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# Braeburn's Unfortunate Adventure

By: Saatchi on Jan 8th, 2013 | syntax: None | size: 13.21 KB | hits: 309 | expires: Never
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1. Braeburn trotted down the corridors of Canterlot castle, something that was proving to be an incredible feat. Obviously it wasn’t for a small pony, but the circumstances that Braeburn found himself in, made it seem much more incredible. You see, he had been the subject of a practical joke played on him by his cousin, in revenge for an earlier ‘prank’ he had played on the dragon, Spike. The prank had involved him being shrunken down and left to fend for himself against the regular sized ponies. He’d briefly escaped, leaving them to wonder where he had gone, and disappeared into the castle, in the hopes of finding the Princesses and maybe some salvation. He was certain he’d heard the Princesses’ voices coming from down his current hallway, but he’d reached the final door on the corridor, and he hadn’t heard it since he began walking.
3. He guessed that he might as well make his way inside, for all he knew the Princesses were just being quiet. He pushed against the door and it slowly slid open, though not without giving plenty of resistance. It dragged itself against the carpeted floor, slowly but surely opening up to reveal the room inside. Not wanting to waste all of his energy, Braeburn slipped through a crack in the door and entered into the room. His eyes darted forward and they were instantly greeted with the four sets of hooves, two white and two blue. He glanced upwards to find that he had entered into a private meeting between Shining Armour, who was dressed in his full guard ensemble, minus his helmet, and Soarin’ the Wonderbolt, though he wasn't wearing the suit that proved that title. He’d heard about this Shining Armour character, if he recalled correctly, he was Captain of the Royal Guard, he’d be able to get the tiny pony to the Princesses.
5. He hurriedly galloped forwards, heading straight for Soarin’s back hooves, hoping to dive through them and into the safety of Shining Armour’s hooves. Unfortunately things never work out that well, especially in situations like this. As Braeburn neared Soarin’s hind hooves, the titanic pony shifted a little. He raised on of his hind hooves and took a step backwards with it, backing up away from Shining Armour, and toward the tiny pony behind him. Braeburn looked up, a shadow starting to form around him in an almost cartoonlike fashion. The huge, blue hoof lowered at an alarming pace, and Braeburn could feel his legs starting to knock together. He was frightened, understandably so, his life was about to be ended by a giant hoof, and he had no chance of escape. He started to back away, his hooves making the smallest steps, small enough to almost be classed as shuffling. His hooves kicked into one another, sending him tumbling towards the floor, sealing his fate.
7. The giant hoof came down on him with the force of a thousand bricks, dropped from the top of the castle. It smashed into his tiny body, crushing him against the floor, sandwiching him between the floor and the strange squishiness of his hoof. The wind was propelled from Braeburn’s body; and his innards were subjected to insurmountable pressure, forcing them to the extremities of his head and his rear. He gasped for breath, forcing himself against the hoof, trying to make a little bit of room for him to be able to breathe. Soarin’ put the rest of his weight down on the poor pony, pinning Braeburn to the floor, allowing for no movement whatsoever. Braeburn screamed at the top of his lungs, hoping that they would hear him. He could feel the hoof squeezing against his head, pushing down and down on his head. He winced as he accepted his fate; he just hoped it would be over quickly, he didn’t want it to be drawn out.
9. “Man, this carpet is awful to stand on. Can we hurry this up?” asked Soarin’ as he stood face to face with Shining Armour.
11. “You don’t like the carpet? Try telling that to Cadance, she went through four different designs of it, before she picked this one,” replied Shining Armour.
13. “Heh, mares eh?”
15. “Yeah, anyway let’s get down to business; you’re the acting captain of the Wonderbolts, correct?”
17. Soarin’ eased off the pressure on Braeburn as he shifted his hoof a little. Light pierced through the gap under the raised hoof, stinging Braeburn’s eyes. He scrabbled towards it, clawing at the carpet, pulling himself forward. He cried out in frustration as he realised his legs were still pinned by the hoof. That cry soon turned into a cry of pain as Soarin’ dug the front rim of his hoof into Braeburn’s legs. All the pressure that he had previously felt rush straight to the extremities of his body, rushed back down to his legs, to even out, whilst that which was stuck at his lower legs felt like it was ready to burst out. He whimpered, this wasn’t quick, this was proving to be painful and long winded.
19. “Whilst Spitfire is out of Canterlot on business, I’m the acting captain, yes,” replied Soarin’.
21. “Excellent, look it’s coming up to the Royal Guard’s annual celebration of service, and I’m trying to get some of the events settled,” continued Shining Armour.
