//------------------------------// // Weekend Warriors // Story: Colts // by Guy_Incognito //------------------------------// Weekend Warriors The bassline to the track playing inside Club Black shook the walls of the smoking patio in intervals of five seconds. The wooden deck of the smoking section — which was, in reality, just a porch — was lined with torchlight lamps, giant unfolded umbrellas and small multi-pony tables of a Gryphon inspired theme. Good looking stallions chatted with beautiful mares. The noise of Club Black was unintelligible. Half shouted words from the crowds met with electronic sounds of the music, and it sounded like the worst mess of static and noise that anypony had heard. Ponies screamed drink orders, and about how utterly and completely destroyed they were going to get, and yet, none of that mattered. Shady Daze, Rumble and Button Mash had made it this far, and now, only the wall of bodies separated them from the twin steel plated doors into the club. They made their way through dozens of ponies who were in all likelihood, drunk — and quite possibly, for more than a few semi-familiar faces among the crowd, also on drugs. Rumble, with his natural sense of alcohol addled direction, led, with Button behind and Shady Daze taking up the rear. They moved as one, each step Rumble took forwards was mirrored by Button and then Shady, both hoping in the backs of their minds that he was leading them towards something more than the back entrance to the club. It was the fear of an aimless march towards an unclear goal that made Button Mash raise up his left hoof and tap Rumble’s rear twice. The colt snapped his head around quickly, though, he wore a smile that led Button Mash to believe — honestly and truly — that no snark, cynical or ego-defeating comment was going to come from his best friend’s mouth. “Yo!” Rumble shouted over the noise around him, “Sup?” “Where are we going?” Button Mash shouted back. Rumble looked left, right then shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno? Back entrance?” he said, “Right now I’m letting Mr. Booze do all of my thinking, but, he hasn’t steered us wrong so far, so why fix what ain’t broken, right?” “Business as usual, hey, Rumble?” shouted Shady Daze from just behind Button Mash. Rumble grinned and nodded. “Firstly, I’m not that drunk! Secondly, I’ve got room in my cast-iron liver for at least another half dozen Lo-Braus, a couple more shots of cheap, gut-rot bourbon and something faggy and girly to cap my night off like a Maremosa. It takes more than a few cheap domestic beers, a few Tequila Mockingbirds and mickey of shitty bathtub vodka to knock me out.” “That’s gotta be quite the accomplishment,” shouted Shady, “Did you get a trophy to go with that? You could probably hang it up alongside all those clean bill of health S.T.I. tests you’ve got up on your wall.” “Ha-fucking-ha, Shady!” Rumble shouted in a faux flighty tone of voice, “I’m sure next to your giant cock shaped trophy for ‘Longest time spent trapped in the closet’ all of my accomplishments must look real small, but I’m still proud of who I am!” Again Shady Daze was ready to explain to Rumble that even his well-developed and exceptionally cultured sense of humor had it’s limits, and that Rumble was once more reaching that threshold. Instead, he reminded himself that his friend was drunk and more than likely his social grace was suffering more and more with every beer he drank. “Touche,” he said to Rumble. “I know when I’m bested.” Smiling, Rumble slapped a hoof to Shady’s cheek and pinched the flesh. “You’re a prince, Shady. The fuckin’ Duke of Dick” he shouted, “But you’re also not nearly as clever as you think you are!” He let go of Shady’s cheek and twisted his waist, giving a dance that flaunted his tight and athletic rear to the crowd around them. Shady, in the meanwhile, grabbed hold of his sore cheek, stared at Rumble, opened his mouth to speak and then said nothing instead. He didn’t need too. Button Mash, standing between the two, had decided hours ago that he was sick of the back and forths they shared. Rumble was the sort of colt who desired distraction, and, since he held nothing shiny in his pockets, he needed a new outlet. Fortunately, Celestia, Karma, or perhaps both, were kind enough to offer up the best kind of distraction for a guy like Rumble; A mare. “Rumble?” He recognized the voice before he even turned his neck to see her. Blossomforth. Cloud Kicker’s best friend since anyone in town could remember, and, more than that, a sexually uninhibited young soul for him to trade flirtatious wit with. If she was here — and he only had to turn his head to her to be sure — it meant that, most likely, so was Cloud Kicker, and by extension, Flitter, Brolly and his own brother. Possibly others. The night became more exciting with this latest revelation in the forefront of his thoughts. “Blossomforth!” cheered Rumble, spinning on the heels of his hooves