What I'm writing here may be hard to read. I know it will be hard to write, but time is wasting and I want answers from Luna.

Just, reserve judgment as I go, okay? I'm not the monster I appear to be.

I think.

We left off with me about to do terrible things to a good friend.

"Twilight Sparkle, if this is really you, and you can honestly tell me you're certain this, this thing, is right... Then, I will do it. I trust you, Twilight. Even now, I trust you," said Mayor Mare.

Fuck.

I smiled, and to my surprise, it was genuine. "It's okay. I want to see you do it. I want to be with you as it happens, because this is something special we can share together," I said.

An odd realization struck me at that moment: I wasn't lying. Something inside me thrilled to what I was saying. I wanted this to happen to her more than I can describe in words, and I wanted to participate in the experience with her. I was eagerly awaiting it.

Of course I was horrified at how I felt, but there was nothing I could do, right? That strange feeling of goodness made things easier to accept, so I allowed it deep into my heart, where it punctured my soul like a rusty hook fashioned from barbed wire. (Note, that was a metaphor—well, I guess it was a simile, rather, but you get the idea. There isn't literal barbed wire inside my chest cavity; and souls, or consciousness rather, is relatively intangible. Also, I am getting way too poetic with all the similes.)

I realized this feeling was something more than just wanting to help the Mayor. I wanted her to feel better, of course, so my aim was noble to begin with. Right? But the feelings inside me went far beyond simple compassion. Briefly frightened, I quickly tried to pin down the source before my facial expression could change. In short order, I decided it was due to my own curiosity and nothing more. Yes, it may not have been completely ethical, but it wasn't like I could stop them. So my act of compassion also had a utilitarian purpose, too: I could see firsthoof what it looked like. All the raw data, right before my eyes. To witness a pony, broken.

Especially this pony.

Maybe I haven't made this clear, but the Mayor is hooves-down one of the smartest ponies in Ponyville, and even one of the smartest I've ever met. If I watched her being broken, I'd be able to see the changes to her mind, her emotions, her speech, all in real-time as they happened right in front of my nose. It was a new wealth of information I'd been hoping for, right at my hooftips. I was so close to her actual, living brain, and I had front-row seating to the lobotomy. It was dark and wrong, but it was just utilitarianism. I was making the best of a bad situation, and helping a friend in the only way I could. Her sacrifice, if there even was a sacrifice happening, wouldn't go to waste. Right? Of course.

If that had been the true reason why, I might not be mired in the conflicting emotions I feel as I write this. But I hadn't yet reached the bottom of the pit.

She nodded, staring into space. "Then, yes," she said, her voice growing assertive. She looked boldly up to the prince (who had returned to his upright posture) and nodded again, without so much as a blink at the cock presented before her muzzle. "Tell me what to do."

My brother smiled from ear to ear. "Excellent. It's quite simple. Cun—er, Cadance?" he asked, stepping back.

Princess Cadance grasped the box and placed it right in front of Ms. Mare. "It's very simple. Once I slide open part of the box, look into the pretty stone. You can blink as much as you need to, but don't try to close your eyes or look away. Witnessing the Breakstone will give you a visual hallucination, but no dizziness, or confusion, or anything like that—you'll keep a clear head until the very end."

"Afterwards which you may feel a bit tipsy for a while, which is a minor side effect," said Shining Armor. "It's partly due to your body's response to the breaking, and partly from the unusual pleasure you'll feel once you've been... freed."

Cadance nodded. "The whole process runs automatically, so you don't even need to do anything else. As long as you don't fight it, in less than a minute the stone will lock onto that nasty stain and start to destroy it," she said, pointing at her own forehead. (Fortunately, I'm certain the Mayor didn't notice her horn was false. Rarity does excellent fakes, and without training (or being married to a unicorn, I suppose), I doubt any earth pony could tell.) "It will hurt just a little before it locks on, but nothing an adult pony would be concerned by. A headache, just as Twilight Sparkle said. Once it locks on, you won't be able to resist at all, and the pain will numb. It will become pleasurable, in fact."

Mayor Mare took several deep breaths, and looked at me. I smiled warmly.

Cadance continued her speech. "Even if the Breakstone were removed from view after locking on, the damage would continue to cook you, on the inside of your brain. It would take longer to finish, but you would still be completely broken within the hour. If you keep staring at the stone, which you will because we aren't going to move it and you won't be able to resist at that point, the process will be swift. Not that you'll want it to stop, of course. The breaking process is very enjoyable the moment finally learn your little lesson on the virtue of compliance. You're going to enjoy this very much, and it will all be over just a few minutes from now—but the enjoyment will remain."

"Is... is this turning me into some kind of monster?" the Mayor asked Cadance.

Cadance chuckled, and grinned, exposing her fangs. "Not yet! That's the next and final step. We'll turn you, which you'll also enjoy. Then you'll be a darkhoof, which is what we call an earth pony vampony."

The Mayor nodded. "Well, l-let's d-do this," she said, her stuttering belying the valor I knew was lurking beneath that pelt. She was afraid, but courage isn't being unafraid. Courage is facing fear, and her resolve was amazing, especially considering this was the first time she'd been exposed to the Order.

Then she made one simple request. "T-Twilight, can you... Can you... hold me? I, I mean, just m-my hoof, of course," said Ms. Mare. "I'm afraid I can't lift it much..."

"How about this. I'll hug you while it happens, if that's okay?" I offered. I really wanted to hug her. Both the good and awful parts of me did... just for entirely different reasons.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh yes. Yes, I would really like that. Thank you, Twilight. Thank you so much. You're such a good friend."

Despite the irony, I didn't feel guilty. This should have tipped me off that something was very wrong.

