Of Asses, Assholes and Asinine Situations.
“And, it’s a story that I’m sure you’ve heard before. Or, at least, one that I’m pretty sure I’ve told you once or twice?” said Flitter, looking quite unsure of herself. She cocked her head to the left, her smile fell to form a frown and suddenly she was looking almost as if she was unsure of if she should continue on with her story. A reassuring, platonic and sensually comforting smile from Cloud Kicker gave Flitter all the encouragement she needed. Smiling to herself more than her present company she decided to continue on. “But, well, I met him during a pretty dark period in my life. I’d just been kicked out of the Wonderbolts training camp for bringing in contraband, which I thought was stupid since all I really did was sneak a few bottles of Gentlecolt Jack in with me, and, I mean, everyone else was doing it. I guess I just was unlucky enough to get caught?”
Cloud Kicker, listening intently to her best friend’s story, blinked her eyes heavily made up eyes and nodded her head. Shady Daze, also present, paid the mares, and the story that Flitter, told, half a mind. He’d heard this story before. Many times, in fact. Usually this admittance came when Flitter was just as drunk as she seemed to be now. But that was just Flitter being Flitter.
Bored with the story, and rattled from his earlier encounter with the likes of Brolly, Thunderlane and an especially douchey acting Rumble, he scanned the bar again and wondered just what kind of offense he could have possibly given either of the two bartenders who were ignoring him. Was it because he wasn’t a pretty mare with a broad chest and a stacked ass? Did they know he was gay? Did they secretly resent him for it? Maybe it was something worse; maybe they somehow realized that he’d snuck in the back door?
Semantics. It didn’t matter what their reason for ignoring him was, all that mattered was that despite how hard he tried to get that one drink he wanted more than anything else, and the more the bartenders — for whichever reason — flat-out ignored him, the more Shady Daze felt he needed a drink.
Whatever. At least he was with good company.
“Anyways. I had no job, no money and I was back home, living with my mom, and I thought that’s all I’d ever have going on for me. I mean, Ponyville is great and all, but, once you get a taste of the outside world, well, it just seems so small...” Flitter admitted this with a sigh, and a bowed head. If anything she seemed truly dejected. Defeated.
Shady, knowing full well where exactly this story was going, played along. He swallowed a wad of resentment, smiled at Flitter, and, when she smiled back, he felt comfort in knowing he was at least making one of the three ponies seated at the far end of the bar feel alright with themselves.
Cloud Kicker, to her credit, kept up with Flitter’s pace. She, too, had heard this story a dozen and one times over, and, just like Shady, she played along. She nodded her head, smiled along with her friend and silently, with a hoof to Flitter’s shoulder, urged her to continue.
Shady was uninterested. That drink was very much in need of being ordered and finished, and yet, there was no one to take his order. He met eyes with one of the bartenders, a sort of cute looking male-pegasus, flaunting an impressive chest beneath his pink V-neck shirt. Shady, always a charmer, gave the older stallion his winning smile. This was wrong. The bartender turned away as if he’d just been witness to a murder-suicide. Disgusted, or ashamed, it really didn’t matter. He turned to the other bartender and whispered into his ear, then both colts stared at Shady and shook their heads condemningly. Shady Daze decided then and there that he wasn’t really that thirsty anyway.
“So, when I ran into Blossomforth during Winter Wrap Up a few years ago, and she said that she knew a cute guy who was single, well, I couldn’t really say I had any reason to say ‘No’. The next week Brolly took me out to The Alibi for drinks, we went for a walk down to Sweet Apple Acres, through the apple trees, and, well, the rest is history I guess?”
Cloud Kicker gave her friend a gentle pat to the shoulder, offered a kind, understanding sort of smile and then turned her gaze, and by extension, Flitter’s, onto the sole, homosexual pony sitting at a bar stool with a furrowed brow and a downtrodden look about him. Both girls made moves towards him now. Flitter took the seat to his left, Cloud Kicker to his right.
