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Return of the Pretty Ponies in Uniform edition

This thread is all about Equestria's mares in uniform. Whether they're a fighting troop, a backwater garrison, or the ponice, all are welcome subjects for art & green.

Misadventures in the DMZ: https://ponepaste.org/7150
Everyday Life With Guardsmares (part 1): https://ponepaste.org/1047
Everyday Life With Guardsmares FAQ: https://ponepaste.org/1058
Parks and Wilderness: https://ponepaste.org/3967

Sword and Shield: https://ponepaste.org/3066
Skin and Oki: https://poneb.in/zsYqrMin

>Out-of-Thread Honorable Mentions
>RGRE, Complete:
Veteran Guardsmares in RGRE: https://ponepaste.org/7387
The Long and Short of It: https://ponepaste.org/158
A Bond Through The Ages: https://ponepaste.org/6722
In A Better Light: https://ponepaste.org/4533 (see E4-NG's bin for scenes 3 through 9)

Pony ATF: https://ponepaste.org/6083
A Hearth's Warming Patrol: https://pastebin.com/dPwemUph
Saint Destruction: https://ponepaste.org/1074
Hate Sex With Gunny: https://poneb.in/21ZhUgzy
"Sir, Yes Sir!": https://poneb.in/9WeeGgq7
Duty Bound: https://poneb.in/WfLZh5EW
Anon Pointedly Does Not Get Sex with a Guard: https://poneb.in/zi1KcnVC
Sirdubs: https://poneb.in/ZVfta6Ti
Spankybat: https://poneb.in/Q7viBeuf
The Final Test: https://poneb.in/s7Drg7s3

>On Hold, Possibly Eaten By A Propeller
40k Guardsmares: https://ponepaste.org/5401

Las Pegasus Vice: https://ponepaste.org/1070
CLOPS: https://ponepaste.org/1071

>Ded circa September 2021
Links to dead stories: https://ponepaste.org/4308

Elsewhile in the Royal Guard
D.O.I. P0ne's in Our World
Anon’s Regiment
Brave and Vannie
Valiant Heart
Careful's Charge
Going Bump in the Night
Vigilant Shield
Magic and Mud
Finding It
Sniper Anon
Silver Star
Meadow Stockade
Copper Wing
First Time Massage
Anon Y Mous, Hierarch of Hagoland
Whiskey and Cigars
The Mountain Keeper
Steel's Charge
Southern Comfort
Game of Pones

>Dead & Unsourcable
Feather Scarf: https://ponepaste.org/1087

Previous Thread: >>38543239

>Remember, no homo.
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Second for only completed guardsmare story!
Parks and Wilderness

>Jagged walls crawl by, flashing green as you pass. Underground rivers, long since dried, have carved out a network of passages. Their twisting, sinuous forms feel almost organic. Like you’re crawling through the veins of some fossilised giant.
>The floor - where there is a floor - is broken and uneven. In other places the ground simply sinks out of sight, lost down some abyssal crevice. You’re forced to clamber along the sides of the tunnel, scrambling for hoofholds. Hoping the stone doesn’t give way. Hoping nothing comes crawling up out of the darkness.
>A flicker of movement. You snap to face it, sword floating at the ready.
>A cave spider - tiny, translucent - skitters away. Disappears down a hairline crack.
>You exhale. Try to slow your heart rate. It’s hard to breathe down here.
>You are Sergeant Glacier, and you are jumping at shadows.
>To be fair, there’s a lot of them to jump at.
>Darkness reigns down here. Your feeble horn-light pushes it back, a little, but it’s always waiting. Pressing in around you. Ahead, only your next few steps are visible. Behind, your path is quickly lost. Swallowed by the pursuing void.
>A few twinkling lights still mark your trail. Veins of magicite, embedded in the walls and floor. But your magic is dim; you’ve been conserving your energy, casting just enough light to see by. The crystals glow only weakly in response. Not enough to dispel the dark, but at least you have a clear path to the exit.
>With no horizon, among interchangeable stretches of cave, it would be all too easy to get turned around down here. An unexpected tumble, or a sudden sandipede ambush; just a few moments’ distraction, and you’d have no idea which way is forward and which is back.
>Thankfully, you haven’t encountered anything worse than a few bats and some cave insects. Anon was particularly freaked out by the latter. (Much to your amusement).
>Your own deeply held fear of humans - these legendary monsters from The List - is rapidly dwindling. Hard to take them seriously after hearing Anon’s squeals of panic.
>You suppress a chuckle. You shouldn’t be making fun of him. He’s clearly having a much harder time down here than you. For several reasons.
>You turn to check on your friend.
>The lanky creature is clambering a few paces behind you. The jagged ceiling isn’t quite tall enough for him, forcing him into an uncomfortable crouch. He uses his long arms to grab onto walls and stalagmites, anchoring himself as he passes. With the way his limbs curl in on himself, then suddenly stretch out alarming distances, he seems rather like a spider himself.
>You give your spider-friend a hoof over the last few rocks. It’s a bit tricky with your injured leg, and with him balancing your last water jar. But you manage.
>Anon scrambles to your side, panting. Breath visible in the frigid air. Up close, you can make out the streaks of dirt and sweat staining his hide. (You don’t even want to *think* about what your own coat looks like.)
>The human gives a thankful nod, and moves to keep going. You wave him to a stop.
>He glances around, instantly alert. When nothing manifests from the darkness to attack, he turns to you with a questioning look.
>In answer, you levitate up his canteen and float it to his lips. He catches it in surprise, while you take a swig from your own bottle. Anon spends a few more seconds looking around, before allowing himself a quick sip.
>He’s clearly anxious to keep moving. So are you. But you know better than to rush into some monster’s den blindly.
>You can’t risk running into danger while exhausted. You need to pace yourselves. This is a marathon, not a sprint.
>Besides, there’s something else bothering you.
>You take a step towards your human, inspecting him more closely.
>He barely seems to notice you. Too busy glancing over his shoulder.
>You’ve both been on edge since entering the mine. But for you, this is a familiar, almost routine feeling. You’ve plenty of experience dealing with caves, climbing, and monsters. As Punch would say, this ain’t your first rodeo. If anything, the tension is helping you stay focused.
>Anon, however…
>Now that you’re really looking, you see just how bad he’s become.
>Shallow, rapid breaths, even as you rest.
>Hands shaking, white knuckled, as he grips his spear.
>Eyes wide, darting at every shadow.
>You feel a pang of guilt.
>The poor creature’s terrified! Expecting to be attacked at any moment.
>The stress is visibly wearing him down. Turning the tireless hunter - the predator who pursued you halfway across the desert - into a nervous wreck.
>With a sigh, you sit down on a rock ledge.
>Of *course* he’s terrified; anycreature would be, after what he’s been through. He nearly lost an arm down here.
>A good leader - a good friend - would have noticed this earlier.
>Well, you’ve noticed now. But what can you do to help?
>Anon continues to stand at the ready, spear in hand. Anxiously peering into the gloom.
>Hmm. Well, that’s one thing you can help with.
>You set your sword down. Then, with a bit of effort, push more power through your aching horn. The light around you intensifies, driving the shadows back. You keep the magic flowing, ignoring the growing headache. Only once the scattered swirls of magicite start glowing as brightly as your horn do you let the spell drop.
>You sit back, panting, and admire your handiwork. The tunnel is lit up bright as day. A thousand shining gems illuminate the cave, leaving not a single shadow for monsters to lurk in. True, you can only see a dozen metres in either direction before the passage curves out of sight. But for the first time since entering, you can be confident that nothing’s sneaking up on you.
>Anon blinks in surprise. Looks around the newly visible cave, before looking at you curiously.
>You smile weakly up at him.
“Anon. Sit.”
>You pat the stone next to you.
>Looking almost dazed, he complies.
>You raise his canteen to his lips again (this time with your hooves). He takes the hint, allowing himself to relax as he takes long, slow droughts. Rummaging through one of his pouches, you retrieve the last of his dried vegetables. Nothing like a snack to raise one’s spirits.
>You more or less shove the food down his mouth. He half chokes, half chuckles at your assertive ministrations. You pout.
“Ok, fine, so I’m not cut out to be a nurse. Shut up.”
>He grins, ruffling your mane as he allows himself to be fed.
>Once you’re satisfied he’s eating his greens, you sit back and wonder what to do next. You vaguely recall something about bonding with your teammates is good for morale. One of your previous sergeants would set you aside now and again to have a nice, long chat. Another sergeant bonded with your team by constantly making bad jokes. There was a third one who kept making passes at the mares in his squad, buuut you're pretty sure that got him fired. Better stick with the first two.
“So, er… Anon: why did the cockatrice cross the road?”
>You look at Anon expectantly.
>He pauses mid-chew. Raises an eyebrow.
“Because it was trying to catch the chicken!”
>Eyebrow raises higher.
“That's, ha, some classic PWG humour for you. Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s pretty terrible. Ok, cards on the table: for a moment there I kinda forgot you have no idea what I’m saying. Heheh, guess I look *pretty* silly right about now, huh?”
>You certainly *feel* pretty silly right about now.
>Anon resumes chewing. Slowly. Eyebrow still poised aggressively.
“Ah, who cares. You can’t understand me. There’s no-one else here to listen to me. I might as well just ramble on. Maybe it’ll do some good, somehow.”
>You shrug.
“I don’t know, it all seems pretty silly to me. To be honest, I never really got the hang of this “bonding” stuff. Not much of a pony-person, I guess. Seems like a pretty major flaw for a squad leader, right?"
>You lean back against the wall, eyes drooping. Absently watching your breath mist in front of you.
"You want to know a secret? I'm not actually a sergeant. At least, not yet. I’ve done most of the training. But I’m not due for a promotion for another few weeks. The LT just gave me an early field promotion before sending me off to Tranquility. Probably so the local Guard wouldn’t be bossed around by a mere corporal. Pff, can you imagine? But the paperwork couldn’t have gone through by now, so, yeah. I’m still technically just Corporal Glacier.”
>There’s warmth by your side. Anon leans back against the wall, snuggling up next to you. At some point he’s started stroking your mane.
"Honestly, I still don’t know if I even want to be a sergeant. It seems like a lot of responsibility. But… I suppose I didn’t mind looking after Fruit Punch. And I don’t really mind looking after you either, you big weirdo. If being a leader is just looking after your ponies, then… I guess it’s not so bad.”
>You’ve somehow ended up with your chin on his lap and his arm over your shoulders. You’re not entirely sure who’s comforting who, but at least Anon seems to have calmed down. You can feel his heart rate slowing. Hear his breathing steady. He’s even set down his spear, using both hands for dual petting action.
>You’d normally protest, but this *is* rather relaxing. Er, for Anon. Yes, this is all for Anon’s sake. You’re only letting him brush your mane because it’s your duty as a leader.
>Oh, whatever! Five more minutes won’t hurt.
>Five minutes pass. Then rather more than five. But eventually the two of you resume your journey.
>This time it's Anon's turn to be talkative. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter as you scramble through the darkness. It's a pity you can't understand him - it would be fascinating to learn more about humans. But just listening seems to be doing him good. It must have been a long time since he's had a chance to vent. At the very least, it's keeping his mind off potential cave monsters.
>Of course, he’s making it a little harder to *hear* potential cave monsters. You’ll just have to be extra alert to make up for it. You're not going to shush him now that he's feeling so much better.
>Luckily, it’s not too long before you reach the mine proper. (Thank Celestia! With all this armour on, your leg is starting to give out. You seriously need to get better painkillers.)
>The haphazard series of caves and grottoes end abruptly, opening onto a smooth, straight passage. Wooden beams hold up the ceiling, while iron rail tracks line the floor. Dusty unicorn lamps - basically just magicite in a bottle - hang from the walls.
>The sight of equine civilisation is hugely reassuring. You turn to Anon with a grin, but pause - there's something odd here.
>Scattered around your hooves are a number of broken planks. Not part of the supports, thankfully. Something else.
>You sift through them, picking a few up for inspection. You can make out the remains of a wooden wall or barricade. Probably blocking access to your cave. But many of the planks have been shattered, deep gouges slashed into them. From the way the pieces seem to spill inwards, it’s likely something forced its way into the mine.
>Something with very big claws.
>You pick up a wooden sign that had been buried beneath the rubble. The words “Badlands Emergency Exit” have been crossed out. Over the top, in red letters, is simply written “DANGER”.
>You gulp.
>Right. You’re not out of the woods yet.
>In fact, it was near the exit on this side that Anon was attacked.
>This is it, then.
>The final challenge.
>If you can get through the next fifteen minutes, then you’re practically home free.
>You float out your map of the mines - the one Anon found near the entrance. A quick glance confirms the route you’d memorised earlier. A few more lefts, a few more rights. Then, hopefully, Equestria.
>A giddy thrill runs through you. You’re so close!
>But you don’t let the feeling distract you. Now’s not the time for mistakes.
>You quickly go over your equipment. Sword floating at the ready. Dagger in its sheath. Enchanted gem pouch at the top of your left saddlebag, first aid kit in the right.
>You turn to Anon, inspecting him like a soldier on parade. He’s sensed the change in atmosphere, too, and has gone quiet. Not panicking, like he was before, but tense.
>One hand holds his trusty spear. It’s no longer shaking, you note with approval.
>Dangling from his other hand is your one remaining water jar. The second jar ran out a while back, so you left it behind. You briefly consider leaving this jar, too. It would free up a hand for climbing or fighting. But you decide against it. He can drop it easily enough if there’s an emergency. And even if you make it back to Equestria, you still have to contend with the desert. Water isn’t something to abandon lightly.
>You do quickly top up both your canteens, though. Just in case.
>And with that, you’re ready to go.
>You give Anon a reassuring pat on the hip. He ruffles your mane carefully with his spear hand. Then, together, you set off into the dark.

Just a short update today, folks. Thanks for all the kind words last thread! We're rapidly approaching the finale - just hold on a little longer.
Thanks for updating, friend, especially after going a month between threads!
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I had something really important to say in the guardsmare thread but I forgot what it was in the days while I was waiting for it to come up.
Oh well, I'm sure you'll remember eventually.
Im so fucking hype this is my favourite green right now, thanks writefren
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Argggggg - cliffhanger!
This is super cool, probably my favorite green along with ELWG, and it’s actually going to be finished. It’s not too long and drawn out.
>tfw no strong dock guardmare to dominate me
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Oh hey, the thread's back.