Princess Cadance slipped open the metal strip, revealing most of the smooth, reddish Breakstone where it rested on a bed of black velvet. I quickly looked away (though I was very tempted to partake in the experience right along with my friend), and toward what I wanted to see most: her beautiful face, right as the process took her mind away—if that's what it did, I mean. I held my forelegs around her neck and looked into her eyes, and she blushed. I moved my head to the side to unblock the view so it could begin to work its magic on her. She swallowed hard, then stared directly into the Breakstone.

At that point, I realized I was wrong again. The emotions inside me flowed much deeper than I expected. I was actually enjoying watching her succumb to the stone, so this went further than 'making the best of a bad situation'. There was something else, a third layer, I realized: I was living vicariously through her ordeal. I was experiencing the process of being broken through the eyes and the warmth and the voice of my friend. It was as close as I could get to being broken myself, especially since she and I share so much in common. I needed that experience. It wasn't just compassion or curiosity. Her sacrifice provided me with commiseration for what hurt inside; for my unmet desire to follow the Order of Spring. Her sacrifice was keeping me from looking into the stone and offering my own brain to the path of the Order. Essentially, 'helping' Ms. Mare lose her marbles was the only thing still preserving mine. But it wasn't like I was pushing her under the haycart! She would have wanted this for me, and I couldn't have stopped it anyway. Right? Right...

Yet there remained a final layer. Stars above, the brain is an amazing organ. It protects us from our own thoughts, for crying out loud! How cool is that? Maybe it doesn't work as well once you've been broken... and maybe you won't care. I don't know how to feel anymore about the possibility of having this happen to me, so I'm not feeling anything. "C'est la vie," as the Prench would say. (Note to the unfortunate reader: that's pronounced like "say lah vee", not like "saliva". The Prench don't say "saliva", that would be ridic—

Damn. Sorry. My brain is trying to protect me once again by shifting my thoughts into unrelated tangents. You've probably noticed this happening more and more to me, Journal. Anyway...

I watched her delicate mouth open. I listened as she panted softly, and I stroked her cheek. "You're doing great," I whispered.

"I see cotton—no, it's clouds on a sky, both slowly shifting colors amid a palette of bright, clashing, neon hues," she said. This didn't surprise me. The Mayor is one of few ponies to understand scientific inquiry on the same level that I do (she's not just a politician: she's a true Renaissance mare). If she had been crushed by that boulder in my previous horrific thought experiment, and if anypony else were there, and if she managed to keep her wits about her, I'd like to think she would have faithfully described the experience she was enduring. She would rapidly describe all the details from most to least relevant, right up until she lacked the ability to move or speak.

I don't know, maybe I'm projecting. She's not the Mysterious Mare Do Well (no one pony could be, which was kind of the whole point of the thing—although now in retrospect, that was a bizarrely convoluted and dangerous way of convincing Rainbow Dash to stop grandstanding). What I mean is, I'm seeing her that way because I wish I could be like that. I'd like to imagine myself that rational and calm at all times, no matter what, when in truth I really have no idea what I'd do. Probably scream in horror as I die, like all the rest.

I don't want to think about the possibility that dying was exactly what was happening to her. If I ever end up actually believing that's the case, that these vamponies aren't remotely the ponies I knew and loved, then I'll simply give up and accept my ruination because I deserve it. The catharsis would almost be worth losing myself forever. Also, I think the subjunctive mood should appear in the first sentence, but it doesn't sound right—

Shit. Sorry again. Right.

Let me set the gruesome analogies to the side. I knew exactly what the Mayor was doing at that moment, and why. She was passing her experiential data along in case she would be unable to use it herself. She wasn't talking out loud out of curiosity or desire. She didn't have the emotional mindset for that. Then why did she bother? I think it was obvious. She was doing it to protect me. I know I don't deserve anything from her. Maybe she knew that too. But she did it anyway, because it was the right thing to do. That's just the kind of pony she is.

Sweet Stars and cleansing Sun, what have I done? No, no—stop thinking, keep writing.

"My forehead hurts, a little," she reported. "It's like somepony's digging into it with an awl, but mostly pressure with a hint of pain, maybe two out of ten at worst. The sky is remarkably beautiful as I watch the colors shift. I don't think this 'Breakstone' thing has locked on to me yet, because I don't feel compelled to keep staring," she said. "Twilight, if that's still you holding me, please tell me I should be doing this... before it's too late?" she whispered, begging for mercy.

I had no mercy to offer her. I didn't know why.

"It's wonderful," I whispered back, gently stroking her mane. "Just keep staring at the pretty colors, and let it happen. Don't fight this any longer. I know this is scary, but I'm here for you, Ms. Mare."

She breathed rapidly and nodded, her eyes remaining fixed. "It's pleasurable already, and it was a little pleasant even at the very beginning," she said. "That might be adrenaline, though. There's a building euphor—"

Suddenly, she fell silent. Her eyes had opened wide in a frightful look of shock, and her jaw hung loose. And that was the end of hope for the Mayor. There was nothing more I could do but watch and learn (and continue to hold her in my legs to comfort her—or what remained of her, in the worst case). As she stopped panting, I started panting. At first I thought the reflection of the stone in her eyes was locking onto me, because I could feel the same mixture of fear and euphoria she must have been experiencing. But it wasn't the stone that was doing it. Those feelings were coming from deep inside me.

Then I did something truly, truly despicable.

I kissed her cheek. "Good girl," I whispered in a condescending tone, directly into her ear. I felt an electric jolt pass through my twat (that's a new invective for pussy I picked up from Rarity recently—I'm fairly certain this one means 'vulva' much more than 'vagina', but who knows) and a pulsing deep throughout my, um, 'love tunnel'. (Wow. Sometimes euphemisms are naughtier than vulgarity.)