“You doing alright, Shady?” Cloud Kicker asked, putting a hoof to his shoulder and rubbing him. She was playing dirty; there were few parts of his body that, when met by a delicate, soft touch, completely submitted him into a state of blissful fluffyness. His shoulders, neck, back, and mane. Cloud Kicker must have known what she was doing.
He purred and all the anger and sorrow at having his so-called best friend Rumble turn the other cheek and throw him under the cart in the face of adversity melted away. The pangs of guilt and the seeds of betrayal were still there, but they hardly bothered him as much now.
“I’ve been better,” He answered, trying his best to ignore the table where Rumble, Thunderlane and Brolly sat, quite possibly collectively taken up with sharing stories about him and his fledging homosexuality.
Cloud Kicker’s hoof dug into the ultra-tense muscle of his shoulder blade. A chill crawled all across his spine and a rush of something warm, numbing and ticklish hit his brain.
“Hey, forget about those guys, Shady.” she said, “Why don’t you tell me all about what’s going on with you these days?”
Shady raised a brow as another wave of blissful goodness from her petting hit him. “Huh?”
“With you?” she repeated, “What’s new with you? I’ve hardly seen you around the place in the last few weeks? Is there a ‘Mr. Daze’ eating up all your time? Someone I should know about?”
Shady’s ears perked up, then his smile lifted and spread up his flushed cheeks, “N-nah,” he said, trying to play cool but failing at it, “It’s nothing like that. I’ve just been busy.” His left ear twitched, then his right, he scoped the bartender at the bar, the cute one, who was busy flirting with a mare who looked like Roseluck. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m like one hundred percent of the population of gay kids in Ponyville. Unless the rumors about Snips and Snails are true...”
Cloud Kicker chuckled. “Don’t get so down on yourself, kiddo,” she said, “There’s plenty of respectable, charming, gentlecolts for you to woo off their hooves.”
Flitter prodded him on the shoulder, “What about Pokey Pierce?”
Shady Daze snorted and giggled. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Cloud Kicker hugged the younger pony to her chest, brought her free hoof to his mane and stroked his tussled mane not unlike how she would pet a cat.
“You’re too cute to be this single,” she amended, “Trust me when I say this; one of these days you are going to make a very special stallion feel very happy.”
His cheeks ran red. He bit his lower lip and tried hard not to look up at Cloud Kicker, or Flitter, who he knew were probably grinning goofily at him.
Shady Daze glanced again at the table of colts he’d just been ejected from. He huffed under his breath, sighed then stared up at Cloud Kicker. “Yeah, well, a lotta fuckin’ good being a charming homo is doing me tonight.” He ran a hoof ragged through his mane, “I’m pretty sure I’m perpetually just one witticism away from having Brolly break all four of my legs.”
“No, no, no, Shady.” said Flitter, “Brolly likes you.”
Shady Daze realized, that Flitter truly believed, that the words she’d just said were true and not just avoidance of reality.
The poor girl.
“He’s got a really funny way of showing it.”
“Oh, he’s just trying to act tough because Thunderlane is here. Trust me, Shady. You don’t know him like I do,” she said.
Shady frowned and Flitter, sensing his hesitation to understand her viewpoint, spoke again in Brolly’s defense.
“He can be a bit… rough around the edges, especially when he’s been drinking. But, in private, when he’s sober, he’s just the sweetest, most amazing guy.”
He imagined that she really meant what she was saying, but, the words ‘Sweetest’ and ‘Amazing’ didn’t seem to fit the description of the same Brolly that Shady Daze had seen beat a dorky looking colt over the head with a billiards stick down at The Legion over a packet of peanuts.
Maybe there was a side to Brolly he had yet to see?
“Yeah?” Shady asked, “Like, he’s sweet enough to read you poetry, pick you flowers, give you chocolates and stuff? Do you still even go on dates?”
Flustered, Flitter tried to smile, but it fell and then she was frowning.
“Well, no…” she said, “He doesn’t read me poetry… or take me out anymore... but… well… he’s...” she sighed, “He is nice, Shady. He loves me, and... isn’t that enough?”
