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# Breakfast Time Pony Shorts

By: mothpone on Dec 27th, 2013 | syntax: None | size: 40.08 KB | hits: 92 | expires: Never
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1. >Just another ordinary day in Equestria for Anon; you sit at the table and eat a bowl of Honeycombs with your moth pony roommate.
2. >Well, you eat it, she drinks it.
3. >Whatever.
4. >It's impolite to speak while chewing, so the two of you sit in silence.
5. >Time to ponder life's greatest mysteries.
6. >...
7. >Your brain doesn't feel like working today, apparently.
8. >That's fine, you'll find your own inspiration.
9. >You scan the room for any simple object or idea to ponder.
10. >The moth pony sitting next to you, the milk on the table, spoon in your hand, the Honeycombs you're eating...
11. >Where does that milk come from? Aren't cows sentient in Equestria?
12. >...
13. >Moving away from that thought, you weigh your other options.
14. >You glance at your spoon, wondering what metal it's made from.
15. >Unfortunately, you run out of interesting thought points with that, leaving only your roommate and the Honeycombs.
16. >Miles Edgeworth logic time, time to put the two together.
17. >As the pieces of logic swirl together in the air, you hold your breath, hoping you don't hear that defeating sound of failure.
18. >The two pieces of logic touch.
19. >Time stands still.
20. >...
21. >A bright light envelopes you and your mind is filled with a new thought!
22. "Hey, if moth ponies exist, do bee ponies exist also?"
23. >Your moth turns up to look at you. Her face shows no emotion at all; you can't decipher what she's thinki- Oh, wait, she's slowly lowering her eyelids.
24. >And scowling.
25. >Uh oh.
26. >"Anon."
27. "Yes?"
28. >She grabs the back of your head and smashes it into the bowl, breaking it and spilling the rest of its contents across the table.
29. >"That is the single most idiotic thing I've heard in my life. You should be ashamed of yourself."
30. >She then walks away as if nothing happened.
31. >Today, you cried over spilled milk.
32. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
33. >So starts another beautiful day in Equestria. You'd attempt to put any sort of description on the day thus far, but you really haven't been paying attention.
34. >Were the birds chirping? You don't know.
35. >Was the sun shining brightly? Maybe.
36. >Was your moth pony roommate waiting patiently for you to finish dipping your peanut butter sandwich in the milk so she could drink it? Well... yes.
37. >Luckily for you, she isn't staring directly at you.
38. >That gaze could kill lesser men.
39. >Instead, she's staring off into the distance. And by distance, it's really just the closest doorway.
40. >Being subtle about waiting for someone.
41. >With that great hint, you take the sandwich out of the milk and bite into it.
42. >Sweet peanut buttery goodness.
43. >While you savor the flavor, the moth sitting next to you turns back around, picks up the cup, and drinks the milk.
44. >You have to try to make up for the last breakfast you had together. The whole "Honeycomb" thing. Maybe you can get her to tell you more about herself.
45. >Or anything at all, really.
46. >You don't even know her name.
47. >But every time you ask, she just stares at you.
48. >That stare could kill lesser men.
49. >You should make some like-ground. Something you have in common, besides breakfast.
50. "So..." you start, "what do you do for fun?"
51. >Her eyes meet yours.
52. >Oh no...
53. >ABORT. STARE ACTIVATED.
54. >Your insides churn as you look into her eyes; your mind goes blank; your body goes numb...
55. >"... I enjoy silent moonlit walks on the beach when no one else is around to disturb me. It's... soothing."
56. >She looks away and her eyes seem more delicate than before.
57. >You calm down as you no longer fear for your life. Maybe you can befriend the mare yet.
58. >At that moment, you decide you'll take her to the beach tonight.
59. >The beach. The one most definitely near where the two of you live.
60. >You haven't seen a single beach since you entered Equestria.
61. >This will be difficult.
62. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
63. >You sit at your table of glorious breakfast food-eating.
64. >Instead of being awake and rejuvenated, like you usually are in the morning, you are tired beyond belief.
65. >You spent too much of last night trying to sneakily look for beaches near you on maps. Not only did you find none, you're fairly certain your moth pony roommate found out.
66. >... You also need something to call her besides "moth pony roommate".
67. >This tired breakfast is Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
68. >Should you ask her the obvious question? It's tempting but she'll probably kill you.
69. >You'll avoid that for now.
70. >You've downed a few bowls by now, and the sugar is giving you a bit of a headache.
71. >It seems to be affecting her as well.
72. >Apparently, Cinnamon Toast Crunch is good for neither of you.
73. >She looks in disgust as she finishes the milk in the bowl.
74. >"Anon?"
75. "Yes?"
76. >"Can we please never have that horrid filth again?"
77. >Ouch. Yeah, it gave you a headache, but it still tasted okay...
78. "Well, I'm not just going to let the rest of it go to waste..."
79. >Eye contact, stare activate.
80. >THIS IS TRULY THE END OF TIMES.
81. >LIFE IS KILL. LIFE IS KI-
82. >"Uhg... fine, whatever. Don't expect me to drink the milk for you." She growls and looks into the distance.
83. >Well. It seems you live another day.
84. >You get up from the table, pick up every ingredient in your headache-inducing breakfast and put the dishes in the sink, the milk in the refrigerator and the cereal in the cabinet.
85. >You don't remember when the last time you actually made food was.
86. >If you were a pony, your Cutie Mark would not involve cooking.
87. >Or... anything. You don't really excel at anything.
88. >Feels bad...
89. >... Wait, Cutie Mark... What's her Cutie Mark?
90. >You stealthily glance at her flank.
91. >She's wearing a skirt.
92. >... Was she always wearing that? How did you not notice?
93. >... Will you have to sneak a peak if/when she takes it off?
94. >She will certainly kill you if you do.
95. >Conflicting emotions will get you killed.
96. >Just another day.
97. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
98. >In your hand this day is a spatula.
99. >Not a spoon.
100. >It feels weird.
101. >Weird feeling will not stop you from attempting to actually make food for the first time since you entered Equestria.
102. >The menu: eggs.
103. >Just over easy eggs.
104. >Don't want to strain yourself.
105. >The stove's ablaze, the pan is hot and buttered, an egg is cracked and pouring in...
106. >It's show-time.
107. >The egg spreads perfectly in each direction.
108. >Everything was lined up for you to make the best eggs of all time.
109. >Sizzling egg, so mesmerizing...
110. >"Anon."
111. >WELL, NOT HAVING A HEART ATTACK.
112. >NOPE.
113. >"Are you going to flip that ever?"
114. >It's been in the pan for half-a-minute...
115. "It has to cook first."
116. >"I like my food under-done."
117. >Your argument is gone in a FLASH.
118. >AAAH.
119. >"Anon."
120. "Fine Jeez!"
121. >Your spatula digs under a bit of the egg.
122. >And stops.
123. >...
124. >Uh...
125. >You push a little harder to get under the egg.
126. >The whole egg begins to flip on itself.
127. >GO BACK GO BACK STOP IT.
128. >The egg is no longer in jeopardy, but your spatula is exactly where it was before.
129. >This will be difficult.
130. >"Are you incompetent? Just shove the spatula under the egg. It's not that difficult."
131. >Rage mode activate.
132. >You're tired of her always berating you! You won't let her be so mean to you! You'll tell her what-for!
133. >But first, this stupid egg!
134. >With all of your anger, you shove the spatula farther under the egg until the entire egg is in your control.
135. >...
136. >Anger fading, realization kicking in.
137. >She was right.
138. >You can feel the glare pointed in your direction.
139. >Don't look.
140. >Don't look!
141. >YOU LOOKED.
142. >Your head jerks back toward the egg.
143. >At least it doesn't want to kill you.
144. >Probably.
145. >Thoughts of your moth-mate is a knife aside, this egg is getting flipped.
146. >You swiftly spin your weapon of choice to press the egg back into the pan.
147. >Repeat process, the egg is flipped onto a plate for her to eat.
148. >She simply pokes the yoke and drinks the fluid, leaving the rest for you.
149. >Now you clean her leftovers.
150. >The table has turned.
151. >Hm...
152. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
153. >This was it: the last straw.
154. >You hold a knife in your hand.
155. >No more insults; no more pain; you'll get what you deserve and so will she.
156. >You're in control now.
157. >And you decide to eat toast.
158. >The only solid food she eats comes from your closet, so you'll be eating breakfast alone today.
159. >That'll show her.
160. >You spread butter on your lightly toasted... toast, basking in the glory of such a simple food.
161. >It almost helps you forget about the angry moth pony glaring at you from the table.
162. >This isn't your brightest idea.
163. >You wonder how long it'll take for someone to find your body.
164. >After completely ruining your state of euphoria with thoughts of getting horribly slaughtered, you take a bite of the toast.
165. >It's really good.
166. >Like a mix of fluffy and crisp, while buttered lightly to add a bit of flavor.
167. >It's really good and little miss pissed-moth can't have any.
168. >"Anon, are you done throwing your little temper tantrum? You still haven't made anything for me."
169. >And you most certainly won't. Not today, at least.
170. >You turn to face her, ready to rub the sensation in her moth... face.
171. >Just looking into her eyes makes yours burn.
172. >You are most certainly scared, but you can't let her know that.