I only recently read ELWG for the first time, and just feel a need to express that it is almost certainly the best green I've ever come across in over a decade on this ride.
These guardmares are CUTE!
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Just checking in to say hello. Unfortunately my health problems did not alleviate as I'd hoped when I posted the last update; I'm still alive but getting anything done besides my 9-5 is a real struggle right now.
Bummer, man. Thanks for checking in, and I hope you bounce back soon.
Just focus on getting better senpai
Thanks for the update. Yeah, focus on getting better first. Don't strain yourself on our behalf.
mares can't be guards
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Just gotta say I'm thoroughly enjoying every day life with guard mares. Nice work.
I read chapter 1 but does it skip to chapter 4 or are there missing links?
EZ mode https://www.fimfiction.net/story/479815/everyday-life-with-guardsmares
They should all be in TMFAT's ponepaste.
We should not have to resort to this. But thanks man.
Thanks man i did some hunting and found.
<3 we miss you, but do get you rest and take care of yourself.
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What software would you use to draw a map?
Just... In case one would need a map, you know? To do map stuffs.
>What software would you use to draw a map?
Usually it's CAD
Nordpone makes me diamonds.
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Depends what quality / features you're after. Can use Paint for a simple sketch. I've used Gimp for some more complex but hand-drawn-looking maps. CAD for real world / realistic mapping. There's also a bunch of fantasy map tools free online, though I don't have any experience with them personally.
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That's a very cool and cute pony adjutant from Starcraft, anon. Very nice!
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thank you to anon for helping to organize this custom mare guard
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She's so fuzzy!
>mare guard
lmao what are they gonna do? Ask me to stop? I could beat one of those things up if I wanta.
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How Heavy is she?
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I Want To Cum Inside Sgt. Ebonshield
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Question. What is the point of the Royal Guard?
Kick names.
Take ass.
*mares nod in agreement*
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Did anon just get caught trying to pet a guard again?
Eye candy
>"Stop right there, criminal scum! You were ab out to boop the guard, weren't you? DON'T DENY IT!"
>"I'm taking you into custody, mister. I hope you brought enough headpats for everyone."
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10/10 would attend snazzy party with
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Don't you flag your tail at me, young lady!
What's to stop them from abusing their authority and placing you under house arrest as their own personal booty call?
Any G5 Royal Guard mares yet?
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DMZ update hopefully coming soon, I just don't have any time to work on it atm.
Awesome update as always
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Helllllooooo guards!
>"Oh Celestia it's Zala again."
>>"For buck's sake, hasn't she harassed enough stallions?"
“Someone has to go drive her off!”
>Your fellow guard looks up at you.
>”No way. She always molests whoever gets close to her!”
>You narrow your eyes at him, as he does to you.
>He sighs, before heading to the enthusiastic filly.
>You watch as they converse briefly, before an intense struggle breaks out, ending with him being forcefully dragged down an alley.
>You drop your spear in terror, and run away.
I want to sniff the inside of a guard mare's armor after a 20 mile march in the hot sun.
I would join the guards only for her
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Just don't leave her guarding the kitchen
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Hot sweaty guardmares conquering you with their ass on your face.
yes please
So basically Tailhook, but with Royal Guard Mares instead of Navy pilots?
>You quickly gallop all the way back to the constabulary with all the energy you have.
>You burst through the front doors, spooking a pair about to go on patrol.
>You find and almost collapse in front of the Captain's door, but you're a Royal Guard!
>Toughest ponies around!
>Still panting, you throw the door and yourself into the room, taking only a short moment to locate a chair to collapse unceremoniously upon.
>The Captain looks up from behind her desk.
"*pant* C- *huff* Captain! Hightail - hoo - was taken!"
>That gets her attention as she straightens up.
>"Taken, guard?'
"Yes, *pant* ma'am!"
>Her face darkens.
>"Tell me what happened."
>You recount to her your perilous tale of the filly, her frown growing more and more frowny as you go on.
>"I see."
>She extinguishes the lamp on her desk, casting her face in a dark shadow contrasted by the highlight around her head from the sunlight piercing through the open window behind.
>"Tell me, guard. Do you remember what happened at 24 Happy Sunshine Lane?"
"Uh, no?"
>A cold draft flows through the room as a breeze enters through the open window.
>"I remember. I remember."
>Her form slumps before-
>Her hoof smacks into the table with tremendous force, sending a jolt through you.
>"I lost three good guards that day. THREE! I found them lying there. A-asleep. The worst type of case. Cuddle struggled. They became soft after that, couldn't face down another pony without whimpering. I had to let them go. Do you know what that does to a pony? The one whose supposed to keep them safe and sound?"
>"I wish it upon nopony. We're going to get Hightail back, I promise you."
>With that, she hops off her seat and briskly heads through her office door, taking a left.
>With nothing else to do, you take after her.
"How are we going to get him back?"
>She doesn't stop moving or even looks back at you as she talks.
>"You'll see, we have a special tool to help in this situation."
>That only brings more questions to mind, but you decide to be quiet.
>That hoof slam was scary.
>Seems she has a lot on her mind.
>Losing three ponies - guards at that! - to a triple cuddle struggle.
>You can't help but shudder at the thought.
>You've seen your fair share of accidents, but cuddle struggles were the worst you've come upon, and you've only seen it twice.
>As you're lost in your thoughts, you just realize that you passed the armory.
"Uhm, ma'am, where are we going?"
>"To get Hailtail back."
"But we passed the armory. Where all the tools are."
>"Those ones aren't enough. We need the best of the best here."
"Right, but where are we going?"
>"We're here."
>The two of you stop at a door reinforced by iron bars.
>After a bit of fiddling, she manages to turn the lock with a key.
>"This is our secret tool."
>She pushes the door open, which in turn reveals darkness.
>Scary, scary darkness...
>You hear a scuttling sound.
>A rat emerges and races out the door!
>You fall on your rump and watch in horror as it races down the hallway before slipping away.
"Was that our secret tool? It ran away..."
>She simply shakes her head.
>"No, that wasn't, thankfully."
>A heavy thud echoes from beyond the door, followed by a few more.
>You back away from the door slightly, as whatever is to accompanied those noises must be big and scary!
>Finally, a bipedal figure emerges.
>Big, check!
>It's completely coatless, with bare skin pulled taut over rippling, shiny muscles.
>Scary, check!
>You dive behind the Captain and peek around her.
>The only article of clothing it wears are pants.
>And it smells like those fancy salt perfumes you keep seeing in the magazines.
>This is the "tool?" Some kind of good smelling, hairless monkey?
>In your bewilderment and lack of vision, you don't notice that the Captain is biting her lip as she drinks in its entire physic, top to bottom.
>"Finally! About time you let me out."
>The Captain clears her throat, face returned to a serious expression.
>"Anonymous, we need your help."
>It's sharp, and admittedly, handsome, face turns to look at the Captain.
>It appears to think for a bit, eyes squinting in concentration before it relaxes to answer.
>"It's serious."
>"Hmmm. How about no."
>"We'll increase your pay."
>"Seriously? You don't pay me shit."
>This tool has quite a potty mouth.
>"Then what do you want?"
>"Let's see, first of all I want a TV-"
>"We don't know what that is."
>"Fine, then give me with your best entertainment available."
>"We can provide you with books."
>"Ok, I can deal with that. Also I want to go to the theater every now and then."
>"That can be arranged."
>"Also, a better bed, a desk with a chair, some pencils and papers, maybe a couch or something, and better food."
>"You're asking for a lot here, Anonymous."
>"Do you want my help or not?"
>"Oh, and before I forget, I also want the latest edition of Playcolt whenever it comes out."
>Both the Captain's and your nose scrunch.
>"We can't purchase that sort of thing."
>"Why not? It's not much."
>"It's improper for the Royal Treasury to be supporting such a business!"
>"So why don't you buy it for me?"
>She glares at Anonymous.
>"Go to Tartarus, you Tirek-spawn."
>Such words!
>You never expected your Captain to say such things!
>Even more to your surprise is that instead of being offended or angry, Anonymous simply smiles.
>"Now that's the Firestreak I know."
>To add to your surprise, even the Captain smiles back!
>You feel a bit safer now, so you move out from behind your Captain.
>The two stare at each other for a while.
>It's like they're close associates.
>Like they've known each other for a long while.
>Maybe even friends, or better yet, good friends.
>The way they're looking at each other though...
>One can even think they're old lo-
>"But seriously, I'll only help you if you give me that stuff. Not much to do when you're all cooped up in a room all day with nothing to do but workout."
>Ah. That explains why his skin is so shiny. And all muscle-y.
>"You could be thankful that I managed to get you that equipment."
>"That's the only stuff you got me. You could've gotten something more entertaining for me instead of just weights."
>"Well, I didn't have time."
>"Time!? Well la de da de. Enough time to get me weights but not enough to even get a book. Or anything that isn't just food and water!"
"Uhm, excuse me?"
>"I'm captain now, you know? It's hard to find any bit of time with everything that I'm drowning in, you should be thankful you're at least being fed."
"Excuse me."
>"Thankful? Thankful!? I'm stuck inside a goddamn room that I can't leave but you get to go home everyday! Don't you remember who helped you get to your current station?"
"Excuse me!"
>"Oh, I'm sorry that you're stuck inside a room instead of a cold, miserable dun-!"
>They both turn to look at you and speak the same time.
>Their fiery glares make you wilt a little, but you manage to remember why you wanted to interrupt.
"Well, uh, Hightail is still gone... And it would be, ah, better if we try to find him right now instead of arguing."
>The Captain lets out an exasperated sigh as a hoof meets the spot between her eyes.
>"Right, right. Sorry about getting carried away in the moment."
>She looks back up to Anonymous.
>"And Anon, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I know that it's been tough for you, but can you please help us?"
>She makes a face you can't really describe.
>It's a bit demeaning for a mare of that station.
>Anonymous lets loose his own sigh.
>"Fine. I'll help. But I better get that stuff I asked for."
>"Don't worry, I'll make it up for you."
>"Good. That better be a promise. So, anyways, what's the situation here?"
"Well, my partner, Hightail, got abducted by a filly near Four Clover Street."
>"Psssssh, a filly?"
>No one says a thing as the Captain and you exchange a glance.
>He stares at your face, then at the Captain's, then back at yours, the Captain's, and finally yours again.
>"No fucking way."
>"Fillies are dangerous, Anon. We have a fifty page SOP for them."
>You nod your head in agreement.
>"...ok. So, uh, what does this filly look like?"
"I didn't get a good look, but she was a zebra with purple-ish eyes."
>Anonymous laughs.
>"A zigger? Of course it would be!"
>Both you and the Captain wince at the slur.
>"Anon, you can't call them that. It's racist."
"Yeah, Anon, it's not nice."
>"First of all, you-"
>He points at you.
>"-don't call me Anon, only Firestreak can do that. Second of all, why didn't you tell me it was a zigger? I'd have immediately helped."
>"Well, that's the thing Anon, I wanted to see if you've changed, but it appears to me you haven't."
>"Nah, I've changed, take look at this."
>He strikes a pose that accentuates the muscles covering his body and you think you hear a quiet "oh!" from somewhere.
>Must be your imagination.
>"Impressive, huh? Bam; changed."
>"F-fine, I'll give you that one, Anon. But you haven't changed mentally and that's why you're still stuck in the time out room."
>The Captain tilts her head, eyebrow raised, at Anon.
>"Ok, ok. I guess I haven't on account of being trapped inside a room since forever."
>Her expression changes, eyes narrowing.
>"Ok! Ok! I'll drop it. Let's go find Hightail."
>Everypony begins to walk towards the entrance of the constabulary.
>"...and lynch a zigger."
Been a while since we've seen an Anon who is a casual asshole, kek
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They are planning to play spin the bottle with Anon later.
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>read all of Everyday Life With Guardsmares
>find out updates have slowed to a trickle
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Such is the life of a reader. So many corpses strewn across the road with stories begging to be told, but lost forever.
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Poor Nordmare, nothing is her size.
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Lily Glamerspear got some new fanart
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>20 minutes later…
*Huff* *Huff*”
>”Shhh! Quiet your breathing! Or she’ll hear us!”
>You attempt to muffle your anxious breathing with your hooves, while Anon checks around the corner.
“Sweet Celestia…she was absolutely ravenous….”
>”Yeah. That was one horny little zigglet for sure-“
>He looks at you incredulously.
>”Now is not the time to be polite. We’re in serious danger here!”
“Yeah, but it’s just so mean…”
>He puts a hand on your damaged helmet.
>”Don’t be a faggot.”
>He checks the corner again.
>You scrunch up your face.
>”Anyway we need to make a plan-“
“How’re we gonna catch her with just us two?”
>”Capture?! We need to skip town, lad! She knows our faces, our “taste”…”
>He checks again.
>”….and she wants more.”
>You tremble.
“But the captain-“
“Anon, your voice…!”
>He checks the corner again, but an unseen force yanks him around it,
>You take off running as fast as your legs will carry you, not bothering to look back, despite the fleshy, loud mayonnaise jar hoofing sounds behind you.
>”Ones getting away!”
>Oh Celestia …She had FRIENDS!
>Assorted small hoofsteps echo from behind.
>Galloping on merely adrenaline you race out of the town, knowing the potential of a court martial, you don’t care.
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Except Anon.
as a scandi this horse is relevant to my interests
>With the drumming of your heart the only thing you can hear, you book it past the town's outskirts.
>Only when your lungs are screaming for air and your legs burning, you stop in the forest.
>Let them catch you.
>It's over...
>You curl up into a ball and await your fate.
>After a few minutes of rest, your heart stops hammering at your ears enough for only the sounds of nature to come alive.
>Nevermind, you're good.
>But Anonymous though...
>You can still save him and Hightail!
>Newfound determination courses through you as you shakily begin your trek.
>...to somewhere.
>Hmmmm, maybe you should have a plan or something.
>Your growling stomach interrupts your train of thoughts.
>Having something to fill your belly would be good right now.
>Like a delicious apple strudel, or cherry pie, or a bowl of salad sprinkled with dandelions, or some sweetened croi-
>No time for that!
>You've got two ponies to save!
>Even though one's not really a pony.
>(And maybe get a promotion too! More bits, yay!)
>You know something about some super heroines who have saved Equestria several times over.
>If you can remember correctly, they lived somewhere called Ponyville, which is hopefully close to your town.
>A map would be nice...
>Maybe you can find them and ask for their help.
>Surely they won't turn down a guard in need!
>Your stomach rumbles again.
>Or you can sneak back into town and report back to the Captain.
>Get a bite to eat too at that one restaurant.
>That'll be a big risk with the prowling group of fillies that know who you are.
>But the Captain can surely bring all the help she can with the resources of her constabulary.
>Your stomach grumbles.
>No stomach, we must go forward!
>For Hightail and Anony-
>Your stomach growls.
>It can wait.
>As you idly begin to forage the forest whilst moving forward, your thoughts turn to how well Anonymous is doing...
Oh shit I can't read

>With the drumming of your heart the only thing you can hear, you book it past the town's outskirts.
>Only when your lungs are screaming for air and your legs burning, you stop in the forest.
>Let them catch you.
>It's over...
>You curl up into a ball and await your fate.
>After a few minutes of rest, your heart stops hammering at your ears enough for only the sounds of nature to come alive.
>Nevermind, you're good.
>But Anonymous though...
>You can still save him, the Captain, and Hightail!
>Newfound determination courses through you as you shakily begin your trek.
>...to somewhere.
>Hmmmm, maybe you should have a plan or something.
>Your growling stomach interrupts your train of thoughts.
>Having something to fill your belly would be good right now.
>Like a delicious apple strudel, or cherry pie, or a bowl of salad sprinkled with dandelions, or some sweetened croi-
>No time for that!
>You've got three ponies to save!
>Even though one's not really a pony.
>(And maybe get a promotion too! More bits, yay!)
>You know something about some super heroines who have saved Equestria several times over.
>If you can remember correctly, they lived somewhere called Ponyville, which is hopefully close to your town.
>A map would be nice...
>Maybe you can find them and ask for their help.
>Surely they won't turn down a guard in need!
>Your stomach rumbles again.
>Or you can sneak back into town and report back to the whoever's left in charge of the constabulary.
>Get a bite to eat too at that one restaurant.
>That'll be a big risk with the prowling group of fillies that know who you are.
>But they can surely bring all the help they can with the resources of the constabulary, since their Captain's gone.
>Your stomach grumbles.
>No stomach, we must go forward!
>For the Captain, Hightail, and Anony-
>Your stomach growls.
>It can wait.
>As you idly begin to forage the forest whilst moving forward, your thoughts turn to how well Anonymous is doing...
Too late. It’s been negated
Neat. Wish she had her helmet on though.
Get pounced on by zigglets and Fillglets nigglet
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What's with the board moving quick today?
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There’s criminal scum ahoof
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This guardsmare has learned to strategically cover her questionable armor engravings.
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They have a professional image to maintain, after all
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I really need a big strong sexy guard mare to sit on my face.
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>The guardsmare that's feeling insecure about sitting on anyone's face
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>"Are... are you sure about this?"
>You've never been more sure about anything in your life.
>Well, that's not true -- you had been awfully sure about pursuing First Lance Stardust in the first place.
>But now that your romance was in full swing, and with the two of you feeling pretty comfortable in the bedroom, you were absolutely 100% positive about enjoying that big, round plot in the fullest way possible: getting the First Lance to park that dumptruck of hers directly on your face.
"Absolutely. And don't worry, honey; I'll be gentle."
>That gets you a blush and a muffled snort of amusement.
>"You know that's not what I mean! I've just never *sat* on a stallion before like this..."
>Nervously rubbing one forehoof against the opposite foreleg, she awkwardly looks away.
>"... I'd never even been *on top* at all before I met you."
>Seems like she might need some more coaxing.
"And? Didn't we have some fun like that?"
>The blush gets deeper, and you see her suck in her lower lip as her ears flatten back against her nape.
>You feel a motion as she wiggles slightly against your hips while sitting on your pelvis.
>The two of you contribute minute motions to make a little bounce, and you're treated to a glimpse of that wonderful jiggle.
>It's a conscious effort to restrain yourself from immediately slapping a cheek, grabbing a hip, and taking her right then and there, reverse cowgirl style.
>Patience, patience.
>You want to enjoy this; and, more importantly, you want *her* to enjoy it as well.
>Getting your jollies off is all well and good, and she'd be happy with that too, but getting your jollies off when she's still breathlessly recovering from the melt of her own heat -- now that's top-shelf sexytimes.
>So you just calmly reach out with one hand and stroke her flank.
"Trust me when I say I can handle this. And you'll enjoy it, too."
>Your hand wanders over to the middle of her back, and you press fingers deep against her spine, eliciting a relaxed closed-mouth moan.
>After a moment, Stardust turns back to look at you over her shoulder.
>"You won't get hurt?"
>Still stroking her back, you shake your head.
"I won't; trust me."
>She licks her lips.
>Slowly, hesitatingly, she begins to scooch back on her hind legs, inching her way up your chest until she's at your neck.
>You'd 'appreciated' her posterior before in bed, when she had her head down and her hips up, but that was a different presentation.
>Sitting down, with her hind legs splayed out, the soft, fuzzy mass was more spread out, and seemed larger, somehow.
>Something about how the muscles and fat were squeezed together and gathered up from the legs; you're not a sex-o-kinesiologist.
>All you knew was that you wanted dat.
>With a final shove, she pushes her hindquarters back even as she flops forward up top, perching her plot up in the air directly above your face.
>"Here goes."
>That motion gets an immediate reaction, and she lifts off again.
>"What? What's wr-"
>Tired of trying to explain everything, and frustrated with the sudden denial, you brusquely reach up and yank down on her hips, slamming her back down onto you.
>Before she can get cold hooves again, you give her ample cheeks a tender squeeze.
>This is it; you've reached Nirvana, Seventh Heaven, Cloud Nine.
>While most of your head is encased in soft jiggly goodness, there's just barely enough of a gap to breathe through your nostrils -- not that breathing is really a huge priority while you're down here.
>No; buried inside the bouncy backside is the key to maximizing your enjoyment of this smashing sensation.
>You readjust your head a bit to gain access to that cleft.
>"Um, is everything OK?"
>Silence, bearer of the sacred wobble!
>Finding your target, you immediately commence ministrations.
>"... Can you brea-Oh!"
>Your quick work interrupts the mare's train of thought.
>"... Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhh! Mmmm!"
>And now that train is completely derailed.
>You can relax; you release your grip on her cheeks and let them jiggle freely in response to her motions.
>"... Haah! Hah! Hmmmmmm!"
>She draws her legs in again, closing her hips around you.
>Good, good.
>Your mummification within her posterior is almost complete.
>All you need to complete the ritual is a little bit of bounce; you wouldn't even say no to some full buttcheek-faceslap.
>"... Ahh! Oh!"
>On this somewhat loosely-sprung bed, all it takes is a couple of thrusts of your pelvis to get her jelly jiggling around your face, accompanied by the squeaky protestations of the mattress.
>"... Oh! Oooooooh!"
>At first she doesn't even notice the difference, but you can feel the rhythmic application and release of pressure.
>Eventually, she seems to sway of her own volition, magnifying the bedspring noises but, more importantly, the compressive pulses on your face.
>You continue your work unabated, receiving her ongoing soft moans in return.
>Now it's time to do a little exploring with your hands, and you bring them to a rest at the outer extremities of her plot, loosely holding on to the jiggle and wobble as she bounces and rocks above you, feeling the magnificent maximal gluteal motions.
>Then you grasp her hindquarters firmly.
>".... Mmmmmm!"
>She did enjoy the plotplay; she told you that herself.
>That enjoyment causes her to increase the tempo, so you decide to explore some more.
>It's an awkward reach, but you manage to haul your arms over her sizeable thighs and reach out in front for her sensitive teats.
>A restrained, but still firm squeeze on the two of them at once elicits a new sound.
>".... Nnngggggh!"
>She's biting her lip; you can't see it, but you're sure of it.
>You know very well what she sounds like when doing it.
>Maintaining the pressure, you dive in for a deeper tongue-thrust.
>"... ~Aaahhhnnn~!"
>With a high-pitched squeal, her hips squeeze your head, and the bouncing pauses for a moment -- but only briefly.
>That wasn't the end of the meal; not the main course, anyways; just an little aperitif.
>Now the motions resume, faster even than before.
>She's fucking your face with her ass, and every few beats she stops to squirm in place, driving you in deeper.
>"... Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, mmmmff, oh yeah..."
>The final course is rapidly approaching.
>There's no trick to it, no secret act or ultimate super combo move.
>Just make sure the mare's comfortable, make sure she's into it, and get to work.
>If she's in the right mood for it, then the gauge will fill up and fire off the final smash all itself.
>It's a lot of work, to be sure, but the rewards are always worth it.
>You power through, even as your mouth starts to feel a bit dry and your tongue-muscles start to tire.
>There's a smell to contend with as well, but that's peripheral.
>Your face is buried in a mare's plot; of course there's going to be a smell, no matter how recently it was cleaned -- and she'd insisted on showering beforehand.
>"... Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhhhh! Yeahhh! Ohhh! Ngggghhh!"
>Sounds like the dam is about to bu-
>"... AHHHHNnnnngghghghghnnnnnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooohhhRRRRRUUUUUUHHHHHH!"
>A loud exclamation is soon followed by heavy, loud panting.
>You could carry on and try to serve her a second helping, but that might be energetically refused by her climing off, and then you wouldn't be encased in ass and thighs any more.
>Better to just let her settle down in this position.
>You go for a gentle stroke of one of her cheeks instead.
>"... Oohh..."
>There's almost immediately a hoof on top of your hand, holding it firmly in place.
>"... Are... are you still alive down there?"
>You answer with your free hand, by slapping her other cheek.
>"... AAAh! Hihihihi!"
>Giggling even as she's still out of breath, she squirms on top of you, wobbling her cheeks to and fro.
>After a moment, your face is suddenly exposed to air once more, and you look up to see her looking back over her shoulder with a smile on her face.
>Apparently satisfied with that glance, she plops back down on you once more.
>You can feel her lean forward slightly, still rocking her hips back and forth.
>Then you feel something else -- forehooves on your lower chest, and inching lower.
>"Okay. You were right; that was fun. And now it's my turn."
>Still pleasantly but firmly restrained within her posterior, you feel her reach the family jewels, and you can't resist emitting a grunt of your own.
>It was true what they said: fat-bottomed guardsmares really did make Equestria go 'round.
based, very nice
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>I’m still technically just Corporal Glacier.
Heh. That means both best ponies are corporals ITT then.
>We're rapidly approaching the finale
Although I've enjoyed every single update so far, it's good to see maybe another green will get finished. It's a good thing you've planned a story with a managable lenght. I'm looking forward to the conclusion. A showdown with the sand witch, maybe?
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BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA And how is she gonna stop me from raping?
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Can't rape the hopefully willing
By substituting herself in place of everyone you try to rape, retard.
That was fun
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crayon guardsmare is not to be trifled with, for she has mastered the art of the papercut.
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>As you stop typing, your collar leash is pulled.
>”I didn’t say stop~!”
>Your captor, Zala grins from her throne of exhausted, malnourished guard ponies.
>You’ve escaped her sexual wrath with only a light molesting and some fellatio. Wish your comrades could make that claim.
“Wh-what else do you want me to type? You captured me after I escaped, remember? You and your buddies hunted me down!”
>She yanks you again.
>”Well. If that’s the case it looks like you’re ready for some loving, colt!”
“SWEET CELESTIA, NO! I-I just remembered how you, and your party tracked me down, and the intense game of cat and mouse b-between us…?”
>She smirks, waggling her eyebrows.
“….And how you molested my resistance guards into oblivion… ᶜᵘʳˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᶻᵃˡᵃ.”
>”Then keep writing of my lustful achievements, or my friends and I are gonna have DESERT.”
>Dyx licks your cheek.
>You start typing.
>And then the fillies were banished into the sun
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>You are Anon, and you are in a precarious situation.
>Which is a euphemism for about to get gang raped by fucking fillies.
>You're not sure what's worse: the pedophilia or the rape part.
>But you do know that together, it's going to fuck you.
>Literally and mentally.
>Last you were seen, you were pulled away from that one pony who you were trying to help find their partner.
>Should've known a kid would have friends.
>All six of them.
>Now you're on the ground, pinned down by leather on your four limbs.
>The ugly zigger-

