Barely getting by edition.
>>"What is Homeless Whore?"
>Basically, it can follow any trend; one shot, slice of life, AiE, and it revolves around a pony down on their luck who sells him or herself for bits in order to survive. And it's slowly turning into a general.
>General Pastebin (somewhat behind): http://pastebin.com/u/WhorePonyThread
>Some of our semi-regular Writers:
>diatomic.ge !!gUM0q5Hjz9V: http://pastebin.com/u/diatomic-ge
>Lys !W7QlvkmIRY: http://pastebin.com/u/LysEVE
>S. Nowball !qMSY7j6i0g: http://pastebin.com/u/S_Noble
>TypoGuy !UnFGLqKfZ.: http://pastebin.com/u/TypoGuy
You may see sadness, anon, but I see something far grander. I see hope for a better life, and all the fear and trepidation that comes along with it.
But she has no need to fear. A warm and loving life awaits her, if only she crosses into the light of a new dawn.
Or maybe it ends in >hugs,who knows.
It makes sense to combine the two into a thread
That's the problem and why there's so many generals that go with 9 hours of bumping
Everything is fucking spread out
There doesn't need to be a moth pony, bat pony, whale pony, sea pony, dick pony, pillow pony blah blah general
Combine it into one and mark the stories appropriately!
Think about it:
What happens when there's a crack pony, whore pony, pot pony, alcohol pony, coke pony and drug dealer pony general with like four or five anons in each bumping them for half the day?
Hey guys. Sorry I don't have something ready like I planned. I did end up going to listen to an orchestra outdoors for a few hours earlier tonight, but I feel a bit guilty about not posting a good amount of green recently, whether I should or not.
So, in the last thread, made quite an intriguing suggestion. I'd previously considered doing a CYOA here to stave off writer's block and increase thread activity, but never did so. As well, I've found the concept of round-robin storywriting interesting and fun since a creative writing class I took early in high school, though I prefer not to remember the extraordinarily high levels of autism I displayed in my works there. So, I'd like to suggest we do a round-robin style storywriting.
Now, because I'm an obsessive-compulsive, overly verbose faggot, I can't help but give a few guidelines for this.
Firstly, don't be overly autistic. We don't need some edgy OC faggot to show up and make everything better in one post. Play with the characters. Give and take from them.
Second, try not to post two consecutive posts, unless there's less than 5 minutes between posts, or at least a couple hours. Try to make each contribution somewhere between half a post and a post or so, if you can.
Third, proper greentext. No one expects you to be brilliant, but use punctuation decently, capitalize your sentences, and make sure it's readable. Make sure we know which character is speaking, too. If you time-skip or something, separate it with a blank line. Also, use second person and present tense (For this, at least. If you want our character to go through a flashback, you can switch to past tense.). Your stuff should look something like this:
>You, A, are performing some action.
"I think that you, B are an imbecile."
>B turns to you.
>"I, B, disagree."
>"I, C, must agree."
>"I, B, must ask with whom do you agree, C?"
Anyway, if you guys want to, I'll start us off before I sleep. Wait a bit.
>You are Morning Glory, professional prostitute.
>Or at least, as professional as a homeless mare doing what she can to survive can be.
>You've recently moved out to a frontier town, hoping to get an actual job in a new place, but it seems this place has less opportunity than you'd expected when you hid in the cargo car of a train to get here.
>So, here you are in a somewhat odd town cut off from the rest of the world.
>Everyone here acts funny in subtle ways, but you guess that's just how they act in "Glorious Neopolia, Home of the Church of the Luminiferous Cnidarian", as their sign states.
>You're still not entirely sure what that means, but you've got a habit of staying away from the churches anyway.
>The fanatically religious have a habit of chucking rocks and spitting on you, as you learned in Canterlot.
>Anyway, here you are, back at square one, stuck all alone in an alley with nothing but a box for shelter yet again and only two bits you managed to find on the ground earlier.
>As if to remind you how shitty your situation is, your stomach grumbles, echoing loudly as the burning pain of hunger rips through you.
>Reluctant to spend what little money you have, you resort to digging through nearby trash cans, only to find nothing remotely edible.
>In frustration, you kick over one of the cans with resounding clang, before hurriedly picking up the dented can and throwing its contents back in.
>You don't need to get arrested for damaging another's property again.
>Although, you did get meals...
>Sighing, you look down at your meager savings.
>It's barely enough to buy a tiny snack, at most a couple of those tiny candies that won't keep you alive much longer than nothing.
>If you get at least five bits or so, you'd be able to afford a meal, but it looks like that'll have to wait.
>You lay in your box, sign on display as you wait in hope of a customer.
>Your ears suddenly perk up as you hear hoofsteps echo down the alley.
G'night. Keep it going.
>A gust of wind blows through the alley, knocking over the can you had just righted, you cursing under your breath.
>Rain, that's just what you needed.
>If you'd had known it was going to rain, maybe you would've opted to stay on the train a bit longer, and wait it out.
>Not much to do about it now, that train is now halfway between dodge junction and the everfree.
>A flash of lightning strikes in the distance, and the alleyway is illuminated for a brief second.
>You're able to make out a small pony silhouette with your tired eyes, not much else for details.
>What's really odd is that the figure has just stopped. Like it's waiting for something.
>Maybe a potential client?
>Your stomach grumbles. Hell, you'd settle for sperm at this point.
>getting up your muscles groan in pain, struggling to do as you ask while seriously deprived of nutrition.
>You limp over to the creature, calling out a cautious
>Another flash of lightning, and as you begin to feel the pitter-patter of a soon-to-be downpour on your fur, you see the figure.
If you're making the filly homeless as well, make her fairly malnourished, so that our intrepid main character will be guilted into giving her even more than she would otherwise.
>It's a spooky scary skeleton!
>'Nightmare Night! What a fright! Give me something sweet to bite'
>You breath a sigh of relief, a spooky scary skeleton has not come to drag you to tartarus, although if you dont get some food, the real reaper may not be far off
>Wait a minute, nightmare night means free food
>No wonder you were thinking about candy earlier
>A wide maniacal grin creeps across your face as as you start forming a plan
'Like taking candy from a foal' 'AHAHAHAHA'
>'Um, excuse me miss?'
>You snap back to reality. Did you just say that outloud?
if you dont like this direction thats what you get for not writing something else yourself
Anyone else want to post something while I'm busy writing? Also, bump.
Have a discussion question, I guess:
If you found a whorepony shivering in a mud-filled ditch, but she was terrified of you and started crying and weakly trying to get away when she saw you, what would you do?
yeah i definitely get yer point.. same time i don't like having to filter thru more stuff just to get the boxp0ne hit i want. but yeah, not realistic to keep a thread going on a single story.
Have a new story.
>You are 7216-BA.
>Or at least, that's what you've insisted the other changelings call you for years.
>All of the eggs laid are labelled according to some convoluted system that's been around for who knows how long.
>Of course, this is mostly just for paperwork and identification, despite what some ponies apparently claim.
>Since no one really wants to make thousands of unique names for changelings, according to hive tradition everyone names themselves when they're five years old.
>By this time, changelings are more than capable of speaking, but obviously a number of five-year-olds pick a name that they won't like in a few years.
>When you had to choose, you just chose the first word that popped into your mind so you could get back to playing.
>Of course, a few years later you started insisting everyone called you "Sixteen" or "BA", rather than "Glitter".
>What the fuck were you thinking, really?
>A number of changelings still tease you about it, especially since you're not particularly girly.
>Anyway, now's your chance to make a new name for yourself.
>You've spent the past several years training to be a "Societal Integration Researcher".
>Everyone else said you were preparing for an almost nonexistent, outdated role, but after a couple higher-ups fucked up some asinine take-over plot, the hive has been looking for better ways to gather food.
>Now, you get to explore the world, trying to find better ways for changelings to blend in and survive, and all you have to do is send a report every few weeks.
>Of course, you had to leave the hive with nothing but a blanket, a couple pencils, and a notebook, but that's all part of the adventure.
>Your first breath of fresh air and freedom was exhilarating, and you sprinted manically toward the forest that led to a nearby pony town, laughing the whole way.
>This turned out to be a rather poor decision, as you are now lying in the shade on a bed of cool moss, panting heavily as the air cuts through your lungs.
>You gasp for breath as you slowly cool down.
>What were you thinking, trying to sprint the whole way?
>The sound of your breathing gradually fads amongst the rustling of the leaves in the slight breeze.
>May as well get in a disguise before you run into someone.
>As you stand, you try to focus and recall your training.
>Not too flashy...
>Nothing that stands out...
>Let's go with earth pony mare, mostly brown and orange.
