Kim Possible: A Sitch in Equestria

Fluttershy frolicked unabashedly through the field of knee-high grass, the brisk mid-morning air filling her lungs and imparting a sort of vigor only a yellow horse could know. As she made her way through this verdant, green valley towards the forest where her animal friends called home, she was blissfully unaware of the void lightning that danced in great scything bolts from her uncovered anus, annihilating anything caught in its deadly grasp. A family of deer, out foraging, filling their bellies to distension with nutritious green goo met a tragic end as she farted a particularly rancid bolt in their direction, disintegrating their torsos and leaving steamed legs standing at attention, stiff with the quick work of rigor mortis. The ravens may not be feasting on eyeballs and entrails today, but feast they shall.

As Fluttershy continued along, she began humming a tune to herself, unaware of the cataclysm she left in her wake. It was only when her tummy rumbled that she first noted something was wrong. "Oh no," she whispered, "my tummy is all-a-rumbly." As if we didn't already know that... Thanks a lot Fluttershy... NOT!

Then, suddenly, she started to feel cramping as the rumbling got worse, her wormhole-esque anus prolapsing with built-up energon, releasing a shock wave that killed every bird in a 2 mile radius.

The metaphysical goatse that gurgled frothily in her tiny tummy sputtered and fizzled out, the lightning pulses becoming less erratic and far-spread before fizzling into mere wisps of vapor, which Fluttershy expelled as a pleasant fart. Then, in less time than it takes for a neuron to fire, Fluttershy's anus was warped and ripped by a piercing blue pillar of unfathomably bright light. The beam pierced the clouds, vaporizing a flock of young pegasi. One onlooker rolled his eyes, folded his forelegs, and sighed.

"A blue lazer in the sky? Real original, Zach Snyder," he moaned as the heat that radiated from the pillar of energy boiled his skin beneath his fur.

Meanwhile, back on the ground, the rest of Fluttershy's decrepit husk was slowly being eaten away by the monstrous display of cosmic power that rocketed from her ass. Strip after strip of flesh floated up into the light, where it was eventually blasted into nothing as her previously-yellow fur was roasted golden brown, then pulverized into ash, and finally atomized until it was effectively nothing. Her organs, by contrast, spiraled up into the clouds as they were rent from her corpse, sailing to Cloudsdale where the low air-pressure allowed them to balloon and explode all over the pegasi that had gathered like moths. This resulted in countless onlookers being coated in melted organ meat that felt akin to napalm.

Finally, her delicate skull rocketed to the top of the spire, crackling as the heat caused the bone to burn and expand. With a great "POP" it exploded, sending blazing brain, skull, and hair hurtling across the sky in all directions. Finally the tower of blinding doom dissipated, leaving nothing in its place but a few pieces of singed pink hair, and a naked mole rat, which is immune to cancer by the way.

Rufus stood still, his feet on solid ground for the first time in what felt like forever, or perhaps even 5ever, anxiously counting the moments as his corneas painstakingly undid the potentially-permanent retinal damage caused by staring unfaltering into such bright lights. After maybe seconds, or maybe decades, but probably minutes, the light dissipated, allowing him to see a scorched, desecrated wasteland. The ground around him was twisted and burnt like a tissue after I've finished cumming on it, and the sky had the distinct smell of formaldehyde, acrolein, propionaldehyde, butyraldehyde, acetaldehyde, and furfural- or wood smoke in case you're a fucking idiot.

"Perplexing," Rufus ruminated to himself, "perhaps I'm too late to stop the bomb? Perhaps I tarried too long on my unabated trip through the void? Or perhaps that trip spinning through the void simply killed me, sending my eternally-damned soul to its rightful seat in hell." After the atrocities he'd committed in Vietnam, he knew this day would come eventually. "I can still hear the screams..." He trailed off while rolling his eyes in his head like an old man rolling on his way home to play 10 -or to give a dog a bone- making a perception check against the surrounding area. {14} (with a +2 modifier) Success (13+)! Rufus noted that the desolation extended only a few hundred feet before terminating in fresh vegetation.