Shady felt it; that nagging, heart- sinking feeling he got every time he did or said something stupid to someone who just wasn’t ready to hear his brand of silver-lining-free truth. Flitter had clearly convinced herself that after a lifetime of failing at all her goals, personal, professional and private, Brolly was as good as she’d ever get. That right there was a tragedy worthy of its own literary trope.
He bit the side of his lip while he watched Flitter’s face. She was struggling to smile, but her lips weren’t having any of it, and her eyes were bland and boring to look at. Hurt and dejected. It was written all across her face.
Shady snapped his tongue. Now, more than ever, it felt like an appropriate time to change the subject.
“What’s the deal with Blossom’ tonight?”
“Please don’t get me started on her,” Cloud Kicker groaned, “Some guy she was seeing dumped her for a mare from Trottingham a few weeks ago and I guess he broke her heart or something because she’s been on an all-dick diet ever since.” She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, “I know that there’s supposed to be a grieving, rebound sex period after a breakup, but, she took three guys home with her last Friday. And that was after she offered to go down on Filthy Rich.”
“And right in front of Rarity, too.” Flitter added, flicking a lock of her mane away from her eyes.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shady said between panted coughs while his brain ran laps trying to come up with a sentence that was more than an intangible mismatch of words without reason. “So, uh, let me get this straight here… she’s just looking to hook up with Button? That’s it?”
“Well, yeah…” said Cloud Kicker, “I thought that’s what you guys said he needed? Didn’t you, or Rumble say that Button was just looking to get laid tonight?”
It sounded so much more hedonistic when it came from Cloud Kicker’s mouth now than it had when Rumble had said it earlier. That was the power of language though.
Shady Daze tapped the bar counter with his hooves and fooled around with his tongue, running it over his molars.
“Trust me, Shady. No one will give a guy like Button a better first time than Blossomforth,” Cloud Kicker explained, “She’s the reigning champion of breaking ‘em in.”
“Yes she is,” Flitter agreed, nodding her head, “She’s not ashamed of it either.”
“Nope. Not even a little.” Cloud Kicker added. “If anything, she’s proud of it.”
“Yeah... Right...” Shady, trying to make sense of what he was hearing, and what he was saying, sucked his lower lip. “I mean, I guess if she’s on an all dick diet...” He scraped his tongue against his upper teeth, “But still...”
Cloud Kicker touched her hoof against his cheek. “Trust me, Shady.” she said, smiling so innocently and endearingly that he was left to believe she saw nothing unordinary in her statements. “Blossomforth will turn him into a proper stallion when she’s done with him.”
The pit of despair. There it was. That low, heavy feeling in his stomach that came about whenever a morally grey situation he was a part of became just a few shades darker. Shady Daze turned towards the dance floor. He caught sight of Blossomforth, humping her pelvis against Button Mash. Button looked happy, and, by all accounts this was what he wanted. Still, it didn’t exactly leave Shady feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside to think about.
“I guess it’s really up to Button.” he said.
***
There was something more than hypnotic about Blossomforth’s ass. This much Button Mash was keenly aware of. It was more than the way that her perfect, moulded by Celestia herself, ass cheeks — devoid of even an ounce of unnecessary fat or flab — bounced in time to the rhythm of the song over the speakers. No, he could watch her shake her ass all day, but truthfully it was the fact that, that same ass was now attached to his waist that was really what was making Button Mash’s night.
Blossomforth detached herself from his waist, spun towards him, got onto her hind legs and ran her hooves through his mane. Button Mash followed her lead, got up on his hind legs and held her by her waist. Blossomforth placed her muzzle by the side of his face.
“Don’t be shy,” she told him, “You can put your hooves on my ass if you want?”
Button Mash gave a tiny, throaty, nervous chuckle. A ‘Heh-Heh’ sort of laugh, then allowed himself to slip his hooves down her back until they fell on those soft, perfectly round, cheeks.
“I want to do bad things to you,” Blossomforth whispered into his ear, “You want that, don’t you? For me to do bad things with you?.”
Button Mash swallowed hard.
