• Published 6th Jan 2014
  • 20,332 Views, 948 Comments

Rise of Sunbutt the Awesome - BobAlcove

Princess Celestia is the paragon of everything good and pure. And currently not available. Hi my name is Frank, the new guy in charge of this body and I'm here to fulfill all your princess needs. At least until I find something better to do.

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Viva Las Pegasus Part 2

Later that evening...

Las Pegasus held many secrets.

One of the more well-known, was the myth of a building that was seeked out by many, but only could be found by individuals who were brave enough to explore the corners and alleys offside the noisy main streets. If you passed the right one of those corners, you would eventually come across an illustrious villa that was nestled in by the surrounding high rises made of concrete and neon lights, sticking out like a sore thumb.

A sole relict of times when Las Pegasus was still young and very different from today.

The sign, withered and worn from old age, depicted the silhouette of a mare lying on her back with a long flowing mane and a single hindleg raised into the air. No name sullied that simple picture, because it didn’t need one. Every stallion that ever set hooves into this place would never forget it and would instantly know when someone else talked about it.

On the large black oak doors was a simple piece of paper displayed with two lines written on it in scrawly hoofwriting.

Performing mares every weekday

From 6 pm until we got enough of your drunken asses!

Quite rude, but the ponies of Las Pegasus liked it that way.

Every day, old and not too young met in this cozy establishment to forget their worries and sorrows in the lascivious curves of the performing mares on stage, while resting in comfortable seats with good food and beverages. What money they didn’t throw on stage, they left with the pretty waitresses that were often performers too.

The quality and type of the shows varied from mare to mare, but ultimately every one of them was good enough to be a headline act in any other nightclub in the city.

The one currently on stage was of a completely different caliber with her pristine baby blue coat and sparkling sapphire mane, in addition to long slender legs and matching flank to boast.

There wasn’t a single gesture out of place in her performance, no energy wasted in achieving the perfect execution with every purposeful step. Teasing when the mood cooled down, acting coyly and cute to let the longing boil, and sprinkling in just the right amount of dirtiness to jumpstart their imaginations.

To invoke the wanted emotions in ponies was a complicated art, but the artist on stage was most likely without equal in that regard.

Not everyone was interested in the finer nuances of her performance though.

“Come on baby, shake those hips, make daddy happy!” A stallion from the first row yelled, too heated up and intoxicated to see the brief look of disdain on the dancers face.

In the past, that mare would have ripped the stallions head off for such insolence, but nowadays she learned to constrain herself and concentrate on the positive side of things. As sickening his behaviour was, the spoils out of him were almost three times the amount than any other spectator in the audience.

Which was especially focused on her performance tonight. She could feel any stare and glance, bathing in their attention and indulging in it to the last drop. This was also the reason, that even fully immersed in the admiration of the crowd, the dancing mare immediately noticed the three newcomers walking in.

Especially the one in the middle of those two twins wearing fancy suits. The cowpony herself, had switched her usual attire with a short red dress and pinned-up mane. Regardless, no amount of clothing would have caused this particular dancer to not recognize one of her hated enemies.

She heard bits of their conversation when they passed her stage.

“...For the last time, I’m fine Flim.”

“... Earth ponies, I swear. They all have stomachs like iron kettles...”

The orange mare rolled with her eyes and scanned the room, making eye contact with the performer on stage and causing her to flinch mid-flip on the pole. She managed to save the screw-up into a very wide swing and overhead slide that showed a bit too much for her liking.

“Wow, ladies and gentlecolts, that was the famous Crystal Glamour!”

The crowd naturally didn’t object to her involuntary raunchy finale, going wild under thunderous applause and professions of love. For the performer leaving the stage, it sounded more like mild whispering and white noise. She was too focused on her jumbled thoughts to pay attention to it, and even the otherwise so sweet taste of emotions felt suddenly stale on her tongue.

Chrysalis, former Queen of the changelings, was in full-on panic mode.

Bursting into her dressing room, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it, sliding slowly onto the floor.

“What is an element of harmony doing here? Why now of all times? Do they know I’m here?”

Instinctively, she reached out to her children through the hivemind for help, only to receive silence on the other end.

Just as it had been since the failed invasion.

Ponies had many sayings that changelings needed to learn for blending in and “old habits die hard” was one of them. Talking with her children has been as natural as breathing to Chrysalis, but she realized right then that it had been months since the last time she tried. Not since she’d found out what that silence meant.

A collective silence to convey an unmistakable meaning.

“We have nothing to say to you anymore. You’re a failure, get lost!”

Changelings were only as strong as their weakest link in the hive and they couldn’t afford it to be the one leading them. Being alone was the biggest punishment for a changeling, but after the disastrous failed invasion Chrysalis didn’t think she deserved better.

Now she would again lose something dear to her, because of these meddlesome ponies.

She blinked a few times as the meaning of her current feelings settled in. “I’m sad about losing the chance to wiggle my flank at horny stallions… that’s rock bottom right there.”

