Bad Dog!

by airbournesquid

Rating: teen
Tags: Sex, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Main 6, Romance, Diamond Dogs, Comedy, Rarity
Length: 9135

A Diamond Dog meets the mane six, and kicks it off with a very unlikely mare.

Rover hadn't planned for this.

Everything had been going so well for him up until now. He had gems in his pockets, food in his belly and friends by his side. What more can a Diamond Dog ask for?
But then it happened, that stupid, botched robbery. Now, by order of Equestrian law, he's stuck with a year of community service. An entire year! But you know what the worst part is? The real cherry on the cake?

He's been saddled with her!

Published 2013-08-25 16:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-09-07 19:25:16 UTC

Welcome to Hell

Spot unplugged his fingers from his ears and crawled out of the foetal position. Wow. That was... Big. Dust and smoke still spewed out of the tunnel entrance, and the unmistakable tingly scent of magic clotted the air. The boom-stick had worked like a charm. Slowly, a smile began to creep across Spot's squashed, pug-like face.

"Boom-stick make big bang." observed Fido as he clambered to his feet beside him. Spot plucked the lantern from where he dropped it used it to examine his work fondly. Burn marks clawed at the sides of the tunnel, and patches of earth here and there still gout small tongues of flames. The crispy smell of burning was almost overwhelming.

"Aye, boom-stick make real big bang." Spot chuckled. Everything had gone perfectly. The stick had exploded instantly, just as the shady unicorn he'd bought it off of said it would. As much as he despised ponies, he had to admit that they had some pretty neat tricks up their metaphorical sleeves. They had a clear entrance into the bank, and easy way to transport the goods, and best of all, Rover had been reduced to cinders. Now he and Fido were left with a two-way cut instead of three.

A small pang of guilt arose in his chest when his thoughts turned to Rover- however, that guilt was promptly crushed by an immense wave of excitement. Sure, he'd sacrificed one of his most loyal and trusted companions who'd served by his side for decades on end, but hey, he did it for a good cause!
Gems.

Lots and lots of gems.

They waited for the tunnel to finish belching out smoke before plunging back into its dark depths. The walls were blackened with soot, and a thick veil of dust hung in the air like a heavy mist. The duo stumbled through the smoke, eager to claim their prize. From what Spot had heard, Equestrian banks were goldmines, absolutely brimming with riches.

Spot's heart began to beat faster when he saw the sunlight in the distance. They were almost there, by the Sun-Horse he could almost smell the gems from here! They were so close, so close!

Then, they heard a voice.
A voice that had wrought itself into their minds ever since they had first heard it all those months ago, and tormented them ever since. A terrible voice. An ungodly voice. A voice that had shattered their dreams and taunted them through their nightmares. A voice that oozed with pure, unadulterated evil.

"SWEET CELESTIA, MY BOTIQUE!"

No. No, no no no no. It couldn't be... It simply couldn't be!

"SOMEPONY, ANYPONY, HELP!"

There was a frantic clopping around the charred hole in the ceiling of the tunnel. Next to Spot, Fido whimpered pitifully. He began to inch his way back down the tunnel, away from the hole. Something told him that it wasn't the Ponyville Bank they had just broken into.

Spot stood where he was, his instincts telling him to run like a mad-dog, but his greed urging him to stay where he was. This wasn't happening. What would... she who's name they did not speak... be doing at the bank? Getting a loan? Then why did she call it her boutique? What did that word even mean? Was it just some fancy Prench word for bank?

Oh dear sun-horse.

They just blew up her boutique.

Spot turned to his friend, his lust for riches replaced with an overwhelming terror. "We just blow up the White Pony's botique."

Fido's Face dropped. His squinty eyes shrank into pinpricks and his ears flattened themselves against his skull. A pitiful whine escaped his lips. "T-the Miss Rarity's botique?" Fido had no idea what 'boutique' meant either, but if it belonged to her, then it was bad news regardless.

Spot shuddered at the use of the pony's name. Ever since the incident, he'd been scared stiff by the very mention of it. "U-uhuh..."

...

"We run now, yes?" asked Fido, his knees practically knocking together.

A single tear streaked down Spot's face. All of his dreams of wealth and riches, all of his fantasies of living in luxury, sipping wine from a crystal goblet, scarfing caviar by the pawful, hiring his own personal army to work the tunnels whilst he fucked some fancy supermodel...
All of it dissipated with a sound akin to a fart.

"Y-y-yesssss!" he sobbed, already scurrying back the way he came. Fido followed in suit, not wanting to subjugate himself to the white pony's wrath.

Neither of them noticed the Diamond Dog laying twisted and broken beneath the rubble.

*Beep beep beep*

Everything hurt.

*Beep beep beep*

Everything.

Every muscle throbbed with pain, from the major ones down to others he hadn't even realised he'd had up until now. His very bones burned furiously, as if the marrow within them had turned molten. He wanted to get up, scream for help or at least open his eyes, but every movement brought a whole new meaning to the word 'torturous'. Even the simple rising and falling of his chest summoned wave upon wave of agony.

*Beep beep beep*

Was he dead?

*Beep beep beep*

Was this hell?

*Beep beep beep*

The question lingered in his mind like a sour taste upon the tongue. No, that was impossible. There wasn't nearly enough fire and brimstone. Besides, all dogs went to heaven, right?

*Beep beep beep*

Right?

Yeah, of course he was right. He was totally right. He was so God damned right that he was almost wrong, but he wasn't, because he was right. Of course he wasn't dead, of course this wasn't hell, of course he wasn't going to spend the rest of eternity locked away in complete darkness without anybody or anything to keep him company apart from the agonizing pain and an incessant beeping, taunting him on and on, embedding its steady pattern into his mind and slowly ripping apart his sanity as lifetime after lifetime passed him by like seconds on a ticking clock oh God oh God oh God oh God oh-

"Doctor! I think he's waking up!"

