Borderline with Gizzoogle

by Lucefudu

Rating: mature
Tags: Dark
Length: 15406

wow...

Three muthafuckin years afta tha 'Cupcakes Massacre', Pinkamena Diane Pie is held up in tha Canterlot Prison fo' tha Menstrually Unbalanced. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da state declared dat ponies like her was beyond treatment or reason… but one doctor took interest tha fuck into tha mare's case n' wanted ta crack open her psyche up in order ta mo' betta understand her actions. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon, a menstrual game of pussaaaaay n' mice takes place; up in which you never know when one is ghon be cornered.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-03-08 00:26:46 UTC

Story

"So, let's start from tha beginning, shall we?" a raspy thug voice was pimped up ta tha pink mare dat sat opposite ta his muthafuckin ass. "Tell me yo' name."

Da mare didn’t answer right away, divertin her attention from tha doctor ta tha room she found her muthafuckin ass in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It was yo' everydizzle therapy room; chairs delicately arranged wit tha table, flavas picked by hoof, plastic plants, standz filled wit books, wool carpet, a leather divan, surrealist portraits fo' realz. All tha needed ingredients ta give one tha subtle idea dat tha doctor be n' would always be yo' intellectual supaior and, most blinginly, ta make tha patients forget dat they was still inside a prison complex.

Da room’s decór muthafuckin helped ta maintain tha feelin of acceptizzle by tha careful proximitizzle ta tha therapist n' tha home-like ambience of tha room, somethang ta which Pinkamena merely snickered, not fazed by it tha slightest. Da noise from tha tip of tha doctor’s quill rubbin against tha parchment’s surface prompted her ta look back all up in tha doctor wit a emotionless gaze.

"Pinkamena Diane Pie." Da voice was frigid, yet unsettlingly calm.

"And you're here cuz you-" he managed before tha mare cut his ass short.

"Ponynapped, tortured both physically n' psychologically yo, butchered, slaughtered, sodomized, raped, cooked n' cannibalized over thirty-six ponies, which included but was not restricted ta elders, infants n' babies," her big-ass booty was rappin calmly, never divertin her gaze from his muthafuckin ass yo. Her voice voice carried zero emotion along wit it; just as if dat biiiiatch was simply statin numbers. Facts.

Her expression quickly chizzled; dat biiiiatch was now smilin warmly at his ass as if both was phat playas. "Also charged of corruptin a minor by elicitin horny-ass acts from her n' breakin holla'd minor's mind tha fuck into muthafuckin helpin me with, what tha fuck you call, my delusion... which be a straight-up wack assumption on yo' part since dat thugged-out biiiatch came willingly ta me,” her big-ass booty holla'd, soundin calm yet inviting.

Da doctor was a lil surprised at what tha fuck dat freaky freaky biatch had just holla'd at his ass yo, but nevertheless kept his thugged-out lil' posture; dis line of work demanded his ass ta be impersonal towardz his thugged-out lil' patients yo. Dude had peeped some maddenin cases whilst hittin dat shizzle as a institutionizzle psychiatrist yo. Dude knew dis mare was tryin ta play a game wit him; one da thug would not partake in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude maintained his crazy-ass muthafuckin impassive stare, tryin ta make tha mare before his ass drop her aiiight façade. Whilst bustin so, his thugged-out lil' punk-ass fuckin started ta physically analyze her muthafuckin ass.

Biatch wore a one-piece orange jumpsuit wit no pockets up in it yo. Her number, 222874, was printed up in black n' sewn tha fuck into a white part of her jumpsuit, next ta her left shoulder. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Pinkamena's jumpsuit, unlike tha other prisoners, was clean n' looked like it had been pressed earlier dat day. It make me wanna hollar playa! But even bein clean n' tidy, tha doctor couldn't muthafuckin help but fight a grimace when he looked at it; somehow it felt dirty yo. Dude looked at her mane n' noticed dat it was straight-up straight, conflictin wit tha mug blasted they had taken of her upon her apprehension. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. For a moment tha pimpin' muthafucka thought dat they had caught tha wack pony yo, but a quick search at her case record holla'd at his ass dat her DNA matched perfectly wit tha saliva samplez dat was taken from tha bodies.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not a threat ta you," her big-ass booty holla'd, liftin her forehooves up n' bobbin tha shacklez right up in front of tha doctor's face, promptin his ass ta look up from his thugged-out lil' parchments ta her muthafuckin ass. "But you know dat if I wanted to, I could strangle you wit these without even alertin tha guardz outside... Wanna bet?" she axed, grill bearin a mockin smile. Da doctor couldn’t muthafuckin help but feel a sudden chill hustlin down his spine as Pinkamena started giggling, her sharp gaze never leavin his muthafuckin ass.

"Fuck dat shit, fuck you,” tha doctor simply stated, backin away tha slightest yo. Dude knew dat dat thugged-out biiiatch could do it if her big-ass booty so desired; tha problem was, is dat biiiiatch willin to, biatch? Dude knew dat dat biiiiatch was just tryin ta scare him; push his ass a lil n' check fo' weaknesses yo. He’d peeped it all before, dis mare was not a god damn thang new. When he realized dat her gaze ran up n' down his being, he bigged up dat dat biiiiatch was also examinin his muthafuckin ass. "What is you bustin?" he axed her, fakin ignorance.

"Oh, I couldn't muthafuckin help but notice tha faint lipstick stain up in yo' coat; had any luck wit a gangbangin' freak todizzle, biatch? Or maybe it straight-up was yo' hoe?" her big-ass booty holla'd wigglin her eyebrows all up in tha doctor, whoz ass struggled against tha urge ta peep his dirty ass.

"Yo ass tell me; which one do you be thinkin it is?" tha doctor axed, knowin dat dat biiiiatch was tryin ta lead his ass somewhere. Da thought amused his ass so, dat he invited her ta press further.

"I would consider you tha freak kind of pony." she answered, matter-of-fmuthafuckin.

"And why is that?" he axed, holdin back his quizzical tone.

"Judgin by tha fact dat you deal wit killaz on a thugged-out everyday basis, I’d say dat you had ta find some way ta blow off screw,” her big-ass booty holla'd, winkin at his muthafuckin ass. “Drizzles, biatch? Even though they is easier fo' you ta acquire, stallionz of yo' status probably frown upon such things...”

When tha doctor opened his crazy-ass grill ta inquire further, dat thugged-out biiiatch cut his ass off once mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this!“Brew, biatch? That belly of yours contrasts a shitload wit yo' thin facial structure; ascites it is, then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Moderately on hood occasions yo, but a funky-ass bit of a heavy drinker on tha side... but even that isn’t enough cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. I can peep it up in yo' eyes,” her big-ass booty holla'd, gettin up from her chair n' pointin towardz his ass wit her forehoof. “Haven’t gots much chill up in tha past few months... yo' work shifts aren’t dat long; you don’t work on a hospizitizzle. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Yo ass are hooked up, n' dat is exactly tha problem.” Biatch allowed her muthafuckin ass ta fall onto her chair before continuing. “Biatch controls yo thugged-out ass fo' realz. And you clearly have thangs wit dat shit. Yo ass must be tha patriarch, afta all,” her big-ass booty holla'd as da hoe fuckin started ta giggle. “Da alpha male biaaatch! Oh, how tha fuck pathetic!”

Da doctor kept his stoic grill n' allowed tha mare ta recompose her muthafuckin ass from her gigglin fit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch wiped tha tears from her eyes wit her forehoof before proceedin further. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. “Biatch constantly argues wit you, makin you lose yo' chill. Yo ass know that, deep down, it is your fault. But still, you blame her fo' tha whole situation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. If it was not fo' her n' yo' daughter,” her big-ass booty holla'd, liftin one eyebrow at his muthafuckin ass. “Yo ass wouldn’t need ta take a thang dat shits you all muthafuckin day. It make me wanna hollar playa! But what tha fuck can you do?” Biatch pouted at him, continuin up in a mockin voice. “Yo ass need ta pay tha bills n' sustain yo ass, yo' hoe n' yo' lil filly... without yo' freak ta muthafuckin help you loosen up, yo' thuglife would’ve crumbled already.”

A thousand thoughts rushed all up in his crazy-ass mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! ‘Biatch spied on me?'  'Biatch knew mah family?'  'Did she plan ta do somethang wit mah family?'  'Did she plan ta do anythang wit Juna!?' But he managed ta remain composed over her taunt.

“And why do you be thinkin I gots a gangbangin' filly?” he axed slowly, lookin seriously at her muthafuckin ass.

Pinkamena never answered dat question. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Time passed by n' she kept starin at his ass fo' tha whole session wit a maniacal grin stamped on her face; he knew dat dat biiiiatch was analyzin his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude formulated freshly smoked up thangs but da ruffneck decided that, dis bein tha straight-up original gangsta day, da thug would let tha mare lead tha session. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da clock on tha wall chimed, signalin tha end of tha straight-up original gangsta session -- which ended without another word from tha mare. Da doctor looked past tha mare n' yelled towardz tha guardz dat stood just outside tha door ta his bangin room.

"Guards!” he yelled once n' waited fo' tha white stallions ta enter tha room before continuing. “Please take her ta her cell. We're done fo' todizzle."

Pinkamena's grin kept itself wide on her face. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch kept it even when tha brutish guardz grabbed her n' tightened they magic grip on her wit mo' force than needed.

"I be thinkin we’re goin ta be tha dopest of playas, you n' I. Don’t you think, biatch? " Pinkamina let up a thugged-out deranged laughter while tha guardz dragged her outta tha room yo. Her laughter echoed from tha prison’s hallways back tha fuck into tha doctor’s room, bustin a cold-ass lil cold tingle down his spine.

Da doctor looked down n' frowned at her case record. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It was true; da ruffneck dealt wit Equestria's worst scum on a thugged-out everyday basis yo, but against his crazy-ass muthafuckin initial thoughts, tha doctor bigged up dat dis mare was not like any of em.

“I need a thugged-out drink...”

