//------------------------------// // The Perfect Crime // Story: The Perfect Flavor // by Shrinky Frod //------------------------------// Blackness? Check. Terribly uncomfortable bed that felt like it didn’t have any sort of a mattress at all? Check. Raging headache and a muzzle that felt like it was full of cotton? Check. All things considered, Berry wasn’t that surprised to be waking up the way she was. Though being cuffed to the four corners of the bed, and the blackness not going away when she opened her eyes to realize she was blindfolded? That was more unusual. Still not unheard of, not in Berry’s many years of waking up in strange beds, but distinctly unusual. Waking up, blindfolded, cuffed to the bed, and with Pinkie humming a tune while she was sharpening something? That, in Berry’s opinion, warranted an explanation. Particularly the fuzzy memories of a frying pan that were slowly coming back into focus. “Pinkie? What the hay is going on?” Berry didn’t care that her question came out more as a whimper than anything else. She turned her head towards where she thought Pinkie was, trying to rub the blindfold loose against the wooden table she’d been attached to. “Where are we?” “We’re in the basement, silly!” Pinkie answered her. “I’m glad I didn’t hit you too hard, I was worried I might’ve knocked you out for good!” “Why did you hit me? I thought you liked me, Pinkie!” Berry cried beneath the blindfold, tugging at her restraints uselessly. “I do like you, Berry! You’re a lot more fun than Twilight.” There was venom in Pinkie’s voice when she said the Princess’ name. “If I could do it, she’d be the one down here, not you. But nope! She only drinks when she has to, so it was really either you, or Dashie, and ponies would actually care if she went missing!” The last of Berry’s residual drunkenness, already thoroughly blasted by the time she’d been out and the adrenaline of how she’d woken up, was obliterated by the implications of what Pinkie said. Berry went still, no longer wasting her energy trying to get loose. Her voice was soft, strangely calm as she realized just how horrible her situation had to be. “Pinkie… what are you gonna do with me?” “Do you reeeeeeeally wanna know?” There was a grin in Pinkie’s voice, all the same excitement and happiness and fun that Berry had been falling in love with. There was also a hard edge to it, a hidden threat just behind the invitation. Berry ignored the warning, nodding her head slightly and bracing herself. Pinkie moved, and Berry felt warm breath against her face, smelled the traces of wine and pastries on it before teeth closed gently around the blindfold and peeled it back. Blinking against the sudden return of light, Berry looked around what she was guessing was the basement, given where she’d been going before the whole frying pan incident. She got as far as seeing the lovingly cared for knives hanging on the walls before she decided that she’d really rather have kept the blindfold on. She also decided to abandon the entire ‘not panicking’ idea she’d had before, and return to the suddenly much more sensible approach that presented itself. ”Let me go! Somepony, help me!” Berry put all her lungpower behind the words, hoping that the Cakes would hear and intervene. That they could hear her, and stop Pinkie from doing whatever it was she had in mind. The mad mare just rolled back on the floor, laughing as though she didn’t have a care in the world. ”Help me, Pinkie’s gone crazy! Please, somepony, anypony!” Berry lost some of her volume, realizing that if Pinkie wasn’t trying to quiet her by now, there was no way for anypony to hear her. “Pinkie, please, don’t hurt me! I’ll do whatever you want, I just – mmph!” Berry was silenced as Pinkie bounced up onto her hind hooves, using the front two to hold Berry’s muzzle shut. “Of course you will, Berry! I mean, it’s not like you’ve got a choice.” Pinkie leaned in, giving Berry a quick peck on the muzzle before she released it. “And what I want is all your tasty mare meat!” “Pinkie, stop!” Berry tried instinctively to press her legs together. “Red! Hangover!” She wracked her brain, praying this was some sort of sick fantasy of Pinkie’s. “Pickle barrel! Kumquat! Rutabagahahahaha!” She trailed off into sobs just before Pinkie rolled her eyes and quickly tied the blindfold around her muzzle to keep it shut. “Not that mare meat, silly! Though it does give me an idea of where to start.” A sadistic