I gotta say, for a guy who just failed on a courier mission and now has a horny changeling princess trying to jump in his pants every second she can, all in a land of talking ponies being overrun by abominations from beyond our world, I think I’m doing alright.
But honestly, just surviving at this point qualifies as “doing alright.”
“Hey, doofus! Get that big head out of the clouds and help me out down here!”
I blink, crashing back into reality. Chittery and her undead horde have just breached the outer defenses of a small Nightmare Hive: this waxy, slime-covered thing sticking up out of the Everfree like a sore thumb, shaped like an upside-down ice cream cone. A Death Adder lies twitching on the ground, green, rotting blood oozing out of its stumps where its bladed arms had once been. Next to it lays a Hive Guardian, its six eyes poked out, a mass of blood and gore where its throat should have been. And beyond that, a battle rages between Chittery’s undead ponies and the Nightmare-tainted undead.
“Er…right…” I quickly amend, jogging into the darkness of the cave, heading towards the fray. A wisp of shadow trails overhead, and I duck as a sudden rush of air passes just over me. Acting solely on instinct, I hit the ground, roll over onto my back, and blast a single shot into the darkness of the cavern’s roof. A few heartbeats later, a twisted pile of meat drops down next to my head, the only thing recognizable being a long, thin tendril with a blade attached.
I blink, then dart back to my feet, shotgun rising as I rack up another shell and fire indiscriminately into the Nightmare horde. Another Guardian falls while a Death Adder lowers a bleeding stump, staring incredulously at where a blade had once been. He looks up at me, and I am the last thing he ever sees as I send my next round through his skull.
“Keep pushing!” Chittery screeches. “Don’t let up for even a second! Keep pushing them back!”
“Oh, good thing you mentioned it, ‘cause I was thinking now would be a great time to put my feet up, handle some bills, call mom and dad, see how they’re doing…” I mutter as I reload a few extra shells. She wallops me upside the back of the head with a quick burst of green magic, like a slap. I wince and grin down at her.
“C’mon Doofus,” she says with a little sideways grin. “We’re falling behind.”
“You sure about this, Princess?” I ask.
“This is the last place our final patrol in Equestria reported from, it can’t be a coincidence we stumbled over a Nightmare Hive in the exact same area.”
“I hear you, but we’re adding way too much time to our trip and risking way too much on a Hive that, frankly, don’t look that important,” I eye her, noticing the waning glow off her horn. “You’re already pushing yourself pretty damn far.”
“I can…manage…” she grunts, blinks, and lets her gaze drift a little. Her beady, blue eyes glaze over for a second before newfound energy roars into them from some untapped well deep inside her. “If there’s even a chance to save just one of those changelings, I’m not giving up until I see bodies.”
I would’ve clapped were it not for the blade-covered monstrosities skittering our way. I raise Shelly again as Chittery stands as straight as possible. Without a single word between us, I know it’s down to me to keep her toned, shapely ass safe while she focuses on her undead horde. Another burst of changeling magic, and my free hand, the one not currently wrapped around the stock of my shotgun, transforms into an elongated, muscle-bound spear, pulsing with strength.
In hindsight, this exact size, shape, and form was a very poor choice in the presence of a nympho changeling princess.
The rustle of leathery wings overhead forces me to my knees, blasting away at a quick little blur of a shape: a Nightmare Bat. Small, all-too-tiny, but possessing a head that’s all teeth, with a couple of earholes on the side for echolocation. I curse the damned thing. The big guys are bad enough, but the little ones are ever-so-good at drawing attention to themselves, probably because they like to go for the jugular with those razor-sharp fangs. Hence why I don’t notice the Hive Guardians lunging until they’re practically on top of us.
Still cursing, I parry the first blow, my spear/hand/totally-not-a-dildo-you-sick-fucks shooting to the side. Moving with the momentum of my side-slashing spear, I raise my free hand, practically pressing my shotgun’s muzzle against the Guardian’s forehead.
We may never know how a Nightmare thinks, or what sick, twisted line of thought makes them the way they are, or even if they’re capable of thought at all. However, I know in this case, I can tell you exactly what happened in this Nightmare’s skull, exactly what went through this specific Nightmare’s head when I pulled the trigger: twenty lead ball bearings moving at a little over a thousand feet per second.
And if the Nobel Committee is reading this, I’ll be expecting my prize for the advancement of science the next time I’m on Earth. Small bills only.
