Author's Notes:

This story is kind of a homage to Sadie's "Celestia's Inception" and the works of Anonpencil.

Vylon, you are a fucking magnificent creature.

You are lying on your bed, trying to sleep. Thoughts about your current predicament keep you from drifting off to the land of dreams. How did you even get roped into taking care of Lyler? It's no use pondering about it. It's just how it is right now. Thinking about it will not change things. You just have to accept whatever happens in this magical world of equines.

You sigh, staring out of the window into the dark of the starlit sky. You silently thank Luna. Tonight's display of celestial lights is calming and helps set your mind at ease. You count each star from the comfort of your bed, briefly imagining what it would be like to be in the endless void of space, feeling no mortal needs and content to just offer your light to them that set their eyes upon you. It would certainly be better than dealing with Lyler.

You scan the sky for other stars, and your eyes are captivated by one near the right frame of your window. It is larger and brighter and glows with twinkling luminescence. You stare at it, and it appears to be glowing brighter still. You squint your eyes, watching as the star seems to be coming closer.

Wait. It is coming closer!

Your exhausted mind tries to comprehend what is happening as the star enters your room through the open window. You sit up, gaping at the ball of light that has just intruded into your private chambers. What is it doing here? Has it come to finally grant your wish of getting out of this place?

You stare at the star in anticipation. Its prismatic light dims, and you can now keep an eye on it with less strain on your eyes. It begins to roam the room, pausing for a moment near every object before moving on to the next. You study it questioningly. It appears to be looking for something, but what?

You watch intently as the star finally takes notice of you and slowly approaches your unmoving form. It stops at arm’s length in front of your chest. Its globule surface shimmers with the glitter of its radiance. You feel that it is telling you something. The star stays there, glints of light dancing on its form, but the meaning is lost on you. The mesmerizing lightshow beckons you to reach for it. The secret of the universe might be within this shining orb, the knowledge of origins encased in this very sphere.

You cautiously raise an arm towards the star. You feel the power of its aura surging as your hand draws nearer. The feeling is intense. A wave of force flows through you as you cup it in your hand. Your eyes are enlightened by the effigy of truth in your grasp. You finally understand the purpose of its arrival. This has the power to give-

*BANG*

You snap your head to the noise in shock. The star shoots up from your hand. The door flies from its hinges and a familiar mint-green unicorn sails across the room and splats on the opposite wall. Silence fills the room as time seems to freeze, the scene captured consists of you staring at Lyler stuck to your wall, the star almost absent with light, and… You think you just broke your neck. Fucking Lyler.

“HI, ANERN! DO YOU HAVE CHICK TENDIES?”

You calmly look at your charge with a collected expression. It wouldn’t do to get angry at such an innocent mare, even if her mental health is worse than power-hungry clowns. Or even after she just destroyed the fourteenth replacement of your bedroom door. It’s not her fault after all. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you slowly open your mouth to voice your disapproval.

“NO, LYLER. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET BACK TO YOUR ROOM AND SLEEP!”

“NO U. LOOK! I’M SILLY FILLY, ANERN!”

You look at Lyler, and she indeed looks silly. Her chin, neck, and chest slide along the floor, dragging her forelegs as her rear stick up and her hind legs push her across your floor. It would have been cute if her eyes weren’t twitching in every direction and her slobbering mouth coating the floor she mops her body with. Now you have to clean your floor with hydrochloric acid. Again. There goes your remaining hours of sleep. You also need to stop the sound her coat is making against your wooden floor as it sounds much like squeaking styrofoam.

You glance up at the star quivering against your ceiling. Its light ebbs in an unsteady rhythm. Rigid motions indicate that it is ready to move at an instance. The star appears to be genuinely scared. You close your eyes and shake your head in sympathy. Lyler has that effect on people.

The squeaking that makes you want to tear your ears off stops and is replaced by nomming.

You turn your sight back at Lyler, now chewing her tail by bending backwards. How is that even possible? You’re actually impressed by her flexibility. Looking at her induces your mind to try and imagine the various impossible positions she can do with that kind of bendable spine. No, boner. Daddy is not calling for you.

Before you can even react, the star brightly flashes and dives towards you. Your eyes register a bright, blurred streak of light as the star speeds with the momentum of a fired bullet in front of your face, down your torso, and onto its target. Your crotch.

