Pipsqueak's Mansion [Non-Canon]
Author’s Note:
I’m so, so sorry.
Warning:
This Chapter Features The Following Dangerous Articles:
-Maid Outfits
-Wet Manes
-Massage Therapy
-Leather
-Some Crying
-More Leather
and, finally:
-Raspberries
This is not Of Challenges and Kisses canon.
Once upon a time, in a pocket dimension...
Featherweight was happy.
The simple word did little to define the well of contentment within the colt as he walked along Ponyville’s streets.
Shops and houses seemed to come into easy focus to him; all the faint little details making them homely and soft made him feel right at home. It was like the flowerbeds around the houses, the windowsill gardens, and the open, welcoming doors were surrounding him with wonderfully comforting feelings.
Even the ponies marching by seemed to be nicer, their faults hidden far beneath wide smiles.
Everything was better for the colt, because of the filly beneath his wing.
Sweetie Belle nestled up against him, her warmth becoming his as they walked in time with one another. On occasion, he would look at the filly beside him, and she would look back, and for a moment in time, they would share a private moment to themselves, one broken up by deep blushes and silly giggles.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” he asked, the weight of his saddlebags reminding him of an unfortunate faith. He had to leave.
“Of course I don’t,” Sweetie Belle replied, the faintest hint of chastisement in her voice.
Featherweight sighed, but the exasperation did nothing to quell the inferno within him. “Fine,” he said as both slowed to a stop, seemingly reading each other’s thoughts. “I’ll go to Pip’s place.”
“And I’ll go with you?” she asked, her eyes widening pleadingly. They shimmered in the afternoon light, catching the rays of the sun as water collected within them.
Oh, that’s not fair! Featherweight thought as the full force of her puppy eyes hit him. I can’t say no to that! “Oh, all right, you can come!” The filly squealed with joy, bouncing up and down beneath his wing, each touch along his feathers sending a jolt down his spine. “But...”
Sweetie Belle’s bouncing stilled.
“But, I don’t want you to go in there,” he said before he began walking once more, this time taking a sharp turn into a side street of Ponyville, one that led them downhill and away from the town.
“I’ve never been to Pipsqueak’s place,” Sweetie Belle commented, almost to herself, something Featherweight had learnt to appreciate.
“Yeah, I’ve never been there either.”
The filly blinked, looking at the colt beside her as they both trotted out of the town. “You’ve never been to Pip’s?” she asked, her voice breaking midway through her sentence. They passed the last of the town’s houses, the cute little buildings replaced by shrubbery and tall oaks.
Featherweight shook his head. “Nope, I had to ask for directions and everything.”
It was then that Sweetie Belle examined their surroundings, really looking and paying attention to the trees and landmarks around them. “Hey, I’ve never been to this part of Ponyville before,” she said, half in awe at the discovery.
“Yeah, it’s weird, but me neither. I think Pip’s the only one that lives on this entire road.”
Ahead of them, the trees were growing thicker and closer together, forming a glade they could hardly see through. But instead of being imposing or fear-inspiring, the well-groomed forest felt secluded. Beautiful, in its own exotic way.
The filly and colt felt themselves huddling closer to one another as bird calls rang out and the massive trees creaked at the slightest breeze.
Featherweight’s brows furrowed. “It should be around here.... He said, ‘Right at the start of the woods, there’s a big clearing,’ and his house is right...”
The woods ended abruptly before them.
“There...”
Both ponies stopped in their tracks, mouths hanging open with sheer disbelief.
The clearing opened up to a large circular entrance, the centre of which holding a massive water-spraying fountain made of bronze and silver mares. Beyond the statuesque lawns, and enormous and exotic gardens where rare and stunning creatures frolliced freely, was Pipsqueak’s house.
Three stories tall, made of pure white marble carved into fantastic, wild shapes with gigantic bay windows on each of the three towers and more chimneys than every house in Ponyville combined, Pipsqueak’s house was as humble as its owner.
Sweetie Belle swallowed hard. “Are you sure you didn’t take the wrong left?”
Featherweight nodded, eyes shifting around the building until he finally found the two massive doors making up the front entrance. Above them, a name was engraved: Pipsqueak’s Equestrian Estate. “Yup, pretty sure it’s the right place...”
“Should we go?” he asked.
Sweetie Belle nodded with very little confidence and the couple moved ahead, suddenly feeling very small as the shadows of Pipsqueak’s mansion crossed the yard and darkened the world around them.
The filly stopped, then tugged at her coltfriend’s wing tip, prompting Featherweight to look at her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
She pointed off the the side where a paved path led to a parking area; in particular, she was pointing at a very familiar vehicle.
The long sleek carriage stood motionless in between two larger and more imposing vehicles. What made it stand out, though, was the royal crest of Equestria on its front, and the fact that both had seen that carriage before, usually with Her Royal Majesty, Princess Celestia, within.
“Oh boy.”
“We should keep going,” Featherweight said, sounding more confident than he felt.
Again, they continued walking forwards, until they finally reached the stone steps leading up to the front door, steps that had foal-sized statues of manticores with rubies on the end of their balustrades.
Featherweight climbed up the first two steps before realizing Sweetie Belle was no longer at his side. Turning, he looked down at the filly shivering at the base of the staircase.
Their eyes locked.
“Come on,” he whispered, giving her a timid smile injected with every ounce of confidence he had. “I’ll keep you safe, promise.”
A thin smile crossed Sweetie Belle’s lips, and she daintily hopped up the first few steps and stayed at his side as they climbed up to the monolithic doors.
So, now what? he wondered as he looked up to the door. Finally, his eyes alighted on a single cord running along its side and into the building. Shrugging his wings, Featherweight trotted over to the cord, and reverently pulled down on it until he could no longer.
Only silence filled the air.
“Maybe it’s broken?” Sweetie Belle offered.
With a single eerie creak, the door slid open, allowing a sliver of light to splash across Featherweight’s face, blinding the colt momentarily.
“Hello, and welcome to Master Pipsqueak’s estate,” an angelic voice announced. “How may I help you?”
A mare stood in the entrance, her soft features set into a gentle and motherly smile as she moved out of the building, the light from behind her playing across her mane as it curved around her head. Sitting down with her maid’s outfit rumpling, the mare patiently looked between Featherweight and Sweetie Belle before giggling to herself.
“I-I, uh, I...” From the corner of his eye, he saw Sweetie Belle eyeing the beautiful mare suspiciously. “Uh, yeah, my name’s Featherweight, and, er, I came to see Pip.”
The maid-mare giggled, placing a hoof in front of her mouth to hide her glee. “I’ve never heard Master Pipsqueak being referred to as ‘Pip’ before.” She sighed, her eyes still closed as she tilted her head to one side. “You must be his friend, the one with the poster?”