Chrysalis blamed this place for being so goddamn welcoming. Every mare working in this club got free lodging on the upper floors, two days free every week to relax, and flexible working hours as long as the girls arranged their shifts accordingly. Combine all this with the notion that her work was also directly providing her with nourishment in addition to an enormous salary, and you could think that this was all too good to be true.

So, understandably, she didn’t believe it at first when her future manager and saviour had approached Chrysalis in an alleyway during her daily hunt for emotions. A shudder ran down her spine as the memories of the days after the failed invasion flooded back into her mind.

The earliest feeling she could remember after being blasted away from the castle was pain and emptiness. Pain from the harsh landing and emptiness from experiencing true solitude for the first time in her life.

Lost and alone, there hadn’t been much power to draw from anymore. A dry queen without a hive wasn’t much better than a drone, barely capable of doing anything.

Truly mimicking a pony like Princess Cadence to the point where it could’ve fool their loved ones did cost time and strength. Time and strength she hadn’t had tumbling through the streets of Las Pegasus and just barely had back in Canterlot, hence her horrible impersonation of the princess and unmasking by Twilight Sparkle.

Her vision had gotten blurrier and blurrier with every passing moment. Dying from emotion starvation had been extinct as a cause of death for many generations amongst changelings, but that danger was now all too real.

It had been then, when she noticed the emotional scent of this city. An amalgamation of so many different emotions, ranging from the highest highs to the lowest lows. The most prominent and dominating emotions came from stallions speaking to certain mares all over the city.

It took very little detective work on her part to find out why that was and how to use it for herself, as she joined the working mares on the streets for her scheme.

Getting a client, guiding him through the longest alley possible and draining him of all the pent up lust on the way until he’d get fed up and demand her service right there and now.

The small time frame, between making the proposition to those weak-minded fools and sliding into an unwatched spot, had barely been enough to let enough emotions develop towards her to feed on. Before anything too risky could happen, she knocked the guys out and dragged them behind a dumpster or hid them under garbage bags until they woke up.

She’d alternated her appearance constantly to avoid getting recognized as a local menace to stallions. The changes had been elaborate at the beginning, completely switching race and skeletal structure. But soon she’d noticed how little her suitors actually cared and just changed colors around to stop wasting energy.

Many wouldn’t even look her in the face before going with her.

Chrysalis had been basically scrounging for scraps at this point and had some pretty close calls when a stallion’s skull had been thicker than suspected. One or two times, she pondered to go all the way and endure it for more emotions per victim, but she never could bring herself to actually do it.

Crownless or not, Chrysalis had still some pride left.

Fast forward to the point in the past, where the manager had found Chrysalis finishing the last touch on her latest victim and spoke to her for the first time.

“You would think after so many assaults on them, that those stallions would quit looking for cheap release in murky alleyways, but instead they just carry less money around to not lose as much.”

After saying that to her, he’d walked right past Chrysalis to take a large garbage bag and put it over a small patch of brown coat still showing through from under the pile. “You missed a spot. Why does such a pretty young mare waste herself for something like this?”

“Not much choice, oldtimer.”

Memories of how he’d turned around with a grin at that nickname flashed before her eyes, what also had granted Chrysalis an opportunity for a better look at him. He’d looked like an ordinary earth pony with a sky blue coat and grey mane that was visibly receding from age, traversed by white streaks. From those clues and the stubbly beard, she would have guessed him around sixty at that time.

His cutie mark was a heart. A simple red heart and nothing else.

“Would you choose otherwise if you could, sugarlips?”

Destiny had decided to take that choice from her, as the stallion under the pile started to stir way earlier than she’d calculated and forced both of them to flee through the labyrinth of small alleys. Out of breath, she’d looked up at their destination and future dwelling place for the first time.

That moment had been the beginning of everything.

Her new home, new job, and new life as the main act ‘Crystal Glamour’.

Against all odds, she’d started to take comfort in her little daily show, sucking gawping stallions dry of their pent up lust for her in now inconceivable quantities from the sheer number of them. Lust was almost as good of an emotion as love with very similar qualities, just a little bit more gooey and sticky to digest while less sating.

A loud knock against the door she was leaning on shattered her recollection of those fond memories.

The earlier panic and despair vanished from her mind as a different emotion established itself with tremendous might.

Anger. Unchained, pure and unadulterated anger at it’s finest.

There was another knock on the door, this time much louder and with more force, but Chrysalis was already on her hooves facing it with a grim determination on her face. If they came for her head, she wouldn’t go out without putting up a fight against those pastel colored douchebags!

“I’m glad that I’ve gotten a healthy meal before this,” Chrysalis thought, aiming her horn at the door and blasting the top half to bits in a fiery explosion of green flame.


Nothing came.


Still nothing.

“I haven’t killed them, have I?” thought Chrysalis, slowly approaching the remaining bottom half of the door, “That would have been way to easy!”

She peeked carefully over the door, expecting either to see a smoking corpse or a phalanx of ponies, eager to take her out.