“Y-Yeah.” he panted.
Blossomforth ran her tongue up his cheek and into the soft fleshy bits of his left ear. “Squeeze my ass, Button.”
He did.
Her butt was as incredibly soft and perfect as he’d ever imagined a mare’s ass to be. All the years of reading Moanin’ Mares and Filly Fanny Fun had been for not. Nothing in life could have properly prepared Button Mash for the sensual enjoyment that was squeezing a girl’s ass for the first time.
It was getting harder and harder for him to not fully express his enduring joy. It took crossing his lower legs together as tight as he could to keep from stabbing Blossomforth in the abdomen with his growing physical appreciation for the situation.
“I am so going to take you home with me!” she whispered into his ear, “I can’t wait to steal all that innocence away from you.” Once again her wet tongue traced a path up his cheek and into his inner ear. She left behind a streak of wet, matted fur that shone against the overpowering lights of the club.
When she was finished, and Button Mash’s heart resumed beating, she ran her tongue back down the trail of wet, then once over his lower lip, then his upper one and then both of hers.
“Yum," she whispered, "You taste like whiskey and Lo-Brau. I like it.”
Button Mash’s heart skipped another beat.
The room was getting hotter. Someone must have turned off the AC. His forehead felt hot, so did his cheeks, and he could feel the leakage from the pits under his legs seep into his hoodie. This wasn’t good.
The stains would be bad, but he worried most about the smell. Nothing in all of Equestria could possibly more embarrassing than him stinking like sweat, and then it somehow transferring to her. By way of osmosis, he imagined.
The leakage continued and began to spread. He could feel little beads of sweat starting to form across his forehead, between his lower legs and against his back. It wouldn’t be long now before everything went horribly wrong and he was left a sweaty, smelly, ugly mess in a hot-pink hoodie. Virginity intact, only now with the added bonus of having deeply offended Blossomforth.
Lucky him.
He pulled his head away to a curious, dumbfounded look from Blossomforth.
“Uh… heh, maybe, er...” slight pause for Button Mash to wipe the sweat out of his eyes and away from his face. “Can I grab you another drink?” he asked in broken up mess of high and low octaves, “Like… maybe we should, uh, do another shot? I’m buying! Anything you want!”
Blossomforth’s once wide and curious eyes narrowed down to a mostly seductive squint. The kind of look he’d seen many girls give many guys who weren’t him throughout his life. A predatory, hungry and knowing grin spread across her damp red-lipstick painted lips.
“Do you really want to leave me all alone, Button?”
A lump of something nasty was starting to build up in his throat, and, no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down, it remained lodged in his throat like an unending reminder of his lack of social grace. The areas around his pits were soaked through. The fabric was a wet, stinking mess by now. His heart was racing. Sweat rolled down his forehead and fell onto the floor.
He turned his eyes away from Blossomforth. “M-maybe…”
“Really, Button?”
That was when he felt her hoof trace a path from his back, to his chest, then down into the pocket of his hoodie where she squeezed his stomach.
Button Mash’s heart stopped for a few seconds when he felt her touch him in the place where only his own hooves had ever dared venture. She grabbed hold of him firmly and Button Mash let out a high pitched yelp.
Eyes drew onto them. Button Mash felt sweat break through his mane and decided then and there something needed to be done about it.
“I need to use the bathroom!” he blurted, turning away from her and making a mad dash away. He hoped, truly and sincerely, she’d understand why he left.
***
“Door’s locked and the coast is clear, boys.” Thunderlane said when he came into the bathroom stall. “We’re good to go.”
It was a handicapped stall, designed to fit the needs of disabled ponies. There were rails on the wall to guide a pony from wheelchair to toilet, and could accommodate both comfortably, or, alternatively, three pegasus ponies looking to snort drugs.
Rumble sat on the toilet, tapping his hoof on the ground. Brolly was rested against one of the guard rails to his right and Thunderlane leaned against the door.