You let out a manly grunt of pain. It definitely didn’t sound like a crow getting crushed by a baseball bat. The star briefly pulls back and starts jackhammering into your crotch. Your eyes roll back into the back of your head. Wait. What’s that sound? It sounds like a pig being gelded. It must be coming from Lyler of course, not you.

High-pitched squealing fills the room as your virginity is taken. The star is actually your first time, and first times are supposed to hurt. You take it like a man, not a pussy. But pussies can take violent poundings. You are now convinced you are a pussy, not a man.

“MUNG TIME, ANERN!”

Tears form in your eyes as you experience the best lay in your life, barely seeing Lyler spring from the floor and hurtle towards you at the speed of blue hedgehogs. Into your crotch. The sound that comes out of you could only be described as an ecstatic moan. You totally felt heavenly bliss from that impact.

You hear the crackle of frizzling sparks coming from your crotch, emitted by the star sandwiched between the two of you. Lyler shoves her hips into yours, and the crackling dies. It must have been forced into Lyler’s forbidden hole. Who knows how many kinds of things have been there? You felt really sorry for the star as it gets swallowed into the depths of Lyler’s abyss. May it know true horror upon the entry therein.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-“

You don’t even know if Lyler is screaming in pain or pleasure at the penetration of the star whose girth is obviously thicker than your noodle dick. Knowing this horse, it might actually because she just wants to.

You feel a headache forming as you try to understand the creature whose existence should not even be. You really need to stop overthinking things, Anon. It’s not good for you. See? Lyler’s belly is now bulging and it’s all your fault.

You stare, wide-eyed, at Lyler’s increasingly growing belly. You push the still screaming Lyler off, and she spasms on the ground like she’s being electrocuted. A flailing hoof hits your side and breaks a rib.

Shit, Lyler. Aim for the skull next time.

You wonder what the hell the star did to Lyler. Her midsection balloons at an alarming rate, and you don’t know why or what to do.

“IMMA PREGNANT! ANERN, WATCH!” Lyler screams at you from the floor. She has fallen and can’t get up. Why the hell does she sound happy?

You are absolutely mortified as Lyler’s belly ripples like an amoeba. Yes, it even juts out protrusions, snaking outwards like tentacles trying to grasp something. What the fuck? Lyler giggles through it all, clearly enjoying having her stomach distended. What a pleasant sound, her giggles are. They sound like a pack of heaving hyenas.

Lyler’s bloated belly still continues to expand to dangerous levels. You begin to realize that if this continues, Lyler will explode.

Your eyes grow wider than your mom’s ass at the realization, and you start to tremble. You shift your gaze left and right as you desperately think of what to do. You need to do something! Something that will stop what the star did to her! That’s right! The star! You need to pull the star out of her! It might stop Lyler from dying of explosive seppuku!

You nod your head in determination. You know what you must do.

You are going to check Lyler’s pussy.

I don’t know how you have come up with that, but it’s what makes sense to your stupid intelligence.

You hurriedly get off your bed and kneel beside Lyler between her splayed thighs. Your logic dictates that you grab the star and yank it out of Lyler as soon as possible. Your arm is aimed and ready. Deep into Lyler will be where your arm be.

That is, until you actually look at where you’re aiming.

You are Anonymous, the man of unknown origin who have laid his eyes upon the heart of Lyler’s femininity. You consider yourself blessed by the gods of randomness, for what you now see before you have roused the manliness that have been slumbering within you.

It is without perverse intention that you have beheld Lyler’s root of all evil. None at all. You just have been enraptured by how plump her cunt appears to be. It quivers with the excitement of a small filly, and you feel all the built-up panic you have before vanish into disbelief. Oh, how long have you since been enthused by a female’s most sacred parts!

You hear Lyler titter at thy astonished expression, and thy countenance falls even further as her vulva wiggles along with her giggles.

A sudden urge to reach out and massage that smooth, yielding flesh fills your very being, and you do your best to fight off the unreasonable desire to do so. Your mind comments: ‘Dat some mad pussy skillz, yo.’

Her marehood winks at you, and your heart skips a beat. The motion delicately opens her opening as if it were a blooming flower, ripe in its season and exhibiting the beauty of its splendor. The intricate folds are slick, wet with the tears of her core, and pink like a chrysanthemum in spring. Her clitoris peeks out of its fleshly abode, the tender nub protruding out with nary a hint of tension before returning into the carnal embrace of its clandestine home.