Aha! Yes, a voice! Rover willed himself to reach out, but his body seized up in pain as he attempted to move his limbs. Everything felt so brittle, as if he would crumble at the slightest touch.

"Doctor? Doctor where are you? The patient is awake, I said he's awake!"

*Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep*

The beeping grew frantic, its steady pace erupting into an erratic mess of sound.

"Crap crap crap! Doctor? Doctor! There you are, where in Tartarus have you been?! We have a serious situation here, I don't-

The voice dimmed away into nothing. And then Rover was alone.

"Ephameeergh..." groaned Rover, peeling his eyelids open. The light stung his eyes, forcing them shut again. It was bright. Everything was bright. Why was everything so bright? He inched his eyes open again, this time slowly. He sluggishly raised a paw to shield his eyes from the sunlight flooding through the window. 'Stupid sun. We have torches now, planet no longer needs you!'

A stabbing pain shot through his skull. He timidly placed a paw on his head, rubbing it delicately. His head throbbed with what was perhaps one of the worst headaches of his life (coming from a dog clumsy enough to give himself concussions on a daily basis, that meant a lot). The feeling was akin to having his head stuffed full of hot coals, and that was putting it nicely.

Wait, were those bandages he felt?

What was this little plastic tube thingy doing in his wrist?

Why was he lying on a bed?

Where the hell was he?

"Hurro?" he called, his voice a lazy slur. His tongue felt numb and fluffy in his mouth and a rope of drool dangled down from his chops. He felt... dozy. "Hurroooo?" he called again, allowing another tendril of slaver to roll down his chin.

Rover began to feel uneasy. Not only was he above ground, trapped in some strange, white room full of strange, beeping machines (Rover had no idea how or why they beeped, but he chalked it up to black magic), but there wasn't an ounce of dirt in sight.
Not even a speck.

Everything around him reeked of unnatural, and quite frankly, it was terrifying. Here there were no places to burrow, no earth to dig. It was all so alien, so wrong.

A door to his left cracked open, and a white head of a pony nuzzled its way through the gap. A pair of blue eyes surveyed the room, shrinking into pinpricks as soon as they found him. Rover gulped as he began to slowly put the pieces together in his mind. He was lying in a bed in a white room with some pink maned pony staring at him like he'd just sprouted a second tail from his face, with a plastic tube in his arm and a dull sensation in his body. It all meant... He had nothing.

The face peering through the door stared at him for what felt like an hour before Rover decided to break the silence. "Hurroo?"

To say that Doctor Stiches was having a bad day would be an understatement.

Last night had been eventful, to say the least. That fancy-ass Boutique down the road from his place had exploded, waking up everypony within a five mile radius (which was more or less the entire population of Ponyville) and peppering his beloved home with rubble. The majority of his windows were smashed, the roof was ruined, and his beautiful garden- his pride and joy- was bollocked seven ways to Sunday.

The fact that he had to look after the asshole responsible served as the icing on the turd.

Sadly, the explosive said asshole had used on the Carousel Boutique hadn't vaporised him. From what he could gather, the explosive the diamond dog had used was infused with some sort of enchantment that protected the user from the blast. Where he'd gotten it from was a mystery, one that Stiches intended to find out, if only to find the guy who gave it to him and beat him bloody.

'The whole goddamned garden...

Stitches had spent months on that garden, and by Celestia, it had been spectacular. Lilacs, lavender, sunflowers, roses, even a batch of poison joke. Poison freakin' joke! He had gone through so much shit to get that! He'd had to wander into Everfree Forest, find some zebra herbalist called Zecora, pay her a small fortune for the seeds, labour over them for a whole week, turn pink due to contracting some crazy sickness from the flowers which that cheapskate zebra had 'forgotten' to tell him about, go back into Everfree Forest to pay that bitch of a herbalist another small fortune for the cure, and to top it all off, he'd been chased by a pack to timberwolves on his way back home.

All of that hard work, crushed beneath a hail of bricks and mortar a mere two days after he'd finished growing them.

"Maybe I'm just on Celestia's shit list..." he muttered to himself. He was sat in the cafeteria, nursing a warm cup of coffee between his hooves. Work had dragged on mercilessly, with the diamond dog requiring almost constant care. When they'd found him, he'd been pinned beneath the rubble, sadly still very much alive. The entirety of Stitches' day up until now was spent slaving over that mangy mutt, ensuring that he didn't die.
Still, at least he'd have the pleasure of handing the dog over to the authorities as soon as he woke up. That was something at least, although truth be told, Stitches would have been content to have simply left him to die and saved everypony the trouble.

What's more, He'd had to put up with that insufferable Nurse Redheart and her pushy attitude all day. Everything was always urgent with her, and almost always required his "immediate attention." He couldn't so much as take a dump without her booting the bathroom door in and dragging him off to do one mundane task or another. He understood that he was a doctor and had lives to save and all that jazz, but still, couldn't he get at least one minute to himself?

The cafeteria door burst open, and the all-to familiar voice of Nurse Redheart hammered into his ears. "Doctor Stitches!"

Seriously? In the middle of his coffee break? Was nothing sacred anymore?

She rushed to his side and forcibly grabbed him by the foreleg, wrenching him away from the table and his beloved coffee. "Doctor, you have to come quick, it's urgent!"

'Of course it's urgent! It's always bloody urgent!' he almost snapped. "What's urgent, Miss Redheart?" he said in the most refined voice that he could muster.

"It's the diamond dog, he's awake!"

That caught his attention.

Despite how daunting the following week ahead of him was (what with having to replace all of his shattered windows, redo his houses' scarred paintwork and sob mournfully over his ruined garden and all that) there was one small boon that he was looking forward to.
Seeing that scumbag diamond dog's face drop whilst he personally handed his furry ass over to the police.