* * *

A bangin knock on tha door made tha doctor lift his head from tha nuff case recordz on top of his cold-ass table dat needed ta be sorted up yo. Dude grumbled, checkin his thugged-out lil' pocket watch fo' tha time fo' realz. After lookin at it a second time n' realisin dat Pinkamena’s scheduled session was exactly on time, da perved-out muthafucka sighed but nevertheless holla'd all up in tha guardz ta let her in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da door creaked open n' Pinkamena strutted slowly towardz tha chair before him, tha shacklez producin a irritatin sound as they scraped against tha maple floorboards. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch pulled tha chair wit one forehoof n' sat on it, avoidin tha doctor’s gaze by starin all up in tha wall on her left side.

“Pinkamena, wha-”

"I apologize," tha pink pony holla'd nonchalantly yo. Her eyes never left tha wall, as if dat biiiiatch was lost deep inside tha realmz of her own mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It then became clear ta tha doctor dat dat biiiiatch wanted ta be tha one ta lead these sessions.

"You're sorry?" he axed, shiftin his body up in order at look her up in tha eyes. Da pink mare breathed a weary sigh before shiftin her gaze, lockin it wit his wild lil' fuckin eyes.

"I didn't say that." Her frown intensified. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I holla'd dat I apologize. For tha way I acted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time. It was like rude of mah dirty ass." Except what tha fuck tha mare just stated, tha doctor knew that, deep down, her dope ass didn’t straight-up care bout tha way she acted prior. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Not wantin ta drag dis subject further, tha doctor paused fo' a moment before tyin a thugged-out different approach.

"Pinkie, why-"

"Don't you ever say dat name again! Da only ones dat is allowed to call me dat is mah playaz n' most of dem is dead by now," her big-ass booty holla'd, turnin her body ta grill his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude could peep tha menace up in her eyes, anger boilin up in her ass yo. Dude looked down n' freestyled on his notebook somethang bout not pressin tha issue further fo' now, nahmeean?

"Pinkamena, then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Why did you do it?"

Biatch sighed mo' heavily than before. “Ah, tha one mazillion-bit question. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. What everypony is... dying to know, nahmeean?” Disgust seeped all up in her voice as tha mare muttered dem lyrics. Breathang another -- mo' weary -- sigh, da hoe brought her hooves up n' looked at them, a gloomy frown slowly formin on her muzzle. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch kept still, lookin at her hooves fo' a moment before her eyes slowly rose ta hook up his. Da doctor was a lil surprised when he bigged up dat her eyes was brimmin wit tears. “I be thinkin dat you would’ve guessed by now, nahmeean?.. but daddy... he... he...” Biatch left tha sentence danglin up in tha air as da hoe buried her head tha fuck into her forehooves n' fuckin started ta cry openly.

Whilst remainin apathetic on tha outside, tha doctor smiled a funky-ass bit on tha inside. ‘She’s openin her muthafuckin ass ta mah dirty ass... good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! A big-ass step. Makin progress.’ Dude waited fo' a gangbangin' few minutes fo' her cries ta wind down tha fuck into light sobs before askin her ta continue up in da most thugged-out gentle tone his schmoooove ass could muster.

“Pinkamena,. Biiiatch please.I know dis is hard fo' you yo, but you need ta tell me every last muthafuckin thang.” Dude inched his body closer ta hers, placin a cold-ass lil comfortin hoof on her shoulder.

Da moment she felt his hoof touchin her fur, tha stopped sobbin n' jumped backwardz a lil, startled by his cold-ass touch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch looked at his hoof n' slowly moved her head ta hook up his wild lil' fuckin eyes once mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this!Those wide, cerulean eyes, glistenin wit fresh tears, lookin pitifully at his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch lowered her touchin gaze towardz his wild lil' forehoof n' brought her head closer ta it, nuzzlin his wild lil' forehoof. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch closed her eyes n' furrowed her brows slightly, seemingly up in pain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch took his wild lil' forehoof tha fuck into one of her own n' slowly brought it ta her cheek, holdin it up in place tenderly. Da doctor felt a light weight oppressin his chest when he noticed dat she gently pressed his wild lil' forehoof against her cheek, feelin tha fresh tears dat slowly dripped onto his wild lil' fur.

“It happened tha straight-up original gangsta time I gots sick. Mommy n' both mah sistas went ta tha nearest hood ta git tha specific medicine I needed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! D- daddy holla'd da thug would t- take care of m- m- mah dirty ass.” Biatch resentfully let go of his hoof n' lowered her head, lookin dismal.

“Dude t- holla'd at mah crazy ass ta git all up in his bangin room... da perved-out muthafucka s- holla'd dat schmoooove muthafucka had a special s- s- surprise fo' m- mah dirty ass...” Her ears folded against her head as she looked painfully all up in tha doctor.. “When his schmoooove ass came back, I remember askin his ass fo' mah s- surprise... he... he...” dat dunkadelic hoe trailed off, breathang frantically.

“Dude only s- snickered up in response!” Biatch blurted up before bustin up like a biatch once mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this!Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon, her low bustin up like a biatch intensified tha fuck into a wail dat busted shivers down tha doctor’s spine yo. Her body shook wit each desolate sob as dat dunkadelic hoe tried ta hide her grill behind bobbin hooves.

Da doctor felt a pang strikin all up in his thugged-out ass yo. Dude magically plucked a paper tissue from a funky-ass box on a table beside his ass n' offered it ta her muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch took tha tissue n' blew her snout before her wails continued. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da doctor wanted ta urge her ta continue her rap yo, but silenced his curiositizzle n' waited fo' her ta recompose her muthafuckin ass a lil. Minutes passed before her beatboxin subdued tha fuck into light sobs. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch inhaled deeply n' held her breath fo' nuff muthafuckin secondz before exhaling.

“A- afta da thug was f- finished... tha pimpin' muthafucka holla'd at mah dirty ass...” she paused, inhalin deeply once more, tryin ta hold back her emotions. “Dude holla'd at mah crazy ass dat it was mah fault... dat I h- had forced his ass ta do dat shit.. yo. Dude holla'd at mah crazy ass dat if I was ta t- tell anypony bout it, they wouldn’t b- elieve mah dirty ass... and... and...” Biatch buried her grill on her forehooves once more, allowin tha stream of tears ta flow freely. “... n' I believed him!”

“Pinkamena... I...” tha doctor trailed off, unable ta come up wit somethang ta say up in order ta muthafuckin help soothe her pain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. A part of his ass saw how tha fuck frail she looked, n' wanted not a god damn thang but ta hold her up in a warm, comfortin embrace yo. Dude didn’t move a inch, knowin dat dis feelin was up in conflict wit his bangin responsibilitizzles as a psychiatrist; his schmoooove ass could damage her even mo' just by bustin so.

Upon hearin tha doctor’s lyrics, Pinkamena looked up ta tha doctor and, afta acknowledgin tha moved expression stamped on his wild lil' face, her gloomy demeanor instantly turned ta one of derision. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “Nah, I’m just buckin wit you,” her big-ass booty holla'd as tha tears still streamed down her cheeks, circlin around her mockin grin.

Da doctor instantly frowned; confusion plastered across his whole being. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch looked at his wild lil' grill n' proceeded ta laugh at his muthafuckin ass. “Daddy never touched a single afro of mine or mah sisters’ yo. Dude n' mommy loved our asses all dearly. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah fillyhood was a pimpin' phat one, if you ask mah dirty ass. Of course there was some troublin times yo, but eva since I gots mah cutie mark, I’ve felt not a god damn thang but happiness.” Biatch tilted her head slightly, knowin dat her jest had done cooked up a successful hit.

Da doctor’s grill flushed up in a thugged-out deep tone of red n' dat schmoooove muthafucka had ta fight hard up in order ta conceal his thugged-out anger. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. That mockery, combined wit dat manipulatizzle display made his blood near tha boilin point yo. Dude swallowed his thugged-out lil' pride n' breathed deeply, bustin a menstrual note not ta trust Pinkamena dis easily again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da room was plunged tha fuck into silence once mo' and, just as he opened his crazy-ass grill ta voice some question tha mare started rappin', ignorin his ass straight-up.

“And now you’re wondering; what could possibly have happened ta turn tha inhyped, happiness-filled Pinkie Pie-” her big-ass booty spat dat name wit a thugged-out disgusted look upon her face. “- tha fuck into dis cold-blooded killer.” Da doctor merely nodded up in response. “I peep yo, but let’s put a pin on dat thought fo' a while, shall we, biatch? Let’s rap bout why do you care.”

“Well, I-”

“Oh please biaaatch! Do you straight-up be thinkin dat I believe up in dis ‘I only wanna muthafuckin help you git better’ talk?” she axed him, mimickin his voice n' addin a mockin tone ta dat shit. “I know dat yo ass is paid ta do dis thang. I know dat you suffer from dis thang,” her big-ass booty holla'd nonchalantly. Without finishing, she gots up from her seat n' strutted towardz tha big-ass leather divan before allowin her muthafuckin ass ta drop over it limplessly. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch landed on her back n' crossed her hind legs, lookin all up in tha doctor wit a expression dat signaled dat dat biiiiatch was goin ta stay wherever her dope ass desired to.

“Without me, you n' tha other vultures would be scratchin they rumps off, tryin ta come up wit somethang ta do...” she paused fo' a moment, pokin her chin wit her forehoof, seemingly deep up in thought. “Yo ass could say dat I made yo thugged-out ass.”

“How tha fuck so?” he axed, not fakin his crazy-ass muthafuckin interest.

“Without me, you n' dem ponies from tha media would be nothing. What would you do-” her big-ass booty holla'd, pointin at his muthafuckin ass. “- if I hadn’t come ta brang thuglife tha fuck into your life, biatch? Counsel some idiot whoz ass be thinkin it’s too fucked up ta leave his own house, biatch? Or maybe some moron whoz ass be thinkin dat it’s aiiight ta bust a cap up in his dirty ass cuz nopony loves him?”

Da doctor thought a lil bout what tha fuck dat freaky freaky biatch had just holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Although taken ta tha extreme, up in a way dat biiiiatch was right yo. Dude owed his thugged-out lil' paycheks ta all tha deranged ponies up in Equestria. Were it not fo' them, he’d be strugglin ta survive as a small-town therapist. ‘It somehow takes away tha grandeur from every last muthafuckin thang I’ve studied so hard for...’