>You try to concentrate on the image as a tingling begins at the base of your hooves, your magic reshaping them, filling in the holes and forcing hair to grow from the soft skin replacing your chitinous surface.
>The tickling feeling slowly crawls up your legs, as if millions of ants are climbing upward as you struggle to stay still.
>You shiver at the jolts of discomfort each time your magic adjusts your joints as it works its way to the top of your thighs.
>Ignoring the slight bit of fear as the magic consumes you, you reshape your head, wincing at the cracks as your muzzle and teeth warp to your new form, your horn shrinking to a tiny bump on your forehead, which is rapidly covered by the auburn mane that shoots from your head.
>Gulping in anticipation, the sensation crawls down your neck, ripping and reshaping your vocal tract before inching toward your torso.
>You grit your teeth as your chest begins to burn as the magic tears and shifts your lungs and heart, nausea overtaking you as your rudimentary changeling digestive tract is stretched and twisted to fit your new form.
>You resist the urge to vomit as your muscles tighten, trying to heave from the sensations.
>The discomfort slowly fades and is replaced by a perverse pleasure as the tingling inches along your vagina, twisting and stimulating every portion of it as it slowly works toward your rear.
>You shudder and grunt as the tickling runs along your walls, slowly increasing their sensitivity as it crawls along.
>When the tingling suddenly engulfs your labia, you gasp as it plumps up your lips and clit, stimulating the growing number of sensitive nerve endings as you groan in pleasure.
>The magic working along your butt blends into the pleasure, the tingling becoming a massaging as it widens and pads your ass, before the tickling at the base of your spine gives you a fluffy tail to match your new mane.
>A breeze blows against your burning labia as the magic finishes up, brushing against your painfully sensitive vulva as you groan, struggling to keep your concentration.
>The magic finishes with a buzzing throughout your entire body as your legs give out and you land on the ground, panting.
>Few changelings are fond of the more permanent transformation magic, for a variety of reasons.
>It is much less pleasant than the short-term surface illusion most changelings learn to use.
>It was also developed centuries ago by a group of changelings that found other species repulsive, and thought they needed to make changelings more willing to fuck ponies if they had to.
>In short, it makes you several times more sensitive and horny as a motherfucker.
>If they hadn't been dead for years, you'd love to give them a piece of your mind about how difficult it is to infiltrate a foreign culture when it takes all of your restraint not to stop and masturbate in the middle of the street.
>Fortunately, you've trained for years to adjust to it, but it still takes a few hours.
>Meanwhile, you're stuck here, panting in a bizarre mixture of pleasure and pain as you look over yourself.
>Your mane seems fine, a luscious burnt orange with just a hint of color difference between the strands.
>Your coat is soft and luxurious, fine hairs of orange running down your body.
>You move and shift all of your muscles and joints, relieved to find them all working properly.
>Craning your neck, you check out your flank to find a nice ass with sexy curves, though a little bit on the chubby side with just the slightest enticing jiggle when you shake.
>All in all, you've done it successfully.
>You are now a reasonably attractive, but realistic mare who --
>You forgot the cutie mark.
>What kind of professional forgets the fucking cutie mark?
>Well, you're not going to transform again anytime soon, since it's exhausting to make changes quickly.
>You can probably just say you haven't gotten one yet if you need to.
>You don't look too old.
>You can just say you're a really late bloomer or whatever the expression is.
>More importantly, you need a name.
>Damn it brain!
>Note to self: think through the disguise beforehand.
>With a sigh, you lower your hoof between your legs, shivering as you brush your new, soft coat against your upper thighs.
>No, but maybe "Glory" something.
>Your legs spasm and you moan as your hoof brushes your plump lips, pulsing hotly with each beat of your heart.
>You gasp and shudder as your hoof slowly rubs circles into your overly sensitive crotch, your juices slowly running down your leg from your winking pussy.
>Maybe Morning Glory?
>Yeah, that'd work.
>With your mind finally free, you begin to work in earnest, the wet schlicking sound speeding up as you gasp and pant.
>When you bring your hoof up to play with your clitoris, your entire body tenses and spasms at the heavenly sensations shooting through your being as your breath hitches in your throat.
>Your pussy suddenly winks, pressing your sensitive button against your hoof as you shriek in pure pleasure, arching your back involuntarily as the world loses focus.
>The tiniest movements are almost agonizing as you let your clit wink against your hoof, unable to control your muscles as you head toward a quick climax.
>As you pant and scream, a pressure begins to build in your crotch as your orgasm approaches to the sound of crunching leaves.
>A low growl suddenly cuts through your blissful haze as you quickly remove your hoof from your marehood with a shiver, looking to the side to see a small pack of timberwolves.
>Quickly remembering bits of your training, you move slowly to not provoke them, keeping your gaze on them as you gradually rise to your hooves and pick up your supplies.
>They watch you cautiously as you slowly back away from them.
>When your hoof snaps a small twig, you immediately freeze, panicking internally as the wolves bare their teeth.
>Forcing your legs not to quake, either from fear or the shivers each time they shift your extremely sensitive marehood, you take another careful step back.
>As you slowly back away, your heart races as they slowly begin to follow you.
>You fight to keep tears from your eyes as you quiver slightly in fear, as they sniff the droplets of your juices on the moss.
>When they suddenly lie down on the soft bed of moss, you release a silent sigh of relief.
>At least they weren't after you.
>Keeping your guard up, you continue to cautiously back away until they're out of sight.
>Your marehood is now burning in agony, begging to be finished, each step and every breeze sending pleasurable tingles through it as your secretions drip down your thigh.
>As tempting as it is to just sit down and rub one out, you've learned your lesson.
>You muster up all of your fortitude as you continue through the forest to the nearby town, trying to ignore the jolts of bliss shooting from your winking marehood with each step.
>When you finally reach the outskirts of the town, you quietly slip into an alley near the edge of the forest.
>You don't have anywhere to stay, so this'll have to do for now.
>Searching around the surprisingly clean alley, you find little of interest besides a stack of cardboard next to a dumpster just outside the alley.
>You quickly grab a few boxes, constructing a makeshift shelter at the rear of the alley around a corner, where it won't be noticed.
>Throwing all your stuff into a box for safekeeping, you lie down with a sigh in one of the larger boxes, exhausted from your journey.
>Your rest is quickly interrupted by the winking of your greedy vulva, demanding to be satisfied.
>While you've adjusted slightly to your new sensitivity, it's still almost unbearable.
>After your long walk, you're also somewhat hungry.
>Of course, your modified digestive system can ingest pony food, but it's not as filling as the emotions changelings feed off of.
>Besides, you have no money, and getting arrested for stealing is one of the top five ways changelings get caught, as your instructors taught you.
>Maybe you can find a stallion or something?
>It's a bit of a long shot, but it's better than sitting here masturbating while starving for a few hours.
>You rise to your hooves, stretching your weary muscles before walking through your alley, being careful to remember your location.
>As Tatterwing taught you, ponies typically fuck in one of two ways: as part of a long, romantic relationship and casually.
>Obviously, the first isn't going to help, but casual sex is just what you need.
>Supposedly, you should check out somewhat seedy places, like bars, clubs, and such.
>This town's probably to small to have anything besides a bar, and Tatterwing drilled into your head that if you go into a lot of places without intending to buy anything, you'll get thrown out, so that's not an option.
>You sigh as you walk for several minutes, enjoying the cool evening breeze on your hot marehood.
>Maybe you will just have to use your hoof.
>As you're about to head back to your base of operations, you see a stallion nervously peeking around the corners into the alleys between buildings, fidgiting.
>May as well give it a shot.
>You walk up to him, trying to remember your seduction lessons, giving a sultry smile as you get up into his face.
"Hey there, big boy. Want to have some fun?"
>The stallion looks at you fearfully as you brush gently along his torso, before turning to brush your tail along his panicking face.
>You turn around to grin at his timidly flapping jaw as he tries to find words, blushing heavily as you lift your tail and give him a close-up view of your dripping vulva.
"I could really use a strong stallion right now. What do you say?"
>As you turn back to him with a gentle smile and half-lidded eyes, he stands there, terrified of you as he breathes heavily.
>Did you come on too strong?
>Damn it, Sixteen, you should've spent more time studying the basics!
>Now you've fucked everything up.
>Disappointed, you turn to leave.
>The stallion catches up to you and looks at you shyly, before stammering out some barely understandable sentence.
>"I-I'm just -- I -- I'm not --"
>You press your hoof against his lips to interrupt him as he turns red from the contact.
"Do you want to fuck? Yes or no?"
>When you release him, he hesitantly stutters out his answer.
>Grinning at him, you lead him into one of the alleys to a reasonably clean and secluded spot as he nervously checks around him.
>"I-I'm n-not g-good at -- Th-this is m-my first t-time, so..."