A smile crept over his face as he told Nurse Redheart to contact the local police department. This was going to be glorious. Wondrous. Mag-bucking-nificent. He'd been daydreaming about this moment throughout the entire day, running it over again and again in his head. He was going to watch that fluffy SOB weep as he was dragged off to some dank cell, and by Celestia was he going to enjoy it.

He paused at the diamond dog's hospital room door, pondering how to make his entrance. Stiches was tempted to just buck the door down, waltz up to the dog's face and blurt "Hey buddy, guess who's the next decade of his life rotting away in jail!", but opted for a curt gentlecoltly knock on the door. He'd play this real suave. He would saunter in there, all professional-like, and then boom, before he knew what was happening to him, he'd be getting dragged off to court, kicking and screaming. That would be priceless.

Stitches pushed the door ajar, as giddy as a foal on Hearths Warming Eve-

To find naught but an empty room waiting for him.

What? This couldn't be right. Had he got the right room? Yes, he specifically remembered wheeling that wretched fur ball over to the hospital bed. So where in Celestia's sun was he? Outside somepony screamed, and Doctor Stitches suddenly realised that the window was open.

'No freakin' way...'

He reluctantly poked his head out of the window, surveying the chaos below. Ponies fled from the streets, screaming and wailing in terror, as the diamond dog bolted away from the hospital, as naked as the day he was born.

Stitches could almost hear the splatter as the shit hit the fan.

Author's Note

I'M ALIVE!

Apologies for my lack of updates. I'd give you an excuse if I had one, but to be totally honest, I'm just plain lazy.

Objection!

"Objective!" Roared Rover, popping out of his chair.

Ahead of him, the judge sighed and rubbed her temples wearily. "For the last time we haven't started yet!" she half growled, half yelled. "Now would you please take your seat and actually stay there? Please!"

Rover was rather new to this whole 'court' thing.

Of course, the majority of diamond dogs were also. Most disputes between diamond dogs were either settled with a fistfight or a heated game of rock, paper, scissors, which was widely considered the epitome of justice distribution methods. Equestrians, lacking fingers, were forced to take up a far more primitive form of judging the accused, hence why Rover was currently sat in the middle of a courtroom being overlooked by a pair of guards.

Stupid ponies and their broken law department...

Behind him rows of ponies sat murmuring to each other, and from what Rover could hear, most of what they were saying sounded pretty damning in his regard. Across the room sat a stallion with a briefcase and some very neat clothing, both of which Rover found peculiarly unnerving. Neatness in general tended to be a fairly distrustful aspect in Rover's eyes.

Behind him, the courtroom doors swung open, and the murmuring and conversation of everypony in the courtroom promptly died out, giving way to the stern clopping of hooves. Rover twisted his head to see what all the commotion was about, only to instantly regret it.

'No...'

Rover was not a very rational dog. For example, his chief fear was vacuum cleaners rather than, lets say, rampant, slavering Manticores with an insatiable lust for canine flesh. To him the phrase 'safety first' amounts to slapping on a helmet before burrowing his way hundreds of feet beneath extremely unstable land. In Rover's eyes a crime can be totally acquitted of by pointing to the person nearest to you and shouting 'He did it!'
But there was one scrap of sense in his somewhat primitive mind. One vein of common thought in the miasma of stupidity of derp-ness that was Rover. A single morsel of reasonable knowledge...
And that was to fear this pony.

"You!" bellowed Miss Rarity as she marched purposely towards him. "You blew up my Boutique!"

Rover's reaction was instant. "She did it!" he squealed, pointing a quivering finger towards the judge.

Mrs White-Wig was not amused.

"Order!" She roared, thumping her wooden mallet. "Miss Rarity, could you please wait until we've started?"

Rarity narrowed her eyes at Rover almost ravenously. "Very well, Your Honour." she said with barely-contained rage. Rover swore for a second that she might actually burst into flames. Sadly, Miss Rarity didn't spontaneously combust and sat herself next to the well-dressed stallion with the briefcase.

Judge White-Wig nodded approvingly. "Good, court is now in session," she beckoned towards Miss Rarity. "Please begin."

The stallion's case clicked open, and he retrieved a trio of photographs from it. "Your honour, let's not draw this out any longer than we have to. We all know-" he made a waving gesture to the jury "-who I guilty here, and we have photographic evidence to prove it." he held the photographs up for all to see. They were pictures of Rover from three different angles, each with him partially buried beneath a heap of debris. Needless to say, it looked rather damning.

"Objects!" roared Rover, narrowing his eyes at the stallion. "Pretty drawings prove nothing! Rarity-pony is liar!"

The judge levelled her eyes with Rover's. "Those are photographs, Mister Rover."

Photo... Graph?

Rover shrugged. "Make no difference what kind of drawing they are, they still drawing! Still prove nothing!"

The eyes of Miss Rarity, her lawyer, the judge and the entire jury lingered on him for a few seconds, simply marvelling at his stupidity. Finally, Judge White-Wig spoke up. "Would Miss Rarity's lawyer like to provide his next piece of evidence?"

"Yes ma'am." said the well-dressed pony. He reached into his case and produced a thick folder. "Here I have an analysis of the residue found on Mister Rover's coat at the scene of the crime. Studies show that The Accused was either handling or in close proximity of the explosive when it was detonated-"

"Objects, objects!" spat Rover. "Boom-stick was not meant to blow up so quickly, I not supposed to be so close! objects!"

"So you did set off the explosive?" inquired the lawyer.

"Not so quickly! It was accident, accident!"

Rarity's glare intensified, her eyes brimming with sapphire flames. "An accident!?" she screamed, exploding from her seat. "My life's work is a steaming pile of rubble, and you claim it to be an accident?"