His chain of thoughts came ta a abrupt close when tha mare voiced her muthafuckin ass again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “And what tha fuck would tha other vultures write about, biatch? Bout how tha fuck Winter Wrap Up up in Ponyville was late again n' again n' again dis year, biatch? Maybe another speculation bout Supa-Hoe Celestia’s-” her big-ass booty spat tha name, just like her dope ass did when referrin ta her own nickname. “- horny-ass deviances, biatch? .. fo' realz. Actually, dat is a phat thang ta write about...” dat dunkadelic hoe trailed off, musin tha thought.

Da doctor paid no attention ta her last statement bout tha Supa-Hoe n' urged her forward, wantin ta cook up some fuckin real progress “And what tha fuck exactly do you mean by that?”

Biatch sighed wearily, smackin her grill wit her forehoof. “What I mean is dat if I had capped mo' ponies, then I would have felt like I straight-up offered you vultures something. Without me, yo' lives would be boring... meaningless!” Biatch was now wavin her forehooves up in tha air, gesticulatin. “Yo ass need mah crazy ass ta fill tha holez up in yo' chests, cuz no matter how tha fuck much work, sex, sticky-icky-ickys you can use, you’ll never be free from yo' top billin torments.”

“Which are?” he axed, raisin a funky-ass brow.

Biatch dropped her forehooves ta her sides n' lifted her head up in order ta look his ass up in tha eye. “Yourselves.” Once again, she allowed her head ta drop against tha soft surface of tha leather couch. “Even though one could say dat I’ve filled yo' hearts wit terror, sadnizz n' fear, I’ve brought you all closer ta what tha fuck you straight-up are. I was able to, up in a gangbangin' few years, do what tha fuck you could never accomplish durin yo' entire lifespan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I have, even fo' a lil bit, chizzled you from machines tha fuck into ponies again.” Biatch stopped rappin' n' looked all up in tha doctor, whoz ass was too busy freestylin down somethang on her case file ta notice her muthafuckin ass.

”And I plan ta do so again,” she muttered under her breath yo. His head instantly blasted upwards, n' he looked quizzically at her muthafuckin ass.

“I’m sorry, what tha fuck was that?”

“Oh, nothing...” Biatch holla'd as a wide, joyful grin spread across her grill before da hoe fuckin started ta laugh. “Yo ass all ludd me up in yo' sick n' twisted ways... when I was caught, I bet dat tha crew skyrocketed on tha TV fo' realz. At least I am truthful ta mah dirty ass. It takes one lunatic ta recognize another-” her big-ass booty holla'd, meetin tha doctor’s eyes once mo' n' cockin her eyebrow. “- y’know?”

Da doctor made another menstrual note bout her articulation game. ‘Able ta stray from one topic ta a seemingly different one wit ease.’

“I can peep yo' point, Pinkamena. But I still don’t understand why do you consider yo ass so blingin,” da perved-out muthafucka holla'd, foldin his wild lil' forehooves before his chest n' lookin a funky-ass bit cockily at her muthafuckin ass.

Da mare slowly rose from her leather seat n' glared at him, furrowin her brows up in anger. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. “This conversation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Is. Over,” her big-ass booty holla'd up in a thugged-out deep, stern voice as if dat biiiiatch was tha doctor n' tha pimpin' muthafucka tha mere patient. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch jumped off from tha divan n' strutted towardz tha door, bangin on it wit one hoof. “Open up. I’m done here.”

Da door creaked n' tha mare left, promptin tha doctor ta indulge his dirty ass ta bear a smirk fo' a gangbangin' few moments yo. Dude slowly shook his head as da perved-out muthafucka snickered on tha inside before lookin down n' levitated a quill ta write on her case record.

Unable ta properly handle deception; prone ta violent outbursts when contradicted.

“Hmmm...” tha doctor muttered before a knock on tha door signalin tha start of a freshly smoked up session wit another patient broke his ass up from his cold-ass thoughts.

“Ah, Miss...” he paused n' looked down ta his case records, tryin ta remember tha name of tha mare before his muthafuckin ass. “... Velvet Rose biaaatch! Please sit down, I’ve been expectin you,” da perved-out muthafucka holla'd, gesturin amicably towardz tha chair before his muthafuckin ass.

Da light purple pegasus nervously strutted forward n' sat on tha chair. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch let her head droop, makin her grill straight-up obscured by her mint chronicmane. Da doctor looked ta her n' then down ta her case record ta check if tha number on her jumpsuit -- 176509 -- matched tha one freestyled on tha scroll.

“So, it says up in here dat you believe Celestia her muthafuckin ass talks ta you when nopony be around... would you care ta explain that, Miss Velvet?”

* * *

Da doctor was calmly freestylin his notes bout his thugged-out lil' patients on his notebook when dat schmoooove muthafucka heard a loud, terrified screech dat echoed all up in tha corridor’s walls outside his bangin room yo. His ears perked up instantly, as he listened ta tha soundz of somepony bein beaten. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da wails gots louder n' louder until tha guardz burst tha door ta his bangin room open n' simply threw Pinkamena inside. Even though tha strangenizz of tha situation made tha doctor go tha fuck into alert mode, da thug was composed enough ta notice nuff muthafuckin chizzlez on tha pink mare; her afro was curly n' her coat was a lighter tone of pink, matchin exactly -- if not fo' tha blood dat trickled all up in her jaw n' dripped on tha floor -- tha mugshot present on her prompt-book.

“Pinkamena?” he axed, not entirely shizzle how tha fuck ta start calmin his fuckin lil' doubts. For tha straight-up original gangsta two weeks dat tha mare was up in his bangin room, she never displayed such muthafuckin helplessness. Even when she mocked tha doctor wit her fake story, her dope ass didn’t seem so fragile. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch looked up ta him; her eyes was brimmin wit tears n' her grill bore tha personification of terror itself.

“Please, I didn’t do anything. I don't give a fuck bout it here. Please, git me outta here,” her big-ass booty holla'd up in a voice tha doctor wasn’t accustomed to. Even though dat biiiiatch was scared, her voice carried a somewhat jubilant tone along wit dat shit. Da doctor was split between acknowledgin dat dis mare wasn’t the Pinkamena or dat dat biiiiatch was just manipulatin his ass once mo' yo. Dude decided ta remain wary of her fo' tha moment n' just act as da thug was supposed to.

“Calm down, Pinkamena. Do you know where yo ass is?” he axed, tryin ta reassure her muthafuckin ass.

"I'm up in a prison... but I don't know how tha fuck I gots here biaaatch! I didn't do anything! They keep spittin some lyrics ta me dat I'm a funky-ass bad pony,” her big-ass booty holla'd, slowly gettin up from tha floor n' chillin on her haunches. “They say that... dat I've done things yo, but it's not true biaaatch! IT’S NOT TRUE!” her big-ass booty screamed, gettin up n' givin a step towardz his muthafuckin ass. Da doctor was quick magically push her back, forcin her ta sit down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch looked at his ass pleadingly before her grill drooped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “It's not true..." Her lyrics  were soon followed by sobs, promptin tha mare ta shake as her breathang became mo' n' mo' labuggin out.

“Pinkamena, you’re here cuz of what tha fuck you’ve done,” da perved-out muthafucka holla'd, matter-of-fmuthafuckin.

Her ears folded down n' da hoe buried her head up in her forehooves as her sobs slowly grew tha fuck into a cold-ass lil cry like a muthafucka. “No... NO! You’re lying! I didn’t do anything!” her big-ass booty screamed at him, lookin dejected. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch quickly gots up from tha floor n' galloped towardz one of tha room’s corners, just like a scared pussaaaaay bein cornered by a hungry cat. “I- I wanna peep mah playas!” Biatch turned her head around, lookin desperately fo' something. “DASHIE! DASHIE HELP ME!”

Da doctor paused, musin over tha somewhat familiar name yo. Dude quickly levitated her case record close n' read a entry which busted lyrics bout dat Rainbow Dash was one of her nuff suckas yo. Dude looked up ta tha mare, whoz ass stopped beatboxin but kept her muthafuckin ass cuddled against tha corner of tha room. Da silence was permeated by tha occasionizzle sob of tha pink mare, only bein broken when tha two guardz from tha outside opened tha door, lookin quizzically all up in tha doctor.

“Is you aiiiight, doc’?” one of dem axed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da doctor noticed dat Pinkamena shielded her muthafuckin ass from tha guardz when dat thugged-out biiiatch caught sight of em.

“Well, why wouldn’t I be?”

Both guardz just looked from tha doctor, ta Pinkamena n' back ta tha doctor before one of dem turned around n' left. Da other kept his suspicious glare fixed on tha bustin up like a biatch pony fo' a gangbangin' few mo' moments before leavin as well.

“Dashie... please...” Dude heard her pleadin ta nopony up in particular. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Frowning, he made his way ta his cold-ass table n' opened one of tha drawers up in it before levitatin a funky-ass brownish paper folda up from dat shit.

‘If she’s displayin some sort of dissociatizzle personalitizzle disorder, dis could muthafuckin help dis scared Pinkamena accept what tha fuck dat freaky freaky biatch had done. If she’s goin ta be reintroduced up in society once mo' -- if such thang is even possible anyway -- dis mare has ta vanquish the Pinkamena.’ Dude thought, examinin tha sobbin mare on tha corner. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. ‘Dissociatizzle personalitizzle isn’t somethang you could emulate like dis y'all... dat thugged-out biiiatch can’t be faking.’

Dude sighed, knowin dat such shockin shizzle would be kicked it wit wit a wide variety of phat emotions from tha mare. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still, such shock would prove itself useful up in tha long run; she needed ta accept her past.

“Pinkamena... Rainbow Dash...” Dude couldn’t muthafuckin help but feel a lil bad fo' tha pony before his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. At tha mention of her playa, her ears picked up n' tha mare looked up ta his ass wit pleadin eyes. “Pinkamena, you capped Rainbow Dash.”

Da mare looked at his ass mo' horrified than before. "No... it’s not true," dat biiiiatch whispered almost inaudibly.