After a few moments, the Mayor's face relaxed and her mouth closed. She spoke again, but in a more leisurely tone. "Oh, now this is very nice. I know it's too late to save me, but it's okay," she said, her voice soft and gentle—still delivering data, but in a less-purposeful voice. "It just feels too right to stop, and I don't want to stop, until it finishes having its way with, with my... my soul. The desire to keep staring is... it's primal, deeper than my conscious mind can process. No, I take that back, it's not a desire at all. It's more like... a command...? No; it's a reflex," she said, trying to describe the indescribable. "The need to help this beautiful stone finish off my brain seems to be lodged deep within me, though I can't pin down the logic behind it. Maybe it has drugged me somehow, and I'm being very foalish as a result... but it seems Princess Cadance was being honest. I can't understand why, but I don't think I could reject the Breakstone even if I wanted to. And I don't..." Her voice trailed off into silence, and the look on her face turned to a silly smile.

Okay, I need to warn you. This next part is going to sound incredibly horrible, but bear with me, Journal. There's more to my experience than meets the eye, which is the only reason I can still function well enough to write down these words. I'm not quite as terrible a pony as it sounds here. I think. So be patient with me.

I should have felt an immediate revulsion toward myself, but I didn't. Watching my friend's mind snap, right there in front of me, felt right. And it was much more than that.

I betrayed my own friend, and I was positively enraptured knowing that was precisely what I had done.

There was no mistaking it. I was in pure ecstasy as I took the final steps to permanently seal my friend's doom. It was the betrayal itself that was making me feel this incredible, Journal. The dark and withered fruit of my traitorous act was literally soaking my thighs. I had—and have—never been so horny in my recently-perverted life. I'm sure I was 'winking', and I'm not even going to add an 'ew' this time because it felt wonderful in a dozen different ways.

My non-vampony mind couldn't begin to process the sheer magnitude of what was happening to me, or why. It was like I was the one being broken, not vicariously at all, but for real. I just loved everything about this. I loved watching her die, in a sense, right there before my eyes where I could feel and listen and touch and soak it all in, where I could help it happen and be a part of her demise and see the pretty looks on her face all the while. I wanted this to finish her more than anything. I wanted her brain to cook, and leave behind a perfect cunt, a better Mayor Mare. A horny, obedient pet with a lust for my brother's cock, but by some miracle, still as bright and shrewd as ever.

I continued to pet her face and smile. For a moment, I even felt proud of what I was doing. I wanted to do this again and again, to everypony I knew and loved. I didn't understand why I felt this way, and I almost didn't care. But then, I started to feel a crashing sensation of guilt, as I wondered...

Am I... "evil"?

It certainly seemed that way, but I'm convinced that wasn't the case. No amount of sexual arousal is going to make Twilight Sparkle do terrible things to her friends. But wait, isn't that what just happened? Not quite. I may have been thrilling to it, but it wasn't because I was aroused. Rather, the same flawed piece of me was causing both the feelings and the motivation. I realized there was something behind the betrayal, because this was so unlike the pony I know myself to be, and feeling or not, I wasn't the one being broken here. That's when it finally dawned on me. I was trying to save her, the only possible way I could. Let me explain.

My world was falling apart, and every fiber of my being ached for evidence that this nightmare wasn't what it seemed. Just like a bad scientist (which almost bothers me as much as the rest, I'm afraid), I started with the answer I needed to 'discover' (i.e., the Order is right), then selected only those evidentiary data which corresponded to my theory. I realized I wasn't reacting out of a thirst for power, or ill intentions toward Ms. Mare, or anything self-centered. She was going to break at some point, that much was inevitable. To my subconscious mind, the only way to keep her alive was to believe the breaking was a marvelous thing, a thing I could be proud of assisting with; that it was the very salvation the vamponies claim it to be. That's what happened inside me. I lost my mind and followed the Order, and I felt as helpless as if I were staring at my own Breakstone. The taint on my heart lasted for less than a minute, but the time span was irrelevant. It was done. None of it could be taken back.

Conflicting emotions started to bubble up within me, as a roiling mass of inconsistent feelings and epiphanies came rushing to the fore. I suddenly understood exactly what I had done here, and to whom I'd just done it. I had partaken in something truly and inexcusably deplorable. Justifying it by saying 'it was going to happen anyway' and 'I don't want her to suffer' wasn't working anymore. Those weren't real justifications. They were excuses, and I knew it. The largest part of this wasn't compassion, curiosity, or commiseration. It was coping. This was the only way I could accept what was happening to her.

But the veil had lifted, and now the experience was no longer any of those things. It was abhorrent. That's all it was.

My brother must have noticed the falling expression on my face. Within seconds he was firmly hugging me from the side. He was half-mounting me, his forelegs around my neck as he nuzzled at my cheek and kept the rest of his body to one side. I felt his warm penis touch my flank (my actual flank, not the haunch as foals generally mean when they say 'flank'), and I felt the cool wetness dribbling against it, and I didn't mind. I'm not going to lie, Journal. It helped. Just... not anywhere near enough to stop the tsunami of pain and guilt from smashing into me.

"It's okay, Sis," he whispered. "I know it was hard, but you helped her. You did the right thing. Without you, we'd have needed to make her taste the wolf in order to prompt her to consent to the Breakstone, and that would have been confusing and frightening for her."

"It, it doesn't even matter if I did a good thing," I whispered back, my head shivering against his neck. "I did this for the wrong reasons, and, and it's so awful—"

"No, it's good," mumbled the Mayor, dreamily. "Thank you, Twilight. You did an admirable job. I'm very proud of you."