Rover's fear of the dreaded 'Miss Rarity' briefly gave way to anger. So what if he'd blown up her boutique (Whatever the hell that meant), it's name sounded like one of those Prench words that Spot liked to use to make himself sound smarter, so it couldn't have been that important.
He crossed his arms adamantly and turned his snubbed nose up at Rarity. "That right, not my fault!"

One of Rarity's glare faltered in a momentary, unhinged twitch of an eye. "N-not you fault?" she hissed through clenched teeth. "My... My business is in ruins, thousands of bits worth of my product has been reduced to ashes and my home away from home has been blown to Tartarus! So tell me, dog, who's fault is it, if not yours?"

Rover scratched beneath his muzzle pensively. Couldn't he just blame the boom-stick? No, that wouldn't work. How about Spot? He was the one who gave him the boom-stick in the first place... But then again, Spot wasn't here, so he couldn't really take the blame. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, Rover owed Spot. Sure, he thought he was pushy, lazy and an all-around waste of a good pelt- but he owed him nonetheless. If not for him, he'd still be without a pack.
Then it hit him.

"you!" exclaimed Rover, pointing a grubby finger at Rarity.

"... Me?" said Rarity, her fury replaced with momentary confusion.

"Yes, yes, you! White Pony make boutique place on hard rock, Hard rock! I had to use boom-stick because you made your building on that conker... Concram... Grey Rocky Stuff!" Rover crossed his arms and shot the Rarity-pony a somewhat victorious look. "Your fault! If White-Pony not be so inconsiderate, maybe this not happen!"

One of Rarity's eyes gave an unstable twitch "... Inconsiderate?" she said slowly, as if the word was of some foreign tongue.

"Uhuh," grunted Rover proudly. "Inconsiderate. White Pony make my job harder!" he turned his head away from her, as if disgusted. "Rover spend a lot of time and effort trying to steal your stuff, but he get no respect!"

Once again, the court fell into a deathly, foreboding silence. The jury looked almost numb, gawking at Rover in disgust, confusion and in some cases even pity. Nopony moved, and nopony said a word.
And then Miss Rarity, bearer of the Element of Generosity, bane of Nightmare Moon, feller of the changeling invasion, one of the reformers of Discord, acquaintance of the Royal Family, visage of liberality and all-round national hero, for lack of a better phrase-

Fucking exploded.

She was on Rover in an instant, bowling into him with enough force to send him tumbling to the ground. "YOU WANT RESPECT? I'LL SHOW YOU SOME BUCKING RESPECT!" she wailed, hammering a perfectly-manicured hoof into Rover's face. The whimpering dog tried to wretch the little white ball of fury and hate off of him, but all he got for his efforts was a particularly painful left-hook across the cheek.
"HOW DARE YOU TRY TO PIN THIS ON ME, I'LL PLAY SKIPROPE WITH YOUR INTESTINES AND MAKE A SWEATER- or a coat, depending on the weather- OUT OF YOUR RANCID HIDE!"

He futilely raised a paw in surrender, only to have Rarity sink her teeth into it. Rover whined in agony as her blunt, vegetarian teeth ground into his palm. Her forehooves kept on pummelling into his head whilst her hind hooves located his crotch and began brutalising it remorselessly. A pair of guards had seized her from behind and fruitlessly tried to tear her away from Rover. Eventually Rarity gave up trying to cave Rover's head in and simply resolved to strangle the life out of him instead. Her hooves found his throat and squeezed so hard that Rover felt as if his skull may just burst like a Bolognese-filled water balloon.

Luckily, the guards finally got their act together and managed to drag the frenzied mare off of him. A good thing, too. From the way she was foaming at the mouth, Rover was pretty sure that she had rabies. Ponies were able to get rabies, right?

"Order!" screamed Judge White-Wig, hammering her mallet so hard that it was a wonder it didn't snap in half. "For Celestia's sake, this is a courtroom not a wrestling ring!"

"But you heard what he said," snapped Rarity, still struggling against the guards. "That creature is a monstrosity, a monstrosity I say! I demand that he be hung, drawn and quartered!"

White-Wig rubbed her temples wearily. "Miss Rarity, the death sentence is not upheld by the Equestrian Government-"

"So Rover is free to go?" interrupted the diamond dog.

"No, the severity of your crimes has earned you at least-"

"Can't you at least cut off an ear or something?" wailed Rarity. "Please?

"No-"

"Ha, yes! So Rover is free to go, haHA! You lose White Pony!" spat Rover.

"But that's not faaaaair! I want his eaaaaar!"

"ENOUGH!" roared Judge White-Wig, spittle spraying from her mouth. "Mr Rover," she snapped, pointing her mallet towards him in a movement so quick that it elicited a small whelp from the quivering diamond dog. "Considering the evidence put forth along with your all-around blatant guiltiness, I sentence you to an entire year of servitude to Miss Rarity! You shall cater to her every whim, do whatever she asks of you and give your complete and utter obedience to her or to whoever she wishes you to!"

"W-what?" stuttered Rover. He was being turned into a slave? Worse still, a slave for White Pony? She may as well just lop his head off here and now! He glanced at the dreaded Miss Rarity, and grimaced when he noticed that she was glaring back at him, a toothy, predatory smile adorning her face. Rover knew that smile all too well. It was the same one that Spot would use when either him or Fido brought a fresh kill home for lunch.

That was the smile of a pony who wanted blood, and downright knew that she was going to get it.

He looked back to Judge White-Wig, and raised a quivering paw to get her attention.
"M-miss Judge pony, can Rover just have death sentence?"

Author's Note

It... It's alive!

Fun With Family

Fun With Family

"So you see, if he travels any further than two hundred feet away from you, the collar will administer a painful electric shock, as shown."

*BZZZT*

*YELP!*

"Oohohohoh, how delightful, again, again!"