Featherweight nodded, feeling once more the pressure of the bags on his back.
“Perfect! I’m sure Master Pipsqu— Pip, will be glad to see you!” The mare then shifted her attention to Sweetie Belle. “And are you his little marefriend?”
The air thickened and both foals blushed, hardly daring to look at one another as they both struggled for air and desperately tried to hide their discomfort. I-is she my, my fillyfriend?
Shyly, he looked over to Sweetie Belle, just as she looked to him, both of them fighting against the urge to turn tail and hide in a deep bush. Their eyes locked for a moment, communicating more than they ever could with words.
“Yeah, she’s my fillyfriend,” he said to the maid-mare.
“And he’s my coltfriend,” Sweetie Belle agreed, her voice firm with conviction, even as her entire body reddened.
I-I have a fillyfriend! Featherweight was ecstatic, abuzz, as though his mind was filled with the humming of millions of happy bees.
“Oh, you two are just so cute!” the mare said as she hopped from one hoof to another. “I’d pinch your cheeks, but it’s against house rules.” She spun around and took a few steps towards the door, opening it wider with a small shove of her forehoof. “Come, Master Pipsqueak will be glad to see you!”
Featherweight followed, Sweetie Belle at his side as they slipped into the room.
They froze as their senses overloaded once more, struggling to cope with what they saw.
Every wall of the entrance hall was covered in delicate stone work, all of it depicting a single colt-like pony defeating dragons and curing illnesses. In the centre of the room was an opulent fountain shaped like four ponies, one of every race, spewing water into a sweeping arc rising two stories high towards the only source of light in the room: a chandelier, one made of silver and ivory and with enough candles to set Canterlot aflame, twice.
“Come,” the maid called. “The House-Master is this way.” She led them through the room, across the spotless marble floor, and to yet another set of double doors made of an exotic and most-likely extinct wood.
At the entrance, the maid paused and looked over her shoulder at Sweetie Belle. “Young miss?”
“Yes, ma’am?” Sweetie immediately asked, her formality giving the serving pony another fit of giggles.
“Are you meant to see Master Pipsqueak today?” she asked.
Sweetie Belle and Featherweight shared a look. “I don’t think so. What do you mean?”
The mare hummed, touching a hoof to her chin. “So, you don’t have an appointment. Still, a friend of Master Pip’s can’t be left alone. I’ll lead you to the playroom, then bring Master Featherweight to see Master Pipsqueak.” The mare smiled. “There, a little bit of thinking and a solution was found!”
With a quick gesture, the maid popped the door open and trotted in.
“What should we do?” Sweetie Belle whispered to Featherweight, fear creeping into her voice.
He shrugged. “Let’s just see what’ll happen. We can leave whenever we want.” I hope. He swallowed hard, hoping his fillyfriend didn’t notice. And anyway, Sweetie can probably teleport if she tries really hard; she should be fine, at least.
The corridor beyond was wider than his house with doors on either side, some closed, but many more open. As they walked along, their hoofbeats muffled by the thick rug, they looked from side to side, peeking into elegant bedrooms and homely living rooms.
“This is the guest wing, for the ponies that come to see Master Pipsqueak from faraway places. The truly important ponies sleep in the fancier rooms upstairs,” the maid said, acting like a tour guide.
Featherweight slowed as he approached another of the guest rooms, looking within and at the gilded beds, the lavish place settings, the priceless artwork decorating the walls. This isn’t for the fancy guests?! Guests for Pipsqueak? He can’t even pass Miss Cheerilee’s math quiz without cheating off of me!
A mare slipped out of one of the rooms ahead of them, a dry towel slung over her back as she sensuously strolled forwards. Her hips swayed from side to side in time with the whisking of her tail in a fashion Featherweight found mesmerizing. He stared, until Sweetie smacked him behind the head and shot a glare at him.
Oops.
“So, uh, miss...”
The maid pony turned. “Call me Clean Sweep.”
Featherweight gave her a half-hearted smile. “I guess you’re really good at cleaning, then?”
Clean Sweep blinked at him, still leading them deeper. “Oh? Because of my name? Well, I guess this dress hides my cutie mark,” she said, twirling around and following the poofy end of the black and white outfit. “No, I’m a bit of a klutz when it comes to cleaning,” she admitted, biting her lower lip as a blush spread across her face.
“Then what’s your, uh, your talent?”
“Oh, I was a gunmare. I’m one of the best rotary-action Gatling gun operators and death-squad commandos in Equestria. Or I was. Master Pipsqueak asked if I wanted to work as a maid in his house, and I simply couldn’t say no!”
Featherweight stopped in his tracks for a second, staring stupidly at the mare as the information slowly made its way through the gears in his mind. After a moment, the colt blinked, "Uh-huh," he said, his squeak echoing throughout the hall. With another glance at Sweetie Belle, he swallowed and continued after the mare ahead of them.
They trotted up to an intersection and the mare pointed down to their left. “Little Miss, if you trot that-a-way for a few hundred steps, you’ll come right up to Master Pipsqueak’s playroom.”
“You want her to go there? Alone? With nopony else?” Featherweight asked, alternating his gaze from Sweetie, to Clean Sweep, to the long, long corridor.
Clean Sweep gave him a kind and motherly smile as she nodded. “Yup.”
He huffed, stomping one hoof to the ground. “I don’t think so; that’s a horrible idea.”
Clean Sweep blinked. “But this is one of the safest places, anywhere, ever. Nopony would be silly enough to attack or harm anyone under Master Pipsqueak’s protection!”
Featherweight shook his head, standing firm while Sweetie Belle shyly looked at him with pride-filled eyes. “We’re going to bring her there, then we’ll see...”
The maid bit her lip and furrowed her brow for a few short moments. “All right. Miss, Sir, please follow me.”
The trio trotted down the corridor, this one free of doors. Instead, thick rich draperies dropped from the cathedral ceiling down to a hoof-length from the floor. At the end, a single wooden door was held shut until Clean Sweep pushed it open and walked in. “Welcome to Master’s playroom,” she said, gesturing at the area.
Clean Sweep pointed at the far end and to a two-story tall wall covered in shelves, ramps, ladders, and books. Millions and millions of books. “That’s Lord Pipsqueak’s library, over there.” She pointed to another corner, this one filled with jungle gyms, obstacle courses, treadmills, a trampoline, and an olympic swimming pool being tended by a very pretty, bathing-suit wearing lifeguard. “That’s Master’s gym.”