"Outstandingly intriguinizing!" he screamed at the top of his taller-than-average lungs, combining two key words into one significantly-more key word. "Perhaps there is still life in this old saggy body yet! More intriguinizing, Dr. Drakken's crazy invention must have worked! At the very least I've been transported a very long way," he mumbled to himself, his speech spilling between the folded pink rags of his wrinkled gob with a heavy lisp due to his gaping, buck-ass teeth (not literally ass teeth, it's just an expression. Calm down.), making him sound like a bumbling moron.

He looked back, noting that the portal that deposited him was nowhere to be seen. "It would seen the only way is forward, then. I suppose if that bomb is still here after all, it's my duty as the hero and good guy to devote my VAST intellect to finding it." He briefly studied the sun, noting its relative trajectory through the sky as well as that it appeared to be a brightly-glowing baby head, and turned to travel East reasoning it was as good a direction as any. He walked, the flopping flesh pockets on his underarms and back swaying rhythmically with each step, creating a swirling current of air, ultimately resulting in a series of tiny pops as his tail wind stabilized into a sort of jet stream, allowing him to glide above the ground at an incredible speed.

Within moments, he has arrived at the edge of the burnt wreckage, scorched foliage jutting randomly from the ground and forcing him to slow to a near-halt. On approach, he was confronted by the pained wails of the dead and dying. Thousands of forest creatures; blinded and badly burnt, bunnies brutally butchered by the blaze, bucks belatedly bleating for Bambi, barbecued bears bonded to brisket-like badgers. It was enough to remind him he hadn't yet had breakfast. He sauntered over to a partially-cooked bunny, the canyon-like folds of his flesh rubbing together and occasionally releasing small bubbles of trapped air, wonderfully reeking of years of BO. This particular bunny would likely survive the wounds as they were fairly minor, though it seemed to be in a great deal of pain.

"Uh, is someone there?" she asked, in a voice little more than a timid squeak. "Reveal yourself, stranger."

Rufus approached, breathing heavily from his brief bout of flight. "Shhhh... it's gonna be alright... little guy," he cooed between breaths, putting a single claw on the bunny's nose in a friendly gesture. I might mention that Rufus was far larger than this bunny, dis-proportionally sized from what he was used to. "You're gonna be okay," he reassured.

The bunny looked up at him, white eyes showing that she'd been in a bad spot when the detonation happened. "W-what's that mister? I couldn't understand a single thing ya dun said through that retarded lisp," she wheezed out, "I-I can't see nuthin'. I'm so scared..." A few tears rolled from the corners of her perfectly-rectangular eyes.

"No need to worry," Rufus lied as he reached around to the scruff of her neck, "everything's gonna be just fine." As the bunny sat shaking in his arms, a puff of steam percolated from the corners of his mouth, catapulting a rocket of greasy saliva into the bunny's face, and with a bone-rattling click, his jaw unhinged. Said jaw slowly sank, the wrinkled pinkish skin of his face sagging to keep up with it, stretching like rubber as he opened his mouth a full 200 degrees in an impressive mockery of a particularly dexterous(or should I say denterous?) hippopotamus. His 8-inch long, hepatitis-filled, hollow fangs glistened in the morning sun, little drops of necrotizing venom forming on the tips as he held them aloft like an executioner's axe.

"Say mister," the bunny gasped out, blissfully unaware of the impending peril, "do you think there's a heaven?" Rufus spent a few heartbeats contemplating this query, before coming to an unfortunate truth.

As he drove his fangs deep into her body, she spasmed, fighting back only slightly as he overpowered her weakened form, gallons and gallons of toxins spilling from his fangs and rushing through her blood stream like an army of giant, radioactive rubber pants, dissolving her innards as she gasped out the remaining air in her dissolving lungs.

Through his mouthful of bunny fur, Rufus gave his answer. "Not for you..." Within moments, she had dissolved into a viscous red soup, which he eagerly lapped up with an unholy vigor.