*BZZT*

*Whimper*

Rarity chuckled to herself as the Parole Officer demonstrated the power of the 'shock collar' for the umpteenth time. Who knew that something as simple as electrocuting a diamond dog could be so fun? His little whimpers and moans of pain served as the icing on the cake.

"As you can see, a shock can also be administered manually by pressing this button here-" he passed the remote to Rarity "-now I trust that you'll use this responsibly, Miss Rarity. Overusing the shock-collar can lead to serious brain dam-"

*BZZT*

*Whine*

"Yay!"

"Miss Rarity please, this isn't a toy!" chided the Parole Officer.

"Apologies, I was merely testing."

"You've tested it twenty times over already," deadpanned the Parole Officer. "You know if you abuse the shock collar I have every right to take it away."

Rarity hung her head in defeat. "Fine, I'll be good, fashiona's honour." the Parole Officer smiled and nodded acceptingly, believing Rarity's bluff. Rover would have too if not for the devious smile she gave him as soon as the other pony's back was turned

"Great, in that case you're all set to go, Miss Rarity."

"Wonderful! Thank you oh so much for the help, darling," the blue aura of her magic enveloped the crude, club-like end of Rover's tail and hoisted it, along with the lower half of the diamond dog's body, into the air. Rover flailed fruitlessly as Rarity dragged him towards the exit, giving a merry 'ta-ta' to the Parole Officer as she did so.

She dropped her cheerful visage as soon as the door slammed shut.

"Into that alleyway, now." she snapped, not bothering to wait for a response before she gripped his collar with her magic and lobbed him face-first through a pair of trashcans and into a small alley between two houses. Rover was scrambling to his feet unsteadily, a banana peel slipping off of his head, when Rarity sent a fresh wave of magic ploughing into him, pining him to a wall.

"So here's the deal, darling. I'd worked for years on end to make my boutique the most successful in Ponyville. For months on end I slaved over sewing machines and worked knitting needles until my hooves bled. I nursed and loved my business with the hope of it one day becoming something truly marvellous. In other words, that boutique was my foal, my foal, do you understand?"

No.

"Y-yes!" whimpered Rover.

"good!" chirped Rarity. "Now, I'll make myself clear. You belong to me. You do what I want, when I want and how I want. You disobey-" she held the trigger for the shock collar threateningly overhead. "-I hurt you, capiche?" Rover nodded feebly. "Good. Oh, and If you do anything, anything to embarrass me, so help me Celestia, I'll twist off your head and drink your blood from a bootie!"

"A-a bootie?"

"A bootie. Now come along, you have ponies to meet and pain to endure." she said nonchalantly.

Rover glowered at the White Pony as she waltzed out of the alleyway. He'd always been good at following orders- in fact anything that saved him the trouble of thinking for himself was alright in his books- but taking them from a pony? Moreover, a pony with a fancy-shmancy accent? That was downright embarrassing. He was a Diamond Dog, a King of dirt and rock and all things earthy! Not some stupid pony's plaything-

"Oh!" exclaimed Rarity, stopping herself mid-stride. "I almost forgot, I bought a little something for you," she opened her saddlebags and levitated out a brown leash, which she immediately threw over Rover's head and tightened around his neck. "There we go, much better."

Rover tugged at the leash in aggravation. The Rarity Pony had made it suffocatingly tight, no doubt on purpose. He growled in rebellion. "No leash, no leash! Rover not pet!" he snarled, still struggling in vain to remove the leash.

"On the contrary dear, you're as much of a pet as my dear Opal," said Rarity, now using the new leash to wrench Rover along behind her. "Only far more expendable..."

What do you do when you see a small white mare effortlessly tugging along a threatening, green-eyed beast thrice her size?

Nothing. You just stop and stare, unsure whether you should be frightened, worried, or just flat-out confused, as were the citizens of Ponyville.

It was a little discomforting, to say the least. Rover never liked having eyes on him, especially the freakishly big eyes of ponies. It was bad enough that he had to remain above ground and completely exposed, but being the centre of attention for an entire village worth of ponies? Rover had to wrestle with his primal instincts to stop himself from stuffing his head into the ground and burrowing his way to safety, which he would have, had it not been for the leash White Pony had wrapped around his neck.

Stupid ponies and their leashes...

'Rover should run,' he thought to himself. Run away and dig. Ponies not follow him, ponies never go underground. Underground is safe.' he stopped himself when he remembered the shock-collar around his neck. The White Pony had made it very clear that she wouldn't object to using it.

Ahead of him, Rarity drank in the stares of the crowd merrily, flaunting Rover about as if he were some great conquest of hers. That was what Rover hated the most, her Sun-Horse-Damned self-righteousness. All of these prissy little ponies had got it into their mind that they were the dominant species on the planet, and that everybody else was just fighting for second place. Of course, this was complete and utter nonsense. Diamond dogs were the obvious victors when it came to species superiority. They could dig holes, play dead, and even lick their own crotch. How many other species could claim to be able to do that?

*BZZT*

Rover yelped at the sudden shock, glaring at Rarity with a revived hatred.

"Apologies dear, I just wanted you at full attention, we're here!" she made a flourishing gesture towards the quaint house in front of them. The walls were painted a buttery yellow, whereas the roof was a purple not all that different from Rarity's mane. For the most part the architecture matched that of the other houses surrounding it, although the shape of the windows gave it something of a Victorian feel.

Of course, Rover noticed none of this, apart from the colours, that was- ever since his last run in with Rarity, purple had become his least favourite colour.
Stupid ponies and their colour schemes.

