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Idea #2 - Pudding (Flutterrape/Gore sort of)

By: Shiggler on Jul 14th, 2013 | syntax: None | size: 7.32 KB | hits: 46 | expires: Never

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A Flock of Yorkshire Puddings: Why not
Anon is sick and tired by Fluttershy and eventfully he's goes psycho on Fluttershy's pets and kills them all but acts like nothing has happened
>KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK
>It's fucking 5am.
>If it's that fucking p0ny again...
>From the door, a quiet voice.
>”A-anon? D-do you want to see something special?”
>You can barely make out the sound of dripping.
>...
>You let out an intense roar.
>This is the last time Jaundicesilent wakes you up at this ungodly hour.
“GET THE FUCKING ASSBLASTING FUCK OUT OF HERE YOU SHITTING ANTICLIMACTIC PISSBITCH OR SO HELP ME I WILL FUCKING SLICE OUT YOUR ROTTED GENITALS AND FEED THEM TO YOUR NEUROTIC CUNTDUNKED ANIMALS!”
>Hearing a mix between squealing and crying, you're satisfied she's gone.
>This is the last fucking straw.
>12 full MONTHS of that goddamn yellow cunt showing up at Stupid O'Clock every day.
>You're practically vomiting out insomnia by now.
>Well, no more.
>In your head, horrific plans begin to formulate in your head...
>What's the one thing Fluttershite cares for more than your dock?
>...Her animals.
>Getting out pen and paper, you begin to write down ideas.
STEP 1: STALK
>Following in Fluttershy's footsteps and following someone around P0nyville was something you never thought you'd be doing
>But it is necessary.
>You need to know her daily routine in order to complete your plan.
>You look at the scrawl of words on your notepad
>”FEEDS ANIMALS, MEETS RARITY AT SPA, EAT AT SUGARCUBE CORNER, HOME AGAIN”
>Sneakily hiding in a bush, you see something you wish you hadn't.
>”A-angel Bunny, don't worry...”
>What is she...?
>”MEEP”
>Oh god. Oh GOD.
>She's molesting the poor fucking creature.
>Into the notepad it goes.
>”RAPES RABBIT”
>Trying not to vomit, you wait until you think the whole sordid affair is over.
>Wow, is it that time already?
>The sun has almost set behind you.
>The yellow p0ny goes inside, presumably to sleep.
>”BEDTIME.”
STEP 2: SUPPLIES
>It's a lucky thing nobody in this odd place questions you when you have a need for an assortment of dangerous objects.
>On your list is as follows:
>Sledgehammer, rope, wood, scissors, knife, string, glue, nails, nail gun.
>This plan is so convoluted.
>Your cart in tow, you go up to individual stalls and buy the things you need.
>As you go about Equinetown, the supplies draw a few confused stares.
>You wave to the ones who look most bamboozled.
>They wave back, with nervous smiles on their frightened faces.
>They'll know why they should be frightened, soon.
>But for now you have to set everything in motion.
>The walk back home was largely uneventful.
>No-one asked anything, no-one got in your way
>Now, to assemble these contraptions.
>Night falls.
>Outside Fluttershy's home, you set down one of the traps near her chicken coop.
>It'll come crushing down in the morning.
>At the spa, another one.
>You gather almost all of her filthy rodents together, and hang them high up in a rope-net.
>Sugarcube Corner is next on your checklist.
>Cutting into a cake labelled “FLUTTERSHY”, you place a dead squirrel with its throat slit inside.
>You place it into a box.
>She has finally fucking broken you.
>Compelled to kill animals?
>First signs of a serial killer, they say.
>Oh well! Back to traumatising small yellow horse.
>You'll have to wait till tomorrow to execute the final stage of your plan.
>And now, with dead animals on your mind, you go to sleep.
>Wake up.
>Your bedsheets are stained.
>...Why did dead animals do that?
>No matter, today's the day!
>The day where you finally crush Fluttershy's puny brain for good.
>A smile plays itself upon your lips.
STEP 3: START
>Walking outside, you sniff at the air.
>Perfect scent for what will play out to be a perfect day.
>Walking with a bounce in your step, you say hello to p0nies passing you.
>They smile back at you warmly.
>You look like a cheery fucking cunt.
>So cheery that if you saw yourself, you'd fucking punch that dumb cheery face.
>But alas, you'll never have to worry about that.
>Ah, what a good day for homicide.
>Behind that same bush from 2 days ago, you wait in anticipation of the first trap.
>The click of the door is almost like a choir of angels descending and singing a song just for you.
>Yellowquiet goes up to the chicken coop.
>With your scissors, you cut the string holding the sledgehammer in place.
>It hits the blocks of wood you had put in place.
>The huge blocks of wood collide with the coop.
>Clucks of pain ring loud, organs, blood and gore flying through the air.
>Blood stains Fluttershy's face.
>Perfect.
>She stands there motionless, mouth agape and tears streaming down her face.
>She runs back inside, and you hear eardrum-rupturing wails.
>You giggle maniacally to yourself.
>Time to go to the spa!
>Patience is a virtue, one that you so desperately lack.
>It's been an hour, and still no sign of Flutterbutt.
>She's probably still melting her eyes with tears.
>But maybe it was just you that was early.
>Rarity appears outside, with a smile on that says “please don't look at me while I wait”.
>A few minutes later, Fluttershy finally makes an entrance.
>”R-r-r-rarity... m-m-m-my chickens are all DEAD!”
>Rarity looks shocked, and scrambles her brain to find words to say.
>”D-darling... Don't worry, can't we just buy you some new ones?”
>Fluttershy looks hopeful, despite the tears in her eyes.
>”W-well-”
>Just as she's about to say more, you cut the rope holding the net of animals high above the spa.
>The pair hear the SNAP, then look up.
>As the net collides with the floor, a beautiful orchestra plays a wonderful symphony composed of the crunch of flesh and bone.
>Crimson spurts everywhere, covering the pair in the dark liquid.
>Rarity screams, and gets the fuck outta dodge.
>Fluttershy whimpers, and slowly slides along the ground.
>Her face droops like the tits on a 90-year-old woman.
>Somehow, that cowardly p0ny hasn't given up.
>She's heading straight for the bakery.
>As the Cakes greet the sprawling mess, Mrs. cake picks up the cake.
>Mrs. Cake hands it to her.
>”Uh... Happy birthday, Fluttershy?”
>A soft utter voices itself. It's practically inaudible.
>”Sorry?”
>”T-thank you...”
>”Aren't you gonna open it?”
>As she does so, the dead squirrel twitches as Fluttershy touches a nerve.
>”AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”
>The p0ny drops everything and starts running like a motherfuckin' Jamaican.
>Ohshitbitch.png
>You'd better run back to her home.
>The nail gun is placed in a good spot.
>Right where that sick fuck raped Angel Bunny.
>You won't even need to do anything, just watch as the events unfurl.
>You bolt it to Fluttershy's.
>The final scene is about to unfold.
>This is going to be beautiful.
>Just as expected, the rabbit and p0ny meet in the back garden.
>”A-a-a-angel this is just a-a-a-awful... All of our f-f-f-f-friends are dead!”
>The rabbit sits there, expressionless.
>Fluttershy tries to grab him for a quick fuck, but he jumps out of the way.
>Picking up the nail gun, he knows what he has to do.
>With a pelting sound, the bunny falls to the floor.
>The yellow one can't even make a sound.
>She closes her eyes, and lies down.
>Her teal eyes have almost no tears left.
>You are Anon, and today you founded the New Triple S.
>Stalk, supplies, start.

