Becoming Cupcake

by Axquirix

Chapter Four: Train of Pain

“INCOMING!” You shout, alerting your teammates to BLU’s attempt at a counter-attack. Today’s battle started well, a hard push against some haphazard defences – Spy really came into his element dealing with that sentry nest before it got up to the big guns, and with the rest of you constantly pushing forwards, BLU’s engineer hasn’t had a chance to set up his base where it’ll help before you’ve torn it down again.

Your own Techy, however, is doing great, systematically running forwards with his dispenser, setting up a new teleporter exit and only then trying to knock together a sentry, keeping your walking wall glued together instead.
Seeing that they’re losing ground fast without a sentry or dispenser, BLU’s seemingly decided to push you back, giving their Engy precious time to set up and let them hold the line… assuming they don’t push you all the way back to resupply, of course.

“ROGER THAT!” Soldier shouts back to you, and trots over to a short concrete barrier for some cover. You notice most of the team moving up to your position and digging in, and you smile when you see Pinkie Pie using the brief lull to top up everypony’s Overheal. You yourself are up on a side ledge, ready to fire down on anypony that gets past you. As you busy yourself setting up a line of Sticky Bombs, your engineer runs up behind you and throws down a red toolbox, before unpacking his fully upgraded dispenser on your ledge.

“Easy access, several ways out, light cover, good spot for a teleporter exit,” he murmers to himself, dragging another toolbox off of his back and setting it down.

“IS GOOD TIME TO RUN, COWARDS!” You hear a very loud, very gruff voice shout from around the corner up ahead, signalling the enemy tide. The enemy heavy steps out sideways, and lets loose on his giant gun as most of your team returns fire. To your surprise, it seems that the Heavy’s ignoring the large and somewhat exposed threat of Gilda, and is instead focused on supressing your Soldier. It doesn’t take you long to figure out why – as the heavy steps across the narrow avenue, giving cover to the medic behind him, all of your team focused on him, their sniper pops his head around the corner. With a sharp crack, Gilda silently drops, hitting the ground with a loud thud alongside her own weapon.

“Damnit!” Pinkie Pie shouts, quickly ducking further behind her own light cover near the fallen gryphon. Her medigun flips over and up onto her back as her needlegun comes down on her left side – there’s nopony near enough to her for her to heal them, and she can’t risk breaking cover. Your own sniper looses a shot, dropping his BLU counterpart while yelling the usual sort of abuse… until a flare arcs across the battlefield and hits him dead in the chest, setting his hair alight.

“Gah! Fire!” he shouts, turning and bolting out of cover towards the dispenser behind you, not quite making it through the incoming fire.

“SO MANY ITTY BITTY TINY FOALS ON YOUR TEAM!” the heavyweight draft pony up ahead shouts, liberally spreading the area with massive bullets, allowing more and more of his team to round the corner and start firing. You spot the sniper lining up a shot at you, and quickly duck. When you dare raise your head again, he’s moved, stepping back to the medic and raising a hoof to him, evidently hurt. You blink, and suddenly the sniper’s just gone, with the medic stood in his place. The medic, in turn, moves away from the fire-drawing heavy and moves to heal the soldier instead… and disappears, with the soldier jumping a few inches to his left. It just doesn’t make sense – the enemy team is just disappearing, one by one.

“Well, Ah’ll be,” the Texan behind you says, watching the same thing as you, “how in the hell of it did he get back there?” His words only confuse you even more as the soldier leans over to the pyro as he charges past, stretching out a hoof before disappearing. At the same time, the pyro stops short and instead turns to the heavy, who turns his head to watch him. They look at each other for a few seconds, before the bigger pony is engulfed in a fireball, leaving only the arsonist. A hoof goes to the his rubber mask, and he pulls it off, dropping a thinner, paper mask to the floor.

“You couldn’t let me ‘ave that last one, could you, soldier?” the spy calls back, spinning his dagger on one gloved hoof.

“NEGATORY, but you’ve done me proud, son! That is what I wanna”- Soldier’s cut shorts by a loud BLAM that drops the spy to the floor.

“Hit the bricks pal, you’re done!” the scout from yesterday shouts as he rounds the corner. “You’ll never hit me, suckas! I am UN”- he jumps right as he charges your team, narrowly dodging a rocket, “FREAKING”- back to the left, he jumps clean over a wasted flare as it rattles across the floor, “TOUCHA”-

“Boom,” you say, bringing emphasis to the sticky bombs as they detonate beneath the scout’s hooves, launching what’s left of him into the air.