Rover's feeling of unease doubled as Rarity tossed him through the door and face-first onto the carpet. Having a roof overhead that wasn't made of dirt felt wrong in a number of ways, and the distinct lack of that homey 'wet soil smell' only added to his discomfort. The air was thick with the reek of those fancy Prench perfumes that pony mares loved to stink themselves up with. To a pony it would have barely been noticeable, but to Rover's honed nose it was enough to make him gag.
He pulled his mug out of the surprisingly plush carpet to observe his painfully bright surroundings. The walls were a creamy white and the floor a vibrant blue. From the walls hung some of those fo-toe-graff drawings like the ones Rarity's lawyer had flaunted around in court, only most of these were of Rarity with two other ponies and a pony-pup, none of whom he'd ever seen before. The bright colours were enough to sting his eyes.

"I'm hoooooome!" sang Rarity as she pranced gracefully through the door. A head poked around the corner of an open door. It belonged to a white stallion with a large, brushy moustache and thatch hat.

"Father, come! Don't just stand there, come say hello to our new guest!" with his daughter's beckoning, the stallion stepped out into the hallway. His coat was a magnificent white, and three hoofballs adorned his flank. He wore a blueshirt flecked with flowers.

His eyes narrowed as they laid themselves upon Rover, a small spark of fatherly rage dwindling in his brilliant blue irises. He had the same eyes as his daughter.
Rover despised those eyes.

Rarity's father gave a small grunt of disapproval. "So, You're the dog who wrecked my girl's business?" he grumbled, marching himself towards Rover. His voice was thick with anger, not unlike the growl of a beast. The meaning was all too clear. You hurt my foal, and now I'm going to hurt you. Rover could feel the hackles along his back rising beneath his vest, and would have answered the pony's growl with one of his own, had Rarity not administered yet another stinging shock right there and then. Instead, what came out of his mouth was something between a groan and a whine.

"Now now, play nice." chided Rarity, dangling the shock collar's remote threateningly.

He was really beginning to hate that thing.

The stallion stood over him like a statue, his stony face betraying no emotion. His legs were thick with muscle. The cold blankness of his face managed to be far more threatening than a scowl or frown could ever be. Had it not been for the flowery shirt, stupid hat and the fact that this guy was half his size, Rover would've been terrified.
Rarity, on the other hand, was practically ecstatic. Her eyes flicked eagerly between Rover and her father, as if expecting one of them to suddenly explode any minute.

"Rarity, honey, go upstairs and get your sister." her father spoke with a plain finality, one that left no room for arguments. Rarity's smile faltered for a moment, a disappointed frown passing momentarily across her lips. She turned on her hooves, sparing one last glare over her shoulder. Her eyes lingered on her father before passing to Rover. A rueful smirk flashed across her face, one that he'd seen far too many times before.
It was a smirk that screamed 'You're in trouble.'

Rarity disappeared up the stairs, leaving Rover alone with the stallion looming over him. His frown deepened, his bushy eyebrows knotting together. With frightening ease, he lifted Rover by the scruff of his neck until their eyes were level. "You," he growled in his deep, syrupy voice. "You destroyed my daughter's business."

For a cold, daunting moment, Rarity's father simply stared.

And then he began to laugh.

"Thank you!"

Rover raised an eyebrow. Shouldn't this be the part where he beat the crap out of him?

"My little girl, she's been spending days in that carousel of hers. In fact, I think this is the first time I've actually spoken to her in the last two weeks!" the stallion's grin brought out all the little wrinkles in his face earned through a lifetime of smiling. His weathered face seemed to radiate happiness. "That little business of hers robbed me of a filly, but you, man you gave her back to me!" The hug he gave Rover was neither expected nor welcome. The dog struggled to escape his iron grip, but to no avail.

He expelled Rover from the hug, only to firmly grab his paw and begin shaking it briskly. "Name's Touchdown, pleasure to meet ya!"

"I know it seems kind of selfish and all, but-" he was cut off by the sound of hoofsteps coming from the stairs. Without missing a beat, he drove a hoof into Rover's gut, sending him tumbling to his knees.

"You don't go buckin' with another stallion's familiy like that. My daughter put her life into that business, and you blew it sky high! So here's what's gonna happen: You're gonna do whatever my little girl wants, whenever she wants, understand?" he closed the distance between them, stuffing his head challengingly against Rover's. "Because if you don't-" he narrowed his eyes into slits- "I. Will. Massacare you!"

Rover nodded, and Rarity's father smiled contently. "great, I'm glad we understand each other." he took up Rover's paw in his hooves and shook it heartily. "I'm Sunspot, nice to meet you."

Upstairs a door slammed open, and a small, white filly came rocketing down the stairs. The same rancid reek of perfume hung over her like it did her sister. Her mane was a plush pink and purple, and her coat a soft white. Her eyes glistened with innocent, childish wonder.
Rover hated her already.

"We got a DOG?"

Pink champagne glared ruefully at the bags of cherries hanging from her sides. Thirty bits. Thirty bits for a relatively small sack of cherries. She'd virtually been robbed. That prick of a salespony owned the one and only cherry stand in the market, and by Celestia had he capitalised on it! Thirty bits was a ridiculous price, but then again, the cherries were necessary. No I'm-sorry-your-life's-work-got-obliterated-by-a-hapless-diamond-dog cake was complete without them.

She grumbled dejectedly under her breath all the way home. She wasn't exactly happy that they'd be keeping that filthy mongrel in their house - she and her husband didn't keep their home spotless just so some dirty dog could go and spread his dirt and fur all over the place.

The door burst open as she neared her home, her daughter standing in the doorway, giggy with excitement.

"Mom!" bellowed Sweetie Belle, dashing up to greet her. "You've gotta see this, Rarity's got us a talking dog!"

Author's Note

Sorry about the delay. My other fics and work have been eating up a lot of my time as of late. I'll try to get the next chapter out a lot sooner.