"Pinkamena, yo-"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT! I HATE THAT NAME!" she yelled at him, lookin mo' distressed than supa pissed yo. Her lil outburst was soon followed by mo' tears.

“Listen ta me!” da perved-out muthafucka holla'd, trottin next ta her n' promptin her ta shield her muthafuckin ass from his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude proceeded ta grab both her forehooves wit his own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “Yo Crazy-Ass name don’t matter playa! What mattas right now is dat you must trust me!”

“No! Let go of me!” her big-ass booty holla'd, strugglin ta break free from his wild lil' freakadelic grip. “I don’t believe up in you, nahmean biiiatch?” Da doctor frowned a funky-ass bit n' levitated tha folda towardz her muthafuckin ass yo. Her strugglez made his ass lose his wild lil' focus, promptin tha folda ta fall down ta tha ground n' scatter tha pictures it contained all around her muthafuckin ass yo. Hangin bodies, bathtubs filled wit crimson blood, various mechanical contraptions, tha procedure table n' a wide variety of blood stained tools. Da mare gagged when her big-ass booty saw a particular photo of a funky-ass body up in a advanced stage of decomposizzle dat fell next ta her muthafuckin ass.

Da pink mare backed away from tha pictures dat surrounded her, lookin frantically from one ta tha other wit wide eyes. Da doctor felt her forehooves stop strugglin n' so, he let go of her muthafuckin ass. “No... Dashie, no... it’s not... it’s not possible,” her big-ass booty holla'd, slowly bobbin her head side ta side.

“I’m... sorry,” was all dat his schmoooove ass could mutter.

Da mare stopped sobbin n' fuckin started ta laugh. But it wasn’t like dat mockin laughter like tha ones she always gave him; dis one was a straight-up trippin n' forced laughter, borderin mania. “Ha ha! Dope one, doctor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. This is one of Dashie’s pranks, isn’t it?” she muttered in-between laughs, lookin frantically all up in all tha photos. “Ok, Dashie, you can come up now! Yo ass gots me!” Biatch looked desperately ta every last muthafuckin corner of tha room, searchin fo' tha place where she imagined Rainbow Dash would pop up n' tell her dat it was all a funky-ass big-ass prank.

Her maniacal grin fuckin started ta falter when she bigged up dat silence was tha only answer dat biiiiatch would be receiving. “Dashie, dis isn’t funky anymore biaaatch! Come out!” da hoe blurted out, forcin her voice ta sound as jovial as possible. “Please!” she yelled, lookin frantically all over dis biiiatch.

"Pinkamena, you have ta accept tha fact dat you capped all these ponies,” tha doctor holla'd, soundin tired, yet hopeful. “Yo ass have ta start acceptin tha consequencez of yo' actions. You're not tha straight-up original gangsta murder-" Da pink mare instantly turned her head n' looked straight at his muthafuckin ass.

“NO! I DIDN’T MURDER ANYPONY!” dat biiiiatch was beatboxin mo' violently than before, even thought her eyes conveyed zero emotion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “WHY DO YOU INSIST ON CALLING ME A MURDERER?! I’VE NEVER HARMED ANYPONY!” Biatch gripped tha doctor by his collar, promptin his ass ta screech, alertin tha guardz outside.

Da door flung open violently, nearly bein torn from its hinges n' tha guardz rushed inside. Pinkamena’s eyes widened at dem n' she quickly let go of tha doctor, backin away from tha guardsponies until da hoe bumped tha fuck into tha wall. Da guardz weren’t fazed by her display of fear n' galloped towardz her before proceedin ta hit her repeatedly wit they batons.

Da doctor could only watch up in awe as they clobbered her incessantly. Blood splattered against tha walls n' tha floor wit each hit until tha mare collapsed n' fell limply over tha wooden floor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Even though tha mare was passed out, both guardz continued they assault on her muthafuckin ass. Da doctor, finally wakin up from his wild lil' fazed state, trotted towardz tha guards.

“STOP! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL HER!” tha doctor yelled, makin both stop wit they batons up in mid air n' peep his ass quizzically, shocked by tha fact dat da thug wanted dem ta spare dis mare’s life. Da doctor quickly strutted towardz Pinkamena, only ta stop dead on his cold-ass tracks when da perved-out muthafucka saw her rise n' buck tha two guardz all up in tha same stupid-ass time, flingin dem past his dirty ass.

Pinkamena looked all up in tha doctor n' tackled his ass before his schmoooove ass could react, brangin both ponies ta tha floor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Tears n' blood dripped onto his wild lil' grill as da perved-out muthafucka struggled ta git tha mare away from his muthafuckin ass. “Believe me biaaatch! I don’t need ta bust a cap up in anypony!” her big-ass booty holla'd, fightin against her sobs. “I be thinkin it!” her big-ass booty holla'd, lettin go of tha doctor wit one forehoof, before tappin it against her forehead three times. “I have it here!”

Just when dat freaky freaky biatch had finished her statement a funky-ass baton strike on tha back of her head made her head fall limply on tha top of tha doctor’s chest. For a moment, tha pimpin' muthafucka thought dat dat biiiiatch was dead yo, but dat thought quickly subdued when he felt her slow yo, but constant breathing.

One of tha guardz proceeded ta carry her unceremonially away from tha doctor fo' realz. A thin blue veil wrapped itself onto tha mare as tha guardz dragged her all up in tha facility’s floor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. It was only when tha guardz dragged tha beaten pony outta tha room dat tha doctor grasped tha legit extent of tha situation; her thuglife could be up in peril. Quickly gettin up, he galloped outside his bangin room n' towardz tha guardz dat was now nearin a cold-ass lil corner on tha hallway.

“Wait!” he yelled, promptin tha guardz ta pause n' turn around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “Listen ta me, n' listen well!” tha doctor holla'd, practically yellin all up in tha guard’s face. “Yo ass will take her ta tha infirmary n' I want her ta be treated hommie biaaatch! Properly dawwwwg! Do you understand me?” Dude glared daggers all up in tha guard, whoz ass merely glazed dryly back at his muthafuckin ass. “I’ll have yo' badge if her dope ass dies. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

Da smallest guard of tha pair gulped n' nodded quickly yo, but tha bigger one merely snickered all up in tha doctor, his wild lil' grill bearin a mockin smile fo' realz. After a gangbangin' few momentz of silence, he nonchalantly turned around n' strutted towardz tha big-ass room by tha end of tha corridor labeled ‘Infirmary’, bustin up as they dragged her limp body across tha floor.

As they carried her away, tha doctor couldn’t muthafuckin help but peep tha beaten mare. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch wearily opened one of her eyes -- tha other eye, bein too swollen, was incapable ta -- n' looked back gloomily at his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude saw her lips movin yo, but her voice was too low fo' his ass ta hear.

Da doctor kept his watchful eyes on tha pair of guardz until they had left tha infirmary, leavin Pinkamena inside yo. Dude sighed, grumblin ta his dirty ass n' strutted back ta his bangin room yo. Dude locked tha door from tha inside n' sat onto his chair, rubbin a hoof against his cold-ass templez before magically openin a thugged-out drawer up in his fuckin lil' desk n' producin up a funky-ass forty of whisky yo. Dude opened it up n' downed it right there, not carin fo' drankin glasses or ice.

Da liquid burned all up in his cold-ass throat n' he felt a warmnizz dat irradiated from inside of his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude took another long gulp before levitatin Pinkamena’s case record onto tha table fo' realz. After readin tha scroll from top ta bottom multiple times, his thugged-out lil' punk-ass banged his hooves over tha desk up in frustration. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Openin up his notebook, he looked over tha nuff scribblings dat schmoooove muthafucka had freestyled bout her; speculations n' theories yo. Dude turned a gangbangin' few pages n' looked at one of his crazy-ass most recent notes.

Dissociatizzle Personalitizzle Disorder , biatch?

Dude frowned n' took another gulp directly from tha forty. Levitatin a quill, da ruffneck dipped it tha fuck into tha inkwell before pressin its tip onto tha paper n' bustin a quick movement, snappin its tip.

Dissociatizzle Personalitizzle Disorder , biatch?  

* * *

“It has been a long-ass time, Pinkamena.”

“Judgin by yo' tone, I’d say it wasn’t long enough.” As much as he’d don't give a fuck bout ta admit it, dat biiiiatch was right. Ever since his thugged-out lil' punk-ass fuckin started havin these sessions wit her, his thuglife took a turn fo' tha worse yo. He’d spend minutes tryin ta analyze her case, thankin hard bout every last muthafuckin thang she eva holla'd at his muthafuckin ass. Less n' less time would be dropped wit his wild lil' gang until his wild lil' fuckin ever-growin absence prompted his hoe ta divorce his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch didn’t want tha doggy den nor tha scrilla; she just wanted a cold-ass lil clean separation up in which each pony could go on wit they lives. Da divorce itself didn’t do much ta tha doctor yo, but tha fact dat lil Juna wanted ta be wit her mutha instead of his ass broke his thugged-out ass. For one full week dat schmoooove muthafucka has been livin on his fuckin lil' doggy den all by his dirty ass, as his wild lil' fuckin ex-hoe took all her belongings n' went ta live wit her mother.

Dude sighed n' shook his head, tryin ta rid his dirty ass of dem unpleasant thoughts yo. Dude gave one quick look ta tha mare lyin on tha leather couch, wit her back turned against his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch had limped all tha way from her cell, tryin her hardest not ta force tha sprained musclez on her leg yo. Dude also noticed dat her eye wasn’t as swollen as he remembered it ta be four weeks ago. Da cuts n' bruises was almost straight-up healed yo, but her big-ass booty still wore a funky-ass bandage on her forehead.

“Is yo thugged-out ass... aiiight?” his voice trembled tha slightest.

“I’m fine,” dat freaky freaky biatch harshly answered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! After a gangbangin' few moments up in silence, her big-ass booty sighed wearily n' turned her head ta grill his ass directly before replyin up in a mo' gentle voice. “Thanks...”

Da doctor lowered his head n' looked all up in tha freshly smoked up report bout Pinkamena dat he received four weeks ago. It simply stated dat dat biiiiatch was cuz of solitary confinement fo' a month, makin her miss her appointments. But what tha fuck had her dope ass done, dat schmoooove muthafucka hadn’t gots a cold-ass lil clue.