Someone was on the floor, but from the pristine pink mane, clean white coat and big magenta eyes staring up at her like a puppy, Chrysalis deduced that her blast had luckily missed. Not that she usually cared about something like that, though in this instance the relief from missing was palpable.

Chrysalis would have never heard the end of it, if something serious had happened to their little mascot.


“Get in here, Sunny” Chrysalis flung the little mare inside with her magic. “Did someone follow you?”

“You mean somepony.”

“No I don’t. I refuse to accept that as an actual word.” Chrysalis intensified her stare. “Did someone follow you or not?”

“Nopo…*cough*... nobody came with me. The girls know to leave you alone after a show.”

“And you don’t?”

“Sure I do, Chrissy!” Sunny said cheerfully, oblivious to her sarcasm or what Chrysalis was getting at.

The sweetness of that mare made Chrysalis’s teeth hurt, let alone the nervousness she felt for having a pony call you something this close to your real name. “Nicknames are for convenience sake, you know? Chrissy isn't better or shorter than Crystal in that regard."

“I like it though, don't you?”

“I couldn't care less what you call me.”

The sudden brightness of her teeth almost blinded her. “Really, I get to return the favor and give you a name? Everything is fine? Let me think…”

Chrysalis rolled with her eyes. It wasn’t like pony names were that complicated to do. They were always so uninspired and always seem to be built after the same pattern: Adjective plus object or verb plus object, maybe even only the name of a thing if the parents are really lazy.

“Something Armor, Anything Sparkle, and I swear one of the brainwashed bridesmaids was called Lyra with a lyre as cutie mark,” she thought intently, “her parents must have been psychic or something!”

Chrysalis’s own alias “Crystal Glamour” was merely the result of using that logic in a fit of panic when the manager asked her much later. Sunny wasn’t better by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it was only temporary until she remembered her real name.

Sunny had no recollection of her past life.

They’d found her aimlessly walking behind the club a week ago, finally collapsing loudly into the garbage cans from exhaustion. That wasn’t a rarity in this town, but the ponies usually didn’t look the way she did, or have a flank that was barren of any cutie mark.

Also they smelled a lot more.

Chrysalis had been halfway through her usual routine of burying the body under trash, when she’d gotten a good whack on the back of the head from the manager to straighten her out, and an order to carry the poor thing to the next hospital with him.

There she’d learned that the absence of a cutie mark was also not as unheard of as Chrysalis thought. Many ponies with amnesia forgot also their talent and at that point the cutie mark usually vanished as well.

That made a diagnosis easier for the doctors, but they also didn’t seem very invested, or thorough when they brought Sunny into the emergency room. Once woken up, the doctor had barely done more than a small physical check up and a standardised test after looking at her empty flank. Then he gave Chrysalis and her manager a form to sign as witnesses to transfer Sunny into a mental institution until her memories came back on their own.

“Equestrian health care, ladies and gentlecolts. Lock up the sick until they’re not anymore.”

Her manager had done more than just think nasty things. Later, Chrysalis had to fill out a missing report for Sunny with her current occupation at the nightclub and simultaneously paid the bail for the old fart at the police station.

Broken medical equipment was bloody expensive.

He’d promised to compensate her investment by tripling the salary until she got the money back, chipperly guiding their new addition to the team through the streets of Las Pegasus and towards her new home. Sunny had barely talked along the way, but seemed content with the silly antics of the old stallion.

You couldn’t tell if her condition was the reason for that, or if she had been a bit slow in the past. The manager liked that though, saying it reminded him of his third wife.

The introduction to the rest of the girls couldn’t have gone better. Chrysalis merely tolerated Sunny, but they simply adored the shy little ball of white coat and pink mane, showering her with so much affection that Chrysalis contemplated for a while to mimic her for an extra emotional snack.

She decided against it when all of them started sappily sobbing and hugging Sunny after hearing her story from the equally sappy manager.

As first order of business, they’d to find a name to call her. The girls came up with the usual pony crap like “Sweet Cotton” or “Cutie Pie”, but the manager didn’t like a single one of them and strangely enough so did Sunny.

In the end both chose an entry from Chrysalis’s list of all places.

Sunny had been pretty low on her list of suitable names and Chrysalis didn’t know herself how she came up with it, but as time went on she understood more and more why the manager chose this one from all the possible choices.

For now, it was just a real simple way to describe her personality and the top entries like “Airhead” or “Bubble Brain” didn’t make the cut with the manager to her great displeasure.

“What’s a name or title anyway? Mine sure as hell isn’t worth a damn anymore!”

A few days had gone by with nobody close like family or friends claiming her. Chrysalis had a pretty good idea why that was, and from the gloomy expression he’d worn, you could conclude the manager had the same. Las Pegasus was full of those kind of undesirable ponies, but they rarely were such innocent beings like Sunny.

That had encouraged the old coot and the girls even more to make Sunny’s life as comfortable as possible here with astonishing results for her personality. It was like watching a metamorphosis from mute, odd pony to happy-go-lucky sunshine, condensed into a mere few days of development time. On her fourth day she’d been almost unrecognizable as her former self, while she happily ran around the establishment greeting everyone.

