Faust's Commandment

The sun's warmth on her eyes woke Pinkie. She mumbled something unintelligible and sat up, still sticky and sore all over from the night before.

The window only let a small amount of light in, but it was enough to illuminate Twilight snoozing on one side and Bulk Biceps snoring on the other. Pinkie was in the middle, but she managed to get out of bed by crawling to the end and slipping off. Her bare feet touched the ground, and there was still some unidentifiable slimy stuff in between her toes.

There was something different about today; Pinkie couldn't tell what. Her Pinkie Sense directed her to go to the window, and so Pinkie did, pressing her face against it.

“What the…” Twilight's sleepy morning voice called. “Pinkie, are you…”

Pinkie wasn't paying attention. There, in the town square, clutching his head in fright and circling in place, was an unfamiliar figure.

Well, perhaps unfamiliar figure wasn't the best word for Pinkie to use. The best words would be…

"A new friend!" Pinkie squealed. She unstuck her face from the window and hurriedly reached on the ground for her only clothes: a tight baby blue sleeveless top and neon yellow booty shorts. She kept talking as she pulled on her clothes. "So sorry, Twilight, but I've got a new friend to meet, so could you, uh..."

It took a moment, but Twilight finally got it. With a lazy ignition of her horn, all the sticky spots in Pinkie's crevices and hair disappeared.

“Thanks!” Pinkie said.

"How are you…" Twilight grunted before yawning. "So energetic this early?"

Pinkie bent right over the prone Twilight. "Because I'm Pinkie Pie," she said in her best Batman impression. She poked Twilight in the breast, and Twilight winced. "We've been over this before."

"It's still sensitive," Twilight moaned, flopping in bed.

But Pinkie was already across the room and opening the door. "See ya, Twi!" Pinkie called, saluting as she shut the door.

Twilight's only response was a groan.

Within a minute of gauging his surroundings, Peter wanted to sit down in shock.

The town looked like it always did, only more realistically shaded and solid. Sugarcube Corner especially did the trick for him. Peter could not deny it: unless this was an elaborate recreation…

"I'm in… Ponyville," Peter breathed out. He slowly rotated in place, taking in all the details. It was early in the morning; the sun was just barely peeking over the horizon to his left.

Peter reached out and gently stroked the edge of Sugarcube Corner. The stone was solid and uneven to the touch. Peter backed away from it, coming to the center of the street. He was in a busy intersection of dirt roads, but there was nobody out right now.

There was a simple brick fountain in the intersection. Everything was scaled to his size. The doorframes on the buildings, the width of the streets, and the height of the signs and lampposts were all normal sized. It likely meant the ponies were all eye level, and it didn't matter if they had been scaled up or if he had been shrunk.

"Hiiiii!" sang a familiar voice.

Peter froze. It was her.

He rotated in place. Skipping towards him, coming out of Sugarcube Corner, was a girl with smooth pink skin and long poofy pink hair. She was humanoid, oddly enough, and equally odd was the fact that there was a tail coming out of her behind and long pointed ears coming out of her head. All she had on, besides her shoes, was a thin sleeveless blue shirt and very small booty shorts.

"I haven't seen you before!" Pinkie declared– for undoubtedly it was Pinkie. She finally got close enough for Peter to, if he felt so inclined, reach out and touch her very large chest. "What's your name? Are you new to Ponyville? Are you alone? You better not be alone for much longer with me around!"

"...Pinkie?" Peter wondered in shock.

"Wowee!" Pinkie exclaimed, recoiling slightly. "You know me?" After a second, she shrugged. "Well, the Elements of Harmony are famous worldwide. My mistake! You here for an autograph? Or any other kind of service?" She gave a half-lidded smile. "I would be more than happy to do anything for my biggest fans."

There was something in the last sentence that didn't sit well with Peter. He took a step back towards the fountain, examining Pinkie with a more critical eye. It was possible that this was just really good, really inappropriate cosplay, but still…

When Pinkie's words got no response, Pinkie giggled. "Checking me out, huh? I don't blame ya."

Peter waved his arms in an X. "No, no! I-I'm just confused. Are you really… I mean, you're the real Pinkie. You sound too much like her."

Pinkie tilted her head in confusion. "What other Pinkie is there? I haven't visited the Mirror Pool in some time now. Last time I did, we had some… interesting times with each other." She licked her lips slightly.