“What happened four weeks ago?” he axed, liftin his wild lil' fuckin eyes from tha paper up in front of his ass ta peep tha mare, which had turned her head once more, lookin all up in tha wall. “I heard some tha guardz rappin'... tha prisoners also had some rumors bout somethang dat happened yo, but I wante-”

“I capped a pony,” she answered nonchalantly, cuttin his ass short yo. Her lack of empathy towardz such phat statement didn’t faze tha doctor tha slightest; up in tha three sessions they had, dat schmoooove muthafucka had nuff time ta git accustomed wit her apathy.

“And how tha fuck do you feel bout it?” he axed, promptin tha mare ta breath up a annoyed sigh before turnin her body straight-up on tha couch.

“Bad.” His ears perked up when dat schmoooove muthafucka heard dat word; dis would be tha straight-up original gangsta time Pinkamena felt bad bout cappin' somepony. Da doctor noticed tha contrast between her appearizzle n' her demeanor; dat biiiiatch wasn’t fucked up nor filled wit remorse.

“And why is that?” he pressed further, tryin ta understand what tha fuck exactly dat freaky freaky biatch had meant by that.

Biatch brought one forehoof ta her head n' massaged her temples, groanin all tha while. “Because it wasn’t needed... I mean- it was necessary yo, but her number didn’t come up.”

At tha mention of her inhyped list, his wild lil' fuckin eyes widened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Soon, thoughtz of bein praised fo' bein tha straight-up original gangsta ta have eva cracked tha mare’s notorious psyche crossed his crazy-ass mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch noticed tha sudden chizzle up in tha doctor’s posture yo, but didn’t act likewise.

“Then why did you do it?” da thug was barely able ta contain his dirty ass. What da thug wanted most was ta bombard tha mare relentlessly wit thangs yo, but he knew that, da hoe bein her muthafuckin ass, dat was probably a straight-up bad idea.

Biatch grumbled somethang unintelligible before rockin her forehooves ta git up from tha leather couch, chillin on its edge wit her body hunched forward. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “Aren’t you listenin ta me?! I holla'd it was necessary!” she punctuated dat sentence by givin his ass a annoyed look.

“Yes, Pinkamena. But what tha fuck do you mean by necessary?” Dude folded his wild lil' forehooves up in frustration, tryin ta find a openin his schmoooove ass could exploit up in order ta indirectly ask her bout tha List.

“Oh, she just had somethang dat I needed,” she replied, soundin juvenile.

“Have you tried askin her fo' it?”

Biatch simply shrugged at his muthafuckin ass. “No. I made it of no further bust ta her muthafuckin ass.” Her head slowly turned n' she looked up in his wild lil' fuckin eyes before breakin up in a sickenin grin, bustin shivers down his spine yo. Dude stopped fo' a moment ta ponder on her statement n' ta compose. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Such powerful, certain lyrics comin up in such a thugged-out deranged way.

“How tha fuck come?” he finally muttered, lowerin his wild lil' fuckin eyes from her fixed gaze.

“Well, she’s dead, isn’t she?” After she muttered that, he fought against facehoofin from his own stupidity; not only had he lost his openin ta make her rap bout her list yo, but he knew he made her his supaior tha moment his thugged-out lil' punk-ass broke his wild lil' freakadelic gaze yo. Dude grumbled a funky-ass bit before decidin dat he needed ta be direct wit her bout tha List.

“Pinkamena, tell me bout yo' List,” da perved-out muthafucka holla'd, tha lyrics a funky-ass bit stern when they left his crazy-ass muzzle.

Her eyes instantly blasted open wide. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch arched her body towardz his ass up in a menacin way, makin dem frigid goosebumps crawl down from his back once mo' yo. Dude looked at her yo, but quickly regretted it when da perved-out muthafucka saw her incredulous eyes fixed wit his. “Is dat a order?!” she nearly screamed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Both stood still fo' minutes, they gaze locked within each other’s; Pinkamena’s displayin her boilin rage n' his, a primal fear.

Dude gulped.

“I guess not,” her big-ass booty holla'd mockin his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch allowed her muthafuckin ass ta fall over tha leather couch once mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this!“Even I don’t know how tha fuck it works... It’s not somethang material, like a lottery box, up in which you just pull a random number out... but it’s not up ta me ta chose from either... I don’t understand its logic yo, but I know it’s there,” her big-ass booty holla'd, soundin frustrated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch sighed n' closed her eyes. “I don’t like bustin it without tha demand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! But I’m not a pony’s pony anymore... sometimes you just have ta do things.”

Openin one of her eyes, she looked all up in tha doctor wit a gangbangin' frown on her face. “Biatch beat down me, if that’s what tha fuck you straight-up wanna know, nahmeean?” After finishin her sentence, dat thugged-out biiiatch coughed intentionally, tryin ta make her voice a lil raspier. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch raised one hoof ta tha air n' placed tha other on her chest, as if dat biiiiatch was bustin a Shakesmarean quotation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “Confront what tha fuck frightens or offendz you; reckless rap or insultin should never go unchallenged.”

With her absence explained, thangs was slowly startin ta become clear yo, but tha aspect of her List still stood up in tha doctor’s head, temptin his ass all up in tha cloud of doubts. When he opened his crazy-ass grill ta speak, dat thugged-out biiiatch cut his ass before his schmoooove ass could mutter another word. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “Biatch came yellin towardz me durin lunch... dat dunkadelic hoe holla'd at mah crazy ass dat tha Supa-Hoe demanded dat I should be purged from dis ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! So dat mah filth couldn’t taint it anymore... Now dat I be thinkin of it, I muthafuckin did her a gangbangin' favor,” her big-ass booty holla'd, pokin her chin wit a gangbangin' forehoof.

“A favor... ?” tha doctor axed, raisin one eyebrow.

“Anypony whoz ass be thinkin dat it’s aiiight ta obey somethang blindly deserves far, far worse. I’ve only broken her neck; quick n' clean.” Biatch closed her eyes n' furrowed her brows, anticipatin his next question. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “And no. I know dat tha Supa-Hoe wouldn’t ask anypony ta do such a thing.”

Da doctor his dirty ass frowned, there was somethang bout dat rap dat seemed awfully familiar ta his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude pondered on dat thought yo, but no matter how tha fuck hard tha pimpin' muthafucka tried, his schmoooove ass couldn’t remember her name yo. Dude menstrually shrugged n' holla'd at his dirty ass dat da thug would ask tha guardz bout dat mare’s name afta Pinkamena’s session. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. If his schmoooove ass could remind his dirty ass of bustin so, dat is.

“And why do you obey yo' List blindly?” he axed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Pinkamena’s demeanor chizzled; her dope ass didn’t like dat question nor his cold-ass taunt. Bitin her lip, she refrained from explodin n' chizzled tha subject.

“I’ve never holla'd at you bout some curious thangs dat I came across up in my... line of work, did I?” Da doctor shook his head up in response. “So nuff ponies... most of dem begged fo' they lives when they felt dat tha end was nearing. Once they realized that, no matter how tha fuck much beggin they could possibly do, they fate was already sealed, they turned all they emotions towardz mah dirty ass.”

“Mostly anger, sadnizz n' regret... It was almost as if I was tha source of all they agony,” dat thugged-out biiiatch caught her muthafuckin ass n' erected her statement. “Da agony accumulated all up in they entire lives, dat is; not only tha end of dat shit.”

Da room was silent fo' a gangbangin' few secondz before her big-ass booty snickered n' started gigglin all up in tha spectrum of memories rushin all up in her mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! After a gangbangin' few moments, she on tha fuckin' down-lowened down n' resumed bustin lyrics, cleanin tha tears from her eyes wit a gangbangin' forehoof. “I often caught mah dirty ass thankin bout what tha fuck I was bustin... not wack thangs like ‘Is it right or wrong’, no.. n' you KNOWS bout how tha fuck much of ponies I was able ta turn dem tha fuck into up in they dyin moments.”

"I'm sorry yo. How tha fuck much of a pony you was able ta turn dem into?" he axed, straight-up trippin. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Pinkamena sighed loudly before da hoe fuckin started ta explain her muthafuckin ass.

“In they dyin moments, tha ponies reveal whoever they straight-up are. It be up in they last minutes dat they truly express every last muthafuckin single contained emotion inside of themselves. I was able ta reassure dem dat they weren’t dead yet. I was able ta make dem feel kickin it wit tha prospect of dirtnap. Their final catharsis...”

“Have you eva thought bout bustin it wit yo ass, biatch? I mean- have your catharsis?”

Biatch giggled at his question, as if it was da most thugged-out innocent thang his schmoooove ass could’ve axed her muthafuckin ass. “Oh yo, but I am aware, doctor fo' realz. And cappin' mah dirty ass would just take away it all... but enough bout this; let’s git back ta tha other subject,” her big-ass booty holla'd, gesticulatin circlez up in tha air wit a gangbangin' forehoof. “Once, I came across a stallion... didn’t like know his muthafuckin ass. But somethang strange happened dat day; when I started hittin dat shizzle on him, da ruffneck didn’t yell at me, or beg me ta live... his thugged-out lil' punk-ass begged mah crazy ass ta do it!”

“To... do it?” Biatch looked at him, a expression of utter disdain plastered across her face.

“Dude begged mah crazy ass not just ta bust a cap up in his ass yo, but ta torture his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude wanted mah crazy ass ta punish his ass fo' every last muthafuckin thang da ruffneck did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude was a real pony... he accepted what tha fuck da ruffneck did wrong. I didn’t pay it much thought at dat time; but now I stand dumbstruck at how tha fuck much unique ponies can be... n' yet, all up in tha same stupid-ass time, how tha fuck common they sheezy themselves ta be.” Once again n' again n' again dat thugged-out biiiatch coughed a lil n' raised one forehoof tha fuck into tha air. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Da doctor foresaw another quotation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “Only tha savages regard pain as measure of worth.” Biatch closed her eyes n' allowed her raised hoof ta fall limp on top of her muthafuckin ass yo. Her hoof stayed up in place, along wit tha unmovin mare; tha only movement hintin dat dat biiiiatch was still kickin it was her breaths, rhythmical n' calm.

