manofass

Beach Bum Anon Chapter 4: Fat Stacks

Oct 26th, 2016
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  1. >You nod dumbly as the fire quickly dims
  2. >"Well Speedy, since Trixie assumes you have no idea who we are, she will explain our purpose."
  3. >She clears her throat and places her hoof against her chest
  4. >"We noble few have made it our mission to save innocent folk from unfair persecution, primarily those forcibly imprisoned under the false pretenses of mental healing.
  5. >"The state of mental healthcare in our society is apalling, with ponies deemed undesirable thrown away to die at the whims of twisted 'doctors' who care not for the well-being of their patients.
  6. >"However, powerful figures in the aristocracy-"
  7. >It was about this time that you stopped listening
  8. >This tent was giving quite the fucked up vibe
  9. >Trixie was casting a long, angular, wicked-looking shadow on the teepee wall
  10. >The mat she sat on was striped with dark purple and black zigzags, and on either side of her fire-polioshed sticks jutted from the ground, topped off with clumps of feathers and long beaded strings
  11. >It's way too indian in here
  12. >The smell of burning hair permeated in the air, its source you assume being the incense burning to Trixie's left
  13. >A quick glance behind you reveals the tent's exit is being guarded by Glass Joe, whose dull face stares at you with the polished, unblinking eyes of a doll
  14. >An overwhelming sense of dread befalls you as you see Trixie waving her hoof in the air with her eyes closed, oblivious to your obvious disinterest and discomfort
  15. >You need to leave this place
  16. >Your eyes dart around the room as you enter an uncharacteristic silent panic
  17. >Something moves inside the fire, kicking excess ash and embers out of the hole in the teepee's conical ceiling
  18. >But it is simply a log shifting as it is burned to cinders
  19. >You glacne back at Trixie and notice a cow skull now topping the left stick
  20. >Glass Joe has yet to move an inch and Trixie is still absorbed in her speech
  21. >Something moves behind its yellowish eye sockets
  22. >A pale white liquid drops out of the nose holes, then another, then comes a steady stream, then a violent blast
  23. >Nobody else in the rooms seems to have taken interest or even noticed this
  24. >You are paralyzed with fear, your muscles refusing your instinct to run as far and as fast as you can
  25. >It forms a puddle in the dirt and the puddle soon starts rushing towards you, straight through the heat of the flames and pools around your hooves
  26. >You stare down with an open jaw, and instead of screaming you can only let out a quiet squeak
  27. >The world around you seems to spin as some shadow moves underneath the surface, the pool suddenly gaining impressive and impossible depth
  28. >A loud squelching noise breaks through the sound of the room and something large bubbles out from the liquid
  29. >The white, smiling face of the nurse from the hospital stares back at you and open its mouth to speak
  30. >Your strength returns just in time for it to moan the word "Sweetie", its voice a distorted bastardization of the nurse's
  31. >Your thoughts suddenly turn to the locket as you suddenly recall the instantaneous escape it provided you from Twilight the first time you met her
  32. >You grab it and rip it open, and just as before when you look away from the mirror glass you are sitting in the Escher house
  33. >You fall on your behind, breath heavily, then collapse and sob violently
  34.  
  35. >After an hour or so of crying, you were finally given a quiet moment to recollect your thoughts
  36. >You've had a thousand different hallucinations, auditory and visual
  37. >But nothing like that since high school
  38. >It felt too real, more real than real life
  39. >It shook you so deeply you could hardly think about it without bursting into tears again
  40. >There wasn't even anything particularly scary about the concept of what happened
  41. >Just some spooky nurse slimegirl falling out of a weird skull and saying cryptic things
  42. >But the feelings that accompanied it
  43. >You weren't even sure if they were a product of the visage or a companion of it
  44. >Maybe you really are in some form of withdrawal-induced psychosis
  45. >The thought makes you physically cringe, and you erupt into sobs
  46. >You wish Satan was here
  47. >He might do something wacky or thrust you into a horrible situation to take your mind off things
  48. >You feel tired
  49. >Odd, since you had spent a considerable amount of recent time sleeping
  50. >Too mentally exhausted to bother looking for a bed or couch, you lay your head down on the floor and cry yourself to sleep
  51.  
  52. >This time you wake to find something wrapped around you
  53. >In the pale light of a hundred moons in varying stages and colors shining through a nearby bay window which wasn't there before, you see the scaly body of a snake wrapped around your curled form
  54. >Discord/Satan's glowing yellow eyes stare at you from mere inches away, as motionless as Glass Joe's
  55. >You feel like screaming, but you also still feel like sleeping, and when one overpowers the other you lay your head back down and drift off
  56.  