23. “Y’know the Wonderbolts already perform at these things right?”
25. Soarin’ slammed his hoof down onto Braeburn once more, this time with his full weight. Braeburn’s vision blackened as his head collided with the floor once more, causing him to grunt in pain. He felt himself being pushed into the soft sole of the hoof, his body becoming clammy as he warmed up in the enclosed space. He could feel himself being stuck to the hoof as the pressure increased upon him. He refused to struggle now, it was both tiring and pointless, and nobody would find him, not until it was too late.
27. “I know, but I was thinking something more personal than that, something more than just a quick flyover.”
29. “Ugh, there’s something wrong with this carpet, can we discuss this somewhere else?” groaned Soarin’.
31. “The dining hall is just next door; would you prefer to continue this talk there? I should mention that there’s no carpet in there, just hardwood floor,” retorted Shining Armour.
33. Soarin’ nodded and he took another step backwards, turning himself to the side, so as to allow Shining Armour to pass by him. The duo made their way out of the room, Braeburn still stuck to Soarin’s hoof, his body being flattened with each passing step. He groaned repeatedly, as he struggled to breathe. Each time Soarin’s hoof connected with the floor, whatever air he had managed to inhale was knocked from him, meaning he had to recover it again the next time the hoof was lifted. Of course whatever air he managed to inhale was barely used before the cycle repeated itself again. He much preferred it when he was stuck being pinned between the hoof and the carpet. His mind begged for them to stop, but his mouth didn’t get a second to allow it to speak his mind. He wheezed and spluttered as he struggled to breathe, his body was fast approaching its critical point. He wondered how he had survived this long, whether it was because of the prank he was supposed to be enduring, or whether or not some sort of cosmic force just wanted to see him tortured. Surprisingly, his luck appeared to hold and he caught a momentary break as Soarin’ stopped mid stride upon their entry into the dining room. As he hung there, he felt gravity take its course, and he slowly began to peel away from the hoof.
35. He flopped from the hoof, just centimetres from a nearby chair, and lay there, panting heavily. Each breath stung his innards, almost like he had ingested tonnes of broken glass. He steadily got to his hooves, making a feeble attempt at reaching for the chair. He figured that if he could summon the last of his strength, he could ascend the chair and get the attention of one of the bigger ponies. He staggered forward, his breathing becoming ragged and slow; he stared up at the climb ahead of him.
37. “Hey Shining, do you mind if I sit down? That carpet really did a number on my hooves…”
39. Shining Armour dismissed his request with a single wave of the hoof, signalling that he didn’t mind either way, as long as they could discuss business. Soarin’ pulled a chair out from the table, hoisting his rump into the air, so that he could plant it firmly on the seat. Unfortunately, he kept his vision on Shining Armour, expecting him to begin speaking to him again; this resulted in his aim being off by just a small bit. His rump came crashing down to the floor, which doesn’t seem like much of a problem for him or Shining Armour, but for a particular tiny stallion, things were going to get much worse than they were. Braeburn glanced up, his vision now showing less of the actual chair, and more of the massive, blue, backside of Soarin’, as it came crashing down on the tiny pony.
41. “Soarin’! Are you alright?!” exclaimed Shining Armour, rushing to the side of his associate.
43. “Yeah, it’s ok, I’m fine, nothing broken, I think,” replied the Wonderbolt.
45. Shining Armour extended a hoof to Soarin’ pulling him up onto his hooves and steadying him, just to make sure he got his balance back. Once Soarin’ had steadied himself, he carefully sat himself down on the chair. He gestured to Shining Armour to continue with the negotiations, as he shifted his rump from side to side, nursing a few of the sore spots. He grimaced as he rubbed himself against the chair, seeking to ease the pain, rather than increase it, though it appeared it was having the other effect.
47. “So, you want a personal show for the Royal Guard?” asked Soarin’.
49. As the conversation continued, Braeburn became more focused on where he actually was. At first he’d thought he’d passed out, but as he blinked a few times and realised that he was actually awake, the reality began to dawn on him. He was stuck to the backside of Soarin’, pressed between his toned cheeks and the hardwood of the chair. As Soarin’ rubbed his rump against the chair, Braeburn felt his body being stretched from side to side. The left half of his body was pulled one way, whilst the right half was pulled away from the left. To him it seemed as though his miniscule body would be torn asunder. He could feel every fibre in his being splitting at the middle, similar to a piece of patchwork being put under intense stress. His head was forced against the chair, one side of his face buried deep in the slightly clammy buttcheeks of a stallion, and the other pressed firmly against the hard chair.
