Flash Story Collection

(Commission for: ChronotheChangeling. In this, Gilda, while messing around with something she bought from a travelling merchant, winds up getting a tiny, mouse sized thing, and does what cats, birds, and most especially catbirds are want to do with rodents. This one is a bit darker than most, as Chrono is into fatal stuff, and pain, so read at your own risk there. 20 USD)

Gilda looked down at the cube before her. It was a die. Like, one of those things idiots gambled with, or dweebs played some kind of imagination games with. For her, it was...well, it was supposed to be a meal. Like, she rolls it, and something comes out of it. She wasn't sure how it worked, but the griffon who'd sold it to her had assured her it did.

She'd been staring at it for over an hour now, wondering if this was the sort of thing she should save for a special occasion, maybe store it away. Or would the magic go bad? She hadn't asked, and while she could easily track down the griff who'd sold it to her, she felt like she could trust him for some reason. Said a pony sold it to him, some purple stallion with an orange mane, and silver eyes...mind, silver eyes were something the griff had had too.

Still considering it, she banged her claw on the table, and then yelped, as the die jumped. Like, instead of going a few inches off the table at most, the thing flew towards the roof, spinning in place, and then slapping back down with a weird circle on the top face. As she watched, the circle grew an arrow, at about the 10 o'clock point, and then the die clicked.

For a moment, just a moment she was tempted to dive for cover, like maybe the thing was a bomb or something, but then her eyes went wide instead, as the cube...unfolded. The sides sort of sliding around, flipping outwards, and growing larger and larger, until the cube was the size of a brick, and the top popped open without her touching it.

Inside the box that used to be a die, a pale smoke emerged, and then, suddenly, a figure. It looked...kind of like a minotaur, but without their buff top halves and horns. No, this was more like one of those naked mole rat things, long, and thing, about the size of a mouse. That comparison, drew her hunger, and her stomach growled, as the thing, looking around, finally turned to her.

The fear in its eyes, oh that was something else. She felt that, like those deer, and some ponies, the fear of a prey meeting a predator, and it sent a chill down her spine. It also gave the thing a chance to scramble out of the box it had been laying in, with all two inches of itself, and she just had to chuckle, as she brought one of her claws to the table, and then swept it.

The claw was sharp, and black as obsidian. She kept it that way for the bakery. So this tiny thing's flesh cut easily, that satisfying squeal just making her coo, as it rolled over onto its side, clutching at the bleeding leg she'd cut, though not sliced off. She was a skilled maker of food, after all, and had perfectly cut it vertically, leaving the thing in agony.

Then she heard something that sounded kind of like words. Not like, one she knew, but like a grunting sort of thing, and for a moment, just a moment, she was worried that the thing was intelligent. If it was, she couldn't eat it, wouldn't be sporting and the like, but then she remembered, a pony made that die, and that weren't ones for hurting others. This should be fine.

That thought in mind, she brought her eagle claws towards the thing on the table, which was still trying to crawl away, slowly, and she gave a chuckle, as she decided to give it a taste test. She jammed one of her claws through it's shoulder, listening to the way it squeaked, and letting out a warble of delight, before pinching the leg she'd cut between two of her other digits.

Pulling it off was easy, thanks to the claw pinning the thing down. Seemed the leg wasn't firmly attached, and a good twist and yank ripped it clean off with a tearing and a popping noise, leaving her to chuckle as she brought the thing up to her beak, and then gave it a test lick, allowing the tattered bit of torn meat to drip some of the blood onto her tongue.

It was...it wasn't the best she'd ever had, honestly, but damn if it wasn't close to it, and she devoured the leg with a gobbling noise, dropping it into her beak and knocking it around her mouth with her tongue, before giving it one sharp swallow, sending the thing down her gullet, and then grabbing the tiny thing, still trying to crawl away, bless it, by its middle.

Said tiny thing had been in his room before this, sitting there, when he heard a noise like some kind of dice roll, but larger, and got up to his door. Without thinking, he'd opened it, and stepped outside, ending up with his perspective flipping around, like gravity had reversed, leading to him slamming into his door, that had somehow closed behind him.

Then he'd appeared here, wherever hear was, with some kind of giant...eagle thing above him, one that, as he'd turned to run, had sliced his leg like cured ham, then stabbed him in the shoulder, leaving him in the worst agony of his life, before she decided to twist his leg off, his mind going numb as that sharp pain struck at its core, leaving him barely thinking as he continued to try and escape.

He couldn't even muster up enough will to scream as she grabbed him, cracking a rib in his side, and revealing herself to be a griffon, a fact that barely registered as she opened her beak wide, and then tossed him in like some kind of candy, the mmm of her joy echoing within and leaving his ears ringing, even as her tongue knocked him all around.

It was possibly hours, possibly seconds later, that she'd drawn off all his flavor, and she'd swallowed, his body screaming at him, as his shoulders popped loose, thanks to the tight throat, and he was dragged down her neck, a poke revealing her finger following him down, until finally, he dropped out. Not into a roiling cauldron of juices, however, instead landing on the tattered remains of his leg, in a sac of damp flesh.

Here, the walls woke in him a desire to live, but they did so by smacking him between them. The flesh, damp, and yet, somehow stickier than normal, crushed him between them, grinding him down, and leaving his bones to break under their pressure, the shards moving around, and grinding him up as he let out one blood gurgling cry, as outside, Gilda felt him in her crop, and gave a laugh, enjoying the way he struggled a bit, before going quiet, like a good mouse, turned meal.