The Theory of the Multiverse

by Malt Liquor

Rating: mature
Tags: Romance, Adventure, Tragedy, Alternate Universe
Length: 4335

Beyond this verse, many others . Connected but unique, can what is lost in one be found in another?

Storm Wind, Lunar Guard, finds love in one very special pony. But nothing lasts forever, and when tragedy strikes desperation (not to mention a magical creature from beyond space and time) give him the means to try and reclaim what he has lost, shattering everything he perceives as real in the process.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-12-05 14:49:28 UTC

First Date

Storm Wind put a hoof against his forehead in irritation. This was the seventh time the new recruits had attempted a simple maneuver that, by all rights, they should have gotten on the first or second try. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then a second, trying to steady his nerves, then spread his wings and began to take off.

“S-s-s-storm Wind,” asked a stuttering voice from behind him, causing him to sigh in irritation again and fold his wings against his body.

“Yes,” he responded, turning to examine the mare who had spoken. She wasn’t an unattractive little Unicorn; her coat was a soft green color, which contrasted sharply with her violet tail and mane, both neatly braided. Her fetlocks were neatly trimmed, and the cutiemark on her flank was a candle with a quill crossed in front of it.

He stared at her for a moment and then rolled his eyes. Her eyes were unfocused; she seemed to have spaced out.

“Can I help you,” he growled.

“Oh,” she said with a start, “Yes. J-j-j-jet Stream wanted to s-s-s-see you. He’s in the c-c-c-courtyard.”

He sighed and pawed the ground with a hoof. Jet Stream; what did THAT pompous elitist want? He glared at her as her eyes glazed over again.

“Will that be all,” he barked, causing her to jerk in surprise.

“Oh. Yes, well, I th-th-th-think so,” she stuttered.

He flared his wings in agitation and took to the air. He sighed as the breeze blew over his neck and flank, cooling them pleasantly. Storm Wind was a member of the Royal Guard, and proud to be. His cutiemark, a black cloud bisected by a white sword, stood in sharp relief against his magically bleached coat. His mane and tail were cropped short and magically colored blue as part of his uniform, though normally they were a dark, ashen grey streaked with a red the same hue and intensity as his normal coat color. Like the little mare who had came to fetch him, his fetlocks were neatly shorn, again part of the uniform.

Lately he had been assigned to training the new recruits, a task his CO, Jet Stream, knew he loathed. It wasn’t that he hated other ponies, they just aggravated him tremendously. All but one.

He couldn’t help but to smile when he thought of her, the way her pink mane and tail bobbed as she bounced along. His headache eased and he found himself enjoying the short flight, until he remembered who he was going to meet. Then his headache came back in full force, causing him to groan and lose a few meters of altitude. He pumped his wings and slowly dipped into the castle courtyard, where Jet Stream stood staring at him in irritation. He smirked in satisfaction; at least he had managed to annoy the stubborn Pegasus.

He dropped to the ground a few feet away from his commanding officer and saluted in as condescending  a manner as he could think of, causing the older stallion’s ear to twitch a few times. He struggled not to smile at this small victory as the captain cleared his throat.

“Storm Wind,” he said, “You’re being reassigned.”

Of course I am, Storm thought to himself.

“To my chagrin and against my advice, Princess Luna has requested you as a member of the Lunar Guard.”

Storm’s ears shot forward as his typical look of mingled boredom and mild annoyance was replaced by the look of a dumbfounded colt.  Him, the perpetual lazyhooves who typically only did enough to get by, he was going to be on the Lunar Guard? He fought the urge to swoon.

“Are…are you serious,” he stammered, quickly adding “Sir?”

The old stallion put a hoof to his eyes.

“Unfortunately, yes, I am. You’re to report tomorrow at 1900 sharp to get your new armor and have the cosmetic spells exchanged. And corporal…”

The heavily built Pegasus advanced until the tip of his nose was between Storm Wind’s eyes.

“Don’t. You. DARE. Screw. This. Up,” he growled, accentuating every word with a stamp of his right forhoof, “Or else. You can have the rest of the day off to prepare, sleep, meditate, whatever. I recommend getting some rest; it’s going to be a long night.”

