Horse Prison Thread Story 8: Promises are Fucking Important

>You stare at the ceiling of your pseudo-apartment, hands clasped behind your head and a music box playing a thoughtful melody on your bedside table
>Clouds drift by in the ceiling’s enchanted hologram, turned into pale ghosts by a glowing moon
>Stars twinkle delicately beside the moon’s all-powerful visage
>It was almost beautiful
>The kind of night sky you only ever saw in pictures back home, on Earth
>You always told yourself that, one day, you would drive yourself as far away from any sort of civilisation as you could get
>You would drive until no light pollution could hinder the sky
>When you got there, you would just stare at the heavens and try your hand at star-gazing
>To feel that wonder that comes with being surrounded only by the light of the moon
>To feel the weight of the universe pressing down on you with its sheer magnitude and mystery
>To feel the crushing loneliness that comes from seeing that curtain of black closing on you, pierced only by the feeble light of helplessly tiny stars
>You had never seen that sky for yourself but you think that the hologram playing over your bed made a good attempt at replicating it
>Or it would have, had it not felt so artificial
>Ignoring the fact that it was a hologram, there were noticeable rhythms in the twinkling of the stars
>The constellations were too perfect and distinct, even an untrained eye could spot them
>And the normally modest moon was completely dominating the scene; nothing could compete with its sheer magnitude
>If you managed to ignore these nagging thoughts, the sky was beautiful
>When you couldn’t, it was almost unsettling
>You know that the hologram mimicked Luna’s night sky perfectly
>No two nights were the same
>All were beautiful, like an artist’s master-piece
>Bob Ross would be proud of Luna’s dedication
>And so your thoughts wandered while you stared at the sky, tapping your foot to the rhythm of the stars

>You had really fucked up this time and, given your history, that meant something
>The Warden had shown up at the scene of the crime and didn’t even need to ask to know that you were responsible
>You could see the disappointment in her eyes and, honestly, it hurt
>You had promised to do better, be better
>When in Rome and all that
>In less than a day, you managed to royally fuck it up
>From the way the Warden looked at you, she wasn’t even surprised
>You had been sent to your room without any hesitation
>Dinner was out of the question and you were pretty sure that your pudding ration would be taking another hit
>From the way the guards looked at the Warden, this was some serious shit
>She didn’t even hesitate or even check her clipboard of misconducts and their punishments
>You hadn’t been sent to your room since you were a little kid

>From your room, you could hear the commotion outside as the aftershocks of your fuck up were still being felt
>Orders were shouted down halls
>Hurried hooves beat into the laminate flooring
>Somewhere, you could hear a stallion bawling his eyes out
>A rough clatter arose from the roof
>You knew the noise from the few times it’s happened since you got here
>An emergency chariot was tearing through the sky to some lucky pony’s house
>You could just imagine the guard in the back of the chariot shouting, “Wee woo! Wee woo!” into a megaphone
>You didn’t understand this place sometimes