She then gestured to the other side of the room. “And that’s where he stores his toys, and his personal arcade.” Dozens of arcade machines spilt the section in half, one side made almost entirely of shelves and boxes overflowing with toys and craft materials, the other side used up by tables on which one could presumably play with those toys.
Featherweight picked his jaw off the floor and made a mental note to ask Pipsqueak to forgive the puddle of drool staining his floor.
“What’s the bed for?” Sweetie Belle asked as she pointed with her chin.
In the room’s centre was a bed big enough to put any king-sized to shame. Sidestepping, Clean Sweep cut the filly’s view. “It’s... for taking naps.”
“Oh, okay.”
Clean Sweep turned her attention to Featherweight. “Your fillyfriend will be more than safe here. This room... this entire building, could survive having a Tsar dropped on its front step. And then it would retaliate on its own.”
“Uh-huh.”
She then smiled at Sweetie Belle. “You can do whatever you want here. Go on, play!”
Sweetie took a few tentative steps into the room, then turned and looked at Featherweight.
He smiled at her. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure. It looks safe in here, and fun.”
“But I’ll be alone...” she said, blinking away at her watery eyes.
“Oh, don’t worry about that!” Clean Sweep said. “There are hundreds of mares going around this building. A cute little filly like you will have no trouble making a few quick friends.”
Featherweight took a step towards the filly, uncertain of what he was going to do. “Don’t worry, if something happens, I promise I’ll come and get you. I’m just here to give Pip the poster, nothing else.” Taking another step, Featherweight beat his wings, stretched forwards, and pecked Sweetie Belle’s blushing cheek. “Okayseeyoulaterbye.”
With that, Featherweight twisted around and ran out of the room, followed by a giggling Clean Sweep.
Sweetie Belle blinked at the spot where her coltfriend had been moments before, then reached up and touched her cheek with a sigh. “I don’t want toys; I want Feathers.”
Clean Sweep trotted along Featherweight’s side, giggling sporadically every time she looked at the flustered colt. “That was adorable!”
Featherweight’s attention shifted to the ground as he mumbled incoherently: something about getting back quickly.
Happy to oblige, Clean Sweep motioned to the intersection before them, the one they had been in moments before. “If we continue straight from here, we should reach Master’s throne room though the relaxation suite.”
Throne room? Relaxation suite?! “Um, okay,” he said, slowing to a gentle canter as the mare did the same. Just how big is this place? And how did Pip... No, I don’t want to know.
The sound of creaking wood and deep contented moaning drifted through the hallway, setting the colt’s mane on edge. To their right, a pair of double doors opened up wide, allowing a thick plume of steam and feminine laughter to escape.
He blinked and peeked into the room, one taken up almost entirely by a steam bath filled with young and beautiful mares, all of them playing with each other’s wet manes and rubbing themselves all over with soap.
Thank Celestia Sweetie Belle isn’t here. She’d beat me to a pulp just for looking at this, he thought as he failed to prevent a massive blush from taking over the colour of his pale yellow coat.
They crossed another room, this one filled with lines of high beds with mares laying on them while others applied lotion to their backs and massaged them gently, moans and sighs of contentment escaping them all.
Featherweight lost a liter of blood as it dribbled down his nose.
Clean Sweep looked at him, worry warping her face as she leaned in. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” he said, applying pressure to the injured orifice. This place is too... I have to get out of here.
“Are you sure? How about we just go there,” she said, pointing at a closed door. “Then, I’ll go fetch the house doctor to see if there’s anything you can take to feel better.”
“No, no, I’m fine,” he insisted, even as the mare pushed him towards the closed room.
Another deep moan filled the passage, encouraging his nose to let loose another torrent. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen head wounds that have bled less, and you’re all red. Really, really red.”
Well, I definitely don’t feel like I’m at the top of my game, and some time to cool-off could help. “Fine, but not for long, okay? Otherwise, Sweetie’s going to worry.”
Smiling, Clean Sweep rushed ahead and opened the door, a door to the changing rooms.
A dozen mares looked at the colt as one, all of them smiling and welcoming the tiny intruder even as they continued rubbing themselves with wet clothes and slipping into tight dresses.
The colt began to feel faint, so he backpedaled out of the room, eyes rolling into his head as he fumbled to the ground and fell. Head resting on the cold stone ground, Featherweight fell into a light sleep, accompanied by the sound of gasping mares.
We were at the wrong address. The ponies there will let us go right back to Ponyville and nothing bad’s going to happen...
Was that really Pipsqueak’s place?
Maybe there are two Pipsqueaks?
“He’s coming to,” a soft and soothing voice said.
The colt could feel warm hooves touching his head, moving up and about before prodding down along his body. That must be the doctor; he has a really girly voice...
Featherweight twisted on the ground as a cold piece of cloth pressed down on his nose and wiped him. I should be okay. I’m starting to feel better. Now I can see Pip, and then get Sweetie Belle. No! She can’t know I’m sick or she'll get really worried! “I have to see Sweetie,” he murmured as he tossed and turned once more.
“Who’s Sweetie?” a mare asked.
Clean Sweep answered, “It’s the name of his little fillyfriend; she came here with him.”
A chorus of sweet sighs and deep ‘awws’ filled the corridor.
Featherweight blinked, his eyes watering as they tried to focus on the moving shadows above him. Finally, squinting up and covering his head with an outstretched wing, the colt stared right into a pair of deep blue eyes.
“Hello,” the pony to whom the eyes belonged said, a smile twisting her delicate lips. “I’m Doctor In Patient. Are you feeling better?”
Featherweight blushed, his senses suddenly very aware of the nearness of the doctor as her minty breath washed over him and her coat’s fur mixed with his own. “Yeah,” he squeaked.
Two other mares came into focus from behind the doctor, a unicorn and a pegasus, both of whom wore long white stockings and little caps marked with a red cross.
“I think he’s fainting again!” the Doctor called out as Featherweight began to tumble back to the ground. “We need to get him breathing. Start CPR. Mithril, you pump. Sweet Lips, you breath into him.”
No! I’m Sweetie Belle’s, not these stranger’s! With a valiant effort, Featherweight sat back up, groaning as his body protested. “I’m okay!” he exclaimed, raising his forehooves in surrender as he clamped his eyes shut, refusing to look at the mares around him.
“Are you sure?” the Doctor asked.
Featherweight nodded. “I’m good. Just a little, uh, seasick, or something...”
“Maybe we should bring you to my office. I’m positive a quick full-body exam will find out any troubles you have, then we’ll narrow it down and fix you.”
The colt gulped at the last two words. “No, I’m fine, really.”
“Well, all right. But I’m sure my two assistants would love to play around with a cute little colt like you.” The doctor turned around. “All right everypony, give him some space. Clear out, c’mon!”