to meet her face to face with the kind of winning smile he liked to use on older girls who still saw unlimited innocence in him. And there she was; a head taller than he himself, thin in the chest and stomach, rounded in the waist and rear, and, all around, quite a sight to gawk at. She wore her mixed purple and green mane straight, and styled in a way so that the bangs were chopped just before the eyes while the rest was allowed to fall just around her face and neck. There were freckles on her cheeks that Rumble's eyes were drawn too for a moment. She was smiling when she met eyes with his. “I knew that was you,” she said, taking a few paces towards him, “I could recognize that goofy slicked back mane anywhere. How the fudge are you?” When she reached him she hugged him tight and he felt her breath on his left cheek. He could smell the vodka and soda on her breath. This was when Rumble decided it was safe to not only hug back, but push his luck. In no quick movement, he moved his left leg down her back — over her wings — and then stopped inches above her rear. Blossomforth offered no protest, although, charismatic and hungry for release as he was, Rumble decided not to press his luck. He drew his right hoof from the small of her back, then the left from the back of her neck and took a step backwards. “I’m good! Great even!” he answered, giving her a toothy grin. “Hey, who are you here with? Is Flitter here?” “Yeah! Crazy story!” she shouted back. “I came here with Flitter and ‘Kicker and their saggy balls and chains. Talk about a small world, huh?” Rumble nodded, “No doubt.” Blossomforth stared at Rumble, then behind him at Button and Shady, who stood stiffly in place, waiting for the courteous introductions. Both knew Blossomforth, and she knew them, though neither Shady or Button could say they’d ever had more than a dozen conversations with the mare. Rumble noticed the exchange and rolled his eyes. “You remember my platonic male companions, right? Button Mash and Shady Daze?” he asked, nudging Button and Shady. “Boys, you know Blossom’, hey?” A round of polite and courteous head nods were shared by the three. Blossomforth took a step towards Button and studied his face with a quiet intensity. “Didn’t you clog the toilet at Thunderlane and Cloudkicker’s party that one time?” Button Mash bit his lower lip. “Yeah…” Instead of a verbal joust the likes of which he knew he’d lose, Blossomforth pulled him against her chest, allowing her hooves to roam the flat of his back, and then, slowly, back up to his mane. “You were so adorable,” she said to him. “I’ve never heard a guy apologize so many times in my life. It was so sweet.” Her hooves traced along his spine, down to his rear and then she gave his left and right ass cheek a pinch. In response he yelped, but the sound of his high-pitched wail got drowned out by the noise of the ponies and thumping bass on the patio. “How’ve you been, Blossom?” Shady asked, smiling sweetly towards the mare. “Are you still trying out for The Wonderbolts?” Blossomforth took her hooves off of Button Mash’s asscheeks, dropped them onto the ground and turned her head towards Shady Daze. “Nah,” she said shrugging her shoulders, “I don’t stand a chance against the new recruits. I thought having Dash on the team would give me a fair chance, but I guess she’s still pretty pissed about the time Flitter, ‘Kicker and I tagged Tank’s shell.” Rumble snorted a laugh and slapped his thigh at the same time Shady Daze gave a polite, and restrained, chuckle. “Leave it to fuckin’ Rainbow Dash to carry a grudge for almost half a decade,” said Rumble, “It’s too bad she’s totally into girls. She seems like she’d give a guy a real workout, if you know what I mean?” “You are, literally, the most vile and disgusting pony I know,” Shady said to Rumble, “I seriously wonder some nights how you’re not still a virgin.” “Girls with low standards and daddy issues,” Rumble responded, giving Shady Daze a grin exposing two rows of fangs, “It’s amazing how far you can get with a nice smile, a few honeyed words and a body with dangly bits sculpted by Celestia herself.” “Seriously, Rumble,” Shady sighed. “You’re the worst.” Rumble leaned sideways and hugged Shady around the throat. He rubbed his face into Shady’s neck, pulled back and then smiled. “You love me, Shady.” “Yeah, yeah,” Shady grumbled. He knocked Rumble off of him with a shrug of his shoulders, then arched his spine so that he stood upright; stoic and stern faced. “And you’d be bagged, tagged and stuck in a body bag a dozen times over if it wasn’t for that platonic love I’ve got for you. Just remember that, okay?” Rumble stuck his tongue through his pursed lips and blew a wet and tasteless sounding raspberry at his best friend. When he finished, he rolled his tongue back into his mouth and eyed the colt before him dopily. “You know I love you too, you butt-pirate.” “Holy! When’s the honeymoon you two?” Blossomforth laughed. Rumble tried