• Published 24th Aug 2013
  • 5,259 Views, 147 Comments

The Epic Quest to Mount Button's Mum - Ficta_Scriptor



NO INCEST! ~~ Button needs some ponies to help with his new co-op game, but nopony seems interested. That is, until his Mum shows up at school. Now, it seems all sorts of ponies want to stay over...

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Chapter 2 - Before Play

Chapter 2 – Before Play

It was time. No room for errors now. Featherweight gently caressed the beauty at his desk in a sideways motion with the shaft of his purple-tipped crayon, resulting in a soft, night-like shade that made for the perfect backdrop. It was a little technique he’d learned that had a much better effect than simply scribbling haphazardly. His artwork was coming together nicely, a sure-fire A+ grade this time! In the latest of Miss Cheerilee’s religious studies lessons the class had been asked to draw what they thought God looked like. And so, Featherweight drew the first thing that came to his mind. The only thing that came to his mind.

‘God’ was a beautiful mare with a flowing auburn mane and tail, dressed in nothing but a smile. Clothes were unnecessary for ‘God.’ She also happened to be looking over her shoulder, winking, and holding her posterior in the air. That was just how ‘God’ rolled, he had decided. The flank of ‘God’ had been drawn with the utmost precision, each curve carefully crafted and sculpted to the nth degree. Suffice to say, ‘God’ was bucking hot.

Featherweight finished off his work with some pencil-drawn eyelashes and held the picture at leg’s length. It was simply marvellous. Good enough to eat, perhaps. Feeling a sense of pride for having drawn such a work of art he leant forward and kissed it, not caring what anypony else might think.

“Oh don’t stop now,” came a familiar voice. “Don’t I deserve a little more?”

“Who said that?” Featherweight asked aloud, looking around the classroom. All of the other students were diligently scribbling away at their own pictures, not seeming to even register his outburst. Even Cheerilee appeared distant, flicking casually through a book (presumably a horror novel judging by the sweat dripping from her forehead) entitled A Stallion Lives in Your Walls. The voice seemed to have come from nowhere.

“Down here, silly,” the voice said in a sultry tone. “Right in front of your face.”

Featherweight looked down at his desk. To his utter disbelief, the mare in his picture was giggling. “This… This is impossible!”

“Anything’s possible, sweetie,” the bedazzling vixen said with a flick of her tail. “You just need to believe. Why, I bet if you concentrate really hard you could join me right here. Come right into the black void. You’ll like it. Trust me.”

“I… I don’t know,” Featherweight muttered, feeling scared, yet irrevocably enraptured. “Is it safe? I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Then let me be your guide,” the mare said, gesturing with an outstretched hoof. To Featherweight’s amazement, it looked to be reaching out from the picture into the outside world. “I won’t bite. Much.”

Featherweight brought his hoof towards her tentatively. The moment he made contact with her fur the world zoomed past at light speed, his vision blurred by a sea of swirling colours. In an instant, the colours disappeared, giving rise to a never-ending blackness. Featherweight floated through the nothingness, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, when he felt something grab him from behind.

“Hello, Featherweight,” the mare from the picture said as she pulled him towards her. Only now she was more than just a mishmash of pencil and crayon. She floated before him as real as real could be. She smiled, leaned down to his midsection, and traced a meandering path from his midriff up to his neck with her tongue, pulling back as she reached the tip of his chin and licking her lips contentedly.

Featherweight stared blankly for few seconds, his cheeks hot and his nethers taught. “What… What was that for?” he mumbled, his loose mandible interfering with his speech. Thankfully, the mare before him appeared to understand perfectly.

“Why, that’s how I greet other ponies in my world. That’s just how I roll, but don’t tell Button,” she said with a wink.

“I knew it!” Featherweight gasped. “You’re Button’s Mum!”

“I sure am. Now… You’d better reciprocate my greeting. I’d consider it awfully rude if you didn’t.”

“Greeting?” Featherweight asked confusedly.

Button’s Mum nodded. “Just like the one I gave you. In fact it’s extra polite if you start at my thigh and work your way up.”

Featherweight gulped audibly. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was floating in an endless void he was sure that his legs would buckle from sheer anxiety. His heart pounded hard against his chest as he lurched forward breathlessly, zoning in on the mare’s hind leg. Closing his eyes, he made contact with his tongue and began to float upwards, his mouth gliding effortlessly across every ridge and curve on the way to her neck. His eyelids fluttered as his body underwent an unprecedented ecstasy, like microscopic cream cakes bursting across every inch of flesh. He could taste something… fruity. Somewhat tangy. It was virtually indescribable.

“That was good,” Button’s Mum whispered as she wrapped a foreleg around him. “But how about we try something different? We have all the time in the world, don’t you know?”

Before Featherweight could respond Button’s Mum had locked lips with him, running her hooves across his fur without abandon. The colt’s instinctive autopilot took over as all rational thought left his mind.

“Featherweight…”

“Oh, Button’s Mum…”

“Featherweight?” she said in a higher tone.

“Yes?” Featherweight managed to gasp between kisses. “What is it?”

“Featherweight!”

“What do… you want?”

“Featherweight!”


The never-ending darkness and heavenly mare disappeared in a flash as Featherweight leapt up from his desk, the classroom coming back into view. The other students looked at him curiously while Cheerilee stood over him, an eyebrow raised in disgruntled concern.

“If you want to sleep, do it at home,” the dismayed teacher said. “I’ll let you off this time, but don’t let it happen again.”

“Sorry Miss,” Featherweight replied bashfully, pulling his chair back into place neatly under the desk. He wasn’t sure, but he could swear that there was a glob of superglue stuck to the ceiling above. Or was it hair gel? It was difficult to see from this distance.