Da doctor quickly ducked n' covered his dirty ass when she leaped tha fuck into tha air. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. “I’m tired, is you tired, biatch? This is gettin boring,” she quickly holla'd, smilin at his muthafuckin ass. Disregardin her pained leg, da hoe bucked tha door on tha outside n' marched up wit her head held high, carin lil fo' tha guardz dat restlessly assaulted her wit they batons; she kept struttin as if dat biiiiatch was straight-up unaware of they presence.

‘Such... eagernizz ta end these sessions... it feels...’ tha pimpin' muthafucka thought, scratchin his crazy-ass mane wit a gangbangin' forehoof. ‘It feels as if dat freaky freaky biatch has somewhere else ta be...’

Da doctor done cooked up a menstrual note that, since Pinkamena wouldn’t go tha fuck into further detail as ta how tha fuck her List worked, da thug would try a thugged-out different approach; askin her mo' thangs bout her Pinkie Pie persona, n' why did dat freaky freaky biatch had allowed her take over on tha session prior yo. Dude looked at his clock n' sighed, Pinkamena was his fuckin last patient fo' tha day; da thug was finally free ta go home n' rest yo. Dude looked down ta her case file n' frowned a funky-ass bit yo. Dude instinctively gave his watch another check before unrollin tha long parchment.

‘Still have nuff daylight yet... yes, home can wait.’

* * *

In tha next sessions, not much progress was made. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sometimes Pinkamena would just stare all up in tha doctor wit a strange smile on her face, makin his ass shudder every last muthafuckin time dat biiiiatch wasn’t up in his fuckin line of sight. Others dat biiiiatch would just make lil' small-ass rap bout how tha fuck tha prison treated whoever was inside of it, both convicts n' workers. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch seemed ta gots a vast knowledge bout tha prison's dynamics n' its inhabitants. Da doctor went even as far as ta be thinkin dat dat freaky freaky biatch had some sort of secret notebook, one up in which dat biiiiatch would write down every last muthafuckin detail bout everypony dat thugged-out biiiatch came across yo. Dude did not humor dem thoughts n' shrugged them; it would be impossible fo' a normal pony ta be able ta remember so much wit such accuracy. ‘But still...’

A few times dat schmoooove muthafucka had tried ta make her rap a lil mo' bout her List. But every last muthafuckin time da ruffneck did so, dat biiiiatch would either yell at him, ignore his ass straight-up or sway from tha topic wit ease. No matter how tha fuck nuff sessions was already spent, n' no matter how tha fuck much mo' da thug would be able ta spend, tha doctor felt dat tha once tangible truth was now slippin all up in his hooves.

"Pinkamena, tell me bout yo' playas." Dude had tried his dopest not ta sound either too demandin or pleadin yo, but noticed when tha mare visibly cringed.

"I gots a straight-up boner fo' mah playas." Biatch faked a smile towardz him, one which da thug was quick ta acknowledge. Da doctor couldn’t muthafuckin help but feel a lil fazed by dis answer; neither dis was tha answer dat schmoooove muthafucka had hoped fo' yo, but it also made lil sense, seein dat dat freaky freaky biatch had capped most of em yo. Dude knew of ponies dat capped they loved ones cuz of some sort of paranoia. They often fronted dat they was only protectin em. Others done did it fo' jealousy. Pinkamena, on tha other hand, was above all dem standards.

“Would you-”

“-mind spittin some lyrics ta me why you capped them?” dat thugged-out biiiatch cut his ass short, mimickin his voice. “Yes, I’d be delighted to.” Dude bigged up tha irony up in her voice. Pinkamena swore ta her muthafuckin ass dat dat biiiiatch would rather bust a cap up in another pony up in dis biatch, just ta be busted ta tha solitary confinement once mo' n' not be available ta answer his crazy-ass moronic questionings. To her, it still remained a mystery as ta why tha doctor was still breathang afta buggin her fo' so long. “What do you wanna know?” Biatch resented.

“Why exactly did you do it?”

“Ughhh! Again wit dis question, biatch? Seriously?!” Biatch looked at his ass wit a thugged-out deep frown. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “Yo ass never ask me bout tha funk parts muthafucka! Yo ass always wanna know why... I’m sick of it!” dat dunkadelic hoe holla'd at him, grippin her head between her hooves up in order ta stop her stormin migraine.

“I ju-” her big-ass booty silenced his ass by liftin a hoof.

“It was mah playtime wit Rainbow Dash dat gave me tha idea.. fo' realz. After I was done wit her, I had dis strange feeling. I didn’t wanna bust her only fo' mah recipes, no. I wanted her ta be wit me forever,” her big-ass booty holla'd n' fuckin started ta smile, as if reminiscin of memoriez of old. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da nonchalant voice was slowly givin way fo' a mo' hyper tone as tha smile gots wider n' wider.

"I gots so buckwild from tha idea dat I thought bout goin fo' tha rest of mah playaz right away. It took me a shitload ta control mah dirty ass dem next days. But I can't have all tha glory ta mah dirty ass... tha ponies from Ponyville muthafuckin helped mah crazy ass ta soothe my anxiety." Biatch proceeded ta giggle and, lil by lil, tha giggle grew tha fuck into a cold-ass lil chortle. Da doctor could peep tha joy up in tha mare's eyes; but his schmoooove ass couldn’t muthafuckin help but cringe at dis yo. Dude thought back bout her case record; it would need a funky-ass big-ass revision, fo' Pinkamena, by all means, wasn’t a apathetic pony.

When her laughter took a dirt nap -- somethang dat took longer than what tha fuck tha doctor had wished -- Pinkamena paused fo' a moment before goin tha fuck into mo' detail. "Fluttershy was tha second one of mah playaz ta go.. n' you KNOWS dat biiiiatch would be tha easiest one... I was dead wrong," her big-ass booty holla'd, emphasizin tha last word as her big-ass booty smiled all up in tha doctor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. "It was fairly easy as fuck ta brang her over ta Sugarcube Corner. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. But gettin ta her muthafuckin ass... now that was a real challenge. Not only was she able ta untie her muthafuckin ass -- even though dat was probably mah pupil’s mistake -- her ass is tha one whoz ass lasted tha longest."

Pinkamena once again n' again n' again closed her eyes, tryin ta live tha memory ta its fullest. "Even though she fought until tha dope end, dat biiiiatch was one of tha few dat didn't blame me fo' what tha fuck was happenin fo' realz. All skanky Fluttershy could do was ta constantly ask me why I was bustin dat shit. Well, her big-ass booty shouldn't have!” Pinkamena exfronted, displayin a lil bit of anger. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. “When I tried mah dopest ta explain it ta her, da hoe broke down up in tears. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was a straight-up dear playa of mine... that's why I juiced it up so dat thugged-out biiiatch could last longer." A gentle smile formed itself on Pinkamena's muzzle.

Da doctor was now payin tha price fo' his curiosity, even though he knew Pinkamena was keepin all tha 'good' parts ta her muthafuckin ass. In dat sense, dat biiiiatch was egotistical; her memories n' vibe was hers ridin' solo.

"Twilight was tha last one of dem dat I caught." Her smile contorted itself tha fuck into a annoyed frown, n' tha doctor knew why. "It's a phat thang dat Zecora's number came up before hers. Otherwise I wouldn't be able ta git even near her muthafuckin ass... I needed ta take care of dat horn first."

Da doctor suddenly winced up in his chair yo. Dude had read bout some middle-age tortures involvin de-horning, it holla'd dat tha suckas often begged fo' they assailants ta finish they lives, only ta end they tormentin pain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It would seem a natural erection; tha horn was pretty much like a pony's spine, filled wit nerves, ganglions, bone, a lil bit of cartilage n' -- what tha fuck seemed ta tha doctor as her straight-up part -- a thugged-out direct connection ta tha unicorn's dome.

"Wait, tell me bout dis Zecora first." It was another name dat dat schmoooove muthafucka had some vague memoriez of hearin before; it was linked wit tha incidents yo, but a funky-ass body was eva found.

Biatch sighed wearily. "There's not much ta know, nahmeean?.. I faked a gangbangin' thugged-out git on over ta n' axed her bout unicorn magic n' how tha fuck it was supposed ta work. I axed her fo' a potion ta dampen one's magic abilitizzles n' holla'd at her it was fo' a prank. When I had what tha fuck I needed, I muthafuckin helped mah dirty ass ta some soup, just like dat dunkadelic hoe holla'd at mah crazy ass to." Biatch lifted her head ta hook up tha doctor's gaze. "Did yo dirty ass know dat zebra's flesh gotz nuff mo' proteins than dat of a average earth pony?"

Da doctor didn't know how tha fuck da perved-out muthafucka should possibly answer dat if his schmoooove ass could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Not hearin a answer from tha pale-lookin doctor, Pinkamena smiled n' continued. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Twilight was a funky-ass bit harder ta git yo, but easy as fuck all up in tha same stupid-ass time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was always so immersed up in dem bookz of hers. It only gots worse afta Rainbow Dash n' Fluttershy was gone. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So all I needed ta do was ta throw a jam fo' her muthafuckin ass... dat biiiiatch wouldn't come if she knew dat dat biiiiatch would be tha only guest, though." Biatch smirked at that, findin how tha fuck easy as fuck deceivin Twilight was. “It was easy as fuck , I just had ta make her drank dat potion n' I was soon able ta restrain her mah dirty ass. Unicorns is no match fo' earth ponies without they horns..." Biatch gave his ass a wink.

"You... you cut her h- horn!?"

"Yes yes y'all... but dat only happened later... oh how tha fuck ghettofab was dem screams..." Pinkamena closed her eyes, relivin tha memories once again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch sighed outta pure joy.

        “And you done did it without anesthetics!”

"I'm not a medicinal doctor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I don't have tha luxury of buyin anesthetics or painkillaz. I had ta do it wit what tha fuck I had on hoof. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sheezy I could have axed Zecora fo' a pain relievin potion yo, but dat would ruin all tha fun!" Biatch gave his ass a smile n' a playful giggle.