The wind roared past his ears as Storm Wind dipped and dove through the storm cloud, rain soaking his coat and chilling him to the bone. It was refreshing, exhilarating, the feeling of soaring through the sky, clamping his wings to his body as he fell into a spin to divert the concussive force of a thunder clap. He shook his head, ear ringing painfully, and banked hard to the right, just barely skipping out of the path of a bolt of pale blue lightning. He was almost there…

Finally, he broke through to the heart of the storm, deep in its innermost reaches. Like the eye of a hurricane, it was eerily peaceful here. He lit on a small outcropping of cloud, chuckling as a bit of static discharged harmlessly into his hooves. He looked around solemnly at the arching vault of cloud above and around him. All about was a wall of deepest grey, punctuated now and then by sudden flashes of light and the growl of thunder. At its pinnacle was a tiny hole no bigger than his eye, though which a single shaft of golden light streamed, throwing weird shadows and giving the entire area a surreal, dream-like quality. He lay down and simply stared at that golden stream.

This was his most sacred place, his private cathedral. His one peaceful pinpoint in a world of destructive fury. He closed his eyes to listen to the unique music of his church; the roaring wind like an organ, the thunder an ominous drumbeat, louder and more forceful than his own heart. A face appeared before his eyes, framed by an obscenely fluffy mane. He smirked as his eyes opened.

He leaped from his perch, wings closed tight to his side, and threw himself into a spiral, cutting down through the storm like a spear thrown from on high. He snapped his wings open and pulled them straight back, streamlining his body as a bolt of lightning began racing him towards the ground. He narrowed his eyes and stretched his body, weaving around it as tendrils of energy lanced out at him. He could see the tops of the trees now, far away but getting closer with every passing second. Time seemed to stop as the bolt passed him, slamming into the trees and igniting them into a roaring flame. He snapped his wings forward and pulled out of his dive, barely avoiding crashing into the trees and coming close enough that he could feel the heat on his belly.

This was what he lived for! The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, the intoxicating of his own fear as he throttled towards the unyielding earth, the exhilarating thrill of courting death. Nothing in Equestria could match the heady feeling he got when he streaked side-by-side with a bolt of lightning towards certain death, forced to dodge and weave through forks of electrical oblivion, only to tear himself out of his headlong dive just in time for his hooves to drag the treetops or kick a stream of soil up behind him.

He panted hard as he flapped his way home to his apartment in Cloudsdale. By the time he arrived, he was light-headed as the adrenaline had begun to burn out of his system. He set down on the little pad of cloud that served as a landing pad, grateful for the soft cushion beneath his hooves; he didn’t think his wings could have held out much longer. Gracelessly he stumbled into his apartment, slamming the cloud-formed door behind him and collapsing into the fluffy pile that served as a bed.

The next day seemed to dawn far too early. Sunlight streamed through his window, warming Storm Wind’s back and flank pleasantly. Still, it woke him from the comforting darkness of oblivion, and he growled as he stood up and shook the sleep from his bones. He checked the clock imbedded in his wall; two in the afternoon. He yawned and looked around.

Storm Wind’s studio apartment was simple and Spartan, with little in the way of decoration. Aside from the clock in the wall and the pile of fluff he typically slept on, it contained just an icebox, a simple wooden chest and a small mirror, the only openings being a couple of small windows and the door leading to his personal landing pad. His tail flicked a bit of dew from its tip as he made his way over to the mirror.

Without the cosmetic spells (not to mention after a night of sleep) he looked considerably different. His mane and coat were back to their normal, deep crimson color, his mane lined with the smoldering grey of a storm front. His mane was a bit longer than most of the guard but still within the dress code, and was sloppy and unkempt from his dance with the lightning and subsequent miniature coma. He ran a hoof over it a few times to give it some semblance of order, failing miserably.

Not that he cared, anyways. He turned from the mirror with an indifferent shrug and went to leave, slipping his neckpouch over his neck on the way. Most earth-bound ponies carried their belongings in saddlebags but those were a bit heavy and had a tendency to get in the way of pumping wings, so pegasi carried their belongings in simple cloth satchels hung by straps around the neck, usually waxed to keep out the water and mist in clouds and often lined with wool to protect any delicate contents from the frigid temperatures at high altitudes. He shrugged his shoulders and wriggled his neck a bit to settle the pouch into place so it wouldn’t chafe or interfere with his flying and then took off towards Ponyville.