You blush like a sunburned testicle. You just have been eloquently describing a horse wink. Anon~ Just how depraved are you?~

You take notice of the scars on her crotch, and your mind brings up an image of a cactus. It’s not just any cactus, either.

It’s Mr. Boom Boom.

You shudder. There’s just something… wrong about the potted cactus that Lyler claims she gave birth to, and you know Lyler; she might actually have given birth to it. You don’t think you can even imagine what Lyler does not do to the cactus. Come to think of it… Wouldn’t it be incest, since she usually shoves it back into-

You shake off the disturbing thoughts before you start questioning your life again. Despite the physical evidence of her questionable relationship with Mr. Boomboom, Lyler’s marehood is a perfect specimen, a paragon, of the pony female genitalia. No shit. Lyler has the most beautiful horse pussy you’ve seen in horseland. You were actually expecting something traumatizing.

Now, you can’t refrain from looking at Lyler as a mare. You have never noticed before, but her figure is formed like it was sculpted by the gods themselves. The muscles of her thighs are well-toned, flexes beautifully against her flesh, and makes you realize just how much a slob you’ve become. Damn, you need exercise. You look at Lyler, then back to yourself. You’re a fatass now.

You marvel at how generously endowed and supple her butt is, the jiggle of her rump just slight enough to be noticed but not too pronounced. You’re sure that it will be illegal if any female back home had this kind of ass, outright surpassing even butt-flashing models.

Your eyes trace upward along Lyler’s body. Her expanded belly lobes smoothly towards her chest, rippling now and then to show off its firm, but flexible surface. Her breathing is uneven and abnormal, but it takes your attention to the strength of her chest. You delight in the way the fur of her coat complements her voluptuous, flowing curves.

You can’t believe just how alluring Lyler really is, and you molest her with your eyes to your heart’s content. You don’t think even Princess Celestia has this kind of sensually attractive figure.

You bring your eyes to Lyler’s face to see her staring at you. She wears the same crooked, manic grin you usually see on her in a daily basis, the corner of one side of her lips curled upwards.

I-Is she smirking?

Her eyes connect with yours, and you feel the same sense of wondering you’re giving her reflected at you from those orbs, even as they twitch out of focus periodically. Her ears flick adorably at seeming random, and you restrain the urge to pet her and scratch her ears. Lyler tilts her head and flicks her eyes downward for a moment before returning her gaze on you. The gesture reminds you of the current situation.

Your eyes return to her delicate flower. A drop of her lubricant pools at the bottom of her flushed opening, traces along her quivering lips, and grazes her puckered butthole before dripping on the floor below. A thin line of drool leaks from your mouth, and you quickly catch yourself before you actively slaver over Lyler.

You quietly whimper. Aside from her bizarre personality and repulsive antics, Lyler is actually very easy on the eyes.

No, Anon! Lyler is not sexy!

Yes, tell that to yourself all you want, Anon. Your saluting dick is making itself very clear that it is a horse fucker and disagrees.

You look at your crotch, glowering at the traitorous boner. You decide you’ll just have to punish it later for being a bad little penis.

Your dick throbs even harder.

Ignoring your most recent discoveries about yourself and Lyler, you return to the task at hand. Your hand curls into a fist and is now prepared to enter Lyler and fish out the star. You are about to reach into her when you are stopped by her voice.

“You’ve made a mistake.” Lyler whispers to you solemnly.

What?

“What-“

Bad move, Anon.

The moment you open your mouth, any words you are about to say are lost as you see her marehood convulse, her lover lips briefly pulling inward before explosively popping outward. You barely even register the display before thick, sticky gunk spray at your face and coating it in liquids that smell like bleach and chloroform mixed with the contents of a septic tank.

Your muscles immediately tense and your body freezes at the sudden onslaught of ungodly fluids. Your eyes burn as the acidic grime blinds your sight, and some of it gets into your still-open mouth.

You gasp at the sensation of crushed snails on your tongue, and the intake of breath sucks more of the slime into your nostrils and throat. A trickle of the fluids gets into your lungs, making you cough, hack, and splutter. You involuntarily swallow some of it, and the taste of rotten egg and bloody mucus forever stains your taste buds.

Your stomach angrily churns as it receives the unholy concoction, bile and gastric acid rising in protest.

Spurting sounds fill your ears as liters of Lyler’s bloody pus continue to rain upon you. The discharge of Lyler’s innards run down your head like maple syrup poured on an ice cream scoop, dripping onto your clothes that will never be clean again.

