he Breaking of Twilight: Part 2 of 3

A continuation of the “Breaking of” series, where the princesses are subjected to rather devious foot torments of a tickly kind >:3

Short Story Written by Arcadias:

Subject: Twilight – Day #63 Log

Its been quite some time since my last log. Do not think me lazy! After just over two months of abusing her soles with more practical instruments, all of us here are surprised to still see such a large amount of resistance in her. Perhaps she was Celestia’s prize pupil for a reason after all?

It was no matter however. Though particular groups we may or may not consider our predecessors in the art of breaking ponies through torment of the feet have both broken alicorns in their time, we aim to resurrect the artform, and improve on it as best we can!

To this end, it was at last time to introduce poor Twilight to yet more of our technology. A nerve scanner. A warm yellow glow bathes her soles, and slowly but surely, her secrets are revealed to us. Far more trained than any mere equine observation, combined with automated, nerve precise tickling from advanced tool systems? Well… perhaps it’s obvious now why her bondage suit doubles as a life support suit.

Twilight’s vitals are of course, heavily monitored and sustained, as we’ll be pushing her body to its absolute limits, no more, no less, keeping her feet under a torrent of tickly agony as bad as her body can suffer without her… escaping us, one could say. Oh no, we weren’t going to let her go anywhere.

I won’t keep anyone waiting for the juicy details, however. Once the scanners found her weakest hotspots (seemingly some of the most alarmingly sensitive pedal nerve clusters even before exposure to the solution), we let automation take its course based on the data we fed it.

Our fine robotic partners picked their weapons, and took aim at the shivering purple alicorn soles, which would at last begin to understand the true meaning of tickle torture.

Of course, it worked as well as we’d have hoped. Spinning nubby buzzcombs were slotted through each of her heavily restrained toespaces, which were the pinnacle of her weakness, right next to a secondary cluster concentrated around the middle of her arches, which were attacked by a set of vibrating, rotating dull drillbits which sunk into the flesh before spinning away with glee.

The effect was… explosive to say the least. Two months of resistance had gone out the door in mere minutes, and no doubt she, in that moment of pure Tartarus, could comprehend it was the start of her allotted fourteen hours of daily tickling. Of which there’d be three hundred more (at the very least!)

Laughs turned to howls, and howls turned to screams as the hours dragged on, and by the session’s end, there was little left of the Twilight that started the day. Just a twitching, sweaty mess with blush-ravaged feet still tingling from an honestly unfathomable torture.

She was given her short break, of course. Before session two, and it started all over again. It was in this second session, the tears truly began to pour. She couldn’t stand a nanosecond of it. But this was her fate of her feet now. She has no choice but to take it. There is no escape.

Following are a short selection of some of my favourite pleads from while she could still formulate words that weren’t gurgles and babbles.

“PLEASE STOP THE TICKLING!!”

“I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!”

“ANYWHERE BUT MY FEET!!”

“IT’S TOO MUCH!!”

It’s begging like this that makes life worth living. Though I’d be lying if I didn’t say we didn’t completely turn off her voice box once or twice during. Something was simply hilarious about her hysteric face unable to produce noise…

Subject: Twilight – Day #162 Log

It has been a pleasant hundred day of pure, unhinged tickling. It’s safe to say little Twilight is quite the broken mare. Surprising everyone once more however, pockets of resistance still exhibit themselves in her psyche. It was rumoured that there were parts of an alicorn that always refused to break no matter what, even if the rest of them did.

Though perhaps that’s a worse fate, no? Doomed to eternally stay at least a little bit sane under all of this? I wince at merely imagining it.

This being said, today we took some initiative and decided to see how she’d fare with some other foot tortures. Not to say we didn’t spend hours tickling here anyway (against our initial intent), but catching her completely off guard only ever expecting fierce tickling was quite amazing. The sheer look on her face, worth a thousand words.

First and foremost, we decided to try a favourite among experienced sadists – itching goo! Speaking of our predecessors, it is they we acquired this from, buried deep under the earth, like a biohazard, almost. Age has not affected its potency however, though… it did have a curious side effect.

Firstly though, we the response we got was exactly as planned. Liberally spreading the green goop all over her immobile soles resulted in no shortage of frustrated yelling and gritted teeth. Pure itchy agony, her face looked as if she was about to pop a blood vessel she was clenching her muscles so tightly. How maddening it must have been, unable to curl even a single toe as that brutal itch ate away at her, between every spread toe, like an irritating fire.

Our hopeful end result was simple. After all this time, we wanted her to beg us to tickle her feet. She didn’t at first, lasting a mere few hours before the itching took its heavy toll. Eventually however, she demanded her feet to be scratched. Thoroughly. She was liable to regret that, to say the least.

And so we set upon her soles with stiff bristled brushes and backscratchers. She moaned in relief. Somewhat. She also laughed like a mare gone mad, as per the norm. She also still yelled from the fact that the goop was yet to have been cleaned off.

And that is what aging had done. The itching goo had turned viscous. It stuck like a sticky glue. We had to extend her session just to clean off every inch with hot water, soap and shoebrushes. She was none too pleased, as you could imagine. So much for a day off of tickling.

Amusingly however, once it was finally gone, her feet were left… immensely sensitive. We couldn’t even hold them without causing her visible ticklish discomfort. Even the near nonexistant breeze in her room was getting to her.

Tomorrow, perhaps we’ll subject her feet to some light roasting and chilling, see if those have any effect on sensitivity as well (we’re anticipating yes).