173. >You roll a d20 to act calm and collected.
174. >17.
175. >Once in a while, you can actually roll high numbers.
176. "I don't know what you're talking about; I'm just making myself some," you drag out your next word, "delicious... food."
177. >"Nothing you make can be delicious."
178. >Ouch. That... actually hurt.
179. >Not as much as hunger will hurt her! You eat the rest of your toast, staring intently at her as she slowly moves closer to you.
180. >... Wait, closer? As in, she can kill you much easier?
181. >All of the sudden, you're in a state of panic.
182. >BE A MAN.
183. >YOU MUST BE SWIFT AS A COURSING RIVER.
184. >She flutters up to you so your faces are only an inch apart.
185. >This'll be the day that you die.
186. >Your vision clouds over as tears fill your eyes.
187. >It didn't have to be this way.
188. >You're shoved to the ground but caught before your head hits.
189. >Then dropped.
190. >She's standing over you, face to face, while you're laying flat on the ground.
191. >Your heart is racing. You open your mouth to inhale deeper.
192. >Her glare alone will kill you.
193. >She then... puts her mouth on yours.
194. >What.
195. >You thought there would be death, not kissi- THERE IS A TONGUE INVADING YOUR MOUTH.
196. >Is it... IT'S GOING DOWN YOUR THROAT. THIS FEELS WEIRD.
197. >You can feel her tongue playing with your insides. It sounds like she's... drinking from your stomach.
198. >All you can do is lay there and wait for her to finish.
199. >After a minute or two, she reels out of you and stares deep into your fearful eyes.
200. >"You used too much butter."
201. >She then walks away as though nothing happened.
202. >You're now certain you shouldn't fear her killing you.
203. >You should fear her slowly torturing you while keeping you just alive enough for you to feel it.
204. >You cried in that spot on the floor for almost an hour.
205. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
206. >You are alive.
207. >Absolutely terrified, but alive.
208. >You have a spoon in your hand. In front of you is a bowl filled with Reese's Puffs.
209. >Not just because you like them, but also because if you don't have something with a liquid, your moth-mate will stomach-rape you again.
210. >You lost a few pounds crying that day.
211. >You won't allow yourself to make the mistake of getting on her bad side again.
212. >That, however, begs two questions.
213. >Are you always on her bad side?
214. >Does she even have a good side?
215. >Either way, these Puffs are getting soggy.
216. >Don't delay, she might kill you.
217. >You scarf down the Puffs, quick to please the moth-o-war right next to you.
218. >The bowl now only contains milk. You smile at your victory.
219. >"What's gotten in to you, Anon?" Her words are painful to hear. You can even feel the sarcasm dripping off each word. "You'd never do that for me. What could have possibly happened to change you so?"
220. >Your eyes meet hers. She isn't staring at you, she's actually looking at you with soft eyes.
221. >But you can tell: If she ever smiled, she would smile a smile able to boil blood.
222. >She's trying to get under your skin.
223. >She's successfully getting under your skin.
224. >You simply turn away from her, waiting for her to finish drinking so you can put the bowl in the sink to be washed.
225. >She puts it down with a content look on her face. Without missing a beat, she lets out a sigh and looks up to you.
226. >"Anon."
227. >You'd rather not speak. She's pissing you off, but you can't do anything about it. If you tried, she's destroy you, you're certain.
228. >Regretfully, you try to make your voice as not-dripping-with-disdain as possible.
229. "Yes?"
230. >In just one word, you conveyed all of your actual emotions. You didn't hide it in the slightest.
231. >Luckily, she doesn't seem to care about your emotions toward her. She keeps eye-contact with you and speaks softly.
232. >"I'd like another bowl."
233. >You'll cry it out later. For now, more breakfast.
234. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
235. >On this day, you feel odd.
236. >Odd physically and odd mentally.
237. >Physically as in your body just feels weird and mentally as in you are very conflicted.
238. >Mostly with your moth-mate.
239. >Usually, the two of you slept at opposite sides of your bed. However, you woke up in the middle of the night to find her curled up in your embrace.
240. >It may have been fully in sleep, but she was the submissive one.
241. >You find it odd to think of her that way.
242. >And you are conflicted.
243. >Also, the second bowl of Fruity Pebbles isn't nearly as good as the first. Actually, the first wasn't really good either.
244. >The moth sitting next to you notices your disgusted expression.
245. >"It's not that bad."
246. >You simply stare at her.
247. "You can be the judge of it; I'm done."
248. >Conveniently, you had finished the Pebbles at that moment. In the bowl now is just the milk, a few Pebbles and the excess sugar.
249. >It'll probably be worse for her than it was for you.
250. >Her eyes harden.
251. >Wait, did you just challenge her?
252. >No going back. You're in over your head.
253. >She picks up the bowl, still staring directly into your eyes. Her tongue enters the milk as she drinks.
254. >You try to keep your eyes to hers, but her tongue is the only thing moving, so your gaze is drawn toward it.
255. >That tongue has been in your stomach.
256. >... Your mental anguish has increased.
257. >Your eyes shoot back up to hers as the milk is almost gone.
258. >And she finishes it without taking her eyes off you.
259. >No pain at all. You lost again.
260. >"Anon."
261. >You really need to stop putting yourself in these situations. Reluctantly, you answer.
262. "Y-yes?"
263. >"You were right."
264. >...
265. >What?
266. >...
267. >No, seriously.
268. >"That cereal is far too sugary. I say we avoid it from now on."
269. >She... admitted to being wrong.
270. >Your heart gets a bit lighter in your chest.
271. "I'd be fine with that."
272. >It was a better day than usual.
273. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
274. >You are in a trance. Or... at least very deep in thought.
275. >Whatever.
276. >You're currently eating a bowl of Corn Flakes, but your mind is elsewhere.
277. >Actually, you're thinking about the moth pony sitting next to you.
278. >Mainly about what she was wearing to bed.
279. >You'd woken up once again in the middle of the night to find her cuddling up to you, so you decided to take advantage of the situation.
280. >At the time, you thought you'd finally see her Cutie Mark.
281. >You knew she wasn't still wearing her skirt, and there's no way her panties would fully cover her flank.
282. >What you didn't expect, however, was to find on her body a pair of your boxers.
283. >Not any random boxers she could buy, they were most definitely yours.
284. >It put many weird thoughts into your head.
285. >Back to your now-empty bowl of Corn Flakes.
286. >They were pretty bland.
287. >Still more edible than the too-sugary things.
288. >Your moth-mate picks up the bowl to down the milk.
289. >She looks pretty uninterested.
290. >She looks pretty...
291. >Your mind is attempting to come up with more words to describe her but you find none.
292. >Were you intending to end that sentence with just "pretty"?
293. >Now that you notice, she's really cute. Like, really cute.
294. >Before, you were too focused on how terrifying she can be. Now, however...
295. >Actually, you haven't really been afraid of her in a while. She's gotten mad at you less often than before.
296. >Are the two of you finally growing accustomed to each other?
297. >She's actually been doing things to get on your good side, and you've been doing things to get on hers.
298. >Both of you are working toward actually enjoying time with the other. Is this... intentional?
299. >You feel a bit warmer and you smile.
300. >"Anon."
301. >Then proceed to fall out of your chair.
302. >You land heavily.
303. >When you open your eyes, all you see is your moth-mate's.
304. >"What's with the stare?" Her eyes are cold and dark. "You just can't keep your eyes off me, can you?"
305. >Just another average day.
306. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
307. >Ugh.
308. >It's just... ugh.
309. >Frosted Mini-Wheats.
310. >A mix of straight sugar and bland.
311. >You just finished your half of breakfast and have passed it off to your moth-mate.
312. >You've eaten many cereals you once thought were good. Now, only half of them remain on you're "Good List".
313. >If the sugary parts and the bland parts were mixed instead of separate, it'd be fine!
314. >But no, everything has to be an extremist.
315. >You stare at the box of cereal.
316. >It stares back at you, uncaring.
317. >You pour your disdain into it, but it feels nothing.
318. >It cares not for your suffering.
319. >It's a cardboard box.
320. >...
321. >A fit of coughing takes you out of your childish trance.
322. >You look over to the moth next to you.
323. >She has one hoof on her throat and is coughing wildly.
324. >Your brain stops functioning.
325. >Time feels as though it slows around you, but everything else is moving in fast-forward.
326. >It's happening.
327. >...
328. >She's choking on something! Do something!
329. >DO SOMETHING!
330. >Just as your body catches up with your brain, she lets out a cough more powerful than the rest then stops.
331. >She looks down and clears her throat.
332. >The world is silent.
333. >She slowly looks up at you.
334. >You notice she looks exhausted, like she'd just finished running a mile.
335. >Not walking a mile.
336. >Not jogging a mile.
337. >Running a mile.
338. >"A-Anon?"
339. >She sounds horrible. Her voice sounds more scratched than a record at a Disk Jockey Extravaganza.
340. >You wonder if "Disk Jockey Extravaganza" is an actual thing.
341. >Probably.
342. >Oh wait, a mare in pain is in front of you.
343. >DJ can wait.
344. "Y-yes?"
345. >"Can we... stop having solid things floating in the milk?"
346. >Of course. Mini-Wheats are just a bunch of wheat-things compacted together into a barrel-ish shape. They come apart all the time.
