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pony-writer/pornographer looking for work. old stories undeleted. i'm sorry. Patreon here


A place where ponies can go to have their fantasies brought to life. A young colt finds himself asked by invitation only, as all the clients are. He's not sure if he belongs, and as he discovers more about the strange boutique and how it works, he becomes less and less sure about his patronage - and more and more bewildered by the idea of 'fantasy' and what it means to want something that might never be real.

A story for the friend off, based on Obsidian Solitaire's "The Cutest Thing..."

My first attempted at 'real' writing... apologies to everyone looking for the usual stuff. Will return to regularly scheduled content soon.

Chapters (1)
Comments ( 44 )

Interesting! A new spin on a classic idea, well worth the read. I liked the musing about morality in fantasy--it's similar to the question if there's morality in video games.

It was touched on, but I'd have liked to see a little discussion on how healthy these fantasies are in general. Maybe the ideas of obsession vs. getting ideas out of your head?

Regardless, well done. I liked it a lot, and I'm glad to see you continue to make unusual, unique fics that expand what the site can be. Thanks for writing!


Ok wow, that was really good.
The ending was a bit of a cliffhanger but I guess it's up to the reader to think of what comes next right?
thank you for an entertaining read

I should have made a comment the first time I read it when you put it up for the friend off. The whole story is great as a whole. The main character is as nervous and confused as we're supposed to be, and the other characters you've written in the waiting room (particularly squeaky clean) and they're reactions to each other. Damn man. This was a fine story. All the way up to that ending!

This was real deep, though I honestly would have loved to see how "Grey" handled his fantasy.

Well that was some pretty clever writing. It was a great read. ^^

Fantastic. Truly beautiful. You have a gift of writing my friend. Even though I have no idea what Grey's fantasy was, I still loved it. :pinkiehappy:

939817 Grey's fantasy isn't the point. Grey could be anyone, and to see his fantasy would remove that.

Anyway, this all reminds me of the Delirium in the manga Nightmare Inspector, except with room for only one. Well done, and good luck in your future writing career.

When I first read the synopsis and the title, I started thinking of King's "Needful Things". It's somewhat similar, although one is much shorter and deals with ponies. Nonetheless, a very good read. Interesting and clever. The plot is just enough to make someone think about repercussions of thoughts and fantasies, or one could just enjoy the story.:applejackunsure:

Hmm, magical holodeck.

*never pose a philosophical quandry to a hard-core science geek* :raritywink:

675830 Morality in fantasy? Heh heh, I use it in EVERY one of my fantasies. I find it makes things far more dynamic and interesting. it's why I often leave people in tears when I role play. I play emotions, repercussions, and consequences very cleverly.

*smiles* I can make a fantasy so potent it seems more real that life itself. Hence, I duplicate my moral sensibilities within it, as no matter what the characters may be, the situation still mimics aspects of reality, thus the brain carries over reactions to similar scenarios automatically and instinctively.

For instance, I used my fantasies to erase my 3 phobias of childhood: heights, spiders, and hyperdermic needles. The last one was tough... I had to combine the mental scenarios with real paid clinical trials where I got more money every time they jabbed me with a needle.

Also, I would definitely have Celestia put a watch on that psycho pony. The ones that fantasize that deeply over killing have a far higher probability of actually doing it. One day, he's going to wonder if his dream murders are really like the actual act. And then try it. He's one step from a serial killer.

Speaking of Celestia, I can't help but wonder what she's think of such a place. It seems to me, the allowance for ANYTHING one imagines might give her more than a little cause for concern. The more one acts upon an obsessive desire, the greater the compulsion to repeat it. That's psychology 101 right there.


... Dude. You are... Hmm.

How do I even respond to something like this? Incredulity? Awe? I'm feeling a bit of each and some others. I guess the highest compliment I can pay you is that I saw the world in this one--the chairs, the wood, the building, the characters. I actually saw these ponies and felt this place to a degree. I can hear the nuances in their words, the accent, feel the atmosphere shift as Squeaky Clean cuts Grey (you) off from Sticky and gets in your face. The whisper as he lets his true emotions bleed out of that white, clean body.

Holy shit, dude. You nailed it--and you've made my day, my week, and maybe my month better for exposing me to this story. Is it a concept that's been done before? Absolutely; most recent instance is "Total Recall" with the Rekall machine. I myself have explored this type of thing in my own story on here, but mine was less a genuine exploration and reaction than a piercing satire. This piece was done with such devotion to getting it right and making it a new, realistic experience that it doesn't even matter how many goobs have attempted this. You brought it to an audience with fresh breath and a new set of questions.