Carrying on the momentum from the Nightmare’s parry, I bring my spear/not-dildo around in a low arc, smashing through the second Guardian’s defenses for a wallop against the side of its throat, even slicing one of the blades right off one of its tendrils. My spear’s blade draws a long, thin line of rotten-smelling blood across its cheek, the Nightmare issuing a cry like a hundred pre-teen girls discovering that Harry Stiles is stopping by their town to find a costar for the next High School Musical. I follow up with a front kick against its chest, then thrust my shotgun into the ground hard enough to keep it standing straight, wobbling there, as I duck, scoop the decapitated blade off the ground, and come up again in a forward slash, catching the Nightmare on its muzzle.
Before it can scream, I pull it in close with the flat of my spear and go to fucking town on its neck with its own blade, stabbing again and again into the fleshy parts of its throat. It’s only after the first ten rapid, in-and-out stabs that I realize I’m screaming from somewhere deep in the back of my throat.
Snarling, I boot the stinking creature in the chest again, blood squirting onto my sneaker as it falls back, choking on its own juices. Finally, all is still. I hear nothing but my own breath. Even the sounds of battle have stopped, the clashing forces all turning to gape at me. Or, I think they’re gaping at me. It’s hard to tell. There’s a reason some universes refer to zombies as “slackjaws.”
Rustle of leathery wings overhead. More prey. In my adrenaline-heightened state, and without the clashing of fleshblades against rusting swords to cover it up, I place it instantly. Reacting, I reach up and pluck the bat right out of the air, eliciting a squeak. Holding it up before me for everyone to see, I pump the tiniest amount of magic into my fingers, transforming my nails into inch-long claws
Show them.
The bat squeaks in pain as my claws pierce the soft, tender flesh of its belly. Not enough. I rake my claws through the flesh, ripping it open as if I’m peeling an orange. Fetid, orange blood oozes out. I raise my hand, letting the blood dribble onto my head, cascading onto the chitin of my bare scalp, soaking the waterproof sleeve of my coat.
I grin at the clashing parties, still staring awestruck, through the haze of Nightmare blood over my eyes.
“Nope,” a voice pipes up from the back. A few moments later, the ranks of both sides part to allow a young Nightmare Unicorn pass through, his eyes glowing in the dark, his appendages still shaking with the underdeveloped strength of the newly-corrupted. “Nuh-uh, nope. Fuck that.”
“Get back in line!” A deep-throated growl rumbles from the Death Adder standing next to him.
“N-nope,” the pony swallows, turning on its superior. “L-look, w-we don’t have to stay here, r-right? I think we should just l-leave, let these two get what they came for, i-is it really worth it?”
“We have our orders, little trash-maggot,” the Adder scowls, tromping towards the smaller Nightmare. “We are to slow the half-breed and the whore down, if not terminate them entirely. You know what the punishment for failure will be.”
“I-I don’t care!” The pony snarls. “It doesn’t matter! What’s the point of going on if it’s like this!?”
“The point is…” the Adder starts, raising a hoof for a blow, then pauses. It opens its hideous mouth once, closes it, opens it again, like a fish gasping for air. At last, on the third try, I notice the small glint in the back of its throat. The Adder turns, revealing Chittery perched on its shoulders, her horn buried in the back of its neck, the point now sticking out its throat.
“Something to point out,” she hisses, glaring at the back of the Adder’s neck. “This whore just ripped you a new one.” Then she shoots a dark-green bolt of lightning out of her horn, pounding right up through the roof of the Adder’s mouth and ripping out the top of its skull to leave a scorch mark on the cave ceiling.
As if tearing a Nightmare a new asshole in its forehead broke a spell on her troops, the undead turn on their Nightmarish counterparts and spring on them before they can get their bearings, slicing through their unprotected ranks in moments. The few that manage to survive the initial onslaught are either picked off within minutes, or run out of the cave entirely, screeching the whole way. I lay back against the wall, my head pounding.
It’s not over, you fool, it’s never over, and it won’t be until you stand up and show these fuckers that messing with you is death, that messing with anything you enjoy means a torturously slow end, you have to MAKE them see what…
“Kildeez?”
“Hmm?” I gaze up to meet Chittery’s eyes, looking at me in concern.
She offers a warm smile, made cool by the foul-smelling blood dripping along her carapace. “You did really good.”
