Once Venus Smiles

by ManicDots

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Tragedy, Narcotics, Drama, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1343

Empty and void. Those can only describe her mind's capacity to be innocent again. But what if... Venus could find actual love? The innocence of a butterfly filled beating heart is new to her, at least.

This is a prequel to the “Once” series but not necessarily required to read any fics beforehand.

A washed out actress turned prostitute yearns to feel what it means to fall in love. Her line of work no longer gives the same doses of connection anymore. On one fateful day, something happens that might spark her wish... That is... If she can keep up a façade.

Coverart made by me. Venus Spring and Mars Miner are both owned by their creator, MarsMiner.

Published 2023-07-17 19:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-07-17 19:00:00 UTC

i. Home. My love, my prison

Author's Note

This fic ends once something so profoundly happy happens. It ends once all of the baddy bad no good thoughts go away. It ends once everypony sleeps soundly. It ends...

i. Home. My love, my prison

Once Venus smiles

Written by [redacted]

Her mouth felt filthy.

Each stroke tested one of her cheeks, pushing with a progressively aggressive rhythm. It was like an elastic wall bounced back the hardness inside of her. The mare was used to this motion. One foreleg felt tired, opting to switch speeds depending on if a burst of energy came back to her. It remained partially in her mouth as she hesitantly took in more. Her throat swallowed every few seconds. A repetitive gagging was no stranger either. Lips were soaked and eventually licked by a hot tongue that drooled with saliva.

Something slowly spilled out of her mouth once too much of it mixed with said saliva. After slurping enough of the tasteful splurge, a breathy gasp signified the end. Nothing but a thick smell filled her nose as the source shrunk under her. Piercing amber eyes were no longer rolled back once the smell hit her nostrils again.

One last gulp, sucking down the white substance sliding down her throat, took the mare back. It stung to swallow all of it. But it smelled minty, a fume calmer than the hot hormonal stench that knows her all too well. She noticed her hoof clutching the toothbrush, and then proceeded to place it inside the sink bin. Looking straight at her was the gaze of a roughed up pony in need of a washcloth. An unsatisfied noise acknowledged this.

The mare wished personal hygiene felt normal. Oh, how she missed the days of being a young filly without a tainted mind. Such memories are long gone, and new peaceful memories will forever be few and far between. A frustrated squeak escaped her, unable to express herself using words.

And then, nothing more. At least until she heard a set of pounding at her door.

Her shoulders took a while to relax. It took a few deep breaths and the courage to attempt looking at herself in the mirror, for a brief moment of acceptance. This was her life, and after leaving this cold worse for wear restroom, it was time to return to reality again.

Grabbed by a hoof, a tattered cloth cleared away all of the smeared cream against her caramel shaded fur, wet and dripping away carelessly.

Quick, impatient, and loud, the door to her apartment flat struggled to bargain with whomever was behind it.

Regrasping the cloth, hoof stains that streaked across her mirror were scrubbed thoroughly. She then tossed the cloth aside, with little care if she had missed the laundry bin piled with lingerie, socks, and various intimate items that needed to be washed.

Amber eyes— yet to contain any prehistoric creature— zipped around the surrounding area. Was that loose conditioner on the shower floor… Or something else? It would all dry eventually, no matter what it was.

More knocking.

More items to scan as her heart raced. Eveything began to move and shuffle. Her temples had this pulse to it all of a sudden. It was a pain that grew by the second.

Knocks became stronger. Heavier. It began to mimic a slapping sound. As she focused on the door’s sound, it molded itself into a sticky pounding of flesh on flesh.

The mare couldn't move. Every smell and sound took her to a place that wasn't here. She forgot what knocking on a door sounded like.

This door was inside her. It wasn't really inside, but it wanted to be. Something about this door allured the mare to it. To open it. To open herself.

As her breath increased and lust had a grip on reality, a voice broke through such a hold on one's psyche.

“M-ms Venus? A… Awe yu home?” His voice was quiet and had a lisp to it. Muffled from behind a securely locked door, he tried to get her attention again. “An unmarwked package for yu. Will just leave eit wight here.”

“Brain fog… bear with me. I may not know how or why they think this way but believe me, I have lived it. There's a switch for them. All I have met, anyhow. No matter what you've accomplished, the good deeds you've done, how many smiles you put on the faces of strangers… You're a whore, through and through. They prefer you a virgin pure to test a few tricks from their past docket of maidens all the while you haven't been taught anything or’ve been told you weren't the first.

On to the next one for them while you're left alone, scrutinized, and forever changed. I wanted to do it again. Do it better. Be in control. To feel a balance. Looks were given due to rumors but after a while, I started to blend in as I got older. Everypony goes through estrus but dare to mingle a little and you're the free-use bunny. Nothing is wrong with me but I've been told that's where all my value lies. To start out initially innocent and start a family or spread your legs because the earth will never run out of willing stallions. Hhehmf, it pays well. They disappear, content you were fun but not wife material. But why should I care?

The stallions with wives don't care. There's somepony to satisfy them. It's not us— we've been used already in their eyes. As much as they'd like to deny, our line of work is enjoyable and good. Isn’t that so, very, hypocritical? Been told that we really do belong in the streets or however that saying goes… It hurts a little but a lot of us soldier on, undeterred by rude words. Rolling in the hay is what we should only be known for, apparently. Are famous dudes with a higher body count worthy of respect? Why should we work much harder to be remembered if that is the case? They want to use us, not look up to us. It sucks. We're only demeaned because we have the ability to look a customer in the eyes and say, ‘no’.”

Only the grey sky matched her mood as the other mare in front of her nodded, a shallow response, before proceeding to jot down something on a flip notebook. Rain trickled down with various paces on a black window. Each torrential knock compelled the lonely mare into further isolation. Yes, there was indeed the therapist who originally wanted to help but something about her changed.

She knew how conversions usually played out and this was no different. The second she’d mention what her job was, nothing ever stays the same. The therapist was probably privileged and filthy rich. Maybe she has a foal or two? A nice house with a pool? A side stallion to get with because her husband thinks he's better than everyone, not having the time for her? Judging by the high society suit piece paired with her makeup and fancy watch… A few of these guesses are probably true. It's only fair if she can get judged too.

Dark brown eyes only twinkled at the lone mare’s ember glowing ones.

“Am I going to have to… Start this from the top? The reason why I’m fed up with this?” She scoffed and almost let out a laugh in disbelief from her therapist's reaction, “Have you ever met someone who meant the world to you but lost them after they found out a stupid secret? I… I had the displeasure… Of…” She trailed off. Once the uncomfortable nerves were settled, the mare began again.

“Anyway, I might forget a few details but… I will always remember the first time we met. I want to… Go back.

I need to… Go back. I’m… So sorry. He was different but I didn't care. I should have cared but… I… I couldn't.”