>You're suddenly choked as the leash is yanked.
>"Hey! I'm not ugly, you ugly monkey."
>You can only let out a choking sound.
>She pulls on it a bit more.
>"So... unless you want me to - mmhm - punish~ you, you'll write me as something better, hm?"
>She's still fucking choking you, preventing a response.
>Dyx, curled up in your lap, peeks around you to give Zala a look.
>"Zalaaaaaa, you're choking Anon. We can't enjoy him if he's dead, y'know."
>Finally the zigger relents.
>"Fine, but you better write me as a stunning queen!"

>-The strong, independent zebra, with enough luscious curls in her hair to be called the queen of fries, saunters over to you, swinging her nonexistent flanks.
>"Oh my, what have we here? A dashing colt, all alone~, lost in our lair?"
>It's an abandoned warehouse.
>"Why, I'd think he came here on purpose, don't you think, girls?"
"Actually, may I add that YOU DRA-"
>"Oh yeah, another colt!"
>"Oooo, das sind gute genes!"
>"I'm not a faggot. Only faggots fuck stallions. Why can't we ever get a mare?"
>"...w-well we did get-"
>"Mmm, I can't wait to feel what he's like inside me."
>Only the tan coat filly with a baseball cap is the one who doesn't speak.
>She's staring at you.
>Like, really staring at you.
>A lot more than the others. Eyes wide open, mouth slightly agap, pupils huge.
>This one scares you the most.
>Zala speaks up again.
>"Ok, since I was the one who brought about this specimen-"
>A hoof rubs underneath your chin, sending chills down your body.
>"-I get to play with him first."
>There are some grumbles of disagreement, but the others stay put.
>Zala loosens your binds to begin pulling off your shirt, with some difficulty.
>"Don't move, or else we'll all have some fun right here, right now~."
>Shit, you don't want to get raped this quickly.
>Maybe you can delay it to some degree.
>It's kinda hard for her to remove your shirt with hooves and you being on your back and all that shit.
>Might as well not help them rape you.
>"Hnnnng! Uh, Dyx, can you help?"
>"Pssh, always askin' the unicorn around here, ain't ya? I help you, I get a bit of action, too."
>Dyx's horn lights up as she tries to pull your body up.
>Being 200 pounds of muscle, it's not easy.
>"Grrrrr! Darn it! Nyx, help me!"
>Even two fillies are incapable of lifting you.
>How the fuck did they even snatch you?-

>"Easy, you big colt. I, Zala, cook up some potions-"
>"-with mein help!"
>A white flying ball of fuzz lands on your lap, earning a hiss by knocking Dyx out of her once comfortable position.
>The blondie immediately starts to nuzzle your chest.
>"-Yes, yes, with your help, Luftkrieg, to snatch you right up. Some super enhancers go a long way. Your 'guards' had no chance!"
>She smiles smugly at you as she rests her foreleg and head on the head of one of the pieces that make up her makeshift throne.
>Maybe you can get one of those potions to escape.
>Your eyes begin to start wandering the room in search for any potion looking bottles, but a freckled flying filly grabs ahold of your head with all four limbs to turn it back towards your work.
>"We can have fun later~. Finish up, stud."
>Welp, with three fillies on you, your hopes of escaping are quite dashed.

>After one unicorns, one pegasus and one pegacorn, with the assistance of one zebra, lift you up, it's only trivial for one of the unicorns to pull off your shirt.
>They all gasp, and drop you to the ground without a warning.
>Ow, your fucking head.
>You try to rub the spot, but the binds are once again pulled taut.
>"Oh, my~"
>A few of them are licking their lips, staring at your bare chest.
>This can't be how it ends.
>As the group of five are approaching you, they are bowled out of the way by something tan.
>That fucking weirdo of a filly-

>Somewhere in the fillies' lair, a shout emerges.
>Zala shouts back from her perch.
>The clanging of metal echoes throughout the space.
>Thank god they shoved that bat-shit insane filly inside an oddly well maintained cage.

>-jumps on your chest and starts to rub her chest fluff all over you.
>You swear you can see hearts in her eyes.
>"It came true! Oh, I love you soooo much!"
>"League, what the hay!?"
>League, or whatever, still continues to rub you with all her fluff and her face.
>"I want you in me, right now!"
>She begins to pepper your face with kisses.
>Holy fuck you're going to get raped, right here, right now.
>Then she moves towards your mouth, giving a passionate smooch on your lips.
>You feel something wet and solid begin to prode your lip.
>You open your mouth to speak, but keep your teeth clenched.
"If you put that thing in my mouth, I'm going to bite it off."
>The filly only giggles.
>"Oohhh, playing hard to get, I like it~"
>Your threat does make good as she returns back down.
>For her to only begin to start licking your chest, getting a good taste of you, as the definitely hearts in her eyes begin to grow more opaque.
>The other fillies begin to crowd around the two of you, they too getting a good fluff rub on you, as one begins to try to get your pants off.
>The filly on your chest runs her tongue over your nipple, sending a shudder through you.
>She notices, giving you a sultry smile.
>"Oh~? You like that, you handsome monkey~?"
>She then starts to fucking suckle on it.
>You can't help but involuntarily grow hard at the stimulation.
>Somewhere, down there, someone speaks.
>"Oh my, I think our meal has arrived."
>You can feel your pants being tugged as you let out a grunt from the feeling of your nips being sucked and the soft coats being rubbed all over you.
>Also the kisses being planted all over your body.
>Once again, your pants are tugged, but they don't come off.
>Luckily for you, you changed before going on an unexpected date with rape, so you're wearing a belt.
>"Arrrrg! Dyx, help me with this thing, it won't come off!"
>You hear a sigh from your right as some pressure is relieved from your side.
>More pants tugging and upper body stimulation.
>"League! Stop grinding on his crotch and let us take this thing off!"
>God please help you, spare you from this torture. You'll change, you'll do anything, please.
>Fuck, you'll let God penetrate you a thousand years if it meant away from this.

>"Whose God?"
>The green filly speaks up from the couch, eyes never leaving the newspaper in their hooves.
>"Some sort of spritual diety that a lot of humans believe in. Most of the time they use the concept to justify their actions, such as genocide, while other times they use it to ask for strength and yadda yadda yadda."
>"Kind of like Celestia?"
>"Yeah, kinda. Although Celestia is a useless piece of shit, too."

>After a few minutes of attempted pants-taking-off, the green one speaks, chilling on the ground some distance away, while pointing towards the belt.
>"Guys, you have to take the belt off first."
>How the fuck does it know what a belt is?
>There are some confused looks.
>"Retards, look. It's on the hip to secure the pants so it doesn't slip off. Take that off and you get to go to pound town, faggots."
>There are some aaaa's.
>Immediately, hooves are fumbling around your belt to try to take it off.
>Good thing belts were made for fingers, and not-
>Oh shit they have horns.
>The one named Dyx lights up her horn as your belt is surrounded by an orange aura.
>Then it fades away.
>"Drat, it's made of bronze; magic resistant."
>"Nuuuuuuuuuuu! I want it right now!"
>The insane one tries to suck your dick through your tented pants, slobbering everywhere.
>F-fuck. You can feel the juices seep through.
>"Maybe, ve can tear apart zis 'pant!'"
>A chorus of agreements is shared as they go to town, biting and stabbing your legs.
>It hurts like hell, but they get progress, progressively ripping your pants up to reveal your hairy legs.
>Finally, they finish, somehow leaving your boxers alive.
>League jumps at the opportunity to grab ahold of it, and with a deft yank, pu-

>A loud as fuck explosion blows out the roof, sending a brilliant ray of sunlight into the once antagonistic structure.
>Somehow you aren't crushed by the falling debris.
>You have to squint at what's happening, but you make out a literal angel.
>Hair flowing with the rainbow, the figure touches down in front of you as the fillies remain stock still.
>Her horn flashes a brilliant light, searing the fuck out of your eyes as everything goes white.
>Eventually, your vision returns and you see that it's only you and her.
"Uh, where did those rapist little fuckers go?"
>She lifts a hoof to examine the intricate designs running over the shoe thing.
>"Oh, to the sun."
>The motherfucking sun? Hell yeah!
>They dead as hell!
"Thank God!"
>Her eyes return to you and narrow.
>"'God?' Who is this?"
"Uhhh, like God, the guy who created everything. Omnipresent and all powerful?"
>Her eyes narrow to slits.
>"And why thank him, when it is I you should be thanking?"
"Uh, like, it's a saying. From my world. He may or not exist and like he may or may not have sent you at this time to save me?
>"I rescued you by my own volition, Anonymous. May I have you know that I can easily bring those fillies back-"
>You doubt that, being the sun and all.
>"-and leave you to your fate? It was only by the good Captain's investigation, after she was recovered in a delirious state, that you were to be rescued."
"Yeah, after being molested and trapped here for a few weeks. I thought you were supposed to be all powerful and shit."
>"Well, I rescued you, at least. Plus, I'm not all that powerful as you may think."
>You gesture to the floor.
"Explains why you didn't think of all the falling debris that could have easily killed me."
>"Ah, I apologize for that. You must have gotten lucky."
"That, or I can thank a divine being up there. Thank god, really."
"Like, c'mon, there is no way that everything coincided well enough for you to come and save me in the nick of time."
>Her horn is alight and you get flashbanged.
>Everything goes white.
Anon is not a very intelligent man.
Keep in mind a guard colt is writing this. Anon has to be drained by the fillies or he gets gang molested
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I find the idea of quadrupedal beasts going to war in their own insanely hilarious
Please explain
Neat tid bit. The national Muesum of the Marine Corps has a small wall that just talks about Sgt. Reckless.
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I'll be honest, from >>38853389 and beyond I lost track of what's going on.
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Why they fighting against pigs? Not against zebras, yaks, donkeys?
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They are da orkiest
Me too anon. Honestly, I think it's up for interpretation or some shit like that. Personally, I think that >>38853389 could be Anon some unknown amount of time after he was snatched, forced to write about Zala's actions prior to what we see, and >>38855863 is a continuation of that, where Anon is writing of what happened after he was snatched up. Although that doesn't place >>38835985 anywhere in the story, so it might just be the guard's imagination going wild or something.
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Why would sentient ponies design swords to be held with hands?
Cultural appropriation from Minotaurs, centaurs, and the storm king’s race
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That's not what cultural appropriation is, but copying weapons from the handed races is a good explanation.
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Somewhere somepony fucked up and the timelines crossed with Kinderquestria
*hugs the cold mare to warm her up*
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cute and scary
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Earth Steely is regretting her career choices.
Would ponies accept neural implants?
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Why would they refuse?
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Just finished binging the Everyday life story during downtime at work, and just wanted to say to the writefag, good fucking shit. Never read a story on this board where the side threads made me keep going past the primary plot. Worldbuilding is heavenly, and I've never seen lore for the batponies done better.

I want to see sparks in full steel regalia and become a titan
How does an earth pony guard deal with a flying threat?
With rocks of greater circumference.
But who can throw farthest?
Specially trained rock famers
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Thank you. I've been struggling with some serious health issues for the last several months which is part of why updates have stalled at present.
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That sucks to hear man, I know how that can be. hope you bounce back, and know from this anon that you'll always have readers
Just a heads up that this artist went furry.
Neuro? Surely not...
So? How many furry artists went pony when FIM was fresh?
Almost as many as went furry once they got bored of FIM, I think.
I think he's talking about the April Fools shitpost from a year or two ago. I've yet to see neuro draw furshit since.
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Gen 5 mare?
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Seeing as he posted ponies today, I think it's a bit early to say that he "went" furry.
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bump while 4chins is dead
Any greens where anon is dating a princess and his whimsy, keeps putting her in danger but not really because she is a princess.
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Not yet, but you can always write it yourself
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>gonna pop your skull like a balloon...
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How do you choose the music?
Do you just listen to a lot of music and note down the ones that might by interesting to add, or do you look for them specifically for each scene?
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It's kind of a mix of things I've got in my general collection of stuff to listen to while working, things I've heard before elsewhere, and things I actively searched for.