“ENEMY CLEARED,” the soldier shouts out, “MOVE UP!”

“Hey, demo!” engineer calls you, “Would ya min’ givvin’ me a han’? Ah jus’ need somepony to cover me while Ah move alla this gear up!”

“Sure thing, Tex!” you agree, sitting tight while the rest of your team moves forwards, their path a little easier until the next wave arrives. Pinkie trots over before she leaves, giving you a brief peck before moving on with the team. You follow her with your vision as she leaves, smiling gladly to yourself.

A grunt from the engy behind you brings you back to your senses, and you turn to see him struggling to fold up his dispenser into its toolbox. He seems really put off about something, frowning and grunting as he works. Most likely he’s just tired of doing this, so you try to lift his spirits a bit.

“You know, you’re doing a great job, Engy,” you offer, “if it weren’t for you, we’d still be fighting for the first control point.”

“You think?” he asks through a mouth full of metal, “You like what Ah’m doin’?”

“Yeah,” You reply, not sure what to say next.

“Well, Ah can’t say Ah’m like-minded,” he says, turning towards you properly.

“You don’t like what you’re doing?” You ask.

“No, that ain’t it,” he says, before rearing up and kicking you square in the face with his right hoof. You fall to your flanks, surprised at the sudden attack. “Ah don’t like what you’re doin’!” he continues.

“Wh-what d’ya mean?” you ask, confused.

“D’ya know how long Ah’ve been stuck out here?” He barks at you, sticking his hoof to your chest and kicking you over further. “D’ya know how long it’s been since Ah last even saw the hindside of a filly? Ah am not havin’ some two-bit rookie layin’ his hooves on that lil’ pink girl a’fore Ah do!” He stands over you, pinning your back to the floor with one hoof. “You wise up an’ back off, mister!”

In fear and desperation, you kick one of your back legs into the bigger pony’s ample gut, hoping to wind him and get out from underneath him. Except that that isn’t fat, that’s muscle. The enginner doesn’t even flinch at the wild assault.

“Oh, you did not just…” He grits his teeth and leans forwards, pushing his muzzle in your face. “You just go an’ do that again, why don’t ya, an’ see where it gets ya?” With no other real options, you oblige, ramming your hoof into his hardened belly. “Come on, are ya buckin’ me or ticklin’ me? HARDER!” he shouts, and you throw as much force as you can into your next kick, still failing to make him move off of you.

“Huh, Ah thought as much. You ain’t strong, you ain’t tough. Prob’ly rely on Town Guard to keep you safe back home, huh? Well, Ah got news for ya,” the Texan monologues in a low, sinister voice, “ya’ll ain’t in Equestria no more. Out here it’s just you, me, an’ whatever muscle we’ve got, an’ Ah got a hella lot more than you!” He steps back, moving his hoof off your chest, but you’re still too timid to move just yet. “An’ ya actually thought ya could hold onto a filly out here, huh? Here, lemme do ya’ll a favour,” he says, and before you know what’s happening, there’s a loud BANG, and pain engulfs your body, shooting up your spine from your midriff.

The tech smiles to himself with a chuckle as the shotgun by his side cocks itself. “Ya’ll should stay dead, if’n ya know what’s good for ya,” he taunts, “because believe me, ya got off lightly.” He turns and walks away, pausing only to pack up his dispenser with a single buck and demolish his teleporter before moving up to the front lines. “Don’t come back now, y’hear?” he calls back with a laugh as he rounds the corner up ahead.

You can’t move, the pain from your shot guts pinning you to the floor. You’re paralyzed, alone and far behind the fighting line. You lie hopelessly on the ground, struggling to keep breathing through the intensity of the gunshot’s pain.

“ATTENTION!” a loudspeaker nearby crackles into life, “FIVE MINUTES LEFT TO THE MISSION!”

Five minutes. You panic: respawn turns off in fifteen minutes! You’re not going to be dead in time to respawn! Smartflanked son of a horse, he’s set you up to die off for good! Amid the pain addling your thoughts, you decide on one thing: you’ve got to get moving, and you’ve got to do it now.

Bracing yourself against the pain, you gently roll yourself over to your front, holding your injured belly off of the ground on your hooves, before steadily standing upright. Good, you’re on your hooves, as the loudspeaker shouts two minutes at you. You dip your head and quickly study your wound, assessing whether you can walk with it or not. There’s a lot of blood and a lot of holes, but it looks like everything’s still in place, as in, still inside of you. You’ve had worse – you’ve had your heart replaced, even if you did have a medigun and a surgeon that time. You lift a forehoof and set it forwards, gently easing your weight onto it, before moving the corresponding hindhoof. With slow, deliberate movements, you make head back to resupply, that surgery, and where that medic will be. Hopefully.

