Bugging Sweetie Belle

by AppleCider120

Prologue - Morning Bugging

Author's Note:

Comissioner's request was for a CMC Crush Fetish, featuring insects as the unfortunate recipients. I will not spoil the plot of the commission for this first prologue chapter, though.

As her hoof came down frantically, a sickening, yet oddly satisfying crunch echoed throughout Sweetie Belle’s washroom. Following a shriek of terror, the filly had found herself face-to-face with an unbelievably large cockroach in the bathtub. In a matter of what seemed like seconds, she went front an ear-piercing shriek, to standing over the body of her visual assailant; its disgusting bug blood now covered her hoof, and it had the nerve to still be twitching when she brought the hoof up to check.

With her little heart still beating quite heavily, she smashed her hoof over the skull of the bug, receiving another series of crackling as the exoskeleton shattered under her weight. The filly absolutely loathed the sight of a bug, and would fly into a seemingly blind rage until the insect was at a point that could be considered pacified; the point of which was usually the death of the offending insect.

Whatever her thoughts managed to conjure, as far as her aversion to the insect world, the rational train she had been driving to the washroom brought her back on the tracks. She came in here to spruce up for school, and had been taken off guard by the ruffian of the animal kingdom; so, she made her way into the shower, using the water to rinse the corpse of the little bastard down the drain, once and for all.

While it may have seemed small, this little victory did wonders to Sweetie Belle’s confidence for the day; she absolutely found the barbarism of crushing an insect satisfying, beyond most terms used to describe it. And the act of cleaning off the grimy bits of that little cretin brought her such a relaxing feeling. Sweetie hated insects, but she loved the act of ridding herself of them, relentlessly.

An so, with her shower underway, Sweetie Belle used the back end of one of Rarity’s coat brushes to push the bug away with the help of the water; after a few more tries, she finally managed to coax the beast of a roach down the shower drain. After cleaning her sister’s brush thoroughly, she turned to herself. The little filly started with her shampoo, rubbing it thoroughly through her mane, getting it quite frazzled as she did. Her tail came next, as she sat back to wash it between her hind legs, finding it easier than having to bend her body in half, sideways, just to reach it.

After lathering herself, she then turned to her coat cleaner, and rubbed it into herself a bit roughly, but thoroughly. By the end of her shower, Sweetie Belle looked snow white, and could even give Rarity’s alabaster form a run for its money. Following her shower with a brushing, and a cleansing of her teeth, the little filly was finally ready for the day to begin. Now, she just had to work up the willingness for that energy to be put into her schoolwork.

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Applebloom awoke from her eight hour slumber in the morning, much later than Sweetie Belle had. While she had played host to the filly with many sleepovers, she was still not used to how early the little unicorn would be up; and they woke up early on harvesting days! No, on many occasions, Applebloom could find herself nodding her head awake sometimes, to see Sweetie Belle looking out the windows, often before the sun came up.

Digression aside, Applebloom was out of bed, before she heard Applejack’s usual morning knocks.

“You awake in there, Applebloom?” she said, not bothering to open.

Applebloom rolled her eyes a bit, sighing softly.

“Of course, I am, sis!” she called back through the door. “Just a couple of seconds ago.”

“Atta girl, I’ll get breakfast going,” Applejack said, before walking away from the door.

Applebloom rolled her eyes; still no longer considering herself a baby, but not too terribly upset about it, nowadays. She went to her wardrobe, looking through her variety of red bows. Ever since she started wearing them, she began to amass an amusing amount of the red fabric. From clip on bows, to the manual “struggle” bows, the filly was not short on them. As she was looking through the assortment, she found something quite intriguing, that boosted her excitement for the morning quite swiftly.

On a low-hanging tassel of one of her struggle bows, stretching down nearly to the bottom shelf of her cabinet, sat a large long-legged spider.

“Oh, good morning,” she said softly, leaning in to look at the long-legged, pea-sized bodied spider.

She didn’t have to struggle to figure out why the things were called “Daddy Long-Legs”, and she was sure smart enough to know that this little guy was completely harmless. She stretched her hoof out slowly, carefully scooping the almost weightless creature onto it. As expected, it slowly began attempts to walk off her hoof, only finding itself walking onto another as Applebloom made an infinite loop with her hooves so it would keep moving.