When I started writing the story I went on a bender grabbing a whole bunch of dance/club music, especially songs with female vocalists, as a source of emotional inspiration for Glamerspear & Sparkshower, the two younger members of the cast (Honour tends to be inspired by older angsty 90s/2000s music). When several anons in this thread pushed for the batponies to be Spanish, I went hunting for stuff appropriate to them, too -- though other things like the Dune, Mechwarrior, and Homeworld references were already present as I'd always intended those to be inspirations for their situation (they were originally supposed to have British accents, though). Straight-laced Lt. Violetta I realized early on should have John Philip Sousa and other classic American military/patriotic tunes. Kilfeather was always going to have Top Gun and other 90s hard-rock music for those first encounters.

I maintain several playlists I listen to when writing/planning the story, with tracks split up for mood or characters and a list of tracks I've already assigned to a scene so as to avoid reusing them except intentionally. I previously did this sort of setup for writing more general fantasy fiction (warriors and wizards and dragons etc.) and I also have playlists for the various RPGs I play or DM, so this sort of setup is nothing new to me.

Usually I write a scene and then go looking for a good track for it, but in some cases a track on inspires a scene directly. For example, I know I added major tracks from the "Master & Commander" soundtrack to the playlist early on as they're great pieces; when I was driving home from work one day listening to the playlist trying to find my grounding for Sparkshower's mental breakdown over Huckleberry (after trying out the Bradamante Lance), "Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis" came on and I knew that was the one for that scene; I think I listened to it on repeat for several hours while I wrote out the text.
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Damn, that's some organization right there.
Even in the choice of music there is a ton of work behind. You truly are one of the best writer I've ever seen.
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Well, it's not a Guardsmare per say, but it is a Guard and a mare and I figured you lot would like it.
This is wholesome AF...
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I love that comic
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just how often do guardsmares fall asleep on the job? it would certainly explain a few of the complete security failures in the show
imaginary tulpa's friend decided to pay me a visit
more mareguards in gameloft when?
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"Put him in the comfy chair, and poke him with the soft pillows!"
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I like how some anons seem to think a couple furry doodles I did for friends means I've suddenly quit ponies. My love of pone, despite hasbro's best efforts is still as high as the day I watched the show back in 2012
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I’m surprised this thread got resurrected
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It just needed a small break
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It survives the normal way: recycling the same pictures over and over again.
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New blue-board approved pics are hard to find, okay?
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Parks and Wilderness


“So… the Sand Witch… is an alicorn?”
>You raise a hoof to rub your aching temples.
>You are Private Punch, and you are in waaay over your head. Again.
>Story of this whole assignment, really. First, you were supposed to hunt desert monsters. Then, suddenly you’re leading a search party. And now… alicorns?
>Ughh! You’re supposed to be in the Harmony Corps, for Harmony’s sake! You should be off befriending cute seaponies or something! Not… fighting alicorns?? Also, since when are there random alicorns haunting the desert???
>Dusty Rose gives you a reassuring pat on the back. The two of you, plus Sheriff Pear, are holding yet another meeting in the little Hoofrest eatery.
>(Somehow you *still* haven’t learnt this place’s name.)
>”An alicorn? Seriously?” Rose is levelling a stern look at the pony seated opposite you. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”
>Sergeant Able Oak is a big, grey earth pony. Slung over his shoulder is a bigger, greyer war hammer. His armour is covered in dust and years of battle damage. His grey coat is even more so.
>He is the very image of a grizzled, veteran monster hunter. The finest of the Parks and Wilderness Guard.
>And he’s squirming sheepishly beneath Rose’s gaze.
>”W-well,” Oak rumbles, sounding far from comfortable. “Nnno, I don’t think it’s very likely. But, well, you reported that this “Sand Witch” is real. So we asked the folks at Tranquillity Springs what they know about her. And *they* seemed quite certain she’s an alicorn. Er, mostly.”
>Rose’s glare intensifies.
>Oak wilts even further into his seat.
>(That mare scares you sometimes.)
>”I mean, they weren’t *entirely* consistent,” he admits. “There were some… conflicting stories. But an alicorn was the, uh, general consensus?”
>Rose snorts.
>Before she can reply with anything too acerbic, Sheriff Pear cuts in.
>”Folks out these ways are always tellin’ tall tales ‘bout the desert. It’s practically a local pastime. Now, I won’t deny there’s some mighty peculiar critters out there, but still, nine times outta ten these stories are just a load o’ hooey.”
>You nod eagerly.
“The sheriff’s right. And hey, even if there *is* an alicorn, so what? We should be trying to befriend her, not avoid her! If the Sand Witch really did take Glacier, then we can probably ask her what she wants. Then we’ll have Glace back in no time!”
>Oak seems completely caught off guard by this idea, practically choking in surprise.
>He’s rescued by the arrival of Feather Trail, a tray of drinks balanced between her wings.
>”The thing is,” chirps the mare, setting the drinks down. “We have all these rules in the PWG about what kinds of monsters we’re allowed to engage. There’s a whole List and everything.”
>Oak gives her a grateful nod as she slides into an empty seat.
>”And right at the top of that List is - you guessed it - wild alicorns.”
“But it’s not like we’re trying to pick a fight with her,” you insist. “We just want to talk.”
>The sergeant shakes his shaggy head.
>”It’s not about picking a fight. If there’s reason to suspect there might *actually* be a wild alicorn, then we have *very* strict orders about how to proceed. That includes keeping our distance.”
>”You’re still assuming it *is* an alicorn,” Rose points out. “You said yourself it doesn’t seem likely. Are you really going to abandon a fellow Guard, leave Glacier out there to *die*, based on such flimsy evidence?”
>You and Oak both wince.
>Feather shoots out of her seat, wings flared.
>”Hey!” she exclaims, indignant. “Nopony cares more about Glace than us! Sarge doesn’t *want* to do this, but we’ve got a-”
>Oak puts a hoof on her muzzle, gently but firmly silencing her.
>You notice quite a few heads have turned your way. Even at this late hour, with half of your search party off getting some well deserved rest, the eatery is still bustling. Parks and Wilderness Guard, volunteers, and curious locals have been coming and going all evening. Feather’s little outburst has drawn attention.
>Oak waits a few moments for the normal background chatter to resume. Then, after taking a breath, replies in a low voice:
>”Look, we’re not abandoning anypony. We’ll continue to search the area Glacier disappeared in, and the nearby desert. She’s a tough filly. If anypony can live off the land for a few days, it’s her. But based on your own evidence, it seems clear there’s *something* powerful living near those mines. That alone would be reason enough to be cautious, but with all the rumours around town…”
>He shrugs helplessly.
>”I just don’t have the authority to allow an expedition to the mines, not until-”
“But that’s our best lead!” You whine.
>(At this point, it’s really your only lead.)
>”Not until our LT arrives,” Oak continues.
>His voice takes on a conciliatory tone.
>”Listen, we sent for the lieutenant as soon as we heard Glace was missing. And then sent another emergency alert straight to HQ when we heard about the alicorn thing. With any luck, the LT and a whole bunch more Guard will be here by morning. *Then* we can go check out the mines. It’s just… a few more hours.”
>He sounds almost pleading. Like he's trying to convince you it’ll be fine.
>Or trying to convince himself.
>You bite back your response, realising he's probably more upset about this than you.
>You’ve only known Glacier for, what, a few days? But Oak is her old squad leader. Probably her friend and mentor, too.
>And now he’s essentially forced to call off her search? All because of some old mares’ tales he *knows* are bullshit?
>Being in charge sucks!
>You might not agree with his decision, but he’s clearly just following orders. And he clearly hates them, too. No point making him feel any worse about it.
>You sink back into your chair, feeling defeated.
>The conversation continues on around you. Something about reorganising the search teams.
>You merely nod along. With the *real* PWG here, there’s nothing left for you to offer. Rose and Pear know the desert better than you, while Oak and Feather know monsters and search parties.
>You’ve gone from being the highest ranking Royal Guard present, to just another private among the squad.
>No, not even that - even the other privates are all Parks and Wilderness veterans. Every one of them is busying themselves about the room. Every one of them has a clear purpose here.
>Unlike you.
>You shiver.
>The sun has long since set, taking with it all traces of warmth. Hard to believe the temperature can drop so quickly.
>Your tired hooves clop along slowly, leaving small furrows in the sand. The lantern in your mouth clangs gently with each step, illuminating a small circle of anonymous desert. You dutifully search it for clues. Expecting nothing. Finding nothing.
>At least you’re properly rugged up this time. It was still warm when you started your first shift earlier in the evening, so you declined to bring any clothes. Big mistake. You spent the next few hours freezing your tail off, while you and your team combed the darkening sands.
>This time you’re better prepared. A hot meal and a quick nap have left you… Well, not exactly refreshed - you’re running on fumes, to be honest - but ready to continue the search. Even if it all seems pretty pointless right now.
>You look up towards the mountains. A great, jagged shadow, silhouetted against the stars.
>Somehow, you know that’s where you’ll find Glacier. All this searching down here is just going through the motions. Killing time until the lieutenant arrives and organises a search of the mine.
>Assuming she actually authorises one.
>What if *she* wants to wait for confirmation from higher up, too? Will you have to wait for a captain to personally show up? A major?
>How many more delays?
>You’ve genuinely considered going AWOL and just trotting up to the mines yourself. But what good would a grounded pegasus do? You’re no PWG. You’re not even a particularly good Royal Guard. Without any kind of support, odds are you’d get Dust Devil’d and dragged off to who knows where.
>That’s one issue the PWG have taken seriously, at least. Sergeant Oak’s priority has been ensuring nopony else gets lost or abducted.
>In addition to avoiding the mines, the search teams have been consolidated and reorganised. Each team of volunteers is now led by a professional Parks and Wilderness Guard, and must have at least one pegasus for scouting or delivering messages. (Your busted wings mean you don’t count, obviously.)
>In addition, you’re each carrying more supplies, flares, and rope you can quickly loop yourselves together with. If a Dust Devil *does* strike, it’ll have to take all of you, or none.
>At least, that’s the theory.
>One downside to this arrangement is you all have to keep closer together. It’s been hard hiding your gloomy mood from the others.
>You’re supposed to be part of the Harmony Corps, damnit! The one unique skill you have left is keeping ponies’ morale up. You’ll be damned if you bring down your team’s mood with your moping!
>So, minute after minute, hour after hour, you maintain the charade.
>Give a smile to the ponies around you.
>Pass around a hot drink if anypony looks too cold.
>Chat with the ones who are falling asleep on their hooves. Maybe share a joke to wake them up.
>Honestly, at this point you’re not really listening to their replies. This is all foals’ play, stuff you learn by rote at the HC. You could do this in your sleep.
>(You practically are.)
>So it comes as a bit of a surprise when you realise somepony is talking about Glacier. Not just the usual “Oh, I hope she’s ok,” either.
>”And so she’d never actually seen a non-frozen lake before. I mean, she must have known they existed, but I guess it just didn’t register consciously? So anyway, she just casually hops off the pier, expecting to land on solid ice. SPLASH! She gets water *all* over our unit, including the instructor. The look on her face when she resurfaced was priceless!”
>You blink yourself awake from your stupor.
>Feather Trail is walking along beside you, smiling wistfully. You groggily recall asking if she’d known Glacier well. Judging from her anecdote, the two seem to have gone way back.
>It takes a moment for your brain to catch up, but soon there’s a genuine smile on your face. The first in a long time.
“I’m glad to hear Glacier had friends in her old unit. Honestly, I was kinda worried about that. She seems a bit too… well, icy for most ponies.”
>”Ha. Yeah. I couldn’t stand her at first, either.” Feather shrugs. “But nah, she’s cool. Takes a while to *warm* up to you, though.”
>She grins.
>”But you’re right. Outside of our squad, I don’t think she really has many friends. She’s better with monsters than she is with ponies, I reckon. Which can be a bit of a problem.”
>She shakes her head.
“It’s honestly not that surprising she went off into the desert without waiting for the rest of us. Glacier’s good at what she does, but she can never get it through that thick head of hers that she’s *supposed* to rely on other ponies. Monster hunting’s a team sport, after all. Sarge is always telling her, ‘You can’t do this on your own.’”
>Her smile fades.
>”I guess this is her chance to prove him wrong.”
>Neither of you say anything after that.
>Your group continues on in silence. A cluster of lights floating in the dark.
>To the east, the sky slowly turns murky grey.
>Dawn isn’t far off.
>Your shift is just about over. Time to turn this party around and head back to Hoofrest.
>Before you can call the group to attention, something catches your eye.
>You turn to the south.
>A tiny speck of light is rising steadily above the mountains. Before you can even begin to wonder what it is, it explodes! A small but brilliant burst of colour against the black backdrop.
>The sound reaches you a moment later. A soft but distinct thunderclap.
“Look!” you hiss to Feather Trail.
>Your warning is unneeded. The pegasus is already taking to the air. Your bandaged wings twitch as you watch her ascend, wanting to join her for a better view.
>The colourful shape in the distance seems to shimmer, changing hues. It periodically lights up, followed by a distant rumbling sound. Like some kind of funky disco thundercloud.
>Your search party watches eagerly, while Corporal Trail circles overhead. After a few moments she touches down again, all traces of weariness gone.
>”That’s a thunder quartz signal flare. Standard Parks and Wilderness issue.”
>A ripple of excitement runs through the group. You can hardly keep your own wings from buzzing with glee.
>A flare!
>No search teams were sent that far south. So either one of the other teams has actually been Dust Devil’d and carried all the way down there, or…
“It’s Glacier!”
>Feather turns towards you, professional expression on her face.
>”Private Punch, that flare looks to have come from near the mines, correct?”
>Her use of your rank snaps you into military mode. Finally, time for action!
“Yes, corporal!”
>”Alright. Punch, you’re in charge of this group until I return. I want you to lead them back to Hoofrest.”
>And just like that, military protocol goes out the window.
>Screw the chain of command, you need answers!
“You mean we’re *not* going to the mines?”
>Feather maintains a neutral expression, despite your outburst.
>”We’re to regroup and inform Sergeant Oak. I’ll fly ahead and let him know what’s happened.”
“Oh, come on!” you just about shout. “There’s no way Oak hasn’t spotted the flare, even from all the way back in Hoofrest.”
>You see hesitation briefly flicker across her face.
>You can tell she wants to fly straight to the rescue, too.
“Glacier could be in trouble *now*! We’re the closest search party to her - we can’t afford to go all the way back to Hoofrest!”
>Her composure cracks a little more. Ears flicking back. Eyes darting between the flare and the search party.
>”But… What about the volunteers? I can’t just leave-”
>”Yes you can,” says an older mare sternly.
>A figure limps over into your lamp light. You recognise her as Mrs Marmalade; the one who chastised you for assuming the volunteers would quit at the first sign of danger.
>(You instinctively inch back.)
>“Why, I’ll have you know I was fendin’ off sandipedes an’ blackjackals ‘fore you was even outta diapers. Y’all go right on ahead and save that little lost filly; she’s the whole reason we’re out here in the first place! We’ll be perfectly fine on our own.”
>There’s a chorus of agreement from the other volunteers.
>A huge smile spreads across your face.
>You could kiss each and every one of these ponies, if only you could see them!
>Feather is still undecided, fidgeting anxiously in place.
>Time for the coup de grâce.
>You place a hoof on her shoulder and flash her a cheeky grin.
“Well if *you* don’t come with me, then I’ll just have to save Glacier all by myself.”
>”Wait, what?" she sputters. "I thought you said you couldn’t fly!”
>You shrug.
“I *shouldn’t* fly. But this is an emergency. I’ll be fine. Probably.”
>You say the last part quiet enough that you hope she doesn’t hear.
>She glares at you, but you just begin taking off your heavy scarf and coat. You shiver as the cold nips at the newly exposed fur.
>”Uuurgh! Fine!”
>With a stomp of her hoof, Feather turns to the assembled ponies.
>”Listen up! You all head back to Hoofrest, quick as you can. Tell the sergeant that the two of us are en route to the mines. And *be careful* on your way back. After your little speech,” she turns to Mrs Marmalade, “it would be *really embarrassing* if you ended up getting in trouble! So make sure it doesn’t happen!”
>The old mare gives a smart salute.
>Feather then turns on you, redoubling her glare.
>”And you! You’ll be *worse* than useless if you end up crashing halfway to the mine. So we’re gonna take it real slow, and you’re gonna stick to my tailwind the whole way. Understood?”
“Yes, corporal!”
>”Alright, let’s move out!”
>This was a terrible idea.
>With each (ow) painful beat (ow) of your wings, the glowing cloud inches a tiny bit closer.
>To your left, the sky is starting to turn grey-blue. The stars fade out, and the black desert below begins to gain depth and detail.
>You think you can pinpoint where the flare was sent from: nestled in a low valley between peaks is a cluster of dark, boxy shapes. Too geometric to be a rock formation. The old mine buildings, perhaps?
>The cloud looks to be hovering right above them, a few thousand hooves up. It’s still twinkling bright as a signal fire, though the rumblings seem to have died away.
>You don’t see anypony moving on the mountainside. Though in this dim light, they’d be easy to miss. Hopefully Glacier’s just taken shelter in one of the buildings.
>It takes an agonisingly long time to reach them.
>You absolutely wouldn’t have been able to fly this far on your own.
>Even with Feather’s help, producing a tailwind for you to follow, it’s all you can do to glide along slowly in her wake.
>But you’re almost there now. Just a few more minutes.
>You can see the buildings in more detail now. Dilapidated old wooden structures. Shiny tin roofs, at least one the few which still *have* roofs. Crisscrossing iron tracks, leading down into a gaping mine entrance.
>This is it! You’re so close!
>But something's wrong.
>Why isn't Feather getting any closer?
>She seems to have slowed to a cautious hover, alert.
>It takes your sleep-deprived brain a few seconds to notice the signs.
>But by then it’s too late.
“Twilight fucking damnit, not again! Not *NOW*!”
>Deaf to your pleas, the Dust Devil roars to life.
>>Deaf to your pleas, the Dust Devil roars to life.