Featherweight could hear a multitude of curious whispers and disappointed sighs as the mares cleared out of the corridor. Sighing, Featherweight relaxed, letting out tension he didn’t know he held. Finally, a hoof touched his shoulder, light and comforting. “I’ll give you a little pill, all right? It’ll keep you from feeling nauseous.”
She leaned towards him and whispered into his ear. “But I’d suggest paying more attention to the decor, and less to the pretty mares from now on.” With a short laugh, the doctor withdrew and dropped a pill on the end feather of Featherweight's wing. “I hope I don’t have to see you again!” the doctor called over her shoulder.
A few moments later, Featherweight cracked opened his eye a slit and peeked out, inspecting the empty corridor.
“Should we get going?” Clean Sweep asked, running a hoof down the side of her outfit.
He opened his eyes fully and looked around him. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”
The pair walked ahead, Featherweight taking a few seconds to shoulder his saddlebags. A few doors opened a crack, allowing some ponies to peek out at them. Why are there so many mares in this place? And they’re all so... so... He gulped. Pretty. But not as pretty as Sweetie Belle, he reminded himself firmly.
“This leads to Master Pipsqueak’s throne room,” Clean Sweep said as they reached a door at the end of the hall. “Go on in on your own. It’s just across this room.”
“Um, okay,” he said, looking between the maid and the door. “I’ll go on my own?”
She nodded. “A firm young lad like you ought to be able to present himself, especially to somepony that’s his friend, right, Master Feather?”
“Um, right,” he said, looking at the door suspiciously. “I guess...”
The mare smiled, then reared onto her hind legs, bowing slightly with a small lift of her skirt. “Good bye, Master Featherweight,” she said in between giggles. “I hope to see you again one day.”
“Oh, me too, Miss Sweep. You’ve been very helpful.”
"I do wish Master Pipsqueak hadn't made cheek pinching against the rules..." she said with a little giggle. "Oh well. If you ever need a heavy gunner, you know who to call." She gave him a little wink.
“Um, all right. See you, I guess,” he said as the mare spun around and trotted away, her poofy skirt bouncing at every step.
Right, now what? he wondered, looking at the door. I guess I should just go in, then.... There’s probably going to be a few more guys....
With a flick of his wingtip, Featherweight spun the emerald handle and opened the door before blindly trotting in.
Two steps and his face ran into a soft and fuzzy wall.
With an oomph, the colt landed on his flanks.
“Oh, sorry,” the voice of a familiar lavender pony said. Looking up, Featherweight stared right into Twilight’s Sparkle’s concerned face.
The town librarian gave him a wide awkward smile, one that moved her thin, wireframe glasses down her muzzle. Tilting her head to the side, Twilight blinked at the colt. “Oh, you’re Featherweight. I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
He climbed back up to all fours and looked at the librarian carefully, noting the long skirt, the loose blouse, and the way her mane was done up in a neat bun behind her head. “Hi, Miss Sparkle. I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
She blushed, pushing up her glasses with her forehoof, and for the first time, Featherweight noticed her horn glowing and a stack of books floating nearby. “I’m reorganizing Master Pipsqueak’s guest library. I owed him a favour for...” She blushed and blinked at him. “Something.” Coughing, she moved out of his way as she trotted deeper into the building. “You were going to see Pip?” she asked.
Featherweight followed her into a rather mundane waiting room, or what would have been a mundane waiting room if one ignored the wall covered in magazines, the water fountain whose water came from a live waterwall, and the plush leather chairs with gilded arms and legs.
“Yeah, I’m here to see Pipsqueak. Clean Sweep told me he was through here...” He kept looking around the room until he noticed a flipboard tucked into the wall above the door opposite the one he entered. On the board was a single word: Occupied.
“Who’s Clean Sweep?” Twilight asked as she slid back to the shelf-wall and began sorting books into it.
“She’s the nice mare, in the maid uniform thing...” he said, sketching the rough shape of a dress in the air.
Twilight looked him dumbly. “Featherweight, half the mares here wear that. You should see Maid Day... and that’s every Tuesday. Rarity makes a fortune selling to the mares here.”
He blushed, imagining rooms filled with mares in skimpy black and white outfits. “Oh.” Maybe it’s time to change the subject? “So, can I go see Pipsqueak now?” he asked, taking a few steps towards the golden door.
“No!” Twilight shouted, her horn glowing brightly before she popped out of existence and reappeared between Featherweight and the throne room. “You can’t go in there!”
“Why not?” he asked, furrowing his brow at her.
She pointed over her shoulder and at the Occupied sign. “It’s busy.”
“Well, what’s going on?” he asked.
Twilight’s gaze shifted from the door to Featherweight as she bit her lower lip. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to explain that to you. Maybe when you’re older and more mature?” she suggested, smiling sheepishly at him.
Featherweight didn’t bite. “Pipsqueak’s a colt, he’s just a month older than I am, and he’s allowed in, right?”
“Yeah, he’s still a colt,” she agreed, a sudden shiver going down her spine. “Just wait until he’s a stallion.”
Before Featherweight could so much as begin to question the madly giggling mare, the sign above the door clicked and flipped around to read: All Buttered Up.
“Oh,” Twilight said as she turned around and placed herself at Featherweight’s side. Both of them watched the door with a mounting anticipation Featherweight couldn’t quite explain.
The door opened, and out of it, a single long midnight-blue leg stepped out, covered in tight leather straps.
It couldn’t be.
The leg was followed by another, then by a tall and perfectly proportioned body, the wings on its back flapping excitedly. The mare’s horned head moved from side to side as her gaze swept over the room.
Her mane, unusually transparent but for the faintest whispers of existence and bright sparkles of deep stars, was solid and matted down on the alicorn’s back and head as she transpired. Beads of sweat slowly made their way down her leather-clad form.
It is.
Without a second thought, Featherweight bowed forwards, respectfully pulling away from the royal mare.
“Ah, hello, young citizens! Please, We demand no such acts of loyalty, not in this location!” the Princess said, her booming voice rattling through the room.
Shivering, his mind running circles as it desperately attempted to understand, Featherweight stood on four shaky limbs. “Um, hi?”
“Hello!” she said. “Is it now your turn, little colt?”
Featherweight looked around him and at the rather empty room. “I guess so?”
The princess smiled at him and nodded. “You are a little young for this, no?”
“Um, maybe?”
Luna walked past him, her magic starting to pull off a layer of leather. “We wish you an enjoyable time. We certainly had a majestic time, and will now find Our way to the showers. We are... dirty.”
The Princess walked by him and Twilight, then out of the room, allowing the door to clasp shut with a flick of her tail.