>You wave his excuses off as you whisper into his ear.
"It's fine. Don't worry, I just want you to rut me however you want. I'm all ready for you."
>You take a quick peek between his legs to find him already erect, his thick shaft already twitching up and down in time with his heartbeat as a bead of precum forms at the tip.
>You lower your front, spreading your hind legs slightly to give him an unhindered view of your winking pussy, juices trailing down your thigh, shuddering as you feel his hot breath on your lips.
"When ever you're rea-AAaah!"
>His weight gently rests on your hips as he mounts you, unsuredly pressing the head of his cock against your engorged labia.
>He suddenly thrusts unsteadily in as you moan at every inch of his thick, throbbing stallionhood rubbing along your walls, still sensitive from your denied orgasm earlier.
>When he hilts, his crotch presses hard against your engorged lips, and you writhe in pleasure as his testicles slap against your quickly winking clit.
>He begins to pump, grunting as his instincts take over, while you struggle to keep your rear up as your muscles twitch in blissful agony.
>A haze of joy begins to cloud your mind as you feel his penis slowly dragging in and out of you, involuntarily clenching around his member each time his crotch slaps against yours.
>After just a few thrusts, you can already feel the familiar pressure building up in your groin, intensified by the meaty shaft stretching your insides as you approach your edge.
>When he suddenly thrusts deep within you with a wet slap, you spasm and scream as you finally cum.
>Squirming as his shaft grows just a little more inside your contracting pussy, you can barely feel the stretching of his flare deep inside you as a hot sticky fluid spurts into your tunnel.
>Through the blissful sensations rushing through your body, you can just barely hear your combined moans as you feel a mixture of fluid drip from your crotches.
>You tightly grip his shaft as it begins to soften, squeezing out the last drops of his seed, desperate to keep this glorious feeling inside you as your orgasm begins to die.
>Panting, you come back to reality as the stallion dismounts you, as you give a whimper of disappointment at the sensations leaving your pussy, before your legs finally give out.
Sorry, I hit a kernel lock-up bug.
>After a moment of heavy panting, the stallion nervously stammers out an apology.
>"I-I'm s-sorry I was s-so quick. I-I didn't m-mean to!"
>As tears of shame begin to form in his eyes, you muster up the strength to reply.
"It's alright. I enjoyed it too."
>He still seems nervous, and you stare in confusion when he pulls out a number of bits.
>"I-Is this enough?"
>Unable to comprehend what this stallion is blabbering about, you can barely form a response.
>"I-I... Th-this is what I'm s-supposed to do, r-right? Y-you are a p-prostitute?"
>Racking your brain for the meaning of the word, you hesitantly agree.
"Yes? That's enough."
>As you try to think through your afterglow, he nervously approaches you and gives you a quick peck on the cheek as he blushes.
>He quickly runs off after giving you a quick smile.
>After a minute, your muscles finally decide to comply as you stand, feeling full of both your emotional food and semen.
>Some long-obsolete instinct compels you to lick your lips as you savor the tangy taste of nervousness and lust.
>Picking up your bits, a sudden realization comes to you.
>You just had sex for money.
>Is that what a prostitute is?
>These ponies are fucking awesome!
>With a grin on your face, you trot happily back to your box, excited for tomorrow.
Yesterday I read this story about Crack Pony, and became enamored. Would someone be kind enough to provide me with all the other Crack Pony stories? I saw that there is a pastebin for Whore Pony, but none for Crack Pony, and I am no longer interested in Whore Pony.
Thank you kind anons.
Here's the pastebin of the guy who did the original story and its sequel: http://pastebin.com/u/XatLenore
Last I remember, he was working on a prequel, which isn't posted there.
There's also another guy who has a different story where anon is a noble and crack pone is his drug-riddled friend. It's less sad, more silly.
You're good at writing erotica.
You also have a disturbingly in-depth knowledge of horse genitalia.
Please don't burn out and never write again.
Thank you, I am very excited for the sequel, and even more-so for the upcoming prequel. I'll be monitoring these threads for that.
And yes, I love crack pone for the heavy, dark, oppressive sad. To trivialize it with silly would seem superficial and shallow.
Well, the sequel is already in the pastebin.
A bit of a spoiler about the sequel:
If you're into the crushing despair of the first story, you might not like the end of the sequel that huge an amount. Most of it is pretty despairing, but the end just pulls a bit of a deus ex machina on you. The author basically said at some point that he just didn't want anons life to be a never-ending shit show, or something like that. So he toned it down from what he was originally planning.
Why thank you, good Anon.
>You're good at writing erotica.
Thanks. Glad to know that I have this useful
(?)skill so well developed.
>You also have a disturbingly in-depth knowledge of horse genitalia.
You'd be surprised what you can learn from the internet. I'm glad to have expanded the wonderful world of horse porn.
Yeah, I'm now halfway through the sequel. It's ok, but without Crack Pony actually in it, it's barely holding my interest. And if the ending is a deux ex machina, I don't think I'll continue this.
I'll wait for the prequel detailing Crack Pony's fall in soul-crushing realism.
I want you to do three things for me:
1. Calm yourself
2. Type out what you were going to say without fucking it up beyond readability
3. Go fuck yourself, homeless pone is best pone
>why does an unnamed whore have an entire thread all to herself
Reformatted for your viewing pleasure.
Have a stupid fic, guys.
>You are Crack Pone.
>And today you met the most wonderful mare.
>Her name was Morning Glory, and she was a prostitute.
>You hadn't asked for sex from her or anything (you're not into mares), but she had hooked you up with a sweet deal.
>She knew somepony who was really into mares like you, and promised you fifty percent of the profits if you slept with them.
>Now, you were no stranger to doing some dirty deeds to get your next fix.
>And getting paid in cash instead of drugs was probably a good thing.
>You could actually buy some mac & cheese, or something.
>It sounded like a good deal, and so you agreed.
>Now you're sitting in the alleyway that Morning Glory calls home, awaiting your 'client', as she calls him.
>It was the height of the day, and the sun beat down with some amount of ferocity.
>Morning Glory had helped you find shelter in the form of a nearby tarpaulin, stretched between a pair of dumpsters.
>The smell wasn't all that great, but you'd been around worse.
>You could take it.
>There was even a worn mattress here, which was surprisingly comfy despite its decrepit state.
>That was probably so the 'client' was comfortable during their 'session'.
>Speaking of which, you think you can hear him now.
>But... that doesn't sound like hooves.
>Hooves make a clopping noise on the brick of the road, but that sounds more like... the clack of... bone?
>As the client rounds the corner, your mouth drops open in surprise, and your face contorts into an expression of disbelief.
>It's a skeleton.
>It's a bipedal ape-thing skeleton, but it's still a fucking skeleton.
>Not only that, but it's wearing a purple bathrobe with gold trim, paired with fluffy pink bunny slippers, and a gold chain around the remains of its neck.
>There also appears to be an unexplained lump, around where its crotch should be.
>It couldn't have a penis, right?
>With you still reeling in shock, Morning Glory greets what can only be described as a FUCKING SKELETON.
>"Good afternoon, Spooky Pimpin' Skeleton. I trust you've had a pleasant day?"
>"Shut up, bitch. I'm not paying you to talk. Now where's the bony whore you told me about?"
>Wow, this guy was a dick.
>He can't talk to your friend that way!
>And... wait, did he just call you a bony whore?
>WOW, this guy was a dick.
>You had half a mind to walk away right now, but you knew that you and your newfound friend needed the money.
>That and he would probably just beat her, or something.
>You had spent enough time around assholes like these to know how they operate.
>It's better to get fucked and get paid, than run away and let somepony you cared about get fucked in your place.
>With an internal sigh, you resolve to stay with Morning Glory, and ride out this storm.
>It seems they've agreed upon a price, as the skeleton drops a bag of bits at Morning's hooves, and walks over to you.
>The skeleton man towers over you, his empty sockets burning a hole through your body into the ground.
>That is a seriously creepy face.
>"Well, aren't you going to say hi?"
>It just talked to you.
>What do you say back?
>"That's better. Now, introductions. I'm Spooky, the Pimpin' Skeleton. And you are?"
>Wait, is he being nice?
>This is... odd, to say the least.
"I'm Crack Pone."
>"Crack, huh? You certainly look like an addict. You're so thin I can almost see your insides. You know what that gives me?"
>You were almost afraid to find out, but you asked the question anyway.
"W-what does it give you?"
>"It gives me the bone."
>What the fuck does that mean?
>Well actually, seeing as he was pitching one hell of a tent, you had an oddly good idea of what he meant.
>Not that that made it any less mystifying.
>What could even be down there?
>Seeing Spooky's skeletal hands go to the bathrobe ties, that mystery was about to be solved.