Great update!
Awesome as always cant wait for more
>And now he’s essentially forced to call off her search? All because of some old mares’ tales he *knows* are bullshit?
Incentives suck. I feel a lot of greens and fics have a utopian depiction of Equestria that neglects just exactly /how/ good ponies can get ahead of natural problems like these.

>A great, jagged shadow, silhouetted against the stars.
>Your group continues on in silence. A cluster of lights floating in the dark.
>Like some kind of funky disco thundercloud.
Love the prose. High-concept.
Yeah, it's all just shitty porn anymore.
To be fair, some of it is actually pretty good
damn it, i wanted more
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Great update!
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Thoughts on Thunder and Zoom?
One of them is a dude?
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working on a Sergeant Reckless green >>38906178. figured I'd post here about it since I'm going to be taking her on a more guardsmare-like path. if the Reckless thread dies, I'll continue it here
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Always nice to see some Memoirs of a Royal Guard art around.
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good green!
how can one filly contain so much brown???
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>delicious brown fillies
Delicious brown filly ponut directly on my face
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Are there any royal guard mare stories besides Brave & Vannie that
>doesn't focus on non-pony creatures
>doesn't focus on male characters besides anon
>is about cute ponies doing cute things
What disqualifies Everyday Life With Guardsmares?
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>Reckless waited patiently, stock-still for the massive doors before her.
>The pearly-white gates were both a sign of a future that inspired, and a glimpse into a forlorn existence.
>Neither of these concepts seemed to come to mind for the warhorse.
>What mattered to her was that she was here, reporting for duty.
>By her side, Shining Armor gave a curt nod to the doors' guards.
>"Is the princess ready to see us?"
>"Of course, sir."
>Shining looked Reckless' way.
>"Are you ready, Reckless?"
>She bowed her neck slightly.
"Yes, sir."
>"Then let's not keep her waiting."
>As the doors to the hallowed hall opened up, the pair of them stepped through.
>Salutes for the captain went up on Reckless' left and right, silent and unbidden.
>At the end of the silky velvet road below hoof, a pair of blue and gold thrones were fixed in waiting.
>By the side of the golden throne, a bright smile shone at Reckless.
>And on the throne proper, Princess Celestia was perfectly perched.
>The captain and recruit drew close enough to bow, and they both did so.
>"Hello, my little ponies. There's no need to bow. This is a private audience, of course."
>They both stood straight.
>"Captain Shining Armor, I would like to say that I'm glad to have you here so promptly."
>The Princess turned to Reckless.
>"And it is a pleasure to see you once more, Miss... Reckless."
>Reckless nodded eagerly.
>She really liked the 'princess'.
"Yes, you too."
>Shining and the princess' secretary shared a chuckle.
>Celestia smiled amiably.
>"On that note, I'd like to congratulate you on your success in the field today. Based off your actions, am I correct to assume that you've been enjoying your time in the Royal Guard thus far?"
"Yes, princess. Work like old times."
>"That's good. There are much more trying positions in the Royal Guard, but you appear to have found your stride to be that of a guardsmare. Of course, once your training is complete, you can always see about a shift in responsibilities."
"Would like. Can work marines again?"
>Celestia's look turned gently apologetic. The action alone was enough to flick Reckless' ears.
>"Well, dear, as we said before..."
>She gave Shining Armor a look.
>"Equestria simply has no marines."
>There it was again.
>That phrase.
>No marines.
>What was a Marine like her supposed to do in a world with no marines?
>Reckless, just as before, fought back her natural urge to let out her frustration.
>Instead, her ears fell back, and she bobbed her head quick.
"Yes, yes. I understand."
>She didn't. But pretending she did was the path of least resistance.
>She especially didn't want to bother the one who'd given her purpose again.
>"Is something the matter, Reckless?"
>But evidently, she /had/ bothered the princess.
>"If there is, please, share. This meeting is all for your benefit.
>Silence dripped like the slick of the candles above.
>"Well, perhaps it would be best if we start with your situation, first."
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Deadfics don’t count.
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>Reckless snorted a breath, and turned her head back down.
"Yes, princess."
>Celestia nodded to the pony by her side.
>"Miss Inkwell? You have the floor."
>The dressed-up secretary cleared her throat, and her ever-present magic lifted her clipboard up.
>"Miss Flame, the court magicians were unable to pinpoint an exact cause and means for your displacement. Whatever physical translation you experienced is beyond Equestria's current understanding."
>Raven met her questioning gaze.
>"In essence, something magical in nature has occurred, but nothing they've seen before. I would be prepared to receive future summons from the mages in question."
>She flipped back to the clipboard.
>"On a similar note, while the doctors in the infirmary slated you with a clean bill of health, further review has confirmed that, by all means, you are both young, and /completely/ healthy. You are no more than thirty years-old, but closer to the upper end of twenty. They noted some confusion, however, as you couldn't provide a specific age, and your statements of health seemed more in line with an older pony."
>Reckless nodded fervently.
"Told doc same. Bones not hurt when should hurt."
>Clearly curious, Celestia interjected.
>"What do you mean by that?"
"Get older, hurt more. Problem. Don't remember name."
>At his help, Reckless gestured with her neck to the captain, her ears pivoting like frictionless bearings.
"Yes, arthritis. Doc in Marines, and doc in Guard, they say same."
>The captain carried on with some shock.
>"You had arthritis, Reckless?"
>She stretched openly.
"But happy without."
>Reckless turned back to the ponies before her.
>The princess seemed to be frowning.
>"Such a degree of healing is unprecedented."
>Healing was such a word.
>Reckless shuffled on her hooves.
"Been worse."
>Too familiar a word.
>Her ears folded back, and she forced her eyes shut.
"Much worse."
>Worse than some scrapes and bruises. Worse than some light shrapnel. Worse than the graze of a bullet.
>The princess hazarded another question. It only drove the stake deeper.
>"Were you 'worse' recently, Reckless?"
>The captain spoke up in her stead.
>"No. If we recall her story, she was in retirement. It's been quite some time since she's seen combat. Though, I will say she has no wounds or scars you'd expect from somepony at war for so long."
>Wounds didn't need to come from combat.
>They could happen in retirement.
>And even at home.
>Reckless opened her eyes.
"No. Not war. Wounds in Pendleton."
>Shining Armor furrowed his brows.
>Princess Celestia's frown deepened.
>She hadn't forgotten. She'd simply pushed it out of sight. With her arrival in Equestria, there had been so much to contend with.
>Now, she was forced to confront her final moments before the pony planet.
>She remembered the hot white flash.
>The pain before bleakness.
>The nothing between.
>The barbed wire.
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Going to keep the writing at work for now, really getting me through the long nights: I'll get back at it after the weekend.
Reckless in Training: https://ponepaste.org/7791
thank you
Misadventures in the DMZ

>"Ten minutes out." Spitfire announces. "If we the flare isn't up by the time we get there, we'll find somewhere with a vantage to land."
>West yawns. The thought of landing instantly brings on the urge to sleep. She imagines lying down on the sand for a nap, if just for a few minutes to reduce the tiredness. "Ugh, shut up already. I'm not gonna fall asleep on the sand, as if I need some venomous critter crawling on my armor."
>Dew lets out another sigh of fatigue. Perhaps if they had more time to rest before the Wonderbolts arrived, they wouldn't be so tired right now.
>Fleetfoot furrows her brow. "This guy is blaming us for this?"
>Silver Zoom laughs. "Turns out there IS such a thing as Being Too Fast."
>The team captain's eyes narrow at a trio of distant silhouettes contrasting against the night sky. At first, they look like they might be ponies, but as they get closer it becomes uncertain. With worry building up, she shouts out to the others: "Three flyers, eleven o'clock!"
>Blaze is the first to look. "I see 'em. Those aren't ponies, are they?"
>Mist and Soarin look too, neither able to discern their nature.
>It takes the corporal a long moment to notice them, but when she does, a dread builds up in her. With the large, slow-flapping wings, their size, and the long limbs dangling below them as they fly, they look just like- "Gargoyles!"
>West blinks as panic sets in. "Wait, those things are real?!"
>Spitfire grimaces. "Apparently so." Despite what the creatures are or their intentions might be, Spitfire's orders in this kind of scenario are uniform: intercept and divert any foreign presence away from Equestria's territory. As such, she takes a deep breath and barks an order: "Break!"
>"Stay with me, West." The corporal orders as she turns inverted and dives to a lower altitude, the weight of her armor and bags aiding her decent. The private does not delay in following, any semblance of fatigue escaping her as her heartrate spikes. Dread, panic, frustration and confusion all mix into a sickening sensation in her stomach that would make her vomit if she had anything to eat before.
>Dew rolls back upright, fighting the inertia to even out again as the private behind her mimics the maneuver. She glances at the silhouettes, now much closer and clearly visible against the night sky. The three creatures are large and grotesque, seeming to have considerable difficulty flying at all. Their limbs are long and hang gracelessly from their gangly bodies, dragging in the air. She sneers as she glares up at them. "Those don't look like the gargoyles we were taught about. Where the hay did those things even come from?"
>The private's mouth goes dry, and she focuses on regaining control of her breathing.
>Furrowing her brow and slowing her pace, Dew looks at her subordinate. "What's got you so panicked, private? There's just three of them and they're not even carrying any weapons, we'll dispatch them nice and quick!"
>Above them, the aerobatic team breaks into duos, four climbing over the creatures while the four others stay level with them. The Wonderbolts aren't subjected to combat situations often, but that doesn't mean they cannot handle one when it presents itself.
>Blaze and Mist accelerate over the trio and pass shortly above them, using the wake turbulence to noticeably slow them down. They don't get a good look as they pass, though, and soon dive to increase the distance.
>The monstrous creatures, over twice the size of a stallion, struggle to regain their airspeed as the next duo passes them, slowing them down even more. One shrieks as it begins to lose altitude, flapping its wings desperately to stay in the air.
>Seeing the opportunity, Soarin closes in between them and tucks into a flip, causing extra turbulence that sends the faltering one spiraling to the sand below as he passes.
>The two still in the air begin to glow a bright cyan from their wings before suddenly accelerating, flying with much more control than before. The captain balks as she watches one rapidly dive after its spiraling comrade and help it recover. "How?!"
>The trio of creatures split, each chasing after a different duo. While they were slow before and seemed as if they had trouble even staying in the air, now they are effortlessly gliding at ever increasing speed towards the ponies.
>Blaze and Spitfire, the only duo without a pursuer, quickly climb over the creatures as their targets dive to escape. Leading their attack with expert precision, they pass directly in front of the creature's glowing wings, instantly sending it rolling over its head down to the sand below. It fails to recover with all the speed it garnered in the chase, and lands with a big splash of sand.
>Dew smiles. "See? They got it!"
>Meanwhile, one of them catches up to Soarin, attempting to claw at his hindleg and missing by millimeters. He glances backwards and gets an uncomfortably close look at its disgustingly flat face. A feeling of disorientation strikes him at the unearthly sight of its eyes: A set of metal protrusions which glow orange from their tips. It reaches its long arm out for another swipe, and as he dodges, he notices the gleaming, metal claws grotesquely grafted to its long fingers, no doubt through some gruesome surgical procedure. He cringes in horror as he looks at its face again, this time noting the large, sharp, blacker-than-night teeth lining its maw as it furiously growls at him, its voice like the screeching of brakes on a train. Before it can throw another swipe, he moves under it, looking up at the visibly warped, grey flesh and hide, the tattered remains of a deep-blue uniform clinging to it. He and his crewmate go inverted and dive, turning sharply in a display superior maneuverability. With another growl, it attempts to follow them, slowly turning to chase.
Well done so far, thank you!
>The other one lags some distance away from Silver Zoom and High Winds, who occasionally glance over their shoulders. Sadly, it takes them a bit too long to notice the long, shimmering object in its arms.
>"Hold on, what obj-" High Winds gasps as a green beam of energy flashes beside her with the loud blare of air being incinerated, nearly clipping her wing. The shine is so bright it leaves a temporary imprint in her vision. "DIVE!"
>They break apart and dive, the creature above them pulling up into a half loop before leveling out to align another shot. With a shared nod, they begin to juke, hoping to throw off its aim. It works, thankfully, and when the next one flashes by, it only glasses the sand below with a puff of grey, foul-smelling smoke.
>While it's trying to aim, it doesn't notice the pair of ponies rapidly encroaching on its wing, and they pass by mere inches from it, causing the creature to spiral uncontrollably and lose a great deal of altitude before recovering.
>The two guards watch the display with growing concern.
>The private's mouth goes even drier as she pants in terror. Her superior looks at her. "Calm down, private, they're handling it just fine."
>The two creatures still in the air give up their pursuit and turn back in the direction from which they came, their crashed friend shaking off the sand on its hide before following them with visible difficulty.
>The aerobatics team soon forms up again, and Soarin is the first to speak: "What the hay were those things?"
>Spitfire racks her brain as she watches them glide away, the adrenaline still in full effect. "Not a clue, but let's hope they stay gone."
>Blaze catches her breath before speaking: "Did you see how the one we crashed got back up?"
>High Winds nods. "They shot at us with disintegration spells too. Who are those guys?"
>Fleetfoot cocks a brow. "Maybe the two from before know something about them?"
>Mist scoffs with a frown. "I'll bet the narrator knows plenty. Can't we just bait it out of him?" She asks, blatantly disregarding pacing and any other literary technique that might generate intrigue.
>"What?! It's our lives on the line!" She shouts at the stars.
>Blaze tsks. "Maybe we should hurry up and regroup with the creatures instead of waiting? Fleetfoot is right, they might have answers!"
>"Maybe." Spitfire mumbles. She signals the armored mares below to rejoin them at altitude, hoping They might already know something on the matter.
>Dew let's out a sigh of relief, but West remains tense. "What's got you so worried, private?"
>She sighs nervously as they begin to climb. "You remember what the captain told us about the creepy old stallion voice?"
>The Corporal nods.
>"Well, it's just that…"
>"…if he is telling a tragedy, and we're dressed like this, I don't want to know where it's going!" Jasmine quietly snaps at the navigator.
>She chuckles. "Speak of the devil."
>Jasmine shakes her head and takes a deep breath.
>She puts a hand on her shoulder, offering a reassuring smile. "Hey, we're together in this. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, okay?"
>She snorts and brushes her hand off. "Okay, dyke."
>"Oh, fuck you." She crosses her arms. "I'm going to check out the lexicons."
>Meanwhile, the captain asks the attendant at the counter for something with 'firepower'.
>The reptilian biped scans the ceiling for a moment before returning to her customer. "Oh um, guns don't usually mix well with magic, what with how fragile crystals are and how violent recoil can be." She explains, bashfully intertwining her fingers.
>She nods.
>"That being said, there is one thing that might interest you." She retrieves a wooden box from under the counter. "This is the Enforcer M Ninety-nine. They are custom built for the elite law enforcement units in Viridiana."
>The human's eyes widen as the reptile slides her fingers across the lid of the box. With a purple glow, the unshakeable magical seal releases and it opens. Inside, on a red velvet cushion, rests a heavy pistol loaded from a magazine in front of the grip. The chassis is a pearl white, with wooden furnishings on the grip, safety and controls. The trigger and barrel are both a dim silver, engrained with arcane runes which conduct mana to the internal crystals.
>She smiles. "That's an impressive piece."
>The reptile looks up at her. "Yes, but they're quite pricy."
>"Money is not an issue. How much exactly?"
>"The weapon costs um," She gulps, having been through this routine with many other customers. "Two and a half thousand credits."
>The human simply shrugs. "You said they are custom made, right?"
>"Um, yes, you can commission one if you'd like."
>"May I try it out?"
>The attendant nods. "There's a firing range in the back."
>Carefully lifting the ornate firearm from its case, she cradles it as she walks into the range.
>Just as she leaves, Lela approaches the counter with a green, glowing spear in her hand. "Hey, do you have these in a pyric variant?"
>The reptile balks. "Why would you use a Stagnant Resonator in a Pyric weapon?"
>She cocks a brow. "You wouldn’t, you'd use a Malignant Resonator. I'm asking if you got any pyric spears in stock."
>"Oh." She croaks - or chuckles, rather. "Yes, follow me."
>Nadine browses through a trio of runic books suspended in her telekinesis while Jasmine picks out an amulet beside her. "Find anything good?"
>The navigator puffs. "All of these are like, gardening spells, wards against malignant energies, cures for mild ailments and super-basic combat or healing spells. I can't find anything that would actually give us an advantage against anyone using guns and armor." She shakes her head, closing the books and returning them to their spots on the shelves. "Magic is just so underpowered out here."
>She chuckles, holding up a silver bracelet. "Well, this thing lets you survive in space without an exo-suit for a half hour."
>"Those are nice."
>"Yeah, and they're just twenty a pop. We should grab some."
>The spacious range is freezing when the captain enters, and only the low hum of the lights is audible within the sound proofed walls. She picks a lane and takes aim at her target, sending a pyric spell through the internals of the gun before squeezing the trigger to no effect.
>In her sleep-depri-
>The slide racks smoothly, chambering a round. She takes aim again, and this time a loud bang follows the brightly burning bullet as it strikes the target, engulfing it in flames.
>She smirks with satisfaction before infusing a different spell and shooting again, the fire dying as an ice spear embeds itself in the center of the target, then melts shortly after.
>A dark purple glow engulfs the barrel as she infuses it with another spell, aims away from the target, and fires. The projectile curves, orbiting its destination before embedding itself within it. Truly, the weapon's versatility is only limited by the spells in her repertoire.
>She fires again and again, enjoying the many sights her spells bestow. The targets burst into flames, freeze into crystals and melt into puddles of green goo with each bullet that curves, flies or tumbles its way home, until the hammer clicks on an empty chamber, and she sighs.
>Nadine gasps as she finally finds something useful: A conjuration book. She flips through the pages, noting the many different creatures: wisps like phoenixes; chimeras like Griffins and Manticores; and even demons such as Minotaurs and Imps are all among the many. She quickly notes the casting requirements however, and her excitement diminishes. Each spell requires high amounts of resources, mostly in the forms of flesh, blood and bones, and some even require special sigils and rituals. While the book is intriguing, there's no way they could use this in the heat of battle. Despite the fact, she decides to buy it, if only for her personal intrigue.
>Meanwhile, Jasmine has been having better luck, finding a variety of small items with protective effects. Rings of pyric resistance, amulets of kinetic absorption and a variety of other wards against lesser magic or common munitions.
>The navigator inspects a group of medallions next. Each of them represents a sigil which appears in a radius around it when deployed. Any spells cast within the sigil will be given different effects depending on its properties.
>Suddenly Lela- "Hey girls, check out this cool spear I bought!"
>They both jump and turn to face her, eyeing the spear in her hand up and down. The shaft is black, probably made of some organic composite, and the obsidian blade glows a dull, iridescent orange from around its metallic housing.
>Jasmine puffs. "Great, the pyromaniac got a flamethrower."
>She laughs. "It can do way more just that! Wait and see."
>She shakes her head and sneers, resuming her browsing. Nadine shrugs and does the same.
>The human returns from the range, placing the ornate firearm back in its case.
>The attendant looks up at her. "Well, what do you think?"
>"I'd like to commission a matching pair of them, and I'll need them ready within the hour."
>Her jaw slacks. "Uh, alright. Any specifics?"
>"Mirror their controls, and if you could cast it from a lighter alloy that'd be appreciated."
>She shrugs, leaning on the counter. "Make them match my outfit."

