Penalty Farm [NSFW] Grimdark

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Background Pony #FE64
You wake up in a control room, with the only exit a steel blast door with six lights attached to it, each shaped like an Element of Harmony. Bands on your hands, feet, and head prevent you from using any powers. Across the door is a simple control panel, two sound systems, a window, and a set of twelve buttons. Six of the buttons are also shaped like the Elements, with the remaining six showing simple pictures: a pair of hands wrapped around a neck, Frankenstein’s Monster, a tree, a pair of boxing gloves, three demons surrounding a wine bottle, and a lightning bolt.
 
Through the window you can see an elaborate machine in the distance with thirteen chambers: a glass box in front of you with two circular openings, six heavy tungsten boxes large enough to fit any variety of items or beings, and six glass tubes. Peering into the distance you can vaguely make out the profiles of six women, and you realize that they are humanized versions of the Mane Six, though you can only vaguely determine their body shape from here. The machine seems designed to line up two of the chambers into the glass box and deposit the contents of both into it.
 
There is a note attached to the seat of the console, with a derringer attached to it, not strong enough to break the door or glass but enough to kill a human. The note reads: “Choose. Spare none. Three will live, three will die. Or one will die and all may live. Perhaps.”
 
There is no food. You are hungry and thirsty, and a tingling appears in your crotch. Choose well.
luna the great!
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She looks down at the buttons, examining them carefully. Decisions, decisions… What each one may do is a mystery, so she’ll just have to go with what seems to make the most sense. If anything here makes much sense. On one hand, she could get the opposite of what she thinks she’s getting… She looks back to the note, finding nothing more than what was there before, so she grabs the derringer and sighs, pushing two buttons.
 
The shape of three diamonds and the picture of a tree.
Background Pony #FE64
The machine rumbles to life with a cacophony of grinding gears, shifting turbines, and an unknown, almost inaudible sound masked by the mechanisms, with the glass container holding the woman and one of the tungsten boxes connecting to the main glass chamber. You realize both chambers have a similar aperture mechanism, on the bottom and top respectively, to those on the chamber, and these apertures connect with a sound like air being sucked out of a vacuum.
 
The lower aperture opens and a whirring sound can be heard from it, with a platform shooting up from the tungsten chamber and locking into place. It appears to be a plot of soil, rich and fertile, ringed with bamboo shoots reaching about an inch in height. At the center appears to be a simple tree sapling, apple from the looks of it, appearing to be several months old already and untrimmed, as if it were wild. Looking at it fills you with an odd combination of youthful cheer and dread.
 
The second aperture opens up, with a prone woman falling out of it as if unceremoniously shoved out. The floor of the glass chamber is cushioned just enough for the fall to not cause any real harm, but not enough to prevent pain, causing the woman to grunt slightly.
 
As you suspected, it is Rarity, in human form, and the tingling in your groin turns into a sudden, horrible tightness. The nylon, bright red cocktail dress she wears is beaded in pink rhinestones, and leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. As Rarity begins to shift - she seems to have just regained her consciousness you can see the hem of the dress slide up, revealing midnight blue, lace garters just barely digging into her thick, but toned thighs, no doubt a result of exercising to maintain her figure. The dress tightens even further as she begins to inhale, her silicone swollen bosom stretching the fabric to its limits as it refuses to give, pulling the dress tight around her slightly less exercised, curved stomach.
 
In spite of the garish lighting, Rarity’s face is as gorgeous as ever, if heavily made up. Deep blue Kohl makeup lines her eyes, which you notice are bleary and unfocused, as if she had been drugged. Fake eyelashes practically drip mascara onto her thankfully light blush: Rarity’s porcelain skin itself is mostly untouched, with the exception of lips thick with collagen and lipstick the color of amethyst. She mouths some words and you wonder how her lips would feel against your nethers. And as expected, her hair is flawless, coifed and coiled and deep purple, framing her unseeing face brilliantly.
 
Both buttons deactivate, and Rarity lifts herself to her knees. One of the speakers rings to life, and you observe as she looks around. The fog is lifting from her eyes, as exhaustion turns into confusion.
 
“Twilight? Spikey-Wikey?”
 
Rarity’s fake tits hang down as she looks around her, and the plants begin to rustle as she touches the soil. The tree appears to be turning black.
 
Rarity continues to call out for her friends. As you observe the scene you notice that the plants react more as Rarity stumbles further onto the soil…no, as more of her outfit touches it. The unnatural parts. The metal of her rings, the silicone of her breasts, the nylon of her dress.
 
It is only then that you see her shoes, classy, elegant high heels. Black, shimmering in the ugly light.
 