  57. >It's much colder now
  58. >The window has disappeared, in its place a painting of a lollipop
  59. >Discord is nowhere to be seen, and you don't care enought to fret
  60. >Not knowing what to do, you simply sit and wait for something to happen
  61. >The room you are in has no visible purpose
  62. >A harsh yellow tile floor clashes with walls of ebony lumber
  63. >The ceiling is covered by what look like clouds, so you have no idea what it might look like
  64. >A marble fountain sprouts from the the cloud level, depicting Discord surrounded by winged cattle, all spitting out water in physics-defying upside-down arcs
  65. >Chairs and tables swirl around the edges of the room, smacking against the walls and each other
  66. >A rough, splintery, rotten dining chair lazily bumps into the back of your head before slipping back into the current with the rest
  67. >There are several new windows on a single wall, all of varying size and shape, all depicting different exteriors
  68. >One is a peaceful meadow, another is a bloody dungeon, one is a field of burning wheat
  69. >You even see one showing a massive glacier moving at an impressive speed towards you
  70. >A small puff of white eminates from your nostrils as you exhale
  71. >You wish you had a coat
  72. >There's a tall, dark wooden door at the end of the room opposite of the windows
  73. >As your eyes come to rest on it, the door creaks open barely half an inch
  74. >You can feel your nose numbing and you begin to shiver from the air's chill
  75. >You suspect Satan or whatever the fuck else is in this building is trying to forcibly guide you somewhere
  76. >You stand to gain nothing from resisting, but who the hell knows what horrors lie in wait beyond that door
  77. >A sudden loud creaking noise breaks you away from your thoughts
  78. >You look behind you to see that beyond the glacier window, the wall of ice has met with the wall of the house, all windows now blocked by the pristine snow white
  79. >Cracks have begun to form in the wood as it buckles to resist the glacier, the whole house groaning as it is assalted by the unforgiving ice
  80. >They don't stand a chance
  81. >The walls shatter like china plates and you make a dash for the door
  82. >You enter a lightless room and slam the door behind you, knowing it will likely do nothing to stop the advance of the ice but feeling obligated to do so nevertheless
  83. >The groaning has stopped, but you are still in freezing cold
  84. >A blind stumble ensues as you attempt to make your way across the mystery room
  85. >Your steps echo as if in a parking garage despite the floor feeling like dirt
  86. >You stop momentarily, to see if your eyes might adjust to some unseen light source and you could get a vague interpretation of where you are
  87. >Can't see shit, captain
  88. >You wait a while longer, then continue on your way
  89.  
  90. >Hours tick by and still you are in complete darkness
  91. >You have been walking in what you hope was a straight line the entire time, but nothing has really changed
  92. >Once you stepped on something small and oblong, but when you inspected it with your hooves, you decided it was just a rock
  93. >The echoing seems to only get louder as time passes, mocking any calls for help you make with a hint of hatred
  94.  
  95. >The locket remains lifeless in your hooves
  96. >You could swear on your life that the faintest flicker of light had shot from its silver sides
  97. >But that was several minutes ago, and has yet to happen again since
  98. >You attempted to pry it open, to use the magic mirror to send you to Satan, but it refused to budge even a centimeter
  99. >You curse loudly only for the echo to berate you with your own angry voice
  100. >You place a hoof in front of your mouth and cringe, expecting to be shocked, but remain unharmed
  101. >That is both satisfying and somewhat worrying
  102. >You spout a string of vulgarities out of curiosity without effect
  103. >However, your voice echoes back with far more venom than you put into it, and that prompts you to shut up
  104. >It's getting colder
  105.  
  106. >You take some time to rest
  107. >Your limbs have started aching and there's the beginnings of hunger pains in your stomach
  108. >You try to draw dicks in the dirt, but since you can't even see them you give up
  109. >A little while back you stubbed your hoof on another rock, and with the intensity of the cold it hurt far more than it should have
  110. >The pain still lingers, coming and going with your heartbeat
  111. >Out of boredom and to combat the terror creeping into your soul you count the throbs long enough to devise a rhythem from them
  112. >Soon enough, it fades completely, leaving your with the dirt and your thoughts
  113.  
