Author's Note

Major content warning ahead for abuse of an infant.

It Took

In the dark she stared at the hamper.

Luna claimed they had a busy day ahead of them: a fly to Baltimare to get her fixed in the morning, lunch with Cadance and Flurry Heart at noon, and then a show they’ll catch when they return home in the evening. Quite a busy day with no time to herself.

Now was Celestia’s time to herself.

After waking from their shared dream, her little sister made no effort to stop her from leaving the room, in fact, it felt as if she wanted her to go. How embarrassed she felt towards the current situation she found herself in, but there was no changing the past. All Celestia could hope to manage was finding out exactly what was done to her and who was responsible. Such a task shouldn’t be too difficult for a goddess.

But perhaps a small part of her didn’t want to know the details. Perhaps she found comfort in her ignorance, since as long as she didn’t know she wouldn’t have to act once the truth was revealed. Would a side of her that was long buried since the time of war and grief resurface and would she handle this situation as cruelly as she could manage? Or would she break down like last night, like when she were a foal trapped for an unknown amount of time by a wicked god of lunacy? Maybe she’d react in a way she couldn’t predict, maybe she wouldn’t be upset but curious to know how a stallion managed to inseminate her without her knowledge—and how she couldn’t possibly have known she was pregnant the whole for months.

Celestia very gently shut the bathroom door—a room saturated with perfumes, incense and air fresheners hours beforehand. The clashing fragrances were so strong that she couldn’t smell the fur below her nostrils. But that was good. It meant the smell of birth was suffocated from the atmosphere and therefore Luna would remain none the wiser.

As she stepped forward, there lacked urgency in her movements, instead she took her time approaching the hamper. Curiously, she released her spells as she listened for a cry.

Silence.

Celestia tilted her head while she slowly lifted the lid. Where to store the body?—that was the first thing to come to mind. Could she just teleport it away to become another creature’s problem? Should she cast it in the ocean and hope a group of crustaceans grew fat from its carcass? That might be the best course of action, and if it’s body happened to wash up on shore she was certain some immigrant would be blamed.

With her magic, she lifted the newborn by a single limb from the towel it was haphazardly wrapped in. What she expected was a dead dangling baby, what she found was a living thing mindlessly straining its small eyes to make out the world it newly found itself in. Though it hung upside down, it didn’t cry, which couldn’t be typical for a foal, even one as ugly and as dull as this one.

Celestia laid down on her side, slightly lifted her hind leg, and brought its head towards her nipples. She couldn’t figure out why she didn’t just disregard it back in the hamper, or better yet, the crab infested ocean even if it was still alive. It wasn’t like she wanted to keep the thing—not at all. What would she look like strolling around with the ugliest foal in the land dragging behind her?

“Eat, damnit,” the former princess growled as it refused to latch onto her teets, instead mindlessly staring at them like it lacked a functioning brain. With magic, she parted its lips and pushed its snout against the leaking milk.

It did not latch on.

Perhaps it was dead and the staring had been a result of simple muscle spasms. When she dropped it on the floor, its legs didn’t move, and its chest barely expanded. What was the point? In a few moments it would pass on, and that was for the best—

Celestia began licking the creature clean, and during this tongue bath she realized it had urinated all over itself in the basket. Such a revelation should’ve caused her to stop in absolute disgust, but she kept licking to stimulate the parasite, moving purely on instinct. And with her warm snout, she pushed the foal closer towards her body, sharing her heat, and melting the thing from its stupor. It wasn’t long before its head moved in search of food, and once it did she guided it towards the source. With luck, it finally clung on and wolfishly drank its first meal.

Celestia stopped licking to observe.

The more milk it sucked from her teets, the more relieved she felt like bursting a troublesome pimple or draining her bladder. And the tiny sounds it made as it pawed on her stomach to worm closer to its meal, as it shut its eyes to rest—it sent odd pleasant tingles up her spine. For a moment she didn’t feel so disgusted at the appearance of it, for a moment she gladly welcomed the suckling. Her body no longer burned in defiance as it was given the baby it was promised—this wouldn’t last, it couldn’t seeing as she wanted nothing to do with it.

So Celestia would not keep such a despicable parasite who dared to worm its way in her body, but if the feeding quenched her for the time being, she’d continue to do so until she was fixed.