You realize what the plant is reacting to. You realize the shoes are leather.
 
Her heel digs into the dirt, piercing the soil and trodding down a bamboo shoot.
 
“Spikey-wikey?”
 
The reaction is almost instantaneous as the bamboo shoot she steps on grows an immediate three feet in size and skewers her through the foot, barely missing her thigh as it bursts out from her ankle. Rarity begins screaming in pain and tumbles to the ground, desperately scrambling at the shoot to remove it from her foot. The bamboo must have punctured something, as blood flows freely into the soil, sucked up instantly. You notice the tree grow slightly.
 
Rarity sits up, gritting her teeth, and begins yanking at the shoot, tugging at it in pain until she finally breaks it, hobbling away from the soil and dripping blood as she runs to the glass, banging desperately on it and screaming to someone. You realize in horror that she can see you too…and that the bamboo shoots are growing past the soil and wrapping around her leg…
 
The shoot springs forward, puncturing her Achilles tendon and coiling around just under the skin. Rarity’s shriek temporarily overloads the speaker as she is swung into the air and slammed onto the soil. You hear her leg shatter, and watch as she is dragged to the center of the soil. The bamboo shoots turn inwards and point towards her body. She is trapped.
 
Blood pours from the resulting puncture wound and you see Rarity shakily lift herself again, now utterly terrified as she stares at the apple tree, growing rapidly as it drinks from her. Roots burst out of the dirt, rough and jagged, while fruitless branches begin to sprout, crawling towards her. The tree trunk itself has now taken form, with the center of the trunk forming a knot that does not appear natural.
 
Rarity begins actively blubbering, her body trembling in abject terror as black mascara creeps down her face. Drips of it hit the soil, causing the bamboo to sharpen and inch forward. The tree branches wrap around her body and lift her upwards, her good leg kicking desperately as she squirms in its grasp.
 
The branches wrap around her thighs, waist, and breasts, and in an instant her dress is shredded apart. Her face grows pale as the tree branches scrape and pull on her body, seeming to focus on her false bosom.
 
To your surprise, the tree knot begins to take the form of a face, an elderly old woman from the looks of it, strikingly familiar as it begins to shift and twist. The branches squeeze tighter, and Rarity begins to shake uncontrollably as they cut into her supple skin.
 
The breasts do not move much, and as the branches squeeze tight no milk emerges. Fake to the bone. The tree-face mouths the words, “False. No life. A liar.”
 
The face erupts into a burst of rage, transforming into the visage of a witch and shrieking, a blood chilling yell that sounds eerily like a roaring wind. Rarity is now screaming, her hair in tatters and her eyes running with makeup. She yells for Spike, crying desperately as the bamboo begins crushing her now dead leg, draining every last ounce of blood from the wound.
 
As if to silence her, the branches slam her bodily into the tree trunk, crushing her back against the wood as bamboo skewers dig into her arms and leg, effectively crucifying the poor girl. Her eyes roll slightly as branches wrap around her neck, while the bamboo piercing her legs spreads them apart.
 
More branches, thick and green, sprout from the tree’s roots. The monstrous tree face extends a branch from its mouth and wraps around Rarity’s face, eventually growing into her throat, finally nulling her yells. You recoil in horror as you see the bulge of the branch snaking down her windpipe.
 
“You. Give life. That you took away.”
 
The tree roots spread Rarity’s pussy open, and to your shock she is still untouched, a virgin. The green roots tenderly stroke her clitoral hood, moist and quivering.
 
“Life.”
 
The roots all coil into sharp, brambly thorns and penetrate her, pushing a full foot into her vaginal cavity. Blood spurts out as Rarity’s body begins convulsing. The bamboo shoots tighten as if to discipline her, wrapping even more around the limbs they punctured.
 
The penetrating roots pull out, or attempt to, as the thorns and bark snag on her uterus walls, pulling out a bit of her tract but still holding strong. The roots begin thrusting faster and pulling out further, pumping in as the branch raping Rarity’s throat pumps out. By now her hair is a tattered mat of blood and dirt, her makeup smeared all over her face and her lipstick slowly tinged with red. She convulses, tears streaming down her face as she coughs up blood.
 
The roots continue thrusting until the young bark surrounding them swells and cracks, a globule of liquid traveling up the length of the shaft and bursting inside her cervix. With a forceful yank the tree roots finally free themselves, completely prolapsing her uterus and turning it inside out. Blood pours from the mangled flesh, as does a sticky, viscous golden fluid. You recognize it as sap.
 