grin spread across Pinkie’s face as she dropped back down onto all fours and went to fetch the knife she’d been sharpening. While she was away, Berry pulled at the cuffs as hard as she could. She felt a little more give from the cuff around her lower left leg than the others, and took full advantage of it while her attacker was distracted. The table creaked, but Pinkie turned around with the knife in her muzzle before Berry could actually get loose. The mad baker started back over, apparently unconcerned with her victim’s struggles. Just as Pinkie was about to reach the table, Berry put all of her strength into one final pull against the cuffs. Tears streamed down her face as metal bit into her legs just above her hooves, muscles and tendons straining to levels they weren’t intended to. With a sharp ‘crack’ of protest, the table leg she’d felt giving broke free, swinging up and catching Pinkie under the jaw. The knife went flying, glittering through the air before it embedded the tip in one of the floor joists above them. The table flopped in the direction of the missing leg while Berry kicked wildly at Pinkie, leaving her with no target but Pinkie’s hooves. She strained with her other limbs, trying to free herself even as the wooden table leg dangling from her freed leg clattered across the basement floor. Pinkie reared up, her blue eyes seeming to reflect a strange silver sheen in the light of the lanterns before she brought her forelegs crashing down on Berry’s free leg. Berry screamed again, shrieking in agony through her makeshift gag as her knee shattered. Acrid-smelling liquid seeped down the table from between her thighs, fear and pain finally getting the better of her long-taxed bladder. Pinkie panted and stepped back, looking at the mess Berry had made, then reached up to gently probe the underside of her jaw. She felt a loose scrap of skin where she’d been cut by the jagged end of the table leg, and when she looked into a mirror to get a better look at it, smooth silver gleamed through the incision. “Well that’s not very fun,” Pinkie grumbled. “At least it doesn’t show up that well. I can get it fixed after I’m done down here.” She walked back over to the table, setting it up on three legs and glaring at Berry. “You know, you really know how to take the fun out of a night, Berry.” Pinkie moved some sacks of flour and boxes into place to hold the table up, taking the time to clean up the mess while Berry kept whimpering and sobbing at the pain. By the time Pinkie was done, the whimpers had trailed off, and Berry was back to staring hopelessly at the ceiling. “I guess I can’t really blame you for trying to get loose,” Pinkie told her, though Berry barely heard what she was saying. “I know I did, really hard too! The difference is, I actually did get away with it. You’re not going to be so lucky, not after all this work!” She walked off into the back of the basement, filling a bucket from an old pump that had barely been used since the bakery had been attached to Ponyville’s plumbing systems. Carrying the bucket back over with the handle in her mouth, Pinkie very carefully and deliberately dumped the rusty water inside over Berry’s head, bringing her attention back into the present with an ice-cold splash. “Now, no running off into your own head again!” Pinkie scolded her after she sat down the bucket. “Would it help if I told you I didn’t like it much either?” She waited for Berry to answer, only to giggle a few moments later. “Oh, right, you can’t talk. Promise not to scream? I can let you talk, but first you have to promise not to scream.” Berry nodded weakly, and Pinkie untied her muzzle. Berry caught a glimpse of the silver beneath Pinkie’s fur while the unbound pony worked. “What are you?” She asked once her muzzle was untied, trying to think of anything but the agony in her leg. “I’m Pinkie! What else would I be?” Pinkie asked her innocently, going to retrieve another knife. “You’re not Pinkie!” Berry fought not to scream it at her. “Pinkie wouldn’t do this!” The thing wearing Pinkie’s skin cocked her head in a perfect imitation of the party pony, as if considering Berry’s words. “But I am doing this,” she pointed out after a few moments. “So obviously, I would!” “Why are you doing this then?” Tears ran down Berry’s cheeks as she looked back up at the ceiling, away from the imposter. “For Twilight, silly!” Not-Pinkie bounced back over with the first of the knives she