Peter felt his stomach churn. He looked once more around him, then back to Pinkie. "I'm in Ponyville," he breathed once again to no one in particular, and he weakly sat on the edge of the fountain. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. “And why is it anthro?!”

"...Hey," Pinkie's voice hesitantly piped up. "Something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Peter demanded, taking his face out of his hands to glare at Pinkie. "What's wrong is that I'm not where I'm supposed to be! I'm in college, I was studying astronomy! Back on earth, not… not wherever this is! Another dimension or planet or plane or dream world or whatever. But all of a sudden, I appeared here, in the middle of town." He began to do invisible calculations in the air, muttering. "I remember falling asleep. I was in bed, I had just taken my finals. I came home and I hopped into bed… That must have been it. Is this just a dream? Maybe. I've thought dreams were real before, there was that time with the car crash-"

Pinkie hissed uncomfortably. "I, uh… Look. What's your name?"

"Peter," he replied. "Browning."

Pinkie hummed. "That is different from pony names."

"I'm not a pony," Peter revealed.

Pinkie stared in astonishment. "You're… oh, yeah. No ears. Wings. Horn." She had pointed to each of the missing features on Peter's body. Then she smacked him solidly on the lower back. "Tail."

"Hey!" Peter protested.

"Now you know you're not dreaming." Pinkie shrugged. "So you said something about dimensions?" she deflected. "I can break the fourth wall, but I don't think that's the same thing as dimension-hopping."

"Listen," Peter irritably cut off. "Is there any way I can make it to Twilight's? If anyone can send me back, it's her!"

"Twilight isn't in her castle," Pinkie supplied. "She's up in Sugarcube Corner recovering from a threesome with me and Bulk Biceps."

Peter physically recoiled. It felt like he had been struck in the solar plexus. "What?!"

"Yeah, it happens all the time," Pinkie negligently confirmed. "That's just what's on the weekly schedule. Then she's off to a bondage session with Rarity, and I'm off to an orgy I've planned. This one's going to be twice as big as the other five this month. It's going to be so exciting! Aaah! I can't wait!" She stamped the ground with excitement.

Peter groaned and put his face in his hands once more. "What kind of Equestria am I in…?"

"The best kind," Pinkie replied; she had heard his plea. She pumped a fist into the air. "You have no idea how well we have it here! Once Equestria discovered that sex is the bestest thing ever, we just kept on making more and more things acceptable until now, we're all free to do whatever we want, whenever we want, with whoever we want! It makes all my parties so much more fun!"

That snapped something in Peter. He rose from his seat and faced Pinkie down; he was several inches taller than her.

"No, Pinkie," Peter firmly said, pointing a finger. "This isn't the girl I know. You're better than this, you're deeper than this! I don't know what's gotten into this world or why, but this kind of behavior is something you need to fight. This is going to break you, Pinkie! If you're real, if this is really the pony I know, then please, keep up the fight and stand for something better than this!"

Peter thought it had been a good talk; it had come from the heart. Pinkie had always been one of his favorites.

And then Pinkie burst into laughter, and Peter's hopes fell with every second.

There came the sound of opening doors, and Peter quickly looked around. One anthropomorphic pony after another had opened their doors and was leering at him. Peter only recognized a few background ponies– there was Colgate, pale blue and almost sparkling from her recent shower as she leaned out of her upstairs window. And there was Amethyst Star, too, blocking the open doorway of her home. She had on nothing but a clear white nightgown that showed every inch of her slim pink body.

Peter's head swiveled from one pony to the next. A crowd was beginning to form as everyone seemed to simultaneously recognize a newcomer. Each of the background characters in the windows and doorways had been completely sexualized and turned into what was supposedly the most alluring shape an animal could get.

The display window for Sugarcube Corner had its blinds rolled up now, exposing the treats inside for all to see. Glass platters showed off things like solid chocolate penises and vulvas. Freshly "frosted" each morning! boasted one poster in the window above a cake thickly coated with thick white… well, what was supposed to be frosting.

"But that's the thing," Pinkie said, giving a wide grin. "We aren't the ponies you know. I don't know what other version of myself there is, but we've grown past it. Changed. And we've done it for the better."

Peter took another step away from her, his eyes flickering to the other assembling ponies. "Pinkie? I, uh, I don't like where I am!"

Pinkie bounced right over to Peter in a single bound and snatched him by the wrist. "Alrighty then! You can just come with me! I can show you a room."

"No!" Peter refused, swishing an arm and failing to detach Pinkie. "Just get me out of here!"