Featherweight blinked. What’s going on?! This place is so... That was the Princess... The Princess of the Moon! And she’s... wearing leather... The colt turned and focused on the door the Princess had walked in from moments before. I guess I could find out...
Twilight filled the void-like silence created in the wake of the Princess’ departure. “You can go,” she said, giving him the tiniest of shoves towards the door. “I was nervous, too, my first time, but it’s easy enough. And he’s your friend too, after all!”
“Um, right,” he said, taking a few tentative steps towards the door, even as he swallowed hard. I just have to see Pip, then give him the Spitfire poster. After that, we can leave. No biggie.
With the tip of his wing, the colt pushed through the entrance and into an alcove, one set into the side of a large room. With a thump, the door slammed shut behind him, the sound swallowed by the sheer size of the room.
Featherweight moved ahead, past the walls of the alcove, until he could see the entire area.
The massive, sprawling ceiling high above immediately caught the colt's eye as a single curtain slowly retracted across the great hall on mechanical coasters. As it was removed, the colt could see a stunning view of the midday sky taking up the entire top of the room and illuminated every corner with the radiance of Celestia’s sun.
“You should see it at night, or when it’s raining,” a very familiar voice said.
Featherweight pulled his attention back down. Past the soft wood-paneled walls and delicate yet subtle lights. Past the thick and luscious rug taking up the centre of the room, the huge carved fireplace with a bravier within, despite the warmth of the area. Past the gramophone on a pedestal singing the sweetest of jazz, until finally, his eyes alighted on a massive throne.
The edifice rose out of the ground like a monolith, one fit for the grandest of kings. Around it, two twins, both white mares in pearl-white togas, were fanning at the throne with palm leaves. Along the chair’s arm was a long row of tiny silver bells, each one adorned with a ribbon of a unique colour. A hoof was touching one of the bells, white and speckled with brown spots.
“Hello, Featherweight!” Pipsqueak called from upon his throne, one the pegasus noted was large enough to hold a few stallions abreast.
Featherweight moved ahead, feeling oddly at ease in the room despite its opulence and grandeur, as if it was designed to quell the heart and ease the mind. “Hi, Pipsqueak.”
The colt sat up straighter, pushing off the arm until he was right in the centre of his oversized throne, a grin splitting his impish features. One of the mares fainted and was promptly and discreetly replaced by another.
“So, what’re you here for, mate? Not that I’m not glad to see you. We don’t get that many guys around here.”
Featherweight cast a suspicious glance around the room, as if encompassing the entire estate. “Yeah, I’ve noticed...”
Pipsqueak shrugged. “It happens.” His attention strayed to Featherweight’s bag. “Is there something for me in there?”
Featherweight looked over his shoulder to his faithful brown bags. “Yeah, sorta,” he said as he turned back to his young friend. “I mean, it’s already yours to begin with.”
“And how’s that?” Pipsqueak asked.
Sitting down on the soft velvety rug, one he was sure he couldn’t afford in a million years on his current allowance, Featherweight turned and began to unfasten his bag. “Well, you said you would give it to me if I kissed Scootaloo, and I never did. Instead, I found the love of my life... and I don’t think it would be fair to keep this.” Reaching in, Featherweight pulled out a neatly rolled poster.
Pipsqueak sighed and shook his head, a half-smirk on his childish face. “You don’t need to give it back, really. I do appreciate the gesture, though.”
“I insist,” Featherweight said as he dropped the roll onto the ground.
His friend huffed on his throne. “I gave it to you, Featherweight. Giving is giving. I don’t want it. Just hang it on your wall... or maybe you can sell it on Eneigh, but either way, it’s yours.”
He doesn’t get it. “I can't keep this. It's a symbol... a symbol of what I once was. And keeping this, acting as if I was proud of that time, is a lie. In reality, it was a total let-down and embarrassing. But, through all of it, I was able to find Sweetie Belle, which is overall the greatest outcome from this disaster. So, I can't keep this, because I never completed the bet. I owe you this for helping find my true love, even if it was in a roundabout way.” Again, he pushed the poster forwards.
“There’s no stopping you, huh?” Featherweight shook his head, prompting Pipsqueak to shrug. “Oh well, then. I must say though, I’m really proud of you. You found the right mare, and you’re loyal to her. Not many stallions are like that today.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that you understand.”
Pipsqueak smiled at his friend and leaned over, hoof floating over his assembly of bells until he stopped atop one with a blue and gold ribbon. Picking it up, he chimed it twice and let it drop back to its spot.
A door within an alcove burst open, startling Featherweight as a golden streak blurred through the room before coming to a dead stop at the foot of Pipsqueak’s throne. The gust of wind travelled through the room, blasting Featherweight’s mane back.
Pipsqueak nodded, unfazed.
Once Featherweight regained his focus and saw just who had caused the blur, he almost fainted once more.
Standing tall and glorious as the sun’s light shone upon her golden skin was Spitfire, the mare resplendent in a perfectly primmed and pressed uniform of the Wonderbolts. She snapped a salute to the colt on the throne, back stiff, even as a mischievous smile crossed her lips.
“Do you want us to beat an academy record, sir? ...again?”
That’s... Spitfire. The Spitfire. Here, in the same room as me. And she’s there. Alive and stuff. It’s Spitfi— She works for Pipsqueak?!
“Nah, not today, Spits,” Pipsqueak said. “I just want you to shake hooves with a friend of mine, and pick something up for me.”
“Will do, sir!” she said, turning her attention to Featherweight, her sparkling orange eyes taking in the colt.
With an impossibly quick beat of her wings, the mare cut the distance between herself and Featherweight in half. “Are you Commander Pipsqueak’s little friend?” she asked, smiling as she bent to his height.
Featherweight mumbled something, his mind still trying to reconcile what odd circumstances reality had presented him. “Yeah?”
Her smile grew. “Well, aren’t you a little cutie, too. Pipsqueak keeps some nice friends. You wanted to meet me, huh?” she asked.
Featherweight nodded, eyes wide as he took in every little detail of his idol. He shifted awkwardly in his seated position. “I’m, I’m, I’m a huge fan, Miss Spitfire!” he said, eyes growing wider with admiration. “You’re the best, out of all the Wonderbolts.”
The mare shrugged her wings, brushing the compliment off as easily as one would ignore a fly. “It’s nothing; I just try my best. And really, there are plenty of others out there who deserve it more. After all, it’s a team effort.”
“I-I know, but I still think that you’re the best. And you’re the leader of the team, so you do a lot more work!”
She gushed, reaching out a hoof to rub the colt’s head. Unable to resist, Featherweight’s hind leg began to thump against the ground as he pushed against her hoof.
“So, what’s this thing I need to pick up?” she asked him as she pulled her hoof away.