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A Flock of Yorkshire Puddings: Why not
Anon is sick and tired by Fluttershy and eventfully he's goes psycho on Fluttershy's pets and kills them all but acts like nothing has happened

>KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK
>It's fucking 5am.
>If it's that fucking p0ny again...
>From the door, a quiet voice.
>”A-anon? D-do you want to see something special?”
>You can barely make out the sound of dripping.
>...
>You let out an intense roar.
>This is the last time Jaundicesilent wakes you up at this ungodly hour.
“GET THE FUCKING ASSBLASTING FUCK OUT OF HERE YOU SHITTING ANTICLIMACTIC PISSBITCH OR SO HELP ME I WILL FUCKING SLICE OUT YOUR ROTTED GENITALS AND FEED THEM TO YOUR NEUROTIC CUNTDUNKED ANIMALS!”
>Hearing a mix between squealing and crying, you're satisfied she's gone.
>This is the last fucking straw.
>12 full MONTHS of that goddamn yellow cunt showing up at Stupid O'Clock every day.
>You're practically vomiting out insomnia by now.
>Well, no more.
>In your head, horrific plans begin to formulate in your head...
>What's the one thing Fluttershite cares for more than your dock?
>...Her animals.
>Getting out pen and paper, you begin to write down ideas.

STEP 1: STALK
>Following in Fluttershy's footsteps and following someone around P0nyville was something you never thought you'd be doing
>But it is necessary.
>You need to know her daily routine in order to complete your plan.
>You look at the scrawl of words on your notepad
>”FEEDS ANIMALS, MEETS RARITY AT SPA, EAT AT SUGARCUBE CORNER, HOME AGAIN”
>Sneakily hiding in a bush, you see something you wish you hadn't.
>”A-angel Bunny, don't worry...”
>What is she...?
>”MEEP”
>Oh god. Oh GOD.
>She's molesting the poor fucking creature.
>Into the notepad it goes.
>”RAPES RABBIT”
>Trying not to vomit, you wait until you think the whole sordid affair is over.
>Wow, is it that time already?
>The sun has almost set behind you.
>The yellow p0ny goes inside, presumably to sleep.
>”BEDTIME.”