Unfortunately, Sunny’s new cheeriness and fondness of the place made her want to be useful as compensation.

The look on everyone’s faces as she proclaimed the wish to go on stage had been priceless for Chrysalis.

Even the manager, who was usually pretty desensitized of feeling doubt, had qualms about letting Sunny perform. Eventually they all had caved in and let her try with the notion that nothing too bad could happen anyways.

Oh boy had they been wrong about that!

Chrysalis had thought she’d be bad, be booed off the stage, and would forget about the experience after some time to cope.

But there was bad, and then there was just abysmal.

Nobody had bothered to exactly tell Sunny what to do, so she’d just turned around, lifted her tail at the audience and stood there for twenty minutes until even the greatest sleazeball started to feel uncomfortable. The second try, now with more instructions beforehand, had been even worse as one of the front row stallions gotten a bit too raunchy and gropey.

Nothing unusual in a nightclub, but the performer on stage usually doesn’t just stand there and take it with an insecure look on her face. That stallion had already fondled Sunny’s butt for two whole songs, before she, the girls, and the manager noticed it and beaten the dirtbag with the nearest fitment.

Chrysalis had been especially fond of the metal pole for that.

After scratching that idea for good and her constant begging to do something, they’d tried to make a waitress out of her next with much approval from the manager.

He’d bought Sunny a custom-made uniform which none of the girls or even Chrysalis could make heads or tails of to this day. It looked like somebody had tried to sew an old-fashioned maid outfit, but realized halfway through that he wanted a cheerleader outfit instead and focused on drastically reducing the fabric amount. The skirt was short to the point of pointlessness, but he insisted on her wearing lacy black stockings to cover her legs, a corset, and even matching panties for some reason.

All had gone well for a while, with customers seemingly more than happy with Sunny and her service, until they decided to examine closer why that was.

She’d misinterpreted what ‘being friendly to the customer’ meant and had almost gotten coaxed into doing services that were definitely not part of the job by the stallions whose tables she waited. That had resulted in more butt-fondling, beating customers with club equipment, and the manager remorsefully burning the outfit behind the nightclub.

Everyone would have understood if she’d quit right then and there, but Sunny desperately wanted to be of use and had settled for cleaning the place in the morning, during day-to-day business, and after closing time. During one of those cleaning shifts, they’d discovered what would be become one of the main attractions of this nightclub.

Like many great discoveries, the place for this one had been the bathroom.

As usual, Chrysalis had sat in a bathroom stall with her butt pressed firmly pressed on the toilet seat to fake a poop with a bored expression on her face. Changelings didn’t need to eat or drink which meant there wasn’t a need to get rid of the waste, but she frequently used the restroom to avoid suspicion and loudly proclaimed that intention to anyone nearby.

The strange looks were a small price to keep her cover.

While she’d sat there counting the tiles in the ceiling, something had entered her ears from the neighbouring bathroom stall under fierce scrubbing noises:

“I am a toilet brush big and white,
put on the cleaner and stroke just right.
Round and round corners, and inner walls so tight,
to bring the cleanliness with all my might.

Lemon scent, lemon scent, is pleasant to the nose,
Filled up in bottles and organized in rows
If something smells bad I’d recommend those,
Hurry up and take em to bring it to a close.

But stop, don’t forget that there is still the floor.
From back to the wall and up to the door.
A little spill does not make you a whore.
Just wipe your mess so it looks like before.

Oh bucket, oh bucket dear to me,
containing my water and soap for free.
Making it possible for all to see
How this splendor came to be!”

Chrysalis had just sat there for minutes listening to Sunny, feeling impressively validated on her theory that ponies could make songs out of anything. Much more interesting though, were the pleasant shivers she’d felt going down her spine the whole song through. This voice made you feel like you were bathing in warm chocolate, lulling you in despite the silly and cringeworthy lyrics.

Turns out that Sunny had songs and full blown musical numbers for every one of her tasks, however minor, to remember the steps and intricacies. Chrysalis didn’t know that there were so many things to consider while cleaning windows or during waste separation that you could fill a complete setlist, but gladly listened to every single one of them.

And the manager did too.

For the last few days they’d established little gigs between the regular performances as intermissions and lots of ponies who wouldn’t usually set a hoof in this place suddenly started coming in droves. They had always more than enough customers, but now a whole new bracket of clientele had opened up. Art lovers, musicians and even some nobles found their way into the nightclub as word spread of the little mare with the angelic voice.

Returning from her deep thoughts, Chrysalis saw that she was still trying to come up with something suitable. How someone so simpleminded could harbor such a gift was a mystery to her.

“What do you want Sunny?”

She looked at Chrysalis with a frown. “Want? Oh right, here look!”

Sunny’s head was now only a few inches away from her face. Chrysalis squinted both eyes to focus on what Sunny was pointing at.

“That little bump on your forehead?”

