Title:           Losing Her Luster (3/3)
Author:          Mayclore
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/MpKfDGQQ
First Edit:      Friday 3rd of August 2012 08:10:57 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Friday 3rd of August 2012 08:10:57 PM CDT

>Aura had been crying for punishment at various volumes all night while in the safe room.
>And she still is.
>”Sawah, pwease sowwy stick...”
>Your cousin is over, sitting on your couch.
>Aura is in her lap, trembling and sniffling.
>”You haven't done anything bad, Aura.”
>”Auwa am bad fwuffy, neva haf babehs, wan' sowwy stick...”
>”Tiffany, what did you do to her?”
>You smirk widely as you come back from the kitchen and sit down.
“I might have had a little fun with her.”
>”Fun, huh.  It must be grand, having something you can mentally torment.”
“Hey, ya asked for a less than positive experience.”
>”Pwease sowwy stick!  No wan' wive now!”
>You both blink and look at Aura as she jumps off the couch and starts waddling around.
>”Sowwy stick?  Whewe sowwy stick?  Pwease gif, Auwa bad fwuffy!”
>”These things understand death?”
>You hear a thunk; she's found the bat.
>Slowly, she drags it in front of the couch and drops it.
>”Sowwy stick pwease!”
>”This is new.  It usually takes a ton of physical damage before a fluffy wants to bite it.”
>You smile down at Aura, who just frowns back up.
“So...ya learn whatcha wanted to?”
>”I think I have.  It's up to Lucy for the rest.”
>”Why no gif sowwy stick?!  Auwa wust fwuffy!”
>Sarah looks down at the pleading alicorn, then over to you.
>”There is one more thing I'm curious about...”
“Yeah?”
>”How much physical damage they can take.”
>Ten minutes later, you're out in the backyard, the bat in hand.
>Sarah, not wanting to get her new tank top dirty, stands well clear.
>You, on the other hand, have on an old white shirt and jeans.  You don't care either way.
“All right, Aura.  Ya still want the sorry stick?”
>She lays on her stomach just in front of your feet, trembling and crying.
>”Tiffn'y scawy, Auwa no wike, pwease no sowwy stick...”
“Can't change your mind now, kid.”
>You raise the gleaming bat over your head.
>Aura actually gets the notion to run, so you have to bring it down fast.
>The bat catches her on the rear, where her hips connect.  There's a solid crack.
>”OWWIES!  WHY HUWT AUWA, WHY SOWWY STICK?” she wails, dragging herself along the ground as she tries to get away.
>”Huh, she's still alive.”
>Alive and screeching in pain.  You follow her as she hauls her useless back half around.
>Some of her shimmering fluff is not so shiny anymore, stained with red and brown.
>”Pwease no mo' huwt Auwa, Auwa sowwy, Auwa no wan' sowwy stick, Auwa no wan'!”
“Ya spent the whole night begging me for it.”
>”Sowwy stick bad!  Sowwy stick gif big owwies to Auwa!  No wike now!”
>You slam it down on her left rear leg to see if she can still feel.
>Yep.  She shrieks in agony and shits herself.
>Her forelegs scramble desperately for traction on the grass.
“Ya begged Sarah for the sorry stick, too.  And now ya don't want it?”
>”No wan',” she hiccups and sobs, “Auwa goo' fwuffy, pwease no mo' owwies...”
>You crush her rear right leg next.  Her asshole twitches, but her bowels have nothing left to give.
>”Awfully stout...for a fluffy pony.”
>”Pwease stop!  Auwa do anyfin'!  Auwa sowwy!  Auwa sowwy!”
>You and Sarah look at each other.
>”A fluffy pony that knows how to bargain?”
>A huge grin appears on your face, but Sarah waves a hand.
>A sign she just wants you to get it over with.
>Fuck her, you'll take as long as you like.
>”Tiffn'y no gif owwies now?” Aura asks, her voice wavering.
>In response, you kick her over onto her back.
>”Nuuuuu!  Why gif mo' owwies?!”
>You slam the bat down onto her lower torso.
>An arc of piss shoots out, as does a spurt of blood from her mouth that reaches your clothes.
>”Huuuurrgga...waraaglge...”
“Damn!  Still not dead!”
>”Are you losing your touch?”
>You glare at Sarah, but she just smirks back.
>”Come on, end it.  I have to go see how Lucy's doing.”
>You begin beating Aura like a rented mule.
>”Huguwiririraa!  Waaaggaaa!”
>Hit her again.
>”Aaaogg!  Huuuu!”
>And again.
>”Waaahh oooooo huuhuhuhuhuhuuu!”
>And again.
>”...waaagh...wawa...gah...”
>And again.
>”Woo...wooga...nuu...nuuu...”
>And again.
>”...huu...huuuuu..”
>And again.
>She says nothing else, finally, but she still twitches and convulses on the grass.
>Sarah gives you an odd look.
>You look down; your clothes are splattered with red, and the bat itself is drenched.
>Aura has been pummeled into a dull, brownish-red pulp.
>Somehow, she still draws breath.
>”I think I've seen enough.”
>You lean on the bat like a cane, wiping your brow with your left arm.
“Durable little fucker.”
>”Feel better?  You look like Michael Myers.”
“I sure do.  I take it ya learned whatcha needed?”
>”Oh, yes.  I learned just how much punishment they can take...”
>You look at her when you hear her trail off.
“And?”
>”I've certainly learned to keep you away from them.  I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
>Damn it...back to regular fluffies, it seems.
>As a small measure of revenge, you decide not to tell Sarah about the blood she got on her cheek.
>That should make things interesting when she tries to explain it to Lucy.
>After she leaves, you change clothes and go for a walk.
>You're feeling a little mopey.  Alicorns were fun.
>Suddenly, you hear a low ”Mumma...”
>You look in the grassy space between two houses.
>Under a gardenia bush is a blue puffy clump.
>A small purple clump and a small green clump are next to it.
>”Mumma, scawed, fwuffy hung'y...”
>A dead pegasus dam and two older-looking pegasus foals lay on the ground.
>There are two more foals nearby, but they're lifeless, baked in the sun.
>”Mumma!  Hewp!  Munsta!” they cry, trying to hide in her fluff.  They're too big.
“Are you hungry?”
>”...nummies?” the purple one asks, shuffling over hesitantly.
>You gently pick her up.
“Do ya want a mommy?”
>They both start chirping happily, already forgetting their dead mother, even though she's right behind them.
>”Mommy gif nummies?  Mommy gif wuv an' huggies?”
“I sure will.”
>You pick up the other foal.
>They hug themselves to your chest, babbling inanely about their new mommy.
>If they looked up, they might question the wicked smile on your face.