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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Laissez-Faire
It’s a little known fact that there were just over nine hundred ponies in the city of Manehatten with the name Autumn Leaves. Each led a different life, entirely unconnected to one another beyond what name they’d answer to. On each flank a different destiny would be emblazoned, entirely disparate of one another.
Two Autumn Leaves were doctors. One worked as a neurosurgeon while the other researched new forms of medication for ponies that might need it. Fourteen Autumn Leaves had jobs as cashiers for various stores and nearly fifty of them were artists. Of the nine hundred odd ponies, all but twenty of them bore colorings strongly resembling the fall season, a fact that had helped inspire their parents to name them as such.
Of all the Autumn Leaves, only one was a prostitute. From an early age, young Autumn Leaves found herself impoverished. Having difficulty feeding not only herself, but her little sister as well, the filly resorted to the oldest trade known to ponykind. It was rather unfortunate for her that the very first day on the job ended with a sigil stamped forever on her hind quarters.
After years of work in the field, the young mare finally decided it was time to move on to a different field. She’d never really been much of a fan of prostitution, and while she could enjoy the pleasures of sex, she had a hard time finding enjoyment in creating intimacy between herself and a stranger she knew nothing about.
Unfortunately, most ponies weren’t too keen on hiring a mare with a symbol of prostitution emblazoned on her side. It was a tramp stamp, they’d say, something far too scandalous for them to have representing their company. The more she looked, the more our young Autumn Leaves would come to realize just how little freedom she had.
Weeks turned to months, months turned to years, and Autumn Leaves still found the time to look for work outside of her field. Prostitution was a thing of the night, and that left her many hours in the day to look for more conventional employment. Despite her persistence, not a single pony gave her a chance.
Her life came to a head one day when she turned a stallion down. He had that manic, desperate look about him that screamed of violence, and Autumn wanted nothing to do with him. That wasn’t good enough, though. With strong hooves and a need for release, the stallion took her. After the deed was done, he left a small pile of bits beside her pillow, leaving without a word.
When Autumn Leaves went to the police about it, they soon discovered that her profession was prostitution. How could they charge a stallion with rape when it was her job to sell herself for money? Was it really rape to force yourself on a prostitute so long as you pay her? There was no sympathy there, she was a dirty mare from the start.
When they found her body hanging from the rafters, he hind hooves dangling only inches above the chair she’d kicked over, they never really thought about why she’d done it, nor had they cared. It was her choice to live the life she’d led, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like she was blameless in all of this.
She was only a prostitute.
Two Autumn Leaves were doctors. One worked as a neurosurgeon while the other researched new forms of medication for ponies that might need it. Fourteen Autumn Leaves had jobs as cashiers for various stores and nearly fifty of them were artists. Of the nine hundred odd ponies, all but twenty of them bore colorings strongly resembling the fall season, a fact that had helped inspire their parents to name them as such.
Of all the Autumn Leaves, only one was a prostitute. From an early age, young Autumn Leaves found herself impoverished. Having difficulty feeding not only herself, but her little sister as well, the filly resorted to the oldest trade known to ponykind. It was rather unfortunate for her that the very first day on the job ended with a sigil stamped forever on her hind quarters.
After years of work in the field, the young mare finally decided it was time to move on to a different field. She’d never really been much of a fan of prostitution, and while she could enjoy the pleasures of sex, she had a hard time finding enjoyment in creating intimacy between herself and a stranger she knew nothing about.
Unfortunately, most ponies weren’t too keen on hiring a mare with a symbol of prostitution emblazoned on her side. It was a tramp stamp, they’d say, something far too scandalous for them to have representing their company. The more she looked, the more our young Autumn Leaves would come to realize just how little freedom she had.
Weeks turned to months, months turned to years, and Autumn Leaves still found the time to look for work outside of her field. Prostitution was a thing of the night, and that left her many hours in the day to look for more conventional employment. Despite her persistence, not a single pony gave her a chance.
Her life came to a head one day when she turned a stallion down. He had that manic, desperate look about him that screamed of violence, and Autumn wanted nothing to do with him. That wasn’t good enough, though. With strong hooves and a need for release, the stallion took her. After the deed was done, he left a small pile of bits beside her pillow, leaving without a word.
When Autumn Leaves went to the police about it, they soon discovered that her profession was prostitution. How could they charge a stallion with rape when it was her job to sell herself for money? Was it really rape to force yourself on a prostitute so long as you pay her? There was no sympathy there, she was a dirty mare from the start.
When they found her body hanging from the rafters, he hind hooves dangling only inches above the chair she’d kicked over, they never really thought about why she’d done it, nor had they cared. It was her choice to live the life she’d led, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like she was blameless in all of this.
She was only a prostitute.