“I should hope you have at least finished your assignment,” Cheerilee said, picking up Featherweight’s picture and glancing over it. She paused for a moment, as if in deep thought. “What’s with these moist little folds?” she pondered aloud.

“Um…”

Cheerilee deftly unfolded the crumpled paper and wiped away loose globules of saliva. “That’s better. Well… I have to admit, it’s quite the bold representation of God you have here. A colt who envisions an all-powerful being as a mare certainly shows some morals dependent on gender equality. I’m liking the attention to detail, too. You get a B plus.”

Cheerilee passed his desk and wandered over to Scootaloo. “This is a rather similar design to Featherweight’s. Neither of you two were copying from each other, were you?”

The two foals shook their heads. “Of course not!” Scootaloo protested, only just managing to remain seated now that her stool was covered in a mysterious slime. One wrong move could send her flying, though she considered that it might be her only chance to take to the skies after all. That is, unless future events de-canonized that notion.

“Alright, I’ll believe you. B plus for you too.” Cheerilee then moved to Applebloom. The excitable filly looked fit to burst as she handed her drawing over. Cheerilee took one glance and sighed deeply. “Seriously, Applebloom? Your version of God is a pegasus stallion with a long white mane, white beard and white robe who lives in the clouds?”

“Well… yeah.”

“You just drew old-pony Jebediah who sits outside Cloudsdale and talks about ‘the good old days’ when weather manipulation meant fourteen hours of backbreaking work every day for just two bits a year. I’m sorry, but I have to give you a D minus for unoriginality.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” Applebloom whined, burying her head in her hooves.

Cheerilee then walked to Rumble’s desk. “What’s this? You’ve left the page completely blank!”

“But I’m an atheist,” Rumble said plainly. “I don’t believe there’s a God, so I didn’t draw one.”

“Oh I see,” Cheerilee exclaimed. “You get an A plus then.”

What?” Applebloom cried, looking over as Rumble shot her a smug grin. “That’s not fair! Oh Ah’m gonna get you, Rumble!”

Cheerilee couldn’t help but smile to herself over the two foals’ adorable rivalry. She had a gut feeling that their bickering was destined to lead to a passionate relationship, just like the unlikely romance between herself and the stallion that lived in her wall.

Featherweight stared intently at Scootaloo and Snips, (whose drawing of Button’s Mum more resembled a goose than a pony) realising that if he wanted to mount his beloved, he would have to outdo his competition. But what would win over her affections? Just mere flowers and chocolates wouldn’t cut it. He needed to bring out his suave side, and quickly. It was almost time.


The school bell rang out as countless foals cantered cheerily from their classes, chattering and laughing excitedly. For most, it was just the end of a normal, boring school day. But for Featherweight, Scootaloo and Snips, they stood on the precipice of an epic quest. And Button, unknowingly, was their guide.

Applebloom and Sweetie-Belle were unsurprisingly curious about Scootaloo’s newfound interest in video games, especially since she’d never played one before. (Her parents couldn’t afford to pay for a games console, mostly because they were dead)

“Are you sure you won’t come crusading with us?” Sweetie-Belle asked for the third time. “We’re sure to get our cutie-marks this time. I can just feel it!”

“Sorry girls,” Scootaloo said with a shrug. “I’ve got a feeling that my special talent is video games. We can meet up again later this week, promise.”

“Well alright,” Sweetie-Belle replied. “We’ll put off our plans for another time. Applebloom?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go play hide and seek with the thing that lives in the woods.”

Scootaloo said her (potentially last) goodbyes before racing to Button Mash. Featherweight and Snips were stood beside him, smiling and nodding whilst completely ignoring his opinionated rant about the state of gaming. As Scootaloo joined the fray, Button’s eyes lit up.

“Alright!” he exclaimed. “All four of us are here! Let’s get moving to my place. I can hardly wait to experience Four Spears the way it was intended to be played: with three random acquaintances!”

The quartet cheerfully trudged their way through the streets of Ponyville. Featherweight and Scootaloo shot each other fierce, knowing looks in an attempt to psyche each other out. They were both determined to attain dominance over Button’s Mum, and it was obvious who the main competition was. Snips just didn’t stand a chance. The chubby little moron was muttering a song under his breath, something about somepony who had it going on.

“So Snips,” Button began, taking a rare break from talking about sinful DLC offers. “I’ve always wondered, what’s your cutie-mark for?”

“Oh that,” Snips said with a chuckle. “When I was six years old I circumcised myself with a pair of scissors. Did a pretty good job too, according to my sister. Eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when she saw it.”

“Circumcised?” Button exclaimed.

“Yup. It must run in the family or something. I know my Mum said something about her youth, where forced female circumcision was on its way to becoming quite a problem in those days. Thankfully, they nipped that in the bud. No problems since.”

Button smiled awkwardly, pretending to understand what he’d just heard. “Uh… great. Hey, we’re almost to my place.” He led the three lustful foals along a stone path towards his front door. “This is going to be so awesome!”

You have no idea, Featherweight, Scootaloo and Snips thought in unison. They each steeled themselves in preparation as Button knocked on the door. This could very well be make or break. Only one would triumph. They each took a deep breath as the door crept open. Button’s Mum was behind there. They would need to be strong. They would need to be tenacious. Most of all, they would need every ounce of courage and willpower that they could muster if they were to conquer Mother Mash. But it would all be worthwhile. All three pulled out their best smiles, confident that they would be victorious this day.

“Oh hello,” Button’s Mum said as she opened the door, a jug in her left hoof. “What great timing for your friends to visit! I have all this milk. I made it fresh just this morning!”

Scootaloo slumped into a newly formed squelchy puddle.

Snips foamed at the mouth uncontrollably.

Featherweight passed out in an instant.

Milano Mash furrowed her brow. “Was it something I said?”