Pinkie sighed, forlorn. "Fiiiine."

And in the time it took Peter to blink, Pinkie had made a zipping sound and he felt incredible whiplash, ending after a second. Peter blinked hard and staggered, casting his eyes about.

Pinkie had apparently used Pinkie physics and sped him out of the assembling crowd in town square. Peter and Pinkie stood in a shadowed side alley between two hay-thatched stone buildings. The sound of the crowd had disappeared completely.

"First time?" Pinkie asked rhetorically, slapping him on the back. "I never forgot my first time."

"Yeah, yeah," Peter waved aside. Could Pinkie talk about something other than sex for once? "Look, thanks. I, uh, I think I can find my way from now on."

"Now, now, mister," Pinkie refused, coming to Peter's front. "Where do you live?"

Peter took too long to answer.

"Oh yeah, that's right. You don't have a home. And you still haven't thanked me for taking you out of the crowd." Pinkie wrapped herself tightly around Peter's arm like a cat. "I have an idea that solves both."

Peter's heart rate was like a snare drum. His gaze came to the front of the alleyway, and he gasped and pointed with his other hand. "Gah! It's Soarin' with his junk out!"

As Peter furiously looked the other way, Pinkie whipped her head around to where Peter had pointed. "Where?"

But Soarin' was not there. And it allowed Peter to yank his arm out of Pinkie's grip and begin sprinting down the opposite end of the alley.

Pinkie realized this diversion too late. She let out a frustrated scream and turned in time to see nothing at the other end. Peter had disappeared.

Pinkie sprinted to the end of the alleyway, poked her head out, and looked to her right and left. She had come out into another street, and the only person in the streets this early in the morning was a homeless gray pony sitting on his mat.

Pinkie groaned in consternation and pounded the left wall with a fist. He had gotten away! And she hadn't read far enough in the story to see where he had gone!

She glanced at the homeless pony again. His sign said Will work 4 sex.

Pinkie strolled over to him. At her approach, he looked up. This unnamed pony was dirty and had an overgrown beard with small food stains in it. His brown eyes were sunken and baggy, and flies circled above him.

"I'm here to make you an offer," Pinkie said without preamble. "I'm very worked up, and I need your help to find someone." She got on her knees, now at eye level. "So let's do business."

Peter jogged through the streets at an even pace, hoping he wouldn't get called out by any more background ponies. Fortunately, he seemed to be in less of a residential area by now and the business day had started. Although honestly, shops could be anywhere.

Peter finally slowed down enough to catch his breath. He moved out of the street and onto the side of one of the homes, which was right across from a stall selling flowers. No sooner had Peter stabilized his breathing than he heard the synchronized cry of three mares.

“Hi, handsome!” came from the stall. Peter looked up and recognized the three girls as the flower-selling mares, but couldn't remember their names.

“We're selling our flowers at a very cheap price today!” one announced.

“Sweeter than perfume, and less expensive!” the second added on.

“And after you get a smell, you can get a taste!” finished the third.

“Pluck our little flowers!” they synchronized once more, in a whinier and pleading tone.

“Shut up!” Peter yelled at them. And he immediately resumed his running, this time slightly faster.

It wasn't long before Peter left them behind. The houses were growing further apart by now, and Peter could see the vivid red of the Sweet Apple Acres barn in the distance. Peter, after a moment of contemplation, altered his course to head there.

He rounded a corner and pushed past a yellow mare carrying a crate of potatoes and wearing nothing but a pair of very small overalls. He squeezed in between two more skimpy mares, one of whom spanked him on the butt as he passed by. Flushed red, Peter continued.

“Hey, mister!” came a voice, and Peter skidded to a halt. He wouldn't have paid much attention, but for the fact that it was the voice of another of his favorites.

Peter quickly scanned the streets. There wasn't much of anyone, so he easily spotted her: gray, nappy blonde hair, cross-eyed. She was in a mailmare's outfit that exposed way too much of her midriff and cleavage. Like everyone else, her pony ears and tail were still there, but she had the addition of a small pair of wings on her back poking out of her outfit.

“Are you all right, mister? You seem kinda scared,” Derpy observed.

“Derpy,” Peter wondered. “You're here.” And honestly, it was weird that he ran into her so soon.

Derpy blinked in surprise, setting down her enormous box in front of her appointed house. “You know me?”