Da doctor didn't know if dat biiiiatch was tryin ta taunt his ass or if that's tha way she straight-up acted yo, but her constant display of sadizzle was straight-up gettin ta his ass n' aint a thugged-out damn thang dat yo' ass can do yo. Dude could only imagine Twilight's pain as Pinkamena slowly sawed her horn off. "So I gave her tha potion, renderin her horn useless... n' I gots rid of it fo' her muthafuckin ass." Biatch paused fo' a moment n' subtly opened her eyes. Da grin was back on her grill as dat thugged-out biiiatch cracked up some sort of twisted joke inside her head.

"Why is you laughing?" tha doctor axed, deeply annoyed wit tha maniacal laugher.

"It's so ironic... I was tha straight-up original gangsta pony dat Twilight kicked it wit on her first dizzle on Ponyville..." Biatch didn't need ta finish tha sentence; he knew what tha fuck came next. "... n' I was tha last pony her big-ass booty saw before her dope ass died." Da laughter picked up ta a mo' maddenin tone yo, but it didn't last. "I should've saved her fo' tha last... now dear Applezjack n' Raritizzle is probably mournin over her muthafuckin ass."

"I'm sorry, Pinkamena. I don't be thinkin I follow."

"After Twilight disrocked up, word gots ta Canterlot n' both Supa-Hoees searched everywhere up in Ponyville. I was caught off mah guard, or else I would still be there." Biatch paused n' put a hoof on her chin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "Anyway, if Twilight's number hadn't come up, Applezjack n' Raritizzle wouldn't have ta mourn over they three playaz as they would be dead themselves.” Da doctor didn’t reply, tryin ta cook up some fuckin sense outta dis mare. “Sometimes I wonder what tha fuck hurts dem most: havin three of they dopest playaz dead or knowin dat it was another playa whoz ass done did dat shit." Biatch removed tha hoof from under her chin n' bounced up from tha couch. "Oh well, I guess I'll just have ta ask dem bout it!" her big-ass booty holla'd up in a jovial voice.

"Wai- wha- ask them!?”

"Oopsies.” Biatch giggled n' went ta tha door, buckin it n' gallopin off. Da guardz chased afta her all up in tha corridor, followin her when she done cooked up a sharp turn ta tha left. Da doctor quickly gots up from his seat n' went ta tha door, chasin afta her muthafuckin ass. Whilst hustlin, he levitated a syringe filled wit sedatizzle from his thugged-out lil' pocket; if worse comes ta worst, da thug would be prepared. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! His chase came ta a end when he reached tha prison’s atrium, where Pinkamena ran up in circles, dodgin every last muthafuckin attempt of tha guardz ta seize her muthafuckin ass. They screamed her name n' nuff muthafuckin other obscenitizzles at her yo, but she just giggled n' evaded dem doggystyle.

‘Biatch don’t wanna be caught yo, but her dope ass didn’t attempt ta escape either... what is that mare up to?’

* * *

Da doctor thought bout what tha fuck other aspectz of tha mare's mind his schmoooove ass could start ta study. Questionin her bout tha incidents led his ass ta nowhere. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So did askin bout tha List yo. Dude paused fo' a moment before he remembered tha dizzle up in which Pinkie Pie was 'her muthafuckin ass' yo. Dude done cooked up a menstrual note ta ask tha mare bout it on dat session.

Just as da thug was done thankin bout it, tha door burst open startlin tha doctor, whom jumped a funky-ass bit yo. Dude saw tha bouncin Pinkamena enterin tha room, smilin warmly ta his ass all tha while before he noticed dat her afro wasn’t puffy, makin it clear ta his ass dat dis wasn’t Pinkie Pie.

"Yo ass seem awfully cheerful todizzle, Pinkamena," da perved-out muthafucka stated, unable not ta share a smile of his own wth her muthafuckin ass.

"Yes, todizzle is a phat day." Biatch seemed hyper n' kept movin her hind legs, as if straight-up trippin or anxious ta do something.

"And why is that?" he axed, a funky-ass bit curious fo' realz. After all, it was one of tha few times tha mare flossed genuine joy.

"I could rap yo, but then I'd have ta bust a cap up in yo thugged-out ass." Biatch stopped bouncin n' smiled at his muthafuckin ass.

'Okay, dat went swimmingly...' he thought. Momentz of awkward silence passed as tha pink mare finally broke tha silence.

"I be thinkin I wanna bust a nut on you, doctor."

"Hnm?" That caught his ass off guard.

"Not, like yo thugged-out ass, like yo thugged-out ass... I mean- I do wanna bust a cap up in you yo, but... all up in tha same stupid-ass time... I don't. Weird, isn't it?"

‘Weird, biatch? Try downright creepy hommie!’

"Nuff props, I guess." Da doctor knew he done cooked up a funky-ass big-ass mistake tha instant dem lyrics left his crazy-ass grill. It was not somethang dat could put his thuglife ta a risk yo, but his game. Psychiatrists was supposed ta be impersonal towardz they patients yo. Dude shouldn't sheezy any sign of doubt or any other weakness, even thought tha mare had pressed his ass tha fuck into unconsciously committin holla'd flaws on tha sessions prior.

Biatch smiled at his ass n' gots up from her chair. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. "Peace out," her big-ass booty simply holla'd, struttin towardz tha door.

'Peace out!?' tha pimpin' muthafucka thought. ‘Da session just gots started. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time fo' realz. And her dope ass didn't even explain her muthafuckin ass!’ That n' tha fact dat da perved-out muthafucka still needed ta ask her bout tha dizzle up in which Pinkie Pie took place. 'Screw professionalism!'

"Wait!" he yelled a funky-ass bit too loud, promptin tha mare ta stop dead on her tracks.

"What, biatch? I'm busy todizzle." Biatch holla'd, not turnin ta grill his muthafuckin ass yo. Her whole composure was chizzled, her shoulder blades arched along wit her back as her big-ass booty sighed up in annoyance; tha happinizz prior had straight-up died.

'Busy, biatch? What could she possibly do up in a place like this?'

"I'd like ta ask you, Pinkamena, bout tha dizzle up in which you let Pinkie Pie take control." Upon hearin his fuckin lyrics, tha mare slowly turned around ta grill his muthafuckin ass.

"What bout it?" she axed slowly, avoidin his wild lil' freakadelic gaze directly.

"If you don't give a fuck bout Pinkie Pie so much, why let her take over?" Da doctor was expectin some kind of answer dat went up in between tha linez of 'to make her suffer' or somethang like dat n' like dis n' like dat y'all. But tha mare's erection was straight-up different. Pinkamena's eyes went wide as tha mare cracked up a heartily guffaw. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was mockin him, n' tha fact dat da ruffneck didn’t know why juiced it up all seem worse.

"Oh doctor..." Biatch holla'd in-between laughs. ".... n' you KNOWS you was tha smart-ass kind of pony." Biatch kept on bustin up as tha doctor stood there paralyzed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude paused ta wonder what tha fuck was goin inside of her head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch cleaned tha tears from her eyes wit her left hoof n' looked all up in tha doctor yo. Her aiiight posture slowly shiftin tha fuck into a one of deep concern. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "You... you straight-up don't git it, do yo thugged-out ass...?" Biatch lifted her head n' glared all up in tha doctor, her grill contorted up in a gangbangin' frown as she raised left eyebrow.

“There never was a Pinkie Pie."

* * *

These months fuckin started ta take a toll on tha doctor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. There was bags under his wild lil' fuckin eyes n' he felt a seemingly constant need ta chill; but even dat couldn't relieve his ass of his thugged-out anguish, as tha nightmares seemed ta constantly terrorize his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude didn’t know exactly why; dat schmoooove muthafucka had peeped dirtnap n' crazy ponies before fo' realz. An immunitizzle ta such shocks was somethang most professionals up in dat line of work probably pimped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude sighed wearily as he reached tha interior of his crib.

Da place mirrored tha doctor's physical appearance: a total mess. Pots n' bitz of chicken was left on tha kitchen sink, straight-up unwashed; threadz was scattered around tha floor, competin wit tha nuff books n' notepadz fo' space; almost all of dem was coffee-stained. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da doctor often found his dirty ass so immersed up in his cases, dat his schmoooove ass couldn't be thinkin bout anythang else. Even though most cases took they toll on tha doctor's mind n' body, hers was by far da most thugged-out exhaustin one he eva took care of.

Dude placed his thugged-out lil' patients case filez on tha corner of tha table dat wasn’t stacked wit papers n' books. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sittin on his couch, he picked up a nearby coffee-stained book n' started ta flip its pages, not straight-up payin attention ta tha lyrics printed on it yo. His mind was filled wit every last muthafuckin thang tha pink mare holla'd n' how tha fuck strange dat freaky freaky biatch had been actin lately. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Settin his crazy-ass mind against another night's chill, tha doctor started pilin some books which tha pimpin' muthafucka thought could shed a light tha fuck into tha subject. When da thug was done, he felt dat he needed a juice pickup; but dinner would take too long.

Dude trotted towardz tha kitchen n' started ta pour gin n juice up in a seemingly-clean pot. When it was nearly full, he placed tha pot over tha stove n' turned it on, allowin tha gleamin embers ta heat tha def water.

His ears perked up n' a adrenaline jolt pumped all up in his veins as tha pimpin' muthafucka turned around when dat schmoooove muthafucka heard a noise inside his crib. Without hesitatin, he galloped towardz his thugged-out lil' phone n' called tha five-o, alertin dem dat da thug was fearful dat somepony had broken tha fuck into his crib. Da five-o ponies was quick ta act, takin note of his thugged-out address n' spittin some lyrics ta his ass dat a patrol chariot was on its way ta check up on his muthafuckin ass.

Dude hung tha telephone n' levitated a greasy as fuck fryin pan, intendin on rockin it as a weapon against any possible assailants yo. Dude slowly strutted towardz tha livin room, wary of his surroundings yo. Dude noticed dat tha nuff prompt-books previously stacked on top of tha table was all over tha floor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Bendin down, he picked one by one ta stack dem neatly once again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude checked tha namez of tha patients up in tha prompt-books, all was present.

Except fo' one.