The praise is yours, friend. It takes a lot to capture my interest and, more than that, my respect. This story is not worthy of being called a 'fan fic'--it's much better than that peddling title. No, this is just a tale told using a set of characters, settings, and pieces from another world. This, honestly, could've been in any universe. Its potency and maturity raises it far above the dungeons of fanfic.

I present you the Inky Award of Excellence. Now, for the love of good writing and actual thinking and feeling in this sedated modern world, please go write more and get stuff published.

darn you
now you got me wanting to know grey's fantasy

good, interesting story

It's rare to see a story on this site so... philosophical. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

It has been said before, but you really are a master of Imagery. You really brought this world to life, congratulations, and thanks for bringing us all this tail!

This was really well written! Thanks!

I sort of thought that the story was inspired by the Dollhouse at some point, but I guess that's not really true.

Ah, This was certainly an interesting piece. I like that you looked into the mind of the ordinary citizen, and broke down their thought processes from one moment to another. I really liked the intricacy of your writing, questioning not only the morality of the ponies in this fiction, but also the morality of the very reader. You pulled the strings well, and the dialogue was very neat. You are damn good at fanfiction, is what I'll say.

Are murders bad when it's not real murders? I don't think there's anything wrong with it. A world without consequence where anything can happen. Is killing someone in a game wrong? No. Like Sticky Hooves said, at least he's doing it in there, instead of on the rest of Ponyville. It's a great story. One has to wonder what the author's perspective on this is. Most of the story is spent hearing one point of view, is that what the author feels, or is is that they're exceptionally good at making characters and having them preach what they disagree with. This was a great read, though I do question what is has to do with ponies. It could have been easily replaced with humans, with it being changed only slightly, though I suppose being a member of the brony community, they wanted it to be seen by members of a at least in one aspect like minded audience. Everyone here likes a show with target demographic of 7-year-old girls. If it was about humans, and shown to a different audience how different would it have been perceived? Alas, I appear to be straying off topic. Kudos to the author for making, as far as I know, a one-of-the-kind read.


Indeed. By telling this story through the lens of ponies, I get the feeling it was made - at least in part - to appeal to those of us whose fantasy might just be a perfect day in Equestria. Something we can never get. A good imagination is as much a curse as a blessing sometimes; so very many artists are unable to reconcile their passions with the world around them, and wind up killing themselves.

I also liked the minor implication of Grey questioning if embracing a perfect fantasy is really a smart thing to do. You risk losing yourself in something less than real because you're not strong enough to face reality. And no matter how perfect the illusion may be, a part of you in the back of your mind will always be reminding you that what you're experiencing is fake. But at the same time, escapism is an important part of life... one that absolutely everyone indulges in to at least some degree even if they won't admit it. Is denying what you really want somehow noble? Should you just let the frustration with an imperfect world build inside you, instead?

I guess it ultimately comes down to self-control, as so many things do. Whether you can control your imagination, or it controls you.

Too much philosophical rambling. Have a Scootaloo. :scootangel:

This story was phenomenal! It's just... I don't really understand that last line. Well, it's probably just going over my head :unsuresweetie:

I won't talk about the heart of the story - it's too early for me to tell where you're going with this - I'll just say that at the paragraph level, that's some damn fine writing:

The word colt was appropriate because nothing about him fit the word 'stallion'. He didn't look like an adult, nor did he look like a child. His stature gave every indication he was finished growing, but the aura surrounding him, along with his lanky limbs and bashful demeanour, gave the indication that the word 'colt' was for all intent the best word to describe him. He wasn't a boy, he told himself. Though, he didn't want to get into thinking that: what it meant to grow up, or why he might be here.

He wasn't sure if the businesslike approach was more to his liking, but it left his decision making process unclouded. Not that hesitation had been a concern in the first place. Purpose was a beam of light, spearing through the grey mass of fog that too much thought produced.

The colt held his piece of paper close like a passport, telling the other ponies in the room that he belonged — that he was meant to be there. Despite his worry, they couldn't have seemed less interested in his presence.

The conversation had rapidly gone from 'baby bird under slightly greasy wing' to 'lecherous uncle telling his startled nephew about the birds and the bees, and what he liked to do with them while rolling in piles of money’.

