The trials and tribulations of managing your own personal pony village.
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Thread 30274558 Post 30274754

!F9CBa509ak 2017-06-09 10:31:00 No. 30274754
>>30260797
>>30266727
>>30268961

> Slowly you approach Comet Tail, the prod still grasped in your mouth.
> His eyes are locked onto the two-pronged tip as it drifts closer - real fear, even fear that you hadn't seen before, now filling them.
> Breath hitching they pass over the tender location of Anonymous' blow.
> Even with your fortitude the thought of torturing a stallion there is enough to make you shudder - but not so much it shows.
> Comet Tail jumps as you squeeze on the trigger - sharp, snapping pops coming from the prod's contacts.
> "No..."
> He's scared - really, truly scared now.
> Still pressing forward, you advance until those twin metal pins are digging into his throat.
> Eyes rolling wildly in fear and body shaking, Comet desperately tries to wriggle back away from you.
> But there's only so far he can go, and it's not nearly enough.
"I want you to remember this moment, Comet Tail."
> Lips working soundlessly, the stallion shakes his head - horn scraping against the concrete floor.
> The bit in his mouth clicks as he struggles to bite through it and free his jaw.
"Focus, Comet! Focus on me, and remember that between the two of us, wher we both held a completely defenseless pony at our mercy..."
> Your head twists aside and you spit the prod from your mouth, leaving it to clatter on the floor.
> Then you spit again, just to get its foul taste - literal and metaphorical - out of your mouth.
"...and it was the 'traitor' who refused to harm another pony."
> Though it's impossible to be certain, you think some of the drops of liquid that run down Comet's side are sweat.
> He is sucking deep, heaving breaths - taking time to come to terms with what you said.
> While he does, you go to work:
> Dragging the bucket from where you'd tipped it over fills the room with an ear-splitting scraping, but you have to bring it around into Comet Tail's field of view.
> As he watches, you pick up every tool that had spilled out.
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