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- >You are the owner of Candy, the masochistic fluffy pony.
- >You’ve had her for about a month now, and your techniques for coping with her are getting stale.
- >Initially you found you could deal with her outbursts by reprimanding her lightly. Usually a swat to the nose with a rolled up newspaper would elicit that sweet cry of, “Fank ‘oo, daddy!”
- >Then it got worse.
- >She got bored of the newspaper.
- >You found her at times after swatting her in her safe room headbutting the walls.
- >She had made “Bad Poopies” in the litterbox and was punishing herself.
- >Looked like good poopies to you, but you figured it made her happy
- >You definitely shouldn’t encourage this behaviour, but you can’t have her inflicting pain on herself.
- >She might hurt someone after all.
- >So you started looking up more “satisfying” techniques online.
- >It disgusted you to find entire forums dedicated to torture methods for fluffy ponies.
- >It disgusted you even more to sign up for them.
- >You reminded yourself that this was for Candy’s happiness.
- >She had a hard life at the hands of that “Jolly” character and she deserved to be happy.
- >Which is why you brought out a Sorry Stick, as a supplement to her daily beatings.
- >That sounded better in your head.
- >It was a broom handle that you found lying around in your garage.
- >You at least wrapped it in a towel to try and cushion the impact, but then she complained she couldn’t feel it through her fluff.
- >Then she would blackmail you emotionally into taking off the towel and wailing on her with all your might.
- >Sometimes you wonder who the real owner in the relationship is.
- >When she was unsatisfied she would self harm, gnawing at her hooves with her blunt teeth, and rolling around on her fluff with a determined look on her face.
- >It was adorable.
- >But it killed you inside to know she was fundamentally unhappy with her life.
- >And that brings you to today, where your plans to make her happy finally come to fruition.
- >After doing some more research and asking online, you found out there were websites dedicated to making tools for inflicting harm on fluffies.
- >No matter how popular they were though, you still felt embarrassed having your neighbours see the fluffy torture rack delivered to your house.
- >They smiled at you.
- >You scowled back.
- >But today should satisfy her for a good while.
- >You just had to focus on your little ball of joy and how happy you’d make it.
- >That sounded better in your head.
- “Candy! Come into the garage, I have a surprise for you!”
- >The sound of frantic scrabbling hooves on your hardwood surface reached your ears.
- >You could hear her sliding around the corners, bashing into walls (probably on purpose) all the while screaming, “Candy wuv suppwise! Candy wuv Daddy!”
- >She finally reaches the door to the garage and flings herself down the couple of steps that leads to the concrete floor.
- >She hits it with an adorable *pomf* and promptly complains of her tummy hurting with a huge grin on her face.
- >”Yay! Daddy!”
- “Hello, Candy. Look what Daddy has for you! It’s a rack!”
- >”Candy wemember wack! Candy wuv wack game!”
- >Really? She’s been through this before? Balls. She might not find as much pleasure in this one as you thought.
- >Seems you really have to step up your ideas next time to beat Jolly.
- >Well, she seems enthusiastic enough about this anyway. Better not disappoint.
- >You strap her into the rack, and she looks up at you expectantly from lying on her back.
- “Are you ready, Candy?”
- >She flails her legs with excitement.
- >”Candy weggies no work! Candy weady!”
- “Ok, Candy, here we go!”
- >You turn the wheel up to the first notch.
- “There you go, Candy! That’s your punishment!”
- >She’s barely feeling anything and looks up at you with unimpressed eyes.
- >”Daddy stupid! Daddy bad at game! Old daddy better!”
- >Did she just... call you bad at this?
- >Oh bitch, please.
- “Oh really, Candy? You’re insulting Daddy?”
- >Candy can see the look of intense vexation on your face and instantly lights up.
- >”Yesh! Old daddy better! New daddy rubbish at making Candy happy! Wan’ go back old Daddy! Candy hate new Daddy!” She squeals with a huge grin on her face.
- >She knows exactly what buttons to press because you don’t dignify her with a response.
- >Instead you turn the crank up another 5 notches with a sickening, muffled POP as your reward.
- >”AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Candy weggie hurt! Big ouchies! Candy sowwy!”
- >Oh shit.
- >You’ve dislocated her back leg. Seems that with her missing back leg the force was unevenly distributed and placed entirely on her remaining leg.
- >You panic and flail at her cuffs.
- >Tears are streaming down her fluffy face, and she wails with all her fluffy might.
- “Don’t worry Candy! Daddy can fix this!”
- >Free of the restraints, you pick her up by her torso. She’s crying too hard to notice.
- >You take a firm hold of her hind leg. This she notices, and she starts trying to run away with her front legs and her stump.
- >She doesn’t realise her movements are causing her more pain.
- >You’re just going to have to do this, whether she likes it or not.
- >You push hard at the socket and receive another muffled POP as the joint is realigned.
- “It’s ok, Candy. Everything’s fine now. Sshh...”
- >You stroke her mane and she calms down.
- >You can feel her little heart beating in the palm of your hand. It’s racing a mile a minute.
- >It slowly calms as her eyelids droop. She’s had quite a harrowing experience.
- >She’s drifting off to sleep now, so you take her to her safe room.
- >You set her down in her blanket nest and kiss her forehead.
- “Good night, Candy. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
- >Her eyelids flutter open for a second and her one good eye locks with yours.
- >”Fank ‘oo Daddy. Yoo betta than old Daddy.”
- >And with that she drifts off to sleep.
- >You leave her to her dreams and notice your shirt is soaking wet with tears.
- >You’re not sure whether they’re Candy’s or yours.
- >*drip*
- >Oh. They’re yours.
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