51. “Well not just a personal show, something new, something interesting, something that hasn’t been shown before. I want it to be a real treat for them,”
53. Braeburn could feel that familiar pressure building up in his head, that intolerable build up, tonnes and tonnes of raw flesh and bone were weighing down on him, and his poor little skull was feeling the pressure. He gulped, and felt his saliva course down his throat, swashing down his throat, as it was pulled in all directions. He closed his eyes, this was it, it was going to be a gory end, but at least he would know peace from the torturous evils that he had endured.
55. Suddenly everything stopped.
57. He could hear them talking, but the grinding had ceased, in fact he felt the pressure lighten up a little, starting to take him with it. He couldn’t bear to endure anymore, so in a bout of quick thinking, he decided to use his environment to his advantage. As he was brought higher and higher, he started to wriggle more in the confined space. He could feel his body coating itself in tiny droplets of moisture, albeit foul smelling and unpleasant moisture, but moisture nonetheless. He wriggled around on Soarin’s butt, marvelling as he started to descend, rather than follow the butt, which was headed upwards. Once the top of this body slipped free from the blue backside, the rest of his body quickly followed after, thanks to the generated momentum. He landed with a sofy bump against the chair, and just sighed happily, glad that something had finally gone right for a change.
59. “So is it all settled then?” inquired Soarin’.
61. “Yes, I think that will be suitable, thank you, Soarin’,” replied Shining Armour.
63. Soarin’ nodded and made a hasty exit, leaving Shining Armour behind to clean up after him. Shining Armour gave a quick tut as he crossed over to Soarin’s chair proceeding to tuck it back under the table. His actions halted as he noticed something odd sitting on the chair, lying flat out and glistening somewhat in the light. He cupped the tiny creature in his hooves and brought it to his face, his eyes widening at what he saw. He brought it up to his muzzle and gently began to breathe onto the creature, which he now saw was a tiny pony. The warmth of his breath elicited a reaction from the tiny pony; it raised a hoof shakily, and muttered something in a hushed tone.
65. “Just…take me to…the Princesses…” muttered Braeburn.
67. “The Princesses, why do you want to see them?” asked Shining Armour.
69. Braeburn didn’t answer, he had no strength left, and he could even move the tiniest muscle in his body. He just lay there, and thankfully for him, his actions spoke louder than his words ever could. Shining Armour called out to the tiny pony again, but upon discovering that he wasn’t getting any replies, he slipped the tiny pony into a gap in his armour and set off at pace for the throne room.

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Braeburn trotted down the corridors of Canterlot castle, something that was proving to be an incredible feat. Obviously it wasn’t for a small pony, but the circumstances that Braeburn found himself in, made it seem much more incredible. You see, he had been the subject of a practical joke played on him by his cousin, in revenge for an earlier ‘prank’ he had played on the dragon, Spike. The prank had involved him being shrunken down and left to fend for himself against the regular sized ponies. He’d briefly escaped, leaving them to wonder where he had gone, and disappeared into the castle, in the hopes of finding the Princesses and maybe some salvation. He was certain he’d heard the Princesses’ voices coming from down his current hallway, but he’d reached the final door on the corridor, and he hadn’t heard it since he began walking. He guessed that he might as well make his way inside, for all he knew the Princesses were just being quiet. He pushed against the door and it slowly slid open, though not without giving plenty of resistance. It dragged itself against the carpeted floor, slowly but surely opening up to reveal the room inside. Not wanting to waste all of his energy, Braeburn slipped through a crack in the door and entered into the room. His eyes darted forward and they were instantly greeted with the four sets of hooves, two white and two blue. He glanced upwards to find that he had entered into a private meeting between Shining Armour, who was dressed in his full guard ensemble, minus his helmet, and Soarin’ the Wonderbolt, though he wasn't wearing the suit that proved that title. He’d heard about this Shining Armour character, if he recalled correctly, he was Captain of the Royal Guard, he’d be able to get the tiny pony to the Princesses. He hurriedly galloped forwards, heading straight for Soarin’s back hooves, hoping to dive through them and into the safety of Shining Armour’s hooves. Unfortunately things never work out that well, especially in situations like this. As Braeburn neared Soarin’s hind hooves, the titanic pony shifted a little. He raised on of his hind hooves and took a step backwards with it, backing up away from Shining Armour, and toward the tiny pony behind him. Braeburn looked up, a shadow starting to form around him in an almost cartoonlike fashion. The huge, blue hoof lowered at an alarming pace, and Braeburn could feel his legs starting to knock together. He