>The strings quickly fall to his sides, and the sides of the bathrobe are moved away from his front, to uncover...
>There's a bone, just... welded to his hip.
>It looks to be the same kind of bone that makes up his thigh, but melted on to the hip where the crotch should be instead.
>You're fairly sure that penises don't work that way.
>Then again, you have never seen anything like this before.
>It's possible this is just how penises work for these guys.
>This is turning into the strangest experience of your life.
>And that includes the time you dropped acid at that rainbow falls place.
>If you never see that gibberish-speaking noodle alicorn and her uptight pink bitch of a rider again, it'd be too soon.
>Back in the present, Spooky is trying to tell you something.
>"Hey, you awake? I said turn around, bitch. It's time for me to ride dem bones."
>This guy was such an asshole.
>Regardless, you do his bidding.
>You turn away from his skeletal form, exposing your emaciated rear to him.
>The outside of your vagina is a bruised, dried-out scab of an opening.
>Inside isn't much better, as the bruising continues most of the way, and multiple infections had made themselves nice and comfortable within your snatch, causing it to ooze pus and blood.
>"Damn girl, you have got it going on!"
>Strangely enough, Spooky seemed to enjoy your rear thoroughly.
>After a few moments, you can figure out why.
>"Oh baby, these hips... I haven't seen bones so well-defined in years."
>His bony hands roamed across your rear as he said this, paying special attention to any outcroppings of bone they could find.
>He really seemed to like your skeleton.
>Well, that wasn't much of a surprise.
>He was a skeleton, why wouldn't he be turned on by other skeletons?
>Even if it was a bit of a creepy fetish by your standards, that's no reason to judge.
>And if he did like skeletons, doesn't that mean he wouldn't want to have sex with you?
>After all, you're a fleshy little pony.
>Why would he want to fuck something made of flesh and blood?
>The familiar sensation that suddenly appears in your loins answers that question for you.
>Yes, he most definitely would.
>Oh Celestia, that bone felt horrible.
>It was like someone was shoving a stick into your vagina.
>That analogy wasn't too far from the truth, actually.
>Your vagina had failed to provide any lubricant for this Pimpin' Skeleton, and he wasn't exactly providing any of his own.
>The closest thing you had to lube was the pus that was leaking out of your rear, and that was hardly enough for this to be in any way comfortable.
>His rough thrusts aggravated your older injuries, and began to open up new ones.
>The pain was excruciating.
>At the very least, the blood that flowed out as a result of this rough treatment became a substitute lubricant, slightly easing the agony of this sexual encounter.
>However, it was still more than enough to make you cry out.
>Spooky liked it when you did that.
>"Oh yeah, baby! Scream like you love me!"
>Okay seriously, fuck this guy.
>First he calls you a bitch and a whore, and now he actually enjoys your cries of pain?
>This skeleton is such a shit stain.
>But you and Glory need those bits.
>You just hope that it'll be over soon.
>Just over a minute later, and you get your wish.
>Spooky spasms inside you for a moment in the pantomime of an orgasm, before pulling out.
>You shriek with pain once again as his bone slides out of you, taking several small chunks of flesh with it.
>"Well, this was fun. We should do this another time."
>Fat fucking chance of that, ass-wipe.
>You try to turn around to inspect the damage, but your legs refuse to carry you.
>The clacking of bone on brick signals Spooky's departure from the area, as the clip-clop of hooves replaces it.
>Morning Glory appears at your side, her eyes filled with concern.
>"Are you alright?"
>It takes you a moment to process this question.
"I just got fucked by a skeleton, so I'm going to have to say no."
>"I'm so sorry, I didn't think he'd be so rough! We need to get you to the hospital, now."
>Was it that bad?
>It didn't feel that bad.
>In fact, nothing felt that bad.
>Man, even when you were high you didn't have this lack of pain.
>The world turning black was pretty familiar, though.
>Wait, is someone calling your name?
>You can't quite tell...
>You'll figure it out later.
>For now, you can just sleep.
>You'll figure things out when you've come down a little.
Already on it, mon capitan.
>Is that light?
>You were beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up.
>What's that beeping noise?
>And that awful antiseptic smell?
>Wait, this seems familiar.
>Ah shit, it's a hospital.
>Did you OD again?
>For fucks sake cracky, I told you to watch the dosage.
>You're gonna kill yourself one of these days.
>Looks like tonight was another close call.
>Who's that mare sleeping in the corner?
>Wait, it's coming back to you.
>The alley, the skeleton, the awful, vagina-wrecking sex.
>That was Morning Glory, asleep in the corner of your patient room.
>She must have been keeping an eye on you.
>Morning is such a sweet friend.
>You didn't exactly have a large supply of those.
>It's not like being a drug addict endeared you to many ponies.
>It felt nice to be cared about for once.
>A weak smile appears on your face.
>You always tried to keep a positive demeanour, but real, deeply-felt smiles were hard to come by.
>This was one of those.
>And it felt good.
>There was only one thing that could ruin this moment.
>And that was your desperate need for a glass of water.
>As if on cue, a nurse walks through the door.
>A mane of green, a body of blue, and a chipper smile that says 'how do you do?' is a sentence that perfectly describes the pony that enters the room.
>"Ah, I see you're awake. How are you feeling?"
>How is it that these nurses are always so chipper?
>Probably for the same reason you are.
>Copious amounts of faith in ponykind.
"Like I could drink an entire lake."
>The nurse chuckles at this.
>"It's good to see you have a sense of humour. I'll get you a glass of water, you just sit tight."
>And with that, the nurse is gone.
>A rustle to your left alerts you to the fact that Morning Glory is awake.
>Glory snaps to attention the instant she hears your voice.
>In a few short strides, Morning Glory makes her way over to you, practically jumping onto the bed in an effort to hug you.
>She doesn't quite manage it, instead just propping herself up on the side of the mattress, and holding your hoof in her hand.
>Tears brim in her eyes, and a look of guilt overtakes her features.
>"I'm so sorry for doing this to you. I didn't think he'd be that rough, and I just really needed the bits, and... and... oh celestia, I'm so sorry."
>Morning lowers her head into her forehooves, as choked sobs overtake her.
>You can't stand to see your friend like this.
>Something must be done.
"Look, Glory? It's not your fault. I agreed to this, and I went through with it. It was my choice. It's my fault that I'm here."
>Your calming words sooth her somewhat, as her sobs turn to sniffles.
>Using your right hoof, you bring her head up off of the mattress, and position her so that you aren't looking directly into her eyes.
"It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. You didn't hurt me. If anything, you saved my life."
>As her eyes stare into yours, her frown slowly turns to a smile, and the light begins to shine once again in those cyan pools.
>"Tha-thank you. I re-really needed to hear that."
>In lieu of the hug she so obviously craves, Glory instead holds your left hoof in her hand, beaming at you all the while.
>She's such a good friend.
>The nurse from before chooses this moment to re-enter the room, water jug in hand.
>"Oh, I see you're up too. I just need to check her vitals, and then I'll be out of your hair."
>Glory chooses this moment to speak up.
>"Nurse, can I ask when my friend will be able to leave?"
>The nurse answers with a smile, as always.
>"It shouldn't be too long now. We just need to keep her under observation overnight, but provided that nothing major happens, she should be good to go within twenty-four hours."
>Well that was good news.
>You never really liked hospitals.
>Too much pain hidden away in here.
>Too many reminders of a better life.
>Staying overnight in here will be bad enough, any longer and you'd go nuts.
>That does make you think, though.
>How long have you been out?
"Nurse, how long have I been in here?"
>"You've been here since Wednesday. That would be two days now, turning three as of one in the afternoon today. It's ten a.m. now."
>Well fuck, you've been in here a while.
>The nurse speaks one last time before exiting the room.
>"I'll be back later to take your vitals again. But before I go, can I just say that you have an incredible friend there, ma'am? She has been by your side for the entire time you were in here. You're lucky to have a friend that cares about you like that."
>With that said, the nurse is once again gone.
>You look over at Morning with a newfound sense of awe.
"You stayed with me the whole time I was in here?"
>Now it's your turn to tear up.
>Glory shies away from your affections.
>"I just wanted to make sure you were okay..."
>You push yourself up into a sitting position, and wrap your front legs around the mare that saved your life.
"Thank you. So much. You didn't just bring me to safety, you made sure that I pulled through. You went above and beyond what friends have to do for each other. I can never thank you enough for that."
>You can feel the sobs returning in Morning Glory, as she struggles to speak.
>"After w-what I've d-done, you cons-consider me a friend?"
"After what you've done, I consider you the best friend in the world."
And then they hung out and did homeless stuff together, until they eventually died of exposure one cold winter night. The end.
Cool story bro.
