Midnight Belle (and the Case of the Vanishing Foals!)

“Well played, Midnight Belle. You’ve forced me to resort to an even more diabolical tactic.”

Sweetie coughed and coughed. No matter how much she breathed, her body didn’t seem content. Her lungs ached like knives in her chest, and she gulped in a few more mouthfuls of air to attempt to satisfy them.

“What... what do you mean...” It was all she could manage before another coughing fit came, followed by panting to try and regain the air she had lost.

Lyra smiled at her.

“So quickly you forget, Midnight Belle—the neurotoxin should be working its way through your system by now. I’ll have my answers out of you in no time—or at least your compliance.”

Sweetie managed to pull herself up from the floor. Her legs shook in protest, but she managed to keep them straight enough to stay upright.

But her skin felt hot. Her fur was slick with freshly emerging sweat, not helped at all by the costume she was still wearing. A thought flickered across her mind to remove it, but it wasn’t the greatest of her concerns at the moment.

She felt extra wet somewhere in particular. She tried to cross her hind legs to blot out the moisture, thinking the reaction had been an involuntary lament of her situation—but it didn’t feel like that. It didn’t feel like the embarrassed soaking of her sheets that Rarity had been forced to clean up on her first sleepover.

When Sweetie’s thighs touched each other, they tingled.

Lyra’s grin went even wider as she watched Sweetie Belle avert her eyes and try to draw her body into a ball to hide her sudden agitation.

“Aha, I see you can feel it already.”

Sweetie turned her head back with a luster of uncomfortable fire in her eyes.

“What did you do? Why do I feel all...”

The same flame in her voice dwindled as she felt another, sharper tingle course through her body. It wasn’t a familiar sensation—in fact, it felt almost worrying. Sweetie could almost piece together different parts of what it meant—things she could compare it to—but overall, it felt wholly alien.

It made her skin feel hot. She could feel sweat against her costume.

Sweetie shook her head. Too much. This was all too much. She was in a basement playing some awful game she never should have played in the first place. She wanted to go home.

“Why are you doing this?” she wailed. She mustered up as much pleading in her voice as she could manage, and looked to Lyra with eyes brimming with tears.

Lyra smiled back at her unflinching.

“Come on, Midnight Belle. You’re not stupid. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Stop calling me that!” Sweetie yelled. She yanked fiercely at her chain, but it only rattled back at her in response, unyielding despite the force she brought with every tug.

Lyra giggled as Sweetie pulled at her restraint.

“Woah, hey, calm down. You don’t wanna hurt yourself there, do you?”

“Let me go!” Sweetie Belle lowered her body closer to the ground, coiling her legs like springs. Whether through time or desperation, her body pushed away the pain of her fall and replaced her misery with fury. Regardless of Lyra’s actions or intent, she was the pony holding Sweetie there now, and she was the pony that could let her go. Sweetie Belle didn't’ want to play anymore.

Lyra held a hoof to her chin, as though considering the offer.

“Hmmm... well gee, I never thought about that. So you’re saying I should just let you go? Can you tell me why that might be a good idea?”

“If you don’t let me go, I’ll get out myself, and tell everypony about what you’ve been doing! That it’s... that it’s you who’s been kidnapping ponies!”

It was, wasn’t it. It couldn’t be anypony else. Not after this.

Lyra grinned even wider. Her pupils narrowed, and Sweetie found a hidden strength inside herself to avoid flinching at the insane looking glare.

“Kidnapping ponies? Me? Why, whatever would make you say such a thing?”

“Because!” Sweetie shouted. “Because you... you told me to come to this stupid place, and you chained me up like this, and you’ve got... cages here, that probably... that have...”

“That are full up with foals like your friends Scootaloo and Applebloom?”

Sweetie didn’t respond in words. She growled, an angry, furious growl, and threw herself forward, yanking at her restraint like a ferocious dog. Her limbs ached, and her head still throbbed, and the heat of her skin remained in the back of her mind, but she lashed at Lyra like a rottweiler, snapping and throwing her hooves forward in an attempt to strike something.

But Lyra simply smiled, and stood just out of reach, not flinching a centimeter at Sweetie Belle’s aggression.

“Jeez, chill out. You’d think I did something to upset you.”

“Let me go right now, and Applebloom and Scootaloo and Silver Spoon and Twist and anypony else you kidnapped, and maybe I’ll give you a head-start before I tell everyone in town what you’ve been doing!”