I cough, blink, and finally nod. “Thanks. You too. Feeling alright?”
“Well, I found one of the team sent in…” her smile fades. So does mine.
“Was it bad?”
“He was halfway converted,” she whispers. “Luckily, had some love still gathered for me to regain my strength.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” her smile returns, a warm gaze sliding up my body. “I’m just grateful you’re here.” She maintains that warm gaze for a moment longer, then her eyes trail to the side. Cocking an eyebrow, I follow her gaze to my arm-spear, that long, pulsating, spear-tipped thing thrusting up into the air like…oh, goddammit!
“No,” I hiss, transforming it back into my normal little hand.
“Aww, c’mon! Just for a little while? I promise I’ll be quick!” She begs.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. No.”
Her lip quivering, she stomps a hoof like a filly being told to go to bed five minutes before her normal bedtime. “You’re no fun!”
A loud crash echoes through the cave. We both look up to find the Nightmare unicorn on the ground, struggling against a zombie mare with a single, oily eyeball, clad in the tattered remnants of a wedding dress, kneeling on one of the young Nightmare’s bladed tendrils. The other blade is pinned by an older stallion, his wrinkled skin practically sloughing off his bones, the remnants of a ball of yarn that was once a tie looped around his neck.
“Hold it steady!” A skeleton in a gray uniform barks, a rusting rapier in his hoof. “For Celestia’s sake, hold it steady! We want to make this a clean hit!”
“LET GO OF ME!” The Nightmare screams. “PLEASE LET GO-“
“Hold it!” Chittery’s voice booms through the cave, carrying in that way all practiced orators have mastered. Everything stops, even the Nightmare stops its struggling, all turning to look at her, gaping. She stomps over to the small group, looking over the Nightmare, her eyes narrowed. It whimpers and shrinks under her gaze. Finally, she turns to her undead servants.
“Bind him, then you may return to your rest. Thank you, you’ve all done well.” She says curtly.
The jaws of the zomponies around her hit the floor, both metaphorically and, in one case, literally. “Bu-but madam! We can’t…”
“Do it.” She barks, and that voice is so authoritative, so compelling, that I actually have to stop myself from climbing to my feet and helping out. In short fashion, a few zomponies gallop out, returning with a length of vine pulled from the canopy. The remaining undead wrap the bladed tendrils around the unicorns barrel, securing them in place with the vine before tying his forehooves together, adding a few loops around his neck. Only the hind hooves remain free, both his forehooves and his tendrils now wrapped in a tight ball close to his neck.
Nodding her approval, Chittery waves the zomponies off, who all nod and begin the long trek back to the graveyard they came from. She trots over to the Nightmare, wobbling only slightly with magical exhaustion. I dart to my feet and jog up alongside her, scooping up my shotgun as I go. The creature’s blank eyes gaze up at us and widen, looking down at the weapon in my hands.
“I-if you’re just g-gonna kill me, p-please do it quick,” it says in its quiet, yet still deep and rumbling, voice. Its head bows, ears folding down.
Chittery glares and stomps next to its head, earning a frightened squeak. Then she grabs the Nightmare’s shoulder and turns him over with the care of an axe murderer going at the door between himself and Stupid Blonde Teenaged Extra #2. He trembles with fright, looking up at us and straining at the vine holding his hooves. “How and when you die isn’t up to you to decide, monster! It’s up to us!”
Catching on, I add my two cents in: “Aww, please boss? Please can I take this ‘un back to the fun room?” I look the Nightmare over and lick my lips. “He’s got such a purty mouth, I think I could go a whole week ‘fore I get tired a’ him!”
The Nightmare’s eyes widen and he thrashes back, trying to scoot away on his free hind legs. Chittery keeps a firm hoof on his shoulder though, and he goes nowhere. “Husshhhh,” she hisses, her muzzle snarling up. “It’s your choice, creature: you can either satisfy me, or I’ll leave you to satisfy him.”
His wide, fear-filled eyes look to her, then over at me. I lick one finger and run a little circle over my nipple, maintaining eye contact the entire time. “I’LL TALK! I’LL TALK!” The Nightmare screams, reaching a high-pitch despite the gravelly throat-speak all Nightmares have.
“Very good,” she whispers. “Now, a couple months ago, before the main invasion hit, a small squad of changelings arrived in this area. Creatures like me. Do you understand?”
The creature nods enthusiastically, visibly straining to keep his eyes on her and off me.