was frightened, understandably so, his life was about to be ended by a giant hoof, and he had no chance of escape. He started to back away, his hooves making the smallest steps, small enough to almost be classed as shuffling. His hooves kicked into one another, sending him tumbling towards the floor, sealing his fate. The giant hoof came down on him with the force of a thousand bricks, dropped from the top of the castle. It smashed into his tiny body, crushing him against the floor, sandwiching him between the floor and the strange squishiness of his hoof. The wind was propelled from Braeburn’s body; and his innards were subjected to insurmountable pressure, forcing them to the extremities of his head and his rear. He gasped for breath, forcing himself against the hoof, trying to make a little bit of room for him to be able to breathe. Soarin’ put the rest of his weight down on the poor pony, pinning Braeburn to the floor, allowing for no movement whatsoever. Braeburn screamed at the top of his lungs, hoping that they would hear him. He could feel the hoof squeezing against his head, pushing down and down on his head. He winced as he accepted his fate; he just hoped it would be over quickly, he didn’t want it to be drawn out. “Man, this carpet is awful to stand on. Can we hurry this up?” asked Soarin’ as he stood face to face with Shining Armour. “You don’t like the carpet? Try telling that to Cadance, she went through four different designs of it, before she picked this one,” replied Shining Armour. “Heh, mares eh?” “Yeah, anyway let’s get down to business; you’re the acting captain of the Wonderbolts, correct?” Soarin’ eased off the pressure on Braeburn as he shifted his hoof a little. Light pierced through the gap under the raised hoof, stinging Braeburn’s eyes. He scrabbled towards it, clawing at the carpet, pulling himself forward. He cried out in frustration as he realised his legs were still pinned by the hoof. That cry soon turned into a cry of pain as Soarin’ dug the front rim of his hoof into Braeburn’s legs. All the pressure that he had previously felt rush straight to the extremities of his body, rushed back down to his legs, to even out, whilst that which was stuck at his lower legs felt like it was ready to burst out. He whimpered, this wasn’t quick, this was proving to be painful and long winded. “Whilst Spitfire is out of Canterlot on business, I’m the acting captain, yes,” replied Soarin’. “Excellent, look it’s coming up to the Royal Guard’s annual celebration of service, and I’m trying to get some of the events settled,” continued Shining Armour. “Y’know the Wonderbolts already perform at these things right?” Soarin’ slammed his hoof down onto Braeburn once more, this time with his full weight. Braeburn’s vision blackened as his head collided with the floor once more, causing him to grunt in pain. He felt himself being pushed into the soft sole of the hoof, his body becoming clammy as he warmed up in the enclosed space. He could feel himself being stuck to the hoof as the pressure increased upon him. He refused to struggle now, it was both tiring and pointless, and nobody would find him, not until it was too late. “I know, but I was thinking something more personal than that, something more than just a quick flyover.” “Ugh, there’s something wrong with this carpet, can we discuss this somewhere else?” groaned Soarin’. “The dining hall is just next door; would you prefer to continue this talk there? I should mention that there’s no carpet in there, just hardwood floor,” retorted Shining Armour. Soarin’ nodded and he took another step backwards, turning himself to the side, so as to allow Shining Armour to pass by him. The duo made their way out of the room, Braeburn still stuck to Soarin’s hoof, his body being flattened with each passing step. He groaned repeatedly, as he struggled to breathe. Each time Soarin’s hoof connected with the floor, whatever air he had managed to inhale was knocked from him, meaning he had to recover it again the next time the hoof was lifted. Of course whatever air he managed to inhale was barely used before the cycle repeated itself again. He much preferred it when he was stuck being pinned between the hoof and the carpet. His mind begged for them to stop, but his mouth didn’t get a second to allow it to speak his mind. He wheezed and spluttered as he struggled to breathe, his body was fast approaching its critical point. He wondered how he had survived this long, whether it was because of the prank he was supposed to be enduring, or whether or not some sort of cosmic force just wanted to see him tortured. Surprisingly, his luck appeared to hold and he caught a momentary break as Soarin’ stopped mid stride upon their entry into the dining room. As he hung there, he felt gravity take its course, and he slowly began to peel away from the hoof. He flopped from the hoof, just centimetres from a nearby chair, and lay there, panting heavily. Each breath stung his innards, almost like he had ingested tonnes of broken glass. He steadily got to his hooves, making a feeble attempt at reaching for the chair. He figured that if he could summon the last of his strength, he could ascend the chair and get the attention of one of the bigger ponies. He staggered forward, his breathing becoming ragged and slow; he stared up at the climb ahead of him. “Hey