347. "Uh... yeah. Yeah, that's probably a good idea."
348. >She looks a bit calmer. Relieved, maybe?
349. >"Thank you, Anon."
350. >She just thanked you. Maybe you are making progress.
351. >... Wait, all you have left is solid foods.
352. >You go pale and the world goes dark around you.
353. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
354. >You have no cereal.
355. >You have no eggs.
356. >You even ran out of milk.
357. >All you have left is solid foods for breakfast.
358. >You were so far in denial, you searched for an hour around your entire house, hoping against the worst you'd find something your moth-mate wouldn't have to pump your stomach for.
359. >You found nothing.
360. >Now you sit in your chair, crying over your last waffle.
361. >Your moth-mate is staring directly at you.
362. >You can't look back to her.
363. >It's all over.
364. >"It's your own fault for not buying more food."
365. >You kept on forgetting. If you could go back in time and buy anything to help you avoid this situation, you would.
366. >But you can't.
367. >Thus, you cry as you finish the waffle.
368. >...
369. >There's nothing left.
370. >Nothing left keeping her from invading your stomach with her tongue.
371. >You feel a tap on your side.
372. >"Anon~"
373. >She's patronizing you.
374. >Fantastic.
375. >Slowly, you turn to face her.
376. >Her eyes are at yours. She isn't staring, that would kill you, her eyes are... gentle. They're... comforting.
377. >Very out of place, for someone who's about to...
378. >You shudder.
379. >"Oh, come on, Anon. It won't be too unenjoyable."
380. >She licks her lips as she brings her mouth closer to yours.
381. >"... For me."
382. >She grabs hold of your body and brings you in closer.
383. >Your mouth touches hers.
384. >Both are open.
385. >Chills go down your spine.
386. >It's happening.
387. >Within moments, you feel her tongue dance around your mouth.
388. >It... feels nice.
389. >Then it reaches your throat.
390. >It doesn't stop.
391. >Her tongue slowly makes its way down, until it reaches your food-box.
392. >... Food-pit?
393. >... Food... level...
394. >Stomach.
395. >Whatever.
396. >You both sit, frozen, as she drinks from you.
397. >Your eyes closed long ago. You can't see anything nor can you cry.
398. >The tears dried up long ago.
399. >All pain you feel is no longer liquid.
400. >It's full emotion.
401. >You hear your moth-mate moan.
402. >Not a moan of pain, or hurt, it sounded more like...
403. >Pleasure...
404. >She stopped drinking from you, that much, you can tell.
405. >Did...
406. >Did she...
407. >Is she enjoying this?
408. >...
409. >Time stands still.
410. >...
411. >She shoves the two of you apart as her tongue retreats from you.
412. >You fumble in your seat, trying to regain balance.
413. >Once you've gained control, you're able to see her again. Instead of a predator, you see a blushing mare.
414. >She's wide-eyed.
415. >You are too.
416. >The two of you just sit there, staring into each other's eyes.
417. >Your mind is blank.
418. >Her mouth is agape.
419. >You can tell she's trying to piece together something to say.
420. >She has been for the passed minute.
421. >Still nothing.
422. >...
423. >She coughs and looks away.
424. >"A-Anon, you should go out and buy more food. Y-you know, t-to keep your stomach safe."
425. >Was she trying to sound in-control there?
426. >Because she didn't.
427. >Her voice is shaking just as much as her body.
428. >You look away from her.
429. "Y-yeah. I'll... go do that."
430. >You get up from your chair, face the door and walk.
431. >Wait, you have to get some money first.
432. >Not even in the perfect land of Equestria are things free.
433. >As smoothly as you can, you spin around, hopefully out of sight of your moth-mate, and go around her to one of the doorways to other rooms.
434. >As you leave the kitchen/dining room, you hear something hit the table.
435. >You glance back.
436. >It was her head.
437. >It was a less-than-normal breakfast.
438. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
439. >You're greatly disturbed by what you now call "The Waffle Incident", but you soldier on.
440. >But your moth-mate has made a full recovery.
441. >You get trauma and she's perfectly fine.
442. >Because that's fair.
443. >You look at the pop-tart in your hand.
444. >It'd totally agree with you.
445. >If it could talk.
446. >Or think.
447. >Whatever.
448. >Point is, you're finishing up your Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-tarts and are sliding the milk to your moth-mate.
449. >No more solid foods for breakfast.
450. >... Though, you couldn't find very many in the market.
451. >Most were sold out before you got to them.
452. >But that doesn't matter. You'll just have to check for different breakfast foods later.
453. >Constantly.
454. >Every day until you die.
455. >Or, until the situation is resolved.
456. >Either way, you don't even have a week's supply of breakfast left.
457. >You have quite a lot of juice, though.
458. >Unfortunately, juice isn't breakfast.
459. >It's lunch.
460. >And dinner.
461. >And... juice.
462. >A refreshed sigh startles you.
463. >It came from your moth-mate. She looks content after finishing the milk.
464. >Her eyes meet yours.
465. >...
466. >The two of you sit in an awkward sile-
467. >"Anon."
468. >... Your body starts constricting.
469. >Looking into her eyes seems to be killing you.
470. >OH WAIT SHE LOOKS PISSED OFF.
471. >THATS A STARE.
472. >IT'S BEEN A WHILE.
473. >And now you're dying inside.
474. >Goodness, your vision is blurry.
475. >"Anon!"
476. >The force of her shout shoves you out of your chair.
477. >Now you're just a mess on the floor.
478. >There are no open doors.
479. >No one is walking the dinosaur.
480. >Eyes stare down at you.
481. >"Stop staring at me. It's annoying."
482. >With that, she leaves the room.
483. >You get a good glimpse of her skirt, though.
484. >It's frilly.
485. >Like, really frilly.
486. >It's frills have frills.
487. >You wonder how someone so terrifying could dress like that.
488. >That stupid Waffle Incident lost a lot of room in your relationship.
489. >...
490. >Relationship? Like, friends.
491. >Being friends is more difficult now.
492. >That is what you mean.
493. >The rest of the day is spent really hoping that's what you meant.
494. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
495. >You are running out.
496. >You can't find anything at the market.
497. >You'll be forced to have solids for breakfast.
498. >And then...
499. >No, you'll figure something out... right?
500. >You've just finished your first bowl of Rice Krispies.
501. >They're... okay, not amazing, not bad.
502. >Time for another bowl.
503. >You pick up the box and tilt it to pour.
504. >All of the sudden, the bowl, and part of the table, is covered in cereal.
505. >You spilled the entire box's contents on the table.
506. >Most of it went in the bowl, but the rest...
507. >Some of it actually made its way into your lap.
508. >You can already feel your moth-mate mocking you.
509. >Don't say anything...
510. >Please, don't say anything...
511. >"Wow, Anon, you've been a whirlwind of sucking at things lately, haven't you?"
512. >Fantastic.
513. >Oh, and you hit your head walking up some stairs yesterday.
514. >And you broke a lamp while reading the newspaper.
515. >And... many other various things.
516. >It's been pretty bad.
517. >Fortunately, you still have a way to fix this.
518. >You get up from your chair and head to the cabinets. Inside, you find a bowl big enough for the amount in the current bowl.
519. >You get it, sit back down and pour the old bowl into the new bowl.
520. >See? You can still make good of a bad situation.
521. >That didn't clean up what was spilled outside of the bowl, but still.
522. >You'll... get it later.
523. >You eat the cereal uneventfully and pass the bowl with very little milk in it for your moth-mate.
524. >You glance over to her.
525. >She's looking directly into your eyes.
526. >You can't look away.
527. >Does she trust you this little?
528. >She has to keep looking at you to make sure you don't do anything.
529. >She actually trusts you this little.
530. >...
531. >Trust...
532. >That stupid Waffle Incident.
533. >The two of you have made too much negative progress since then. All was well, then it happened.
534. >You want to get passed it. Not just for your sake but for both of you.
535. "H-hey..."
536. >You'll have to congratulate yourself on this amazing start later.
537. >By bashing your face into a wall.
538. >You soldier on anyway.
539. "I know we used to be a lot closer than this. We were actually growing together, then that..." You search for a good adjective. "... stupid..." You didn't find any. "Waffle... thing."
540. >You start rethinking this attempt.
541. >Obviously, you should have thought of this more before trying it.
542. >But you'll stick to your guns.
543. "I... I know it's pretty much my fault. If I'd bought more cereal and milk and... stuff, that wouldn't have happened at all. I just... I just want to say: I'm sorry."
544. >You wait patiently for her to react.
545. >A few seconds pass, still nothing.
546. >You're looking directly at her.
547. >Time to roll for Sense Motive.
548. >Because why not?
549. >No bonuses, because you have all of the wrong boosts.
550. >Flat d20.
551. >You roll...
552. >12.
553. >You notice she is rather calm, but she seems to be hiding something. You have no clue what, but she is most certainly hiding something.
554. >It's probably related to the Waffle Incident.
555. >If she wants to tell you ever, she will.
556. >Hopefully.
557. >She sighs, puts down the bowl and looks away.
558. >"Anon..."
559. >You wait on baited breath.
560. >"It's okay."
561. >...
562. >It's okay.
563. >Is she... forgiving you?
564. >Her gaze slowly meets its way to your eyes.
