• Published 20th Apr 2014
  • 5,194 Views, 566 Comments

Twilight Sparkle And the Very Confusing Apocalypse - kudzuhaiku

Twilight Sparkle wakes up, and right away, there is something wrong as her checklist can't be checked.

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Chapter 2

“Oh my gosh… Does it hurt?” Rainbow Dash inquired, almost in a near panic, hovering from place to place frantically, her eyes never leaving Soarin’s oversized belly, her forehooves pressed into her cheeks, pinching her face and making her look ridiculous.

Soarin’ nodded. He and Dash had learned that the best approach was honesty and had vowed to never fall back into guessing games and trying to force one another to read minds.

“I know Twilight is working on what is going on, but we’re taking you to the hospital!” Rainbow cried.

Soarin’ tried to shoo Rainbow away, waving his hoof in dismissal. “I’m fine. Just big.”

“Too big Soarin, I’m scared! Real scared. You grew overnight! Gah! Please go Soarin’, please go for me!” Rainbow Dash pleaded and begged, raising her forehooves up together under her chin.

Soarin’ sighed and nodded, saying nothing in his defeat.

Cadance fretted and fussed. Shining Armor hadn’t been able to get out of the bed now for several days. A doctor stood nearby, and a nurse, both of them baffled, neither one of them quite able to deal with Shining Armor’s oversized belly. It was large and strangely… lumpy. Cadance had felt it herself, pressing her nose in where the doctor had told her to press.

Pressing her nose in had caused Shining Armor to crepitate labouriously. The stench of his passing still filling the room, cloying in the nostrils.

Shining Armor was still enough of a stallion somewhere in his brain to laugh riotously when he had farted, and then immediately felt embarrassed about it and tried to apologise. Something about the female form that caused one to become ashamed about flatulence, self conscious and aware of body image, and the need to be appealing, pleasing to others, an overpowering need to be and feel pretty.

And pretty mares did not fart.

Cadance did not find flatulence appealing, and Shining Armor, now female, had picked up on this all too soon. It was the nail in the coffin for poor Shining Armor, realising something in his fundamental nature had been changed dramatically.

Shining Armor began to cry.

Cadance tried soothing him, stroking him with a wing, but Shining Armor was on the rollercoaster ride of mommy hormones, he had reached a peak, and was now falling over the precipice, plunging into a steep decline.

“He’s been like this for weeks!” Cadance cried in frustration.

The nurse nodded.

“It is difficult being a mare.” The doctor admitted, removing his glasses with magic and polishing them on his white coat.

“I need chocolates and cuddle time.” Shining Armor sniffled, looking at Cadance with pleading bloodshot eyes, his mascara running. Shining had been experimenting with makeup, hoping that feeling pretty would help his mercurial mood.

Cadance nodded in understanding and wished that she had a strong masculine shoulder to lean on, her mind wishing for her Shining Armor back to the way he was.

“I feel so awful. I just don’t know what went wrong.”

Time Turner looked at Derpy, his hearts melting in his chest. The grey pegasus mare was beside herself. Sometimes, quite literally, as she summoned up another Derpy with the help of blue box to help wait on him hand and foot.

The blue box was still a mystery to Time Turner, covered in some strange lettering he could not read. It was much, much larger on the inside than on the outside. And Derpy seemed to be the only one who could make things on the inside do anything.

Time Turner had strange feelings about the blue box. He could hear it singing sometimes. Lately, it seemed to thrum with strange energy.

Time Turner had stepped out of the blue box one day with jumbled memories, strange knowledge, and a terrible case of general amnesia. He couldn’t remember his own name, or who he was, so the ponies had called him Time Turner because of his knack with clocks. Occasionally, his mind would flood with brilliant thoughts, thoughts about things like timey wimey wibbly wobbly stuff, and then it would vanish without a trace. Some days, he knew more than others, at least he thought he did, but he could never be sure.

He was certain about one thing though. He hadn’t always been a pony. He had been something else once, what he was, he could not tell. Something about regeneration danced around the edges of his memory.