Featherweight took a moment to compose himself. “Oh, it’s a poster,” he said, shyly pointing at the rolled up paper beside the mare.
Reaching down, the mare scooped up the poster and to the colt’s undying horror, opened it.
She stood there, staring at a very suggestive image of herself straddling an airship’s cannon. Her eyes widened. “Well now...”
Oh sweet Celestia, my hero’s here, and she’s looking at an image of herself, in that pose, wearing nothing. He swallowed hard as her gaze shifted to him.
Instead of the embarrassment—or worse—that he was expecting, the mare looked at him with a knowing smirk and a twinkle of amusement. “Wait here, kid,” she said before jumping up, flipping around, and shooting out of the room.
Before he could even blink, she returned, the orange-gold trail of her wake cutting at a sharp angle as she came to a dead stop in front of him. In her mouth, she held a tiny white square, one she dropped onto the ground and bent over as she pulled a marker out from within her uniform.
“Here you go,” she said as she pulled back up and hoofed the picture to him.
The colt picked it up.
The image was simple: one of a slightly-younger Spitfire looking resplendent in a brand-new uniform, her chest puffed out in pride as she saluted the camerapony. On it, a simple message was written in a clear and elegant scroll. To Featerhate, a great young colt, and a great fan.
Tears marred the colt’s eyes as he looked up to the mare. “Thank you so much!”
“No problem, kid,” Spitfire said as she turned around and trotted towards Pipsqueak. “Unless you need me, I’ll be heading back to my quarters,” the stunt-pegasus informed her Master, winking as she veered off and trotted away.
Pipsqueak waved her away and nodded to the mares at his sides before they resumed their fanning.
Featherweight looked at the image once more, unable to keep a massive grin from splitting his face. “Pip!”
“Yeah?”
Featherweight slipped the image into his saddlebag, then began hopping from hoof to hoof. “That was Spitfire!”
Pipsqueak shrugged. “Yeah, she comes once in awhile.”
He’s so... not surprised at all... and Luna was here. The Goddess of the moon... But he’s still calm... and on a throne. “Pip, what exactly do you do here?”
“A lot of things; it’s my house,” the fellow colt answered, a bitter tone of sarcasm creeping into his voice.
Featherweight sighed. “No, really, I have to know,” he said, blinking back when his friend giggled and laughed at his serious expression.
“Fine, it’s nothing big, really.”
“Yeah, but what is it?”
Pipsqueak giggled to himself. “Raspberries.”
“...What?”
“You know, raspberries,” Pipsqueak attempted to explain. “That thing some mares do, when they blow on your belly.... Turns out they realllly like it. So, I became a bit of an expert.”
Featherweight blinked dumbly at him. “Raspberries?”
The other colt nodded. “Raspberries. Do you need a demonstration?”
“N-no, I think I’ll pass,” Featherweight replied too quickly.
“That’s not the only thing we do, of course. I also had this place built, and it serves as a spa and relaxation place for mares of high rank. It’s a stressful Equestria out there...”
“Yeah... but... it’s a castle!” Featherweight exclaimed, motioning at the room around them.
“So? A lot of mares liked my idea, and a lot of them were willing to donate a little. It’s only been two years since I started. By the time I’m a stallion, I want to have one of these buildings in every major city across Equestria.” He glanced at a wall-mounted clock. “But enough about that, I have an appointment soon.”
“An appointment?”
The smile Pipsqueak gave Featherweight wasn’t a kind one, not one shared between friends, not one given to calm and soothe, but a cruel grin that sent a shiver down Featherweight’s spine. Even so, the pegasus colt noticed a glimmer, a tiny glimmer in his friend’s eye.
Jealousy.
Reaching out, Pipsqueak rang one of his bells, this one with a purple and white ribbon. “I’m sorry about this, Feathers. But you’ve been using my locality, my house, and my things. Not to mention spurning my gifts. I think it only fair I take my just reward? Wouldn’t you agree?” Pipsqueak explained.
Featherweight shook his head. “I don’t get it. What are you getting at?”
At the far back of the room, a pair of double doors swung open, allowing two mares to trot out, two massive mares wearing yokes and chains reaching out behind them, as they grunted.
Pipsqueak hopped off the throne and began walking to the back of his room. “I’ve always wondered what it was like, to give instead of receive a raspberry.” He looked over his shoulder. “It tickles, you know?”
“Um, okay,” Featherweight said, his attention split between the colt and the object being lugged into the room.
As the first bars appeared, he realised it was a cage, a cage of thick wrought-iron, one built with runes and gems embedded into its side. One with a little white unicorn trapped within.
“Sweetie!” he shouted, his legs pumping madly as he began to gallop.
He was tackled by a brilliant golden blur that sent his tiny body sliding across the marble floor until he bumped into a massive pillar.
Featherweight saw stars; a multitude of twinkling lights filled his vision as his mind clouded over. No, not Sweetie...
The sound of iron screeching filled his ears. Distant, faint, yet it awakened something within him, something deeper as he heard the miniscule sound of a filly sobbing. “Featherweight!” she screeched in fear.
The colt was back into action, hooves clattering against the ground as he followed the pleas of his beloved, even before he had time to register anything.
Pipsqueak looked over his shoulder, the cruel and wanting grin on his features failing to disappear even as Featherweight halved the distance between them. “Spitfire, get rid of him,” he said, turning back to the shivering Sweetie Belle. “This’ll only take a moment.”
From the corner of his eye, Featherweight saw Spitfire take off. As if in slow-motion, the mare hopped into the air and beat her wings, gaining speed at a tremendous rate. No, I can’t let her, he thought as he beat his own, fragile, wings.
Instantly, the colt was in the air, sending his body’s weight off to the side as he performed a corkscrew in midair arching him upwards and away from the bullet that was Spitfire.
The whizzing of the mare beneath him created such a draft that he felt himself soaring higher up towards the glass-ceilinged room. Where is she? he had time to wonder before catching sight of the golden blur wheeling around towards him.
She was fast. Incredibly so.
Decades of harsh and almost impossible training fueled her forwards at a frantic pace. Yet Featherweight had one advantage, one that trumped any training she could have had.
He was in love.
Allowing himself to fall, the pegasus flared out his wings and stalled himself in mid-air, sending his body’s weight swinging around even as he kicked out with his hind legs.
His buck caught Spitfire right in the chest, crumpling her uniform and sending a shockwave through the mare before her wings gave in and she tumbled to the ground like a lifeless sack of wheat.
Panting, and at a sudden loss of energy, Featherweight looked around him until he found the cage, and more importantly, Sweetie Belle.
