Story
Fear. The most common feeling of all. Everypony’s experienced it numerous times through their lifetimes. Although unique, fear has a common premise; what lies beyond. The unknown. Fear can take many forms and have varying consequences. But how does fear manages to change one’s life? How deep can one be scarred by it? And most importantly, how much does one allows it to?
Light shone brightly from outside Sugarcube Corner’s windows, bathing the pink pony that slept soundly inside. Through unintelligible mumblings and lazy yawns, Pinkie Pie slowly crossed the thin line back to consciousness, abandoning her happiness-ridden dreamland. Her eyes fluttered incessantly as the sunlight invaded her pupils, prompting freshly poured tears to blur her vision and soothe the burning sensation.
She grunted and turned to her side, adamant in remaining in touch with her sugary dreamland. But try as she might, the deed was already done; with another unintelligible grunt, the pink mare acknowledged reality and forced herself to shift her position. She rolled around in bed, stretching her legs, neck and back, all of which snapped pleasantly in response. After settling for a pleasant position, Pinkie Pie remained immobile for the next five minutes; just waiting for her mind to shift its gear.
Getting up from her bed, Pinkie walked towards her bathroom, noticing her pet alligator, Gummy, still asleep inside his makeshift-basket. For a brief moment, she wondered what alligators dreamt about, but it the thought quickly made way for her methodical morning routine. She picked up a toothbrush from her bathroom and applied a generous amount of toothpaste on it before starting to brush her teeth.
Her mind began to drift once the nearly mechanical movements began. Looking at herself in the mirror, she noticed just how unkempt her mane was; although remaining bubbly, hair strands were sticking out from it, giving the mare a disheveled appearance.
“No, this will not do,” she said and bent forward to spit the mint-flavored foam inside the sink. She reached for a small porcelain mug and dipped it below the running water, filling it within seconds. Bringing the pink mug towards herself, she poured the cool water inside her mouth, and began to rinse its interior for any remaining paste, spitting the mixture on the sink after a few brief moments.
She walked back to her room and sat before her large vanity mirror, an old family heritage that she was able to salvage and bring to Ponyville when she had moved all those years ago. Gripping a large, brown hairbrush between her forehooves, the mare proceeded to undo the damage the pillow had done to her mane. She looked at her reflection and noticed its weary expression; her cerulean eyes had small bags underneath them, even though she had just awoken from a resting slumber.
She shrugged and kept on brushing her mane, humming a tune whilst doing so. But the more she brushed, the more straightened her mane became.
“Huh?” she muttered, squinting her eyes and looking at her reflection quizzically. “This is strange...” she said and ran a hoof along her straight mane, looking at her reflection mimicking her actions perfectly. Her eyes widened and she furrowed her brows in anger.
“No!” she said to the mirror, getting up from the little chair she was sitting and glaring at the silvery surface threateningly. “Shut up!” Several moments of silence passed with the mare looking straight at her reflection’s eyes. Her breathing became more frantic and loud with every passing second, forcing her to breathe through her mouth rather than her snout.
“I SAID SHUT UP!” she screamed and punched the mirror, shattering the reflective surface into many razor-sharp glass shards and denting the mirror’s frame outwards with the amount of force she put on the punch. She remained completely still whilst looking at her hoof, which dripped small crimson drops that trickled over he forehoof before falling towards the wooden surface.
A distraught sob that came from somewhere behind her caught her attention. She quickly jerked her body and searched for its source, looking warily to every corner of her room. Her eyes soon fell on a pink, puffy mass that cowered behind her bed. Her muscles tensed in anticipation as she rounded her bed. She furrowed her brows when she came across with her.
“YOU!” Pinkamena shouted and leaped at the pink mare before her, whom only cowered in fright. Pinkamena proceeded to hit her repetitively with her forehooves, each time with a greater force than before, prompting the mare to break down in loud sobs.
“S- stop!” Pinkie begged as the forehooves of the mare were brought incessantly to her face. “P- p- please... d- don’t...” Tears began to stream from her eyes, but that only seemed to fuel her assailant’s rage even further.
“SHUT UP!” Pinkamena shouted and pushed Pinkie’s defensive forehooves away, pinning them to the floor. In one quick movement, she bent down and kissed the light-pink mare in front of her. Although fearful, Pinkie Pie slowly opens her mouth and allowed Pinkamena’s tongue to slide inside as it gently caressed her own. Both mares relished the kiss; Pinkamena tasting her lighter self’s faint strawberry essence and Pinkie wrapping her forehooves tenderly around her.