Interlude 1

Rover hated the Pink Pony. He hated her pups, he hated her queer, above-ground den with all of its vile stinks and offensively bright colours, he hated the uncomfortably familiar strain of a collar strapped round his neck and most of all, he hated this rancid, green stuff that ponies called food.

When the Rarity Pony's mother had come striding through the door, Rover knew that she was the head of this pony pack. Rover had spent the majority of his life bowing to top-dogs and pack leaders, so the recognition of an alpha was almost instant. He'd risen himself to his full height and put on his mean-face, determined to show just how little he feared this puny pony alpha-
And then she casually punched him in the balls, ruining his fearsome composure and showcasing her superiority in front of everypony in one, fell swing of a foreleg.

"That one was for my daughter, you son of a bitch." she'd whispered in his ear as he slumped to his knees. Rover had yelped, Rarity Pony made some weird squeaking noise and that Sunny Spots Pony or whatever his name was had covered the Sweetie-Pup's eyes.

Rover had been pretty compliant after that.

And so, with all five of them acquainted and the sun setting outside, Rarity had chirpily led him to his new quarters...

He was sleeping outside.

On the lawn.

Under the sky.

Rover shivered. It was a foolish idea to sleep in such an exposed place. He remembered the last dog who did so- a young, cocky dog named Rex. Spot had bet him two rubies that he couldn't stay above ground for one night. Rex accepted.
Rover found him two days later, missing his bottom half and most of his guts.

The night was a dangerous place for a diamond dog.

Rover sniffed at the air, searching for the scent of a predator, but the overwhelming smell of baked bread, sugar and pony masked everything. It was as if the entire settlement had a cloud of stench hanging over it. It was sickening. The darkness had stolen his sight, and the revolting reek of Ponytown or Ponyplace or whatever they called it, his smell. He was blind in every way that mattered, a terrifying concept, even when hidden in the safe confines of a tunnel. Out here, coddled by the dark and the cold and the threatening winds, it was nothing short of a death sentence.

He wasn't afraid, he was too angry to be afraid. He should be bathing in a sea of rubies right now, courtesy of those stupid pony-banks. Yet here he was, trapped on Rarity pony's territory, trapped without even a simple chain to restrain him. It was humiliating in a way. He was big, he was strong, but one little collar around his neck rendered him completely and utterly helpless. His name had been something that other dogs had spoken with fear. Now it would be nothing more than a punch line to a string of cruel jokes. No doubt he'd be met with endless ridicule for this.
A diamond dog enslaved to a pony. He'd laugh if he wasn't the one enslaved.

Of course, he'd tried to run. That ended as well as you might expect. By his sixteenth try the air was beginning to smell of fried dog, and his filth-matted fur stood on end. Ridiculous. Now not only was his pride ruined, but his fearsome image as well. What would the others do if they saw him like this? Keel over and laugh, probably. He could picture Spot's condescending smile perfectly. He'd seen it so often that his smirking jowls had all but emblazoned themselves into his brain. Stupid Spot. He hoped, wherever the stunted little shit was, that he was suffering just as much as he was.

Spot had endured a great deal of suffering as of late.

Where to begin? The rest of the pack were in an uproar. He'd promised them gems, and all he'd gotten them was dirt. Lucky for him, They hadn't been merciless enough to gut him over it. He had, after all, been an effective leader over his two years in power. Well, he liked to think he was, at least.
Secondly, they were low on supplies. Spot had intended to use part of the funds gathered from the heist to barter with some of the southern packs for food. Seeing as the heist went tits up, they'd have to double their efforts at hunting.
And finally, as if fate had decided to spite him, Rover was still alive.

Rover, the swine. Why couldn't he just lie down and die like a good boy?

He sank his head into his hand and growled. The life of an alpha was a difficult one, especially for one such as he. He had no strength, but he had brains, and at the end of the day the semi-retarded masses that were his pack needed someone to lead them. It was good fortune that they had enough sense between them to pick the most mentally advanced for the job.

But if they thought he wasn't up to the task of leading, challengers would soon start sprouting up...
Spot flexed his feeble arms and grimaced. The position of alpha was something that was often fought over in diamond dog culture. If somebody got the idea into their head that they could do a better job at it than him, he doubted he could do much to stop them.

He plucked a newspaper up from the ground beside him- a couple of their scouts had snitched it from a pair of wanderers. He looked at the front page and smiled. "Diamond Dog felled, sentenced to public service." beneath the headline was a dazed and confused Rover, Rarity-Pony standing next to him and smiling evilly.

Maybe it was better that Rover didn't die. By comparison, this was a far worse fate for the brainless ass.

Author's Note

A small, bite sized chapter to ensure you all that this fic is far from dead. More to come, hopefully soon.

You were only supposed to take the bloody doors off!

Digging a tunnel is hard work.

Unlike digging holes, one must first find a suitable area to carry any displaced dirt, and must also set numerous support pillars along the length of the tunnel in order to avoid any collapses. There are multiple obstacles that one can run into, from rocks to wet patches, each of which should be dealt with in their own respective way. Sometimes, when it rains, the moisture will soak through the soil and flood the tunnel, which meant that any poor soul working on it would have to deal with back-breaking digging, cold waist deep water, and the very real possibility that the passage could cave in at any time and bury them alive. The average Diamond Dog must deal with each of these predicaments, all whilst in the claustrophobic and gloomy confines of the very tunnel they were trying to construct.

As aforementioned, digging a tunnel is hard work.

This was becoming painfully clear to Rover, who was currently clawing away pawfulls of dirt and sediment from a newly constructed tunnel. He panted laboriously as he tore his way through the soil, the only source of light in his dim little world being the weak glow of the lantern held by the Diamond Dog named Spot, who was leant leisurely against the side of the tunnel. He lazily turned towards Rover.
"Are we there yet?" he asked.