Peter nodded, his throat dry. “You're everyone's favorite mailmare…”

And you're reduced to this, Peter's thoughts finished, trying to not look into the depths of her deep cleavage. There's more to your appeal than this! I hate seeing you reduced to a brainless addict!

Derpy, meanwhile, laughed in remembrance. “Yeah, that is what everyone says after they're done with me.”

Oh, no, Peter bleakly thought. “Done with you?” he demanded incredulously.

“Every house I go to, they pay me with sex,” Derpy explained, her voice high and silly as a smile came to her face. “And I just love sharing my special muffin with them!”

It actually made Peter clench his fists. This was the worst disrespect for Derpy that Peter could imagine! He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, and turned away from Derpy and began jogging more. No more would come out of the conversation anyway. Anyone would want to talk to her, sure, but not when she was like this!

There was only about one house left before he came outside the town limits. He soon passed that, and he emerged into a large field of short grass. Peter didn't stop, but upon seeing how far he had to go, he let out a groan of frustration before starting his run.

Peter's mind was going as fast as his legs. What on earth had he gotten into? Why had he been taken here? Why was everything so sexualized, like a third of the fanart or fanfiction everyone back on earth used to make? It was literally as if he had gotten plucked into one of those, and Peter hated it. Perhaps other men would have had fun in this world, but not him.

Stinking perverted fantasy land, Peter thought as he jogged through the field towards Sweet Apple Acres. Why couldn't I have come to a place that at least wasn't Anthro?

If he had been told beforehand that he was going into Equestria, he would have been excited to go. Now, he would give anything to get out as soon as he could.

Because a part of Peter did think the animals– that's what they were– were attractive, sexy, and beautiful. It was almost as if they were designed specifically to be that way. Perhaps he was just in a simulation? Awfully realistic, if that were the case.

Peter took in his senses as the simulation thought came across him. The grass was cool and wet beneath his feet, and it was thick enough that no pebbles or sharp stuff got stuck in his heels. The gentle sun was fully over the mountains by now, and it couldn't be more than about 8 or 9 in the morning. The wind deafening his ears as he ran made things a lot cooler than it would have been.

No simulation could accomplish this much. At least none he knew. It was real. He was stuck here in Equestria.

Peter timed a sigh with an exhale as his jogging slowed down. If he couldn't find a way back, was the life he had lived up to that point just… meaningless?

No, Peter scolded himself. Don't think about that right now. No action ever came about through moping.

But he still thought about it.

The border of Sweet Apple Acres on the side of his approach was nothing more than a white fence. Peter hopped it easily.

As Peter passed the road and rows of apple trees, he took the time to run his fingers on the bark. It was rough, but the bark came away easily.

How does apple bucking as a human work? Peter wondered. See, this is one of those things you don't think about when making Anthro content, dear people back on earth!

There was a relatively undamaged apple by the roots of an upcoming tree, and Peter suddenly felt ravenous. He snatched it up and began consuming the best parts. It was crunchy and juicy, but the flavor could be a bit stronger.

Peter was done with it by the time he reached the barn, which loomed far above him. No one had spotted him so far, which was odd. Didn't people on the farm wake up early?

Unlatching the barn door and swinging it out was loud, and it made Peter hiss in alarm. He quickly shuffled inside and shut the door, making sure the latch didn't shut as well.

It was dark in the barn, but enough sunlight came through the cracks for Peter to see his way inside. A glint of the light came off the polished end of a hanging metal sheet at the end of the barn, and Peter drew closer to see his reflection.

Peter adjusted his long blonde hair so it was more sticky-uppy. He ran a finger along the edge of his angled chin; he had shaved recently, so it was smooth, but it wouldn't be long until stubble grew back. Peter rubbed his small nose and blinked hard several times; there were slight bags under his vivid blue eyes from studying for the past week. He smiled at himself, first without teeth, and then with them, to lift his spirits. It didn't last long.

Peter then plucked at his clothes. Whoever had taken him here had been merciful enough to take him when he had actually worn clothes to bed. It was just grey sweatpants and a blue shirt emblazoned with the Destruction symbol from The Elder Scrolls in white, but it was better than nothing.

Directing his attention to the rest of the barn, Peter noticed that the cow pens were empty. Applejack or someone else must have released them earlier today to graze. Or perhaps they barely came in at all. Peter couldn't remember. The pens would make a good, innocuous spot for sleeping, though.