He set himself down near a pony selling flowers out of a booth and trotted over to him.

“Evenin’, friend,” the earth pony greeted him warmly, “How can I help ya?”

“I need a bouquet,” he answered, “Something with lots of colors, especially pink. Morning Glory, daisies, roses…”

The shopkeeper chuckled.

“That’s a wild mix your gonna have. Sure you wouldn’t rather I put together something for ya?”

“The wilder the better,” he responded, trying to keep his annoyance in check. He knew what he wanted, and knew what SHE would like, and didn’t appreciate this stallion trying to tell him otherwise.

“A’right then,” the pone responded with a shrug as he quickly assembled a bundle of seemingly randomly selected flowers, tying them together with a pink ribbon. He dropped it on the booth in front of him.

“That’ll be seven bits.”

Storm wind impatiently tossed a 10-bit piece on the counter and told the other stallion to keep the change, then took the bouquet in his mouth and trotted off towards Sugarcube Corner. He ignored most other ponies along the way, nodding to those who greeted him, and paused in front of the vibrantly, even garishly colored building. He took a deep breath through his nose; he had never done anything like this before. As a matter of fact he had only ever shared a few all-too brief conversations with her before now, most of which ended in her remembering something she was supposed to be doing and bouncing gleefully away, but she had held a warm place in his heart since he had first seen her, a place that only grew bigger with every conversation. He blushed as he thought of the way her tail would bob up and down, giving him tantalizingly brief glimpses of her plot.

Shaking the thoughts from his head before they made him too uncomfortable and nervous to continue, he cantered up to the famous bakery and opened the door with a hoof. A small bell rang above his head and the mare behind the counter turned from the cupcakes she was decorating and greeted him warmly.

“Hello there,” she said brightly, “Welcome to Sugarcube Corner! I’m Mrs. Cake. Can I get you anything?”

“Hello Mrs. Cake,” he managed around the bouquet in his mouth, “Is Pinkie Pie home?”

The mare nodded happily.

“She sure is. You must be the Pegasus she’s been talking so much about. My but you ARE handsome aren’t you?”

He blushed and pawed the ground nervously, causing her to giggle as she walked over to a staircase leading up.

“I’ll call her down. Pinkie,” she called up the stairs, “You have a guest…Oh!”

She winced and recoiled a bit as a pink blur raced past her, skidding to a stop in front of Storm Wind and hopping back and forth between her hind hooves.

“A guest? For me? Oh, hi Storm Wind! Is that for me? Aw you shouldn’t have! Its such a pretty bouquet! I bet its tasty, too. Is it tasty? It looks tasty. So whacha doin? How come you came to see lil’ ole me?”

He smiled around the bouquet as she rambled on before handing it to her with a hoof, his features softening as they didn’t around any other pony. He struggled to keep his wings from rising as she took the flowers and pushed her nose into them and sniffed deeply.

“Well, Pinkie,” he stammered, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, “I got a promotion yesterday and I was, uh… Well I was kind of hoping… That is, you’re THE party pony, so…”

“PARTY? Well why didn’t you say so,” she exclaimed with glee, speaking at a rapid-fire pitch, “I’ll make a cake and some punch and get some balloons and confetti and streamers and we can invite everyone in Ponyville, it’ll be the best party EVER!”

He pawed the ground again, a telltale sign of nervousness in the crimson Pegasus.

“Actually Pinkie, I was, uh… Well I was hoping… That is… We could just celebrate together… You know, just us… What I mean is…”

The pink mare smiled warmly and stepped towards him. He fought every instinct to back down or drop his gaze, in spite of the burning heat that filled his face as she came close enough he could feel her breath on the tip of his nose.

“Are you asking me on a date,” she asked in a more normal pace, “Cuzz if you are, the answer is yes, silly pony.”

The Pegasus glared at his reflection in the mirror. He was wearing his new uniform, its dark violet armor clashing madly with his rust-colored coat. He was sure it would look better when the cosmetic spells were in place, but…

The armor was the most minor of his concerns at the moment. His eyes were drawn to a single tuft of hair that stuck out of his mane at the most obscure angle. As if it were trying to catch his eye and taunt him. How dare it! Of all the nights for something to be out of place! He wasn’t about to wear his helmet on his date; unlike his Canterlot Guard armor, this was designed to seem ferocious and intimidating, with hard angles and dangerous-looking spikes, and the flanged fin running up the center of the helmet.