“What happened to them, do you know?”
“I…” the creature’s eyes close. “No. I only remember back about a m-month, th-they would’ve been g-gone by then.”
Chittery looks down at him passively. “Deezy?” She asks.
Nodding, I unzip my fly.
“WAIT!” It begs. “Please, that’s all I know, I swear! I-it’s all I know, cross my heart, hope t’die, stick a cupcake in my eye!”
Chittery’s eyes widen. Her jaw drops. I lean over her shoulder, looking the creature over as it cowers beneath my gaze. “What’s up?” I ask her.
“There are only a few specific ponies in the world who say that phrase,” she whispers, looking up at me. “One group of friends in Ponyville, and another group around me.”
My eyes widen, looking over the Nightmare with a new light. “You don’t think…”
“Wh-what?” The Nightmare squeaks. “What’re y-you all looking at?”
Without another word, Chittery straddles the captured Nightmare, pinning him with all four of her hooves. He struggles for only a second, but gives up almost as quickly as he starts, allowing her to bow her head towards him, her horn flaring. The Nightmare’s mouth drops open, ready to release a scream, but it’s choked off as her horn touches his forehead. A split-second later, he vanishes in a flash of green fire, consuming his form before flaring out in a heatless rush. The Nightmare unicorn is gone, and in his place lays a Nightmare changeling, patchy fur replaced with scuffed chitin, the spiral-shaped horn replaced with the sharpened spire, and the lower jaw now just beginning to show the first signs of elongation.
The Nightmare looks down at itself and screams. “What have you done to me!?”
“No way…” I whisper as Chittery maintains her grip.
“Calm down!” She screams.
“What have you done to me!?” He continues screeching, bucking wildly with his hind legs. Finally fed up, Chittery cracks a hoof against the side of his head. He reels, his head lolling to the side, tongue hanging out. Rolling her eyes, the Princess plants a nice long kiss on his cheek. When she pulls back, her lipmark remains as a glowing imprint for a second before fading. The Nightmare pops right back into consciousness.
“Are we ready to act like big boys now?” She hisses indifferently. The Nightmare nods, ears bobbing up and down adorably. “Good. Now, you’re not a pony, and never have been. You were a changeling before you became this, part of the crew we were sent here to find.”
The changemare’s eyes (naw, that’s not a good name, makes it sound like he’s a mare) widen even further. “Holy crap…”
“Yeah, that’s one way of dealing with finding out you’re not even the species you thought you were,” I smirk.
The Princess glares at me, but quickly turns back to her captive. “You were sent here as part of an experiment to determine the effectiveness of a new masking spell meant to keep us hidden from some upper-level detection spells the Equestrians were working on,” she smiles thinly, a small giggle building in the back of her throat. “Looks like they worked. Even the Nightmares didn’t know what you were!”
“In this case, it probably saved him,” I put in. “The Nightmares would have assumed he was a pony and used spells specific to ponies to corrupt him. If they’d figured it out and used changeling spells, he’d almost certainly be a full-fledged Nightmare-ling by now.” Hmm…still not quite it…
The Nightling (okay, that’s their name now, definitely going with that) tries to get up, but only manages to trip over his own hooves and the rope binding them. He shakes his head, looks a bit woozy, then shakes himself again.
“It’s okay, we’ve dealt with displacement before,” she says soothingly, running a hoof along his cheek in a way just a bit too sensual to be plain concern. “Of course, usually that’s just changelings who get too deep into a part and need to remind themselves who they are. You, on the other hoof…”
He looks up at her, then over at me. “The Nightmare corruption erases most memories of who the victims were before they were changed,” I explain. “Only basic instincts and some muscle memory remains. Maybe some fuzzy leftover flashes of stuff from before, and even that goes after a couple months.”
“O-oh…” the chitin on his forehead crinkles up in thought, then his eyes bug open.
“Wait a second, i-is that what would’ve happened to me!?” He exclaims, motioning with his bound hooves to the decapitated Guardian lying a few feet away. “I w-would’ve become like those brainless j-jerks!?”
“Based on their treatment of you, I’d say they were well on their way towards brainwashing what remained of your old, changeling nature right out of your head,” I look him up and down and nod. “Another few months, and you’d have been one of them, happy to obey every order passed down from the Nightmare Collective.”
“Oh wow…” he says, looking up dumbly, then suddenly shivering.