Peter came into one of the pens on the far end of the barn. Nothing much, just a pitchfork and a pile of hay in the corner. Bucket, stool, shovel, manure. Nothing really useful, but the hay would be comfy, if smelly.

It would be worth sifting through the hay to make sure there wasn't anything harmful. Peter looked down at his fingers, still uncalloused, and sighed. Then he began prodding at the pile with his bare foot.

The barn door creaked open, and a square of light illuminated his area.

Peter froze. He swiveled around.

An orange-skinned girl wearing an unbuttoned cut-off flannel top, Daisy Dukes, and cowgirl boots was there, gazing upon Peter with surprise. The surprised look in her eyes quickly turned into intrigue.

"Why, howdy, Sugarcube," Applejack called, leaning on the side of the doors. "It's real nice ta see ya in th' barn. Lookin' fer a roll in the hay?"

Peter backed deeper into the cow pen. "...Yes. I dropped it in, my meal was ruined."

Applejack giggled. "My, my. Funny boy."

Peter felt unease creep up his back. "I was just… looking for a place to sleep, and I thought the barn would be unobtrusive."

"Are ya now?" Applejack wondered. She began strutting into the barn, her boots making clacking sounds on the floorboards. "Yer in luck. Ah've got a bed with yer name on it."

Peter's heart began to race. "Stay back!"

"Ah won't hurt ya, hon," Applejack assured. She leaned on the gate of the cow pen and tossed her braided hair behind her. " 'Less ya like it that way."

Peter snatched the pitchfork out of the corner and leveled it at a suddenly stunned Applejack. "STAY! BACK! I MEAN IT!"

Applejack stopped and gaped, astounded, as Peter stayed there, aiming the pitchfork right at her heart.

Only a few seconds of this, and Applejack tilted her head. "Yeh've never done this before, have ya?"

"First time for everything," Peter threatened, jabbing the pitchfork. He began to move forward out of the cow pen, and Applejack gave him some room as he did. "What you're offering, I'm not interested in."

"Ah don' understand," Applejack admitted, and it sounded genuine. "What's yer problem? Have ya really… never taken a mare before?"

"I'm saving myself," Peter informed. “For the right girl.”

Applejack blinked innocently. “Aw, shucks. And I'm not?”

“No,” Peter bluntly answered. He had managed to edge past Applejack, still pointing his only weapon at her. “For many reasons.”

Applejack put her hands on her very wide hips. “Tell ‘em to me.”

Peter's back was to the barn door now. He could leave! But he decided to indulge Applejack. “Well, I'm looking for a different personality. Lifestyle. I also want someone that's the, you know… same species as me.”

“Same species?” Applejack repeated, folding her arms. “That's kinda bigoted.”

No, it's not! Peter wildly thought. Unless she means it in the same way we mean race. In which case… yeah, I still do want her the same as me.

“But it means you're looking for sumthin’ specific, ain't ya?” Applejack was saying. “Ya sure I can't be that mare?”

“No!” Peter denied, backing away some more. Applejack was taking a few more courageous steps towards him regardless of his weapon. “I mean, yes, I'm sure. I don't like how, uh… available you are. How everybody is. You've destroyed yourselves, and you don't even know it!”

Applejack leaned on the side of the cow pen fence, looking Peter up and down. “You don't like how available I am. Hon, everypony in town is fuckin’ like rabbits, and Ah still get requests from dozens of mares n’ stallions. I'm a standout natural at what Ah do. You just don't know it yet.”

Peter, taken aback by the swearing, made a dismissive sound and turned away.

And immediately had his leg yanked back, throwing Peter to the floor and sending his pitchfork clattering away. Peter felt a tightening around his bare ankle, and felt his entire body get dragged back to Applejack. He twisted in place to see her bring her lasso up to her face.

"Let me go!" Peter yelled, reaching for the rope at his ankle.

Applejack just yanked harder on her rope, and Peter's entire lower body came off the ground. "That's gotta be it," she concluded, eyeing Peter hungrily. "C'mon, Ah'll break ya in."

Peter's heart rate spiked. “No, stop!

But Applejack was already sauntering out of the barn with Peter in tow. The angle she held the rope at made it impossible for Peter to bend up and unloose himself. Peter was dragged back out into the sun, banging his back on the barn steps.

“HELP!” Peter cried as he bent forward. “SOMEONE!”

“Go ahead, scream all you like,” Applejack invited teasingly. “You might wake th’ others up, and they'll join in!”