Your mind and body cannot take the violation of each of its senses anymore and ejects the horrid mixture that you have managed to ingest. You pitifully vomit onto your already soiled floor with a soulless groan, silently lamenting the floor that even laboratory chemicals will never sanitize ever again.

You shakily raise your arm to wipe off your ruined face, but you are again stopped in doing anything.

You hear a loud, squelchy pop directly in front of you, and a rubbery, fleshy object hits your face with the force of an obese neckbeard belly-flopping into a kiddie pool. The impact harshly throws you backward, and the abrupt shift of position from kneeling to lying down hammers your head into the floor.

“Ouch,” you say, totally unfazed.

Your vision whites out in an instant.

More noises of pops, splats, and bounces can be heard as you lie on the floor in a daze. You stay like that for a few more moments until you can open your eyes without seeing the room swirl around in vertigo-induced disorientation by blunt force trauma applied to the cerebellum.

Once you’re sure you don’t need a medic anymore, you immediately and frantically wipe your face. It’s not enough. Gooey strands block your vision when you try to open your eyes, and sticky bubbles pop from your nostrils every time you breathe.

You get up on all fours and clumsily crawl toward your bed. You need the covers to wipe your face. It’s the only fabric that is still left uncontaminated by Lyler’s discharge. You don’t care if it’s the last spare you currently have. What matters now is that your face gets cleaned. You can request for replacements again from Rarity later, anyway. That girl is too generous to refuse.

That’s right. Take advantage of people’s integrity, you shitstain and oxygenstealer.

You reach your bed, and you waste no time grabbing the covers and wiping your face. The noises are still there. Tossing the irredeemable cloth aside, you finally turn around and open your eyes to see what’s going on.

No amount of dealing with Lyler’s shit can prepare you for what you are seeing now.

Tiny horses that can only be described as miniature Lylers are littered on the floor. More of these mini Lylers continuously launch out from Lyler, accompanied by squelching sounds and shower performances of her fluids. You watch in horrified fascination as Lyler’s divine cunt repeatedly crown with the head of a mini unicorn before blasting out the foal-clone like a regurgitating tailed beast, bouncing the newborn off the wall before splatting on the floor like a pancake.

What makes it worse is that all the mini Lylers across the room are also doing the same. Their bellies expand to proportions larger than themselves before their undeveloped wombs agonizingly push the unholy bulges, stretching their cute little coochies into terrifying maws of flesh before popping out more identical copies of themselves. Lyler and her mini-me’s coo and moan amidst the madness. Why in fucking hell are they cooing?!

You can’t take it anymore. You don’t know what the fuck this is! There’s no way you can handle dozens more of Lylers! You do the best thing you always do.

You scream like a schoolgirl about to be raped.

Instantly, the room falls into deathly silence.

Oops.

Nothing breathes. The room is enclosed in harrowing stillness. Goosebumps form and crawl in your skin at the sight of the unmoving forms of unicorns scattered on your floor, frozen the moment your cry rang out. Your palms become sweaty. Your knees turn weak. Your arms feel heavy. Your lungs seize a sharp intake of breath when a hint of movement returns to the motionless room.

Lyler and the minis slowly turn their head toward you. You remain where you are, stock-still, as you witness some of them twist their heads in multiple four-twenty-degree rotations. A hair-raising chill shoots up your spine when they finally stop wringing their necks, facing you with blank, ghastly expressions. To say that this is unsettling is an understatement. Demented spawns gaze into your soul with beaded eyes, condemning your spirit into a lifetime of trauma. Silence lingers, and you arere spared a few more moments before the consequence of your scream comes to fruition.

The aberrations of nature let loose a unified scream, shaking the room in agonizing, bone-rattling, earsplitting screeches of torment.

”RRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-“

“AAAH! FUCK!”

You scream alongside them, cupping your bleeding ears with both hands. Rationality drains as you writhe on the floor in agony. You need to make them shut the fuck up! You shoot up from your fetal position and mindlessly grab the nearest heavy object you can use as a crushing weapon.

You grab the nearby wardrobe and lift it up. You are actually amazed by your strength, and you pumplift it a few more times to test your power. No, that’s just the adrenaline. Stop daydreaming, you shut-in faggot.