The sun had long resurfaced in the sky by the time Celestia woke up on the bathroom floor. The beast had a runny bowel movement sometime in the night that had smeared all over her beautiful white coat painting it an off-green. Disgusted that it would ever do such a thing after she allowed it to feast on her, Celestia stood up.

“You dirty vermin!” It was lifted in the air by its foot, and with magic, she harshly tapped on its rump a few times as punishment. The beast shook, startled, but it still made no sound. “You must be broken.” She grabbed its big ears next, twisted it in an unnatural direction, and that did it. The parasite made a sound, just a small gasp like a fish out of water, but still no wail.

It was flipped around while Celestia searched for a power source. Perhaps it was a robot after all, a voodoo doll, or a living spell—an illusion. But like a robot, this thing would need a constant supply of magic to keep up the facade—and illusions had no bodily functions. No, the foal was alive, flesh and blood, which left Celestia with one of two options. Both options technically were the same thing; she was impregnated magically via artificial insemination likely caused by a sort of teleportation of some lowlife wizard’s spermatozoa—something she thought of beforehand—or she was impregnated “naturally” via a forced mating. In other words, raped in her sleep. Either way, the foal still had her DNA, and his DNA, even if she didn’t know the father.

And said father was undoubtedly a—

“Just ugly, and broken, and who knows what sort of creature you are! You’re no pony!” In her fit of rage, she used its dull body to clean its shit off her coat before it was thrown back in the dark hamper. The basket swiveled on its axis then rocked to a stop. Celestia backed away to keep her eyes on the little demon, huffing with a dying fury, but soon she calmed herself.

Pausing with raised ears that listened for any disturbances in the home, Celestia waited. It appeared Luna had not yet risen despite the day’s busy schedule. Either way, the lid of the hammer was once again opened as Celestia approached to take a peek inside. Like a sad useless little thing, the parasite squirmed over the pile of dirty laundry. It’s left hind leg was bent out of place, yet it still made no more than a pathetic gasp.

Celestia picked it up again, adjusted its limb, and felt around for any broken bones. Its cartilage felt as flexible as curling rods and there didn’t appear be a break anywhere.

“If you don’t speak how will I ever know you’re in distress?” She asked it as if it spitefully muted itself to get under her skin. “Cry already,” her voice came out more desperate than she intended.

Her useless parasite remained silent.

To avoid another spike of frustration, she hovered it towards the bathtub, turned on the faucet, and stepped inside as the water gathered around them. Slowly she lowered the thing in the tub and watched as the bath grew higher and higher and its body floated above it. It gasped again, its small eyes opening to make out the new sounds and sensations.

Celestia grabbed a bar of soap and a rag to scrub the shit from its dull coat. Dried afterbirth and blood had tangled itself in hard to reach spots; behind the foal's ears, between its hindquarters, in the cusps of its short neck—all thoroughly removed. She cleaned the parasite on its back using magic to steady its body and keep it afloat. It wasn’t long before its fur was soft and sudsy.

“You’re so quiet.” Regardless of how gentle or how rough Celestis handled it, it still remained silent, only granting her a brief reaction. A mouse’s sigh, a voiceless call. She brought its chest up to her ear, and despite feeling its rapid heartbeat, she didn’t hear it. “I casted the spell on you and not that basket,” Celestia concluded before swiftly removing her magic from the foal’s vocal cords. Again, she brought its chest to her ear, and this time she could hear its heartbeat, but it still did not cry.

Oddly, a strong feeling of grief overwhelmed her. Celestia cared not for this parasite, yet she wanted it to behave like a normal foal perhaps in fear that if it were broken then it would reflect badly on her. So she dunked its body under the water to initially wash the soap off, but as it did not struggle while submerged, she considered holding it down there to put it out of its misery.

To rid herself of this broken problem.

But as bubbles surfaced from its snout, and as it looked at her from below the water, Celestia noticed that it shared her eyes—and it had a soft golden glow around its pupils. An ugly plain mule would never have magic, not like a unicorn, and definitely not like her; a goddess. But maybe what she saw was her own reflection in the gaze of this thing she birthed.

Quickly, Celestia pulled it up from the bath, laid it on its stomach in a gentle cloud of magic, and rubbed its back to encourage it to spit up water.