Lyra rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, okay, that sounds great. I’ll just undo your chain and let you run off into the night so the whole town can storm out here and lynch me. Sounds like a great idea.”

Lyra stepped slightly forward, and Sweetie Belle glowered at her, hunched up like a dog ready to pounce. She stared at Lyra’s hoof as she extended it. A flicker of lamplight caught the green fur, and Lyra’s horn glowed with it.

For the first time, she saw what had been invisible moments ago. Just like the white-starfish things she’d seen Lyra with in town. Four fingers and a thumb stood out from Lyra’s hoof, and she held them against Sweetie’s cheek like a sympathetic hoof. They were cold.

Sweetie thrashed sideways and gnashed at the phantom appendage, but Lyra withdrew it before she could be caught, leaving only the cold air for Sweetie to lash towards.

Lyra’s grin didn’t move. Sweetie stared, and wished she could burn it right off Lyra’s face.

“Why?” she asked. She didn’t ask it the way she had before, with desperation and hurt. She asked it because after all this, she wanted to make sure that when she got out, she could tell everypony in town what she had found, and put an end to the kidnapper she’d hunted down. She tried to ignore another shiver going down her body, but only managed halfway. The second it went between her legs, Sweetie’s whole body shook. Her costume was damp against her fur, particularly between her legs. Sweetie grit her teeth and tried to pretend the dampness wasn’t there. She didn’t know what it meant, and she didn’t want to think about it.

“Is this the part where I tell you my whole evil plan, like the stupidest supervillain in the history of anything, ever?” Lyra tilted her head to the side, and Sweetie Belle glowered at her. “What kind of nemesis do you think I am?”

Sweetie Belle didn’t respond. Another tingle came, and she sucked in a short breath of air as a lightning tingle went between her legs.

“I guess I could tell you a little bit of what’s up. It’ll be more fun that way, at least.” Lyra began to walk sideways, and Sweetie followed her, until her gaze landed on the wall, which Lyra leaned against. Sweetie could see the glow of Lyra’s horn, and the ethereal tendrils she called ‘fingers’ propping her up against the stone.

“So,” Lyra said, “why do you think I’ve been kidnapping ponies? Foals specifically?”

“Because you’re terrible,” Sweetie responded. It wasn’t a well thought out response, but it was the first one that came to mind.

Lyra laughed. A short, punchy laugh, that sounded wholly unnatural. Like, instead of laughing, really and truly, she was saying ‘ha’, over and over again, blending them together just enough to make them a ‘laugh’.

“Good one,” Lyra said as her laughter calmed. “But, really... why do you think?”

Sweetie Belle thought. She tried to think over the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach and the itchy tingliness of her skin.

“Because... because you’re giving them away... to griffons?” Sweetie asked? She didn't’ want to let the anger vanish from her voice, but it did so out of necessity.

Lyra shook her head.

“Not even close. I could just tell you, I guess. It’s not like I’m worried about you letting anyone else know anyway.” Lyra picked herself up from the wall and walked to the opposite side of the basement, then began pacing back and forth. Sweetie’s eyes followed her, but shut for a few seconds as Sweetie felt a jolt of insistence between her legs again. She’d never felt anything there besides the urge to use the bathroom. This was new, and worrying.

“The reason,” Lyra went on, “that I’ve been kidnapping foals—in fact, even more specifically, why I’ve been kidnapping cute little fillies like your friends... is because they’re useful. They sell for a good price, more to the point.”

Sweetie Belle tried to glower, but another, stronger jolt robbed her of her conviction. She settled for an open mouthed soft glare.

“I mean, I guess you want to know more than that. Who’s buying fillies? What are they doing with them? How have I been getting them down here in the first place?” Lyra stopped pacing in front of Sweetie Belle, and leaned closer, head tilted down to the maximum length that Sweetie’s chain would allow her forward.

“Well, the secret to it is... cute little girls like you and your classmates sell like a hot damn because of how fucking sexy you are. There’s a great market for filly-age sex slaves, and I’ve been making a killing on it.”

Sweetie’s jaw dropped fully.

“If that candy’s hitting you around now, you probably have a pretty good idea of how I’ve been kidnapping them. Bonbon’s the best—there’s a lot you can do with candy that you wouldn’t expect, but she’s a natural at it.”

Sweetie’s mind flashed back to the grey pegasus colt she’d seen Lyra and Bonbon pry from the back of their cart.

“But... Rumble...”