“So, what are we doing?” Rumble asked, looking first at Thunderlane, then Brolly. “Salt? Or…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Brolly told him, fishing a hoof into the pocket of his jean-jacket. “Just remember to thank me after you're finished fucking some chick for the sixth straight hour tonight.”
Rumble’s hoof tapping against the cold porcelain floor was the only sound in the bathroom for a few minutes while Brolly searched around in his pocket. When he was finished, and found what he needed, he pulled his hoof out and with it drew out a small ziplock sandwich bag with what looked like an assortment of white, blue and red mints. Small, chalky looking things; some circular, some squared.
“Dude…” Rumble sighed as he looked up at his older brother. “The fuck are we doing?”
“I told you,” Brolly snorted, “Don’t worry about it.”
Brolly stepped forward until he stood beside Rumble and the toilet he sat on. With a face neutral of any kind of emotion, he shook a few pills loose from the bag and onto the top of the toilet bowl. With his left hoof he crushed them into a powder, then turned towards Rumble and Thunderlane.
“You got a card?”
Thunderlane nodded, reached into his pocket and passed Brolly one of Filthy Rich’s laminated business cards.
Rumble’s heart-rate took on an unhealthy speed. This was different from the norm. Darker. More nasty. The scene was getting ugly now. This, whatever it was exactly, was heavier than Rumble was used to seeing from his brother and Brolly. Usually they, and himself included, would take a hoof-full of caps, generally Candy Dust, the kind of stuff that made you love every pony, made dancing more fun and gave you the most terrible hangover the next day. Semi-occasionally they’d dabble in sniffing some salt too, but this was different.
Brolly plugged one nostril with his hoof, blew snot from his unplugged one, and then set about chopping the crushed pills into fat lines of powder. When he’d finished there were three lines, as thick and long as a cigarette. Content, Brolly leaned his face down to the toilet bowl and pressed his nostril flat against the porcelain and right atop one of the fatter lines.
Both of Rumble’s legs were tapping the floor now.
Brolly sniffed back a line, threw his head back and Rumble watched his eyes roll back into his head. He stayed like that for a few moments like he were stuck, until his eyes rolled back and his head dropped. He sniffed the air, ran his tongue around in his mouth and nodded his head.
Thunderlane looked over at Brolly, “Good shit?”
Brolly’s eyes were bloodshot, red veins pulsed in them, and his smile was a morbid display of yellowed teeth and cracked, bloodied lips. “Fuck. Yeah.”
He sniffed the air again, rubbed his nostril, and then motioned with his hoof for Thunderlane to take a turn. Thunderlane moved forwards, Rumble got up and out of the way, and then sat against one of the rails in the bathroom with his back against the stall and his front facing his brother and Brolly.
Thunderlane did his line with a loud snort, pulled his head back rubbed his nose, then him and Brolly looked at Rumble. A few drops of blood spilled out of Thunderlane’s right nostril which he rubbed away with the back of his hoof.
“So, uh,” Rumble jabbered, “I don’t want to sound like a pussy or anything, but, I’m seriously having some second thoughts about this…”
“Fucks sakes do you ever complain a lot, Rumble.” Brolly grumbled, “Does your fucking vagina come with its own vagina?”
Thunderlane wiped more blood from his nose, sniffed, swallowed, then smiled with full teeth at Rumble. He trotted beside his brother, threw a leg around the colt’s shoulder and shook him a few times. “C’mon, Rumble. Free drugs are free drugs. And you can’t beat free, right?”
Rumble made a sour face, he scrunched his nose, puckered his lips and lowered his brows. There was nothing in the world he wanted to do than a line of this new mystery drug. Literally. He’d take a firm kick to the cock if it meant he didn’t have to keep putting up with Brolly and Thunderlane tonight. The flipside, of course, was that at the end of the day he still had to live with the two of them, and any hint of weakness was like blood to a shark for a pony like Brolly, who would, most likely, never let Rumble forget about this night should it go sour.
Besides, what was the worst that could possibly happen from snorting a line of what was most likely a near-toxic mix nitroglycerine and arsenic?