>Finally arriving at the entrance, they both stop in surprise as they see it is entirely open. No wooden boards, barricades or even warning signs. The confusion rapidly dissipates however as they make it under the arch of the entranceway to see the tunnel beyond it entirely collapsed, with the rocks bearing markings which must mean warnings.
>"Sonv'abitch!" Cheeto shouts as he comes to a stop before the wall of debris clogging the tunnel. "They must've blown the main entrance when they abandoned it."
>Michael however, looks around and notices another opening further south, parallel to the one they just found, if a lot narrower. "Let's check that out."
>The lieutenant just nods and follows his friend to the next entrance, which lies further down the dustbowl.
>They reach it to find a wooden gate which rotted where it sits, the lock and hinges visibly rusted and the planks slowly crumbling with the wind.
>Cheeto lights up, eyeing the black-rotten wood of the gate. "That's water damage! I think we jus' found our cave!"
>Michael chuckles. "About fucking time!"
>They try the gate, but it won't budge.
>"Aight," Cheeto takes a stance before it. "Let's breech it."
>Michael nods and takes place beside him.
>On the count of three, they kick it together. Then again, and again. The gate only makes a splintering sound as the planks bend, but it doesn’t give at all.
>The lieutenant lets out a sigh. "We gotta remove this obstruction somehow."
>Michael grins. "Let's stand back a bit."
>"Oh, mothafucka ye ain't gon' use explosives, damnit! What if you collapse the damn entrance?"
>Michael starts walking back. "C'mon man, I ain't that stupid! I got something, trust me."
>With a puff and shake of his head, Cheeto follows his darker companion. "Just what exactly do you have? You ain't gon' use magic, 'cause we don't have sigils; you ain't gon' use explosives, 'cause that'll collapse the tunnel; you ain't gon' use an axe, 'cause we ain't got one-"
>Michael rolls his eyes and materializes a sizable, green ball in his hands, making his companion freeze in shock.
>"Now hold on, where'd you get that?"
>He smirks. "Union asshole dropped it when I landed for repairs. Thought I'd take it with me."
>His superior balks and shakes his head, usure how to feel. "You can't have that." He points a finger at it. "Using that thing is a war crime!"
>He shrugs. "Well yeah, against living creatures. We're using it to clear an obstruction."
>He shakes his head, throws his hands up and turns away, letting them audibly fall against his thighs. "Why the fuck would you even take that-" He stops and takes a deep breath. "Y'know what, I'm going off the assumption that there's nothing living on the other side of that door, and that we're running out of time to find a better solution, and authorizing this." Gesturing at the door with an outstretched arm, he concludes: "Go ahead."
>With a smirk, Michael presses down on three separate buttons, igniting the plasmatic core, then throws it at the gate. It quickly begins to glow a baleful green, intensifying before finally it explodes with a blinding flash superseded by a low roar, vaporizing all organic material in its radius, glassing the sand beneath it and turning the wooden gate into a cloud of grey smoke.
>Michael cackles. "That was fuckin' sweet!"
>Cheeto chuckles despite himself and shakes his head. "I'll admit, it does look pretty cool." He then lets out a sigh. "Seriously though, a diffusion grenade? What were you thinkin' pickin' that up?"
>"That it might have practical uses!" He gestures at the small crater of glass and dust, the dark tunnel beyond beckoning them.
>"Welp, no point waitin' out here any longer. Let's have a look inside to make sure the tunnel ain't collapsed."
>Michael shrugs, and they both walk up to the entrance. The glassed sand crunches under their soles as they enter, the sound reverberating far down the tunnel. With their vision limited, their helmets automatically engage their low-light mode, but without ambient lighting it's only so effective.
>In unison, they draw their rifles, the flashlights making their way far clearer. For some distance into the tunnel, the ground is carpeted with sand, but it soon gives way to hard stone.
>Cheeto notices the absence of rails here. "What were they usin' this tunnel for?"
>"Access, ventilation maybe? Hell, it could be just a cave they found and sealed up for no reason."
>He licks his lips as the beam of his light traces the walls, which reflect it with a soft sheen.
>"Moisture?" Michael asks, observing the phenomenon.
>"Could be, but there's other causes for that kinda thing."
>He smirks. "You think someone coated the walls with wax?"
>"No, but there're other factors that could give the same effect. Like salt crystals, or uh," He feels a tension grow in his chest. "Organic compounds from subterranean creatures."
>Michael shakes his head dismissively. "How do we check?"
>"Dunno." He responds as they quietly make their way further into the earth, rifles facing forwards.
>Michael gulps. "Man, this is some shit. What if we walk right into the motherfucker?"
>Cheeto stops. "I still got the flare gun, and I reckon it'll scare them off. That bein' said, yer right, this ain't safe."
>"Should we go back and deploy the drones?"
>He shrugs. "Yeah, we could."
>They turn around and freeze, suddenly noticing something peculiar. They have been so fixated on the walls to the right and left of them, that they haven't noticed the odd color of the ceiling. Unlike the bright brown of the stone walls, the ceiling is pitch black. It still reflects the light when they point at it, but there are arched lines crossing it that are brighter than the-
>"That's a huge fucking centipede." Michael whispers despite the pit in his stomach.
>Cheeto's mouth goes dry, the last few hours flash in front of him as he desperately tries to pinpoint what exactly compelled him to enter a pitch-black tunnel, fully aware of the likelihood it might house creatures like the one above him.
>Thankfully, whether by fear or unconsciousness, this one seems inert. Perhaps if they don't panic and sneak past it, they'll make it out safely, and shoot the flare up for the ponies to find them.
>Michael recoils and furrows his brow. "Ponies?"
>There's a sudden cacophony of chattering legs behind them, and they whirl around to see another centipede, much smaller than the one above them but still bigger than a dog, rushing at them in full speed.
>Without a moment to think, Cheeto pulls the trigger, the roar of gunfire filling the tunnel as he unloads a dozen armor-grade rounds into its face, turning it into a black, viscous mush. The creature slumps on the ground with a funny splat and violently twitches as the last of its soul departs from it.
>They freeze for a long moment as the echo of gunfire roars at them from the depths of the tunnel ahead. Just as they unstick themselves from their position however, they're frozen again by the sounds of shifting carapace above them.