That made Peter stop immediately. Mental anguish consumed him, torn between crying for help and making things worse. Who would actually come to his aid?

Applejack reached the edge of the pigpen right outside the barn and quickly looped her rope around the corner post. She snatched Peter's thrashing arm in a viselike grip, threaded it around Peter's wrist, and tied it to his other wrist. Peter was bound by his wrists to the fencepost, one leg spread wide open.

“Stop,” Peter whispered, impotent and embarrassed. “Applejack, you don't want to do this!”

Applejack bent forward so Peter could look down her bosom. “Sugar, Ah really, really want to do this. And you'll be glad I did.”

Applejack reached into her very small back pocket and pulled out a multi-tool. With a deft flick of her wrist, a small blade came out.

"HEL-" Peter cried, but Applejack slammed her hand over Peter's mouth. With Peter muffled, she plunged her knife into Peter's shirt and loudly ripped it right down the front. It exposed Peter's peach-colored chest and stomach. Another few cuts of the knife, and Peter's shirt came entirely off him, completely unusable now.

Applejack's hand next snaked under his waistband, and Peter could feel the cold handle of the tool against his testicles. Peter's heartrate skyrocketed at the proximity of her knife to his penis, and he froze up.

Applejack planted a kiss on his forehead. “Hon, if ya didn't want me to worship yer cock, ya shouldn't have worn grey sweatpants.”

And she yanked his waistband down. She was exceptionally strong, and his sweatpants ended up around his ankles.

As Applejack took her hand away, Peter's struggling rebounded, and he snarled at the farm girl as she cut through the rest of his boxers and pulled them entirely off.

"Geez," Applejack remarked once she was done, tossing her knife away. "Ah didn't even cut the skin. Ya big baby."

"Stop," Peter wheezed. "I don't want this!"

"Ya haven't even tried it yet!" Applejack shut down. She tossed his clothes into the pigpen behind Peter, and they landed with a thick glop into the mud.

“I don't want to try it!” Peter yelled, scooching his pelvis backwards, but there wasn't much room. Applejack still snatched his semi-erect penis and twisted it gently in her hand.

"Now you listen here, big boy. Ah'm not doin' this fer my sake," Applejack informed him. "B'tween myself, my friends, my family, and th' pigs…" She indicated the pigpen with a jerk of her head. "...Ah've got plenty of satisfaction. Naw, this is ta show you just how we on the farm do things."

"So you tied me up?!" Peter roared.

"That's part of the experience," Applejack said. “Just one part of it, though. Another is milking.” Her finger rubbed against his glans as she said so. “Let's give you a shot at it.”

Applejack stopped her stroking to gently pry her breasts out of her shirt. They were already really close to coming out, though; Peter had no idea how they had managed to stay in.

Applejack's left breast dangled right in front of his face. "C'mon, sugar. Come get a lick."

It was a beautiful breast, to be sure. But Peter was most certainly not in the mood to appreciate it.

Peter snarled with effort and lunged forward. And with all the effort he could, Peter chomped down with his teeth on her areola.

Applejack yelled in pain and anger and forced her breast out of his teeth. A resounding, burning smack to his cheek came next, making Peter cry out. Applejack had put all her force into it.

"Don't you dare," Applejack growled. And she backhanded him on the other cheek, making Peter yell again. "You think you can play rough with me?"

"I don't want this!" Peter protested, on the verge of tears. "Please, let me go!"

Applejack shrugged. "Maybe if ya hadn't bitten my girl, I woulda. This is what you deserve, after all!"

She had said it on such a condescending, babying tone that it infuriated Peter enough to struggle some more.

Applejack guffawed when she saw it. "Yeah, try it, sugar. Jus' like that. You wanna play rough? Ah'll do it!"

And she planted a palm between his ribs while she spat on his erect penis. Applejack began to stroke with the other hand. It left Peter short of breath as she continued to work him.

“Gasp fer me,” Applejack encouraged. “Lemme hear ya scream fer it!”

And given how short he was on breath, Peter really was gasping, heaving, and finally crying. Once the tears started coming out, Peter's impotent rage just made them come out faster. They trailed down the inside of his nose and made his eyes red, so he shut them.

“Oh,” Applejack noted, clearly taken aback. She slowed down her stroking. “Oh, wow. Made you cry, huh?” And she let out a chortle. “Ah'm that good? That's a first. You are all sorts of entertaining, sugar. Lemme speed it up.”