Rumble looked up at his brother and snarled. Fucking Thunderlane, with his stupid haircut three seasons out of style, and that even dumber proud smirk on his face like there was nothing strange about sneaking into a public bathroom to snort lines of illicit substances. Fuck THunderlane and fuck Brolly too! Brolly, broad in the chest, short a few cells in the brain. Completely lacking any sort of redeeming moral fibre and flaunting it.
Rumble clicked his tongue. “Just a bump, right?”
Thunderlane grinned and shook Rumble by the shoulder again. “Hop to it, little brother.”
He did. Rumble detached himself from the wall and walked towards the toilet bowl. The lines were staring at him teasingly, each one of the four left somehow looked thicker and longer than they had been, and, the closer he got to them the faster his heart raced and his chest hurt.
Any sort of distraction was welcome. If Shady Daze trotted into the bathroom to take a piss right then and there, Rumble was more than a little convinced he have to kiss the colt for saving him from all of this stupidity.
No one was coming to save him. He realized this when he stood right before the toilet bowl, with the four fat lines of drugs lined up to face him, and two imposing figures of peer pressure at his back.
There was no backing out now.
He lowered his face until his nostril touched against the cold porcelain. He line his nose up with the smallest of the chalky, neatly organized mess. He should have, honestly, turned around and fled, grabbed Shady, Button, dragged them back to his place, opened a bottle of whiskey and spent the night in close comfort with ponies he liked, but instead he was stuck in a bathroom stall, with ponies he begrudgingly looked up too, peer pressuring him into taking drugs.
“Any day now.” said Brolly, tapping his hoof against the floor.
Rumble swallowed, plugged his left nostril and with his right snorted in air and powder until he’d dragged his nose across the toilet bowl and there was nothing left for his nostrils to devour.
Fuck, did it burn.
He threw his head backwards. His nose fucking hurt. Bad. He took a few steps backwards on what felt like clouds beneath his hooves, until his back touched something that felt like a wall made of jello, then he scratched the itch out of his nose with his hoof and wiped away a few traces of wet blood that fell from his nostril.
“Fuck.”
Brolly started to laugh. Thunderlane snickered.
“You said it.” Brolly was saying, pushing past Rumble and moving towards the toilet bowl again, “It’s hard to come by, and there’s never enough of it when it’s around, but good Flash really grabs you by the fucking nads, don’t it?”
“Y-yeah,” Rumble said, nodding his head, “Flash, eh? What is that, like, amphetamines?”
Thunderlane nodded. “Pretty much.”
“Medical grade amphetamines,” Brolly corrected, “Stolen from a friend of a friend. Lucky bastard gets them monthly for his attention deficit.”
“‘Medical Grade’ means they’re pure.” Thunderlane explained, “As in; not cut with anything like codeine, or mixed up with filler. This here is just plain, old-fashioned, wholesome goodness.” Thunderlane prodded his brother’s chest with his hoof. “Scientists made ‘em, and you gotta trust scientists, right?”
Rumble just nodded. He started to tap his hoof against the wall of the bathroom stall.
Brolly, bent over, turned his head back to Rumble and grinned. “Pretty soon you’re gonna be fucked off your ass.”
Rumble fooled around with his tongue, running it along the smooth surfaces of the backs of his teeth, then the fronts. “Guess so.”
Brolly laughed again, then shook his head. “First timers always get like that. Just wait until it really kicks in, you’ll be dancing like a spastic retard and dry humping Shady like I know you want too.”
Rumble rubbed his nose again, took a step forwards and puffed his chest out. Fuck Brolly. Fuck his stupid laugh, and his stupid grin, and his stupid, fucking, attitude.
“Fuck off, Brolly.”
Thunderlane put two hooves on each of Rumble’s shoulders and stopped his younger brother’s advance, “Down, boy.” Thunderlane laughed, “That would be a really good way to ruin the night.”
Brolly sniffed his line, did a wild, violent head shake, and threw his head backwards to meet Rumble’s eyes with his. “I would beat your faggot ass into the ground, Rumble.”