“You know,” someone says from somewhere before you, “you could ‘ave just offed yourself. Save yourself a lot of time and agony.” A BLU spy steps around the corner, and you realise with a jolt that you’re in now fit state to fight him off.
“I’m not about to go suiciding just to make my life easier,” you explain, aiming to walk steadily past him.

“Ah, zhen it is not cowardice and fear, but courage and bravery zhat makes you refrain!” He says with a flourish. “I like zhat. I suppose you’ll not take too kindly to me for doing the job for you, either?” he offers.

“No thanks,” you grunt through the burning wound, “I’m good.”

“Not that zhat usually stops me, but like I said, you remind me a lot of myself, a courageous, dashing rogue who is chased by mares wherever he goes. A blessing or a curse, who is to tell?” His rather hammy attitude is perfectly complemented by the theatrical phantom mask he’s wearing, you note.

“I’m not chased by mares,” you point out as you walk past, “I just happen to have met one who likes me.”

“And you’ve been extremely gentlecoltly about courting her,” he replies in a slightly arrogant, slightly sultry voice, “and while I know zhat a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, I have other ways of learning zhese things.”

You frown at him as you walk. “Have you been spying on m”- you’re cut short by your own yell as you misstep, about to send yourself crashing to the ground onto your wound. Before you’re even close to the dirt, though, the spy sticks out a hoof and catches you, holding you steady for a moment before propping you back up onto your hooves.

“Erm, thanks,” you say, “but… aren’t we enemies?”

“Not all of us are as brutal as zhat illiterate ruffian you called ‘Tex’,” the spy replies, “and while you are being a gentlecolt I, too, am being a gentlecolt. Besides,” he says, pausing for no apparent reason.

Just as you open your mouth to question him, the loudspeakers spark into life again. “BLU SUCCESSFULLY HOLDS THE POINT!” a harsh-voiced mare at the other end hollers, “YOU HAVE FAILED!”

“We’re hardly enemies out-of-hours, are we?” the spy continues. “Now, I can hardly help you all of zhe way back to your spawn, but no matter. Ask, and my assistance is yours.”

You think for a moment. This guy’s not exactly the trustworthy type, but he’s all the help you’ve got. With failure being rewarded with your guns jamming, followed by a quick respawn complementary of the enemy team, no passing REDs are about to lend you a hoof. You accept, and with the spy’s help you make much speedier progress back to base.

“So, why the theatre mask?” you ask as the two of you round the corner to your spawn.

“Ah, zhat is a good question,” he replies, “it is to remind myself of what I am, and what I am not. Zhis mask, it reminds me zhat I am forever in disguise, zhat even when I am myself, I am not. Zhere is no one stallion beneath zhis mask, monsieur, instead zhere are just many, many more masks. No one mask has any more significance zhan any other, zhey are all just another paper face in zhe masquerade, as am I.”

“That’s… very poetic,” you reply, fairly confused but also marvelled.

“Indeed. Well, we are here,” he rounds off the conversation with another flourish, “and I fear I must leave you. If I were you, I’d get straight to zhe surgery, given zhat we are now more than ten minutes past respawn shut-off. If we meet again, it is likely zhat I will need to kill you, so do not be surprised if I try.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” you say, turning to look at him only to realise that you’re completely alone. “Spooky,” you say with a straight face, before turning and stepping inside.

“Ohmygosh, you’re BACK!” Pinkie Pie cheers, throwing both hooves around your neck in a hug before you’ve fully realised that she’s even there. “I’ve been waiting for you to get back for HOURS, and I was really scared that you weren’t coming!”

“Pinkie, battle’s only been over for twenty”- you start, then yelp as her weight pulling you forwards causes you to stick one hoof on the floor wrong and your heavily wounded stomach jolts.

“OH!” the filly cries out, spotting the blood dripping onto the floor, “Y-you’re hurt! Come with me!” she says decisively, and starts leading you downstairs to the surgery. She quickly has you strapped down and the ceiling medigun trained on your gut.

“So, how did you get this, anyway?,” she starts talking as she wheels up a tray of shining steely surgery instruments, “I mean, I didn’t see you at the front lines after you stayed back with Engineer, especially not close enough to receive a point-blank shotgun wound from beneath!”