to hide his shame and embarassment at the offending statement with a snarl, while Shady bit his upper lip, shrugged his shoulders upright and then turned his head away from Blossomforth and Rumble. “Listen, whenever you guys are done making moves on each other, you should follow me inside.” Blossom suggested when her laughter at the situation had died out. “We’ve got a private booth at the back and there’s definitely more than enough room for all of us.” Rumble turned to Button, then to Shady. Both colts stared at him with soft eyes and turbulent looks on their faces; imploring their recently decided leader to make the decision for them. Grinning, Rumble turned away from his friends and onto Blossomforth. “Sounds dope.” he said, “Why don’t you show us the way?” *** There were five ponies sitting at the private booth in the farthest corner of Club Black; Thunderlane — nursing a Lo-Brau —, Cloud Kicker — beside Thunderlane, sipping on a Gin and Tonic —, Flitter — beside Cloud Kicker, drinking a Whiskey Sour — and, finally, Brolly, who sat leaned into his seat with one hoof thrown over Flitter’s shoulder and the other spilling big sips of beer across the table. “Well, shit. They’ll let any three cunts into this place nowadays, won’t they?” were the first words, shouted out of the mouth of Brolly, as he watched the foursome of Blossomforth, Rumble, Shady Daze and Button Mash approach the table. His eyebrows furrowed down his face while he glared at the approaching party, then his eyes locked onto Shady’s figure and his face fell flat. “Isn’t there some kind of ‘No-Homo’ policy here?” Brolly exploded into a low and ruckus laugh that none of the other ponies sitting at the table bothered to join. Shady rolled his eyes, sighed and put on his most charming and forced smile of the night. Dealing with Rumble was one thing; a burden, sure, but there was still a wealth of respect and care for the other’s well being — mental, physical and spiritual — that they shared between them. Shady Daze had no respect or love for Brolly, and he could only imagine the feeling was mutual. “Hey, dork,” Brolly snapped at Button, drawing fear across the younger colt’s face. “Don’t you know there’s a dress code?” Brolly asked, spilling a few splashes of his beer in his lap as he took a sip from his pint-glass, “They don’t usually let homos wearing pink in here. What’d you do, sneak in the back door or some shit?” Button Mash stared down at his chest and was reminded — for the first time since his earlier conversation with Archer and Dinky Doo — about how stupid and unattractive the hoodie he’d been wearing all night looked on him. He frowned, trying to hide his face from those who sat around the table. “Stop being such a dick, Brolly,” Blossomforth said. “This kid is a total sweetheart. Not that you’d know anything about that.” “Eat me, Blossom,” Brolly grumbled. “He looks like a total fucking pussy to me.” “Nice to see you too, Brolly,” said Rumble, leaping into the booth ass first. He took the spot beside Flitter, who gave him a friendly smile which he returned. “Why don’t you take a walk to the bathroom, get someone inside to help you take that giant stick out of your ass, come back and then we can all relax a bit, huh?” “Mind your P’s and Q’s, Rumble!” Brolly growled towards him, before taking a sloppy sip of beer from his glass. More beer rolled down the sides of his face and hit his chest then made it to his mouth. Clearly, this was not an issue to Brolly. The table fell silent. Button Mash shuffled in place, waiting for Rumble, Shady, Blossomforth, Thunderlane, or someone — who specifically wasn’t Brolly — to do or say something to ease the tension. Button Mash had never been the type of pony to hold a grudge — it wasn’t in his nature —, but there was a short list of things he actually enjoyed about Brolly; he liked that Brolly had never acted on any of his threats to beat him. He also liked that sometimes when Brolly got too drunk, he’d pass out and then Shady and Rumble would take an electric razor and shave phallic shapes and cuss words into his coat. Aside from that, there was nothing to like about him. “How’re you doing, boys?” asked Cloud Kicker, throwing herself into the conversation. Saving the three from yet another verbal taunt from Brolly. “You three look like you’ve seen some real crazy stuff tonight?” Shady took the empty spot beside Rumble while Bottom Mash sat next to Cloud Kicker, across from Shady Daze. This left an open spot beside Button Mash that Blossomforth was quick to grace. “It’s been a trying time, yeah.” said Shady, folding his legs across the table and falling into himself. “Between keeping these two in check, all the booze, running afoul of the mayor and all the other bullshit we’ve gotten into tonight, I’ve hardly had time to breath.” “Oh, that’s not even how it happened, Shady!” Rumble snapped, slapping the table with his hoof, “You were every bit as much at fault as either of