I'm Gonna Put a Spell on You

>Day Early in the morning in Equestria.

>You are Anonymous, human extraordinaire, and this morning, if you could call it that, has been a pain in your arse.

>The sun wasn’t even out and you were being woken up by some horrendous noise.

>You tried to ignore it, you rolled about and squeezed pillows around your head, but to no avail.

>What sounded like horrible animal screeches would just not end. It was maddening!

>Finally becoming sick of the ruckus, you throw on your fluffy striped bathrobe and stomp down the stairs muttering obscenities under your breath.

>You fling open the door.

“Alright you piece of shit! Why the fuck are you waking me up?!?!”

>Your anger quickly dissipates into wonder at the sight before you.

>A wondrous stage had migrated from some far away fair to your lawn, with workers putting on the finishing touches of banners and setting up musical instruments and equipment.

>The hammering and general hubbub of the set was drowned out by the horrible screeching now identified as microphone feedback.

>A few of the workers had seen you, and handed you a small program before going back to work. They were wearing golden armor, and seemed to be royal guards…but why would they be working on some sort of concert?

>You open the program, and inscribed in fine ornate lettering it reads:

>”I Put a Spell On You” performed by PBB

>Wait

>You had heard that song back on earth, and man was that shit your jam!

>But who the hell would know how to play it here? And who the hell is PBB?

>All of a sudden the lights on the stage cut out, and your lawn is plunged into darkness.

>Who the hell had the idea to hold a concert before dawn anyway?

>A single light on the center of the stage comes on, and a white pony steps into its beam.

1/?

 

>Prince Blueblood gives you a sulty smile as he steps up to the mike.

>”Hello Anon dear, I hope you like my performance. Maybe afterwards you could join me behind stage for an exclusive autograph signing? I know where I want to sign!”

>Oh goddammit, not this guy. He may be royalty, but ever since he started trying to get in your pants (or you in his) the lengths he would go to were ridiculous!

>Like last week with the syrup….ugh.

>Before you can voice your displeasure, he nods to the p0nies on the drums and bass, and the familiar opening.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hvA0wWTIv4

>”I’m gonna put a spell on you…” he starts, and oh my does he start. “Because you're mine.”

>The rarely seen royalty who had taken his interest in you had a beautiful voice, one that you had no idea he had.

>“You better stop the things that you're doin'…” he sings. ”I said "Watch out! I ain't lyin'…” His body begins to sway a bit with the music, and you fear he may begin to twerk and grind.

>”Yeaaaaaaahh! I ain't gonna take none of your, foolin’ around.” Oh god he’s mad that you shut him inside Fluttershy’s shed during estrus few weeks ago.

 

>”I ain't gonna take none of your, puttin' me down!” Okay, and the letter you sent to him calling him a blue haired faggot who had no chance in hell at getting the D.

 

>”I’m gonna put a spell on you,” he sang, his voice rolling. “Becaaaaaause you're mine….all right!”

>Finally recognizing this song as not just a tune you missed, but a legitimate threat, you panic. As you turn to enter your house, the guards who had been building the set had blocked your door, and as the solo begins, Blueblood steps off the stage.

2/?

>His horn glowing, you feel your bathrobe tighten around you, and your sleeves are yanked tightly around underneath your armpits, effectively binding you.

>Floating you over to him, he slowly drags his hoof over your chest, letting the band play on without him.

>”Anon…have you felt my spell yet?” His hoof makes his way towards your crotch.

>Slowly caressing your dick, he feels how flaccid it is, and quickly pulls away.

>”Oh dangit! Music from your home isn’t your fetish, is it?” He turns and cuts off the band, and yells to the guards “It didn’t work fellas! Let’s pack up and get out of here!”

>He floats you back down onto the ground, and he and the guards begin dismantling the stage. Your face is still a mix of shock and happiness as he sets to work.

>As you stumble your way back inside, unsure if your butt is safe or not, the sun rises, and you drink your cup of coffee watching the stage vanish as quickly as it appeared.

>At least he’s a polite rapist, right?

3/3