Getting Laid

Be aware that this chapter contains content that may be described as ‘emotionally disturbing’.

“Dash,” Twilight said, looking rather miffed, “when I said special—”

Dash pshaw'd. “‘Special’ my flank. What you need, Twi, is a good time. Else you'll turn into one of those lock-tight-break-right ballbusters in the House.”

Twilight tilted her head to the side. “One of those whats?”

Dash sighed. “Well, you know how if you make a lock real hard to crack it blows up in your face when you hit it?”

Twilight had already begun taking notes. “No, but that sounds like a metaphor for date rape.”

“Right,” Dash said, shaking her head, “Unicorn. Forget it. What's important is that you have a good first time, you see? I mean, it's fun to help some poor filly who's only had bad find out about the big, brave world inside her—”

“That sounds like a metaphor for acquaintance rape.”

“—but it's a lot more fun to help a kid get a head start.”

“That,” Twilight said, continuing to write in her little notebook, “sounds like a metaphor for foal rape.”

Dash's eye twitched a bit. “Please stop. Look. Would it help if I told you how I lost mine?”

Twilight lit up. “You'd do that?”

“As long as you don't interrupt.”

—

So, you're fourteen—Twi, if that mouth opens more than two inches I'm sticking a hoof in it—and you get your first exeat—yes, I know what an exeat is—from flight school. You go mingle, visit the Agora, look for something to do that doesn't make you spend fifty bits on a five-bit batch of imported cider. You've got Fluttershy with you, you're not fucking yet—stop blushing, ‘rut’s not accurate here—and Gilda, who you haven't started fucking either.

Gilda's getting up in your flank about how the place's an applehole, and it's kinda true: the whole place's got bits of the Unicorn Invalidation—alright, alright, the Earthenware Revolution—sticking out of the dirty-ass cloud buildings, lots of gears and bolts and so on and so forth, lots of homebrew ripoffs of already outdated architecture and machines just jutting out the bucking things like lanterns hanging out a griffon window to try and shake hungry ghosts off your tail.

I can see you're getting impatient, but buck you. I'm telling this story my way.

So you're all pretty unhappy, except for Fluttershy who's just absolutely rutting terrified. Right before Gilda's done griping about the place she starts hyperventilating. You've seen her like this in the school cafeteria before, so of course you know what to do: you grab her by the hoof, never the shoulders so help you Celly, and bring her into the nearest building with an open door.

No, it isn't a whorehouse. Those're in the Acro. It's a little mom-and-pop store, so genuine that the only Equestrian they speak is ‘five bits’. Fluttershy calms down a bit, and Gilda comes in and starts moaning about how globalization's going to make sure that place was gonna belong to her dad some day.

Come to think of it, Gilda really was kind of a bitch. Fuck me if that cloaca wasn't as sexy as Hell Tartarus, though.

Yes, as opposed to Purgatory Tartarus without the giant-dicked centaur and Limbo Tartarus with the fetuses. Luna, and you say I'm stupid. I bet you think drinking pregnant mare piss is safe, too.

Yeah, it's what they make hormone pills from. That shit can kill you concentrated. Found that out the hard way. Not a fun thing to hear from a doctor.

Anyway, so the owner comes along and really politely asks you ‘I fuck your mother of Luna, flightless pair of aged ballsack-dwelling immigrants, and I will burn your village and children’, which you might think isn't actually a question, but it's actually Hurricane Pegasus for ‘could you please buy something?’

So you've got maybe fifty bits in your saddlebag and you figure ‘hey, might as well get a slice of pie’, so you pat Fluttershy on the back and hand over five bits for half a tiny slice of pie like a chump and give the kid a bite. Gilda gets moaning about how there's no bone meal, and you ask the owner if he has any meat.

He says they've got pet food, and you evacuate the place with Fluttershy before the Invasion of Kopet kicks into stride and hit the refugee ca—I mean, the dorms before the wave of devastation reaches you.

By that, I mean you manage not to get caught up in a four-hour Gilda rant.

So you and Fluttershy are alone in your dorm, all alone, and every other pony's either having the time of their life in the city or pretending to. She gets all teary-eyed and apologizes over and over for screwing the trip up, and I tell her it's fine, try and cheer her up.

You say you'll make her some Duchess Blue.

She tells you she just wants you.

I can see the look on your face. No, there's no whore twist. They check IDs.

My first time was with Fluttershy.

Okay, so you get propositioned by this incredibly shy, incredibly cute filly, who you've spent the last seven years being besties with and who you've only in your bucking dreams ever thought would be down to fuck. Think of how that feels for a moment.

Good? Better than good. Your wings of course almost pop out of their damn sockets, and Flutters looks away like she's seen Tirek's enormous dong. You say yes, and she looks at you and does something that looks like it's come out of a seventies Playcolt, but she keeps mumbling about how what she's doing is obscene.

Now, that sounds hot, but she's doing it in that seriously freaked-out kind of little-foal way, and the way she's moving you can see she's begging for it, but she's begging for it like somepony's stuck a springshank to her neck.