“It’s not little! It’s huge and ugly!” Sunny said with a piercing squeal in her voice, making Chrysalis flinch from the unpleasant sound.

“You barely notice it. Where did you get that anyway?”

“I don’t know, it was just there when I woke up today,” the more and more hysteric mare said, clinging to her chest to the great dismay of Chrysalis, “It won’t go away, even with ice. Please do something, they’re all gonna laugh at me!”

The cocktail of emotions boiling inside of Chrysalis was hard to describe. It felt like a potent mix of three parts annoyance, two parts anger, one part boredom, and twelve parts amusement. The overwhelming amusement came from the sight of Sunny, being panicky like a little foal with zits on picture day at school.

For a second she toyed with the idea of pranking her about those insecurities to see Sunny squirm a bit, but decided against it at the last moment. The little mare wasn’t tough enough to handle it, and teasing without resistance was no fun.

“They won’t do that, Sunny,” Chrysalis said, stiffly patting her head and taking a brush to comb Sunny’s mane over the bump, “unlike my audience, yours is coming to hear you sing and not to ogle at your flank.”

“It’s because you’re so pretty, Crystal.”

An especially hard brush stroke made Sunny yelp, stifling anymore words from her mouth. That pungent optimism of hers infuriated Chrysalis to no end. “There, see? Everything’s covered up. Where’s the old perv right now?”

“In his office, doing paper stuff.”

“Thank you. Now get going before your audience gets impatient!” Chrysalis said, punting Sunny through the open door and out of the room, face-first against the wall of the corridor outside with an audible smack.

Sunny pulled her head out of the freshly made hole just in time, to see Chrysalis pass by. “Thanks for the reminder Chrissy...”

On the contrary to mental abuse, Chrysalis had to ungrudgingly admit that Sunny could take a physical beating like a champ and had come just in the nick of time for Chrysalis to vent on. Her thoughts were no longer clouded by panic and worked overtime to decide the next move.

The most obvious was also the most difficult to her. Coincidence or not, her defeaters had gotten dangerously close now, and she wouldn’t take any chances if it came to them. It was of an utmost importance that Chrysalis got some distance between herself and every single one of those particular ponies in the shortest time possible.

She knew that with certainty, but despite that knowledge, every step to accomplishing this goal felt like somebody had filled her legs with lead until she stood before a familiar door. The giant wooden sign was new, made by Sunny with love and care which almost radiated from every letter.

Management: The bestest boss ever!

It looked cartoonish and out of place, hung up skewed so it would fit on the really small door. The room beyond that door matched the door with it’s measurements. This place had dozens of king sized rooms and the manager had chosen one not much bigger than a closet to stay in. While the rest of the villa looked luxurious and classy, this place looked like the rundown office of a clerk. Including the open filing cabinet with lots of folders.

There he sat behind his rickety desk and squeaky chair, reading one of those folders with the glasses he hated for making him look old.

That’s why he took them off as quickly as possible when she came in. “Crystal, what do you think about these two? I’m thinking about paying the bail money for them and offering both a job.”

He shoved Chrysalis the folder with two pictures over the desk to let her take a look at it. Photo number one was an earth pony mare with a light grey coat and dark grey mane, swinging a cello at a posh looking unicorn with a monocle while kicking a royal guard in the head.

“The first one is a cellist from Canterlot with a slight temper when it comes to criticism. Twenty cases of assault against nobles and tendencies for nihilism, but look at her leg when she kicked that royal guard! Thinking about how it would look, firmly wrapped around a dance pole makes me all tingly!”

“What about his one?” Chrysalis asked, confused about what was happening in that picture. The mare, also an earth pony with light blue coat and bluish gray mane, was leashed on that picture and busy biting a police officer right in the cutie mark.

“Freshly out of the looney bin from Ponyville and arrested for publicly urinating on a fire hydrant. Still has some kinks left over from when she thought about herself as a dog. Flexible as hell from moving around with a straitjacket all day and almost no feelings of shame, which is desirable in this line of work.”

As many times before, Chrysalis was speechless. This pony managed regularly to walk the fine line between saint and sinner without her being able to tell on which side he currently leaned on. Those two mares would get help from him no question, but they would have to at least work off what they owed and make a lot of money for the manager through showcasing themselves around strangers.

After that, the monthly payment would usually get ridiculously good and most mares chose to stay after seeing the other benefits, despite having the opportunity to leave anytime they want.

An ever growing family of eccentrics and misfits, she’d been happy to be a part of.

For a long time she’d wondered how a bipolar stallion like him would taste, but she couldn’t allow herself to do so. Unknowingly or not, that old coot had saved her from a dreary fate in the streets and pride didn’t allow Chrysalis to directly profit off him in addition. An act like that would be a confession of weakness and insult to her reputation as a predator.

“So, what do you say about those two dames? Pretty good, huh?”

A smirk appeared on her face. “I say, you have a talent for finding mares with issues.”

“I’ve got you, don’t I? Besides, they’re all like daughters to me.”