One beady-eyed onlooker, a pegasus who lay just outside the heat radius of the beacon of blue oblivion that had slain his friends and family just moments before, crawled desperately away from this new monster that seemingly spawned from the killer cliche. Rufus was, of course miles below the cloudscape, but this on-looker's cutie mark was a pair of eyes so I assume he has at least above-average vision. There was only one thing on this poor minor character's mind as he clambered his way through the bumpy cloud terrain, leaving the piles of half-disintegrated ponies, and dying thirds-of-ponies in his wake.

I've got to find a main character!

Hours passed as he crawled, before he realized he only had a fucked up wing, and his legs were just fine; he'd been crawling for no reason, wasting precious time. Haggardly, he sprang to his feet, cringing at the pain of his weird burnt wing that he has. One-winged freak. Unfortunately, his smug pegasus nature backfired on him. Like so many other Pegasi, Nameless Minor Character had flown at every possible moment to flex on Unicorns, and especially Earth Ponies. In the end they'd have the last laugh though, especially Unicorns, who can float themselves around with telekinesis anyway. Babies can fucking do it. Because of their constant flight, the Pegasi had impressive, rippling back muscles that glistened even through their thick plumage, but over 70 percent of the population has crippling atrophy in their other muscles. One example of a Pegasus who COULD walk is Fluttershy, who was obliterated.

Thanks to the mass hubris of his species, this complete fucking idiot was forced to crawl all the way to the only main character in Cloudsdale: Rainbow Dash.

Rufus burped, then blushed, covering his mouth. "Goodness gracious, that was most unbecoming of me. I don't know where that came from, that bunny was hardly a satisfying meal," he muttered aloud. He didn't have any possible way of fathoming what amount of time he'd spent in that portal, but he believed it to be at least a few hours, maybe even days. His stomach gurgled and moaned with need, so he'd been there long enough to digest his last meal, a hearty slice of an Instagram woman's fake ass that he'd been saving in his fridge. Speaking of which, his stomach wasn't the only thing growling in his gut.

Rufus's pert little rectum was crowning as a hot, brown lump of giant shit poked at his chocolate star, turning it into a chocolate donut. The shit trudged it's way forward like a caterpillar shedding its skin. To make the comparison even more apt, the shit that was prying apart his tiny asshole was actually slightly denser than Rufus's body. The tension in his anal ring was so great, and the turd so sturdy, that once it passed the halfway point the anus sprung back into place like a rubber band, rocketing the football-sized shit directly towards the adjacent town that lay on the horizon beyond the smoldering wreckage. When his anus sprung back it also made the whip crack sound from Johnny Test.

"Ahhh," Rufus sighed, "now I have room for a real meal."

Meanwhile, a few miles away, at a local Hoofegg game, Touch Down panted heavily under his helmet. The helmet was dented and battered from literally hours of ramming head-first into other horses, as was his spinal column and skull. In fact, if one were to look at an X-ray of his head-and-neck area, it's likely you'd find as much of his skull dislodged and implanted into the soft folds of his brain as actually still attached to the leathery shell of skin that formed his head, giving it a semi-pliant texture that allowed it to dent and bulge with each new hit. A fact his head-sculptor, a pony who professionally un-dented pony heads, would sigh at outwardly, but praise in secret due to the job security.

After a particularly messy head-on-head collision that resulted in minor internal-hemorrhaging for him, and permanent brain death from his opponent, Touch Down got up and looked at the score board, the blur of a dozen concussions and intraocular phlebotomization(a minor surgical trick pony doctors often use to temporarily halt the inevitable blindness all Hoofegg players suffer from after so many concussions) not enough to stop him from seeing the 20-meter tall scoreboard and its bright-red numbers. 0 - 0. The score was completely tied. At this point, it was anyhorse's game. Anything could happen, but Touch Down intended for that anything to be him winning. In fact, his career depended on it.