Still screaming like a 60-year-old virgin hermit finally getting laid and ejaculating in mere seconds, you rampage across the room, smashing the Lylers left and right. Your tongue flaps about as you swing the wardrobe around you like it’s the love of your life. Your mind is clouded by pain and desperation, and all you care about is crushing all of these pests.

You smash the mini Lylers without pause. Their guts and bodily fluids splatter about the room. You don’t care if you’re killing what can essentially be considered as babies, the temples of young, living souls. You only care about not having to deal about your new responsibility of taking care of these innocent Lylers. Look at how much of a monster you’ve become, Anon. Think straight. Compare yourself to genocidal dictators.

However, the Lylers don’t stop coming, and they don’t stop coming from Lyler, and Lyler doesn’t stop coming.

“ANERN!~ AAAAAHHHN~ I CAN FEL IT MOVING INSIDE MEEE!~”

My god, she sounds just like your favorite cartoon porn magazines.

You do your best to ignore the moans. You know that as long as Lyler keeps spawning these abominations, it wouldn’t end for you or anyone. You steel your resolve. You have only one way to stop the next apocalypse. You know what must be done, for the best way to stop a plague is to destroy the source.

Is tiem 4 srs bsns.

You walk slowly towards Lyler who stares at you with innocent eyes, unaware of the debauchery you have planned to do. You feel crushed by the fact you are about to ruin Lyler’s amazing figure, but this must stop. It is for the greater good.

You feel your eyes water. Your heart aches, but you carry on. Tears run down your face and fall from your chin as you breathe out the most painful apology you have to utter in your life.

“I’m sorry, Lyler…”

You raise your weapon to prepare to deliver the blow. This is it. You squeeze your eyes shut, silently weeping for the crime you’re about to commit. You are strong, and you will do this for the salvation of everyone. When people look back to what you’ve done, they will see how you’ve been a hero for them.

Your arms tense as you begin to bring down the coup de grace.

“Anon?! WHAT IN CELESTIA’S NAME ARE YOU DOING TO MY SISTER?!”

Your eyelids fly open, and you drop your weapon in shock. The wardrobe drops on your head, bringing you down with it as you see stars for an indefinite moment of time before you recover. You awkwardly get up and spin around to the door with a flabbergasted expression.

You see Lyra standing at the doorway between the doorframe of your doorless door, her expression etched with seething anger and her horn glowing intensely. Oh shit. You quickly glance around the room and realize what this must look right now. You wave your arms hysterically and hold them out to her in a placating gesture.

“I-It isn’t what it looks like!”

Sorry, Anon. The unicorn you are trying to pacify is blinded by rage at the moment. Please, try again later.

A blunt blow stealthily hits the back of your head.

Your vision becomes hazy. You lose control of your limbs and you fall to the floor in a heap. Blinking away your clouded sight, you watch Lyra trot over to Lyler and whisper assurances to her. She walks up to you and fixes you a glare. You can’t do anything but stare back mutedly as you lie down on the floor in a puddle of unspeakable liquids. You and Lyra stare at each other’s eyes for a minute before you close your eyes and succumb to unconsciousness.

-----

You wake up with a headache.

You look around, and this does not seem to be your room. Plain white walls surround a single bed on which you are now lying on. There’s a table with a cup of black liquid, a plate filled with what you assume is food, and a stack of what looks like books and a newspaper. A ray of sunshine comes in through a single window and stops on a metal door.

You hear a latch audibly click, and the metal door creaks open. A unicorn enveloped in a magic bubble enters, and the door slams back with a deafening clang.

“I see that you are awake now, sir,” the beige unicorn mare dressed in uniform states, “I am Officer Do Magics, and you are under custody in Pony Prison for charges of rape, multiple homicide, and improper use of furniture. Your trial will be at sunset. You are expected to be in your best behavior throughout the trial, or you are automatically deducted 500 Good Boy Points and withheld dessert for your entire sentence. Do you understand?”

Wait, so you are in prison? Also, what kind of system is this?!

“Look, I don’t really-“

“You have the right to remain silent, sir,” Officer Do Magics interrupts, “Please save any statements you have for the court. Any words you say can and will be used against you. Now, please eat your breakfast. I’ve been reheating that for three hours.”

True to her name, Officer Do Magics did the magics, and your breakfast is now piping hot again. She leaves without another word and closes the door with another annoying clang.

Sighing, you move towards the table and pick up the newspaper. You read the headliner:

“PONYVILLE: A QUARANTINE FOR LYLERS”

Welp, at least you tried.