Shining rested his cheek against my horn as he squeezed me tight. It was just like he used to do, when I was a foal, back when he was my heroic knight who could do anything at all—even reverse time and make all the bad things in my life go away. All he had to do was hold me as tight as could be in his safe, secure legs until the danger and pain had passed. It used to work like a charm. But back then, he wasn't part of the very thing that was hurting me.

"You're hurting inside, Twilight. I can tell, and I'm sorry," he said. "But you needed to see this happen, and you know that. You helped make this a much nicer experience for your friend."

"I feel like I just k-killed her," I said, choking up.

"Um, right here, not killed," Ms. Mare whispered, still staring into the stone with that silly grin on her muzzle. Then she giggled. You know, Journal... I don't think I'd ever heard the Mayor giggle before? It was a beautiful sound. It didn't help my mood in the slightest, but it was undeniably beautiful.

Shining Armor squeezed me tighter. "You didn't hurt her, Twilight. Think! Use that remarkable brain of yours! Princess Cadance is fine, isn't she? Her brain is still every bit as amazing as yours is, isn't it? Although, I can't say that about anypony other than my wife," he said, with a chuckle. "I mean, you're both beyond compare. The only difference with Cadance now is her opinions, and what she understands about herself that she'd never realized before. And those changes don't even come from the breaking! Breaking just helps a pony relax, so they can understand how they really feel about things. No more anxiety, no more missed opportunities, and no more living through Tartarus like you're doing to yourself right now. This marvelous process helps a pony to see things they never could see before, and I'm not talking about vampony senses. It helps them believe in themself, for who and what they truly are. And eventually, it allows them to accept and understand their place. You'll continue to see this unfold as the Mayor's brain finishes cooking to perfection. Can't you see how happy she is, even now?"

I wiped tears from my eyes and sniffed. "I don't... I, I just can't..." I whispered, eventually relenting with a soft, "...okay." I was completely numb inside. My brother kissed my ears, and I relaxed into his side-mount as we both waited patiently for Ms. Mare to finish... No, that might not be accurate. For her to be finished.

It became obvious when the Breakstone had completed 'perfecting' the cunt Mayor Mare. (Ugh. I'm not sure why I wrote that. Being a part of this nightmare is like... it's like exposure to lethal radiation. It changes you in cancerous ways, even if you haven't been broken, or bitten, or anything.) Her eyes suddenly rolled all the way back in her head and she collapsed onto the carpet, rather awkwardly due to her still-shackled ankles and heavy marble-and-lead shoes. I was terrified that she'd just had a stroke (she was also spraying something out of her vulva, and her body shivered—a strokegasm? ...dammit, Pinkie) which would make perfect sense, since we pretty much just stabbed her directly in the brain with an ancient demonic artifact whose true origins I still don't know. But I looked up to Cadance, and she was smiling serenely, so I took this as a good sign. Er, as a sign she hadn't ruptured a blood vessel in her brain, I mean.

A few stray thoughts, while I have them.

I've noticed that I trust Princess Cadance's reactions more than any(vam)pony else's. I think it's because, even though she's a Lady, it's tacit she's still a cunt (as Shining can and has called her that). What I mean is, she's a cunt like me, and we're very close, so I understand how she thinks. (Mom would be another example of a cunt like me. Like mother, like daughter? Oh, fuck... fuck this. Now I'm leaking on the towels in Luna's pet bed, where I'm sitting as I write—probably why they're here.) Anyway, Cadance is a pony I can relate to as an intelligent(-seeming) link to those who follow the Order of Spring. With luck, proper note-taking, and a miracle or two, I might even start to understand precisely what and how she's thinking.

In contrast, I don't trust my read of my brother at all. It could be the gender, the Master thing, his irrepressible dominance, or something else, but he seems... almost as alien as he seems familiar. Why? His personality is identical, and he still loves me (a bit TOO much, actually). Why am I second-guessing myself so readily when it comes to him, and not her? Is it because he seems to be in control of the entire thing? I think there's something else I'm missing.

Well, it's probably a moot point anyway. If there aren't any vampony-insight miracles headed my way (which seems a safe bet, given the chance for one grows less likely by the hour), I will indeed get to find out how she thinks, if you follow me. I mean, at some point I'm bound to give in and let them break me, and that will solve the entire mystery, won't it? I'd suddenly, magically understand everything, just like that. Why shouldn't I do that right now? Oh, right: because it might not end up being me, in the sense in which I respect myself, and then I'd be completely fucked (pun intentional). I want to view this from the outside more than I want to give in to it... though admittedly, only a skosh more.

In a sick way, watching Mayor Mare was a lot like window-shopping. Breaking me would be exactly like what I just participated in, a perfect copy of the horrors I witnessed and assisted with today. And you know, Journal, if this chaos does claim me, I really hope Ms. Mare in particular is there to cheerfully help fry my brain out of sweet gratitude for me frying hers. That would be just perfect. It would be the cherry on the top of the hideous, cum-filled sundae. I'd be getting exactly what I deserve, and I'm pretty damn sure I'd be drooling just as hard out of my pussy as I did when I helped break her. Even thinking about how my betrayal made me feel, and what I saw in her eyes, it's... fuck, it's making me wet again, which is only worsening the guilt. (Thank goodness for the towels.)

Heavens above, I even hope I scream just like she did, that horrid, deathly sound! I want every speck of karma to come back upon my breast, all of the stupid mistakes I've made, heaped right onto my broken back (and mind)... exactly where they belong. Won't you finish me too, Brother? I deserve it, even if I don't truly want it. It would be ironically poignant if he'd just get on with it and fucking force me so he can start force fucking me. Forcing me would prove I was right about them all along. They know how close I am to caving in. Why are they waiting? Is my BBBFF torturing me, or is he just waiting me out, like he says?