  114. >You awoke groggy and sore from sleeping on the hard ground
  115. >The light level still hadn't changed, the approaching cold had not relented, and the echoes had settled on a volume just barely under your own voice
  116. >The hunger pains had been getting worse, too
  117. >And your mouth was dry as sawdust
  118. >You shiver and press on
  119.  
  120. >You contemplate turning back
  121. >Surely the glacier was only some sort of illusion
  122. >And Satan seemed to have some vague ulterior motive for you, so he probably won't let it crush you to death if it isn't
  123. >But what if you are getting close to wherever it is this room leads?
  124. >Maybe wherever that is will have something to eat and drink
  125. >Actually, you could no doubt find something beyond one of the windows to consume
  126. >And the ceiling had magic gravity water
  127. >Advancing this far was a foolish idea, you should turn around immediately
  128. >You decide to do just that
  129. >About three steps in and your hoof reaches for a floor that isn't there, throwing you off balance and causing you to fall on your side
  130. >You creep the same hoof across the ground and find that the dirt is cut off by a vertical drop
  131. >The bottom of which is too far down for you to feel
  132. >You walk around the edges of the drop and decide that it extends indefinitely to either side
  133. >You shake violently and swallow hard
  134. >You're going to die here, aren't you?
  135.  
  136. >You are unsure of how much time has passed
  137. >The hunger has grown almost debilitating, and occasionally the pangs of agony would force you to keel over
  138. >You collect enough dirt to make a mound to function as a crude pillow
  139. >You cry yourself to sleep yet again as the hopelessness of your situation looms over you
  140.  
  141. >Your hoof throbs with all-too-familiar pain
  142. >You've stubbed it on yet another rock
  143. >Another fucking rock
  144. >The third rock since you woke up
  145. >This is gay
  146. "This is gay!"
  147. >"This is GAY!"
  148. >The echo shouts back at you
  149. "FUCK YOU!"
  150. >"FUCK YOU!"
  151. >You can hardly recognize it as your own voice
  152. >It drips with hatred and the rage within it surpasses your frustration
  153. >But you're tired of this shit
  154. >All of your fear evaporates to be replaced with pure fury
  155. >You pick up the rock and lob it at the sky, screaming curses and threats as you do
  156. >Your voice does not echo, and the rock lands on the ground with a soft thump
  157. >You smile triumphantly until something smacks you in the mouth and sends you on your ass
  158. >You rub a cut on your lip and feel the ground for whatever hit you
  159. >It's a fucking rock
  160. >You throw it at the direction of its source, then stamp the ground and unleash a slew of swears so vulgar they would make a sailor blush
  161. >Rotten vaginas and child fucking and all that
  162. >You are hit again, this time in the forehead, and this time so hard you are knocked back several paces
  163. >Which is enough to send you toppling over the edge of the drop and screaming into the unknown
  164.  
  165. >Your body lands with a loud thump and sickening crack
  166. >There is a sharp pain in your chest as you wheeze violently, the wind knocked from your lungs
  167. >Something cold dribbles down your face and your nose detects the coppery smell of blood
  168. >Gasping for breath, you make a weak attempt to pick yourself up, only to fall and further aggrivate the deep somatic piercing in your ribs
  169. >Your eyes are forced shut by the sheer brilliance of the sudden appearance of light
  170. >You roll onto your back and wheeze for a little while longer before slipping into unconsciousness
  171.  
  172. >You remember living up in Alaska
  173. >It was when you were small, real small
  174. >Big enough that you could still remember things, but small enough that those memories couldn't be trusted, as they were muddled by time and distorted by a disconnect from your old childhood superstitions
  175. >You went with your family to see one of the glaciers
  176. >It was on a lake, so getting a closeup view required kayaking
  177. >Someone, your father you think, really wanted to touch it, just to see what it felt like
  178. >You remember getting close, seeing this titanic, godlike wall of ice right at its feet
  179. >You stared up at its face, seeing it stretch into the heavens to mingle with angels
  180. >You felt like touching it would disturb the dormant beast and invoke its wrath
  181. >Your father rubbed the side, someone whistled and said "Wow," and little baby Anon had begun to cry
  182.  
  183. >"Sklort will show you to the tent."
  184. >Trixie's voice snaps you out of your stupor
  185. >You look up at her and then around at the teepee
  186. >You don't know what to think
  187. >Something grunts behind you and you turn to face Glass Joe, or Sklort, who beckons for you to follow
  188. >You comply and he begins leading you to the back of the cult compound to a tent larger than the rest
  189. >It looks like one of those military tents that soldiers might eat in or go to get limbs amputated
  190. >Standing at the entrance of the tent is Monster Mash, who is now holding a sleeping bag and pillow
  191. >She waves at you and Sklort departs wordlessly
  192. >You towards her and she stuffs the ragged fabrics into your chest, and you take them in your leg
  193. >"These are yours. C'mon, you better claim a spot now so you don't have to lug that around camp all day."