Pinkamena felt it; real. More than when she was beating her defenseless self, for now she truly believed that she was complete. She could feel both her hearts beating frantically against their ribcages as Pinkie moaned sensually beneath herself. Her steamy breath... it was like life itself was oozing from her body; something that both enraged and pleased Pinkamena. She pulled herself up, breaking the kiss. A thin thread of saliva broke when the distance between the two mares became too much for it to bear. She looked down and noticed Pinkie’s quizzical expression.
As if she knew what the small pony beneath her would mutter, Pinkamena smiled slightly. “Daddy used to like when we did this,” she simply stated, waiting for the mare below her to recompose herself to her normal breathing.
“I don’t think we ever ooohhhhh ahhhh-” she was silenced when the dull-pink mare leaned forwards one more time and nibbled on her lips, eliciting more pleasured moans from the mare. Pinkamena began to build pressure in her jaw, drawing forth crimson droplets from the pink mare’s lips. The latter did nothing but emit a small yelp of surprise, which was soon followed by more pleased moans.
The taste reminded Pinkamena of iron and something pleasant. A taste she would never forget, but was hard to remember nonetheless. But then again, that’s why she had her. She subtly tightened her jaw and dunk her teeth deep into the pink one’s flesh, prompting her to struggle. Pinkie tried to force the darker mare away with a hoof, but her every protest was met by a building pressure on her numb lips. When she felt that it was enough, Pinkamena resented and let go.
“Why did you-” Pinkie started, but was never able to finish her sentence as the mare gripped her head in-between both her forehooves and repetitively slammed it against the wooden floor. Again and again, she kept on with her methodical movements, stopping only when she acknowledged that Pinkie had stopped moving; only her slow, steady breaths hinted that she was still alive. Pinkamena looked to her own hooves, barely able to contain a smile from spreading across her face; she was shaking with excitement. Her breaths were frantic and rasp, millions thought crossed her mind as she saw how helpless herself was laying before her.
She brought her shaking hooves to the mare’s body and began to press them lightly onto it, feeling her fluffy coat and soft body. With every touch, a chill ran down her spine and an ecstatic feeling swelled inside her mind. She lowered herself and pressed her whole body against Pinkie’s, feeling her warm breaths and her rhythmic heartbeats.
Biting her own lip, Pinkamena allowed her hooves to drift freely on the unconscious mare’s body; feeling her slightly built earth pony’s muscles, her forelock and mane. She began to drool when her hooves drifted lower, gently caressing her chest, belly and drifting even further below, to her thighs and her crotch.
The feeling wasn’t enough for her; she had to taste it. To feel what was it like. She felt her own haunches burning, almost as if it had a conscience of its own. With a push of her forehooves, Pinkamena’s head was right above where she wanted it to be. Without delaying herself with the sight of Pinkie’s lower lips, she inched her head forward and began to lick her outer lips.
If the mere touch of her body sent a cascade of pleasant shivers down her spine, words couldn’t possibly try to describe the feeling that now flooded Pinkamena completely. She felt whole... alive. More than she ever felt before. She forced her head downwards, craving for more of her other self’s fluids. Her ears perked up when she heard a slight moan coming from the drowsy mare, but that didn’t stop her; wallowing and gladly swallowing every ounce of the sour liquid that practically dripped from Pinkie’s thighs.
She only came to a stop when her lungs began to burn, lusting for air. She pulled back and licked her lips, looking at the mare before her, who began to move slightly whilst mumbling unintelligible sounds. Pinkamena snickered and in one quick movement, jumped on her bed. She threw the pillow away and proceeded to look at the glistening, silvery knife she hid beneath it. With a smile on her face, she took the item in her hooves and took her time in admiring how beautifully the light reflected from its surface.
She tilted her head and looked at the mare beside her; wondering. With a jump, Pinkamena was on top of her once more, pinning the mare down with three hooves whilst the fourth gripped the knife tightly.
“Wha... wher- where am I?” Pinkie said groggily as she blinked incessantly. A heavy migraine was pounding inside her skull and the only thing she could feel except for the headache, were three points of pressure, keeping her in contact with the wooden floor.
“Hello, cupcake,” Pinkamena said, giving the light pink mare a soft peck on the cheek. “Took you long enough to wake up.”
Pinkie didn’t reply, she just stood there whilst her vision became less blurred and shuffled. Once she acknowledged what the mare pinning her down was holding, an adrenaline jolt rushed through her and, with her only free hoof, she brought her hoof to Pinkamena’s face, sending her tumbling backwards until she fell on her back.
Pinkie, not wanting to lose the moment’s upper hand, got up and snatched the knife away from the mare. She proceeded to hold it against Pinkamena’s throat with a shaking hoof whilst her body weigh kept the mare below her. When the dark-pink mare fully grasped the situation she was in, she just looked at Pinkie and did something she had almost forgotten she was capable of; she gave her a genuine smile.
