Not Quite a Chad (RGRE)

by Flutterpriest

Chapter 1: Standing Up For Yourself

Standing Up For Yourself

honestly not a fan of how this came out. but it's what it is

Standing Up For Yourself

Nightmare is a night filled with fun and fright. Fun, because all of town is in attendance. Mares and stallions come from all over to bob for apples, launch pumpkins, pass out candy, and be merry. Fright, because mares are also on the prowl. The costumes are unreal this year. Sexy Nurses. Sexy Firemares. Sexy Stripper, Frog, and even Sexy Pony costumes are everywhere! And, of course, the comments are everywhere.

“Hey there hot stuff! Lemme get some of that DICK!”

You shake it off, because the point where you took it as a compliment wore off a long time ago, and now it’s honestly kind of annoying. Like, for the longest time, the quick and easy sex was something you outright welcomed.

But weirdly enough…. It isn’t working for you anymore.

So, here you are, no costume on Nightmare Night, just trying to hand out candy to some kids. Because it should be a safe haven from-

“I’ll show you a trick if you give me your treat!~” calls another mare.

“Twilight! You shout. There are CHILDREN.”

But she’s gone into the crowd of ponies. And all you can do is sigh and pass out more candy.

“Don’t mind her, kids,” you say kindly to the children. “I’m sure she’s just been having a bit too much of the cider tonight.”

You pass out piece after piece, but after you give a candy to a filly, she pauses, her face red.

“Is everything alright, Sweetie Belle?” you ask.

“Well, Uhm,” she says, looking back and forth. “Could you hold something for me?”

You blink.

“Sure? What?”

Sweetie Belle smiles closes the distance between you and her.

“My hoof?” she says softly.

You blink, looking down at the little filly. Of course. Even the children are corrupted. This is what the world is coming to.

“Okay. Well. Here. The rest of this candy is yours,” you mutter. “Run along.”

Sweetie looks to the ground dejectedly and drags a pillowcase of stale candy behind her as you walk away from the festivities with your hands in your pockets.

You know what? Maybe you should just move somewhere else. Somewhere where the mares aren’t so… alpha? No, alpha isn’t the right word. Dickish. There we go. That’s the word. Retiring to a little cottage in the woods would be great, but that also means moving closer to Fluttershy, and trust me. If the other mares were bad, the difference with her is that she feels downright -entitled-.

Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if she bashed on your door every single morning, wanting to get in your pants, asking for sex like she felt entitled to it. She’d probably even break in and take you by force if you’d let her. But then there’s the legal system for you. She’s an element of harmony and it’s all swept under the rug. But that’s another story.

Right now. You finally make your way away from the festivities and find yourself alone walking the streets of Ponyville. To be honest? It’s kind of nice. Maybe that’s part of why you live alone. The calm away from the panic is something that you relish on tough, trying days.

You take a moment to take a deep breath and examine the stars in the night sky. In it’s own way, it’s kind of romantic. And it’s when you look at those stars that you feel a dull pang of loneliness. To be honest, it’s not something you thought you’d ever find yourself in, especially in a world where physical validation and objectification is around every corner.

Perhaps why that’s when you look down and see a mare in a devil outfit sitting on a park bench, you can’t help but feel a little bad for her. In some ways, you see a little bit of yourself in her.

Who knows, maybe you can see a little of yourself in her too, if you know what I mean.

You make your way over to the mare and sit down beside her.

“Kind of a nice night, isn’t it?” you ask.

She looks up to you, and you can get a better view of her face. She’s got deep brown eyes, and her black mane is tied up into a bun. Kind of the secretary look. Nice.

“A-are you talking to me?” she responds.

Her response kind of catches you off guard, but hey. It’s whatever.

“I mean, if you don’t wanna talk, it’s cool. You just seemed kinda, I dunno. Down.”

“Yeah! I mean. No. I mean. Uhm. Yes. It is a nice night,” she says awkwardly, stumbling over her words. “Night is my favorite time of night. Because it’s not happening during the day.”

“Right. That-”

“But I suppose that’s kind of dumb to say because it’s obvious and---”

She goes silent, and you remain sitting completely still. The awkward tension hangs in the air between you two. She pauses, then looks away.

“My name’s Anon.”

“I know. You’re the human.”

The awkward tension comes back.

Uhhh… well, you’re trying to make the conversation happen. Should you just, like, leave? Maybe you’re being rude.