This was the most important game of the season, and if he lost he had no chance of being scouted by a professional Hoofegg team and making absurd amounts of money. Unaware that he was drooling through the gaps of his missing teeth, Touch Down stepped up to the line as the starting siren aggressively blared, facing a soft-faced new opponent, fresh off the bench and less than half his size. The pony smiled at him, sparkles in his eyes as he was face-to-face with a famous Hoofegg player. "Wow, I'm actually like your biggest fan," the pony admitted with a blush. Also it was a girl pony. A cute girl pony.

If Touch Down still had the faculties to do so, he'd probably be running a solid half-chub at this very moment. Alas, he saw only an easy target, and he smiled, revealing a mouth with less teeth than you have brain cells. "My friends are never going to believe this," she said, gushing, but not literally... Not yet... "Except that this is on live HV, so everyone can see it. Anyway, you're the reason I became a Hoofegg player in the first place. I'm sure you get this a lot, but, can you sign my titties?" She asked, batting her unreasonably-long eyelashes and nearly blowing Touch Down off his horse feet.

But not nearly enough. A moment later, the Refereels screeched, and the round began. Within a second, Touch Down had accelerated to 130 miles an hour and collided head-first into the other pony, crushing her skeletal structure like an accordion. The sheer force caused her body to briefly warp and roil, guts sloshing and heating up from friction, before fissures rent from anus to mouth like some desecrated burrito, and with an ear-splitting burst and a shock wave that sent viscera into the stands, her body made like a banana and split.

As pillars of gore rained down, coating the ground in a fresh carpet of meat, Touch Down skid to a stop, briefly hydroplaning across the slick ground before his hoof nails managed to dig in and grind him to a halt. Always one for showboating, and spurred on by the ravenous cheers of the crowd, he turned and pulled out his dick, an impressive 3-inch worm hanging askew with a miserable sack, like the one I use to carry my marbles, dangling languidly behind. His larger-than-average Earth Pony dick hung limply to the left, the angle of the dangle of course proportional to the direction of the erection.

He dragged his way over to where the majority of her filthy girl innards had landed and violently compulsed as he raped her remains live on HV. Everyhorse was watching, and they got a big kick out of his display. "It's what she's always wanted," her parents said, before dying of Horse Aids a few minutes later.

In somewhere between 5-15 second later, depending on how quickly you're able to read, he was finished, and blew an impressive load of watered-down goo onto her corpse. Thankfully, horses are so infertile that their cum is composed almost 98% from salt water, and a measly 0.00001% from actual semen. It often takes upwards of 30,000 misfires before a successful impregnation can be achieved, but I digress.

With no opponent left to stop him, and all other horses busy bashing their skulls into each other, Touch Down turned and began towards the giant 'V' that served as a goal, his Hoofegg latched tightly to the back of his head. He could already see the news reals telling of his epic triumph as he sauntered his way towards the goal, about to score the first point in the 6-hour-long game. He smiled wider than ever, realizing his career wasn't over just yet. After this game, he'd finally have enough Horse Dollars to retire, cure his sick entire lineage who were all hospitalized for Horse Aids(from excessive inbreeding likely), feed his puppy, and also buy a ring to propose to his girlfriend, Applejack.

Just then, a brown, shit-like Hoof Egg flew through the sky at impressive speeds, creating a sonic boom as it passed over the field and straight over the opposing team's goal V before rocketing off into Ponyville. The crowd immediately lit up with cheers, glowing in a bioluminescent display as they celebrated the victory of Touch Down's opponents. There are no rules in Hoofegg that specify that a Hoof egg from out of the game can't score a point up.

The giant Score display quickly flashed 0 -1 and the game was over. All the other ponies filed out of the stands with practiced precision and impeccable stadium design-planning, and were back home in time to tuck their kids into bed, leaving Touch Down alone in the field. After a few moments, the lights all turned off, but it's mid-morning in story so it wasn't dark or anything.

Touch Down sat still for a moment, coming to terms with his failure. He could never look his family in the eyes again, mostly because they'd be dead within the next 2 minutes and he urgently needed to win the game to get them the medicine immediately with his money or else. With a sigh, he headed home, head down in defeat.