He ran a hoof over the offending tuft to smooth it down but it only popped back up. His eye twitched in irritation. He tried again but to the same result. He gnashed his teeth and pondered for a moment. Everything had to be perfect…but Pinkie wouldn’t care if his mane was out of place. Hell, hers was a constant pile of tangled curls that stood under its own power. He shrugged and mussed up his mane carelessly, then considered himself again. What he saw made him scowl even deeper. That one errant tuft now lay perfectly flat and pristine, while the rest was a wild, tangled mess.

He had let Pinkie choose the venue for their date. The location she had chosen was… well, it was very Pinkie Pie. Of course, she had chosen a night club. They were supposed to meet out front of the building. It loomed before him as he trotted up to it, slowing to a canter as his nerves began to worm into his mind.

Apple Tree, the building’s sign proclaimed, Most happening spot in Equestria.

“Happening?” he thought unhappily, Wonderful…

He could hear the deep, thumping base, vibrating him to his bones. He quickly wondered if wearing the heavy, ornate armor was such a good idea. He decided it wasn’t. He looked around for the telltale mass of bubblegum curls, grinning in spite of himself when he finally saw her.

She was wearing a skirt that was honestly almost a tutu, the sheer pink fabric catching the light from the neon sign and distorting it weirdly. Her mane seemed to be dyed a variety of colors in every neon shade imaginable. Around her neck was a string of apparently randomly selected beads in a broad spectrum of colors and shapes, with a twin around her left ankle. On her legs were a set of four long socks with candy cane striping in seemingly random colors. On sighting him she grinned and galloped over to him, taking his hoof in hers and all but dragging him inside. The bouncer, a heavyset gryphon with a patch over one eye, glared at him, but smirked when he saw Pinkie Pie and let them inside.

The music that rattled his bones outside almost shook them out of him once they were inside the club. Vinyl Scratch was on the soundstage, working her DJ booth at a furious pace, and the heavy bass and rapid-fire beat of the music reflected this. All around were ponies dancing, socializing, drinking, or grinding. All of them shined with a patina of sweat, except those who had collapsed into tables or at the bar, drinking and likely trying to regain some energy for the next song. A couple of ponies even had long cords from their mouths, spinning vibrantly glowing rods in a hypnotic pattern that complimented the music perfectly.

Seemingly everypony who noticed her greeted Pinkie Pie warmly, some too warmly for his comfort, and one passed something into her hoof after exchanging a few words. She dragged him to the center of the dance floor and began flexing and waving her body in perfect rhythm to the beat, making his muscles pulse and flex. He tried a few awkward movements but found he just couldn’t match her. She giggled and popped something into her mouth.

“This’ll help ya get into the swing of things,” she declared, “Ever had X?”

“Ecks,” he asked in bewilderment, “What e-mph!”

She pressed her hoof against his mouth and forced a small tablet or pill of some sort down his throat. He staggered backwards for a moment, shaking his head as a feeling of utmost… PLEASURE came over him. Of the next few hours he remembered little, save for a feeling of incredible joy and the knowledge that everypony everywhere loved him; he didn’t know HOW he knew but his gut told him it was true. He did, however, recall stumbling into a small, every-so-slightly private area with Pinkie.

The smell of her drenched in sweat, her heart pounding from exertion, was electric, sending bolts of lightning into the deepest reaches of his brain and setting his nerves on fire. She placed her front hooves on the table and bent forward onto it, flipping her tail out of the way and giving a sultry look over her shoulder. It was an invitation he wasn’t about to pass up.

He planted his muzzle against her plot and inhaled deeply, his eyes rolling back as he exalted in the sweet smell of her. His tongue darted out and dragged along her pussy, causing her to coo and wriggle her flank. The reaction amused him, so he licked her again. And again. Soon his tongue was in her slit more than in his mouth, exploring every nook and cranny it could reach and lapping up every drop of the sweet fluid leaking from her swollen cunt, making her pant and moan. It brushed against a little nub and she squealed loudly.