us. Don’t try and pin all the weirdness on me and Button. Stop acting so high and mighty. It’s not like you’re doing a public service here or anything.” Shady Daze turned his face to his best friend and grinned, “Aren’t I, though?” Cloud Kicker snorted a laugh, Flitter giggled, Blossomforth chuckled and Thunderlane snickered. Rumble rolled his eyes. In submission of his own defeat, Button Mash just bowed his head. It was only Brolly who offered a challenging glare towards Shady, who let it pass without protest. Brolly cleared his throat, spit a loogie over Rumble’s shoulder and then slapped his legs down on the table and spoke, “How did you three retards find time away from your busy schedule of blowing each other in back alleys to get down here?” Thunderlane snorted and slapped a hoof against his thigh. Rumble shot his brother a dirty look that went ignored by the older pony. Flitter bat her eyes, then turned towards Button, Shady and Rumble. “Why don’t you boys tell us about your night?” “Heh, well, it has been pretty crazy,” Button Mash said, before he had time to consider the notion that adding his voice to the ongoing battle of wits was a bad idea. Suddenly eyes belonging to ponies he wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable conversing with even if he’d been sober were turned to him and the familiar feeling of a fear-sweat was coming over him “We… um… had a pretty wild night… doing things… and some stuff… most of it silly...” “Oh, you can’t stop there, Button.” said Cloud Kicker, “C’mon. We wanna hear about it.” The eyes, faces and expressions attached to them were growing softer. More friendly. If he’d had reservations before, they were slowly being worn down by the feeling of brevity and unity that was building up towards the ponies he was surrounded by. “Well, heh, we um… we got kicked out of The Toad in The Hole.” Button Mash said, scratching a hoof against the flat of his neck and smiling down at the table, “That was kinda… crazy.” “Fuckin’ Morty,” Thunderlane whined, “Did he give you guys that ‘Sit down and shut yer traps.’ speech?” Rumble stared at his older brother, nodded his head and then reached his hoof towards Thunderlane’s half finished beer. He cupped it, pulled it towards him and took a sip. Nothing was sacred when shared between immediate family, least of all a pint of cheap domestic beer and the potential backwash associated with it. “Yeah,” said Rumble, putting the pint glass down on the table, “We weren’t even doing anything wrong, either.” Despite the lie he’d just told, neither Shady Daze, nor Button Mash, had it in them to offer up the truth of the matter. Instead, they opted for casual head nods. “Yeah,” said Thunderlane, squeezing Cloud Kicker by the shoulder, “Morty likes to act like he’s hard. I mean, the dude’s seen some shit, no doubt, but, he’s all talk and no cock to back it up. Y’know?” A gleam built in Rumble’s eyes. He stared up at Thunderlane and nodded his head. “I heard Morty’s an Ex-Royal Guard?” said Cloud Kicker. Thunderlane shrugged, “Maybe?” “Hey,” said Flitter, turning to Button Mash and smiling sweetly at the younger pony, “Somepony told me it was your birthday today?” The eyes on him, and the mixed looks care and concern, intensified. Shrinking a little in his seat, Button Mash put on his best, most polite, smile, and nodded his head. “Yeah…” He felt a hoof touch his back, then rub him gently through the material of his hoodie. It was Blossomforth, looking at him with soft, sweet, eyes and smiling. His left leg twitched, then his right one, when her hoof fell along his spine and drew closer to his rear once again. “Hey, happy birthday, buddy!” said Thunderlane, grabbing at his glass and raising it in the air. “Seriously; someone’s gotta buy this kid a drink or something?” Blossomforth’s hoof was touching his butt. Again. She took the time to pat him on his left cheek, then she stroked away the hurt. Button Mash bit his lower lip as hard as he could without drawing any blood and fought his instincts to purr/moan/cry out. Instead of drawing attention to himself, he turned away from Blossomforth and stared at Thunderlane. ”S-Sounds good to me,” he said. “I’ve got this,” Thunderlane said, raising himself upright in his seat. “What are you drinking tonight? Blossomforth pet him on the bum, making Button Mash almost swallow his tongue. “Uh… Lo-Brau,” he squeaked. “Cool. I’ll be right back,” said Thunderlane said, spreading out his wingspan and lifting into the air. Rumble watched Blossomforth’s borderline-molestation of Button Mash with a curious — and mostly jealous — eye before a thought grazed his mind. An idea, so simple and, yet, so elegant, made it’s way to the forefront of his mostly drunken consciousness. For the first time that night he put himself, and his interests, aside, and decided to do something for the benefit of Button Mash. If it worked out, it stood to be known as the greatest single birthday present the dork