“Well, see, that’s the thing,” you begin as Pinkie picks up a long pair of tweezers in her muzzle, “He shot me.”

“Engineer shot you?” Pinkie asked, looking puzzled, “but why?”

“Well, because he doesn’t like me dating you,” you say, before going on to explain exactly what happened as the pink filly busies herself with getting buckshot out from your innards. You’re not sure why, but the cool metal dipping repeatedly into your flesh, coupled with Pinkie’s warm breath on your belly, feels absurdly nice.

“And you didn’t shoot him back?” she asks as you reach the part where the Texan walked away. “I know you’re more of a lover than a fighter, but when someone shoots at you, you gotta shoot right back at them around here! Don’t let yourself be a target!” she lectures you. Agreeing to fight back next time, you go on with your tale, omitting the part about the BLU spy implying that you’re constantly chased by fillies. To your surprise, you’re able to recall word-for-word his monologue about his mask.

“And that’s when I walked in the door and we ended up here,” you conclude.

“And what happened then was that Pinkie Pie decided that the Engineer can go suck a sourball,” the surgeon continues in third person. She drops the last bullet on the worktop with a clack and moves around to your head. “If he thinks I’m going to start liking him for being a big mean meanie-pants to my friends, then he’s just being a plain Silly McSillerson! Ask Gilda, it doesn’t work.”

You smile at Pinkie’s slightly childish understanding of the situation, and she smiles back with a chuckle. “The only real problem I’ve got,” you say, “is that I’m worried that I might get hurt more if he knows we’re still toghether.”

“He’s not a smart cookie if he plans on hurting you more,” Pinkie explains, “you being hurt just means you have to come and see me, and we get to spend more time together. Although, I don’t really want to see you getting hurt either, not if it’s going to make you upset again.” She glances up at the medigun on the ceiling. “Hey, I have an idea!”

“Something tells me I might not like this,” you say with an edge of uneasiness in your voice.

“Oh, trust me, you will!” Pinkie reassures you. “I checked this machine yesterday, it’s still running on Type 1 medigun fluid. Our last resupply, as well as my personal medigun, are running the Type 2 Gel.”

“Right, so what’s the difference?” you ask.

“Well, among other things, when vaporised and inhaled, the gel stops a pony from feeling any pain, so they can shrug off all of the wounds that will quickly heal. That was a response to the fluid’s tendency to gets its targets killed as a result of it making them enjoy pain.”

“Come again?” You ask, uneasy again.

“You remember when I was operating on you, you could feel it but it didn’t hurt? Well,” Pinkie picks up a scalpel from the tray table, and grins, “this is going to be a lot more fun than that!”

Blade in mouth, the filly leans across you and touches the metal point to the right side of your chest, just inwards and down from your shoulder. Gently, almost lovingly, she easies the blade through your skin, eliciting a sharp gasp from you as the sharp knife goes deeper into your chest, causing a sensation you’re entirely unfamiliar with. Flashing you another grin, Pinkie moves across you, dragging the blade across and down your breastbone, drawing a deep well of blood that begins to soak into the hair of your coat, and bringing forth another, longer breath as you’re again subject to the excruciating… pleasure.

“Enjoying yourself?” Pinkie asks, pulling the scalpel out of your body.

“…Yeah,” you reply as your breath settles again, “I think I am.”

“Oh good!” Pinkie cheers, “Now hold still while I turn up the fluid emitters.” She reaches up to grab the nozzle of the machine above you, but in its retracted state it’s too high up. The pink filly taps one hoof on her chin, before placing both forehooves on the table beside you and hauling herself up onto it. Turning, she easily reaches the valve on the side of the device and turns it to full blast, letting loose a thick stream of fluid vapour that engulfs the two of you and starts to close up the wounds in your chest and stomach.