Rumble snarled, spat on the ground and rubbed his nose again. He shrugged Thunderlane’s hooves off of his shoulders, shot his brother an ugly glare, then sunk back into a slumped position against the wall.
The sound of a hoof beating, desperately, against the bathroom door from the outside drew Rumble, Thunderlane and Brolly out of their self-focused attention on each other and into the realm of reality where other, more sober — relatively speaking — ponies, with full bladders and bowels, existed. They were still in a bathroom, granted, one that had been made into a contemporary drug den, but its primary function was still very much for public use.
“Shit!” Brolly groaned. He threw a glare at Rumble, “Keep your fucking mouth shut about this, and go check it out.”
Rumble would have asked why, but Thunderlane threw the stall door open and pushed him out too fast for him to really voice any opinions. His heart was still racing, but, it felt good now. Everything felt good. The floor, the way his muscles all worked together to move his legs, and how they didn’t move without the say-so from his brain. It was a lot to think about, the science behind how his body worked as a unit, and it kept him occupied before he reached the door, pulled it open and found a goofy-looking Button Mash standing in the open doorway.
“Rumble?”
“Button!” Rumble cheered, throwing his hooves across his friend's neck and pulling the birthday boy into a tight hug. Salvation had a curious face, or, at least a funny one.
Button wiggled himself out from Rumble’s hold, took a few steps back, dusted himself off then stared at his friend. His jaw was tight, his eyes wide and his face both curious and worried. The stupid pink hoodie his grandmother knit for him was a mess of sweat stains around the pits and smelt terrible. Still, he was here, now, and that was all that mattered to Rumble.
“What’re you doing in here?” Button was asking. “And why was the door locked?... And what’s up with your eyes? They’re all bloodshot. Have you been crying?” He bowed his head and smiled softly. “Do you need a hug?”
A loud laugh, coming from the handicap stall, bounced off the walls.
“Is that fucking Butt ‘n' Ass?”
Button Mash raised an eyebrow. “Is that Brolly?”
The door to the handicap bathroom swung open so angrily that it shook the hinges loose until a few of the screws fell out. Brolly came out first, his head held high with the proudest of smile’s worn across his face. He was followed by Thunderlane, also smiling, looking proud of what he’d just done.
Thunderlane took to his brother’s side while Brolly circled around Button Mash like a bird of prey. He made a pass, shook his head, stared at Button and sighed. On his second pass, Brolly tapped Button Mash’s shoulder, circled around him again, then followed with a second, firmer, push to his shoulder on his third pass.
“And just what the fuck are you doing in here, Button?” he asked, looking and sounding not unlike a grizzled detective from a bad crime caper. “Shouldn’t you be buried all inch and a half of your tiny cock deep in Blossomforth’s gigantic gaping vagina by now?”
Brolly pushed Button again, who winced and tried to avoid making eye contact.
Button turned away from Brolly, blushing. “H-hey now…”
“C’mon, Brolly.” Thunderlane, yearning to play good to Brolly’s bad cop, was quick to throw a comforting hoof around the back of Button Mash’s neck and pulled the younger, nervous wreck of a colt against his shoulder, “Why’re you always giving this kid such a hard time? Pretty soon he’s gonna be one of us. A total fuckin’ stud.”
When Thunderlane smiled at him, and winked, and nudged him with his elbow, as if they shared an inside joke, Button Mash felt a tiny bit of pride and comfort in himself. It wasn’t much, but every little bit helped. Especially when Brolly was being such a turd-blossom.
Brolly snorted and stamped the ground with his hoof like he were putting out a cigarette, “Like Blossomforth is a real hard chick to get into bed.” he sighed. “I had her once, a while ago, and the only good thing I have to say about it was that my dick didn’t shrivel up and fall off afterwards.”
“You probably don’t want to mention that to Flitter,” Rumble reminded.
Brolly shot a dark and dirty look at him. “Say a word of this to her and I’ll break your fuckin’ legs, homo.”
“Damn, Brolly,” Thunderlane said with his smile falling a bit, “I know she’s sorta… open minded and heavy into all that free love stuff, but you’re making her sound like some kind of vampire. But for dicks.”