  194. >She pushes open the tent flap and takes you inside
  195. >It smells of sweat and urine
  196. >Very few ponies are here despite a fuckton of sleeping bags strewn about the floor, which is a thin plastic tarp that has torn in some places
  197. >Unlike outside, inside all of the ponies are either rocking in place or aggressively mashing their hooves together, creating a sort of broken rhythem from the clopping sounds
  198. >You find a spot somewhere in the center and lay down your things
  199. >Thankfully yours is denoted by three large blue stripes sewn across the bag's exterior, and the rest are all marked with their own unique patterns and colors so there is little chance you'll be sleeping in someone else's piss tonight
  200. >Just as your thoughts begin drifting back to the miserable escapade in the darkness, Monster Mash speaks up
  201. >"You should get introduced to some of the family, since you'll be sleeping with most of us tonight."
  202. "Most?"
  203. >"Some of us have individual tents that we've either bought or made ourselves, me included."
  204. "Oh."
  205. >You are taken back outside and to the sizable bonfire, where a collection of unwashed treehuggers, grizzled foresters and the horribly deformed
  206. >There are tie-dye bandanas, long white beards and one harelipped stallion with so many excess teeth his lips can't shut properly
  207. >It's like that time you accidentally walked into the retarded classroom in high school
  208. >Except instead of screaming and hitting each other like tendies do, these folk are just sitting around, enjoying small talk
  209. >"What's up, guys?"
  210. >They break from their conversations and look over at Monster Mash
  211. >"'Sup, Mash. And who might you be?"
  212. >A yellow mare with slightly bulging eyes and dreadlocks responds, setting her expressionless gaze on you
  213. >You open your mouth to speak, stop, close it, and look into the fire
  214. >"This is Speedy, he's just joined the family."
  215. >"Hi, Speedy."
  216. >They say in unison, sending shivers down your spine
  217. >Mash keeps calling it a 'family,' lending further credibility to your suspicions of cultly activities
  218. >Either that, or some stoner conclave for former carnies, since a good chunk of the ponies you've seen look like they'd be found in a midnight monster picture
  219. >Maybe Trixie had actually given you an explanation, but you in your terribly mindfuck vision had tuned it all out
  220. >Perhaps that incense in the teepee was some sort of mystic chinese drug
  221. >Maybe you've just lost your marbles
  222. >"Sho, what did the /man/ deem you guilty of? Thinking the wrong way? Looking too different? Or did shome fuckin' shadisht doctor jusht pull you off the shtreet?"
  223. >The green snaggletoothed cunt hisses, his voice full of bitterness
  224. "Well, I..."
  225. >You've forgotten what got you there in the first place
  226. >Something about Nazis and wrestling
  227. >...
  228. >Right, your daring escape from Unit 731
  229. "Okay, so there were these Japanese Nazi horses who had no idea how to counter a turnbuckle high-flyer dropkick-"
  230.  
  231. >Your new companions are quite sociable
  232. >Timber, the guy with all the teeth, gave you a lecture about all the evils of the medical world, and you found that the two of you had a lot in common
  233. >Hodgepodge, an aptly named mare whose coat and mane were s comprised of all sorts of pigments (though mainly baby shit green), and whose limbs were all of inconsistent length, led you all in a song about nature and peace on earth n shit
  234. >She actually has a lovely voice
  235. >Some green lady in a doo-rag and red dreadlocks, who you later learned was named Tree Hugger, wove you a wicker basket and seemed only to grin and giggle
  236. >The night was surprisingly pleasent, even though when supper came around you secretly dumped out your rations of onion soup in the bushes on suspicion they might be drugged
  237. >Trixie introduced you to the whole camp over said supper, after which you all drank moonshine and the rest of the night is a blur of drum beating, chanting and dancing by the fire
  238. >The fire itself was later fueled by a managerie of funky herbs and fungi, putting most of you in a pleasant daze that lasted seemingly forever
  239. >Your final memory is the lot of you howling at the full moon and laughing at yourselves
  240. >Overall, it was a 10/10 night, which made the discovery of Hodgepodge's mangled corpse in the surrounding woods the next morning all the more unpleasant
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