Luna hadn’t been asleep soundly in her room, she left sometime early that morning without saying a word to Celestia. A note didn’t remain, a scroll wasn’t sent, not even a telephone call. Maybe she was out doing the day’s tasks without her. Maybe she decided against getting Celestis fixed.

Perhaps it was for the best since now she laid in the living room overlooking the view of crashing waves, and sunscreen-covered tourists, as the parasite buried itself between her hind legs to drink. “You’re a greedy pest, aren’t you?” She hadn’t meant to coo, but found that her voice would soften whenever talking to it. “You’ll be plump before I know it.”

With such little effort on its part, it began to slip, losing its grip on her teets, and slumping onto the side of the couch like a fallen banner. Celestia rolled onto her back as if in the middle of a dust bath, and with her magic she lifted her parasite right back onto her stomach. She found great pleasure observing it hound about for its food source, sniffing at the drying milk mangled in her underbelly’s fur, and attempting to feed from it.

Celestia laughed.

Using her magic, she squeezed her breasts to see if more milk geysered out, and if it could find its way to food like the greedy pig that it was. This little science experiment found some success. Her parasite did, in fact, sniff out the food as it stretched its neck out as far as it could reach, and as it opened its mouth for a desperate suckle. Unlike the foals of old—foals who were able to get up and gallop only hours after birth, the ones of today were completely reliant on their mothers for quite a while. If Celestia decided to leave it there on the couch and never return, it couldn’t travel on its own to find food, to flee danger, to live. It’d die shortly afterwards.

The parasite squirmed, and it tried to drag itself to the milk just out of reach, but it simply hadn’t the strength to do so.

“You’ll need to try harder if you wish to eat,” she teased, and Celestia watched as her vermin gasped, struggled, and stretched its neck the most it could manage, but it could not get to its meal.

Perhaps in her mind she figured that through enough frustration the little mule would finally cry out for her help, but a minute had passed, and then another, and instead of wailing for her it simply gave up. Frozen and hardly breathing like early that morning when she picked it out of the hamper, it rested its head against her stomach, defeated. One thing was for certain, it lacked an ass’ stubborn determination.

How uneventful, is what she thought. How lazy and so uninspired. Half of her wanted to tap its rump again as punishment for not trying harder, but she figured a meal cut short was punishment enough.

Using magic to lift it by the dock of its tail, Celestia rolled over on her large davenport to stretch her long legs. “Where should I hide you? Back in that basket? In the ottoman near the fireplace? Or maybe in the trash can in the kitchen.” That wasn’t a bad idea. In the trash is where she should put it, yet she found she couldn’t do that.

Maybe the trash was too harsh.

“No, I know where to put you.” Celestia sat up and climbed off the couch and towards a closet in the front hallway with the parasite magically at tow. When she reached her destination, she swung the doors open to retrieve—

A knock on the front door interrupted her search. Celestia’s ears stood at attention along with her wings as she listened for who that could be. Luna would simply let herself in, and they weren’t expecting visitors. The memory of where she sent her placenta crossed her mind. Twilight could be waiting to ask her very serious questions after she surely traumatized her poor dragon.

They knocked again, not harshly like an officer, but it was very light. Light as if to conceal a secret. She saw their silhouette through the small lace curtain over the door’s decorative window. Slowly, the parasite was lowered out of potential view as the last thing needed was a stranger asking questions, so underneath her barrel was where the vermin hid.

“Hello?” Celestia cracked the door open just enough to see who stood on their welcome mat, but not enough for them to see beyond her head. Her sights landed on butter squash fur speckled with cocoa brown. “Gilaffy?”

“Princess,” the bull bowed, his eyes on her, her eyes on him. There contact was intense, passionate even. She could smell his musk and knew his exact desires for her. “Are you here alone?”

Having freshly nursed, and with a foal beneath her, Celestia found his unsaid advances unappealing. Last night she’d gladly lift her tail for him, but right now? “Uh, well, I am…” she should’ve lied, but a large part of her felt confident in her ability to defend herself if he got to handsy. She was a goddess after all, and what was he but a simple, magicless, giraffe.

“Good.” Gilaffy slightly raised his long sturdy neck. “May I come in?”