>Lost in your musings, you didn’t notice a familiar silhouette standing at your door
>The sound of a hoof tapping nervously catches your attention
>Not moving from your position, you call out to the mare who is casually leaning on your door frame
>Or is trying to, at least. She’s not very convincing in her apparent ease.
“You don’t need to ask to come in, Cookie. You know you’re always welcome in here.”
>You hear a soft sigh leave her lips as you finally acknowledge her presence
>”Anon…” she starts
>You could feel the lecture coming, the questions
>The hurt looks
>You could deal with the first two
>But the third…
>Seeing this mare sad felt like God Himself was kicking you square in the nuts
>To know that you caused that distress…
>You silently tried to calm the butterflies in your stomach.
>You could feel your heart doing somersaults in your chest
>”Anon,” she tries again, more firmly this time.
>You raise your head from your pillow and lock eyes with her, her silhouette framed by your feet
“Come inside.”
>Another sigh and her head falls slightly, her rigid posture relaxing into one much more the mare you know
>She ‘tsks’ at you while she enters your cell and closes the door behind her
>She shakes her head and approaches the bed
>”Anon, what am I going to do with you?”
>You switch on your bedside lamp (it even has little moons on the lampshade) and give her your best ‘I’m thinking very sexual thoughts about us right now’ look
“I can think of a few things, if you’re interested.”
>Anything to distract her from her goal
>You didn’t have the heart for this
>You think you’ve succeeded in your task when her cheeks light up in a furious blush, but she keeps her stern gaze fixed on you
>A small smile pulls at her mouth but she keeps it in check
>”A-anonymous, this is serious.”
>You’re sure it is, what with her blushing up a storm and fighting to keep that no-nonsense look on her face
>”You made that other stallion cry, Anon.”
“I know.”
>”You promised me, Anon! You promised to me that you would be b-better!”
“I know.”
>”And you b-broke that prom- prom-… Promise! You broke i-it…”
>Her voice is starting to hitch with held tears, choking her up
“I did.”
>You can’t meet her gaze; you can’t handle those shimmering eyes
>”Why?”
>It came out whisper quiet, her voice cracking at the end
>You sigh in defeat, and stand up at the side of your bed
>can’tdealwiththisfeel.jpg
“I didn’t mean to, Cookie. I really, honestly, didn’t.”
>”Y-y-you expect me to believe *hic* that?”
“Please, Cookie. I can explain. I can actually explain this one…”
>You take a step towards the small, cream-coloured mare
>She takes a step back
>That. That right there, fucking hurt.
“Please… I can explain this one.”
>You’re almost whispering now and you’ve sat down on your bed
>”You t-told a stallion that he broke his mother’s spine, Anon!”
>The tears are starting to dry up, now she’s getting angry
“I did. But I can explain! Please, hear me out Cookie.”
>”Start talking, Anon. I’ll let you know.”
>Alright, at least that’s one hurdle you’ve past
“I can’t talk like this, can you please sit down?”
>Cookie searches your features, looking for any signs of deception
>Seemingly satisfied, she slowly nods and takes a place beside you on the mattress
>You take a quick breath before launching into your explaination
“You see, there’s a game we play as kids back on Earth, something simple. I don’t even think it has a name.”
>So far so good
“There’s only one rule and there is no winner. The first rule of the game is that you can’t step on any cracks whatsoever. If you do, your mother’s back will break and you lose.”
>You look over to Cookie who has raised her hooves to her mouth in shock
>”Why would someone make a game like that, Anon? That’s horrible! How can mothers on Earth live like that?”
>Ohshit.bmp
>You forgot that ponies are really fucking literal
>And naïve
>You make soothing motions with your hands and try to clear this up
>Come to think of it, that’s why you’re in this position in the first place; you constantly misread these tiny horses
“It doesn’t actually happen! It’s just some stupid rule that a kid made up who knows how long ago.”
>”Who would do something like that, Anon? It’s so cruel and horrible; making foals think that they can kill their mother by stepping on a crack.”
>All you can do is grimace and shrug
“I don’t know. It’s just how it’s been forever. It’s not even that fun of a game but when you’re a hyperactive kid, it can be a simple way to have some fun.”
>Cookie still looks a little shocked but she’s recovering
“I made the mistake of thinking that ponies would have something similar.”
>”Celestia no!”
>Her outburst caught you off guard and you jumped in your skin a little
>”Sorry, Anon. No, we don’t have any games like that.”
“Huh.”
>The two of you sit in an awkward silence after that
>Where the hell do you go from here now?
“Is there any way that I can put this right, Cookie?”
>”What do you mean?”
“I really don’t want to deal with the looks I’m going to get from this and I think the Warden is fed up with me.”
>Cookie taps a hoof on her chin pensively
>”Well…”
>Oh god.
>It’s going to be horrible
>Like making you spend time with the guy
>Or make you hug him
>”You should apologize to him, Anon. That’ll mean a lot. Tell him you didn’t want to scare him like that.”
>That… doesn’t sound too bad, actually
>”Maybe give him a hug too, just to be sure.”
>Fuck
>You nod in assent
“I… think I can do that, yeah.”
>”Oh! And you need to tell the Warden what you told me; she might be understanding. As I hear it, she’s planning on swapping out all of your desert rations for an extra cup of sprouts.”
>Naw
>Naw man
>OH FUCK NAW!
>That shit ain’t right
“Alright, then I should definitely talk to her.”
>”Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
>You would rather get this out of the way as soon as possible, lest the vindictive Warden smite your precious pudding
>”You have previous plans, Mr. Anonymous.”
>She rests a soft hoof on your hand and nods at your clock
>Oh
>Right
>It’s cuddling time
>You look around at Cookie, but you see nary a hint of your pudding
“So, uh… You bring the stuff.”
>A small giggle serves to further confuse and you can see that Cookie is enjoying whatever it is she’s doing to you
>”Oh no, Mr. Anonymous. You don’t get off the hook that easily. Even if you apologize, you still made a pony cry.”
>She isn’t serious
>She can’t be serious
>This is extortion!
>”You’re not going to see one of your precious pony puddings for a while yet.”
“You aren’t serious right now.”
>”You better believe I am, Anon!”
“You have no idea what fate will befall you, Miss Cream. I am not a man to be trifled with.”
>”I wouldn’t complain, were I in your position mister. You’re lucky I only cut out two weeks. I was tempted to make it three.”
“Two weeks?!”
>You make a lunge for her, consequences be damned
>With an ‘eep!’ she tries to duck under your leap but you were ready
>You gather up the struggling pony in your grip and begin what will be remembered as ‘The Great Tickling of Last Thursday’