She watched closely as it wandered, the long legs bending around the curves of her frog, tickling the underside of her hoof as it would walk. Then she started to smirk a little at the bug. After what seemed like over a minute, she clamped her hooves together over the little spider, crushing the critter’s underwhelming, small body between her hard hooves. Her smile vanished, almost immediately, however; the only think she could hear when the cretin’s body was crushed, was the sound of her own hooves clacking together.

There was no satisfying crunch, as would be heard with a beetle. Those were her favorite insects to smash. Often times, even if the bug was already dead, she would get down to a close level, and slowly press her hoof down over the hard carapace of the bug. As the pressure would increase, the only thing she could picture, or hear, would be the almost peanut shell-like crackling. Though not as pronounced as a peanut shell being cracked, the beetles she found would often let out a sickening crackling noise upon compression, with the aftermath usually containing her observing the body on the ground; or, in some cases, investigating the carcass and fluids covering her hoof after stomping a particularly large beetle.

“Applebloom,” Applejack called from downstairs, “breakfast is being put out!”

Applebloom snapped out of her daydreamer’s daze, and shook her head.

“Oh,” she said. “Coming, sis!”

She hurriedly grabbed a hold of one of her clip on bows, before rushing to the bathroom to brush her mane.

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Scootaloo rushed out the front door of her aunts’ place, quite behind the morning schedule, and without milk for their cereal. She had asked for a few bits so she could instead rush over to the Sugarcube Corner for breakfast; she figured Pinkie would be able to magic up something good before the school day would start. She grabbed her scooter quickly, before mounting up, and soaring down through Ponyville’s streets; being so early in the morning, she didn’t have to be too careful about other ponies walking out in front of her, so she was free to fly down the dirt paths as fast as she wished.

The only thing she would come to regret, is when she found herself inadvertently ramming through a minor swarm of grasshoppers. It occurred just as she rounded the corner, on her final stretch towards the bakery; as she came, she spotted an unusually green section of the pathway, which quickly developed into a massive green cloud when she came near.

The first impact was a hoof-full of the massive green bastards right in her face; while the bug barely tore its leg off, Scootaloo’s small weight distribution was thrown off enough to cause her to fly to the ground, on top of a swathe of grasshopper. Eliciting a yelp as she was tossed off her scooter, what followed was an orchestra of insects buzzing to rush out of the way of the filly’s falling mass, and the sound of many being to late to move.

The shattering of exoskeletons didn’t quite echo in the outside air, but they were far more intense than that of what Sweetie Belle’s had caused. Being that she likely smashed five or six grounded grasshoppers, the crackling of their carapaces filled the immediate six foot vicinity with plenty of sound. Scootaloo was now on her back, grumbling as she lay over their little corpses, her back likely covered in green fluids, tiny legs, and broken wings. As she rolled over, she could feel a few more that had stayed put during her fall, slowly becoming flattened under her little body’s weight.

More crackling exoskeletons, bursts of bug blood, and groans of annoyance from Scootaloo filled the air. Now she would have to at least see if Pinkie would help her wash up before class started. But, before she did that, she turned her sights to a small patch of grasshoppers still sitting on the road. With a smirk forming on her muzzle, she rushed towards them eagerly. As with Applebloom, the little orange filly loves to hear the satisfying crunch of the carapace; but, in addition to that, Scootaloo had found something neat about the little grasshoppers that she found more fun.

If you were careful, and in a bit of a sadistic mood like Scootaloo, you could carefully pull the grasshoppers head, and some of its nervous system, out of the little guy’s body. If you did it right, the little bastard would keep moving, and sometimes even hop away aimlessly. This happened to the first of the small group of hoppers when she managed to get a hold of him. Thanks to a little passive Equestrian magic, grabbing the tiny head of a grasshopper with a hoof proved to be no issue. To her delight, it did manage to do a few hops before it finally began to settle into its final resting place.

She looked around for a moment, before spotting a clock on one of the houses nearby, and smirked.

“Hey,” she said to herself, “I still got thirty minutes.”