Chrysalis sat down on his desk with crossed hindlegs. “One slimy kind of parent, making money from letting his little girls shake their hips at strangers.”

“In my twenty years of running this place, I haven’t met a mare with as much sass as yourself and the talent to back it up,” he said with a good view of her perfect rump on the table, “If I were thirty years younger, I’d happily make you my…. uh… sixth wife!”

“And if you weren’t such an old ghoul and hadn’t had to think so hard about my position, I might have said yes and let you rut me right here on this desk.”

A few seconds of silence passed before they both broke out laughing, long and loud while banging their hooves on his desk and gasping for air until Chrysalis actually fell down from it, now staring at the ceiling with rosy cheeks.

It felt good to fool around with the old fart.

She would miss it in the future.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Oh, I know that tone,” he said, wiping a tear from his left eye with a chuckle, “that’s exactly how my second wife said those words before running away with the milk man.”


“Slip of the tongue.” He coughed into his hoof. “I meant mare.”

Chrysalis studied his stone-faced expression warily. “Sure…, but you’re right. I’ve got to leave the city and wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

He looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Wow, that must be something all right for you to be so nice and civil.”

“We’ve all got our baggage to carry around.”

“Isn’t that true.” The old stallion stood up and walked around his desk to give her a hug. “Regardless, think nothing of it, as I made quite the profit with your sweet rump. I hope you can solve whatever mess you’re in, and remember there’s always a place for you here.”

“I won’t be coming back...” Chrysalis said with a voice that sounded more husky than she’d wanted it to be.

“Doesn’t make my statement any less true, sweetums.”

Chrysalis let go and turned to leave the place she had called home for the last few months, but stopped in front of the door, visibly at odds with herself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything you want. What is it?”

“What is your real name?” Chrysalis asked, turning back to look at him, “everyone just calls you ‘manager’, but that can’t possibly be the name your parents gave you, or is it?”

He smirked at her. “Why not? Ponies aren’t really creative when it comes to names, or words for that matter.”

“My point exactly!” Chrysalis said triumphantly, hopping from one hoof to another in euphoria, “finally someone who notices how completely…”

A new silence that was awkward this time ensued, accompanied by an even more wary stare at the unfazed stallion who was looking back at her.

“Peter Andrews. But you can call me Pete.”

Chrysalis repeated his name in her head a few times before saying it out loud. “Pete… That sounds really weird for a pony.”

“I guess it would be.”

Chrysalis went for his door. “Well then… Pete, goodbye.”

“Take care, Chrissy.”

Meanwhile at the club room...

“I’m still not sure about these clothes Flim,” Applejack said, tugging at the red dinner dress she was wearing. “This dress has barely enough fabric to be called as such and I feel more naked wearing it than with no clothes at all!”

Flim waved it off. “Nonsense, did you see how the bouncer ogled at you? Every little detail on this ensemble is picked to maximize and emphasize your positive body traits, diminishing and concealing the bad ones.”

“Like my huge butt?”

“Your butt is perfect and sexy,” Flim said nonchalantly as he took a glance at the drink menu, “It was your hips that need work, and yes something like that among other things.”

“My mistake…”

“Like your mane, on which I slaved away to create a suitable hairstyle. So don’t touch it too much!” Applejack narrowed her eyes and defiantly poked right through the intricate hairdo, causing Flim to intensely glare back. “Jokes on you, that means another round of hairstyling later.”

She growled like a dog in response and Flam got up quickly to flee the ensuing confrontation. “I’ll get us some drinks. Miss Apple, what do you want?”

“Apple Cider in a mug.”

Flim wrinkled his nose. “Miss Apple will get a Martini, Flam.”

“No, I said Apple cider!”

“And I say, that I spent valuable time on that make-up of yours and won’t have it ruined by you slobbering foam all over it, Applejack!”

“I do not slobber!” Applejack yelled back indignantly, “and that’s Miss Apple to you, if you would care to remember!”

“Then act like one!”

Flam noticed in the meantime, how many ponies in the nightclub had taken interest in what was happening at their table and had started to whisper and point at them. Even Sunny on stage stared at them, droning off and not really paying attention to which part of her final song about furniture polish she currently was.

“How about a compromise, you two? An appletini maybe, I mean it’s classy and has apples in it.”

Applejack’s eyes turned to slits, but leaned back into her seat with crossed forelegs to signal her approval. Flim clicked with his tongue and relented as well. “Fine, but I’ll get the drinks and check if they use any substances that would mess with her lipstick. That shade is very sensitive you know.”

Once he was on his way to the bar, Applejack imitated his clicking a few times, visibly agitated from her grouchy expression. “What a fruitcup! Is he always like that or can you switch that sissiness off somehow?”

She didn’t expect to get an agreement from his brother, but Applejack was completely unprepared to suddenly have his moustache pressed against her nose while being stared down by him.

“Miss Apple, let me get something straight before we continue this any further. My brother and I are many things that ponies consider wrong. We’re cheaters, liars, cowards, and on occasion thieves. He has, like me, many vices and things to be ashamed of.