Or... does he actually care about my consent, in all of this? I can't imagine that he does, or I wouldn't be a prisoner, would I? He probably thinks he does. It's probably out of guilt. I guess it's good to know that he still has a conscience somewhere, deep in the tangled mass of his deranged feelings. Yes, I still think the most likely hypothesis is that they're stringing me along because they feel bad about all the trauma I've endured. They want to feel noble and proud again... but it's not going to happen.

Yet, I'm still Twilight Sparkle, which means I'm still insatiably curious. As much as I hate to admit this, turning me might be the only way for me to ever wrap my (damaged) brain around this phenomenon. I'm not a little filly anymore. No longer am I the studious, friendless dork with the brains of a genius and all the wisdom of a goldfish. I know there exist questions that can't be answered (doesn't mean we shouldn't try, but the math is clear). I know that, what I want to know may not have an answer that makes sense to anypony except possibly Discord.

Oh, and on that note, I am mad as Tartarus about how he abandoned us just before this mess began! He has to have something to do with everything, because the timing was perfect, and nothing here makes any sense. Maybe that's why Fluttershy was able to get over him going away. Chaos is his modus operandi, for goodness sake! Hmm. Well, maybe not the massive exchanges of bodily fluids. I'm pretty sure even he would find those gross. He's kind of prissy, actually. (Maybe insulting him will summon him, hooves crossed. Unlikely. If he were around he certainly would have stopped by to gloat long ago.)

Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is this. What if I have to experience being broken in order to have any chance at comprehending what it's like? Maybe this is something you just can't understand from the outside, no matter how hard you try. For example, feeling like you're born into the wrong body (it's something recent from psychology, like 'transponyhood' or something like that, or just transgender—not that that one's any less interesting, mind you). I'm pretty sure nopony has a clue what something like that is like unless they have it themself. Or, mind-altering drugs, for another example. Like ketamine, a simple horse tranquilizer used to initiate general anesthesia. Simple, that is, until you take slightly less than you need to completely lose consciousness. I haven't tried any, but I've learned from the literature that nopony knows exactly how to describe those experiences in any natural language. Not in a way that truly conveys how it feels to witness from the inside.

'Breaking' is clearly a crazy mental experience, but who knows what happened inside the Mayor's brain? Maybe nothing's changed, or maybe she's secretly a completely different pony, not even the same conscious soul. Maybe even she's totally brain-dead and being animated by invisible breezies. (Okay, the last one isn't me being serious, but I'm just trying to illustrate that I don't have any reasonable basis for estimation.)

I just don't know, and I hate not knowing.

I leaned in toward the Mayor, and Shining released his grip around my neck. I pulled her up a bit into my legs, which was very difficult given how unbelievably heavy a fully-grown earth pony is (not to mention the shoes) but I was able to sort of prop her legs up with mine. Her breath was soft, if a little stinky (I'm sure she just ate before this, it's not her fault—I can't blame her for imperfect dental hygiene with the entire world at stake). The smile on her face was an image of pure serenity. I felt like I loved her, and maybe that was happening too, even as fixed messed-up as it sounds.

Her eyes fluttered open gently, to my great relief. She turned her head toward mine, and she cleared her throat to speak.

"It's okay. I think I'm fine. Tipsy: check. Still confused about this 'vampony' thing: check. Still have no interest in becoming a monster despite how pleased I am about the breaking process: partial check. Horny: double-check, and I'm shocked that I'm not afraid to talk about being horny this casually. Afraid: uncheck; see tipsy, but... it's more than that," she explained. "I feel a little like I've taken an anti-anxiety drug in combination with a small quantity of alcohol, ignoring the synergistic effects. It's not severe, though. I feel almost back to normal, apart from the tipsiness, and but for the fact that my vagina is practically gushing right now. Also the fact that I'm happy about that last thing."

She did seem normal. If I didn't know, and she'd bathed, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Sweet cleansing dragonfire, what if the vamponies are actually right?

Nope! That's impossible. Nonetheless, the Mayor's was compelling testimony and it was tempting me to give in for all the reasons I've previously described. I just didn't know if I could trust her words anymore. They came from the mouth of Mayor Mare, but also the miasma of her mental madness. (Yes, I really like alliteration, even here, and I'm not apologizing for it.) Of course, maybe she shouldn't have trusted me either, so it's not like I can point my hooftips.

I didn't understand her change in mood or the shift in her rational perception. No combination of psychoactive chemicals that I know of are capable of doing something like this to a sapient person. Even if she's euphoric, she still shouldn't be happy about the breaking. The only mental states involving a complete reversal of acceptance that could possibly happen in response to brain-chemistry altering drugs would be mental states where the Mayor is left completely unable to speak intelligently. That's obviously not the case. Her language parsing seems normal, or even incredible if she actually felt drunk as reported. But again, she's pretty amazing.

I struggled to fathom what she might be thinking and feeling. Why was she okay with this now? Did I actually convince her it was a good thing? Was she permanently tipsy, or ditzy, or some other odd mental state she'll have to hide using magic or something? Has she become naive as a schoolfilly? Is she a monster already, and just hiding it? Does she now know some horrible secret, implanted into her recently fucked-up mind by the Breakstone itself?

Worst of all possibilities, is she just, well... right, to enjoy this? Is that actually possible? It couldn't be. Could it?

I petted her mane where she lay beside me. "That's... I'm glad to hear that," I said, the sadness more obvious in my voice than I wanted it to be.

"Twilight, may I tell you something?"

I sighed and smiled wanly. "Ms. Mare, you can tell me anything you like. You're not 'below me', not because of the princess thing, and certainly not the breaking or vampony thing or anything else. Being a mare doesn't mean you need to ask for permission—"

She looked back into my eyes, muzzle to muzzle, our noses almost touching.

