>Day 14
>Your windows are boarded up with dismantled furniture parts
>Your door is blocked by several chairs, a couch
>They had cut off your electricity to starve you out
>That, or because you stopped paying
>You light a match
>And set the candle alight
>6 matches remain
>30 candles remain
>You really should have prepared better for this apocalypse
>The sun is down
>And the pale moonlight filters through the gaps of your windows
>The tap still works, but you feel a little weak from the rationing
>Your supplies were only meant to last you a week
>2 cans of food remain
>All the perishables have long since expired
>The future is looking bleak
>The only comfort you have is your journal
>And you write down the happenings of the day
>"Day 14. Low on food. Water still works. Low on matches."
>The several entries before are equally bleak
>But this way, if someone finds your body, they'll know what happened
>Will it really end this way?
>It seemed almost like an eternity since Twilight sent her missive out
>And now the ravenous ponies of the world seek to take your chastity
>You shudder at the thought of their glistening marehoods, wrapping around your virgin member
>Flanks squeezing your thighs, hooves pushing your shoulders down
>You squeeze your eyes shut
>You can't let them get to you now
>They can't win
 
>Day 20
>You write in your journal, the one part that keeps you sane
>"Day 20. No food (again). Water gone. Matches gone. Sun is setting. Heading out."
>Today was the day
>You needed to go out to forage for supplies
>You had prepared a sack of essential materials for you
>A crowbar
>A hammer
>A bag of bits
>A backpack for the haul
>A map
>A marker
>You check your gear
>Some gloves
>A padded sweatshirt for armor
>Thick jeans
>If they're going to try to get you, you're going to give them hell for it
>You slowly remove the piled furniture on your front door
>Breathing heavily
>Your senses are dulled, and you're fatigued easily from the lack of food
>The way is cleared
>You start prying the nails off the boards
>And then the door lays there
>Waiting
>Inviting you
>You take a deep breath
>And open the door
 
>It creaks as you open it, and you look out
>Empty
>Clear
>Dark
>Crickets chirp
>The sun had gone down while you prepared
>And the moon now lit your way
>You heft your backpack
>And hold up your map
>There's a grocery store two blocks to the left
>Your eyes scan the streets
>No pony in sight
>Good
>So far so good
>You slowly make your way towards the grocery store
>Holding your crowbar, gripping it tightly
>You make it halfway through, and see the store in front of you, when you hear distant giggling
>You freeze
>Looking around
>And see shapes on the horizon, heading your way
>Shit
>Shit
>Instinct tells you to run, but the noise would attract attention
>You walk to the side of the street, finding a bush
>And slowly worm your way into it, hoping to avoid contact
>You drop your backpack into a nearby bush
>Freeing you up and giving you some more mobility
>And you lay in wait, while the shapes come near
 
>There's 2 of them
>You recognize what used to be your friends
>Lyra, her once gentle smile now replaced by the psychopathic smirk of a rapist
>BonBon, a predatorial glint where her innocent eyes used to be
>You hold your breath as they pass
>And it looks like they would almost go by, with no incident
>Until one of them stops
>Your heart takes a leap
>Lyra sniffs the air
>Turning her head around
>And faces your direction
>Your fight or flight sense engages
>And you bolt away from the pair
>You run through bushes, hop fences, trying to keep a mental note of where you're going
>You hear their footsteps following you, bounding after you
>Shit
>You're going to get caught
>It's going to end here
>Everything you've done
>You breath heavily as you round the next fence
>A light from a window blinks on
>They're onto you
>You turn towards her
>And...
>Your backpack is still left behind
>You're defenseless
>Unarmed
>It's over
>Your body relaxes as you feel yourself making peace with your end
>You close your eyes as the rustling gets louder
>And the first of them jump on top of you
 
>You collapse onto the ground, stomach first
>And feel her warm body on top of you
>Her muzzle is near your ear
>You feel her breaths as she exhales onto you
>"I've got him!"
>It's Lyra
>Oh, where did things go wrong
>You feel her get up slightly
>And she turns you over, back on the ground, with her magic
>You had made peace with it
>But now as rape stares you in the face
>You're unsure
>What happens afterwards?
>Is anyone really ever sure?
>Her ravenous eyes pierce your own
>She licks her lips
>"I found you, Anon."
>You gulp and see her partner walk out of the bushes
>A stern look on her face, frowning
>Bits of branch and leaves are stuck in her mane
>"Really? You ran all the way for this?"
>It's the typical good rapist/bad rapist shtick
>You can't let their psychological games get to you
 
>"C'mon, I've been wanting this for a while."
>BonBon rolls her eyes
>"Just get it over with."
>No
>Even if she's the loving rapist that tells you she wanted to stop Lyra
>Even if she holds you afterwards, telling you that you're still clean, pure
>She's still a part of all this
>You won't fall for her
>Lyra's body grinds against you
>And her horn's magic works your pants, sliding it off
>This is it
>The ride ends here
>Your completely limp dick is exposed to the extremely cold air
>And the pony above you presses her warm lips down on you
>Sliding her wet slit across the tip of your erecting cock
>You don't want this
>But your body keeps telling you that this rubbing feels good
>It feels dirty, wrong, that you're doing this
>And you have to look away, closing your eyes
>"Aww, Anon, you don't want it, huh?"
>You feel her shifting, the slit sliding backwards
>Soon you feel her exhales on your ear
>Her muzzle is close when she whispers
>"Too bad."
>And she plops her soft, juicy, rapey marehood down onto you
>She takes your cock into her warm folds
>And you feel her inner walls squeeze and squeeze
>So you can't help but squirm at the touch
"N-no..."
>"Yes yes, Anon."
>You hear a sigh from BonBon, who's no doubt watching and getting off to this
 
>Lyra thrusts her hips up and down on you
>Your cock can't help but get hard and it fills you with shame
>What if this was all your fault?
>Maybe if you had dressed differently
>Or walked differently
>You feel your tip press against hard resistance when she slams all the way down
>Your balls rub against her soft fur
>Suddenly, they tingle
>And you realize Lyra is using her magic to massage your balls
>Why is your body telling you it feels good?
>It's wrong, so wrong
>"C'mon, Anon."
>You feel soft hooves against your cheeks
>Spreading wetness
>You don't remember crying
>Wait
>Her hoof presses on your lips
>And it's not the salty taste of tears
>But the sweet honeyed taste of...
>Oh gods
>You retch
>And she pushes her hoof further in
>The monster giggles as she fiddles with your tongue
>Spreading her delicious - no, disgusting - juices all over your tongue
>Her moans crescendo
>And you feel her body shiver on top of you
>Her insides squeeze your cock, and the folds slide across your sensitive spots
>It's enough to coax you to edge
>As she keeps thrusting you realize you're about to actually cum
>And the idea fills you with so much shame you can't help but give a small whimper
>She gives out a loud gasp, and you feel warm liquids envelop your cock
>Which drives you also to climax, and you gasp into her hoof
>Filling the rapist up, giving her your life, your seed
 
>She pops off with a squish
>And laughs
>"You came, Anon."
>Her hoof is freed from your mouth
>And you curl up into a ball after she gets off of you
>"Don't lie to yourself, you enjoyed it."
>Slut
>Whore
>That's all you are now
>"Can we go now?"
>"Sure you don't want a go, BonBon?"
>"Yes, I'm sure."
>Their footsteps recede into the distance
>And you're left there with cum stains on your cock
>Stains you know you can never fully clean yourself of
>You cry to sleep that night
>Hoping for a better tomorrow