>Some time later, Cookie lies in your arms
>You are both cuddled up on your bed, her back against your chest
>You can feel her heartbeat through your clothes
>It’s still beating quickly in response to your rage fuelled assault
>But as you listen, you can hear her breathing slow and the furious pace of her heart matches suit
>Her ears flick occasionally but you know she’s down for the count
>You wrap an arm around her body, pulling her close
>Her hooves reach up and she clutches your hand to her chest with a contented sigh
>Yeah, you could get used to this

>You can feel yourself nodding off when you feel a slight tugging on the hand she clutches
>You idly trace your fingers down her chest and onto her stomach, letting her hooves guide you
>”Scratch me, Anon. You aren’t nearly done yet.”
>Complying with her demand, you start rubbing circles into her tummy, using all five fingers to stimulate the tiny mare
>Her smirk is almost audible as she grasps your hand once more and continues on its previous path
>You don’t stop your fingers
>Some trepidation is creeping into your mind as she pushes you down, further and further
“Hey, Cookie? Getting awfully low there, aren’t we?”
>”Mhm…”
>Just making sure, right?
>You were beyond okay with whatever was happening in your bed right now
>She starts humming as you pass her belly and are moving towards her nipples
>You flex your hand, ready to get to tender loving but she keeps pushing your hand right past those elusive peaks
>Skipping the foreplay to foreplay? Aight. You can roll with that
>Instead you find yourself sliding along the gentle curve of her pelvis, closing in on her marehood
>”Anon…” She all but moans into the still air
>Your response is a heavy exhale and a slight grunt as you position yourself a little better
>”Anon I-“

>Whatever she was going to say was cut off by something large and dense hitting your skull
>Your eyes snap open and you stare wordlessly at the mare sleeping peacefully next to you
>A hoof is reaching behind her, groping for something
>You idly place your hand in her hoof and you see her smile in the pale moonlight

>Yeah, the nights here really were beautiful

>But goddamn if you didn’t blueball yourself

>Stupid, cutesy Cookie