She kinda creeps up to you and sticks her hooves on your shoulders, which is nice, and then she pushes you down onto the bed, hard, which is fine, and then she starts choking the shit out of you, which isn't fun or nice when you're seriously scared for your life. You try and struggle and she pushes like a bucking steamroller.

Your wings're pushing up hard against your back and you're gasping for air but she pushes her own pussy up against yours and starts grinding it against you, practically slamming herself against you like some kind of deranged I-don't-even-know-what-the-hay—yeah, it was kind of like a deranged bunch of sticky, soft, furry hay—and it feels kind of good but it's so fucking terrifying you're about to piss yourself.

But you took a piss on the way home so you don't piss yourself—you just try to—and she's just ramming at you and she's squealing like a pig in the mud—that's not racist, it's accurate—and you feel your pussy getting wetter real quick but it sure as hay isn't 'cause of you, and then she pulls away and girlcum's got all over your bits and it's not yours.

Then she hawks a loogie onto your face, dusts her hooves off and goes “did you like that”? And she's smiling, like she's really proud that she got through it and she has no clue what she's just done.

It was a whole year before I even dared to have sex again. A whole rutting year. That was with a whore, on my sixteenth birthday.

Next time, I was ready.

—

“No offense, but that sounds more like Fluttershy's fault,” Twilight said, shrugging. “You don't need to be a psychiatrist to know something's wrong when somepony's acting like that.”

“I actually forgot what I was trying to say,” she said, shrugging. “The point is, if I knew how good sex could be, I wouldn't have let that get me down. If you do it with a professional—”

“Come on,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes. “How bad could a first time even be? You're just projecting.”

Dash stood.

“Come on,” she said, her voice solemn, “I'll let Fluttershy tell you herself.”

—

Twilight sat in respectful silence as Fluttershy laid down a saucer and cup of tea, followed by a scone. Judging by the sounds of anguish coming from outside, Dash was distinctly mediocre at pre-gardening.

“Dashie told me you wanted to get her little talk from me,” Fluttershy said, smiling politely. A few months ago, she might have spoken in whispers; Twilight couldn't help but marvel at the change.

“Well, uh—”

“I know she's a little weird at times, Twilight, but she's basically right.” Fluttershy took a sip of chamomile. “What matters is that you enjoy it and learn from it.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Is Fluttershy telling me to hire an escort?”

She giggled. “Oh, certainly not. I think you should wait until you find a stable partner who you think you'll spend the rest of your life with, but I know most coverers don't like that too much. Dashie especially. She thinks I'm secretly, uh—” She paused, blushing. “—y'know. Not that she'd mind if I was. She's very understanding.”

“So,” Twilight said, eyes widening a bit, “your first time was with Dash? That's impressive.”

“Oh, no,” Fluttershy said, before her face turned a shade of thoughtful. “Well, yes, according to Asham's—I mean, Celestia's Recitation, but no.”

Twilight had the minimal amount of tact required not to suggest that Celestia never wrote the Recitation, but not enough to fail to pry. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh,” Fluttershy said, smiling gently. “I was raped.”

Twilight felt her metaphorical brain implode, and quickly thanked biology that its physical form hadn't.

“Oh.”

“I can tell you the story if you'd like,” she said, leaning over and pouring more tea into the cup. “It's really not a big deal—it was so long ago, you know.”

Twilight, critiquing Fluttershy's character from a literary perspective, concluded that she was utterly unrealistic and, having suitably distanced herself from the character before her which bore Fluttershy's face, shook her head quickly and stood. “Sure,” she said, bringing her notebook up with a purple flash of light.

Dash trod in through the doorway, batting at the clods of dirt gathered up in her rainbow mane. A few brown trails of sweat made their way down her forehead; the shiner had faded remarkably fast behind her fur, leaving a slightly darkened spot surrounding her left eye; she had trouble squinting at Twilight. “I heard magic. You're not trying to do a mindwipe, are you?”

Fluttershy's eyes fluttered. “Oh, Twilight wanted to hear the story. Are you joining us, Dashiekins?”

“Nah,” Dash said, turning about. “I'm gonna finish with the gardening. If she looks like she's depersonalizing you to try and emotionally shield herself, you give her a good buck on the head, alright?”

She giggled slightly. “Can you believe she's the sub?”

Twilight mumbled something incoherent, perhaps shocked that Dash knew half of the words out of her mouth.

Fluttershy took a sip and began.

—

Well, my dad was really busy, you know, with the whole Revolution going on, so most of the time I stayed home. I had to go to the market, and I wasn't wearing any clothes—that was back when that was legal—so once in a while somepony'd call me mean names and spit at me and said I wasn't a good Ashami—I mean, you know, Celestian—and mom told me to wear something but I wasn't about to let some mean old ponies make me change the way I dressed, you know.

Oh, you probably already know how it ended. I was walking to the market one day when I felt some big, strong hooves around my neck. I never saw his face and I can't remember his voice so well, so I'm not sure if it was definitely a he, but he dragged me into an alley.