And it was at this moment, with Peter's vision black and blurry, that he did something he hadn't done in more than a month.

"Dear God," he whimpered, blinking his vision clear. "I need your help! Break my bonds and free me, please! I need your help!"

"God?" Applejack wondered. She chuckled. "Yeah, that's it. Ah always knew you were a submissive little boy. Didn't know it was to a master that didn't exist, though!" And she broke into full-on laughter.

Peter's teeth and fists clenched. He began to yank even harder at his bonds.

"Yeah, that's it!" Applejack encouraged, stroking even faster. "Ah like it when ya struggle. Just you wait till the rest of ma family comes an' sees this. Granny Smith's real experienced. She'll show ya things nopony's seen. Apple Bloom? Oh, you're gonna love ma sister's tight, fourteen-year-old pussy. And you are not prepared for what Big Mac's gonna do to you! He's gonna turn you into a drooling, gooey lil' hole, an' you'll be my personal boy-toy forever!"

The horrors assaulting his ears made Peter want to gag. It made him want to cry. But Peter just got madder.

It could have been a loose knot. Perhaps Peter was stronger than he thought. Maybe it was simply God's touch. Most likely it was all three of them.

But with one last hard yank, the bonds on his hands were broken.

Peter didn't even consciously realize it. His hands just went right for Applejack's throat. Surprised, Applejack tumbled off him and to the side as Peter finally scrambled atop her and applied more pressure.

"Kinky!" Applejack gasped. Peter's thumbs just buried deeper into her neck. "Ah like… guh, I… " She gasped for breath again.

Peter swiftly used a hand to strike Applejack in the throat. Applejack began coughing hard, and Peter did not relent, immediately going back to choking Applejack out. He planted a knee as hard as he could into Applejack's already-sore breast, making her cry out in pain. It came out gurgled and small.

Peter let out a bellow from the depths of his throat as he slammed Applejack's head back into the dirt and fired his knuckle as hard as he could into her neck. He went right back to choking her. Applejack's movements got weaker and weaker.

Finally, Applejack did not move at all. The instant this happened, Peter stopped the pressure and rolled off her half-naked body.

Applejack's knife was unsheathed and lying in the dust. Peter wiggled over to it, grabbed it after failing twice, and sliced off the ropes around his ankles.

Standing up, Peter couldn't help but regard the prone figure of Applejack lying unconscious in the dirt. Applejack the sexual assaulter, the abhorrent abomination who was so far removed from what he knew Applejack was supposed to be that it would be fair, it would be justice, to take her own knife, tightly held in his fist, and plunge it-

Peter recognized the temptation. He tossed the knife away upon realizing it. If Applejack was going to pay for what she did, she needed to be conscious for it. It was at least not cold-blooded.

There came a distant clatter on glass, and Peter whipped his head to the house. On the top level was a topless fourteen-year-old girl with an enormous red bow in her hair curiously eyeing his naked form.

Horrified, Peter covered himself with a hand and began backing away, not turning his back.

Two other girls appeared at either side of her. One was orange with purple hair, and the other white with two-toned pink hair. Both were also topless. All three were smiling devilishly.

At that point, Peter saw no reason to keep eye contact. He needed to get away!

The Cutie Mark Crusaders disappeared from view, and Peter could only assume the worst. He immediately turned and sprinted out of the front yard.

The adrenaline in his blood kept Peter going even when his bare feet felt pierced all over from pebbles on the dirt path. Even when his lungs felt about to give out. He passed row after row of apple trees and eventually made it to the front gate. Peter leaped over the top of the white fence and didn't stop.

Not too far to the east, to his left, was a tree line. Most likely the Everfree.

Peter kept sprinting right for the trees, welcoming their cover. By the time he reached the first tree, he was gasping and heaving for breath.

Peter crashed through the low foliage, pushing aside the young trees and brush. By the time he got to a tree big enough to fully conceal him from view, he had splinters on the soles of his bleeding feet.

Peter collapsed against the tree and curled up on the roots. He felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest, like his face was on fire. No matter how much he hyperventilated, he could not calm down.

And now he was free. All that could be heard was the rustling of wind through the trees and Peter's heavy breathing.

Peter stopped to swallow. It just made him tear up. And once the tears started again, they didn't seem to stop. Peter grabbed at himself, turning into more of a mess by the second.

Humiliated, furious, horrified, and hopeless, Peter curled up and wailed like a newborn.