Those beautiful, brilliant blue eyes of hers! Why didn't I notice them before today? And I actually like the fact that she dyes her hair grey. Mayor Mare has always been a true leader. She knows that the way to properly lead other ponies is not with bravado or an iron hoof. The exact opposite is true, actually. You lead by humility, by putting yourself below your followe—

Oh.

Wow.

Well, I don't have time to think about this now. There's too much more to write.

"Don't be silly, Twilight. I know I don't need permission to ask you something," she answered, with a smile and a chuckle. (Suddenly I felt like the brain-damaged one for assuming she was mentally incompetent now.) "I only ask because it's something very personal that I want to share with you, and I want you to be prepared for that. And judging by how I feel, if you were broken too, I wouldn't even need to ask because you'd already want to know. It's something I should have said to you a long time ago. Something about us."

"Please, say it," I urged. (Unlike the Mayor, I was definitely afraid of what she might say.)

She smiled. "I've always been attracted to you. Physically, mentally, the whole nine."

"You... you what? Really? Me?" I said.

She kept the smile on, but her voice sounded sad. "My Stars, Twilight. You don't even know you're beautiful, do you?" she said rhetorically, nosing against my cheek. "Yes, you. I admire you for who you are, and what you do, and I feel like we share much in common, but obviously you're a princess and I'm just an earth pony..."

"There's no such thing as 'just' an earth pony," I scoffed, frowning. "Especially not you, Mare! I'd have loved to hear that from you. I mean, before this recent, rapid introduction into perversion, I didn't understand sexual feelings at all, so probably not. But now that I do, yes, I want to know. I can't believe you never told me just because you felt... like, inferior, or something?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Maybe that was part of it, but the problem was being able to say it, without fear of rejection. Being close to you here, and feeling my inhibitions melt away... It feels almost like my reticence is because I was all mixed up in the head," she said.

"Fixed-up," corrected Cadance.

"Antonym of broken. Adorable," she replied. "But it's the truth, Twilight. Something, something deep inside of me, was holding me back from happiness. Now it's just... gone. I'm not afraid anymore."

"Inhibitions are important," I said, desperately fighting with words, for no reason other than to retain the ability to continue fighting with more words.

Princess Cadance knelt and lifted my chin. "If not for the Breakstone, Ms. Mare would probably have gone to her grave never telling you how she feels about you," she said. "You would never have even known! Now how does that make you feel? Be honest with yourself, Twilight."

I tried to use my best lecturing voice, but everything came out Fluttershy (well, typical Fluttershy, at least: soft and meek). "I... but... inhibitions are an essential part of mammalian psychology. A high mental threshold is necessary in order to shield our social lives from the pain and awkwardness that—"

"The threshold is too high, Twilight," said Cadance, her voice rising a little with obvious frustration. "We're not the ones out of control—you are! We still have inhibitions, but we can control them now. While you, and other ponies as fixed-up as you, can't. I mean, surely you must see how special this is, no matter how fixed-up you might be in that brilliant but heavily-stained mind of yours."

"No," I said, looking away from both of them. "I... Maybe I shouldn't have learned she had a crush on me. If everypony is falling in love with everypony they lay eyes on, wouldn't everything just..."

My voice trailed off as I realized I didn't believe in what I was saying. Of course she should have told me. Of course I should know. What good is there in playing these games that keep us from our happiness, I thought? I didn't have an answer. When I met the Mayor's eyes and saw her smile, I knew she could see right through my ruse. I knew I had lost the argument, and she knew I knew, and I knew that, and there were undoubtedly several more iterations (I'm not precisely certain where it stopped).

"Well... has a crush, in the present tense," corrected the Mayor, with a blush and a giggle. I blushed back. (Pegacorn or not, I'm only pony.)

Then, like a spider sensing a fly landing in her web, my BBBFF stepped forward and leaned over me, his hard, drooling cock right in front of my face. Fuck everything, but... I wanted to drink my own brother's precum, right then, nastiness be damned. Would that make me physically ill, or even suffer a bacterial infection or something? I didn't know, but I didn't care, either. I wanted him to fuck my face like it was a pussy. (I hope there's a word for it. I should ask Rarity.) I wanted my first taste of cock. It should be him, shouldn't it? That's what my clit was telling me. (Tells me, too. I'm filth, Journal. I can't ever be cleaned, not even with all the soap in Equestria.)

He looked at the Mayor, and nodded her way. She seemed to understand. A moment later, her muzzle pressed against mine, which guided me back into those lovely orbs. Her eyes were my Breakstone, and as long as she stared directly into mine, I was paralyzed. It was almost like she were a cockatrice. (I really hate those, by the way. I do not like being stoned. Bizarrely, Pinkie once told me I'd like it if I did it with the right ponies. Then she laughed. I think it was a joke, but I really don't get it.)

"Do it, Twilight. Do it right now, with me," she whispered, and kissed me gently on the lips. "You've made me so happy. Let me do the same for you, right here and now, you perfect little mare."

Unfortunately, that look in her eyes was familiar. She was falling in love with me, right there, just as I'd guessed. This was beyond a simple crush. That's what happens when you don't have inhibitions, isn't it? And it's not like I can be in love with everypony, that's ridiculous.

Obviously, this is a side-effect of the stone's...

No. I can't conclude that fairly, because it was happening to me, too. But, why? I haven't a clue. Maybe I'm just weird and romantic inside, or something? Maybe I was always "batty" to begin with, already broken and hungry for love like a changeling whore (ick, sorry already for that visual image— all those holes no, wait, nevermind) who would suck it right out of anypony to offer it up. I mean, maybe I'm nothing more than a defective pervert, and I simply never realized it until my snap-quick sexual awakening.