“Do it,” Pinkamena said, without a single trace of emotion on her voice.
“I’m not like you,” she replied, furrowing her brows and pressing the knife a little stronger against her neck, prompting few blood droplets to flow freely. Pinkamena merely smirked and took the hoof that pressed the knife against her throat in her own. She encountered some resistance from the puffy mare, but she eventually managed to take the knife into her own hooves once more.
Seeing as she had foolishly lost her chance to fight back, Pinkie began to shake and cry when a primal fear invaded her. Pinkamena proceeded to laugh at her meek display of strength and grasped Pinkie’s forehoof between both of her own. She secured the knife between the hooves and began to press it onto her own body. The feeling of her own flesh being cut brought Pinkamena to ecstasy once more as the line knife drew crimson lines across her coat, staining it in a deep red.
Pinkie tried to jerk her hoof away. She tried not to look at what the madmare below her was doing. Pinkamena forced the light-pink mare to cut more lines on her own body, relishing the sensation that made her feel alive. She let go of Pinkie’s hoof and began to smear her own blood all over herself, moaning and biting her lip whilst doing so. She didn’t feel surprised when she acknowledged that Pinkie kept cutting her skin even without Pinkamena’s hoof to guide or force her to.
“You like this, don’t you?” she asked, smirking.
“No... I- I...” That was all she needed to hear; hesitation.
Pinkamena slowly rose from her position, forcing Pinkie to sit on her lap. Now that they were face to face properly, she was able to notice the distress in the bubbly mare’s eyes. She inched forward and kissed her lightly on the lips whilst gently caressing her puffy mane, staining it red.
“We’ll do it together,” Pinkamena said after she broke the kiss.
“No... no. I- I don’t-”
“Shhhh...” Pinkamena silenced her with her bloody forehoof, one which Pinkie tenderly kissed. “Just follow me.” She gripped the pink mare’s both forehooves in her own as the knife wobbled insecurely between them. Pinkamena inched the knife towards her own chest, only to find that the pink mare was reluctant to comply. She pulled the knife with more force, and moaned when the cool, metallic tip of the knife met her chest and slowly penetrated through her ribcage. Pinkamena released Pinkie’s hooves and, once again, wasn’t surprised the slightest when the pink mare forced it forwards on her own volition.
“A- Ahhh.... t- that’s it, Pinkie...” she said, in-between moans as Pinkie drew the knife away from the dark-pink mare’s chest just to push it inside once more. Pinkamena bit her lip and hugged her other self, allowing the mare to continue.
Salty tears streamed down Pinkie’s face as she methodically stabbed the mare again and again and again. She felt the mare’s hot, steamy blood pouring on top of her own chest and hugged Pinkamena back, taking comfort in her bodily heat. She moved her forehooves towards the dark mare’s back and,with a steady grip, she brought it down onto her back repetitively. Each time with a stronger force than previously. She kept repeating the act, her sobs growing in volume with each stab until she let go of the bloody knife, prompting it to fall towards the floor, clanking loudly against it.
“I love you, Pinkie,” Pinkamena said slowly before she kissed her cheek tenderly.
“Please... don’t go...” she begged whilst furrowing her brows, wishing with everything she’s got to undo what had transpired.
“Go where, Pinkie?” The moment Pinkie heard that voice, she blinked both in surprise and confusion. When she opened her eyes, she saw her own reflection upon the mirror, looking vague and distant but with her usual puffy hair. “Ugh... Pinkie?” The voice asked again, prompting Pinkie Pie to turn her head slightly and look towards her bedroom door. There, looking apprehensively to her was Rainbow Dash.
“Oh, Rainbow Dash! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you coming!” she exclaimed jovially.
“Took you long enough!” the cyan pegasus exclaimed and took to the air, hovering a few feet above the floor. “Come on, Pinks! We’ve got a lot of new pranks to try out!”
Pinkie’s eyes widened at the prospect of having fun for a whole day alongside Rainbow Dash. She opened her mouth to reply but the cyan mare had already flown downstairs. Pinkie got up from her seat and started to trot after her friend, but paused mid-step when she was crossing her door. She looked back towards her room; the mirror was still in pristine condition and there were no signs of struggle or blood on her room. Biting her lip, Pinkie held back the tears as she walked back towards her mirror and placed a hoof tenderly over its surface, feeling her reflection’s cold touch.
“See you around,” she said and, for a moment, swore that a rasp but familiar voice mimicked hers through the looking glass.
Fear... unique to each, but common to all. In everypony there’s a masochist sleeping inside. For every virtue, there’s a sin that comes along with it. If fear is the only thing one does truly know, who are we to demand them to be lonely?
Who are you to demand her to be lonely?