“I’m giving you the benefit of doubt, that you meant something different than I think. Otherwise, I would have to call you something very rude and reach over this table to seriously mess up your make-up, only to be broken in half like a twig by you as retaliation.”

Applejack stared at him blankly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m glad that’s out of the way then, before we start our employment. To answer your question...yes, he always liked to express himself in creative ways. All of our songs, outfits and shows are made by him, because I couldn’t do something like that to save my life.

“I remember one particular time when we played firefighter as colts. I built a fire wagon from a neighbor's cart, red paint, and an old pump we found in a dumpster. He on the other hoof didn’t want to get his hooves dirty and stayed with mom inside for hours while I tried to make something halfway decent out of this junk.

“At sundown I got fed up and got inside to give him a piece of my mind for letting me do all the work alone and found him hunched over mom’s sewing machine making this.”

Flam pulled out an old and worn photograph from seemingly nowhere and showed it to Applejack. She could see two colts who must have been Flim and Flam in their youth, sitting in a botchy wagon while hosing down a screaming group of mares. Both of them wore crudely stitched jackets and hats, vaguely similar to actual firefighter wear.

“How did you make this photo when both of your were occupied doing this?”

He looked at her confused, before his glass lifted up from the table in a yellow aura.

“Magic, what else?”

Applejack frowned at her own denseness. “Of course, how stupid of me. Anyway, what did you do then?”

“I told him it looked like something a mare would wear and laughed at him.”

“What did he do?”

“He bit me in the nose.”

“He bit you,” Applejack repeated in a deadpan voice.

“Flim fights like a mare.”

She looked again at the photograph. “Sounds like you had fun.”

“Better times, Miss Apple.”

“I didn’t get that impression from him when we met the last time in Ponyville.”

Flam sighed. “That was purely business. It’s all about selling our product to ponies, and we learned that many of our customers wouldn’t buy stuff from a stallion who’s, and I quote yourself, ‘a fruitcup’.”

Applejack’s eyes got wide, as the realization sunk in for why Flam had reacted that way to her statement earlier. “Hold your horses there, fella! Did you indirectly call me a bigot?” She stood up from her seat and leaned over the table to get in his face. “Because I’m not! Granny raised no fool, you know?”

“I guess so… otherwise you’d have known earlier what I’m talking about and reacted much stronger. Sometimes I forget how snugly isolated Ponyville is from the influence of the remaining world. We’ve encountered some really close-minded folk in the past.”

“Was it really that bad?”

“Let’s say, Ponyville had at least the decency to wait until after we finished our song to run us out of town, and didn’t use heavy farm equipment for it,” Flim said with a heavy tiredness in his voice, “It’s just so stupid, you know? Ponies should hate my brother because he’s a two-timing, lying, good for nothing piece of shit, not because something he’s got no influence over.”

That hit close to home for Applejack in many ways. “He’s… It’s just weird for me to see a stallion acting so effeminate, but I’m not judging!” Applejack said hastily to disperse any misunderstandings, “I mean, who am I to talk about how mares and stallions should act like? I’m behaving more masculine than most guys ever hope to be.”

“Honesty indeed,” Flam said with a smile and focused on something behind her. “Now look to your left and learn another thing about my brother.”

She did, just in time to hear the sound of wood hitting wood and to look at a large keg full of foaming apple cider. Flim didn’t address or mention it and just took the drink card to hide his face behind the piece of paper as if he was looking for a beverage, despite having a drink already in front of him.

That small gesture somewhat moved her. “What happened to me ruining my makeup?”

“Nothing, I figured that’s gonna happen anyway,” Flim said, putting the card aside and an ornate box on the table, “so I might as well let you have your fun and use this little baby to freshen you up once your finished.” Flim didn’t miss the eyeroll and quiet groan from his brother. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me! Mom used to work wonders with this kit and showed me everything there is to know for using it properly.”

“That’s why dad always said he had two princesses at home when he got drunk.”

Flim froze as he seemingly realized how much he’d revealed about himself up until now. The little box started to tremble in his shaking hooves, but Flam reassured him quickly. “Relax brother. We had a little chat about your lifestyle and she’s seemingly is okay with it.”

“Are you sure, that Miss Apple isn’t ‘uncomfortable’ around a girly stallion like me?”

It was amazing to Applejack how the same words in another context or place suddenly sounded like the worst thing you could say to someone. She’d pretty much told Flim earlier to his face, that there’s something wrong with him for being like he was.

Screw money, apparently she didn’t need it to be horrible. Unintentional or not.

“There’s nothing wrong about doing the stuff you love, sugarcube.”

The scene was touching and heartwarming to look at, soon accompanied by mares around them who had watched aww’ing and squealing. Everything had resolved neatly and tidily with accepting Applejack’s apology as the only thing left to do for Flim.

“I still like pussy, though.”

And the mood in the room did a complete one-eighty.

“...In case you were wondering.”