Or maybe it's because I was without friends for too long, and now I'm desperate for approval and forgiveness. It's possible I'm just as bad as the process I'm railing against, isn't it? I might even be so far gone I can't tell where other ponies end and I begin. But my point is clear: falling in love at the drop of a shoe isn't solely the domain of broken ponies, so I can't say with confidence that's why she feels this way toward me. It seems now she can reveal her feelings because she doesn't care if her emotions get trampled in the process. Maybe that can't happen to vamponies? I don't know. But what would happen if I rejected her? Would she be fine, or devastated?

Don't laugh, Journal (obviously, I know you can't), but maybe being broken just gives you magical retrospective "cider goggles"? The Mayor says she thinks I'm pretty, and she's so confused right now she actually seems to believe she always felt that way. Maybe Cadance is like that, too (it would explain a whole lot). You just want to fuck everypony because everypony looks beautiful to you. The whole concept behind this is absurdity. I'm not pretty, and I'm not somepony other ponies fall in love with, even if I happen to be falling in love with everypony I get close to. That's not a flaw everypony has. It's my flaw, but it isn't common for normal ponies.

I guess the only thing I know for certain is how little I truly know.

Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor both leaned down toward us with smiles on their faces. Mayor Mare was still smiling. The nightwings were smiling. Everypony was smiling, except me. I could see an invisible hoof there, reaching toward me, beckoning me to join them forever.

"It's okay, Twily. I'll be so gentle with you," whispered my brother. "I can't wait to watch you fall before me and become mine—perhaps not my personal cunt, but my actual sister. My sweet little sister, the way brothers and sisters were meant to be."

Holy moly, that was creeptastic. But it was working on my heart anyway.

In my mind, I tried to focus on facts, figures, data—anything to keep my emotions from spilling out of my brain, both figuratively and literally. Fortunately, I realized something crucial: I still had a job to do. I had to document all of this. I could surround myself with duty, with the book and what I was recording, and maybe earn enough of a reprieve from that dedication to survive one more day.

"I'd... prefer to speak with Luna first," I said, my voice weak and wavering. I just barely managed to pop those words out of my mouth.

Brother and Sister's expressions soured. "Okay," said Shining, as Cadance left to (presumably) check on Luna. "In due time, you'll be a part of our family again. I'm very proud of you, Twilight. It won't be long now, and your suffering will finally be a thing of the past."

I rested and cuddled with my newly-lobotomized friend. She really was much nicer this way, I briefly thought. Then I felt a horrid chill up my spine, and I stopped thinking about everything entirely. Just feeling the warmth of her body was enough to keep me tethered to the present.

What must have been a few minutes later, the side door opened. Cadance entered, followed by Rarity and Princess Luna herself.

"I am pleased things have bidden well for you this eve, Twilight Sparkle," said Luna, nodding in my direction.

"We almost had her," said Shining Armor, rearing back up into the stance, bobbing cock and all. "Any day... any hour, even. She's right on the razor's edge, Lady Luna." He said it all like I wasn't even there to hear it; but in some sense, I guess I wasn't. I knew exactly what they were doing to me. Why should they bother to hide? I was like a commodity being openly discussed, and my opinion wasn't important in the slightest. That's all. No big psychological deal or anything.

I tried not to listen, but then Luna mentioned a new datum I couldn't ignore.

"Neigh, Master Shining Armor," she said, shaking her head.

"What do—" said Princess Cadance, only to have her husband's hoof squeeze her muzzle shut.

"Quiet, bitch," he said firmly, with a sinister grin.

In response, Cadance giggled through her nose and squirmed her butt around, with her tail lifted right in my direction, for obvious reasons—twat dripping with moisture. (For those of you who may already be so brain-damaged that nothing is obvious anymore, she did it so I could see all that nastiness. Probably Mayor Mare, too.) I could smell the damn thing from here, though the Mayor's odor (and even my own) were stronger given the distance. Oddly enough, I wasn't nauseated.

"For a moment there I was worried he was serious," the Mayor whispered to me.

"He was!" I whispered back.

Ms. Mare chuckled. "That's just... a little naughty roleplay, Twilight. I'd be concerned if she didn't enjoy it so much, but it's obviously mutual."

"I don't think you realize how deep this goes. I hope you're right," I said, knowing with great certainty that she wasn't.

I tried not to stare into that pretty pink gaping abyss of my future, I really, truly did. I just didn't succeed. I was so horny I was about to burst, and I'm almost that 'pent up' even as I write this. I need an orgasm, and I'm not even a vampony! How? Why? Something is very wrong with me. I must be damaged beyond repair.

(Note: the vamponies' conversation continued while the Mayor and I talked, but I kept track of both.)

Shining Armor then turned back to Luna. "What do you mean?" he asked her.

That was probably exactly what Cadance was going to ask her. I have a sneaking suspicion that, despite the idea making zero sense whatsoever, the useless nature of the transgression against his wife was exactly why he did it. And it was why her damaged brain made her enjoy it. It looked playful and fun, but no. This is sick to the core, whether or not I understand it.

"I fear that Twilight Sparkle is destined to elude our grasp, one final time," said Luna, with a distinct clop of one forehoof against the marble floor (the vamponies were all over by the side entrance, off the carpet).

"That isn't possible," said Shining Armor, his face incredulous (this is when the Mayor and I stopped talking). "Not even for her! How could she escape? The cuff is glued onto her horn, the solvent isn't anywhere in the castle, and the castle is locked down like a vault! She's weak, she's constantly monitored, and she can't cast spells..."

"Honestly?" I called out to them rather than trotting over. "That sounds pretty impossible to me, too."