"For last time, no!" barked Rover. Spot had been parroting the same obnoxious question ever since they (by which he meant 'he') had started construction on the tunnel. If Spot wanted to finish off this tunnel so bad, why didn't he lend a helping paw? This was his idea, after all.

Fido shuffled in from behind them, heaped as much of the dirt Rover had left in his wake into his arms, and disappeared back from the way he came. Fido was responsible for excavating the soil that was dug through during tunnelling. He was big, brutish, flat-headed, and hardly ever spoke a word. Rover liked him. His silence was much more appeaseable than Spot's mind-numbing complaining.

Spot merely rolled his eyes and returned to his relaxation like the lazy mutt he was. Spot was undoubtedly the smallest of the trio. His head reached no higher than Rover's chest, and the width of his body was dwarfed by the likes of Fido. However, weak as he was in stature, he was by far the most intelligent of the three. Not only was Spot capable of both reading and writing (something that was beyond Rover) but he was also the reason why their pack was so largely successful in their kidnappings, robberies and heists. This scheme, however, would be Spot's 'Piece A-La Resistance' as he put it. Stupid Spot and his fancy-shmancy Prench words.

They'd started construction on the tunnel about a month ago, well outside the parameters of Ponyville. Their target was the Ponyville bank, which according to Spot was brimming with gems, gold and riches. It figured. Ponies had a nasty habit of putting their prettiest belongings behind locked doors, away from prying eyes and thieving paws. It made stealing them all the more difficult, as if their job wasn't hard enough already.

You see, digging tunnels to a specific location requires pinpoint precision, something that neither Spot, Rover or Fido had. Because of this, the trio had been forced to backtrack multiple times, which meant even more digging for Rover. Now Rover wasn't a lazy dog by any means, but there is only so much dirt a dog can dig through before he feels the need for a lunch break. Spot, however, had been very strict on that subject. Every moment Rover spent resting was another moment that they had to go without riches. So, apart from a couple of paltry five-minute breathers, Rover was digging more or less twenty-four-seven.

If this payoff wasn't what Spot had hyped it up to be, Rover swore that he would force him to dig a tunnel to the ends of the earth and ask him what he thought about being the workhorse for once.

"Stop!" barked Spot. "We should be under it by now."

Rover sighed in relief. Thank god. His sinewy arms throbbed with the ache that came with hard work and his breath rasped as he sucked in the air. There, his job was done. Now where the hell were his gems?

Spot rapped the tunnel's ceiling with his knuckles, producing a rocky *thunk*. He grinned. Concrete. This had to be the place. "Oh, this is almost too good!" he chuckled through his greedy grin.

Rover mimicked Spot by also tapping a knuckle against the concrete. He frowned. What as so special about this? It was a slab of grey rock!
"This is it?" he said, disappointed. "I dig tunnel for stupid, chalky rock?"

"No you idiot," growled Spot. "You dig tunnel to get to what's behind the 'stupid, chalky rock!'" He rolled his eyes. Rover may have been useful for manual work, but if there was anything between his ears, he certainly didn't use it.

"But..." Rover scrunched his brow in thought. "How do we get through chalky rock?" Spot rolled his eyes yet again, this time sighing for good measure. Rover didn't know why; it was a good question! Rock was hard, too hard for dog-claws. Why couldn't ponies just build on dirt?

"Fido!" called Spot. The lumbering giant of a dog was by his side almost instantly. "Give me boom-stick!"
Fido reached into the pocket of his scraggy vest and produced a slender, red stick, no longer than the length of his hand. He held it out to spot, who snatched it up greedily. He held it to Rover's nose, pointing at him with it as if it were some kind of wand.
"This is boom-sick!" he growled, shaking the red stick in his paw. "It blow hole in rock, and then we get pretty gems, understand?"
No. No he didn't.

"That stupid!" exclaimed Rover. "How can little stick make hole in hard rock?"

Spot gave him a quick bop on the nose with the stick before turning it around, revealing a small fuse. "We light fuse, and then boom! No more rock."

Rover examined the small red stick with a newfound curiosity. That thing exploded? He slowly reached for it, and to his surprise, Spot actually handed it to him. He ran a finger across its smooth, cylindrical surface. Whatever this exploding-stick-thing was made from, he didn't like it. It felt unnatural to the touch, like plastic.

"You set off boom-stick." said Spot suddenly.

What?! Oh no, Rover may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knew when someone was trying to give him the short straw. "No!" he spat fiercely, tossing the stick to Spot's feet. "It your plan, you do it!"

"Nu-uh, I thinker, you worker, you do it!" snapped Spot adamantly.

Rover crossed his arms and glared at the tiny dog. "No." he repeated stubbornly. "I dig tunnel, I set supports. I did my work-" he leaned in closer, his rotting breath clotting Spot's nose. "You do yours."

Although he'd never admit it, Spot was afraid of Rover. He was strong, not as strong as Fido, but his speed more than made up for that. Rover had the makings of a killing machine, and he didn't even realise it. If anything, that made him all the more dangerous.
Lucky for Spot, Rover didn't have the brains to back up his brawn. He needed Spot, and he knew it.

Spot 'hmph'ed before picking the explosive off of the floor and thrusting it back into Rover's arms. "You set off boom-stick, and you get bigger share."

That caught his attention. Rover's ears perked up at the mention of a bigger cut of the haul. Sure, magical explosives were dangerous and all, but hey, diamonds and gems were shiny! It was practically all the motivation he needed. He snatched the explosive out of Spot's paws. "Fine, I do it, but only if I get big share!

Spot smiled evilly. "Oh, you get big share, you get very big share." he handed a match to rover before bolting back towards the exit as fast as his legs would carry him. Fido followed in suit, leaving Rover all alone in the pitch black darkness.

"Hmph," huffed Rover striking the match upon his ragged shirt. "This better be a good haul."

He set the fuse alight, and the stick exploded in his paws.