“You’re so big!” Derpy said, rubbing her hooves gently over Time Turner’s belly, worry still on her face, her amber eyes looking in different directions. Derpy pressed her ear to the rounded belly and listened.

“I have a strange craving for bananas. And celery.” Time Turner announced, smacking his lips noisily and blinking his eyes several times rapidly.

“I’ll go get some. Wanna banana nut muffin?” Derpy replied.

“Yeah, that would be fantastic!” Time Turner said, his plot suddenly exploding with enough force to cause Derpy to scream in alarm.

Zecora eyed Iron Will, her face creased with concern. Something just wasn’t right, and Zecora knew it. Zecora could understand pregnancy, she was an experienced midwife, but Iron Will’s condition baffled her. The minotaur cow was too far along too soon. And she was strangely lumpy.

Iron Will farted loudly, his face straining as he did so.

Zecora hoped the farts were not strangely lumpy. That would be bad. Lumpy flatulence was always a worrying sign of something wrong.

“If you are fat and full of gas, you must blow it out your ass!” Iron Will announced, pressing down on his stomach, his nostrils flaring.

“You have ruined our home and soiled our hut, would you please stop your trumpeting from your butt?” Zecora replied, mildly annoyed, her nostrils crinkling.

“If a little baby is soon to be born, you must announce them with a horn!” Iron Will argued, his expression pained as he pressed down on his stomach with one hand, and cupped an oversized udder bulging from his chiseled pectorals with the other.

“Stop right now and let go your tits, it is making me think about your filly bits!” Zecora protested. She felt guilty for having so much desire while her partner seemed to be suffering so.

“If you want to ride my belly, you must squeeze me into jelly!” Iron Will offered.

“If I squeeze your belly, it will come to pass, so much sound and fury... will come out your ass.” Zecora replied.

“I have nothing.” Iron Will said, looking astonished and somewhat embarrassed. “You are a noble and magnificent creature. I can spout catchphrases all day, but you make beautiful poetry.” Iron Will began to sniffle slightly, suddenly looking very emotional, still squeezing one of his udders absentmindedly.

Zecora kissed him gently, hoping to make him feel better.

A dreadful cloud hung over Ponyville. It was thick, smoggy, and sulfurous. A similar cloud hung over Canterlot, over Manehatten, over every city and town in Equestria.

And the world.

Begin to worry ✓

Twilight Sparkle felt a tingle of fear as she hung her head out the window, her nostrils crinkling, the smell so thick and cloying now that you could taste it.

The pegasi were working overtime trying to create wind to blow the feculent cloud away. It didn’t seem to be helping.

Begin to understand that events have begun to spiral out of control ✓

Luna stood on the battlements, holding a conductor’s wand in her magic, looking very pleased with herself, her eyes wide, her face in a manic grin, her teeth visible, her wings sprung out and fully erect, quivering with her passion.


She raised the conductor's wand, gave it a tap on the crenulations, and the music started.

Below her, her herd of mares began their terrifying song, a flatulent frog song of the damned, each one of them farting out a trumpeting blast in time to their cue from the conductor’s wand, creating the most horrible nightmarish music ever heard on Equestria since the Cutie Mark Crusaders school musical number. The enormous shaggy lunar pegasi reveled in their nightmarish music, their faces in ecstasy, their only desire to please their Mistress. She wanted them to sing, and they gave her music, music filled with love and adoration, their heads down, their plots raised in song, their tails flicking like horrible metronomes in time with the music.

Celestia screamed in fetid horror, the “Song of the Barking Spiders” as Luna called it damaging her sanity. The “Lament of the Quacking Ducks” had also been quite awful, but “Song of the Barking Spiders” was well practiced, giving it a truly nightmarish quality. Celestia thought the sound below sounded like a herd of elephants stampeding through the mud.

Celestia contemplated snatching Windburn and abdicating her throne.

Author's Note:

**Holds nose**

Writing this sequel stinks.

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