I screamed, of course, but then I felt a little bit of metal up against my neck. Back then most of the younger revolutionaries didn't have any real weapons, so they had little springed tubes with spikes in them. I quieted down a bit—oh, sorry about the bruise but Dashiekins said I had to buck you if I saw you do that—and then he pushed me up against the wall.

A bit like this, see? I'd spread my legs a bit more to show you, but that'd be indecent.

He said some stuff—I'm not sure what, exactly, but I remember it was really hurtful—and then jammed his carpus upwards, really quick. I think I was seven or so, so it didn't hurt as bad as it would now, but it hurt really, really bad. I screamed and I think I peed myself—I remember there was some warmth there, but it might've just been blood—and then he grabbed me by the hair and rubbed my face into the mess—again, I'm not really sure whether it was his or mine—on the pavement, like a dog. Not that I'd ever treat a doggie like that, of course!

Oh, don't worry about the mess; it's just saliva and tea, after all. I'll mop it up later.

Anyway, I think he probably did that—kicked me, that is—to loosen me up a little, you know? So it wouldn't hurt him too much. I tried to pull my head up, but he stuck the little tube at that kinda soft bit at the back of my head and said he'd pull the trigger if I didn't lick the floor clean.

Well, I thought that was a bit mean, so I kicked up and tried to hit him in the you-know-where. He laughed—again, I can't remember what he said, but I remember what his laughter was like, kind of high and cracked—at me, and then he grabbed me by the hair again—that really hurt—and threw me onto one of the old sofas leaning up against the wall—we were outside a residential kind of building, but I think it got abandoned before I came, because no one came and tried to help me.

He felt my, uh—

Ooh, are you okay with swears? Dashie says they make the story have lots of impact.

I'll try and keep it cl—alright, Dashiekins!

I'm sorry, but I just can't say no to my Dashie. I hope you understand.

So, uh, he felt my cunt up, pushed at the folds. It was kinda like he'd never seen one of those things before, but he said something about me being wet. Since I knew by now he was definitely going to rape me, I started screaming for help, and he shouted something about the infidels or the King or Celestia's hostage government and hit me on the jaw really hard, like this. I kept shouting until he started choking me with his forelegs, and while I was trying to breathe and my eyes were rolling up into my skull he just put his thing—sorry, his dick—up against my cunt and just pushed really hard.

I was kicking at him as hard as I could before that, but my legs kinda stopped moving all of a sudden. I think I might've been in shock. I'm not sure how far he got in me before he pulled out and started pushing again. I was still conscious and breathing, so at some point he must've let go of my neck, but I couldn't hear my own voice any more.

That's kind of metaphorical, huh?

Oh, don't worry, I won't buck you in the head just for thinking that. It happened so long ago; Dashie's nice, but she has kind of a penchant for over—

—reacting. Please get your forehooves off Twilight's face, Dashiekins.

You're staying this time? I'll go make some tea!

Oh, you don't want any? I'll just go on, then.

So he started buck—I mean, he started fucking me. Tons of words for the same thing, of course, but 'fucking's the only word I can think of that's really being honest. I could say he was fucking my cunt, but it was more like he was fucking my whole lower body. He was grabbing my wings and just slamming into my hips. He wasn't fucking me, really, but he was fucking that part of me. It hurt a lot.

Well, it wasn't really him fucking that part of me. I like to say that he was using that part of me to fuck himself, like one of those toys Dashie likes to play with. He wasn't slamming into it as much as he was pushing and pulling on it really hard with his hooves, like he was doing it with himself and I was an, um—

Please don't cry, Dashiekins. Are you sure you wanna listen to this again?

That's not why I don't use the toys by myself. Don't even think of getting rid of them.

You're sure?

Smiling won't make me think you're not upset, Dash.

Alright. I love you.

So he was taking that piece of me and fucking me over and over for—for ten seconds before he let go inside me—that's better, Dashiekins, laugh it out—and pulled out. I found some stains on my coat later, so I know he got some outside. I didn't have my menarche yet and I wasn't in heat so I didn't get pregnant.

After he was done, he grabbed onto my hair and twisted my neck like this and spat on my face. I think it hit me in the eye, since I remember I closed my eyes instinctively. I tried to wipe it off before he hit me really hard on the face and it flew off entirely.

He told me the next time I came out naked, I wouldn't walk out of the alley. Then he left me there. I waited until I couldn't hear his hoofsteps before I ran straight home.

I came home very late and told my mother I wanted to wear clothes. A couple of years later, my mother managed to get me into Cloudsdale Flight School. And, uh, that's where I met Rainbow Dash, the best pony in the world!

—

“Oh, you,” Dash said, and embraced her tearfully.

“It's really no big deal,” Fluttershy said, giggling as she higher her back. “I've moved past those ten seconds.”

Twilight sat silently as she made a note, and did not question how ten seconds could have caused Fluttershy to come home very late.