“What was that?” Chittery asks, looking him over.
“I-I don’t know…” the Nightmare says, his voice now decidedly less deep and gravelly. “It feels like something just…pulled back…”
“Aw shit,” I grumble, running a hand down my face. “They already severed him.”
“Th-they what?” He asks, his voice tinier and more helpless than ever before.
“Severed,” Chittery grumbles unhappily. “The Collective has cut off your connection to them.”
“Oh…” he stammers, looking around with wide, confused eyes. “B-but that’s a good thing, right?”
“Well, that means they can’t continue brainwashing you, yes,” I sigh, running my fingers over the chitin on my scalp. “Unfortunately, since that link was the only thing maintaining your internal organs since the conversion literally ripped your heart out…”
At that, his chitin goes very pale. He looks down at himself, as if he can actually see his internal organs crashing within him. He shivers. “Oh no…”
“Don’t worry, sweets, we’ve got time,” Chittery says, her horn glowing. “I can build up a decent feedback loop which’ll keep you going for another week, hopefully in that time we can get you to a more powerful magician to make the spell more permanent.”
“H-ho-hopefully?”
For the first time since we busted down the doors to this place, Chittery’s calm façade wavers. Her eyes mist up as she lowers her head, giving me a rare glimpse at the mare under the badass. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
He shivers, biting his lip (no small feat since his lower lip is now a few inches further down thanks to the Corruption), then all of a sudden his eyes harden, tears starting to waver in them. “Don’t be,” he says, his voice still sounding like Christian Bale trying to channel Batman after a few hits to the groin.
We blink down at him. “Dude, we just almost gotcha killed,” I point out. “For all we know, the feedback loop will collapse with your next breath and you’ll keel over instantly.
His breath catches as if I just prophesied how he was going to die, but then it comes out in a long and steady wheeze as he glares back up at us. “I-it doesn’t matter, it’d be better t-to die like this, with s-some of my old life still r-remembered, than to go out like one of them.” To drive his point home, he hocks a massive loogie and spits it in the direction of one of the Adder’s bodies, where it fizzles and pops against the rock.
I can’t help but grin. “Well Princess, guess you were right,” I say with a nonchalant little shrug. “There was something worth saving down here after all.”
She turns back to me, and already the badass/horny changeling princess is back in action. “Damn straight there was something worth saving!” She announces, wrapping her hooves around the Nightling. “Cyphy!”
“Wut.” He asks.
“Wut.” I reply intelligently.
“Cypher!” She announces, nodding proudly. “That’s your name. I’d know that cute little stutter anywhere, colt. It’s you in there, under all that…Nightmare…weirdness.”
“Well said,” I say dryly.
“Thank you.”
“Cypher…” the Nightling repeats the name under his breath, trying it out with his humongous jaw. “Yeah…yeah, Cypher! That’s it! Has to be!” He beams up at us.
Chittery claps her hooves together like a gleeful filly. “Oh, there’s so much I want to talk to you about!”
“R-really? Were we c-close?”
“Oh, okay, I lied,” she giggles, a predatory glint entering her eye, the same one she wears every time I turn over in the night only to bump my nose against her grinning muzzle. “Actually, there’s only one thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
Uh-oh…
“Wh-what’s that?” He asks, suddenly growing aware that her hooves are still locked firmly on his shoulders.
“Did you enjoy the show?” She asks with a wink. “The one I put on in the showers back in the Hive, when I knew you were peeping on me. I mean, I don’t masturbate in front of just any stallion.”
“Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh…” he gulps, shivering. “I-I would like to be untied now, please…”
“Your mouth says that, but another part of you wishes to disagree,” she coos, caressing a hoof over his rising stallionhood.
He looks at her, eyes wide, mouth gaping and blubbering. If stallions had computer monitors, this one would be reading Error! Cypher.exe has encountered a fatal error and had to close, running Boner.exe as a system backup…
“Oh for Christ’s sake, princess!” I scream. “He just found out he’s a changeling! Could you give him a minute before trying to ride his dick!?”
Based on the saucy smile she shoots my way as she plunges her flank against his waist, I take the answer to be a rather forceful “no.”
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That night, I try to tell myself that the heavy gasps and screams of pleasure coming from their tent is from him giving her a very enthusiastic massage. It doesn’t work.