STEP 2: SUPPLIES
>It's a lucky thing nobody in this odd place questions you when you have a need for an assortment of dangerous objects.
>On your list is as follows:
>Sledgehammer, rope, wood, scissors, knife, string, glue, nails, nail gun.
>This plan is so convoluted.
>Your cart in tow, you go up to individual stalls and buy the things you need.
>As you go about Equinetown, the supplies draw a few confused stares.
>You wave to the ones who look most bamboozled.
>They wave back, with nervous smiles on their frightened faces.
>They'll know why they should be frightened, soon.
>But for now you have to set everything in motion.
>The walk back home was largely uneventful.
>No-one asked anything, no-one got in your way
>Now, to assemble these contraptions.

>Night falls.
>Outside Fluttershy's home, you set down one of the traps near her chicken coop.
>It'll come crushing down in the morning.
>At the spa, another one.
>You gather almost all of her filthy rodents together, and hang them high up in a rope-net.
>Sugarcube Corner is next on your checklist.
>Cutting into a cake labelled “FLUTTERSHY”, you place a dead squirrel with its throat slit inside.
>You place it into a box.
>She has finally fucking broken you.
>Compelled to kill animals?
>First signs of a serial killer, they say.
>Oh well! Back to traumatising small yellow horse.
>You'll have to wait till tomorrow to execute the final stage of your plan.
>And now, with dead animals on your mind, you go to sleep.

>Wake up.
>Your bedsheets are stained.
>...Why did dead animals do that?
>No matter, today's the day!
>The day where you finally crush Fluttershy's puny brain for good.
>A smile plays itself upon your lips.

STEP 3: START
>Walking outside, you sniff at the air.
>Perfect scent for what will play out to be a perfect day.
>Walking with a bounce in your step, you say hello to p0nies passing you.
>They smile back at you warmly.
>You look like a cheery fucking cunt.
>So cheery that if you saw yourself, you'd fucking punch that dumb cheery face.
>But alas, you'll never have to worry about that.
>Ah, what a good day for homicide.
>Behind that same bush from 2 days ago, you wait in anticipation of the first trap.
>The click of the door is almost like a choir of angels descending and singing a song just for you.
>Yellowquiet goes up to the chicken coop.
>With your scissors, you cut the string holding the sledgehammer in place.
>It hits the blocks of wood you had put in place.
>The huge blocks of wood collide with the coop.
>Clucks of pain ring loud, organs, blood and gore flying through the air.
>Blood stains Fluttershy's face.
>Perfect.
>She stands there motionless, mouth agape and tears streaming down her face.
>She runs back inside, and you hear eardrum-rupturing wails.
>You giggle maniacally to yourself.
>Time to go to the spa!

>Patience is a virtue, one that you so desperately lack.
>It's been an hour, and still no sign of Flutterbutt.
>She's probably still melting her eyes with tears.
>But maybe it was just you that was early.
>Rarity appears outside, with a smile on that says “please don't look at me while I wait”.
>A few minutes later, Fluttershy finally makes an entrance.
>”R-r-r-rarity... m-m-m-my chickens are all DEAD!”
>Rarity looks shocked, and scrambles her brain to find words to say.
>”D-darling... Don't worry, can't we just buy you some new ones?”
>Fluttershy looks hopeful, despite the tears in her eyes.
>”W-well-”
>Just as she's about to say more, you cut the rope holding the net of animals high above the spa.
>The pair hear the SNAP, then look up.
>As the net collides with the floor, a beautiful orchestra plays a wonderful symphony composed of the crunch of flesh and bone.
>Crimson spurts everywhere, covering the pair in the dark liquid.
>Rarity screams, and gets the fuck outta dodge.
>Fluttershy whimpers, and slowly slides along the ground.
>Her face droops like the tits on a 90-year-old woman.
>Somehow, that cowardly p0ny hasn't given up.
>She's heading straight for the bakery.

>As the Cakes greet the sprawling mess, Mrs. cake picks up the cake.
>Mrs. Cake hands it to her.
>”Uh... Happy birthday, Fluttershy?”
>A soft utter voices itself. It's practically inaudible.
>”Sorry?”
>”T-thank you...”
>”Aren't you gonna open it?”
>As she does so, the dead squirrel twitches as Fluttershy touches a nerve.
>”AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”
>The p0ny drops everything and starts running like a motherfuckin' Jamaican.
>Ohshitbitch.png
>You'd better run back to her home.
>The nail gun is placed in a good spot.
>Right where that sick fuck raped Angel Bunny.
>You won't even need to do anything, just watch as the events unfurl.
>You bolt it to Fluttershy's.

>The final scene is about to unfold.
>This is going to be beautiful.
>Just as expected, the rabbit and p0ny meet in the back garden.
>”A-a-a-angel this is just a-a-a-awful... All of our f-f-f-f-friends are dead!”
>The rabbit sits there, expressionless.
>Fluttershy tries to grab him for a quick fuck, but he jumps out of the way.
>Picking up the nail gun, he knows what he has to do.
>With a pelting sound, the bunny falls to the floor.
>The yellow one can't even make a sound.
>She closes her eyes, and lies down.
>Her teal eyes have almost no tears left.
>You are Anon, and today you founded the New Triple S.
>Stalk, supplies, start.

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