was going to work with. “You know how I asked you allllll about wines for that big fancy party she’s holding for the griffons next week, right? Well, you’re gonna be there! As a matter of fact,” she giggled, “you’re gonna be the guest of honor!” “The Princess won’t let you do this!” Berry protested. She couldn’t see any windows, any indication of the time, but even with the adrenaline and pain she knew it had to have been hours. She simply wouldn’t be this sober if it hadn’t been. If she could just stall for enough time, somepony would have to come down to the basement for something! “Actually, she gave me permission!” Not-Pinkie grinned, setting out the knives she was going to use along the edge of the table where both of Berry’s limbs were still restrained. “Isn’t that the bestest part?” “She what?” Not-Pinkie sighed and clamped Berry’s muzzle shut with her hooves. “No shrieking Berry, you promised! But yeah, she totally did! Isn’t that just neato?” Not-Pinkie moved her hooves side to side, forcing Berry to nod. “So here we are! I’ve been working for weeks to make sure you’ll be flavored just right too!” She released Berry’s muzzle, going back to her preparations and leaving her victim to consider the implications of what she’d said. Berry’s ears fell back against her head as she did just that. “And I thought I was falling in love with you.” “Awww, that’s sweet!” Not-Pinkie cooed, pushing a basin into position at the low corner of the table to catch the blood. “It really is. But nope! Sorry! I just needed somepony that nopony would miss.” “What about Ruby?” Berry demanded, glaring at Not-Pinkie. “Oops! I forgot to tell you!” The doppleganger grinned, rushing over to a corner and rummaging through a pile. “I picked her up at school before you came to the castle!” She held something up, and Berry’s heart nearly stopped. Not-Pinkie was holding up a foal-sized skull. “’Mama’s sick again, isn’t she?’” Not-Pinkie repeated in a high-pitched imitation of Ruby’s voice, miming the words with her macabre puppet. “No,” she continud in her normal voice, “but I thought I’d take you to Sugar Cube Corner for a snack before you go home! My treat!” “’Okay, Miss Pinkie! I’d usually go home right after school, but Mama said I could trust you!’” Not-Pinkie grinned broadly at Berry, watching her face contort as she tried to comprehend what she’d just been told. Finally, after what felt to Berry like an eternity, Not-Pinkie cracked up, doubling over with laughter. “You should see the look on your face! Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything to Ruby. This is just a prop from last Nightmare Night! Besides, her classmates would miss her.” Berry’s head slumped back as relief warred with disgust inside of her. Not-Pinkie put the prop down and trotted back over to her cheerfully, leaning down to whisper into Berry’s ears. “Don’t worry, I won’t ever hurt little Pinchy. The two of us are going to have so much fun once you’re gone.” Something about how the impostor said ‘fun’ turned Berry’s blood to ice water. The single-mother turned to glare at her attacker, eyes cold and hateful. “If you so much as breathe on her, I’ll kill you. I don’t know how, but I will kill you.” “Good thing I’m going to be doing it to you first then!” Not-Pinkie gagged Berry again. Then she picked up the first knife, holding it carefully in her pastern. “Now, this is my first time,” she said with mock-innocence, “so this might just hurt a little.” The knife came down, not in a dramatic plunge, but rather a graceful, slicing move along Berry’s stomach. Berry fought not to scream at first. She thought about Ruby. About the pain in her ruined leg. About anything but the agony of being butchered alive. It actually didn’t hurt as much as she’d thought it would, physically, especially not when the impostor started doing… things… inside of her. She felt pressure, felt things being moved around, but strangely little actual pain as a result. Another slice, and Not-Pinkie squeaked excitedly. “Oh, Berry! You didn’t tell me you were drinking for two! This is just perfect!” In a horrible instant, Berry’s attention was back on her gaping abdomen, and the slick mess of blood and organs that had been pushed aside. As she watched, Not-Pinkie reached into her, cooing tenderly, and removed a tiny, wriggling mass of…. As Berry realized what was in those pink hooves, sweet insanity finally chose to grant her the mercy of claiming her mind.