No, seriously, good job, it was great.
>all those unfinished stories
So I had a dream last night about Crack pones, Whore pones, and homeless pones. And i decided to make a story describing my dream. Idk if y'all will like it, but damn did it give me feels when i woke up.
>20 yrs old and at bronycon
>Baltimare is a pretty shitty place
>I was moving my shit into my room so my Jeep was unlocked and outside.
>I come back outside after my first trip to see all my shit is stolen.
>It wasn’t much, a few pictures, a Berry Bunch plushie
>What kinda 'loveing' and 'tolerative' autist would steal my shit!
>Whatever. I don’t even give a shit.
>I had to go because some of us were going to volunteer at a homeless kitchen. (why? idk, it’s a dream shut up)
>I meet my friends there.
>"Man I’m fuckin pissed. Some fucker stole all my shit... I swear if it ends up on 4chan with a kids dick in it I’ma cut his dick off and put it in HIM"
"Dude chill... yeah it sucks... but just forget about it, I mean look at all these ponies (it was a pone homeless shelter thing) none of them have anything."
>"Yeah… You’re right. Though if i find that kid I’m still gonna feed him his dick, because fuck him, right?"
"Yeah, totally, feed him his dick"
>I forget about my stupid pone shit and get to serving food.
>I notice a little play pen off to the side.
>That plushie that one foal has looks a lot like mine…
>“Hey, give me a sec, I’ma go check up on the foals”
“Yeah, good idea. God knows their parents probably won’t…”
>I walk into the pen, there are four foals in there but none of the foal notice. Probably from fetal alcohol syndrome or being crack fillies.
>Well all but one, the foal with my plush noticed me right away.
>Her blue eyes were huge and bright.
>She started to crawl towards me, plushie in her mouth.
>She looked like a mini version of Berry Punch, same mane type, colors, just wrong eye color
>I sit down and put her in my lap.
>She begins to giggle, causing her to drop her, or rather my… plushie.
>Immediately her eyes start to swell with tears and she tries to turn over to get the plushie.
>I pick it up and hold it above her.
>Immediately she reaches up wraps her hooves around it.
>Hnnng! So fuckin cute.
>Ok, this is cute and all but I wanna find out who the fuck stole my shit and give them a stern talking too.
>I notice a group of 3 mares looking over at me.
>I bet its cuz these are their foals. Bingo. They will know.
>I pick up the foal, cradling her in my arms, and walk over to them.
>Mini Berry was still holding that plush in her mouth.
>”Excuse me ladies, but who’s foal is this?”
>They all look down, a sad look on their faces.
>I raise an eyebrow and gesture for someone to speak up, and eventually one does.
“S-she’s none of ours sir…”
>Another speaks up
“Her mom died a last month”
>”What happened?” I asked, half expecting murder, drug overdose—
”She died in labor.” The third one finally said.
“Her organs were kinda all…messed up” she said, wiggling her hooves in the air for emphasis, still looking at the table though. “Her liver was eaten up by alcohol and her heart was weak…”
“When she found out she was pregnant she stopped taking everything, but the damage was done… she just couldn’t take the stress.”
>”So whos been taking care of her?” I asked, now more concerned for the filly then who gave her my plush.
“We take turns, we each have our own foals though and having her too is a lot to care for.”
“We’ve been trying to get her adopted, but no one wants a ‘crack filly’… but Berry Aint did no drugs when she was pregnant! She loved that filly… but aint nopony believe us…”
>”Wait, Berry Punch?”
>They looked up, confused how I knew that name
>”Don’t ask… long story…”
“Well yeah… that’s why when I saw that berry punch plushie in that ‘hoo-mane’s’ carriage, I just had to take it… I feel bad… but its her mother, she deserves it.”
>Ok, that’s it, all is forgiven, not even gonna ask why she took the pictures too, probably to sell, I don’t care.
>”Hey… Listen, I know you have no reason to trust me… but I would love to adopt her...”
>Mini Berry was still in my arms, staring at all of us as we talked, as if trying to understand what we were saying, her eyes intelligent and not portraying signs of fetal alcohol syndrome.
>When she noticed all eyes were on her again she tried to talk, as if it was her time in the conversation.
“dahhh ahh phtsss gah! *giggle*”
>They look back at me, smiles on their faces
“I think she likes that idea…”
“Yeah, you might be her best chance at a good future”
“…Just keep her outa trouble” the last one said, “she loves to explore and get her hooves on things she aint supposed to…”
idea: boxpone is BOXpone, as in filly fooler. as in she finds stallions disgusting. but mares don't generally pay for sexy times, especially not with a plain (the headcanon of MG being attractive never sat right with me) and dirty pone, so she has to grit and bear it (just barely) with stallions.
this provides an internal struggle for accepting anon's kindness. sure getting off the street is great but it means having to eventually fuck a guy on an ongoing basis.
if you wanna get super mary sue, have anon be so amazing that he brings boxpone back onto the straight team.
>She will never wake up in a panic, desperately begging to know where she is.
>She will never try to run away, only to be held back by your iron grip.
>She will never beg to be let go, as you tenderly hold her in your arms, snuggling your head against hers.
>You will never hear her quietly sob as you plant a kiss on her cheek, and whisper to her that she'll never be alone again.
>You will never see the tears stream down her face as you bring her back to your bedroom, and prepare to bed the mare of your dreams.
>You will never feed your beautiful homeless mare a bowl full of eggs every morning for the rest of her natural life.
>tfw no eggs to feed anyways
And this was all a dream? That's a nice dream. I wish I could dream
>boxpone refuses a particularly disgusting request from a customer
>next day, royal guard comes by to arrest her for false advertising
>court forces her to comply with johnpone's request
what if the request is snuff?
In Equestria un-productive members of Celestia's monarch society is considered restless and no law applies to them.
The client would be legally entitled to sex-murder her, but his intent to do so would be a matter of public record, so there would be almost no possibility of him getting away with it. It would be like The Merchant Of Venice, but with ponies and hookers.
Draw them having homeless adventures, artfags. Maybe they're huddled under cover, trying to keep out of the rain; perhaps they're stealing food from an inattentive vendor; maybe they're even servicing a paying customer.
Or maybe, just maybe,
they're in a snow-blanketed alley, huddled together as an ineffective defence against the cold, desperately shivering in each others embrace. Slowly but surely, their movements become more and more pathetic, until they breathe their last. They're found a day later, still holding each other in their frozen limbs.
A horse isn't realistically going to freeze to death. Even one like Cracky with no fat reserves and a generally fucked-up health situation would probably be fine as long as she kept relatively dry and out of the wind (e.g., in a cardboard box).
>implying they couldn't stay warm through the magic of friendship
On the other hand, they're not horses, as evidenced by their ability to vomit, and ponies dying of exposure is a lot more interesting than ponies having lesbian sex. Also, getting soaked with each others' fluids wouldn't do them any favors vis-à-vis the hypothermia situation.
Horses can vomit. Because of the layout of their upper digestive system, it's pretty difficult, since some of the musculature of the region makes it pretty one-way, if I remember correctly, but they can in rare situations vomit. I do believe that it's typically a sign of poor health typically, though. As in "call a vet" levels of poor health. I could be wrong on some of the details, but horses can vomit, but it's rare.
If something's blocking the horse's esophagus (choke) there can be a green/yellow discharge from the nostrils that could be mistaken for vomit, but as far as I can tell proper vomiting isn't a realistic possibility.
Sorry, I never meant proper vomiting as in "brain actively signals muscles to force stomach contents up the esophagus". I just meant the possibility for stuff to come back up to some degree. I'm not an expert on any of this by far, but under particularly bad conditions, the cardiac sphincter may relax a little. For example, relatively severe colic seems to have a good amount of gastric reflux, just by casual googling. So, yeah. I guess I used the wrong word. They can't properly vomit and don't have the musculature or reflexes for it, but in particularly rare and extreme cases (like, "nearing death" conditions), some of the stomach acid/contents may make its way out. But yeah, not really technically vomiting.
How about you move your lazy asses and write you stories?
>You, sir, should leave.
Maybe you should leave? Are you the only one person in this thread? I enjoyed Cracky x Morning story.
sup, err' body. A bunch of bullshit happened since my last update. In fact, I haven't even been able to write at all. But I guess I'm ready to get back to the good ole faggotry.
But it'll have to wait until tomorrow. I've been running around like a dipshit all day because of reasons. I got chased by a stray dog for like a mile. Too tired to do good write. But I'll be here tomorrow at 9.
And here I was, thinking the whore would die soon.You exemplary motherfuckers
I've got to say, I was expecting the stories here to go a something like this...
>find poor homeless mare
>you take her in
>turns into feely romance story about poor mare and Anon who is struggling to get by as it is
I think something a little like that would make a good story.