“Pfft. You think she gives the candy to boys? Or to more than a couple ponies at a time? How stupid do you think we are? Only a few ponies at a time get the special stuff. It gets in their heads, makes ‘em listen to whatever we say. Then we just have to tell them to play sick and to walk on over halfway through the day, and they find their way into cages without a problem.”

Sweetie felt frozen in place. What was left of her bitter rage festered in her stomach. She didn’t move even as Lyra extended her hoof, fingers splayed out, and ran her pointing digit along Sweetie’s chin until she reached the tip.

“You’re too cute for that though. That’s why I’m glad you made it down here in that adorable little costume. That means you and me can have some fun.”

Sweetie’s brain reasserted itself through the haze of the strange feeling coursing through her. She tried to snap at Lyra’s digits again, but the fire in her wasn’t quite as bright. Lyra easily moved her hand away, and brought it back to Sweetie’s head, where she gave her a placating pat.

“We’re not gonna have any fun,” Sweetie said, trying to sound as confident as possible. “You’re gonna let me go right now or I’m gonna scream and yell until somepony hears, and they’ll come and get me, and then you’ll be in big trouble.”

“Well, okay. If you wanna scream your lungs out in a soundproof basement in the middle of nowhere, be my guest. But I think you’ll have a better time if you cooperate.”

Sweetie felt a chill run up her spine that didn’t feel like it was from the candy.

She really was far away. Out in the hills on the outskirts of town where nopony ever came. The candle flame in the doorway must surely be out by now.

What else could she do?

“Here’s the plan,” Lyra said, standing on her hind legs and walking to the center of the room. “You see the cages back there in the far left corner?”

The light from the lamp was barely enough for Sweetie to see her hoof in front of her face, but she strained forward to try to make out the shape in the nearby distance. As she stared, a green glow from Lyra’s horn shone into the corner, and for the first time, Sweetie could make out the shapes behind the metal bars.

A red bow, and an orange coat with spiky purple hair.

“Scootaloo! Applebloom!” Sweetie yelled as loud as her voice would let her. The shapes in the cage made no sign of recognition.

“Scoots! Applebloom!” she shouted again. She tugged at her chain as hard as she could manage, straining with her eyes closed to yank the fastening from the ground, but it didn’t move an inch, nor did her friends.

“They can’t hear you—or, more accurately, they can, but they probably don’t feel like listening. The candy doesn’t wear off that quick, and we’ve got plenty more where the first batch came from. If you’re willing to cooperate, however, I might be convinced to let them out.”

The chain rattled as it settled on the floor. Sweetie rubbed at her hind leg with one of her hooves, trying to massage away the pressure of the iron on her fur.

“So here’s the deal,” Lyra said. Lyra settled onto all fours and walked to the right wall of the basement, where she picked something up off the floor. The glow of her horn dissipated, and Sweetie Belle lost sight of the corner. She stared as Lyra took the something she had gathered off the floor and threw it forward. It landed in front of Sweetie with a clink, skidding across the stone until it settled against her hooves.

A watch.

“We’re gonna play for ten minutes. Ten minutes of good old fashioned superhero torture. If you can last the whole ten minutes without giving in—and you’ll know what that means—I’ll let you go no problem, and your friends too, and heck, why not your other classmates. And then all of you can run back to town, and tell everypony how awful I am, and come running back here and arrest me or whatever it is ponies in this town do with kidnappers, and everypony will celebrate the great hero Midnight Belle for her amazing feat of bravery and brilliance.”

Sweetie stared at the watch. She watched the tiny second hand tick around in a circle, passing by the numbers on the watch’s face.

“Does that sound like a plan to you?” Lyra asked. She stepped closer as she spoke, and Sweetie could see a green hoof just above the watch.

Sweetie raised her head.

“And what if I say no?” she said, her voice shaking more than she wanted it to.

Lyra shrugged.

“Well, then I’d probably have to kill you.”

Sweetie lowered her head again. She stared at the timepiece.

“...”

No sound passed but the ticking of the second hand on the watch.

Sweetie counted it for a while before she lifted her head again.

“...fine,” she said. She couldn’t tell if her voice sounded firm, or feeble.

Lyra didn’t seem to care either way. She beamed. Her eyes glimmered behind her simple mask.

“Great! Watch the minute hand, and we’ll start when it hits the top.”

Sweetie looked at the hand as it made its way upward. Inching closer, from the eleven to the twelve, with every second that passed marked by the constant, quiet ticking of the watch.

Three. Two. One. And the minute hand pointed upwards.