His head turned up when dat schmoooove muthafucka heard rushed hoofsteps comin from his bedroom yo. His ass raced up in his chest as his crazy-ass magical grip on tha fryin pan tightened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude tried ta strutt as on tha fuckin' down-lowly as possible towardz tha bedroom yo, but tha nuff books, scattered papers n' notepadz betrayed his thugged-out lil' position. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude placed a hoof on tha doorknob n' lightly pushed it, promptin tha creaky door ta open slowly.

Dude entered tha dimly lit room n' slowly strutted inside, rockin one forehoof ta feel tha walls until his schmoooove ass could find a light switch. With a quick movement, tha room straight-up lit, n' tha doctor noticed his bedroom window broken, glass shardz scattered around it, indicatin dat one of mah thugs entered his fuckin lil' doggy den via tha window fo' realz. Above his bed, somethang caught his thugged-out attention; a gangbangin' familiar scroll.

Warily struttin towardz it, he placed tha fryin pan on top of tha mattress n' proceeded ta open tha file. Da first thang he noticed was a white emblem wit black numbers sewn ta dat shit.

176509

“Velvet Rose...” he muttered under his breath, blamin his dirty ass fo' not rememberin her name n' fo' not askin tha guardz bout it when dat schmoooove muthafucka had tha chizzle yo. Dude slowly unrolled tha scroll n' noticed dat they was gettin progressively stained wit a moist red. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! His hooves fuckin started ta shiver n' a cold-ass lil chill ran down his spine. Near tha bottom of tha scroll there was Juna’s straight-up hairband, straight-up soaked wit blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! His breaths became frantic n' he felt on tha verge of havin a ass attack.

“Oh Juna... no...” was all his schmoooove ass could mutter, as his schmoooove ass closed tha file n' tossed it on top of tha mattress yo. Dude hugged tha hairband as if it was his own daughter, tears brimmin his wild lil' fuckin eyes n' streamin down his cheeks. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang caught his thugged-out attention n' he looked back ta tha file. There, up in tha back of it, freestyled up in a cold-ass lil crimson liquid, stood tha lyrics:

I will make it of no further bust ta yo thugged-out ass

His blood chilled n' his wild lil' fuckin ears perked up as dat schmoooove muthafucka heard a noise comin from tha livin room.

Bonus Chapter: So Sweet n' Tasty

“Alright, what tha fuck we’ve got?” Buckshot announced ta all present as da perved-out muthafucka stepped tha fuck into tha five-o station. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “This mo' betta be good, I’m missin mah beauty chill,” he joked, earnin some chucklez from a gangbangin' few co-workers. Da commissioner merely frowned his wild lil' fuckin eyebrows n' approached tha stallion.

“This isn’t tha time fo' jokes, officer!” tha commissioner, a big-ass stallion wit a funky-ass brown moustache reprimanded his muthafuckin ass.

“Yo dawwwwg! Relax, Mully,” da perved-out muthafucka holla'd shrugging, promptin ‘Mully’ ta groan up in response n' tilt his head, motionin fo' Buckshot ta follow his muthafuckin ass. ‘Mully’ stood beside a thugged-out door up in tha back of tha five-o station n' motioned fo' tha grey stallion ta enter tha dimly lit room. Da commissioner followed close afta tha jestin officer had crossed inside yo. Dude strutted towardz a cold-ass lil cardboard box on tha side of tha room n' rummaged all up in it as Buckshot sat onto a cold-ass lil chair, placin both his hind hairy-ass legs crossed over tha table.

“Sooo... what tha fuck is dis all about, again?” da perved-out muthafucka holla'd, unhorny bout whatever ‘Mully’ had summoned his ass for.

“Just listen, you’ll understand...” tha commissioner holla'd afta he proceeded ta remove a cold-ass lil cassette tape from tha carboard box yo. Dude strutted towardz tha big-ass TV placed on tha corner of tha room n' sighed wearily before insertin tha cassette inside a quaint VCR device yo. Dude turned on tha wide apparatus n' took a seat on tha table, lookin all up in tha screen which flashed up in static. Buckshot noticed ‘Mully’s unusual behavior n' removed his hooves from tha tabletop, inchin his body forward n' restin his head on top of his hooves.

“Alright, ready?” a voice from behind tha camera axed, ta which, a cold-ass lil chocolate-brown mare up in a gangbangin' formal attire nodded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “Okay, up in five... four... three...” Dude stopped countin n' tha mare adjusted her muthafuckin ass one final time fo' realz. As if on cue, da hoe fuckin started ta speak.

“We’re live, just near tha outskirtz of Canterlot fo' realz. As you can peep up in tha distance, tha pris- Cathode! Quit bobbin, you’re ruinin tha footage!”

“I can’t muthafuckin help it, it’s so cold up in dis biatch... why do our crazy asses have ta be so far away from Canterlot, again?”

“I’ve holla'd at you before biaaatch! This hill is tha only one dat grants our asses a cold-ass lil clear blasted of tha prison grounds!” tha mare holla'd, gesturin around her muthafuckin ass. Buckshot’s attention turned from tha phat lookin mare towardz what tha fuck tha footage had as a funky-ass background. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude saw tha prison groundz wit all its searchlights on, movin frantically ta n' fro all up in tha large forest dat partially surrounded dat shit.

“Besides,” tha mare on tha TV screen holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “Da footage wouldn’t be tha same; there is too nuff curious ponies nearby tha prison.”

“But Ivy, we could rap battle em...”

Biatch frowned a funky-ass bit, promptin Cathode ta silence his dirty ass. “I don’t wanna invigorate civilians, we already gots tha details from tha Chief of Canterlot Securitizzle Patrol... dem civilians would only occupy tha camera’s space,” her big-ass booty holla'd, visibly annoyed all up in tha stallion.

Buckshot wondered why ‘Mully’ wanted his ass ta watch dis particular footage. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sure, there was probably some sort of lowlife dat had managed ta escape tha prison yo, but couldn’t he just sheezy his ass tha five-o report n' stop wastin his valuable time, biatch? Dude done cooked up a menstrual bet dat da thug would probably be turnin tha criminal up in by now if tha commissioner hadn’t been slowin his ass down.

“Sorry, Ivy.. fo' realz. Alright, let me just put tha camera on tha tripod,” Cathode holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Soon after, tha image on tha screen fuckin started ta shift n' a gangbangin' few metallic noises was heard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Soon enough, tha image stood perfectly still, focusin perfectly on Ivy. “There we go... one mo' time, Ivy.”

Biatch smiled at him, eager ta git tha thang done. “Ready whenever yo ass is.”

“Ok, five... four... three...”

“... We’re live, just near the-”

“Ugh, Ivy... we aren’t exactly live, you know, nahmeean?..”

Biatch smacked her forehoof on her grill n' grunted up loud. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “Cathode, please... let me do tha rappin'. Please?”

Buckshot couldn’t muthafuckin help but laugh all up in tha camerapony. Da commissioner turned around ta grill his ass wit a stern look, promptin tha stallion ta shut tha fuck up.

“Sorry, sorry... five... four... three...”

"... We're live, just near tha outskirtz of Canterlot fo' realz. As you can peep up in tha distance, tha prison groundz is on full alert as a gangbangin' fucked up criminal named Pinkamena Diane Pie, known also as tha Baker Pony of Mane Street, escaped earlier todizzle."

When dat schmoooove muthafucka heard dem lines, Buckshot felt that instinctual clench down there yo. His eyes furrowed up in anger a cold-ass lil chill ran up his spine as he found his dirty ass pressin on tha tabletop wit his wild lil' forehooves harder n' harder. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.

‘No...’

"... but no further details is known. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da chizzle of Canterlot Securitizzle Patrol only stated dat there is ghon be a press conference tomorrow, before tha pimpin' muthafucka took off ta join tha others guards." Da camera shifted a lil bit, zoomin up in tha prison facilitizzle behind Ivy. "Yo ass can now peep some pegasi guardz flyin up in n' outta tha prison groundz up in they frantic attempt ta find n' arrest, once again, dis vicious- hey dawwwwg! Yo you, nahmean biiiatch, biatch? We're filmin here!"

Buckshot grinded his cold-ass teeth, expectin what tha fuck would happen next. Nevertheless, he found his dirty ass bobbin like a cold-ass lil child; primal fear takin over his bangin rage yo. His jestin n' impenetrable mask, somethang which da thug wore every last muthafuckin dizzle on work, was now straight-up shattered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude felt nude. "Yo ass is interrupting- Oh Celestia... Oh Celestia. Caths, run! It's her! RUN!"

Da camera dat was feedin tha TV wit images shifted momentarily before fallin ta tha ground, tha only thang appearin on screen was Ivy hustlin away from tha joint n' tha prison groundz on full alert on tha background. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Cathode... NO! What do you want from me!, biatch? LEAVE ME ALONE!! SOMEPONY, HELP M-"

As quick as tha screams fuckin started, they stopped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Buckshot’s ears perked up all up in tha unusual silence, only ta have it shattered by gurglin sounds, as if one was desperate ta breathe yo. Dude heard tha sound of two stones bein banged against each other three times, each time wit a stronger force, promptin tha gurglin soundz ta cease before its final strike. No matter how tha fuck much wishful thankin tha stallion could manage, he knew it was no rock.

Da camera lay on tha ground, showin tha prison on tha distizzle wit its glowin lights n' tha bangin alarms dat echoed from it yo. His ears perked up once mo' when dat schmoooove muthafucka heard hoofsteps approachin tha fallen camera. Buckshot froze on his chair when da perved-out muthafucka saw tha camera bein brought upwardz n' her face takin almost tha entire screen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Pinkamena was smilin dat awful, strange grin dat dat biiiiatch was known fo' yo. Her mane was straight-up straight, tinted wit crimson droplets. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch passed a hoof over her blood-sprinkled grill as ta clean it up yo, but it only succeeded up in stainin her entire facial coat up in red. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Buckshot knew dat biiiiatch was rappin' ta a cold-ass lil camera yo, but his schmoooove ass couldn't muthafuckin help but be thinkin dat tha mare seemed ta look deep tha fuck into his wild lil' fuckin eyes as her big-ass booty spoke.

"Dearest Ponivillians, open yo' hearts. I'm comin home."