565. >It's... soft, understanding, even.
566. >Her eyes...
567. >You've seen them so many times before, but never have they seemed so... beautiful.
568. >"Anon?"
569. >You swear you aren't going to cry.
570. >You swear that wasn't a lie.
571. "Yes?"
572. >She wraps you in a tight hug.
573. >She's warm and comforting.
574. >"... Thank you."
575. >You don't know exactly why she's thanking you, but you know she has to have a good reason.
576. >You put your arms around her, returning the hug.
577. >It was a day of great recovery.
578. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
579. >You hope you can get something from the market today, because you're just finishing the very last cereal you have.
580. >Golden Grahams.
581. >You don't even remember eating them, but they were almost completely gone when you found them.
582. >So if you can't find anything today, tomorrow's breakfast will be...
583. >No matter, you will find something.
584. >Now, to these Golden Grahams.
585. >It's like s'mores, without the melted marshmallow and chocolate.
586. >And add cold milk.
587. >Not very enjoyable.
588. >The initial taste is... okay, but the aftertaste is horrid.
589. >One last spoonful to go...
590. >You bite down on the last liquid-type breakfast you have in your house.
591. >You believe it'll all be okay.
592. >You have to find a way.
593. >To make it all okay.
594. >Until then, you slide the bowl of graham cracker milk to your moth-mate.
595. >Oh, here's the aftertaste.
596. >You wince and try to adjust your taste buds.
597. >Because that's absolutely possible.
598. >You let out a disgusted sigh.
599. >Maybe you should warn her...
600. "Hey, you might want to-"
601. >You're disrupted by the sound of the chair next to you wobbling.
602. >You look over to see what's up.
603. >Your moth-mate is shaking violently.
604. >Like, she's freaking out and has no control.
605. >LIKE NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME TO DO SOMETHING.
606. >UNLIKE LAST TIME.
607. >You aren't just going to sit idly by like you did when she was choking.
608. >You're going to do something.
609. >You get ready and...
610. >...
611. >What are you supposed to do?
612. >YOU AREN'T DOING ANYTHING.
613. >Your mind races as you try to figure out what to-
614. >SHE'S FALLING.
615. >AAAAAAA-
616. >You grab her by her torso and pull her in for a tight hug.
617. >Even if you can't do anything about her condition, you can still make sure no outside forces mess with her.
618. >Her shaking sends shivers down your spine, but you won't let her go.
619. >...
620. >A minute passes and she slowly calms down.
621. >The shaking stops.
622. >The only sound in the room is the sound of her tired breathing.
623. >You feel her move in your grasp.
624. >Careful not to move, you glance down to her.
625. >She's snuggled against your chest, much like she does when you sleep.
626. >Aw...
627. >How is she so cute?
628. >"A-Anon?"
629. >Her voice is shaking, like she's shivering.
630. >She sounds like she's cold.
631. >You have a moth who needs your attention.
632. >All other thoughts are now on hold.
633. "Yes?"
634. >She presses herself against you even more.
635. >"Th-thank you."
636. >She's been thanking you more recently.
637. >It's almost like she actually appreciated you.
638. >You feel something wet against your chest.
639. >She's sounds like she's sobbing...
640. >...
641. >She's crying in your embrace.
642. >She's crying.
643. >Maybe your brain is jumping to conclusions. You certainly can't see her crying. You just... feel it, and hear it, and...
644. >Her sobs increase in intensity.
645. >Whatever caused this must have been devastating...
646. >"Anon?"
647. >Her voice is now scratched beyond belief.
648. "Yes?"
649. >"... I-" She coughs for a few seconds, then continues. "I'm sorry..."
650. >What?
651. >What, even...
652. >"Th-the grahams..."
653. >... The Golden Grahams.
654. >Your confusion isn't going away any time soon.
655. >You just hold her close and allow her to speak.
656. >"They reminded me of... the cold..."
657. >The cold...
658. >"S-so c-cold..."
659. >Maybe that's why she bundles up when it's not even really cold out, she physically has low cold-tolerance.
660. "Wait..."
661. >You aren't letting this illogical point get through.
662. "How did the Golden Grahams trigger that?"
663. >She stays quiet for a bit.
664. >She isn't sobbing anymore, but you can still feel her tears.
665. >"One time, I was camping in the forest. I made a little fire for myself and was fixing some s'mores. Th-then, my fire went out, and it was so cold... I couldn't keep warm, so I just ran."
666. >The two of you sit there.
667. >"... I don't know how I survived. I... I can't remember."
668. >You can't even imagine what that must have been like.
669. >"Anon?"
670. >Her voice was soft, and gentle, and...
671. >Cute.
672. "Yes?"
673. >Third time that's happened today.
674. >"... Thank you..."
675. >The two of you sit there until she eventually falls asleep in your arms.
676. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
677. >You ponder life's greatest mysteries.
678. >You've figured out a few things about your moth-mate, but you still don't even know her name.
679. >The reason she cuddles up with you at night is because she hates the cold.
680. >She likes silent moonlit walks on the beach (you have yet to verify this).
681. >She on-and-off hates you because...
682. >And that's all you've figured out.
683. >You're currently struggling to find the answer to that last one.
684. >It's not brain food, but Chocolate Peanut Butter Pop-tarts taste pretty good.
685. >After deluding them in milk.
686. >If you didn't, it's a straight headache of peanut butter flavor.
687. >The first bite hurt you.
688. >Luckily, you learned after that and ate it and the rest of the Pop-tarts in the box.
689. >You toasted them first, of course.
690. >You've finished your part of breakfast and are waiting for your moth-mate to drink the milk.
691. >She dips her long tongue into the cup of milk.
692. >Just seeing that tongue send shivers down your spine.
693. >She drinks a little bit, then stops. Her expression changes to one of dread.
694. >"... It doesn't taste any different from regular milk."
695. >... Was she talking to you?
696. >It didn't seem like she was...
697. >Her eyes wander to you. She looks directly at your mouth.
698. >... Half-a-minute later, she's still looking at your mouth.
699. >You feel very uncomfortable.
700. >You really wish you knew what to say or do to make her stop.
701. >Unfortunately, you simply have to wait.
702. >She slides the cup away and looks toward the door.
703. >... She finished drinking while staring at your mouth.
704. >You get up from the table, pick up the cup and head toward the sink.
705. >You'll probably do dishes... later.
706. >The only things needing to be washed are a few spoons, even fewer bowls, a couple cups, a plate and a pitcher you put juice in.
707. >None of those things are things you don't have many more of.
708. >You could hold off doing dishes for a week but you won't.
709. >You have a better work-ethic than that.
710. >You leave the room and prepare for a boring day.
711. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
712. >Of all of the sugary cereals, you may be eating the best one.
713. >Frosted Flakes.
714. >They're like Corn Flakes, but not bland.
715. >They're like Frosted Mini-Wheats, but good.
716. >No, not good...
717. >THEY'RE GRRRRRRREAT!
718. >And almost completely gone.
719. >As in, you bought a full box and now the last of it is in your bowl.
720. >You have no clue where rest of it went.
721. >... Now that you think of it, this has been happening for all of your breakfasts.
722. >Every single breakfast you've had, you seem to finish it off after only one sitting.
723. >But you can't finish an entire box of cereal in one go.
724. >That's insane.
725. >Your breakfast food has just been... disappearing.
726. >And you only just noticed.
727. >"Anon!"
728. >SWEET SUGARY HEART-ATTACK.
729. >You cough and sputter for a bit, attempting to recover from the moth-rage next to you.
730. >As you regain your composure, you look at her, wondering what could possibly cause such an outburst.
731. >She's staring at you.
732. >You've totally gotten over the stare.
733. >Your heart isn't beating rapidly right now, that's just... your stomach, or something...
734. >You're terrified.
735. >"Just finish the cereal so I can drink the milk."
736. >Your mind can't think of a rebuttal.
737. >That stare is overpowered.
738. >"Seriously, you've just been staring at it for a minute."
739. >... Oh. You must have zoned out at some point.
740. >Looks like it's your fault once again.
741. >Defeated, you turn back around to devour your food.
742. >Like a tiger eating its prey.
743. >And that tiger is helping children with sports.
744. >And advertising this cereal.
745. >You like Tony.
746. >After finishing your great breakfast, you pass the bowl off to your moth-mate.
747. >You get up from your chair and stretch. Today will be a great day.
748. "Well, I'm going to go vacuum the bedroom."
749. >Your moth-mate nods and sticks her tongue in the milk.
750. >With that, you're off. You leave through the door to the hallway.
751. >You turn left.
752. >You totally went to the wrong one.
753. >Whatever, it's a looping hallway; you just have to walk this way and you'll eventually get to the bedroom.
754. >Your kitchen/dining room is connected to the same hallway twice. It's... weird. You don't understand the point of architecture like that, but you try not to question it on a daily basis.
755. >Meaning you question it on a daily basis.
756. >Conveniently, this hallway connects to the rest of the house.
757. >Every single room.
758. >It's weird.
759. >Even that room with no light-switch. The one you never go in. Not because it scares you, but... uh... because it scares you...
760. >Just as you almost get to the other entryway to the dining kitchen, you hear a sigh. Not a loud sigh, a very faint sigh.
761. >... Sounds a lot like eavesdropping time.