Rarity is pale as a sheet when the tree branch in her throat begins to expand. Branches swell up in her chest and under her breasts, glowing with a sickly light. Her breasts bounce horrifically as green veins stretch from her nipples inward, silicone lactating from them.Her stomach swells and begins to crackle. Rarity convulses again, squirms, sobs. She should be dead. Why isn’t she?
 
And then you see it. The sap, pouring from her ruined snatch, is pooling at her feet, glowing a brilliant green. You see the mangled flesh turn dark brown and rough.
 
Rarity is awakened one more time by the excruciating transformation. Her body is now thrashing and her voice squealing like a dying pig. In desperation, she seems to fellate the tree branches.
 
Tiny blossoms emerge from her body as the wood magic crawls up her flesh, bursting into fresh young roots while maintaining her shape. The only exception appears to be her breasts, which sag normally as the silicone is replaced with sap.
 
Eventually Rarity is reduced to gurgling, her voice dying into a whisper as the last trace of her humanity is swallowed up. She has become part of the tree; a hideous decoration if generosity. As you recoil, clasping the gun in your hand, a single, red apple falls from where the cervix was.
 
The tungsten box takes back its grisly trophy, and recedes into the machine, a robot arm pulling the apple into the chamber and depositing it into a chute.
 
The Element of Generosity on the door deactivates and opens, depositing the apple at your feet.
 
“Lock one deactivated. Subject status:alive.”
luna the great!
Not a Llama - Happy April Fools Day!
Friendship, Art, and Magic (2017) - Celebrated Derpibooru's five year anniversary with friends.
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@Background Pony #CD32  
She stares motionless at the apple as it bumps against her foot, mouth agape, eyes glazed over reflecting but one emotion. Horror. As someone extremely guilt-prone, the thought that this is all her fault, what she’s done, the excruciating pain Rarity just went through, cloud her mind from any proper line of thought. A rare occurrence for her ever-racing mind.
 
She subconsciously reaches down to pick up the piece of ruby-coloured fruit shakily, barely able to grasp it. It almost startles her when she looks down to find it in her hand.
 
She puts the apple on the seat of the console, saving it until she decides she will starve if she doesn’t eat it. She can’t bear to look at it any longer and isn’t sure if she’ll even be able to eat it.
 
Tears tap agianst the floor. She knew that Rarity would most likely die, but she just had this flicker of hope… It burns away, leaving only ashes in it’s wake. She looks at the buttons.
 
‘It’s all your fault…’
 
‘It’s all your fault.’
 
‘Its all your fault!’
 
She presses the button of honesty and the boxing gloves.
Background Pony #FE64
@PonyDancer  
(Of course! Just working on Applejack’s piece right now. …Unless you’d care to take a whack at it. ;) Are you the sadistic type?)
Background Pony #FE64
@PonyDancer  
(Cool! Let’s see what you’ve got, an RP needs all manner of contributions. Remember, the point of the experiment is torment of the viewer character, so go for the unexpected and the cruel, with this particular case being Applejack in some manner of fight. Sexual violence is always a plus here. Also, Rarity survived the last one, so you have two living options and three dead options. Have fun!)
Lieutenant Bean
Artist -

As the button got pressed, a light showed another room ahead of the pony.
 
You see Applejack appear behind the glass, talking to you: “Twalight, Rainbow Dash? Is that you? Where am Ah?”
 
Behind her, a pony covered in blood, starts creeping up. Quietly, so as not to be heard.
 
“Applejack… Applejack…” It whispers, managing to get Twilight’s voice right. “Twalight! Where am Ah? What happened?!” She now asks, becoming distressed.
 
The pony behind her creeps up even faster, a tentacle coming out of his mouth. Applejack peeks around the pony outside of the glass, and screams. “RARITY?! W-WHATS GOING ON HERE?!” Her screams fill the room, making another apple fall out of the tree.
 
“Applejack…” He whispers again, the tentacle getting closer towards her neck.
 
She finally turns around, just as the tentacle grabs her. “Help Meh! Help!” She screams, the tentacle tightening around her throat.
 
“Tut tut Applejack!” He whispers menacingly as you watch in horror. The tentacle tightens more and snaps her neck.
 
Still alive, Applejack mutters: “W-why wouldn’t you help meh…? Its cruel to kill off honesty…”
 
He chuckles before removing his tentacle. “I’m going to have lots of fun with you!” He grabs boxing gloves from the ground and punches her muzzle, earning a yelp from her. He hears a satisfying snap and then does it again. “Oh, I forgot to mention my name! I’m the slitherine…” He uses his tentacle again and sticks it up her vagina. Another tentacle comes out and wraps around her mouth, muffling her cries for him to stop. “Mmph! Mmph!” A river of tears stream down her face as he goes deeper, now chuckling. “You never thought you’d die this way did you?” He removes his tentacle and uses a blade on it, cutting off her tongue. Blood pours from her mouth and she makes a bloodied gurgle. “Ughghghghh…” She manages to drown on her own blood because her neck was broken, making her gag reflex not function properly. “Heehee.” Slitherine chuckles, removing his tentacle from her genitals.
 