The filly was wrestling against Pipsqueak, even as the colt successfully pinned her to the rough ground, and held his mouth wide open over her whiter-than-white belly, ready to torture her into fits of giggles and glee.
“No!” Featherweight shouted as he dropped and spiraled through the air. With a valiant effort, the colt slipped into the cage and rammed into the pony he had once called friend. The impact sent a painful jolt through Featherweight’s shoulder, one he quickly ignored in favour of checking on the filly of his dreams.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he hopped over Pipsqueak’s groaning body to Sweetie Belle’s side.
The filly hyperventilated, tears touching the edge of her eyes. “She—they were playing with me, then they put me in the cage, and my horn wasn’t working, and I tried to scream, but they wouldn’t listen, and then they brought me here, and he wanted to do something to my tummy, but then you came and saved me.” Finishing her rant, and still panting without breath, the filly reached up, grabbed Featherweight, and hugged him with all her might. “I never want to be away again, okay?”
Through his blush, Featherweight smiled, reaching out to hug the filly back.
A cold hoof touched his shoulder and, despite Featherweight’s protests, whipped him around.
Pipsqueak stood above him, a vicious grin on his lips as he backhoofed Featherweight across the face. The colt had no time to react before the earth pony gripped him and sent him sprawling across the wooden floor of the cage, only to jump and wrap himself around Featherweight.
“You become rather flexible after being in my line of work for a while,” Pipsqueak explained, his voice hoarse as he tightened his grip around Featherweight.
Pipsqueak’s hooves, tail, and even his short mane encircled Featherweight, pinning the pegasus to the hard ground in an unrelenting grip. His own wings and hooves were stuck. Despite Featherweight’s greatest efforts, his former friend had him down.
I can’t just lose like this; I can’t let him play with Sweetie Belle! he thought, frustration at the simple inability to act creating a well of desperate hatred and fear and loathing within him. Again, the colt squirmed, his raw muscles forcing against Pipsqueak’s.
Finally, after struggling against his adversary, Featherweight saw a chance, and an opportunity he could not surpass.
Pipsqueak had shoved him down, his belly twisting over Featherweight’s chest, just close enough for the imprisoned colt to reach over. A little more, he thought, puckering his lips even as he took a deep swallow of air.
Pressing his lips against his nemesis’ belly, the colt blew out, allowing his cheeks to flubber around as Pipsqueak’s belly waved about like the wild sea.
“No!” Pipsqueak shouted, his childish voice piercing as it echoed through the room.
Featherweight pulled back. “You were like a brother to me!” he said before pressing his face down once more. Again, the deep resonating tones of skin flapping in ecstasy. Giggles and tears began to escape the tiny Pipsqueak, both growing stronger even as his grip weakened.
The pegasus took another gulp of air, giving Pipsqueak time to protest. “Please, no, I don’t want that; I don’t want that anymore! Please!”
Again, Featherweight charged to the assault and again, Pipsqueak’s body retaliated against its master, back bending and lungs emptying themselves with crazed laughter.
Drool and saliva coated the colt’s belly as Featherweight rose up, staring down at his defeated enemy, even as Pipsqueak clutched at his stomach, crying to himself pitifully. The tiny sobs that escaped the colt were punctuated by loud and choking hiccups as Pipsqueak bent over and hugged himself.
Panting, Featherweight looked over to Sweetie Belle and managed a weak smile. “I won?” he asked feebly.
Tears in her eyes, the filly shook her head, then looked beyond the iron walls of the cage to the army of mares encircling them.
Tall, short, feminine, distinctly unique in their own way. Above it all, they were beautiful, from their curves to the alluring way they stared at them with a passionate hatred. He swallowed hard, quickly counting the very first row. Twelve. Twelve angry mares. This is going to be one big argument.
“Come on, Sweetie,” he said, lifting a welcoming wing moments before the filly stuck to his side, her shivering travelling through his coat as they exchanged their warmth and their love. “We’re leaving!” he called out to the assembly, even as he took a step forwards, leading his fillyfriend along with him.
Both of them stepped out of the cage, led by Featherweight as he bravely urged Sweetie Belle on, keeping his back straight and his wing over the filly as he tried to reassure her, to protect her.
They stared. A hundred eyes on the pair as they pushed ahead. Princess Luna. Twilight Sparkle. Clean Sweeps. All mares that they knew in one way or another passed them by, all looking at them with something between fear, awe, and anger.
The couple moved on, pushing through the crowd until they finally reached the centre of the room and Pipsqueak’s massive throne. It was then that all the mares backed away, forming a ring both on the ground and in the air, one that stopped at the edge of the rug, all watching him intently.
What do they want, he wondered as he scowled and looked around at the entire ring.
At his side, Sweetie Belle whispered, “I think they want you to sit on the big chair.”
He looked at the smaller filly, not understanding the deep and almost intuitive knowledge hidden within. “Go on,” she spurred him with a tiny shove towards the monolith.
Uncertain of himself, Featherweight took a few more steps towards the dark structure, feeling the mounting tension of the room in his young bones. Every mare leaned forwards, waiting with baited breath as Featherweight put one hoof on the throne, then another, before pulling himself up.
Turning, the colt stared in awe as each and every mare bowed to him, heads touching the ground in reverence.
Something clicked within him, something powerful and deep. Standing tall, his back straight and a deep royal frown upon his features, he looked down at the neat rows made by his followers, and smiled.
He was king of the mares.
Edited by:
-JustAnotherTimeLord (Kudos to this young man; he was great company, and a greater helper)
Preread by:
-Your Antagonist
-Frederick the Saiyan
-Cpl Hooves
-FlutterSyke
-StapleCactus
-Sorren
I got the whole army out.
It’s done.
First, I really am sorry for this chapter; I just wanted to write something that would take you guys by surprise, and maybe send a few into fits of giggles and mirth. To those that were offended, please take my humblest apologies (I was always told it’s better not to do an action and have to apologise for it, then to do it and humble oneself. Oh well...)
Second! I’d like to thank the multitude of ponies that have helped me edit this little beast. I can’t even start to count the man-hours spent on a G-Docs file with two or three of us slaving away at my inability to use a comma,,, I’m slow. In particular, I’d like to give a shout-out to StapleCactus, Cpl Hooves and Frederick the Saiyan, all of whom have been incredible helpers, editors, and friends.
And finally, I want to thank you, the reader.
Without those wise comments, the enthusiasm, and the nagging to get that next chapter out of the melting pot between my ears and onto the screen, I never would have gotten as far as I have.
So, let’s look at some stats (The only kind of fun math!) and then I’ll subtly and quietly drop a link to the sequel.