would ever get in his life. Rumble had no reservations. “Yo, Blossom’,” he called, “Can I steal you for a minute?” Blossom stole herself away from Button Mash to glance over at Rumble. She nodded then lifted herself out of her seat, passing her hoof over Button’s waist as she left. “Sure.” The two snuck out of the booth and found a quieter spot in the far corner of the club. The music had switched from bad techno to even worse Dub-Trot noise. Blossomforth looked at Rumble, Rumble back at her. Both were smiling. “What’s up?” “You should dance with Button Mash,” Rumble suggested. “It’s the little guy’s birthday and he’s sorta got his heart set on proving his masculinity to himself. You don’t have to bang him, just, you know, throw a few dirty moves his way, maybe some grinding? I mean, the kid could use a break and-” “Done!” Blossomforth said. Rumble threw his head backwards. “Really?” “Oh, absolutely,” she said. “I think he’s fucking adorable, Rumble.” Rumble cocked his head to the side, “Really?” he asked. “You know we’re talking about Button Mash, right? Not Shady? And, definitely not me, right?” Blossomforth turned her face away from Rumble and drew her hungry squint towards Button Mash. Her tongue came out of her mouth, ran over her upper lip, her lower one then rolled back into her mouth. “Mhmm,” Confused as he was, Rumble wasn’t about to question Blossomforth’s logic. If socially awkward virgins were her fetish, who was he to voice any arguments? If it helped Button Mash rid himself of the burden that was his virginity, where was the real harm in throwing a clearly sexually charged mare with a taste on her tongue — and quite possibly between her legs — for colts like him? Rumble scratched the back of his neck and bowed his head, “Well, uh, alrighty then...” Rumble mumbled. “I guess, uh, you should go grab him and…” His words fell towards the empty space where Blossomforth had stood, instead, Rumble caught the twitching tail and heavily accented and bouncing ass cheeks of her backside as she swayed and sashayed her way towards the table. Still confused at the prospect of a girl appearing to look at Button Mash as a sexual object of desire, Rumble shook his head and followed after her. *** Button Mash had been enjoying his night for the most part. Sure, there had been a few times when he’d have much rather been seated in his faux-leather recliner, an issue of Moanin’ Mares in lap, hoof lotion to the right of the tissues and with the lights dimmed to a nice, romantic, mellow. Tonight wasn’t his first foray into the world of drinking with Rumble or Shady Daze, and in that sense he wasn’t a virgin to the needs and desires of his best friends, still, the extra focus on him was nice and he greatly appreciated the efforts they put in to make sure his night was tailor fit to his heart’s content. It was nice of them to think about him. But, in truth, so far the highlight of the night — so far — had been talking with Dinky Do. She was pretty, and neat, and definitely much cooler than he’d ever given her credit for in the past. Getting shamed out of The Toad in The Hole had made a good story, certainly, but, it was also a pitfall in his night since it had been a brick wall thrown into the mix. He thought about where Dinky Do might be in Ponyville and found himself smiling. Then a hoof touched him on the shoulder and he spun his head to face the grinning face of Blossomforth. He smiled back as best he could. “Hey?” he said as she took her seat beside him, “What’s, uh,… what’s up?” She scooted herself closer to him, until her left cheek touched against his, and threw a hoof across the broad side of his shrugged shoulder. Her face drew towards his until he could feel her breath brush the fur on his cheek. He blushed and clenched his legs together to hide his growing pride at the situation. “Wanna dance?” she whispered into his ear. “D-d-dance?” he stuttered, “You, um, want me to dance... with you?” Blossomforth’s giggle tickled the fur around his eardrum, “Yes you, doofus.” Button Mash swallowed a wad of nastiness in his throat, then suppressed a yelp when he felt Blossomforth’s hoof touch against his waist. She rubbed up his thigh, stopping inches before his crotch, then blew against his ear. “Whaddya say, stud?” she whispered. “Wanna show a girl a good time?” How could he possibly argue… Thoughts of Dinky came over him again, only now he tried to push them aside and replace them with the idea of moving in as one with Blossomforth. Dinky was pretty, there was no doubt about it. But, Dinky wasn’t here with him right now. Blossomforth was. Decisions... Decisions... He studied Blossomforth for a moment; stared over her curvy figure, her tight waist, supple hind parts. She was definitely a pretty mare. Beautiful even. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d stuck some kind of karmic goldmine here tonight. Yep. He was a lucky colt. “Uh… yeah.” he said, smiling softly, “Sure. Let’s do that.” ¸