Grey considered his own state of mind for a moment. Was sad the right word? He hadn't put a great deal of thought into what he might describe his mental state of affairs as. What was he looking for? Was he on the same level as the distraught family man clinging to semblances of memories in the closest way he could feel them anew? Saying yes felt like too much stock in his own worth... how could anyone sit in a room and compare tragedies and state of mind? Injury was personal, and ranking it felt like a crude algebra best left alone. But, did it mean he was sad? He had asked, was everyone here sad? He wasn't sure about the answer.

When he had heard the words ‘unclean’ and ‘impure’ he had thought of desire. Fantasy was a beautiful word, meaning something you dreamed of as a child, a thing or a place you wanted in your purest imagination that you could never have. What he had seen here was different, horrible wishes and thoughts of things that should be left buried for no one ever to see — the kind of thoughts that looked back at you in the mirror and made you blink.

Oh, hell, I see it's marked complete. So it is, I guess. I'd hoped you had some grander scheme, but it would be hard to know where to go from here.

That was quite amazing. It is not often that stories in here touch me at any level, but this hit something personal in me. I don´t think that I need to say more words than I already have, and there is other comments that said it better than I did. But it was amazing. Thanks for the story

It's not… bad… but it's not pony. I mean, there's nothing pony in it, except perhaps for Celestia being the dream of one of the background characters. It could be better off being an Inception fanfic (or crossover) and then you could actually explore this concept further. Alternatively, you could use one of the established characters from the show, since you definitely didn't use the established universe.

Now this... this was an interesting read.

I can tell it was deep but i'm not quite sure how much of it i caught.
****spoiler alert****

Squeaky Clean and Sticky Hooves were definitely a form of opposites. I thought it was interesting that you chose to make Squeaky the sort of antagonist and Sticky a likable character. I still don't quite see if there is symbolism in that. Although i suppose you could interpret it as evil stemming from social norms expectations and ideals, since there has to be something that is right before there is something that is wrong. Squeaky emphasizes that smut and bad behavior has to be cleaned away, by this he probably means killing, but i'm not quite sure.

“Is that my queue to cut in again?”
Something about the way he said that word.
Wow these lines, awesome. kind of hints at something wrong with Squeaky Clean.

Also you play around with ideas of fantasy and desire and whether or not it is good or bad, i'm not going to try to interpret that, because that stuff goes over my head.

So yea good story, made me think, make more like it please.
Also the main character has the same name as me :twilightsheepish:

Spelling error:

“Is that my queue to cut in again?”

“queue” should be “cue”.

When I go into a room at the Vis Copia, I turn into someone who can write as good as this.

I figured you wouldn't show us what Grey got. That's not the point after all. :ajsleepy:

This story is brilliant, and I don't say that lightly. It takes a lot of common, long standing elements of good fiction and ties it all together into something familiar and new. Magic, in the loosest term of the word, cannot be understood. It simply is, and when it can grant desire (let's not say wishes) it makes one ask the important question, "What would you do if you had total control?" There's the basic things, like quick gratification, or the deeper things, like what we've lost and can't get back. Fantasy sums this all up so perfectly. What a thought-provoking piece of pony fiction. I dare say this is my new favorite story from you.

I have no idea how to react to this story
I was amazed, confused, held in suspense and gripped by my own hypothesis about what was happening and how XD
Wicked story
Like fave ofc :moustache:

Reading through rainbow/dash next

Well this is the best take on the "Changeling whorehouse" concept I've seen. xD

But seriously, I loved it, I just don't know what you're still doing writing ponyfiction when there's so much more out there for you. You're qualified to say the least...

The thing that I like most about this, and the thing which I now think is the key to both mass appeal and profoundness, is the way that even the conclusions I disagree with in this manage to stay neatly within reasonable characterization, such that I can get meaning even out of disagreeable characters (all of them, to me).

I don't know if you particularly care to hear about things you wrote a year ago.
I think you've improved stylistically, or maybe the transhuman scope of this just demands a try-hard language. A lot of crawling skin and simple "like" analogies. The last couple paragraphs felt as if reaching for an aphorism or scrambling at the sides of a well only to come up against the language barrier of trying to explain something better than, "dude, like, it was fucking stars and, um, like, dude, but, like a waterfall of fucking stars, dude, but, like, man, omigod, like, Jesus vomited the stars into my brain, like, man, you know ..." which confronts anyone attempting to profess the sublime.