762. >Your moth-mate seldom speaks to herself.
763. >It makes sense to you; you do it too.
764. >It probably has something to do with loneliness.
765. >You press yourself against the wall, eager to hear what she has to say.
766. >...
767. >...
768. >Silence.
769. >...
770. >Wait, you hear something.
771. >She's... panting.
772. >... That's... certainly something.
773. >A soft moan escapes her lips.
774. >...
775. >Last time you heard that, you ended up calling it an incident.
776. >... Then there was silence.
777. >She's probably freaking out.
778. >She does that a lot when she thinks you aren't eavesdropping.
779. >But you are.
780. >You're a horrible person.
781. >You'll have to Metal Gear your way out of this one. Usually, you just have to go back a few rooms and you're safe, however, you're supposed to be in the bedroom right now. If she checks there and doesn't see you...
782. >You hear her pick up the bowl.
783. >She's heading toward the sink.
784. >Now is your chance.
785. >You turn around to face the wall you're against, so you'll be able to see her once you pass that doorway.
786. >You gracefully jump across the open space.
787. >She's looking into the sink.
788. >You are successful.
789. >As the coolest ninja in the house, you sneak to the bedroom to vacuum.
790. >It was a cleaning stealth day
791. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
792. >Your food is definitely disappearing.
793. >Unfortunately, you have no clue how.
794. >You checked while clean. You checked for even the slightest sign someone or something besides you and your moth-mate have been in this house.
795. >Nothing.
796. >Either there are high level ninjas going through your home, or...
797. >Or... uh...
798. >That's pretty much your only conclusion.
799. >You're a medium level ninja, so it's not out of the realm of possibility.
800. >Ninjas going around eating your cereal.
801. >Jerks.
802. >Ninjas must be jerks in Equestria, because no one should ever steal anyone else's food.
803. >That's just low.
804. >... Unless it's for good reason.
805. >You're not getting into this debate inside your head.
806. >Not now, at least.
807. >There's a moth staring you down.
808. >So you continue eating your Peanut Butter Crunch.
809. >The only trace of the phrase "Crunchatize me Cap'n!" comes from the advertisements on the side of the box, but that does make you cry.
810. >Yet.
811. >You let out a sigh as you finish the cereal.
812. >You don't turn to face her when you pass the bowl to her.
813. >You can't look at her.
814. >Not after five pairs of your boxers went missing last night.
815. >And you know that wasn't the ninjas, because she accidentally woke you up ever time she changed into a new pair.
816. >You searched for them. They're all hidden very well.
817. >There's also a really weird smell in your bedroom. It was faint when you vacuumed, but now it's unavoidable.
818. >The smell is bad, but also... good?
819. >You can't quite identify it, but something about it makes you like it. The smell itself is bad, but it makes you... feel good?
820. >Things are difficult to understand sometimes.
821. >You hear the sounds of her finishing the milk.
822. >Slurping air, bowl being put back on the table, her refreshed sigh...
823. >It's time.
824. >You turn back to put the things away, and out of the corner of your eye, you see a content moth.
825. >Aw...
826. >Now if only she'd tell you what she did with all of your boxers.
827. >... Or just give them back.
828. >You just want them back.

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>Just another ordinary day in Equestria for Anon; you sit at the table and eat a bowl of Honeycombs with your moth pony roommate. >Well, you eat it, she drinks it. >Whatever. >It's impolite to speak while chewing, so the two of you sit in silence. >Time to ponder life's greatest mysteries. >... >Your brain doesn't feel like working today, apparently. >That's fine, you'll find your own inspiration. >You scan the room for any simple object or idea to ponder. >The moth pony sitting next to you, the milk on the table, spoon in your hand, the Honeycombs you're eating... >Where does that milk come from? Aren't cows sentient in Equestria? >... >Moving away from that thought, you weigh your other options. >You glance at your spoon, wondering what metal it's made from. >Unfortunately, you run out of interesting thought points with that, leaving only your roommate and the Honeycombs. >Miles Edgeworth logic time, time to put the two together. >As the pieces of logic swirl together in the air, you hold your breath, hoping you don't hear that defeating sound of failure. >The two pieces of logic touch. >Time stands still. >... >A bright light envelopes you and your mind is filled with a new thought! "Hey, if moth ponies exist, do bee ponies exist also?" >Your moth turns up to look at you. Her face shows no emotion at all; you can't decipher what she's thinki- Oh, wait, she's slowly lowering her eyelids. >And scowling. >Uh oh. >"Anon." "Yes?" >She grabs the back of your head and smashes it into the bowl, breaking it and spilling the rest of its contents across the table. >"That is the single most idiotic thing I've heard in my life. You should be ashamed of yourself." >She then walks away as if nothing happened. >Today, you cried over spilled milk. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ >So starts another beautiful day in Equestria. You'd attempt to put any sort of description on the day thus far, but you really haven't been paying attention. >Were the birds chirping? You don't know. >Was the sun shining brightly? Maybe. >Was your moth pony roommate waiting patiently for you to finish dipping your peanut butter sandwich in the milk so she could drink it? Well... yes. >Luckily for you, she isn't staring directly at you. >That gaze could kill lesser men. >Instead, she's staring off into the distance. And by distance, it's really just the closest doorway. >Being subtle about waiting for someone. >With that great hint, you take the sandwich out of the milk and bite into it. >Sweet peanut buttery goodness. >While you savor the flavor, the moth sitting next to you turns back around, picks up the cup, and drinks the milk. >You have to try to make up for the last breakfast you had together. The whole "Honeycomb" thing. Maybe you can get her to tell you more about herself. >Or anything at all, really. >You don't even know her name. >But every time you ask, she just stares at you. >That stare could kill lesser men. >You should make some like-ground. Something you have in common, besides breakfast. "So..." you start, "what do you do for fun?" >Her eyes meet yours. >Oh no... >ABORT. STARE ACTIVATED. >Your insides churn as you look into her eyes; your mind goes blank; your body goes numb... >"... I enjoy silent moonlit walks on the beach when no one else is around to disturb me. It's... soothing." >She looks away and her eyes seem more delicate than before. >You calm down as you no longer fear for your life. Maybe you can befriend the mare yet. >At that moment, you decide you'll take her to the beach tonight. >The beach. The one most definitely near where the two of you live. >You haven't seen a single beach since you entered Equestria. >This will be difficult. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >You sit at your table of glorious breakfast food-eating. >Instead of being awake and rejuvenated, like you usually are in the morning, you are tired beyond belief. >You spent too much of last night trying to sneakily look for beaches near you on maps. Not only did you find none, you're fairly certain your moth pony roommate found out. >... You also need something to call her besides "moth pony roommate". >This tired breakfast is Cinnamon Toast Crunch. >Should you ask her the obvious question? It's tempting but she'll probably kill you. >You'll avoid that for now. >You've downed a few bowls by now, and the sugar is giving you a bit of a headache. >It seems to be affecting her as well. >Apparently, Cinnamon Toast Crunch is good for neither of you. >She looks in disgust as she finishes the milk in the bowl. >"Anon?" "Yes?" >"Can we please never have that horrid filth again?" >Ouch. Yeah, it gave you a headache, but it still tasted okay... "Well, I'm not just going to let the rest of it go to waste..." >Eye contact, stare activate. >THIS IS TRULY THE END OF TIMES. >LIFE IS KILL. LIFE IS KI- >"Uhg... fine, whatever. Don't expect me to drink the milk for you." She growls and looks into the distance. >Well. It seems you live another day. >You get up from the table, pick up every ingredient in your headache-inducing breakfast and put the dishes in the sink, the milk in the refrigerator and the cereal in the cabinet. >You don't remember when the last time you actually made food was. >If you were a pony, your Cutie Mark would not involve cooking. >Or... anything. You don't really excel at anything. >Feels bad... >... Wait, Cutie Mark... What's her Cutie Mark? >You stealthily glance at her flank. >She's wearing a skirt. >... Was she always wearing that? How did you not notice? >... Will you have to sneak a peak if/when she takes it off? >She will certainly kill you if you do. >Conflicting emotions will get you killed. >Just another day. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >In your hand this day is a spatula. >Not a spoon. >It feels weird. >Weird feeling will not stop you from attempting to actually make food for the first time since you entered Equestria. >The menu: eggs. >Just over easy eggs. >Don't want to strain yourself. >The stove's ablaze, the pan is hot and buttered, an egg is cracked and pouring in... >It's show-time. >The egg spreads perfectly in each direction. >Everything was lined up for you to make the best eggs of all time. >Sizzling egg, so mesmerizing... >"Anon." >WELL, NOT HAVING A HEART ATTACK. >NOPE. >"Are you going to flip that ever?" >It's been in the pan for half-a-minute... "It has to cook first." >"I like my food under-done." >Your argument is gone in a FLASH. >AAAH. >"Anon." "Fine Jeez!" >Your spatula digs under a bit of the egg. >And stops. >... >Uh... >You push a little harder to get under the egg. >The whole egg begins to flip on itself. >GO BACK GO BACK STOP IT. >The egg is no longer in jeopardy, but your spatula is exactly where it was before. >This will be difficult. >"Are you incompetent? Just shove the spatula under the egg. It's not that difficult." >Rage mode activate. >You're tired of her always berating you! You won't let her be so mean to you! You'll tell her what-for! >But first, this stupid egg! >With all of your anger, you shove the spatula farther under the egg until the entire egg is in your control. >... >Anger fading, realization kicking in. >She was right. >You can feel the glare pointed in your direction. >Don't look. >Don't look! >YOU LOOKED. >Your head jerks back toward the egg. >At least it doesn't want to kill you. >Probably. >Thoughts of your moth-mate is a knife aside, this egg is getting flipped. >You swiftly spin your weapon of choice to press the egg back into the pan. >Repeat process, the egg is flipped onto a plate for her to eat. >She simply pokes the yoke and drinks the fluid, leaving the rest for you. >Now you clean her leftovers. >The table has turned. >Hm... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >This was it: the last straw. >You hold a knife in your hand. >No more insults; no more pain; you'll get what you deserve and so will she. >You're in control now. >And you decide to eat toast. >The only solid food she eats comes from your closet, so you'll be eating breakfast alone today. >That'll show her. >You spread butter on your lightly toasted... toast, basking in the glory of such a simple food. >It almost helps you forget about the angry moth pony glaring at you from the table. >This isn't your brightest idea. >You wonder how long it'll take for someone to find your body. >After completely ruining your state of euphoria with thoughts of getting horribly slaughtered, you take a bite of the toast. >It's really good. >Like a mix of fluffy and crisp, while buttered lightly to add a bit of flavor. >It's really good and little miss pissed-moth can't have any. >"Anon, are you done throwing your little temper tantrum? You still haven't made anything for me." >And you most certainly won't. Not today, at least. >You turn to face her, ready to rub the sensation in her moth... face. >Just looking into her eyes makes yours burn. >You are most certainly scared, but you can't let her know that. >You roll a d20 to act calm and collected. >17. >Once in a while, you can actually roll high numbers. "I don't know what you're talking about; I'm just making myself some," you drag out your next word, "delicious... food." >"Nothing you make can be delicious." >Ouch. That... actually hurt. >Not as much as hunger will hurt her! You eat the rest of your toast, staring intently at her as she slowly moves closer to you. >... Wait, closer? As in, she can kill you much easier? >All of the sudden, you're in a state of panic. >BE A MAN. >YOU MUST BE SWIFT AS A COURSING RIVER. >She flutters up to you so your faces are only an inch apart. >This'll be the day that you die. >Your vision clouds over as tears fill your eyes. >It didn't have to be this way. >You're shoved to the ground but caught before your head hits. >Then dropped. >She's standing over you, face to face, while you're laying flat on the ground. >Your heart is racing. You open your mouth to inhale deeper. >Her glare alone will kill you. >She then... puts her mouth on yours. >What. >You thought there would be death, not kissi- THERE IS A TONGUE INVADING YOUR MOUTH. >Is it... IT'S GOING DOWN YOUR THROAT. THIS FEELS WEIRD. >You can feel her tongue playing with your insides. It sounds like she's... drinking from your stomach. >All you can do is lay there and wait for her to finish. >After a minute or two, she reels out of you and stares deep into your fearful eyes. >"You used too much butter." >She then walks away as though nothing happened. >You're now certain you shouldn't fear her killing you. >You should fear her slowly torturing you while keeping you just alive enough for you to feel it. >You cried in that spot on the floor for almost an hour. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >You are alive. >Absolutely terrified, but alive. >You have a spoon in your hand. In front of you is a bowl filled with Reese's Puffs. >Not just because you like them, but also because if you don't have something with a liquid, your moth-mate will stomach-rape you again. >You lost a few pounds crying that day. >You won't allow yourself to make the mistake of getting on her bad side again. >That, however, begs two questions. >Are you always on her bad side? >Does she even have a good side? >Either way, these Puffs are getting soggy. >Don't delay, she might kill you. >You scarf down the Puffs, quick to please the moth-o-war right next to you. >The bowl now only contains milk. You smile at your victory. >"What's gotten in to you, Anon?" Her words are painful to hear. You can even feel the sarcasm dripping off each word. "You'd never do that for me. What could have possibly happened to change you so?" >Your eyes meet hers. She isn't staring at you, she's actually looking at you with soft eyes. >But you can tell: If she ever smiled, she would smile a smile able to boil blood. >She's trying to get under your skin. >She's successfully getting under your skin. >You simply turn away from her, waiting for her to finish drinking so you can put the bowl in the sink to be washed. >She puts it down with a content look on her face. Without missing a beat, she lets out a sigh and looks up to you. >"Anon." >You'd rather not speak. She's pissing you off, but you can't do anything about it. If you tried, she's destroy you, you're certain. >Regretfully, you try to make your voice as not-dripping-with-disdain as possible. "Yes?" >In just one word, you conveyed all of your actual emotions. You didn't hide it in the slightest. >Luckily, she doesn't seem to care about your emotions toward her. She keeps eye-contact with you and speaks softly. >"I'd like another bowl." >You'll cry it out later. For now, more breakfast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >On this day, you feel odd. >Odd physically and odd mentally. >Physically as in your body just feels weird and mentally as in you are very conflicted. >Mostly with your moth-mate. >Usually, the two of you slept at opposite sides of your bed. However, you woke up in the middle of the night to find her curled up in your embrace. >It may have been fully in sleep, but she was the submissive one. >You find it odd to think of her that way. >And you are conflicted. >Also, the second bowl of Fruity Pebbles isn't nearly as good as the first. Actually, the first wasn't really good either. >The moth sitting next to you notices your disgusted expression. >"It's not that bad." >You simply stare at her. "You can be the judge of it; I'm done." >Conveniently, you had finished the Pebbles at that moment. In the bowl now is just the milk, a few Pebbles and the excess sugar. >It'll probably be worse for her than it was for you. >Her eyes harden. >Wait, did you just challenge her? >No going back. You're in over your head. >She picks up the bowl, still staring directly into your eyes. Her tongue enters the milk as she drinks. >You try to keep your eyes to hers, but her tongue is the only thing moving, so your gaze is drawn toward it. >That tongue has been in your stomach. >... Your mental anguish has increased. >Your eyes shoot back up to hers as the milk is almost gone. >And she finishes it without taking her eyes off you. >No pain at all. You lost again. >"Anon." >You really need to stop putting yourself in these situations. Reluctantly, you answer. "Y-yes?" >"You were right." >... >What? >... >No, seriously. >"That cereal is far too sugary. I say we avoid it from now on." >She... admitted to being wrong. >Your heart gets a bit lighter in your chest. "I'd be fine with that." >It was a better day than usual. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >You are in a trance. Or... at least very deep in thought. >Whatever. >You're currently eating a bowl of Corn Flakes, but your mind is elsewhere. >Actually, you're thinking about the moth pony sitting next to you. >Mainly about what she was wearing to bed. >You'd woken up once again in the middle of the night to find her cuddling up to you, so you decided to take advantage of the situation. >At the time, you thought you'd finally see her Cutie Mark. >You knew she wasn't still wearing her skirt, and there's no way her panties would fully cover her flank. >What you didn't expect, however, was to find on her body a pair of your boxers. >Not any random boxers she could buy, they were most definitely yours. >It put many weird thoughts into your head. >Back to your now-empty bowl of Corn Flakes. >They were pretty bland. >Still more edible than the too-sugary things. >Your moth-mate picks up the bowl to down the milk. >She looks pretty uninterested. >She looks pretty... >Your mind is attempting to come up with more words to describe her but you find none. >Were you intending to end that sentence with just "pretty"? >Now that you notice, she's really cute. Like, really cute. >Before, you were too focused on how terrifying she can be. Now, however... >Actually, you haven't really been afraid of her in a while. She's gotten mad at you less often than before. >Are the two of you finally growing accustomed to each other? >She's actually been doing things to get on your good side, and you've been doing things to get on hers. >Both of you are working toward actually enjoying time with the other. Is this... intentional? >You feel a bit warmer and you smile. >"Anon." >Then proceed to fall out of your chair. >You land heavily. >When you open your eyes, all you see is your moth-mate's. >"What's with the stare?" Her eyes are cold and dark. "You just can't keep your eyes off me, can you?" >Just another average day. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >Ugh. >It's just... ugh. >Frosted Mini-Wheats. >A mix of straight sugar and bland. >You just finished your half of breakfast and have passed it off to your moth-mate. >You've eaten many cereals you once thought were good. Now, only half of them remain on you're "Good List". >If the sugary parts and the bland parts were mixed instead of separate, it'd be fine! >But no, everything has to be an extremist. >You stare at the box of cereal. >It stares back at you, uncaring. >You pour your disdain into it, but it feels nothing. >It cares not for your suffering. >It's a cardboard box. >... >A fit of coughing takes you out of your childish trance. >You look over to the moth next to you. >She has one hoof on her throat and is coughing wildly. >Your brain stops functioning. >Time feels as though it slows around you, but everything else is moving in fast-forward. >It's happening. >... >She's choking on something! Do something! >DO SOMETHING! >Just as your body catches up with your brain, she lets out a cough more powerful than the rest then stops. >She looks down and clears her throat. >The world is silent. >She slowly looks up at you. >You notice she looks exhausted, like she'd just finished running a mile. >Not walking a mile. >Not jogging a mile. >Running a mile. >"A-Anon?" >She sounds horrible. Her voice sounds more scratched than a record at a Disk Jockey Extravaganza. >You wonder if "Disk Jockey Extravaganza" is an actual thing. >Probably. >Oh wait, a mare in pain is in front of you. >DJ can wait. "Y-yes?" >"Can we... stop having solid things floating in the milk?" >Of course. Mini-Wheats are just a bunch of wheat-things compacted together into a barrel-ish shape. They come apart all the time. "Uh... yeah. Yeah, that's probably a good idea." >She looks a bit calmer. Relieved, maybe? >"Thank you, Anon." >She just thanked you. Maybe you are making progress. >... Wait, all you have left is solid foods. >You go pale and the world goes dark around you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >You have no cereal. >You have no eggs. >You even ran out of milk. >All you have left is solid foods for breakfast. >You were so far in denial, you searched for an hour around your entire house, hoping against the worst you'd find something your moth-mate wouldn't have to pump your stomach for. >You found nothing. >Now you sit in your chair, crying over your last waffle. >Your moth-mate is staring directly at you. >You can't look back to her. >It's all over. >"It's your own fault for not buying more food." >You kept on forgetting. If you could go back in time and buy anything to help you avoid this situation, you would. >But you can't. >Thus, you cry as you finish the waffle. >... >There's nothing left. >Nothing left keeping her from invading your stomach with her tongue. >You feel a tap on your side. >"Anon~" >She's patronizing you. >Fantastic. >Slowly, you turn to face her. >Her eyes are at yours. She isn't staring, that would kill you, her eyes are... gentle. They're... comforting. >Very out of place, for someone who's about to... >You shudder. >"Oh, come on, Anon. It won't be too unenjoyable." >She licks her lips as she brings her mouth closer to yours. >"... For me." >She grabs hold of your body and brings you in closer. >Your mouth touches hers. >Both are open. >Chills go down your spine. >It's happening. >Within moments, you feel her tongue dance around your mouth. >It... feels nice. >Then it reaches your throat. >It doesn't stop. >Her tongue slowly makes its way down, until it reaches your food-box. >... Food-pit? >... Food... level... >Stomach. >Whatever. >You both sit, frozen, as she drinks from you. >Your eyes closed long ago. You can't see anything nor can you cry. >The tears dried up long ago. >All pain you feel is no longer liquid. >It's full emotion. >You hear your moth-mate moan. >Not a moan of pain, or hurt, it sounded more like... >Pleasure... >She stopped drinking from you, that much, you can tell. >Did... >Did she... >Is she enjoying this? >... >Time stands still. >... >She shoves the two of you apart as her tongue retreats from you. >You fumble in your seat, trying to regain balance. >Once you've gained control, you're able to see her again. Instead of a predator, you see a blushing mare. >She's wide-eyed. >You are too. >The two of you just sit there, staring into each other's eyes. >Your mind is blank. >Her mouth is agape. >You can tell she's trying to piece together something to say. >She has been for the passed minute. >Still nothing. >... >She coughs and looks away. >"A-Anon, you should go out and buy more food. Y-you know, t-to keep your stomach safe." >Was she trying to sound in-control there? >Because she didn't. >Her voice is shaking just as much as her body. >You look away from her. "Y-yeah. I'll... go do that." >You get up from your chair, face the door and walk. >Wait, you have to get some money first. >Not even in the perfect land of Equestria are things free. >As smoothly as you can, you spin around, hopefully out of sight of your moth-mate, and go around her to one of the doorways to other rooms. >As you leave the kitchen/dining room, you hear something hit the table. >You glance back. >It was her head. >It was a less-than-normal breakfast. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >You're greatly disturbed by what you now call "The Waffle Incident", but you soldier on. >But your moth-mate has made a full recovery. >You get trauma and she's perfectly fine. >Because that's fair. >You look at the pop-tart in your hand. >It'd totally agree with you. >If it could talk. >Or think. >Whatever. >Point is, you're finishing up your Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-tarts and are sliding the milk to your moth-mate. >No more solid foods for breakfast. >... Though, you couldn't find very many in the market. >Most were sold out before you got to them. >But that doesn't matter. You'll just have to check for different breakfast foods later. >Constantly. >Every day until you die. >Or, until the situation is resolved. >Either way, you don't even have a week's supply of breakfast left. >You have quite a lot of juice, though. >Unfortunately, juice isn't breakfast. >It's lunch. >And dinner. >And... juice. >A refreshed sigh startles you. >It came from your moth-mate. She looks content after finishing the milk. >Her eyes meet yours. >... >The two of you sit in an awkward sile- >"Anon." >... Your body starts constricting. >Looking into her eyes seems to be killing you. >OH WAIT SHE LOOKS PISSED OFF. >THATS A STARE. >IT'S BEEN A WHILE. >And now you're dying inside. >Goodness, your vision is blurry. >"Anon!" >The force of her shout shoves you out of your chair. >Now you're just a mess on the floor. >There are no open doors. >No one is walking the dinosaur. >Eyes stare down at you. >"Stop staring at me. It's annoying." >With that, she leaves the room. >You get a good glimpse of her skirt, though. >It's frilly. >Like, really frilly. >It's frills have frills. >You wonder how someone so terrifying could dress like that. >That stupid Waffle Incident lost a lot of room in your relationship. >... >Relationship? Like, friends. >Being friends is more difficult now. >That is what you mean. >The rest of the day is spent really hoping that's what you meant. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >You are running out. >You can't find anything at the market. >You'll be forced to have solids for breakfast. >And then... >No, you'll figure something out... right? >You've just finished your first bowl of Rice Krispies. >They're... okay, not amazing, not bad. >Time for another bowl. >You pick up the box and tilt it to pour. >All of the sudden, the bowl, and part of the table, is covered in cereal. >You spilled the entire box's contents on the table. >Most of it went in the bowl, but the rest... >Some of it actually made its way into your lap. >You can already feel your moth-mate mocking you. >Don't say anything... >Please, don't say anything... >"Wow, Anon, you've been a whirlwind of sucking at things lately, haven't you?" >Fantastic. >Oh, and you hit your head walking up some stairs yesterday. >And you broke a lamp while reading the newspaper. >And... many other various things. >It's been pretty bad. >Fortunately, you still have a way to fix this. >You get up from your chair and head to the cabinets. Inside, you find a bowl big enough for the amount in the current bowl. >You get it, sit back down and pour the old bowl into the new bowl. >See? You can still make good of a bad situation. >That didn't clean up what was spilled outside of the bowl, but still. >You'll... get it later. >You eat the cereal uneventfully and pass the bowl with very little milk in it for your moth-mate. >You glance over to her. >She's looking directly into your eyes. >You can't look away. >Does she trust you this little? >She has to keep looking at you to make sure you don't do anything. >She actually trusts you this little. >... >Trust... >That stupid Waffle Incident. >The two of you have made too much negative progress since then. All was well, then it happened. >You want to get passed it. Not just for your sake but for both of you. "H-hey..." >You'll have to congratulate yourself on this amazing start later. >By bashing your face into a wall. >You soldier on anyway. "I know we used to be a lot closer than this. We were actually growing together, then that..." You search for a good adjective. "... stupid..." You didn't find any. "Waffle... thing." >You start rethinking this attempt. >Obviously, you should have thought of this more before trying it. >But you'll stick to your guns. "I... I know it's pretty much my fault. If I'd bought more cereal and milk and... stuff, that wouldn't have happened at all. I just... I just want to say: I'm sorry." >You wait patiently for her to react. >A few seconds pass, still nothing. >You're looking directly at her. >Time to roll for Sense Motive. >Because why not? >No bonuses, because you have all of the wrong boosts. >Flat d20. >You roll... >12. >You notice she is rather calm, but she seems to be hiding something. You have no clue what, but she is most certainly hiding something. >It's probably related to the Waffle Incident. >If she wants to tell you ever, she will. >Hopefully. >She sighs, puts down the bowl and looks away. >"Anon..." >You wait on baited breath. >"It's okay." >... >It's okay. >Is she... forgiving you? >Her gaze slowly meets its way to your eyes. >It's... soft, understanding, even. >Her eyes... >You've seen them so many times before, but never have they seemed so... beautiful. >"Anon?" >You swear you aren't going to cry. >You swear that wasn't a lie. "Yes?" >She wraps you in a tight hug. >She's warm and comforting. >"... Thank you." >You don't know exactly why she's thanking you, but you know she has to have a good reason. >You put your arms around her, returning the hug. >It was a day of great recovery. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >You hope you can get something from the market today, because you're just finishing the very last cereal you have. >Golden Grahams. >You don't even remember eating them, but they were almost completely gone when you found them. >So if you can't find anything today, tomorrow's breakfast will be... >No matter, you will find something. >Now, to these Golden Grahams. >It's like s'mores, without the melted marshmallow and chocolate. >And add cold milk. >Not very enjoyable. >The initial taste is... okay, but the aftertaste is horrid. >One last spoonful to go... >You bite down on the last liquid-type breakfast you have in your house. >You believe it'll all be okay. >You have to find a way. >To make it all okay. >Until then, you slide the bowl of graham cracker milk to your moth-mate. >Oh, here's the aftertaste. >You wince and try to adjust your taste buds. >Because that's absolutely possible. >You let out a disgusted sigh. >Maybe you should warn her... "Hey, you might want to-" >You're disrupted by the sound of the chair next to you wobbling. >You look over to see what's up. >Your moth-mate is shaking violently. >Like, she's freaking out and has no control. >LIKE NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME TO DO SOMETHING. >UNLIKE LAST TIME. >You aren't just going to sit idly by like you did when she was choking. >You're going to do something. >You get ready and... >... >What are you supposed to do? >YOU AREN'T DOING ANYTHING. >Your mind races as you try to figure out what to- >SHE'S FALLING. >AAAAAAA- >You grab her by her torso and pull her in for a tight hug. >Even if you can't do anything about her condition, you can still make sure no outside forces mess with her. >Her shaking sends shivers down your spine, but you won't let her go. >... >A minute passes and she slowly calms down. >The shaking stops. >The only sound in the room is the sound of her tired breathing. >You feel her move in your grasp. >Careful not to move, you glance down to her. >She's snuggled against your chest, much like she does when you sleep. >Aw... >How is she so cute? >"A-Anon?" >Her voice is shaking, like she's shivering. >She sounds like she's cold. >You have a moth who needs your attention. >All other thoughts are now on hold. "Yes?" >She presses herself against you even more. >"Th-thank you." >She's been thanking you more recently. >It's almost like she actually appreciated you. >You feel something wet against your chest. >She's sounds like she's sobbing... >... >She's crying in your embrace. >She's crying. >Maybe your brain is jumping to conclusions. You certainly can't see her crying. You just... feel it, and hear it, and... >Her sobs increase in intensity. >Whatever caused this must have been devastating... >"Anon?" >Her voice is now scratched beyond belief. "Yes?" >"... I-" She coughs for a few seconds, then continues. "I'm sorry..." >What? >What, even... >"Th-the grahams..." >... The Golden Grahams. >Your confusion isn't going away any time soon. >You just hold her close and allow her to speak. >"They reminded me of... the cold..." >The cold... >"S-so c-cold..." >Maybe that's why she bundles up when it's not even really cold out, she physically has low cold-tolerance. "Wait..." >You aren't letting this illogical point get through. "How did the Golden Grahams trigger that?" >She stays quiet for a bit. >She isn't sobbing anymore, but you can still feel her tears. >"One time, I was camping in the forest. I made a little fire for myself and was fixing some s'mores. Th-then, my fire went out, and it was so cold... I couldn't keep warm, so I just ran." >The two of you sit there. >"... I don't know how I survived. I... I can't remember." >You can't even imagine what that must have been like. >"Anon?" >Her voice was soft, and gentle, and... >Cute. "Yes?" >Third time that's happened today. >"... Thank you..." >The two of you sit there until she eventually falls asleep in your arms. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >You ponder life's greatest mysteries. >You've figured out a few things about your moth-mate, but you still don't even know her name. >The reason she cuddles up with you at night is because she hates the cold. >She likes silent moonlit walks on the beach (you have yet to verify this). >She on-and-off hates you because... >And that's all you've figured out. >You're currently struggling to find the answer to that last one. >It's not brain food, but Chocolate Peanut Butter Pop-tarts taste pretty good. >After deluding them in milk. >If you didn't, it's a straight headache of peanut butter flavor. >The first bite hurt you. >Luckily, you learned after that and ate it and the rest of the Pop-tarts in the box. >You toasted them first, of course. >You've finished your part of breakfast and are waiting for your moth-mate to drink the milk. >She dips her long tongue into the cup of milk. >Just seeing that tongue send shivers down your spine. >She drinks a little bit, then stops. Her expression changes to one of dread. >"... It doesn't taste any different from regular milk." >... Was she talking to you? >It didn't seem like she was... >Her eyes wander to you. She looks directly at your mouth. >... Half-a-minute later, she's still looking at your mouth. >You feel very uncomfortable. >You really wish you knew what to say or do to make her stop. >Unfortunately, you simply have to wait. >She slides the cup away and looks toward the door. >... She finished drinking while staring at your mouth. >You get up from the table, pick up the cup and head toward the sink. >You'll probably do dishes... later. >The only things needing to be washed are a few spoons, even fewer bowls, a couple cups, a plate and a pitcher you put juice in. >None of those things are things you don't have many more of. >You could hold off doing dishes for a week but you won't. >You have a better work-ethic than that. >You leave the room and prepare for a boring day. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >Of all of the sugary cereals, you may be eating the best one. >Frosted Flakes. >They're like Corn Flakes, but not bland. >They're like Frosted Mini-Wheats, but good. >No, not good... >THEY'RE GRRRRRRREAT! >And almost completely gone. >As in, you bought a full box and now the last of it is in your bowl. >You have no clue where rest of it went. >... Now that you think of it, this has been happening for all of your breakfasts. >Every single breakfast you've had, you seem to finish it off after only one sitting. >But you can't finish an entire box of cereal in one go. >That's insane. >Your breakfast food has just been... disappearing. >And you only just noticed. >"Anon!" >SWEET SUGARY HEART-ATTACK. >You cough and sputter for a bit, attempting to recover from the moth-rage next to you. >As you regain your composure, you look at her, wondering what could possibly cause such an outburst. >She's staring at you. >You've totally gotten over the stare. >Your heart isn't beating rapidly right now, that's just... your stomach, or something... >You're terrified. >"Just finish the cereal so I can drink the milk." >Your mind can't think of a rebuttal. >That stare is overpowered. >"Seriously, you've just been staring at it for a minute." >... Oh. You must have zoned out at some point. >Looks like it's your fault once again. >Defeated, you turn back around to devour your food. >Like a tiger eating its prey. >And that tiger is helping children with sports. >And advertising this cereal. >You like Tony. >After finishing your great breakfast, you pass the bowl off to your moth-mate. >You get up from your chair and stretch. Today will be a great day. "Well, I'm going to go vacuum the bedroom." >Your moth-mate nods and sticks her tongue in the milk. >With that, you're off. You leave through the door to the hallway. >You turn left. >You totally went to the wrong one. >Whatever, it's a looping hallway; you just have to walk this way and you'll eventually get to the bedroom. >Your kitchen/dining room is connected to the same hallway twice. It's... weird. You don't understand the point of architecture like that, but you try not to question it on a daily basis. >Meaning you question it on a daily basis. >Conveniently, this hallway connects to the rest of the house. >Every single room. >It's weird. >Even that room with no light-switch. The one you never go in. Not because it scares you, but... uh... because it scares you... >Just as you almost get to the other entryway to the dining kitchen, you hear a sigh. Not a loud sigh, a very faint sigh. >... Sounds a lot like eavesdropping time. >Your moth-mate seldom speaks to herself. >It makes sense to you; you do it too. >It probably has something to do with loneliness. >You press yourself against the wall, eager to hear what she has to say. >... >... >Silence. >... >Wait, you hear something. >She's... panting. >... That's... certainly something. >A soft moan escapes her lips. >... >Last time you heard that, you ended up calling it an incident. >... Then there was silence. >She's probably freaking out. >She does that a lot when she thinks you aren't eavesdropping. >But you are. >You're a horrible person. >You'll have to Metal Gear your way out of this one. Usually, you just have to go back a few rooms and you're safe, however, you're supposed to be in the bedroom right now. If she checks there and doesn't see you... >You hear her pick up the bowl. >She's heading toward the sink. >Now is your chance. >You turn around to face the wall you're against, so you'll be able to see her once you pass that doorway. >You gracefully jump across the open space. >She's looking into the sink. >You are successful. >As the coolest ninja in the house, you sneak to the bedroom to vacuum. >It was a cleaning stealth day ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- >Your food is definitely disappearing. >Unfortunately, you have no clue how. >You checked while clean. You checked for even the slightest sign someone or something besides you and your moth-mate have been in this house. >Nothing. >Either there are high level ninjas going through your home, or... >Or... uh... >That's pretty much your only conclusion. >You're a medium level ninja, so it's not out of the realm of possibility. >Ninjas going around eating your cereal. >Jerks. >Ninjas must be jerks in Equestria, because no one should ever steal anyone else's food. >That's just low. >... Unless it's for good reason. >You're not getting into this debate inside your head. >Not now, at least. >There's a moth staring you down. >So you continue eating your Peanut Butter Crunch. >The only trace of the phrase "Crunchatize me Cap'n!" comes from the advertisements on the side of the box, but that does make you cry. >Yet. >You let out a sigh as you finish the cereal. >You don't turn to face her when you pass the bowl to her. >You can't look at her. >Not after five pairs of your boxers went missing last night. >And you know that wasn't the ninjas, because she accidentally woke you up ever time she changed into a new pair. >You searched for them. They're all hidden very well. >There's also a really weird smell in your bedroom. It was faint when you vacuumed, but now it's unavoidable. >The smell is bad, but also... good? >You can't quite identify it, but something about it makes you like it. The smell itself is bad, but it makes you... feel good? >Things are difficult to understand sometimes. >You hear the sounds of her finishing the milk. >Slurping air, bowl being put back on the table, her refreshed sigh... >It's time. >You turn back to put the things away, and out of the corner of your eye, you see a content moth. >Aw... >Now if only she'd tell you what she did with all of your boxers. >... Or just give them back. >You just want them back.