I'd say that's not far off from the proto-typical story we've had here. I recall at least one where anon wasn't exactly rich. The interpretation of anon "struggling to get by" could lead to interesting things. Like MG continuing to hook to help the household income, but now she has a home to go to after work. Or anon has been largely rejected by pones and MG is the one who accepts him and helps him integrate into society.
GIT BOXES AND STOP H8IN
>"I'm not sure. The last time I celebrated my birthday, I was 5."
>He doesn't seem to be underage
>I wonder if he's from around here
>The kitchen door opens suddenly
>Soft Lips is holding a paper bag with some grease stains on it
>Someone walks behind Soft Lips
>He's about half his size, and has an expression like a rat just walked into the place
>"I MADE YOU BUN!"
I hate to bring this up but... I get the feeling we're close to needing to integrate into the AiE general. Last couple days in particular this thread has been hovering near death on the regular.
While I'm stoked to have Rm back, and diatomic is still something of a MG rock, 2 writefags can't hold the fort for a whole thread.
Crack Pone creator here! I haven't been writing much cause I'm busy making a story about the abusers end of an abusive relationship. I'm considering turning it into another Crack Pone story, Any takers?
>inb4 still no Trinity/Crack Pone clop
>Only these heart warming scenes
not a slant against you or any other writefags... just the reality of the thread not being popular enough to sustain itself. last couple days there haven't even been that many bumpers around it seems. hence my thinking joining AiE may be near. not sure where that leaves poor Cracky though.
you aint the boss of my liver.
>The colt is definitely new here
>He looks kinda young, probably my age
>Most people who work the counter here know me or at least treat me like any other customer
>This guy is inspecting me
>I've never stolen anything.....from this store
>Hopefully Dough isn't planning on it
>I'm gonna wait a bit until Lips fnishes wrapping it
>It's gonna take him a while, it seems
>But I'm not rushing
"And....how old was your friend?"
>Dough looks at me ,wishing I didn't ask that
>"He was older than me. That's for sure. I don't know by how much, but when I met him, he didn't buy dirty mags"
>It looks like he didn't like it when he did that
>He scrunched his face a bit
"It's normal for colts to do that, don't be too hard on him"
>He doesn't like hearing that, but he says nothing
>I walk up to the counter
>"What 're ya havin?"
>Says the new guy, with a menacing look on his eyes
>Damn it, I was hoping I could ignore this guy
"Poutine on a bun"
>"Well, that's 25 bits"
"He just told us it was 15"
>"Well, I'm not retarded. He is. 25 bits"
Do we pay the money or tell him to fuck off, anons?
>being a canadafag
Tell him his hockey team sucks.
I don't like strict dichotomies in options, so I pick option number 7!
Ask him what his manager would say about him spreading rumors about his fellow employees, calling them retarded and such, and fixing prices higher. Subtly imply that you might report him for trying to sell things for extra and pocket the change, as well as being disrespectful to not only a poor defenseless mare but also to his fellow coworker. Or something like that.
I really do apologize for my lack of content recently. I'll try to fix that. I've noticed it's getting harder and less interesting to write clop, but I'm apparently really bad at not writing it. It's mildly confusing.
Also, while I'm rambling in pre-sleep fatigue, I may as well mention that the area halfway between my elbow and wrist to the gaps between my fingers has been killing me for the last couple days. I think the term is dermatitis. It's all dry and slightly swollen and cracking in deep fissures along the tiny lines where the skin folds when I move. So, it hurts to move my wrists, 'cause it then forces the fissures open more, ripping weak areas of the skin more. Several of the fissures have just the slightest traces of blood. Whenever I wash my hands, the entire area burns. It's really quite annoying.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this, so have a
disappointingly shortbit of greentext while I'm still conscious.
>You open your eyes to the morning light streaming in through the broken window shades.
>Delight softly breathes beside you, gently wrapped around your body as her chest rises and falls.
>Unable to move, you lie there, just watching the motes of dust dancing in the sunlight falling on your face.
>You still feel a bit of anxiety over your... job.
>It's certainly better than dying in a ditch, but for little pay you are at the mercy of complete strangers day after day, or potentially forced to do terrifying acts to amuse others.
>The rape play from a few days prior still bugs you, but you're not sure which part of it is worse: having to do something that you'd hate yourself for, or slowly becoming apathetic to it, or worse yet, beginning to like it.
>You can still remember tiny fragments of your dreams last night.
>Faint screams of others in pain and begging for mercy.
>The worst part is that it wasn't a nightmare.
>Sighing, you look down at your peacefully sleeping partner and idly twirl your fingers through her mane.
>Maybe it's just something you have to not think about?
>At least you have a friend.
>You just have to focus on that, and surviving.
>Delight shifts slightly, loosening her grip as she opens her eyes, staring into your own with a hint of surprise.
>"You're up early."
>Releasing you from her warmth, she stands and stretches as you follow her example.
"The sun was in my eyes."
>She follows your gesture to the window shades, missing a good portion of its edge.
>"Huh. We can cover that up later. Now come on, we've got work to do."
>You follow her into the kitchen, standing between the rooms to stay out of her way as she struggles to maneuver in the tiny clearance around the table while digging in your food supply.
>After a minute, she manages to extricate her head from the cupboard as a pair of bananas and several slices of bread follow behind, wrapped in the glowing aura of her magic.
>As she turns to place them on the table, her head suddenly smacks against its edge, and she momentarily stares in shock as the glow flickers, dropping nearly a foot before they unsteadily land on the table as you rush over to her.
"Are you alright?"
>"What the hell do you think? My head is killing me."
>Taken aback at her harsh tone, you hesitantly press on.
"Do you mind if I look at it?"
>You kneel next to her and reach forward, gently parting her mane as she hisses and tenses.
"There's a bit of a bump there, but it looks fine. You'll just have a bit of a headache."
>She suddenly snaps up and glares furiously at you.
>"I know that, asshole."
>Her face suddenly shifts to regret when you back away from her as she sighs, gently rubbing her temples.
>"Sorry. My head's just killing me."
"I-it's alright. Come on. Why don't you lie down for a bit."
>Reluctantly, she gets up and follows you as you grab breakfast, before lying down on your lumpy mattress and ceasing to move.
>When you sit next to her, she presses her head into your lap as if trying to hide from her headache.
>Slowly stroking her back, you eat a piece of bread as she remains as still as a statue besides her soft breathing.
>You spend the next several minutes trying to calm her headache as you finish your half of the breakfast, before gently nudging her and whispering.
"You should eat."
>She merely shifts further into your lap.
"I'll even feed you if you want."
>She grunts in acknowledgement and turns slightly, opening her mouth.
>You bring a slice of bread to her mouth, and she bites down, chewing with her eyes still closed, before opening to nibble on the bread more.
>You continue to feed her breakfast while you gently rub her back.
>When you she finally finishes the last piece of food, she sighs contentedly, relaxing for a moment before reluctantly removing herself from your lap.
>"Well, let's get to work then."
"Are you better now?"
>"I've still got a bit of a headache, but I'll be fine. Now, let's get this place straightened up."
I do actually, truly hope to have more of something tomorrow this time. Sorry about the delays. I'm quite bad at procrastinating, and I do apologize for that.
As always, cornets welcome.
I mean, wow.
Crack pony in an abusive, dependent relationship with anon. The premise could not be more potent.
As enthusiastic as I am for this, I urge you to not rush it. Quality over both quantity and speed.
Thanks. I was actually supposed to be asleep like half an hour ago but I saw an opportunity to write about an abusive relationship on that "abusing muh waifu is fun" thread.
In case you haven't noticed, I enjoy writing about things people hate themselves for and can't help.
stop whining and start writing.
"oh poor me, i'm in pain and it hurts more when i write"
priorities man. our entertainment trumps your pain.
i hope you're not stupid enough to not have it checked out by a doc... right?
I had that all over my scrotum. No joke. I would tremble in agony every time I showered, and walking was tortuous.
What the doctor prescribed the first time didn't work, and same with the second time. I was in that state of agony for a year. It drove me to be suicidal.
Thank god, a dermatologist prescribed something that works: taclonex. Miraculous.
So, point is, if what your doctor prescribes at first doesn't work, get a second or third opinion, be persistent. Dermatology is tricky business, but they'll figure it out.
>through the perspective of anon
>experience in abusive relationships
I think third-person would be a better form for this. Better for empathy with crack pone, and it would allow a smoother narrative from her abusive relationships to the relationship with the kind anon from whose perspective your original crack pony story was written.
I sleep now, but I emphasize this.
I think it should be third-person until the anon of the original story discovers her. Being a prequel, THAT is when you should begin using the first-person anon: for the same loving though enabling anon who was her caretaker during the last few years of her life.