(For the record, these are statistics at the time of the writing of this chapter)
Now, favourites are an important part of any story, and there’s no joy quite like receiving a notification about them. Over the course of being written, Of Challenges and Kisses received 2457 Favourites.
That’s just plain mad! Two thousand of you fellows deemed this story worthy of clicking on that little symbol!
Fun-Fact: If each follow was a stick of dynamite, one could make a pony shaped crater on the moon’s side big enough to be seen on earth (with a telescope).
Now, more important than the elusive favourite, is the comment, and by Celestia you guys love to chat. 2,176 comments! That makes this story the 26th most talked on story on this entire site, and I love each and every comment; they really brighten my day (or make me sink into a deep depression).
Fun-Fact: It’s the most popular story that starts with ‘Of’, and the most prominent story featuring Featherweight.
Alone, Of Challenges and Kisses accounts of a third of all my story views, with over 16,000 views and 100,000 total views (pffftt).
And, as a last bit of statistical nonsense, this story received over 1,600 up votes. (and a few downvotes)
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(reading author's notes) ... wait, WHAT?
(finishes reading chapter) ... what in the actual blueberry WHAT?
Just off the top, we've got Hugh Hefner, Star Wars, Riddick, and a couple dozen references I don't even know yet. I'm not sure whether to love or hate Pip after this.
Sweetie is still best fillyfriend though.
1982159
It's not as bad as I make it sound.
I....
But...
What have you done?
,,,,what....
*mindblown*
1982274
In a good way?
Really nervous about this chapter...
Ballin'
Was this a fever dream?
If or if not, it was still hilarious.
1982318
Mandalore, nice name.
And yeah, pretty much.
That's unfortunate that there is no way to take back thumbs up. I won't give it a down vote because the fic is better than this but this chapter just destroyed felling of the fic for me.
If you want crazy fun stuff post it as such or a separate story.
Add not canon to title or something because reading in series or looking from story view it's just another chapter.
I read the list in the begging but skipped the notes entirely because I want my story not damn notes that should be in the authors comments section.
Entire chapter was big WHAT but in a wrong way.
EDIT: And very much thank you for the addition of [Non-Cannon] to the title.
This Chapter has scarred me for life.
I like it.
waste of writing (and reading) time this was.
During that last part, I suddenly imagined Pip with slicked back hair and an eyepatch... No idea why.
Let me be the first to say... Blurbublargarghargh?
24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m5hjh57jIL1qet1rxo1_1280.jpg
Seriously though, this was just... weird. Honestly, that's the only adjective that can describe this particular chapter. It sadly didn't strike too high on the comedy meter, at least in my opinion, largely because it just made no sense at all. I can't help but say I'm glad it isn't canon.
Though, I DO like the idea of Pip living in some ginormous mansion. That I can get behind. It's the throngs of mares and the 'raspberry sessions' and the seeming brainwashing of characters like Luna, Spitfire, and Twilight, and the 'Stealing Sweetie' and the weird reactions on Featherweight's part that push it way over the edge.
......you could make an impressive clop fic out of this.....
... Please don't tell me this is the promised epilogue.
1982327 Well then that's your own damn fault.
I was like uhh, then I was like ohhhh, then I was like wtfux... But nah man it's cool, funny as shit and I didn't know WHAT was going on.
Is Featherweight a pimp now? Is Spitfire okay? Is Sweetie Belle his pimpette?
Everythings leading up to a little pipsqueak harem, and then...
Raspberries.
I had to literally stop, put my face in my hands and just giggle.
What did I just read? The world may never know.
just...what....what the helll GAH!
Riiiiiiight... no more harem anime for you mr. Dagger.
dashie.mylittlefacewhen.com/media/f/thumb/mlfw2260.gif
Woah. That was, uhh, interesting.
You know what would be awesome? A whole new story involving Clean Sweep's service as a Heavy gunner. That would be so badass
1982690
That's...
Actually, I was planning a story, and there would be plenty of place for that... huh.
1982705 Do it. I would read the living crap out of a story like that, and I know others would too.
1982722
I could shove her into my Firefly crossover (which I need to get back to)
1982727 I dunno. It would be cool if you developed the character, backstory and all.
But you know, whatever floats you boat.
i.imgur.com/Xqo8p.png
Wut.
Secluded mansion? Leather? A guy with a dubious nature and an English accent? Two lovers enter said mansion in Scooby Doo fashion?
I was expecting Rocky Horror going into this. Thank god that I was wrong, because then you'd have to add a mature tag for sodomy.
What the heck was that? A pretty good chapter nonetheless.
1982925
Can you cut the swearing?
I know this chapter was meant to bewilder people, but I am trying to keep it as close to PG13 as possible.
1982942
Ill keep that in mind
1982980
Thanks!
And the sequels published already. On my page, and for now on the front page!
What the hell, this was random
Odd, but funny
Strange, but funny
Funny, but funny
Honestly expected something along the lines of either Kamen Maid Guy or that one anime where the guy gets a mansion left by his uncle full of maids
I'm...
I'm not sure I accept your apology...
I...
I just...don't know...
Reminds me of Riddick - you keep what you
killraspberry.I have only one possible way to respond to this chapter. Dufuck I just read? No seriously, what the hell were you on when you wrote this? I couldn't finish reading it I was so flabbergasted. Seriously
I'm sure this was fun to write, but it really should have never been posted with this story.
signed the good dr.
Thanks for the giggles!
After reading this... there is only one thing that needs to be said:
dashie.mylittlefacewhen.com/media/f/img/mlfw711_130523365414.png
I lost it near the end. Seriously, what did I just read? It was funny, but super weird.
A case of the midnight boredom, Raven?
Of Challenges and Kisses.. Completed..
Why am I getting these feels? Well, at least you made a sequel of sorts.
Good job with this fic. It went very far. Hats off to you.
I was on the fence about this epilogue as I was reading, but then Feathers claimed the throne and instinctively "knew" he was king and I lost it.
Absolutely hilarious.
Wow...
...I don't know what you were on when you wrote this chapter, but I want some. Can you share? 
In any case, I find the ending to your actual fic a little abrupt. I was kinda hoping to see some more closure in general to solidify just where everypony stands, particularly Scootaloo, since she was so much of the focus in this fic.
featherweight, king of mares. i approve, although you should have made this in the middle of the story as canon to break up the drama and add more random, non-sensical comedy to spice things up, as it were
huh? I... what?
That...was brilliant. Plain and simple. Bravo, good sir, bravo.
Commence read.
Okay...
The references THERE EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!
*screams and runs away* *another sits down reads gets up and walks away yelling while throwing his hands in the air* "I'M DONE!"
True Comment
OK......how can I say this? Ummmmmmm...........AHHA i know *clears throat*
WHAT?!