Horse Prison Thread Story 2

>Be Anon
>You've been in the slammer for three weeks now and the faces of your fellow inmates change with the days
>Be out in the yard with this week's homeboys shooting hoops during pre-snack Recess
>Turns out, HORSE was a thing here too
>Little horses wish they could match your mad skills
>Time was almost up and you wanted to finish this session with a bang
>A quick self-alleyoop and you are sailing towards net more majestically than a slow motion fat-person-fail montage
>Time slows down and you can feel the yards eyes on you as you pull off the most historic play in Recess history
>Suddenly, you feel something's wrong
>You're too high
>You over-compensated
>Your arm comes up in a futile attempt to stop the inevitable but it's too late for mercy
>The rim connects with your jaw in a spectacular fashion and all you can see is little Jordan's swimming in your vision, shaking their heads in dissappointement
>Stupid fucking shorty-ass horse nets
>How can a brother dunk on that?
>Shit's racist yo
>You regain feeling in your everything and find yourself lying on the ground
>A tingling sensation builds in your arm and suddenly all you can feel is the burning needles that are spearing your palm
>You reflexively curl around the appendage, hissing through clenched teeth
>"Whoa Anon! Are you okay, bruh?"
>"Yeah Anon, that was a nasty fall."
>A crowd builds around you, pressing in on your prone form and their muttering grows louder as they question your wellbeing
>You wave the concerned prisoners back with your good hand, it's just a fucking scratch
>"Alright, that's enough everyone!"
>A voice cuts in from behind the crowd
>"Step back, give him some air!"
>The crowd obediently spreads out, letting a small pink mare trot through
>"Hello Anon, I don't think we've met before, I'm Candy Stripe."
>No shit?
>The apron didn't give that one away at all
>"Now come on, show me what the damage is."
>You hesitantly hold out your hand, burning in the open air
>The muttering grows louder and you think you hear a pony collapse in the back of the crowd
>The tiny mare lets out a small "Oooh" before magicking over a small garden hose to wash the dirt off of your hand
>"Okay, Anon. Deep breaths," she commands, leading you through some breathing excersises; inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale
>She holds the third breath and you follow suit
>The cold water washes over your hand and you feel the cuts being cleansed
>You didn't even grimace
>Stone
>Cold
>Candy gives you a wide smile and nods her head approvingly
>You can't help but smile too
>The look lessens somewhat with her next sentance
>"Good job, Anon! But I need to disinfect the cut now."
>She slowly levitates a bottle of peroxide out of her apron, horn glowing a gentle green
>Suppressed childhood memories come flashing back
>The stinging agony of that evil bottle was greater than the agony of every cut you'd ever had
>Reflexively, you snatch your hand back, shooting the mare a glare
>She puts on a worried look and makes soothing sounds while rubbing your arm
>"Shh, it'll be okay, Anon. I promise. Just look into my eyes and you won't feel a thing."
>In spite of the screaming voice in your head, the mare coaxes your hand out from you
>You want to trust the little mare
>Her pretty green eyes capture yours as the bottle slowly, so slowly makes its way to your hand
>From the corner of your eye you see a stallion bury his head in the shoulder of another who whispers in his ear
>You can't help but dart your eyes down as the bottle nears
>"Ah ah ah, eyes up here, Anon!"
>The mare uses a hoof to guide your gaze back to her
>You hold her gaze even as you feel the first drops of Satan's moonshine strike your open palm
>A rabid hissing fills the air as millions of germs cry out as one and are silenced
>A pony in the crowd breaks down at the sound, sobbing quietly
>This goes on forever, but you don't notice the time passing in Candy's caring green eyes
>As soon as it begins, the hissing stops and you let out a short breath
>Candy Stripe positively beams at you while she screws the cap back onto the bottle of death
>"I'm so proud of you, Anon! You're so tough!"
>A rumble of consent echoes from the crowd
>You didn't make a peep, not one sound during that trial
"Thanks, Candy. You're the best."
>You can't help but gently scratch her white mane
>Her eyes close and she makes a happy sound as you express your gratitude
>Your stomach rumbles, reminding you that Snack Time started almost five minutes ago
>Candy's eyes snap open and she giggles at your body's protest to mild starvation
>"Come on, Anon. I hear they have Tiramisu today!"
>Fuck yeah
>Love Tiramisu
>The crowd just watches you walk towards the cafeteria doors, utterly in awe of the toughest motherfucker to walk through the front doors