>be passing through the sketchier parts of town
>while trekking on your quest for the holy land or what ponies call your house you pass by a sign and pony
>you ponder for the moment and decide to interact with the wench paying here 20 bits
>the pony raises her bottom and clenches her sphincter
>disregarding any laws of physics you plunge your head straight into anus of your unfortunate victim
>suddenly you were home and the portal to the holy land closed thus ending your quest
Of everything going on in here I think this story is my favorite. Fucking great job.
Why didn't you invite her over to your house for a warm meal and shower?
Can't afford a place of my own, live at home with family, have a younger brother with special needs, really need to help around the house.
Fragile 'wants to kill people who screwed her over' person, but nice nonetheless, weeeeeeeeeed, has a pup with her, has been abused, takes medicine through a needle because diabetic, doesnt wear underwear and doesn't mind pulling her leggings down to put in her injections but asks if I'd mind.
But in a worse off state.
>"Why are you in a box?"
>You jump, just having had drifted off to sleep
>Your startled gaze is met with wide eyes
>You stare at the foal as your mind races to recall what he had asked you
>"I'm a boxpony," you answer uneasily, smiling the best you can manage
>"I've never heard of a boxpony! Are there a lot of boxponies?"
>Your eyes glisten, "Yeah... there are,"
>"Cool! I w-"
>Suddenly, a mare stomps up and tears the colt away from you
>"Don't wander off like that, you little shit!" she spits on his face as she curses him
>You watch as the foal's demeanor darkens
>Mother is the name for god
>"Maybe you should keep a better eye on him,"
>She acknowledges your existence in the form of a snarl as she turns away from you
>You grimace unintentionally as you realize how bad such a word hurt
>Not a whore
>Your eyes slightly wetter, you're finally able to drift off to sleep
>Dreaming of equines even smaller than yourself
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That was cute, not to mention tragic.
And I disagree with Scribble over there, he wouldn't be distracting from anything at all. If anything, he'd be adding yet another great story to this thread.
>3 hours later, on the last ring of the midnight bell, anon wakes up
>cause a piece of cardboard does not a comfortable mattress make
>looks at little pone still little spooning
>still little smile
>wait... seems TOO still
>mild panic sets in
>heart starts to break
>pls boxp0ne, be ok
>head to chest
>thanks god.... errr, celestia?
>hating charity be damned, she's gonna get a decent night's sleep. it is the coldest night you've seen since you got here after all
>pone shivers just a tiny bit as you pull away
>pick her up gently
>way too light for an earth pony
>wakes up as you start walking towards town and your house
>just enough to see that that weird bipedal thing is carrying her
>in those warm, coat padded arms
>closes eyes again
--- good end ---
Not sure if such a short even deserves a rating though. Too lazy/unsure/unmotivated to do anything longer. And every time I come across a motivating idea, i forget it by the time the next day rolls around and i have a chance.
Homeless whore, what a gal,
You wanna fuck her, don't you pal?
I'll tell you one true thing for free:
That bitch is riddled with STD's.
You like it when your dick hurts bad?
Well if that's your fetish, don't be sad.
She'll make sure to give you a good one,
So you can say you've had a good run.
Just don't go crying at a doctor's fee,
You were the one who fucked up, not me.
I'll write it up tonight, if the thread dies I can start a new thread if you'd like, or the usual Homeless Whore/Crack Pone thread starter can do it.
>Boxes line the streets like storefronts, the real businesses having closed long ago
>A shanty town of sorts, on the outskirts of the real one
>But it was a real place, for so many ponies
>Living in squalor, together, im some form of irony lost to society
>They worked here, from their boxes, if they had to
>Anything to feed themselves
>Anything to survive
>Of course, it didn't come so easy for some
>Some died in those boxes that they had called home
>Some were no longer healthy enough for work
>And no one would pay to fuck a skeleton
>They couldn't feed themselves
>You open your eyes
>You could almost still hear them
>Crying, pleading, wailing
>It's a lie
>They've been cleared out by the guard once more
>You know they'll be back
>You work at a fast food place, full time
>You need to in order to pay for that shitty one room apartment you share with your girlfriend
>Your girlfriend is Crack Pone
>You two met through friends of friends
>She was a party animal, always drinking anything she could get her hoofs on
>She smoked anything and did anything
>If you know what I mean
>She's pretty good at sexy, due to her teeth gradually falling out her blowjobs are more gummy and less scratchy than the other filly's you've been with
>She was also the sweetest filly you have ever met in your entire life
>Her laugh lights your world, her cry breaks your heart perfectly in two
>When its broken, she tapes it right up
>She loves you to death, its obvious
>She tells you every single day
>She was brighter than the sun to you, but for whatever reason, over the years the love has faded
>You've started to notice other mares
>Other mares that seem...prettier
>They don't have their teeth half chipped away
>They don't have greasy manes or bony sides
>They don't have a crippling drug addiction
>Somehow the thought of leaving Crack Pone doesn't seem so painful
>At the same time the though of her with someone else seems so painful
>So being with her like this doesn't seem to bad
>She's a good lay, at at times you can remember why you love her
I'm sorry, thats my weakest point. I'll try and fix it, just for you~
I'm going to assume that was intentional, whether or not it were.
ITT people that need to step outside and fry in the sun.
>You find yourself in a familiar place
>You've gone back
>You didn't want to go back
>It was depressing
>You find her in that same box
>The box you always found her in
>You wondered if she ever left that box without your prompting
>She looked up at you with tired, expectant eyes
>"What is it today, Anon?"
>You look at her sign, pretending to make up your mind
>You've always paid her 20 bits for vanilla sex
>You could get something called "Full-time" for 10, but you genuinely had no idea what that meant
>Some kind of malapropism or something?
>You weren't about to ask
>"Let's try something different today"
>You drop the bits in her jar, though she doesn't acknowledge it
>She watches you intently, ready for some kind of instruction
>You sigh, and you settle
>Sex and cuddles, once more
imo. world not OOC enough and anon not nearly OP enough for cheetos cheetos double-chin to agree
Just letting you know, I'm not dead. Sorry for not getting much done the last few days. Apparently my procrastination's gotten much worse recently. I hope to have some more soon, time permitting.
Anyway, I wrote a thing in another thread. Though it's unrelated to here, I figured I'd link it since this is sort of my home thread for now, I guess.
Unfortunately, I need to sleep now. I'm loving all the little short stories that Anons are contributing, by the way. Keep it up, and don't let the thread die until we've exhausted all worthwhile ideas or interest.
Haven't seen alot of attention paid to boxpone's backstory. A couple fics have touched on it, but seems to me there is ALOT of room for interesting writing making up history headcanons for MG and AD (and Cracky i guess... unless she already has a good "official" one).
Sure is getting close, despite Rm's claimed return, Satan's new attention, and based diatomic's continued attempt. feels like there are a small handful peeps keeping it alive at this point. i'm about ready to call it honestly :(
Morning Glory is actually a changeling secret agent; what appears to be prostitution is actually her procuring food and (money for) equipment on-site. It's clear that she learned her tradecraft from the best, considering how much time she spends in that cardboard box. "Fulltime" is a code phrase her handler uses to identify herself while disguised.
someone started a fic on the changeling basis and it was actually looking good, but as usual it was abandoned :(
the idea of changelings finding peace with equestria by being allowed and accepted whores is immature but sensible and amusing.
>I’m cold. I’m so cold.
>I sit there, halfway in my box as wind blows snow all around me. I can only pull the tattered blanket covering me tighter in response to the coldness.
>I used to like winter. It was a time where a pony could forget who she was, and play with their loved ones and have warm chocolate drinks.
>Now I saw winter as it truly was: the season that took the weak, and only left the strong.
>I barely made it last year, this years attempt was just pathetic.
>No body fat, no saved food, no money, my house was a fucking box, my source of heat was an old towel...
>But more importantly, no pony who would care if I didn’t wake up the next day.
>I see a young, blue unicorn mare walking down the street, you know the type.
>Big coat, luxurious saddlebags, the works. She wasn’t usually the normal type of clientele I usually had, but maybe if I could beg...
>Maybe if I was lucky, I could get a bite to eat after all.
>I wait until she approaches me, before I poke out of my box and put on my best “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want some help” face, and ask, “S-Sp-Spare Change, M-Miss?”
>I wince internally at the sound of my own voice. It sounded like I had just been gargling nails, and the mare across from me shares my reaction.
“S-Spare Change,” I repeat. “P-Please, anything h-helps.”
>”Hmpf, and if give you anything, how am I to know you won’t just spend it on drugs and the like?”
>I uncover part of the blanket, revealing my rib cage without exposing my flank.
“I’m c-clean. Always h-have b-been.”