That's it for now, and thanks for reading (if you did)!
Nice. I hope everything ties in together in the end because the introduction of the "gargoyles" and all this new magics stuff is getting a bit overwhelming for what I think is supposed to be a short one shot.
>a short one shot.
That was the original intention, but I got carried away with it, and I think it will end up being a decent length.
As for tying it all together, I got that planned.
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Ah, that's great then. I also went to check your paste (update it btw) and saw that it's around 27k, more than I expected. Although I'll still consider it short because, for me, I think short one shots are around <40k words; longer ones around the higher 60k range, give or take.
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Impressive, beautiful OC
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Very nice. I can’t wait to read more. Reckless has been very under-appreciated itt.
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If Canterlot had a normal police force, it must have had a really bad time during the Changeling invasion
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I don't think any police force can withstand an invasion of a hostile army
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Which police force and which army? NYPD packs serious manpower and firepower.
Ehh, it's more of the police force being incapable of fielding anti armor at face value. Against any army with armor, with the exception of Africa tier armies, they would probably get steamrolled. That's not even including anti-air or anti-ship. Plus, most police departments aren't going to have ex-military types, so most of them are going to be at a disadvantage against professional soldiers who will have enough equipment and training to actually fight.
However, if we consider NYPD, they'd probably last a while against maybe a few low tier armies - thinking Brazil or something - with the terrain they have. Sure, it's going to be only buildings, subways, and the like, which will eventually be flushed out or buried with the proper tool: explosives. Plus, I don't know how well NYC buildings will fare against explosives since they're quite different from the ones in the middle east and eastern Europe.
All in all, it's going to be like a weaker insurgency, since they're without any ATGMs or the likes. A lot of IEDs, though. Although, I'm not too sure on whether or not the sandniggers used military explosives (artillery shells) or homebrewed ones more, the latter being the weaker one which will be the only choice for the NYPD. All police departments are designed as a civilian peacekeeping force and not military. That job is up to the actual military and national guard.
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>You grab the mare forcefully, throwing her, belly up, towards the ground.
>One hand is holding her neck against the floor, the other on one of her forehooves.
>She involuntarily presents herself to you from her position, giving you an amazing view of her goods.
>Ample teats, pullable dock, tight pussy.
>You only get a glance before she closes her legs and flicks her tail over her body.
>Eh, you'll be seeing more of that soon.
>Already your pants are becoming uncomfortably tight.
>This is what happens when a mf doesn't get wet in six years.
>That and being surrounded by mostly naked female equines in this strange land, teasing you with their plump rumps and flashes of their puffy marehoods.
>Now you can actually get some.
>You first take off your shirt, revealing your smooth skin underneath.
>Her eyes open wider.
>Then, you pull off your pants with vigor, followed by your undergarments, presenting your leaking and rock hard cock.
>Upon seeing that, realization dawns upon the mare's face as she begins to struggle and scream.
>Bad idea.
>She tries to fly away, being a pegasus and all that, but muh human strength allows you to hold her within your grip.
>Her remaining free foreleg tries smacking you to no avail, while her hind legs are still locked in place to prevent you from gaining access.
>Those could do some damage, but you know that if she were to open them, you'd just push your body closer enough to nullify bucks.
>You choke her a bit to show that you're not messing around, and your hand that was holding her foreleg goes to grip the fragile bone in one of her wings when it flares out.
>The threat is enough to make her shut up and stop moving.
>The wings of a pegasus are extremely sensitive; snapping the bone would cause great distress, maybe even enough for one to go unconscious.
>It's only morning, you're in this mare's shop on one of the least busiest streets, the door is closed, binds pulled down: it's perfect for you to go down to town.
>Tears are streaming from her face as you gently place a finger on her lips.
"Shhhhhh. Open up, or else it's going to be worse."
>Still her legs are closed.
>A good smack to the muzzle rectifies the problem.
>Her legs shakily open up as your hand pulls the tail down to once again to show your spoils.
>This is it.
>Six motherfucking years.
>Still gripping her throat, your other hand returns to your crotch to assist in your docking.
>Her eyes are wide open, shining with tears, watching as you begin the procedure of raping her.
>As you can feel your dick enter her folds, you can't help but let out a grunt at the pleasure.
>So damn tight, although a bit dry.
>Wait a minute...
>You push all the way in, hilting as your thighs smack against the mare's.
>It feels as if you're using a condom - a really thick one.
>You can feel something moving around your member, although it's very subtle, almost to the point where you have to concentrate to notice it.
>Is this the power of horsepussy?
>Cause it sucks ass.
>Might as well continue. It's a tad bit too late to ask for backsies.
>You begin to machine the rubber-like pussy.
>In, out. In, out, In, out.
>It's not that comfortable, to say the least. But it is getting better as your precum starts to lubricate the insides, letting you slide in and out pretty easily.
>You got a beat going, the only sounds in the room are your grunting and the smacks of flesh.
>...you're not getting off to this.
>So, you do the only plausible thing: you go faster.
>Faster faster faster-
>As your dick hits the end of the rubber pussy for the twelve hundredth time, it suddenly pops, your penis finding itself inside a very warm embrace.
>It seizes upon you, forcing a grunt out of your mouth.
>So damn tight.
>Then it begins to rhythmically move in a manner that makes you conclude that it's trying to milk you.
>You just want to stay in it forever, teasing it with the possibility of being breeded.
>But you also can't deny yourself, either.
>Pulling back, it continues to tighten in a bid to keep you in.
>You pause at the entrance, feeling the labia nip at the head.
>Pushing back in, the walls are parted again as you can feel your sensitive head rub against them.
>You place one of your hands to the ground for support as you push through the tinges of pleasure to hilt all the way.
>The feeling of your head kissing the cervix is one of complete bliss.
>That, and the spasm it sends through the vice around your penis.
>An electric feeling flies through your spine, with something deep below you crying for more.
>You slowly pull back, feeling the walls once again tighten.
>Stopping with only your tip in, you push in again with more ease, as more of the bodily fluids begin to slick the inside of the mare's vagina.
>Something inside your brain cracks, opening the floodgates for a primitive part to arise as you begin to viciously pound the mare underneath you.
>You instinctively take your hand off her throat and place it opposite of your other hand across the mare, completing your dominating posture.
>It also gives you an even better position to continue hammering at her marehood.
>As you continue, you feel something rub against your cock every now and then.
>You don't know what it is, but the extra simulation feels amazing.
>You also may have a new addiction.
>Suddenly, you feel as if your dick is tangled by a boa constrictor as the walls seize, hard, around it.
>But the extra pressure feels extra good, and like the good boy you are, you continue to punish the mare for the natural reaction.
>It starts to get really sloppy in there too, more fluids gushing into the hole to fill each crevice.
>To your disappointment, after what seems like minutes in heaven, the walls loosen enough to not choke out your dick.
>And you somehow didn't climax. Must be from all those times jerking yourself off that you've gotten desensitized.
>Or maybe your dick is broken.
>You should see a doctor after this or something.
>Out of the pleasurable haze, you focus on your victim only to react with surprise, sprinkled with a little bit of confusion.
>On her face is plastered a frown, as she just stares at you.
>A little blush too, but she's just looking at you.
>She turns away once she sees you watching her.
>But no erotic face, no moans, nothing.
>A blank face with two sets of eyeballs that had once faced you, wide open.
>She's not even crying anymore.
>You slow down your pace as you continue to take in her expression.
>Something about it just makes you feel flaccid.
>Well, you are raping her, so pleasuring her isn't what your intention is. Pleasuring yourself is the top goal here, which you are achieving.
>But, she did orgasm within a minute, all without a single peep.
>The fact that happened really hits your ego for some reason.
>You're mostly pulled from the fucking as your brain runs through a few different scenarios.
>Maybe she's one of those apathetic people?
>You don't know if orgasms will elicit such a reaction from a person - er, pony.
>Or was it so good her brain disconnected from reality and she's just set in some standby mode.
>Racking your brain, you conclude that it isn't possible, as she made zero sound as you entered her.
>Something tugs the corner of your brain as you're brought out of your thoughts.
>Oh well, at least you feel good as hell.
>You pull back for a second, head still in, as you take a short pause.
>Your hips are getting sore as hell from this, doing all the work.
>Not that you can complain or anything.
>Hmm, your thighs are also dry, as if nothing poured out from that orgasm.
>Felt like a lot of fluids, though.
>Throwing your thoughts to the wind, you begin to plunge back in when the door is suddenly busted down.
>Before the rest of the sentence is completed, your well lubricated cock slides deep into the mare.
>The walls eagerly react at your reentry, thrumming around your member in an attempt to try to drain it.
>You just stay, hilted, there.
>The guardsmare, meanwhile, trembles as you sort of just keep your position while looking at her.
>Eventually, she recovers and speaks.
>She's got a furious blush going on.
>"S-stop right there, scum! Release the mare and come peacefully!"
>Then her horn lights up to signal that she isn't messing around.
>Well, shit.
>Somehow, you got caught. In a compromising position, too.
>How the fuck did she even know where you were? It's barely the wee hours of the morning with literally no one around on the streets, last you checked.
>Which was about five minutes ago, give or take.
>With a defeated sigh, you slowly begin to pull out of the mare.
>Halfway through, the mare, the one encased in armor, makes a noise.
>You pause.
>Now that you actually look at her, the horn is now dim, while her face is completely red.
>Not from her coat, mind you.
>Your eyes run lower to see a trail of liquid leading from the doorway to beneath her hind legs.
>Even now you can see some fluids still dripping from her backside.
>Wait a minute...
>"H-hey! I told yo-you to release the ma-!"
>You thrust back into the other mare.
>Her back legs tremble for a bit, as another string of fluids runs down between her legs.
>Ok, now something really fucking funky is going on.
>Even the mare underneath you is looking at the guardsmare, confusion now her expression.
>You inspect where your dick should be meeting the marehood, and to your utter surprise you can see that there's a sort of slight haziness, or blurriness, around your member.
>Continuing your inspection, you quickly pull out, eliciting another moan from the armored mare, as you then take a look at your manhood.
>Yup, it's completely soaking wet, but if you look at the mare's nethers, you see that it's a bit wet, probably since she's turned on by your actions, but not sopping wet from what one would expect from an orgasm.
>And that haze is gone.
>The sound of a horn lighting up alerts you to your situation once again.
>You turn to see a very angry guardsmare pointing her horn at you, excitement still dripping onto the floor.
>Before she can do whatever unicorns can do with their horns, you plunge back into the folds, which in turn begin to tighten at your presence.
>Ha, she does love it.
>But your plan works: the spell she was charging drops.
>Spoke too soon, she's trying to do it again.
>This time, you take hold of the mare in front of you-
>-and begin furiously pounding.
>Like, hilting all the way and almost pulling completely out.
>You impact her cervix with every thrust, pushing it inwards a bit, while constantly stimulating her walls, sending jolts of pure bliss all over her.
>The horn instantly turns off.
>"N- ah! -Nooooo- hah! -oooooooooo!"
>You can see that your thrusts are pushing her forward, bit by bit, with her hind legs lifting to the tips from each savage push.
>She tries to steady herself using her forelegs, but since you're turning her brain into mush, she only manages to clumsily pad at the ground.
>Then you try to rub the clit.
>The effect is immediate, her moans begin to reach a feverish high as a familiar feeling surrounds your cock.
>You take advantage of it, never letting your pace down, slamming through the resistance.
>That means using your arms to move the mare underneath you in unison.
>Fleshy wacks begin to blend together as your hips slam into the mare's while squelching and rapid gasps come from the guardmare.
>The guardsmare topples over, rear up with her hind legs locked, as she wails out in ecstasy, words becoming a foreign concept to the sensually overwhelmed pony.
>Her insides are moving at an extremely rapid pace that a familiar feeling starts welling up inside you.
>Can't finish now, though. Unicorn with scary horn still here.
>The extra simulation from the speed is making it really hard to contain yourself.
>The smell of lilacs blooms throughout the room before she finally collapses, her hind legs giving away, into a puddle of her own juices, sweat, and drool.
>The only signs of life are the slow, steady breaths and subtle movement of her body as she unconsciously takes breathe.
>You begin to pull out, in preparation for more thru-
>The mare beneath you quickly covers her mouth with her hooves and blushes a furious red.
>Her eyes are focused intently on you.
>You can feel a hunger behind them.
>A sudden heat emblazes itself around the part of you that is... inside her?
>You confirm it with a quick peek; dripping and engorged lips are indeed hugging your member.
>Then, a nub peeks itself through the lips, parting them to reveal the pink insides and sending a jolt of pleasure through you as it rubs itself against you.
>The mare must also feel something too, as she instantly starts to writhe at its appearance.
>You begin to start pumping once again.
>Still gotta finish, can't blueball yourself when there's an opportunity here.
>"H- gah! -how are you st- nnh! -still going!?"
>You grin at her.
"Human stamina, baby."
>You say, before smothering her body and face with yours, knocking the hooves out of her pretty face, your hands touching and groping all over her silky body.
>Got a firm, yet slightly squishy body. In other words: it's perfect.
>She squirms under the ministrations, her increasingly hot breath washing across your face as she gasps.
>One of your hands finds itself dancing across her primaries while the other is underneath a wing, rubbing the seldom touched part of the body.
>These sensitive spots only make the mare moan out more in pleasure, her forelegs hooking around the back of your neck.
>They pull you in deeper; you give her small nips around the base of her neck and slowly begin to travel upwards.
>Her tongue reveals itself as she pants, her breathing hitching in time with your thrusts.
>You take the opportunity to suckle on it when you reach her mouth, tasting chocolate.
>The desire to invade her mouth to flood yours with the taste of deliciousness increases rapidly.
>Although you don't have to wait.
>She knows it's wrong, you know it's wrong, but she can't stop herself from pulling you into a deep, lust filled kiss; her mouth slobbering all over your face when she quite often misses your lips.
>You don't care, her scent is amazing and getting stronger with every passing second.
>As you are fucking her face with yours, you can feel the tightening presence of her orgasm coming about.
>You pause in the face slopping to experience the providence in your lower end.
>As you push past the pressure, the mare's eyes roll back up into her head as she enters a state of divine feeling.
>You can feel hot liquids drench your legs in spurts, which completely cover your thighs and wet her lower rump. The smell of lilacs in the room are pushed out in favor for a more chocolate fragrance.
>It's only for a bit before the feeling resides.
>Her pupils slowly return to you, showing a mix of desire and lust.
>You know what she wants.
>When you connect once again, it's a perfect suction, allowing your tongues to wrestle with one another in a bid for dominance.
>You gain the upper hand when you disarm her defense with hits at her cervix, letting you explore her entire mouth to relish in its flavor.
>The two of you finally break free when breath runs out.
>Her tongue immediately spills out, the coat on her face matted from the impromptu makeout session giving her a very sexy look.
>By now her wings are fully outstretched to their max, twitching as you continue ravaging her.
>Your hands have now found themselves squeezing her voluptuous backside and nipples, making her gasp out every time they sink into the flesh and earning you some milk.
>Once again you can feel a familiar feeling coming about again, and you are determined to give yourself release.
>You bury your face into her mane, taking a deep inhale of her scent as you begin your final performance.
>The ministrations are dropped in favor for holding the mare down as you increase your speed.
>Her gasps and moans turn to nothing but gibberish as you finally hilt and paint her walls white.
>The sensation of being filled also sends her over the edge for a second time, the walls milking you for it's worth.
>Your body collapses atop the now unconscious mare, and you slowly begin to drift off after being completely spent.
>It was two mares, after all.
>What you don't hear is the increasingly growing sounds of sabots impacting ground.
>You are stuck in a jail cell, so you must be Anonymous.
>So, apparently after you got knocked out by the two mares, that first guard who you fucked into a daze had actually called backup before she confronted you.
>Should've seen that coming, honestly.
>Alas, you ended up being roughly dragged, hosed down, and thrown in a cold ass cell.
>At least they gave you your clothes back.
>Washed it too, because you're pretty sure they were spoiled after what had happened in the morning.
>Anyways, you're not stuck in a cell awaiting your trial.
>The guy whose been watching over you since morning has been completely silent, even after you tried to elicit something from him.
>Can't blame him for not wanting to talk to a rapist.
>Leaves you bored as fuck, though.
>The cell's only furnished with a bed and toilet.
>There's at least a privacy wall between the toilet and cell gate, but with your height, it only covers to the lower torso.
>It's sort of big, as you can stretch out horizontally without touching the ends of the cell, with a good amount to spare, too.
>But nothing to do.
>So you find yourself laying on your sparse bed, which is more akin to a mattress than anything, thinking back on the earlier events of the day.
>Man, these ponies are really something else.
>Super tight, super scent, super bodies, super everything.
>It's hard to remember what exactly went down, with all the pleasure you were lost in, but you know one thing: it was amazing.
>You can already feel yourself getting hard at the thought of their moans and gasps when you penetrated them.
>Damn, you can't get enough. You want more.
>Now you've paid the price in the cold cell of a dungeon.
>You're really not too sure where you are, to be honest.
>You were kind of out of it until some motherfucker hosed you down with ice cold water.
>By then you were in the dungeons, so there was no way to finding out where you exactly were.
>You've probably been here for over 10 hours, but you can't really keep accurate track of the time, with there being no windows.
>That and you being knocked out for god knows how long.
>You let out a sigh. Probably your millionth since you've been here.
>This time, the guard looks back at you with a glare, then disgust.
>You didn't even bother hiding your boner, so your pants are tented for any gawkers to see.
>He then turns back around and snorts out his nose.
>Well, at least you got a reaction out of him.
>You return to your empty musings for a while before a new sound breaks you out of them.
>The heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway, to your right, creaks open, sending the sound echoing in the empty dungeon.
>Out steps-
>Holy shit, it's that guardsmare.
>She doesn't even spare you a glance as she marches up to the guard with only a little odd gait, like her rear legs aren't working well.
>"You sure you want to do this?"
>"I'm sure."
>"Don't just say that. We all know what you went through, and it's fine if you don't need to. Tartarus, you weren't even on the roster for night shift. Look, I'll ta-"
>"I'm fine!"
>The guy horse lets out a sigh.
>"Fine. Don't do anything stupid."
>With that, he hands over the mare the keys to your cell, which she promptly tucks under her wing.
>She takes his place as the stallion exits.
>The ominous thudding of the door slowly reverberates throughout the cold dungeon.
>Oh fuck. This is not good.
>Trapped in a cell with a most likely pissed as hell unicorn on the other side of the bars.
>Just as those thoughts cross your mind, she turns around to face you.
>She glares at you through the bars, eyes piercing straight into your soul, banging her armored hoof horizontally across them.
>"Well well well, if it isn't mister rapist!"
>Oh shit, bad cop.
>"Oh, I'm sooo going to enjoy watching you rot in a cell."
>She punctuates that with a slam on the ground.
>"But for now, I think I'll have a little fun here."
>With that, her horn lights up.
>There's no escape in this shitty fucking cell!
>You can only back yourself up against the wall and watch as a wisp of magic flies towards you.
>It wraps itself around...
>Your dick?
>Then that bitch tries to yank it off!
>What the fuck!
>You protectively put your hands around your crotch.
>She simply tsks as the magic dissolves.
>"Damn shame I can't just rip it off."
>Then she gives you a small smile.
>"You still have a trial to attend. I'll be sure to make sure you go all the way down for what you did. Then I'll enjoy every second of watching over you where nopony will miss you."
>Shit. It's over.
>You're gonna get tortured and killed by this crazy bitch.
>With a sigh and slump in your shoulders, you finally speak.
"I deserve it."
>That damned smile grows bigger.
>"I know. I'll be waiting"
>With that, she turns back to the guarding position and sits her rump down.
>For some reason, the backside is unarmored, with the metal sheets only covering the sides and folding back a tiny bit.
>Those sizable rumps expand slightly when they touch the floor, pushing the metal to the sides to further enhance the shape.
>Annnnd there goes your blood to the lower body.
>Fuck it. Might as well relieve yourself.
>A small struggle later and you pull out your already rock hard flesh scepter.
>As you clasp your dick with your hands, a familiar feeling appears.
>It doesn't feel like your dick is encapsulated by your hand, but instead by something moist, warm, and already moving.
>Oh shit, what?
>The mare immediately turns around, backing up towards the opposite wall with her horn alight.
>With the practiced speed of someone whose been jerking off for years, you go ham.
>You quickly impale deep within her, roughly rubbing the eager insides.
>She turns in a complete moaning mess, tongue lolled out, eyes up in the head, collapsing onto the ground as you magically hammer her marehood from a distance.
>Each thrust with your hand pushes her a bit closer and closer towards the bars.
>If she gets close enough, you can probably grab the keys and get the fuck out.
>You can do this.
>Quickly, you can feel the walls compressing and squeezing upon you.
>You can't do this.
>As you begin to shoot rope after rope inside her, you try to continue pumping your meat to keep moving her body.
>A shrill shriek pierces the air as she collapses some distance in front of the bars, completely out from the bliss.
>Alas, your erection goes flaccid and her body stops inching forward as you lose your leverage.
>You try to reach for her body, but it's just out of your reach.
>It's going to be a long night.
>It is early morning.
>Say, around five in the morning. The sun's barely come past the horizon!
>And you are out and about, summoned to investigate a fresh crime scene.
>For the good of the citizens!
>(And the pay.)
>Why, who are you?
>Well, you are private detective extraordinaire, dashing and handsome, mares' colt, brilliant as the ever shining sun-
>"Polmes, you are talking aloud, again."
"Ah, right. Right. Gracious thanks, Watson."
>That's Watson, your assistant.
>Odd fellow, really.
>No idea why his parents decided to name him that, caused a great deal of trouble over the course of his younger years.
>A story told hundreds of times over one too many drinks in the bar past the moon's rise.
>But! It made him a mostly indispensable companion who would practically die for you, something every great pony, like you, needs.
>Anyways, you are Fetlock Polmes!
>Greatest detective to ever trot on Equestria!
"Watson, hoof me my pipe, please."
>Your outstretched hoof feels the familiar presence of your most trusted companion.
>Said companion finds itself in the usual position.
>You speak around the pipe in your mouth.
"Watson, be a dear and give me a light."
>"Of course, Polmes."
>It's quickly alight, and you give it a cursory puff.
>Should be alright. Now, off to the races!
>You and Watson begin to make your way through Canterlot, winding through the streets to your destination.
>After a bit of trotting, you finally turn to your assistant.
"Say, Watson, do you, perchance, remember where we're supposed to be heading?"
>"Yes! We're supposed to be headed towards Canterlot Palace."
"Ah, right! Canterlot Palace, of course, of course. Well then, let us get going, shall we?"
>With that, the two of you head towards your actual destination.
>You soon arrive at the entrance of the palace only to be ushered in around the side into a room lower palace proper.
>A mare in royal armor with a large crest greets you.
>"Greetings, Mr. Polmes. We've been expecting you; follow me."
>My, what a terse introduction!
>Well, that's to be expected with these royal guard types. Always such an absolute joy to work with.
>Their toity noity tightiness, my my.
>"You're probably wondering why we called you here, at this hour."
"Of course! I'm missing out on a well deserved rest, I shall say. Why, the day previous I had quite an interesting escapade that kept me up past midnight! Watson and I were on the trail of the ever elusive Ja-"
>"Polmes, we hired you to investigate the disappearance of a dangerous criminal and the guard assigned to him."
>How rude!
>She begins to trot off, towards the dungeons.
>You've been here, a few times.
>You don't really remember, it's not that important.
>"The criminal is something called a 'human,' have you heard of it? It's a bipedal, hairless creature."
>Of course you've heard of it!
"Ah, yes, the human. In fact, I've had more than one chance encounter with this kind, from the underworld to Saddle Arabia. They're quite the irksome type, really."
>"...right. You know this human has been the only one documented, and has only been here less than a year?"
"Bah, you haven't seen all of them. Anyhow, please, continue on what had happened in the dungeons."
>She gives you a slight look before turning forward again.
>"He claims that it's only him, and if there were more of him, we'd have known. Back to the point, we jailed the criminal last night and the mare asked to guard him. Thing is, she also helped run our... special operations."
"Like you've ever explored past the borders, but special operations? My, what does that entail?"
>The mare turns back to you, a hardened expression plastered on her face.
>"Well, ah, here's the thing. You don't ever, ever speak of this to anypony, understand?"
>Giving you a slight nod, she turns forward again as your party makes a turn.
>"Good. It's an anti-rape operation. We have an artifact that allows us to detect when a mare, or stallion, is about to have consensual sex and it also allows us to redirect the perpetrator's sexual organ into another pony within a certain range. So, we have volunteers who elect themselves to take said mare or stallion's place to prevent lasting psychological damage. That sai-"
"Wait wait wait. Why don't you just use artificial sources instead of other ponies?"
>"That's the thing, we can't."
"Wot? Why not?"
>"We're not sure; the artifact is hundreds of years old. Ancient magic is extremely strong, so we can't just change it."
"Ah, and not even our goddesses can do much?"
>"That's right. Not even they can change it."
>You can probably figure out a way to change it, being the greatest detective alive. Although it looks like magic grows ever more potent with age, like a fine wine.
>Mmm, reminds you of the bottles you have back home. One of those right now would be splendid, even though it's morning.
>"At least we still found a use for it. Plus, we lessen the stimulation by using a spell, which the victims usually don't have, that creates a sort of barrier between the sensitive parts, so it's more of the perpetrator feeling something while our volunteers feel nothing."
>Ah, right, right. Job at hoof here.
"If so, then why is it important that I must know of this?"
>"Because we found this mare in a comatose state after she went to confront the human with the artifact active. Someway, somehow, that human broke the spell protecting her and he managed to turn her brain into mush. We've also got another mare who was also raped by that beast, but she claims that it was consensual; and get this, she's trying to proclaim that thing's innocence with our mare, too. We doubt that she consented, since if it was, the artifact wouldn't have been active. This human has a grip on ponies like we've never seen, maybe even more than Celestia."
>Say, more than Celestia?
>Your day has just gotten just the bit more interesting.
>Perhaps you won't even need a pick-me-up later.
>"We gave in, considering her insistence to do so. Now, they're both gone when the morning shift came in to replace her. We're afraid that the criminal managed to escape, and took the mare with him for unsavory reasons. That's why we called you in early, every minute that passes is a minute that mare is in danger."
"Ah, I see your predicament."
>"Here we are."
>She opens the wooden door and you are immediately assaulted by the unmistakable musk of a mare.
"Ah, I see what we have ahoof here. And do try to keep it in your sheath, Watson."
>He laughs a little too hard.
>"HAHAHA! Astute observation as always, Polmes!"
>He lowers his voice for the next bit.
>"I'll try."
>Hmm, it appears that there is another scent here.
>You take a few testing sniffs of the air.
>The scent of a stallion, albeit it is of not equine origin.
>Must be that human's scent.
>Peering around, you observe liquids over almost everything.
>It's mostly clear, with some streaks of white here and there.
>On the ground, walls, bars, even the ceiling!
>How the Celestia did it even get up there?
>The walls inside the cell are still wet, though there are dried bits by the front of the cell.
>Walking inside said cell, the smell grows even more potent, permeating the air like a heavy fog.
>There's something about it that really stands out to you, though...
>Then your dastardly assistant breaks your train of thought with one of his impeccably timed speeches.
>"I shall be in the loo, if you'll excuse me."
>Ha! If he can ever trick the great and power-
>Wait, that one is trademarked by a certain blue unicorn.
>Right, if he can ever trick the brilliant Fetlock Polmes!
"I will have none of that Watson, I surely doubt you need to use the loo when in fact, you used it not but two hours ago!"
"And the fact that you have not consumed a great deal of liquids between now and then! I say Watson, get yourself together and be a good assistant."
>His face is burning a bright red, yet he relents.
>You both know that the, how shall you put this, fragrance is getting to him.
>Bit young, that fellow.
>"R-right, Polmes. M'sorry 'bout trying to go off."
"It's all right, Watson. You'll be like me in no time if I keep you around my hoof."
>He gives a smart nod.
>Good fellow.
>You take the next few minutes to take a gander at the wealth of evidence around you.
>Hmm, ah, yes!
>Quite an interesting splatter of liquids. Looks like some sort of bird, almost.
>Tut-tut. What occurred after this?
>After taking your fill of the scene, you exit the cell to speak with the mare who led you here.
"I can conclude, with great certainty, that the guardsmare was taken by the criminal, not as a hostage, but a concubine."
"It's simple, really."
>You trot on over to the dried stain in front of the cell.
"Here, I can easily conclude that their first interaction occurred around 10pm the previous night. These by-products are obviously dry, so that gave me an approximate six hour time frame in which it was given enough time to do so."
"Ah, right, apologies for that. I meant their first interaction occurred around 2200. Your odd clock time really blew past my mind."
>Blasted military ponies.
"Anyhow, during their first interaction, I believe, with great certainty, that the mare still had the artifact attached, and somehow, someway, the human managed to activate it and enter her. Now, this is where things go downhill."
>You give a little puff with your pipe.
"I think that the human was trying to somehow obtain the keys to his freedom, and this method of... persuasion was what he decided best suited for this purpose. I don't think the first time he managed to get it, but through, and may I add impressive, persistence, he managed to push her close enough to the bars to grab whatever he wanted on her body. And what on her body? The key, of course."
>The guardsmare's eyes are boggling out of her head in shock at your incredible and accurate retelling of past events.
>They're always like this, you've come used to it by now, but it's always a joy to see the awe on their faces.
>This first part was quite simple, really. The first puddle, furthest from the bars, was the most dry with only a clear liquid.
>Then the ones approaching the bars are increasingly streaked with white marks and obtain a more viscous quality to them.
"Although, what had occurred afterwards I cannot say for certain. For some inexplicable reason, the human opened the door to the cell and instead of running for his freedom, he took the mare into the cell."
>"H-hold on for a mome-"
>That finally silences the irking mare.
>You grimace and place a hoof at your brow.
"...ma'am. If you interrupt me once more, I will be unable to tell you what had happened here."
>She simply doesn't respond.
>Good enough.
>At that, you walk into the drenched cell to point at a particular spot on the wall.
"Here, he pushed her against this wall, back first, and continued to have his way with her. Now, I have a theory on why this was to be: he must have correctly assumed that there were more guards outside the dungeons, therefore he had to obtain a sort of leverage. What better way than to make a guard submit to him? He's a cunning fellow, I'll give him that!"
>Another puff of best assistant before you move onto the next area.
"I won't bore you here, they did a variety of other nasties in this here cell-"
>You'll need to wash your entire body after stepping in all this bodily fluids.
"-from which all of these liquids originated from. The only thing that stumps me is the liquid on the ceiling. That is quite a feat that I wish to see, actually."
>Whoops, anger growing on that guardmare's face. Better move fast.
"Then, they moved onto the bed, where they fornicated in the missionary position based on the stain locations here-"
>You gingerly point at the quite large stain on the bed.
>"-and here."
>A few other stains that clearly depict a sweaty back, a bit up from the large stain's position.
"At this point, the mare was clearly exhausted, having orgasmed around over ten times from my calculations."
>You straighten back up and tap your chin a few times, one of your eyebrows raised with your eyes looking upwards.
"Alas, I was lost at this point, as there are no other clues to point to their next actions prior to their leave. But!-"
>You do a show of closely inspecting the mattress.
>The other two lean in to see what you are looking at, and you help them by pointing your hoof at the hairs left behind.
"Upon closer inspection, I had realized that they in fact did not move at all from the mattress. In truth, they cuddled for about four hours, from what I can determine from the hairs left on the bed. There is, as such, a slight discrepancy of the amount left behind, as some most likely got shook off during their, ahem, activities. However, I am able to disregard of the excess to determine the time I have told you. Then, they simply up and left the dungeons, the mare in tow voluntarily, who then helped him leave the castle grounds undetected. Must have been one Tartarus of a time, I shall say."
>Turning back to the guard, you speak.
"That is why I believe the two left together. Another case solved by the greatest detective alive!"
>With that, you begin to make your leave, pulling along an open jawed Watson with you.
>Just as you're about to leave the presence of the uptight guard, she speaks.
>"Hold on!"
>Bah, what now? You've done what you've been hired to do, and it's time for more sleep.
>"You've still got a criminal to catch."
"The pay?"
>"It'll be increased to accommodate that."
"Gracious. Watson, looks like we've a criminal to catch!"
Kek. Got a bin for these shenanigans?
Okay, this is fucking hilarious.
>She screamed as she fell. It had to have been her own voice.
>There was more motion by her side as her fall shifted to a struggle. Bodies. Talking.
>She couldn't slow to breathe, draw breath to think in a uniform manner.
>No, she screamed until the blood-red world turned white.
>She could have done better.
>She /should/ have done better.
>Instead, she kicked, she screamed, she bled.
>And there was no honor to this struggle.
>In those bloody, agonizing seconds, she fell back to her primal instincts.
>Marines weren't supposed to cry.
>She was just an old, dying horse.
>A marine unmade.

