When our generous, wise, only slightly acidic sponsors over at PoxCo (Spread the Pox!ā¢) first assigned me the fanfiction beat, I immediately tried to commit ritual suicide. The knife penetrated, I saw the blood, felt the pain, but there was no sweet release of death. The wounds sealed shut before my very eyes. The head HR mantis, Vexxox, informed me of three things: that death simply does not work that way in the Wrong Dimension, that instead of my life I had actually just cost myself the ability to feel one human emotion, and that my first assignment would be Cupcakes, a My Little Pony fanfiction by Sergent Sprinkles. I would say thatās an adorable name, but apparently it was the ability to find things cute that I lost. Is that even a human emotion? I always thought āfinding things cuteā would be categorized under ālove.ā Have I lost the ability to love altogether? Letās find out!
Okay, you know where this is going. All fan fiction starts like this: Weāre going to enjoy a lovely snippet of normalcy that could come straight out of the show, and then Harry Potter poofs in, waves his wand around and says āPonium Pantieus Vanishera!ā Cut to one masturbation session later and boom! — you can feel shame again. Weāll skip through the next section, which is just about Rainbow Dash, who looks like this:
Hurrying to meet Pinkie Pie in her bakery:
Man, you almost canāt blame the Deep Nerds from jacking it to this stuff. Those are halfway to pornstar names, and the artists gave the ponies makeup. Listen, Iām not saying itās right to want to fuck a cartoon horse, but I am saying that if you slap a miniskirt on one you lose the right to be surprised when a 34 year-old anime enthusiast puts it on a bodypillow.
So here, they meet up in the bakery and…
Right. Exactly as expected. Iām certainly not going to blame the victim in this scenario, but if somebody invites you in and insists you eat something, then gets super coy when you ask why, you were actually already roofied from touching the doorknob and Iām sorry I could not get this warning to you earlier.
All right, well, here we go. I guess weāre doing this. Let me just check real quick to make sure suicide doesnāt work and nope — still here. Think I just lost the ability to feel sunshine on my face which, again, I wasnāt aware was an emotion. Is that under āhappinessā? Did I just lose all happiness?
Yep, it was all happiness.
Look, fine, Iām going to unzip, but Iām not going to be happy about it. I literally canāt.
Wait, what? What in the unholy scrabbling fuck? I thought I was prepared for this. I was prepared for such terrible sights, but not in the Hellraiser sense. I never thought Iād be disappointed that a cartoon pony is getting out of this scenario with its hymen intact, but here we are. Youāve taken another thing from me, Internet.
Hold on, I need to know whether or not this isā¦
Yes, this is several thousand intricate words of My Little Pony torture porn.
That last sentence should not be. It reads like a thesis written by an AI to justify its eradication of the human race. I never thought I would type those words in that order, but I also thought I would be an astronaut, when the closest Iāve ever gotten to drifting aimlessly in the void is right here, right now, reading this:
Solid comedy bit, Pinkie Pie. Do we really need to take a torture break to try out riffs from your Seinfeld spec script? Many is the time Iāve wished for physical maiming instead of having to attend a friendās improv class, but I never thought it would be inflicted upon innocent ponies instead. Truly this monkeyās paw has curled down three fingers and left me with the middle one.
I write horror for a living and I am finding this My Little Pony story to be a bit much. I will say: good job on channeling a basic injury we can all relate to — the torn hangnail — and incorporating a hardcore version of it into this childrenās story meant for little girls (and boys still figuring some things out). I thought MLP was already about as polluted as a fanpool could get, since a grown man in a My Little Pony shirt is how nature signals you to shut down your genitals, but this is worse.
Iām not going to subject you to the thousands more words there are of this, so hopefully what youāve seen so far has been enough foreplay and the recap alone will help you finish:
Pinkie Pie cuts pieces off of Rainbow Dash, then makes her eat herself, drives hot nails into her hooves and then runs an electric current through them, and finally guts Dash, all while running her tight five minute comedy routine because an audience is an audience. Thereās way too much loving description and needless urination here to say this is entirely non-sexual, but if you do find yourself aroused just know that this is the step between killing small animals and hunting prostitutes on a private island.
Take us out, Pinkie Pie.
Honestly, thereās no surprise here. This was the only way to close Pinkieās arc. Taxidermying her pony-friend is just basic storytelling structure. Like Tom Joad marching off to change the world, there was no other way this story could end. And until Eli Roth finally signs on to the Care Bears remake, this is going to have to tide you over, anthropomorphized cartoon animal torture fetishists.
As for me, Iām pretty sure I can still be exploded or incinerated, so itās not like I donāt have hope.
Oh, no — turns out I cannot be exploded, and I have quite literally lost āhope.ā