Pinkie twists around to face you again, and you realise with a flush that, for wont of a better word, she’s straddling you. Judging by the cheeky grin she’s wearing, she’s noticed too. She sets both forehooves down either side of your chest, and slowly lowers herself onto you, easing her weight onto your still healing underside. You relish the light pain with a slight gasp as she lowers her face to yours, filling your mind with the smell of her fur, that sweet, sugary plum-like smell. You begin to wonder if she tastes the same way, but instead focus on how she’s so close, mere inches from touching her muzzle to yours, and still moving closer. Your lips touch, and you feel all else fade as you focus solely on her lips, pressing again and again against your own, as her hooves curl around your chest, pulling her tighter against you as you push your lips back against hers. She moans into the kiss, and you use her pleasure as a weakness to push her lips apart with your own, turning your head slightly to open her mouth. You move to push your tongue into her, but instead have your teeth clamped shut as she bite down hard on your lip, making you gasp with pleasure again. She lets go, and you dart your tongue forward, only to be met with her own soft tongue, and the two of you begin twisting and struggling in your kiss, each trying to gain dominance, as she also begins to push her body against yours, rubbing her breast against your own with each breath, drawing her hooves tighter around your chest. You manage to get past her, slipping your tongue into her mouth, exploring her inside even as she begins to bite down on you, bringing with her another wave of stinging pleasure. One of her hooves slips out from beneath you, and a moment later a sharp pain in your side signals your turn to moan, as she drives the scalpel into you again. It twists, making you press upwards into her even as she pulls herself down onto you, her hind legs rubbing lovingly against your own, despite the straps holding them still.

She pulls back off of the kiss, pulling lightly on your tongue before letting you go, and then pushing back into you once more, this time easily pushing past you and sliding her tongue into your mouth, delving deep and exploring the insides of your orifice, her soft tongue travelling teasingly over every inch of your maw. As she touches the roof of your mouth, you moan again, and you feel her smile into the kiss as she begins rubbing at the spot, gently teasing more satisfaction into you, even as her hoof slips on the knife and pushes it too deep, sending even more burning bliss through your body. Ignoring the blade all together, she hooks her hoof around your shoulder, pulling the two of you into each other with even more force, rubbing her chest against yours with an almost primal lust, while pushing your head back against the table with nothing but her own lips, still eagerly and tantalizingly stroking your inner weakness with her soft tongue, sighing lovingly into you as you do all you can to press back against her, trying to make her feel the same bliss you feel.
Eventually, Pinkie pulls out from your mouth, breaking the kiss, apparently exhausted. She rests her head against yours for a few seconds as the two of you lie still, both gasping frantically for air while unwilling to let each other go. You feel a slight burning satisfaction as she pulls the knife from your side, letting the hole fully heal as the two of you gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes.

“I’m not… sure… we’re done… just yet,” Pinkie says between breaths, before she moves her head down towards your shoulder, tracing her muzzle gently across yours, down your cheek, along the side of your neck. You feel her soft lips touch the base of your neck, in the crook of your shoulder, and they part, moving around as she sucks gently on your neck, slowly engulfing more of your collar as you feel her teeth come into contact with your skin and she begins to bite, putting more and more pressure between her teeth, building more and more pleasure in your body, until your skin breaks and your blood begins to flow, bringing with it a surge of raw indulgence, making you gasp as the filly bites down more, brushing her tongue through your coat and your blood, savouring the rare metallic taste as you relax under waves of agonizing bliss.

“Hey, doc, I stubbed my hoof, could ya”- Scout stops short, both mid-sentence and mid-step, as Pinkie jolts her head away from your neck, still straddling you, her mouth ringed with your blood, with you slack underneath her. There’s a single second of silence, followed by Scout’s terrified yelp, and then his galloping away and screaming about the medic being a vampire.

Pinkie and you share a glance. “I’m guessing he won’t want any Übercharges for a while,” you joke, and the two of you chuckle, then giggle, then fall about laughing hysterically as the bite in your shoulder closes, no harm done. You both calm down quickly, and you lose yourself in Pinkie’s loving gaze.

“I... I guess I should untie you,” she offers, before sliding off of you and climbing to the floor. There’s a brief pause as she shakes herself, making her mane and tail seemingly bounce up a lot more. “This was really fun,” she says as she sets about untying you, “ww mmt tw dw wt wgmm smm twmm!” You slide off of the table yourself, straight into her waiting hooves as she pulls you into a tight hug.

“Yeah, we definitely should,” you agree, “only next time, don’t worry about strapping me down.”

“Huh? Why not?” Pinkie asks, pulling back from the hug to look you in the face.

“Well, if I’m tied up, how am I meant to please you?” You ask flirtatiously.

Pinkie giggles and blushes, but agrees to leave you unbound next time, before pulling you into another kiss, reminding you of something you thought earlier while supplying you with the answer.

Yes, she does taste like sweet sugarplums.

Comments

[Jolting8]

I like this! Keep it up

[gapaot]

Good crossover? TF2? On my fimfiction? It's more likely than you think!

Nice job, Pinkie is cool 'crazy doc'. Keep up! Tracking!

[ConkerTheBrony]

dude, this is awesome! Keep it up!