“There,” she cried loudly enough for him to hear her over the music, “Do that again!”

He gladly obeyed, his tongue ravishing her clit and causing her to gasp and cry out. He pulled the little bundle of nerve endings into his mouth and suckled greedily, making her scream in pleasure. He nibbled it lightly with his teeth and felt her body explode with heat.

“FUCK! YES! OH FUCK,” she cried, pressing back hard against him as her folds began to quiver and pulsate, “I’M CUMMING!!!”

She screamed as hot, sugary liquid flowed from her body onto his muzzle and into his mouth. He swallowed, his tongue working her over to extract more of her delicious juices. His own body was aching as if it would shatter. He couldn’t take it anymore! He raised he body over top of her and pressed against her, planting his hooves on either side of her body. She looked up at him over her shoulder, eyes wild and a thread of drool slipping from her mouth.

“Fuck me,” she shouted at him, “Fuck me hard and deep!”

He wasn’t about to disappoint; his dick was aching and he intended to remedy that. He grabbed her mane in his teeth and drove his cock into her pussy, hilting against her with a wet slap and causing her to scream and press back against him. His brain exploded; the heat and tightness were unbelievable, and the way she quivered and pulsed around his rod almost made him cum as soon as he was inside. He dragged out slowly, tilting his hips back until the head was poised at her entrance again, then slammed home with enough forced to rock her forward, making her scream again. Her repeated the motion a few times before deciding he had had enough teasing and pounding her body for all it was worth, relishing the wet slapping sound of his body meeting her luscious plot.

Pinkie was certainly enjoying the workout her pussy was getting; he both heard and felt her writhing and moaning beneath him, pushing her hips back to meet his and take his dick even deeper into her body. She uttered a string of profanities that would have shocked even him had he cared enough to listen to them, but all he paid any attention to were the sounds of her begging him to go faster, harder, deeper. He though she asked if he was going to cum but he didn’t answer, instead giving an especially hard push that moved not only her but the table they were leaned on.

“My ass,” she shouted at him, “Fuck my ass!”

He was confused for a moment, comprehension escaping him until he repeated her words to himself. Eager to please, and more eager to feeling how her ass was different from her pussy, her pulled out, feeling a momentary sadness as his dick escaped the heat of her slit. The moment passed as soon as he pressed against her plot, the heat and tightness even more intense than before. He started to press in slowly but heard her groan in annoyance below him.

“HARDER,” she yelled commandingly, “Pummel Pinkie’s ass! Fuck it harder than you fucked her pink!”

Joke notwithstanding, he obeyed gladly, slamming himself home and hilting in her back door, causing her to scream in mixed pain and pleasure and his mind to dissolve into an unthinking puddle at the incredible sensation. He took her mane in his teeth to pull her further onto his prick and began slamming in and out, pistoning into the tightness of her passage as deep as he could possibly go. Within moments he was on the verge of cumming.

“Do it,” she cried out, “Cum in my ass! Make a big, messy Pie! Give me all that cum!”

He would have preferred to hold out a bit more but her begging for his cum sent him over the edge. He exploded inside her, blasting wave after wave of thick, gooey cum into her ass. He pulled out slightly to give it more room, but it still leaked around his cock and dribbled onto the floor below them. All the while Pinkie was just groaning and sighing happily as her body was filled with hot Pegasus seed. He pulled off of her, panting, eager to see how much he had wrecked her ass.

He was no less disappointed with his performance than she was. Her pussy gaped and dribbled fluid, but her ass she kept clenched to keep in her reward. He watched her hips move and pulsate as she squeezed and released her ass, cooing at the feeling of all that cum squishing around inside her. She dropped her head onto the table and sighed happily as he sat at the booth next to her, her ass and pussy still jutting out.

“That was awesome,” she said with a smile before kissing the tip of his nose. He blushed hard but couldn’t suppress a grin.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I didn’t know you liked it so rough.”

“Well,” she giggled as her eyes started slipping closed, “Now you can keep that in mind in the future.”

His spent cock twitched at the prospecting of fucking her ragged again but didn’t have the energy to even fly at half mast.

“I love you,” he admitted as his eyes began to sink shut. She mumbled something unintelligible that he couldn’t make out. He wondered if he’d have understood even if he hadn’t been passing out.