He wraps his tentacle around her neck again, making it so tight, her head comes clean off. He disappears into the ground, never to be heard of again. Her head rolls towards the door, eyes open and blank. The gurgling continues until it pours out of the hole in what’s left of her neck on her head. You notice the bone sticking out, and begin feeling slightly sick.
 
The door deactivates, her head coming to rest at your hooves.
 
“Lock two deactivated. Subject status: Dead.”
Background Pony #FE64
@PonyDancer  
(O.o erm, mind if I handle the next one? Also, the button is meant to provide a penalty based on the image implications, it isn’t just about boxing gloves, for instance. Variety is the spice of life!)
luna the great!
Not a Llama - Happy April Fools Day!
Friendship, Art, and Magic (2017) - Celebrated Derpibooru's five year anniversary with friends.
An Artist Who Rocks - 100+ images under their artist tag
Artist -

Alicorn enthusiast
@PonyDancer  
She turns away from the scene, not wanting to sit there and watch helplessly as her choices play out, knowing it won’t be in either of their favour. She tries desperately to block out the horrible noises, the terror from behind the glass. She can’t watch this again. A sinking feeling fills her chest, holding her in it’s trance. She’s frightened, and she’s slipping.
 
When she feels the head touch her, she absolutely panics, flipping around and shooting with the derringer for all she’s worth, realizing just a few seconds later that it’s not something out to get her, but a… Head. Applejack’s. She stumbles back. She’s a mess, droplets of scarlet scattered across her clothes, her skin, the floor. She resists the urge to whimper, to cower in the corner and leave the buttons alone. Maybe shoot herself. She can’t, there’s still a miniscule chance she could save someone.
 
She asks herself why she’s here. How she even got here. Who would ever put someone in a place like this, force them to make decisions.
 
Will she ever get out? No, she’ll probably die here. They can’t just let her leave after seeing this. OR perhaps they will. She’d go to the authorities, and they wouldn’t believe here. They would send her to a… A mental hospital.
 
She pulls together the last shards of her sanity and wipes the blood off her arms- futile, only streaking her arms with it.
 
Next two buttons.
 
Magic and Lightning.
Background Pony #FE64
@luna the great!  
Once again the machine screeches to life, and you wait in strangled anticipation for whatever will happen next. After the incident with Applejack you are not sure what to expect…or how much you can take.
 
The tungsten box opens up, and again a platform emerges. Placed in the center, to your horror, is a gigantic metal chair with various diodes and cables attached to it. Various hatches can be seen all around the device. In front of the device is what appears to be a trivia book.
 
Twilight Sparkle is carefully lowered onto the chair from above, again, fully conscious. The most modestly dressed of the three so far, her schoolgirl uniform hangs loosely around her skinny frame. You can see black panties underneath the skirt and the traces of a pink bra underneath her shirt. She is mostly flat chested, but you can tell that there are thick curves underneath her skirt. Unmade up, her face is slightly darker than Rarity’s.
 
Twilight looks around but does not panic as she sits in the chair. Indeed, even when metal cuffs lock her into it. She simply looks around, observing her situation. She is clearly nervous but keeping her wits around her.
 
The trivia book suddenly floats up, hanging in the air as if by magic. Twilight yelps, but composes herself, even when the book speaks in a cheery voice.
 
“Good evening, Ms. Sparkle. I will be your tutor today. In the depths of my pages are all the questions ever asked. Answer my chosen correctly and you will be free.”
 
Twilight trembles a bit but again composes herself. “Ok. What are the rules?”
 
“I will ask you five questions. Any questions. You must answer three of the five successfully to be released; for every right answer, a lock will be opened. For every wrong, you will receive a punishment. Three punishments and your game is over.”
 
Twilight gulps, but nods, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Trivia, questions, book learning. Twilight will ace it. You managed to save one of them.
 
“Question 1. What is the unladen air speed of an African swallow?”
 
Twilight mulls for a moment, pondering, and then speaks the words. “23 miles per hour.”
 
“Very good, Ms. Sparkle. One lock down.”
 
Twilight is clearly excited, and gives off a loud shout of joy, as do you.
 
“Question two. What is the chemical makeup of the alloy Ultimet.”
 