>The others were still waiting.
>From the empty space between the ponies, Reckless turned her gaze on the princess.
"I fall into barbed wire. Tangled... Pain. Blood. Nothing."
>She paused to collect her thoughts.
"Wake here. No wounds. No pain. Only memory."
>A memory from a world so far away.
>A shameful memory.
>Shining Armor joined the princess with a frown of his own.
>"/Barbed/ wire... and blood? Do you mean to say that you..."
>He searched for the right words.
>"Bled out?"
>All noise seemed to tide away from the throne room. There were only the stares from the ponies around her, and the ominous glow of the candles in the evening light.
>Orange and black. Bleak and distant. Like recoilless shells crashing in the summer night.
"Yes... sir."
>The candles flickered in a graceful, invisible breeze. But the throne room was so cold.
>It sept into her coat, wrenching away at all the warmth buried beneath. Yanking. Pulling. Shearing.
>"Morning Flame."
>Reckless had to lift her eyes to meet that of the princess; her head had fallen.
>"You have fought well. And this... troubling time. It has passed."
>The princess rose to Reckless, like one rising sun to another. She tread delicately across the carpet, not quite calculating, but still pre-determined. Her movement was as a smooth as the candles lauded overhead. The very form of serenity before Reckless' eyes.
>Princess Celestia stopped just shy of the former staff sergeant, and dipped her slender neck down.
>"You are in safe hooves, Reckless. No harm will befall you so long as you are here in our land. Equestria is as much our home as it is yours."
>The princess lowered her neck. Their muzzles were level.
>She had intentionally left herself open.
>Reckless felt herself moving forward.
>And Celestia met her hug.
>They rested with their necks pressed against one another.
>The princess' coat was as soft and fine as satin.
>Reckless tried to absorb as much of the feeling as she could.
>For something that had overtly appeared forbidden, Reckless found herself doing all she could to embrace and remember the feeling of the princess.
>This natural response was the good she needed.
>"Do not forget your time as a marine."
>The princess' whisper was warm, but commanding.
>"I only ask that you not carry your burden alone. Until such a time comes that I can help you further, know that I will always be willing to listen. And my little ponies, too."
>The princess sank deeper.
>"In Equestria, you are among friends."
>Celestia fell silent; there was time for Reckless to respond.
>But this time, her body did not move for her. She didn't know what to do.
>So, Reckless let the moment stay.
>Celestia accommodated her choice.
>Eventually, the princess unwrapped herself from their shared touch.
>Reckless pulled back and stood straight, momentarily stunned.
>By the time she'd recovered, Celestia had returned to her throne. She was sat there, smiling gently.
>It took Reckless a moment to realize that she was smiling, too.
>"Shall we continue, Miss Inkwell?"
>"Yes, your majesty."
>The secretary took a moment to loosen her withers.
>"And, if I may, I will say that going forward, there will only be talk of good things to come."
>From the way Inkwell spoke, even with that fresh sense of joy, there was still much more to discuss. But at least it would be positive.
>Celestia nodded, and returned her attention to the front.
>"Well, Reckless. Are you ready to continue?"
>She replied immediately.
"Yes, princess."
>As Raven delved deep into talk of forms, registration, and citizenship, with comments from the captain and princess as needed, Reckless stood resolute.
>And she was determined to hold her princess-laid smile all the while.

>The meeting passed relatively quickly, and rightfully so: they were treading close to overstepping the time-slot of the Day Court.
>The princess, secretary, and captain kept things concise, and Reckless did her own part.
>But there was one statement that forced Reckless to slow down, and think.
>"We can see about restoring your rank once your training's done. I think you've provided ample reason and history for me to fast-track you back up to Staff Sergeant. But you'll have to go through some courses. You would know those, right? For leadership and the like."
"Restore rank, sir?"
>It was the first real question Reckless had asked in the hour. It made Shining Armor stop in his tracks, and left the princess waiting.
>"...Yes? You mentioned wanting your rank back when we were working out your charter."
"I change mind."
>Having stayed out of the captain's jurisdiction up until this point, the princess spoke up.
>"And why's that, Reckless?"
>She'd been working up the reasoning since the captain had started talking.
>It was simple.
"If can't work marines, then work Royal Guard. But start fresh. Earn back all. Only fair."
>Shining gave her a look, but it was mostly implacable.
>"Are you sure about that, Reckless?"
>He waved the scroll in his magic.
>"Not many opportunities like this out there."
"Never worked Royal Guard before. Only know Marines."
>"I can't imagine there's too many differences. You've even got the same rank structure, so far as I can tell."
"No matter, sir. Still not same."
>The princess, again, intervened. Her eyes had a wisp of curiosity about them.
>"You do understand what Captain Shining Armor is offering, yes? You could bypass years of service."
"Yes, princess. Did same before. Sergeant through battlefield promotions. Retire Staff Sergeant."
>Shining Armor nodded his head, chewing the inside of his mouth.
>"Huh. That makes sense. I guess that means you'd have no problem finding opportunity."
"Yes. But just want work again."
>Reckless teetered on her hooves, tugging the corners of her mouth into a tiny smile again.
"Feel young. Ready for action, captain."
>Shining Armor laughed.
>"There'll be no shortage of it once you're out of training. Canterlot's a busy post."
"Korea busier."
>"You still haven't explained anything about it."
>Reckless stared.
>Internally, she was grinning her ears off.
>Evidently, Celestia picked up on it. The princess giggled like a filly.
>"Ah, well. That's something for another time, captain. We should be wrapping things up shortly, don't you agree, Miss Inkwell?"
>"Of course, your majesty. Princess Luna loves her Night Court. It'd be best to not risk her time any further."
>Shining Armor gave Reckless a playful eyeroll, and turned back to his scroll.
>For her own part, Reckless was looking forward to seeing her platoon in the barracks later.
>She was young again, and back in the saddle on a new company. After tonight, she'd finally been opened up enough to feel comfortable.
>Oh yes, her company and platoon had only seen the beginnings of soon-to-be-Sergeant-again Reckless.
>And this time, she could talk.
Damn, that was amazing stuff, Anonymous Writefag #2. With Anonymous Writefag #1 continuing Parks and Wilderness, this thread is going through a renaissance.
you sound like a bot
Sorry about replying just now, but I obviously loved it, like always, and can't wait for the next one.
>Love the prose. High-concept.
Agreed. That's such a vivid metaphor.
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Thanks, I'll put it in the next op. Still ongoing, right?
Uh, sure. Think I can come up with a satisfying conclusion.
On the note of OP, I think Saint Destruction, Sirdubs, and Spankybat should be removed from the one-shots list, or at least downgraded to incomplete/dead. It was sort of disappointing to go through the list only to walk straight into a few incomplete stories while the rest were complete. Also, 40k Guardsmares has been inactive for a year, so it should be dead too.
You're probably right. Fair dues.
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>You are—
>You turned around in time to see the happy, cantering goliath that was Reckless.
>More than a few heads in the barracks turned at her arrival.
>Like the rest of them, you were busy cleaning the dried mud and grime from your trainee armor. And for the unluckier ones, the scuffs.
>It's colors weren't that Royal Guard gold standard, but orders were to polish it until it was a pure golden shine.
>On the bunk beside you, Reckless' gear was still in need of that treatment.
>You set your helmet and rag aside.
"Hey, Morn... er, Reckless. What's going on?"
>She trot over, still beaming.
>It was a little unnerving, but mostly just nice to see.
>"Want say good job today."
>She turned to the rest of the platoon.
>"Everypony do good on field."
"You weren't bad out there yourself, Reckless. We were getting our plots served to us before you stepped up."
>On that note, some more vocal agreement cropped up.
>"Was you who charge, but I lead by example, yes? Expect ponies stand up in future. Prefer not lead."
>As she pulled herself up and laid across her cot, you went back to work.
"You seem like a natural-born leader to me."
>"No. Try inspire. Keep spirits high. Trained supply, not combat. Support role."
"You've got one hay of a gait, though. Ponies stand behind those who can blow a trail like that."
>And if today was anything to go by, ponies would scatter when they were in her running path.
>You raised your hoof for her to see. Your rag dangled.
>You were no paragon of muscle, but you weren't a slouch, either.
>Yeah, you were as average-built a stallion as they came.
>And Reckless' legs were like tree trunks compared to yours.
"You're a fast mare."
>"Faster supply, then. No like fight."
>After a few flimsy swipes with her hoof, Reckless took her rag into her mouth, and started working away at her gear in broad, swooping strokes.
>You went back to work as well.
"...You're awful talkative today. I take it your talk with the lieutenant went well? You were gone a while."
>"Talk with lieutenant good, yes."
>That wasn't surprising: of all the COs for the platoon, he was probably the favorite for most recruits. Of course the lieutenant would see good in Reckless.
"But talk with princess much better."
>You stopped, and stared at Reckless.
>Reckless stopped, and stared at you.
>"Captain Shining Armor, too."
>This sounded confidential.
>You wanted in.
"Captain, eh? That why you're in a good mood?"
>"Princess say do not... carry alone. Say ponies listen. So, talk more."
>Sounded more like an order than a warm conversation.
>And carry what?
"But you weren't in trouble or anything?"
>"No. Work on papers. Talk future."
>She went back to her breastplate.
>"Turn down rank to stay with you."
"You /what/?"
>"We stick together. My new company. My new platoon."
>She smiled lightly, and it shone in the first cleared corner of her armor.
>"My new friends."
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Neato. I love armor design that actually takes horse anatomy into account. I've been thinking about this for a while. Only part I'm not sure about here is the "shoulder plates", I think they would be blocking the movement of the forelegs. In my opinion, the shoulders should be covered by a skirt/layered armor design similar to what a human knight would wear around the waist or around the neck.
Good thinking.
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no update to reckless in training tonight, sorry
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The implication was that both greens were written by the same writefag. Look at the quotes in >>38905954, and then these:
>>All noise seemed to tide away from the throne room. There were only the stares from the ponies around her, and the ominous glow of the candles in the evening light.
>>Orange and black. Bleak and distant. Like recoilless shells crashing in the summer night.
>>The candles flickered in a graceful, invisible breeze. But the throne room was so cold.
>>It sept into her coat, wrenching away at all the warmth buried beneath. Yanking. Pulling. Shearing.

In hindsight, I should've considered that the SSGT Reckless author might've been trying to /emulate/ the prose from Parks and Wilderness, rather than there being some Samefag conspiracy

I wouldn't expect a daily update from even the most active generals. Writing is hard.
that is the oddest train of thought ive seen
spoken like a man who never watched adam west's batman
that's true. don't watch many movies, prefer to read greens
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Needs more assault boops
oi, you have a license for those boops?
N-no... I didn't know I needed one... please don't arrest me
Booped so hard she is having a religious experience
Anon Y. Mous
License to boop.

Damn that sounds sick.
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Goodnight RGM, good job making it to the bump limit!
New thread

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