I'll admit that my statement was only partly true. My mind never shuts down the alternatives, it only mutes them temporarily. I could find a way to escape, I knew it, and now I had the encouragement to do just that. I just didn't see the solution yet, and even if I did, I didn't have the motivation while lying there snuggled up with that wonderful mare. We began to entwine our legs and gently trade simple, normal little kisses. For the briefest, golden moment, I'd even forgotten what I'd done to her.

Sadly, the details of the conversation were too distracting to allow me further respite. (My mind wasn't on the kisses, even when I was the one making them. Doing them? I'm not sure of the right verb.) "My source is very clear. She shall escape our confinement, but only once more," said Luna, with a gentle shrug. "That is all. What has been, shall yet be."

"Okay, but then we catch her again, right?" said Brother. "Specifically, before all Tartarus breaks loose?"

Luna furrowed her brow, then shrugged. "I have not ascertained the answers to those queries in particular, but I believe your hopes should not be in vain. I maintain it is a safe assumption that her recapture, and final submission to the Order, is what fate has in store for our poor Twilight," she said, casting a mournful stare in my direction. "Otherwise, I am being misled by my source—and I am quite certain that is not the case."

"And you still refuse to tell us who, or what, this source is," Shining added. It sounded like he was getting a little angry, and even at this distance I could see the glint of his fangs.

"You are to leave my bitch be," said Master Shadowbane, in a surprisingly polite tone. "On the whole, I have confidence that this mare, moreso than any other to be found within our two kingdoms, knows precisely the truth of her words. I have full faith in her character and the wisdom of her... many years. No offense, cunt," he added, with a wink. (Luna appeared to suppress a chuckle.)

Shining Armor pursed his lips and nodded his head momentarily before looking back up to the other Master. "Yes, Master Shadowbane. I'm sure you understand my anxiety, though. I'm just concerned—"

To my shock (how can these things still shock me?), Shadowbane yanked my brother into a two-legged kiss, and they mashed sloppy muzzles together for about thirty seconds and it was really really gross and it made no sense because they're both males and both Masters even. The End. The moral of this unfortunate tiny story: Harmony itself has gone mad beyond measure.

Well, okay, there was a little more. My sweet Mare kept giggling and playfully batting my hooves away from my eyes with her muzzle, to expose me to the show. I kept my eyes fully closed so it didn't even matter, but feeling her nuzzle my hooves away from my face still made me blush (I could feel the blood positively thrumming through my cheeks). I guess my hooves were there for extra protection, or something? Yeah, I guess I was cowering like Fluttershy. It sounds silly, but I swear... it probably looked much sillier.

(Note: that last sentence was an attempt at dry humor, to keep me sane—though it might be a little wet because I'm not very good with jocularity yet. Pinkie Pie taught me that pointing out precisely where a joke is will somehow cause that joke to no longer be funny. But how else are readers supposed to know when to laugh? Oh, Pinkie. You're completely ridiculous, and I miss you so much. I guess it's for the best, though. I'll bet that crazy mare would have convinced me to drill my fucking brains out the moment I was recaptured.)

"Twilight, do you wish to follow me now? I must exchange Sun for Moon, and then we can discuss your questions." Luna motioned toward the smaller doorway with her horn.

I didn't want to leave Ms. Mare, I really didn't, but she released me.

"It's okay! Go talk. I know I'll see you again very soon," she said, smiling in a warm, queer way that spoke straight to the depths of her newfound insanity.

Moon Black walked over to Ms. Mare and began telling her about vampony conversion. She remained in the shackles, but didn't seem to mind. I found it interesting that she still seemed skeptical of the transition. Apparently, being broken wasn't enough to force her into blind compliance.

I left and followed Luna down the hallway. Rarity tagged along, and idly said something to nopony in particular about how she wondered if she were magically turned into a pregnant changeling queen, whether or not it would feel like she was ejaculating babies out of her abdominal ovipositor. Meanwhile, I was trying not to remember any of the details of what she said, and failing spectacularly as this paragraph well illustrates. I was especially trying not to imagine Chrysalis orgasming out egg after egg.

I should not have written that last sentence in my journal, Journal.

Rarity, I want to slap you. Not in a sexy way, though. In the 'stop being ridiculous' way everypony gets tempted to do to Pinkie, but nopony can do it because she's far too cute and endearing.

It's evening now. I asked Luna why we weren't having the dinner Cadance had mentioned, but apparently the formal feast is set for midnight (of course), so we have plenty of time. (Yes, we get it already, you like the night and darkness and being spooky because you're moody fuckcentric creatures who need constant showers of love in order to feel well about yourselves, and you're sad and edgy and tortured and artistic and misunderstood, et cetera. Hee hee. I'd say I just ripped the vamponies a new asshole with that sentence, but they'd probably love having more orifices to perversely violate.)

I'm finally done writing. Luna and her friend slept while I wrote all this, but it's only been a couple of hours or so. I'm getting incredibly quick with my hoofwriting, but wow, is my ankle sore. (Answer? Yes. Yes it is.) I can't remember the last time I used manumantic grip this much in one sitting, and since I'm not a full alicorn with earth pony nature, I'm not innately gifted with my hooves. Fortunately, Luna is going to cast my transcription spell for me now, so I'll be able to remember every detail of our upcoming conversation. I can then complete the next entry at my leisure, rather than documenting my suffering immediately after it happens to me.

I can see the night sky from her room, and the garden outside. I'm so close to freedom, yet an eternity distant. (The glass windows in both regents' quarters are impenetrable.)

Brief note: I can't see the peepholes from inside here. Is it really possible she doesn't know? Why does Princess Celestia have a view into her sister's room, anyway? I'm still bothered by this. I need to ask her. I need to ask her a lot of things, but none of them have been a priority in the brief moments we've been able to speak or write.

This has been the longest day of my life, and there are still several hours remaining. At least it can't get any worse. I hope.