Twilight ponders, a bit longer this time, and lists off the elements in the compound : 54% Cobalt (as balance), 26% Chromium, 9% Nickel, 5% Molybdenum, 3% Iron, 2Tungsten, 0.8 Manganese, 0.3% Silicon 0.08% Nitrogen and 0.06% Carbon.
 
“That’s two down, Ms. Sparkle.”
 
Twilight again gives a hooray and is beaming happily. She does not notice that the book’s voice took on a sharp edge as it said this. The pages rustle and a sudden, uneasy revelation occurs to you. Every question. Ever asked.
 
“Question 3: Kio estas la ĉefurbo de Sirio?”
 
Twilight is about to answer when she stops short. “What?”
 
“I will not repeat the questions, Ms. Sparkle.”
 
“B,,,but I couldn’t understand the language!!!”
 
You realize what the book meant. Not just every question asked in English…or even in books. Every question. EVER.
 
“You have failed your first question, Ms. Sparkle. Punishment level 3.”
 
The hatches closest to Twilight’s chest open up, and needle sharp diodes burst forward, skewering her small breasts and administering a loud, prolonged electrical shock. Twilight begins screaming as the lightning courses through her body. You begin to retch as you watch small sparks shoot off of her body. Slowly, her shirt burns away.
 
After a while, Twilight slumps down, gasping for breath as tears roll down her face.
 
“I neglected to mention, Ms. Sparkle. As the questions grow harder, so do the punishments. That is why you must finish this before getting to question 5. Administering adrenaline to regain consciousness.”
 
A hatch in front of Twilight’s legs opens and a large hypodermic is shot into her vagina, piercing into her cervix and injecting the drug. Twilight gasps back into attention, her composure falling to pieces almost instantly.
 
“Question 4, Ms. Sparkle.”
 
“NO WAIT. PLEASE!!! IN ENGLISH!!! MAKE IT ENGLISH!!!” Twilight is screaming, begging, tears flow down her cheeks and brush painfully against the still live wires.
 
The book shoots forward and smashes her in the face, breaking two of her teeth and causing her to spit blood.
 
“Obey your tutor, Ms. Sparkle. Question 4: according to ancient Sumerian farmer Saphirus, when is the best time to plant crops for his children?”
 
Twilight gives out a horrific squeal of pain and fear and starts thrashing in her seat. The clamps tighten instantly and break her wrists.
 
“ I can’t answer that question!!! Nobody ever recorded that conversation!!! Please pick another!!!”
 
“No. Failure.”
 
With a loud roar, a hidden hatch underneath Twilight’s legs open up, and in an instant you can see a diode jutting out of her stomach. He has implanted an electrical torture device into her anus.
 
The electricity sounds like a thunderclap. You can see the heat glow in her belly and the diode spin like a pinwheel as it grinds into her stomach cavity, raping her ass and pumping enough volts into her body that all the lights dim. All you can see is Twilight, shaking in the seat as she is brutally abused and ripped apart by the machine’s caress. You vomit in your mouth as blood spews from her mouth and ass, a stream of urine spraying out and further increasing the torment.
 
After ten minutes, the diode gives a mighty push and shoves Twilight forward, tearing the bones in her arms and legs and pressing against her insides. Her legs go limp as the diode extracts itself, and Twilight crumples to the ground. You can see her brains leaking out of her ears, melted into a horrifying pool. You can see her innards coiled around the device.
 
“Question number five. Are you dead?”
 
Twilight does not respond. Urine pools out of her corpse and into a drain, a cup of which is extracted by the machine.
 
“Correct, Ms Sparkle! You win!”
 
You hear a click as the bottle of urine tumbles to your feet. It’s sterile enough to drink now.
 
“Lock three deactivated. Subject status:dead.”
 
(“Last hardcore gore one, swear.”)
luna the great!
Not a Llama - Happy April Fools Day!
Friendship, Art, and Magic (2017) - Celebrated Derpibooru's five year anniversary with friends.
An Artist Who Rocks - 100+ images under their artist tag
Artist -

Alicorn enthusiast
@Background Pony #CD32  
She’s watched the whole thing this time, forcing herself to. She’d really thought she saved someone this time. The challenge had seemed perfect. Twilight had been doing so well. And she had foolishly believed something different would happen.
 
She’d been handed false hope, and she took it without hesitation.
 
Well, not again. The note. She looks around for the note, which is perfectly resting on the chair, looking exactly the same as it did before she started with the buttons.
 
She re-reads. Well, they obviously all didn’t live, so that would mean… Three will live, three will die. That means she must be able to save the others!
 
She doesn’t hesitate to look over the buttons.
 
Kindness and Frankenstein’s Monster.
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