“Well, uhm. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No! You’re not disturbing me, I was just thinking of fanfiction!”

You pause, feeling a new sort of tension filling the air. This is a point of time where you could go home. Probably get a good night’s sleep. Or you could try to save the conversation and make her more comfortable.

You know what? You can go home and be lonely for the rest of your life. You might as well try talking to a mare tonight for a change. She doesn’t seem… bad.

“Fanfiction, huh?” You ask. “I take it you must be a reader.”

There you go, Anon. Throw her a bone.

“Yeah. I love My Little Human Smut fiction. I actually love to write it too!”

And she used the bone to dig a deeper grave.

“Oh. Well. Good. I’m happy for you. It’s good to do things you find joy in.”

She giggles to herself and blushes.

“Normally talking about my stories… makes stallions really uncomfortable. It’s nice to talk about it for a change.”

“Well, yeah. I mean. I’m sure not many ponies are totally kosher on the idea of writing smut about children’s characters. But, like. It’s not like you do drugs or something.”

“No! I’ve never even smoked a weed!”

You can’t help at laugh a little at the innocence of her statement.

“I didn’t get your name?” you ask.

“Raven,” she says. “Raven Inkwell. But my writer name is Shoo Talod.”

You squirm in your seat a bit.

“Like, shoot a load?”

“Yeah! Isn’t it witty?”

You blink and sigh to yourself. Really? Is this mare just another sex-crazed pony?

“So, uh. Your costume is nice. Why’d you chose a devil?”

“Oh! Well, I actually wasn’t supposed to be a devil. I couldn’t complete my costume. I was supposed to be my OC! Oh, I mean, Original Character, Shanequa Wolfe who is part angel and part devil, but only the devil parts came in. Then, when I was trying to practice with my sword, It broke. So I can’t even say her signature line.”

You can’t help but sit in silence as the info washes over you. You can’t stop this. It’s just happening.

“If you want. I can show you all of my MLH collection! It’s back at my house.”

You pause.

Anon. This is a critical decision in your life. You could probably go to this mare’s house, and get kidnapped to be her real life human doll, or, you could go home, and forget any of this ever happened.

But, you’re a curious motherfucker.

So you’re following this mare, who is so giddy that she’s skipping. It’s kind of cute, to be honest, but you can’t help but feel nervous. What are you going to see once you get there? How bad is this actually going to be?

As she steps up to the front door of the house she smiles and looks to you.

“Let’s go around the back. That’s the quickest way to my room and it doesn’t wake up Mom.”

Okay, this is definitely how you die.

So, you follow her around to the back of the house, she unlocks the back door and you follow the mare inside. She opens the door to a dark stairway downstairs.

“Welcome, to the Earth Cave.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” you can’t help but mumble.

You close your eyes and begin to go down one step at a time.When you open your eyes, you gaze upon hell itself.

Food wrappers. Pizza boxes. Half eaten ramen cups being licked up by cats. ‘Stained’ clothing all over the ground. And… yep. That is a human dildo collection.

That is a multi-shelf human dildo collection. Actually. I think one of those is a dog.

“This is my katana!” she says, holding up a wooden sword that’s snapped in half.

“Listen, Raven,” you say taking a step back. A rookie mistake. That’s the litter box you just stepped in. “You seem like a really sweet mare. I get the feeling that we met under the wrong pretenses.”

“You don’t like it?” she asks.

“It’s… a bit much right now. All of this is a bit too much.”

“Well, you know what! I bet you sleep around with all of the mares, don’t you!” she screams.

You blink at her.

“You know what? Fuck this. I’m out.”

“Yeah! You better leave!” she shouts after you.

You begin to walk up the stairs and as you do, you the sound of gentle, restrained sniffles. A few more steps. Stifled sobs.

And on the last step. You stop. For a fleeting second, you feel a pang of guilt. For only a second, you feel like maybe you were actually in the wrong here.

But, the fact is, that you were deeply uncomfortable and she didn’t have the social awareness to realize you were uncomfortable. When you stood up for yourself, she responded with an attack.

And you don’t deserve that.

So with that, you ascend from hell as the Devil runs to the bottom of the stairs to call one last thing to you.

“I’m sorry! I-If you come back, I-I’ll pay you!”

You pause, and turn to her.

“Raven, I really hope you find someone who loves you as much as you love fanfiction.”

And with that, you took off, standing up for yourself.

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