Shining, do you mind if I sit down? That carpet really did a number on my hooves…” Shining Armour dismissed his request with a single wave of the hoof, signalling that he didn’t mind either way, as long as they could discuss business. Soarin’ pulled a chair out from the table, hoisting his rump into the air, so that he could plant it firmly on the seat. Unfortunately, he kept his vision on Shining Armour, expecting him to begin speaking to him again; this resulted in his aim being off by just a small bit. His rump came crashing down to the floor, which doesn’t seem like much of a problem for him or Shining Armour, but for a particular tiny stallion, things were going to get much worse than they were. Braeburn glanced up, his vision now showing less of the actual chair, and more of the massive, blue, backside of Soarin’, as it came crashing down on the tiny pony. “Soarin’! Are you alright?!” exclaimed Shining Armour, rushing to the side of his associate. “Yeah, it’s ok, I’m fine, nothing broken, I think,” replied the Wonderbolt. Shining Armour extended a hoof to Soarin’ pulling him up onto his hooves and steadying him, just to make sure he got his balance back. Once Soarin’ had steadied himself, he carefully sat himself down on the chair. He gestured to Shining Armour to continue with the negotiations, as he shifted his rump from side to side, nursing a few of the sore spots. He grimaced as he rubbed himself against the chair, seeking to ease the pain, rather than increase it, though it appeared it was having the other effect. “So, you want a personal show for the Royal Guard?” asked Soarin’. As the conversation continued, Braeburn became more focused on where he actually was. At first he’d thought he’d passed out, but as he blinked a few times and realised that he was actually awake, the reality began to dawn on him. He was stuck to the backside of Soarin’, pressed between his toned cheeks and the hardwood of the chair. As Soarin’ rubbed his rump against the chair, Braeburn felt his body being stretched from side to side. The left half of his body was pulled one way, whilst the right half was pulled away from the left. To him it seemed as though his miniscule body would be torn asunder. He could feel every fibre in his being splitting at the middle, similar to a piece of patchwork being put under intense stress. His head was forced against the chair, one side of his face buried deep in the slightly clammy buttcheeks of a stallion, and the other pressed firmly against the hard chair. “Well not just a personal show, something new, something interesting, something that hasn’t been shown before. I want it to be a real treat for them,” Braeburn could feel that familiar pressure building up in his head, that intolerable build up, tonnes and tonnes of raw flesh and bone were weighing down on him, and his poor little skull was feeling the pressure. He gulped, and felt his saliva course down his throat, swashing down his throat, as it was pulled in all directions. He closed his eyes, this was it, it was going to be a gory end, but at least he would know peace from the torturous evils that he had endured. Suddenly everything stopped. He could hear them talking, but the grinding had ceased, in fact he felt the pressure lighten up a little, starting to take him with it. He couldn’t bear to endure anymore, so in a bout of quick thinking, he decided to use his environment to his advantage. As he was brought higher and higher, he started to wriggle more in the confined space. He could feel his body coating itself in tiny droplets of moisture, albeit foul smelling and unpleasant moisture, but moisture nonetheless. He wriggled around on Soarin’s butt, marvelling as he started to descend, rather than follow the butt, which was headed upwards. Once the top of this body slipped free from the blue backside, the rest of his body quickly followed after, thanks to the generated momentum. He landed with a sofy bump against the chair, and just sighed happily, glad that something had finally gone right for a change. “So is it all settled then?” inquired Soarin’. “Yes, I think that will be suitable, thank you, Soarin’,” replied Shining Armour. Soarin’ nodded and made a hasty exit, leaving Shining Armour behind to clean up after him. Shining Armour gave a quick tut as he crossed over to Soarin’s chair proceeding to tuck it back under the table. His actions halted as he noticed something odd sitting on the chair, lying flat out and glistening somewhat in the light. He cupped the tiny creature in his hooves and brought it to his face, his eyes widening at what he saw. He brought it up to his muzzle and gently began to breathe onto the creature, which he now saw was a tiny pony. The warmth of his breath elicited a reaction from the tiny pony; it raised a hoof shakily, and muttered something in a hushed tone. “Just…take me to…the Princesses…” muttered Braeburn. “The Princesses, why do you want to see them?” asked Shining Armour. Braeburn didn’t answer, he had no strength left, and he could even move the tiniest muscle in his body. He just lay there, and thankfully for him, his actions spoke louder than his words ever could. Shining Armour called out to the tiny pony again, but upon discovering that he wasn’t getting any replies, he slipped the tiny pony into a gap in his armour and set off at pace for the throne room.