Applejack just stared with an dumbfounded expression on her face, Flam buried his face in his forelegs, and Flim just sat there as he waited for any reaction with a big shit-eating grin on his face. Flam noticed the murmur around them getting louder. Several mares even had stood up in outrage, closing in on their table with a now very nervous Flam.

He was ready to bolt with his brother, but Flim still didn’t budge one inch from his position. Next thing you know, Applejack had an equally big and toothy grin as Flim.

“Your not my type, loverboy,” she said in a mocking tone, before turning to the bystanding mares around them, “get back in your seats ladies. Never heard any profanity in a nightclub?”

Flim seemed unfazed. “I know what your type is, that’s why we’re here today.”

Applejack became aware of something as the mares around them sat down again at their tables. A few moments ago, the ratio of mares to stallions had been almost completely in favour of the latter. Now, barely a few minutes after the really talented songstress had finished her set and left, that ratio had almost completely tipped on the other end of the spectrum.

You had to really look to see a stallion in the sea of mares sitting and standing around.

“What’s going on here?”

“Just wait…” Flim said, before the background music stopped and the announcer took the stage.

“We believe in equal opportunity for everypony, so let’s start our special program for your lovely ladies without further ado.”

The joyful howling and squealing from the mares in the club got louder, as did Flam’s groaning behind his hooves.

“We introduce to your entertainment, back for the first time in Las Pegasus since their great world tour, the amazing Cloppendale Stallions!”

Applejack’s jaw dropped down on the table.

The mares and the few remaining males went completely bonkers for the row of strutting stallions coming in through the entrance. Every type of pony and color was somehow represented in that large group, but the bow ties and shirt cuffs they were all wearing showcased their shared affiliation.

That and the trait of having bodies that were cut like statues.

Applejack had seen their posters enough times to instantly recognize some of her favourites in the group. She owned many of those posters herself, neatly rolled up under her bed to sweeten the one or other night on demand under the light of a lantern.

“You wanted ripped and hunky, you get ripped and hunky,” Flim said smugly, “hey look, it seems like they are searching for volunteers to oil them up for the show.”

That was the cue for Applejack’s eyes to start twitching, combined with intense shaking and gnawing on her own hoof under muffled squeals of joy. The thought of bragging about this to Rarity made her smile like a cheshire cat.

Flim leaned over to whisper in her ear. “We’ve got two hours before Jolly Cash’s concert starts.”

“Did you say Jolly Cash?”she asked with a breathy voice, “as in ‘the mare in black’, ‘I trot the line’, Jolly ‘Foalson Prison Blues’ Cash?”

“The one and only.”

Flim and Flam learned quite a few things at that moment. They didn’t know somebody could look this happy or that a hug could be used as a torture method, as both of them struggled for every bit of air they could get through Applejack’s sudden vice embrace.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Applejack said under the noise of cracking ribs and bones.

“All… in a days work, Miss Apple… am I right Flam?”

“Can’t... feel my legs…”

Applejack dropped the brothers unceremoniously on their hindquarters and ruffled both of their manes with unconcealed affection born from euphoria, before she literally bolted from her seat and straight into the row of stallions like an orange bowling ball into extremely handsome pins with a resounding howl.

After he’d checked himself firmly for broken bones, Flam spun around to his brother when he was sure that Applejack was out of earshot. “Now tell me, what is the big idea of working for that poor country pumpkin?”

“You need to update your information, brother,” Flim said, stretching his neck with an audible plop, “that pumpkin transformed into a beautiful carriage for us to ride into the sunset.” Flam blinked two times and made a confused face, matching to Flim’s sudden frown. “Ok, That analogy was a bit off... But the basic premise remains the same!”

“What premise, Flim? Speak equestrian for Celestia’s sake!”

“Take a look at how happy she is brother.”

Both glanced at their new boss from their table, who was currently fighting with three other mares over the oil bottle. In spite of the intensity and vehemence of her brawling, Applejack was laughing and howling like a madmare between punches and ripping of hair.

“Kinda hot, so what?”

“Like always, you lack the sense for opportunity. Watch and learn,” Flim said, before yelling across the whole club to get Applejack’s attention, “Hey, Miss Apple! Could we get the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 back later from the pawn shop?”

Applejack had only one hoof free, using the three remaining to hold an exceptionally hunky stallion in place and applying a generous coat of oil with the bottle between her teeth. That free hoof just waved at Flim’s general direction without looking.

“Surr whutevrr!” she said, spitting out the bottle and rubbing now with all four hooves, ”I always wanted to own that thing, and it’s perfect for getting back to Ponyville… stop squealing like a filly and roll over big guy, there’s still some parts I’ve missed!”

Flam shared a knowing smile with his brother, before they both winced at the sound of a whimper which seemed way too high-pitched for any pony with an adam's apple.

“Why is it always the quiet and plain ones that have the biggest screw loose?”

Author's Note:

Edited by McStuffins.

Next chapter and last part of the flashback.

From now on, we're back in Ponyville with you-know-who: