“Pinkie?” Apple Bloom whispered, knocking on the door of Sugarcube Corner. She patiently stood alone, waiting for the pink party pony to answer. She heard a rapid hoofbeat noise as Pinkie Pie cantered upstairs from her basement, opening the door enthusiastically.

“Apple Bloom! Boy I haven’t seen you for a while, how have you been? I’ve been good, I was just making some cupcakes, man, I can’t get enough of those! Rainbow Dash is helping out, so I think these cupcakes are gonna be better than ever! Remember when we made cupcakes? I sang a song! Do you remember how it goes? All you got-“

Apple Bloom cleared her throat, interrupting the enthusiastic pony.

“Did I hear you are making cupcakes?” she asked, her brow rising when she noticed small flecks of blood in Pinkie Pie’s cotton candy mane.

“Yeah, but I’m really busy, maybe you can help me and Rarity next time, I dunno, are you any good with a knife, or maybe-“ Pinkie Pie began again, her eyes lighting up.

“Maybe,” Apple Bloom said, “But I just need to borrow some of your equipment. Do you have any of that chloroform left over?”

“Chloroform?” Pinkie said, cocking her head in confusion. “Ohhhh, that sleepy stuff! Yeah, I’ve got a ton. Hold on!”

Pinkie Pie bounced off, opening the heavy door to her basement and allowing a strange noise to erupt before silence resumed. She sped upstairs again, clutching a bottle full of clear liquid.

“Perfect. Thanks Pinkie, have fun. Say hello to Rainbow Dash for me.” Apple Bloom said, winking.

“Okey dokey lokey!” Pinkie Pie said, grinning and shutting her door. Apple Bloom hugged the slim, cool bottle to her chest briefly and admired the childish cursive on the pink label, spelling out ‘chloroform’. Trust Pinkie to decorate her anaesthetics, thought Apple Bloom. She threw the bottle into her saddlebag and trotted towards Sweet Apple Acres, licking her lips greedily.

---

Calmly tucking some of her mane behind her ear, Sweetie Belle took a deep breath and looked down at the glossy magazine beneath her, resting on a white, slightly battered and chipped table. Sweetie Belle remembered her sister remarking how it was ‘so chic’ and ‘positively vintage, darling!’. She smiled slightly, thinking of her sisters exaggerated manners and eye for all things fabulous, before a tide of uncertainty swallowed her positive thoughts as she closely studied the magazine below her, reading the text. Her eyes traced over three x’s, in an almost garish font, screaming out at her, so vibrant and shady Sweetie Belle feared Rarity would be able to spot it from a mile away. She swallowed slowly and flicked open the first page, unsure of what to expect.

Lurid images floated into her eyes, dirty, inappropriate, wrong. Sweetie Belle flicked through the pages, settling on a double page spread with two mares gazing at each other seductively, bodies close together, their hooves clutching each other’s flanks in one image, licking at the puckered folds of the spot between their legs in another, pushing a piece of sculpted plastic under their tails in the next. Sweetie Belle’s imagination ran freely, the feeling of rebellion giving her the most dominant pleasure of all. In her primal instinct of pleasure, she tried to remember the purpose of her practice, her brain desperately trying to find the answer amongst all the excitement, scrabbling at her memory until she remembered – to be safe from Apple Bloom. In her state, Sweetie Belle could not afford to do anything to anger or displease Apple Bloom, so she had feverishly plotted to sneak a magazine from Rarity’s room in the hopes that it could instruct her, but in her wildest dreams had not imagined that she would enjoy it so much… she had simply thought she’d learn what to do from it.

Now I see why Twilight reads so many books, she thought, slyly.

Chasing the purple mare from her thoughts, she instead focused on the images playing through her mind, narrating the endeavour from the depths of her mind, twisting the mares figures and names into that of her own and her victims’. She flushed and groaned, her skin searing hot and sweaty, her mane dishevelled in her frenzied movements, her joy building up into an unbearable crescendo, swelling in her loins until she reached her peak and let out a squeak of ecstasy, sinking down into the plush seat she had settled herself in. A grin played across her face, and she knew she was ready.

---

A cloud of dust sprang behind Scootaloo, her scooter whirling around Ponyville in a burst of speed. She skidded to a stop when she reached the familiar surroundings of Sweet Apple Acres, a subdued smile briefly lifting her tired features. She remembered all the happy memories she had experienced whilst crusading, the laughter, friendly arguments, determination. She longed for life to be the way it used to be, before Apple Bloom had thought of the idea that had started it all. Scootaloo stepped into the secluded barn, expecting to find it empty and clean, the way they had left it so that no questions would arise.

Instead, Scootaloo saw a twitching Apple Bloom sitting beside the barrel in which the body had been stored in, her back turned to the entrance.

Scootaloo cautiously took a step inside, unsure of what Apple Bloom could be doing.

Apple Bloom’s head snapped around, her ears picking up the sound of Scootaloo’s hooves crunching the hay beneath them. Her face and hooves was smeared in thick, slightly dried blood, and a putrid smell rose from what she held. A chunk of flesh.

White maggots writhed around in the sea of solid tissue, weaving in and out of the lump and squirming feverishly, gliding over the thick yellow pus that seeped out of each wound, lumpy and bruised. Blood splashed everywhere as Apple Bloom raised the flesh to her mouth and ripped at it savagely with her teeth, chewing each morsel giddily and swallowing, pus splashing across her golden coat to mingle with the crimson blood. Maggots squirmed out of her mouth in a bid to escape, but Apple Bloom snatched them and tipped them down her throat, swallowing with ease and staring at Scootaloo. She threw the lump in front of her, turning away from her to reach into the barrel, pulling out a slimy large intestine. She bit into it and a mixture of pus and acid dribbled out, mixing into a swamp green colour which was promptly licked up by Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo could only focus on the rotten mass of flesh within inches of her, the maggots crawling out towards her, fat and ripe. Scootaloo couldn’t hold out anymore and vomited on the floor, retching loudly as the puddle splashed across the strands of golden hay, painting them green.

Apple Bloom laughed and stood up, still clutching the intestines.

“You really are a chicken, Scootaloo, just like I said.”

She dropped one end of the intestine into the puddle and took the other to her mouth, closing her eyes and sucking inwards. The vomit slowly coursed up the makeshift straw, chunks moving freely up the flexible organ as Apple Bloom swallowed the liquid and bit down on the chewy chunks. Scootaloo watched horrified, staggering backwards.

“I…” Scootaloo stuttered, wiping her mouth with her hoof.

Apple Bloom saw the cowardice in her eyes and her expression set to stone.

“You are not backing out now. No fucking chance, Scootaloo. You do this now. Otherwise there will be consequences.” She said, her eyes narrow and voice guttural.

Scootaloo just nodded and ran, she ran until her lungs were on fire and her hooves were screaming in pain each time they hit the cobbled pavement, but she still carried on, though her throat was as dry as sandpaper. She ran for hours, until it was nearly dusk, and she only gave up when  she knew she would have to start returning soon, for she could not bear to think of the consequences mentioned if she did not show up.

Next Chapter: Chapter Eleven - Revenge is a Dish Best Served Freshly Harvested Estimated time remaining: 17 Minutes