Also, I got the feeling that the story was about the protagonist's greatest desire being to know his deepest desire. A sort of metatextual cheat, in which the idea rolls back around into a "yes but no but yes but no but yes ..." loop of infinite self-creation. The author writes to try to understand, so he writes people who wish to understand, and if what he wants is to understand, then his life can be fulfilled by hanging out in a waiting room of broken souls listening to moral stories from older men.

The ending implied he was finished and walking back out into the street, is how I got it.

i definitely feel like i've matured a lot as a writer. it's kind of baffling to look back at something i did only a year ago and see how far i've come. that said, i don't feel particularly bad about this piece... the interplay of the characters made it fun for me, even if the ultimate answer was only a question. you could boil it down to 'what?' in a more roundabout fashion, but i think if you're being reductive, the focus of the piece is simply to arouse thought. i don't know that saying 'think' is a worthwhile goal in such a lengthy manner, but it was a fun exercise in provoking the nature of possibility and aspiration.

i'd be more interested to hear your thoughts on my recent stuff, but it's cool to remember things i once thought were the pinnacle of my ability that seem superficial in current context. if anything, it's at least a reminder to duck the staggering barrier of an inflated ego. not that i'm claiming to have an objective perspective on things; proper humility is a rarity these days.

Comment posted by Fiddlebottoms deleted Jul 9th, 2013


Perhaps my complaints are actually compliments, thinking further.

well, i'm not sure i considered they were anything other than open-minded postulation, which we seem to be trading in spurts. i regret that i haven't had a chance to go over more of your catalog, but expect to see similar from me in the future.

it's probably obvious i've fallen into the ethos of your writing pretty hard lately... i've actually been working on my first submission to the cockroach club and am hoping to hand it in soon. that said, the feeling in your latter sentiment is mutual. if we can stop bantering about literary semantics, i'd love the chance to exchange ideas properly.

you assist nothing in your word choice.

not to say that your thoughts aren't apparently a little confusing sometimes. did i overlook something?

the only relevance i can think of is the one duck i happen to see any of these days: :V
though, that could be any bird, really. oh, and according the hover-over, we also have this one: :duck:

...is this the thing you were going on about in your blog comments? i feel like i'm missing something important.

Forgive me because I'm spilling unnecessarily into your comment section without thinking what I'm writing about properly.

I can't help but compare your writing to mine when I finish something of yours, and that aura of aloofness that permeates your responses and the discussion of your work just seems to chastise me for enjoying something of yours on a deeper-than-usual level. Comparing my writing to yours is not an exercise that makes me feel very good about what I do, and in ways that acknowledgement that in a simple year you've grown a huge amount is both a fantastic and scary thing to read. Fantastic because it gives me hope that there is a process, that there's no 'waking up one day a good writer' and that I can get there, and scary because I think your writing is really good and if I'm not even there, or maybe even on the horizon of there, where am I? How many years?

I don't know if I've really told anyone (or you) this, but you're an idol of mine. I'm not sad that you've gone and might never return because I was never enamored with who you really are (I don't know you) but what my idea of you is like, and to be sad for more than a little while would betray that I respect you to do what you gotta do.

Thanks for giving me something to aspire to. Thanks for having a comment section I can stupidly existentially dump into. For context, I decided really recently that writing is something I'm willing to sacrifice a whole lot for; I recently changed my major to pursue it, despite being scared like a kid in a thunderstorm at the prospect. Maybe that's not good enough. Absolutely terrified in a liberating sense of the word. Thanks for being a darf I can be in love with the thought of.

Author Interviewer

I'm very pleased with the ending; if his fantasy had been revealed, I'd have been monumentally disappointed. Also, I have to say, Squeaky Clean is one of the most brilliantly loathsome characters I've ever seen, well done.

7263898 he's basically just Dexter Morgan, pony version. with sexual shamey undertones, i guess. but justified cruelty is justified cruelty, and the threads begin to weave together.

i think i ended this story before the end because i couldn't write an ending. now maybe i could. interesting to think about.

3505622 oh hey, this comment sure is nice. thanks! :)

It's been nearly three years, but all of this pretty much holds true (though the temptation to post just a picture of a very startled and embarrassed anime girl was enormous). If you are still struggling against depression, I hope that you find yourself in a better place soon. Your stories can do really incredible things, and I think you'll do just fine if you don't ever forget that.

7270306 luckily the depression has turned into borderline personality disorder, which is absolutely being faced and dealt with! :)

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