Brolly cracked his jaw and threw a playful hoof at Thunderlane’s shoulder. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Thunderlane.”
“Alright, alright,” he said, smiling and waving away Brolly’s hoof. “We used to fool around a bit, but, granted, that was before I was with Cloud Kicker.” He turned to Button and winked at the younger pony, “She’s still a sweet girl, though. You’ll like her.” Another pause for a wry grin to spread across his cheeks, “She does this one thing with her tongue…”
Brolly cleared a loogie from his throat to interupt Thunderlane’s storytime and spat it on the floor right before Button’s nervously tapping hooves.
“Fuck her.”
“In the literal let’s hope?” Rumble asked, turning his head to Button and grinning, “Right?”
Sheepishly, Button Mash’s face ran flush and he nodded. “R-right. Yeah.”
“Good luck with that, Butt ‘N’,” Brolly said, sneering at the younger colt, “She’s a fucking sluttipus.”
Button really didn’t like what he was hearing. Not one bit. It was crass, rude, unjustified, misogynistic, homophobic, and wildly offensive. Still, he’d made an excellent stay at avoiding any and all confrontation all throughout pre, middle and high school, and Brolly was a much larger pony than he was.
On top of an imposing presence, Brolly must have also been some kind of psychic, because the grin he wore, and the way he leered down at Button Mash’s shrinking form, screamed that he could tell exactly what the other was thinking.
“Don’t worry too much about going in for sloppy one-thousandths, Button.” He said, smiling with that ugly, mean looking grin of his, “I’m sure you won’t catch anything…”
Rumble, deciding he’d been quiet long enough, and that Button Mash wasn’t about to spontaneously develop enough spinal fluid to stand up to Brolly, took it upon himself to remedy the situation. He wasn’t afraid of Brolly, at least, not as much as he normally was.
Maybe it was the drugs?
“Shut up, Brolly,” he spat at the older colt.
Brolly shrugged. “Eat me, assface.”
Button Mash brushed his mane, felt all the wet, sweat soaked strands of fur, and suddenly found the floor a lot more interesting to stare at than his public restroom faring companions. “So..uh… I really just came here to pee…”
“Well, go ahead.” Brolly said, waving a hoof past Button and towards the urinals, “Take a piss.”
“It’s uh…” he scratched at an itch on his left leg, then stood stupid for a few seconds looking back and forth between the pairs of eyes staring at him. “I feel a little uncomfortable doing it in front of you guys. Could you, uh, like, maybe turn around?”
Brolly shook his head then spun around. Following his lead Thunderlane turned his back to Button, then Rumble did. Button Mash trotted up to a urinal, got on his hind legs and started started to pee.
“Fuck, Button!” Brolly cursed. “Even your piss hitting the urinal sounds fuckin’ limp-dicked and fruity!”
Button Mash ignored Brolly, finished his business, then walked to the sink and washed his hooves. Lathering his hooves with soap from the dispenser, he splashed cold water on his face, then slapped his cheeks with wet soap and scrubbed away all the sweat and stink from his fur that he could. When he’d finished, he dried his face with paper towels, tossed them in the wastebasket and headed towards the door. He stopped just as he was about to leave and turned his head back to face the three colts for a moment.
“Well, uh, thanks for the pep talk.... thing... I guess?”
And then he was gone, letting the door slam shut behind him. In an instant Brolly was on it, locking the handle, then slamming the deadbolt into place before spinning around and facing Rumble and Thunderlane.
“More?”
Thunderlane shook his head, “I’m good.” he said, “I think it’s time I go check up on Cloud Kicker and make sure she hasn’t found herself another guy or something.” He chuckled, then turned to Rumble, “You comin’ lil’ bro? I’ll buy you another beer and a shot?”
Rumble smiled, softly, then nodded his head. “Sure.”
“Brolly?”
Brolly shrugged his shoulders, then clicked his tongue. The sound bounced off the walls in the bathroom. “I might as well get a few more in before last call.”