Night Terrors (Challenge No.21 entry)

Disciplinarian, April 9, 2013; 17:33 / FB 10167
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Night Terrors



>The hooks dig into your body.
>You squeal.
>Your fluffy body writhes in agony as the chains lift you up.
>You look down and see it.
>A whirring chainsaw blade, headed right up toward you.
>Your eyes bug out as the blade slices right through you.
>The pain shoots through your body.
>It's like lightning, overpowering and all-consuming.
>The pain. The transcendent pain!


>Now you're underwater.
>Something is holding you down.
>You try to hold your breath, but eventually give in.
>The water fills your lungs.
>You're drowning.
>It burns so bad.
>You kick and squirm, your eyes bugging out.
>The pain never ends, shooting through you.
>The pain. Always the pain.





>You awaken with a start.
>Blinking in the darkness.
>You look around, getting your bearings.
>Even in the darkness, your lame eyes can make out the bare shapes of your toys and your bed.
>You begin to cry.
>You wiggle your little hooves and cry and cry.
>You cry until you're all cried out.
>Then you fall asleep again.





>Fire.
>Fire everywhere.
>The building is burning down.
>You can't escape.
>A board falls on top of you.
>The fire consumes you almost instantly.
>Your fluff offers no protection.
>Your lungs fill with smoke.
>The pain once again encloses you.



>A human is yelling at you.
>He wields a giant sorry stick.
>The sorry stick is spiked.
>He picked you up and lays you over his knee.
>You squirm and squeal.
>You feel the spikes ripping into your flesh as he pounds away at you.
>You cry out as he jams the sorry stick right up your poopie place.
>Pain explodes inside you.
>You explode.
>YOU EXPLODE





>You feel sticky. Not pretty.
>It happened again.
>The light burns your eyes, and a familiar voice comes to your ears.
"Oh, my poor little dear. Did those dreams come again?"
>It's your master.
>You open your eyes.
>Your room is now lit up.
>It's the best room a fluffy could ever ask for.
>Everything is fluffy-proof so you can't hurt yourself.
>Toys line the walls.
>Master has just fed you. A bowl of spaghetti and water.
>You crawl out of your bed and waddle to your Master.
>Stick stuff is all across your belly.
>The dreams did that.
>You grab onto him and start crying.

>Master picks you up and holds you close.
>Cooing and petting you lovingly.
>You cry and wiggle your hooves.
"Pwease! Owwies! Pwease! Waaaahhhhh!"
>He tickles your belly.
>You cry and kick.
>You don't want tickles!
>You want owwies!
"Now why in the world would I ever hurt such a sweet, beautiful fluffy pony?" your master coos at you.
>You wriggle around, crying and whimpering.
>The pain!
>You've seen him do it to other fluffies.
>He even did it to you once.
>But when you enjoyed it, he locked you up in here.
>In this soft place where you can't even hurt yourself.
>He only takes you out to make you watch him give other fluffies owwies.
>You want owwies!
>Owwies feel so good! So much better than dummy toys and dummy sketties!
>Your master continues to pet you and hold you and love you.
>He spoon-feeds you spaghetti. If you refuse, he starts singing you lullabies.
>You hate lullabies, so you eat.
>He won't even let you have tummy owwies.


>Finally Master sets you down.
>He even washed the baby-juice off your stomach, so you won't even have the discomfort of having it dry off on your fluff.
>Master turns and walks away, opening the door and looking over his shoulder.
"See you tomorrow, fluffy. You're Daddy's favorite boy."
>He closes the door.
>You lay down and cry.
>You cry and cry and cry.
>Heart owwies don't feel good.
>You just want real owwies, but Master never gives you any.
>Life sucks for a lot of fluffies.
>Few suck more than the life of the only masochistic fluffy owned by the Ringmaster.