I sit up in my little spot and shake my head, my coat still spread over my legs. My head winds up resting in a chitin-covered hand. Now that I’ve been lying here awhile, I’ve had some time to think. This is rarely a good thing.
I am far from the picture of mental stability, as one might gather. I’ve got something inside me, this other part that honestly scares the piss out of the rest of me. Been there almost as long as I can remember. Usually, it’s pretty easy to control. Not that the job helps at all, but that’s what the therapy sessions are for. Thing is, it’s never had a voice whispering to me before. I hardly noticed it, but it’s been there, taunting me, begging for release, pushing me to go berserk on everyone and everything around me. Until I came to this world, it’d always just been fuzzy concepts and images, intrusive thoughts, sudden visions of murders and shootings that fade as quick as they come. Now though…now it fucking spoke!?
I hiss and toss in my makeshift bed. Where was that voice coming from? Was the stress of the job finally getting to me? It has been exceptionally crazy lately, and I’m, like, a month and a half late for my last appointment with the doc. Or maybe it’s something worse? Aww shit, what if it’s the Nightmare? What if I’m being corrupted somehow? Chrysalis gave me enough runes and spells to keep Satan himself from hopping into my meatsack and revving me up like a Harley, but who’s to say they actually work as well as we all think? What if they wear off, or if the magic keeping them up is wearing down from the current crisis, or if my human side is keeping them from working right?
I toss over onto my other side. Man, I really hate not being able to sleep.
“K-Kildeez?”
I turn to the voice, my sphincter clenching reflexively. Fortunately, it’s Cypher standing there. “Hey kid, the princess finally letcha go?” I rasp, my voice still scratchy from the lack of sleep.
He nods. “Uh-huh, sh-she finally fell asleep.”
“How many rounds did that take?”
“Fifteen, with…u-um…’self-pleasuring sessions’ in between to give me a break.”
I whistle, shaking my head. “She earned her reputation, sure as shit.”
“Y-yeah,” he swallows. “Listen, uh, I-I didn’t get a good chance to…thank you…for what you’ve…”
I raise a hand to stop him. “Cypher, the fact that you’re still breathing is thanks enough for me. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes in the past, some big, some small. Today, things happened to work out for the better, but you know that’s mostly luck, right? I mean, if you’d been at the front door when we launched our attack on the Hive…”
“I-I know that, but still,” he sighs, one of his hooves caressing the skinny muscle connecting his back to one of his blades. “Even that would’ve b-been better than wh-what the Nightmares were g-gonna do to me. It’s because of y-your bravery that none of that’s gonna happen. E-even if the feedback loop collapses and I d-d-die right now, I want you to know th-that’s still better, and it w-was all thanks to you two.”
I take a few minutes to absorb his words, and then I nod. “Alright, welcome.”
He nods back, one hoof now running over the other as his gaze breaks away from mine. “Th-there’s one other thing…”
“You’re too scared to fall asleep next to the princess because you’re afraid if you do, you’ll wake up chained to a bed in a secret pleasure dungeon with a dildo rammed down your throat.”
His eyes widen as he slowly nods.
“Yeah, why do you think I sleep with my ass facing a rock?” I grumble, patting the solid sheet of rock firmly planted on my rear. “Alright, get down here boyo, there’s plenty room for two.”
“Th-thanks…” he says, trotting in beside me and curling up under my jacket. “N-night.”
“Night.”
A few minutes of silence pass in the darkness. We face away, butt-to-butt, making sure to keep eyes on every corner. He pipes up again: “Kildeez?”
“Hmm?”
“Y-you’re not, um…you know…’into’ other…uh…”
“I’m not gay.”
“I mean, it’s okay if you are! I-I didn’t want to assume, and i-it’s not like I’d be afraid you’ll try to…um…’take’ me in the middle of the night, b-but I just wanted to make sure th-this wasn’t…wasn’t…”
“I’m not gay.”
“O-okay…good…” then, as if realizing what he’s implying, he sits up in bed, waving his hooves around. “I-I-I mean not good! I mean, uh…it’s okay if you are! Wh-why, some of my best friends are gay! I-it really doesn’t matter to…”
“Cypher?”
“Y-yeah?”
“I spent most of the last week dodging Nightmares, ripping Hives apart with my bare hands, and blocking the sexual advances of a creature that makes Pamela Anderson look like Mother Teresa. Please just shut up and go to sleep.”
A few more minutes, and I hear a quiet: “O-okay.” Then silence.