.
"Of course they didn't tell me, I'm just the pale God of the Depths. I take the job no one else wanted, and this is what I get in return? Ugh. Stand, cow. I'll get you your darkness."
I raise my head to see Anonymous stomp on the floor, opening a yawning gulf of inky darkness. A skeleton emerges from one of the pillars, holding a bone-white jar with a cork stopper. I get to my hooves, realizing that this is not marble I am standing on. I shiver and resist the urge to scrub at my knee. Anonymous opens the jar and dips it into the abyss, then pushes the stopper back in. With a snap of his fingers, the floor returns to seamless white. Anonymous looks at me imperiously.
"You're going to Canterlot, right?"
I nod mutely. Another snap of his fingers and he is holding a scroll bound with a black ribbon.
"Deliver this to Princess Celestia and no one else. Anyone other than her that opens it shall die. Understood?"
I nod sharply.
"Yes, divine majesty."
He pauses.
"No need for the formality, we were talking just fine at the gates. Tell me, what did you do to receive divine punishment?"
My heart sinks.
"I am not entirely sure, I was drunk at the time. But, ah, the statue of Incognito at Menelea ended up requiring repair. At the loins."
Incognito, God of health and the dawn. Twin brother of Anonymous. I am so dead.
Anonymous looks at me blankly for a moment. His lips tremble. Then he breaks out into laughter, growing louder and longer. I relax and manage an embarrassed smile. It is some minutes before the last echoes of his laughter fade. He shakes his head at me.
"I can only imagine his face when he saw what you did. Tell me your name, cow, and what you desire. Once you deliver my message to Celestia, you will be rewarded."
I eye him speculatively. Now that the fear of death and endless dark has faded, I have to admit more than a little desire to take him to bed. I open my mouth to ask, but then I remember the crone's words. Maybe I should ask for something more useful.
"I am Lash Tight. As for my boon... Could you make my teats larger than they are? By this much?"
I hold my hands a finger-span from the surface of my breasts. Ebon-eyed Anonymous hands me the jar and scroll with a wry smile.
"Easily enough. And next time you get in trouble with the divines, come to me and I'll do what I can to help."
I bow.
"Thank you, Anonymous. You are most generous."
He waves a hand dismissively.
"If you do come to me, it would be because there is another amusing tale behind it. That is well worth my time. Now go, you have your tasks."
I bow once more and turn to leave. Maybe next time I defile a shrine, I'll get a proper chance with Anonymous.
The journey to the Shrine of Night is relatively uneventful. Some slaughtered bandits along the way, a dozen nights of pleasure in earth pony farms, and before I know it, I’m handing the jar to the high priestess. The unicorn takes it solemnly and turns towards the stone pool of water. The jar opens with a pop, spilling inky black upon the water, only to be absorbed by the chains anchored inside the pool. The high priestess turns to me, her eyes glowing with divine revelation, her voice echoing another.
"Your last task is complete. You may go now, Lash. The curses laid upon you are lifted."
I nod respectfully and depart.
Getting a royal audience isn't as difficult as I had feared. I’m not sure if it's my fame or notoriety that eased my path, but it hardly matters. The guards open the door to the antechamber. I take a step forward, then hesitate. Both princesses lounge before me on sumptuous cushions, but that is not what made me pause. It is Incognito, lying beside Luna and feeding her grapes. Perhaps he senses my fear, he looks up at me. His expression contorts into one of disgust.
"Oh, it's you."
I break out into a cold sweat.
"I bring a missive from Stygian Anonymous to Princess Celestia."
So saying, I withdraw the scroll from my belt pouch and offer it to the Sun Princess. Her magic plucks it out of my hand, her expression curious.
"I hope he's doing well?"
I shrug.
"As far as I could see, yes."
The ribbon falls away, and Celestia unrolls the scroll. In the moment the royal and divine attention is diverted towards the scroll, the weight of my bust suddenly increases. I resist the urge to grin.
Celestia's brow furrows, then her eyes widen. The scroll is completely unfurled before her, rather longer that you would expect for a simple letter. Celestia's cheeks redden. Abruptly, she rolls up the scroll and tucks it under her wing. Luna raises an eyebrow.
"Do not leave us in suspense, sister. What tidings does the king of the dead bring?"
Celestia licks her lips.
"Oh, no tidings, exactly. Fleeting Wind, notify Starswirl that I wish to commission a mirror-portal, to be completed as soon as possible."
A guard departs without a word. Incognito frowns.
"Is it so sensitive that it couldn't be trusted to a cursebound scroll?"
Celestia doesn't seem to know what to say, her blush growing by the second. I consider all that I have seen in my adventure, both in the depths of the underworld and in my travails upon the surface.
"Is it a nude?"
Celestia jolts at the question. She makes a futile attempt to regain her composure.
"It is nothing important. If that is all, this audience is concluded."
I bow to her.
"That is all."
The last word barely left my lips, and Celestia teleports away in a flash of golden light. Incognito blinks.
"Huh. It's about time."
I quickly escape before he can turn his attention towards me.
Outside of the castle, I find myself with nothing to do. It's been a year since I started my tasks, and now I am finally free to do whatever I want.
...
Time to get drunk and pass out in a brothel.