>She still looks fairly unconvinced.
“P-Please, Miss. A b-bit or two would go unnoticed for somepony of your c-calibre, b-but for me it is the difference between life and d-death.”
>”And what would you do IF I gave you the money?”
“I w-would spend it on food. A-And maybe a better b-blanket, if you’re feeling generous.”
>She stares me down for a moment before scoffing, and using her magic throws a small hooful of bits at me.
>I raise my hoof to block the volley of frozen metal saying, “Thank you!” as grateful as I can.
>”And ponies think I’m too harsh on the poor...” the mare mutters to herself, walking away.
>As soon as she’s gone, I rush to collect the money that has fallen into the snow before it gets covered up even more.
>I find seven bits.
>I do a bit of mental math, I could get a bowl of soup at sugar cube corner for 4 bits, and maybe I can beg that fashion designer to let me have some of her old fabric for the remaining 5.
>With a plan made, I get up from my box, and set off.
Is my writing not horrible enough for me to continue?
I was thinking more along the lines of "she can't math because she's cold and hungry", rather than the other way around. I mean, Applejack can't handle numbers that she can't count out on her hooves, and she does well enough.
>Morning Glory pondered the frail hoof that laid upon her side.
>Her eyes darted from the hoof to its owner, Crack Pone.
>The previous moments flashed before Morning Glory's eyes as Crack Pone held her gaze.
>Closing her box for the night.
>Hearing shuffling amidst the trash of her alley.
>Peeking out to find the famished-looking mare stumble in her alley.
>Crack Pone was more or less Morning Glory's only friend, but Cracky never showed up unannounced.
>She'd gone to question the addict, when she was beaten to the punch.
>Crack Pone had stopped her with a hoof on the shoulder, before uttering a desperate phrase.
>"G-Glory...please." she had said with shaky breath "I'll do whatever you want for twenty bits."
>That statement had frozen Glory on the spot, for it was the same she spoke hundreds of times.
>Cracky was always desperate for drug money, but she'd usually keep to begging like many of the others.
>But it seems she was trying the same road as Glory, even worse if she was soliciting other homeless ponies.
>But there was something else that made Morning's prostitution different from what Crack Pone was doing.
>Despite her crappy lot in life, Morning had retained the body of a slut whereas Cracky was...
>Morning knew Crack Pone would barely make anything, and she felt genuine sadness for her.
>All this ran through Morning Glory's head as Crack Pone stared at her with a look of desperation.
>Morning felt the need to say something to her friend, anything... but she was overcome with a badgering thought from the recesses of her mind.
>She was often praised by the homeless community for her success, despite having to whore herself out for it. She wasn't exactly bitless, just trying to stay alive on the bare minimum of wages she had.
>No house, but she could get cheap food... and she could easily scrounge up twenty bits.
>Morning's thoughts became slightly fuzzy at the idea of being the client... just once.
>The idea made her instinctively flinch, but it didn't look like Crack Pone noticed.
>It was crazy... she couldn't-
>But even as she tried denying it, she found herself gazing at Crack Lone with abandon, with an almost hungry look.
>In response, Morning Glory nodded slowly to Crack Pone.
>Crack Pone, in her naivety, smiled at her friend's acceptance with joy.
>Morning wouldn't be like other clients, she'd treat her right... just like she'd wanted.
>So she slid the hoof from her side and moved back to her box before digging into a corner filled with trash.
>Scattered inside the trash were bits, and she counted out twenty before dropping them in a dirty basket that had a loose handle.
>She stepped back outside and laid the basket next to the side of her box, Crack Pone stared it... even as Morning approached.
>Morning made sure to place herself in between Crack Pone and the basket, then met Crack Pone's gaze once more.
>It seemed at that moment Crack Pone realized the situation her desperation had gotten herself into, and she quickly glanced around nervously under Morning's stare.
>"I...I don't" Crack Pone stammered as she tried to cut through the awkward silence "I'm sorry i-if i'm not... good-"
>Her words were cut off as Morning made her move, quickly closing the distance between the two and locking lips with Crack Pone.
>Crack Pone's eyes widened at Morning's sudden invasion, even more so when her friend wrapped her forelegs around around her and began slowly pushing her back onto the ground.
>Morning had expected Crack Pone to taste like drugs, and was presently surprised to taste the same unwashed skin flavor that she herself had.
>Crack Pone didn't put up any resistance whatsoever as her back touched the ground, Morning pinning her there with her intense kissing.
>Finally, Crack Pone relaxed. She opened her mouth a bit, allowing Morning to slide her tongue in before it began to wrestle with Crack Pone's.
>The two laid there for a while, Morning pinning Cracky as the two made out.
>Satisfied with her performance, Morning pulled away. Crack Pone looked at her in confusion as the wonderful tongue disentangled itself from her own
>Wiping some saliva from the side of Crack ponies muzzle, Morning Glory licked it gently before sliding down along the addict pony's thin body.
> Morning got to Crack Pone's nether regions, and gazed in appreciation of the addict's delicate pussy.
>It looked small, and would give the occasional weak wink of arousal as Morning stared. It actually looked kind of cute.
>Crack Pone shivered under Morning's gaze, but could not prepare herself from the shock as Morning ran a hoof along it.
>Morning watched Cracky's frail body jolt, it's seemed that Cracky was highly sensitive. She'd figured that the mare would've fried most of her external senses with copious amounts of substance abuse, but she wasn't a doctor and was going to enjoy it.
> Slowly, Morning breathed directly on the addict's sensitive petals, watching in satisfaction as they grew wetter at the stimulation. Finally, Morning lowered her head into Cracky's snatch and let her tongue have some fun.
>The moment the the tongue came into contact with Cracky's sensitive folds, her back arched upwards as her eyes shot open. This provoked Morning to work even faster.
>Cracky opened her mouth, but her vocal correspondence failed her as Morning's tongue slid farther into her sensitive pussy with no remorse.
>Feeling herself getting aroused from the adorable gestures of resistance Crack Pone made, Morning halted her motions and began spinning her body slowly.
>Crack Pone had to grit her teeth as Morning spun, her tongue now moving in a corkscrew formation that rubbed her inner walls roughly.
>Morning positioned her own dripping marehood above Crack Pone, letting her own evidence of arousal drip down onto Cracky's panting muzzle.
>Morning slid her tongue out of Ceracky and began idly rubbing her hoof along her marehood.
>"Now, Cracky, do it to me too.
>Cracky stared up at Morning's marehood, then swallowed nervously.before opening her muzzle wide.
>Morning's juices flooded Cracky's taste buds, Morning shuddered as Crack Pone began sucking every speck of fluid from her, only for her marehood to produce more.
>Morning was in ecstasy, she steadied herself as the addict lapped away.
>Raising her head, she spotted the basket of bits against her box. Morning frowned as she remembered that Cracky was doing this for money, and that she'd try rutting other ponies for money as well.
>For some reason, the idea of the frail, adorable, sensitive addict with anyone else made her feel disgusted.
>She was going to think on this further, but then Crack Pone's tongue found one of her weak spots.
>Suddenly, Morning was trying hold back her steadily growing orgasm, and leaned back down to continue licking Cracky's marehood.
>They both climbed the steps of pleasure together, and even though Cracky peaked first, her clenching marehood and frenzied licking pulled Morning Glory over the hill with her.
>They rode it out together in a tight pile of sweat flesh and dripping marecum, even as Morning's legs gave out and she rolled off of Cracky's twitching form.
>Cracky slowly raised her head and spotted the basket of bits, her clear path to her next fix.
>Crack Pone got to her hooves and began weakly making her way towards it.
>It was just within hoof's reach, and right when she grabbed hold of it, another hoof blocked her.
>Crack Pone turned to see Morning Glory smiling proudly at her. Morning took the basket and looked over it a bit before looking back at Crack Pone.
>Crack Pone got worried, what if she wasn't satisfied with her performance? What if she didn't-"
>Cracky blinked before meeting Morning Glory's gaze.
>"Next time you feel like getting some quick bits."
>She gave Cracky the basket before continuing.
>"Just stop by for a visit, okay?"
>Morning punctuated this by planting a kiss on the side of Crack Pone's muzzle and stroking it lovingly with a hoof.
>Crack Pone blushed, and then let her gaze travel from the bits to Morning Glory.
First time writefagging just trying to keep thread alive till next dedicated writefag arrives.
that's a fair point.
is this the last gasp before thread death? 2 new writefags producing some green just as we're struggling to even keep it alive with bumps?
people bin asking for boxpone/cracky hot lesbian sex for a while; anon delivers! interesting take.
Ya did a good job, son. Homeless lesbians are always appreciated. I post this reaction image with no trace of sarcasm whatsoever.